981 posts
World-moon - Tumblr Blog
Confession
Han Jisung x Fem!Reader - Fake Texts
Genre: Fluffy Fluff - Friends to Lovers
A/N: Happy Birthday Dear Jisunggg! Happy Birthday to you!
Summary: Your best friend is always there when you need him but after this he might not just be your best friend anymore.
✨Masterlist✨
Warnings: Reader has a panic attack, Cursing. (That should be all!)
Reader is called: y/n, Jagi, Baby
┌──── -ˏˋ 📱 ˎˊ-
└➤ how bf!skz would react to you not calling them by a nickname / term of endearment
hyung line | maknae line
◞✩ pairing : bf!skz x gn!reader
◞✩ contains : fluff, humor, cursing, boys bein silly
◞✩ notes : happy new year everyone! sorry for such a long wait on this one. i promise im gonna get better at posting on here this year 🫶
01. han jisung.
02. lee felix.
03. kim seungmin.
04. yang jeongin.
🌟 Masterlist 🌟
🌚 Boyfriend!skz fake texts
Daily texts #1🌞
Daily texts #2🌞
Daily texts #3🌞
Daily texts #4🌞
Daily texts #5🌞
Daily texts #6🌞
Texting bf!skz song lyrics🎸
Sending bf!skz a spicy pic❤🔥
Dad!skz random texts🍼 More! Dad!skz👶🏻
Asking bf!skz for a selfie🤳🏻
Bf!skz sending YOU a spicy pic 🌝
Bf!skz reacting to you wanting to go on/off the pill 💊
Bf!skz finding out they're not your bias🤡
Valentine's Day texts🌹
Texting bf!skz "where do you see us in 5 years?"🌱
Bf!skz comforting you when you're feeling sad/upset/insecure 💘
Accidentally flustering bf!skz💋
Bf!skz asking you about your fave straykids song💃🏻
🌚Fic
🥀EYES WIDE SHUT, Au! Han Jisung fic
PART 1
PART 2
PART 3
PART 4
🌚 Boyfriend!skz blurbs
Han ♥️
👻Horror nights ⚠️*content warning
🍎 I'm not leaving you
🍬Baby are you drooling?
🍯Unconditionally
Leeknow 💜
📷Camera roll
☘️Okonomyaki
🐰Childhood videos
🍲Soup
Felix 💙
🍑Peaches and cream
💭Grey areas
🍥You put me back together, actually
Chan 💗
🚗Anytime
Hyunjin 💖
🌺Preoccupied
🌊Busan
🍃Just sleep
🔥Fire fire
ੈ✩‧ ➛ changbin thinks he's subtle as he pines over you
pairing : changbin x gn reader ; genre : fluff | warnings : 1 swear word ; word count : 0.5k words
summary : what better way than flexing his muscles for changbin to tell you how much he's in love with you? it's perfect and its subtle! he thinks he's a genius for coming up with it. you would get the hint, right?
chan's ver. | hyunjin's ver. | jeongin's version | felix's ver. | lee know's ver. | han's ver.
seungmin groans as he sees changbin discard his leather jacket, biceps rippling againt the sheer white cloth that was supposed to be his sleeves.
"and why are you removing your jacket when the air conditioning is at its lowest temperature?"
changbing was really hoping nobody would notice, his fingers crossed and all, but he should've known better with 7 other people in the room.
"because it's hot."
there's 3 beats of silence before Lee Know sneezes so loud he startles jeongin from his nap.
"is my cold a fucking joke to you?"
changbin didn't know what to say, not when he knew the others could see the blush creeping up his cheeks.
"y/n said they won't be arriving until the next 15 minutes. you can keep it on until then."
"chan hyung!"
"what?"
"I am not doing this for y/n. it's actually hot."
changbin is met with six blank stares and one grinning felix who trails the goosebumps covering the older boy's arms, earing a smack from him.
"so you're not doing this to flex your muscles when y/n comes?"
"hah! as if."
there's another beat of silence, and this time it's broken by changbin sneezing, and he's horrified because he knows he's lost the argument.
"changbin, we understand you want to show off to y/n but it's really not worth a cold."
"but I need to impress them!"
"then remove it when they come."
changbin all but whines as he sinks further into the couch, adamant as ever that he won't let the cold leather bother him.
it was cold, he knew it too. but how else was he supposed to make you fall in love with him? he loved showing off all those muscles he worked so hard on, basking in your fascination every time you complemented them.
he didn't care what the rest of the members said. yes it would be easier to confess but what was the fun in that?
it's a while before you show up, pulling your sweater closer, apologizing for the delay.
"binnie! it's so cold, where is your jacket?"
a blush blooms across the expanse of said boy's cheeks as he "casually" lifts his bottle to take a sip of water, not missing the way your eyes momentarily land on his oh-so-big arms.
"right here."
again, he makes a show of reaching towards the leather clothing, taking his time to flex his arms and earning a snort from hyunjin who sees right through him.
"you won't believe we spent the last fifteen minutes trying to get him to-"
changbin is quick to cut han off, eyes narrowing at the younger boy.
luckily for changbin, you don't notice anything unusual as you take your place next to him, engaging in casual conversation with the boys, trying not to show how flustered you were with his arm draping behind you on the backrest of the couch.
the other seven watch in mild amusement. yes changbin was a big baby who would never admit he didn't have the courage to confess to you. yes he was smitten in love and terrible at owning up to it. but he was also smooth, and his supposedly subtle ways to catch your attention always worked somehow. they could only hope that at least you would make the first move, otherwise who knows to what extent the boy would go for you.
©lixie-phoria, 2023
tags : @lethallyprotected @dreamingaboutjisung @selcayuri @bangchansbae @aak2 @foxinnie8 @hamburgers101 @jiisungllvr @starlostlaiba (send an ask to be added/removed!)
Having severe anxiety sucks.
I thought i got better but it just gets worse every single day .
This me rn
❤︎ 스트레이 키즈 OT8 M.list ❤︎
Back to ☀️Feelbokkie M.list☀️
Key:
💛 = fluff 💙 = angst ❤️ = requested 💜 = completed 💚 = in progress/wip
❤︎ Reactions/Headcanons ❤︎
♥︎ When he has to keep your relationship a secret 💛
♥︎ When he accidentially leaks your secret relationship 💛 💙 ❤️
♥︎ When you fall asleep video chatting 💛
♥︎ Random dates with BF!SKZ 💛
♥︎ Reaction to Reader Having a Pen Spinning/Coin Roll Skill 💛 ❤️
♥︎ How he comforts you 💛
♥︎ Habits of his that you adopt 💛
♥︎ When you have food allergies 💛
♥︎ When opposites attract 💛 ❤️
♥︎ When you're both competing in the ISAC 💛 ❤️
♥︎ Things SKZ does when you're pregnant 💛
♥︎ Autumn dates with skz 💛
♥︎ SKZ as autumn activities 💚 💛
♥︎ Going through a haunted house with skz 💚 💛
♥︎ Winter dates with SKZ 💛
♥︎ SKZ as winter activities 💚 💛
♥︎ SKZ as winter tropes 💚 💛
♥︎ Christmas morning with SKZ 💚 💛
♥︎ When you’re handcuffed to them 💚 💛
❤︎ Imagines ❤︎
♥︎ BF!SKZ reacting to idol!reader fainting on stage (Hyung Line) 💛 💙 ❤️
♥︎ BF!SKZ reacting to idol!reader fainting on stage (Maknae Line) 💛 💙 ❤️
♥︎ When You're Sick 💛
♥︎ When They Notice That You're Not Around 💛 💙 ❤️
♥︎ BF!SKZ Jokes About Your Insecurity Accidentally 💛 💙 ❤️
♥︎ Touch starved reader 💛
♥︎ I can't be no superman, but for you I'll be superhuman 💚 💛 💙
♥︎ Halloween movies with SKZ 💚 💛
❤︎ Social Media AUs ❤︎
♡ Best Friend!SKZ ♡
♥︎ Asking reader what they saved their number as 💛
♥︎ Going to a SKZ concert without telling them 💛
-> (Hyung Line)
-> (Maknae Line)
♥︎ Reacting to their solo songs 💛
-> (Hyung Line)
-> (Maknae Line)
♥︎ Random Texts 💛
♥︎ Texting “What would you say if I lost my memories?” 💛
♥︎ "If my phone is smoking" Prank 💛
♥︎ Texting “What are we?” 💙
♥︎ “What are we?” (Part 2) 💛 💙
-> (Hyung Line)
-> (Maknae Line)
♥︎ Texting "Sorry, Wrong Person" 💛
♥︎ Texting Bff!Skz about Fan Fics 💛
♥︎ Telling Bff!Skz that you need space 💙
♥︎ BFF!SKZ Texting You When You're Down 💛 💙
♥︎ Texting BFF!SKZ about a new guy 💚
♡ Boyfriend!SKZ ♡
♥︎ “You left your phone here” prank 💛
♥︎ Distancing yourself from BF!SKZ after receiving hate (Part 1) 💙
♥︎ Distancing yourself from BF!SKZ after receiving hate (Part 2) 💛 💙
-> (Hyung Line)
-> (Maknae Line)
♥︎ Asking reader what they saved their number as 💛
♥︎ Random Texts 💛
♥︎ Texting "We have a Problem" 💛 ❤️
♥︎ Leaving BF!SKZ on read after he says "I Love You" 💛 ❤️
♥︎ Random Texts Part 2 💛
♥︎ BF!SKZ Thinking Reader is Pregnant 💛
♥︎ Telling Them You're Actually Pregnant 💛
♥︎ Texting "Would You Still Love Me If I Was A Worm?" 💛
♥︎ Bf!SKZ Texting JYPE employee!Reader After Catching You Wearing Another Idol's Merch at Work 💛
♥︎ Texting "What would I do without you?" 💛
♥︎ Talking to BF!SKZ about couple costumes 💛
♥︎ Texting Boyfriend!SKZ “If I was a rock” 💛
♥︎ Random Texts Part 3 💛
❤︎ Fantasy AUs ❤︎
♥︎ How he would react to you being a witch 💛
♥︎ How he would react to you being a werewolf 💛
♥︎ How he would react to you being a vampire 💛
♥︎ How he would react to you being a mermaid/siren 💛 ❤️
❤︎ Mini Series ❤︎
♥︎ Life is Like a Crayon Box (a skz mini series) 💚 💛 💙
♥︎ Seasons of Love (a skz mini series) 💚 💛 💙
♥︎ 13 Days of Feeltober 💚 💛 💙
♥︎ 12 Days of Feelbokkiemas 💚 💛
♥︎ Feelbokkie's Playlist 💛 💙
—
Buy me a coffee?
· . ˚ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞
— the little mannerisms you pick up from the members of stray kids over the course of your relationship.
words・3.7k / pairings・ot8 x gn!reader / genres・fluff, humor, borderline crack, intentional lowercase, established relationship(s) / warnings・minsung’s are suggestive, touch of anxiety in felix's, jeongin's is lowkey gross LMFAO
a/n・massive shoutout to @/http.dwaekkii on tiktok for their edits about the boys' habits, which i consulted for chan, changbin, seungmin, and jeongin (and to @astraystayyh for beta reading hehe. what would i do without u). these were sooooo fun to write, hope u guys enjoy (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )
chan + getting shy easily. poor thing gets embarrassed so quickly as it is. throw you into the mix and it’s just critical hit after critical hit. defense lowered. no health potions left. he folds like a lawn chair with a massive smile and a whiny “stooooop” every time you say something even remotely affectionate. the habit is adorable, and you love it to pieces.
but you like poking fun at it even more. “god forbid i find my literal underwear model of a boyfriend attractive,” you’d say, or something along those lines, which of course only triples his embarrassment and on more than one occasion results in him starfishing on your kitchen floor, his hood pulled over his face.
fast forward however many months. he’s still the worst compliment-receiver you know, but you discover one arbitrary afternoon that it’s rubbed off on you.
the two of you are cuddled together on the living room couch in your usual fashion, your legs thrown over his thighs and his hands tracing absently over your shins as you relay to him something you overheard on the subway. the conversation is painfully normal. you’re almost bored. you pause to take a breath, and he murmurs, out of nowhere, in the dreamiest tone: “so damn beautiful.”
“wha—huh? what is?”
“you. your voice, your face, everything. i‘m lucky.”
your expression of bewilderment persists for around ten seconds, and then slowly, so slowly, you begin to sandwich your head between your knees, balling yourself up like a spooked armadillo. chan wonders if he should call an ambulance.
“love?” no response. “what, uh, what’s happening right now, exactly?”
no response. no response. then, hoarsely, “you can’t...say shit like that…randomly.”
he notices two things after that. one, your skin is burning hot enough to fry something upon, and two, you’ve formed a fist in the fabric of his hoodie, which you only do when you’re pretending to be annoyed at him. the puzzle pieces fall into place, and he starts grinning like a madman.
“you’re…embarrassed?”
the guttural groan you emit is more than enough of an answer, and the cute aggression that overcomes chan is fucking debilitating. he wraps his arms around you and hauls you entirely off the couch and onto his lap, littering kisses over your face until it finally resigns into a matching smile. all intent to continue feigning grumpiness erased with the drop of a hat. you drape an arm over his neck.
“you’re so good to me, channie,” you sigh helplessly. “i love you.”
“love you more, baby.” he imprints these words directly upon your lips, then pulls away, giggles. “that was very me of you, by the way.”
“i know, right? i was just about to say.”
minho + butt touching. it’s quite simple, really. if lee minho is within proximity of someone’s buttocks, he will, as he lives and breathes, make it known. will it be a coy little swat or a yelp-eliciting, full-bodied grab? nobody ever knows, not even him. the unpredictability is what makes it exciting.
but it takes a while before this starts applying to you, because the way minho touches you is…different. doting. there’s no other way to describe how he always holds the nape of your neck while kissing you, how he rests a hand against the small of your back whenever he leads you somewhere, how during the nights you can’t sleep he guides you to the place on his chest where he knows his heartbeat is loudest. he even drags you into his trademark headlocks the same way one would hold an invaluable treasure. he’s so obsessed with all of you that he never thinks to pay just your butt special attention (though it is, indeed, a special butt).
you take it into your own hands. literally.
you don’t know what prompts it—maybe you’ve simply seen minho slap his members’ asses one too many times, or maybe you’re still thinking of the specific time minho slapped changbin’s ass in passing and it fucking echoed, or maybe minho just looks especially fine in this practice outfit, a skintight tee and washed sweatpants that hug him in all the right places—but you feel a new urge today as your boyfriend swings his duffel over his shoulder, circles around the kitchen counter.
he puckers up as he nears you, silently requesting his goodbye; you give it to him, relishing for a moment in the familiar, soft plush of his lips beneath yours. then he pulls away and turns to leave, and your hand acquires its target.
“go get ‘em, tiger.” thwack!
minho jumps a foot into the air. clutches his pearls and his left butt cheek. becomes the splitting image of that perplexed blonde lady surrounded by geometry.
but when he turns around to stare at you, the smirk melting across his face betrays how he really feels about what you’ve just done. good. really good.
you, meanwhile, look genuinely confused. “it’s like it moved on its own.”
minho beams. steps towards you daintily, intentionally, like a cat catching sight of a laser beam. brings a hand to your hip, murmurs, “that’s what we’re doing now?” kisses you again, for longer this time.
you fully foresee his fingers wandering to your ass to give it a gentle squeeze, but you reach up to cuff his shoulder when it happens anyways, and his laugh vibrates against your mouth. it seems you’ll be reaping what you’ve sown from now on.
(good luck.)
changbin + the Cackle™. yes, you said something exceptionally funny. yes, you expected changbin to find it funny too. but you couldn’t expect the godforsaken noise that left his mouth as he threw himself straight into the tree planter behind you.
your mind spun with frantic questions as you helped him out of the dirt. had the spirit of spongebob just usurped his vocal cords? were you on a date with the wicked witch of the west? most importantly—
“are you well?” you sputtered, which only made him laugh harder and his laugh so much crazier, so you started laughing, too. and you were goners, falling over each other until you’d been reduced to watery eyes and sore cheeks, your giggling interrupted only by the sound of you slapping his thigh every so often, heartily enough to reverberate around the little park in which you concluded your second date.
that’s how you fall for seo changbin: laughing. with a reckless, breathless abandon you didn’t think possible. stumbling across empty sidewalks, spitting noodles across dining tables, begging for mercy on studio couches. wrestling under tear-stained comforters, starting (and re-starting) silly stories, huffing into beaming kisses. the list goes on.
you never quite get used to that chortle of his, too busy enjoying its insanity to notice how your own chuckles grow shorter and shriller, how they gradually develop an edge like the chittering of a forest dweller.
you complete your transformation on your ninety-eighth date.
no, changbin doesn’t say anything exceptionally funny. no, he doesn’t expect you to find it funny, either. he expects least of all for you to fold over the kitchen island and start cackling like cruella de vil on helium.
han turns around from his seat on the couch. chan’s footsteps come to a halt as he emerges from the bathroom. both of them have fear in their eyes as they witness your undoing.
the only thing on changbin’s face, though, is unfettered delight.
“b-baby,” he sputters with a growing smile. “are you—”
you lift your face off the marble surface and turn to face him. the entirety of your forehead and the point of your nose is covered in flour. you blow a cloud of the stuff out of your mouth like a dragon awoken from slumber.
he loses it.
the two of you make your way onto the floor in slow motion, ending in a tangled heap against the side of the counter. changbin tries to clean off the flour and smears it all over your cheeks instead. you are zero help whatsoever, smacking his bicep like that’ll help you catch your breath. your synchronized, diabolical laughter reaches every corner of the apartment. your happiness reaches every nerve ending.
chan and han look at each other, sigh. han takes a video.
hyunjin + side-eyeing. this man is so god awful at controlling his face, bless him…and DAMN HIM.
on one hand, you love how in tune with his emotions he is, how confidently he puts them on display. and you love your synergy. you come closer to believing in soulmates every time you glance his way and discover your exact feelings written all over his features; it’s a special type of happiness, sharing a brain with your favorite person in the world.
on the other hand, you think there’s a time and place for candor, and he tends, well, not to think at all. during many a precarious situation, you’ll catch him wearing an expression so transparent that he might as well arrange the words THIS IS STUPID AND I HATE ALL OF YOU over his head in neon lights. cue a dig of your heel into his toe, a hiss of pain cut short by your piercing glare. if you’d known ahead of time that dating hwang hyunjin would have you doing so much damage control…you’d still date him, let’s be real. but you do get stressed at times.
the night the tables turn, you’re at a celebratory dinner for your coworker’s birthday. small caveat: you can’t stand her. she’s the type to spontaneously combust if she goes two minutes without talking about herself. certainly doesn’t help that she’s downing champagne like water, and her lips are looser than ever.
hyunjin comes with you, fortunately. or not. he spends the whole evening trying so hard not to laugh: snorting into his bread, excusing himself to “cough.” you think he actually starts doing breathing exercises at some point. you’re so, so grateful that he’s here, but you’re also deathly afraid that he’s gonna bring out those neon lights in front of your entire office.
then, she flirts with him.
from the opposite end of the table. perfectly wasted but still knowing perfectly well that he’s yours. the whole patio goes silent. hyunjin’s jaw hits the table.
your fork clatters to your plate.
FUCK time and place.
the side-eye you give her is devastating. truly masterful. your brow furrows. your eyes turn to slits. your gaze does the up-down-up of unadulterated incredulity. hyunjin recognizes the motions straightaway and starts smiling so hard his whole face hurts.
you take your boyfriend’s wrist and stand up. he follows suit. you don’t say a thing as you leave the restaurant, and you don’t have to. the intensity of your disdain was more than enough; anything more and she might’ve started crying.
once you’re on the curb outside, hyunjin pulls on your interlocked hands, brings you close. his lips brush against the shell of your ear. you hear laughter and his smirk in his voice.
“you’re so fucking sexy, holy shit.”
jisung + how he applies lip balm. that han jisung is the pioneer of modern day babygirlism is the worst kept secret in the world. that han jisung applies lip balm the riveting way he does, however, is unknown even to you. until one morning.
you pop into the bathroom and make your usual beeline for your toothbrush, only to end up motionless in front of the sink, staring. jisung is a bit off to the side, hair pinned back by a cinnamoroll headband, eyes glued to his phone, hand holding a tube of chapstick that you can actually see getting shorter in real time. he looks so pensive, so concentrated. how long has it been since he last blinked? you’ve half a mind to pull out a stopwatch.
finally, he rubs his lips together, recaps the chapstick, and makes eye contact with you in the mirror. a smile crosses his face, equal parts confused and amused.
“baby, your mouth is open.”
you close it. then you open it again, and your words come out in a barely-contained laugh: “what on earth did you just do?”
“what do you mean?”
“the—” you point at his mouth, then do your best impression of an elementary schooler trying to color inside the lines. “—that.”
jisung looks aghast. “that was LIP BALM.”
“no, i know what it—you’re so—i meant, why do you apply it like that?”
jisung continues to look aghast. “like what?”
“like you’re one of socrates’ prized pupils and the answer to the universe’s formation lies at the bottom of—” you step in close, reach into the pocket of his sweatpants. “—this tube!”
it might be the craziest thing you’ve ever said to him. he bursts into laughter, the kind that leaves him no recollection of what he does with his limbs, and when he can see straight again he discovers he’s pressed you gently against the counter. his fingers latched around the hem of your top, his grin inches away from yours. can’t stay away from you to save his life, this one.
“do i actually?”
“yes! holy shit, it’s so cute.” your arms circle around his neck, also without an ounce of thought, also through a fit of giggles. “no way you’ve always done that, right?”
“i don’t know. i’ve never thought about it.” a pause. a tilt of his head, with purpose. “am i…doing it wrong?”
the question is a trap and you realize it too late. your gaze drops from his eyes to his lips—a ray of sunlight glistens off the pink plush like a paid actor—then back to his eyes. let’s find out.
you lean in. so does he. and his mouth tastes and feels like melted fucking sugar. it’s such a pleasant surprise that you actually moan, and he chuckles against you. lifts you onto the edge of the sink. your mind really goes empty after that, save for one thought. i have to start doing that.
felix + checking his own pulse. you saw it from afar, the first time.
he stood by the stage’s entrance just before from curtain up, pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of his neck. eyelids sealed closed, chest heaving. you tilted your head, puzzled. worried. then the concert began, and you pushed the image to the back of your mind.
it returned to the forefront right before bed.
“you do it when you’re nervous?”
“yeah. forces me to ground myself. turns off the world for a bit.” the hand rubbing circles into your back paused. “wanna give it a go?”
“what, checking my pulse?”
“mine.”
you lifted your head off the pillow. felix took your hand from where it sat upon his ribs, isolating two fingers and nestling them over his jugular. his quickened heartbeat pressed into your skin like the world’s gentlest tattoo.
the sixty seconds began and concluded in total silence.
“well?” he whispered.
“ninety-three,” you answered, lightheaded from the sheer intimacy of it all. “you’re nervous right now?”
“something like that,” he hummed. pulled you down, kissed you deeply. there were no more words exchanged that night.
the habit surfaced more than you knew. while driving to visit your parents. after a stupid argument with a bouquet of flowers tucked beneath his free arm. you started doing it for him in the times he couldn’t, and he’d cover your hand with his own and kiss the top of your head silently, gratefully.
two years have passed since, and you’ve vanished from the dinner table.
felix asks the nearest waiter for directions to the restrooms. you don’t notice when the door swings open, unmoving in your spot over the sink, your pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of your neck.
his hand finds your hip. you let him turn you around and bring you to his chest; he glances at the crystalline droplets studding your lashes and falling from your cheeks. his eyes convey what his mouth doesn’t need to, not anymore.
let me.
you do.
his fingers replace yours the moment you drop them from under your jaw, the movement like clockwork. he counts your every heartbeat with unblinking concentration, his heart growing heavier the higher the number climbs.
the sixty seconds begin and conclude in total silence.
“well?” you whisper.
“hundred and six,” he answers. to his confusion, a smile pulls at your lips.
he wonders if it’s a trick of the bathroom lights when he sees the tiny box you pluck from your pocket, but there’s no mistaking the reality of the diamond ring that sits behind its open lid.
the earth slants under his feet.
“crazy.” you giggle through your tears, run your thumb over his cheekbone. “that’s how many years i want with you.”
seungmin + poking eyes(?) he’s hardly touched puppym when your voice is slicing through the living room air like a fucking beyblade.
“KIM SEUNGMIN, UNHAND HIM THIS INSTANT.”
do you have a sixth sense just for this? he throws his hands up in exasperation. “he’s literally me. i’m allowed to do whatever i want with me.”
“he’s not you, he’s our son.” you pop out of nowhere to swipe the plushie from over your boyfriend’s shoulder. “my son, if you keep this up.”
“just say you hate me and my preferred avenues of self expression.”
upside-down, he watches you dust off puppym’s face and smooch his forehead with a tenderness that makes seungmin unhappier than he lets on. you then tuck him into your jacket pocket. the little shit’s expression looks strangely smug poking out of its cotton capsule.
“i’m asking you to not gauge his eyes out, not to deliver me the holy grail,” you say. “you’ll survive.”
but then he feels your hands on either side of his face, and you lean over him like the mj to his peter, leave a kiss on the space between his eyes, too. he has zero say in the bashful smile this brings to his face.
“but why do you do that, seriously?” you mutter.
“i have no idea,” he replies. “but it’s fun. try it.”
“i’ll think about it.” you lean in again, and he nearly forgets what you were talking about in the first place when you kiss him on the lips this time. “okay, i’ve thought about it. no.”
“hate you,” he says despite the literal hearts in his eyes, and then you’re off to work.
puppym takes strikingly after his father. they have the same bangs. the same compulsively squeezable quality. the same little :3 that can only allude to sinister plottings. you’d be loath to admit that you sort of comprehend seungmin’s poking predisposition.
one night, seungmin falls asleep before you even finish your nighttime routine, and you spot in his peaceful, upturned face an opportunity.
you lie belly-down on your side of the bed. your fingers splay into a peace-sign in the air. your smile stretches further into a cheshire grin the closer you bring your hand. you’re just about to reach the ends of his eyelashes when—
“I KNEW IT!”
you almost catapult into the ceiling. then you try to make a mad dash for the bathroom. but seungmin shoots a hand around your wrist like he’s actually peter parker and pins you down before you so much as take a step. your only remaining option is to sulk about your foiled plans. (and blush, because, well, you’re under him.)
“amateur,” he tsks. “you gotta test my breathing to make sure i’m asleep first. shit’s foolproof.”
you blink at him for a few seconds. his words finally click.
now you almost catapult him into the ceiling.
“HOW MANY TIMES?”
jeongin + eating food in one bite. so you might be an instigator.
“hwuck,” he grumbles around the whole ice cream cone in his mouth, face scrunched up in a brain-freeze-induced wince. “ayee ith waz a bah iyeah.” (translation: fuck, maybe this was a bad idea.)
“you got this. just take it slow,” you urge, except he’s stopped moving and speaking and closed his eyes as if he’s descending into a deep sleep. you’re actually concerned for about two seconds, and then his jaw begins to oscillate leisurely like an elderly cow in his favorite pasture. false alarm.
after some time, he swallows, beams. “so am i the fucking best or what.”
“yeah you are,” you echo, and he swings an arm over your shoulder, plants a chocolatey kiss on your temple. the two of you celebrate his daesangs with less enthusiasm.
“when are you doing that with me, by the way?”
“the one-bite thing?” he nods. “mmm, coaches don’t play.”
“mmm, this one will.”
“doubtful.”
fast forward a few weeks and you, jeongin, and his younger brother are sitting cross-legged on the porch in his backyard. three full-sized oranges rest in the center of your makeshift circle. damn is yoon hard to say no to. (runs in the family.)
“the rules!” he declares. “eat the orange whole! first to swallow it wins! you can’t spit it out!”
you wait. “is that it?”
“yes!”
why was the delivery so grand?
jeongin places a fond hand atop his brother’s head. “i’ve brought you a new loser, yoonie. get excited.”
you feign an indifferent scoff, but jeongin spots the fire that ignites behind your eyes like that of an anime protagonist, the resolute grip with which you palm your orange. he smirks. he’s never known you to take trash talk sitting down. or sitting cross-legged on his porch.
yoon counts you off. “ready…”
“good luck, coach,” jeongin sings.
“shut up, pipsqueak.”
“set…GO!”
in amusing unison, you and yoon try and fail to fasten your teeth around even half of the fruit. jeongin, meanwhile, fits the whole thing into his black hole of an oral cavity and launches into that dumb cow impression again.
desperate times call for desperate measures.
you rip the orange from your lips. “yoon! your brother’s ticklish, right?”
both yang siblings’ eyes widen—the younger’s in growing delight, the older’s in impending horror.
the latter reacts first. “ay, ay, ay, ah ahes eh ooles!” (translation: wait, wait, wait, that’s against the rules!)
but the former moves first, and you’re right behind him.
jeongin weakens when the younger boy assaults his sides, crumples when you target the back of his neck, the sounds leaving his mouth getting progressively louder and somehow even less intelligible.
he eventually has to spit out the orange to avoid death by pulp going down the wrong pipe and spins around in indignation, wiping at his chin with the back of his hand. but his annoyance—
you’re back on the floor, gnawing hopelessly at the the orange again. “ih ih eawahin, ooh.” (translation: this is embarrassing, yoon.)
yoon replies, “huh?” (translation: huh?)
—dissipates, immediately.
🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp ・ @automaticpersonabatpaper
© forlix (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support!
— the most lonely creature (m)
〰️ pairing; k.yeosang/f.reader
〰️ word count; [35.9k]
〰️ genre; dragon serpent!au, water god, fantasy
〰️ summary; finding a yeouiju in the forest brings terrors unlike you've ever seen– in the shape of a water god
〰️ warnings under cut
content; use of explicit language, mythology (not completely accurate), smut, mate mentions, injuries, Blood, Strong Language, cursing, dehydration, anxiety, age gap, double penetration, marking
-
You brush off your sleeve, glaring at the tree that prickled the fabric. You stretch your shirt slightly, seeing the small, dime-sized hole it left. Your friend insisted that this material was high quality, the best of the best. But from that small hole from a branch, you wonder if he only thought this because he saw it in one of those buy-it-or-you’ll-lose-the-discount commercials. You roll your eyes, giving the branch another pointed look before continuing your climb.
You love the outdoors. The soft breeze that flows through the air, the sounds of the animals and insects speaking to one another. Sometimes you'd see a deer dash through the thick brush, too quick for you to admire its beauty. The fresh air that you adore; better than the city, filled with noises of angry people and an odd odor that never seemed to fade. You breathe in and out slowly, sweat coating your forehead.
Your former coworkers always wondered why you loved being in the mountains by yourself, instead of in the office with everyone else, slaving over a desktop and complaining about the cheap coffee. But what can you say? Maybe listening to them whine about the broken air-conditioner for what had to be the hundredth time finally struck a nerve. And who wouldn't want to be outdoors? The sounds of nature are all you listened to. And nothing could be better than that.
After about an hour of hiking, you spot a coursing river. You raise a brow. A river? This high? You stumble along the rocks and sit by its side, watching as the clear water flows over the rocks and misses easily, disappearing down the steel tilt of the mountain. You reach down, letting the clear water roll along your skin, a small dent in the ever flowing current.
It feels almost oddly lukewarm, a bit like a hot spring. It's strange. You glance up, the sun beaming down on your surroundings. Could it be that? Your eyes move over to the opposite side of the river, a glowing light catching your eye.
You glance at the river, large rocks making a strangely perfect path across the water. You debate in your head whether to ignore the shiny object in the distance, or take the risk to cross the water. It doesn't even look too deep if you slipped. You bite your lip, before deciding. You toss your bag over your shoulder tightly before taking the first step on to the rocks. Your hiking boots aren't cheap, but they're made for tougher terrain so you assume that they would work easily on this surface.
You slowly cross, making sure you're fully stable before moving on to the next one. It's a lengthy process, hands trembling as you finally toss yourself into the small pile of leaves on the bank of the river, cushioning your fall. After taking a few seconds to breathe, you dust off your clothes and look at the object you couldn't help but feel drawn to. You crouch town, pushing the grass away.
It looks almost like a large pearl, a bit dusty and covered in grime. But as you wipe it away with your fingers, the shine peaks through, its outer layer egg white. You pick it up, surprised at how lightweight it is. It has to be less than two pounds, but with its size you'd assume it would be much heavier. Nothing scratched your interest on what it is, and the only person that comes to mind is your old office buddy.
Wooyoung. Wooyoung would know what this is.
You opened your bag, lightly pushing it between your belongings before standing up. The sun's beginning to set, and you'd rather not be out here, not when you're not the best hiker. You glance at the spot once more, before walking back the way you came.
-
You walk through your door, tossing your bag into the mud room and kicking your shoes off. You send little kisses to your fish before walking into the kitchen, pouring water into the pot and placing it on the stove.
"Oh shit the Pearl," You run back, looking through your bag and seeing it shine at you. You wash it off in the kitchen, then place it next to the window by your door. It glows softly in the low sunlight. You stare at it for a bit, before dialing your person.
He picks up after only one ring.
"It's almost 6pm so it's not late enough for a booty call," is the first thing he says. He's sitting in his office, knickknacks piled on shelves behind him.
Jung Wooyoung. The bravest man alive, at least in your book. When you were an intern at your editing company, he was one of your superiors. Compared to everyone else he was much more mellow, not caring much about deadlines and always encouraging the people underneath him to take their time with assignments. It didn't bring much favor to him whenever all the departments had meetings, but he always had excellent reviews from the authors. And that made the management hate Wooyoung just as much as they loved him.
Once you were transferred to Wooyoung's department, a soft hello and a tasty coffee made you both best friends. You were inseparable; assignments were given to you and he always stayed by your side to joke about his team or to laugh at the typos some authors did. Every moment spent with him was amazing, and if you were honest with yourself, you did have a little crush on him. At least until he told you that he didn't really imagine himself with someone. That he loved artifacts and stories more than people. It’s more of a fondness now than anything else.
But that day. The day that Jung Wooyoung poured coffee on your department manager. The day that Jung Wooyoung leaped out of your office, high speed and was followed by what had to be dozens of security guards. The day that Jung Wooyoung decided to quit editing and to be a historian, searching for artifacts and educating people when necessary.
And damn he is good at it. You know how smart he is, but never in your life did you think he'd open his own shop in the city and be one of your wealthiest friends within a span of years. Him leaving your office is probably the reason why you wanted to work at home. He's bold enough to go for his dreams, and you felt that too.
"I'm not calling you for a booty call, idiot," You snort, and he laughs. "What's up? How's it going?"
"Ah, you know the usual. Rich men walking in with their trophy wives and wanting to buy one of my babies for way less than it's valued. And then the wives pout and he puts out some extra cash to buy it," he frowns as he looks at his papers. "Did I tell you how much I hate millionaires? All they do is take money and sleep with it."
"Aren't you a millionaire?" You say through a soft smile.
He nods. "My point exactly."
He grabs something off the shelf behind him, before showing it to you. "Hyung came into my shop the other day and said he found this letter from the twelfth century. It's a love letter," Wooyoung traces the words delicately. "It's a bit cheesy, I think you'd like it."
"Yunho really came into your shop to give you a letter? How much did you give him for it?"
Wooyoung sighs. "Nothing. All he wanted was a date."
"That's cute," You laugh, and Wooyoung rolls his eyes.
"It would be, if I didn't say yes."
You blink. Yes? He said yes? You try to keep your face as straight as possible, his eyes moving to the camera. You don't notice the longing in them, they want to hear you protest and say that no, you don't think that going on that date is okay. But all you do is smile, and nod.
"I think you deserve a date, Woo. You've been cooped up in that shop for so long, time to explore the outside world," You move your face closer to the screen. "And from what I can see, you probably haven't showered in days."
"Ah, you're not my Mom," He sighs. "Why did you want to call me anyway? Just to make fun of me?"
You bring your phone with you, flipping the camera to the back one. Your stone sits in the same spot, no longer glowing like before. Wooyoung leans closer to the screen as you align the camera.
"I was hiking and found this thing in the underbrush. I wiped it off a bit 'cause it was dirty but I have no clue what it is?" You say the last bit as a question.
Wooyoung stares at it, his head cocked to the side slightly. He pouts a bit, and you hold back your aww's, knowing he loves being called cute a bit too much. He'd probably go on about it for a week.
"Is it heavy?"
"Nope," You reply. "Can't be more than a few pounds, give or take."
"What kind of color is it? I know it's white, but is it more pink-white or a yellow-white?"
You move the camera out of the way, squinting your eyes at it. "Probably more yellow-white? A bit darker than an egg."
"I can't really tell from this camera to be honest. It can't be a pearl, because it's too big. Almost like the size of a fist. And it isn't heavy either. Would you mind if I came over to your house tomorrow? I'll probably see it better that way."
You flip the camera back to your face. "Will I ever say no to a visit from my favorite person in this universe?" You say, "And I can finally give you your nasty underwear that's been here for way too long. I'm tired of staring at them in my drawer."
"Are they... in your underwear drawer?"
You glare at the screen. "How old are you again, dirty old man? I'm hanging up, see you at twelve!"
He opens his mouth but you've already ended the call, tossing your phone on the counter. You wince as it slides all the way off, the loud drop echoing around your small home. You glance over to make sure it's safe, before walking around it, throwing yourself dramatically on the couch and letting out a sigh.
Your eyes travel back to the strange orb-like thing, sitting next to the window. Whatever it is, you know it's only a reason to not work on the next editing of your client's story. You love the story, actually. Filled with more sci-fi elements than you could think of. You're sure that she's going to become the next James something one day. But goodness, the angst. You needed breaks in between or else you'd be sobbing over a bowl of ice cream, questioning your life choices and wondering if you'd ever find someone that loved you as much.
You push those thoughts away, running your fingers through your hair slowly. Tomorrow's a long day.
-
A knock on the door makes you put your coffee to the side, eyes flicking to the window next to your door. Wooyoung stands there, waving his arms frantically. You grin at him, hopping off the stool and opening the door. He immediately walks in without even saying a good morning. At least he kicks his shoes to the side, walking around the small hallways until his eyes land on the sphere next to your window.
He leans forward, poking it lightly with his finger. "This is the strangest thing I've ever seen," he mumbles, rubbing it with his thumb. "Where did you find this again?"
"Next to the river in the mountains about an hour out from here. I thought I was an egg from an ostrich or something-” He gives you a deadpanned look at that comment- “But it doesn’t sound like anything is inside. It’s not hollow, which is weird because if not-”
“Then this thing would have to weigh at least ten pounds,” Wooyoung murmurs. “Do you mind if I pick it up?”
“Be my guest,” you say, gesturing to it. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me. Just don’t make too much of a mess, yeah? We both know how you get around new things.” A literal mind boner, you think, walking back into the kitchen.
You listen to him play around with it, mumbling his thoughts to himself as you sip your coffee. After about twenty-ish minutes, he runs back into the kitchen, flopping himself on the stool across from you.
“You have to take me to where you found it!” He says, giddy in his chair. You purse your lips, shaking your head.
“I don’t think I want to go back there,” You mumble, taking another sip. “It’s a bit of a ways away. And my legs are sore from yesterday. Plus, I barely edited today and it’s due in two weeks.” You complain, and he scoffs.
“You told me about this thing, and you don’t even want to show me where you got it from? How could you?” He pouts, hand over his chest as he glares at you.
“Wooyoung, you don’t even have hiking-”
“All of it is in the car. I always come prepared,” He says, and winks. “In any situation.”
“You’re disgusting,,” You tease, and he laughs. “Alright, we can do it. But for crying out loud, if you scream at a bee we’re going to turn right around and come back. I’m serious, Woo.”
He frowns. “I am not scared of bees, y/n.”
You raise a brow. “We’ll see.”
-
“Fuck, did you see that?”
“It was a fly, Woo, a fly.”
He laughs nervously, “Ah, I was just testing you.”
You two climb slowly, Wooyoung not far behind you. He jumped a bit at various things, but oddly didn’t at snakes mating. Instead he watched, until you called him a creep and he walked away. You’re almost at the spot where you found it, the sound of running water and the smell seeping into your nose. You glance back at him to make sure he’s close behind, before pushing past some leaves and overgrown plants to reveal the beautiful river.
It’s a bit drier now, but it seems to glow slightly when you enter, as if to give you a soft Welcome. You stand there for a moment, hands resting on your chest as you admire the water. It’s clear enough to see the bottom, various species of sea life swimming through, oblivious to this outside world. Wooyoung finally makes it next to you, breathing heavily.
He opens his mouth to complain, but his eyes widen at the scenery, looking at you. You smile softly at your surroundings, lost in your own thoughts. He doesn’t dare interrupt; he loves seeing you like this the most. You take a couple more moments to breathe in the fresh air before turning to him.
“You see those stepping stones in the middle?” He nods. “That’s what I used to get across. It was close to the bank of the river, hiding a bit in the mud.”
“Interesting,” he begins walking to the stepping stones, and you follow close behind. Just because he knows about these artifacts doesn’t mean he knows nature; he spends more time in his office than the sun.
"Be careful-" You utter, watching as his shoes slip slightly on the pebbles. He looks back at you. His purse is tight around his waist, hair pulled into a small bun on the top of his head. He sticks his tongue at you.
"Real mature," You mumble, and he laughs. You don't notice how close his left foot is to the water, his grip on the rocks slipping. He looks back at you in panic before falling back into the water.
"Wooyoung!" You yell, reaching out and grabbing him by a strap on his travel bag.
He lurks forward, and you reach onto one of the big stones. The rock digs into your fingers and you curse to yourself, grinding your teeth as you try to hold onto him and yourself. But the river...
It has other ideas.
The current picks up immediately, flinging you back from the rocks you desperately held onto. Wooyoung struggles to grab something, anything in his grasp, but the branches are too far away from him. You turn around, your head bobbing up and down from the depths as you try to think of a way to get out. But your feet don't even touch the bottom, and you feel the panic begin to rise in your chest.
"Fuck, I'm sorry y/n, I wish that there was someway we could get out of this-!"
You turn your head, spotting a stump not too far from where you two are. With all the strength you can muster, you yank him through the water. You wrap your arm around the stump, Wooyoung holding on tight as well. You both catch a breath, before he begins to laugh.
Your anger subsides, and you giggle with him as well. "Fuck you! We could've died!" You yell, splashing water at him.
He chuckles slowly as the two of you make your way back to dry land. "You didn't tell me how slippery it was. I could've died!" He jokes.
"Keep talking like that and I'll throw you back in there, idiot." You grumble.
The two of you finally make it to shore, breathing heavily. He flops on his back,chest rising and falling. You lay next to him, your hair slapping against your cheek. You two don't say anything for a moment, heart still pumping at the rise of adrenaline. You glance back at the log, watching as it detached itself from its spot and continued down the river, falling over the incline and from your sight. It was a miracle; it suddenly appeared as you turned your head. You were sure the both of you were done for; but you suppose that that's how life works.
Wooyoung leans up, picking leaves off his clothing. He looks at you, "Hey. I'm sorry, I wasn't paying close enough attention-"
You wave him off. "As long as we're alive, you don't have to say sorry. Now, if we both fell and I had to walk with your sorry ass to the gates of Hell, we would've had some issues."
"Hell?" He frowns. "I'm too good for that."
"You saying that brought you a little bit closer to burning for eternity."
You two continue to tease one another as you walk back down the mountain, the small orb of yours still tucked safely in your bag. Through the laughs and pushes, you notice Wooyoung wince. You look down, a slash on his left forearm, bleeding profusely. After much protest from him, once you get down the mountain you insist on bringing him to the hospital. Even though he whines for a bit, you call Yunho; the one person you can count on to bring him there in one piece.
He picks up after the first ring.
"Papa's pizzeria, delivery or pickup?" Yunho asks, and you sigh, rubbing your forehead. These two idiots are plucked from the same tree.
"Woo is hurt and I need you to take him to the hospital," You hear him stumble over something in the background, and your frown deepens. Maybe you'll just bring him yourself? You already have to deal with enough as it is, and if you're being honest with yourself, delaying your editing for another day won't do much to your workload. You'd still procrastinate until the last second.
"How hurt? Did he get his finger stuck in the garbage disposal again?" You hear him fumble with something, "I told him to stop sticking things down there, and here we are."
"I think he'll tell you the story once you get there, since he won't let me bring him," You glance back at pouting Woo, "I think he's a bit embarrassed," You whisper.
"I'm right here!" He complains, and you snort.
"I'll be there in ten minutes, make sure he elevates his finger and stays away from the sink. I'll wait in the car-" Yunho stops in the middle of his talk. “Wait. Please tell me he didn’t try that butt thing again.”
You’re quiet for a moment. Wooyoung takes the phone out of your hand, and you stare at him, a brow raised. He turns away from you, but you can still see the blush that brushes his cheeks.
“Stop saying stupid things and get here already before I bleed out and die, okay?” He ends the call, turning to you. “Some things are better left unsaid.”
-
Yunho stands across from Wooyoung, clicking his tongue as he examines the abrasion on his arm. "What did you do, fall off a cliff?" He scolds, and Wooyoung looks at you, a grin cracking his face.
"If you weren't so busy saving lives, I wouldn't have done this to get your attention," Wooyoung says with confidence and a wink, not noticing how red the tips of Yunho's ears get.
"Let's go to the hospital before this thing gets infected." His eyes flick to yours. "Are you okay being alone? Unless you want to come with us."
"Nah, I'm good. I have to finish up some work before leaving. Woo, please let Yun take you and don't try to convince him otherwise," You glare at Wooyoung, rubbing warm water on your cut. Yunho notices the slight winces you do, and glances in the sink.
He frowns. "I'm a doctor, and you're asking for me to ignore your hand. Sometimes, I wonder if Wooyoung's the idiot."
"Hey!" You protest, and he takes your hand out of the sink, examining it closely.
"It's only a surface wound, nothing too big. Just clean it and put a bit of antibiotic on it and change it every six hours. Let it breathe a little before replacing the band-aid and you'll be fine." He says, smiling at you.
Jeong Yunho. Before meeting Wooyoung, Yunho has been your friend for several years; probably since you were small kids, running around the playground. You were close, perhaps a little too close. Your other friends always insisted that you two should date, because you were compatible, but god, you know too much about him to even give it a second thought. He's pretty, you'd give him that. But if you could barely stand Wooyoung's jokes; Yun's were on another level. He couldn't stand five minutes without saying something stupid.
And you love him, you do. But if you had to stand that for more than a day you're sure you'd go mad. Handling one of them is enough to give you a slight headache. But two? Absolutely not. You'd rather fall down that mountain.
"Thank you Yun," You say and he nods quickly, turning back to Wooyoung.
"Time to get your ass to the hospital. I would help you myself, but technically I'm not allowed to since I haven't seen your chart," he says, and Wooyoung only rolls his eyes. He glances at your bag quickly.
"Hey, I'll look more into that orb thing okay? Don't miss my call or else, y/n," he points a finger at you, before following Yunho out to the car. You wave them off, a coffee in hand. Once they drive far enough away, you close the door behind you.
You dig through your bag, placing the orb back in its spot by the window. You think back to the river, a frown on your lips as you stroke the sphere. It still had plenty of water in it, but not enough, you think. You wish silently that it goes back to its original shape, worry about your features. Global warming is a bitch.
You let go of the ball, placing your cup in the dishwasher and stretching your arms. You're exhausted from everything that's happened today, but you still have to edit that angst, sobbing-over-your-popcorn story. So you puff out your chest, taking one last look at the shiny orb shining softly before walking into your dungeon.
-
Wooyoung is fine, he just had a few bruises and they stitched up his abrasion on his arm. Yunho told you the whole story, from Wooyoung's loud screaming to the nurse frantically looking at him and asking if he needed to be sedated. And even with Yunho there, Wooyoung almost stopped the circulation of blood in his arm from how tight he was holding onto him. You can only imagine how dramatic he was; Wooyoung is all bark and no bite.
You flick off a stray leaf from your arm. Some would say you're out of your mind for coming out there without even a week passing since you two almost killed yourselves crossing the river. You know Yunho would have a fit, locking you inside your home and not letting you see the light of day for a month minimum. But you consider yourself a bit fearless, so what's so bad about climbing the mountain again? Seeing the pretty water and having a picnic next to the river?
You finally make it to the spot. A rush of calm flows over you as you set up your spot, lightly flapping your blanket over the forest floor and taking out your small snacks. You sit next to the water as you sip your tea. There's so much more water now, completely different from a couple of days ago. A bit of it splashes against the sides of the bank, some falling over you like a mist. You hum softly, taking a bite of your sandwich.
Your eyes flick over to the other side of the river, and you stop what you're doing. A small cabin is there; it's dark wood almost masking itself against the foliage behind it. You raise your eyebrows in confusion. That couldn't have always been there; there was no way you and Wooyoung would miss it. You tuck the rest of your food away, standing up.
Vines creep along the sides of the small home, flowers decorate the bottom of the windows. It looks a bit old but well kept, signs of someone living there clearly seen. A small part of you is curious, fingers itching to see what's inside. But you shake your head. There could be someone in there right now, and you could be invading their space. You glance down at the blanket.
You could be on someone's property right now.
You crouch down, folding up your blanket as quickly as you can. A creak makes you stop what you're doing, eyes moving back across the river. A man locks the door behind him, staring down at the river. His eyes move along the bank, confusion in his gaze. You look back down, packing away your things. No need to attract more attention to yourself. You shove it in your bag, looking back across the water.
The man's eyes are frozen on yours, an unnaturally bright blue, almost as translucent as the water below you. You don't move, his eyebrows furrowing as he stares at you. You feel a strange feeling roll over you, your skin prickling and your hairs standing straight up. Whatever this man... thing is, you know he's not friendly. He takes a step forward, and your body moves into overdrive. You throw your bag onto your back, running through the forest.
You try your best to leap over the rocks and fallen sticks in your way, desperate to get away from him. You hear the stomping of his feet behind you, your heart beating in your ear blocking out most sounds. Your feet catch onto a piece of bark sticking out of a stump, and you stumble before falling onto your back. You hear his steps getting closer and closer, and you try standing up, but curse, staring at your leg. A deep gash covers your calf, and you try your best to hold back your tears.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
His voice is right behind you, and you tense up, quickly turning your head around to face him. He stands above you, arms crossed. His blue eyes narrow, pupils similar to a snake's. He cocks his head to the side, glancing quickly at your leg before flicking back to your face.
“Why are you here?”
You open your mouth, before closing it. This man could be a serial killer, ready to kill you at the slightest mistake in your words. You’re sure that he knows what you’re thinking from the inquisitive look in his eyes. He’s waiting for you to lie, he’s waiting for you to make something up.
“I was having a picnic. Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t know this was someone’s property–"
“You shouldn’t be able to see me.” He says plainly. “How can you see me? Have you visited a witch? Are you dying?” He presses you for answers, taking a step closer. “Tell me now, Human.”
This whole situation is getting weirder by the second, so you shake your head, trying to drag yourself away from him. He grabs onto your arm, glaring at you. The bright blue pierces through you, and you quickly realize that they aren’t contacts or a stylistic choice. His eyes are really that color.
“Answer me.”
“Let go of me first, creep.”
He glances at your leg again, before letting go of your arm. You lift yourself onto the stump that tripped you up, breathing heavily. The blood leaks out of your leg slowly. You feel yourself getting lightheaded, and you rub your eyes.
“Listen, I don’t have time for this. If you want to report me to the police or something, can you just do it already? I don’t think I’ll last much longer.”
“Are you feeling faint?” He asks, crouching down to touch your leg. You wince as he brushes your cut. “You can’t leave the mountain like this.”
“Of course I can’t, idiot-”
“But I cannot help you. I need to know where Yeouiju is first. I can sense it on you.” He says, pulling back.
You huff in irritation. “I don’t know what a Yeouiju is! Can’t you just help me?”
“Yeouiju has gone missing ever since you appeared, Human. It rested in the soil next to the river. It has gone missing ever since you traveled across the waters.” His eyes move to your bag, before looking at you. He knows it’s in there, but he hasn’t said a word. “If it is not in my hands, terrible things could happen.”
You open your bag, taking it out. “I didn’t realize it wasn’t yours, I’m sorry.” You give it to his open hands, and he sucks in a shaky breath as it touches his skin. You see the stone glow slightly, before he places it in his pocket.
“You made a wish.” He says softly, “And you didn’t use it for yourself.”
It seems like he’s waiting for you to respond with something, but you keep your thoughts to yourself. He stares at you, frustrated. He shakes his head slowly, lifting you up and pressing you against his chest. You yelp, wrapping your arms around his head. His skin is cold, your hands shivering against it. He walks through the forest with ease, barely rocking you. You come to the river, and he glances down at you.
“Close your eyes, human.”
You hold them tight, and he walks. You’re not sure how he gets over the water so easily, but you open your eyes as he opens the door to his cabin. He places you down on his sofa, telling you to stay put as he disappears into another room. His home is cozy, a fireplace in the corner crackling, filling the silence. Everything looks handmade; from the chairs at his table to the clock on the door to the cabinets lining the walls. He has candles in every corner of the room, flickering softly. And the floor is… moist. You're sure every surface of the wood is wet.
You notice that he doesn’t have electricity anywhere in the house, a wood burning stove in the living room and it looks like the kitchen doesn’t even have running water. You try moving your leg but pain strikes up your calf, and you let out a low groan, biting your lip. Here you are, in a stranger’s home without anyone knowing. You curse yourself for leaving your phone at home, even though it’s no use; there’s no signal out here.
-
Yeosang stands in the opposite room, staring down at Yeouiju. He doesn’t quite understand how you were able to see and wield the orb; it could only be held by wise ones, and ones of pure heart. He hasn’t seen a human hold it in ages; it always sat outside, a stray passerby oblivious to its presence. And yet, you hold it without even knowing its power, using your wish to refuel the river’s waters.
He frowns, placing Yeouiju back on his shelf. Many humans who were able to see it in all its glory used their wishes on selfish things; riches, glory, full health for themselves, immortality. But you, you used yours to help a river. Once you took it from its holy spot, he felt the pain of it being gone from his presence in his chest, a hole ripped out cleanly.
He rubs his chest, but it feels different ever since he touched the stone. He knows that something is off, something the other gods didn't tell him about. He runs his fingers through his hair, glancing back at the stone before walking out.
-
"I told you to stay still." He says as he walks back in.
You finally take in his appearance. He's wearing old clothes, loosely fitting to his form. White shirt and cargo pants, though his shoes are oddly clean. He kicks them to the side, staring at you. His hair is blond, overgrown and covering a bit of his eyes. He walks to you, holding a small, leather bag in his hand. He sits on the floor next to you, digging through his bag. You see him take out small clothes, he sniffs it once before looking down at your leg. He frowns, glancing up at you.
"It was foolish of you to run. You could have hurt yourself more than this," he takes out small tweezers. "Close your eyes if looking at me doing this is uncomfortable."
Before he begins, you move your leg away. He sighs, dropping his arms.
"What's the issue?" He asks, already exasperated. "This will be finished quickly if you cooperate."
"How do I know you're not going to poison me or something? Or is this your evil plot to lure me into your home and keep me as your pet? Huh?"
He stares at you. He pulls your leg close to him, holding it tightly. He blows on your leg softly, and you feel it grow numb at his breath, and you widen your eyes.
Okay, at this point you can only come to one conclusion. This must be some weird dream of yours. Though it is a first, seeing someone like him. You try to calm your heart as he leans forward, slowly picking out small pebbles and other debris. The silence is comforting, but your curiosity is lingering as you look at him. There's something off about him, from his eyes to his calm demeanor to his strange home in the mountains. And there's more to it, but you just can't figure it out. His eyes flick up at yours, emotionless.
"Are you going to stare at me the whole time, or ask your questions?" He asks softly. "I will not tell you my name, and I will not tell you why I have a home in the mountains, or about Yeouiju. But you may ask about other things, and I'll decide if I want to answer."
So the things you want to know, he's not going to say. He digs into your skin as you try pulling away, but his grip is so strong and steady that it doesn't even faze him. His pupils widen as he focuses on cleaning your wound.
"Why don't you have electricity?" You ask softly.
"Why have man-made things when you can live off the Earth? She has given us everything that we need, there is no use for electrical appliances. I have candles, and I have wood. I live near a river. Nothing more is needed." He says simply. "I am going to cleanse your wound, please tell me if the pain is too great."
He slowly dabs the cloth on your skin, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. Not finding any, he turns back to your cut.
"Why did you decide to help me? To bring me to your home?"
He stops cleaning for a moment, and you wonder if you asked too much. He closes his eyes for a moment before speaking.
"The River told me that you were pure, the waters flowing through the mountain whispered to me, and I only listened. There is nothing more to that." He takes out his butterfly stitches, looking at you. "Close your eyes, it will hurt less."
"No, I'm fine—"
"Close your eyes, I don't have time to argue with you about this. Just, close your eyes."
You glare at him but shut your eyes, putting your hand over them. He huffs, then begins to take care of your wound. You could barely feel his touch, the light brushes against your skin still cold. You wonder if it's because he doesn't have heat, but the fireplace should suffice, right? And it's almost the end of Winter; Spring is right around the corner. Wait, why are you worrying about a man who lives in the woods? He's probably been here for years and knows how to live without assistance from you. You aren't his friend; why are you even thinking about it?
Your eyes flick open, moving to the stone necklace resting against his chest. Carved into each stone are symbols you don't quite recognize, a light blue peeking out from the strokes. He grunts, and your eyes move back up to his. He frowns, looking down at your leg.
"You need to rest before leaving; it will be too hard to hike back down the mountains with a wound like this," he stands. "I'll give you some of the stew I made earlier since you didn't finish your lunch." He doesn't ask if you want any, walking back to the kitchen.
He looks back at you sitting next to the fireplace, hand reaching out to feel the waves of heat flowing off of it. Your hair has leaves sticking out of it, some falling to the floor without much notice from you. He leans on the counter, running his fingers through his own.
They will not approve of him having a Human in his home; he knows that. He can only imagine what his brothers might do if they stepped into here, fresh off a trip to see Mother. Eyes moving to the Human in the room, bringing less hospitality with their stares than him. Perhaps San will accept you, but it is a reach. Even though he’s the brother with the most light-hearted mind, he's furious when he needs to be.
He reaches over, taking out a wooden bowl from his cabinet and opening the lid to the stew. Steam moistens his face as he places chunks of meat and potatoes into your bowl. He looks at you again, and this time, you're staring out the window. You rock your not-injured leg, too deep in your thoughts to notice his stare. He places his hand in the water, breathing slowly.
He almost drops the bowl at the sudden onslaught of emotions. He closes his eyes, teeth grinding as his heart swells in his chest, a ringing in his ears and his hand shaking. He's not able to produce sweat, he knows that, but he feels it fall from his cheek. His eyes dilate, looking at you. The word keeps on chanting over and over in his head, and he tries his best to suppress it. Because it cannot be. You are an ordinary Human, it is impossible-
Mate.
"Hey, are you alright?"
You turn to him, and jump. He's trembling; tears falling down his cheeks and sweating more than you've ever seen. You stand, limping slightly.
A small breeze drifts through the window, and he tries to hold his breath. But the creature in him takes control, awakening. The sweet smell of your pheromones brush his nostrils, tickling his nerves. He closes his eyes again, struggling to tell you to stop moving. If the counter wasn't between you and him ...
"Don't move." He says, voice rumbling.
You immediately stop, as his eyes burn into yours. They're completely black as they look at you, the pretty, crystal blue gone. You see as he clenches the counter with his hand, as if he's struggling to keep himself from jumping over it.
Mate. Mate with her, she is yours.
The same words continue in his head over and over, becoming too much to bear.
"Leave, now." He says.
You look outside, the sunset almost turning into the starry night sky. But if you're honest, you'd rather deal with the woods than the strange man in front of you, whose eyes move to every flick of your muscles, neck strained. You grab your bag quickly, limping out the door. Before you leave, you turn back.
"Uh, thanks. For helping me. And I'm sorry I stole your stone."
You shut the door, quickly hobbling across the river, ignoring the loud crashing sounds behind you. You don't know what's up with him, but you don’t want to know. Not really. God, Wooyoung and Yunho would laugh if you told them about this, about meeting a strange guy in the woods and going into his home. Well, scold you first, before bursting into laughter. Telling you that you hit your head a bit too hard on the ground, that you should've gone to the hospital along with Woo. That you have a concussion.
You shake your head at your silly thoughts, your flashlight guiding you back home.
-
You shut the door behind you, taking stuttered breaths. You toss your phone to the side, running your fingers through your hair. Leaves catch onto your nails, and you grunt, tossing them in the small bin next to your door. Whatever the fuck just happened, you wish you can just push it out of your mind, toss it to the side and pretend that today is just another ordinary day.
You throw yourself onto your couch, a nightly routine. A shot of pain goes up your leg, and you hiss, looking back down at it. He bandaged it up pretty well, neatly cleaning off your wound and leaving only the aligned butterfly bandages behind. You run your fingers along the side of it, humming to yourself softly. Was he high? His face was so red, but it just looked like he smelled something terrible.
You reach for your remote, turning on National Geographic. MythBusters is on, talking about the loch ness monster and dragons. You raise your brow, relaxing into the cushions. As he begins his trip to some Forest in China, you hear the familiar beep of your phone. You glance at the caller ID, and see Wooyoung's kissy face. Is he already fine and dandy? You were sure that he caught something with that deep gash. You answer, balancing it between your ear and neck.
"What's up-"
"Where is the stone? y/n, tell me that you don't have the stone anymore," he says through rushed breaths. It sounds like he's run a marathon, gasping through your phone. You lean away slightly.
"Your voice is muffled Woo. Move away from your mic," You complain. "But yes, the stone is back where it's supposed to be. Out of my hands. Deep in the mountains, never to be seen again."
"Thank God. I was researching about it and it talked about it having omnipotence power, and it belong to the ancient dragons-"
You hear a soft knock on your door, and you lean over your couch, looking through the side window next to your door. You see a figure standing there, completely still. Wooyoung continues to yap about the end of the world and something about serpents as you groan, standing and stretching. The banging gets louder, and you sigh.
"What? Who are you?" You yell.
"y/n?" Wooyoung says, "When did you go to the mountains? Did you go alone?"
"Woo, shh. There's someone at the door-"
"Who's at the door, y/n?" You hear the nervousness in his voice. "Fuck, can you just answer me already? I'm about to piss myself."
You walk to the door, but stop, staring at the small window. You can recognize that frame from anywhere. Large body almost blocking the whole window, blue eyes shining through the glass. Your hand shakes, barely listening to Wooyoung's rants into your phone.
"y/n, tell me who the fuck–"
"What did you say, Woo? About the stone and the dragon?" You say softly, your eyes never leaving his.
"Well, it's not a well known story, but sometimes there's a four-toed, Korean dragon that carries a stone called Yeouiju, carried either in its mouth or claws. This is all legend, but it says that whoever is worthy of it and carries the stone, will have the blessing of the gods. Something about the abilities of omnipotence and creation at will. Almost like a wish fulfilling stone, y/n. And it also mentions something about if dragons lose their hold of the stone and is found in the hands of another, they are destined."
"Destined?" You say breathlessly. The door begins to shake, a smile slowly forming on the man's face. You hear a small mhm from Wooyoung as he continues.
"Yup. Whoever is able to hold the stone, is destined to be with one another. Like mates, I guess."
The door begins to rattle after Wooyoung finishes. You take a step back from the door, eyes wide.
"I don't know what that stone that you found was and I know you don't believe in things like this, so please just drop the skepticism for a bit and listen to me. Don't go back for that stone, y/n. It's better to just pretend that it doesn't exist, and live your life without it. I'd rather you not go up the mountains either."
The door groans under his weight, small cracks slowly forming. You move into your kitchen, looking at your phone.
"Wooyoung," You say softly.
"Yes, what's up?" You don't respond after a moment, and he begins to panic. "y/n? You never told me who's at your door? What's wrong?"
"Do you really believe in this whole dragon thing? Because if you do, I'm ninety-fucking-percent sure he's right outside my door," You say. Wooyoung doesn't say anything for a moment, before a chuckle erupts through the phone.
"Don't shit me right now, y/n. Wait..." he trails off, before speaking again. "What happened when you dropped off the stone? y/n, this isn't funny, I'm being serious."
The banging gets louder. You wince each time, putting your phone on speaker, your hands shaking too much to hold it.
"I met a guy in the woods, Woo. His house was weird, he didn't have electricity and his eyes looked like some type of lizard's... And I ran back home, Woo. He told me to leave, and I did. But right now, the man I found in the woods is outside the front door, and he wants to come in."
You hear crashing through the line, and things thrown all over the place.
"y/n, do not open that fucking door. y/n, go hide somewhere, in your room or something–"
"Why won't you let me in?"
His voice echoes in your home, and your eyes flick back to the door, seeing him staring right at you, even through the tempered glass.
Nothing will happen, don’t you want to see me? I won’t hurt you. Just listen to me, okay? Open the door, and everything will be fine.
The cracks in the wood grow, and you feel your heart beating in your ear. The dark wood is slowly coming apart, and Wooyoung is too far to come and save you. You're on your own.
"I'm on my way, y/n, please go hide somewhere, don't open that door! I'm not going to hang up the phone, okay? I'll be on the line with you," he says, and you hear him zipping up his coat. It takes him over an hour to get there every time, and even with him speeding he could only knock off about twenty minutes. And that's if he doesn't run into city traffic.
Your phone beeps, blinking and showing you your low battery.
1%.
Who are you talking to? Is that your mate?
His voice drips with jealousy, and you're sure if you stay on the line any longer–
"Woo, I'll have to hang up now, but I'll make sure to call you back, alright? My phone is running out of charge." You say, hearing the curses fall from his lips.
"Don't you hang up on me!"
You click the end call button, keep your eye on the door as you plug it into your charger in your kitchen. The thumping slows down a bit, and you hear a soft knock on the wood.
I'm sorry for making you walk down the mountain alone, but I was with you the whole time. I didn't let you out of my sight.
That was the feeling that itched your skin, making you turn back every couple of seconds. He was protecting you– no. No, he was chasingyou.
Why don't you let me in, y/n? I want to check up on you, make sure everything is okay.
You shake your head, though you're not sure if he could see that gesture. You're too scared to speak to him, to say a word that'll show your weakness. Show how desperately your body wanted you to fling that door open. You don't know what's gotten into you, but the pull, the urge to see him is slowly overcoming your rational thoughts.
Are you feeling okay, y/n?
You love the way your name rolls off his tongue, familiar and yet, not. He slowly pushes his body against the door, waiting for you to say something to him.
I know you want to speak to me, please. Just say something so that I know you're okay.
You wrap your fingers around the edge of the counter, keeping your eyes to the floor.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," You whisper. You're not sure if he hears you, until a low moan falls from his lips, his jiggling of the door handle increasing by the second.
You sound like you need my help. I can hear it in your voice, you need me, don't you? You feel that, you feel that feeling rolling over you? I can smell you from here, y/n. I know you want me. I know you want me to make love to you, don't you?
You fall into your stool, wrapping your arms around your body, legs tight together.
Want me to fill you up with my cum, have you shaking with how good I pump into you? Biting into your neck, sucking marks into your skin. I bet you'll like that, right?
You try to control your breaths, but a low moan falls from your lips, and you hear him fall to the ground. The TV is too low to hide the sound of him unzipping his pants. Too low to cover his loud moans as he rubs himself just outside your door. You can only imagine the sweat dripping down his forehead, head thrown back and eyes tight as he fucks himself into his hand.
Fuck, I'm here, y/n. Just open those legs for me, hm? Don't you want me to smell you? To suck your clit, to make you cum? Just open them. Do it for me, now.
His voice turns aggressive at the end, and you don't move. You know what will happen if you do. And you're not sure if you'd want to stop yourself from throwing that door open, taking him without a second thought.
You're mine, you know that right? Since you grabbed my stone, we're destined for one another. No mortal will make you feel like I do. I can hear you panting, you know. I can see you, sitting there. Struggling to listen to me, trying your best to keep yourself in that chair.
I know you're thinking about me fucking you. Opening the door and shoving you against the wall, shoving my cock into you without a second thought.
He stops moving for a second, standing up. He begins hitting the door, the brute force breaking off one of the hinges. You need to hide now. You look from the floor to the glass, and between the foggy texture, you see something peeking through. Are those… wings?
His eyes meet yours, and his name rumbles in your mind. It isn't from his mouth, you just feel it being given to you.
Yeosang.
You get up from your chair, not thinking about the repercussions of your actions. Not thinking about how he can smell you. He grunts loudly, slamming himself against the door harder. You run into your bedroom on the opposite side of the house.
Your eyes move all over, before they rest on your closet. It's such a typical place to hide, but you have no other choice. Then your eyes move to your bathroom, but you shake your head. No, that'll be the first place he'll check. You quietly open your closed door, shutting it behind you with a slight click.
You hear your door being kicked in, and you flinch, cursing at yourself for not checking your phone charge before running in here. You hear his soft footsteps as he walks around your home, your breaths hushed.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says softly, voice echoing throughout the empty hallways.
You say nothing, not daring to even move an inch. The door squeaks open, and you press your hands over your mouth, eyes watering. Your hands shake as you hear his slow breaths. You know he doesn’t want to hurt you, deep down you know that. But the fear of the unknown, the fear that he’s actually here to damn you for taking his Yeouiju, makes you think otherwise.
“Why didn’t you open the door?” He asks, stopping in front of the closet. His finger scratches the wood, and you hold in your sobs. “Aren’t we meant to be together?”
The door flings open, and you scream, covering your face. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to steal the stone, please!”
Hands pull you up, and you yell, trying your best to fight against him.
“y/n! Y/n! Hey, listen to me! I’m not him, I’m Woo! Hey, hey,” He says, and you open your eyes, looking at the soft brown eyes of your best friend. “Hey, calm down. Just breathe, alright? I’m here, no one’s going to hurt you.”
He pulls you into his arms, trying his best to calm down the shakes that just won’t stop vibrating through your body. You cry against his shoulder, clutching so hard against him you’re sure you’ll leave bruises.
“Don’t you ever fucking hang up on me, alright? Don’t you ever do that to me again.” He says sternly, and you feel his tears drip onto your neck. “Fuck, you scared the shit out of me, I thought… I thought-”
He doesn’t say it, but you know. A small knock makes you jump, and Wooyoung holds you tight, standing in front of you and turning to the door. Yunho stands there sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.
“I know you said to stay in the car, but it’s so dark out there and the loud music could do only so much, ya know?” He glances behind Wooyoung, meeting your eyes.
“So I heard you caught the eye of a dragon?”
-
Wooyoung stands in the kitchen, flipping an omelet. His eyes stare at you through the window, watching you swing yourself softly on the swing. Yunho stands next to him, balancing on one leg. His eyes follow his gaze, and he sighs.
“You haven’t taken your eyes off of her for days, Woo. She’s fine.”
Wooyoung looks down at the pan, shaking his head. “She says she’s fine, but I know she’s not, hyung. She pretends, you know that. She always says that she’s okay, but then I hear her crying in her room, telling us that it’s just an emotional movie. Every time she goes into the bathroom alone, she locks the door and takes less than two minutes in and out. She’s anxious; and she’s trying to hide it from us.”
Yunho nods slowly. “So, this dragon thing, it’s real?”
Wooyoung knows he doesn’t want to believe it. Believe that just up those mountains, a creature lays in wait, waiting for Yunho and him to leave so he can see y/n again.
“It’s as real as sliced bread,” Wooyoung murmurs. “I can’t believe it myself; but what else do you think broke in the door like that? And it was from the outside. No human or animals around here could do that much damage. And I’m sure that an elephant didn’t travel over here to knock down her door.”
“So, what do we do?” Yunho replies. “Do we bring her back to our apartment?”
Wooyoung elbows him, ignoring the smirk on his face. “I haven’t told her about that yet, idiot.”
“Better now than never,” Yunho shrugs. “But I’m being serious. We know she hates the city, but if she’s too afraid to stay alone, well, if we’re too afraid to let her, then we should bring it up.”
Wooyoung grumbles. You already have so much on your plate; dealing with the head editor at your job, this dragon nonsense. Bringing up his new relationship with your childhood friend would probably bring more stress to your life. Wooyoung frowns as he stares at his egg, taking a small bite.
“Fine, we’ll bring it up. But let me tell her first, okay? I think it’s better for her to hear it from me.”
Yunho shrugs. “Doesn’t matter to me. I think she’ll be happy you finally have some dick in your life.” Yunho narrowly misses Wooyoung’s spatula, laughing as he chases him around the house, the stove of course, safely turned off.
-
“This is not possible. A wise one never mates with a mortal, a Human of all the possibilities,” Seonghwa says through clenched teeth, staring in disgust at his younger brother. “What have you done?”
“Do not scold him so much, Seonghwa. He must have made some sort of mistake, I cannot see Yeosang’s mate being a Human. It is impossible.” Jongho says, defending his brother. “He is the wisest of us all, don’t be so harsh.”
“Or perhaps he would like for this to happen,” San says, eyes on his brother. Yeosang says nothing, listening to their complaints. “He has always followed what Mother says, but at some point, we all rebel. This may be his time.”
“You all are being harsh,'' Mingi mumbles, staring at the blood on the couch. It smells like Human, the stench not too bad on his nostrils, since he has been infatuated with one before. He looks at Yeosang’s tired eyes. “I trust Yeosang with my whole life. Let him explain himself first, please.”
“Fine,” Seonghwa murmurs. He glares at Yeosang. “Explain, now.”
Yeosang keeps his eyes on the floor, exhaustion not the only thing taking a toll on his body. He hears his inner dragon desperately wanting to leave his home, and run to yours, completing the mating ritual. A chain attached to his legs, made with the toughest metals that Earth can provide. It wraps around his kitchen counter; keeping him in his place.
He stares at the chain for a moment, before sighing, pushing his long locks away from his face.
"The dragon told me, this was not my choice and never will be. I just helped her in the forest, tended to her wound. And then when I was about to feed her, I felt the pain in his chest. The overwhelming feeling of the beast trying to claw himself out and mate with her. My dragon is never wrong, even in this Human form. This is why I have myself chained up. Even now, it wants to shred the four of you apart to get to her. And your insults are only fueling the anger in my chest."
He looks at them, and Mingi tries his best to hold in his shock. Scratches cover his face from his claws, slowly healing. Dried blood stains his cheeks but he couldn't even begin to notice. He sees the tightness in his brother's jeans, the reigned in anger that keeps him from leaping at the rest.
Because he has felt this way before.
"Hyung," Mingi mumbles softly. "We all know what happened when my lover was a Human. I am afraid. Afraid that the same would happen to you and y/n. I don't think... I don't believe we should allow you to see her again, or vice versa. It is for the best."
A low growl rumbles in his chest, and the others stare at him, ready for an attack at any given moment. But Yeosang closes his eyes, calming himself.
"We are ancient ones; there is no reason we should even be able to have mates," San mumbles, rubbing his forehead. His red hair is striking compared to the rest of them; but he is a fire dragon. It is expected for him to look this way. "Why did Mother insist?"
"She wanted us to have a chance at a normal Human experience. Ever since she gave us this," Seonghwa gestures to his body in disgust, "Human form, she has wanted us to assimilate into everyday society. But Yeosang has kept to himself, as well as the rest of us." Seonghwa looks to Yeosang, white hair covering his light pupils, almost translucent. He wears his brown human contacts when necessary; but he prefers to let his eyes breathe.
"You should have left that Human to die. It is the natural order. I know that you are... slightly leaning to caring for them, but they are not like us. And you seemed to have forgotten that.
"I couldn't leave," Yeosang explains. "She had Yeouiju. I couldn't leave without retrieving it. Without it, our rivers will dry. Even if I am in control of the rain and river, that doesn't mean that I can stop it from drying out. Finding out I'm to mate with y/n, that was just a mistake."
Mingi shakes his head, brown hair and eyes more normal than the rest of them. Besides the reptile slits as pupils, nothing else was out of the ordinary. At least, from what the normal Human could see.
"I don't approve, Yeosang."
"I heard you the first time," he grumbles. "But this is not our only issue."
Seonghwa tenses up, and San speaks. "What is it now?"
"I am not the only one that has a Human mate."
They all exchange looks, knowing exactly who he speaks of.
"What will we do about that? He hasn't been careful, but mother will approve. She will stop us if we ever interfere. She would scowl us."
"Make sure that he does no harm to the Human. Even though most of you despise the creatures, they are Mother's creations. Seeing them harmed only disturbs her rest. And we are the guardians. Yunho will stay in line." Yeosang is confident in his resolve. Yunho is the one that has spent the most time with the lesser beings. He knows how to be like a Human.
-
Yunho pouts as he stands at the door, Wooyoung next to him. You lean against the wall, rolling your eyes at the behavior. You're fine, and they continue to insist that you go with them. But from the lingering gazes Yunho gives his ass and the smirks Wooyoung sends his way, you've had enough. And you love them, you do. But the constant laughing at higher volumes than necessary and the toilet seat being up, you've had it. The only reason why you haven't kicked them out earlier is because they were worried out of their minds. But you're okay now.
For now.
"y/n, please eat more. You're stuck in that room all day and never come out. I'm serious," He adds, seeing the look on your face. "I bought vitamins and left them in your room. And if you need more—"
"Ah, Woo! She'll be fine, she is an adult not a child," Yunho complains. "And I've been standing here for ten minutes as you showed her around her own house and told her where her own things are. The new idol show is going to start soon, let's just go." Yunho pulls at Wooyoung, kicking him outside. He gives you an apologetic look.
"Call us if you need us. We're here for you, you know that, right?" He says softly. "I don't want you to be hurt, especially by this strange man. Call me if he appears. Do not hesitate, y/n."
You see the plea in his eyes, desperate for you to listen to his words. You nod, and he pulls you into a quick hug, squeezing you tightly before kissing your forehead and stumbling after Wooyoung. You wave to them as they go, your heart clenching. You know that you should have gone with them. If he wanted you this bad, he knows. He'll be waiting for you to be alone, and you're not sure if the feeling in your chest is anxiety or excitement.
-
You frown as you submit your edit of the chapter, shutting off your computer. You let out a long, breathy sigh, throwing yourself back in your chair. The wheels give it’s last sad effort and you yelp, falling back to the floor. The drop echoes around the house as you groan, small whimpers falling from your lips. You hear a loud bang, and you barely glance up, Wooyoung’s probably forgotten his underwear that he still didn’t take back. Hands reach and lift you from the floor with ease, and you laugh slowly.
“Don’t make fun of me I know I’m an idiot, Woo,” You say, reaching down to pick up your fallen chair.
Hands reach for it instead, and a cold shiver rolls up your spine. His hands are too big to be your best friends’. Your eyes follow his arms, meeting the light blue that you’ve tried to erase from your head. His hair is pulled back from his face, resting in a low bun. He looks at your shocked expression, and slides your chair under your desk. You take a step back once he moves forward, and he stops.
“I-”
“Why are you in my house? How did you get into my house? Why are you in my room? Get out!” You yell, eyes flicking to the phone text to your computer. He follows your gaze, shaking his head.
“Calling more Humans to assist you won’t make me go away. And I heard the sound, and I came as quickly as I could. Are you alright? You hit the floor pretty hard.”
As quick as he could? Was he waiting outside your door? You know that the hike from his home to yours is at least an hour, and that’s if you don’t stop to take a break. He takes in your confused expression, waiting for you to object, for you to scream and run away from him. You wear your thoughts on your face, your eyebrows furrowed and your bottom lip between your teeth. Your hair looks like you’ve ran your fingers through it over and over, and you’re wearing your sleepwear, loose on your frame.
His dragon rumbles inside of him, and he closes his eyes for a moment, too quick for you to think it’s more than just a blink. He opens them again, keeping his gaze with yours.
“Are you stalking me?” You ask, “Are you waiting outside my hours, waiting for the opportunity to pounce on me?” You know you sound crazy, but he’s crazy! He’s the one that broke your door, which led to Yunho standing there in confusion as he tried to fix it.
“No, I told you that I came-”
“Yea, you came when you heard the sound. But you had to be close, it’s not possible.”
“Are you sure it’s not possible? You know that I am not a Human,” he says simply. “Just accept it, and then you’ll understand that I can find you anywhere and be there within moments.”
He sits on the bed, and you hear something drag. You glance down, seeing chains wrapped around his ankles. He doesn’t explain why he has them, just stares at you.
“Please leave my house.” You say softly. “I don’t want you here, Yeosang.”
That shatters the expressionless look on his face. His mouth forms a small o, eyebrows tight in concentration. “You know my name. I haven’t told you my name, but you know. How do you know?” He stands this time, eyes flicking between yours. The pupils narrow into slits, blue darkening.
“I heard it. When you were outside my door, I heard your name whispered into my ear.”
He nods slowly. “So this is not a lie. It’s true, you are my mate, y/n.” He takes your figure in. “I cannot believe you’re my mate, a Human.” He says that last word with a bit of revulsion in his speech, almost hissing as it comes out. “I couldn’t … I didn’t think it was possible to mate with a Human. I didn’t think that Mingi was telling the truth, but you are here.” He reaches out, but moves his hand back quickly when you flinch. “I will not hurt you. You know that.”
“I don’t know that, Yeosang! I don’t know you, I have no clue who the fuck you are, and you continue to just barge into my home, thinking it’s yours. Saying that I’m your mate, but I’m not. I don’t even know your last name, I don’t know anything but the fact that you live in a small house in the middle of the forest and you’re horny as Hell!”
He snorts at that. “I’m not sexually aroused all the time. It’s just when I’m in the presence of my mate. My dragon inside of me wants to have children, that’s its goal. But when I’m alone, I’m fine. I don’t have the desire.” He looks at you, “I didn’t want this either. To be your mate. That’s why I live in the forest alone, away from Humans. I would rather be away from all of you, isolated and live on my own. But unfortunately, you decided to come into my forest and take Yeouiju. If you just left it alone, none of this would have happened.”
You stay silent at that. He sighs, tugging at a small hair that fell out of his bun. You notice that his fingers are lined with silver rings, each one has a strange symbol. Just like the necklace that rests on his neck. You look away, trying your best to comprehend whatever the Hell is going on right now.
He’s right; you’re not scared of him. Your chest leaped when he appeared, but a wave of calm fell over you once you realized it was him. Despite everything, you feel safe. With a man who claims he’s a big, bad dragon that lives in the woods. With a man who claims that he’s your mate. With a man that almost made you drop to your knees just a week or so ago because he told you to. You consider yourself an independent woman. Not listening to the begging of some man to shove his dick in you. And yet, you’ve been drooling over that night, wonder what would’ve happened if you opened the door…
“Stop.” He says, clenching his jaw.
“What? I didn’t even say anything!” You say, your face warming by the second. Oh God, you’re making a face, aren’t you? The fuck me face? How more embarrassing can this get?
“You didn’t need to, I can smell you. If you continue I won’t be able to stop myself.” He says simply. Your body shivers, and he growls.
“I said stop.”
“I am! I am, can you just go?” You open the door, gesturing out. “And never come back?”
He looks out into the hallway, closing his eyes for a moment. He opens them again, a tired look in his face. “If I leave, I will be back unfortunately. Even now, my dragon wants me to stay. To set up my nest here because your home is filled with the scent of you, and those other men,” He wrinkles his nose. “I thought that I could speak to you, about more than just mates. About why I am like this, and about my dragon that I mentioned and you don’t seem that fazed that I keep on saying it.”
Wooyoung. Jung Wooyoung, this guy was right! Your nerdy best friend is right! You look at Yeosang, frowning. He doesn’t even look like a dragon, did he adapt as the years passed? Changing his form to walk among you humans easily?
"My friend, he's really into this stuff. He researches old objects and keeps many. A kind of Indiana Jones if you really think about it.”
Yeosang stares at you blankly and you can only sigh, your reference meaningless to his ears.
You rub your face, turning around and walking into the kitchen. He follows behind, a bit slow on his part. You start the coffee maker, before turning back to him. His eyes are empty, not even a peek into what he’s thinking. But you notice how they flick all over your kitchen, taking in the environment with caution.
"What are dragons?" You ask, staying a bit away from him. The counter is the only thing separating you, but he doesn't make any motions to get closer to you, and you're glad. "Are they giant lizards?"
Yeosang scoffs at that. "We are not giant lizards. We are..." He trails off. "The best description would be a mix between a lizard and a serpent. We are cold-blooded, and we mate for offspring in the early Spring."
You tense up at that, knowing that Spring just began.
"Is that why you picked me as your mate? Because it's early Spring?"
He shakes his head slowly. "No. Mother, when she created us we were supposed to guard our realms. Make sure the balance of the Earth always stays the same. But she noticed how lonely we were. You see, I don't often see my brothers. Since I am in charge of Earth's water, I have stayed alone on that mountain for millennia. No human has ever had the ability to see me or my cottage, because it is hidden from their eyes. But you," He looks at you. "You have changed everything. And a part of me is afraid of this. I've never wanted a mate, because..."
He looks down at his hands. "I have seen my brother care for a Human. And watch him die in his arms, unable to do anything. He wasn't his mate, but he cared for him like so. Mingi didn't deserve to get his heart broken like that, so I swore that I would never do the same. I would never interact with a Human, I will stay away."
"But your eyes met mine from across the river. At that moment, I knew that you were different. And you happened to be the one mother chose for me. A Human who would die in a few decades, only a few hours for a creature like me."
He told you the harsh truth. He doesn't want you, and it's not like you want him. You barely know him. But the feeling of rejection swirls in your chest, the burning sensation of knowing that you're unwanted making you want to vomit.
"Then why are you here? Is this supposed to make me feel better? Make me want to throw myself into your arms and thank your Mother that she made us mates? I don't know you, Yeosang. And I don't think I want to. Not after you basically called me a waste of time."
He winces at that. "I didn't mean to–"
His eyes turn to the open doorway, narrowing. He moves in front of you, blocking your view. You try to push him out of the way, but he glances back, glaring at you. You stay silent then, hiding behind his wide stature.
"What are you doing here?" He asks, emotion lost in his voice.
The new person laughs, and it's like magic to your ears. Not as pleasant and mouth watering as Yeosang, but pretty damn close.
"Ah, do you want to hide her from us now? We just wanted to take a peek at your mate."
"Leave." He says simply. "I told you to not involve yourselves in this, it'll only overwhelm her–"
"Overwhelm me? Why do you keep on treating me like a fucking kid?" You peek your head out from around him, and he sighs, letting you stand in front of him without much protest.
A man stands there, arms crossed as he tilts his head and takes in your figure. His eyes roam over your body, teeth biting his lower lip. His eyes rest of yours, filled with something you can't figure out. You wouldn't have noticed anything strange about him, but his eyes are a lighter brown.
"Yeosang didn't say you were a beautiful Human," his voice is smooth, slithering into your ear as he speaks. He takes a step forward, "Perhaps you'd want me instead?"
"Cut it out," The man standing behind him mumbles. His hair is a dark red, eyes matching the same. His eyes flick over you quickly, frowning. "She knows how easily you fell in love with a Human, and yet, she continues to do this to us." He tsks, looking away. "How despicable."
"San, Mother makes decisions for a reason. We must be grateful, she is the one who made us into who we are," The slick talker rebuttals. He looks back at you, nodding his head once. "Nice to meet you, I'm Mingi. The one with the bad temper is San. Seonghwa isn't here, he decided to go back to his Home."
Mingi looks at Yeosang, a small pout on his lips. "Don't hide your playthings from us anymore—"
A low rumble echoes around the room, stomping Mingi in his speech. You feel Yeosang move closer to you, almost inches away from pressing his back against yours.
"Watch what you say," he says.
San sighs. "He's already bonded, there's no use. If we remove her, it will only tear him apart."
Remove? Remove? Were they going to—
Yeosang feels your heartbeat race and he stands in front of you, wrapping an arm around you protectively. His skin is cold but it's comforting, his grip strong as he holds you to his side.
"I won't repeat myself, San. Remember your place. Both of you leave her home, now."
Mingi's face drops. "I'm sorry," he tilted his head to you. "To both of you. Please be well."
San sniffs, eyebrows furrowed. "Doesn't it smell like–" Mingi slaps his hand against San's lips, a nervous laughter erupting from him.
"Haha! Time to go, San. I'll see you back home, Yeosang. And it was nice meeting you, y/n. I hope to see you again soon."
Mingi pushes a resistant San out of your home, shutting the door loudly behind them as they leave. Your hand brushes lightly against Yeosang's arm, and he slowly lowers his chest, heart beat steadying to a normal pace.
"I'm sorry about that. I didn't expect them to show up here so quickly." He confesses, turning back to look at you. "And I understand if you don't want to be my mate. I'll just stay away."
You feel your body reject the idea. Tears spring to your eyes, your hands begin to shake, and your breaths kick up in speed. You shake your head, not wanting to meet his eyes."No. No, I mean... We can be friends, Yeosang. I don't want you to disappear. Not until I've given you a chance."
His somber expression fades as he takes in your words. "You don't have to do that to make me feel content. I'm okay with being away."
"Are you? Are you okay with not seeing me?"
His eyes move to the floor at that. He doesn't say anything, but as the old saying goes, actions speak louder than words. You nod slowly.
"Okay, then we can be friends. Just... when you come to my house, maybe knock before barging in? And don't break my door anymore please, it took Yunho way too long to fix it."
You see the disgusted look on his face, but before you can question it it fades away. He moves his head in agreement, slightly tilting it to you.
"I'm fine with that. When you are inviting people into your home, do you trust them? There are many who say they are something when they are not. You should be wary of that."
"No one that's come into this house is someone that I don't trust. At least, not until today."
"Are you sure?"
"Don't you trust my judgment?" You ask through clenched teeth. If he's referring to you not letting your best friends into your home, you'd shut it down immediately. They're the only people that you love and trust in this world. Not even him, your destined mate, can get in between that.
He sighs, mumbling words in a language you don't understand. He takes off his necklace, rolling the stones between his fingers for a moment. "You've kept your eyes on this for a while, so before I go I should tell you what this is. "When we were first created, all of us were given a token of Mother's love and protection. She gave me this necklace and the silver on my fingers. The symbols are something that your Human mind won't quite comprehend. But essentially, it protects you from danger and deep woes. Since... Since I worry for you, I would like it if you kept this with you."
You stare at it in his hands, his fingers brushing lightly over the stones.
"I can't take that—"
"I am a dragon, y/n. I do not need protection like this. And I have my rings, if you are worried about that. Please, this will make me feel better about leaving you alone without my protection."
Before he was complaining about having to be your mate, but now he's basically confessing his love for you. You nod, barely, and he takes a step forward, slowly dropping it on your neck. You think that some feeling will go over you, but there's nothing but the smell of him that surrounds you. He stares at the necklace on your neck, letting out a breath of relief.
"Please don't take it off unless I'm with you. Now that you're my mate, it makes you a target for beings that are too terrifying to name. Beings that lurk in the forest."
He hears your heartbeat pick up at that, and curses himself for scaring you.
"They won't come to you, I've already placed protection around your home. Nothing within a twenty mile radius will come to you unless I perish. And I am older than the stars."
You laugh, and his chest whines at the sound. He closes his eyes, trying his best to remember the beautiful symphony. His eyes move to how yours crinkle at the corners, how your nose scrunches up and your cheeks lift.
"I cannot believe the universe decided to make my mate a dragon that constantly reminds me that he's older than dirt. And people said Twilight was bad."
He listens to you mumble on and on about how unfair the world is and something about sliced bread. You look at him, and your eyes still. A small smile graces his lips, and it's one of the most ethereal things you've ever seen. You feel your cheeks warm at your thoughts. Watching him stand there, your doubts go away for just a moment.
"I'll see you soon, right?" He asks.
"Yes. Yes you will, Yeosang."
-
Wooyoung walks around your home, eyes flicking over everything. You watch him with mild curiosity, waiting for him to complain about the dishes not being done or something so minuscule that not even your dragon— Yeosang, would be able to notice.
"Are you sure you're okay?" He questions, worried. That's why you love him. Despite his annoying habits and a bit of overbearing behavior, he cares about you. He cares about you so much, and thinking about it almost makes you cry.
"I'm okay, Woo."
He takes a step closer, doubt in his eyes. "Are you sure? You don't need anything?"
"No, I'm fine Woo. All I need is you and Yunho, and I'm good. Answer my calls and whine for all I care, but I'm good. No more walking around here like a zombie, no more jumping at the slightest sounds. I'm good."
He runs his fingers through his hair.
"Fine, but stay away from that forest. I'll buy you one of those treadmills that makes you think you're walking in nature."
You chuckle, and he grins at how he finally got you to laugh. Your eyes move over to Yunho, your smile slipping slightly.
Ever since they've arrived, he's been off. He was all smiles until his eyes flicked over your figure, moving from your necklace to your home. He wrinkled his nose in disgust and sat on the couch, saying nothing else. Wooyoung didn't notice the change in his attitude, too worried about you. But whatever upset him, you just hoped it wasn't you. He didn't even laugh at any of your cheesy jokes or crack one of his own. Does he think that you're lying about how okay you are? Does he know that you're hiding something without saying it?
You've been on edge the whole time because of him, waiting for him to finally snap and say what he has to say. But he's kept his lips shut, staring ominously into the muted TV.
"Alright well Yun and I have a date later, but just text us if you need anything, alright? We're just a phone call away!" He hugs you quickly before pulling on Yun's shoulder. He stands, and you almost scream as his eyes meet yours.
They're completely black, filled with nothing. But he blinks and it's gone, as if you just imagined it. Yunho breaks out into a smile, different from his quiet behavior only moments ago.
"Take care of yourself, alright? Don't get into any trouble." He says the last word with a bit of anger, and you nod, letting the both of them walk out. As they shut the door behind them, you lean on the counter, eyes unfocused.
No. It was just a trick of the eye. It's not possible for him to have black pupils. You push away your silly thoughts, trying to think coherently. He's been your best friend ever since you were a child. Whatever you think you saw, it isn't true. You keep on telling yourself this, scrubbing the plates with much more vigor.
-
"Tell me more about Humans. Do you have lifelong mates, are there people you are destined for?" Yeosang asks as he watches you type on the computer.
You sigh, "No. Well, it's not like our bond. People sometimes choose someone to spend the rest of their lives with, and it's not fate or destiny. They go through problems, some may have multiple people they love. It just depends on how their life goes, ya know?"
You don't hear anything from him, and you continue to concentrate on the words in front of you. He seems to get the picture, moving away from you and walking around your room. You don't see him stop on your drawer, don't hear him opening the top one because of your immense concentration on your work.
Yeosang brushes his fingers on the fabrics, obviously your undergarments. His hands reach deeper, something solid touching the tips of his fingers. He pulls it out slowly, a large pink cock standing in front of him. He feels his face flush as he stares at it. Do Humans... pleasure themselves this way? He pokes it, a faint smell of your pheromones coating the outside. He quickly drops it into your drawer, slamming it with such might that you jump in your seat, turning around to look at him.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Pink cheeks and red ears greet you back, and your eyes move to the drawers behind him. You think about what you have in there, panic immediately reaching your eyes.
"Just... Don't look at people's stuff, alright? And haven't you lived for several millenniums? The first thing that you should've learned was privacy!" You hiss, and he nods, bowing quickly.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize that you pleasure yourselves—"
"Stop! Stop, please don't make this more embarrassing than it already is."
He nods, and you turn back to your desk. Your eyes can't seem to concentrate on the task, and you throw your head to the desk in frustration. Yeosang moves back over to you, concern about his features.
"Why do you do things that upset you?" He asks softly. "Isn't it better to do more calming activities? I have seen you stressed since I've arrived, and that will only decrease your lifespan."
You can't help but pout, "I love my job. I just hate when I can't figure out how to edit something with better words. And I need money, Yeosang. Nothing comes easily in life."
He shrugs at that. "I live in the mountains with what nature provides. The only use of money to me is a way to start my fire. But I do see how focused Humans are on it. It's a major reason why you all suffer so greatly. You should look back to your ancestors and see that the simple life is best. But barely any of you know how to start a simple fire without the use of your tools."
He glances at your computer, hands crossed against his chest. "You stared at that for so long, you don't even realize that three hours have gone by." He glances at the time on your clock. "Would you like me to make something for you?"
You frown. "You don't even know how to work the oven, why would I let you near my kitchen?"
His lips lift up into a smirk, showing the ever elusive dimples in his cheeks. "I'll bring you to my home. Something is already cooking."
You think about the last time you were there, his eyes locked on yours as he struggled to hold himself together. Hands digging into his kitchen counter as you basically ran out, your leg straining in pain as you made your way down the mountain. You were terrified at the time; a bit of you still is, even if he's your mate.
"I won't hurt you," he says softly. "I can feel the change in your temperature, and hear the way your heart beat changes. I can't read your thoughts, but from this I know enough. I won't hurt you," he repeats. "That was my dragon out of control. It's never experienced a scent like yours before, but I've controlled it. And it won't dare to hurt you, it wants to only protect."
He rubs his forehead. "This... All of this is complicated. There's so much to explain to you, but I'm not sure if you'd like to hear it." His words are coming out in soft whispers, unexpected from such a vocal being like him. But he's nervous, hands shaking slightly as he pulls on his hair. You've grown to notice that it's a nervous habit of his.
"Let's go to your home," you say, and he visibly brightens up at your words. "And I don't think you'll do anything to hurt me. I trust you."
You trust him. His lips twitch, wanting to curve into a smile. But he's so scared of frightening you away that he only nods, not noticing your shoulders drop a bit at his dry reaction.
"We should leave soon, then. Before it gets dark out."
-
You still make him nervous when you're with him. The smell of you stuck in the air, whiffing around his small home. He keeps quiet though, checking and tasting his soup frequently. He's not sure what you like; salty or sweet, spicy or mild. It makes him panic a little, hoping that he satisfies you.
You sit in the living area, eyes on the fireplace flickering. His eyes trail along your exposed skin, landing on the junction between your neck and shoulders. He's been wanting to mark you as his since he's found out, but easing you into this is what's best. You don't know anything about him, and tying you to him that way will only break you two apart. Resulting in him being more broken than he already is.
It's hard, he wants to tell you everything, from his birth to now. Everything that he knows about dragons, wanting to see your eyes shine with curiosity at his words. But he holds himself in, not wanting to overstep. You're loud and blunt, you'll tell him when he's doing something wrong. He tastes the stew once more, nodding in satisfaction.
"You know," he looks at you, and you're turned back, smiling at him. "You don't have to make the stew perfect. As long as it's edible, I couldn't care less about the flavor."
"I just finished." He grabs a wooden bowl, thinking back to how only a couple of weeks ago, you were with him. Same scenario, but this time your leg is fine. The healing water, or cleaning liquid, that he poured over it, helped. He still hasn't told you about the small trick that he did, but that's for another time.
He takes two bowls and spoons, and walks over to you, trying his best to not trip. He's clumsy, he knows that. He passes the bowl to you and you thank him. He sits across from you, watching as you take the first bite into his mouth. You say nothing for a moment, face and body motionless.
"Is it too salty? I can add more water—"
"Yeosang, if you told me you were such a good cook I'd ask you to cook for me all the time!" You say, your face bright. "What the fuck! This is some Gordon Ramsay, some Bobby Flay type shit! It's amazing!"
He sighs in relief, sipping his slowly. "I'm glad you like it, y/n."
Your smile twitches. Your name falls off his lips easily, making your whole body shiver.
"You never said my name." You say softly. "To be honest, I thought you didn't know it. But you finally said it, so we're getting somewhere, right?" You say, and he nods.
"Yes."
You hold the hot chocolate in your hand, sitting closer to the fire. It has to be past midnight, your soft whispers echoing around the room. You two have talked about everything; from your rocky relationship with your family to your friends. He talked about his family life as well, and how much he loves the forest.
"What kind of dragon are you?"
"I control agriculture and water. That's why I keep my home so close to it, I can feel everything. I could even feel when you and your friend fell in. The water is connected to me in such a way that if I concentrate on it, I can feel the sea life that lives in its depths. And when the forest breathes, I do. Everything is connected," he puts his hand on the ground, closing his eyes.
"Can't you feel it?"
His smile grows on his face, and you stare in awe. He's showing you his true self; the sharpness of his canines and the beautiful lift of his cheeks. Eyes closed into small crescents and skin glowing with the flickering of the fire. You've never seen him so relaxed, free of woes and anxiety. It's a beautiful sight.
"Do you feel it, y/n?" This time his eyes are open, resting on yours. It's not a lust filled gaze, not emotionless. It's filled with... something you didn't expect to see.
Care.
"Yes, I can." You say, the double meaning behind your words apparent. He smiles softly, looking to the floor.
"It's not proper for you to stay at a dragon's home, but I cannot let you go back down the mountain at this time of night. Not that you won't be with me, which you will, but there's too much danger when it's the night. I would prefer it if you stayed here." He scratches the back of his head. "Ah, but I only have one bed. I can sleep on the couch while you rest there."
You place your cup on the stump coffee table, shaking your head quickly. "I can't just take over your bed."
"I'm not letting you stay in the living area, y/n." He says, not leaving room for protest. "There's spare clothing in my room, and there's running water as well. Please, take as long as you'd like. I'll wait for you to finish."
You purse your lips, and he raises his eyebrow, waiting for you to challenge him. But you're too exhausted to give a hint of your usual sass so you nod, standing up.
"My room is the last door to the right. And the bathing area is right across from it." He says, grabbing your cup and walking into the kitchen. You watch him for a moment before following where he tells you to go.
You push the door open to his room slowly, peeking inside. You aren’t sure what you expected; but this isn’t what you think a bachelor pad would look like. His room has shelves of books everywhere, some in languages you can’t even pinpoint. The earthy smell of Yeosang swirls around the room, and you take it in, the scent comforting. Scattered papers lay across his desk, but you ignore all of them, walking to his closet and peeking inside. It’s lined with mostly dark colors, so you grab whatever pops in front of your face before closing it quickly. A small thought dawns on you.
You don’t have any underwear.
Your eyes flick to the drawer in the corner, but you shake your head. Nope. Even if he’s your mate, he’s still a complete stranger and going through a stranger’s things is a no-no. You quickly walk out, shutting the door behind you. Going commando is a thing, and you’ll embrace it! You glance into the living area before going into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.
-
Yeosang sits on his couch, running his fingers through his hair. He can hear the scolding of his brothers in his head right now, telling him that this is a bad idea, being alone with you. Telling him that he should have rejected you long ago; that his presence in your life will only make it harder for him to resist you. Because technically, you aren’t his. Not until his marks cover you.
A small knock on his door makes him tense up. He’s been so lost in his thoughts he didn’t hear the pitter patter of his elder brother coming to see him. He walks in without a care, glancing around the open space before staring at Yeosang. He hasn’t dropped his glamor, eyes still the solid human brown. He frowns at Yeosang, closing the door behind him.
“Why have you brought her here again? Didn’t the others tell you how dangerous it is? You might hurt her, or worse. I thought you out of everyone would understand the risk.”
“I thought you would understand, since your partner right now is a Human. You’ve been around her for longer than myself and haven’t hurt her. Saying that I will is hypocritical.”
Yunho rolls his eyes. “You haven’t spent time with Humans in centuries. You find them revolting, you actively avoid their presence. And yet with y/n, you seem to do the complete opposite of what you usually do. Is this really because of Mother?”
Yeosang nods, but stops himself. “No. This is not only because of her. Yunho, I care about y/n. I do. She is different, much more different than the Humans I am used to. I don’t want to see her gone, not yet.” He mumbles. He can’t help but yearn for you, even when you’re still showering, oblivious to the conversation the two of them are having. “And you shouldn’t be here, anyway. You haven’t told her who you are, it’ll upset her when she finds out.”
“And I never was going to tell her, Yeosang. But, you messed everything up,” He growls in frustration. “All of the glamor I put on them, all of the backstory that I’ve made up so that she believes that we grew up with one another, you ruined it.”
“Just tell her!” Yeosang hisses. “y/n can take it. As well as Wooyoung.”
Yunho growls at the mention of his lover’s name, but that doesn’t stop him from continuing.
“She trusts you, and maybe her trust will sway a little, but in the end the two of you have been best friends since she was a child. You’ve spent more time with her than me, she won’t push you away.”
“You don’t know that,” Yunho confesses. “I care about y/n, more than you can ever know. I’ve had no problem with Humans since the beginning. I’ve seen the good nature in them, I’ve seen the destructive nature in them. I have seen them rejoice at their best and fall at their worst. y/n is a pure soul, and there are already very few. But with you… her soul will be tainted. And I don’t want that for her.”
“Mother wouldn’t make her my mate if it would have destroyed her soul.”
“I would agree if Mother wasn’t too occupied with other worlds to focus on ours. She doesn’t just have us as sons, Yeosang. Why do you think we rarely see here within a millennia? We aren’t her favorites, we are one of the first ones she’s created and abandoned. She won’t care about who she made our mates, or the outcome of it. She only cares about her most respected sons, the ones who can control whole planets on their own, not just elements.”
Yunho looks outside for a moment. “She couldn’t even think of one for me. She made me in charge of darkness. All I do is make the moon rise. You hold Earth’s waters in your hands. Mingi holds sunlight at his fingertips, Seonghwa controls the air we breathe and San controls fire. And I, darkness.” He looks at Yeosang, face solemn. “I am telling you this because y/n is more important to me than many things in this world. And I don’t want to be the one to console Wooyoung when you can no longer control the dragon within you, and hurt her in some way. And this isn’t me being a pessimist, this is me being realistic. Face it Yeosang, you aren’t capable of taking care of y/n the way you want to. You don’t even know what cell phones are.”
He sighs, pushing stray hairs from his face. “Just think about this more, alright? Don’t make a decision based on what Mother says, make it based on what’s in your head and heart. More so your head, because your heart only has that dragon controlling it.” He grumbles, taking one last look at the bathroom that you’re in before stepping out.
Yeosang watches him go, biting his lip, his arms still crossed against his chest. “Nice to see you after a few centuries too, Yunho.” He utters.
-
You wrap yourself in Yeosang’s blankets, the smell of him wrapping around you. You could hear Wooyoung and Yunho right now, screaming at you for even stepping outside your house without letting them know. Woo will probably combust from so much anger, Yun having to pick up the pieces from the floor. You puff, letting out a stressed breath. This is a bad idea. This is a really fucking, shitty ass bottom of the bottle, terrible idea.
Even though it’s almost 3am, you can’t even fall asleep. Your eyes won’t dare to shut no matter how much you squeeze them together. You’re not sure if it’s from nervousness or if you’re waiting for Yeosang to knock on your door and say something. You let out a low groan, pushing your blankets off of you and staring at the ceiling.
A mirror stares back at you, and you yelp, on the verge of screeching at your bed head staring back at you. What in the living hell? Why does he have a mirror? Does he watch himself sleep?? Is it a kinky thing? You gasp, staring at the sheets underneath you. Has he? On these sheets? You throw yourself out of the bed, paranoia running through your bones.
What the hell is going on with you? You’re pretty sure you’ve slept completely fine on Wooyoung’s sheets, even though he was known as the sex freak throughout your time as his coworker before he flipped his shit. You rub your face, small whimpers falling from your lips. All you want to do is sleep and yet here’s your mind, throwing water at you and saying no way.
A small knock on your door makes you jump, eyes flicking to the small crack.
“It’s Yeosang. Do you mind if I come in?” he asks softly, and you nod, before realizing that he can’t see you.
“Yes,” you mumble.
He pushes the door open slowly, looking at the bed. His shining eyes move to you curled up on the floor, curiosity in his gaze. But he doesn’t ask, sitting in the chair several feet away from you.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he admits. “I usually don’t have much of an issue on most nights, but my eyes don’t want to close.”
You laugh, a breathy one barely escaping your lips. “Probably because I’m here,” You say, looking away from his gaze, not wanting to see him nod in agreement. “I can still leave, you know. I have a flashlight on my phone and walking down won’t be too bad…”
He snorts. “I’m not letting you walk alone at this time, and I can’t sleep because… Because now that you’re here, my dragon, no, I want to rest next to you.” You don’t lift your head, and he wonders if he offended you in any way, so he quickly cleans up his words. “Being on the couch is fine, I have no issues with that. I can sleep anywhere. But with you here, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep without you being close to me.” He admits, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, but I think being honest is best. You… can kick me out any time, I won’t be offended.”
You’re not, not at all. Instead, you feel your chest flutter with the possibility of Yeosang holding you close, his head resting on top of yours, your back against his chest as he presses his lips to your temple and you both fall asleep.
“I want you.” You say simply.
You don’t see the way his face turns pink at your words, ears burning red. You quickly realize what you’ve said, and you backpedal quickly.
“I mean! Haha, I was saying that I want to sleep with you, in the same bed. Like, because we’re tired, not the other,” You throw your head back in frustration. “This is so embarrassing.”
He laughs, and you enjoy the sound. “No, I get what you mean. I want to do that. We should do that.”
You stand up, crawling back underneath the covers. Yeosang follows your lead, lifting up the covers and sliding underneath. Your warmth compared to his cool skin gives you a different feeling. You stare at the ceiling, eyes on him. He met yours, a small smile on his lips.
“You can’t fall asleep with your eyes open,” he says simply, and you snort, turning your back to him. He laughs, and you feel him slide, his back to you as well.
You stay like that for a few minutes, and you know what you want. You’re an adult, all you have to say is-
“Do you mind if I hold you?” he whispers, his body turning to you. A small yes escapes you, and he doesn’t hesitate, pulling you against him.
His chest rests against your back, rising and lifting slowly. Your feet press against his legs, and he basks in their warmth. He wraps his arms around your waist, face in your hair. He takes this moment to breathe you in, your smell surrounding him. His skin is several degrees colder than yours, and the dragon in him tries its best to pull you as close as possible, without hurting you.
Your eyes flutter close, comfort quicker than before. Yeosang mumbles a soft goodnight into your ear, and you whisper it back. Your trip to sleep land is quick.
-
The sun shining through the windows wakes you up in the morning. You squint, trying your best to blink away the night. It feels like weights are trying to keep your eyes closed, but you know it's probably midday, already too long to stay in bed. Your boss is probably endlessly calling you about your assignment for the week. You stretch your arms slowly, palms hitting a solid body. You almost scream, until you think back to last night.
You roll over. Yeosang is still fast asleep, his chest rumbling every time he exhales. His hair is a mess, covering most of his face. You reach out to push it away from his face, but you stop yourself, dropping your arm. He pulls you closer, and you yelp softly, your chest pressed against his. His eyes slowly open, looking down at yours.
"Good morning," You say softly.
He says nothing for a moment, eyes flicking between yours. He blinks slowly, breaths slow. His hands are pressing against your bare back, and you feel something, some thing hard against your stomach. He nuzzles his nose against your forehead, sniffing softly.
You push your hands against his chest, and he tenses up. "Time to go back, yes?"
He quickly lets go, leaning up in bed. He looks at you, glancing down at you wearing his clothes, face darkening. "I need to use the bathroom." He stands quickly walking out and not ever looking back.
You glance down, seeing your nipples perked, on display for the world to see. Now you feel your face warm as you look around the room for your bra. You usually sleep with the bare minimum on, so you're glad he didn't barge in when you were getting dressed. Wearing the same underwear twice in a row is gross, and going commando once in a while couldn't hurt. But you're in his home, wearing his clothes. You slap yourself, grabbing your bra from your dirty clothes pile and quickly putting it on before he walks back in.
You think back to last night, his cool hands wrapped around your waist, soothing in the early morning. If this happened a couple of weeks ago you'd freak, demand that he bring you back home and you'd never see him again. But you like the way he feels, hands oddly soft for a man his size. Pressed lightly against your bare stomach, never traveling lower. Lips pressed against your neck, tongue—
Your hand flicks up to your neck, and you quickly look in the ceiling mirror. Nothing's there, and you sigh in relief. And a bit of disappointment, but you'd rather deal with those feelings by yourself later.
"The bathroom is ready," Yeosang says, not daring to step in the room. I've left a fresh pair of clothing. I don't grow, so everything is my size. And I've realized that..." His face is completely red now. "I don't have any new underwear to give you, since I don't wear any. I'm sorry about that."
You try to keep your eyes on his, not daring to flick down. No, you're being good. Definitely not imagining what he looks like with those pants off. Nope, not at all. Yeosang sniffs, and backs away slightly.
"I'll be in the living room. You can come whenever you're ready, and then we can go back to your home."
He walks away, leaving the door wide open. You scratch your head, grabbing your things and bolting to the bathroom, not daring to even take a glance into the living area.
-
His fingers are gripping his thigh so tight, hard enough to tear. He tries to keep his thoughts empty, but all he can think of is holding you in his arms, his dragon so close to your neck, so close to making you his. Yunho is right; he isn't ready for this. He isn't ready for you, and he's not sure if he'll ever be. You're so delicate, so alive and warm and Human, the complete opposite of him. He's cold, his heart pumps blood but it's useless, he can't die. You're a Human, and he's a dragon.
And nothing will change that.
But he can't stop thinking of how your body curves into his, how you're the perfect size for him to wrap around. How he loves how soft you are under his touch, how you smell. Why are you so enticing, so beautiful and fragile? Yeosang looks at the floor, straining his dragon. He's barely holding himself back. He can't do this anymore. He can't see you anymore, not like this. Not even as friends.
He doesn't want to say it out loud, but after today, he won't be coming back to you. He'll move his home away, in another forest far enough away that you wouldn't look. But close enough that if you're in danger, he'd be able to get there at a moment's notice.
Don't. His dragon whispers to him. This decision will only hurt more. It will hurt us being away from her.
He shakes off the voice, keeping his thoughts rational. No, nothing can change his mind. Nothing.
You walk into the living room, seeing Yeosang stare off into the forest outside. He looks back at you, his eyes a darker brown. Different from the beautiful blue you're used to looking into.
"Yeosang, your eyes—"
He nods. "In case we stumble into Humans hiking. It's better to make myself look like them, so that I don't have to deal with the aftermath. Are you ready to go?" He doesn't seem fazed by you wearing his clothing, eyes calmer than you've ever seen them. You nod, and he walks outside, you follow close behind.
He says nothing to you, despite your long talks from only hours ago. Yeosang keeps several feet ahead of you, ears probably listening to your every movement. You’re not sure what happened over the course of these few hours, but you can’t help but feel worried. Did you do something to bother him? Did it bother him that you accepted his offer so easily? Did you offend him when you were talking last night?
You stumble over a rock, and Yeosang doesn’t bother to glance back. “Be careful of your footing,” He says.
"Did I do something?" You ask after about a half hour of walking. He shakes his head, but doesn't give you a verbal response. Your irritation rises as he keeps his back to you, not even bothering to acknowledge you with a look.
"Is it because you think I'm easy or something? Or did I offend you with something I said last night?"
He shakes his head again, and you stop in your spot. No. You're not going to do this wordless answering anymore. Yeosang sighs, staring straight forward.
"The sun won't be in the sky all day, y/n. It's best to move quickly so that you're safe in your home."
"I won't move until you look at me and tell me what's wrong so we can fix this."
He looks back at you, his lips tight. His eyes are cold, the beautiful warmth from mere hours ago gone from his face. It's like you're a stranger, nothing to him. He pushes a stray strand, tucking it behind his ear.
"It's nothing."
"It's something, or you won't be treating me like shit."
"If you stopped acting so entitled, then maybe you won't feel that way." He hisses, the blue slightly breaking between the brown contacts.
"Excuse me? Me, entitled? You're the one that brought me to your house, kicked me out and then banged on my door, humping it like a dog in heat. And then you barged into my home unannounced, basically on your knees to be my friend. And then you say that I'm your mate. And you're telling me that I'm entitled? When all I've done is accept you when I’ve wanted to push you away. I even believed that you’re a dragon! I didn't even question it!"
You're sick of it, sick of this hot and cold, this warmth and bittersweetness. You just want him to accept you as you are, and not push you away. You just want him to tell you what's wrong.
He stares at you. "All of you Humans are the same. Valuing your lives above everyone else's. Not admitting your mistakes, blaming it on everyone except yourself. You are the one who grabbed Yeouiju from the ground. You are the one who took it away. You started this all, and yet you continue to blame it on me."
The anger emits from your body as you stare at him blaming this all on you. Fuck him, fuck all of this! You storm past him, too tired to give a rat's ass about what he has to say. He grabs your arm, stopping you.
"Didn't you want to know why I'm annoyed?" He asks, and you push him away. He resists, and you struggle against his grip.
"You know what, Dragon? I don't give a fuck why you're mad. Because I've done absolutely nothing but accept you as you are, I've cared for you and all I get back is anger and you continuing to push me away after you open up. I'm tired, I'm tired of playing these games with you. I've never hated someone as much as I do you." You pull again, and this time, you stumble back.
But he doesn't reach for you, letting you fall to the ground. You struggle to your feet, ignoring the dirt that sticks to your clothes. No, his clothes. Yeosang opens his mouth, but you hold one finger up.
"Yeosang, I thought this was going to be something, you know? I thought you were going to accept me being a Human and you being a Dragon. I thought we were going to learn about one another and one day... One day ..."
He knows what you want to say. He desperately waits for the word to fall from your lips, but you shake your head again.
"Don't follow me. I can make it back on my own without your help."
You continue down the mountain, cursing at yourself for believing that he'd never hurt you, that he cares about you. You hope that you can forget what he told you last night, his silent plea for you to care for him completely vanishes from your mind. Your tears stain your cheek as you walk down, but you don't dare to wipe them.
Yeosang's eyes follow your figure, until you completely disappear from your view. He can adjust his sight to watch you go back home, but it'll only be more painful for him. He clenches his fingers, claws digging into the flesh. This is the best way. You, hating him and thinking that he no longer cares for you. It's the only way to keep you safe, he thinks. It's the only way that he can assure you won't come looking for him.
He takes a deep breath, before turning back and walking back home.
-
Wooyoung sees how slow you walk around your kitchen, the bright you he's used to gone. He's not sure what's happened in the past few days, but he doesn't pressure you to say it. You're still writing and editing, so it's nothing with your job. Yunho, even with his endless jokes, doesn't crack a smile on your face. You only nod although, downing your fifth coffee of the day.
"I'm worried about her," Wooyoung says. "She's not herself. y/n always gets into slumps, but nothing this severe. She won't even push us away and never rejects our invitations to stay over. She hates when we're here longer than necessary, Yun." Wooyoung says softly, ear listening to the clicking of you typing on your computer. You keep your headphones in usually, but he wants to make sure you're not listening.
"She even leaves the house, and she never leaves the house. I mean, I've never seen her cupboard so full of crap. It's like she's here, but not. Not really."
"I know." Yunho replies, eyes on your door. Wooyoung can't see, but he can. He can see as your fingers shakes as you type, eyes unfocused. It's you desperately trying to hold on to what you have left, and he knows it's his fault. He frowns softly.
This isn't how it is supposed to be. You're supposed to welcome Yeosang being out of your life, free of the danger that is him. But it seems to only take a toll on you. And there's only one person he can ask about what to do.
Mother.
"Woo, want to stay here for a bit? I'm going to buy us some dinner and I'll be back."
Wooyoung nods at his words, biting his lip in nervousness. Yunho pecks it quickly before standing up, walking out the door. He parks the car a ways away from the property, before closing his eyes. He looks up at the stars, finally locating the one he wants to talk to.
"Hi Mother. I have an issue I need to solve. It's Yeosang, and his mate."
-
Two days go by. Then a week. Then a month. You hike up the mountain, eyes desperately looking for a glimpse of him. But the other side of the river is empty, Yeosang's cottage long gone. You fall to the grass, sobs rocking through you. You don't even feel him with you, our chest void of Yeosang. You never thought that not seeing him would make you feel this way. Like the world ended.
But you tried to move on. You let Yunho and Wooyoung over to your house often, their hilarious behavior letting out small smiles from you. Even if they're a bit strained. Wooyoung noticed the change of behavior in you. He tried to interrogate you about it, but what could you say? It's not like you were in a relationship with him; no, he is, was, just a friend of yours. And even saying that is a stretch. But how can you explain that you feel like your heart is shattered into dozens of pieces, unable to glue back together?
So all you tell him is that you're fine. That it must be the change of seasons, that's all. And he believes you, at least for now. And Yunho, you know that he can see through your facade. He can see how broken you are, although he doesn't say it. But he's over at your home more often than Wooyoung is, cooking for you and reminding you to leave your house often. And you're glad to have someone like him so close to you, someone who's been with you your whole life and won't disappear on a whim.
-
Yeosang sits on his couch, so interested in his sewing that he hasn't noticed all of his brothers arriving in his room, staring at him. Even for an immortal, they have to nourish themselves. Yeosang feeds on sunlight but he hasn't left his home in so long. His cheeks are beginning to look hollow, his eyes losing the steady light that always shined brightly. The tanned dragon is slowly turning gray.
"You can't keep on doing this, it's draining you." Mingi says, tapping him. "I've never seen an immortal close to death, but you look like it. You're losing your shine, Yeosang. Your hair is falling out. You need to go outside."
Yeosang shakes his head. "I don't need to control water and plants from outside. All I have to do is flick my wrist, and they'll be fine."
"Stop acting like a child, it's like you've lost someone," Seonghwa grumbles, and he sees him stop in his sewing for a moment, before continuing. "Wait, when was the last time you've seen y/n?"
"It doesn't matter."
They all exchange looks, before their eyes land on Yunho. Yunho says nothing, staring at his younger brother. He's never seen Yeosang so frail, so weak. He rubs his face. This isn't what he wants. He wants you to be safe, he wants Yeosang to learn how to interact with Humans before becoming your mate. But hiding out in this cottage? Not saying anything to anyone for months at a time?
"What did you say to him?" San shakes his head. "Even we didn't interfere with how he and y/n interacted. You should know better than to involve yourself with mates. You know what happens if they're separated for too long."
"She's not my mate," Yeosang says softly. His voice is a bit scratchy from not talking for so long. "We didn't complete the marking. She is still free to live her life. To be unrestricted."
"That's not how it works, Yeo," Yunho finally says. "That's how our species mates, yes. But you both, you are soulmates. Lost in their creation, and split in two. And when you met, they finally lived in harmony. But when you separate them like this, it will only slowly kill you. You have to stay with your other soul." He looks at Yeosang, reaching out and stopping his hand from moving.
"I said those things about you out of anger. Your soul won't hurt her, it's destined to protect her. To protect her soul. Yes, you have to beware of your dragon, for he is fearsome. But that is all you have to worry about. y/n is yours, you two are meant to be."
"That's why, when San and I finally visited y/n, we knew. We saw how entwined your souls were, and we vowed to never try to separate you two. Seonghwa did as well, but it seems like Yunho didn't get the message," Mingi glares at the eldest. "But you have to go back to her. Her soul is yours, and yours is hers. Please just fix this."
Yeosang scoffs, pushing his hand away. He runs his fingers through his overgrown locks, hair in serious need for a wash. He thinks back to how he cut the ties with you, left you walking down the mountain alone, not even daring to look back. You're better off without him now.
"Mother told me." Yunho says, seeing the resistance in Yeosang's face. "She told me what happens when you're separated from your mate and reject them."
Seonghwa shakes his head. "This is why you shouldn't have involved yourself, Yun. Mind your business next time, like the rest of us."
"There's no use arguing about it," Mingi says softly. "Yeosang will make his decision, and that's it. We will respect it and move on. But let's give him some time alone." He looks at how pained his brother looks, and hates that they were a primary cause of it. "I'll see you in a bit, yes?" He pats Yeosang's shoulder, walking out.
San says nothing, following close behind. Seonghwa already disappeared into thin air, a bit ironic since he controls it. Yunho is the last one left.
"Go." Yeosang says simply. "I'll figure this out, but you need to leave. I know you wanted what was best for both of us, but you made a mistake, and now we have to suffer because of it."
Yeosang looked at him, the blue faded. "Give me some time."
Yunho nods. "If it makes it better, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to get this far." He turns, walking out the cottage and closing the door behind him.
Yeosang slowly puts his materials away, thoughts consumed with you. You standing on the other side of the river, sobs reaching him as he watched you, too terrified to tell you that he never left. That he just hid his home from you. That despite Yunho's warnings he couldn't bear to leave you alone, not without being close enough to feel your presence.
He grabs his dirty plates off his small wooden table, tossing them into the sink so roughly a few break from impact. He leans over the small sink, staring down at the shards decorating the bottom. He's rejected the idea of you for so long, he doesn't know what it means to finally accept you for who you are. If he's true to himself, he has pushed you away even before Yunho told him to. He didn't like the idea of you and expressed it vehemently to you whenever he was given the chance. Now, his dragon is finally content in his chest, accepting you fully.
He closes his eyes, sucking in a deep breath. Now all he has to do is see if you're willing to love him back.
-
You bang your fist on your keyboard, groaning. All of that progress, all of the hard work and dedication you put into editing is gone. Washed down the drain of the internet, never to be seen again. The document somehow deleted since the last time you looked at it, only the first draft sitting on your desktop. You're too exhausted to even complain about it, needing coffee more than anything else.
But you don't have coffee. You rub your neck, hands landing on the rock necklace that graces your throat. You touch it softly, before reaching back and taking it off, tossing it in a small drawer in your desk. You don't need it, you don't need him. But you don't have the heart to throw it away. You glare at the drawer one last time, before grabbing your bag, leaving him behind.
-
Yeosang washes his hair quickly, the hot water not enough to scrub away his regrets. He steps out of the shower, glancing at himself in the mirror. He looks exhausted, eyes void of emotion and cheeks a bit sickly. He touches his facial hair, growing a small beard from not shaving. He eyes the razor in the corner of the sink.
Should he trim it? Perhaps you'll like the beard on his face, different from the dragon you're used to. He grabs it, and the scissors, trimming it low enough to leave a shadow, but not all the way down. He already trimmed his hair in the shower, still long enough to tuck it back into a bun if he wanted to. He brushes it back, before he feels the fingers throb.
He stares down at them, seeing the glow rise. You took off the necklace. His heart drops, mood immediately anxious. Did you not listen to him? You needed to keep it on when he's not around you, he won't be able to protect you all the time—
He grabs his sweats, not bothering to dry himself off completely. You couldn't have gone that far.
-
You stare at the prices of vegetables, frowning. Did they increase them somehow? You haven't shopped by yourself in forever, but were they always this expensive? You glare at the outside of the pepper, rubbing it slightly. It's too shiny for your liking, probably filled with nasty pesticides and other gross things to make them look this way. You groan, throwing it back into the pile. You should have stolen some from Yeo— your friend's herb garden. Or maybe one day investing on your own. You have the acres, all you need to do is use them.
You grab the most natural looking one that doesn't have brown spots, and toss it into your basket. You don't notice the frantic look of a man who's just walked into the grocery store, eyes searching for only you.
You excuse yourself around a elderly couple, smiling at the woman as she scolds her husband for picking the item that's three cents more. It warms your heart to see older couples; thinking of what brought them together and how they're still together. Did they meet when they were in high school? Maybe in the middle of school dance? Or did they meet in college, eyes meeting one another across the library? Maybe reuniting after years of not being with one another, too scared to tell the other how they feel? Your mind runs through these scenarios, until your eyes land on a man not too far away from you.
If you didn't recognize the giant coat he loves to wear, you would have dismissed him. But the pumping of your heart in your ears, the dryness of your throat as your eyes land on him. He's talking to an employee of the store, eyes the cold brown you hate. He turns around, stopping in his words, and looks to you. You clutch your basket between your fingers, not daring to move as he nods at the employee once, before walking over to you. He's not that tall, you've seen taller, but he walks with purpose, head held high.
You snap out of your daze, placing your basket to the side and excusing yourself as you navigate through the people, walking out the door. No, he can't just show up again. Not after pushing you away with a stupid explanation, leaving you to deal with whatever is between you on your own. Your hand fumbles with the keys in your pocket as you jog to your car, chest rising and falling quickly.
You click the unlock button, glancing back and forth before crossing the street. You don't see the cyclist pedaling quickly, staring at his phone instead of what's in front of him. Before he gets too close, a hand yanks you forward.You shriek, falling forward into his chest. The man in the bike yells a quick apology before pedaling away, seeing the glare of Yeosang, seeping through the contacts he wears. You pull back away from him, dusting off your clothing before opening the door of your car.
Yeosang pushes on it, closing it back.You groan, rubbing your face in frustration.
"Why did you take off your necklace?" He demands, the first words to come out of his mouth since he left you.
Is that what this is about? A stupid rock necklace? "What? Did you want it back or something? I can give it back to you, just leave me alone."
He shakes his head in frustration. "No, y/n. It's not just a decorative item. It protects you when I'm not around. That is why I gave it to you. You cannot just throw it to the side."
You huff. "I don't need your protection. If I did, you wouldn't have left. You would have stayed, but you didn't. Please just let me go home, I don't need this right now. I want to be alone."
"Can you listen to me for five minutes? I can explain why I left if you'd just listen to me. Please." He tries to catch your gaze but you avoid his eyes.
No. You won't be pulled into this sob story of his again. You don't care about the balance of the world or his problems anymore. You've moved on. Just like he wanted you to. You pull on the door again, but he doesn't move his hand.
"You're not asking, are you?"
"I'm sorry," is all he says. "I just, I really need you to listen. We don't have to do it out here, we can go to your home—"
Absolutely the fuck not. Even him standing here is making you feel things you'd rather not. Being in your small home, his scent swirling around? You'd probably go more feral than you already are.
"Follow me," You press the lock on your car, marching over to a small bench. You sit down, gesturing for him to follow. He kept his distance, sitting as far away as he could. He looks at you, waiting. Waiting for your eyes to meet his, but you stare ahead, lips in a straight line. You're giving him little pull, but he accepts it. He hurt you, and still is. Even this small communication between you is more than he deserves.
"You already know about the mates thing and about me being a dragon."
A woman walks but raises her eyebrow and pulls her child closer, pace increasing.
"I didn't want to leave you. I didn't tell you, but one of my brothers came to see me the night you stayed at my home. He was concerned about my acceptance of you being a Human, and empathized that I hated Humans so much that it wouldn't work. That I'm not around them enough to be able to even comprehend how to care for one. That I will hurt you like one of the others did. And I was scared."
You play with the skin next to your fingernails, biting your lip. You never would've guessed that the big, bad dragon could be scared. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, and he's still looking at you. Gaze steady. Eyes sure.
"That's why I let you go. Made you believe that I wanted you gone, even though I wanted you to stay, I wanted to be there for you as much as I could. But I couldn't risk your life just for my pleasure of seeing you. I didn't want to do that. So I hide away from you. I saw you, when you walked back up the mountain. Crying when you saw my cottage gone." He looks down, feeling his eyes grow watery. He wipes it away, continuing. "I desperately wanted to run to you and say that I'd never leave you. But that would only lead down a bad path. At least, that's what I thought until recently."
"He told me that mates are more than that. That he made a mistake. My brother, Mingi, found his long ago even though he killed them by accident. He hasn't been the same since, and we weren't sure why. We thought it was grief, but it's so much more than that."
His eyes flick back and forth. "I don't know if this term is correct, but he phrased it as 'soulmates'. Two souls so entwined that whenever they separate for too long, or a rejection, they slowly die."
You finally turn to him. You see the fading of his beautiful hair, a slight beard covering his face. He reaches up, taking out his contacts. He looks at you, and you hold back your gasp. The beautiful blue you're used to seeing is faded, as if he's aged centuries in only a few months. You reach out, rubbing away a tear that falls without thinking. You pull back quickly, blinking quickly.
"I'm dying. And you're dying too, but it's not as obvious." His eyes flick around your face; from the deep bags underneath your eyes to the lifeless hair that you have pulled back from your face. You laugh dryly, shaking your head.
"Being tired doesn't mean I'm dying."
You say those words, but you believe him. Besides the last time you saw him, he's never lied to you. You feel the exhaustion sticking to your bones. But right when your eyes met his in that parking lot, things immediately felt lighter. The fluorescent lights in the shabby supermarket didn't burn as much. You were literally stuck in place as he walked up to you.
"I'm sorry." He says again. "I'm sorry for doing this to you, for pushing you away when I wanted you next to me. I can't stop thinking about you." He admits. "And I know you won't welcome me into your arms quickly, but I hope that we can start again, from the beginning."
You want to. You want to pretend that you don't want to do it desperately, but you do. You miss him, you miss the smile that he shows you, you miss the slight pout he makes when he's in deep thought, the slight widening of his eyes as he speaks about something he loves. You can't stop thinking about him, either. You nod.
"Okay, but no more secrets."
He closes his eyes. "What if the secret isn't mine to tell?"
You turn to him sharply. "There's something else? Yeosang, what the fuck? Are you a God or something now?"
He stares at you for a long minute, before throwing back his head in laughter. "I didn't tell you this, but Humans long ago used to pray to my brothers and I, giving sacrifices and holding ceremonies in our honor." He furrowed his eyebrows in concentration. "I couldn't ever understand why. We were prevented from interfering, but why sacrifice to someone you cannot see or feel? And why do you think that we will accept that? It's a strange behavior." He cocks his head for a moment, shaking his head.
"You're avoiding my question," you narrow your eyes. "What's the secret?"
He purses his lips. "It would be best if you bring your friends Wooyoung and Yunho over to your home so that we may discuss it together. It's impossible for me to tell on my own."
"You need my friends to tell your secret?" You question, and he nods.
"It will be best if they are there, yes."
"And why does it need to be in my house? Can't we go somewhere in public?"
He sighs. "I have already been given strange looks as people heard my words walking by. I am supposed to keep my presence a mystery, and not show myself. But I am already out here in public, this only makes matters more dire."
You chuckle. This silly dragon. "No one would believe your words. I'll invite them, but I still need to go shopping." You stand, and he follows your movements. "Are you coming?"
He nods quickly.
-
He follows close behind you as you grab the basket you left, thankfully still in the same spot as before. You look around the aisles, nose wrinkling as his scent fills your nose. You’re still a bit annoyed with him, angry if you really think about it, so him being so close and copying your every movement slightly irritates you. You turn back, and he looks down at you.
“Have you forgotten what you wanted to get?” He asks, and you shake your head.
“No. But do you have to stand so close? It’s not like I’m going to go anywhere,” You walk forward, the stomping of his feet echoing around the small store. If he’s any louder he’d break the tiles, you think.
Your eyes look for the sign for coffee, but before you could walk down, Yeosang brushes past you, eyes focused ahead. He picks up a small container and points it to you. A dragon covers the front of the box, one of the popular name brands you’re used to seeing. You see the slight pout grace his lips as he points at it.
“Dragons don’t look like this, why do Humans depict it this way?”
You shrug, “Probably because of how friendly it looks? No one wants a terrifying dragon on the outside of a box. Most things are made to look approachable, not scary.”
“But we don’t breathe fire, well, none of us but San,” He puts it on the shelf. “Humans long ago wouldn’t dare do such a thing. They cherished our presence, and would never defame us this way.”
He goes on and on about the treatment of dragons as you look through the varieties of coffee, hopefully finding the one you enjoy the most. Yeosang grabs something else, and before you could scold him for it, he hands you your favorite brand.
You raise your brows in surprise.“How’s you know?”
“Because it smells like you,” he says simply, grabbing another. “And I like how it smells on you. How many do you want?” He holds another in his hand, and you shake him away.
“Only two. Coffee isn’t that good for you, you know. And I love the caffeine, so I can’t get decaf,” you say, walking down the next aisle.
His eyes roam around the store in wonder, quickly tagging behind you whenever your smell fades. You wince whenever he bumps into a display or shelf, but admire him when he helps an older man pick something off a shelf. He complains about despising Humans constantly, but all you see is a clumsy, gentle man not so carefully guiding his way through the store with a slight smile on his face. Whatever his other brother said to him, you can’t believe it. No one that hated people this much could walk around you all with such a calm demeanor. He’s been hiding that he cares for so long, and you decide to ask him about that another time.
You put your items on the conveyor belt, Yeosang watching as the cashier slowly scans your items. He gives Yeosang an odd look but says nothing, telling you your total.
“I didn’t see you bring anything to trade,” he whispers. God, when was the last time he’s left the house? You pass the cashier the money as Yeosang stares in confusion as the currency is exchanged. You reach to grab the bags but Yeosang takes it from you, walking out the store.
“Paper? You give him paper in exchange for all of those goods? Is this how society is now?”
“When was the last time you got some fresh air besides today?” You ask him, and he thinks deeply.
“The last time I left was when people exchanged goods for goods. A cloth for a few tomatoes. Things like that.”
He hasn’t been outside in hundreds of years.
“How do you have all of those things in your house then? A shower, clothes, dishes?”
“My brothers bring me most things since they know how I feel about the Human world. And I make many on my own. Water freely runs through my shower because I control it. I don’t need the modern plumbing that you have in your home. As I told you before, there’s no reason for me to go outside since I can grow my own plants easily.”
“So water just appears out of thin air?” You can’t believe it.
He laughs as you open the door to your car, placing the bags on your backseat. He glances around the neighborhood, before holding up his hand. You feel a slight breeze as he points to his hand, slowly twirling his fingers. A small tornado appears in his hand, but instead of wind it’s a whirlpool, droplets of water spinning quickly. He watches as you stare at it in amazement. You reach your finger to poke it, and he stops, the water dripping into his hand, back into its normal state. He blows on it and it disappears into the air, as if he just didn’t make it come to him.
“All air has a bit of water in it. Since Seonghwa controls the air, he’s always frustrated when I do things like that, but yes. Water out of thin air.”
You grin widely. “You’re really amazing, you know that?”
A blush immediately covers his face, and you laugh. Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you glance down, seeing the caller ID.
“Hey-”
“Why are you calling me to your house? And you said it’s an emergency? Why don’t you call the police and why are you being so vague?” Wooyoung spitfires the questions one after another, “I swear to the fucking hills, if you went into that forest again I’ll literally bury you myself. Eight feet under.”
You roll your eyes at him, knowing he can’t see it. “Can you relax for two seconds, please? So, do you remember that Dragon egg thing that we found in the forest?“
“We found? You mean you found, and irresponsibly brought into your home, not knowing anything about it and me finding out that it’s basically a mating egg-”
Yeosang pulls the cell phone away from you, placing it next to his ear. “Listen, Wooyoung, right?”
“Who in the living fuck-”
“We don’t have time for your antics. Listen to what y/n has to say, and come to her home. And as a clarification, it is not a dragon egg or a mating egg. It is Yeouiju, and it stays in my possession.” He hands the phone back to you, a triumphant look in his eyes.
You put the phone back to your ear, “Hey.”
There’s silence for a moment. “That’s the dragon, isn’t it?” He asks softly. “What the Hell have you gotten yourself into, y/n?”
“Just bring Yunho with you and come to my house in a few hours, alright? I’ll give you food and everything.”
“Alright,” You almost hit the end call button, but Wooyoung shrieks before you can. “Are you okay? I know he can probably hear me, but are you safe?”
You glance at Yeosang, and he’s staring off into the street, but you know he’s listening. The way his ear twitches when he hears himself being mentioned is proof enough. ”He won’t hurt me, I’m okay. See you later.” You hang up, unlocking the door to your car.
You gesture for Yeosang to enter, and he struggles for a moment, before finally swinging the door too wide and jumping inside. He slams it rather hard and you wince. He looks at you apologetically.
“It would be easier for me to bring the both of us back to your home,” He says, rubbing his neck. “That’s what wings are for.”
You gasp a bit too loudly, and he looks at you in concern. “So that night, I was right! You do have wings-! Wait, no, let’s deal with this later.” You turn on your car, glancing both ways before looking at Yeosang. He watches you, his head cocked.
“Put on your seat belt.” You say.
“What’s a seat belt?” You point to yours, and he looks behind him, seeing it resting inside the interior. He glances at you once more before yanking on it.
You hear a loud crack, and pray to the heavens that he didn’t break it. You peek over, seeing a large, gaping hole where the seat belt used to be. Your poor car, the only one that you’ve had since high school. Your baby. And he broke her.
He looks at you quickly, “Ah! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’ll fix it!” He reaches out to touch it, but you grab his hand, stopping him.
“No, no. It’s fine, just pretend that you have a seat belt and don’t jump out of the window. You’ll be fine. My car will be fine.”
You take one more look at the hole, a pained clench to your heart.
-
You finally get home after the long and quiet ride, Yeosang's eyes rarely leaving your face as you drive. You never felt more unsafe in this small car of yours, his hair brushing against the ceiling of your car, your hands sweaty against the wheel. He smiled whenever you made a snide comment at a terrible driver, glaring at them as you passed by.
"I've never seen you so furious. This is worse than when you're stuck at your computer." He mumbles, rubbing between your eyebrows. Your eyes flutter at his touch as he tries to rub away the frown lines. "There's much more things to worry about in life than incompetent carriages."
"Like," he leans forward, a smirk on his lips as you lean away, "A dragon in yours."
"Yea, yea. But from the time that I've met you to now, you're not as scary as before."
The smirk drops from his lips. He thinks for a moment, moving back. His eyes flick to you, before looking away.
"Did I scare you back then? I didn't realize how much of an impact it would have had on you, but I'm deeply sorry. That's not me; I won't ever do that again. Not when I'm clear-headed." He looks at you, a strained smile cracking his cool facade. "I won't hurt you."
"I already know that, Yeo. At least, physically." You get out of the car before he could ask more questions, already putting behind the months without talking to him. You're still a bit pissed about it, yes, but your mother always taught you that it's better for you to move on. No need to dwell on the bad things in your life.
Yeosang helps you carry the bags into your home, watching as you walk around the kitchen and put things away. Your phone vibrates, and you see that Wooyoung messaged you about being about fifteen or so minutes away. You run your fingers through your hair, looking up at Yeosang. He sits on the stool, staring at his hands.
"Is it that bad?" You ask softly. "That you need to bring my friends?"
His eyes look at you pitifully. "I wish I could explain it to you myself, but it's too close to home. It wouldn't be right for me to explain this story without them being here. They both... Need to be present in order for you to believe that it's true. Especially Wooyoung." He rubs his chin, the scratching of his hairs echoing around the kitchen.
You aren't one to care whether or not a man has a beard, but your eyes keep on trailing back to the nine o'clock shadow covering his cheeks, to the new piercings that cover his ear. Whatever happened these past few months; you know he's gotten more attractive. Even the aura around him seems more sure of himself, the fearful mate gone. Your eyes move to his lips, unconsciously licking your own.
"y/n?"
You snap out of it, eyes back on his. He looks at you in amusement, a playful look in his eyes. You clear your throat, and he points to the door.
"I believe your friends are here."
You nod, quickly walking over and throwing open the door. Wooyoung looks at you, hair a mess and a wary look in his eyes. Standing a couple of feet away from him is Yunho, the grin always stuck on his face. He looks as sharp as usual, probably just coming back from the hospital. Wooyoung walks in, Yunho squeezing your shoulder as he walks by, completely different from the cold shoulder he's been giving you for days.
Wooyoung looks at Yeosang sitting in the kitchen and freezes in his steps for a moment. Yeosang stands, holding out his hand to Wooyoung. Your friend takes it, his body trembling slightly.
"Pleasure to meet you," Yeosang rumbles. "I've heard a lot about you."
"And I've heard nothing about you," Wooyoung murmurs, glancing at you in silent anger. Yunho takes a step into the kitchen, eyes on Yeosang.
You notice the air tense up once they look at one another. The Yunho that greeted you at the door is gone, replaced with a solemn him. He nods at Yeosang, arms crossed against his chest. You shut the door behind you, walking and standing next to Wooyoung. You feel the anxiety emitting off of him and you rub his fingers slowly, trying to calm him down.
They continue to look at each other in silent thought, as if they're communicating without speaking. Yeosang seems to grow in frustration as he looks at Yunho, and you knock on the table, trying to get their attention.
"What the hell is going on?" You ask, glancing between the two. "Do you know each other?" Wooyoung scoffs, and you look at him. "What?"
“It'll be hard for brothers not to know each other, right?" Wooyoung murmurs.
Brothers.
You look at Yeosang. He takes in a breath, looking down in shame. You look over at Yunho and he seems to be more relaxed, leaning against the counter as he looks at you. Too relaxed, as if Wooyoung didn't just tell you this groundbreaking fucking news.
Your head pounds as you take it in, seeing the obvious tension between the brothers. Brothers. They're brothers. Yeosang is a dragon, so that means ...
"You're a dragon," you say softly, eyes watering as you look at Yunho. He drops the careless act, taking a step to you. Wooyoung pulls you close to him, ignoring the low rumble of Yeosang's chest as he presses himself against you.
It's not possible. You've grown up with one another, you spent your whole life next to Yun. He can't be.
"Don't do that," Wooyoung says. "Don't try that everything's okay bullshit. You've lied to her, you lied to the both of us. So drop the cocky attitude and say it like it is."
Yunho touches the edge of the counter, the island separating you and Wooyoung from the brothers. Humans from dragons.
"It's true. I didn't think I'd ever have to tell you this, but I am like Yeosang. I am a dragon." He closes his eyes, before opening them.
A dark abyss stares back at you, completely different from the bright blue you love to see. His is empty, just an endless void. He turns to Yeosang, before looking back at you.
"I didn't want to lie—"
"Just stop with the excuses and tell the story, Yunho. We don't have all night for your nonsense. We've heard enough of that for a millennia," Yeosang interrupts. "Say it."
"Watch your tone," Yunho growls, and you feel the room shake slightly at his rise in tone. Yeosang doesn't flinch though, an exasperated sigh falling from his lips. Yun looks back and you and Wooyoung.
"When you were young, I found you alone in your home. Your parents abandoned you when you were only five earth years old. Left you behind in that shack. At the time, I was very wary of taking care of you. I thought about bringing you to a local shelter. So, disguised as a Human, I flew to a nearby one. I dropped you off on the steps, but before I could let you go, you called me by my name. My true name."
He smiles. "I couldn't have fathomed that a Human child would even be able to know that. And then, I looked at the shelter I was to leave you at, and I couldn't. So I raised you as my own. I was your mother and father, putting up a mask so that you'd never know. I was your friend as well, taking care of you every moment that I could. I didn't want you to have a bad life; so I raised you in a small town with people you'd know. Once you grew and left home, I didn't have to pretend to be your parents anymore. I kept the thought in your head that you recently saw them, so you wouldn't be tempted to go back."
"You... you manipulated me." You say. "You made me think I had parents, that I had this life when I was always alone."
Yunho shakes his head. "No, you had me. We had each other. You were never alone, y/n."
All through elementary, high school and college, he's been your only friend. At least, until you met Wooyoung. You've been friends with someone that's lied to you for your whole life. Your head is throbbing terribly, and you rub it slowly, trying your best to calm yourself down before you faint or have a breakdown.
"Are you alright?" Yeosang asks, and you look at him. Your eyes are bright red, your body trembling. He stands up, walking around the corner to you.
You don't bother complaining as he pulls you out of Wooyoung's arms, turning on the faucet and pressing his wet fingers to your forehead. You feel a slightly burst of heat before it gets cool, crawling across your forehead and soothing your throbbing headache.
Yunho looks at you in concern, knowing that if he gets closer to you, it'll only get worse. Yeosang bends over as he stares at you, waiting for you to tell him you're okay. You nod slowly, and he stares at you for a moment more before sitting back down in his spot.
"I'm sorry," Yunho says. "At the time, I didn't know how essential it was for Humans to be in contact with other humans, and for you to have someone other than me. I wanted you to have a good life, but it seems like I made it worse." You see the guilt ridden in his features.
"Everyday I wanted to tell you what I am. But, I couldn't. Humans shouldn't know about our existence. But since you are Yeosang's mate, and Wooyoung is my..." His eyes flick to Wooyoung, before he looks back at you. "We thought it would be best to tell you. I just wasn't sure when, until Wooyoung called me. I told him before this, that's why he's not that shocked to hear my words."
Yunho rubs his head, "And I am the one who insisted that Yeosang never see you. That you two should separate and never reunite. I thought it would be best, but as we've found out, I'm wrong."
Your head is spinning. Too much information thrown at you all at once. All of their eyes on you as you take it in, waiting for a response. But all you could do is nod and shake your head, that being painful enough. You know that Yeosang could smell and feel how you're doing, especially from the frustrated look in his eyes.
"This conversation is done," Yeosang says, turning to his brother. "y/n needs some time to think this over. Come back if she wants you to, but it's a lot of information for her to deal with. I know you wanted immediate action, but give her some time."
If you could jump over the counter and kiss him all over you would. But all you could do is give him a smile.
"Okay. Okay." Yunho looks at Wooyoung. "Would you like me to go home on my own?"
Wooyoung grips his keys in his hand, looking over at you. He presses his lips to your forehead, squeezing your hand slightly before turning to him.
"Let's go. We'll talk more about this on our way back. y/n?"
You look at Wooyoung, and you see the exhaustion in his eyes. It's hit him, not as dramatically and life changing as you, but still. He doesn't look like his happy go lucky self, bags under his eyes and hair wild on his head. You wish you could hug him and tell him it'll be okay, but you fear that if you open your mouth you'd just scream and cry. So you nod at him.
"I love you, you know that right?" He cocks his head. "And I'll kick his ass if you want me to." He glances over at Yeosang. "Call me or text me when you can."
He kisses your forehead once more before pushing past Yunho, who gives you one last sorrowful look before following after him. They close the door behind them, leaving you and Yeosang in silence.
Yeosang says nothing, the silence ringing in your ears. You feel the breakdown slowly build as you stand there, hands quickly rubbing against one another. The image of your mother is slowly disappearing, her wise words slowly morphing into Yunho's, his voice replacing hers. You never really thought about it, but your parents are a blur. You don't have pictures with them, your graduation pictures are selfies with Yun. Your whole life is a lie, no matter how you look at it.
Your breaths quicken, head throbbing. You hear Yeosang saying something, but your head spins, too overwhelmed to answer. You clutch the counter in front of you, eyes flicking back and forth.
“y/n!"
His voice rumbles around you and you look at him. He holds his face between your hands, rubbing your cheek lightly.
"Take slow breaths, in and out," His hand places yours on his chest, holding it there. "Follow the rise and fall of my chest, and do the same thing. In and out."
Your lips tremble as you try to follow his instructions. He feels your heart slowly go back to normal as he rubs your cheek. Your eyes are closed as he watches you for any signs of you beginning to faint. But you're listening attentively, despite your life crashing before you. You open them. He smiles at you, dropping his hands from your cheeks, the cool feeling gone. You're a bit better now, and you smile at him.
"Will it be okay?"
You ask with your eyes, willing him to understand. He holds out his arms, and you don't hesitate; falling into his embrace easily. His body surrounds you as you sob into his chest, his hands rubbing your back lightly. Your fingers dig into his back, a normal human would hiss at the grip but it doesn't bother him in the slightest. His lips are pressed into your hair as you shake in his arms. There's no words that could take the hurt and betrayal that you feel away, no matter how hard he thinks. He wants you to be okay, he wants to see the smile gracing your face again. So he says the only words he can.
"I'm here for you, y/n. I'm not leaving you. Not again."
-
You sit on the bench, staring at your laptop that rests on your lap. Yeosang insists that you get some fresh air, the air in your house too stale. You didn't want to; your home is so cozy and you can just open the windows. You used to love the outdoors, you spent most of your childhood outside. But after the revelation that Yunho dropped on you a few weeks ago, you didn't want it anymore. You know that all he wanted was for you to have a good life, but the way he manipulated you; you're not sure if you can forgive such an act. You close the computer, tossing it to the grass softly and stretching your body. You close your eyes as the sun beams down on you, the soft breeze comforting. You touch the necklace that rests on your neck again, wishing that Yeosang is here to enjoy the day with you.
After that night, he stayed true to his promise. You couldn't stay in your home, too familiar and too many traces of Yunho around you. So Yeosang brought you back to his, carefully taking care of you and letting you sleep on his bed alone. You missed the comfort of his cool body against your own, but he respected you, even when you whined for him to stay next to you. He didn't mind sleeping in the living room alone, although you noticed how he kept close to the fireplace.
As you stayed with him, you noticed a lot about him. He constantly wore layers, even in the summer sun. After prying a bit, he told you that the snake side of him craved warmth since he's cold-blooded. That's why his dragon wanted to stay close to you so often. That's why he always stuck close to you wherever you went. He craved warmth, soft rumbles in his chest each time you brushed against him or stood close enough.
You knew you were overstaying your welcome at his home, even though he insisted that you were not a stranger. That everything he owns is yours. Despite his intense flattery (you're sure you could heat up the whole country with how embarrassed you were), you decided to go back home.
The first step over the threshold threw you back to the terrible night. But you pushed past the negative feelings and cleaned. It took three full days, but you cleaned your whole home from top to bottom, a bit of a fresh start for you. Yeosang drops by often now, giving you the fresh vegetables he grew and not leaving for hours. He kept his promise, telling you that you're his friend, never bringing up the fact that you're both mates.
But you could feel it.
The stares he'd give you when you're freshly out of the shower, skin clean and covered in nothing but the scent of you. His eyes on you whenever you laughed at something he said, or when you snorted at a silly TV show. The tension between the two of you as you sat at your table and ate, feet only inches apart. Hands a brush away from one another. Napkins dabbing lips and licks dragging across skin. His hands would clench the table, eyes closed as he controlled his instincts, his emotions. You thought the need that you feel whenever he's with you was just a you thing, but after spending some time with each other, it's mutual. But you're scared. You know so much about him now, and you're scared that someday you'll lose him. That all of this is just a fantasy and you'll wake up alone. So you two do this dance every time you're with one another, pretending that you don't want one another when you do.
The breeze makes you open your eyes, and glance at your home. A few more hours until Wooyoung drops by.
You were never mad at him. He's the only friend you trust now; his honesty never swaying. You love Wooyoung, you do. After meeting Yeosang, and Wooyoung being in a relationship, your romantic feelings faded. You still consider him the most important person in your eyes. He's told you that he's still friends with Yunho, constantly nudging you to speak to your long time friend, or should you say parent?
You want to. Sit down and chat, tell him how hurt you still are but that you're ready to forgive. But you're not brave enough yet. Not ready to hear him speak with you. But you miss how his laughter filled the place, brightening up your day in the simplest of ways. You want to forgive him immediately, but a part of you is a bit pessimistic. Why should he be forgiven so easily? He broke your heart, shattering it. But he saved you from a life of sadness and struggle. He took you under his wing without a second thought, and raised you as his own. He was, is, your best friend. He’s been there for you whenever a boy or girl broke your heart, whenever you failed a test.
You sat on the edge of your bed, staring at your phone. The words that she sent you, a simple “I’m sorry we didn’t work out” stuck in your mind. A small knock on the door distracted you, and you turned, seeing your best friend, Yunho standing there. He held your favorite ice cream in his hands, along with your go-to movies. He tilted his head as he watched the tears fall down your cheeks, a small pout on his lips.
“Well, you can’t just spend all day crying about it,” He said simply. “Time to wash that sadness away with this!” He holds it up, rocking on his heels in excitement. “I have every installment of Harry Potter there is, and I even brought a little Dumbledore plush for you.” He threw the DVDs in front of the TV, holding up a small bearded man. He wiggled his eyebrows, and you laughed for the first time in hours.
“You’re an idiot,” You grumbled, and he pulled your bean bags chairs in front of the small TV, dragging you as well. He kissed your forehead before plopping on the chairs, turning it on.
“But I’m your idiot.”
You take a deep breath, opening your eyes again. You hear a soft knock, and turn to your home, seeing Yeosang standing inside. He nods at you, a small smile on his lips. You lean up from your spot as he slides the door open, holding a small bag in his hand. Despite his average frame, he bumps his head into your low hanging flags, glaring at it before walking over to you.
“I apologize for not coming earlier, but I have to warn you-”
The door slides open again, and you look past him, seeing the bright red hair of his brother, San. His red eyes brighten as they look at yours, an excited wave sent your way.
After Yeosang and you mended your bond, the rest of the brothers (excluding Yunho) visited you frequently. You are quite surprised that San seems the most eager to learn more about you, stopping by your house several times a week. Yeosang discouraged him often, wrinkling his nose whenever he smelled his scent in your home, but he did like that you got along well. His brothers are his core, and it only pleased him that you and San were so well acquainted.
“y/n!” He screams, and you wince at his loud voice, rivaling even Wooyoung’s. He runs up to you, pulling you off the bench and into his arms. He always smells like a campfire, probably because his essence is entirely made from flames. He pulls back, ruffling your hair. “How is our favorite human doing?”
“Stop speaking to her like she’s an animal,” Yeosang mumbles, his voice immediately tired. “And I told you not to come out until I tell her.”
“I want to be here when you tell her.” San cocks his head, bottom lip purposely poking out as far as possible. “Yunho is leaving soon, we don’t have all day.”
Yeosang slaps his forehead. “I told you I would tell her-”
“Yunho is leaving?” You interrupt, body rigged. “But he’s lived here forever. Why would he go? Where is he going?”
Yeosang runs his fingers through his hair. “He doesn’t need to leave, but he feels that he’s bringing you and Wooyoung too much grief. He thought it would be best if he separated from this town, and left without saying so. I told him that it would only hurt you more if he left without a word, but he insists. I’m here to bring you to his home, and convince him to stay, because the rest of us couldn’t.”
You blink quickly. “Why… why? Who said I wanted him to stay?”
Yeosang raises a brow. He felt the lie before it even graced your lips, your heart beating faster and your hands fidgeting. San clears his throat. “We don’t have time for your silly human denials, Yunho is minutes from leaving.”
You push down the sour feeling that rises in your chest. He’s right, he’s right. You need to act like an adult and face your fear of seeing him again. You nod, and Yeosang wraps his arm around your waist. You yelp as he presses you against his chest.
“Hey, what are you-!”
“We have to fly there, we don’t have time to drive,” He looks down at you, your faces inches apart. “Do you trust me?”
“…Yes.”
“Then close your eyes.”
You shut them quickly.
Your body floats for a brief moment, heart jumping in your chest as you clutch your tightest onto Yeosang’s shirt. Your hair slaps against your face, cheeks sucked in and nose flaring. The burst of air is so quick, you don’t even get the chance to scream. Yeosang’s arms let you go, and you open your eyes.
You stand in front of Yunho’s apartment. Yeosang brushes your hair away from your face, eyes on yours. His blue flicks between yours, making sure you’re okay.
“Do you feel alright?” He asks, and you nod quickly.
San falls onto the ground seconds later, dirt flying everywhere. Yeosang leans back up, slight annoyance on his features. You love when they interact with one another; since Yeosang is older, he always scowls San whenever he gets the chance. San, despite his cold demeanor from before, is playful and full of life, eyes always sparkling at the newest discoveries.
You pat down your clothes, and run up to Yunho’s door. You don’t bother knocking, swinging it open. He always keeps it unlocked, explaining to you before that he’s not scared of someone robbing him. You always called him crazy, at least, until you realized why he isn’t scared.
Boxes are stacked up around his home. You push past them, looking around for him. Your eyes move to his figure sitting on the couch, head in his hands. He moves them away, looking back at you. You’re still not used to the endless black that looks at you, and he sighs, tugging on his roots.
“Yeosang brought you, didn’t he?” He asks softly. “I didn’t want you to know about this. You were fine without me being here since you found him. You don’t need me anymore.”
“Shut the fuck up for two minutes, Yun,” you move next to him, and he doesn’t flinch as you sit only a foot away. Your eyes scan him. His black eyes look at you, waiting for you to tell him how much you hate him, and that you’re happy he’s leaving.
But you pull his body into yours, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. He feels the tears fall from your eyes, but he doesn’t dare hug you back. He’s afraid that you’ll only push him away. You hold him for a few more moments, before pulling back, wiping your soggy lids.
“I’ve been thinking about what to say to you for so long, how to tell you how much I hated-” his body stiffened at that word- “that you pretended for so long. That you lied to me my whole life, and it took for Yeosang to appear for you to say that everything was a lie. But you know, I didn’t stop thinking about how much you helped me when I was younger.”
You watch as his face stares at yours. Yunho that’s your best friend, your brother, and your family.
“You taught me how to brush on my own. You taught me how to deal with heartbreak in the best and worst ways, you mourned with me when one of my friends passed in college. You taught me that kissing a boy doesn’t mean you’re pregnant, and you taught me right from wrong. God, I hated my parents at some points, and you even came in as my best friend and helped me see that sometimes, parents make mistakes and that no one is perfect. And it was all you. You, you made me into the person that I am today, and I can’t hate you for that.”
His hand trembles when you place yours on the top, squeezing his fingers.
“I cried for so many days when I found out. I cursed at you so much that I didn’t realize that you saved me. You took me out of that house when I was abandoned by the people who created me. You could have left me to die, but you didn’t. Yunho, you saved my life. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you for that.”
You reach up, rubbing the tears that fall from his cheeks. “I don’t care about you being a Dragon, I don’t care that your eyes are black or that your laugh makes me want to scream sometimes.”
He cracks a grin, and your heart warms.
“I just don’t want you to leave thinking that I haven’t forgiven you when I already did. All you wanted was to protect me from danger, and I can’t blame you for that. Like you told me, everyone makes mistakes. We just have to accept, move on and grow.”
He leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours. The same thing that your parents, no, he did when you were a child. “You say that I saved you, but you saved me.” He says softly. “And I will never regret taking care of you. No matter how much you screamed and cried as I changed your diaper, no matter how much I struggled with teaching you the Human way of things. No matter how much I wanted to give up, seeing your face the next day only brought me joy, and I’ll never regret that, Pumpkin.”
You giggle softly at the nickname, “Thank you, Mr. Adult.”
“Well, I guess I can’t leave my kid behind, huh?” He teases, pulling back. You groan, throwing yourself back onto the couch.
“No Dad jokes Yun, I swear to god-”
“Ain’t no God here but me, bay-bee,” He snorts, and you only cover your face with a pillow, a loud scream drowning out his jokes for just a moment.
“I can’t believe I didn’t realize it,” You say. “You literally talk like ‘dad’. The jokes, the mannerisms, I can’t believe I didn’t think about it twice.”
Yunho rolls his eyes. “Why would anyone think that your best friend and your parents are the same person?”
Before you can comment, San bursts through the door, holding a couple of bottles of champagne. Yeosang and Wooyoung drag behind him, both annoyed. You can only giggle at his antics, and he wiggles his brows, yelling about how he loves Human alcohol.
Wooyoung comes next to you, squeezing your shoulder. “Did you make up? Because he’s been whining about you for about a month and I could only take so much.”
“But I thought you didn’t know he was leaving-” You look at Yeosang, and he whistles, waltzing into the kitchen. You glare as he goes, knowing you’re going to have a talk with him later.
-
You rub your eyes, yawning softly as you stand in the kitchen. Yeosang is supposed to be gone for the next few days, helping a small village somewhere continents away to replenish their water supply. He told you countless times that he can do it from the coziness of his home, but you insisted that he actually leave his cabin, and your immediate vicinity for once to explore the outside world. That being said, you walk around in one of his shirts he’s left behind and your underwear, comfortably hidden underneath the fabric. You’ve been a bit cautious around him recently, realizing that you both feel the same attraction for one another. But you know how his dragon gets whenever it gets a whiff of your scent, so you stay layered whenever he’s near.
He’s been a bit strange lately, walking around you in circles every once in a while, eyes on yours as he waits for you to say something. But you immediately called him weird and pushed him away, a sigh falling from his lips as he ignored you for the rest of that day. He always sniffed you from your side as well, rubbing his arm against you for a moment before continuing on in a conversation. You weren’t exactly sure what he would be doing, and you’re a bit anxious to ask. Yeosang is an open book, but you can tell when some things bother him, how he shuts down. Especially at the mention of his Mother, who he never speaks about, and if he does, very vaguely.
You sip your coffee, sitting on the edge of your kitchen stool and flicking through the channels on the TV that rests on your counter. Gordon Ramsay pops up on your screen, and you turn it up, giggling at how he ridicules someone for not knowing how to boil an egg. You hear the creak of your door, and glance over, expecting to see Wooyoung or Yunho.
But Yeosang walks around the corner, eyes a bit tired. He looks at you, a small smile on his lips. You jump up, running over to him and throwing yourself into his arms. He laughs as you wrap them around his neck, his face tucked into yours. He breathes in deeply, missing how you smell. His body grows stiff as you pull away, hopping over to the microwave to heat up your coffee.
You walk over to the stove, pouting at the little amount of apples you have left crisping. “Sorry Yeo, I didn’t think you’d show up until the middle of the week. Do you want some bananas? I have a couple left-”
Your eyes flick to him. The sparkly eyes that you’re used to seeing are dark, the deepest blue you’ve ever seen them. His eyes are focused on your legs, trailing up and ending where his shirt began. You tremble at his gaze and he closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath. His hand grabs the counter next to him, biting his lip as he tries to keep himself together.
“Yeo, are you alright?”
His pupils are blown once they look back at you, trembling each time you take a soft step towards him.
“Don’t move, y/n. Please.” He asks desperately. “Why are you wearing that? Why do you smell different?”
You feel the chill of his skin as you stand only a few feet away from him. You think back to the first time he looked like this, eyes focused on yours. This time, there’s nothing separating the two of you; only his pure resilience and your poor judgment. You think back to what you could have done to make him this way, and your heart drops. You haven’t taken your birth control in a while. Wooyoung told you that he’ll drop it off, but he never did, and it slipped your mind. His chest rises and falls quickly as he waits for you to say something.
“I… I forgot to take my birth control,” You say, and his chest rumbles at your words. You feel your core clench, and he whines, turning away.
“I can’t, I can’t do this,” he mumbles. “y/n, I need you to stand right there and don’t move, or else I’ll-”
“You’ll what?” You ask softly, pulling down your shirt. He only flicks his head back quickly.
“I’ll fuck you into that counter,” he says simply. You know that he’s trying his best to remain in control, but you see the strain on his neck, the white of his knuckles as he keeps himself steady. “Do you want me to do that, y/n?”
His voice flips, hands slowly moving off of the marble. His eyes are blazed as he keeps them trained on you, flicking to whenever you take a step back or move your arm.
“Answer me.”
You try to hear through the deep tone of his voice but your head is throbbing. He has no idea how much you’ve wanted this, wanted him to claim you as his mate. You thought his odd behaviors were only reasons to push you away, his hands rarely gracing your skin.
He stalks toward you, hands dragging against the counter as he watches you play with him, avoiding his steps and doing the opposite of his movements.“I have but so much patience, y/n.”
“I want you to fuck me,” You whisper, and he visibly trembles at your words, quickly walking around the counter. You know he loves the game, so you run quickly into the living room.
Yeosang follows close behind with ease, twirling you around and pressing your chest against his. You feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest, his breaths frantic with need.
“y/n, if we start, there’s no going back,” You hear the sweet voice of Yeosang speak through the lust cloud of the dragon. “Mating is a lifelong commitment. It can be treated with uneasiness. Once you say yes,” his hands brushes against your cheek. “I won’t be able to hold myself back.”
You never thought that you’d like him, let alone love him. His hard exterior is the toughest you’ve had to break through, but inside is the man that you love. The dragon that you love.You reach up, running your hands along his cheek. He leans into your warmth against his cool skin, waiting for your answer with thin patience. You can feel his growing arousal resting against your stomach as you whisper the words he wants to hear.
“I love you, Yeo. I want this, I want you.”
You pull away and he lets you, watching you as you fall back onto the pull out couch, the bed already made. The switch is almost immediate. Soft, smiling Yeo is gone.
He leans over you, pressing his lips to yours immediately. He bites your lower lip, begging to enter you. You don’t protest, letting his tongue explore you. He doesn’t let up, as if he’s searching for something within you. He sucks on your tongue for a moment before moving away.
He grabs your legs, spreading you wide. He presses himself against you, and you ground as he licks a strip up the cloth underwear, before ripping it off easily. He doesn’t waste time; pressing his face into your wet cunt as you tremble at his touch. Three fingers push into you immediately with little prep, and you yelp.
His eyes flick to yours in concern, but seeing you nod, he pushes in and out quickly. His plump lips wrap around your slick as your cunt sucks in his fingers with little resistance. The sounds of your moans echo around the room as he eagerly growls into you, fingers hitting your g-spot with ease. As if he’s done this dozens of times. He grinds himself into the couch, ears perking up as you encourage him to go faster with his strokes. You arch your back as you feel him slip four fingers into you, five, your high slowly reaching its peak. You almost fall over, until Yeosang pulls out quickly. He pulls off his shirt, your eyes scanning over his body.
His skin is covered with what looks like scales, brightly colored blues tracing his chest. He always wears long sleeves, so you never noticed how from elbow up, his arm is decorated with tattoos, some in writings you can’t quite understand. He doesn’t give you much time to dwell on it; ripping off his pants.
His cock springs out onto his belly, and you groan at the size, until you see something else underneath. Another cock, the equal size, sits underneath the first, light blue, dripping with precum. His eyes scan yours, waiting for you to reject him and push him away.
“You’re beautiful,” You say, smiling up at him.
His face reflects his smile as he leans down, pressing his lips lightly against yours. His cocks twitch against your cunt and he groans, licking the curve between your shoulder and neck lightly.
“This isn’t like Humans,” He says, rocking his cocks between your folds slowly. You try your best to concentrate on his voice, feeling the ridges of him brush lightly against your clit. “When I’m about to cum, I’ll bite your neck, y/n. I won’t let go until I’m finished.” He curses, looking between your bodies to see his cocks rub slowly. “I need to know you’re okay with me putting both of them in you. I can put in one if you want, we can stop if you want to-”
“Just do it, Yeosang. I want to feel all of you, I want you to fuck me until I can’t speak, mark my neck and make me yours-”
He presses his tips into you, and you tremble, your first orgasm immediately hitting you, your cunt tightening against him as you moan. He lets you come down from your high, before continuing his slow descent into you. He presses his lips against yours, trying his best to distract you from the stretch your pussy is getting. He tightens his eyes, shoving himself into you in one even stroke.
Your cunt is so tight against his cocks, that he can’t even move for a moment, you hold on him too tight. His balls rest against the outside of your lips, and you’re amazed at how much can fit inside your, the feeling of him completely taking over all of your senses. You know he wants to go as slow as he can, but he can only control himself for so long.
“Ease up, y/n,” He mumbles softly, rubbing your arm softly. You wrap your arms around him, feeling the smoothness of his scales underneath your fingertips. You let go for a moment and he lets out a breath he’s holding, slowly dragging his cock out of you. His eyes look back down, seeing your arousal coating his two cocks.
Your hands reach down, pushing him against you again. He chuckles lowly, pressing a kiss to your temple.
“Can’t wait to fuck you like a real dragon would.”
Before you could respond, he sinks back into you quickly. Your soft moans fall off your lips as he moves in and out of you, the rolling of his hips hitting yours with ease. He runs his tongue along your sweaty neck, hips not stuttering once. You can feel how much he’s pacing himself, the clench of his brows and the strained veins in his neck.
“Go faster,” You encourage, and he shakes his head.
“I don’t want to go faster, I can hurt you.”
“Yeosang if you don’t fuck me, we’re not doing this again.” It’s a lie. It’s an utter, total lie, but he believes it.
He leans up, grabbing both of your legs and placing them on his shoulders. His pace quickens, hips becoming bolder as he collides with your flesh, the squelching sounds echoing in your living room. Yeosang couldn’t care less about how loud he’s being, groaning as he sees you in front of him, your top half still covered and your bottom filled with him.
“All of this, just for me. No one can ever have you, see you like this,” He whispers. “Look at your stomach, I can see my cocks moving in and out of you.” He grunts, strokes relentless. “You’ll look so beautiful filled with my cum, smelling only like me.”
“Yeo,” You struggle through your gasps, and he smirks as drool falls down your cheeks, your eyes moist and head thrown back. “P-Please don’t stop. Fill me up baby.”
His snarl makes your body tremble. He presses his lips to your leg, pace quickening. You hear the strain of your couch under this much movement, hoping that it doesn’t break.
His muscles strain, veins popping out on his arm as he revels in the feeling of your cunt around him. His hips seem to only go faster and faster, cocks easily moving in and out of you. The slap of his skin against yours only fills your mind, his moans music to your ears. You feel how hard his tips hit the inside of you, watch as your belly moves in and out as his cocks swell inside of you. If you weren’t so filled with the thought of him, you’d be terrified that he’d rip you apart with how fast he’s going.
He keeps up the merciless pace with ease, mouth open as he pants, eyes not leaving yours. The slapping of his balls against your lips are music to your ears, and you feel the rise of your arousal coming once again. It’s much quicker this time. He seems to sense it without your words, dropping your legs and pressing himself into you.
“Cum for me,” He says. He grips your hips as he slams into you, his pumping pace making you see stars. His teeth brush against your throat, and you scream as you reach your high. “I love you.”
He sinks his teeth into you, his hips sputtering as he claims you as his. You scream through the pain and the pleasure of him inside you. Your climax hits you so hard, legs wrapping around him as he pumps into you. His hips sputter, his balls slapping against you a few more times until he hits you hard once more. You feel the warmth of his cum hit your walls, filling you up. His cold body wraps around you as he runs his tongue along the wound, slowly closing it up.
Only your quick breaths fill the room as Yeosang pulls you on top of him, your sweaty bodies pressed against one another. He doesn’t slip out, letting his cocks rest inside you as his fingers trace your back.
“Two cocks? Scales?” You say into the silence, and he laughs, pressing his lips against your forehead. “You could have warned me about that, you know.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” He says softly. “I didn’t expect for this to happen right when I got home.”
“Home?” You say, lifting your head and looking at him. You see the deep blush coat his cheeks, the cheeks that you love. You laugh, pressing your lips against his chest. “You’re my home.”
He chuckles slowly.“And you’re mine.”
drunk bf ateez headcanons - 2k celebration!
pairing: ateez x reader (no prns used)
cw: mentions of alcohol (obvie)
genre: fluff, established relationship, headcanon
notes: after watching drunkteez on wanteez and having yunho on my mind i just had to write this ( ˘ ³˘)
notes: this is my second celebration post! happy 2k followers!
hongjoong
he seems fine
at first
he's downing shots, glasses, bottles
at flash speed
but he's fine
even he says he's fine
"i just don't feel anything"
"well i mean some people just don't get drunk"
"maybe i'm just reeeeeally talented"
you're like thinking 'oh! he's not too bad'
...
did the 'reeeeeally' not give you warning signs in your head
you spoke too soon
next thing you know he's trying to shove his head down the billiard/pool/snooker table holes
it's more of gently ramming his head against the table edge than shoving his head tho
you were dying laughing by the time you reached him
"joong what are you doing???"
"i'm looking for thissssss"
"what is 'this', joongie?"
it's silent for a while and you're rubbing his back
then he just pops up
"this!"🫰🏻
(ಠ ಠ)
he thinks he's sooooo funny
you had to stare at him for a good few minutes before processing what the hell you just witnessed
he's upgraded from terrible dad jokes to terrible rizz jokes
i don't think i can decipher which is worse
he's also balancing the shot glasses on the back of his hand
which had you PANICKING
a whole migraine just from that
forget a hangover
your fear of him breaking one of those is enough for you to want to die
surprisingly he didn't break any
"see baby? i'm just tooooooo talented"
he's giggling so much
it's so cute :(
but add the worst aegyo in the world to the list
it’s near bang chan level of horrifying
i mean sure
joong is NATURALLY a giant tiny cutie
but when he’s doing it on purpose???
um.
well!
okay!
(유∀유|||)
have fun!
seonghwa
no thoughts behind those eyes
just blink blink (0_0) (-_-) (0_0)
i'm pretty sure he's on mars
and out of nowhere he starts singing along to i want it that way playing in the background (b99 ref (ʃƪ˘ﻬ˘))
singing along very loudly if i may add
BUT
as soon as the song ends
he's back to his (0_0) (-_-) (0_0) agenda
at one point
you’ve just gotten used to his giggles and clapping out of the blue
yeah he just applauds randomly
to whom and why?
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
he just wants to i guess
"hwa, i think we should go now it's like 4am-"
"HAKUNA MATATA YO"
oh he's singing again!
will not stop for the next twenty minutes
in his head it's a free karaoke bar
and he's just singing to his heart's content
he can also get pouty very quickly
and is very, very clingy
whichever one of your arm is nearer to him is not going to hear the bells of freedom for the rest of the long night
to be fair
if any of the other members are near him
he's also going to be clinging to them
just
a little less than you
he loves you the most after all! ><
all in all
he's pretty chill
every now and then
this is a bit short cause i don’t know what else i could say i’m sorry (╥_╥)
i'll make it up with a seonghwa drabble soon promise
yunho
where did this man's energy come from???????
one minute he's on the dance floor
he's 'boogying', as he said
the next he's running laps around the bar
you're just shocked he hasn't crashed into another poor innocent person yet
oh and now he's on the stage! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
are you ripping out your hair yet
( ˘ ɜ˘) ♬♪♫ (yunho!!!!!!)>ヽ(‵﹏´)ノ
he's singing what seems to be halazia
except it's literally just the word halazia being repeated
you're pretty sure he sang 'hala-hala-hala-hala-halazia' like about seven times
stream seven by jungkook
you had to physically drag him down from the stage
“nooooo baby you don’t understand i still need to sing hips don’t lie they need meeeeeee (ง'̀-'́)ง”
“yeah ok shakira let’s go”
his hand slips from yours and he’s sucked into the wardrobe of narnia
cause even tho he’s a literal giant
you can’t seem to find his usually sticking out head
the reason why?
he’s squatting while doing the dougie
why? i don’t know
i don’t think he knows either
but he’s dougieing!
he’s also spitting BARS
starts rapping to mingi’s part in guerilla while you’re trying to drag him out
at this point you’re beginning to suspect that he’s not actually drunk
maybe a little tipsy
but mostly just staying to cause chaos
and to give you a headache
but his little pout as you’re pulling him away
“yuyu come on we have to go >:(“
“but baby i don’t want tooooo”
does this face 🥺
yk that one time when ateez made faces imitating the emoji signs they were holding
and yuyu had the 🥺 one
THATS EXACTLY THE FACE HES MAKING
and how can you deny this golden retriever :,)
(if you can resist it you’re just a maniac frankenstein cheoreom georeo maniac maniac ha ha idk i don’t make the rules)
“okay fine… but no-”
“YAY i’ll be back”
he does in fact come back a few minutes later
HOLDING A PIGEON?????
“YUNHO WHAT ARE YOU DOING??? PUT THE BIRD DOWN-”
“i made a friend! :D”
you’re certain he took a few years off your life in just one night
yeosang
since we've never actually seen him drunk
cause he's a fairy
i'll go by what joong san and hwa were saying in their vlive like ages ago
cause apparently yeosang gets all cute
so let's imagine a very clingy sangie
just tugging and snuggling into your arm
mumbling your name too
his cute nose scrunches up whenever you try to move
he whines about how you don’t love him anymore
literally just because you moved to scratch an itch on your neck
“sangie what do you mean i don’t love you anymore of course-”
“you don’t LOVE ME ANYMORE :-(”
near tears because he’s convinced of his point
sigh
“baby why do you think i don’t love you anymore?”
“hm??”
confused blink blink
he’s forgotten what he was even saying
your hand brushing through his hair is just too distracting!!!!
he’s a simple man ok?
( ๑>ᴗ<๑ )
that’s how i imagine he looks
with a flushed face
but still looking like an angel sent from heaven
but yk
don’t forget about his muscles
（ΦωΦ）
atp he’s fed up with you moving around while trying to take care of the other members
so he just tightens his iron grip on your arm
good luck moving a literal koala clinging onto your arm
like hwa’s situation
you’re not moving another inch until he’s satisfied with the amount of love he’s showered you
which
he never will be
◝(๑꒪່౪̮꒪່๑)◜
again very short cause i have nothing to come from ;-(
san
literally the LOUDEST mfer in the bar
you can expect everyone within a twenty meter radius to be staring at the two of you
you just standing there like (ಥ‿ಥ) and he's just like ᕙ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ᕗ
flexing
he's not doing it on purpose
but like
come on
how can you NOT stare at the gorgeous man that is your boyfriend
gawddamn
what snaps you out of your daze was san suddenly pointing at you
"san what are you doing?"
"youuuuuu... are soooooo... not me"
🤷♀️🤷♀️
oh he's so far gone
i don't think even he knows what he's doing
bro's just saying things
he's literally the walking epitome of speaking to speak
the worst, and i mean absolutely WORST case of asian flush ever
every exposed square inch of his skin is bright red
you're like
panicking trying to get him to sit down
cause he's stumbling around into every person in the bar
he's practically knocking them over like bowling pins
then immediately apologising in the cutest way possible
the second he's made it out of the human mosh pit tho
(╥﹏╥)
you're like (ಠ ''ಠ)
"sannie, honey, why are you crying?"
"i don't know"
sniffle
"i just love you soooooo much..."
"thank you i-"
"like SOOOOO much"
"okay thank you baby-"
"i love you like thissssssss much"
he's holding out his hands
and he's stretching them out as far as possible
and before you know it
oop! he's bear hugging you
his cheek is squished against the top of your head as he's mumbling incoherent words
the only thing you can make out tho is
"i love you so much"
you guys are such goals (;-;)
mingi
okay since we’ve never seen drunk minki
i’m going to go by the endoscopy ep
where he was breakdancing
at first he was convincing gaslighting you that he was fine
because fine means stumbling around and not even being able to walk in a straight line
but whatever suits him! :p
no seriously
he could not walk properly for the LIFE of him
he was crashing into strangers and waiters alike here and there
and by crashing
i mean practically throwing himself onto them
but the second he stands back up
he’s back to yelling into their faces that he’s sober
like mingi…
no one believes you
(￢_￢;)
you were following him right on his tail
frantically apologising to everyone he disturbed
and he’s bopping his head
he’s jamming!!!!!! 乁( • ω •乁)
he’s in his own little world
which is so adorable you almost want to cry :-(
but by the time you have to leave
and he’s STILL dancing around
you have to start pulling aggressively on his arm
he won’t go otherwise
he could stay there all night just to prove a point
the point?
that he’s sober
yes he’s still on that topic
because he’s 100% NOT drunk!!!!!!!!!!
“mingi we have to go-”
“BUT BRUNO MARS IS ON”
“MINGI ITS NOT EVEN BRUNO MARS ITS JUSTIN BEIBER”
“…o yea! ヽ(･∀･)ﾉ”
sigh moment from you
“i want bruno mars thoooooo do you fink i can request for bruno marsssss??????”
“no”
“why not!!!!!! ;-(”
“cause we have to go (˘∀˘)/(ㅠ~ㅠ)”
pushing him out of the bar now
he’s a fun person to be around when you’re drunk as well tho
wooyoung
witch cackle amplified by 2611%
it’s so funny tho
he laughs over literally NOTHING
a stranger walking in the bar?
HILARIOUS
someone passing by?
howling on the floor
the toilet door opening?
he’s wiping away tears
hongjoong tripping over a chair in his drunken state?
he’s getting a 10 pack at this rate
to be fair
you also cackled at poor hongjoong pretending like his dignity didn’t just get absolutely annihilated
at the same time
he’s also just fumbling around
he’s not very sober
like
not sober enough to recognise you
“oooooooh you’re soooooooo good looking we should go outttt”
“wooyoung this is the fifth time tonight we’ve been together for over a year”
“say whaaaaaaaaaat???!!!!?!!?!”
starts coddling you after that
he’s so sweet but in a loud way
well
louder than usual
cant stop kissing you (ﾉ´ з `)ノ
no literally
i’m not exaggerating
he will CHASE you around the pub to kiss you if needed
he has done that before (in my head)
“wooyoung people are staring-”
“COME BACK LEMME KISS YOUUUUUUU ε=┌(;･д･)┘”
now
you might be thinking
skits, why would i ever deny kisses from wooyoung????
yeah see
he thinks he’s kissing you
he’s not
he’s biting you
like full on CHOMP CHOMP CHOMPERS
it’s not even cute lil :3 nom noms
ITS LITERALLY FULL ON TEETH RAWRS
so unless you want a chunk of your skin gone
start running! :p
jongho
you really think he's going to be the drunk one?
him??????
bro has not seen a day of being drunk
he could be downing bottles of every kind of alcohol known to mankind
and still be fresh as a daisy
(≖ᴗ≖) ✿
he'd be the one challenging the entire bar into drinking too
he handles his alcohol very well
let's be honest, you're probably the one drunk
he's going to be taking care of you instead
BUT you never told him how he once drunkenly went up to the bar stage
and started shooing off the performers
before flaunting off his vocals
so that was fun
let's say he hypothetically was wasted tho
i'll use the endoscopy ep as an example like mingi
he's just going to be asleep
just
snore mimimimi snore mimimimi
he might wake up like every half hour
and get all confused
but it's so cute :(
like he's just lifting his head up from your lap
◝(´Ｏ｀)◜
probably definitely drooling tho
it's going to be pretty short for him cause he just doesn't get drunk
he's invincible
networks - @kflixnet k-labels kbookshelf neverendingdreams-net straykidsland @k-films
instagram stories with bf ateez !
pairing: mingi x reader
genre: smau, est. rel., fluff
wc, cw: /
notes: this jongho fic i'm writing is hurting my brain
versions - hj || sh || yh || ys || s || mg || wy || jh
♬♪♫
©️ hotteoki || do not translate or repost on to any other platforms
inspo - byhees
networks - @kflixnet k-labels kbookshelf neverendingdreams-net straykidsland @k-films @pirateeznet
Ateez Taking Care of a Sick S/O
This was suggested 5EVERRRR ago by @jacobbaeluvr & I straight- up forgot about this fora bit 🥲 but this is for you babe! & me cuz I’m super sick thanks ✨recurrent illness✨ *to the tune of Vixx’s On & On* I need surgery la la la la la surgery
Hongjoong
♡ *fails to hide disgusted expression at your snot* ‘Hey love, is it alright if I throw some of these tissues on the nightstand out?’
♡ Feels your forehead with his hand, saying you feel warm & making you test your temperature just to be sure. Slides the thermometer in so gently knowing how uncomfortable they can be.
♡ He has this relaxing herbal heat pillow that he warms up for you- it’s good for muscle aches, chills, or even just plain aromatherapy. You’re skeptical but he hands it to you & you’re immediately in heaven!
♡ Pulls you in close to his chest & takes a nap with you 🥺 even when you wake up his arms will be around you, one protectively keeping your head near his heart!
♡ Knows exactly how much time has passed between medicine doses & is getting you to take it on time like clockwork, even setting an alarm for it on his phone!
Seonghwa
♡ Makes 👏🏻 you 👏🏻 soup 👏🏻 even if you don’t really feel up to having a whole bunch he’ll insist on spoon-feeding you a little bit because the warmth will clear your sinuses & make you feel better he promises 🥺
♡ If you fall asleep you’ll wake up with a new box of tissues magically replacing your empty one & a fresh water bottle there in hopes you’ll stay hydrated. Seonghwa likes feeling like a magical little healing fairy but his heart goes 💗 when you thank him
♡ Traces shapes on your back as you lay together, making sure you’re ok when your warm skin shivers under his touch & smiling when you tell him not to stop.
♡ Flies some of his lego ships around the room for you when you say you’re bored. You’re like I meant the tv right there but this is actually so much better. He was so into making the whoosh noises for you ok?
♡ Undresses you but not in a weird way, just getting you out of sweaty clothes & into clean pajamas or a robe, pulling you into it & kissing your shoulder, then your lips 🩷
Yunho
♡ Holds your hand in both of his & tells you he’ll do as much as he can for you, so please just ask ok?
♡ The type to insist you do not have enough blankets, take one more actually blankets cure everything
♡ Proceeds to then roll himself up into a matching blanket burrito until you two are wiggling around like ridiculous blanket worms & you know what? It cheers you up at least & gives you your first laugh in 2 days, so success in Yunho’s mind 😌
♡ TBH tells you so many jokes & does little performances to distract you. Blanket cape superman impression. Cute version of an Ateez choreography. Dramatic ritual dance to ‘scare the germs away’. ‘Get out of my (y/n)!!! *hand wave*’
♡ Lifts you up & carries you bridal style when it’s time for bed, laying you down so gently it’s like falling on clouds ☁️
Yeosang
♡ Smooths back your forehead to give you kisses even if you’re kinda sweaty 🩷
♡ Will 100% offer to read you a story, this man is far too precious 😭 if there’s a royalty figure in the story especially a beautiful one he’ll change their name to yours!!!
♡ ‘Now will you believe me when I say you need to bring a coat when we go out?’ ‘But I like yours 🥺’ ‘Ok, then I’ll make sure I have it with me.’ On the inside he was thrilled because free excuse to give you his clothes heck yeahhhh
♡ Wriggles in under the fuzzy electric blanket the moment he’s done spreading it over you, making you laugh with his cute satisfied smile & nod.
♡ ‘Hiyah!’ (That’s the sound of Yeosang fluffing your pillow with little chops until it’s nice & poofy for your heard again)
San
♡ Gives you the biggest 🥺 eyes the moment he sees you sprawled out feeling uncomfortable, wishing he could take your pain from you 🥺
♡ Big spoons you immediately & tells you he won’t leave you until you’re feeling better! You can feel him nuzzle into you like he can’t get close enough, lending you his warmth.
♡ Softly sings a love song while you guys cuddle to remind you that no matter what state you’re in he will always love you 🥰
♡ San brings over a whole bag of supplies without having to ask, so he’s already armed with decongestants, tissues, painkillers, vapor chest rub, a container of a soup you like, water, electrolytes & vitamin C, & a plushie at the store he saw & thought might cheer you up when he was buying all that!
♡ Puts the chest rub on you so softly, pausing to let you adjust to the cold & holding your half-raised head steady while he does it.
Mingi
♡ ‘What do you have though? How bad is it? Do you need the doctor? I’ll go get the doctor.’ ‘Mingi no it’s just a bad cold-’
♡ Sits at the side of the bed holding your hands so dramatically as if you were in an irl medical drama until you just pat the half of the bed next to you & have him lay down to watch some tv
♡ Absolute KING though of making you your tea exactly how you want to take it. Insists on the peppermint blend though because duh it’s good for congestion, inflammation, nasuea, & like everything you could possibly be feeling 💁🏻♀️
♡ You guys nap together & the moment you wake up he asks how you feel, if it’s any better. When you say yes, a little, he takes your hands in his & claps them, giving a little ‘yaaaay!’
♡ Acts, in fact, like your healing is a personal achievement. Hypes you up like ‘wow, this disease has nothing on you. Look at you go, beating it like a pro. It’s so amazing how well you’re fighting this off’ while you’re just sitting there like Mingi this is not voluntary. He won’t hear of it, though, nope. Too busy gushing over your amazing recovery skills because you’re the best at everything, actually, & you know what maybe he helped too 😎 you guys are both the best.
Wooyoung
♡ OML you are not going ANYWHEREEEE
♡ If you so much as stand up behind Wooyoung’s back he’ll be like ‘Ah ah ah no whatever it is I can get it’. ‘Wooyoung I’m going to the restroom’ He deflates a little. ‘Ah, I see. …oh alright fine’
♡ Part of the not moving scheme is so he can throw himself onto the bed next to your blanket pile self & throw a leg over you & get in all the cuddles his heart desires >:)
♡ ‘What do you want?’ ‘Maybe just some decongestants? Thank you so much!’ Wooyoung returns, dropping like 5 pill boxes & 2 bags at your feet proudly. ‘What is all this?’ ‘I wasn’t sure what kind you wanted so I bought them all. Also got some lozenges~’
♡ Squishes your face & tells you how cute you are even when you’re sick. Just when you think the doting is up is when he starts kissing all over your cheeks instead of squishing them 😘
Jongho
♡ Probably the only one to actually sit down by you on the bed & just ask what you need lmao
♡ Intense battle between ‘nO I CAN DO IT YOU NEED REST’ & ‘yOU’RE SICK & I LOVE YOU STAY STILL’ but you always lose because you’re going up against Choi Jongho & besides hearing him say I love you pretty much always gets him his way
♡ Lays next to you & chats, watches tv, even just goes on his phone & lets you play with his other hand so you never feel alone 🥺 it’s quiet time for him to just make himself available however you personally are comfortable!
♡ If you feel sore anywhere, he’ll offer to massage it in a heartbeat if he can! Even if you’re not specifically sore he’ll do it because you aren’t feeling good, the least he can do is pamper you a little 👸🏻
♡ 50-50 on if he teases you or gets shy, but it’s a 100% chance he will sing you a lullaby if you claim any struggle sleeping & ask for a song!
ꜱᴜᴄᴋꜱ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴜᴄᴋ ʟᴏʟ
Summary: You’re on average a loser. A loser with 3 friends, no money, no bitches and nobody even rlly likes you. So what? Turn to therapy? Nah. You turn to start pretending to be a huge hacker on ROBLOX to scam people out of their in game items. Though, when you scammed someone out of their precious neon unicorn pet in Adopt Me, they start throwing a tantrum online. Who knew it would gain SO much attention?
—————C11//“Population: Me”
note: this was so sad to write LMFAO anyways comment under this for me please 😎🤞🏾
Previous | Masterlist | next
another year with you — lee minho. established relationship. extreme fluff (0.5k words)
“Dori, you’re gonna wake him up.”
Your whispers mix together with your giggles as Minho stirs in his sleep. There’s a tickle on his nose. Dori’s tail, he assumes.
He simply nuzzles his face deeper into his pillow in response to the commotion, grip tightening around your waist to keep you in place.
It’s one of his first day offs in a while, and he fully intends to spend it in bed all day with you.
“Minho.” You sheered, running a hand through his hair. He habitually leans into your warmth. “Happy Birthday.”
Dori keeps kneading at the pillow he’s using. Soonie and Doongie seem to have joined not long ago, pooling just by your legs.
Minho grumbles, moving his head so he’s facing you. Though, he doesn’t think he could have ever prepare himself for the sight he’s subjected to.
The sunlight pouring through your shared room bathes your face in a beautiful hue, soft smile on your face.
“Hi.” Your voice is still in a whisper, not wanting to startle him out of the small comfort of your bed. You can see the way his eyes start to open wider, blinking away the sleep. Slowly.
“What do you want for your birthday?” You ask. His lips look plump, pressed together as he keeps his eyes on yours.
He has tells when he’s deep in thought, tongue running over his bottom lip with a slight furrow on his eyebrows. His hand moves from being draped around your waist in favor of tracing the moles on your face.
Dori meows from next to him. Soonie and Doongie have moved to occupy the space between you.
“I have everything I need.” He finally mumbles, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on your lips. Soft, romantic, and lovesick.
You pull away, though unsuccessfully as Minho chases after your lips. “‘M not done kissing you.”
“Mmm.” You hum against his lips, hand moving to play with the ends of his hair. He grew it out recently, admits he likes the way you pull on it.
It lasts a few heartbeats, and Minho exhales when your lips leave his. His eyes are still closed as he cements this moment. He’d film it if we could, running it over and over and never getting sick.
Quiet mornings with you and his cats on his birthday. He feels his heart grow.
“I love you.” The boy rarely says it first, loving in the shadows, but he ponders over saying it more when he sees the way your eyes light up and the way you have to bite down on your lips to suppress your smile.
You feel too fumbly to respond right away. Though, Minho doesn’t take too lightly at the silence that follows.
“Say it back.” He whines, and the pout on his lips solicit a breathy laughter from you. You gently reach out to cup his face, running a hand over his bottom lip.
“I love you too.”
He smiles. Slow blinking from his doe eyes.
“You’re twenty-five.”
Foreheads pressed together. Noses nuzzling. Soonie meows.
“Another year with you.”
Minho wouldn’t want it any other way.
hoodie (han jisung)
☆ pairing : han jisung × fem!reader
☆ genre : established relationship, pure fluff
☆ warnings : none
☆ summary : jisung comes over to your apartment, but the hoodie he's wearing looks all too familiar
☆ word count : 1k
you were greeted with silence in your apartment as you entered after a long day at work. your boss always managed to make things ten times more frustrating than they needed to be. you spotted a sleeping figure on your couch as you walked by. your boyfriend, han jisung- was a frequent visitor to your home (at least, on his free days he was). he shifted in his slumber, the anime running on the tv long forgotten.
as you drifted closer to him, you could make out the angle of his jaw line more clearly and his adorable cheeks weren't quite visible anymore. that made your heart ache. going on tour was no easy feat, but seeing the love of your life so drained felt like a kick in the gut. your hand moves to his hair on instinct, combing through the soft hair. you always wondered how his hair was so soft, despite dyeing it every few months.
"hmm?" he groaned, his eyes cracking open a little to see you. "oh, hey baby, i didn't hear you-"
"you can nap for a little longer. i'm going to shower and make some food."
"is that food instant ramen?" he asked with a sleepy laugh.
"don't hate on my love for noodles." you laughed, ruffling his hair a little more.
he pulled the blanket that was on top of him closer to his face. "well, if you're going to take a while, i'll take a quick power nap i guess."
"you do that, baby." you got up from the couch and headed to the bathroom to take a nice, warm shower.
the shower really did wonders for your pent up stress. it felt like all of it washed off of you and went down the drain. feeling refreshed, you wrapped a towel around yourself and went to your room to put on some comfy clothes. but the particular hoodie you wanted to wear was no where to be found. after spending about ten minutes emptying out the contents of your closet, you gave up and put on a t shirt and shorts before heading to the kitchen to heat some water for your ramen.
as you were watching the noodles cook in the pot, you felt a pair of arms wrap around you, sending a wave of butterflies throughout your body. jisung rested his chin on your shoulder, his grip tightening around your waist.
"the wonderful smell of instant ramen mix." he mused, his voice sending fluttering vibrations throughout your skin.
"yeah. i should probably go and buy real food tomorrow." you said, turning around to face him. "i haven't had time to grocery shop-" you paused, your gaze falling on the piece of clothing he was wearing. the oversized grey hoodie you were looking for earlier! but how did jisung did get. or rather, how long did he have it? "ji baby..." you started with a small chuckle. "is this mine?"
jisung looked like a deer caught in headlights- his perfect crime was no longer perfect. "n-no...?" he looked away, no longer making eye contact with you. you gave him a look. he sighed. "yeah." he admitted. "but i only took it because i was going to miss you! you know i haven't been feeling well lately and going on tour was just going to make it worse- not that i don't like performing, i love performing! but i really missed you." he added that last bit quietly, pouting- making his cheeks full.
"it's okay. i'm very honored to have had my hoodie stolen." you said, pulling him away from the stove (and switching it off, you couldn't have another chuseok disaster, now could you?) "it looks cute on you." you wrapped your arms around his waist.
"you think so? i think i was wearing a bit too often though. the boys thought i lost my luggage and this was the only thing i had left." he told you, laughing at his words. "i didn't even wash it for a long while until someone- i swear felix is just too kind for his own good sometimes- threw it in for laundry. your beautiful scent was washed away." he said dramatically. "all i had left was the thought of you wearing this before, hugging me like i'd disappear if you'd let go as i tried to sleep."
you laughed. "you're more dramatic than hyunjin sometimes, you know? how about... i give you my perfume?" you suggested. "that way even if felix is just trying to be nice and wash your clothes because you're too lazy to do so (jisung squeezed your sides at that) you can just spray some perfume and voila."
he thought on that for a moment. "that's a pretty good idea. time to raid your perfume collection as well."
"as well? just how many of my things did you steal han jisung?" you asked seriously, but a giddy smile was on your face.
"not much. your hoodie." he gestured to the one he was wearing. "your sunflower necklace you broke? your fluffy owl socks you thought the washing machine ate. and..." he paused for dramatic effect. "your heart." he added with a smug smirk, making you blush.
you're quite the thief." you said through your giggles. "i can't believe you took my socks though!"
"hey, those socks are so cute and so comfy."
"i know! i liked them so much. you saw how upset i was when they didn't come out of the washing machine."
"yeah. but i needed them more." he shrugged nonchalantly, hugging you tighter, planting a kiss on your forehead. "also, i think we can't eat those noodles anymore." turns out you didn't switch off the stove. there was now a boiling mass of something in the pot.
you let out a sheepish laugh. "yeah."
"it's okay bubs, let's order some takeout. can't have my baby slaving in the kitchen when she needs to be cuddling me." he picked you up, causing yet another fit of giggles to escape your lips as he carried you back into the living room.
a/n : this was so fun to write T-T i desperately need a han jisung in my life >_< the only that gets stolen from me are my answers on my test 😔
—excuses.
pairing: lee minho x reader
genre: fluff, (very recent) established relationship
word count: 2.3k
summary: you ask your boyfriend for some private dancing lessons, and although he hears you loud and clear, he still manages to believe you're just making up excuses for him to come over.
a/n: helloo, this was comissioned by the lovely @hyunholights and i had so much fun writing it! although i think i made myself soft now ;-; lol. i hope you enjoy! thank you so much for all your support and for being so sweet<3
comissions are still open!
"Wait, so when you said you wanted me to come over tonight and teach you to dance, you actually meant teaching you to dance?"
Staring at your boyfriend perplexed as ever, you blinked two times before looking around in a silent response — the coffee table in your living room had been pushed aside to leave a fair amount of space to move around, your favourite rug had been rolled up and placed by one of the corners so it wouldn't be damaged by all the stomping you had supposed there would be, and two bottles of water had been carefully placed next to a pair of personal towels, just in case you got too tired and sweated more than you had expected to.
Furthermore, the outfit you were wearing seemed to be the cherry on top. Looking down at it, you fidgeted with the zip of the black hoodie you were wearing over your grey sport bra, which perfectly matched your favourite pair of sweatpants — the very ones that you often wore around the house just because of how comfortable they were, and that would finally be put to a good, productive use today.
All those very obvious hints alone were enough to answer your boyfriend's question.
Unlike you, he was standing by the entrance of your living room holding two bags of takeout food he had dropped by to get before showing up at your place. Granted, he was wearing a sportswear too, but that had to do with the fact that he had just finished dance practice with his group members back at the JYPE building, and not with him having come here well prepared to help you out with your deficient —as you liked to call them— dancing skills.
"I thought I made it clear when we texted last night?" you couldn't help the utter confusion in your voice.
"You said you wanted me to come over tonight" he pointed out. "After practice".
"Yes," you agreed. "Which was followed by 'to give me dancing lessons'".
"I thought it was just an excuse to have me come over".
You stood there like the human version of the standing still emoji, and if it weren't for the fact that Minho could see in your eyes the way the wheels inside your head were turning as they tried and made sense of how he could have reached such a conclusion, he would've laughed.
"Why would I need an excuse to have you come over, you're my boyfriend…"
"I knoww," he whined, looking the cutest to you when he threw his head back in exasperation. "I guess I'm still not used to it".
"To be my boyfriend?" you raised an eyebrow.
"You know what I mean".
Cute, you thought. He had asked you to be his girlfriend only a little under a month ago and he still felt like he needed an excuse to just drop by and see you.
Maybe you should've been more specific when you asked him to come here the night prior. Although you didn't know how much more specific than 'you should come over tomorrow after practice to give me some dancing lessons' you could get.
"Well, from now on… just know that me inviting you over doesn't immediately translate to 'come over so we can have an indoor date and make out the whole time'".
"Aww, but those are the best kind of invitations" he pouted, bringing heat up to your face as he carefully let go of the bags in his hands to hold your waist and pull you closer instead.
"So…" you cleared your throat in an attempt to shake the butterflies in your stomach off. "Are you giving me dancing lessons or…"
"Let's eat first" he proposed, picking up the bags and placing the food on your coffee table before he moved it back to its previous spot in front of the sofa. "I just got off practice like an hour ago and I'm starving".
-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡
What was supposed to be just having dinner before getting started with the dancing lessons had soon turned into 'let's rest for a bit before we start moving around', which was later followed by 'let's watch some TV in the meantime' and him pulling you to his body — his thumb tenderly running up and down your waist while he switched channels before you could even give him an answer.
When said 'meantime' turned into 40 minutes, a second episode of the old k-drama they were replaying on TV, and Minho's head falling on your shoulder as he began to helplessly drift off, you started to get the idea that there would not be such thing as 'dancing lessons' from your boyfriend that night.
"You're not teaching me shit, are you?"
Although your words had come out monotonous as ever, the smile that remained curved up in the corners of your mouth could only give away how far away from mad you were at that.
"Mm… what?" he mumbled, heavily opening his eyes before he sat back up.
"We'll just stay like this all night?" you changed your question, bringing up a hand to remove a strand of hair that was covering his eye.
He sighed, closing his eyes again as he threw an arm around your shoulders and pulled you to him. "I wouldn't mind".
A muffled laugh escaped your mouth, as you had just crashed against his chest and were not able to move away from his tight grip.
"Minho~" you cutely complained. "Please, I need to learn how to dance".
"Whyy~" he imitated the tone you had used.
"Because I suck at it" you pouted.
"Who cares".
"I care," you stated. "I mean, how could I not when I'm dating one of Korea's best dancers".
That had seemed to catch his attention. Not a second went by before his palms were pressed on your shoulders and he was pushing you away from him, so he could look you dead in the eye. "Wait, you're serious?"
"About you being one of the best dancers in our country?"
"No, not—" he couldn't help the breathy laugh that had just escaped his mouth, getting shy at your genuine compliment. "I'm not, that's n—"
"Yes, you are" you frowned.
"No, I'm—Y/N~" he whined, flustered as ever; much to your enjoyment. "I mean what you said about wanting to learn because you're dating me".
"Well… yeah, of course" you mumbled.
"But why?"
You shrugged, suddenly feeling ashamed of your own answer and having to look down at your fidgeting hands. "I don't know… you just really love dancing and are so good at it, and I can't coordinate my limbs for shit and I guess I just… wanna feel like I'm on your level or something…"
"On my level?" Minho asked softly.
"Yeah, like, you know…" your eyes remained fixed still on your hands. "To feel like I'm a good enough match for you and ugh, this is becoming so sappy".
Hiding your face in your hands and bringing your knees up to your chest, you heard Minho's light laugh right next to you as you had just curled into a ball of shame right there.
He didn't let you sulk for much longer, though, for his hands were quick to gently grab yours and remove them from your face — your eyes opening in a heartbeat only to be met by that soft look of his that would always manage to turn your heart into a puddle.
"You're so cute," he cooed, cupping your face in his warm hands and pressing a loving kiss on your forehead. "We've been dating for a while now…"
"Twenty four days" you reminded him.
He rolled his eyes in amusement. "Twenty four days officially," he was the one to remind you this time. "We were still together for a while before that, and I never needed you to dance for me to fall for you and consider you good enough. Actually, I've never even seen you dance at all".
"Because I suck at it," you pouted. "You'd leave me in a second if you ever saw me".
"And yet you wanted me to give you dance lessons today? Like, you do realise that in order for me to do that I'd have to see you dance, don't you?" he tilted his head in feigned confusion, a taunting smirk curving up his lips. "Was that your plan all along? Getting rid of me by showing me your dance moves?"
"Shut upp," you whined, allowing a fake cry to abandon your lips as you threw your head back and freed yourself from his hold. "Maybe I didn't think this through".
Minho laughed hard at that, heart squeezing in his chest as he saw the prominent pout in your mouth while your arms remained folded over your chest. Fuck, you had his heart. All you had to do was sit there looking all cute for him to feel like he was going mad.
All you had to do was pout for him to feel the need to kiss it away.
So, he did.
Placing a hand on your nape, he leaned in to press his lips on yours.
Although taken aback, you did not waste another second to kiss him back — leaning your body closer to him and digging your fingers in his hair as he trapped your bottom lip in his once more and deepened the kiss, just enough for you to contentedly hum in the middle of it.
"What was that for?" you whispered, still too drunk on his delicious touch to properly speak.
"You're cute" he smiled.
Heart fluttering at his words, you could not bring yourself to move away as he lovingly traced his thumb over your bottom lip, without another word leaning in to steal one last brief kiss from your lips before he stood up and held his hand out for you to grab.
"Come on, I'll teach you the basics".
Reluctantly grabbing his hand, you let him pull you up to your feet. "Wait, help me move the coffee table again".
Your boyfriend shook his head no, taking his phone out of his pocket as he looked for what you guessed was a song to dance to in it. "We won't need much space for this".
Falling quiet the moment he hit play and placed his phone on the couch's armrest, you listened carefully at the notes that sounded all too familiar to you — too focused trying to pinpoint what song it was for you to realise your boyfriend was now pulling you closer, placing your arms over his shoulders and then resting his hands on your waist.
You only snapped out of it when Greg Gonzalez's voice reached your ears. And that's when it hit you.
K. by Cigarettes After Sex.
"Are you trying to tell me something?" you teased, finally wrapping your arms around his neck like he had wanted you to.
"Don't," Minho warned you, not being able to fight the shy smile on his face.
Letting out a small giggle, you relaxed under his touch, allowing him to guide you through the slow beat and getting lost in the way his body ever so softly moved along with yours.
This being the one song you were obsessed with when the two of you met and started talking, as well as the very song that had oh-so-casually made it to Minho's top 10 most played songs ranking that same month, could only make your heart melt more than it already had.
You couldn't help but rest your face on his chest, closing your eyes and inhaling that sweet scent of his that made you feel at home in such a short period of time, and that you could never grow tired of.
"You're not falling asleep now, are you?" he whispered when the last chorus of the song was about to come.
You laughed under your breath, unconsciously tickling his neck with your nose as you denied with your head.
"I gotta give it to you," you smiled, going back to his eye level. "Choosing something I can't really fuck up is surely the way to go".
"Oh, I couldn't care less about you fucking up a dance".
"Why slow dancing then?" you tilted your head.
"Because I wanted to hold you close" he let his forehead rest on yours. "And because slow dancing is the only dance you need to know around me".
"Is that so?"
"Mhm…" he nodded.
"What if I still want you to teach me harder dance routines, though…"
"I can still do that," he pointed out. "But slow songs are better to dance to".
You snorted, incredulously. "Since when?"
"Since you're my designated partner for it" he smiled, leaning in to steal a soft kiss from you before the corners of his mouth turned into a smirk. "And, I mean, I'm practically doing you a favour, since you keep coming up with all these lame excuses for me to come over and have these indoor dates only for us to end up making out at some point".
"That is so no—"
You didn't get the chance to argue with his taunting accusation, for his smiling mouth on yours was all it took to shut you up.
In the end, whether needed or not anymore, maybe you should come up with more lame excuses for him to come over, as long as it meant you would get to feel the warmth of his body against yours and the sweetness of his mouth on your own.
a/n: @cosmic-railwayxo mentioned that minho is sweet nothing by taylor swift coded and then send me a bunch of soft shit so i had no choice
you’re tired.
it’s the kind of bone-deep tiredness that only comes with weeks of exhaustion, countless interactions with people you never wanted to see again, work that seemed endless despite the pile you had accomplished, rainy days and windy nights that were equally unbearable. demands and demands of your time and attention and energy that you felt used up and thrown out.
and you had to go home and make dinner for yourself, having maxed out your take-out funds for the third week in a row. living on your own was it’s own haven in a way, but there were times where you dreamed of coming home to a warm, candle scented living room and a personal chef waiting with your favorite meal cooked and warm for you.
your hands feel like lead as you open your door, your body sags against the wall as you kick off your shoes, your mind feels so muddled that you don’t even notice the soft melody fading out from the kitchen until you’re stepping into it.
the room fades out, as do all the senses in your body except for the ones that sense him. minho, wearing your silly frilly apron, bent over a bit as he takes something that smells divine out of the oven. there’s a small smile on his face, closed lips humming a tune that you’ve heard time and time again - the one he sings to his cats, the one he sings to his mom, the one he sings to you when he thinks that you’re asleep. the one that has no real rhythm, the one that doesn’t make sense, the one that’s just so him that you feel tears pricking at your eyes just hearing it.
he looks up at you after he places the baking dish on the stovetop, all crinkly eyed and scrunched nose and it feels like you’re hit with a physical wave of affection. he looks like he belongs there, safe and sound in your kitchen as if it is his home too. the room lights up, soft glowing waves bouncing off the walls centered around him, and you move towards him like a firefly towards a glow.
“long day?” he says, soft voice twirling through the air. he presses a smooth palm to your cheek in a caress, letting his thumb run across the bone there. “i let myself in and made dinner.”
“you didn’t have to,” you choke out a bit, leaning into his touch. you glance at the dish he made - not your favorite, but you’re thankful for that. it grounds you, reminds you that this is not a dream and that he is actually real. actually this thoughtful. “thank you.”
he just hums in response, resting his chin on your head as he wraps his arms around you fully, pressing you into his body. he makes you feel so small in a way you never expected to love so much, you feel protected and cared for and he never asks for anything in return. his love for you is unconditional, as unwavering as the sun in the sky or the mountains painting the earth.
and though he had stopped, his song was still playing in your head.
outside, they're push and shoving
you're in the kitchen humming
all that you ever wanted from me was nothing
tell me about a first date w jisung (you have to bc it’s me)
a/n: damn you and your ability to be right all the time
despite the false bravado of confidence jisung put on when he asked you out, it's a true battle between the two of you to determine who is the most nervous. was it you, with your clammy hands and shaky fingers, a lump in your throat so big you didn't know if you could even get words out? or was it him, with shallow breaths and a heart beating faster than a hummingbird's wings? by all means, you shouldn't be nervous - you've been friends with him for years, known him for longer. this is just the crescendo to the music of the dance you've been in together for a long time.
it was so cute, the way he almost tripped over his own feet as he hurried into the coffee shop, exactly a minute past the time you had agreed to meet there (and no, you were not counting the seconds). he's a little flushed, hand warm in yours as he takes it to guide you up to the counter to order, but it only matches the blood rushing to your own cheeks.
"what are you getting?" he asks, bouncing a little on his toes as you wait behind the couple ordering ahead of you. "i can't decide."
"i wanted a caramel latte," you say, glancing up at the menu and trying hard not to focus too much on the way his fingers intertwine so perfectly with yours. you're too distracted on trying to not be distracted that you miss when he orders and pays for your drink, and you smack his shoulder lightly when you notice what he's done.
"a gentleman always pays," he teases, a small smirk on his face overriding the nervousness. you wait together in what might be the most comfortable silence you've ever experienced while you wait for your drinks, and the steaming paper cups warm the hands that were not tangled together when you step outside.
you walk together aimlessly down the street, the sun peeking out at you through orange and red tinted foliage. fallen leaves crunch under your laced boots, and you can't keep the absurdly fond smile off your face when you notice him purposefully leaning this way and that to stomp on the crunchiest looking ones.
you window shop aimlessly for a while, sipping on the last dredges of your now cold coffees. you stop him at an old record shop, peering excitedly through the window at the walls lined with dozens of old music and tables adorned with well-loved record players.
"look, they have-" you start, turning towards him, but the way he's looking at you stops you right in your tracks. his eyes are shining, trained solely on you like nothing else in that moment existed. "what?"
"nothing," he ducks his head towards you, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. he leans forward, lips slightly parted, but catches himself right as they were about to touch your skin. your breath is caught for a moment, and you have to clear your throat to allow any oxygen back into your brain. he's still in your space, and his next words are hushed. "you're just so beautiful."
"kiss me," you demand, the words escaping your mouth before your brain can catch up. his eyes widen in surprise, and you're sure you look a little dumbstruck when you realize what you had just said.
"really?" he says, blinking owlishly at you, like he didn't believe you.
"han jisung, if you don't kiss me right now-" your words are cut off as he finally presses his lips to yours, firm and soft and sweet and perfect. you feel warm all over despite the wind blowing at you, fire engulfing your entire body from the strands of your hair to your heels pressed firmly into the ground. he pulls back and you chase his lips, placing a small peck at the corner of them, and he lets out a startled laugh tinted with delight.
was it too early to be in love?
here. take this dad chan.
week seven
Something feels…off.
The bathroom is oddly dim. A light flickers above the mirror, dull enough that it doesn’t bother you but definitely noticeable. Your legs are bouncing, belt buckle blending in with the cheers of the crowd. Five minutes until they go out. Ninety seconds until you know.
Is this something that can wait until the end of the show?
Tucking the evidence in your jacket pocket, you exit the bathroom. Into the nearly empty waiting room — only your husband and Changbin left behind. He’s fixing his friend’s ear piece, Chan’s head tilted to the left to give him better access.
“Hey!” He says with a smile when he sees you, reaching out. His hands are a little shaky; they always are when they’re about to preform. The gold wedding band catches the light, sparkling under it.
It reassures you. This is what is supposed to happen right? First comes love, then comes marriage.
Some would say step three is way overdue.
You grab his hands, moving into his body to give him the hug he desires. Chan’s arms are firm around your body, peppering kisses along the side of your face—
“Stop moving.”
Chan smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, Bin.” He moves his head back into position. “How are you feeling, love? You still look a little pale.”
Now would be a good time to tell him. Your gut is screaming to do it now, to get it over with before the word vomit comes out like every other meal you’ve had lately. Do it. Do it before he walks away, tell him now—
“There we go.” The younger man claps your husband’s shoulders, giving him a light shake before stepping away. “All ready?”
“Yeah, give me a second.” His hands fall to your waist, pulling you in for a proper hug now that he’s not Changbin’s doll. You melt into his touch, the jewels from his outfit rubbing against your skin. It feels nice.
You almost feel guilty, the weight of everything about to crush you.
“Hey.” Chan says softly, grabbing your chin and tilting your head back. His expression is so soft, so gentle. The man you’re madly in love with looking at you with beautiful stars. The trust unending in his dark eyes. “Talk to me. What’s up?”
Now. Now tell him now. Tell him before he’s busy for three hours, unreachable as you stew in your new reality. Now. Tell him now—
“Nothing.” You say with a smile, leaning up to kiss him quickly. “I’m okay.”
If he doesn’t believe you, you can’t really tell. The adrenaline of the show running through him already, his mind in a million different places.
“Come help me change at the ment?”
This really isn’t something that can wait.
“Yeah, of course.”
But for now, it will have to be.
week ten
In. Out. In. Out.
God, pregnancy cramps are worse than period cramps. Somehow.
You’re curled in the bed, knees pushed up and a hand cradling your stomach. There’s no bump yet, no outward signs yet. Just a bunch of weird pains and feelings that you don’t fully understand. It’s normal, you’re told by your doctor. You’ll get used to it.
That doesn’t make it that fun, though.
Chan said he would be home by now. There’s a comeback on the horizon, so it’s no surprise he was in the studio late tonight. But he promised you when he left that he would be home before you went to bed.
You’ve been a little extra needy lately. Who would have figured?
It’s hard to be upset with him. It’s not like he knows yet — when have you had the time to tell him? Between tours and a comeback and all the other million things he does daily, you haven’t had the chance to bring it up. Besides, it’s not like you’ve told anyone other than your doctor yet. So it’s not like you’re hiding anything from him.
Right?
Your phone buzzes near your head, a photo from your honeymoon lighting up the screen. Chan looked so sweet that day; his skin sun-kissed, curls laced with seawater, making them even more prominent. It’s your favorite picture ever of him. You’ve never seen him happier.
“Hey.” You say groggily into the phone. You tap the speaker button, not bothering to bring it to your ear.
“Hi, my love.” He singsongs into the phone. “I’m sorry it’s late, but I’m getting ready to wrap things up here.”
“It’s okay. When will you be home?”
“Hmm, an hour? Maybe?”
There’s so many things happening in your body. In your mind. And sixty minutes feels like an impossible entirety. Three, two, one and the tears are flowing in earnest. You take a shaky breath, letting the sob that’s been building all day release. You can’t do that, you can’t wait a single second longer.
You need Chan like you need to breathe.
“Woah, what’s wrong?” Your husband sounds so concerned. It’s easy to picture his scrunched face, the little pout of confusion from your sudden outburst. “Why are you—“
“Come home now.” You sob in the phone. “I can’t, Chan, I c-can’t—“
“Okay. Okay, I’m leaving now.” The door slamming in the background proves it. “Is there anything you need—“
“No.” You shake your head, pulling the sleeves of his hoodie over your hands. “J-just need you.”
“I’m coming, love. I promise.”
You pull his pillow into your body, burying your nose into the center of it. He washed his hair before bed last night; the shampoo is still heavy on the silk cover.
In. Out. In. Out. Breathe in smell of oak, finding peace in knowing your comfort will be home soon.
Light pours into the dark room, your husband hurrying over to the bed. You’re facing the edge, still hidden in the pillow though your tears have stopped. Chan crouches by your head, warm fingers peeling your colds open.
“Hi, baby.” He says softly, intertwining his fingers with yours. “I’m home.”
You peek out from behind the pillow, eyes burning red. Oh, the guilt is painted bright red on his face. He must have ran out of the company building. Sped through the city. Did he even turn the car off before he leaped out of it? Shut the front door?
Chan didn’t stop until he was in front of you. You need him? He’s always right here.
“I’m sorry I’m home so late.” He apologizes, pulling the pillow down a little more. Wanting to see you better. “I know you weren’t—“
“I’m pregnant.”
His mouth is open, the words he was going to speak lost in the air. He blinks, head shaking slightly as the weight of your words hit him hard. You’re surprised his balance wasn’t lost. “You—“ his hands loosen their grip a bit, shock making his body run cold. “There’s—you—wait—“
Your lip is wobbling, new tears stinging your eyes. All you can do is nod. Over and over, confirming the question he’s unable to ask.
“You.” He gasps, tears now rolling down his face. A bright smile breaks out, a little laugh sneaking out. “You!”
Chan climbs onto the bed and grabs you, pulling you into his body tightly. Back and forth he rocks you, laughing into your shoulder. It’s unbelievable, exciting, terrifying. All the emotions you were feeling now reflected in your person, who can’t seem to start crying.
“Oh my god.” He says, pulling his head out of your shoulder. His hands cup your face, beaming so brightly at you, you might go blind.
A beanie covers his curls, though a few peek through. The gold earrings catch in the light of the television, though nothing could shine as brightly as his smile. His cheeks must be hurting.
Never mind. This is the happiest you’ve ever seen him.
“How far along are you?” Chan asks when he can finally form a sentence, the words coming back to him.
“Ten weeks.” You say, a hand mindlessly going to your stomach. “So not very far.”
He nods, his own hand following. Together, your hands lace over the nonexistent bump. “How big is that?”
It’s such a Chan question, you can’t help but giggle. “The size of a prune.”
“So small.” He mumbles, looking down between your bodies. “What foods have prunes in them?”
You blink. Out of all the things you expected him to say, this was the last on your list. Actually, it didn’t even make the cut. “I don’t know. Why?”
“Well, we should eat something with prunes to celebrate!”
It’s the cutest thing you think you’ve ever heard, your heart swelling as you cup his face. “Should we make something every week? To correlate with the size?”
The idea hadn’t even crossed his mind. You can see it in the way his eyes widen, lips parting in a bit of shock. “That’s a great idea.”
we can't date
“Changbin, come on. I am serious.”
He had his hands on your hips and his lips on your throat, leaving traces of him everywhere.
“Mmhmm”, he hummed velvety, not even considering stopping anytime soon. God damn it, he made it so hard on you. How the hell were you supposed to resist him if he pampered you in adoration like that?
“Bin, you need to stop.”
His hands slid onto your thighs, slightly squeezing while he was whispering lowly into your ear.
“Do you really want me to?” Your aroused body answered way before you could as you threw your head back in enjoyment, anticipating what would come next. He took your reaction as confirmation to proceed and slid his hand upwards, stopping right before your core. Having him touch you felt so good, god. You wanted him to touch you more. You simply wanted him– badly. He watched you fight your urge with a smirk on his lips, maliciously deciding to make it even harder on you. His slender fingers pushed your soaked panties aside and played with your pulsating clit. Changbin sucked in his breath as he continued praising you further.
“Damn baby, look how wet you are. Only because of me? You make it so easy for me to slide my fingers in. Watch.” And with that he did. You moaned in excitement as you felt him stretch you finger by finger, feeling better and better with each additional digit of his.
“You take me so well, baby”, he whispered in your ear. “Can’t wait to finally do that to you while calling you my girl.”
Your eyes shot open as you froze up instantly. You pushed his hand aside and got off the couch. Frantically, you ran around your living room, clasping your hair while trying to think straight. Changbin however remained calm, he knew that this subject triggered the hell out of you. Normally you would dodge his questions about exclusivity and commitment but this time he had you right where he wanted you – trapped in your own excuses.
“Y/N, take a seat and calm down, okay?”
You stopped running in circles and looked at him. There he was – every woman’s dream was sitting on your couch trying to get you to calm down so you could work this out together. Why wasn’t he running away? How come he was this patient with you? You knew you were acting ridiculous, but you couldn’t help it. He looked at you and patted the couch’s seat right next to him.
“Come sit with me?” He was pouting, leaving you no choice.
You obliged.
“Y/N, do you like me?” You nodded your head in agreement. “I mean, do you really like me? Like romantically?” You nodded again. “Great, I do, too. So why don’t you want to be my girlfriend?” You fiddled with your hands, too nervous to form a clear sentence. You felt his rough hands on yours, squeezing them lightly while smiling warmly at you. “Don’t be afraid. You can talk to me, okay?”
You took a deep breath before coming clean. “I like you, that’s true. But you and I, we cannot date, Changbin.” You had practiced this speech in the mirror for days – back then you sounded assertive and sure of yourself. Right now, however? Not so much. You sounded fearful and rather pathetic.
“I got that but why?” With a shaky voice and even shakier fingers you tried to explain yourself.
“There are multiple reasons, really…” Changbin’s eyes lit up – always eager for a challenge, he was ready to dismiss every single reason of yours. “Name one.”
You huffed out in annoyance. “We can’t date because I’m not ready.” “Ready?” “Yeah, ready. I still have tons of weight to lose, I need to get stronger and leaner, and my curves are barely visible, and I should be sexier, but those hourglass workouts didn’t really work for me and I-”
Your “Everything that’s wrong with me”-monologue got interrupted by the vigorous laughter of the boy next to you. You felt yourself getting angry - why was he laughing at you?
“Y/N, are you for real right now?” His face fell silent as he realized that you were dead serious.
“Oh shit, you are. Listen to me. I love your body. I think you’re sexy as fuck! I love your lean legs and your thick booty. I love that you have fat on your body – I don’t wanna fuck a skeleton. Your tummy fat is cute! I can lay my head on your tummy and hear you breathe – it’s so comfortable! I really, really like doing that. And besides, I don’t like you because of your body. Well, I mean partially yes, but I like you for you. I want to be with you because of who you are.”
“But you don’t know all of me!” Changbin took your hand into his and drew small circles on it.
“I don’t know all of you, correct. But what I do know so far is pretty damn impressive. And I would like to get to know the rest as well. Why won’t you let me see all of you?”
You teared up – being touched and terrified simultaneously. “Because I’m flawed.” It was hurting him copiously to see you like that. How could someone as incredible as you think you were flawed? “Y/N, can I hug you?” You nodded your head, silently.
“Baby, why do you think you’re flawed?” You grabbed the fabric of his shirt tightly, talking into his chiseled chest, not ready to face him.
“There are parts of me that are ugly. A couple of years ago I had to face some health struggles and those are with me, still. It’s not a deadly condition or anything like that but I’m ashamed. I’m mortified of my body and the condition it is in.” You looked up at him, tears straining not only his shirt but also your cheeks.
“How could you want me if I’m not perfect?” Changbin took your face into his big hands and kissed you tenderly.
“I want you precisely because you are not perfect, y/n. I don’t want you to be perfect. I just want you to be you. That’s more than enough for me – just be you.”
He wiped away your remaining tears and smiled at you. “I won’t pretend knowing what you’re going through health wise, but I want you to know this. Your body is working for you, even if doesn’t seem like that sometimes. Don’t be ashamed of it – or you. I will hold your hand and dry your tears when you are in pain, and I will buy you chocolate and candy when you need a boost of dopamine. Don’t think you have to face all of this alone.”
“But don’t you think I’m weak?” He shook his head in bewilderment. “No, not at all. I think you are tough. Look how much this is affecting you, yet you’re still going strong and not giving up on you – or life. You have immense strength in you, y/n. I admire that.” He placed a kiss on the tip of your nose.
You did not anticipate these sweet words – you prepared yourself for rejection instead. His words gave you courage and warmed your heart, even eliciting a coy smile on your lips.
“So, not only are reason one and two invalid, but they also won’t keep me from dating you. What else do you got?” He dodged your side playfully. You chuckled in response, realizing that talking about your fears wasn’t so horrible after all.
“Reason three, right. We can’t date because I’m insecure. And I get jealous easily. I always worry that you will find someone else, someone better than me. And girls are hitting on you all the time – how can I keep up with that? One day you’re not texting me enough and I’m losing it. The next moment I see you out with a colleague of yours and torture myself by thinking you’re going to cheat on me. We’re going to fight all the time because of my insecurities, and I don’t want that, Bin.”
He remained silent for a while.
“Do you know what makes a secure person?” You paused, not understanding where he was going with this.
“A secure person knows of her worth and value. And baby don’t hate me for saying this, but you could definitely evolve in that area. But you don’t have to do it on your own. So, I’m gonna reassure you every time you feel insecure. I will send you hourlong recordings declaring my love for you, and I will write you thousands of pages with all the reasons why I fell for you, and I will smother you in love until you believe me. I will chase down every single insecurity of yours until you finally understand how wonderful you are. But I need you to work with me, okay?”
You teared up again. Was he serious? Was he really not abandoning you like a stray dog? He was choosing you even if you were a mess like this?
“Okay? Promise me.” Changbin held out his pinky, waiting on you to pledge your cooperation. You held your pinky out as well and promised him. “Okay”, you whispered.
He crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back on the sofa, feeling relieved and joyous.
“So, I’ve shattered all your stupid reasons, huh?” You smiled sadly. “No, one is still left.” He shot up instantly.
“Oh? Alright. Let’s meet the final boss, then.” You chuckled at his easiness, once again admiring his confidence. You took a deep breath before saying the final words, knowing that those would make him leave for good.
“Bin, I don’t want to date you.”
The saddened look on his face pained your heart tremendously. Up to now Changbin had never considered that the reason for you denying him was because of you not desiring him. At least not in the way that he was desiring you.
Why was this so complicated? How did everyone else make this work so easily?
“Is that it? You simply don’t want to date me?” His tone was cold, shut off even.
You nodded remorseful.
“Yeah.”
He was processing a lot of emotions; you could tell by his body language. He got up and grabbed his stuff.
“Okay, then. You don’t have to.” You watched him get out of the room, grabbing his sneakers and leave your apartment for good. You ran after him but hesitated at your door, breaking down and crying incessantly.
Did you really not want to?
No. But you had no other choice. Because even after everything he said, even after everything you heard him promise you, you still couldn’t shake the fear of him abandoning you. You couldn’t get the nagging voice that was living in the back of your mind out of your head. This was what always happened, and this time would be no exception. Abandonment was a part of you, it was circling in your blood. They always promised you the world but hurt you in the end. They always left, hence you could not risk losing your heart like that again.
Even if it felt like you already did.
𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠・h.h.
— you're uninviting, there's no doubt about that, your resolve like unpolished diamond and tongue like broken glass. but hyunjin finds you're not half as impossible as everyone assumes you are.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬・11.1k
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・idol!hyunjin x afab!stylist!reader (inspired by this)
𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・fluff, angst, eventual smut so MDNI, some hurt/comfort, some humor, mc is a bad bitch and hyunjin is a #simp, enemies? to lovers, sexual tension, workplace relationship, mutual pining, slow burn, nonlinear narrative, alternating perspectives
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・cunnilingus, overstimulation, creampie (practice safe sex!!), mild dacryphilia, pussydrunk!hyunjin. minors and ageless blogs that interact with this post will be blocked.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 (𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭'𝐝.)・reader vividly remembers an anxiety attack. alcohol is consumed. lots of compartmentalization and imperfect communication. latter half is just kind of sad in general tbh but what do u expect from a fic based off alex turner lyrics
𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭・farewell, neverland by txt・like crazy by jimin・dimple by bts・black friday by tom odell・collide by justine skye・crying lightning by arctic monkeys
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh ♡ @like-a-diamondinthesky ♡ @fire-08 ♡ @starsandrqindrops ♡ @txtxlz ♡ @laylasbunbunny ♡ @strayghibli ♡ @nuronhe ♡
𝐚/𝐧・call me victor frankenstein bc i've given birth to a MONSTER (except i actually love and care for mine ofc). this was easily the greatest challenge of my fanfiction-writing career and it feels like my magnum opus; i hope it's worth the wait! also a huge shoutout to sahar for being my voice of reason and my biggest supporter :’) i don’t deserve u i love u
Present day. Cannes, France. 5:54 P.M.
You’ve long made peace with the fact that Hwang Hyunjin is incapable of shutting up for more than five minutes.
As it is, the man has a mouth that runs like a cross-country marathon; then throw in his uncanny aptitude for annoying you, and what do you get? A nonstop slew of terrible jokes and teasing quips, tailored according to his thorough mental manual of what gets under your skin hardest and fastest.
This is the reality you live in, presumably because you were evil in your past life, and you’ve steeled yourself to see it through.
But twenty minutes have passed since you and Hyunjin ducked into the back of a cab and gave the driver the show’s address—and, as stunning as the red rooftops and lazuline coastline of Cannes are, you find you’re more interested in Hyunjin’s peculiar silence.
You move your gaze to his face. He’s looking outside, his chin resting upon the palm of his hand, the afternoon sunlight dusting over his chiseled features like polish on pottery; his complexion an exuberant gold against the cream-colored linen that makes up his clothing.
Maybe it’s because you opted for a simpler makeup look today, leaving the most telling contours of his face warm and bare, or maybe it’s because you’ve spent the last year committing his every mannerism and expression to memory. Nevertheless, you see through his pursed lips and tight brow right away.
“Nervous?”
Hyunjin’s head swivels towards you with a small snap, like he’s forgotten you’re here. His lips fall open, their glossy peach color glinting with the small shift.
“No,” he replies reflexively, but then his facade flickers. “Fuck, maybe a little. It’s just hard to believe, you know?”
You do know. It was a huge honor for both of you when Hyunjin was named the newest global ambassador of Versace. For you to be attending the brand’s pop-up show in one of the most beautiful cities in Europe, among some of the world’s most prolific creatives, is truly incomprehensible. Even you’ve been feeling antsy since you landed; you can only imagine Hyunjin’s anxiety.
You have never been good at consolation. You think your mouth is too coarse, your propensity for honesty too strong. But you’ve always known just what to say when it comes to him.
“Just remember who you are.”
Hyunjin takes a few seconds to process your words, but his understanding washes over his whole body; straightens his back; hardens his gaze. You don’t see this change in posture, though. You’re too busy looking anywhere else, all of a sudden feeling quite embarrassed.
Nor do you see the private smile that disperses across Hyunjin’s lips; his eyes softening so, so marginally when they peer at your profile; his hand twitching where it rests on his knee, as if contemplating reaching for you with a mind of its own.
Thirty seconds. That is the amount of time you have left to bask in this otherworldly tranquility. And then he speaks.
“I want you to meet my parents.”
Your arm reacts before your mind can. Without having to turn your head an inch, you smack him squarely in the bicep, sending him crumpling against his door with a bark of a laugh; “please,” he adds, and you’re biting back a smile as you hit him again, with less conviction this time.
The cab driver nearly misses an exit, too busy wondering about the peculiar pair in his backseat and the nature of your relationship. He can’t tell if you hate each other or if you’re married.
One year ago. Seoul, South Korea. 8:42 A.M.
“I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me.”
“For my newborn daughter.”
“Yeah, okay. I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me for your newborn daughter. What does that brat have that I don’t?”
“My genes, to begin with.”
“That’s unfair. She’s using—”
An important-looking pair of women step out of the nearest elevators, the clacking of their heels ricocheting sharply off the lobby walls. Hyunjin straightens his back so quickly he thinks he pulls a muscle. He and Seojun incline their heads in perfect sync, their “good morning”s prim and professional.
“She’s using cheats,” Hyunjin hisses the second the women are out of earshot again, and this wrests a laugh from the older man at last.
Around one month prior, Seojun confided in Hyunjin that he and his partner were expecting their first child soon, and that he would be putting his career on indefinite hiatus to welcome her into the world.
Hyunjin had never felt so conflicted in his life. On one hand, he’d grown closer to his stylist over the last two years than he’d thought possible, and he knew it was stupid to be anything but delighted for him and his expanding family. On the other hand, it was precisely because they’d become so close that he wanted to grab the man by the ankles and shake the decision clean out of his body. He couldn’t imagine a dressing room or tour bus without him.
Today is a Saturday, but it’s also Seojun’s last day with the company. Hyunjin dragged himself to the JYP building at half past eight with much less reluctance than he let on. He wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
“Fourth floor,” Seojun instructs after the pair enter the elevator, and Hyunjin presses a knuckle to the according number. “Thanks.”
The doors slide shut; the floor numbers tick upwards.
“What was her name again?” Hyunjin asks.
“Y/N,” Seojun returns. “Y/L/N.”
“Is she here already?”
“No, she’ll be here at nine.”
There’s a small pause.
“Hyung.”
“Hm?”
“I feel like I’m being married off to another family for political reasons.”
“God, I can’t wait to be free of your theatrics.”
At this, the two men make eye contact; exchange smiles. The elevator announces their arrival to the fourth floor, and they step through the doors.
“You’ll be in good hands,” Seojun reassures. “She’s the best of the best. I hear she’s basically running the industry these days. I’m surprised she agreed to take you on.”
“I’m surprised an old fry like you knows someone like her,” Hyunjin replies, and the look Seojun gives him is so withering that he thinks he pulls a muscle again with his apologetic bow.
“You’re not wrong, though,” Seojun concedes. “We happened to work on the same project back when she was still a small name, and we’ve kept in touch ever since. She’s a great kid. Ambitious, hardworking, strong as hell—”
They arrive outside their destination, and Hyunjin holds open the door to the conference room. Only to find that Seojun has stopped in his footsteps, temporarily stunned by a new realization.
She reminds me of him.
“He’s forgotten how to walk,” the him in question whispers like he’s narrating a nature documentary, and the moment is over. “Is this what fatherhood does to a man?”
Seojun kicks Hyunjin into the room by the seat of his pants.
The minutes pass slowly. Seojun moves his eyes between the door and his phone every few seconds, visibly antsy about the imminent meeting. In the meantime, Hyunjin makes the groundbreaking discovery that these office chairs are absurdly and almost suspiciously comfortable. All it takes is a chin upon his palm and a few seconds of shut-eye, and he’s suddenly slumped over the table, snoring softly into the crook of his elbow.
At 8:57, Seojun’s phone lights up with a new notification. At 8:58, he notices that Hyunjin is asleep, and closes his hand around the crumpled receipt in his pocket. At 8:59, he scrunches said receipt into a ball and launches it in Hyunjin’s direction. It hits him squarely on the head, and the boy is nearly knocked to the floor like a bowling pin.
“For that,” Hyunjin sputters, “I’m the godfather.”
“Absolutely the hell not.”
Then, it is 9:00.
When the door of the conference room opens, Hyunjin is still trying to gather his wits, wondering if the bastard is leaving the makeup industry to secretly pursue a career in professional basketball. He just barely notices the unfamiliar figure who steps into his line of vision.
“There she is,” Seojun greets warmly, rising to his feet right away. “God, how long has it been? Two, three years now?”
You’re not doing anything remarkable when Hyunjin sees you for the first time, simply walking across the room and bowing graciously in Seojun’s direction, but he is immediately under the vague impression that you’re cutting through space as you move, scorching the particles of air that dare obstruct your path.
With his head cocked slightly to the left, like a fascinated puppy, Hyunjin watches the stunning smile that forms on your lips when you take Seojun’s hand; your finger as it tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear with the elegance of rippling silk. His mind feels impossibly slow, like you’ve tapped open his skull and robbed him of his ability to think.
Then, you toss Hyunjin a look over your shoulder, and he’s reminded of lightning forking towards the earth. Terrifying, volatile, beautiful.
“Something like that,” you say, turning back to Seojun, and time starts to move again. “It’s great to see you again, Mr. Lee. Congratulations on the baby.”
“Please, Seojun is fine,” he answers hastily. “And thank you. Thank you for all of this, actually. I can’t tell you how excited we are to have you.”
“You’re too kind—I’m excited too.”
Upon uttering the word “we,” Seojun delivers Hyunjin a fleeting side-eye; he takes the hint and pushes himself to his feet, feeling uncharacteristically clumsy as he moves towards you.
The second time he meets your gaze, it feels wrong, almost, for him to hold it for as long as he does. Like he’s approaching your throne with his chin held high and eyes fixed forward instead of his head sweeping the ground.
Except he swears he senses a strange warmth within the rings of your irises, and he spends every second of eye contact following, chasing it, almost craning his neck with how badly he wants to get a closer look. Until he’s as close to you as is socially acceptable for a first meeting and comes to a halt.
He ends up losing its trail, but he won’t forget that it’s there.
“My client, I’m guessing?” You say, extending your hand. “Y/N. It’s a pleasure.”
Your fingers are freezing cold where they meet his, and Hyunjin already knows that melting the permafrost that coats your flesh and guards your soul will be the tallest task of his life.
But he finds his next words accompanied by an involuntary smirk; he’s nothing, if not tenacious.
“Hyunjin,” he returns. “Pleasure’s all mine.”
Nine months ago. Paris, France. 6:16 P.M.
Hyunjin isn’t sure why—maybe you forget that he can still steal glances at your reflection over your shoulder or through the gaps of your fingers—but he’s learned over the last four weeks that you’re different, gentler, when you’re doing his makeup.
Your cold hands request instead of demand that he angle his head a certain way or suck in his cheeks. Your syllables are rounder somehow, your voice never traveling above a murmur. Even your eyes mellow out when you move in really close, your pupils dilating as you detail the final touches to the fresco you’ve painted upon him.
Your expression doesn’t give you away (it never does), but his hunch is that there’s a sprinkle of doting somewhere among the intense focus. That would explain why he feels like a flower in the moments when your fingertips and gaze move so carefully over his skin, like you’re touching his petals, trying not to tear them.
Too bad you never let him daydream for long.
“Close.”
“Huh?”
“Your eyes. Close them.”
His lashes have hardly brushed his lower lids when you begin to empty what feels like an entire bottle of setting spray on him. At the moist surprise, Hyunjin’s features scrunch up around his nose and he lets out a distraught hack like an old man.
A few seconds later, the barrage stops, and he cracks open a wary eye to scope out his surroundings. You wait until he does this to give his face one last spurt.
“Witch,” Hyunjin mutters, clawing back up the vanity chair.
“Thank you,” you reply, completely earnestly.
And whatever Hyunjin was going to say next suspends instantly on his tongue when you bring the pad of your thumb to the very edge of his lower lip and drag it across the soft flesh. He wonders if you know how hard he tries not to look at your mouth whenever you tend to his. He wonders if there’s anything you don’t know.
“You smudged your lipstick already.” There’s a small streak of coral pink on your hand when it falls back to your side. “See? That’s why we need the setting spray.”
“Uh huh.” And Hyunjin spots a ghost of a smile flit across your face, gone nearly as soon as it appears. The only evidence of it ever existing is the quickened heartbeat it leaves behind within him.
“You’re done, by the way,” you say, stepping aside. “Take a look.”
He slips out of his seat and moves closer to the vanity, peering at his reflection as curiously as if he’s never seen it before. But that’s how he’s felt since he started working with you.
Seojun was right: you are the best that the makeup industry has to offer. Hyunjin has come to understand this for multiple reasons. Your phone screen is incessantly illuminated by new notifications and incoming calls. The other stylists heed your advice like it’s the law. Brushes and pencils move like water when it’s you maneuvering them. And then some.
He would call what you have “talent,” but he knows it’s more than that. You show him a new version of himself every time you turn a mirror in his direction, like there are facets of him that are visible to you and you only. As much as he delights in the notion that you have such intimate knowledge of him, it should be impossible, considering you’ve only known him for two months. So no, it’s not just talent that you possess. It’s some combination of talent, hawkish perception, and raw artistry that is utterly inhuman—and sexy as fuck.
Speaking of sexy. Hyunjin’s look is relatively rudimentary tonight, the makeup light, the outfit a simple black tank top beneath a jacket and pants made of bright red velvet. But it’s the details that tie the whole thing together: the wide, loose sleeves causing the jacket to slip continually off his shoulders; the inner layer tight in all the right places. His face doesn’t look half bad either, with the sultry carmine powder that fringes his eyes and the intentionally mussed state of his hair. He pushes a hand through the dark locks, regarding himself with thorough appreciation.
You appear in his periphery as you start cleaning up your work station. “You can just take the jacket off when your sweat glands start malfunctioning, by the way. I thought you’d appreciate that detail.”
At this, his smize cracks into a laugh, the sound loud and uninhibited and uniquely yours to hear. “You suck.”
He looks away from his reflection just in time to glimpse another of your phantom smiles, and he thinks it’s so painfully on brand that the two times it’s appeared tonight have both been from you making yourself laugh. You might be the most insufferable person he’s ever met. He might be obsessed with you anyways.
“Well?” You implore. “What do you think?”
“No notes.”
It’s the answer you’re expecting. You survey him from head to toe one last time, decide that you, too, are satisfied, and slip your makeup into your bag; hike its strap over your shoulder.
“I’ll see you after the show, then.”
You have an important conference call to attend before tonight’s concert, hence why Hyunjin had to come in early for hair and makeup. This is also the reason why the two of you have been the only people in the dressing room for the better part of an hour.
It’s rare that he ever gets you alone, and he doesn’t want it to end. Not just yet.
“I lied, actually,” he calls. “I do have notes.”
You already have one foot out the door when you hear this, and you turn around so slowly and in such disbelief that he has to fight to constrain his laugh—the concept of imperfection is truly unthinkable to you. Insufferable, like he said.
“Do tell,” you say, dropping your bag back onto the floor.
“You have any jewelry for me?”
You chew on this for a moment. You did have a selection of necklaces prepared for tonight, but they were heavy and numerous, not exactly the best-suited for the group’s dynamic sets. You still like them, granted, and you know Hyunjin would as well.
You articulate all of this to him, and he asks if he can take a look at them anyways. “Come here, then,” you say, the words so tantalizing when they fall from your lips that nearly trips over himself trying to obey.
You take out a flat rectangular box from your bag and set it down in front of the lightbulb-studded mirrors. Hyunjin observes quietly as you show him its contents: three thick, gold chains with varying lengths and boasting different pendants, plus a beaded bracelet and an assembly of rings of the same material. His devious plan aside, he does love the selection.
“You’re sure you won’t be uncomfortable?”
He nods, and you pick up the longest of the three chains; turn to him expectedly. He takes this as his cue to move closer to you, except he overshoots a little, and he feels the tips of his shoes accidentally bump into the ends of yours; discerns the warmth emanating from your body against his own. He expects a withering glare, a kick in the shin, maybe, but you don’t seem bothered by the proximity at all, unblinking as you bring your hands around the either side of his neck and fasten the first necklace with a soft tap. Your fingers then brush over his collarbones to adjust the pendant, and he thinks your hands would have to be numb not to perceive the frantic heartbeat threatening to burst straight out of his skin.
Entire minutes pass before Hyunjin musters the courage to actually look at you. By then, you’re already working on the third and final necklace. It’s not a surprise that your face is mere inches away from his; he’s been watching your reflections out of the corner of his eye; he knows you’re closer to each other than you’ve ever been. But there are parts of you that the mirror doesn’t show—the soft curve of your lashes, the concentrated narrow of your eyes, the shapely protrusion of your pursed lips—and these surprise him so thoroughly that he slips and slides out of his right mind.
You are the type of beautiful that’s been around longer than humans have, the same as that of the true blue color of forget-me-nots. And Hyunjin feels enveloped, intoxicated by you from this minuscule distance. The idea forms numbly in his head that maybe, just maybe, he was put on this earth to admire you.
In this inebriated state, he makes a venturesome decision.
When you finish centering the last pendant upon the his chest, you are about to take a step back and review the updated look, but you’re debilitated by the feeling of fingers grazing over your hip—lightly, so lightly that you mistake them for a gust of wind at first, but the contact is enough to push the small of your back against the edge of the counter. Then, both of Hyunjin’s hands reach behind you, pressing flat against the marble surface, and, just like that, he has you right where he wants you, ensnared between cold stone and hot flesh.
And so begins an equilibrium so fragile that it’ll shatter if one of you so much as blinks the wrong way, your rattled breath fluttering against his lips, his eyes dark and hooded and out of focus as they survey the fine lines of your expression. It still doesn’t give you away (it never does), but he finds that in this moment he just doesn’t care.
“Let me take you out,” he murmurs. “One date.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” You reply under your breath.
“You know what I’m talking about, love.”
Upon uttering that last word, he angles his head almost imperceptibly, the movement challenging, daring you to say something about it. But you don’t. You merely hiss out a whetted “you’re fucking crazy,” and that’s his opening to drag this on a little longer; push your limits a little more.
“About you? Damn straight.”
At this, finally, fucking finally, there is a semblance of something in your face that isn’t just your usual mildly-irritated nonchalance. Instead, he detects surprise in the whites of your eyes as you widen them; as you part your lips with a response that only comes much later.
And he’s surprised by your surprise. Surely, with your skills of observation, you would’ve noticed long ago how his world shrinks down to only you and your gorgeous voice and your confident glare and your shitty sense of humor whenever he’s been granted the privilege of your presence.
This might be the first time he’s admitted it out loud, but he hasn’t tried—hasn’t been able—to hide how he feels about you, not now, not ever. It’s been that way since the moment the sole of your shoe met the carpet of that conference room on the fourth floor of the JYP building.
“Hwang—” You begin.
“Hyung!”
At the sound of a third, new voice, your arms tense like you’re about to shove Hyunjin off of you, but he only leans in further, so that his lips almost graze your jaw and your hands have nowhere to go except the taut surface of his chest. The surprise is gone; now you’re just pissed. He can feel the heat of your furious eyes and the tremor in your hands as you form fists around the fabric of his top. But he takes his sweet time in scooping up the bracelet and rings, and only afterwards does he pull away from you and straighten to his full height.
“Hey, Innie!” Hyunjin chirps, and Jeongin materializes in the doorway, looking thoroughly perturbed by the older boy’s sunny tone. “What’s up?”
In the meantime, you turn around to snap the lid of your jewelry box shut, and it takes a singular glance in the mirror for a truly horrible realization to settle upon your shoulders. You don’t think anybody would be able to tell even if you announced it outright, but you know yourself and the little nuances of your face all too well.
You’re flustered.
You feel like a horror movie heroine breaking the fourth wall.
“Nothing, weirdo. I was just announcing my arrival,” Jeongin says. Thank fuck you did, Hyunjin thinks to himself, completely unaware of the epiphany you’re having behind him. “Chan-hyung mentioned you were here already? Why?”
“She’s in high demand.” Hyunjin points out the she in question by jutting his chin in your direction. “The usual.”
“Ah.”
Jeongin inclines his head towards you in polite greeting. You return his hello, but your expression starts to feel tight when his eyes dart between the strange smile on Hyunjin’s face and your awkward stance (still glued to the edge of the counter) as he drops his duffel by the couch. The boy isn’t stupid, unlike his older counterpart.
“I saw a vending machine on my way here,” Jeongin says, turning to leave the room again. “You want anything, hyung? Noona?”
“I’m okay, thank you,” you say.
“I’ll have whatever you have,” Hyunjin says.
Jeongin flashes a thumbs-up and dips out of the room, perhaps a little more hastily than he intends to come across. And then there are two. Again.
You wait until you can’t hear his footsteps anymore, and then you turn to glower at Hyunjin so intensely that he thinks you’re about to place a curse on his whole bloodline.
Then, your phone starts vibrating, and he knows he’ll live to see another day.
“You still owe me an answer,” Hyunjin calls as you turn around and leave the room.
“Don’t hold your breath,” you reply.
One day, I’ll break her, is the predominant thought that resides in Hyunjin’s head as he slips on the remaining jewelry; watches your figure disappear around a corner. One day, I’ll break his face, is the predominant thought that resides in yours as you stalk away. That’s the two of you, in a nutshell.
Six months ago. Osaka, Japan. 3:03 P.M.
When you walk into the dressing room, you find Haeun hunched over an overflowing photo album with her hands forming fists in her hair, muttering to nobody in particular, “I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.”
There’s an amused look in your eye as you set your bag down by Hyunjin’s empty vanity chair. She hasn’t noticed your presence yet; approximately three hallways down, the members are rehearsing for tonight’s performance on the main stage of the Kyocera Dome, and the music is so loud that you think you actually saw the walls vibrating while you were in the hallway moments ago.
You rise to your tiptoes and encroach upon her, waiting until she’s within reach to tickle the back of her neck. She nearly flies out of her seat with a shriek that can be heard over the heavy bass.
“Never gets old.” You hand her the photo album that went soaring also, and Haeun snatches it back with an affronted flourish.
“I can’t remember the last time you said hi to me normally, unnie.”
“Me neither, now that you mention it.”
Haeun and Han are your favorite stylist-idol duo in the world because they’re so eerily similar—and it’s adorable. They both illuminate every room they walk into; they both have grins too big for their faces, laughs too loud for their lungs. You always regret leaving your sunglasses at home when you catch sight of the effulgent pair.
But today you cannot detect the usual radiance in Haeun’s voice, nor so much as a hint of her easy grin. Then again, that’s another quality that she and her client share; they’re both well acquainted with the burdens that come with unwavering passion.
Every stylist has their own modus operandi. Haeun’s is a scrapbook of images that she cuts out and saves from catalogs, advertisements, newspapers, et cetera. You’ve seen it many times before, but never in such a state: messy handwriting stuffing the margins to their very brims, numbers and symbols like clusters of rainclouds over a sea of different outfits, arrows and circles and squares highlighting pant cuffs and cascade collars and dangling earrings. Telltale signs that Haeun hasn’t a clue as to what Han will be wearing tonight.
You gnaw on your lower lip, deliberating your next move. You end up placing a firm hand against the album’s cover and pushing it closed.
“Come with me,” you say. “We’re gonna try a new approach.”
Haeun opens her mouth to protest, but unfortunately you have an extensive track record of being right.
“What do you have in mind?” She sighs instead.
“You’ll see.”
With that, you stand up, tuck a small towel under your arm, and angle your head in the direction of the music.
The two of you make your way through the labyrinth of hallways that comprise the venue’s backstage. Eventually, the color of the floor changes from speckled white to solid black, and you step onto the part of the stage that is concealed from the audience by drawn curtains and heavy equipment. You say a quick hello to the group’s manager as you dip past him, and eventually reach the edge of the curtains, where you and Haeun have a good view of the eight members as they run through their setlist for tonight’s concert.
Haeun settles into the spot beside you, still confused as she follows your gaze.
“Let me ask you this,” you say, just audible over the din. “Can you style a performer if you don’t know how he performs?”
And understanding seeps over her features like poured tea.
“I want you to watch him,” you continue. “Tell me how he performs.”
Han’s part begins, as if on cue. His voice rings out through the empty stadium as he ducks to the front of the formation, a microphone held loosely to his lips, his face taut with focus. Haeun stares at him for some time, silently trying to fathom her observations, but she sees you shaking your head in the corner of her eye.
“Don’t think, Haeun. Just speak.”
She blows out a deep breath before obliging. “It’s hard to picture Han doing anything but laughing or making other people laugh, he’s so goofy and lighthearted most of the time. But he’s like a different person on stage. He’s so intense, it’s almost intimidating. Not intimidating in a douchey way, though—you just get the impression that he’s very confident in himself and his music.
You don’t say another word, but don’t need to. She’s hit her stride.
“His voice and enunciation are so clear. It’s crazy how he sounds exactly like the studio recording. Plus, his delivery feels genuine; he’s not just reciting lyrics, but speaking straight from his heart.
“And this is gonna sound bad, but I didn’t know Han could dance. Like, yeah, I knew that he could dance, but not like this. His movements are so sharp that I feel like my attention is being—”
Right there.
She cuts herself off, reaching the same conclusion.
“It’s his turn to talk, and he wants you to cling to his every word," Haeun articulates slowly. "He’s demanding your attention. He needs you to listen. That’s how he performs.”
A satisfied smile bolts across your face like lightning. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
Haeun pictures her scrapbook again, and there are now only a few articles of clothing and accessories that fit the framework you’ve helped her forge. She’s almost dizzy with disbelief, tearing her eyes from Han to look at you instead.
“You’re brilliant, you know that?”
“I do, but I appreciate the reminder.”
She can’t help but giggle. It’s a you answer if she’s ever heard one. “Do you do that with all of your clients?”
Haeun asks the question arbitrarily, without thinking. But you respond in a way that she doesn’t think she’s ever witnessed before, and she’s momentarily baffled by the sight: you hesitate.
As the song’s final chorus approaches, Hyunjin is the one folding himself into the center of the eight-person throng. You can only see his back from this angle, but even then it’s palpable how expertly and effortlessly he molds his body to the modulations of the music; how much fervor and feeling he expresses with every jerk of his spine and flex of his hands.
Within a few short seconds, innumerable descriptors and sensations skim the surface of your mind—but one word knocks the rest clean out of the water, the way it always does when you watch Hwang Hyunjin perform.
Artistry.
“No,” you reply. “Not all of them.”
And where better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?”
Haeun furrows a brow, understandably puzzled by this response, but you don’t elaborate. Partially because you feel like being coy, but mostly because you know that any explanation you offer will sound like a confession.
The song ends, leaving your ears ringing with the abrupt absence of sound. The members hold their poses with heaving shoulders, staring out into the empty stands until the stage manager’s voice comes through the monitors.
“And that’s a wrap! We’re all set for tonight. Good work, everyone.”
There is a ripple of movement around the stage as the boys relax. Jeongin jogs over to Minho, hoping to review a particularly challenging dance break; the manager asks Chan if he has a second to discuss travel logistics; Seungmin plops onto the edge of the stage and downs the rest of his water; Hyunjin beelines toward you the second he sees you, because of course he does.
You get a good look at him as he skips closer. Stray blonde locks plastered against his damp skin, tank top dyed several shades darker by the perspiration rolling down his neck, the muscles of his arms actually rippling as he swings them around stupidly, a shit-eating smile plastered across his stunning face.
You’re annoyed before he says a word.
“I didn’t know they were letting fans backstage now,” he hums happily. “Want an autograph, gorgeous?”
“Put a sock in it.” You whisk the towel you’ve been holding in his direction. “Wet freak.”
But he catches and tosses it over his shoulder straightaway, and your heart sinks to your fucking ankle. You’ve seen this movie before. You know how it ends.
“No.” You take a shaky step back. “No, nope, don’t even think about—”
The next thing you know, Hyunjin is lunging towards you and winding his arms around your waist, nearly sweeping you clean off your feet as he pulls you into his sweaty embrace. To your complete dismay, your face presses flat against the clammy plane of his chest. “Call me a wet freak again, go on,” he manages to say through his laughter.
In response, one of your hands wriggles free of its slippery prison and snatches the cuff of Hyunjin’s ear with impressive accuracy. He yelps and loosens his hold on you, but doesn’t relent completely, not even when he catches sight of the murderous expression on your face and cackles so forcefully his whole head is thrown back.
You tighten your grip. “Wet,” you seethe, “freak.”
“Ow—okay, don’t make it hot, what’s wrong with you?”
“Wha—what’s wrong with YOU?!”
As the two of you dissolve into your fatuous arguing, Haeun is no longer sure that she’s still standing here. She’s not even sure if she’s in her right mind anymore. She thinks she might be hallucinating the way everything about Hyunjin softens next to you, or the way your biting tone only seems to nibble when it’s him on the receiving end.
“Psst. We’ve been placing bets on them. You want in?”
Han suddenly materializes next to Haeun, and she would have been jumpscared into a different dimension if she wasn’t so fixated upon the bizarre occurrence before her.
But what if she’s not hallucinating?
No, not all of them, you’d said, like you were disclosing a forbidden secret.
“Yes,” she says, and Han beams. “Absolutely.”
Three months ago. Seoul, South Korea. 2:26 A.M.
On a tranquil Saturday night, you’re sitting at your desk, your knees tucked to your chest, the newest episode of your drama playing quietly on your laptop, a half-empty glass of rosé and open sketchbook laid before you. This is your happy place—a safe haven that the trials and tribulations of the real world can’t reach. But you think you’ve really gone and lost your mind when you find yourself thinking about your job.
Well, not your job, exactly. More like the man who makes your job feel fucking Sisyphean.
You know your way around fabric and foundation better than anyone, but you have never struggled with anything as much as you have trying to navigate Hyunjin. You show up to work every day ready to just put some makeup on the man; instead, you wind up stumbling around the potholes of his dimples and the hills of the veins that run over his forearms and hands like a hopeless drunkard. Scouring the creases of his smile and the oscillations of his voice like they’re topographical maps. Mentally replaying your interactions with him time and time again like you’re monitoring security footage, trying to detect illicit activity in every casual touch he leaves on your shoulder or waist; every babe or gorgeous he throws your way, seemingly without a second thought.
You’ve been trying to understand him and his intentions for seven months now, and your efforts have yielded no fruit whatsoever, save for a few theories that you feel insane for even humoring.
You down the rest of the blush-colored liquid, and as you set down your empty glass you notice your fingers itch with a familiar urge. The pen that you’ve been twirling over your knuckles stills, then swivels; its tip hovers over the last free corner of the sheet of cartridge paper below you. And then it presses upon the surface and starts to move, as naturally as if on its own.
When you were little, you came across a children’s book that you no longer remember the name of, about a little girl with a magical pen that brought her every drawing to life. You decided then that you would one day be that girl.
At some point, the subjects of your incessant sketching became almost exclusively runway models and makeup advertisements. You cemented that you wanted to work in fashion as early as your high school graduation, and by then you already possessed the conviction and charisma of the industry’s most experienced members. Your portfolio was stellar; your personality prophesied of wild success. So your career took off, propelled by the neverending positions and projects that various companies continually laid before your feet.
You stand and pad to your kitchen to refill your glass, only to bring the entire bottle of wine back to your room instead. With one hand, you flick the cap off and lift the whole thing to your lips; with the other, you seize your pen again, not wanting to lose momentum.
For the year or so after you joined the industry, you basked in your idyllic prosperity. Even the doodles you scrawled on random napkins during banal business lunches would appear on some of the world’s most renowned faces the next week. You had indubitably become the little girl from your story; made a career out of giving your imagination tangible form. And what a fruitful career it was going to be.
If only you knew how it would strengthen you in ways you never wanted.
The first time someone called you cold, it took you a while to realize that they were talking about you. The phrase was said so casually and lightheartedly that it sounded at first like a piece of unimportant small talk. But the whisper of cold bitch was then followed by a bout of stifled laughter and what was undoubtedly your name. Your heart stopped along with your footsteps, and you looked towards the source: two interns whose names you had yet to learn, while yours was already in their mouths.
You felt nothing until you were three stops away from your apartment, and then the bottom of the subway gave out beneath you and suddenly you were feeling everything. Only confusion, hurt, and rage at first, but then the other emotions that you’d been smothering tirelessly for who-knows-how-long tore free of their cerebral shackles too, and together they formed an amalgamation of anxiety that closed up your throat within seconds.
As your pen studs details into a shapely jawline, you remember how you’d shoved your way off the subway and made a mad dash into the night air. You remember how you collapsed against a utility pole in an unfamiliar neighborhood, how your knuckles paled around the ashen wood, how your tears tumbled over your lips and salted your tongue. You remember wanting to go home so badly that you thought your ribcage would cave in on itself with the weight of it. You remember begging for air, for you.
By the time the oxygen had returned to your lungs, the streets were empty save for you, crouched on the curb, your face buried in your arms, spent, shattered, and alone. You were only nineteen at the time.
You are now twenty-two, and the word “cold” has become a regular guest in the lodgings of your heart. You never invite it over, but you’re no longer surprised to find it at your door. It’s a thief, swiping pieces of you when it thinks you’re not looking—a fragment above the fireplace, a scrap from the cracks between the couch—and you know whenever you’re being robbed, know that you lose parts of yourself upon its every visit. But better that than acknowledging what you lose.
You allow it to walk away with full pockets every time.
Hyunjin does not.
“Three words to describe yourself. Go,” he said a few days ago, the two of you heading back to the tour bus after a filming session.
You were so used to these irrational inquiries of his that you didn’t bother trying to dodge this one. “You first.”
“Smart, sexy, suave,” he said immediately, but burst into a sheepish laugh at the sight of your weary glare. “Fine, fine, let me think. Ambitious, for one. Introspective, definitely—maybe overly so. And artistic. I’d like to think so, at least. Satisfied?”
The most creative person you knew doubting his own ingenuity was absurd to you, but you nodded begrudgingly. It was a good answer, for the most part.
“Now you.”
Honestly, the thief had surfaced the moment you heard the question, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to inform Hyunjin of its existence. Not because you didn’t trust him—you did, more than you had anyone in years—but because you didn’t know what you’d do with yourself if he agreed. You weren’t sure your heart would be able to take it.
When you met the boy’s gaze, though, the carob brown of his eyes was so curious and so comforting that you suspected that was never a possibility.
“Cold,” you mumbled. “I’ve been called cold before.”
There was a pregnant pause. You found yourself holding your breath. And then—
“That’s a joke, right?”
Hyunjin began to count off his fingers.
“Mean. So mean. Impossibly, infuriatingly confident. Talented, stubborn, strong. Funny, sometimes, I guess, though I’d rather you hit me with a metal pipe than admit that ever again.”
At this, you caved; a laugh erupted from your lips, leaving a genuine smile in its wake.
“Determined. Eloquent. Bossy. Some kind of evil, twisted genius. Contemplative, caring, compassionate. Fearless,” he went on. “You get my point. You’re a lot of things, Y/N, but cold isn’t one—”
He was about to say something mind-numbingly stupid. You could sense it in the air.
“—and not just because you’re hot.”
You smacked his bicep, the smile on your face now an uninhibited, helpless grin. And as he vanished into a fit of high-pitched laughter, you thought you sensed him crack open your door and slip your missing artifacts back to their rightful places.
Hyunjin began to climb into the bus, and you caught the cuff of his sleeve, your feet still planted on the pavement.
“Thank you,” you said.
The tremors of his fond chuckle traveled to your very core.
“Idiot,” he sighed softly.
Idiot, you write, and the drawings are complete.
When you stand up, the bottle is mostly gone—and so are you. You splash some water on your face in lieu of your skincare routine and prod the inside of your mouth a few times using a dry toothbrush, and then you dive beneath your duvet and are dead asleep in minutes. Your slumber is interrupted only by dreams of a world where your theories about Hyunjin aren’t just theories.
If you’d had even one mouthful less of rosé, you might’ve remembered that you picked up your phone and opened your most recent conversation somewhere between steps two and three.
[3:10 A.M.] To: Hwang Hyunjin (Stray Kids, JYP) Audio Message.wav
Hi. I’m drunk and I’m going to regret this tomorrow. But that’s tomorrow’s business. There’s something I need to tell you tonight.
After I moved to Seoul, I used to get these bouts of homesickness. Not in a standard ‘I wanna go home’ kind of way, but in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below me. I was always ready for it to swallow me alive. I would’ve been happy for it to.
But I haven’t felt that way since I met you. I realized this not too long ago, and it threw me for a fucking loop. I’ve never felt seen the way you see me. I’ve never been known the way you know me. Every time I look at you or hear your voice, it feels so much like returning home that I don’t have to dream of it anymore.
You called me fearless the other day, but you’re wrong. I’m terrified. I’m terrified that history is going to repeat itself, that another home will slip through the cracks between my fingers and there will be nothing I can do to stop it. And that’s why I’m so hesitant towards you, towards whatever this is, because I don’t want to go through that ever again.
So the thing I need to tell you is that I care about you. I care so much that I’m scared speaking it into existence will make it real and vulnerable to all the worst parts of the world. But it’s not speaking it into existence if I’m drunk, right? Maybe I have no idea what I’m talking about. Maybe you’ll never even hear this. So it doesn’t count. That’s how that works, surely.
Sorry if this was totally nonsensical. And sorry that I’m so bad at feelings. You must think I’m impossible, and I don’t blame you.
Good night, Hyunjin. Thank you, again.
One month ago. Los Angeles, United States. 12:37 A.M.
When Hyunjin steps out of the hotel’s tall glass double doors, he’s wearing a teatree facemask, and his bags are draped over the crooks of his elbows like he’s an upper-echelon socialite on his way back from a lavish shopping spree. And then he sees you standing next to the curb, and the situation dawns on him in bits and pieces.
You’re the only one here. The vans that were supposed to take you to the airport are nowhere to be seen. Boarding begins in four minutes.
A soft flinch crimps his features. Oops.
“Tomorrow night,” you’re saying into your receiver, but your attention is on him only, your penetrative gaze putting the dead in deadpan. “The absolute earliest. You’re sure?”
When you finish listening to the manager’s response, you heave a sigh that sags your shoulders and end the call with a jab that should’ve splintered your screen protector.
Then, you start walking towards him.
“Hi,” Hyunjin says, his eyes pleading for mercy. “You are so talented and beautiful. I don’t tell you that often enough, do I?”
He expects you to grab him by the cuff of his ear again, to throw him a retort that’s twice as mean as it is witty, something along those lines. But you merely push your suitcase in his direction, and it is then when he notices that your face is hard enough to chip enamel; that your eyes are eerily, entirely empty. The tendril of warmth that’s always dancing among the subtleties of your expressions, that he’s always pursuing to the very borders of his dreamscapes, is nowhere to be seen.
A shiver travels down Hyunjin’s spine as he curls his fingers around the plastic handle.
Something’s not right.
“We’re gonna have to stay here another day,” you say. “Can you check us in? I have some calls to make.”
“Us?” Hyunjin repeats.
“Junghan could only reserve one room,” you reply, your phone already glued back to your ear. “The hotel is fully booked for the next few months.”
With that, you’re already preoccupied with the next thing, turning to the side to reschedule a meeting. But Hyunjin can only stare blankly at your profile, trying and failing to grasp that he’s going to spend a night with the subject of his every daydream. Though you might be leaning more towards the nightmare end of the spectrum at the moment, considering the way your head snaps back in his direction like a woman possessed.
Go, you mouth, and he obliges.
A few minutes later, Hyunjin is in the elevator by himself. He speculates it’s an ingenious, intentional choice that the lights are turned off, so that whoever’s inside can watch the psychedelic lights of Los Angeles sprawl further and wider the higher they go. But he can’t think of anything except for the subzero nothingness where your irises should’ve been.
Hyunjin’s initial guess was that he crossed a line with this missed plane, but the more he thinks about it the clearer it becomes that this isn’t an isolated issue. It’s the culmination of something bigger. Something continuous.
You have become as familiar to him as the lines of his eyes or the ridges of his knuckles. He’s learned where to look for your feelings when he can’t find them in your face; studied your words and the undertones of your voice like they’re verses of scripture. Yet, it was around two months ago when Hyunjin looked at your side profile and couldn’t recognize you. He’d blinked, startled, and then you’d asked why he was looking at you so strangely, and everything returned to normal. He wrote it off as a side effect of sleep deprivation and paid it no more mind that day.
Except it happened again a few days later; again, not too long after, and Hyunjin began to suspect that he was losing his mind. You didn’t seem all that different—a bit more taciturn than usual, maybe, but you’d been busier than usual, too, your workspace always full of empty coffee cups by the end of the day, the pages of your planner more colorful and crammed than ever. The minor variances never struck him as a reason for worry.
“Stupid,” Hyunjin whispers bitterly.
He replays your interaction one more time. You, shoving your suitcase against his palm, telling him to go check in. Him, fastening his hand around the handle, sensing the bottomless void within you, feeling like he’d been dismissed from before your throne.
As he steps off the elevator and walks towards your designated room, he doesn’t understand how or why—but he can’t shake the feeling that he’s failed you.
Nearly an hour passes. The room only has one bed, so Hyunjin turns off the lights, folds himself onto the armchair by the floor-to-ceiling window, drapes a complimentary robe over his shoulders, and tries to sleep. He doesn’t know why he even tries. He’s exhausted, but he knows damn well there’s no hope of him getting any rest until he has you in his proximity again.
He doesn’t look at the door when he finally hears it open, but the knot of tension in his chest comes undone as soon as your silhouette appears in the hallway. He takes out his first real breath since leaving you at the hotel’s entrance.
You hear the sound it makes. You fall still.
“Hyunjin?”
His heart physically aches at how tired you sound. “Yeah?”
“Oh, you’re awake,” you answer. “Move to the bed. You’re not sleeping on that thing.”
He remains where he is, his chin resting on the side of his fist, his eyes glued to the flickering panorama of neon lights below him. You crouch to unzip something, and there’s a heavy thud of metal meeting cloth, presumably your laptop being tossed onto the bed’s mattress.
“Hello? Did you—”
“Is everything okay?”
A short pause follows his interruption.
“I still have a few emails to write, but everything’s been rescheduled, so as long as you don’t miss tomorrow’s flight, too, we should be—”
The robe slides off his lap as he pushes himself to his feet. “That’s not what I mean.”
The only source of light in the room is the lone light above the entrance, but it’s enough for him to see your face and the surprise etched upon it. You open your mouth, utter one syllable, and stop yourself immediately after, stunned into silence by the sobriety in Hyunjin’s expression.
“Enlighten me, then,” you say finally.
“You really don’t know?”
“What is there to know? That you missed a flight and pissed me the fuck off? Trust me, I’m aware.”
“No, that’s not—”
“So what are you talking about, then? Why are you talking in riddles? Fuck, what is it that you want from me?”
There’s real frustration in your voice, and it’s the first time you’ve shown him any emotion in pure, unadulterated form. With this, Hyunjin understands that he was right; this conversation is heading towards a culmination of some kind, and so are you, with the devastating force of a natural phenomenon.
He wonders if you’re prepared to destroy yourself, too.
“I know how you are around me,” you whisper. “You’re always acting like you’re trying to unearth something, and I figure this ‘something’ must be wonderful, because you look at me like I’m made of stars; you speak to me like you’re serenading a lover. But I am constantly, ceaselessly haunted by the possibility that this ‘something’ doesn’t exist, that you’re looking for the wrong thing in the wrong person.
“I know it’s selfish to ask for anything more than what you’ve already given me—you’re so kind, Hyunjin, and you’ve been nothing but since the day we met. But grant me one more wish, even if it is the last time you ever do.
“Tell me what you see in me,” you plead. “Otherwise, I will spend the rest of my life mourning the months of yours that you wasted on me.”
With that, it occurs to Hyunjin, falls upon and cracks open his mind like a piece of firewood, that you have never been aware of—never asked for—the throne you sit upon.
For an indeterminate amount of time, the two of you stay there, standing in silence on opposite sides of your dark hotel room. You haven’t felt anything like this in a long time, your chest heaving with your heavy breaths, your vision muddied by both the lack of light and the desperation searing through your windpipe.
When Hyunjin finally begins to speak, his words wrest the oxygen from your lungs.
“After you moved to Seoul, you used to get these bouts of homesickness.”
Your mind careens; your heart reels.
“They came in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below you.” He takes a tentative step towards you. “You thought it was going to swallow you alive. You would’ve been happy for it to.”
You never got to listen to your voice note. You were blacked out when you recorded it and horrified when you discovered it in your chat logs the next morning; the wretched thing was unsent so quickly that you couldn’t check for a read receipt.
But there’s not a doubt in your mind that these are your words falling from Hyunjin’s lips.
“You haven’t felt that way since you met me, though.” He is only a few feet away from you now, and getting closer still. “You’ve never felt seen the way I see you. You’ve never been known the way I know you.”
God, you said that? Did you propose to him too?
“You’re terrified that another home will slip through the cracks between your fingers and there will be nothing you can do to stop it.” Hyunjin flattens his left hand upon the drywall next to your ear; pushes you back ever-so-gently against the hard surface. “I must think you’re impossible.”
And he brings his face so, so close to yours; looks at you with so much adoration, so much tenderness, that you feel the final bulwark around your heart fracture—
“I don’t,” Hyunjin breathes, cradling your cheek, “because you’re not. And I want to prove it to you, even if it takes me the rest of my life. That’s what I see in you.”
—and crumble.
You form fists in the lining of his hoodie. Hyunjin’s hand tightens where it lays over the curve of your jaw.
When you crash your lips upon his, he tastes the metallic sheen of electricity and the salt of tearwater both; he witnesses crying lightning, for the first time in human history.
Present day. Cannes, France. 9:15 P.M.
Hyunjin never thinks when he fucks you.
One part of it is that he physically can’t; his cognitive facilities shut down when he has you quivering beneath him, like his desire to pleasure you is too overwhelming for his mind to bear. The other part is that he doesn’t want to. He’s afraid that the voices of cynicism and trepidation that plague his mind every waking moment will taint the actualization of his wildest dreams.
Lucky for him, you manage to erase his mind on a daily basis with only one accidental touch or an apparition of a smile, so he doesn’t stand a chance whenever you let him between your legs.
“Trust me?” He whispers, imprinting the words upon the inside of your thigh.
“More than anyone,” you breathe, and just this has him tenting against his satin slacks.
Hyunjin used to see you scolding managers or moving racks twice your weight and think that was you in your element—tonight, he learned otherwise. You were so confident that even just the way you puffed your chest out prompted heads to turn and low voices to ask for your name; so charming that even by the end of your self-introduction you had every guest you spoke to eating out the palm of your hand.
Eating out your pussy, though, is Hyunjin’s privilege alone.
He wraps his fingers around the hem of your dress and pushes it upwards, creating a halo of red fabric around your midriff; slides your panties off your legs and tosses them over his shoulder. All obstacles out of the way, Hyunjin winds his arms around your thighs and pins your hips to the mattress, slotting himself between your knees as they fall apart. Your ankles fold over the top of his head, and you’re about to ask if he’s okay like this, but then you feel the hot muscle of his tongue trace over your dripping folds—and every word of every language you’ve ever known is dispelled from your brain and your mouth in the form of a stuttered, euphoric moan.
He teases you first, drags his mouth over you so that he’s lapped up all of your slick, and just when you feel your patience thinning he pulls you apart with reverent hands and begins to suckle on your clit, as attentive to your every solicitation as always. You arch your back so high off the bed that your ankles knock Hyunjin’s head down a few inches, but the new angle is even better; grants him access to more of you.
He reinforces his grip around you, presses his torso right up against the side of the mattress, and gorges: sluices your labia until you’re spilling from his chin onto the sheets; flicks against your bundle of nerves until it’s pulsating and swollen on his mouth; fucks his tongue against your favorite spot until you’re curling your toes, seeing the whole solar system.
“Coming,” you blabber after some time. Tell me something I don’t know, he thinks to himself. “Coming, Hyune. I’m—fuck—”
Hyunjin is aware of the way you clench so hard around nothing that your pelvis hurts. He is aware of the way you’re so dilapidated from pleasure that you’re genuinely struggling to breathe. He doesn’t care. He wants to get the cadences of your climax tattooed into the gray matter of his brain, and there can’t be rests in the sheet music, can there?
He presses a hand flat on your stomach in preparation for your body’s protest, then returns his face to its place between your thighs; starts to leave kitten licks around the edges of your puffy folds before you can finish riding out your high. You press your tongue against the back of your front teeth, emitting a pained hiss as you draw a sharp breath, tears stinging at your eyes.
“Son of a bitch—”
“Trust me?” He asks again, his voice vibrating against your sore cunt, and your complaints quiet into whimpers as you bring a hand over your quivering mouth, and nod.
At least Hyunjin bridles his thirst the second time he eats your pussy open, his lips smacking openly and slowly over your every inch except the one that would be truly unbearable for you right now. He’s so rough and so fucking careful at once like he can’t decide between obliterating and worshipping your cunt.
He’ll end up doing both.
Within a few minutes, your legs have gone slack on either side of Hyunjin once again, and another coil has begun to tighten behind your bellybutton, equal parts pain and pleasure—but he knows your pussy just as well as he does your person by now, and it’s not long before the former is compounding with the latter.
Round two has a faster ascent and a steeper drop. He finds your spot again with the precision and ease of a trained marksman and fixates upon it like a man starved. It has your cries devolving to incoherent profanities and, to his unfettered delight, your foot actually shaking, your heel tapping against the back of his neck every time it comes down.
As if referencing a metronome, Hyunjin matches the rhythm of his tongue to your accelerando. Only when your leg is nearly convulsing does he wrap his lips back around your clit; slide two fingers into the place he leaves empty and pumps them into you until you are liquifying, igniting around him, your mewls lamenting the second orgasm he plucks from your core.
After your body has stilled, Hyunjin lifts his head, his face drenched in perspiration and saliva and you. His eyes travel over the slopes of your arms and the hills of your breasts, over the tears streaming from your eyes and staining the pillow you lie on. It is this last bit that has him shrugging off his shirt and undoing his dress pants with one hand, palming his throbbing cock with the other.
He clambers over you, and the kiss that follows is filthy, your mouth falling apart when he rolls your nipples between his fingers, strands of saliva suspending between your tongues before dripping down onto your collarbone. You can sense what he wants in his craving lips, his pleading tongue—and you know he won’t ask for it. He’s tested you enough tonight; he’d rather your comfort than his pleasure.
But you guide his leaking head to your entrance, returning his stupefied look with a watery smile.
“Love me?” You ask this time, for the first time.
There is not even a nanosecond of hesitation when he answers, “with everything in me.”
He comes inside you the moment he bottoms out, your name leaving his lips in breathless, desperate repetition like a broken prayer as he topples off the same cliff he’d dropped you from moments ago. You curl a hand in his hair as he stutters against you, bring your lips flush against his ear, and whisper that you love him too—and the sight of you beneath him blurs he also starts to tear up.
This is the reality Hyunjin lives in, presumably because he was a saint in his past life, and it would be his utmost pleasure to see it through.
Two years later. Milan, Italy. 11:28 A.M.
For the last half hour, a ray of sunlight has repeatedly struck the diamond that sits between the second and third knuckle of your ring finger, and the Vogue journalist on the other side of your desk thinks he is slowly losing his vision. But when he asks his final question, your hand comes to a much-appreciated stop, the fountain pen you’ve been twirling around clattering to your tabletop.
“Where do you find your inspiration?”
As the journalist blinks the phosphenes from his eyes, he finally manages to get a good look at the face of Versace’s newest designer, and he detects something ineffable and warm in your expression.
“My inspiration, hm?” You fall silent for a short time, thinking. “If you asked me this at the start of my career, I’d have said ‘people.’ Their postures, their expressions, their wardrobes. I knew I was a goner when I watched a fashion show for the first time and noticed how the models’ attire helped them harness their innate power and grace—I wanted to orchestrate that kind of symbiosis, too. In that aspect, nothing has changed, actually. I still find wonder in human beings, and not just the ones on the runway. I think it would be difficult not to, don’t you?
“Some time ago, a good friend of mine was having trouble with an outfit for her client. She asked me a similar question, and only then did I realize that it was no longer just people that inspired me most, but a singular person. I had always been skeptical of the idea of a ‘muse’ until I met him. But I could only spend so long denying how he ventured closer to my soul than anything ever had, how he knew me and saw me like nobody ever could. He understood my art. He was my art, so—”
Your eyes dart over your ring, and the journalist would’ve flinched out of habit if he wasn’t so enthralled by your eloquence.
“—where better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?”
A few seconds elapse, and then you clear your throat and straighten your back, returning to your office from your trip down memory lane.
“That’s the long answer, anyways. The short answer would be my fiancé.”
The journalist laughs, and he doubts you’ll give him this next piece of information—but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try.
“And who would that be?”
He’s right. You don’t answer the question. But you do flash him an enigmatic smile, and for some reason it reminds him of lightning.
𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other works here. thanks so much for the support ♡
© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.
leeknow random boyfriend texts ~✨️
warnings: swears, mentions of the car accident he got in :(, joke about unaliving, little hell joke sksk
a/n: he dropped those W Korea pics cus he knew I was also coming (real),, not the happiest w/these but I hope u enjoy anyway👉🏼👈🏼
w korea bonus (in my special way skks):
stray kids' reactions to "thank you for the flowers" prank - maknae line (hyung line ver)
warnings: swearing probably sksksk, overuse of pet names (as always!)
a/n: jeongin's involves an outline of a person, but it was just to set the scene!! it's literally 2:30am for me but I wanted to get these out sksk
-> ✨️han✨️
-> ✨️felix✨️
-> ✨️seungmin✨️
-> ✨️jeongin✨️
cotton candy
a/n: mine and @tasteleeknow's sleepy mumbley minho brainrot
you get home late and he’s already in bed, stage outfit exchanged for shorts and a large t-shirt, and stompy boots traded for fluffy socks that he curls his toes into. you can hear his soft breaths puffing out between his lips as you get closer, leaning forward to run a gentle hand through his hair. he nuzzles into your palm a bit, muttering unintelligible syllables before smacking his lips and rolling towards you, like he’s presenting himself for you to cuddle into.
you wonder if he’s dreaming of you. you hope so.
you leave him to strip your clothes and brush your teeth, ignoring the small whine he lets out when your touch leaves him. he’s so precious like this, completely unguarded without any reservations, showing his affection for you openly. he’s sweet and soft like cotton candy, all pastels and whimsical clouds, bursting with sugar on your tongue.
when you return to the bed he’s in the same position, one hand upturned towards where you left him, asking for you to come back. your heart swells to the point where you feel like it’s going to burst as you take him in, his sleep mussed hair making him look unbelievably adorable, his pouty lips begging for a kiss, his cheeks printed with marks from the pillow cover.
his eyelids flutter when you dip into the bed, prying open and revealing tired looking brown eyes that peer at you in wide blinks. he makes a grabby hand at you, whining your name and you feel your body sinking into his before you can even think. you pull the covers over the both of you, tucking it around his shoulders before settling down again, and he sleepily says thank you, mine before closing his eyes again. you press a soft kiss to his forehead and he smiles as his breaths even out again.
he continues to mumble, even with you there with him, nonsensical words mixed in with your name spilling from his mouth as you get drowsier and drowsier. you fall asleep to the sound of his mumbling, the only song that brings you enough comfort to feel safe.
—
soft hours
𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: best friend Han Jisung x fem reader
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: there's a thunderstorm outside and you don't have an umbrella. luck wants that you're near you best friend's apartment complex and you decide to wait for the rain to stop and your clothes to dry while watching a movie with him... but things escalate after the tension between you two finally snaps.
𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, smut, friends to lovers
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: play-fighting, swearing, soft dom Jisung, oral (f receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, no protection (boo-hoo), multiple orgasms, creampie, messy making out, hint of slight choking, dry humping, tiny bit of possessiveness, praise, dirty talk, slight manhandling, overstimulation, spitting.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.8K
I don't know if anyone can tell but I'm actually in love with this man
The sound of the doorbell ringing resonated in your ears, feeling already relaxed by the familiar pattern of the short melody. The veins of the wooden door too, you knew them by heart, and istantly felt less tense by looking at them: you were soaked from head to toe and were feeling kind of dumb standing by his apartment in your state, cold and shaking, but you knew you'd be welcomed and he would take care of you no matter what. You heard hurrying footsteps approaching the entrance and in a second the shining smile of your best friend appeared in front of you, just to drop one second after.
"Oh my god baby, are you okay?"
Baby, he always called you that but every single time your belly tingled as if it was the first. Was it necessary? Not really, but you didn't want to stop him from saying that. It was so sweet and intimate and you enjoyed it when your cheeks would start to feel warm because of the petname (a bit too much maybe).
He gently wrapped his hand around your arm and pulled you inside his apartment, leaving you at the entrance for a second, running away just to come back with a towel.
"Were you outside? Didn't you bring an umbrella? Aaah you're so dumb sometimes..." he didn't even wait for your reply, he just threw the cloth over your head and started rubbing it gently to dry your hair just a little bit.
"I was doing some errands around here and I decided to walk instead of taking the bus, but it suddenly started raining like, heavily, and I wasn't able to search for a place to run into... so I just accepted my destiny and took a stroll until I came here" you sighed, dramatically taking a hand to your forehead and closing your eyes, not really able to hide the growing smile on your face when you heard him chukle and gently caress your face to take away the remaining droplets of water. He lowered down until his eyes met yours, then he tilted his head to the side as his gaze softened.
"You dummy... hope you didn't catch a cold or I'll be the one that will have to take care of you y'know!?" he started to take off your jacket, his hands lingering on your arms with his soft touch, then putting aside your shoes before placing the same towel on the floor for you to step on it. "Now, go take a shower and I'll search for something to give you while I wash your stuff, okay baby?"
At your nod he went ahead and with his finger he gestured you to follow him through your giggles, while the warmth in your belly started spreading even more hot than before. He made you feel so loved and special, always a priority, and you cherished little moments like these, it filled your heart with joy being in his presence... and for him it was the same, you both knew.
"Leave your clothes outside the door angel, I'll pick them up later" he said, before giving you a kiss on your forehead and handing you what he chose for you to wear.
"I'll wait in my bedroom with a movie ready to watch～" a wink and he turned around, his shoulders seeming a little more broad and muscular... did he start to go to the gym again? The terrible heating of your face crept under your skin again by the thought of him doing his excercise routine. You saw him once when you tried to do it together, all sweaty and panting and eyes half closed, that time you nearly planted your face on the cute light blue-flowery-patterned mat he gifted you with lewd thoughts racing in your head during your thirty seconds plank.
The question accompanied you in the shower anyway, where you couldn't really think about anything else but how much love you felt for him and how you were desperate for him to know already.
All your friends encouraged you to get together but you never understood if Jisung's reaction was positive or negative whenever they teased you two.
And you knew you've always loved him, you became his friend just to get close to him after all, but things escalated and you were never really able to escape the situation and just confess, so you kind of went along with it until you decided not to risk ruining everything.
Because you had something really special going on, connected on a deep level. It was like you two had your own little world, where you were comfortable and safe in each other's presence.
Your thoughts went by as you finished showering, finally putting on his clothes, heart reacing when you saw your reflection on the big mirror in his bathroom. Hair still wet falling flat on your head you quetly stepped into his room in the dim light, the screen of his laptop flashing his face with different colors as he was still searching for the right movie to watch.
Jisung saw you with the corner of his eye, so he lifted his gaze not really expecting the sight that was waiting for him.
If only you knew how excited he was while searching in his wardrobe for some of his clothes for you. It wasn't the first time, no, but it always made him feel giddy and soft.
This time though, he couldn't predict that familiar and quite scandalous sensation in his lower abdomen to appear.
Jisung hated himself in these situations. You were there, looking perfect, innocent, angelic, and he was only looking at the quite accentuated tug of your nipples through your favorite shirt of his; how your sexy curves were hidden by the oversized article of clothing leaving his immagination wilding, how his damn boxers weren't even visible on you so your legs appeared naked in front of him, his brain much more quicker than his sense of shame and imagining how would it be if you weren't wearing anything at all under there.
He was already about to explode when he picked up your cute panties and bra to wash. His favorite color, little lace details decorating them, so simple yet so tempting he had to palm himself to find some relief. But now...
"Sungie you okay?" suddenly you were beside him, kneeling on the bed and scooting closer to him, the cutted collar of the shirt hanging low due to the lazy movements you were making, exposing your collarbones. Jisung had to swallow and blink twice before processing everything that was happening.
"Oh, yeah, totally fine y/n. Come here..."
He lifted his toned arm and delicately took you closer, and without putting too much thought into it, you placed one leg over his lap, snuggling onto his chest that was heavily lifting and dropping all of a sudden.
"You look amazing with my clothes, you know that? So swag" he smiled, trying to concentrate elsewhere that wasn't the ache he felt whenever he accidentally let his fantasies about you take control of his thoughs. But how could he refrain himself when he got to see you get flustered like crazy? It was so satisfying, but frustrating at the same time because he didn't know if he would ever be able to go further with you, like he always wanted. He hated being your friend, because since day one he wanted to be a partner to you, and he lost his chance many times in the past so he also lost hope for something romantically serious between you two.
"Ji, nobody says 'swag' anymore... gosh you're so old" you rolled your eyes in fake annoyance, and he gasped, disdain showing on his face as his free hand took place on his chest, near his heart.
"I'm offended. Make it up to me now, immediately in this right moment or I'll make you regret it"
A challenging gaze was now plastered on his stupidly beautiful face, all the extra acting dissipating from him. Who were you to back up? But truth was that you absolutely couldn't say "no" to him nor fight him too much: it was just a matter of time before he would have you under his control, always, so you just didn't see a point in denying that anymore.
"What do you want?" your tone was firm, unamused as you straightened your back and faced him properly.
"You have to let me kiss your ugly face whenever I want for the rest of the night"
You squeezed your eyes shut just to open them again and see him with a serious expression.
"It's only fair" he adjusted an immaginary pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose and puckered his lips while his brows raised, gaining a light slap on his chest from you while you started laughing.
You loved this about him, how he could make you smile and feel good effortlessly.
"Alright... everything for you Jisung"
Your voice was soft now, and despite the fun atmosphere your words were very serious. Jisung didn't stop looking into your eyes, not even for a second while your lips moved and pronounced his name that way. Only you did this to him. He couldn't help but imagine how you would sound if he made you feel good, use his tongue on you, his fingers and more...
You on your part were now feeling the weight of his arm wrapped around you and his hand hanging loosely over your shoulder, his fingers brushing the skin of your neck, goosebumps raising from your back.
Jisung finally detached from your stare and returned his attention to the screen positioned in front of him. "I thought this movie would be alright. I'm not sure about it but while I was looking for other things it kept popping up so I guess it's a sign. You okay with this?"
He was always so considerate of your opinion, on everything, and that made you feel heard and validated. So sweet, so rare of someone to be so fond of what you think.
"Mhmh" you nodded, leaning your head on his chest as he pressed 'play'.
The movie wasn't that interesting, not that one of you cared though. You and Jisung were teasing and annoying each other while the dialogues and the music (lowered few minutes before) served just as a background noise. Much louder was the sound of the rain and the thunders outside, and you smiled remembering yourself few hours before, all alone walking in the rain.
But now you were in the arms of a person you adored, all cozy and comfy with your heart fluttering nonstop while he stroked your bare thighs, scratching them lightly with his colored nails. It was you that painted them, chose the nail polish, did the design... it was during one of your nights together the week prior.
You came back to reality when Jisung started leaving few pecks on your right cheek, that trailed down your jaw making his lips snap loudly, almost abnoxiously against your skin.
"What are you... doing?"
You tried to shove his head off of you but he didn't even want to consider stopping.
"I thought we had an agreement? Are you that type of person that doesn't respect agreements? Nah that's not possible, you're a good girl... am just cuddling after all, hm?" he purred with his lower voice, a hint of a sly smirk appearing on his lips, you could feel it when he brushed them over your sensitive spot again and again. You knew he was in a playful mood, it happened quite often, but you were fearing for your little whimpers to slip and accidentally be heard.
"Ji... Ji it tickles stop..."
His hands moved and he was now menacing to place them on your sides. You thought he finally ceased with his intententions, but when you let your guard down Jisung started to move his slender fingers all together and felt your muscles tighten beneath his hold. Oh, oh it was sexy.
With a bit more force he moved your leg with his, flipping you on your back so he was on top of you free to access whatever part of your body he felt like would be a vulnerable spot.
The pc was long forgotten on the edge of the bed about to fall, but the only important thing in that moment was the battle for your survival.
Laughter filled the room while you tried to kick him with your feet, to grab a pillow and throw it on his face, to plea him to give you a chance to fight back.
He was enjoying himself, a lot. Your contorted expression made his chest tighten, as well as his sweatpants even if he felt like a total pervert.
"Sungie ple-please s-top! Can't-" you didn't even have enaugh strenght to form a full sentence, the feeling of his touch all over you being too intense and exciting. Were you being inappropriate? Probably. But you really loved having him all over you.
"Have- have mercy!"
Jisung's hands stopped their movements and rested on your sides, with his fingers caressing your skin, the same fingers that slipped under your shirt the moment the situation became chaotic.
Your legs were caging his middle, bringing his hips closer to yours. You both weren't sure about how you ended up in such position but you weren't complaining either. His cheeks tinted with a shade of dark red at the realization of the hardest erection he's ever had brushing your groin. It was impossible you weren't feeling it, and, after a few seconds, as he expected, your eyes widened and looked directly at him with the istictive action of your teeth catching your lower lip.
"I'm... I'm sorry y/n you know sometimes it's random andー" the fake excuses he wanted to give died in his throat when you moved against him. It was delicate but the faint friction of your barely clothed cunt against his bulge made his breath hitch.
"Baby please don't... I'll just get off and we'll keep watching the movie" but you moved again, this time firmer, a bit more confident; the wet spot on his boxers that you were wearing was by now too evident to hide. He too, was starting to leak from the tip, staining his grey sweatpants.
Jisung abruptdly got off of you, chest struggling to follow his breath.
"What are you doing, baby?" his voice was now trembling, eyes scanning your whole body searching for any sign of discomfort.
"Sungie... Sungie please forgive me I don't know whyー"
"Do you want to keep going?" it was him that interrupted you this time. Not a word was dared to be spoken for a few seconds, only leading sound the one coming from the movie, that seemed so distant in your ears. Fear, terror went through his whole body when he realized what he actually said, all blood gone somewhere else that wasn't his brain.
"I do" you nodded, doe eyes looking up at him, that was coming back closer to you.
Jisung stared at you for what seemed like an eternity, all while slowly closing the distance between your bodies.
"Are you sure? I mean you want to... me and you?" almost whispering, he looked at you so intensely you could've fainted.
You nodded, slowly, unsure where to look since his gorgeous, handsome face was mere centimeters away.
"Can I kiss you?"
So close you didn't even register him moving and colliding his lips with yours after your whispered "yes".
Immediately what were a few pecks became open wide kisses, that let your tongues explore. Jisung lifted your shirt enaugh to expose your breasts, hands flying to feel them, squeeze, roll your nipples between his fingers; you gasped at his sudden decision, letting him kiss you deeply, starting to suck your tongue. It was becoming so messy and sloppy, but it wasn't enaugh dirty to him.
"Open your mouth, open" one hand grabbing your face, thumb parting your lips and resting on top of your tongue. You saw him purse his lips a few times, just to harshly spit in your mouth soon after.
"Swallow it angel" he said, softly, and so you did, before starting to suck on his finger eagerly, making him groan and deliver an harsher thrust up your groin. Jisung resumed the kissing, still spitting every now and then, making a mess all around your lips that he was biting from time to time.
You too were grinding on him, using his hard on to relieve the suffucating feeling in your core, roughly pressing yourself against him, making him stay attached to you by closing your fists around the fabric of his shirt. Soon he removed it, too hot and sweaty to be comfortable in such situation, the only way to keep him closer being scratching his back while trying to grab his muscles.
When he pushed you away from him down on the matress confusion took place in your face, but before you could question him Jisung was already flat on top of the covers, head between your thighs, delicately removing those useless boxers by sliding them down your legs. Seductive was the right word to describe his behaviour: seductive in the way he caressed every inch of your skin with his fingers, seductive how he discarded the piece of fabric on the floor carelessly, seductively staring at you, always, every second of it. And Jisung sighed, he felt relieved when he finally saw your cunt, so pretty and glistening for him. You almost blushed at his reaction, at his whispered curses and praises.
He was teasing you, and he was teasing himself too since all he wanted in that moment was to take you. You were wet enaugh, he could've stretched you with his cock, but he waited too long for it to be just that, just sex.
"Jisung..." your voice angelic to his ears, he closed his eyes for a moment to concentrate and engrave it in his mind forever. It wasn't like the many other times you said his name, this one was special, so special he was almost afraid to forget it.
"Say it again baby. Say my name again..."
"Jisung, Jisung, Jisung..." your faint smile with your half lidded eyes made his cheeks flush. You were truly the most beautiful thing in his life.
Your hand reached the top of his head, going lower to rest on his cheek, stroking it, just to receive a kiss on your palm.
"We're still in time if you want to stop"
"You spat in my mouth and you're practically breathing against my pussy, Sungie, I don't think I want to go back" you chuckled, making him follow you. Even in a moment like that, you two managed to laugh. And it was so special, to see his genuine smile like that, that reflected in his eyes as well.
Without further doubt, he took his nose to brush your inner thigh, leaving a trail of kisses that led him to leave a testing lick on your sex, tongue flat touching everything at the same time. The hand that was back on his hair grabbed a few strands, making him hiss from the pleasurable pain. His arms locked your legs up his shoulders, dragging you closer until no space was left between you two.
"Taste so good baby, so sweet" you hear him mumble down there, starting to drag his tongue along your folds, parting them, finding your clit and kissing it gently. You started to squeeze his head, timidly grinding against his tongue but failing because of the restrained limbs.
Jisung started lapping your juices as if it was the only thing able to keep him alive, all while humping his bed desperately. It felt so good, he didn't even care if he was struggling to breathe, but it was becoming harder to move so he parted your legs further pressing them down. Jisung lifted his gaze, detaching from your cunt only to give you an order, after literally drooling over it.
"Don't move angel. Be good and stay still"
He made you so flustered, he made you chew your lower lip from embarassment, he made you cover your face, always, but in that precise moment it was as if every word of his set you on fire. And with that, he returned to his ministrations, two fingers magically appearing to play with your hole, prodding at it, teasingly making an in-and-out motion just with the very tip. A torture, he was torturing you. You already felt so close.
"Sungie please..."
Jisung smirked without ever leaving your pussy; he started to flick your clit from every direction, circling it, sucking like he would've done with a lollipop, while he started to insert his fingers properly. They went in easily, curling them aroud to find your sweet spot. He had to restrain himself from moving or he would've come, imagining how your insides would feel around his cock in a few moments.
Once found (he could understand that from the pornographic moan you let out), Jisung kept hitting on that delicious place pumping his digits without stopping even after your desperate pleading to slow down. Slow down for what? He was loving every second of it, the wet sounds echoing in the room covering the ones of the voices behind the screen of the movie still playing.
He was making you feel like you had never felt before, all of your senses conducing to him and whatever he was doing to you. You suddenly started to see stars, throwing your head back, whines and moans constricting your lungs.
"Let go baby, make a mess, cum f'me" voice muffled and low as your legs came back around his head, making him whine. Jisung loved the way you were reacting, moving and writhing everywhere, feeling so proud in the way he was pleasuring you by slurpling everything you gave him.
"Oh shit, Sungieー fuck Jisung!" a particular snap of his fingers, that hard suck, his moans vibrating inside of you, his eyes fixated on yours... you couldn't take it anymore, letting go of all the tension and letting your body fall even if you didn't know you were lifting yourself high up, tugging his hair impossibly tight. You clenched hard around his fingers forcing him to let them stay still pressing firmly, increasing the pleasure.
Jisung stayed there for a moment licking you clean to not waste a drop of your cum, almost sending you into overstimulation making your clit sting; he kissed it again one last time before freeing himself from your hold, quickly checking if he came too without noticing due to the heated moment. It was possible, since he was feeling as good as you.
And you still wanted more. You had one of the hardest orgasms of your entire life and you wanted him again.
"Want you inside..." you managed to blurt out, your hands trying to reach his figure.
"Yeah baby? Want me? Wait a second, I'll go grab aー"
"No... no need, 's okay" you pouted at the idea of having him far away from you even for a second, not wanting to let him go. Jisung though, felt his still restrained cock spurt a little at your words, cold sweat running down his back.
"Come inside Ji, want your cum!" you added, voicing the fantasies you happened to touch yourself to before all that.
His stare, intense and penetrating was making you tear up from anticipation. It was as if you awakened something in him, pupils darkening while lowering his pants and underwear all together. When they reached down enaugh his dick beautifully slapped against his groin, tip red and abused by the restricting fabric.
Jisung smirked to himself and got embarassed at the same time, taking silent notes on how your jaw faintly dropped, your eyes got wider... on how you didn't stop looking at his length even when he was directly in front of you, softly stroking it near your pussy. He too, couldn't stop looking at your body, shirt still crumpled up under your chin that he carefully provided to free you from. So cute under him, vulnerable and helpless, he wanted to protect you from every bad thing in the world.
He aligned himself to your entrance teasingly even if you were still sensitive, getting on top and propping himself up to not crush you.
Jisung kissed your forehead, making you smile widely. He then kissed your nose, both your cheeks, and lastly your lips, slowly, savoring every second of that sparkling sensation only you two could make.
"Mine. You're gonna be mine" he whispered against your kiss, starting to move forward.
Just the tip was larger than his two fingers, the new stretch making you whine and search for his eyes. Brows furrowed in concentration, he noticed your request of ressurance and patted your head, combing your hair.
"You're doing amazing baby," he got a bit further, continuing to kiss your face: "I know you can take it all, you're my good girl"
He quickly bottomed out as you gasped, the trimmed hair on his pube sticking to you. You couldn't stop whining while touching him all over, tracing your hands on his chest, back, arms, not knowing where to rest them. You lastly opted for clutching them around his neck pulling him against you, still hard nipples grazing his chest making him moan.
You were his weakness, he didn't know how he could last that long. Your touch made him go crazy, it had always been that way, so he got surprised by himself. Maybe it was the thought of making you feel good for as long as possible, maybe the desire of not wanting to waste such opportunity so easily... but he was starting to surrender to pleasure. Jisung wanted you to be the star of the night, but your words, the sounds you were making for him, your walls tightening around his dick, your neediness, everything was screaming to him that in reality he wasn't a strong man, not in that sense.
He started to focus a little bit more on his pleasure, getting lost in the feeling of your velvety walls sucking him in everytime he pulled back. It didn't help that whenever he reached the limit of his length, he touched yours too, kissing your cervix gently. Jisung was making love to you in a way that made you feel wanted, appreciated, taken care of, and you could never have enaugh of it with that rithm.
You both started to meet each other halfway his thrusts that were becoming progressively more fast, squelching sounds making your face become impossibly hot and his lips curve upwards. His brows were still knitted together when he silently brought one hand around your neck and the other resting on one of your tits. His thrusts got sloppier, losing their precision; you could feel your breath hitch, his hold being gentle but still tightening and releasing fast enaugh to let your high pitched moans out. Jisung started to snap his hips against you, his own whines and grunts accompanying yours.
You both were getting closer, desperately chasing your highs as if you never had one before.
"I'm close Ji!" you said with all the strenght you had in your body, gathering enaugh coscience to let out that phrase.
"Gonna cum together yeah baby? Yeah? Want me to make you mine?" he asked between sharp thrusts, rolling his eyes when he could catch a glimpse of you nodding.
Few other thrusts, a feverish kiss and a mutual whispered "I love you" was enaugh to make your vision blank: muscles contracting for who knows how long, his cum filling you to the brim, strangled moans dying in your throat.
Jisung stayed inside of you until he was soft, not daring to move or alter in any way that sacred moment. You two shared a tender kiss before he rolled on his side, but holding you so that you could get on top of him, still connected.
The ending credits of the movie started to roll, quiet music guiding his strokes on your lower back. You slowly started to calm your panting, cofortably leaning on his pecs, listening to his steading heartbeat.
"So... are we, like, together now?"
You looked up at him without moving and sighed.
"I don't know, not sure..." your joke wasn't that effective, since you couldn't hide the shy smile forming on your lips.
"Not sure she says, while being full of my cum"
"Jisung!!" a slap was landed on his bicep in opposition to his laughter, that you too were holding in.
"I love you baby"
"I love you too, baby"
The storm outside stopped, leaving you two in a comforting silence, in which you celebrated and accepted your blosoming love.