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check out my carrd 4 more info <3

… REI ! ‘04. 2211. she/her. enfp

🧣 :: hi im rei! im from asea and im a swiftie & stay!!

• my bias is hyunjin and my fav taylor song of all time is “slut!” but it changes everyday lolll

• im a 1989 & rep stan || danceracha biased!

📓 :: my fav tropes r slowburn, fake dating, fwb to lovers, miscommunication, academic rivals to lovers, found family, forced proximity & more i probs forgot lols

disclaimer : i only read, im not an author!!

one of my fav hyune fics omg love this sm ahhh and i felt so seen when reader was a swiftie loll 🥹🫶

off-limits

synopsis: hwang hyunjin was multiple things to you: incredible. god-like. everything. but most of all, he was off-limits. that is, until, you both are forced to share a room at a beach getaway. sounds perfectly romantic, right? except for your fear of the ocean and his recent break-up.

pairing: non-idol!hyunjin x fem!reader

genre: best friends brother trope, one room trope, angst, fluff

warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of death, nightmares, graphic description of nearly drowning, eating and food, slightly suggestive, near death experience

please do not read if any of these topics are triggering

word count: 15.4k words

playlist: box in the ocean - alessia cara, swimming pools - francis on my mind, mixtape: time out - stray kids

a/n: guys. my baby is here. this was requested by the wonderful @scarlet789 also, shout out to my bae avi (@stayinlimbo) for letting me scream in her dms. as usual, pls leave your comments and reblog!! they mean everything to me <3

"all these explosive emotions, i'm holding"

Hwang Hyunjin was multiple things to you. Beautiful, heavenly and ethereal were just a few words to describe him. Off-limits, however, was probably the best and most encompassing in this situation. He was your best friend Hyun-jee's brother, and a long time ago, you chose friendship over love.

Hyun-jee and her brother came from an extremely well off family. Hyun-jee's mother was a famous model while her father was the owner of one of the most popular media channels in South Korea. Unlike the stereotypical rich kid, however, Hyun-jee genuinely did want to inherit her father's business someday, eagerly waiting to take over as CEO after his retirement. For now though, she was content with just being the CFO of their overseas subsidiary.

Hyunjin however, was a bit of an enigma when it came to company legacy. Rebellious couldn't be the right word considering his parents never really minded about what he would become (they did have the extremely ambitious to the point of it being slightly terrifying younger daughter). Hyunjin was destined for greatness though. The entire Hwang family was. To your astonishment, even the family dog had his own fanpage.

Hyunjin had cemented himself in the art industry, having gone to a special arts high school and studied painting in Paris for a few years. His artwork sold in the millions, and their relevance was extremely pertinent to everyday life. A part of you marveled about how you even came to become friends with such extraordinary people when you were just the opposite of that, bland and normal.

You first met Hyun-jee in boarding school, you with a scholarship and starry eyes and Hyun-jee with her father's massive paycheck and worldly wisdom that rivaled that of the oldest ahjumma's. It was an international one, meaning that the medium of speaking was almost entirely English. You could have taken Korean as well, of course, but you opted for French instead. That was when you met Hyun-jee, the dorm arrangements being set according to the second language chosen.

Hyun-jee shone as bright as a star but she never made that cover your light. If anything, she amplified it to an incredible degree. Being friends with her wasn't slavery (as popularized by fiction), but instead it was earth-shaking, revolutionary and the most brilliant thing to happen.

Ah, fourteen year old minds.

But really, Hyun-jee was a friend you would always cherish, having been extremely close to her even after graduation. Every first day of school, you two would curl up in the couch of your common room and start telling each other all about your wild summers.

You knew, of course, about Hyun-jee's brother, but she rarely brought him up. He was a slightly sensitive topic in your friendship and you knew why. All you knew was that he liked painting and was a year older than Hyun-jee.

To be completely honest, not only were you Hyun-jee's best friend, you were also probably her first and only close friend. People had a tendency to get close with Hyun-jee just to take advantage of her family. Nine out of ten times, that was girls who wanted to date Hyunjin.

Hyun-jee loved you for being completely unaware about who she was until after you met her. Not being a South Korean native, you had no idea who the Hwang family was. The only member you did personally know was Hwang Hyun-jee, future CEO. Except to you, she was nearly a sister. She was the girl who snorted milk out of her nose while laughing, owned practically a shrine dedicated to Michael B. Jordan and had the most awful bed head. You saw a Hyun-jee that she only showed to two people in this world: you and Hyunjin.

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All that ambiguity was about Hyunjin was about to change however, that junior year of high school. It was the first day of school and you were waiting for Hyun-jee to be dropped off near the school gates. This time though, it wasn't her old driver but someone a lot younger pulling up to the school front.

Hyun-jee opened the door and practically flew into your arms, causing a giggle to arise from your mouths and the both of you slightly stumbling backwards. Behind her, you heard a throat clear.

"Your bags, miss?" came an overly exaggerated tone of what you assumed was a male.

"Oh, piss off Hyunjin," snapped Hyun-jee, straightening her school uniform and letting go of you. She quickly introduced you both to each other. Hyunjin offered his hand and, your brain must have been on autopilot because your hand smoothly grabbed his without a hitch.

Your mind, however, was a mess.

Hyunjin was absolutely gorgeous. You could tell why so many women (and some men) pined over him. His then blonde hair fell into his eyes and he had a literal, a literal twinkle in his eyes. You probably just imagined it, but when your hand grabbed his, you felt a shock coursing through (although in hindsight it was probably just static electricity). He was attractive, yes, but you wouldn't really call it a crush, per se. It was more of a 'hey. you're good looking.' type of situation, not a 'i have envisioned our entire future together pls marry me.' kind of situation.

That was, until, Hyun-jee invited you (well, more forced by her parents to invite you) to spend the summer before senior year at her family's ski resort.

Hyunjin made you feel like you were glowing, like you were the only person in the room. If Hyun-jee amplified your brightness, Hyunjin captured it, understanding you in a way nobody else did.

While Hyun-jee was off skiing and being athletic, you and Hyunjin spent hours locked in the library. Sometimes, you sat in silence. Other times, you talked about everything under the sun, from classical literature and Jane Austen to cat videos and singing to Taylor Swift.

Being a huge bookworm yourself, you adored the concerningly large labyrinth which they called a  library housed in their lodge. Hyunjin would paint on a chair with him and his easel facing you as you would lounge on the sofa, poring over yet another thick, hard bound novel. Then, you would pass that book to Hyunjin, who would also read it, giving you both a topic of conversation.

You were never bitter towards Hyun-jee for leaving you behind with Hyunjin while she took classes and taught classes at the local ice rink and snow hill. She always was better left outside than cooped up inside, unlike you and Hyunjin who were ambiverted to a fault and short-circuited if outdoors for too long.

In fact, you were thankful for it. If Hyun-jee hadn't been gone long enough for you and Hyunjin to have some time together, you never would have experienced falling in love with him. If that is what it was.

Your relationship never blossomed into something more than soft smiles and knowing glances, even the occasional (and never accidental, at least on your part) brush of fingers being constrained and a rare occurrence. Even though you weren't sure if Hyunjin had such feelings towards you, you both knew that there was a line you couldn't cross.

Still, your brain romanticized all of it. Being in love with you best friend's brother, secluded moments in a library... it really was turning into an 'i have found a wedding dress. get a ring. we are already mentally married.' cacophony of feelings. Paired with the snowy backdrop of the mountains and Hyunjin more often than not offering you his hoodie, you were, to put it mildly, in heaven.

"Hey, do you want to make hot chocolate or bake something? I'm not really getting inspiration to paint and..." Hyunjin just waved his arm around, trailing off and looking at you with hopeful eyes.

The lodge had a personal chef who could whip something up at just a sentence. He knew that. You knew that. You grinned at him, "Okay. Let's do it."

The two of you worked your way up to the private kitchen (the shock you felt and finding out they had two kitchens was so comical that Hyun-jee even recorded it). Baking with Hyunjin was terrifying. By the end of it, you had flour all over you, Hyunjin having icing on his cheek. The end result was delicious but very off-putting looking cupcakes.

While Hyunjin busied himself with cleaning, you swiped your thumb across the icing that had laid base on his face (conveniently missing the tissues practically staring at you).

Hyunjin turned his head to look at you in surprise, eyebrows scrunched and cheeks puffed. "I'm sorry," you stammered, "There was icing and-"

"No," he laughed, "It's not that. Your hands are really cold. I thought I was doing a good job of keeping you warm."

A small pout formed on his face as he motioned to take your hands. You obliged and he rubbed them for a bit, humming along to some pop song that was trending. As he was doing so, you nearly bore a hole into the floor with tour eyes, trying (and hopefully succeeding) in hiding the massive blush threatening to creep onto your face.

That night, Hyun-jee asked you nonchalantly, "Is something going on between you and my brother?"

While the question might have seemed like an innocent one, you knew the venom and pain behind it. Your thoughts were only confirmed by her usage of the terminology 'my brother', instead of just his name.

You were laying down on her bed, bile rising in your throat. Love or friendship? The thoughts in your head collided, crashing into each other like a tsunami. Hyun-jee had been there for you your entire time in Korea, caring for you like you were her own blood. Hyunjin had only known you for a few weeks but made you feel like the only girl in the world.

Your conflicting feelings towards both your situations gnawed and twisted at you like a thorn bush, scratchy weeds clawing at you and desperately awaiting respite. All it would take to get rid of that awful feeling would be one sentence of confirmation or otherwise.

Hyun-jee made eye contact with you through the mirror as she brushed her hair. "Well?" she prompted, slightly impatiently.

You rolled over onto your stomach, eyes locked onto hers. "Hm? Sorry I couldn't hear you. Nope, we're just friends, if you can even call it that." You shrugged at her and she shot you a grateful smile, eyes full of relief. Your stomach, on the other hand, was tangled up in knots that felt painfully similar to the knots that had wound their way into your heart.

Hyunjin didn't see you in the library again.

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The irony of your situation, looking back was, well... ironic. Of the three months that you spent with the Hwang family, half of it went in trying to spend as much time with Hyunjin as possible and the other half went in avoiding him at all costs.

You were never a hopeless romantic, not really. You knew what love practically looked like, and that it wasn't perfect. If it was, then the phrase wouldn't be something as harsh as falling in love, would it? However, one thing that you constantly chided yourself about was the importance of first love.

You placed first love on a pedestal higher than anything else. You were extremely meticulous about it though. You were frighteningly determined to experience the most perfect first love one ever could, tailored to your desires. Falling in love with Hyunjin, however, was not part of the plan.

Falling in love with Hyunjin was like breathing. It came so naturally, as if it was always there but couldn't be shaken off as soon as you noticed it. It felt inevitable, it felt like life was giving you another reason to live in the form of a soft-spoken artistic boy who had a penchant for dyeing his hair.

It was so extremely easy too. How could it not be? The way his eyes crinkled in the sides when he smiled and high pitched laugh were sensations that you would pay anything to relive. The way his eyes never left you when you passionately (and sometimes violently) gesticulated about your favorite books, the way he somehow understood what you were communicating his way even without you verbalizing it, made you realize that no one had ever quite made you feel this way.

'This way', being, feeling excited at just the mere thought at knowing that you were inhaling the same air as them. Small firecrackers igniting in your stomach at just the thought of seeing them. Feeling like you would simultaneously combust and drown if you couldn't be with them.

You often lied to yourself though. No, it wasn't love. Just a passing crush, was your mantra, repeated over and over again in your head until you almost believed it. Almost. A passing crush wouldn't entail not being able to concentrate on anything apart from Hyunjin when he was in front of you. A passing crush wouldn't cause you to look at him when he thought you weren't, in an attempt to memorize his features, capture every moment and seal it in an imaginary locket.

The reason why you made yourself think these thoughts were because you were unraveling. The realization that your first love did not love you back, not even a little bit (or so you thought) crashed down all your ideals about romance. The you that existed back then was positive that you would never, ever, love again. If the person you had first fallen in love with couldn't fall in love with you, then how could anyone else?

Of course, compared to your life now, such issues felt trivial. Right? Then why did you still have such a hard time forming romantic attachments? Why was your self-esteem when it came to be loved was in the gallows, rotting in the negatives?

It wasn't Hyunjin's fault, it never was in your head. It was the causation and effect of your own fucked up idolization of falling in love for the first time. You had so profoundly accepted the notion of first love being unforgettable that you only assumed it to be positive, not even thinking about how you would grapple with the situation if it were negative.

Maybe if you did, you would learn and grow from every failed romance that you would have, all up until you found 'the one', even if it was just for that moment. But you didn't. Instead, you had grown such a clawing and deafening fear of rejection that you refused to fall in love at all.

Somedays, the loneliness would get to you. The day Hyun-jee announced to you that she officially had a girlfriend, you were happy, immensely so, but a part of you just... broke. Going to parties and dinners and even just staying in with your friends meant that you had to witness all the small things about love that you would never experience.

Your friends and their significant others were never obvious around you. They weren't constantly touching each other and making comments about their undying love for each other. But even those tiny actions, the little aspects, didn't go unnoticed by you.

The small smile of affection on one's face at anything the other did, an entire conversation passing through just a glance, the featherweight touches that probably had a heavier meaning that you would ever know - all of this was just something you could vicariously experience through the people in love all around you.

Maybe, if you weren't such a coward, you would be in love right now too, instead of wallowing in despair and the trenches of missing out.

On the last day of your stay at the Hwang lodge, you went to the library to see Hyunjin one last time. For seeking some sort of closure? Probably. For seeing Hyunjin one last time and committing his features and mannerisms, anything and everything that made up him to memory? Definitely.

You had pushed the doors open softly, letting out a shaky breath and attempting to still your restless legs. Hyunjin was hard at work behind a large canvas, propped up on a wooden easel. His arm furiously brushed against the canvas, angry strokes slapping against the medium of artwork.

He didn't notice you, continuing his work, until you cleared your throat. "Hi," you said uncertainly. Hyunjin looked at you in perplexation, like a deer caught in headlights. Quickly turning around his easel and regaining his composure, he motioned for you to take a seat on the couch.

You took him in, the light streaming in from the large window bathing him in cold sunlight that glinted off the snow. He looked like he wasn't human. It hit you, the absurdity of it all. If there was one word you would use to describe Hwang Hyunjin, it would be human.

He captured humanity within him in the sweetest form possible. He wasn't the blueprint, not by any means; he could be petty, overly dramatic and had a bit of a temper. But he was kind-hearted, constantly curious and overwhelmingly empathetic. He was so perfectly imperfect that it was incredible to you how someone like him could be a product of society as cruel as this.

"I leave in a few weeks," he said almost ponderingly, breaking a silence that hung between the two of you that was, for the first time, uncomfortable.

"If you want, I can get you something," he enunciated. You knew there were several unsaid words on his end; there were some on yours as well. But you had almost no indication about what they could possibly be, and were itching to know what they were.

"We can't- we can't be friends," you blurted out.

Hyunjin's expression was one of expectation. So he knew this was coming. He sat down next to you and let out a resounding sigh.

"I know. I'll send you something from Paris anyways," he lightly responded, attempting to liven up the mood. You just raised a shoulder and the two of you sat there for what felt like hours. Finally, you got up and made your way to the door. But before that, you stopped.

"Do you mind if I see what you were painting?"

Hesitantly, Hyunjin turned the easel around. You were met with absolutely nothing, just splashes of water all over the canvas.

"Artist's block," he said matter-of-factly.

You nodded as if you understood, even though you didn't and walked out the door with a, "Thank you. I'm sorry."

Head hung in shame, you took a step outside. You were about to step out when a voice called out to you, "It was nice, to pretend. Even if it was just for a while."

You turned to give him a wry smile, "Thank you for making summer fun for me."

He would understand what you told him. You knew he would. But that didn't mean it wouldn't hurt. That was the last time you had ever physically seen Hwang Hyunjin, ever spoken to him.

He never sent you anything from Paris.

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While you wished that your relationship with Hyunjin would be one for the romcoms, your relationship with Hyun-jee was definitely one for the situational comedies. The rich girl becoming best friends with the new scholarship student? Cable TV viewer gold.

If you were being completely honest, the first time you met Hyun-jee you did find her a little bit stuck up. The two of you had to end up being friends though. Studying the same language, French, meant that she was your roommate for the four years you would spend at that high school (unbeknown to you then, she would spend another five years as your roommate in university).

Seeing Hyun-jee walk into the dorm room, decked in designer clothes and lugging a large suitcase behind her, was enough to demolish your self-confidence. The sight made you feel extremely self-conscious about your jeans, which were sporting gravy stains, and the mud brown sweater vest which your mother simply insisted you must buy.

All your fear disappeared, however, when one of Hyun-jee's heels (Dior!) caught on the edge of the living room carpet. She collapsed onto it, placing her palms face down to avoid hitting her face. She looked up at you.

"Hi, I'm Hyun-jee. I would shake your hand, but this is the unfortunate circumstance of letting my mother style me for the first day of school."

You laughed and offered her your hand and she held onto it, steadying to her feet. You gave her your name and a once-over to make sure she wasn't hurt. Then when you finally looked into her eyes, the two of you burst into laughter over the farcical situation that had just taken place. You both were wheezing by the end of your solid ten minute fit of laughter, laying on the couch in contorted positions and trying to catch your breath. Her eye caught yours, just setting of another bout of giggles.

You two had been inseparable ever since.

Hyun-jee wasn't as perfect as she was made out to be, and she had no shame in it. If she had the choice, she would go everywhere in her pajamas. She was horrible at Math and made fun of the World History teacher you both shared, convinced he was a Freemason. Hyun-jee was as human as one could get.

Even her parents were quite natural around you, or at least the cookies her mother sent everywhere which she and Hyun-jee baked made it seem that way. Hyun-jee was always sensitive when it came to the topic of her family. She skirted around it when it was a topic of conversation as if it was poison.

It wasn't that she had a bad relationship with them; she adored her family. She just seemed extremely uncomfortable about the topic, so you never really pried, instead regaling her with stories about your two younger sisters, parents and lineage of goldfish with abnormally high mortality rates.

There was moment in your life when you understood the gravity of just how alone people like Hyun-jee was in this world. You had noticed, that despite being extremely well-known and friendly with everyone, Hyun-jee could only call you her friend. On the other hand, you weren't at all as well known as Hyun-jee but had multiple friends.

That moment was at this end of the year party your academy was hosting to celebrate the end of exams. The upperclassmen were planning to go to another location, without teachers for an afterparty, but you had convinced Hyun-jee against attending it. She always had been the risk taker in your friendship.

You were walking around, checking off your social pleasantries. Light shone in the big auditorium and you swished around your floral flock. You caught Hyun-jee rejecting yet another poor guy (too bad he didn't know she was gay), and laughed a little to yourself. Even at fourteen, Hyun-jee had model-like looks. Probably because she inherited them.

You were lost in the moment of it all, entranced by the fact that you were even standing here. Coming to this prestigious international academy was your dream. It would kickstart your scientific career, which, back then, only revolved around discovering something incredible and winning a Nobel Peace Prize.

You came from an extremely mundane family. Middle class, living in a different country in a three bedroom apartment. Both of your parents worked in software engineering, and while you loved them for it, you couldn't help but find it slightly boring. You wanted to do something great, be someone great.

Hyun-jee must have walked over to you at some point in time when you hadn't noticed, because she laced her arms through the crook of your elbow and asked, "What's got you so concentrated, wife?"

Hyun-jee had a habit of jokingly calling you her wife, which you always entertained because why not? She had made it extremely clear that she would never date you, despite being romantically interested in women. "Eh, too nerdy," was her response when you asked why. She wasn't wrong though; if it wasn't for your 'nerdiness', you wouldn't be where you were.

You just shrugged in response to her question and turned to give her a smile. The expression you were met with gave you a bit of a surprise. For once in her life, Hwang Hyun-jee looked serious about something. Her normally mischievous eyes were now set in an unreadable expression.

"What is it?" you asked as the two of you headed to the buffet. Hyun-jee grabbed two plates, one for you and one for her, and proceeded to put a little bit of everything in her plate onto yours, despite you already having taken a lot.

She didn't give you a reply, instead opting to walk towards the table where you two had laid claim. You towed behind obediently, sitting down with a satisfied 'ah!' after having been standing for over an hour. You were digging into your food, relishing the taste of school food that was good for once (okay, that was a lie; your school actually gave you good food but that was only justified considering the insane costs).

"I was trying to figure out a way to say this but..." Hyun-jee's voice faltered.

Your glanced at her, finally looking up from your plate after eating like a starved, ravenous beast. Your eyes slightly widened. Did she not want to be friends with you anymore?

Hyun-jee took a visibly deep breath, "I just wanted to say thank you."

"Thank you for being my friend. I have never really had anyone to call my own. If anybody ever got close to me, it was just to take advantage of me or use me to gain access to my family. Especially when it comes to my brother that I mentioned, remember? Hyunjin. Guys aren't friends with me because they're intimidated by him and girls only become friends with me because they want to date him. All my life I have felt like nothing more than a porcelain doll, only valuable because I held the title of being a Hwang daughter. I was labelled before I was even born, I have had to wear that label, written all over myself with fake pride, even though it sickens me. That was until I met you though. As Disney cliché as it sounds, you not knowing anything about my family and treating me like a normal person has really made me feel seen this past couple of months. Thank you, Y/N, for being my friend. A real one."

Tears began streaming down your face and streaming down her face. Paired with the emotional word vomit that Hyun-jee had just placed before you and both of you being on your menstrual cycles, this was kind of bound to happen.

You reached over to give her hand a squeeze. You were unable to say anything, partly because you were choked up with emotion and mostly because you had stuffed an entire slice of chocolate cake into your mouth while Hyun-jee was in the middle of her monologue.

That was the day that you made sure to make Hyun-jee never feel used, and that started with keeping her family at a seven-foot man's arm's length.

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seven months before.

Needless to say, your friendship with Hyun-jee wasn't always perfect. One topic that often came up during arguments was stepping out of the house. Hyun-jee was naturally more extroverted whereas you preferred the comfort of your home.

You both came up with a plan to alternatively go out and stay in while you both were roommates in college and this practice continued well after Hyun-jee had graduated.

Hyun-jee had dragged you to this upper class, high profile party as her plus one. Her girlfriend was at her parents' home and Hyun-jee simply 'could not go alone or would combust'. Regret at deciding to attend university in Korea was palpable in you (but no where else would you get delicious kimchi).

Beads of sweat clung to your forehead as you surveyed your surroundings. The party was filled with almost-drunk socialites, foreshadowing business deals and gossiping with each other. You rarely attended such events with Hyun-jee; this was her circle, not yours. You always overthought every little interaction that you had with one of them, turning it over in your head millions of times.

Even at such an event taking place at a simple rooftop resto-bar, you spotted the occasional man wearing an entire three piece set and woman rocking an evening gown. You had confirmed with Hyun-jee about what the dress code was multiple times leading up to the event, not ready to lose face in front of such prestigious people. She kept reassuring you that it was 'casual'. Clearly, the upper class' definition of casual and yours were worlds apart.

You were wearing a black, tight crop top, white skirt and white jacket that was currently below your shoulders and in caught in the crook of your elbows. You had already fended off quite a few men approaching you with a look in their eyes which made you quite uncomfortable. Having excused yourself uncountable times using numerous excuses (you had to put use to the skills that you had picked up on as an ambivert), you decided to step out onto the open area to catch some fresh air.

You glanced at the cup in your hand, not knowing where it came from. It definitely looked alcohol though, and you sent a small glare towards the cup while you set it on the first surface that you could fine. You drank sometimes, but today you opted against it. You were going to be driving yourself home and knew that Hyun-jee was going to be wasted, having lost her a few minutes after entering the premises. 

You knew that Hyunjin was there too, and were uneasy at the prospect of seeing him again. After the ski lodge, you never really met him again. He had taken you phone number once while he dropped of you and Hyun-jee snowboarding while you were there at their lodge. You both rarely texted, never going beyond the cordial 'happy birthday's' and exchanging wishes during various holidays. He never questioned why you stopped coming to the library, just giving you an understanding nod when you linked arms with Hyun-jee and looked at him with guilt evident in you eyes.

Deciding to ditch whatever the hell this glorified adult frat party, you made your way to the front door when you caught sight of Hyunjin. He sat near the door, scrolling on his phone. He seemed as uninterested to be here as you were. His hair was black now, slightly wavy at the end. You knew that; of course you knew. You followed him on social media and witnessed his hair evolution, praying for his scalp while you did so.

"Hi Hyunjin," you said hesitantly. Hyunjin glanced at you, surprise evident in his face while his eyes scanned yours, "I was just about to head out. I thought I'd stop by and say hello."

"Oh, you're leaving?" he questioned in a tone of confusion laced with something else. Recognition, maybe. "Call me when you get home, so I know you're safe."

He must have noticed you expression of apprehension, because he quickly added, "So I can let Hyun-jee know when we drive home of course. I think she mentioned that we're driving to our parents house tonight."

You aren't shocked by his request, knowing how protective (and worried to death) he can be, but were taken aback at the fact that he did not want nothing to do with you. "I actually wasn't planning on going home," you told him.

At that, it was Hyunjin's turn to wear an expression of surprise. You drank in his features as you noticed the gears twisting in his head. He was thinking hard about something. Deciding that this was his way of dismissing you, you headed towards the door that led to the stairwell that would take you downstairs. Abruptly appearing beside you was Hyunjin, giving you a small tap on your shoulder.

He offered you a small smile. "Mind if I join you?"

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Hyunjin was probably at that party because of his presence in the art world. Something about his art always spoke to you, in ways the no other piece of media ever did. You always proudly reminisced about how Hyunjin showed you artwork that summer that he hadn't ever shown anyone else.

His artwork was capable of moving someone without words. You could nearly feel the emotion pouring out of him and onto his canvas. It was like his paintbrush was just an extension of himself. Everything, from the colours he used to the angle of his brushstrokes were calculated measures, all joining in the most radiant harmony of pure artwork.

After a small discussion of where to go, you both decided that it would be best to catch some fresh air and then proceed to go your separate ways. You both walked a little ways down to an old park.

You were still processing the entire situation, marveling at how on earth you managed to keep your cool the entire walk here. You both didn't say a word while on your way to the park, walking in silence. Hyunjin had his hands jammed into his pockets while you played with the strings of your jacket, curling them in and out.

That was when Hyunjin spotted a playset, smack dab in the middle of the aforementioned park.

"Come on," he squealed excitedly, "Let's go on the swing set."

You couldn't help but let out a burst of laughter. No 'hi' or 'how is life', but suggesting swing set antics instead? Gosh, he was so endearing. You both didn't really talk much, just exchanged giggles as you swung as high up as possible. Finally, after around ten minutes of swinging and one rendition of 'I Believe I Can Fly,' you both finally came down.

A part of you still loved him, didn't it?

It was dark, but you didn't really care. You were with Hyunjin and the area was known to be one of the safer, more-family centric parts of the city you lived in. You sat on the grass, knees brought up to your chest. Your arms wrapped around them while you closed your eyes, a small breeze whipping around you. It was strong enough to keep you cool yet gentle enough to not cause your hair to be similar in nature to that of a tornado.

Hyunjin observed you silently, leaning back on the grass with the help of his forearms. His legs were sprawled in front of him and he broke the silence with a casual, "How's life?"

You suppressed the urge to burst out into laughter. Imagine being asked by one of the hottest men you had ever seen, and had objectively been in love with for the longest, ask you 'how's life'. Adding to that, he was asking you the said question after suggesting that you both swing on a swing set.

"Fine, I guess. I'll be submitting my thesis, hopefully by the end of summer and then receive my doctorate," you replied, ignoring the rapid thumping in your chest.

You were not going to be held captive by a high school crush. You were so much better than that. You hadn't physically seen Hyunjin is over five years. He could have changed completely for all you knew. He could have had a girlfriend (which Hyun-jee would have told you about if that was the case, but you never know), maybe even a wife. And yet, that familiar feeling of wanting curled through your bones, engulfing you.

The two of you started talking about your lives, him as a painter and you as a final year PhD student.

"Hmm," he hummed in contemplation to something you had said, "You know, I always liked your company more then Hyun-jee's. Don't tell her though." He had mischievous look in his eyes and a smirk on his lips, eliciting a laugh from within you and bringing back a memory you had forgotten.

You were still slightly awed by the fact that the Hwang Hyun-jee invited you to spend summer with her. At a ski lodge. A fricking ski lodge! The shocking revelation that you could be considered cool enough to hang out with her and her brother were the thoughts in your head as you stared at the copy of Emma in your hands, pretending to read the text.

Beside you, you could hear the steady scratching of pencil against paper, interrupted only by the symphony of an eraser rubbing against the sheet. This little orchestra playing next to you was evidence of Hyunjin's existence, an art in itself if anyone asked you.

"You should teach me French," he asks you out of the blue, "For when if leave to go to Paris."

You look at him inquisitively. He told you that he got accepted into art school in Paris a few days ago. You did feel sad about the fact that he was going, but deep down you knew very well that practically, after this summer your interactions with Hyunjin would be few and far in between.

"You have Hyun-jee, she can teach you. If, that is, you can put up with her," you retort teasingly.

Hyunjin gives you a sly smirk, "That's exactly why I was asking you. I think I'll like your style of teaching better. And so, I want you to please, please, please teach me French."

You had no idea where this sudden newfound confidence to flirt with Hyunjin had bloomed within you but, oh well, you only live once. "Do you want me teaching you, or just me in general?"

"Ah," he said shaking his head regretfully with a smile, "Even though you have only known me for a few weeks, you already know me too well."

Butterflies ignite in your stomach, although you're pretty sure he was just playing along with you. You wonder what he's sketching, his bottom lip caught between his teeth and his eyes set in concentration. Even though you have a feeling it isn't, you sincerely hope it's you.

You don't know that your hopeful assumption was true.

A tightening in you chest starts to grow when the topic shifts to love. Earlier, talking to Hyunjin about love used to come as easy walking on your two feet. Now, it just hurts. He asked you if you were seeing someone. You promptly replied in the negative. You asked him if he was seeing someone. He reflected your answer back onto you.

But what did it really mean? You were always going to be bound in this life by that unspoken oath you made to Hyun-jee all those years ago. It wasn't even about love anymore, it was about not breaking another person's trust, a person who you held closer to your heart than most of your family.

You started thinking though. What was the point of hiding your feelings, old or not, from Hyunjin any longer? It wasn't like you could act on it, but you may as well have told him. Maybe then a huge weight from your chest would be released and you wouldn't be shackled by commitments, things you felt you owed to both of them.

"I don't think you know this but," your expression suddenly changed, "I used to have the biggest crush on you that summer."

"Used to?" At this point, Hyunjin is sitting up straight, eyeing you curiously. You roll your eyes and give him a playful slap on his arm. His expression, however, turns into one of regret. You begin to feel remorseful about telling him, paranoia settling in and molding itself into the fabric of who you were.

"That's a shame," he says quietly.

The air changes, charged with something you can't quite place. Hyunjin holds eye contact with you, unsaid words coursing through them. You never really believed in the phrase 'the eye is the window to the soul', but right now, you were terrified of whatever the hell your eyes were revealing to him right now. Hyunjin then proceeds to utter something, something so capable of infusing you with poisoned hope, that it takes your breath away.

"I think I would have loved loving you."

Time has stopped. Feelings of desperation, annihilation and most importantly, temptation, cascade in a whirlpool inside you. It had been years. This was wrong. This was the universe dangling temptation in front of you, urging you to just take a bite. Rebelliously, you wondered, what if you were selfish for one? Why were you feeling this way now?

"I think I would have loved being loved by you," you whisper back. Hyunjin's hand laces through yours and gives it a little squeeze in response.

That is when it dawns on you that Hyunjin is as confined in this matter as you, if not more. Hyun-jee is his sister for God's sake; whatever guilt you felt in wanting him, he must have felt tenfold in wanting you. You know exactly what the little squeeze he gave you signifies: It will pass. If it cannot be, it will cease.

And you know it's true because you and Hyunjin can never be 'us' or 'we' as long as you were present in this reality. You wished there was a universe somewhere, a parallel reality when Hyunjin and you were considered of one breath because to breath you would need him like oxygen.

Judging by his expression, he must have been drifting in thought about that too.

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Hyunjin was a hopeless romantic. Everyone he knew was painfully aware of that. He romanticized love in all it's aspects and yearned for it like a prerequisite for living. His standards were obnoxiously high though, and he had never met anyone even close to reaching them.

The thing was, Hyunjin didn't have high standards when it came to a romantic partner. He had high standards in what to expect during a relationship with said partner. Having never been in love himself, he could only witness it through other's experiences.

Until he had met you.

The first time he had seen you, you seemed unremarkable. Not in a rude way, of course, it was just that nothing about you really stood out to him that way. Hyunjin was a firm advocate of 'love at first sight' not being a logical concept. How on earth could you love someone without intertwining the fibers of being that made you with the strands of life that made them?

But then, when you walked into their hauntingly large ski lodge, your face full of wonder, Hyunjin felt an overwhelming calling of entrapping that moment forever. Your expression was so pure that is caught him off guard. He forgot what it was like to see some genuinely enjoy something. That night, he was sitting on his bed sketching something without any clear intention. The end result bore an uncanny resemblance to you.

Soon enough, the two of you began to spend exponentially increasing amounts of time together. Hyunjin was quite introverted, which was in stark contrast to the rest of his family. His mother used to also like spending her time in a lot, but nearly twenty five years of marriage to his father had definitely worn off on her.

The first time you stumbled into the library, you had audibly gasped. Hyunjin peered up, only his eyes visible, the rest of his face covered by the easel. When he saw that it was you, a small smile broke across his face and he sent you a wave, striking up a conversation with you and inviting you to sit down with him.

Hyunjin even knew exactly when realized that he had fallen in love with you. It was around a month into your three month stay with them. You were on the couch, laying down on your belly and Hyunjin was on a bean bag, munching on popcorn. You had a blanket covering you and a book in your hand, but your eyes stayed on Hyunjin as you both talked.

"I have a question," asked Hyunjin in between his mouthful of popcorn.

You rolled over into a position of sitting, legs crossed underneath you. "Before you ask, my interpretation of the meaning of life is pining for Michael B. Jordan against all odds. Blame Hyun-jee for forcing his movies down my throat and coming to me about her daily rants about how he is the only exception to her sexuality and how she would elope with him in a heartbeat."

Hyunjin shook his head with a laugh and passed you the bowl of popcorn. Having been on the receiving end of the conversation one too many times himself, he could quote Michael B. Jordan's monologue from Black Panther nearly perfectly.

"What I actually wanted to ask was whether or not you're happy with what you plan on studying in the future," Hyunjin asked curiously. You always avoided the topic of this, reiterating your love for Science time and again but always talking about how you planned on taking an English course on the side while in university.

At his question, your face fell a little bit. "Oh, well," you said sadly, "Truthfully, not really. But it's what my parents want me to do. I figured that if I did what they wanted me to do, then my sisters could be given a little more freedom at what they wanted to do."

Hyunjin's lips slightly parted, turning over your words in his head. Your selflessness really hit home, especially when he was so extremely selfish. He suddenly felt like he didn't belong to even be in your presence, and yet cherished it nonetheless.

"I have always been so adamant about becoming an artist that I never thought that it could lead to Hyun-jee potentially thinking that she doesn't have an option other than taking over the company," fell Hyunjin's confession from his lips. His eyes swirled with shame.

"If I'm being honest, she might have felt that way initially, but she truly loves the business Hyunjin," you told him comfortingly.

"You're a good person," he whispered to you softly.

"I'm not," you laughed condescendingly, "I'm really not."

Hyunjin's heart broke when those words flew out of your mouth. He wished he saw yourself at the standard that he did. But his heart pieced back together when he realized that he loved you. The realization dawned upon him when it hit him that your laugh, in no matter which context, seemed to lull him like a siren's call and draw him towards.

Later that day, Hyunjin called up seven of his closest friends to lament about his unfortunate predicament. He had all the textbook symptoms: gazing at you when you didn't notice, making up excuses just to be close to you and turning a fire hydrant reminiscent shade or red whenever he was near you (to the point where you would often end enquiring about his health).

"You are down bad in love," declared Changbin over the phone. Hyunjin decided against telling him that he had self-diagnosed himself before seeking anyone else's consul.

Hyunjin wasn't blind either though. He knew you felt something towards and although he couldn't quite pinpoint whether is bordered on love or like, he was quite content with simply knowing. It was extremely evident to him, in the way you began stuttering when he started flirting with you and the blush that would creep up your neck (albeit less pathetically obvious as his) when his fingers would accidentally or otherwise brush against yours.

He knew though, that blushes and wandering eyes was all your relationship ever could be.

He loved you, but by extension he loved his sister more. The night she came home to him, eyes puffy from crying and making him swear that he would never date one of her friends in the occasion that she ever did make a real one.

In that moment, Hyunjin made an oath encased in salty tears and bruised emotions that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

When you stopped coming to the library to squander away your time with Hyunjin, he knew he should have expected it. If you hadn't initiated the distance, then he would have been the one to do so, knowing it to be imperative when Hyun-jee questioned him on the nature of the both of yours's relationship.

He couldn't create anything, however. It was like your presence was what gave him the patience and creativity to actually go through with fishing a piece of art. He was frightened to death at the prospect of never being able to make something again if you weren't there.

Slowly, he realized that that wasn't actually the case. He could still paint, still draw, because he found love and emotions in so many other places.

Hyunjin found love in the way dewdrops beaded flowers, he found love in the cobblestoned alleyways of Paris and in the steaming mug of Americano he would drink every morning. He came to understand that he could pull inspiration from any love, romantic or otherwise.

But all of them paled in comparison to the love he held for you.

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five months before.

You were lounging in Hyun-jee and her girlfriend, Reina's apartment, which was practically your second home. The three of you went to the same university, one of the most prestigious in Seoul, and were quite a formidable trio. Hyun-jee was studying in business school, you were studying bio-chemistry and Reina was a lawyer in the making.

People had a tendency to stay away from the three of you.

You were sitting cross-legged on the floor of their apartment, back resting against the leather couch. Reina was in the shower and Hyun-jee scrolled on her phone. You gazed at the blank wall, completely zoning out from reality.

"Oh," Hyun-jee said with a small smirk, "Hyunjin is coming over."

You tried to hide your surprise and anticipation. Excitement brewed a sickly solution within you as Hyun-jee caught your eye and sent a wink your way, signaling that she would be teasing her brother mercilessly upon his arrival.

Her grin faltered, however, when she her eyes went to her screen which lit up with yet another text message, presumably from Hyunjin.

"Oh. He's bringing a girl."

At that, you jerked your head up to Hyun-jee's, leaving your task of picking at your nails behind. She just gave you a shrug, indicating that she had no idea about any of this either. You studied Hyun-jee's reaction to this carefully. If anything she seemed unfazed.

Jealousy and anger pooled within you. You wished that it was you who Hyunjin was bringing, which was absolutely absurd because you were already in Hyun-jee's apartment. The girl he was bringing would probably be beautiful. At least, far more than you.

In the events that followed leading up to Hyunjin's arrival, you were halfway here and halfway not. Reina had come out of the shower, Hyun-jee had ordered some food, Reina had put on a movie, Hyun-jee had given her a kiss; everything happened around you presently, but you yourself weren't present.

Oh. He's bringing a girl.

You resorted to biting your lip anxiously, drawing blood even. Ah well. Small problems compared to the things people have to face all over the world on the daily. But it should have been duly noted that your small problems felt gigantic to you.

Sighing and attempting to kill time, you decided to be extremely unproductive and watch a romcom. They really did help make up for the lack of romance in your life (as if). Eventually, however, you got bored and instead switched your screen to watch a zombie movie.

You were sitting on one of the three barstools that lined the marble island countertop. Your hands were propped up on your elbows and you had managed to precariously balance your phone against a jar of strawberry jam.

You heard the doorbell ring amidst the screams coming from your earphones. Quickly stuffing away your phone in your pocket in the name of courtesy, you cupped your chin with your hand.

Reina went to open the door and in waltzed Hyunjin in all his glory followed by, yep, only the most drop dead gorgeous woman you had ever seen.

He quickly made introductions, introducing her as Ellie. You avoided Hyunjin's eyes like the plague as you offered her a smile that you hoped looked genuine because it most certainly was not.

Ellie was extremely sweet. She even brought cookies. Ellie laughed and smiled and made herself feel comfortable. You laughed and smiled and contemplated what life would be like in jail if you committed murder.

You couldn't help it. Jealousy came to you in waves inhibiting your sense of everything and clouding your judgement. You hoped the scowl on your face wasn't obvious as you offered to go bring plates for the pizza in an attempt to excuse yourself from the conversation taking place.

"Oppa," nudged Hyun-jee, "Go help her."

Hyunjin stood up and approached you the way one approached a hungry tiger. His smile was warm and inviting but his eyes reflected well deserved caution. He attempted at making conversation with you but you only answered with nods and hums.

Eventually, he just gave up and sat on a bar stool sprinkling seasoning over the freshly delivered pizza. "I'm surprised you got your girlfriend here," you broke the silence, the snark in your voice painfully audible.

"Why?" Hyunjin's eyes trailed up from his tedious task and surveyed you carefully.

"Well, after our conversation that night..."

Irritation flashed in Hyunjin's eyes. "Not all of us can pine over someone we know we can never be with," he huffed.

You blinked for a second, something suspiciously wet prickling the depths of your eyes. What? To him, this might have been just a casual passing comment. To you, this was venom, seeping into your heart and poisoning it.

"Maybe if I didn't have unreasonably high standards of love, I would be better at holding onto it," you rebutted harshly without even thinking about the consequences of what you had said.

Hyunjin's face wore the undeniable expression of shock. In the heat of the moment, you felt almost angry at him. How could he say something so cruel and not expect you to give a befitting reply in return?

Then, the effect of your entire conversation weighed upon you. Gasping at your insolence, you turned around and felt a drop of water slide down the side of your cheek. You wondered if Hyunjin's eyes became a catchment area for tears the way yours did, pushing violently to be let out in a torrent.

Afterwards, you barely spoke to anyone. Quickly eating a slice of the unfortunately delicious pizza, you cited sickness as a reason to not be a present of the lovely and suicidal thought inducing situation you were stuck in.

Making a mental note to ask Hyun-jee where she ordered the pizza from, you headed home, thinking and over thinking your conversation with Hyunjin. The entire scene replayed in your head multiple times but one thought was annoyingly persistent: You went from loving Hyunjin, to somewhat professing said love for him, to giving him very, very good reason to despise you.

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the day of.

Hyun-jee was finally turning a year older and after spending her last six birthdays in the comfort of only you and Reina, this year she was planning a lavish one week beach getaway. All her closest friends were coming which honestly wasn't a lot: just you, Hyunjin, Reina and one of Hyun-jee's cousin's and her boyfriend.

You hoped that tensions would be alleviated between you and Hyunjin considering that you both hadn't communicated a word to each other since the mini argument you both had five months ago. Surprisingly enough, Hyunjin broke up with his girlfriend a few weeks ago, after only a short two months of dating.

You gulped in fear at the thought of you and Hyunjin being the only single people on the trip. Mustering up courage nonetheless, you sat in the taxi that was taking you on the way to the resort lobby where you would meet the others.

Sitting in the car, you decided to try and get some more writing for dissertation done. You already had all your research and citations compiled; all you had to do was type it all up and submit it. Hell, you even had your thoughts in order, but every time you opened up that blank document and watched the cursor blinking at you, all your motivation vanished into thin air.

Not wanting to put yourself through any more torture, you decided to open up your phone and scroll aimlessly through social media. The thought of a beach getaway excited you. After working to death's end for the last few months, you knew you had earned a well deserved break.

When the taxi pulled up to the resort, you got out and closed your eyes at the salty breeze that hit your face. You didn't care that the wind blowing around did not, in fact, make your hair look like it was in a shampoo commercial and instead made it look like the individual strands were having a seizure. The cool air was a welcome contrast to the stuffy interior of the airplane and subsequent taxi you had taken to get here.

You walked into the large reception lobby, trying not to gasp at the sight in front of you. Large potted plants lined the walkway with a humongous fountain of an angel in the middle. Golf carts whizzed around you and servers carrying bottles of champagne and rose offered you kind smiles.

Noticing that Hyun-jee and the other's had just arrived then, you raced up to her, lugging your suitcase behind you. Hyun-jee face lit up as soon as she saw you. Throwing her hands around your neck and pulling you in for a hug, the two of you giggled after she stumbled on a stray pebble. Giving everyone else a warm grins and nods, your eyes met Hyunjin and he offered you a tight smile in acknowledgement.

This was going to be a long week.

Hyun-jee walked up to the receptionist to ask for all of yours's rooms. While she was busy with that, you took out your phone and clicked pictures of everything. You never really posted pictures like these (or any in general), rarely ever active on sites like Instagram unless the occasion called for obsessive internet stalking (which you were questionably amazing at). Instead, you sent all these pictures to your sisters, mostly to make them feel jealous because that was a very older sibling-like thing to do.

Snorting at your youngest sister's almost instantaneous response, which was a string of emojis containing mostly eye-roll emojis, you didn't notice Hyun-jee walk back to the group. You noticed the worried expression on her face, taking in her knitted eyebrows. She had been spending a lot of time sorting out the reservation with the receptionist.

"Guys, I'm really sorry but turns out I forgot to reserve the rooms and I'm so sorry and-"

"Breathe, Hyun-jee," Hyunjin cut her off and placed his hand on her right shoulder.

Hyun-jee took a deep breath, the guilt simmering in her eyes. She sneaked a quick glance at you for reassurance and you notedly obliged, shooting her a thumbs up.

Hyun-jee was nothing short of a perfectionist. Lately, she had been spending literal days at her office, wrapping up an important business deal. Always having everything planned, always knowing the exact details of everything was something she prided herself on.

"So- so here's the thing. I have booked three rooms right now which are on the same floor. Two of them have one bedroom and the third-" Hyun-jee slowly glanced at you and Hyunjin, "And the third is one room but with two beds."

Oh, so then you would still be able to stay here. Perfect. Oh. You would have to share a room with Hyunjin.

Hyun-jee looked at the both of you nervously, gauging your reactions. You hadn't told her about your petty little conversation with Hyunjin and assumed that he hadn't either. His eyes widened with shock and met yours, but a wave of understanding passed through the both of you: you would tolerate it because it was Hyun-jee's birthday and she was the priority here.

"Is that okay?" Hyun-jee stuttered softly.

Reina had walked over to Hyun-jee and wrapped her arms around her waist. Hyun-jee's cousin, Byeol, assured her that the arrangement was just fine.

Not wanting to worry Hyun-jee further, Hyunjin hastily replied, "Yes, yes, of course."

You spared him a glance before your eyes went to Hyun-jee's once again, and with a smile you hoped did not look stressed, you added on, "Yep. I mean, it's just a week, isn't it?"

Hyun-jee let out a sigh of relief and reached out to give your hand a squeeze. Absentmindedly, you gave her a distracted smile. Your mind was on other things, Hwang Hyunjin and the prospect of sharing a room with him at the forefront of your long train of thought.

It would be fine, right? After all, there were two beds. And as absurd as the entire situation was, you had read enough romcoms and watched enough Hallmark movies to know that the real problems only began when there was just one bed. Which there wasn't. Unfortunately.

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Hyunjin had graciously offered you to take a shower first. Stripping bare, you felt the lukewarm water hit your skin as you went through the itinerary of the day ahead in your brain again.

1: Lunch at a cute rooftop restaurant that Hyun-jee had (for real this time), reserved.

2: Coming back to the resort get changed into your bathing suits.

3: Fulfilling the 'beach' part of the beach getaway.

4: Sleep, maybe.

5: Bonfire dinner!

You came out of the shower wearing tank tops and jeans shorts, a wet towel in your hand. Hyunjin strewn was on his bed (closer to the door), texting someone, or in his case, multiple someones. You assumed it was a group chat because the screen lit up with a notification numerous times.

The sight of Hyunjin biting his lip to stop himself from bursting out in laughter while wearing nothing but (at least you assumed it was nothing) a bathrobe did things to you that most definitely should not have been done.

For the sake of your sanity, you cleared you throat as a sign of banishing Hyunjin to the shower. He gave you a nod, grabbed his towel, and walked away. You let out a sigh and after hanging your towel on the balcony railing, dramatically fell onto your bed.

Hyunjin hadn't really told you much after you both entered the room. He only offered to let you shower first. You were brushing your hair and humming in partial contentment. You had resulted against washing your hair, knowing you would wash it again after coming back from the beach.

You're Taylor Swift album marathon was rudely, in you humble opinion, interrupted by the sound of a door opening. You were met, however, with an ethereal looking Hwang Hyunjin, fresh out of a shower. Beads of water hung to his neck and the tips of his hair. You were overcoming by an extremely concerning urge to lick them off.

Although Hyunjin was currently very aggressively wiping his hair with his towel, he had a smirk on his face, an obvious indication of him noticing you checking out. You looked away with a cough and a blush. Hyunjin fell onto his bed with an oomf and laid on his back while playing games on his phone.

You decided to break the ice wall erected between the two of you by blurting out, "I'm sorry for what I said that night. You didn't deserve to here any of that."

Hyunjin looked up from his phone in surprise. He studied you for a moment. Hyunjin finally broke the agonizing silence. "Likewise. I genuinely apologize for anything I may have said that night," he hesitated, "Does this mean that we can go back to normal?"

You gave him a small smile and a nod, although you knew just as well as him that there was no 'we' to go back to normal too.

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All throughout lunch, you failed at acknowledging the close proximity between you and Hyunjin. He sat next to you because, who was he to sit with somebody else's significant other? His thigh was pressed against yours and his fingers brushed yours over and over again.

"So, um, I heard about your breakup. How have you been holding up?" you asked. You wanted a gauge on how depressing your de facto roommate would act over the week.

"Oh," he responded nonchalantly, "I never really saw it as a relationship. We just weren't compatible at all."

Your brain processed his words as your eyes trailed the plate of seafood kebabs being brought to your table. You were in the process of eating one when Hyunjin added, "I think I might actually like someone else, and I'm not one for emotional cheating."

It's safe to say that the hot sauce you dipped the kebab in went down the wrong pipe.

After that tantalizingly long endeavor you had just undertaken, you were back in the comfort of your hotel room. You and Hyunjin decided that you would change in the bathroom while he would change in the actual room itself.

You had absolutely no intention of actually getting into the ocean water. It was getting late (yes, you considered three in the afternoon late) and you were not a big fan of swimming, despite having learnt it when you were younger. Your outfit was extremely simple, consisting of a sage green crop top, white long flowy skirt, a pair of sandals and finally a cute tote bag to store your camera, books and other essentials.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you did a little twirl to check if the skirt was spin worthy. Hyunjin watched you with a smile and give you a small clap after you were done. You blushed profusely, his existence somehow (?!) completely slipping from your mind.

"You look beautiful," said Hyunjin kindly with a wide smile.

"So do you," you replied breathlessly.

Hyunjin looked effortlessly attractive in a white button up that was half untucked and loose black pants. The first button was undone and you could see a shark bone necklace perfect encapsulated in the dip of his collarbone.

You were imagining how it would feel to run your fingers along it when Hyunjin asked, "Don't plan on swimming? I know I don't."

"Nope," you replied sheepishly as you both walked out the hotel door, "I actually have a fear of the ocean, as embarrassing as it sounds."

"It isn't embarrassing. I get nightmares about carrots," Hyunjin confessed with a shudder. You snickered at his words.

Hyunjin's hand lightly held your arm and guided you towards the right direction. The feel of his skin on yours completely wiped away your initial mortification at walking in the completely opposite direction.

He dropped your arm as spontaneously as he held it and you both stood awkwardly in the lobby, waiting for Hyun-jee and Reina. Byeol wasn't feeling well (she could come up with a better excuse) so her and her boyfriend went ahead with the decision of staying in.

The four of you walked out the resort in animated chatter. Being more of a listener yourself, you took a backseat as Hyunjin and Hyun-jee wildly gesticulated about work, life and (for some reason) the benefits of chocolate milk. Reina passed you a knowing smile; the two siblings once brought together could not shut up for the life of them.

You noticed Hyun-jee hanging back. She waited for you to catch up to her and said, "I'm sorry about the arrangement. It can't be easy for you."

You looked at her questioningly, "Why wouldn't it be easy?"

"Well, you both don't really know each other that well. To top it all off, Hyune oppa stopped seeing that Ellie girl. He hasn't been moping around much, probably because it only lasted like a month."

Hyun-jee paused and continued in a whisper, "I think she was more into him than he was into her."

You just laugh with a shake of your head and run up to Reina, throwing an arm around her shoulder. Through the corner of your eye, you see Hyunjin observing the three of you with a sad smile. You instantly feel guilt at leaving him out, even though the three of you were close friends long before Hyunjin came into the picture.

When you finally reach the beach, everyone settles into their designated role. Reina and Hyun-jee play volleyball with a bunch of locals while you and Hyunjin retreated under a covered cabana. Hyunjin sat on one side of it, sketching on his sketch pad, while you laid down on the other side, indulging in a mystery thriller.

Old habits really do die hard.

You turned to look at Hyunjin. The expression of concentration on his face was still the same. His hair was longer now though, and locks of it fell into his eyes. You felt the urge to push it away and subconsciously, ended up doing so.

He looked up at you. "Oh, um, your hair, I-" you stammered incoherently.

Hyunjin let out a chuckle. "It's fine. Thank you."

He turned back to his unfinished sketch and you put your book back in your tote bag. Wanting to stretch your legs, you noticed a dock like structure stretching out over the vast expanse of sea. Hyun-jee beckoned you towards her and the two of you set off to take pictures near that dock.

It felt slippery, at first, but eventually, you and Hyun-jee caught your balance. The farther out you went, the deeper was the ocean. The colors all blended to create beautiful hues of blue. They eerily mimicked the same hues that you currently were living in.

Hyun-jee's arms were full of shells, multicolored and all shaped differently. You both were so engrossed in picking at them that you didn't notice that you almost reached the end of the dock. Your sandal got caught on one of the stray nails.

And then you slipped.

And then you fell.

━━━━━━━✦✗✦━━━━━━━━

Funnily enough, the only thought in your mind while you were falling was how the whistling of the wind sounded like that of a tea kettle. You had only heard the sound of a tea kettle once before, at your grandmother's house. Your mom decided to take out the old blue kettle that laid forgotten under the stove and decided to whip up some chamomile tea with it.

What an odd thing to reminisce about.

After what felt like hours, your body hit the water. The screams you were initially hearing were now muffled. Water attacked you, dragging you downwards. You did learn how to swim, but your body felt like it was made up of bricks and lead, not skin and bones.

Instinctively, you closed your eyes and tried to throw your hands up. In an attempt to get an intake of breath, you opened your mouth. What a stupid mistake. Seawater and other substances flooded into your mouth. Bile rose up but you couldn't close your mouth. When you finally could, you were compelled to close it.

You felt your brain separate from your body, as if you were just watching what was happening and weren't present in the situation. All sense of time was gone. You had never felt more helpless and locked out of your body before. Tears streamed down your face, but it didn't matter because all of you was drenched anyways.

You felt your consciousness slip, and felt a peculiar serenity that you had never felt before. You were floating out of your body now, your mind keenly observing the vessel that was once you, flailing about like a fish out of water.

How ironic.

People said that drowning was the worst way to die.

Wait, what? What were you even thinking?

You were dying.

You were dying.

No. No, you couldn't die. There was so much left for you to see, to experience. You wanted a stable job, a family. You wanted to taste what a snickerdoodle cookie was like and wanted to see Olivia Rodrigo in concert. But most of all, you wanted to live.

Life was so beautiful. All the dips and highs and small straight lines made it an endless rollercoaster, yes, but it was a ride you were not ready to get off yet. If you lived after this, you told yourself, you would be selfish and do what you wanted.

You wanted to submit your thesis and and stand on that podium, certificate in hand. You wanted to go on a date with Hyunjin and did not care about whoever objected otherwise. You wanted to be Hyun-jee's bridesmaid when she and Reina got married in San Diego. You wanted to tell your parents you loved them and wanted to watch your sisters grow up.

You wanted, and wanted, and wanted and that was enough to keep you some kind of awake and alert.

You felt a pair of arms around your waist and another hoisting you up. Concerned chatter and sighs of relief were sounds that managed to seep through the thrumming in your ears. Opening your eyes and letting it adjust to the light, you collapsed onto the dock. You threw up whatever was inside of you, feeling someone patting your back.

Somebody helped you stand up, since you were still shaken up by the whole incident. You could see a small crowd on the actual beach and a drenched Reina in front of you. Hyunjin must have been the one holding you up then.

Hyun-jee face was frozen in shock, eyes still glued to the place where you had fallen. When she finally looked up at you, she let out a choked sob, and eventually a torrent of tears fell from her eyes. Watching her cry made you cry, as you were gently tugged back to the beach by Hyunjin.

He sat you down on the edge of the cabana you both had occupied earlier. A lifeguard was rushing over to you, checking vitals and making sure you weren't having any problems with your breath. After you felt like you were in a sober state capable to answer questions, you rattled off responses in a monotonous tone.

"Considering she was in the water for just under a minute," confirmed the lifeguard, "She should be fine."

Worry was still etched on everyone's faces though, frustrating you. You were not okay, and you knew that. Not being okay after such an incident was to be expected of you. But you were not okay in a way that couldn't be helped by them. You had no such severe physical injuries or major repercussions; but mentally?

You weren't quite sure your mind was even yours.

You assured everyone that you were okay over and over again. Hyunjin grabbed a blanket from a kind family also on vacation, offering you some water and hydrated salts as well. After thanking them profusely, you stumbled into the taxi that Hyun-jee had booked. While Hyun-jee and Reina stayed behind to file formalities with the local authorities, Hyunjin volunteered to take you back to the hotel room.

The entire sequences of events left you so dazed, that you couldn't even process what was happening. Sitting in the taxi and reflecting on what happened finally allowed the physical effects of almost drowning to settle deep into your bones.

It started with the shivering, your body uncontrollably shaking. You could feel someone's arms - Hyunjin's - wrap around you and start rubbing your sides. Then came to coughing, your throat parched and desperate for water. Through it all though, your mind stayed fixed at one point.

There was a light. And peace. So much peace it felt nearly unnatural.

You began sobbing. Your head was throbbing and the entire world felt dizzy. Hot tears streamed down your face. You could feel some rubbing circles on your back, hear someone comforting you. But you weren't present in the situation itself. Words blended into white noise and everything hurt.

The entire time, from Hyunjin helping you out of the car to Hyun-jee clearing the way to your hotel room, your brain was on autopilot. It wasn't that you were thinking about something else; you just couldn't think. You wanted silence and quiet.

As soon as Hyunjin closed the door, you slumped against it, dragging Hyunjin down with you. You entire body was still covered in water, but you didn't care. You couldn't even take in complete breaths; the lack of dryness on your skin didn't even occur to you.

Hyunjin put his chin on your head and whispered, "Just breathe. It'll all be over soon."

As your breathing and heart rate slowed, you became distinctly aware of the fact that you were currently covered in dirty water and the pee of aquatic animals. Breaking away from Hyunjin's comforting hold, you let out an incoherent string of words, grabbed the first pair of pajamas you could find, and staggered into the bathroom.

Throwing off your clothes with a newfound urgency to feel dry and clean, you stepped into the shower and let out a tired sigh as soon as the hot droplets hit you repeatedly. It was a startling contrast to the unchanging sensation of cold you were locked in for the past thirty minutes (at least that was what you assumed it was, considering your knowledge of time itself was currently fucked). Feeling your muscles loosening underneath you, you made the blunder of closing you eyes.

As soon as you did, the water now sliding down your naked skin felt all too similar to the water that nearly took your life.

You were drowning again, literally in water and figuratively in despair. You reached out for help, screamed until your voice went hoarse. The light was coming for you, luminescent orbs turning into menacing vessels of death. But nobody came. And the terrifying reality was, nobody would.

Tripping over the shower cubicle, you lunged for your towel and scrubbed your skin until it was red and raw. Even a single drop of water felt like acid on your skin. In you haste to put on your clothes, you forgot to turn the shower on. Mustering your courage, you reached to turn the knob and made sure that no part of your body contacted anything other than a dry surface.

When you teetered over the elevated surface of the bathroom an soon as you opened the door, Hyunjin was already there to steady you.

"I'll dry your hair," he offered.

You nodded, still mum, and sat down on Hyunjin's bed. You noticed that he had changed into a white cotton shirt and gray sweatpants. Hyunjin leaned over to plug in the hairdryer. Coaxing you into turning around, his hands wove through your hair and nearly rocked you to sleep.

"Hyunjin," you whispered deliriously, "I feel safe in your arms."

You must have been really tired because you completely missed his response.

"And I feel safe knowing you are in my arms."

━━━━━━━✦✗✦━━━━━━━━

After Hyunjin had dried your hair, he helped you onto your bed. You had fallen asleep due to the sheer weight of your exhaustion. Hyunjin promised that he would be in the room, not leaving for a second. Your eyes shut and you slept for almost four hours.

When you woke up, it was late. The sky was no longer colored light blue, but instead shone a dark navy. You turned over your phone on the nightstand.

9:00 PM

"Hyun-jee came over," Hyunjin said.

You turned around to see him watching a drama on his phone. His hair was tussled, as if he had run his hands through it repeatedly. His eyes looked tired and his body looked weary but his smile was like a peek of sunlight on an unreasonably cloudy day.

"She left some noodles for you," he motioned towards the large Styrofoam box on the little coffee table in your room.

You snatched up and hungrily began eating. "Thanks," you said between mouthfuls.

"No problem. You should be thanking Hyun-jee."

"I will."

"Do you want to watch something?"

"Okay."

Hyunjin started a new drama for the both of you to watch. The only sounds in the room were noises from his laptop and your slow chewing. You were grateful that Hyunjin didn't press whenever you replied half heartedly or with one word.

It was such a paradoxical situation, the one you were stuck in. A mere ten hours ago, the thought of him being in close proximity almost drew you to insanity. Now, his steady presence was the only thing keeping you grounded.

Fate truly is fickle.

━━━━━━━✦✗✦━━━━━━━━

You woke up from your slumber with a start, sweat soaking through your clothes and onto your bedsheets. You were breathing heavily, so much that your lungs were hurting. Beside you, you could hear Hyunjin stirring in his sleep.

You chest was constricted and your breathing was shallowed. Ugly tears inched slowly, down your cheeks. Your hands were shaking and your vision was blurry.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm here now."

"I'm fine, I'm fine," you whispered to Hyunjin in the darkness.

"No," he said firmly, "You clearly aren't. Let me help you. Please."

You gave him a nod, which he probably didn't see in the darkness. Leaning over to turn on the table lamp nestled between the two beds, with a small click, the entire room was eliminated.

"Nightmare?"

"Yes. Sorry for disturbing you."

"Don't be."

Hyunjin started humming something into your hair, making you feel drowsy. Sleep was coming in waves, but you refused to close your eyes. Fighting to keep them open, you tried to place why whatever Hyunjin was humming sounded so familiar. Finally, you realized it.

"Oh my god," you snorted, "Are you humming the Sofia the First theme song right now?"

"Shh," he giggled, "Let me honor Sofia in peace."

You nestled into him more comfortable and felt his head fall onto yours. Slowly, he pulled you down onto the bed.

"Do you mind is I sleep?" he questioned.

"No," you replied, "Just please keep holding me."

He placed a soft kiss on your cheek in response and comfortably placed his head on the crook of your neck. Soon enough, melodious snores (how do even his snores sound attractive?) filled the silence in the room. You could do this forever.

Oh. You could do this forever.

But you didn't have forever. What you had was tantalizingly short in the grand scheme of things. And nearly dying had really put things into perspective. You might not have forever, but you have now. And ideally, now was all you needed.

But what would Hyun-jee think?

Except, did it really matter what she thought? She was your best friend, she had seen pieces of you that you hadn't shown anyone. If anybody would understand, it would be Hyun-jee. You began to question yourself. Was it really Hyun-jee you were scared of, or something else entirely?

Putting the blame on Hyun-jee for stopping yourself from pursuing Hyunjin was so easy. The truth was, you were frightened. Hyun-jee's opinion had nothing to do with it whatsoever.

You were so scared of the consequences after the falling apart of a relationship, that you were hesitant to be in one in the first place. The prospect of heartbreak and it's accompanying nastiness petrified you to the point where you were blind to the beauty of being in a relationship.

Your situation was pathetic really. You were pathetic. It wasn't even a paradoxical situation of unrequited love where you were hopelessly head over heels in love with Hyunjin and he couldn't have cared otherwise. He liked you back, at one point, may even have loved you back.

After tossing and turning, you finally came to one decision you were determined to go through with.

That night, you didn't sleep for two reasons: fear of drowning in the ocean and anticipation to drown in Hyun-jee's.

"Good morning angel," he yawned, "Did you get any sleep?"

"No," you gulped.

"Well that's to bad," he mumbled against you neck.

His hair tickled your face and you began second guessing whether or not you should really do this. Hyunjin blinked once, slowly, as if taking in his surroundings. When he probably realized where he was, he got up with a start.

"Shit, I had no idea I was this close to you. I'm really sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable and-"

"I like you," you blurted out. "I like you and I want to date you. I know you like me as well and I love Hyun-jee, but I want to experience loving you."

You looked down shyly as Hyunjin's jaw dropped. He cupped his hand around your cheeks and replied breathlessly, "Oh thank goodness. I would kiss you but you just survived a traumatic event and my breath probably stinks."

You opened you mouth to respond but ended up yawning instead. Hyunjin visibly held back his laughter and you playfully hit his arm.

You gave him a side-eye and he pulled you back into bed again, tickling you in the process. You shoved him and he laughed at you and by the end of it, you were so out of breath and so happy, that a part of you forgot that you very well may not have been here today.

You didn't have forever, but you had Hyunjin and that was enough.

━━━━━━━✦✗✦━━━━━━━━

epilogue.

You put your bags down on the wooden floor with an animated 'oof!' while you once again took in the grandeur of the Hwang family ski lodge. You were back again, invited (this time by Hyunjin) to spend the summer with the Hwangs.

Everything was coming full circle, wasn't it?

Hyunjin's mother approached you with a smile on her face. She pulled you in for a tight hug, her perfume attacking your senses.

"How have you been, my child?" Her hair was pinned up to perfection and her skin was flawless.

"Really good," you told her excitedly, filling her in on all the gossip that was taking place at your university.

She listened to you keenly and once you finished, she told you, "Oh, Hyunjin is in his room, by the way."

She shot you a wink and you felt like you would melt out of embarrassment.

"I didn't know he told you," you said sheepishly.

"He didn't have to," his mother laughed.

Mothers. Their powers were strong enough to make the childhood version of you believe they were psychic.

You bounded up the familiar stairs to Hyunjin's room. Not bothering to knock (what's the worst he could be? naked?), you rushed inside and fell dramatically onto his bed. Hyunjin regarded you with a hint of fear at you sudden entrance.

Turning over on your stomach to face him, you announced with an air of superiority, "I did it."

That could only mean one thing in this context.

Hyunjin's eyes widened. "You did it? You submitted your dissertation?" he asked in awe.

You nodded enthusiastically and brought your face close to his. "I'm yours for the next three months now."

Hyunjin pouted, "I thought you already were mine."

You rolled your eyes at him and pulled him in for a long awaited kiss. It was to no avail however; you both were smiling against each other's lips so much that it wasn't quite a kiss.

Breaking away, you were about to settle in next to Hyunjin when you told him, "It feels weird though. Not having to do anything. Does that make sense?"

"If you say it, it makes sense. And if I happen to think it does not, I will attempt to look at it from your perspective. Regardless of either situation though, I will accept it because I love you, and that to me is what love is. Unwavering dedication and acceptance," Hyunjin replied with ease.

You felt your heart stutter. He was the first to say he loved you, two weeks ago under a dimly lit bookstore you were in. Hyunjin was said he knew the moment you gave him a smile and he realized, it was a smile you only presented in front of him.

"I love you too, dork," you said cheekily.

Hyunjin had shown you shades of love that you could never escape from. Every little action of his encompassed love. From the small smiles he always sent your way to the way he tucked your hair behind your ear and always carried extra rubber bands for you, Hyunjin was love personified

"I'm here!" came the unmistakable voice of Hyun-jee.

You and Hyunjin exchanged a glance. You had decided that it would be best to tell Hyun-jee about the relationship as soon as possible. Hiding your relationship from her for three months seemed like a mammoth endeavor.

After finding Hyun-jee wolfing down cookies in the kitchen and giving her a customary bear hug, you gave her a nervous laugh.

"Wosh? You bosh look like you neesh to chell me shomething."

"Ew," whined Hyunjin, "Chew first."

Hyun-jee swallowed and said, "You both look like you're hiding something from me. You didn't break something I own, right?"

"Actually," you hesitated and Hyunjin gave you a small nod of encouragement, "We did have to tell you something. Hyunjin and I... we have been dating for the last two, two and a half months."

You let out a slow breath, gauging Hyun-jee's reaction. Her eyes widened and her eyebrows knitted. You could see her visibly tensing and take in a shallow intake of breath.

Shock slowly settled into Hyun-jee's features. "How long?"

"Well technically since we were eighteen, but we were scared of your reaction and-" you gave Hyunjin a small kick to his shin. He ruffled your hair back.

"So, you are telling me that you both have liked each other for that long but decided not to do anything about it because you were scared of me?" Hyun-jee marvelled.

"Well, yes-"

"Oh my god," Hyun-jee laughed, "You both are so dense. Do you know how much I have been rooting for this relationship? Hell, I even booked one room for the two of you as soon as I realized that I forgot."

"You did that on purpose?" you were reeling from the revelation.

All of your belief that you would have to choose between friendship of love came crashing down. Relief washed over you and a sob that was lodged in your throat finally found release.

Hyun-jee and you went back and forth until Hyunjin finally put an end to the conversation. "These," he declared picking up the tin of cookies that Hyun-jee was previously snacking on, "Are mine."

He proceeded to run out of the kitchen as Hyun-jee chased him with a spatula, screaming bloody murder. After the siblings finally calmed down, all three of you collapsed onto the large couch in the middle of the lounge. Looking at your friends, your family, made you realize that you were loved.

Maybe, falling in love wasn't so bad. Yes, you fell. You fell hard and soft, you fell with your hands bloodied and the sensation of flying. You fell, but Hyunjin was there to catch you. And as he assured you over and over again, he would always be there to catch you.

Hyunjin laced his hands through yours and gave it a squeeze. This time, it was a promise. A promise of whatever eternity you both had left that would be spent together. A promise to love through the light and the dark.

A promise to be each other's first and last loves.

main taglist (reply to be added) -

@linoalwaysknows @moon0fthenight @hyulino @palindrome969

@squishybinnieee

fic taglist - @scarlet789 @taichoushadowficrec

ive been tryna find this fic again because it’s based off one of my fav songs from taytay and everytime i read it i feel so like connected to it LMAO idk 😭😭 love this fic so much it’s one of my favs. much love to the author for making this masterpiece 🩵

I Don't Want You Like a Best Friend - Lee Felix

Pairing: Felix x fem!reader

Warnings: smut!!, fluff (like so much), angst (if you squint), felix and readers being oblivious idiots in love.

Summary: You have been in love with Felix, your best friend, since the first time you laid your eyes on him. But you never said anything about it, too afraid to ruin your friendship that you treasured so much. So, when a pretty boy asks you out on a date, you accept, figuring it is the best way to get over your stupid crush. But your best friend doesn't seem so happy about it. Based on "Dress" by Taylor Swift.

Word Count: 6k

PS: I uploaded this on AO3 and thought it'd be fun to post it here as well!

MASTERLIST

There’s an indentation in the shape of you

“And? What do you think?” 

Felix lifted his head up as he heard you walking inside the room once again wearing the dress. His eyes widened and his heart started beating faster and louder. His gaze raked your body up and down a couple of times and he tried to play nonchalant.

“U-uh, you look very pretty, Y/N. He’ll love it” Felix smile.

Yes. He’ll love it. 

Truth is, you had met this cute guy at the coffee shop you and Felix frequently visit before you drop him at the studio every day. His name was Ashton. He had a charming smile and he had been brave enough to ask you for your phone number while complimenting your looks. You were almost a stuttering mess while you typed in your number in his phone, then he winked and left the coffee shop, leaving you with a slight blush in your cheeks. 

Felix had returned to you with both of your orders with a smile. You told him about Ashton and he had promised he would help you with him. Later that day, he asked you out on a date. Today’s date. 

You turned around and looked at yourself in the mirror, you liked the dress. It was a pretty cream colour with little flowers on it, a heart-like cleavage and lace on the pretty top. 

You were oblivious to Felix’s adoring eyes behind you. He was trying to memorize every single detail of your beautiful form. The heavy stone in his stomach was a bother, it was pure jealousy. And sadness too. 

He would’ve given anything to be the one who takes you on dates. 

“Thank you, Lix” you smiled at him. “Could you pass me those earrings please?”

“Of course, darling” he said, standing up and walking towards your nightstand. He came back with the earrings and gave them to you, as you smiled and thanked him. 

As you put the earrings on your earlobes, you started thinking. How would you like for Felix to be the one who is taking you on this date. You would love to be with him. It’s the only thing you’ve yearned and craved for years. You’d give up anything for Felix to crumble into his knees and beg you not to go. 

To stay with him. To be with him. 

You sighed as you looked at yourself in the mirror. You noticed that he hadn’t stopped staring at you. Why doesn’t he say something?

You turned to look at him and your gazes met. His breathing turned a little choppy, from the nervousness. He pressed his lips together, like he was about to say something and your eyebrows arched in desperation. 

“I-“

And then your phone started ringing. You clenched your eyelids and grabbed your phone that was sitting face up on the bed, making Felix catch who was calling: Ashton. 

“Hey” you said after clearing your throat. 

“Hey, Y/N” Ashton said. Felix frowned. No ‘pretty’, no ‘beautiful’, just Y/N. “I’m right outside, would you mind coming down?”

“Of course. Give me a couple of minutes” you faked a smile. He caught it. 

All of this silence and patience,

pining and anticipation

You got to the door and grabbed the keys. “I don’t even know why I’m nervous” you tried to shake off the anxiety lurking in your head. 

But Felix could read you like a fucking book. 

You weren’t nervous. 

You were aching. He knew you didn’t want to go. But why couldn’t he just say something?

“I- Y/N-“ he stammered. 

You looked into his eyes. “Yes?”

“I- I just-“

Ashton’s honk made you both startle. “What’s up?” you said impatiently. 

“N-nothing. Have a great time. Ashton’s really lucky” he said, giving you his signature tight-lipped smile and walking towards his room. 

You sighed as soon as he was out of view and pressed your eyes shut tightly, praying not to cry or else you would ruin your makeup. Or give yourself away. You opened the door and walked the steps of the stairs down. 

Felix locked himself in his room, his fists clenched against his sides as his back pressed itself to the door. He was so angry at himself. 

When did he become such a coward?

He heard commotion outside, from the open window of the balcony. He walked outside, and looked down. He saw Ashton, who had dark black hair, was big and bulky and was wearing formal clothes. 

Ashton was the total opposite as him. Felix had blonde hair, brown eyes and he liked to use beanies and wear baggy clothes with jewelry. 

Felix noticed that Ashton’s hands were empty. No flowers. 

He rolled his eyes. He just wished you would notice that he wasn’t right for you. Because what was right for you, was standing right above you. 

Staring hopelessly as you drove away.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You arrived at the restaurant and Ashton led you towards the table he had reserved. 

“You like pizza, right?” he asked with a smile, as he sat down on his seat. 

With a blink of your eyes, you just stood staring at him. You were waiting for him to pull your chair out and help you in. Felix does that. You mentally rolled your eyes and smiled at him. “Yes, yes, I do” you slightly lied as you took a seat. It’s not that you didn’t like pizza… it’s just that it would’ve been nice if he’d ask you what you like. Felix would’ve- STOP. 

You scolded yourself mentally and tried to focus on the man in front of you. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“So, what music do you like?” Ashton asked. 

You put your glass down and smiled. “Oh, well, I’m into pop music, mostly. I like k-pop, too. A lot” you nodded. “My best friend’s in-“ you stopped yourself. 

“He’s…?” he trailed off waiting for you to continue. 

“He’s in a band”

“A k-pop band?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing with a smile.

“Yeah. They’re great, actually” you smiled. “What do you listen to?”

Ashton sighed. “Well, I’m into country music”

“Oh, like… what? Taylor Swift, Shania Twain, Little Big Town?” you asked, remembering a couple of bands and singers you liked.

“Nah, they sound too pop for me” he nodded with a shrug. “I’m more into Morgan Wallen”

Yikes.

“Right” you trailed off. 

“He’s great. You should listen to his music, actually” 

I pass. “Yeah, sure. I’ll listen to some of his stuff” you faked a promise. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about him. Every little thing he said or did, you compared it to what Felix did. He was so different from him.

Ashton kept talking and you couldn’t help but wander your eyes around his features. He was so different. He wasn’t ugly. Not at all. He was very handsome. You knew that you could easily date this guy. He was sweet. But he was nothing like him. He wasn’t Felix. 

“Hey, you okay?” Ashton woke you up from your daydreaming by putting his palm on top of the back of your hand. “You look like you were gone for a couple of seconds” he chuckled. 

You smiled slightly at him and then shook your head. “Y-yeah, it’s just uh-“

“Here you go, guys” the waiter came with their order. “A margherita with garlic” he said and placed the pizza in the middle of the table. 

“Thank you” Ashton nodded. 

Once the waiter was gone, Ashton smiled.

“Shall we?” 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Felix was staring at his phone. 

He was busy texting Chan, who was the only person that he had confessed his feelings towards you. The other band members were aware, because Felix made it too obvious, but the blonde hadn’t said anything to them. 

Felix: I don’t know what to do, man.

Chan: Why didn’t you try to stop her?

Exactly. Why didn’t he try to stop her?

The answer was pretty simple.

Felix: Because I’m a coward.

Felix: That’s why.

He sighed, staring at the ceiling. It was eating him up. 

Chan: You’re not. But seriously, you need to tell her, man. 

He’s right. 

Chan: Or else, when will you do it? What if Y/N really likes the guy and decides to pursue a romantic relationship with him?

Shit. 

What if you really liked this dude?

Chan: Think about it. 

He really needed you home. 

He needed to tell you.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You chewed on the pizza while Ashton was telling you an anecdote from one of his friends. You had lost the story’s thread a long time ago and at this point, you were just staring at his forehead with only one thing in mind: getting home to Felix. 

“Y/N?” he asked with a frown. 

Shit. This was like the third time you had zoned out. 

“Hey, are you okay? I promise I won’t get mad, but is there something going on?”

You bit your lip and then released it. “No- I mean, yes” you stammered. 

“What is it? Do you feel okay, do you-“

“No, Ashton, just-“ you cut yourself off with a huff. “I need to go home”

“Oh-“

“By myself” you clarified when you saw him start to grab his stuff. “I’m so sorry, really. You seem like a very good guy but-“

“You like someone else, am I right?” Ashton smiled sadly.

You pressed your lips together. “No.”

Ashton nodded. “You love someone else”

He wasn’t asking. It was a statement.

And then you nodded. 

“I get it. I do, too” Ashton said, his face red. “I- I’m sorry too. I used this excuse of a date to get over someone. And I’ve been trying so hard but-“

“You just can’t get them out of your head” you completed.

“Exactly” Ashton said with a chuckle.

“I know” you smiled. “I’m sorry”

“No, don’t apologise. I figured” he shrugged. 

“At least let me pay. I mean, you really tried to be nice and I just kept zoning out” You tried.

“It’s okay, Y/N, I promise”

“No, it’s not. Really” you pleaded.

Ashton smiled. “Alright. But only if we split the check… and I get to take the pizza home” he smirked.

You chuckled. “You got yourself a deal, mister”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Felix opened the kitchen cabinet and took out the brownie jar, leaving it on the counter. He then stared at it. 

You made your mark on me,

a golden tattoo

You were everywhere. Including in that stupid jar of brownies. It reminded him how he had made them for you. Because he knew you absolutely loved his baking. 

A key digging into the keyhole startled him and he put the jar away, choosing not to eat due to the heavy anxiety sitting at the pit of his tummy. 

You got inside the apartment, panting heavily. 

His eyebrows furrowed as he saw you close the door quickly and throw your stuff on the couch. “Hey, you’re home early. Everything okay?” he asked, getting worried. 

“I know… I’m fine” you said, getting nervous all of a sudden. 

Felix nodded, leaning against the counter. “How did it go?” he asked shyly. 

You sighed and looked away. “Um… terrible” you chuckled to yourself.

Felix felt ashamed, but he was kind of glad to hear that. “Oh. I’m- I’m sorry to hear that, darling” he told you, lying. 

“Well, I’m not” you said, feeling your heartbeat getting louder and faster by the second.

His eyebrows furrowed. “Why’s that? Did he do something to you?” he asked, getting angry. 

“No, no, no” you quickly shook your head. “He was nice, and… polite. But he wasn’t… he just wasn’t…” you stammered. 

Felix started walking towards you. “Hey… tell me” he said, putting his hands on your bare shoulders. “He wasn’t what?”

You swallowed, feeling your throat getting dry, like sandpaper. “He just wasn’t you” you whispered.

But he caught it. He felt his heart drop. You couldn’t have just said that, did you?. “What?” he asked, confused. 

You looked away and took in a deep breath. “I was just dressing up for someone that I wish that it was you… I wished you would’ve told me not to go on that date. To stop me. I wish the date I went on today… I wish my date had been you, Felix” you confessed. 

He blinked a couple of times, trying to let the new information sink in, while his hands on your shoulders dropped to rest by his sides. 

“I kept… comparing him to you” you told him. “Every single thing he did, I just kept thinking what you would’ve done. Or said. Or the things he didn’t do, and how I know you would’ve done. Like- fuck, like pulling my chair for me to sit in” you chuckled slightly. “Cause you’re in my mind all the time. You’re all I think about, Lix. And it drives me crazy”

Felix shook his head. “Y/N-“

“I know. I’m sorry” you apologized. “This is a lot. I know. And I get it if you don’t feel the same, I do-“

Your rambling was cut short when a pair of hands grabbed your cheeks and pulled you into the most magical kiss of your entire life. He was holding your head still, angling it so he could kiss you as he liked, pushing his tongue into your mouth, while it curled with yours. His kiss had swallowed your surprised gasp, turning into a moan that vibrated against his lips. 

Felix pulled away from your mouth and pressed his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling together as you panted from the intensity of your first kiss. 

“Y/N…” he mumbled in a desperate hush.

Say my name and everything just stops,

I don’t want you like a best friend

“I love you” he whispered, making you gasp internally. “I’ve always loved you, in fact. I was just- just so fucking terrified of you rejecting me and I didn’t wanna ruin our friendship” 

You smiled, shaking your head. “Felix… how is it possible that you didn’t notice how head over heels in love I am with you?” you asked him, with a chuckle.

Felix pressed a long kiss to your lips. “I love you” he said, looking into your eyes. “I-“ kiss. “love-“ kiss. “you-“ kiss. “so-“ kiss. “much” he finished with an open-mouthed kiss that made your knees wobble. 

His kiss made you warm inside… and another place. You shifted, pressing your thighs together as he continued kissing the life out of you. 

With a pant, you pulled away slightly, your noses rubbing against each other’s. “Lix…”

“Yeah?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your nose. 

“Take me to bed” you whispered.

He pulled his face back with a pained groan. “Y/N, I want to, I swear but… I wanna do this right. I want to take you out on a date and-”

“Me too, I know, but I need you right now. So bad” you pleaded, your eyes searching his. 

Felix was only human. He couldn’t resist such temptation, and the fact that you were literally begging him to fuck you. He saw it in your eyes. 

He took you by surprise by crouching down slightly, placing his palms on the back of your thighs and hoisting you up, making you squeal in surprise. You crossed your legs behind his back and pressed your lips against his as he walked with you in his arms towards his bedroom. 

You didn’t know how he managed to walk with you in his arms while kissing him without bumping into anything. He kicked the door open and walked towards the bed, throwing you into the center of it. You bounced on the mattress with a surprised gasp and stared at him with doe eyes as his hand went to the back of the neck from his shirt, pulling it over his head, and throwing it on the floor. 

Felix decided to give you a show and clenched his stomach, showcasing his very defined abs. 

That motherfucker, you thought to yourself. 

“See something you like?” he teased you, with a smirk, as he watched you stare deeply at his stomach.

Your eyes met his and you let your head fall onto your shoulder. “Oh, yeah, pretty much everything” you said, letting your eyes dance over his figure. 

Felix smirked and moved his hand to the belt of his jeans, unfastening it torturously slow and throwing it where he had thrown the shirt before. He then crawled up to your shivering frame and put his hands on each side of your head, dipping his head to catch your lips into a drugging kiss. 

Your hands grabbed at his back, trying to pull him to drop his weight on top of you and he obeyed, pressing his hips first so that his bulge was pressing against your crotch, making both of you groan. Your nails dug into his back as you continued kissing, definitely marking him up. 

His hands traveled to the edge of your dress, his hands dipping under it and caressing your soft skin. His kisses drifted to your neck, biting your soft flesh, making you gasp. 

“You’re so beautiful” he mumbled against your skin. He licked at a certain spot in your neck and then bit it, making your arch your back. “So, so beautiful” 

Suddenly, he pulled away completely, grabbing your arms to sit you up. He turned you around softly, making you kneel on the bed, facing the wall. His soft fingers caressed the zip of your dress, grabbing at it and slowly pulling it down all the way. His hands dipped inside of the dress and pulled it off, and he stared at your braless back. The dress was pooling at your waist by now and you swallowed, trying to find the courage to turn around and reveal yourself. 

He dropped a kiss to the side of your neck, sensing your nervousness. 

You turned around slowly, looking into his eyes, as his dropped down immediately to your chest, noticing how they were black at this point from lust. 

You felt nervous under his gaze and you couldn’t help but say something.

“It’s for you…” you breathed out. 

His eyes fluttered a couple of times and looked at you. “What?” he mumbled, confused. 

“I bought it for you. The dress…” you said, licking your lips and trying to find the words that were threatening to die on your throat. “I wanted you to see me in it… I wanted you to take it off from me” 

Only bought this dress so you could take it off. 

Felix let out a ragged breath out, cupping your face and bringing you into another drugging kiss. His hot breath hitting your upper lip and the way his hands slid from your cheeks to your back, made you arch your back and press your bare chest against his. The skin to skin contact made you shiver and you both groaned. 

Your hands were gripping his wrists, as he continued kissing you as he liked. 

His hands drifted to where your dress was sitting, bunched on your waist, and he grabbed it, pulling it off. 

The action made you stumble on the bed slowly on your back as you lifted your hips up so he could take off the dress completely.

Once he got it out, he chucked it on the floor and got on top of you once again. He dug his face into your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin, and his mouth started to drift further down your body. At this point, he was leaving dark purple marks on your skin, but you didn’t mind. Not one bit. 

His hot mouth stopped at the valley of your breasts, his hands enveloping each one and letting his thumb run across your nipple, making you shudder and let out a whine. 

Felix bit into your skin and then pressed your breasts together, burying his head into your chest, letting his lips suckle and bite at your nipples. Your hands carded through his hair and held him in place as his ministrations made you moan. 

“Lix, please” you whined, pressing the back of your head against the pillow. 

He suckled once and lifted his head to stare at you. “What? What do you want, baby?” he asked in a whisper. 

“I- I just…”

“Use your words” he urged.

You swallowed and propped yourself on your elbows, staring at him with a soft panting. “I want you to go lower” you told him, trembling and slightly scared of his reaction. 

You had asked him to do something that no one had done to you before. 

He smirked and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, then pulled away to continue kissing his way down to your stomach. He bit at the skin close to your navel as his hands caressed your skin down to your thighs, opening them up. 

Felix pressed a kiss to your pubic bone, over your panties, and then his fingers curled on the band of the lace, tugging them down your long legs torturously slow. 

You got shy and nervous all of a sudden and pressed your thighs together. You felt a little stupid, knowing that you were the one that had asked him to do that. His hands grabbed your thighs and gently pulled them apart, sending you a wink and a little smile, reassuring you it was okay. 

His gaze settled on your core and you blushed, feeling your face turn hot. Felix let his fingers dance your slit, collecting the wetness pooling there. He then pressed his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan. 

With an animalistic groan, he dove his face into your core, dipping his fingers inside of you and sucking on your clit. Your back arched violently as your fingers gripped on his hair, pressing his head into your heat. You moaned in surprise and tugged on Felix’s hair, making him groan against your flesh. He liked that.

He scissored his fingers, dragging them against your walls. 

“Yeah, just like that, Lix. Fuck” you moaned breathily. 

His free hand caressed and gripped your thigh as he continued his ministrations. He pulled out his fingers and licked them clean, once again. Then, his tongue licked over your hole and pressed the tip of it inside of you. 

“Fuck, I’m close, Lix” you said, continuing to grip his hair tightly, pressing him against your cunt. 

His thumb rubbed tight circles on your clit, making your back arch and release your orgasm on his tongue with a long moan. You laid gasping, with your hands on your stomach as he pressed kisses on your shaking thighs and caressing your skin. “You okay, beautiful?” he asked, crawling towards you to press a kiss on your cheek. 

You nodded, curling your arms around his neck and bringing him closer. His mouth went to kiss your neck once again, laying half of his weight on top of you.

“This is all I’ve wanted” he whispered against your neck, his deep voice vibrating against your skin making you shiver. Your fingers caressed the back of his neck, his words were making your heart beat louder. “All I’ve dreamed about” he whispered, kissing your flesh.

“God, me too” you whispered back. “You’re all I want”

Felix lifted his head and pressed his forehead against yours. “I love you” 

“I love you” you said to him with a smile and kissed him, trying to show him all the love you held in your heart for him. 

Inescapable, I’m not even going to try

And if I get burned, at least we were electrified

One of his hands made its way to your head, holding you in place while the other drew patterns on the skin of your waist, gripping it a little. He pulled away from the kiss, stared at your mouth and pressed two more kisses.

Your hands that were on his neck, made their way down to his jeans, unbuttoning them. “Take them off” you whispered against his mouth, kissing him again. 

He pressed two more kisses to your mouth and lifted himself from on top of you to take his jeans, letting them drop on the floor as he stepped out of them. 

The bulge in his boxers made you whimper and bit your lip. He saw your face and smirked, hooking his fingers in the waistband and pulling them down his legs, standing naked in front of you. 

He crawled back on top of you, claiming your mouth in a kiss full of tongue and heavy breathing. You moaned, grabbing his arm with one hand and the other one pressed against his chest. 

The hand on his chest drifted down to his pelvis, curling around his erection, making him groan and bite your lip. 

“What- what are you doing?” he asked, pulling away from your mouth, his eyebrows furrowing and twisting in pleasure as your hand started moving up and down over his shaft, his thumb wiping his tip. 

You smirked, sticking your tongue out and licking his lips sensually. “Returning the favor” you whispered hotly against his lips. 

He let you continue for a few seconds before grabbing your wrist and pulling it away from his shaft. “Next time, okay? I wanna come inside of you” he said, kissing your cheek. 

You nodded and smiled when he pressed more kisses to your cheeks. “Do you have a condom?” you asked. 

He pulled away and stuck his arm out to his nightstand, pulling out a condom from the first drawer. Felix lifted himself up slightly, rolling the condom on his cock and then went back to his last position on top of you. 

The head of his cock nudged your entrance, making you gasp and dig your nails on his shoulders. His nose brushed against yours as he slid inside of you, swallowing your gasp with a kiss. 

He bottomed out, giving you a couple of seconds to adjust to his thick length. His hands were gripping the sheets tightly, trying to refrain from driving into you at a wild pace. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, sounding kind of strangled. 

“Yeah, yeah” you nodded breathily. “You can move”

“Fuck” he whispered, pressing his face against your neck and started to snap his hips against yours. “Fuck, you’re so tight, baby” he groaned. 

You moaned with every thrust, your nails raking his back. “Oh, God, Lix” you gasped in a whine, feeling full and overwhelmed, in the best kind of way possible.

His hips were moving steadily as his mouth enveloped yours, trying to hold the urge to slam his hips against yours. One of his hands went to one of your breasts, gripping it tightly, his thumb sliding over your nipple, making you cry out. 

“Lix, faster… please” you pleaded, and it was enough for him to grab your thigh, pulling it over his waist and fucking you deeper and faster, the sinful sound of skin slapping on skin invading the room in a constant echo. “God! Just like that” you continued whispering his name over and over, like a prayer.

“You’re so beautiful” he whispered against your lips before claiming your mouth with a kiss. “I love you. You’re the love of my life, Y/N. It’s always been you” he continued whispering against your lips, getting closer to the edge with every thrust. 

“I’m yours… yours. All yours” you gasped when you felt his fingers starting to rub circles on your clit, trying to get you closer to your orgasm. “Lix- Lix, I’m close, so fucking close”

“Good, come with me, baby. I need you to come” he said, sticking his tongue out and licking your throat and then biting your skin, making you clench around him, finding the action super hot. “God, you’re so tight” he babbled.

You arched your back as you felt your orgasm rush through you in a hot wave across your body, making you moan and curl your fingers on his bicep, digging his nails against the skin. 

Felix’s face fell to your neck as he thrust hard a couple of times before spilling inside the condom with a moan muffled against your skin. His body shook with aftershocks from the earth-shattering orgasm he just had as he felt his body go limp and fall against yours.

You wrapped your limbs around him, holding him tightly against you as you both tried to regain your breathing. Your hands caressed his back while your nose nuzzled against the shell of his ear. 

Felix lifted his head up and looked down at her, his eyes searching yours. He then smiled, pressing his mouth against yours, his hand caressing your hair. 

He pulled away and you saw the love in his eyes. How lucky you were.

You could live like this, knowing that there was so much love inside of him. For you. He loved you. 

Yes, you were so lucky. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You threw your head back in laughter, holding your glass of wine as Felix made you laugh, telling some stupidity as you both felt the effects from the alcohol running through your veins. 

You both decided to jump into the bath after two more rounds of passionate sex and treat yourselves with some wine. 

“God, I don’t know how you dated her” you laughed. “She was so dumb”

“Yeah, I know” he nodded, looking away. “She- truth is, and I’m gonna sound like an asshole, but… I dated her because she looked like you” he said. 

You pulled your face back in surprise. Felix had dated this bimbo named Julia a couple of months ago, and now that you recall her face, she did look like you. 

“Wow” you giggled. “Yeah… she did” 

Felix groaned, burying his face into the palm of his hand. 

“Don’t be embarrassed” you told him, getting closer to him, placing your palm on his cheek, urging him to look at you with a nudge. “Hey, look at me” you said, and Felix slowly looked at you and you noticed the pretty blush sitting on his cheeks, giving his freckles a colorful background. “It’s alright, we’ve all had our moments to forget about someone. I mean, I cannot blame you. I literally just came from a date hours ago, one that I went to forget about you”

“Yeah, and look how that went” Felix said with a smirk.

“Oh, it went good” you smirked, climbing on top of him, with the glass in your hand. Your knee slid a little, making you stumble a bit and he grabbed your waist to steady you, the movement causing to make you spill some of the red liquid on the water. 

“No! Careful” Felix laughed, making you laugh back.

“I almost slipped, I’m sorry” you chuckled, leaving the glass on the floor and curling your arms around his neck. 

You two stared at each other and you felt his wet, warm hands sliding over your back in a sweet caress. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” he said, pressing kisses on your face. “Ethereal, I swear to God” he whispered, making you bite your lip.

“Are you even real?” you whispered. “I think I’m just imagining you” 

Felix made a movement with his pelvis, making his hard on nudge against your core. “Do you think that’s fake?” he asked, his deep voice making you clench around nothing.

You gasped, your nails digging into his back. “No… no, that’s definitely real” you gasped. 

I’m spilling wine in the bathtub

You kiss my face and we’re both drunk

Everyone thinks that they know us, but they know nothing

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You looked at yourself in the mirror after finishing the last touches of blush on your cheeks. Your fingers glided over the pretty dress that you had bought. For him. For the right person. 

Your person.

A vibration made you look down to the phone laying on the bathroom counter. 

Felix: You ready, my love?

You giggled at the message, feeling like a little kid. You quickly replied, telling him that you were going and left the bathroom, putting your stuff inside your purse. 

Sliding your shoes on your feet, you felt your heart starting to beat faster in nervousness, but in excitement as well. 

This was going to be the best date ever. Not because of what you were doing. But because of who you were going with. 

You opened the door of your bedroom and saw him standing there with a nervous smile and a bouquet of flowers in his hands. Your favourite flowers. 

With a gasp, your hands flew to cover your mouth. 

“Baby” you whispered, extending your hands to grab the bouquet. “Oh my God, I don’t know what to say. They’re so beautiful”

Felix smiled in pride, seeing your face and how it lit up when you saw the flowers. “Do you like them?” he asked, getting a little shy.

“Like them?” you gasped with a smile. “I love them, honey. I love you” you said, curling your free arm around his neck and bringing him into a passionate kiss. 

HIs hands fell to your waist, pulling you closer against him. 

“I love you” you whispered again into his lips.

“I love you” he whispered back. “So, so much” 

As he continued to press kisses into your mouth, you started to wonder: how were you deserving of such a wonderful man? So attentive, so caring and thoughtful. 

“I don’t deserve you” you let it slip up.

Felix’s eyebrows furrowed, pulling his face back, getting serious out of a sudden. “Don’t say that” he whispered. “Of course you do. We deserve each other. We deserve to be with each other after so much waiting. After so much pining” he said, caressing your cheek with the back of his fingers.

You looked at him, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Hey, no, don’t cry” he said with a smile, making you mirror his expression, letting out a laugh as a single tear rolled down your cheek and he caught it, brushing it away. “Come on, as much as I’d like to stare at your pretty face all day… we have a date going on” he smirked.

You bit your lip and you kissed him. “Let’s go” you smiled at him.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

And I woke up just in time, 

now I wake up by your side.

With a content sigh, your eyes fluttered open and stretched your limbs, feeling your cheek squished against your lover’s chest. You cranked your neck to stare at his pretty face, still asleep. 

Hoisting yourself on your elbows, you admired all his facial features. His beautiful nose.

His perfect lips. 

His lashes.

His freckles.

God, his freckles. Did they made you weak in the knees. 

You bit your lip, wondering how the hell was this man yours. He had seen you at your worst. And he still stayed. 

Even in my worst times, you could see the best in me

Flashback to my mistakes,

my rebounds,

my earthquakes

Even in my worst lies, you saw the truth in me

He was everything to you. He had you, in the palm of his hand. He could crush you, in any second, he could do anything he wanted with you. And he chose to cherish you. Love you. Worship you. 

He was your angel. And your sunshine. 

His eyes fluttered open and smiled when he caught your face. 

“Hello handsome” you whispered, placing your hand on his cheek, caressing his supple skin. 

He let out a breath, out of content. “Hello, beautiful”

Yeah, he was your everything.

My one and only,

my lifeline.

❛ON CAMERA❜ ( h. hyunjin )

p. camboy!hyunjin x fem!reader w. 1.4k

warnings? masturbation, unprotected sex, filming, dirty talk

— 𖦹 ( hyunjin catching you watching you his stream and invites you to joing ) !

authors note. this was supposed to be shorter but i got carried away.

when you moved into your apartment your roommate made it clear what he did for a living— he was a camboy. You didn’t care though; rent was cheap, he bought most of the food and cooked, and he was nice — but curiosity eventually got to you and you looked up his name.

the first time you got off to his stream; you could barely look him in the eyes. Eventually you got over the embarrassment, using his stream as your main source of entertainment to make yourself cum on your fingers; he was completely unaware to your slightly perverted ways— well at least that’s what you thought.

much like many nights before, you found yourself spread out in your bed, laptop next to you; headphones in and your hands in you short, slowly rubbing your clit as hyunjin stroked himself, reading off certain comments.

“fu-fuck you want me to go faster?” *strokes faster* “if I go any faster im gonna cum all over myself.” *faster* “fuck i wish it was you i was cumming all over.”

that last sentence made you moan, quickly biting your lip so he would hear; moving your fingers faster as you worked towards your orgasm along with him — completely unaware that hyunjin knew what you were doing and he had known, and he was smirking.

He found out after using your computer, stumbling across a tab you kept up, clicking it and to his surprise— it was his account that popped. he thought it was cute, watching you struggle to look at him the next morning after a stream, stuttering over your words when he handed you a plate of food.

he's always wanted to fuck you— the moment you moved in; you were just so precious, you were a little shy and timid, slowly warming up to him, he was obsessed but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but listening to your moans from the other side of the wall, it seemed like you wanted it to.

“fu-fuck.” he whimpered, squeezing himself, the comments telling him to slow down; edging himself. “wo-would you guys be upset if i bought a guest.” he groaned, reading the comments.

fuck please it would be so hot.

i wish it was me.

im jealous

he smiled, knowing that last comment came from you. “good, i already know she’ll say yes.” he groaned. “she such a precious she’ll look so good on camera.” he stroked his cock faster, his cock twitching in his hand, he was about to cum. “and i know she’ll be a good girl for me on camera, cause she’s such a good girl for me in real life -shit- listens to everything i say.” he groaned. “oh fuck im about to cum.” the thought of him fucking you sending him over the edge. “fuck im cumming” his load shooting from his tip, landing all over his stomach

shit he’s so fucking hot

he came so much this time, must be thinking of that mystery girl …

when can we see her?

“you can meet her tonight, if she’s finished making herself cum on her tiny fingers while watching me, and just come into my room.”

your heart stopped— he was talking about you? he knew you were watching him? he wanted to fuck you— on camera nonetheless. “oh fuck!” you squealed, feeling yourself cum without warning. he smirked, his cock twitching as he heard you cum. “you guys can’t hear her right now, but she sounds so cute when she cums.”

fuck please go get her.

god i want to hear her now

fuck i wish it was me.

“you see that baby?” it felt like he was staring at you through the screen. “people are waiting for you, you don’t want to keep them waiting, do you?” you shut your laptop, slowly getting up; your clothes disheveled, opening your door, making your way down the hall to his room.

he heard your little knock on his door, his already hard. “there she is, told you she was a good girl.” he said. “come in baby.” you opened the door, standing in the walk way nervous. “don’t be nervous pretty girl.” he beckoned you in. “everyone is waiting for you.” he said.

you finally got the courage to walk to him, standing right in front of him. “good girl, let me ask you this.” he said toying with your waistband. “do you want to be filmed, because i’ll turn this camera off and fuck you privately, I don’t want you doing anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

That alone made you whine. “it-its okay.” he smiled. “then come sit and say hi.” he patted his lap, you slowly sat down, sitting on his cock, he groaned. “fuck princess, want to rip these clothes off.” He kissed your neck. “say hi to everyone.” You moaned as he bit down on your neck, working on your shorts. “h-hi.”

she’s so cute.

fuck I wanna watch her cum.

god he’s so lucky.

“i am aren’t i?” he pulled your shorts down throwing them on his bed. “get to see this cutie everyday.” he spread your legs, cursing in your ear. “such a pretty pussy.” he propped your legs on his, making you lean back. “look how pretty her pussy is.” you felt a wave of pleasure on your mound as he cupped your cunt, you moaned out. “hy-hyune.”

he sunk his fingers into your pussy, his fingers covered in your juices from your previous endeavors. “so wet for me baby, isn’t she so wet.” You heard all the donations coming in. “cant wait to have you on my cock.” You tightened around his fingers. “hyune im gonna cum.”

“should i let our good girl cum?” he said. “or should i edge her for being a bad girl and getting off to me like a little pervert.” You whined, wiggling in his lap. he slapped your thigh; making you stay still. “be good.”

make her cum please

edge her.

make her cum on your cock please.

“that’s a good idea.” He pulled his fingers out. “please.” You whimpered. “don’t worry princess you’ll get to cum on something better.” hyunjin wasn’t even worried about the camera. “sit up for me baby.”

He grabbed his cock, stroking it. “sh-shit, sit on my cock baby.” You moan, slowly sinking down. “hyune.” You moaned out. “fu-fuck princess keep going, you’ve taken most of my cock already.” He grunted as you sat down fully on him. “there we go, took me all the way.”

He held your hips, bouncing you on his cock. “fuck yeah princess, your pussy is so good.” He groaned. “I bet everyone is so jealous right now, that I get to fuck this pretty cunt -fuck- fill you up with my cock.” His hand came up to your tank top, pulling it down, squeezing your tits. “fuck hyunjin!” you screamed. “louder, let the viewers know how good im fucking you.”

“s-so good.” You moaned. “so deep.” His hand came to your clit, rubbing figure eights on your clit. “yeah, gonna cum for me.” You nodded. “gonna cum.”

fuck let her cum

shit she sounds so good.

i wanna watch both of you cum.

“fuck im gonna cum too.” He grunted. “when we’re done with this -fuck- im gonna turn this camera off and fuck you until you’re running from cock princess.” he moaned. “cum for princess.”

He spread your legs open, your thighs shaking, the knot in your stomach snapping, you gasped for air as you felt your juices pour out of you. “fuck hyunjin.”

she squirted fuck

so messy.

“fuck you made such a mess.” He moaned, his cock twitching inside of you, keeping you still as he fucked up into you, chasing his high. “gonna cum, where do I want it?” he tapped your clit. “you want it inside?”

“yes please.” You cried out. “fuck im cumming!” you felt his load shooting inside of your waiting womb. “shit.” His cock slipped out of you, giving the viewers a shot of his cum leaking out of you. “next time i want you to keep it inside for me.”

He grabbed your jaw, turning your head kissing you deeply. “you liked that?” he pulled away a fire still in his eyes. “y-yeah.” He smirked. “good , cause im not done.” he turned to the camera. “that’s it for you guys tonight.”

“but not for this pretty girl here, im gonna fuck her until her pretty little body gives out.”

©️LUVYENI

clutch. - 이페릭스.

clutch: when someone or a team performs really well in important situations.

SYNOPSIS. felix is the last one standing against the last squad. since you don't want to end the night on a loss you give your friend felix a little motivation: "felix, if you clutch this i'll send you my tits"

bsf!felix x f!reader ft. seungmin, smut, mdni

tags. sub!felix, also simp felix (he's got a big fat crush on you), also felix' gorgeous and luscious hair, phone sex, guided masturbation, masturbation (f & m), nudes, use of toys, begging, teasing, pet names (good boy, pretty boy, baby), praising (he deserves 'em, ok??), squirting, orgasms (f & m). wc. 2.9k

a/n. i hope you enjoy because this is pure filth lolzzz. my inspiration comes from a twitcher that was playing val and one of her friends said that to her and she fucking slayed everything. also this is based on apex because i dont play val or lol so yeah.

“Fuck! I’m down” you heard Seungmin wail in your headset. You sighed, annoyed. It was your very last game of the evening and you really didn’t want to end on a loss. Your eyes went up to the corner of the screen again. It was down to the last team and you could have been the champions. But you died in a 2v1 earlier and the team didn’t have anymore respawn beacons. You still had hope to win because Seungmin could surely take them but he was cornered and the other team had the high ground. Felix was the last one standing on your team and well… He wasn’t the best player and the enemy squad was still full. 

Felix was petrified watching all of his squad get slaughtered one by one. He was frantically checking his hiding spot, hearing the steps of the other squad coming in.

“Felix if you clutch this I’ll send you my tits”.

The silence that followed was almost religious. Felix didn’t even think, he didn’t let his nerves take the best out of him at the idea of possibly seeing you in a way he had secretly dreamed of for a long time now. Instead it calmed him, he was in a sort of serene trance. He knew if wanted to get his crush’s nude he had to do this. He had to win.

So he did.

In a second he jumped out of his hiding spot, surprising the healer of the enemy squad and fired first and took them down. He was light as a shadow as precise as an assassin. He heard the footsteps coming in from the left so he circled the building by the right. He jumped on the roof waiting for the last two enemies to find him. One opened the door just beneath Felix he fired, not missing a single shot but the second one quickly came to help his teammate. Felix had to take cover but as the first one was trying to heal he shot again to take them down. He quickly came down the rooftop and made the final blow with his melee weapon. And there it was: you are the champions. Written in red and gold across the screen while epic music played in the background but Felix heard none of it. The song was completely drowned out by the loud cheers of his friends. 

You and Seungmin screamed and jumped. You couldn’t believe what you saw, Felix single handedly took out the entire last squad. When you got up your chair to jump around you were really thankful you swapped for a wireless headset. 

“Broooooo” Seungmin started, “What the fuck was that? You absolute legend.”

“Mate, I don’t even know”

“Lix, that was actually insane!” you chipped in.

The conversation went on and Felix was patiently waiting for someone to bring up what you said earlier. But no one said anything. It was probably a figure of speech or a joke… Yeah, probably a joke. And Felix couldn’t help the little tinge of disappointment that tainted his heart when he heard you say goodnight at the other end of the line.

“I really gotta go, I’m working in the morning” Seungming started.

“Yeah” Felix chuckled, trying his hardest to maintain the euphoria of winning, because somehow he still felt like he lost in the end.

“Good night, Lixie” you whispered.

“Bye” He exhaled, staring at your small icon before the green halo around it disappeared. 

Your picture was smiling right at him and he sighed again picturing you smiling like this tonight. Then he thought of what you said again. He slapped his forehead and frowned at himself. How did he actually believe that?! Of course it was a joke. A stupid joke you would make to your friends… A friend who you love platonically… Platonically and that’s it… Felix had to understand that, he had to accept that. After all these years you probably saw him as a brother. 

He cringed and shook his head at the idea, trying to stop the dreadful train of thoughts before he’d eventually break his own heart. But right when he was hovering above the shut down button the distinct sound of a new message chimed in.

[Attachment received: for_the_goat_my_lixie.jpg]

Just like earlier, Felis didn’t take a second breath, didn’t scramble, his hand was steady when he clicked on it. What the screen then showed knocked the air right out of his lungs. 

You are so beautiful. 

You were wearing your gaming gear, your LED baby blue headset, your hair beautifully tied back, no make up. Your gray demon slayer hoodie was pulled up. You seemingly didn’t wear a bra today because the hoodie was the only thing you needed to lift up to snap the perfect picture of your heavenly tits. 

Felix swallowed thickly, he flipped his long blond hair out of his eyes as they were screwed onto the screen as hot blood rushed to his groin at an alarming rate. He felt dizzy as his tongue swiped across his bottom lip. You looked so mischievous, wearing a devilish little smirk slightly crooked, just so playful. Your breasts were squished together and you held the camera with one hand with the other lifting up the hoodie. Your nipples were pebbled. So fucking perfect, Felix thought as his hand found his growing bulge. The perfect size, the perfect color. Perfection. And to top it all off your tongue was sticking out, a long and thick string of saliva was dripping onto your chest, right into the cleavage and rolling down to your nipples, making your skin wet and shiny. It was the most erotic thing he had ever seen. You were the most erotic thing ever.

[incoming audio call: staydreamgurl]

Felix panicked for a second, almost knocking the ninja energy drink on his custom keyboard.

“Shit” he caught the can before the disaster and picked up the call. 

“Hm-Hello?” Felix tried, his deep voice was careful, almost hesitant. And you chuckled at his awkwardness.

“So,” you started, Felix could hear the same devilish crooked smirk through the phone. “What are you gonna do with it?” You sounded so naughty and Felix almost choked on his saliva, a novel attitude he was not about to start complaining about.

“Hmm… I-I don’t really know yet” He lied, his eyes fluttering to the huge bottle of lotion behind the monitor. 

“Liar” you said, tit for tat.

Fuck.

“You’re gonna jack off to it” 

“Yeah” He chuckled awkwardly again. “I was gonna do that”

“How?”

“W-what, what do you mean?”

“How are you gonna touch yourself to my pic?” There was not an ounce of hesitation in your voice. “Tell me how you’re gonna do it”

“I-I…Hmmm” Felix stammered, he was at a loss for words. This brand new attitude you had, your sultry voice, your pushy, self assured demeanor and the lewd photo that was still full-screen on his monitor. He loved all of that a little too much.

“You want help?”

“What?”

“I could tell you exactly how to do it. You’d just have to listen to me and do what I tell you.”

“Fuck” he let escape, his breath was already short. Was he fucking dreaming? Was it really happening? Was something finally happening? He would have ever imagined this. Not tonight after dreaming about it countless times. It was finally happening. “Hm, yeah, y-yeah I’d love that.” Felix agreed.

“Good boy.” you praised in the same sultry tone, the pet name made Felix’ cock jump between his thighs.

“Grab your lube, your lotion. What do you usually use?” You asked, your voice a little lower, a little quieter too.

“I-I use lotion.” Felix said, reaching behind his monitor and dragging the blue and white bottle to him.

“Oh! So naughty, not so innocent after all, huh?” You chuckled. “Take your clothes off, all of them.” You ordered, and in a split second Felix was completely naked on his chair, his pink nipples were hardening as he pushed his back onto the comfortable gaming chair.

“Are you hard?” you asked in a sinful sigh that had Felix’s heart flutter stupidly.

“Y-Yes” Felix said, struggling not to stroke himself, impatiently waiting for your instructions. “I’m so fucking hard right now.”

“My bare tits get you hard, pretty boy?” You said, a little rasp in the voice that didn’t go unnoticed.

His dick throbbed again as he let out a stifled sigh. He definitely liked the way you were talking to him.

“F-fuck yes they do. And your voice too.” Felix’s usually deep voice sounded ever so slightly more squeaky. “C-can I please touch myself, now?”

“Already begging, huh?” you asked, rather amused.

“Please” Felix huffed quietly. For you he seemed he had only been waiting a couple of minutes but in reality he had been waiting for you for a lifetime. He was so eager for you, so thirsty for more of you in a brand new novel way. A version of you that he never met and only ever dreamt of was suddenly here, suddenly you were real. And he couldn't get to know the new you fast enough.

“Get the lotion in your hand, a good amount. I want it to glide smoothly”

“Yes!” Felix hastened to answer. He extended his hand and pushed on the pump twice, getting a generous dollop of lotion onto his palm.

“Now smear it on yourself. Base to tip, everywhere and don’t forget the balls.” He immediately did as he was told. He hissed quietly at the feeling of the cold lotion on his hot cock. He took the lotion to his base, all the way up to his tip and down to the balls.

“There, there. Good job baby” you cooed and the kind words earned you a small little whimper.

Felix was gripping down at his cock, trying hard not to stroke himself yet, waiting for you. 

“Now, start rubbing your thumb over the tip, tease yourself a little bit for me, baby”

“O-okay” he said, his fist went up his shaft and his thumb circled his tip, teasing the little ridges at the sides and going up to also tease his slit. He gasped at how sensitive he already was.

“Tell me how it feels, baby don’t be shy” you whispered.

“Nghh... It feels s’good but I-I want more” Felix’ voice bordered on a grunt, as his hips involuntarily bucked into his fist. “Please can I stroke it?”

“I really like when you beg” You huffed again, your voice sounded strained. “Keep going baby, I might just say yes”

“Shittt” Felix was still rubbing his tip, growing more sensitive by the second. “pleasepleasepleaseplease, l-let me jack off for you, I’ll be so good for you. I-I… Aaah- I promise”.

“Hmmmm” you hummed in satisfaction. “Good boy, you make me so wet. Can you hear it?”

Just then Felix held his breath, turning up the volume in his headset and he heard the most melodious sounds he’s ever heard. A beautiful symphony of lewd wet noises erupting from your end of the call. It sounded so sinful. 

“I hope you won’t mind that I started without you. I just couldn’t resist fucking myself with my favorite toy right now” you chuckled, almost bashfully, as if you weren’t now spilling the most sinful arrangement of words known to man.

Felix’ eyes grew twice their size as his jaw hung open in surprise, he could have exploded in his hand right there. He would have pledged abstinence for a month to see you right now. Hell, he would have given everything! Everything to see you push the toy inside your wet and dripping little pussy. But he didn’t want to possibly scare you away by asking after waiting for so long so he settled for a less intrusive question.

“H-how is it? The toy? What does it look like?” Felix burned with impatience for more details that would make him imagine you perfectly.

“It’s purple, thick and long. I can’t take it all in but it feels so fucking good.” You confessed, feeling more pleasure coming in with another deep thrust of your wrist.

“Goddamn- Aaah…” Felix sighed as he imagined your dripping little cunt all stretched out by the big purple cock you were holding and mercilessly shoving into your throbbing little pussy.

“Touch yourself now, stroke your cock for me, Felix”

“Fuck yesss” He literally melted as his hand wrapped around his clock and dragged the lotion across his shaft down to the base and back up to the tip again. “Aaah- Fuck-”

“Not too fast, baby” you said, as more lewd wet noises erupted from your end.

“Fuck, o-okay” Felix slowed down, but somehow it was agonizing, he wanted to feel more, and he wanted to match your rhythm, imagine he was the one inside you right now, rearranging your guts and making you pant and moan. You sounded so heavenly and Felix was convinced you looked even more unreal. His eyes fluttered back to the picture on his screen taking in your perfect tits and picturing them bouncing with each thrust of your wrist, maybe you were even the big toy with two hands, your breasts squished between your arms, shoving it inside with force, making your back arch against the chair.

“Oh god- Felix” you moaned, your breath catching in your throat as you gave yourself a particularly powerful thrust. “Oh f-fuck” you hissed. “I’m getting close.”

“Oh fuck yes, Please can I go faster? I-I wanna finish with you”

“Yesss, stroke it faster baby, really milk your cock for me. I’m…Nggghh- I’m almost there.”

“Fuck, you sound so fucking hot I’m going insane” Felix sighed as he stroked his cock faster, his movements were more shallow, focussing mainly on his tip as his other hand naturally came up to tease his hard sensitive pink nipples. He let out a high pitched moan, that made your cunt grip on the purple cock inside you, you huffed and moaned picturing Felix’s cock weeping for you, twitching for you, simply awaiting your command to finally explode.

“Listen, Lixie, I want you to cum on my tits, cum on my pic”

The cute nickname sounded so sinful on your lips right now. Felix grabbed the screen and pulled it closer to him, not caring about straining the cables of his carefully put together setup. He wasn’t thinking of anything  that wasn’t the way you right now. His mind and thoughts were only for your perfectly wet and tight cunt and how it would feel around him.

He kept on stroking himself, his tip touching your tongue on the picture, smearing precum on  his screen. 

“Ahh fuck, I can’t hold it much longer” He whimpered. “Pleasepleaseplease I wanna cum for you, let me c-cum for you.”

He sounded so perfect for you, so desperate, on the verge of insanity, begging you to let him cum. You pictured his tight balls filled to the brim with delicious piping hot cum he specially cooked up just for you. The idea brought you over the edge.

“Nowww, Felix. Cum. Cum with me”.

Your movements became uneven as your pussy clenched down on the toy, throbbing uncontrollably. The crushing weight of your orgasm swept you off your feet, sending radiating heat from your core to each of your limbs. Every muscle of your body tensed up and spurts of translucent liquid rushed out of you, soaking the toy beneath you and the chair.

You sounded so fucking divine, and even if he couldn’t see Felix heard you were squirting, he heard the liquid rushing out of your to get soaked in by the chair and even crashing on the floor. Those wet sounds coupled with your divine moans and your command for him to cum was more than enough.

He aimed right at your perfect tits, the first squirt of cum was absolutely massive, almost effectively covering your whole chest in one go. Felix felt himself twitch in his hand as he moaned, his voice was so high pitched that his voice cracked but none of you even noticed. He aimed the second spurt at your pretty face, picturing he was cumming on your perfect tongue and you could taste him, eagerly waiting for him with your tongue out, just like in the picture. He couldn't stop cumming, rope after rope of cum came crashing on his screen, covering your picture in thick layers of cum. 

When he was done a satisfying shiver ran down his spine and he sighed at the way his muscles relaxed, he felt at peace finally. There was a silence that was only cut by both of your sighs and pants but the silence wasn’t awkward. Not anymore, you went too far for that.

“That was amazing.” You were the first one to speak, when you had caught your breath. “I came so hard,” you confessed as you looked down at the mess you had made.

“For me too. I don’t think I ever came this much ever.” Felix brushed the sweaty strands of blond hair away for his eyes as he was also looking at his cum gradually thinning out and dripping off the monitor onto his desk. 

“We should do that again” You suggested and Felix sat up in his chair, he ceased the opportunity.

“Maybe next time… you could like… let me see you” He said, testing the waters, trying to take things even further.

“No, next time I’ll let you feel me”.

want more subby felix? try my fic girls like me ♡

SYNOPSIS. felix's heart flutter when he thinks of you but he's not sure if he can be with a girl like you...

want to be udpated when i post? join the taglist here

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⋆˚࿔ seven minutes in heaven 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

lee felix x fem!reader

synopsis: you and your best friend, felix are at a party. felix has a massive crush on you and you have no idea, so when you get picked for seven minutes in heaven with him, you didn't expect it to change everything for you.

wc: 3.6k

warnings: MDNI! 18+, friends to lovers, 7 minutes in heaven (duh), alcohol consumption (not much), reader is dumb, fluffy, kinda angst, a lot of kissing, they're both horny, felix is pining, confessions, a lot of banter, other members are mentioned, (lmk if i missed any)

a/n: SECOND FELIX FIC OF THE DAY, EAT UP. no fr i love spoiling you guys. pls pls leave suggestions in my inbox i literally am running out of ideas... also also if u want to be tagged in future fics lmk, i think that's it, I LOVE YOU GUYS FR!!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The music thumped through the walls, the bass reverberating in your chest as you sat on the edge of the couch, nervously sipping your drink. Felix stood beside you, offering comfort amidst the sea of strangers. The house party, hosted by Chan, was in full swing, with people mingling and chatting all around.

You'd been reluctant to come, but Felix had convinced you with his warm smile and persistent charm. After all, you’d been best friends for years, sharing countless memories and inside jokes. What you didn’t know was that Felix had been harboring a crush on you for almost as long.

"Hey, are you having fun?" Felix nudged you gently, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that familiar, reassuring way. His cheerful voice always brightened the place.

"Yeah, it's alright," you lied, forcing a smile. Parties weren't really your thing, and mingling with strangers made you uneasy. But with Felix by your side, it was bearable.

As the song ended, Changbin’s voice rang out, calling everyone to gather in a circle. "Alright, everyone! We're playing 7 Minutes in Heaven!"

You groaned inwardly, rolling your eyes. "Seriously? That's so stupid," you muttered under your breath. Felix laughed in response, his laugh a soothing balm to your nerves. "Don’t worry, he’s just doing this so he can get a kiss from Hyunjin."

"Okay, but if I get picked, I’m not doing anything," you said with finality, taking another sip of your drink. Felix gave a non-committal hum, nodding as if he agreed with you. The thought of Felix potentially being picked by someone else made you uneasy, and you didn’t like the feeling. It was selfish, but you knew that if he did get picked, you’d probably make a scene or throw up so he'd be distracted and not have to go along with it.

You took a seat in the circle, positioning yourself right next to Felix as the others settled in around you. Your red solo cup was perched behind you, barely noticed.

Changbin spun an empty bottle in the center of the circle. You tried to keep your composure as you watched it spin, your heart rate increasing with every slow rotation. The bottle eventually landed on a girl you didn’t recognize.

You heard Changbin mutter a curse word under his breath as he stood up.

"Why does he look so serious about it?" you whispered to Felix. "It’s not like you actually have to do anything, right?"

Felix shrugged, a faint smile on his face as he watched them walk to the closet. "That’s the rule, though," he explained, leaning in close. "If you’re chosen, you have to at least kiss."

Your stomach twisted at that comment. The thought of Felix, your best friend, being paired with someone else, made you nervous. Maybe it was the alcohol not sitting right with you, even though you hadn’t finished your first drink yet.

The 7 minutes went by quickly. Felix couldn’t help but steal a few glances at you. Your eyes were fixated on the floor, and your fingers twirled your hair absentmindedly.

"Alright, that’s enough time! Out, out, out!" Changbin shouted, pounding on the closet that locked from the outside. Chan was laughing as he unlocked the door, letting the two out.

The girl looked flustered, her lips swollen and her cheeks pink, while Changbin looked smug. You watched them rejoin the circle and settle back in.

The game continued, and eventually, it was Felix’s turn to spin. You swallowed thickly, praying that the bottle wouldn’t land on anyone.

"H-Hey Felix, maybe we should—"

He spun the bottle before you could finish your sentence. The sound of the glass against the floor made your nerves go haywire. You held your breath as the bottle began to slow, watching as it spun round and round. A woman you didn’t know from across the circle was giggling and whispering while looking at Felix, and it made your blood boil.

The bottle stopped, and your eyes widened as it pointed directly at you. Your heart seemed to skip a beat, a momentary pause in the rhythm of anticipation. You looked at Felix, who was trying to hide his smile, his freckled cheeks rosy.

You couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol, the nerves, or the sudden burst of emotions that made you feel dizzy. You could hear the circle “ooh” ing and starting to whisper. Minho had a shit-eating grin on his face, and Changbin was giving Felix a thumbs up.

Felix stood up and held his hand out to you. "Come on, let’s go," he said, his voice surprisingly calm, a smile plastered on his face. You were too stunned to say anything, and the butterflies and alcohol in your stomach were making you nauseous.

You hesitantly took his hand and followed him to the closet.

The closet was tiny, only big enough for the two of you to stand facing each other. Once the door was closed and locked, the tension in the air felt palpable. The dim light barely illuminated Felix’s face. Your heart pounded in your ears, and the muffled sounds of the party outside only added to the surreal atmosphere.

Felix took a deep breath, his hand still holding yours. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, his concern evident in his eyes.

"Yeah, just... nervous," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "This is kind of awkward."

He chuckled softly, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand. "It doesn’t have to be."

"But Felix, you’re my best friend," you protested, your voice trembling slightly. "What... what if this changes things?"

He shook his head, leaning closer to you. You could smell his shampoo, the familiar scent comforting you. "I would never let anything change that," he whispered, his eyes searching yours with earnest sincerity. "I promise."

You bit your lip, nodding slightly. He cupped your cheek with his free hand, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. The gentle touch made your breath hitch.

"Okay, well... don’t make fun of me if I’m a shit kisser, then," you said, trying to break the tension with a joke.

Felix let out a small laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Only if you don’t make fun of me," he replied, a tiny smile on his face.

You looked up into his eyes, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine. Despite being best friends, or perhaps because of the three sips of alcohol, you wanted this. Felix leaned forward, his lips brushing against yours softly, barely a kiss, testing the waters. The contact sent a jolt through your body, and you felt your breath hitch. You closed your eyes, leaning into the kiss, your heart pounding in your chest.

You’d always imagined how his lips would feel on yours—they always looked so plump and soft. And now that they were on your lips, they definitely exceeded your expectations. His warm, slightly alcoholic-tasting lips were soft against yours.

Felix’s lips lingered against yours, the kiss soft and tentative. The initial brush of his lips sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt a rush of warmth spreading through you. His kiss was gentle but full of a quiet longing that made your knees weak.

He pulled away slightly, giving both of you a moment to breathe. Your eyes scanned his face, noting his flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips. The desire in his gaze made your heart race. You wanted more.

Without a second thought, you pulled him back in, grabbing the sides of his face and pressing your lips to his once more. Felix hesitated for a second, his eyes widening in surprise, before he began to kiss you back. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your hands tangling in his hair as the kiss intensified with a new sense of desire.

The initial softness of the kiss transformed into something deeper, more passionate. You could feel his tongue gently probing at your lips, and you hesitated only for a moment before parting them to allow him access. His tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring every inch with a skill and tenderness that took your breath away.

The kiss was slow and sensual, filled with a growing urgency. Your stomach fluttered as his hands explored your waist, his body heat pressing against you. Goosebumps spread across your skin, and you could feel a knot forming in your stomach.

A soft whine escaped your lips, and Felix responded by pressing his body more firmly against yours. His chest pressed against your soft breasts, his knee parting your legs as he pressed closer. His leg pressing against your core only heightened your arousal.

You didn’t realize you were panting until you pulled away to take a deep breath. Felix’s lips immediately trailed down to your neck, his soft kisses sending your heart racing. His warm breath brushed your skin, his teeth lightly grazing your neck before his tongue soothed the area. It drove you wild.

His kisses traveled down to your collarbone, and you felt weak in the knees, literally. Your legs trembled, perhaps from the lack of oxygen or the overwhelming excitement. Felix picked you up and pressed you against the wall of the closet, his strong hands lifting you by your thighs. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.

"Lix," you moaned out, barely above a whisper. His lips lightly brushed over your neck, peppering you with tender, gentle kisses.

"Hmm?" he hummed against your skin, his breath hot and reassuring. His grip on you tightened as he sucked another mark on your skin.

You could barely get the words out, the feeling of his lips and teeth and tongue all over your neck was driving you wild. You could feel your cheeks burning and the wetness pooling in your underwear, and you could tell he was getting hard from the bulge pressing against your core.

You heard a light knocking on the door.

"Do... do you think... the seven minutes are up?" you managed to get out, the words barely coherent. Felix stopped what he was doing, and it looked like he snapped back into it a little, you could feel his shoulders tense.

"Oh shit, we have been in here for a while." Felix's voice was shaky, and he sounded breathless.

He put you down, and you stumbled a little, still light-headed from the kisses. He helped you get steady, his arm supporting you. You could see the flush on his face and his tousled hair, and he could see the marks and red spots littered on your neck, his eyes were glossed over, and his breathing was heavy.

You tried to straighten your clothes, and he cleared his throat, fixing his hair.

The sound of the door unlocking startled you both.

You were still flustered and breathing heavily as the door opened. Chan was standing there, a smirk on his face. "Alright, come on out."

"You better not have fucked in there," Changbin said, appearing next to Chan, his arms crossed. "We have to sit on that floor."

You walked out of the closet, a dazed expression on your face, Felix close behind. You felt as if everyone in the room could see the marks all over your neck and the fact that your legs were still shaky.

The other members were gathered around the two, and their stares were almost enough to make you blush more. Minho's smug expression and the look of amusement on Jisung's face told you that they were aware of what just transpired.

"I need some fresh air," you said, trying to sound normal.

You didn't wait for Felix to respond and made your way through the crowded living room, towards the patio doors. The chilly night air felt refreshing against your heated skin, and you inhaled deeply, closing your eyes for a moment. You could hear the laughter and music coming from inside, the sounds far less intrusive out here.

You laid your head in your hands as you tried to take deep breaths, clearing your mind. You'd been best friends with Felix for years, and you pulled him in for another unrequired kiss.

You felt stupid for doing it, but it felt so good, the way he picked you up and devoured your neck and lips as if he was starving.

You could still taste him, and the memory alone made you weak.

But... what if it was just a mistake?

The alcohol made you reckless, and you didn't want to lose him, your best friend, just because you couldn't control yourself.

The thought of never feeling his lips against yours again made you feel a dull ache.

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. You should go back inside and forget about it for the night, besides, he said he'd promise this wouldn't ruin anything.

When you got back inside, you could see the girl you noticed earlier, giggling and batting her eyelashes at Felix.

She was pretty, sure, but it irked you.

But you'd seen her before, and you knew she wasn't as perfect as she seemed. She was a player, always going for men that were already in relationships, or men that were too young for her.

"Oh, it's my turn!" She exclaimed, looking over at Felix. Her voice was shrill, and it grated on your ears.

You observed her spinning the bottle, and just as it was about to halt, you caught her slyly halting its rotation with a discreet movement of her foot towards Felix. A surge of anger erupted within you, fueling an immediate response as you strode forward and forcefully kicked the bottle across the room.

It went flying across the room and shattered against the wall.

There was a moment of stunned silence as everyone stared at you.

"Jealous much? You already had your moment with Felix." The girl taunted, her voice grating.

"Fuck you. You used your foot to stop the bottle on him." You retorted, glaring at her.

Felix's eyes widened, and he gave you a confused look. "Wait, what?"

"Yeah, right! She's just a lying bitch." She rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed.

You clenched your fists, trying to keep your cool. "Don't call me a bitch," you said, stepping towards her.

"Oh, so we're going to fight? Okay, fine. I've been wanting to mess up that pretty little face of yours."

Right before she could attempt to swing at you, but Felix stopped her hand, catching her wrist.

"Stop," he said, his tone stern.

"Felix is single, so he can kiss whoever he wants."

"Yeah, well, he's not single." You blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Everyone from the circle was shocked and confused, and you could hear the whispers and questions.

"What?" the girl asked, her eyes wide.

Felix's expression was similar.

The words spilled from your lips, leaving you stunned and at a loss for an explanation, grappling with the sudden revelation that had escaped your own lips. You could feel the eyes on you, the curious stares and the whispers. Your heart was pounding in your ears, and you felt like your head was about to explode.

"He's not single." You repeated, your voice firm. "He's... he's my boyfriend."

Felix had an unreadable expression, but it looked like he was trying not to laugh. You didn't know why, and you couldn't think straight at the moment.

"Wait, you guys are finally dating?" Changbin interjected, his brows furrowed.

You nodded, not taking your eyes off the girl. "Yeah. We're together."

You grabbed Felix's hand before anyone else could call you out on your bluff, leading him to a random room and closing the door behind you.

"So... I'm your boyfriend, huh?" Felix said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Shut up..." You murmured, embarrassed. He could tell by the look on your face that you were struggling internally.

"Hey," he said softly, putting his hands on your shoulders. "I'm just teasing you."

You sighed, trying to calm your racing heart. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that, I shouldn't have picked a fight for something as little as that, she can kiss you if she wants, it's not like we're together."

"It's okay, really," he reassured you in a soft tone. "She can't kiss me."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm already taken." He said with a smile, his eyes searching yours.

"I'm the only one who gets to kiss those soft lips," you whispered out.

He looked surprised, and then he chuckled softly. "Is that so?"

You nodded, feeling a blush creep up your neck.

"Well, then..." He leaned down and brushed his lips against yours, feather-light and barely a kiss.

Your heart skipped a beat.

"Claim them," he whispered, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. He responded eagerly, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you close. The kiss was intense and desperate, full of pent-up desire. His tongue explored your mouth, tasting every inch, making you moan softly into the kiss.

Your hands found their way into his hair, tangling in the soft strands and tugging slightly. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, and the way he was gripping your waist was almost bruising.

When you broke apart, you were both panting. His gaze was intense, his pupils blown wide.

"Lix," you started, your voice shaky.

"What?"

"I... I'm sorry."

His brows furrowed, a confused look on his face. "For what?"

"This is so confusing, now" you started, your a tear swelling in your eye. "You're my best friend and... what are we doing? Why do I feel like this? Is this supposed to be casual?"

"You mean like how you were jealous of that girl? And how you're currently making out with me right now?" Felix said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You shot back, the words hitting you.

"It means that I love you," he confessed, the words coming out of his mouth quickly. "I'm in love with you, have been for a while, and I thought you were too."

You could hear your heartbeat, and it felt like the room was spinning.

"What?"

He smiled sadly, his eyes filled with emotion.

"But... I..." You didn't know what to say. Your feelings for him were clear, and yet you'd never let it click, you refused to.

Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest, and tears were spilling down your cheeks.

"It's okay," he said, his voice gentle. "I don't expect you to feel the same way. I just wanted you to know."

"No, it's not okay," you cried, wiping away your tears. "I'm in love with you too."

His eyes widened, and his lips parted in surprise.

"I just didn't realize it until now. I was scared of admitting it to myself, but... I love you, Lix. I love you so much."

Felix's smile was like the sun, bright and warm, and it made your heart soar.

"I'm in love with you too," he said softly.

You couldn't help but laugh, tears still rolling down your cheeks. "I know"

He cupped your cheek and wiped away your tears, his gaze intense. "I'm going to kiss you again," he whispered.

"Okay," you smiled.

And he did.

His lips were soft and warm, and his kiss was filled with a tenderness that took your breath away. You could taste the salt of your tears on his lips, and you could feel the warmth of his skin against yours.

He pulled away after a few moments, and you couldn't help but sigh.

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" he murmured, his eyes searching yours.

"Me? You're the beautiful one."

"No, you're the beautiful one," he said, shaking his head. "I've never seen anyone as beautiful as you."

You blushed, unable to hold his gaze.

"Hey," he said, lifting your chin with his finger. "I mean it. You're the most beautiful person I've ever met."

"Lix, you're the beautiful one," you said, smiling at him. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever met. Your eyes, your smile, the way you laugh, the way you light up a room when you walk in. And your stupid freckles."

He laughed, shaking his head. "My freckles aren't stupid," he said, trying to sound offended.

"They're cute, and they make you even more beautiful," you said, scoffing. "Don't try to deny it."

He gave you a warm smile. "If you say so."

"I do," you said, feeling bold. You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips, enjoying the way he tasted.

He chuckled softly and pulled away, his eyes shining.

"So, was this casual? Or are you finally going to let me date you?"

"We've been dating since I confessed," you said, raising a brow.

"Then can we go on a real date? Where we dress up, go out to dinner, and then make out afterwards?"

"That's basically what we just did."

"But we only made out," he whined.

"Okay, okay, fine. We can go on a proper date."

He smiled and gave you another quick kiss.

"I'm going to spoil the fuck out of you," he said.

"Just spoil me? Or spoil me, and then fuck me?" You teased, trailing fingers down his chest.

"Is that an invitation?"

"Maybe it is," you smiled, your hands running back up his chest.

He groaned and buried his face in your neck, his hands rubbing at your waist. "Can we please leave now?"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

pt 2 here <3

Boyfriend Hyunjin

Nsfw under the cut! Warning for blow job mentions, penetration, and fingering. Wooh!

Boyfriend Hyunjin and his cuteness aggression hello. He's always squeezing your cheeks and messing up your hair. Sometimes, if you're laying down and you're laughing, he thinks you're just too damn cute and will lay his weight on top of you and crush you in an awkward hug.

Boyfriend Hyunjin looooves taking you to fancy parties where he can brag about how pretty and smart and skilled you are. He'll tell anyone that meets you, proudly introducing you as his 'better half' to every single one of them.

Oh, and the dance challenges. Boyfriend Hyunjin doesn't care how bad you are. He always wants to teach you whichever dance challenge he is doing next. He'll make fun of you just a little bit, but if anyone else does, he's roasting them immediately in your defence.

He's also big on gifts! Sometimes they're big gifts like camera equipment or gaming consoles that serve hobbies you both share, and sometimes they're little things just to pamper you, like boxes full of bath bombs and new skincare products you had briefly mentioned in passing. He's very observant to your interests.

Boyfriend Hyunjin can be a little overprotective. He's defensive of you already because he feels like you make the world make sense, but he also thinks everyone should be careful with you because you deserve nothing but the absolute best.

Boyfriend Hyunjin also loooooves teasing you in bed. He loves gripping your face and watching you try to avoid his gaze as he teases you for being so needy and so weak to him.

One of his very favourite things is when he's lazing on the couch and you slot yourself between his thighs, no words needed when he nods approval for you to slide his pants off and take his cock into your mouth.

He truly does cherish your blow jobs. You're skilled in a way he never knew someone could be, and you have him seeing literal stars every single time, which he rewards very kindly with his own skill set.

His skill set is his fingers. Duh. Having you fall apart just from his fingers is up there right below blow jobs for him because you look so damn pretty with your eyes watery as he asks if you think you can take another one.

Fucking you isn't on his list of top tens though. Why? Because it's in a league of its own. There is nothing even slightly comparable to your face when he finally slides his cock into you. He's tried to paint it multiple times but he'll never say that out loud.

Fucking Hyunjin is always a sensual experience. It's something he likes to take his time with to ensure you soak up every ounce of pleasure he has to offer you.

☆°. — study me | hhj

genre: smut, fluff

pairing: nerd!hyunjin x afab!reader

wc: 6k

warnings: inexperienced hyunjin, oral (m receiving), protected sex, fast-ish plot progression, strangers to lovers (only roughly proof read)

author's note: @hyunverse and @astraystayyh made me do it (also inspired heavily by rin's post!!!!!) 😚😚😚

He had always been cute, though he surely wasn't aware of it; when he sat in class, dainty glasses by the curve of his nose, he always seemed focused, taking notes with furrowed brows, full attention granted to the professor up front. When he left the lecture hall it was often in lonesome, and hurried; not shy, per se, but quick, and quiet. When people talked to him he was polite, though his shoulders tensed, and a blush crept up his smiling cheeks; not uncomfortable, as far as you could tell, yet visibly not in his element, either — and it all added to his charm. He was smart and aware of it, though he seldom raised his hand, initiated questions. He never corrected professors on their mistakes, never played the know-it-all even though he could. He simply sat in class, day after day, to your right in front of you, and left to go to his next class as quietly as he had entered your mutual one.

You watched Hyunjin walk into the lecture hall, headphones covering his sense of hearing, bag thrown over his shoulder lazily, a subtle lightness in his step. He fixed his glasses with a long, delicate finger before he sat down to prep his desk; placing his laptop in front of him, reducing the brightness before typing away his password, fishing in his bag for his phone right before the professor walked in. Hyunjin was busy taking off the bony headphones before they disappeared in his bag, and a big hand slid through the dark strands of his hair, only needing one movement to fix them into place; after that there seemed to be a click in his demeanour, in his attention. No music in his ears, no phone in his hands; quick fingers that were copying the headline of today's topic which the professor had projected onto the board, concentrated, glasern eyes void of the initial casual leisureness the had entered the classroom with.

It was a little bit of a ritual, watching him in class; you weren't sure if it was creepy, if it made you some sort of pre-version of a stalker, or an obsessed freak. You weren't sure either, if watching him was the reason you were at risk of failing the class, altogether. You were surprised every day anew that no one else was; that Hyunjin seemed to be nearly invisible for most people on campus, left for the few friends he kept with, or the occasional aquaintance he made for group projects before those relationships faded away, due to the lack of its' benefit. Yet even those people didn't seem to be taken by him the way you were, didn't see him the way you did; a striking beauty, hidden beneath a character so quiet and quirky, helpless, almost, that to others he appeared nothing but ordinary. A studious nerd, introverted and awkward; but you didn't want to go through another day without having talked to him. Couldn't, you thought; you needed to initiate a conversation, wanted so bad to hear the sound of his voice, the look of his eyes when the object he was looking at was you.

The professor had announced a group project for today's class, and had, by the end of explaining all about it and before dismissing the class, ordered you to look for partners until the next lesson, to start with first preparations. In your opinion, it was the perfect opportunity to go up to Hyunjin without appearing a freak, or too pushy, or utterly random; you weren't sure he even knew your name, so simply asking for a coffee seemed too finite to you. As expected, while everyone was still packing their bags and talking of weekend plans and just how boring their next class was going to be, Hyunjin had already put on his headphones and was on his way out of the hall, daring to disappear into the crowd of students before your very eyes. You hurried to collect your things before you stumbled down behind him, falling into a slow run to catch up with him. He was tall, quite a bit taller than you, so his struts were fast without being hurried, and you struggled to keep up with him, fighting your way between people before your hand could finally reach his figure, and a finger of yours tapped on his shoulder.

Your touch made him stop in his tracks in a rather confused manner, and he turned around perplexed before locking eyes with you. When you smiled at him expectantly one hand of his freed his right ear from his headphones, and he returned your smile, though only politely, yet not catching what you have stopped him for. The confusion was written in his eyes, and you hurried to clear it up.

"Hey, I'm y/n, from uh, Statistics... we just had this class together."

You looked at Hyunjin, waiting for a response, despite not having cleared up anything at all. He nodded, fixing his bag on his shoulder. You almost got distracted by the veins which ran through his hand when he did that, but you forced yourself to look him in the eyes instead. Brown and deep. You had never noticed before how captivating they were.

"Yeah, I know who you are...", a smile on his lips and you weren't sure what it meant, but there was a deep blush on his cheeks right after, and it made your chest fill with a warmth so sound you simply kept smiling at him.

"Was there anything you needed?" Pure curiosity in his tone, and you wondered how such a smart person could be so foolish. Though it was cute seeing him perplexed, cute seeing a void of his usual intelligence within his eyes.

You cleared your throat and fixed your bag yourself, before nodding up at him. You had never stood this close to him, had never noticed just how tall he was.

"I wondered if you wanted to be my partner for the group project thing. I'm not really good at statistics, so I wanted to pair up with someone who could... help me. In a way."

Hyunjin blushed deeper at that, and the fist around the strap of his bag tightened. He gulped visibly, Adam’s apple bobbing before his eyes lost yours suddenly, and he nodded, stuttering a little when he spoke.

"Uh, yeah, for sure. I, uh, I'm not really, like, sure if I can help much, I'm not a great teacher, but, uhm-", he looked at you, and you simply reciprocated his gaze; he blushed yet a little harder, fixed his glasses with a clumsy finger, and gave you a shy smile, "but, yeah. I'll be your partner."

☆.☆.☆

It was a Saturday night, and it felt strange not sitting in front of the mirror to apply some make-up, or get a decent outfit ready to wear to a night out with your friends. Instead, your old bag was thrown carelessly over your shoulder and the steps you took on the glistening asphalt were taking you to Hyunjin’s dorm, to study and work on the project with him at seven in the afternoon. Not what you normally busied yourself with, not on a weekend, but you hadn’t been this excited over a Saturday night plan in a good while. The day prior, Hyunjin had been ready to leave right after confirming he would partner up with you; that you needed to exchange phone numbers in order to be able to start the work he had seemingly forgotten, and you had giggled when he’d typed his contact into your phone with a guilty smile and a low-hanging head. He had replied quickly when you had texted him, clarifying his schedule – busier than you had expected, packed to the brim – before confirming to meet up today. And you had been giddy ever since.

When you knocked on his dorm room, Hyunjin opened moments later. He looked comfortable, in a plain black shirt and grey sweatpants, no glasses but his long, raven hair in a lazy bun. He smiled before welcoming you in, stepping aside and closing the door behind you. The room wasn’t big, much like your own, but clean, neat. Not much decoration on the walls but a picture or two, seemingly of family members, or close friends. You spotted multiple game consoles and a spacey monitor on his desk, an expensive looking keyboard, heavy headphones – different ones he took with him to class –, a mic, his school laptop on his bed. Two candles by his nightstand, and one bouquet of dried flowers on his windowsill; if dried on purpose of due to lack of care you were unsure, but they were pretty nonetheless.

Hyunjin stood behind you as you took in his small room, abashed and clearing his throat when you finally looked at him again. You smiled, and disposed your bag next to his bed.

“Nice room.”

He must have not expected the compliment; he looked perplexed, chuckling suddenly and a little too loud before thanking you quietly. He got rid of a couple strands of loose hair with a quick hand, and straightened his back, shaking his head as if to rid himself off thoughts, to find his way back to you. He gave you a quick smile, too; it was so pretty that you almost told him, almost stepped up to be level with him and touch the side of his face, purely to manifest him within you. Him and his face, his shy smile with its’ small, pearly teeth and glistening eyes.

“Alright, I guess we should start. The desk is pretty, uh, full and stuff, you can just sit on the bed, if... you don’t mind.” He sat down on the chair in front of the desk, motioned you to the bed. He tripped over the light carpet on his floor before finding his seat, though acted as though nothing had happened; cute.

“Just get comfortable.”

The sentence didn’t carry any connotation yet Hyunjin reddened after he spoke, and lost your eyes to rummage in his bag and in the drawers of his desk to fish out all the materials he thought he’d need. You smiled to yourself, and did as he told you; got comfortable on his bed, and got out your papers and pencils, spreading them out on his blanketed mattress. It smelt nice, his bed. Clean, almost like neutral linen, but with a hint of a scent you believed to be uniquely his. It was the first time you sensed it; you had never been close enough to him before to notice it, but now that you sat in the essence of it, in the core of his existence, in his very own four walls, it engulfed you. It was deep vanilla and sweetest honey, it was a scent dark and intense, but light. It wasn’t heavy, it didn’t suffocate you. It simply existed in the space around you, and it stuck to him; you doubted you’d ever forget the scent again.

When Hyunjin looked at you again, turning to face you on his chair, he stopped in his tracks, and his eyes seemed to widen, his jaw to tighten. It felt unfamiliar seeing him without his glasses, though very much known to watch the pink flush creep up his neck. He blinked a couple times, simply watching you, and it wasn’t until you shifted in your place, sinking further into his mattress that he moved again, pretending to look for something, or really doing so. He cleared his throat and choked on his own spit, fell into a short coughing fit; you almost giggled, and when Hyunjin caught sight of your repressed grin, the pink on his neck deepened into a red; he was even more helpless than you initially thought. He was still looking around, not frantically but close to it, mumbling something you didn’t catch, until you spotted his glasses on the nightstand. You leaned over to get hold of them, and offered them to him, with eyes big and expectant.

“Are you looking for those?”

The room was so small that the distance between the edge of the bed and the desk was only an arm length, so Hyunjin got hold of the glasses simply by reaching out, thanking you. He was interesting; everything he did around you, from the way he moved to the way he spoke, seemed always to be happening in a state of trance, or incredible awkwardness you hoped stemmed from fluster, not discomfort. The feeling spreading in the pit of your stomach was indescribable, when Hyunjin, with soft, delicate fingers and a familiar move, placed the silvery glasses on the rich curve of his nose, fixing them into the dip of his ears before sliding them up; ready to work, and he looked concentrated momentarily, serious; far more attractive up close than when you watched him in class, and you wondered if you’d handle an entire hour of speaking to him while in his bed, in his room, in the midst of his scent.

Yet the hour flew by too fast for your liking, and before you knew it you were packing your bag and making your way to the door of Hyunjin’s dorm room. The hour had contained of more giggling and casual talking than you had thought, and it had gotten you excited. Maybe it was your fantasy, but Hyunjin had seemed interested; more than just into the project, interested in you, too. He had asked questions, had initiated conversation, had neglected his work. He had been – after half an hour – brave enough to poke fun at your lack of mathematical skill, after you had failed to understand an equation he’d tried to bring closer to you. You had gasped and acted hurt, and the giggle which he had followed up with had made you so speechless that Hyunjin had needed to continue with the explaining, flustered and stuttering, a little rocky; all hope of understanding his explaining had been lost there, but you hadn’t minded it.

Hyunjin stood by the door, held it open for you. There it was again, the fluster in his eyes, the flush on his neck; and you weren’t even doing anything. It’s not like the big doe eyes you caught his gaze with could play any role in his abash, or the purposeful teasing smile you shot him. It also couldn’t be the fact you simply stood in his door, waiting for him to say something, instead of leaving for the night with a simple goodbye, with your bag in hand, and quick fingers in your hair, pretending to fix it.

“Uh, we didn’t really come really far.”, he finally voiced with a chuckle, and you reciprocated. Yet you waited; it seemed there was more he wished to say. Hyunjin stepped from one foot to the other, furrowed his brows quickly before losing your eyes, locking your gaze again and opening his mouth, though without success initially. He closed it again, at a loss for words, and you cocked your head curiously, deliberately waiting, feigning ignorance. He huffed out an awkward chuckle, more air than laugh, and ruffled his hair. It made it look messier than before, but you liked it.

“Sorry, just – do you wanna meet tomorrow? I know it’s a Sunday, but... I don’t know, I thought we could work on the project some more. Only if you want to.”, he added quickly when you didn’t say anything. Only after you nodded with a smile Hyunjin’s shoulders seemed to relax, the tension in his body dissipating into relief.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then. Same time?”

☆.☆.☆

It had been two weeks of continuous meeting and working on the project with Hyunjin; but it had also been two weeks of continuous laughing and talking, of conversations far more memorable than the frustration over the schoolwork. Hyunjin had opened up to you, though still shy and quiet, far calmer around you now, more comfortable, it seemed. Yet you shied from initiating more; you had touched his thigh in friendly manner a week ago, barely a second, and the man had turned to a statue of stone, had lost sense of every word he’d had dancing on his lips, had lost train, even, of every thought; it had needed him a good five minutes before he had spoke again. Not only that, but he had eyed you the entire time after, hadn’t left his eyes wander from you, unless you’d caught and reciprocated them; only then his gaze had fallen to his fiddling hands in his lap, sneaking a look again only when you weren’t watching anymore.

You were sure he liked you, you doubted to be wrong about that; but ironically, you liked him too much to confront that, in fear of shying him away, of risking the delicate friendship which had developed over the past two weeks. The group project would end next week, and you weren’t sure if you’ve acquainted enough to stay friends beyond that.

You were sitting on Hyunjin’s bed, him on the mattress beside you, two hours into working on a PowerPoint which looked somewhat decent; decent to Hyunjin’s standards, that was, because you didn’t even know half the tricks he used to connect slides and merge texts and pictures; you would have stopped working on it a good while ago, deeming everything neat and sensible, but Hyunjin had looked at you wide-eyed and shocked, claiming it wasn’t near half-way done. You didn’t mind that he continued working on it; you enjoyed spending time with him, and you enjoyed watching him work, seeing him in his element. He had told you that he was into computers and everything regarding them, whether it was gaming or programming, or merely learning about the matter; you’d had the privilege to watch him build together a new keyboard he acquired, and as little interest as you had in the matter yourself, it was fascinating seeing him burn for something. He had grown bashful when he’d notice how much he had talked, and had apologized; when you’d admitted how cute it was, he hadn’t known what to do with himself, and had simply gone back to installing.

The small laptop lay on Hyunjin’s thighs as he typed away, finding new things to add, brows furrowed and the familiar, concentrated look in his eyes you knew so well from class; and, now, from working together with him. You watched him, weren’t left to do much more; and you enjoyed it. Hyunjin wore a nicely fitting polo-shirt over a simple flannel, and loose jeans which hung down his body leisurely. One of his fingers was adorned by a simple silver ring, matching with the silver of his square glasses; he looked unbelievable, and he didn’t even know it. Over the past week – if it was any possible – Hyunjin had somehow become even more beautiful to you. Knowing him closer made his exterior seem brighter, kinder; as though his soul reflected on his body and pulled you in even deeper than previous.

When he noticed you staring from his peripheral he caught your gaze, though not without his usual shyness. He chuckled a little before you smiled at him, and his eyes lost yours again.

“Why’re you looking at me like that.” His voice carried a hint of a whine, and your skin burned at the sound of it. The side of his face was a deep pink, his ears fire as he typed away on the project. You gathered your bravery; today could be the last time you’d meet him like this, with an excuse and void of brave initiations.

“I like looking at you. You’re cute when you’re working.”

He hadn’t expected it, neither have you; you meant the words, but you were surprised just how easily they slipped past your lips. Without friction, smooth; clear. So clear that Hyunjin stuttered around before going back to the laptop, the blue hues illuminating his face so prettily, you wished to remember this sight forever. Even if today didn’t go anywhere. Even if your short friendship would only be a memory a year down the line; you wished to remember the way his eyes glistened with a mix of confusion and curiosity in the dim light of the laptop screen, how his nose curved beneath his reflecting glasses, the way his tongue darted out and his wet lips caught again the hues of the computer.

Hyunjin mumbled a quiet “What are you saying?”, almost to himself because you barely caught it, and you huffed out in amusement.

“I’m serious.” Your tone was, too, and it made Hyunjin look at you, momentarily. His brows were furrowed, in something like question, doubt. It needed him a while to find his words, fishing them from somewhere within him; you could see the work in his mind, processing your words and understanding them, thinking of a response. You saw the whole process, before he finally spoke.

“Why, though?” Too long a time he took for two words only, but they sounded so honest your eyes softened, and your head cocked a bit, questioning. Hyunjin noticed, and followed up.

“I’m, like, boring. Why are you even hanging out with me?”

“Because I like you.”

The words flooded the room. They had felt trapped in your throat though gushed out the moment you allowed them, and they drowned you both in their weight. Hyunjin only sat, and looked at you. You have never seen him so pale, so colourless; you hoped it was a good sign.

“I don’t think you’re boring. You’re the most interesting person I know. And I like you.”

Only then Hyunjin’s face returned to the usual colour he’d acquired around you over the past two weeks; crimson red and his ears flaming, his neck probably hot if you only touched it. The moments of silence he granted you with were torturing, but the look in his eyes as he held your gaze looked promising; and then his cheeks painted pink, and he started blinking excessively.

“I... I like you, too.”

Two highschoolers confessing, but something about it was sweet, and pure, and ignited a fire within you.

“Can I kiss you?”, you heard yourself saying, and before you knew it, you felt his lips on your own. Soft, the very first thing you thought. Like clouds on your lips, or feathers, or sweet cotton candy. And though Hyunjin wasn’t skilled per se, a little helpless with his teeth and his tongue, unsure of what to do, you enjoyed it. You enjoyed the slow pace of the kiss, the wet sounds your lips made when they touched. You enjoyed feeling his urge to touch you, to lay a finger on your thigh, before he collected enough courage to do so; and the touch was heavenly, too. Heavy on your body, significant and real. Everything about Hyunjin made you buzz; and then a whine slipped past his lips. It tumbled over into your mouth and you swallowed it, before Hyunjin could retract from you a bit, embarrassment glazing his eyes. You smiled in response, burning with a newly found passion now. He mumbled a quiet “Sorry.”, but you shook your head, softly, inching yet closer to him. You felt his breath on your lips, could see the droplet of sweat on his forehead. You could see your own reflection in his glasses; you took them off slowly before almost connecting back to a kiss, yet not quite.

“Don’t be sorry. I wanna hear that sound again.”

You closed the distance between you, and at your words Hyunjin complied, and let a sigh escape him. You almost reciprocated, almost followed suit; you had never heard anything prettier, anything more desperate and honest. You continued kissing him before you allowed your hands to explore his body, cautious of his reactions and even more eager when he leaned into your every touch. He was chasing you, your lips, your hands, your fingers which started playing with the loop of his leather belt. Hyunjin’s breathing had become staggered by this point, heavy and irregular, chest heaving so intensely you almost chuckled at it.

It was subtle, but when you felt his hips buck up from the mattress in impatient anticipation you moaned into him, and finally undid his belt, opened the button of his jeans. You retracted, gave a quick peck to his searching, reddened lips.

“That’s okay, yeah?”

Hyunjin didn’t seem like he had understood the question. He didn’t seem like he understood anything around him while he was looking at you; seeing him so very dumb founded, in absence of his usual cleverness and brains, was far better than you had anticipated, far more satisfying. It gave you an ego boost you didn’t know you needed, or wanted, for that matter.

You chuckled, and asked again; only then Hyunjin nodded frantically, following up with what felt like a million “Yes, yeah yeah, yes.”’s before you continued with a smug grin.

And it was adorable, seeing Hyunjin pucker his lips in the thought of feeling your lips on his again, only for you to lower your head, and bury your face in his neck instead. You felt his low whine against your lips before you heard it, and he sensed your smile against his skin, followed by a kiss deep and long, while your hands played with the waistband of his jeans. It’s been far too long he’d had anyone like this, embarrassingly long; and even longer since he’d liked someone as much as you. He was in trance as your lips travelled further down his body, not undressing him but catching bare spots of skin to plant kisses atop; his collarbones, the curve from his neck towards his shoulders, his jewellered chest right above the neckline of his shirt.

It wasn’t long before you were levelled with his core. Your position on the bed was awkward, a little uncomfortable, but it was the least of your concerns. You pulled up the hem of Hyunjin’s shirt a bit to kiss at his abdomen, teasing and licking and making a show out of it, and it paid off; the man was flush against the wall of his room, fingers digging into the blanket beneath him, looking at you, blinking so often you wondered if he was able to see anything in between. And you were getting impatient. You could feel the faint weight of his erection beneath his jeans as you brushed his core occasionally, his jerks and jumps when you did so, silently begging you for more. When you asked another “Can I?” he nodded, and you pulled his erection from its’ confines. Hyunjin sucked in a breath at that, bashfulness written in his eyes, brows furrowed; and he suddenly looked for something, tapping across his mattress before he got hold of his glasses, slipping them on. He blushed when you cocked your head at him, fixed them onto his nose with a finger; you loved that habit.

“Just, wanna see everything clearly.”

He was almost ashamed when he said it, but he huffed out in embarrassed amusement when he heard you laugh softly, teasingly. Your hand tightened a bit around the base of his sex, causing him to tense up at the sudden pressure, and your fist moved further up his length. You looked up at him beneath your lashes, intently, dark, almost. You gave a single kitten lick to his tip, gave him a kiss after before smiling up at his dizzied expression; “Watch, then.”

With that, you started softly sucking on his tip, cautiously and void of hurry, taking your time. You were languish with it, letting your tongue dart out and dance across his skin, swirling it when he moaned out or tightened his fist which held captive the fabric of his vanilla scented blanket. You didn’t know that watching him throw his head back would bring you the pleasure it did, but watching Hyunjin’s Adam’s apple beneath the soft, frail skin of his neck made you roll your hips into nothing, the sweat slowly forming on his skin made you flush and sigh against him. You took him deeper, engulfing him in your warm, wet mouth, inch by inch, getting used to his length, the feeling of his heavy veins against your tongue. And he was shy with his hands, placed them everywhere but on you; ran his fingers through his hair with furrowed brows, fisted the fabric of his jeans, or the softness of the blanket, or the pillow laying next to him. It wasn’t until he locked eyes with you, when he caught sight of a loose strand of hair framing against your cheek that he was courageous enough to reach out; Hyunjin moved the hair out of your face softly, delicately almost, held it then, his palm a nice feeling on your skull. And he kept it there. Stroking your hair, tightening around it when you hollowed your cheeks, when you sucked away the salty precum oozing out his angry tip.

You felt him at the back of your throat. He was bigger than you had expected, and his weight lay on your tongue, his tip grazing repeatedly at your uvula, by now sensitive and reddened, though you didn’t stop your antics. Not when the sounds he let roll off his tongue increased not only in volume but in desperation, whines so high pitched you couldn’t help but grin against him. You watched him, every of his movement; the way his glasses slid off his nose before he fixed them with a haste movement, quick and messy, making them sit slightly tilted; enough for you to notice, not enough for him to care. The strands framing his face starting sticking against the sweat forming on his forehead, his lip had developed a bruise from his repeated biting on it; he was a mess, heaving breath and breathless sighs, sweaty palm fisting at your hair in utter helplessness. And he could barely speak a word, could barely form a thought, yet opened his mouth nonetheless, only for words to fail him. He stuttered about, whimpered more than he succeeded to speak. You slowed down your pace, halted a little in the bobbing movement of your head, let your jaw rest to allow him to collect his mind. He looked down at you, urges so deep swimming behind his eyelids, and he breathed out shakily, licked his bruised-up lips.

“I’m so close.”

The words came out his mouth almost apologetically, breathless and quiet. He sat there, back against the wall, an utter mess, too beautiful to be real; lips spit-covered as he spoke, brows formed into one line, eyes glazed with every human emotion this planet granted.

“Do you have condoms?”, you whispered against him, your voice hoarse and weak, your throat sore. He hadn’t expected the words, but nodded after a moment of blushing, motioning to his nightstand with a cock of the head. You eyed him teasingly before shifting to open the drawer of his nightstand; packs of painkillers and coughing drops, looking old and unused. Pencils and other useless stuff before you spotted packs of condoms shoved into the very back, and you fished for one before meeting his eye again. You contemplated teasing him about it; you knew he wasn’t bringing girls over regularly – if at all – to his dorm room, so the small stack of contraceptions was all but adorable – Hyunjin was so very reddened though, and looking so very bashful already that you decided against it, and busied yourself with sliding off your jeans instead, leaving you to sit in front of him in your shirt and panties.

And he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Not much exposed but when you straddled him your thighs were everything his eyes ate alive, shyly placing his hot palms atop them, breathing in shakily when you giggled at him. You tore open the little plastic wrapping, slid on the condom after a confirming nod of his; and when you leaned in to kiss him, he reciprocated it with a depth before not shown, clashing against your mouth clumsily but so passionately that you couldn’t mind it. You shifted in your place, lips never stopping to eat up his own, until you hovered above his erection. He felt your warmth atop him already, bucked his hips up in impatience only for his tip to graze your clothed sex; you both moaned at the embarrassingly short contact, and it was your cue to sink down on him slowly. You weren’t prepped, but you were wet enough for him to slide in easily after pulling your panties to the side, taking him inch by inch, not hurrying, dragging out the scenery. You watched him all the while, and the sight was utterly priceless; blown-out pupils beneath his glasses, a longing so grand behind his lids that you couldn’t help but kiss him again. A deep kiss as you bottomed out on him, felt him endlessly inside you, and he whined into your mouth, loud and raw when you clenched around him.

“I’m not gonna last long.”, he breathed out when you leaned back again; he was too adorable. Looking almost guilty, digging his fingers into the flesh of your thighs desperately. You chuckled before placing another peck on his swollen lips – even more like clouds now, puffy and soft to touch – and rolled your hips against him. He groaned deeply, throwing his head back with a quiet thump against the wall, hands tightening on your body, as though trying to hold you in place. You felt him twitch inside you, felt him throb against your depth; he wasn’t lying, he wouldn’t last at all.

“I don’t care. Just enjoy yourself.”

With that you started riding him slowly, and softly, giving him an opportunity to collect himself, though it was to little use. He was whining, he was throwing his head back and forth, lulling to the side, he was losing control of everything around him; his glasses slid off his nose repeatedly, sitting so deep they dared to fall off, sounds so loud you wondered if people outside could hear what was happening behind closed doors. His neck was red, his cheeks were flushed, his eyes were closed so tight you wondered if it strained the muscles in his face; and you kept rolling your hips against him, chasing the feeling yourself, basking in the way he filled you out entirely. Basking in his sounds, in the sight of him, in the way he felt; this was better than what you had dared to dream of, and you hoped it would be yours for eternities to come.

It wasn’t two minutes, and not before you started bouncing up and down Hyunjin’s length slowly, with thighs strained and hips eager, that the man stuttered in his demeanour, bucking his hips so helplessly into your own, without much success in causing friction, simply to chase you, to chase the feeling, to come closer to you. And it wasn’t long after that when a whine so endearing, so frantic left his throat, and he came into the condom with a string of apologies and curses, and whispers of your name. You allowed him to ride out his high, moving against him in failed search of your own release, kissing at his neck and nibbling at the lobe of his ear, whispering reassurances, feeling his hands on your skin, his arms caging you in. His breathing was heavy, shaky, his eyes closed in exhaustion, or relief, or simple and pure pleasure when you leaned back again. You smiled to yourself, watching calmness take over him now; no nervousness now as you yet sat atop him, no awkwardness, only satisfaction, content.

When he opened his eyes and noticed your staring at him he blushed again, and upon remembering his softened sex inside of you he groaned lowly, twitching in his seat. He was sensitive, he was endearing; and for now he was yours. You smiled at him, and he reciprocated it shyly; you fixed the glasses on his nose, gave him a long, deep kiss. He basked in it, simply let you kiss him, let you run your hands through his hair. It wasn’t until you guided his right hand to your core he sucked in a breath again, upon feeling your warm wetness on his fingertips; and he looked at you with eyes wide open when you leaned back, and whined out again when you whispered; “Gonna show you how you can make me feel good, too.”

taglist: @es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads-archived @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife @binniesbang

Lost in Translation

Copyright Ⓒ 2023 by Moonjxsung

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner. Doing so will result in a legal takedown per the Digital Millennium Copyright Act and is subject to legal action.

Pairing: Lee Minho x fem reader

W/c: 26.5k

Warnings: accidental nudity, hospital visit, mention of masturbation, use of pet names, breast/nipple play, clitoral stimulation, unprotected sex, bulge kink, sexual asphyxiation, breeding kink, creampie, oral sex (male receiving), brief mention of pregnancy

Synopsis: The older brother of the boy you babysit is an enigma, in every sense of the word- and you’re determined to figure him out.

[this work was based off a request by @antoniorhinothethird - thank you for requesting!]

18+. Mdni!

•

The idea of babysitting isn’t some brilliant proposal you conjured up in a day- but it’s not exactly a choice, either. The idea isn’t even yours, in fact, the advertisements you published on the colorful inquiry site at your mother’s behest. But “college courses are virtual these days” and “you’ll be a mother at some point in your life,” according to her. So two months into the semester, you’ll now spend the majority of your time in a new place you’ll call home, just 30 minutes out at the Lee Household.

The Lee household is considerably larger than you’d originally anticipated it to be, spanning a sizable amount of grassland and standing nobly tall at 2 stories high. The exterior of the flashy home is surrounded by paved gravel driveways, lining the neat rows of bushels and vines that surround the off-white architectural build. Giant glass windows reflect sunlight in nearly every room of the house, with the exception of the dimly-lit library on the second floor, which flaunts colossal cherry wooden bookshelves that line the walls and cover most of the smaller windows.

“Joon is usually very mellow in the daytime,” Mrs. Lee tells you as she walks you through a tour of the garden. “You’ll only have to worry about his feeding schedules, which I’ve already written and posted on the refrigerator.”

She pivots in front of you, stopping for a moment and gesturing to the stone fountain by the rose bushes. “Do you like it? It was a gift from my husband. When he’s not running the furniture business, he works in restoration a lot. This was his first project.”

“Wow,” you say, your lips parted at the sight of the koi fish and the cascading waterfall from its lips. “It’s very beautiful.”

Mrs. Lee smiles at you in response, turning on her heel and continuing to the iron gates in the front.

“Do you have any other questions?” She asks, clasping her hands together and shooting you a saccharine smile. She’s intimating, not because of her personality, which you quickly clock as rather warm and inviting. But rather, because she’s so elegant, her navy silk dress perfectly complementing the chunky pearl earrings she wears, making her look like a character from an old film. You’re not sure you’ve ever crossed paths with such an interesting woman before.

“I think that covers everything,” you say finally, giving her a small bow. “I’ll be sure to provide updates throughout the day.”

“Oh, no need,” she says quickly. “Unless it’s an emergency, l know you’ll have your hands full doing your work while watching Joon. Feel free to just give us a little summary when we’re home for the evening.”

She shoots you a little wink when she finishes speaking, clasping her hands together again and smiling down at you.

“We’ll see you tomorrow for your first day!” She exclaims warmly, opening gate doors as you make your exit out of the garden. When you begin down the paved road, Mrs. Lee suddenly gasps, calling out to you again in a frantic manner.

“Oh! Y/n, wait please!” She calls, pulling the skirt of her dress up to her ankles to jog over to where you’re standing.

“My other son will be home from school in the afternoon tomorrow. Don’t be alarmed if you hear him moving about the house. He’ll just keep to himself.”

You ponder the words for a moment, a little frustrated when you realize there will be two kids in the household instead of one, like she’d previously mentioned. But you just nod and smile at her, seeing yourself out of the driveway once again and beginning the journey back home to prepare for your first day here tomorrow.

*

This castle-at-end-of-the-road is eerily quiet when no one’s home, a once lively sight of rose bushes and marble statues appearing like something out of a horror movie when you’re by yourself. At every corner you turn, your brain runs rampant with paranoia, placing shadowy figures and silhouettes of people where there are none- except for when you’re in the presence of Joon.

At just a year old, Joon is considered one of the cutest ages, only being able to babble incoherent noises and flail his little hands around when he wants something. His closet is full of matching neutral tones, per his mother’s styling, and his sparse black hair is combed neatly to one side.

Mrs. Lee is right about him- he doesn’t cry. Nor does he ever make a fuss, really. He simply sits quietly, in the comfort of his crib, or his high chair, and he curiously peers at the world around him. You’re certain he’s taken a liking to you already, judging at how he smiles when you spoon-feed him mashed carrots and mimic airplane noises. And he only cries briefly once in the day, stopping almost immediately when you put him down for his nap.

This may be an easier gig than you thought.

While Joon naps, you take the opportunity to get some work done in the library, settling comfortably on the velvet armchair in the corner and running through a few of your online class assignments for the week.

Although you’ll be babysitting here for the next few weeks, you’re also completing your final year at university this year, your last semester being completely remote. Which gives you time to take on the babysitting task as a side hustle, and hopefully save enough money to travel a bit after university like you’ve always dreamt of.

At half past noon, Joon is still peacefully asleep in his crib where you’ve left him, the ambient sound of waves echoing softly from his baby monitor as little snores emit from his curled lips. He looks like an angel when he sleeps, and you can’t help but feel your heart swell to twice its size at the sight of him.

The gentle breeze of the October wind travels through the open windows of the library, sending chills up your spine when you sit down to work again. You get up from where you’re sitting on the armchair to latch the windows shut, making sure to lock them, before turning around to take your seat again- quickly startled by the figure standing in the doorway.

“Jesus,” you yelp, one hand clutching your chest in fear as you nearly drop your laptop.

The figure- or man, rather, says nothing, scanning the room like he’s searching for something, before turning on his heel and exiting the room once again.

He’s tall, with a slim yet muscular build, honey tanned skin complementing his chocolate brown tresses. He’s also dressed rather casually in a pair of light-wash jeans and a black top, a black leather jacket thrown over his broad shoulders and left unzipped.

“Sorry, did you need something?” You call out, perplexed by his demeanor. You can’t remember if the Lees warned you of potential visitors, but you’re suddenly panicked for Joon, remembering you left his door open.

“Nope,” the man calls out over his shoulder, not turning around to face you. And then you see it- a black backpack, slung over one shoulder and seemingly filled to the brim with textbooks.

Their other son.

This must be the son Mrs. Lee warned you would be making appearances in the afternoon. But you had assumed him to be much younger, especially considering he’s definitely old enough to be watching over his own brother.

Before you can gather your thoughts to introduce yourself, he’s gone again, disappearing down the hall the same way he so mysteriously appeared. And you wonder, briefly, how he can be so much colder than his own mother.

*

The first day of your new job is a success. When Mrs. Lee returns home for the evening, she pays you in cash, true to her traditional style, and sends you home with a tin of shortbread cookies as another ‘thank you’, though she’s already voiced it a million times. But the second day is rougher than the first, reminding you of why babysitting isn’t always an easy task despite what it may seem.

Joon is particularly antsy today, flailing his arms around when you try to spoon feed him and whining relentlessly when you pick him up. He needs several diaper changes in just your first few hours of working, and when you finally do get him clean, he’s a crying, screaming mess.

Fortunately, he still goes down for his nap at noon, which means you have a narrow window of time to complete your work for the day and get freshened up. The windows in the library are propped wide open again, a cold breeze coming through as you settle in your new favorite spot and open your laptop.

There are a myriad of assignments to complete today, and you’re briefly panicked that you won’t be able to complete the necessary few pieces if Joon suddenly wakes again. But still, you try, skimming through textbooks and typing away as much as you can to make steady progress. And at the hour mark, Joon begins to cry. Rather he wails, loudly, from the other room, startling you when you’re already in deep concentration working through a practice quiz.

You make your way down the hallway and to the right, where Joon’s room is, approaching the crib and catching a glimpse of his anguished state. His face is a robust shade of red as he wails loudly, bubbles of saliva forming at his nostrils and his eyes squeezed shut. You guide him out of the crib and into the safety of your arms, shushing him gently and rocking him back and forth the way Mrs. Lee taught you. And Joon calms instantly, hiccuping through tears as he locks his gaze on yours and fists at strands of your hair.

“That’s okay,” you coo at him, grazing your finger along his chin and cleaning some of the drool that dribbles from the corners of his lips. “I’m here. Look at you! You’re okay,” you continue, giggling at him when his quivering lips pull into a small smile. He softens in your arms, smiling and babbling with hushed sounds, clutching tightly on strands of your hair as you balance him in your arms.

“You want to come do some work?” You ask, nodding your head as if to coax an answer out of him. “That’s a good baby, huh? Let’s go do some work.”

And you travel back to the library with Joon in your arms, giving him gentle pats on his back as you hoist him tighter into your embrace and balance your laptop with one arm.

When you’re starting on your last task of the evening, you’re interrupted again today by Mrs. Lee’s eldest son, who pokes his head in the doorway and observes as you coo down at Joon’s sleeping figure while working on your computer with one hand.

“Do you want me to take him?” You hear from the doorway, and you crane your neck to look where he’s standing, his hands shoved in his pockets and his backpack slung lazily over one arm.

“I’m okay,” you respond, typing out a word with one hand. He furrows his eyebrows at your failed attempt, approaching you and reaching out his arms to take Joon from your embrace.

“You can’t work like this,” he says, as he peacefully transfers Joon to his own arms. “He won’t wake up if I put him back, I promise.”

“Thanks,” you reply, taking note of his features now that he’s at a closer proximity to you for the first time. He has large round eyes, and long eyelashes that make even you jealous. His nose bridge is sharp and straight, and when he chuckles softly at Joon, you notice his skewed front teeth, ones that make his smile seem sweeter- softer.

As he begins out the doorway, you try to think of what to say to him, not wanting to have another awkward run-in with him like your last one. But nothing comes to mind that won’t be just as awkward as the encounter itself, and you settle on painful silence once again.

As you unlock your laptop, continuing on to your last assignment, you hear the faint noise of Mrs. Lee’s elder son putting Joon back to sleep.

Except he sounds different than he has during your two previous encounters. He’s laughing, babbling, even cooing at Joon as he puts him back to sleep. And though you really shouldn’t intrude, you make your way to the doorway again, where you peer down the hall to listen in on the endearing noises he makes.

“Are you sleepy?” He asks, his voice two octaves higher than usual. “Let’s sleep now, okay? No, you can’t have my shirt. That’s mine, remember? Let’s have good dreams now. I love you!”

You hear Joon giggling from the end of the corridor and you smile to yourself, wholly moved by the tender little moment he shares with his baby brother. He might not be his full-time caregiver, but he certainly knows what he’s doing. As you stay pondering his behavior for a moment, you don’t even notice when he exits the room again, turning to watch you standing around the doorway. Your ear is still leaned into the corridor, clearly having listened in on the private moment.

“Sorry,” you say quickly, straightening your posture, a wave of embarrassment quickly washing over you. “I was making sure Joon got to bed okay.”

He just nods once, looking you over briefly before meeting your gaze again.

“Minho,” he then practically mutters, averting your gaze as he waits for you to speak.

It’s his name, you realize, barely even having registered what he said to you. He’s telling you his name.

“Y/n,” you respond quickly, giving him a small bow and smiling nervously.

And Minho says nothing, pivoting on his heel to exit the corridor and disappear all over again.

*

For two weeks, your job runs smoothly, no glaring problems or hangups. Joon remains fond of you, obedient at mealtimes and when he’s put to bed. And the system of completing your college coursework goes smoothly, being able to get through several assignments a day while Joon takes his afternoon nap. If anything, you might be more productive than you were before this job, despite balancing it between university.

It’s an overcast Tuesday afternoon, and you’ve spent most of your day working in Joon’s nursery on the rocking chair next to his crib. He’s been a little fussy today, but you find that he calms down a little at the repetitive clicking noises of your laptop keyboard. Once you’ve confirmed he’s asleep, little snores emitting from his lips, you gather your belongings and sneak away to the library again. Only this time, it’s not vacant.

Minho sits in your usual spot today, his legs propped up on the footrest in front of him and a book in his lap. He doesn’t even notice you in the doorway, strands of hair hanging loosely in front of his face as he scans the page of his book. He also looks significantly more casual than other days you’ve seen him around, wearing a plain black t-shirt and gray sweats, a pair of round wireframe glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

He feels your gaze on him, shuffling about suddenly and closing his book.

“Sorry,” Minho says. “I was just… reading.”

He realizes how awkward he sounds, verbally conveying his actions to you like this, but he’s too caught off guard to form a more coherent string of words.

“It’s okay,” you say politely, setting your bag down on the floor and occupying the chair across from him.

“What book?” You ask, cocking your head at the small red novel he clutches in his lap.

“Hm? Oh, uh… it’s Love and Limerence. By Dorothy Tennov.”

You nod in response, studying the cherub painted on the cover, wielding a bow and arrow.

“Big romance fan?”

“No,” Minho says, chuckling at your words. “It’s a required read for my class.”

“How neat,” you reply. “What class requires romance novels these days?”

“My philosophy course,” Minho says, running the pads of his fingers over the raised text on the cover. “The psychology of emotion.”

“PHIL 105,” you say, knowing very well the course he speaks of.

“Yeah- you’ve taken it?”

“No, but I had a friend who did in freshman year. I’m in my last semester now- my remaining classes are virtual, though.”

“It’s my last semester, too,” Minho says with a little smile, fiddling with the lobe of his ear as he talks.

“Well best of luck to you in the final stretch,” you reply, shooting him a small smile back. “I hope it all goes smoothly.”

Minho gives a half nod, and then furrows his eyebrows together, like he’s just remembered something.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” he says suddenly, sitting up and gathering his belongings.

“Oh, I really don’t mind-”

“Catch you later,” He interrupts with a nervous tone, almost jogging out of the library and back down the corridor.

And just like the first day you met him, you maintain the same idea of him- he’s such an enigma. Appearing in and out of the household, not one to voice his thoughts or his opinions, no eagerness to know the stranger sitting in his house watching over his baby brother. But somehow, like the rest of the household, you can’t help but have a lingering curiosity for Minho, too.

*

“My husband and I might be late getting back today,” Mrs. Lee says one morning as you feed Joon his breakfast. His tongue dodges the plastic spoon, dribbling mashed food out from the corners of his lips and laughing when you go to dab his face clean with a napkin.

“That’s alright,” you reply, loading up the spoon with more food. “I can wait until you’ve arrived.”

“You will?” Mrs. Lee asks, a kind of sparkle in her eyes as she speaks. “That would mean the world to us. It’s just that my husband has an auction to attend today. And sometimes these events run longer than they’re meant to.”

“No problem at all,” you say, smiling at her as you turn your attention back to Joon. “Joon and I will just hang out a little longer today. Isn’t that right?”

He babbles something in response, a string of saliva trailing from his lips, and Mrs. Lee laughs at the sight.

“He’s really taken a liking to you!”

As she fixes Joon’s hair, Minho enters the kitchen, dressed for the day with his backpack already slung over his shoulder.

“Minho,” his mother says in a scolding tone. “No gum for breakfast. Have a fruit.”

“Can’t,” he replies curtly. “My philosophy exam is today.”

“What does that have to do with depriving yourself of food?”

“It’s bad luck to eat before an exam,” Minho retorts, coming around the granite island to kiss her on the cheek. “Besides,” Minho continues. “I’m ditching my second class, so I’ll be home a little earlier.”

When he turns around, his gaze meets yours, and he instantly stiffens.

His gaze turns cold again, his hands shoving in his jacket pockets as he says nothing to you. He just bows, once, and then turns to exit like he’s suddenly in some rush.

“Bye,” he calls out, and you’re not even sure who he’s addressing it to at this point.

“I should get going, too,” Mrs. Lee says to you. “I’ll call you when we leave the event tonight. And please, feel free to make yourself comfortable after Joon gets put to bed. There’s cash on the table if you want to order something for dinner, and extra blankets are in the upstairs closet if you get sleepy.”

“Thank you,” you say to Mrs. Lee as she gathers her car keys and handbag. And the house is quiet again when you’re all alone, with the exception of Joon’s heavy breathing as he stares at you curiously.

“It’s like a mansion here,” you say to your best friend as you balance Joon in your arms and crane your neck on your shoulder to hold the phone against your ear. “Mrs. Lee is so nice. I thought she’d be stuck up or something, but she’s like a second mother.”

“You hit the jackpot,” your friend voices on the other end of the line. “Any idea how long they need you around?”

“Not sure,” you reply, wiping the granite counter with a rag as you finish up the dishes. “Probably until their son is done with the semester.”

“Son?” She says excitedly. “Is he cute?”

“Please,” you echo, rolling your eyes. “His looks mean nothing considering he doesn’t say a word.”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly that. He just doesn’t talk. We go to the same university and it’s like pulling teeth trying to figure out something as simple as what his major is. I think he despises having me around.”

“I mean, to be fair, I wouldn’t love someone in my space 24/7. It’s probably a territorial thing.”

“He’s not a cat,” you respond, laughing lightly. “He’s a grown man. I just get the feeling he doesn’t like me.”

“Well I highly doubt that,” she says, and you can hear her shuffling about on her end of the line.

“Hey, I have to go,” she chimes in. “But I’ll talk to you later. Good luck with baby Joon and the cat man.”

“Thanks,” you reply, chuckling to yourself.

As you hang up the phone, you turn around to gather the last of the dishes, stopping in your tracks when you’re met with Minho himself.

He’s standing in the kitchen, popping a bubble of gum with his teeth, his gaze locked coldly on yours as he observes the place.

That’s right- he did say he would be home a bit earlier after his exam today. Was he standing there for the entirety of your conversation? You can’t recall how long the phone call lasted, or even the specifics of what you said. But you do know it certainly wasn’t good.

“Hi,” you say nervously, scanning his expression for a hint of what he’s thinking. But he provides you none, kicking off his boots and making his way up the stairs again.

The guilt is still eating away at you two hours later- Minho hasn’t descended the staircase once since the incident, and you can hardly focus on your school work at the thought of what he’s thinking of you.

Here you are, complaining about him seeming “cold” or “off”- the whole time you’re the one talking about him behind his back and stirring up drama. If he hated you before, he definitely despises you now. And if he's as close with his mother as he seemed this morning, you could be out of a job by tomorrow.

In reluctant steps, you ascend the wooden staircase, clutching a small mug of coffee and a stack of buttered toast. You remember Minho saying he’d have breakfast after his exam, a task he wasn’t able to complete due to your impolite conversation earlier. And while you’re not even sure he’s going to give you the time of day anymore, it’s worth a shot to try.

At the top of the staircase, you realize you’re unsure of which room even belongs to Minho. There are rows of doors down the corridor, which you peer into, looking for any sign of him.

A closet, another closet, the laundry room… it feels like a futile task at this point- not to mention, the sinking feeling that you’re intruding, poking into every room in the house like this.

But at the end of the hallway, just across the staircase from Joon’s room, lies one more closed door you haven’t tried yet, and you’re sure this one has to be his.

With a deep breath, you balance the mug of coffee on the plate you’re carrying, bringing your free hand up to knock, just once.

No answer.

You pause for a moment, debating whether to just leave and drop the idea of an apology altogether. But you don’t, instead forcing yourself to knock once more this time, a little harder than the first.

And after muffled sounds of shuffling about, the door finally opens again, Minho standing with a confused expression on his face. He has a pair of earphones in, one side pulled out to hear you, his glasses sat on his face and a number of textbooks on the bed behind him.

“Is Joon okay?” He asks, looking down the hall in panic as you meet his gaze.

“What? Oh! Yes, he’s fine. He’s sleeping.”

“Oh. What are you…”

“I… made you some breakfast. I know you didn’t have any before your exam this morning. And no, gum isn’t a breakfast food.” You chuckle lightly as you hold the items out to him, and Minho looks down at them, blinking a few times before speaking.

“Oh. Uh, thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem. Should I leave them with you?”

“Oh, you can put them on the desk over there,” Minho replies, and it’s then that you notice his hands are full with papers. He steps aside to let you in, gesturing to the desk with a piece of paper, and you oblige, clearing the space of a few scattered items and setting down his breakfast.

When you turn around to look at the place, your lips part in awe at the sight of the grandiosity of it. Minho’s room has bigger windows than any of the others you’ve seen, concave around a crescent-shaped seating area that boasts tall ceilings and large glass windows. There are books lining the floors, the desk space and even the window sills, many of them left bookmarked or lying open where they sit.

His giant wooden bed frame is almost hidden behind a hanging curtain, and his desk is nearly inhabitable at the amount of university paraphernalia that lives on its surface.

“Wow,” you say, craning your neck to look around the room. “It’s really nice in here.”

“Thanks,” Minho says awkwardly, toying with a loose hem on his pants.

“You really like reading,” you comment, taking note of the books he has lying around. When you say this, Minho seems to stiffen a bit, shutting some of the books and lining them on their spines along his shelves.

“Yeah,” he mutters, dropping a few books and kicking them away from him.

You nod at him, pursing your lips, well aware that you’re in the midst of yet another awkward interaction with him, but wanting to fulfill the reason you came up here all the same.

“Listen,” you begin. “I wanted to apologize. I don’t know how much you heard of that, but I assume it was enough to be hurt by it. And you’re justified in being hurt. It was totally uncalled for of me to say those things- and sure, you might be a quiet person. But that doesn’t make it okay for me to go around airing it out like it’s my business. In fact I shouldn’t even be on my phone on the job. I’m here to watch your brother, and I get paid for that service, and it’s completely unprofessional-”

“It’s cool,” Minho says, an unchanging expression on his face.

“Oh, um… I mean, if you want to fire me I totally understand.”

Minho chuckles softly, and then shakes his head. “I’m not going to fire you. I am quiet. It’s cool. Really.”

“I mean, I totally get that-”

“Unless you want to be fired?” He inquires with a half-smile, and you chuckle softly in response.

“I really don’t. I love watching your brother.”

“Good,” he replies. “Then we’re all good.”

And although you want to say something else to him, you don’t, feeling as though you should be satisfied with the state of the conversation. You apologized, he forgave you, and you haven’t lost your job. And he’s still quiet, but that’s just who he is.

When Joon wakes from his afternoon nap, it’s nearly 3pm. He’s a crying mess when he’s up again, flailing his arms around to beg for a bottle, which you promptly prepare for him after a diaper change.

With Joon in your arms, you get some chores around the house finished, including vacuuming the rugs, dusting off the furniture and tidying Joon’s toys that are usually scattered about his nursery.

Doing chores wasn’t an agreement between you and Mrs. Lee- in fact, she usually urges you to focus on your schoolwork and take breaks when you’re not caring for Joon. But you want to, feeling compelled to take care of the space as much as you care for Joon. Although tensions are still somewhat present between you and Minho, the Lee household feels comfortable to you by this point, almost like a second home now.

After chores, the library calls out to you again, evening beginning to fall over the neighborhood and painting the sky with vibrant hues of an autumnal sunset.

The windows are still rolled open from earlier, and your velvet couch looks particularly inviting at this hour, beams of sunset setting it aglow and luring you to choose a book from the cherry wood shelves around you.

So you do, selecting a children’s book about animals, comfortably sprawling out on the chair with Joon in your arms. He eyes the book curiously, spreading his short, chubby fingers over the cover and tapping repeatedly, as if asking you to read to him.

And you do, setting the book on your knee to angle the pages toward him, as you begin to vocalize the choppy sentences to him.

“A is for apple, hanging from a tree,” you say, caressing his stubby fingers as he pouts in focus. “B is for buzzing bumblebee.”

Joon’s lips curl into a smile, making his best attempt to clap as you point out the colorful images to him.

“C is for crab, walking in the sand… D is for dolphin, swimming toward the land!”

Joon laughs hysterically now, clapping his little hands and rocking back and forth in your lap. You laugh, too, at his darling reaction, and give him a little kiss on the head as he fiddles with the cover of the book.

It’s moments like this that reaffirm the notion for you that this job was the right idea, after all. You’re inexplicably happy alongside him like this, seeing the world through his eyes and rediscovering things you would otherwise take for granted, like silly picture books or doing chores with him in your arms. You feel so protective of him, eager to make his mom proud and provide a safe, nurturing environment for him as his babysitter- not because you’re paid to do it, but because he now holds a special place in your heart.

The sound of someone clearing their throat startles you from the doorway, and you look up to find Minho standing there, an amused smirk tugging at his lips.

“Did you… want something to eat? I was going to order takeout, unless you wanted something else.”

“Sure,” you reply, propping Joon up a little closer to your chest. “Anything’s fine with me.”

“I’ll get Chinese, then,” Minho says nodding. He averts your gaze a little, but you can tell he’s just a little awkward when he’s face-to-face with you like this. And perhaps your best friend is right- perhaps it’s not unusual of him to feel territorial over his household. After all, you are here almost every hour of the day, making yourself comfortable in almost every room, tending to the chores here and eating food from their kitchen. You suppose you would be irritated at the thought of it, too.

As Minho leaves to place an order, you take Joon back to the nursery, where you gently put him to sleep for the evening and program his baby monitor to play calm ocean noises again. It’s like clockwork- he’s out like a light, and the minute he leaves your arms, you’re exhausted, too. The stress of watching over him while balancing your school work might finally be getting to you now- you’re undoubtedly tired, your limbs aching from sauntering about this big house all day with Joon in your arms. And although you’re on a good track, you can hardly remember which assignment pertains to each of your classes these days.

When Minho returns almost an hour later, he holds a thin plastic bag in hand, his other one clutching a fistful of cutlery and two plates. He gives you a small nod when he enters the library, and you put away your laptop to join him on the floor in front of the coffee table.

For a moment, he says nothing as he prepares a plate for you, sliding a cup of wonton soup toward you and dividing portions of chow mein and tofu with wooden chopsticks.

You watch as he breaks a spring roll in half, holding both sides up and comparing to make sure they’re even.

“You’re very precise,” you say with a soft laugh, and a breathy chuckle emits from his lips, too.

“I’m trying to make sure it’s even.”

“However you cut it is fine,” you respond, pleasantly surprised at how polite he is.

When he’s finished dividing your portions, he slides a plate to you, setting a plastic fork down on the napkin beside you and ushering to the food.

“Enjoy,” he says, shooting you a small smile.

And the two of you eat in silence, the room quiet, aside from the sounds of slurping soup present between you two. Although it’s quiet, it feels comfortable, having him keep you company like this. It’s a change of pace from your usual days babysitting in the Lee household.

“How is your school work?” Minho interrupts your thoughts, and you’re momentarily taken aback by him initiating the conversation first.

“It’s good,” you respond, poking at the vegetables on your plate with a chopstick. “It’s on my own time, so I mostly just have to make sure I’m staying on track. But I’m finding it easy to get through despite watching Joon in the daytime.”

Minho nods in response, keeping his gaze set on the bowl of soup in front of him.

“How did your exam go?” you ask, and Minho cocks his head a little. “I got full marks,” he responds after a moment of silence.

“That’s great! I guess you were right about skipping breakfast having something to do with your academic success, then.”

And Minho laughs for the first time- not a chuckle or a giggle, but a laugh, holding one hand up to his mouth as he does. His laugh is gentle and melodic, filling the room around him with its sound, and you can’t help but laugh, too.

“I suppose,” he responds. “I also go nowhere without those philosophy books, so I have them memorized like the back of my hand.”

“Philosophy major?” you voice back, and Minho nods.

“So Love and Limerence is like second nature to you at this point.”

Minho gets a little awkward at this, his smile fading a little as he pokes around his chow mein. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “You could say that.”

And fearing you’ve somehow offended him, you change the subject again.

“Well I’m a business major,” you chime in. “So we don’t get interesting reads at all. And I’m not lugging around a six-pound textbook about returns on investments in my backpack.”

He laughs again, and you feel satisfied at the motion. Making him laugh feels like an exciting feat, like you’ve succeeded at something after trying so hard to. And considering how hard you’ve been trying to break down his walls these days, maybe it is an exciting feat, getting to know the stranger you’ve been sharing a home with for one month now.

“Business is a great field,” Minho says, slurping down the remainder of his soup. “Your parents must be really proud of the direction you’re headed.”

You shrug in response. “They’re indifferent. I don’t have a great relationship with them. They mostly just want me out of their hair once I graduate.”

“You have any post-college plans?” Minho inquires.

“I finished an internship before this whole babysitting gig, actually. I want to travel a bit after graduation, and then I’ll really settle down for the whole 9-5 working life.”

“Where are you hoping to travel to?”

There’s a glint in Minho’s eyes as he presses you for answers, like he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. It makes you feel all warm inside- not many people usually care what you’re up to these days, your family trying their hardest to send you away to work another job and your most of your friends having drifted apart when you began university. Even the friends you do have are more distant these days, considering their classes are still in person, and you don’t have a need to be back on campus anymore. It’s a bit of a lonely life you lead, so being here beside Minho feels different, but pleasant.

“I’m not sure,” you say with a smile. “I’m not really sure where I belong yet.”

“Hey, I don’t know where I belong, either,” Minho echoes. “So that makes two of us.”

When the two of you are finished with dinner, Minho takes your plates downstairs, despite you offering, and you’re briefly left alone in the library. It’s much later than usual now, nearing 9:00, when you’re usually home by 7. The house also has a different vibe to it this hour, many of the rooms feeling much dimmer despite the same lamps being on, and the corridors feeling much quieter and more haunting. You feel a wave of sleepiness wash over you, and though you don’t want to be asleep when Mrs. Lee arrives, you can’t help but shut your eyes for a few minutes. You can still make out the shape of the bookshelves behind your heavy eyelashes, trying your best not to close your eyes completely, but your mind has already wandered off to slumber, and inevitably, your body follows shortly after.

You’re somewhere between sleep and consciousness when you feel Minho enter the room once again, looming over you like he wants to ask you something. But he says nothing- instead, he unfolds a knit blanket above you, sprawling it out over your legs and pulling it up to your torso. And you hadn’t realized how cold you were before he did, because you’re almost instantly with a wave of warmth and comfort over your listless body.

It feels almost uncharacteristic or Minho to carry out an action this polite- but as he takes his seat across from you, watching as you doze off peacefully, you think he may finally be coming around to you.

*

“I’m ditching my second class again today,” Minho announces the next morning at breakfast. He doesn’t eat much, you notice, as he bites into a single apple and hoists his backpack further up his shoulders.

“I’ll be home a bit earlier,” he then continues, eyeing you a little, and you give him a little nod.

“Then help with lunch,” Mrs. Lee says, gathering her own briefcase for work. “Y/n shouldn’t do it all by herself when you’re here.”

“Oh, it’s no worry at all,” you quickly chime in, not wanting to be the reason Minho refutes his mother’s words. “It’s what I’m here to do, after all.”

“No worries,” Minho says back to you. “I’ll be home around noon and we can prepare something together.”

For some reason, your heart flutters a little at the implication of doing something alongside Minho- something so planned and seemingly intimate. You normally just take the days as they come, so having a commitment hanging over your head like this is a little nerve-racking. And in all your worrying, you don’t respond to Minho, realizing only as he’s exiting the house with his apple in hand.

“I might be late again today,” Mrs. Lee turns to you, snapping you out of your trance. “But Minho can stay for the remainder of the time. I’ll still pay you the full amount like I did yesterday-”

“I’m happy to stay again,” you reply to her. “Like I said, it’s what I’m here to do.”

She smiles in return, clasping her hands and gesturing to the food on the table.

“I can’t get Minho to eat for the life of me, but help yourself to whatever you’d like. And thank you again, for staying.”

You’re reading to Joon in the living room when Minho arrives home from school. He kicks off his shoes dramatically, tossing his bag on the floor and breathing out a heavy sigh while you thumb through the pages of a new picture book.

“Hi,” Minho says first, his expression remaining stoic and unchanging.

“Hey,” you reply, hoisting Joon a little further up in your arms. “How was school?”

“Terrible,” he responds, making his way around the granite island to collect another apple.

“Why’s that?”

“Professor Kim,” he says curtly, polishing the apple on his button down shirt before taking a generous bite. “A three hour lecture on a Friday really wasn’t a smart choice. ”

You chuckle a little to yourself, adjusting your position on the floor and trying to balance Joon in your embrace. Minho takes notice of your struggle, abandoning his apple on the counter to come take Joon from your arms.

“Thanks,” you say, dusting off your legs as you stand again. “I’m going to get started on something for Joon to eat if you want to wait around. Unless you’re sticking to this exclusively-apple diet.”

Minho chuckles to himself and shakes his head. “I’ll help. We don’t have much prepared right now and I really need to go grocery shopping.” He secures Joon in his high chair, cocking his head toward the fridge.

“Could you just grab his orange juice? It should be the blue bottle on the right.”

And you comply with his request, promptly locating the blue sippy cup and handing it to Minho.

“Thank you,” he says, setting it down on the white tray in front of Joon and twisting it open. “This should be enough to hold him off until we can whip something up with the few ingredients we have. I want to do something with those sweet potatoes, they’re reaching the end of their time.”

Joon is a little fussy as he reaches for his sippy cup, flailing his arms around and sliding the cup across the tray to the edge. The cap seems to loosen as he does, tilting dangerously to one side.

“I got it,” you say to Minho, as you approach Joon. You retrieve the cup from the edge of the tray, twisting off the cap again to secure it properly. And as you do, Joon lets out a particularly loud yelp, knocking his hand toward you and letting the bottle fall off the tray entirely.

As you realize what’s happening, you bring two hands up to push it away from you, but you’re too late- the entirety of the bottle’s contents are spilt onto your shirt, completely soaking you and dripping onto the floor with loud, wet noises.

Minho doesn’t see what happened, but he turns around at the sound of your loud gasp, his eyes widening at the sight of you. Even your hair’s gotten wet, stringy pieces falling into your face, damp with the tangy scent of orange juice and dripping down your shirt. His mind races with guilty thoughts, feeling as though he should have stayed watching Joon, being the one to have been caught in the crossfire of his tantrum instead. Joon’s always fussy before meals- he knows this very well. As his mind races with the urgency to grab a towel, a rag- something, his eyes graze to your t-shirt, and he practically freezes.

Your thin white t-shirt is soaked like the rest of you, painting a clear outline of your black bra as the cold contents drip down your chest and torso. The see-through fabric sticks to your body like a cellophane wrapping, outlining every inch of you, every curve and every raised goosebump as you shudder at the sensation. Minho’s eyes remain locked on your dampened breasts for an embarrassing amount of time, taking careful note of the way your hardened nipples practically protrude through the thin white fabric, almost appearing increasingly noticeable with every passing second. The delicate curves of your stomach are accentuated with your skin-tight shirt, even your navel now visible.

A shake of your hands finally snaps him out of his trance, and you wrap your arms around yourself in a futile effort to cover yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you utter to him, at a loss for words at the notion of being so exposed to him. And Minho is quick to shake his head, now scrambling for a towel.

“Don’t apologize,” he says, pulling a towel off the oven handle and sliding it to you. “Here, use this and I’ll go get a larger towel from upstairs and a change of clothes.”

You want to deny the offer, feeling shameful for having already intruded this much on the Lee household and still needing more from them. But as you look down at your t-shirt, you know you don’t have a choice, the fabric now feeling cold and uncomfortable as it sticks to your flesh.

“Thanks,” you say to him, giving a small nod and not moving your hands from your chest.

And Minho retreats upstairs quickly, trying his best to avert his gaze as you remain in the kitchen.

As Joon babbles incoherently next to you, you can’t help but feel stupid, a sense of shame and embarrassment replacing the excitement you had to be preparing lunch alongside Minho for the afternoon. You’re in disbelief he’s practically seen you half naked like this, and you feel inadequate at not being able to stop Joon from committing the incident in the first place. As you run your hands up and down the raised goosebumps on your arms, you do your best to hold back tears, hoping Minho won’t think less of you for being caught in such a humiliating accident.

Minho is gone for a little while, and you blot at the wet patches on your shirt as you wait, Joon now laughing at your messy state. You can’t help but laugh a little, too, admittedly amused at what a disaster the afternoon has been- and you haven’t even begun the cooking part of it yet.

When he returns, he tosses you a large white bath towel and a gray t-shirt, still keeping his gaze on the floor instead of on yours.

“Here,” he says simply, his veiny arm scratching the back of his head. “I can also get a sweater if you’re cold.”

As you observe the t-shirt, you realize it’s one of his, not one of Mrs. Lee’s. For some reason, you’d assumed Minho would opt for a woman’s clothes as your change, but the t-shirt has clearly been pulled from his closet, and you blush a little at the idea of wearing his clothes.

“This is fine,” you reply, wrapping the bath towel around your body and excusing yourself to the bathroom.

You peel the sticky clothes off your body, crumpling them into a pile and changing into Minho’s t-shirt. It’s a bit large on you, but it’s much more comfortable, hanging loosely off your body and covering every bit of you that was previously exposed. His shirt smells like him, too, a pleasant scent of laundry detergent and his musky cologne.

When you exit the bathroom, you gesture to the change of clothes, your wet crumpled clothes balled in your hand. “I kinda look like you now,” you say, and Minho chuckles.

“You can keep it,” he responds, giving you another once-over and nodding shyly. “It looks better on you, anyway.”

He holds his hand out to you for the wet clothes, which he kindly takes from you to put in the wash. As he does, you go to the fridge to retrieve more orange juice for Joon- except there is none. You desperately search for milk, orange juice- any form of a snack that will keep him busy until his mealtime. But the kitchen is void of anything he can consume, and you begin to panic a little, knowing Joon hasn’t eaten in a good while now.

“That was the last of his orange juice,” you say to Minho when he returns. “And there’s not much else for him to snack on.”

Minho searches the kitchen too, digging through cabinets and moving around jars in the fridge to check for expiration dates. But he quickly realizes you’re right- the fridge is even more sparse than he’d assumed it to be.

“I guess we’ll have to make a trip to the store, then. How do you feel about strapping him into a car seat?”

“I’ve never done it,” you reply nervously.

“I can show you,” Minho says, grabbing his keys off the kitchen counter and spinning them around his index finger. “We can do it together.”

*

The nearest grocery store is just 20 minutes out from the Lee household. Minho drives a fancy black SUV, and he guides you through how to strap Joon into his car seat, which you carry out with no issues. He drives with one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting casually on the center console as you chat with him about your university courses. For the first time, you notice how Minho seems much more comfortable around you now, cracking jokes occasionally and smiling at your stories about your afternoons alone with Joon. When Joon chimes in from the back seat with his excited babbling, you and Minho babble equally in response, sharing laughter at the ridiculous exchanges among the three of you.

You opt to carry Joon inside the grocery store while Minho walks alongside you, checking off a list he routinely uses to stock up on all of Joon’s favorite foods. And the atmosphere around you is homely, instilling the same sense of comfort in you as your afternoons alone with Joon. One that reminds you why you’re doing this job in the first place- you feel respected here, like your efforts don’t go unnoticed, and like you belong. It fills the lonely void inside of you with the sounds of Joon’s laughter, Minho’s tales of his classes and the trivial tasks of grocery store runs and learning to maneuver a baby car seat.

“I think that’s it,” Minho says as he checks the list one last time. “Milk, juice, bread…” he reads the items one by one again, and then nods affirmatively when he’s ensured they’re in the basket.

“That’s it,” he repeats, shooting you a small smile. “Let’s go pay.”

An older cashier gestures you to her lane at the registers, beginning to scan your items as Minho places them down on the conveyor belt. And then she gives a little wave to Joon, who curiously stares back at her.

“What a beautiful baby,” she says, pausing from scanning with a jar of mashed carrots in her hand.

Joon smiles in response, a trickle of drool escaping his lips.

“And what a beautiful family,” she continues, looking back and forth between you and Minho. “It’s not easy being young parents, but I can tell the two of you are doing a fine job at it.”

“Oh,” you say, chuckling lightly. “We’re not-”

“Thank you,” Minho interrupts, placing an arm around your waist and pulling you a little closer to him.

“We don’t get told that very often.”

You almost freeze at the contact, butterflies erupting in your stomach as he keeps his hand on the small of your back. This woman thinks the two of you are a couple- and worse, Minho is playing along with it. You can’t figure out why he’d entertain such a blatant lie, but you don’t interrupt him either, curious to see where he’s taking this little bit.

“People can be so unfair,” the cashier replies, shaking her head. “As long as the child is cared for, your status shouldn’t matter.”

“Exactly,” Minho replies, throwing his hand in the air like she’s making a point that pertains to him. “You know, when we got married, everyone told us it would never work. And now look at us- our child just turned 1 and we’re already making plans for a second honeymoon.”

“That’s amazing!” The woman says, clasping her hand over her heart like she’s touched by the bogus story.

“It is, isn’t it honey?” Minho says, turning to you.

Thoughts swirl your mind about this performance he’s putting on, but you’re undoubtedly entertained by the whole thing, stifling laughter as you nod in response.

“It is amazing,” you say finally. “We eloped and had a shotgun wedding- booked it to Italy right after and now we’re thinking of taking the little one to Paris for a real ceremony.”

The older woman removes her glasses now, wiping her eyes and shaking her head in disbelief. You can’t help but feel bad for her, seeing how easily she’s falling for your blatant lies, but Minho shows no remorse, grinning ear to ear and keeping his hand on the small of your back.

“Well I’ll tell you what,” the woman says, putting her glasses back on and shifting her eyes around the store.

“Since you guys just made my day, I’m going to provide you with our senior discount. It’s not everyday I see a young couple so beautiful raising such a darling little child.”

“Oh, you really don’t-” you start to say, and Minho interrupts you before you can finish.

“That would mean the world to us,” he says in an exaggerated voice, giving the cashier a little bow. “It would help us out a ton.”

You want to protest, to slap Minho in his pretty little face and ask what the hell he thinks he’s doing lying for a discount like this, but you’re afraid the cashier will see right through your whole stunt and reprimand both of you. So you just nod and let Minho take the lead again.

“Thank you,” you echo back to her,” holding Joon’s stubby little fingers as the woman types a lengthy code into the computer.

And Minho smiles at you, shooting you a little wink as he gathers boxes of cereal and jars of food in his arms.

“What was that?” You practically yell as you exit the store, balancing Joon in one arm and a bag of groceries in another. “You totally lied to her.”

“I didn’t lie,” Minho says. “I told her a different reality.”

“That is literally what a lie is,” you echo back to him, securing Joon in his car seat and lining grocery bags on the floor. Minho slides into the driver's seat again, putting his keys in the ignition but not yet starting the car as he waits for you to get in, too.

“I mean, that was like a 10% discount,” you continue, huffing frustratedly as you wait for him to speak. “How is that worth telling someone a whole list of lies?”

“You know, there’s this really cool theory called the anthropic principle,” Minho begins, looking straight ahead through the windshield. “Suggests the existence of a multitude of universes.”

“What?”

“So,” he continues. “Philosophically speaking, maybe in one of those we're married, and we have a child, and our honeymoon was in Italy.”

You stay quiet for a moment, pondering his words, completely unsure of if he’s flirting with you or teasing you right now.

“And maybe,” he chimes in again. “In one of them, we robbed the store and killed the cashier. And in another, we don’t even know each other.”

“What are you getting at?” You say, narrowing your eyes in confusion.

“It’s not lying,” Minho says with a smile as he finally starts up the car. “We just told her about a different reality.”

“So it’s lying,” you say with a smile, unable to hold back the giggle that escapes your lips.

“A little,” he finally says. “But it was fun, right?”

And you start to say no, but you can’t get the words out, aware you’ll be lying twice today if you do.

Minho takes your silence as confirmation, a grin plastered on his face as he rests one arm behind your headrest to pull out of the parking lot. And you can’t help but smile, too, the spontaneous thrill of lying to the cashier admittedly being some of the most fun you’ve had all week. And the conclusion stands- Minho’s a little odd. But he’s great company.

*

Mrs. Lee is late again tonight, the second hand on the clock ticking in slow intervals as it nears 10pm. You yawn for the umpteenth time tonight, exhausted from having done so much today, wanting nothing more than to sleep in the comfort of your own bed at home and mentally recharge for another day of this tomorrow. But you’ve promised to wait for her, always eager to wait it out until the last second, because Mrs. Lee always expresses her sincerest gratitude when you wait for her.

“Sorry, she’s really late today,” Minho says as he lowers the volume on the television. You completed a few more chores around the house after dinner while Minho powered through his schoolwork, putting Joon to bed before settling on the sofa and watching old cartoon reruns. Now you’ve been in and out of sleep for the better part of an hour, Minho remaining close by watching infomercials again, peering at your tired figure and feeling guilty that you’ve been here so long.

“It’s okay,” you reply quietly, letting out another yawn. You cross your arms over yourself, still dressed comfortably in Minho’s t-shirt, and do your best to keep your gaze on the television.

Tonight Minho is stuck on an infomercial for artificial plants, the dull narration lulling you to sleep even further as he checks the time on his watch and glances nervously at the front door.

Minho cranes his neck at your figure again, not missing the way gray bags hang heavy below your eyes, your lashes half-lidded as you feign sleep and force your gaze onto the infomercial.

“Don’t you have an early exam tomorrow?” You say to Minho, another yawn escaping your lips as you speak. “Don’t wait up on my account. You should get some sleep.”

Minho shuts off the television, standing up from where he’s sitting and dusting off his pants.

“I’ll take you home,” he announces, fishing around on the table for his car keys.

“It’s okay,” you reply, not wanting to inconvenience him anymore than you already have today. “I can walk to the bus stop.”

“You’re not walking,” Minho retorts, scoffing as you sit up and rub your tired eyes with the back of your hand. “It’s pitch black outside.”

“It’s fine,” you say, gathering your book bag and rushing to put your shoes on. It’s a race between the two of you now, Minho scrambling to locate his car keys while you get ready to leave for the evening.

“It’s really not a problem- where are my keys?” Minho mutters to himself, patting the pockets on his jacket and rearranging stacks of papers on the coffee table.

“I’m fine, really.”

“No, I’ll drive you,” Minho says, still tossing aside the mess he’s made to locate his keys.

“I’ll walk,” you reiterate again, and Minho finally exhales frustratedly.

“Then I’ll walk with you,” he finally announces, ditching the car keys altogether and stopping to look at you. He looks tired, too, evident bags under his eyes and his hair tousled from running his hands through it frustratedly.

“Minho, I really don’t want to burden you-”

“It’s not a burden.”

As he speaks, you hear Joon’s baby monitor alerting you that he’s awake for the evening, wailing loudly when he realizes that he’s alone. It’s perfect timing, too, Minho already having planned to wake him up so he can walk you back.

“Wait here,” Minho says to you as he begins toward the stairs. “I’ll get his harness.”

The dim street lights illuminate the dark paved roads, a crisp chill in the air as you walk alongside Minho with your hands in your pockets.

Joon sits comfortably in his harness against Minho’s chest, curiously taking in the atmosphere around him as you walk in silence to your bus stop. It’s not a long walk, only 20 minutes from Minho’s, but you feel admittedly much safer with Minho by your side, his and Joon’s presence feeling homely even at this hour. For nearly the entirety of the walk, the two of you say nothing, too tired to engage in conversation, but still comfortable in the presence of each other, and not needing to say anything. Joon babbles saliva every now and then, Minho bringing a finger up to wipe his chin, and the only other sounds are that of crickets and the gentle sway of the trees.

“This is me,” you say to Minho when you reach the familiar blue bench of your stop.

You sit on one side of the bench, slinging your book bag over beside you and crossing your legs. And to your surprise, Minho occupies the other side, one hand resting gently on the back of Joon’s head while the other pats his back gently.

“You don’t have to wait,” you tell Minho quickly, and he just shakes his head silently in response.

The silence between you remains, Joon toying with the collar of Minho’s shirt as you wait for the bus. There’s so much you want to ask Minho, so much you still want to find out from him. You’re well aware that you haven’t quite figured him out yet, but you’re undoubtedly sure that he is a nice guy, after all. From lending you his t-shirt, waiting up for you on late nights, even walking you to your bus stop and waiting for the bus with you. You think briefly back to his little joke at the grocery store, smiling to yourself when you remember he’d chosen to pretend you were a married couple for no other reason than to make you laugh after having had such a rough day. And his innate fascination with looking at everything through a philosophical lens, the passion for his favorite subject so robustly present wherever he goes.

“What’s that theory again?” You ask Minho as your thoughts verbalize amidst the silence.

“Hm?”

“The one about the universe.”

“The anthropic principle?” He questions, and you hum in response.

“Yeah, that one. Do you think there are like, a million versions of us right now, just…sitting here?”

“Sure,” Minho replies. “But the conditions would have to be just right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the theory states that conditions have to be just right for us to coexist in the universe we’re in right now. It’s sort of like a coincidence that this one evolved so that we could thrive in it. So there might be other versions of us, just not as definitive. We might be rocks, or bugs. Or maybe there’s a more advanced version, where we’re still on our honeymoon in Italy.”

“Or the one where we killed that cashier,” you chime in.

“Exactly,” Minho replies, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You ponder his words for a moment.

“Do they all follow the same timeline?” You ask him.

“What do you mean?”

“Do they all last forever? What if we got divorced? Would we part ways in every universe?”

Minho stays quiet for a moment, thinking back to the philosophical theories tucked in the back of his mind.

“I don’t know,” he finally replies. “I’d like to think some versions have a happy ending, but maybe some of them don’t.”

As silence falls over you again, your bus finally turns the corner, making its way down the street toward your stop.

“That’s me,” you say, getting up and gathering your belongings again.

Minho stands up, too, saying nothing as the bus finally halts in front of you, the brakes screeching to a stop with the loud exhaust of the doors as they open.

“Thanks,” you say to Minho before getting on. “For walking me.”

“It’s no problem,” he replies, shooting you a tired smile.

Minho watches as you board the bus, taking your seat toward the back. He scans the aisles momentarily, making sure you’re sat somewhere safe, away from anyone he might deem sketchy at this hour. And when he feels confident you’ll make it home okay, he brings Joon’s hand up in front of him, giving you a little wave as he watches you smile back through the tinted windows, sending him off with a wave back.

*

From then on, things shift between the two of you. Minho is a constant, always offering to walk you home on late nights to engage in discussions about your university work or his favorite theories. When he’s home early from his classes, the two of you enjoy cooking for Joon together, making trips to the grocery store where the cashiers are now fully convinced you’re a married couple. On late nights, the two of you often engage in lighthearted philosophical debates while you wait for Mrs. Lee to get home for the evening. When he’s walking you home for the night, doing homework alongside you or just passing by, Minho indulges you in all his favorite philosophical questions, and you entertain them, using the opportunity to get a better glimpse into his mind and how he thinks.

It’s exactly this that tears down Minho’s walls, you find- he, in all his philosophically-educated glory, sharing his perspective while you poke holes in his arguments and reach a conclusion together. Sometimes you’ll reach a stalemate, the argument fizzling out with no clear answer. And sometimes he can change your mind almost instantly, the arguments leaving his lips like second nature, always quick to persuade you in the opposite direction and provide clear reasoning. He’s very skilled at his work, and you quickly realize why he’s so passionate about philosophy in the first place.

It’s not something Minho’s used to yet- having a companion like this, one who actually cares about anything he has to say. Someone to come home to, somebody to bask in the simplicities of life with and affirm that he’s not completely incapable of making real human connections. And admittedly, maybe he loves playing house with you, coming home to your home-cooked meals and caring for the baby together.

Maybe this version of the universe deems you a babysitter, and he, just an outcast. But sometimes Minho swears he can see different versions where you’re so much more than that to each other.

In late November, you take your first week off, leaving on a small family trip to a city just a few hours out to go see extended family.

You tell Minho of your little excursion the week prior, and he pretends to be disheartened, but you know deep down he must be relieved to have some space to himself again. Of course you’re not able to watch Joon, and Mrs. Lee has a friend watch him in your absence, but you’re surprised at how much you miss the Lee household when you’re not there. The trip to the city is filled with repetitive questions from family about your major, your internship, your potential salary in an entry-level position and general university questions. And yet all you catch yourself thinking about is Joon, and Mrs. Lee and especially Minho.

You wonder what he’s doing in the comfort of his grand room all by himself, surrounded by books and tall windows. Minho once told you that he can go a whole day without talking when he’s not having philosophical debates with you over coffee. You wonder if he’s talked today, or if he attended his classes or how his exam on Tuesday went. Thoughts of him plague your mind every waking second- whether Minho would like a certain food, if Minho would agree with this statement, even what the people around you would think if you dragged him along and played house with him like you do back home. In this version of the universe, maybe he’s reading a book or watching a movie, but in another, he could be right here, telling his string of lies to your extended family.

On the last day of your family vacation, you find yourself in an old bookstore, and all you can think about is Minho. He’d love it here, you think, grazing your fingertips along the old cracked spines and yellowing pages. And as you scan through the philosophy section, several of the books already piquing your interest, you spot it.

The small familiar crimson book, just barely larger than your hand, delicate to the touch and painted with the same Cupid depiction as the one you know so well. A first edition copy of Dorothy Tennov’s Love and Limerence. You can’t help but smile to yourself, scanning the book’s contents briefly before closing it again and bringing it up to the counter. It’s not like you’re trying to worsen this little developing crush you have on Minho, but he seems to be everywhere you go- and candidly, you just want to have him figured out.

*

When you return to the Lee household from your vacation, the atmosphere is calm, sunbeams shining through the large glass windows and illuminating the house with a romantic glow. Joon eats his breakfast well, downing his orange juice and causing you little trouble throughout the day. And Minho arrives just after 3, his backpack slung over his shoulder and a book in hand.

Your heart beats erratically to see him again, trying your best to avert his gaze as he enters through the front door and kicks off his shoes. When he makes his way through the kitchen, you attempt to look busy, wiping down the counters with a kitchen rag and balancing Joon in your arms.

“Hi,” Minho says, a little shyly as you keep your eyesight on the granite counter below you.

“Hey,” you respond, pretending like you hadn’t noticed him enter the room, when in reality, you’ve been well aware of his arrival since he parked his car out front.

“How was your trip?” Minho asks, setting down his backpack and loosening the collar of his sweater.

He’s dressed for the chilly weather outside, a simple black knit sweater paired with blue jeans.

“It was good,” you reply, folding the rag with one hand and setting it aside. “I kinda missed it here.”

Minho smiles at you nervously, toying with the hem of his sweater as he hears you speak.

“It was pretty quiet without you here. I think Joon missed you.”

“Did he?” You question excitedly, poking at Joon with your finger and cooing at him. “Is that right? You missed me?” And Joon giggles excitedly, smiling between the two of you.

When the room falls quiet again, Minho clears his throat like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t, instead keeping his gaze fixed on yours. The room is teeming with awkward tension between the two of you, two hearts clouded in desire to act on this conflicting emotion of fleeting lust and a mutual understanding of each other, but neither one of you say anything, letting it die with your silence and circle your minds aimlessly again.

“I got you something,” you say suddenly, and Minho’s heart quickens a little.

“Me?” He questions, pointing to himself as if you need clarity of who he speaks of.

“Yes, you. It’s in my bag upstairs.”

And you begin your ascent to the staircase, motioning for Minho to follow you as you bring Joon with you.

“Close your eyes,” you tell Minho when you‘ve entered the library again.

“Should I be scared?” He asks, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

“Close them!” You exclaim, and he finally puts his hands out in front of him, shutting his eyes, a big grin plastered on his face. You place the book in Minho’s palms gently, making sure to position it so that the cover is facing him properly.

“Now open.”

When Minho opens his eyes again, he doesn’t even need to read the words before knowing what it is. He’s immediately familiar with the first edition of Dorothy Tennov’s Love and Limerence he holds in his hands, uniquely characterized by the contrasting art style to his, and the much older, yellowing pages.

“My book,” Minho says, biting his lip as he holds back a bigger smile, one that will most definitely point to the incriminating fact that he’s smitten.

“Your book,” you echo, leaning on the wall across from him. “It’s a first edition. The bookkeeper said they’re pretty rare to come by.”

“You didn’t have to-”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, fixing Joon’s hair and averting Minho’s gaze. You’re afraid if you make eye contact with him, this whole nonchalant front will crumble down in front of you, because you’re embarrassingly smitten with him, too.

“Thank you,” Minho says, thumbing the raised gold-foiled cover outline of Cupid. “I’ll go put it with the rest of them.”

And he disappears down the corridor, his book tucked in the endeared clutch of his hands.

While Minho adds his book to the rest of his collection, you put Joon down for his nap, gently placing him on the soft blanket in his crib and adjusting the baby monitor. He blinks up at you a few times, his lips pulling into a shaky smile as his lashes finally flutter shut and a wave of sleepiness washes over him. You exit the room quietly, closing the door just halfway like you always do, and then make your way down the corridor to Minho’s room. The door is left ajar, but you hear him shuffling about, and you enter after giving a gentle knock.

Minho seems startled at this, jumping up from where he’s standing, in front of his bookshelf with Love and Limerence held open in the palms of his hands. He shuts it quickly, shoving it on the top with another stack of books, and then almost shields his bookshelf as he turns to face you.

“I didn't hear you come in,” he says, nervously shifting his eyes to more stacks of books on his window sill and nightstand.

“I put Joon down for his nap,” you reply, cocking an eyebrow as he stands there awkwardly. “Is… everything okay?”

“Yes,” he says quickly, blinking nervously when he sees you peer over his torso at the bookshelf.

“Where’d you put it?”

“Can’t remember,” Minho says, a breathy chuckle emitting from his lips as he tries his best to avoid talking about it. But you catch on- and you’re certainly not going to let him evade the subject.

“What are you hiding?” You finally ask, eyeing him with a small smile. Minho’s face drops a little, sighing once as he steps aside and grants you full visibility of his bookshelf. There’s nothing out of the ordinary- books of all colors and sizes lined neatly on the shelves, some of them left open or bookmarked. A good amount of them appear to be philosophy books, which doesn’t come as a surprise to you.

“It’s just your books,” you say flatly, and Minho scratches the back of his head before he speaks again.

“Love and Limerence isn’t a required read for university.” He says in a low voice.

“Oh,” you reply, unsure of why it should really matter to you.

“None of them are,” he continues. “It’s just my personal… collection. Of romance novels.”

And then you finally understand.

Minho- the stoic, otherwise quiet being, in all his philosophical studiousness and awkwardness, is a sucker for romance. Once the cogs begin turning in your head, they don’t stop, everything about him now making a little more sense to you. Why he stays locked up in his little tower all day reading book after book, why he’s so hopeful when he speaks of the human condition and of love, why he loves taking care of people so much. He’s just a big softie underneath it all.

“There’s nothing weird about that,” you chime in. “In fact, it’s really cool.”

“Yeah right,” he retorts.

“I’m dead serious. I’ve never met someone with so many copies of Thorns and Roses before.”

Minho shakes his head, moving to sit on his bed with his palms tucked under his legs. His gaze remains locked on the floor, an expression of shame still visible on his face. And when you see him exhale deeply, like he’s been nervously holding his breath all this time, you feel bad for him. If there’s anything you’ve learned about him since meeting him, it’s that he’s really a bit of a dork. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him look so vulnerable before.

“Which one’s your favorite?” You ask, skimming your finger along the neat row of spines.

He shrugs. “Pride and Prejudice, maybe. But these days it’s Love and Limerence.”

Minho’s voice is trembling, just above a whisper as he reads off his list of favorite novels to you. And you chuckle softly in reply, pulling the little red book out of its respective home on the shelf and tossing it to him.

“Read me your favorite passage.”

He furrows his brows a little, like he thinks you might be making fun of him. But when you take a seat next to him on the bed, wide-eyed and gesturing to the book in his hands, he realizes you’re genuinely asking him to.

“Go on,” you say, gesturing to the book once more.

Minho opens the book to the middle, flipping through yellowing pages with small font. Most of the pages are littered generously with blue sticky notes, Minho’s messy handwriting annotating all his favorite passages. When he finds the page he’s searching for, he eyes you cautiously, as if waiting for permission to begin reading. And with a deep breath, he begins, his voice shaking a little as he finds his footing.

“Now by these presents let me assure you that you are not only in my heart, but my veins, this morning. I turn from you half abashed--yet you haunt me, and some look, word or touch thrills through my whole frame--yes, at the very moment when I am labouring to think of something, if not somebody else.”

At the last words, his gaze meets yours again, eyelashes trembling as he waits for your reaction. He waits for you to laugh, or to dismiss the words, or leave altogether. But you just stare back at him, your heart beating erratically at the poetry he utters, completely in awe with him.

He feels otherworldly at this distance, this intricate fascination with love and human connection. The way his brown tresses fall loosely in front of his big eyes as he speaks, his plump lips pulling into a nervous smile to reveal the row of skewed teeth you find a home in every time. He’s like the passage reads- thrilling your whole frame, consuming you whole and filling your mind with thoughts of him, and his poetry and his kind demeanor. You find yourself a little closer to him, your eyes darting to his lips and then back to his curious eyes, fantasies of him running rampant in your mind.

And Minho keeps his gaze locked on yours, too, leaning in a little closer to you, the book closing on its own as his hand slips away from holding it open and onto the bed beside you. The implications are there, the atmosphere around you heavy with desire and uncertainty, and just as you wield the courage to bring your lips a little closer to his, you’re promptly interrupted.

“Minho-ah!” A voice calls from downstairs. You quickly clock it as Mrs. Lee’s, who must be home early from work.

“I’m home early!” She calls again, confirming your theory, her footsteps getting louder as she makes her way up the stairs.

You sit up promptly, smoothing down your shirt and standing to bow when Mrs. Lee pokes her head in the doorway. Minho stands up too, making the whole situation look unbearably obvious, and you pray she can’t tell what’s going on between the two of you.

“Y/n,” she says with a warm smile. “I’m sorry I forgot to tell you I would be home a little earlier today. Joon has a doctor’s appointment.”

“No worries at all!” You voice back, bowing again as she smiles. “I was actually going to leave early today. I have a bit of a headache.”

“Oh, do you want a cup of tea?” She asks, heavy concern present in her voice.

“No thanks, I think I just need some sleep.”

You turn to Minho, who’s standing with his hands in his pockets, looking a little disappointed as you give him a small bow.

“Take care,” you say to him, pivoting to head back to the library and gather your things.

Minho hears his mom see you out of the front door, chatting briefly with you about your trip and sending you off with a little wave.

He shuts his bedroom door and locks it, sprawling out on the duvet of his bed and running his hands over the book still beside him.

He’s not sure what happened- whether you were about to kiss him, or whether it was just wishful thinking. But every way he interprets the encounter, Minho swears he can feel your yearning for him, too. Is he crazy to think you might feel the same? Maybe he, too, finds it laboring to think of something- if not, someone else, besides you.

*

Joon is a particularly picky eater in afternoons, making a big fuss of foods he usually devours in the mornings and evenings. He skillfully dodges every spoon, every bite and feigns his interest in even his favorite snacks and desserts. And while you’re usually patient with him, today you’re frustrated, having mentally scolded yourself several times since yesterday’s events.

A part of you wants to ditch all of this, reminding yourself that you’re here to work a job, not lust after the son of the person who hired you. But the other part of you can’t help but imagine how things would be different if you just let yourself fall gracefully into him- he’s so much more than a fleeting thought to you. You want to understand him, having challenged yourself to figuring him out from the moment you came across him. But maybe you want him to understand you, too. You want him to understand that you feel at home whenever he’s around, his philosophical discussions and this game of house you play making you feel like you belong here. You want him to understand that although you know he feels like an outcast, none of his odd quirks matter to you when he’s reading his favorite love stories across from you in the library, catching glimpses of you when he thinks you’re not looking. And that maybe this universe conditioned itself just right so that you took up this job and crossed paths- and that has to mean something bigger.

There’s nothing different about the afternoon following yesterday’s, except for you spending a considerable amount of time on your hair and makeup, the anticipation bubbling inside you at the idea of seeing Minho again. You have no definitive plan, no script of how it’s going to go when he arrives from school. But you also know there’s something in your throat that wants so desperately to get out, and you won’t let it. As Joon toys with the cereal in his bowl, he looks up at you with big, curious eyes, and you wonder what he’s thinking, if anything. He doesn't know anything beyond the simple tasks of eating and sleeping, living with the comfortable knowledge that he’s being cared for. And although it seems much easier, you can’t help but sympathize. What a gift it is to feel- what a gift it is to carry emotions so deeply they eat away at you like this.

You’re infatuated with Minho- that fact stands true. And whether or not it benefits you to do anything about it, you’re determined to do something with all of this feeling, lest it slips through your fingers like he almost did.

You don’t hear Minho come home when he does, busy in the garden tending to Mrs. Lee’s plants when the usual alert of his car pulling into the driveway passes you by. So when he wanders the corridors searching everywhere for you, you don’t take notice.

Minho’s desperate, hoping to ask you to stay just a little bit longer tonight, having also had the epiphany that he’s completely fallen for you, too. And what he hopes to do with it, he’s unsure- but he does know that every romance novel on his shelf would refute the idea of letting this feeling dissipate. Kiss her, tell her, do something. Anything.

He strides down the halls with purpose and vigor, a nervous smile pulling at his face at the thought of seeing you again. It’s all he’s thought about today, having had just two hours of sleep as he sorted out what to say to you. And while he’s not well-versed in the practice of confessing his love, he feels his whole life has been devoted to the very purpose of being here and finding you. The debates you share, midnight walks to the bus stop, the book- he’d be a fool not to reciprocate what you yearn for. And when he doesn’t find you, Minho feels the familiar pit of worry form in his stomach. He’s not accounted for a change of plans, or even what might happen if you reject his admission. He wants to believe so badly that the answer is yes, risking everything just to say something.

20 minutes after he’s been home, Minho receives a phone call, answering in a rush while he checks the upstairs rooms for you.

“Hello?”

“It’s Sujin from class,” the phone at the other end says plainly. “I’m here for our project.”

And Minho freezes, remembering very well that he has a project due very soon, and his partner is here tonight to work on it with him. He sighs heavily into the line at the change in plans, knowing he’ll have to bottle his emotions another day and act on them tomorrow when he can get you alone.

“Oh, right,” Minho responds, making his way to the stairs and jogging down them. “The door should be unlocked.”

He stuffs his phone in his back pocket, making his way to the door to meet Sujin, and as he passes the sliding door to the backyard, he finally sees you. Knelt on the ground in a white sundress, your hands tainted with soil as you tend to the tomato plants and hum to yourself. Minho smiles at the sight of you, the urge to tell you right now stronger than ever. But before he can call out to you, Sujin’s already made her way inside, peering curiously around the place and clutching her purse in hand.

“Wow,” she says, chuckling lightly. “You didn’t tell me you were rich.”

Minho scratches the back of his head awkwardly as she grazes a marble sculpture with her fingers. His eyes remain on you through the glass door, transfixed by the way you tuck your hair behind your ears and pat your dress as you stand up again. Sujin takes note of Minho’s evident distraction, briefly glancing out the window and back to him.

“Where are we working?” She asks, pursing her lips together.

“We can work upstairs,” Minho explains, as you finally make your way inside.

At first you’re confused at the sight, Minho looming over a girl much prettier than you, her long hair styled neatly over one shoulder and a matching formal two-piece hugging her curves beautifully. And then as you see her begin up the stairs in the direction of Minho’s room, you finally understand.

Of course there’s another woman.

Of course there was a catch to all of this, because why else would things condition themselves so perfectly that you’d win him over?

And suddenly everything feels pointless- confessing to him, feeling any ounce of emotion regarding all of this, even working this job. He has a girlfriend, and she’s much prettier than you are. And he's trailing behind her after giving you a shy nod, likely embarrassed at the fact that you’ll be here tending to his household while he fucks her in his upstairs bedroom.

You can’t help but think that perhaps something got lost in translation, because Minho evidently never liked you, and unless this version of the universe magically conditions to work in your favor just once, it’s going to remain that way.

*

When the tears begin to prick at the corners of your eyes, they don’t stop. You can’t feed Joon without hiccuping through a hot rush of tears that fall from your cheeks onto his tray below him. Joon seems to sense something is wrong, pausing the task of dodging his food to observe the way your face contorts as you wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. And when you do stop to look at him, all you can see is Minho, his eyes and lips resembling exactly that of his elder brother’s.

The chores feel like a futile task now, and you let them sit there for the remainder of the evening you’re working for. In fact, the only thing you do complete is the task of getting Joon to bed when the sun begins to set, marching carefully upstairs to not interrupt Minho’s time with his girlfriend. And the word makes you sick, to think that he’s been stringing you along all while having a girlfriend- a fact he so conveniently left out.

Joon goes down without a fuss, and when he’s finally asleep, you escape the confines of the second story to lock yourself in the downstairs living room and complete your school work. How much of that is spent crying instead, you can’t quite remember.

It’s just after 9 when Sujin leaves for the evening, but you’re not awake to take notice when she does. You wake to the familiar sound of infomercials playing quietly on the television in front of you, Minho sitting on the floor in front of the sofa you occupy. His head hangs as he holds a book in his lap, probably some cheesy romance he projects onto him and his girlfriend, and his thin wireframe glasses rest on the bridge of his nose.

The dull narration on the television advertises jewelry tonight, and you let out a sigh as you feel your swollen eyes adjust to the bright screen in front of you. At this, Minho turns around, giving you a sheepish smile as you try to shut your eyes again. But it’s too late- he’s already seen you awake for the evening.

“Hi,” Minho says for the first time today, bookmarking his page and lowering the volume on the television. “She’s late again today, but I saved you some takeout.”

“I’m not hungry,” you reply quickly, sitting up and reaching for your bag. “In fact, I need to go home.”

“Oh, sure,” Minho replies, a little hurt at your rushed tone. “I can walk you-”

“No need,” you say to him, pulling on your sneakers and doing everything in your power to avert his gaze. He furrows his brows a little, knowing you never reject his offers to walk you home.

“Is everything-”

“Fine. I just need to get home,” you reiterate, finally sitting down and smoothing down your wrinkled dress.

Every part of him is annoying you right now, your mind teeming with the reminder that you’ve been wasting your time trying to know him better while he’s been entertaining a whole girlfriend these past few months.

“Y/n, wait,” Minho calls, still intent on telling you tonight, while the feelings remain stronger than ever. But you’ve already crossed the room to the front door, where you avert his gaze so he won’t see you begin to cry again.

“Bye,” you call to him, not even looking back before you’re turning the knob and seeing yourself out. “Tell Mrs. Lee it was an emergency.”

And he wants to ask if it was, but he can’t, staring at your rushed figure jogging down the street as you distance yourself from him before he can string you along any further.

*

Thus begins the game of avoidance.

It starts through keeping your conversations with Minho as short as possible, not engaging him when he tells you about theories he’s studied this week or what his days on campus were like. When he asks about your day, you give him one-word responses, muttering a simple “fine” before turning your attention to Joon again.

When Minho asks to go to the grocery store, you pretend you have a headache- for three days straight. So he makes the trips solo, balancing bags on one arm and telling you about how the cashiers have begun to ask where his pretend wife’s been. You give him no reaction, nodding as you feed Joon his dinner and glance at the clock for the umpteeth time, desperate to get away from him.

And the mystery woman remains, marching into the Lee household in afternoons like she owns the place, already having memorized the path to Minho’s room as she makes her way up the stairs and doesn’t acknowledge you. She’s beautiful everyday that she’s here, short skirts and long ponytails you can’t seem to look away from. And she’s even more hypnotic when she’s in the presence of Minho, the two of them as a couple certainly a sight for sore eyes. If they were a married couple, you’d reckon they'd be much more distinguished than you and Minho would.

“Do you want a coffee?” Minho peers into the library one night to ask you. You keep your gaze locked on the computer in front of you, trying your best to keep your guard up as he waits for a response.

“No, thank you,” you say coldly, continuing to work on your essay.

When he realizes you’re not going to say anything else, Minho enters the room reluctantly, his hands shoved in his pockets as he leans against the doorframe and gives you a once-over. You say nothing, still, holding back your emotions so as not to cause a scene. And Minho can tell something’s wrong in the way that you shift your eyes to him briefly and shake your head as if scolding yourself for doing so.

“Did I do something?” Minho finally asks, his voice a little shaky.

“No,” you say quickly, skimming the same sentence on your laptop screen over and over again.

“Are you… sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

He fiddles with a loose thread in the pocket of his pants, keeping his gaze on the floor and thinking about your differing behavior toward him the past week.

“We just haven’t talked much. And you never really leave here anymore. I wanted to make sure I didn’t overstep any boundaries-”

“Overstep?” You interrupt, scanning your eyes over the screen of your computer. “There’s nothing to overstep. I get paid to watch your brother, not hang out with you.”

You feel guilty the minute the words leave your mouth, but you feel even worse knowing he’s just been stringing you along with a girlfriend this whole time. The atmosphere feels akin to when you first met him, awkward and cold, and with tensions high like this, you don’t feel at home in the Lee household anymore.

“Sorry,” Minho says, nodding. “You’re right. I guess I’m overstepping by asking.”

You only look up at him when he leaves, his shoulders sagging as he leaves you alone once again- only this time, you have a feeling he’s going to stop making an attempt to rekindle things anymore.

And you’re right- Minho stops trying entirely. There are no more offers to walk you home, no philosophical debates over coffee or grocery store trips where you act as a married couple. You’re still covered in knit blankets when you fall asleep accidentally on the couch, but Minho doesn’t stick around watching his infomercials to wait up for you anymore. And he still saves you his takeout when he orders, but he leaves it neatly packaged for you in the fridge instead of bringing it up to you like he used to.

You’ve gone from a mutual infatuation for each other to complete strangers once again. The house feels lonely and cold like it once did, your only real human interaction occurring in the few minutes you have with Mrs. Lee at the start and end of the day.

Minho doesn’t talk to you at all, locking himself away in his room like he did when you first started caring for Joon. And when you see him in passing at late hours of the night, he looks indifferent, sagging his shoulders as he averts your gaze with a book in hand and disappears down the corridors again. At some point, you begin to see his girlfriend less- in fact, his stoic composure makes you wonder if something’s happened between them. But as time goes on, you start to realize this is less about his girlfriend- and more about you.

What a gift it is to feel- but also what a curse. To let something consume you so entirely you can barely breathe without it. It’s laboring to think of anything else, of anyone else besides Minho and what he means to you. And as you replay your last interaction in your head for the nth time this evening, you think back to the day you started here. You knew the fundamentals of caring for a baby, having trained just enough to land a job doing it. All you wanted was to be liked by Mrs. Lee, and by baby Joon- and by extension, Minho. This household quickly became someplace you felt like you actually belonged in. But your purpose here has completely diverted from its original path, having prioritized Minho’s complexities and his feelings toward you above what you were hired here to do. You’ve experienced a roller coaster of emotions trying to understand him, and just when you thought you’d cracked him, you realized his heart belongs to someone else. So with the comfortable knowledge in mind that perhaps the universe isn’t, in fact, conditioned for you to mean anything more to him than just a babysitter, you understand it’s time to stop forcing any other version of it.

*

There’s nothing particularly out of the ordinary two weeks into your avoidance of Minho.

You still haven’t talked, he still keeps his distance and you get paid to perform the job you’re here to do. But one afternoon before Minho’s even home from school, Joon refuses to eat. It starts with a tantrum he throws at breakfast time, which you consider typical as he knocks his cereal onto the floor and waves his hands around restlessly. You can only spoon feed him a couple spoons of yogurt before he’s put down for his afternoon nap. And when you wake him for his post-nap meal, he’s just as fussy. He seems to be bothered by something, crying loudly as you offer him different snacks and try your best to calm him down. But nothing seems to work, and when he begins refusing his bottles late into the afternoon, you start to panic.

Mrs. Lee isn’t home for a few hours, you’re unsure of when Minho gets home and you don’t have any way of getting to a hospital right now. The guilt and the fear eat away at you as Joon cries loudly, his face turning a bright shade of red as snot dribbles from his nose onto his shirt. He must be hungry, and clearly uncomfortable by something, only you’re entirely unsure what. His pacifier doesn’t calm him, nor does his favorite stuffed animal or his favorite television program. When his crying reaches the 10-minute mark, you feel hopeless, well prepared to drag him onto the bus to the nearest hospital yourself, fully convinced you’re going to lose your job. And as you begin to cry, too, the front door opens, Minho walking in with his backpack clutched casually in one hand and his car keys in the other. His girlfriend is with him this time, her head hanging as she uses her phone, completely oblivious to the atmosphere around her.

“Minho,” you call helplessly from the kitchen, and his head snaps instantly to look at you. Your eyes are nearly bloodshot from crying, your sleeves drenched in tears from wiping your eyes and your voice shaky as you speak. It’s the first time you’ve said his name in weeks, you realize, feeling your heart race as you call for him.

“What happened?” Minho asks when he turns the corner, throwing off his backpack and approaching a very fussy Joon.

“He won’t eat,” you reply through hiccups, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your sweater again. “I’ve tried everything. He won’t stop crying.”

Minho takes Joon in his arms, rocking him gently back and forth, to no avail; Joon starts crying even harder now, dribbling snot onto Minho’s sweatshirt and hitting his chest repeatedly.

“I’ll have to take him to the clinic,” Minho says in a rushed tone, fishing his car keys out of his pocket and making his way toward the door.

His girlfriend finally turns the corner into the kitchen, putting down her cellphone and huffing frustratedly.

“What’s going on?”

“Sorry,” Minho replies, shoving past her with Joon in his arms. “I have to go. We can work on our project another time.”

Your heart drops at the words- project. Project, as in a project for his university. With a classmate.

You want to cry more now, for being so stupidly angry with him over nothing, but you still have to help Minho take Joon to the clinic. Sujin doesn’t protest, quick to exit without so much as a goodbye as Minho scrambles to fetch Joon’s car seat.

“I’ll get him in the car seat,” you say, pulling your sneakers on as he balances Joon in his arms.

“You’re coming?”

“Of course I’m coming,” you scoff, already taking Joon from his arms and ushering him outside. “Go start the car.”

*

“Lee?” A nurse calls, holding a clipboard close to her chest as she scans the waiting room.

You and Minho both stand up, Minho balancing Joon in his arms as the nurse gestures you to the door.

“Please, follow me.”

Both of you walk side-by-side down the corridor as she double-checks papers on her clipboard, making a sharp right and leading you into a private room.

Minho sets Joon down on the examination table, holding his arms to steady him, and you stand beside him as you wait for the doctor.

“She’s just reviewing the results,” the nurse says, referring to the x-rays Joon took earlier. “She’ll be in shortly to discuss them.”

Minho nods silently as the nurse leaves the room, leaving the two of you alone once again. You say nothing, unsure of how to break the awkward silence as Minho wipes a string of drool from Joon’s mouth and avoids eye contact with you.

You feel awkward, embarrassed and so, so stupid, for having treated Minho like absolute scum because you assumed the worst of him. It breaks you to see him avert your gaze like this, treating you the same way he did when you first crossed paths. He has his guard completely up again, and you’re not sure he’s ever going to let it down around you. As you lose yourself in doubtful thoughts, the door opens, Joon’s doctor sauntering inside and wiping her hands with the strong scent of hand sanitizer.

“Hi there,” she says cheerfully, giving you both a warm smile. “Are we here for baby Joon today?”

“Yes,” you both say in unison, and she laughs a little.

“You two are very synced. They say it happens in the first year of marriage.”

“We’re not married,” Minho chimes in quickly, and you turn to look at him, feeling a pit in your stomach all over again.

“No?” She questions. “My apologies. Is mom here today?”

“I’m just his babysitter,” you say quietly. “This is his brother.”

“I see,” the doctor says, eyeing you both. “Well you may notice I’m fairly calm, and that’s because there’s no terrible news I have to share. Baby Joon is just suffering from a little mucus buildup. He’s probably feeling the impaction, and the discomfort has caused a loss of appetite.”

You feel a weight off your shoulders instantly, relieved that this isn’t a more serious matter. He’s going to be fine, you think to yourself. He’s going to be his normal self as soon as this is over.

“… Just be sure to use a syringe to drain the mucus a couple times per day, and make sure he gets plenty of sleep.”

As the doctor writes Joon a prescription for his saline syringe, you catch Minho’s gaze briefly, shooting him a relieved look. He gives you a small nod in response, as if to say he’s glad you came along. And he is, he just can’t say it out loud.

*

“I think he’s finally sleeping,” Minho says, patting Joon’s back gently as he stands up from his chair. The two of you have been sat in the library for nearly two hours since getting back home, in complete silence as you read your books and wait for Joon to fall asleep. You take breaks every now and then to drain Joon’s mucus, alternating roles between holding his face still and using the syringe on him. And when he’s finally comfortable again, he dozes back off to sleep, little snores escaping his lips.

Minho leaves the room to put Joon to bed, and while he’s gone, you take the opportunity to pack your stuff and prepare to leave for the night. You feel guilty, not having said much to Minho this evening, especially with the newfound knowledge that this mystery woman was just a partner for his project. But you’re not sure what to say, well aware that he’s probably already decided you hate him, and there’s not much else you can do to fix things.

“He’s down,” Minho says as he re-enters the library.

“That’s good,” you reply with a solemn smile, packing your laptop in your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

“I should get going.”

“Do you… need me to walk you?” Minho asks a little shyly, and although the offer is tempting, you shake your head no.

“I’ll be fine. It’s really not as unsafe as you’d think.”

Minho just nods, understanding that you still don’t want to be close to him. And he gives you a little bow, before he exits the room and makes his way up the stairs to his own.

As you begin to leave, an object left on the chair across from you catches your eye.

It’s Minho’s book- the first edition copy of Love and Limerence you gifted him. You take the small book in your hands, scanning its contents briefly and examining the pages. He’s already annotated several of them, despite having read the book numerous times now, and you can’t help but smile at his scribbled notes circling all his favorite quotes and underlining them twice. You know it’s valuable to him, despite coming from somebody he probably despises right now, but you decide to take it up to him anyway, not wanting him to lose it.

When you’re outside his door, you give a small knock as it’s left ajar, and Minho hums in response.

You enter quietly, holding the book out to him and shooting him a small smile.

“You left this downstairs,” you say, and Minho reaches for it quickly, embarrassed you might’ve seen some of his annotations.

“Thanks,” he replies, setting it back on his bookshelf of romance novels.

He takes a seat on the edge of his bed, patting the spot next to him, and you join him at a comfortable distance as he keeps his gaze on the hardwood floor.

For a moment, no one says anything. And then he sighs deeply, before finally speaking.

“I’m sorry. If I made you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” you’re quick to reply.

“I clearly did,” Minho retorts. “And I know I’m quiet, and I kind of shut myself off from the rest of the world. But I never meant for it to affect you.”

“It didn’t affect me,” you reiterate.

He scoffs lightly in response.

“Why won’t you just say it? You haven’t talked to me in weeks. You don’t even look at me. I clearly did something to push you away.”

You don’t reply immediately, pondering what to say. And ultimately, you let your emotions speak for themselves.

“I was jealous.”

“Of what?”

“Of the girl. The one who’s been here almost every night.”

“Sujin?”

“Look, I don’t know, okay? I don’t know who she is or what she is to you-”

“My project partner,” Minho interrupts. “One who hates my guts.”

“Project partner,” you continue. “It doesn’t matter who she is- I like you, Minho,” you finally emphasize, turning to meet his gaze. His lips are parted in shock, his eyebrows furrowed as he hears you speak.

“I’m fucking infatuated with you, and it drives me crazy. I can’t go on vacation without seeing you in the books at the stores, I can’t sleep at night without your stupid theories replaying in my head. And I jump to the worst possible conclusions when you’re even near another girl. I’m going crazy trying to be liked by you- trying to look at everything through the lens of your romance theories or your book quotes, or whatever. But it’s so scary to like someone this much.”

Minho says nothing for a minute, collecting his thoughts as you let go of the breath you’ve been holding. He’s not used to people liking him- let alone being this intrigued by him. And especially when it’s in the form of reciprocation, from the one person he’s infatuated with, too.

“Why is it scary?” Minho questions, facing you now, his eyes darting briefly over your lips and then back up to your worried gaze.

“Because I’m here for a job. I’m not supposed to be feeling all this. You’re not supposed to be part of this.”

“How do you know that?” Minho retorts, leaning in a little closer to you now.

“I just…”

“You’re allowed to feel, y/n. You’re allowed to want this.”

And before you can protest his words, his lips are on yours, kissing you passionately like he’s pacifying the arguments before they can come to fruition. Your heart beats erratically in your chest, your mind racing with a million thoughts about what you’re doing, and what this whole thing even implies, but you shut them out with the rest of your concerns, pressing your thighs together as he brings two hands to your face and cups your chin gently. His lips work against yours so beautifully, so effortlessly, like the two of you have done this several times before. And maybe you have, in all his alternate universe theories- on your honeymoon, on the run from the police- right here in the comfort of his grand bedroom, his hands snaking up to pull off your cardigan as you tug desperately at the fabric of his t-shirt. Minho says nothing between passionate kisses, afraid if he talks you might realize what’s happening and leave. But you won’t leave, especially not when you’ve been dreaming of this, too.

When your cardigan is off, Minho moves a little closer to you on the bed, letting one hand guide itself onto your waist and trace the gentle curve of your body there. He’s delicate with his movements, careful not to startle you with his touches, but he’s also admittedly thought about this for weeks. The thought of you confessing was never something that crossed his mind- he was so sure he’d driven you away after that night. Never in his wildest fantasies had Minho considered the possibility that you were this smitten with him, too. But he did have thoughts of your lips on his, thoughts of your hands intertwined with his and ungodly visions of you under him, right here in his bed. Visions of his mouth on your breasts after you’d accidentally exposed yourself to him in the kitchen and he was forced to give attention to the massive erection that grew in his pants. And after you’d gifted him his favorite book, attentive to the details he’d indulged you in which he never otherwise shared with people, visions of making love to you ran rampant in his mind, filling you up over and over again with remnants of him as a form of saying I’m infatuated with you, too.

Minho’s kisses become needier as your words replay in his head, darting his tongue out to dance against yours with the sounds of exchanging saliva present between your plump, eager lips. He pushes you back gently so that you’re now lying on his pillow, the angle so intimate, the view of his room from here like something you’re not supposed to see. The ceilings appear even larger when you’re flat against his bed, the curtains that drape over his bedpost seemingly miles high.

Minho’s kisses trail down to your neck now, eagerly peppering your flesh in wet kisses as your hands reach up to tangle in his hair, holding him closer to you and letting him graze his lips wherever he desires. You can’t help but feel guilty having him all over you like this when you remember how you’ve treated him these past couple months- criticizing his tendencies to be quiet, intruding on his space and pushing him away because of a girl you’d assumed to be his girlfriend. But you also know most of it has been because you want him to mean more to you- perhaps you’ve just been trying to change things so that in this version of the universe, he’s not just an enigma to you. You want all of this- his lips on yours, his body pressed into you and to give yourself completely to him.

“Just so we’re clear,” Minho says suddenly, pulling away from you to hold eye contact with you. “I’m crazy about you, too. I really like you.”

And you can’t help but smile back in response, pulling him in again to press his lips on yours. He smiles into the kiss, too, satisfied you’re both on the same page. And although your now eager movements imply something more is about to happen, you don’t have to verbalize anything, his fingers snaking up your shirt serving as answer enough.

“Is this okay?” Minho asks, grazing your flesh with his big hands as he toys with the hem of your shirt.

You nod in response, sitting up a little and completing the task of pulling it off over your head and discarding it beside you. You waste no time on your bra, either, reaching around to unclasp it and rid yourself of the fabric without him having to ask. His eyes widen again at the sight, having remembered every curve of your body since that incident in the kitchen. But now in front of him again, he feels his cock swell in his pants, desperate to act on the urge. In nimble movements, his hand cups the mound of your breast, kneading it gently and sighing at the sensation of your soft skin against his. His mouth finds yours again, indulging you in a slow, passionate kiss, and then he trails down until he meets his hand at the mound of your breast, pressing a chaste kiss to your flesh before finally latching his lips around your nipple.

He starts with gentle kisses while your nipple rests between his lips, a string of saliva dribbling down to coat your hardened bud. And then he takes it between his lips with more force, beginning a gentle sucking motion as he gives your other nipple attention with his free hand, circling the tip with his thumb in tender movements.

You sigh beneath him, the sensation sending a shiver up your core, your nipples hardening even more in his touch, now eager for him to give your soaking core some attention. But he takes his time stimulating you, moving to your other breast to take your nipple in his mouth and leave a trail of saliva. Your body shivers when the cool air grazes your wet nipples as he pulls away, and he meets your lips again to kiss you passionately.

While he kisses you, your hands now toy with the hem of his shirt too, signifying for him to take it off. And Minho reciprocates with a little nod, finally pulling his shirt over his head and revealing his bare chest to you. It’s a marvelous sight to see more of his honey-tanned skin, his toned muscles and his broad pectorals practically begging for you to touch them. And just above his stomach, a horizontal pale pink scar, one that he eyes momentarily and then gives you a shy shrug.

You run your fingers along the scar briefly, tracing it in its entirety and bringing your hand up to caress his face.

“I didn’t think I could be any more attracted to you,” you say to him sheepishly, tracing the scar again. “You look like the poetry you’re so obsessed with.”

Minho feels an involuntary smile pulling at his face as he leans in to kiss you again, this time intent on giving himself fully to you the way you deserve.

Your kisses both grow hungrier, needier, as your bodies tangle into each other, and Minho loops a finger into the hem of your panties, tugging them down so that he has access to your sopping cunt. As your hands tangle further into his soft brown hair, his finger traces down the length of your stomach, dipping into every curve and over every inch of flesh he only got a brief sight of. And when he finds your mound, you arch up into him, parting your legs slightly to give him access. Minho doesn’t waste another second, attaching the pads of his fingers to your clit and working you in circular motions as he kisses you. Little gasps escape your mouth as he does, breathing heavily into his kisses and grinding your core closer to him as he quickens his pace, smearing your arousal around your aching clit and circling two fingers around to massage you gently. His cock is now fully erect against his abdomen, prodding into your upper thigh as he trails his kisses down your neck again, but he’s patient, forgiving with his movements, eager to pleasure you first.

As his kisses graze your neck, you tug his boxers over his cock, pulling them down so you’re equal parts undressed. Minho winces a little at the sensation, a bead of precum already dripping down the head of his cock, and you feel yourself clench around nothing at just the sight of him hard for you.

When he takes note of your anticipation, he glances down at his own erection, locking his gaze with yours again as if to confirm again that this is okay. You nod in response, reaching your hands around to loop them behind his neck and pull him a little closer. And then your gaze falls to his cock again, waiting for him to make the next move.

The two of you say nothing as Minho’s hand finds the base of his cock, pumping himself gently before leaning in to kiss you. He lets himself hover closer over you, until his cock is kissing your entrance in the same gentle, wet movements as your lips. You lift your leg up slightly to grant him access, and then in gentle movements as your eyes remain shut, you feel him push his tip inside of you, stretching you out around his girth and causing you to gasp. He’s bigger than you anticipated, even the dripping arousal of your cunt having trouble taking him wholly. But he brings his fingers down to your clit again, massaging you slowly to ease the pain. And it works, your body relaxing around him as he pulls back a little and thrusts in again, this time pushing further until he’s completely bottomed out inside of you. You let out a fervent moan at the sensation, his cock pulsating inside of you as he holds it there, feeling every inch of you clench around him and take him so well now. And then with a gentle kiss to your lips, he begins to move, his hips pulling back slowly to thrust back inside of you.

You feel so full of him, having him exactly as you’d always imagined him- circling your thoughts, hovering over you and finally inside of you, his cock brushing against your cervix so delicately with every thrust. Your labored breaths become one as you pant into each other’s mouths with overwhelming pleasure. Minho steadies himself with one hand on the mattress beside you, quickening his pace a little as he feels his cock twitch inside of you in response to a particularly pornographic moan of yours.

“Fuck,” he breathes, shutting his eyes as he continues to slip in and out of your soaking cunt. “You’re so full of me, aren’t you?”

He brings his lips to your neck again, nibbling the flesh between his teeth and letting it bruise as you moan beneath him.

“I’ve thought about you everyday,” you respond, angling his lips to yours again as he fucks you. “I’ve thought about this so many times.”

“Yeah?” Minho says with a satisfied smile, working circles back onto your clit.

“Yes,” you breathe back, toying with his hair as your arms wrap around his neck. “I wanted you to fuck me like the characters in your romance novels.”

Minho feels his cock twitch again, wincing and slowing his pace so as not to finish just yet.

“I can’t help it,” you whimper underneath him. “I think about you all the time. I think about you fucking me all the time.”

Minho intertwines his hand with yours, pressing it down on your abdomen and letting yourself feel when his bulge fills you up at every thrust, the motion visible beneath your palms.

“Feel that, baby?” He asks between kisses to your drooly lips. “Feel how good I fuck you? Is this what you imagined?”

You gasp at the sensation once you feel it, the bulge of his cock protruding against your palm with every pump inside of you. You nod breathlessly, almost unable to reply to his words now.

“I imagined it, too,” he says, picking up his pace now. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to bend you over the couch and fuck you right there the moment I met you.”

He groans a little as you clench around him and moan in response.

“Minho,” you say breathlessly, not missing the way his cock twitches inside of you once again. “Will you finish inside of me?”

He pauses for a moment, scanning your expression for a sign of whether or not you’re being serious.

“Please,” you beg, as if reading his thoughts. “I’m on birth control. Just want to feel your seed inside of me.”

He shuts his eyes briefly as you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in a little closer.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” Minho asks, locking his gaze on yours again. “I want to, but I want you to be sure about it.”

“I’m sure,” you say quickly, the last syllable hitching in the back of your throat as he hits a particularly sensitive spot. “Please, just wanna feel you fill me up.”

He thrusts harder into you now, the room teeming with the squelching noises of your pussy taking him so effortlessly.

“You like it when we play house like this, huh?” He says, wrapping a hand gently around your throat. “You like imagining me as your husband, don’t you? Fucking you like we’re married?”

And it doesn’t take you more than a second to think before you’re nodding desperately at his words. You do love it, this sense of belonging when you’re in the Lee household. But you also get aroused at this second life you lead alongside him, caring for the baby like it’s one of yours and being fucked by Minho when no one else is around to hear your lewd moans.

“Yes,” you reply, your response muffled by his grasp on your throat. “You make such a good dad.”

“We’d make such good parents,” he emphasizes, kissing you breathlessly. “What do you say I fuck a baby into you and we find out for real?”

You feel yourself contract around his girth at the words, not having considered it seriously, but turned on at the idea of carrying a child just for him.

“Is that what you want?” Minho asks, nearing his orgasm as he thrusts even faster into you now, panting into your mouth above you.

“Yes,” you reply with a whimper. “Want you to fill me up so bad.”

“Yeah?” He cuts you off, pressing your abdomen harder with his hand. “I’m gonna cum, baby. Want you to feel it.”

Your senses hone in on the feeling of your palm over his bulge, pulsating rhythmically as he nears his orgasm.

“I’m cumming, fuck, I’m gonna finish,” Minho says, shutting his eyes in pleasure as he moves at his fastest pace now, his grip around your throat holding you steady as you lose yourself underneath him. He’s never finished inside someone before, but he has no intention of pulling out now, the conversation of impregnating you sending him over the edge as he reaches the cusp of his release.

You contract around his breathlessly now, eager to take his load, never having taken someone’s either, but desperate for Minho to be your first.

And with a few more harsh thrusts, Minho’s cock twitches once inside of you, finally letting out a generous load of his cum inside of you, the gush of his release filling you up so fully, the warm sensation of his milky white release thrusting deep inside of your pussy as he fucks the rest into you.

He feels his head spin, his eyes shutting instinctively at the sensation as he lets go fully inside of you, no urgency to pull out or stave off his release like he usually has to. And it takes a while before he’s begun to soften again, the knowledge of giving you his cum almost rousing him again and lengthening the period of his release inside of you. Minho already knows he’s going to be addicted to finishing inside of you from here on out- and he doesn’t want it any other way.

The warm feeling is all it takes for you to finish in mere seconds, contracting around him as he fucks you through his orgasm, your release mixing with his and dribbling down the side of your thighs as he begins to slow down. Minho doesn’t pull out immediately, instead caressing your face to gauge your reaction as he softens inside of you.

“Was it okay?” Minho queries, tucking sweaty strands of hair behind your ears and loosening his grasp on your throat.

“It was more than okay,” you say breathlessly, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as he smiles down at you. “I feel so full of you.”

Minho kisses you sweetly, rubbing his thumb along your hand soothingly as he pulls out of you, a string of his cum connecting to you still and dribbling onto the sheets as he rolls over to lay on his side.

For a moment, the two of you say nothing, your chests rising and falling as you catch your breath and ponder the day’s events. It’s not what you expected was going to happen when you saw yourself up to his room again, but it is what you’d hoped would happen eventually. And the atmosphere feels much lighter around you now, completely void of the lingering sexual and emotional tension that’s plagued you for so long.

“Minho?” you say quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Philosophically speaking, how many versions of us do you think are lying next to each other like this, right now?”

Minho thinks over your words for a moment, and then he chuckles lightly.

“Well if the universe was conditioned right, I’d hope for an infinite amount. But considering how long it took us to get here in this version, I’d say just one.”

And he sits up, leaning in for another kiss as two fingers tuck his arousal further into you, holding his release inside of your still-sensitive body.

*

“Have some bacon, honey,” Mrs. Lee says to you as she scrambles to get her things together for the day. “I made a lot, so help yourself.”

“Thanks,” you reply, strapping Joon into his high chair and smoothing down your skirt.

Ever since that evening, you and Minho have been inseparable. The two of you wait until Mrs. Lee is gone for the morning, desperately grabbing at each other and giggling between kisses until Minho has to leave for his classes. And when he returns, it’s much of the same, the two of you helping put Joon down for his afternoon nap before escaping up to his bedroom and making love until Joon wakes again.

Minho is completely and utterly obsessed with you, the same way you are with him, but you both know this game of house you play can’t go on forever. Mostly because you feel the guilt eating away at you day by day, every waking minute you’re tending to your duties as a babysitter or conversing with Mrs. Lee. It’s hard to be in the same room as Minho when she’s around, the urge to just confess even more present when she attempts to facilitate conversation between the two of you and you’re forced to act like he’s still a mystery.

But you have him more figured out than you ever have before, memorizing the freckles on his body like the back of your hand, reciting his favorite quotes like prayers and replaying the melodic giggles that escape his lips. You don’t want to be apart from him, but the point still stands- it’s scary to like someone this much. He consumes you more than he ever has before, filling every waking second of your life with remnants of him. You love when he reads romantic philosophical theories to you, or when he cooks you and Joon dinner after a long day. But you feel guilty when you’re alone with Joon again, hoping he can’t somehow tell that you’re only thinking of his brother when you’re preparing his bottles or feeding him. You hope Mrs. Lee doesn’t notice when your hair is a little too tousled to have just been from a nap, or the time you had to cross your legs to keep Minho’s release inside of you when the two of you had finished just in time for her to make it home. It’s selfish, and it’s unfair. And with no sign of this fling stopping anytime soon, you don’t see any other option to be fit.

“I’m leaving,” Mrs. Lee finally says, grabbing her car keys off the kitchen table and pulling her heels on. “Make sure to get Joon his medicine!”

The two of you watch as she shuts the front door behind her, and then you wait until her car starts, holding your breath as she pulls out of the driveway and begins down the street in what feels like an agonizing amount of time.

The minute she’s gone, Minho turns to you again, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you lean back against the counter.

“Morning,” he says with a shy smile. He wastes no time leaning in for a romantic kiss, which you reciprocate, wrapping your arms around his neck and smiling into him.

When he pulls away, the two of you say nothing, holding each other in a comfortable embrace as he rubs little circles into the small of your back.

“I guess it’s just mom and dad home right now,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss to your neck. “I’ll ditch class right now if you want me to fill you up again.”

And his offer is tempting as he presses his erection into you, working more kisses down the nape of your neck and trailing his hands up your skirt.

“No,” you finally say, pushing him away and collecting your thoughts. “You need to get to class. I have a lot of stuff to do. I’m working, in case you forgot.”

“Okay, okay,” Minho says, holding his hands up in surrender. “I digress.”

He pulls back to caress your face with a visible smirk as your eyes graze his thighs, so beautifully sculpted under the fabric of his jeans. You’re not sure you’ve ever been so sinfully tempted by somebody before, like Eve to the apple, like a moth to a flame- he’s intoxicating, but you know you shouldn’t be indulging this while you’re here to fulfill your role as a babysitter.

“You should go,” you say to him, swallowing nervously as his hands trace the outline of your lips.

“Yeah,” Minho replies, a hint of disappointment present in his voice.

And without another word, he gathers his car keys off the table, sending you off with a little wave as he disappears for the day.

You may have Minho mostly figured out now- his fascination with romance and philosophy, his soft interior under the stoic exterior he presents everyone else with, his astounding levels of emotional intelligence and unwavering kindness for the people he loves. But now that things have become a little more complicated between the two of you, you fear all of this will come to an end as fortuitously as it all began.

The reality is, this isn’t one of Minho’s romance novels- you’re both real people, with emotions and convictions and reservations. And though you want this fleeting thing to last forever, you’re well aware that things don’t work that way, especially when you’re just a babysitter at the end of it all. Sure, Minho sees you as much more than that- but you were hired to be here in the Lee household, paid to fulfill your role here, and once this comes to an end, your relationship with Minho likely will, too.

… and thus, the decision to quit your job isn’t one you take lightly. It succeeds hours of thinking, weighing your options and planning out exactly what you’re going to tell Mrs. Lee when she asks why you’re leaving so suddenly. You want to do another internship, you decide on telling her, hoping she doesn’t poke enough holes to get the truth out of you- “I think far too much about your eldest son and it’s eating me alive.”

*

All day long, you try your best to shut Minho out of your thoughts, focusing on your online courses and caring for Joon like you used to. But it feels futile, this task of pretending things are the way they used to be. They’re not- you’re sneaking behind Mrs. Lee’s back and hooking up with her eldest son. When all’s said and done, you’ll be right back in your own home, with your parents desperate to send you elsewhere once again, and your own life to tend to. This double life you romanticize isn’t real, nor is it attainable anymore.

Your phone call with Mrs. Lee to announce your decision doesn’t set anything in stone yet, her words urging you to speak with her later this week when she has some free time. But you know once you do speak with her, you’ll only have a few evenings left with Minho until this is all over. And you don’t have the heart to tell him just yet, but if things go anything the way they did when you first brought it up to him, you know he’s going to be heartbroken.

When Minho arrives home that evening, he can already sense something is wrong. You’re sat in the garden, where you typically don’t go, your legs crossed neatly over one of the sunlounger chairs as you let your thoughts consume you. Mrs. Lee’s koi fish fountain stands nobly in front of you, a robust stream of water trickling from its lips and into the concrete bowl below. You’re mesmerized by it as you always are, the steady sound of water coupled with the birds chirping in the sunny greenery around you as peaceful as ever.

“Hey,” Minho says, sliding open the screen door and stepping outside to meet you.

“Hi,” you reply, holding a hand up over you to shield your eyes from the sun. You’d forgotten how divine he looked today, his white button up now folded up at the sleeves and exposing his veiny forearms to you.

“How was your day?” Minho asks, pressing a small kiss to your temple as he occupies the spot beside you and stares at the fountain.

“Okay,” you respond, though you’re lying through your teeth. “Joon went down about an hour ago.”

Minho nods, and then he furrows his brows together as he speaks again.

“Why are you out here?”

You shrug in response, keeping short with your words as he pushes you for answers. And you want to tell him it’s because you made the most painful decision to call Mrs. Lee and forfeit all of this, but you know it’ll only hurt more, so you divert from the truth.

“It was stuffy inside,” you voice back, shooting him a small smile.

Minho seems to relax beside you, his shoulders sagging a little as he takes notice of your calm demeanor. He doesn’t have reason to believe anything’s wrong, judging by the way you converse so casually.

“You want me to cook you something?” Minho asks, placing his palm up next to you, and you let your hand intertwine with his.

“Will you read to me?” You ask, eager to indulge in your favorite activity alongside him.

“I can read to you,” Minho echoes back, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of your hand. “Which book?”

You’re both in the cozy atmosphere of the library later that evening, Minho sat on his favorite velvet armchair as you occupy a spot in his lap with his arms wrapped around you. The book is positioned in front of him so you can both see, his fingers holding open the thin pages as the poetry leaves his lips, pausing in between lines to press kisses to the crook of your neck when he’s reminded of you in his favorite characters.

And you hold back tears in the moment, wanting so badly to tell Minho that you’ll be letting go of all of this, running back to the monotony of your old life, one where Minho doesn’t exist and you don’t have to balance the complicated feelings of liking someone to this degree. But you bite back your words, careful not to ruin the intimate moment you share while he loves you in an ignorant state of bliss.

“The pleasures of love are always in proportion to the fear,” Minho begins a new chapter, grazing your neck with his lips.

He trails a bit lower to graze your shoulder now, pressing a small trail of kisses as he pauses his reading. You giggle softly in response, feeling his fingers find the strap of your tank top to pull it down your shoulder so he can pepper kisses there, too.

“Minho,” you say softly, writhing in his embrace as he tickles every inch of your skin with his kisses, now shutting the book and setting it on the arm of the chair.

“Can’t help it,” Minho responds, shutting his eyes as he snakes his hands up the back of your tank top. “You look so beautiful right now.”

As you adjust in his lap, you can feel he’s now rock-hard in his jeans below you, his thighs flexing underneath you as he wraps two hands around your waist and runs them up and down your sides. You take the hint, turning around in his lap to face him, and let your arms wrap around his neck to steady yourself.

“What are you thinking about?” Minho asks, bringing his lips to yours as he feels his hardened cock graze against the fabric of his jeans, eager to pleasure you.

You want to express your fears, your doubts, to tell him the truth about what you spoke about on the phone with Mrs. Lee earlier today. But you can’t, not when he looks so tantalizing in front of you like this, his bulge perfectly outlined in his tight jeans and his veiny arms flexing below the fabric of his collared button-up. You’ve been roused for him since he left in the morning, his offer swirling your mind coupled with his appearance, like something out of a wet dream.

“You,” you voice back, whimpering pathetically into another kiss and rocking your hips gently over him so that he’s practically whimpering for you, too.

Neither of you have to say much, knowing already where the evening is headed, as you unzip his pants and palm his erection through the fabric of his boxers. Minho watches as you slide off his lap, dropping to your knees in front of him and tugging the fabric of his jeans. He complies with your urges, pulling them down to his knees and freeing his erection from his boxers, exhaling deeply as the cool breeze of the room grazes his leaking tip.

Without a second to waste, you take him in your mouth, letting your saliva coat his shaft as you kiss his tip tenderly and then guide him down your throat, the base of his cock just barely meeting your lips as you struggle to take him fully. Minho groans at the contact, bucking his hips off the chair to guide himself further into you, feeling his cock twitch when you gag a little at the contact. You stay like that for a good while, bobbing your head in rhythmic motions up and down his hardened length, your saliva allowing you to graze his shaft with ease.

Minho’s thighs contract desperately below him, trying his best to stave off the orgasm he’s been longing for since the moment he saw you this morning. His hands find your hair, pulling your locks into a makeshift ponytail and gasping as you take him a bit deeper now, pulling back again to pepper the tip of his wettened cock in drooly kisses.

“Fuck,” Minho breathes out, clutching the arm of the chair so desperately. “Baby, stop, I don’t want to finish yet,”

And you release him with a gentle pop, knowing exactly what it is he wants so badly. You never deny it, sitting back up again to position yourself over his cock you intertwine his hands with yours. He uses one hand to tug your panties to the side, and then in one swift motion, you guide his cock inside of you, sliding down the slick of his length and bottoming out with ease. You take him so well now, always able to adjust to his girth instantly as your cunt is always dripping in anticipation when he’s near.

Minho’s hand moves to push your tank top up, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking harshly as you begin to bounce on him with gentle movements. The room fills with sounds of panting, sucking and desperate moans as his cock fills you fully with every thrust, brushing against your cervix as he moves to your other nipple and kneads your breast desperately.

“What was that quote again?” You ask in labored breaths as he comes back up to kiss your lips.

“The pleasures of love,” he begins, breathlessly working his lips against yours as you clench around his length. “Are always in proportion to the fear.”

Minho feels his cock twitch inside of you, always nearing his finish much faster when you make him recite all his favorite quotes and book excerpts to you.

Except this one speaks much louder to you, directly aligning with your present-day emotions, circling your mind relentlessly as he fills you. Maybe this is what his book speaks of- the pleasures of love, being filled so fully and lovingly by Minho, two pieces of one whole like you’re both made for this, to make love into the late hours of the night while he recites poetry to you.

And all of this in proportion to the fear- this constant fear that he’s just a fleeting entity, that you’re both naive to play house like this and pretend it’s anything more. The fear present while you’re sneaking behind Mrs. Lee’s back, letting him fuck you like he’s married to you and indulge you in all of his deepest secrets, as though you’re the only one allowed to know him this intimately.

The love and fear and indeed in proportion to one another- you love him as much as you’re afraid of loving him.

“I love you,” you say suddenly, bringing him in for another kiss before he can respond. But the way his kisses work against yours, hungry and passionate, there’s not a hint of reluctance in his response when he pulls away to speak again.

“I love you,” Minho breathes back, working his kisses against yours as his cock pulsates inside of you, desperate for release. “And I hope every version of the universe is conditioned for us to be right here.”

You smile into him, slowing your movements as you feel him contract inside of you, and then his thighs flex as he finally finishes inside of you, shooting hot white ropes of his cum into your still-clenching cunt, his release already beginning to dribble back down his length as he feels you slow down over him.

You bring a hand between the two of you, gathering his cum on the pads of your fingers to circle your clit in gentle movements, stimulating yourself to your release, too, as you contract desperately around him and breathe labored kisses back into his mouth. Your juices mix with his as you catch your breath, keeping him inside of you as your chest rises and falls with gentle movements. But the two of you say nothing, pressing your lips together to indulge in more passionate kisses for the few minutes you have left before Mrs. Lee makes it home for the evening.

*

The garden is particularly beautiful the next afternoon, teeming with the sounds of birds chirping and trees swaying in the gentle autumn breeze. Mrs. Lee let you know she’d be home a little earlier to have a chat about your decision to leave, and when Joon is put down for his afternoon nap, you receive the call that she’s in the garden waiting for you. You enter hesitantly, worried Minho might catch you and question what you’re doing out here. But he’s not home from school yet, you remind yourself, glancing around the tall grass and neat rows of potted plants for Mrs. Lee.

“Y/n!” A voice calls from one of the patio chairs. “Come, sit!”

Mrs. Lee sits with her back facing you, a large white sun hat atop her neatly styled hair and complementing her matching white jumpsuit. Her gaze remains locked on the koi fountain you’re always transfixed by, too.

“Hi Mrs. Lee,” you say, giving her a small bow as you take the seat next to her. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

She nods with a smile. “So good to see you when we have a little more time. I’m sorry I’m always such a mess in the mornings.”

You shake your head quickly, brushing off her words. “Not at all! It’s always nice to greet the family before I start my day.”

She just smiles in response, turning to nod at you, and then she turns back to the fountain.

“I was a little surprised when you called the other day. I hope things are going okay.”

“They are,” you interrupt quickly. “They absolutely are. Joon is so pleasant, and the job is great. I really love it here.”

“I hope everything at home is okay,” she moves on to say, and you quickly reassure her.

“Yes, everything is fine! Everyone is doing great.”

“I understand,” Mrs. Lee says, eyeing the ground before turning to face you now. “You’ve done so much for us, I’d be lying if I said I’m not going to miss having you around here in the mornings.”

You shoot her a sympathetic look, feeling a pit form in your stomach, too. You feel the same, probably tenfold, at the idea of leaving behind the household you’ve called home for so many days.

“I’m going to miss it here, too.”

“And I know Joon is going to be heartbroken,” Mrs. Lee says with a chuckle.

You chuckle too, giving her an understanding nod.

She pauses briefly, furrowing her brows together, before continuing her speech.

“You’re such a bright young woman, and I know you’re destined to do amazing things. If there’s a way I can help in this transition, please don’t hesitate to let me know, okay?”

You nod at her words, and watch as she smooths down her top before standing up. She seems to wait for a moment, as if hoping for you to say something, and when you don’t, she begins to make her way back inside.

“Well, I’ll let you go for the evening. Thank you again, for everything. And you have my phone number if-”

“Mrs. Lee?” You call out suddenly, catching her before she can get much further. She turns around at the worry present in your voice, her face shifting into that of concern.

Without having to voice anything else, Mrs. Lee sits down again, waiting for you to continue. But you can’t, your heart beating wildly in your chest at the thought of even bringing up the topic of Minho. I’m in love with your son, you want to say to her. I’m so in love with Minho and I hope you understand I don’t have a choice but to leave this all behind me.

“You know,” Mrs. Lee interrupts your thoughts, breaking the silence that fills the air. “This koi fountain was my first gift from Mr. Lee.”

You nod at her, remembering when she introduced it to you on your first day here.

“We weren’t married yet. It was his first restoration project, and my dad hated him. So he had a lot of trouble getting it over to me.”

You chuckle lightly, amused at her story which seems to calm you down a little.

“Luckily his parents adored me,” she continues. “And they offered to house it in their backyard until we married. For the 15 years we dated, my koi fish lived in their garden. And when we did marry, they rented a big truck to help haul it over. It was such a project! But it’s my favorite part of the garden.”

You shoot her a saccharine smile, well endeared at the way she speaks of Mr. Lee. You can tell she’s in love with him, even this many years later.

“Sometimes I wondered why they would do something so nice for me. But as I grew closer to them, I learned not to question what was meant for me. They loved me, as did Mr. Lee. And I wasn’t going to run from any of that, no matter what I felt I deserved.”

Your head snaps in her direction at her last words, realizing how they apply to you. But she doesn’t know about Minho- at least not to your knowledge, or Minho’s. She gives you a sheepish smile as you furrow your brows, and then she takes your hand in hers, giving it a little squeeze.

“I hope you won't run from what you deserve, either.”

You nod a little bit at her words, finally understanding the weight of them, and then you look back at her with a confused expression.

“Mrs. Lee, are you talking about…”

“Minho?” She finally says, with a warm smile. She takes your other hand in hers, too, tilting her face to yours so that she’s making proper eye contact as she speaks.

“I had wondered why he was so happy these days. Minho’s always been a bit of an outcast. But I haven’t seen this spark in him since he started his obsession with all those romance novels and philosophy studies of his.”

You chuckle lightly, a weight off your shoulders as she finally speaks of what circles your mind so heavily.

“But how did you…”

“I knew it when I saw it,” she says. “I knew it, because he had the same look in his eyes as when I met his father.”

You feel your heart swell in your chest, your shoulders relaxing as she continues to speak.

“He speaks of you like poetry,” she tells you. “And for that alone, I’m thankful for you. Now what you choose to do is your decision- but I hope you know you will always have a home here with us. Not just as a babysitter, but as family.”

When Mrs. Lee finishes her speech, she gives your hands a little squeeze, smiling at you and back at the koi fish fountain. It feels much more sentimental to you even now, the beautiful waterfall that cascades serving as a reminder of its permanent restoration rooted in the infatuation Mr. Lee had for Mrs. Lee. And watching it stand so beautifully like it did all those years ago, you’re reminded that love can be a lasting thing, no matter the circumstances. The universe can condition itself to make things last, affirming the philosophical notions Minho’s always told you. And that perhaps you do deserve this, a sense of belonging here in the Lee household, right here alongside Mrs. Lee and Minho, and even baby Joon.

As you watch the fountain together, the sound of the sliding door makes itself known behind you, and you turn around to find Minho entering the garden, baby Joon sitting comfortably in his arms as he makes his way over.

“Hi,” Minho says, coming around to give Mrs. Lee a kiss on her cheek. “What’s going on here?”

He looks visibly worried, his eyes darting back and forth between you and Mrs. Lee, as if to silently ask you what she’s told you.

But Mrs. Lee just smiles at him, as she gets up from where she’s sitting and smooths down her jumpsuit.

“We were just having a girl chat. I’ll leave you two alone.”

And she disappears behind the screen door again, shooting you a little wink as she does, her anecdote circling your mind, still.

“What happened?” Minho asks, settling down next to you and balancing baby Joon on his knee. Joon fists at the fabric of his shirt, babbling incoherently as you smile down at him.

“Nothing,” you say, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips. You refrain from saying anything about leaving, not wanting to interrupt the tender moment you share with Minho and Joon in the sunlight of the garden.

“You have a really cool mom,” you settle on saying, smiling at Minho as he chuckles softly in response.

*

The afternoon sun beams through the glass windows of the library as you lie comfortably in Minho’s lap, his book positioned in front of you as he presses a small kiss to the back of your hand before turning the page.

Outside, the birds chirp songs of early spring, the steady stream of Mrs. Lee’s koi fountain audible as you peer down at the garden.

Mr. and Mrs. Lee sit in the tall grass, fiddling with a box of tools as Mr. Lee repairs a new project for Mrs. Lee. This one’s a much larger fountain, one he’d told you would take several months, perhaps even years. But Mrs. Lee sits beside him, relishing in stories of his restoration process and laughing with him as he works. You can’t help but smile at the sight, her stories about him playing in your mind whenever you catch a glimpse of them together.

“Do you think they could be us in another universe?” You ask Minho, turning to face him as he peers out the window, too.

“I hope so,” he says with a smile.

You settle closer to him in his lap, pressing a small kiss to his hand as he continues reading.

“And think not that you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.”

At his words, you hear baby Joon cry out, having woken from his afternoon nap.

“I’ll get him,” Minho says, shutting the book and setting it aside to go tend to the baby.

And as you peer back out the window, the sound of Mr. and Mrs. Lee’s laughter filling your ears, baby Joon’s voice calling to you, Minho’s philosophy book perched on the chair beside you and the sun beams shining their light through the windows, you know that this is belonging, this is love.

Invisible thread- one

pairing : minho x reader

genre : university au, academic rivals to lovers (rivals not enemies because they respect each other), slow burn, fluff, angst.

warnings : reader has a very bad relationship with her mother, insecurities, talk about murder but as a joke, mention of alcohol, reader has she/her pronouns.

summary : Your studies were your lifeline for as long as you can remember. What happens when Minho comes into your life and rips it away from you?

word count : 20k

Author's note : I've been working on this fic on and off for the past two months, so if you do enjoy reading, please let me know. asks, comments, reblogs i read them all and they truly make me the happiest <3 (also i based this off my own college experience, where we study two terms and there is one person on top of the class every semester)

part two

You have always been first in your class.

Not because you particularly enjoyed studying. You simply felt that your worth was solely tied to the marks on your papers.

You never wanted to crumble under the pressure of studies, to hole yourself up in your room for an assignment you won’t remember in a month. But achieving good grades was the only way for you to feel seen; to make someone stop in their tracks and acknowledge you. 

A simple “good job” that you preserved inside your mind, as a reminder that you did exist to other people. Considering that the majority of your life was spent in silence. 

Your mom put a roof above your head and food on your table, but she never asked about your day, nor did she seem to care. You felt as though you were no more important to her than the tapestry hanging on your wall.

At times, you imagined that if you stood close enough to that tapestry, you could merge with it as one. The intricate embroidery would wrap around you and draw you in. And your mother wouldn’t notice. She would regard you with the same indifference she showed towards that textile- a mere decoration, at times a nuisance when she had to dust it.

You always ate your dinner alone. When you scraped your knee, you tended to the wound by yourself. No one attended your childhood musicals, and you patted your back when you cracked an egg without dropping a shell into the bowl. 

You’ve come to learn since your young age that all your milestones, both small and significant, would be celebrated alone. 

On the rare times your mother would acknowledge your presence, she’d unleash a flurry of criticism your way as if she was eagerly awaiting the opportunity to strike you down. She'd toss crude comments over her shoulder as easily as a casual hello, leaving you feeling battered and bruised in her wake. 

You felt as if you were shoreline rocks, and your mother was the ocean. You never knew if she would be like a gentle tide, barely brushing against you, or an enraged storm, mercilessly crashing down on your being. And you weren't sure which one was worse: to be invisible or to be seen and despised.  

That’s why you grew up plagued with self-doubt. You made friends throughout your school years but you never allowed them to get close enough to really see you -you feared that they might glimpse the very thing your mother seemed to despise in you. 

Throughout your childhood, you were like soft clay in your mother's hands- pliable, and easy to mold. And she indented you, everywhere, carved in edges and dips where they should not have been ones. Handled you roughly when you should have been treated with care. And as the years went by, you hardened- much like clay, but her touch remained imprinted upon you. It was difficult at times to discern who you were and who she made you to be.

You tried to start anew when you went away to university; to rewire your brain into believing that you were enough- you exist and you shouldn't prove to anyone that you deserved to be alive. But her words haunted you, they were like skeletons in your closet- but the closet was you. You could never part from them.

So, you fell back into the same pattern of seeking good grades and congratulatory words from your professors. Every A+ you got infused you with a momentary sense of worthiness.

But unlike in high school, you weren't always the best. Your competition came in the form of a single man named Minho, who seemed to excel in every class you shared.

Minho was mostly quiet, but whenever he spoke, you found that his words carried weight. Your professors consistently agreed with his points, and you envied the confidence he exuded. You wondered what it must feel like to be so sure of oneself.

It wasn't until a month into the year that you had your first interaction with Minho. You were in your Constitutional Law class when your professor Kim brought up the notion of ‘Separation of Powers’. You were arguing that judges shouldn’t be included in the writings of law when you heard a scoff from the row behind you. You turned around, raising a brow at the culprit, "Is there something you’d like to say?" you asked.

And in response, Minho smiled lazily, an air of smugness surrounding him, "I just don’t agree." The professor urged him to explain himself, so he leaned back into his chair, eyeing you. "Judges are the ones who practice the law every day, and sometimes they find that none of the written texts fit their case. If they get involved in lawmaking, they can help address those gaps or uncertainties." 

"Who's to say that those judges aren’t biased or politically motivated? They’ll end up writing laws to fit their own preferences," you pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him. "We elect judges to interpret and apply laws, not make them. If they start writing laws too, we'll be violating the separation of powers between the legislative and judicial branches. That's what keeps our entire system from crumbling."

Minho rested his chin on his hand, tapping his cheek thoughtfully with his index finger. "Aren’t legislators prone to biases too? Your point doesn’t stand then," he challenged, tilting his head to the side, "and judges can participate without going overboard. They can provide input on proposed laws without actually drafting them. That way, we ensure that the laws are crafted with a clear understanding of how they'll be put into practice." 

"If your main concern is to ensure that the laws are impartial, we have people who work as consulting experts whose job is exactly that," you flashed him an innocent smile, firing back. "Also, wouldn’t these overstepping branches put the judges in a position to be perceived in a bad light? Is that what you want?"

Before Minho could respond, Mr. Kim intervened, putting an end to your debate, "Let's save this energy for your essays and see who can convince me more."

You gave a quick nod, swiveling in your seat without a backward glance. However, you could sense Minho’s gaze penetrating through your back- as if he was trying to read your most intimate thoughts. 

That was the first thing you noticed about Minho when he walked over to you. His eyes were brown, not a special color by any means. But they held a certain depth to them that seemed to draw you in like a black hole. You weren't sure what you would find on the other side, nor did you have any desire to find out.

He outstretched his hands towards you, stopping you in your tracks. "Minho," he introduced and your hand met his in a firm grip. The second thing you noticed about him was the coldness of his hand, as it wrapped tightly around your palm. 

Suddenly you were taken back to when you built a snowman for the first and last time. You were just seven and the ice was freezing, numbing your fingers as you worked. Your mother never told you that you should’ve worn mittens, or a thick jacket to fight off the cold when she saw you walking out of the house. The memory of your cold hands and the horrible illness that followed still left a bitter taste in your mouth, like an unripe fruit. With a jolt you dropped his hand, forcefully pulling yourself away from that memory. 

"Yn," you said back, and he smiled to himself, repeating your name slowly, each syllable dripping from his tongue.  

"We'll see who'll write the best essay, right?" he asked, clearly challenging you. There was a gleam of excitement in his eyes that reminded you of a child gazing up at cotton candy. 

That was the third thing you noticed about Minho; how expressive his eyes were. They moved with his every word, punctuating them. 

He was infuriating but also amusing. You've never had a clear competitor in your life. Or maybe you had, but you didn't notice them. You were always so reclined on yourself, trying to survive the day, you didn't pay enough attention to your surroundings.

"You want to compete with me?" You asked, and he smirked, leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. "What? Scared you’d lose?"

"Please." You rolled your eyes at his taunting, "Don’t come crying when I win."

"We’ll see about that!" He shouted after you as you walked ahead, leaving him behind.

This essay was insignificant. A simple way for your professor to assess your knowledge and work approach. And yet, you found yourself staying up all night to complete it. There was no way you were going to let Minho take this one thing from you.

Who were you if not the best in your studies? You were deathly afraid to find out. 

Later on that week, the professor handed you your grade back, 98%. You turned around to show Minho your mark, and so did he. You surpassed him, only by mere percents. "I told you so," you smiled cheekily and he pouted, holding a hand to his heart as if your grade wounded him.

"I'll beat you next time", he mouthed and you chuckled, "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

✹✹✹

The first time you studied with Minho was in a cat café near campus, called Limbo, about two weeks after your initial interaction. You stumbled upon it serendipitously while strolling through your university town. You couldn’t study at home, since you were easily distracted in there, and the eerie silence of libraries often left you unsettled.

Limbo, however, offered the perfect middle-ground: it was calm, not overly crowded, and the buzzing of the coffee machine blended harmoniously with the occasional mewls of cats, which helped you concentrate better. 

You were sitting in a secluded corner table at the café's back, a sleeping black cat comfortably nestled in your lap when you sensed a shadow loom over you. You glanced up quickly to find Minho. He was clad in a grey hoodie sporting a bunny holding up its middle finger. You had to bite your cheek to suppress a grin at his clothing attire.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. 

"You know for someone smart you sure ask stupid questions," you remarked, already looking down at the papers scattered in front of you.

He huffed, taking a seat at the table right next to yours, "I can’t believe that of all places you’ve found this café to study in."

"My apologies, am I disturbing you, your highness?" You asked sarcastically, and in retort, Minho mimicked your words in a high-pitched tone. You threw the pillow right next to you at his head, and Minho swiftly ducked, easily avoiding it. He chuckled loudly while you glared at his laughing figure. That was the end of your conversation that day. 

From that moment forward, it became a routine for the two of you to study at Limbo, every Saturday, without fault. You didn’t explicitly plan on it, but it seemed that both of you found it comforting to work there. And you could also tell that, unlike you, it wasn’t Minho’s first time coming to Limbo. He was friends with the owner, a sweet middle-aged man who offered you pastries whenever you stayed there until closing. The cats seemed to know him too, they mewled at his feet whenever he entered and he always greeted them with a soft smile on his face. 

You didn’t talk much in those unofficial study sessions, the both of you were consumed by your own work. But you’d steal quick glances at him every now and then, the sight of him so concentrated only fueled you to work harder.

Admittedly, your competition left you feeling anxious for days on end at first. Each time Minho came out on top, you’d found yourself losing your grip. Your studies have been the one anchor keeping you afloat your entire life, and now, Minho was ripping it carelessly away from you. So, you resented him- you were human after all.

But then, you realized that Minho’s taunting wasn’t malicious. He wasn’t competing with you to hurt you, he was doing it for amusement only.

You've slowly started to learn that despite his relentless teasing, Minho had a gentle aura surrounding him. Glimpses of which occasionally emerged like rays of sunshine piercing through a thick cloud cover.

True, he chuckled when you accidentally bumped your head on the table while retrieving a fallen pen. Yet, you also noticed how he began to cover the table's corners with his hand whenever you bent down. He swiftly retracted his hand, seemingly believing you didn't notice, but you did.

During class presentations, he deliberately prepared challenging questions for you, urging you to study twice as hard to ensure no stone was left unturned. Yet, whenever the professor praised your performance, Minho offered a subtle thumbs-up as a gesture of support. He winked at you each time he got the right answer and you didn’t. However, when he noticed you struggling with a particular subject, he scooted closer and patiently explained it to you. He got up before you could thank him, swatting his arm in the air as if he didn’t do anything of significance. 

To show your appreciation, you bought him a drink that day he helped you—a simple gesture that sparked an ongoing game of "win a bet, get free food". You bet on who would receive the first mark on an assignment or who would finish an essay first- anything to further deepen the competition between you.

That's how you came to know that he loved puddings, among other things.

Curiously, as the months went by, your mind began to retain these little details about him. How his eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings when he blinked repeatedly during your conversations. How he glanced at the ceiling when lost in deep thought as if he was waiting for the answers to descend from the sky. Or how his lips take on the shape of an "o" while thinking of his response during one of your many debates. But you supposed that it was natural to take notice of such things when you spend countless Saturday afternoons with the same person.

You were still studying for someone else, in the sense that each time you stayed up working, it was solely to prove your worth to Minho. But at least unlike your mother, Minho's words never haunted you at night.

✹✹✹

Just like that, four months have gone by since you joined your university as a law major. It was nearing finals week and you were preparing it at Limbo. Minho was naturally present too, at his usual table right next to yours.

On the last weekend before the beginning of your finals, you were head-deep into your Criminal Law documents when Minho abruptly got up from his seat and settled in the chair in front of you.

"Yn," he whispers and you glance at him, "What?" 

"I have an idea."

"Keep it to yourself," you grin sarcastically, only for him to pick up your spoon and move it around in a threatening manner.

"Are you trying to scare me with a spoon?" you chuckle in disbelief.

 "Anything can be a weapon if you use enough force."

"Okay… that was creepy. What do you want?"

"The end of the first term is coming up. So, to celebrate our little rivalry-"

"It's not a rivalry if I’m always winning," you cut him off.

"Yeah, that’s why I have a fridge full of pudding."

"But-"

"Anyways, how about the top of the class takes the other out for dinner? A fancy one." He suggests, his gaze fixed on you.

"No, thank you. I already see you enough in classes."

"Didn’t think you wouldn’t up for a bet. Guess I was wrong," he remarks, a cheeky smile drawn on his lips. He knows you couldn’t possibly say no now.  

"Fine," you roll your eyes at his proud expression. "Prepare your wallet." 

"Mm, sure," he responds, before rising from his seat once more.

That day, you both lost track of time as you studied in Limbo until it closed down. When you finally stepped outside, stretching your tired limbs, you were met with the sight of falling snowflakes.

"Nooo, go away. I don't want to watch the first snow with you," Minho whines, referring to the superstition that watching the first snowfall with someone could spark love between the two of you. 

"As if I could ever love you," you laugh at the ridiculous idea, "that’d just be signing a death warrant."

You resume walking towards your apartment when suddenly something freezing and hard hits your back with enough force to make you stagger. Turning around slowly, you find Minho erupting in laughter, his body filled with uncontainable joy. He’s jumping and clapping excitedly, and for a fleeting moment, you can’t decide if your shock was from the impact or from how beautiful happiness looks on him. 

Snapping out of your daze, you swiftly retaliate by scooping up a handful of snow and hurling it at him. "Now you are cold too!" you shout, while he’s still laughing uncontrollably. 

Thus begins an impromptu snowball fight between the two of you. Unsurprisingly, you’re being competitive in this too, trying your best to strike each other before the other could recover. But Minho draws nearer to you, and in your desperation to win, you fall to the ground when he throws a snowball at your chest, gasping as if you’re in pain.

"Shit, did I hurt you?" Minho quickly kneels in front of you, concern evident in his voice. It surprises you for a moment- how worried he seems at the prospect of causing you pain.

But you shake that thought off and push him down to the ground, a proud smile on your face. In his fall, Minho instinctively reaches for you to steady himself, which ends up with you landing on top of him. Your faces are mere inches apart, and a soft gasp escapes your mouth at your sudden proximity.

Minho has a mole on his nose. You’ve never noticed that before. 

You quickly push yourself off of him, not enjoying being this close to somebody. "Why did you drag me down with you?" you grumble, shaking off the snow from your hair.

"Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," he cheekily stuck out his tongue, and you respond with the same childlike gesture before the both of you burst into loud laughter. The sound reverberates through your entire being, and it echoes in your mind long after the two of you go your separate ways.  

As you lay in bed that night, ready to drift off to sleep, a quiet realization dawns on you. This was the first time you've touched snow in since your childhood incident.

That unpleasant memory didn't cross your mind once. Instead, all you thought about was Minho’s infectious laughter, and the surprising warmth it stirred within you.

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

True to his words, Minho texted you the name of the restaurant where you’d both meet to celebrate your win. As you got ready for your outing, you couldn’t help the nerves creeping up on you. Studying in silence next to Minho was something, going to a friendly dinner with him was another. You feared it would be too awkward and Minho would regret ever proposing such a thing.

So, as you sit in the refined BBQ restaurant waiting for him, you fidget with your hands, counting down to three in your head in an attempt to steady your breathing.

You were clearly not accustomed to existing with Minho outside of the confines of your studies.

"Did you wait long?" Minho asks as he finally pulls the chair in front of you and you shake your head no.

"Are you nervous?" he chuckles at your lack of words, and you frown, suddenly feeling defensive. "Why would I be nervous? This isn't a date."

"Who said anything about a date?" he smirks and you grab your fork threateningly, pointing it at him, "Don't say anything stupid or I will walk out."

"And stand me up on our first date? That's too mean.” He pouts, a hand on his heart and you can’t help but giggle at his antics. You were ridiculous for being nervous. This was Minho, the one person you’ve talked to the most since the start of this year. 

"What will you have?" he asks and you smile mischievously.

 "Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food." 

"Well, it's certainly not for your company," you wink and he chuckles, his bunny teeth on full display. 

"And here I thought we were going to be civil with each other."

"When are we ever not?" you gasp dramatically and Minho swats your hand with the menu. "Just order whatever," you finally answer," I trust your food judgment."

"I could poison you, you know?" He smiles proudly and you roll your eyes at him, "Can’t you be normal, for once?"

Minho calls over the waiter and places your orders. The food is quick to arrive and Minho starts to grill up the meat, while you cut the Kimchi into smaller pieces. 

"Here," he puts the perfectly cooked rib onto your plate first and you smile at him, "Thank you."

"Eat up, don’t wait for me," he tells you and you nod, tasting the flavorful meat.

"Wow this is really good," you compliment and he smirks proudly at your words, "I know."

Minho places four other ribs for you, without eating one himself. You start to feel bad, so you grab his chopsticks, pick up the meat, and move it toward his mouth, "Open up."

"What?" He asks confused and you wave the food in front of his face, "Come on, you haven’t eaten anything."

Minho parts his lips slowly, and you feed the tender meat to him, before eating one yourself. You notice how his cheeks are slightly tinted pink now, and you account it to the intense heat of the grill.

"Oh, let's not talk about studies, my brain can't take another debate with you," you tell Minho in between bites and he grins at you, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "If you were to dispose of a body, how would you do it?"

"I think our next celebration will be in an asylum." you smile too sweetly at him and he stares at you pointedly, "Please, I know you've already thought about it."

"Fine. Probably in a deserted land. What about you?"

"I'd cut their bodies and then bury each part in a different forest. In a different city."

His answer came too quickly, and you pause in your tracks, "Should I be worried?"

"You are too cute to kill." His tone is sarcastic and you make a show of gushing at his compliment, clasping both of your hands in front of your heart, "Growing soft on me, Minho?" 

"Yeah, I’m basically sooo in love with you," he replies with a smirk and you roll your eyes at him, an amused smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"What's your favorite color?" you finally ask, changing the subject.

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You'll buy me purple flowers?" He coos at you and you shake your head as you grab the utensil from his hand, to grill the meat your turn. 

"No. I'll paint your tombstone purple," you grin and he laughs loudly, eyes squinted close, and you can't find it in you to care that the people next to you are staring. 

"What's yours?" he asks when he calms down and you shrug, "Navy blue, I think."

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

"When you look at it, at first glance, it looks like black. But the more you stare at it, the more layers you uncover. Just like you. There’s more to you than what meets the eye."

You grab your glass of water, gulping it down to hide the way your eyes just glossed over. You suddenly felt bare in front of Minho. How did he know?

You clear your throat, racking your brain for a way to move on from that question. "If you were to describe colors to a blind person, how would you do it?"

"Mm," he looks up at the ceiling as he mulls over your question, "I’d say that yellow is the feeling of eating ice cream on a sunny day, in an amusement park. Your fingers are sticky but your cheeks ache from how much you smiled that day."

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

"I’d say that... Red is the thrill that rushes through your veins when you do something you are passionate about, you know? It’s what makes our blood boil and our heart race. The very essence of our humanity."

Minho smiles softly at your words, seemingly agreeing with your description. "Don’t you think it would be easier if we simply asked, what color are you feeling today, instead of a 'How are you'?" He questions and you tilt your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you could say, I feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to. Or, I feel bright yellow as if the world's energy is stored inside me."

"And right now, how do you feel?"

"I feel orange, not the ugly orange." He precises and you chuckle, "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean."

"A bittersweet orange, an ending that instantly strings along a new beginning. And you don't have time to rest."

Minho places his chin on his palm, eyeing you curiously, "Is that what you want? To rest?"

"Yeah." You admit quietly, "Don't you sometimes wish that the world would just stop, for a few seconds? Just like in a song, right before the beat drops. That silence, I wish I could live inside of it."

"I do too."

You both hold each other’s gaze for a while after that. You felt as if he was keeping you captive with his brown eyes, and he was slowly peeling each of your layers, in silence, as you were peeling his. For the first time, you think that you and he are similar, more than on a studies level. There was a part of his soul that understood yours perfectly. And it felt good, to be understood, for once.

"If you lived in this silence, what would you be doing?" he asks, breaking the serene quiet that surrounded you.

"I’d open a café that had books. And there'd be a little space, where people could paint. Or do pottery. And I’d have cats in there too." You reply excitedly, hands moving around in the air, you end up missing the way Minho gazes fondly at you before his smile morphs into a smirk.

"Please tell me you won't be cooking."

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

"You dance?!" you whisper-shout and he frowns at the surprised look on your face. 

"Yeah. Why are you looking at me like this?"

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

"No." he cuts you off immediately and you pout. 

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

"Please, I won't make a sound I’d just watch. Pinky promise.” He grabs your now outstretched pinky with the tip of his index and thumb, lowering it down. 

"I’d only grant you this wish when you’re on your deathbed."

"Bold of you to assume you'd still be around."

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

Minho chuckles at the crestfallen look on your face, "I’ll think about it."

Just like that, three hours of talking have gone by, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. And when you finally leave the restaurant, Minho grabs you a cab and you wave him off with a smile. You couldn't lie to yourself, you had a really good time with him. You liked to think that Minho was no longer just a rival, but a possible friend.

But now that you were laying in your bed, you couldn’t help but curse Minho in your brain. His repetitive talk about murder made you paranoid, and now every creak in your apartment made you feel as if death was really right around the corner. 

You decide to text him, figuring that if you couldn’t sleep because of him, you could at least disturb him for a bit. 

Yn : I hate you I'm paranoid from your murder talk

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

Suddenly your phone rings, the shrill sound echoing around your apartment. It was a Facetime call from Minho. You panic for a few seconds, before remembering that you just spent your entire night with him. A call can’t be more daunting than a real-life meeting. 

"See, I’m in my home," he tells you as soon as you pick up and you laugh.

"It's pitch black, I can't see."

"Just say you miss my face." You can’t see him but you can clearly hear the proud grin in his voice. 

"What's there to miss?"

"Are you actually scared?" Minho asks gently and you clear your throat, feeling ridiculous all of the sudden. 

"There is a tree right outside my window and it keeps rustling from the wind," you grumble and Minho laughs at you. 

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

"Close your eyes.” He instructs and you frown at his words. 

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

"Fine.” You close your eyes tentatively. It’s quiet for a few seconds and you feel yourself relax slightly. 

"So, I bought a sous-vide machine and-"

"Is your bedtime story going to be about meat?"

"Yes?” He replies as if it’s an evidence, “Now be quiet." You pretend to zip your mouth and Minho faintly giggles, before resuming his story. "So, I was saying. I bought one and I wanted to experience different kinds of meats. So, I bought a 30-day aged one and a 58-day aged one and I cooked them both."

"What did you use?" you ask quietly. 

"Just garlic, and thyme, I didn't want to overpower the taste of meat. Anyways I cooked them, but I didn't have plastic bags so I had to go out and buy them."

"Mm," you hum in acknowledgment. You could feel your nerves slowly dissipate with Minho's every word. His story might be ridiculous but his honey-coated voice compensated for it, wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. 

"And I found pudding there so I had to buy it."

"Obviously," you whisper. Sleep was knocking on your door, but paradoxically you tried to fight it off. You wanted to hear the rest of Minho’s story. 

"And I went back home and I cooked it, then I plated it nicely with vegetables that I sauteed with butter and garlic. Just mushrooms and potatoes, nothing too fancy. Again, my main focus was the meat. But there wasn't a difference between the two. They tasted the same for me, for some reason. And I didn't like this because the aged one was very expensive. Maybe I was scammed. Honestly, that butcher looked kind of suspicio..."

Your quiet snores make Minho pause in his tracks, and he laughs quietly. You did end up falling asleep. He can't see your face clearly, but he can see its outline and he stares at you for a while. You look peaceful.

He goes to hang up but his finger hovers over the 'end call' button. You aren't talking, but your hums are quiet enough that they fill up the space around him. It calms him down, and he lets his head fall on the pillow, his phone lying beside him.

He closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on. 

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

The second semester had just started and with it the return of frat parties. You were excited at the prospect of going to one with your new friend Mina. You met her in the library when you both went to grab the same book. You quickly apologized but she waved you off, handing you the book with a huge smile on her face. She was bubbly, like a human serotonin boost, and she started gushing about how much she loved the author. You saw her again in the campus cafeteria, and she skipped towards you as if you've both known each other your entire life. That was the start of your friendship.

You walk into the frat house, both your arms encircling each other. The flashing lights of the party blind you for a moment, and it takes you a while to adjust to the loud music bouncing off of the walls. But you like it, it was like a shield from the outside world and its problems. 

You feel yourself letting loose in the crowd, swaying your hips to the music. Mina spins you around and you laugh, dancing with no care in the world. It was just the both of you in that instant. 

Mina spots Jeongin in the crowd, a friend of hers that she had an immense crush on. You couldn’t blame her- he was very attractive; his easy smirk and his blonde tousled hair earned him lots of appreciative looks from the people around him. But when his eyes locked with Mina’s, you found that his face morphed into a beautiful smile, that made his dimples look on full display, as if it was only reserved for her.

“Go get your man!” You shout in her ears, so she’d be able to hear you. 

“What are you talking about?” She yells back, but you could see the nervous smile on her face.

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

“I don’t want to leave you alone. We came together!” She clasps your hand in hers and you smile touched by her kind spirit.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll go to the kitchen to get some drinks. Go have fun!”

“You are sure?” She asks, her eyes darting between you and Jeongin, who was still looking at her, and her only. 

“Yes! Go!” You say, gently pushing her away. Mina jogs up to Jeongin who greets her with a side hug. He quickly glances at you and you shoot him a thumbs-up, to which he grins. You loved playing Cupid.

With that, you decide to head to the kitchen to grab a drink. You pick a beer from the fridge, double-checking if the can is closed before opening it. 

You lean on the countertop, sipping on your drink while you watch the crowd, humming along each time a song you knew played. You enjoyed watching people dance freely from afar, with no apparent care in the world.

You feel someone stand next to you and you brace yourself, getting ready to tell the person off if they decide to bother you. You didn’t have the energy for mindless flirting. But then, you smell the cologne that has lingered around you for the past term- Minho. You haven't seen him since your dinner. That was a month ago.

"Fancy seeing you here," he greets as he leans on the counter right next to you, his eyes fixated on the mingling bodies.

You turn around to face him, faking an outraged gasp, "Are you following me?"

"Mmm. You look nice", he compliments and you smile cheekily, "I know."

"Won't tell me I look nice too?" he smirks, leaning closer to your face. "Someone didn’t get enough compliments tonight?" You pout, placing a hand on your heart in mock concern.

"I did, but I want to hear it from you. You’re the only sensible person in this room."

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

"Come on, I know you can do better than that", he jokes and you roll your eyes, muttering “You’re annoying”, under your breath.

Still, you comply, placing your arms on top of the counter and leaning your head on them to get a better look at him. He does the same, smiling, and you both stare at each other for a while after that.

The strobing lights dance on Minho’s face, casting enticing shadows on him. You've always known he was a beautiful man; you've looked into his eyes far too many times in your heated conversations. But this time was different, there was no cheeky smirk on his face nor a furrow in his eyebrows. He was simply looking at you, and it made a pool of warmth huddle in your belly. You feel yourself relax under his gaze, everything around you seemingly melts away.

You weren’t wrong when you thought that his eyes were like a black hole, pulling you in. But this time, you realize that you didn’t mind knowing what was on the other side. On the contrary, you longed for it. 

"I like your eyes right now. They remind me of the night sky. Black, with tiny little stars littered in them," you finally say.

Minho is taken aback by your words, he wasn't expecting you to compliment him, let alone to tell him something so special. He can feel his cheeks burn red at your words, feel his heart hammering in his chest. He's afraid you can hear it too.

He doesn't know what to say, so instead he clears his throat, plastering a smirk on his face, "I heard better." He hasn't. This is the first genuine compliment he's ever gotten.

"Oh, fuck off," you laugh and he joins you. The music was loud and yet the only sound his ear seemed to pick up was your laugh.

"Are you here alone?" He asks, and you shake your head no, "Came with my friend Mina."

"Did she leave you by yourself?" He frowns and you feel yourself warm up at his worried tone. "I told her to go talk to Jeongin."

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

“Fine, Dad.” You chastise and he stares pointedly at you, "I’m serious, yn."

You take another swing of the beer before turning your body fully towards Minho. After a few beats of silence, you finally ask a question that has been on your mind for a while. "Why do you say my name this way?"

"What way?" He questions and you shrug, "Slowly. People used to always rush it but you don’t."

"Well, it’s a pretty name. It deserves to be pronounced as a whole."

You beam at his words; you smile so brightly it makes his heart skip a beat. This is the first time you’ve grinned this widely at him, no hand in front of your mouth as if to hide it. He did notice how you were a reserved person outside of class, as if you were afraid of taking up too much place. But he could tell you were slowly unraveling, growing bolder with each passing month. He wanted to tell you that if people like you spoke more, the world would be a far better place. 

But he couldn't bring himself to say all of this, so he forced those bubbling words down his throat. "I’m hungry," he whines instead and you laugh at his pout. "I'm kind of craving a greasy pizza."

"Should we go buy it? You can tell Mina to come so we can walk her back."

"I’ll ask her."

You shoot Mina a text, asking her where she was and telling her about your plan. She replies that she’s with Jeongin who just offered to take her home, so you could leave without her.

"We can go." You tell him and he nods. Minho shrugs his leather jacket off, gently placing it on your shoulders. His warmth engulfs you and you sink further into it. His arm hovers around your shoulder not touching you as he leads you out of the party. He has never touched your body, you note, it's like he was everywhere and nowhere at once.

You both walk to an open parlor near the frat house, and you order a Margarita pizza to share. You sit down on a nearby bench to eat it- the night breeze too liberating to pass up on.

As you both finish eating, a cat with white and orange stripes all over her body approaches the both of you cautiously, and you pat her head softly. "Aren't you the cutest thing ever?" you coo and Minho chuckles as he scratches the cat’s chin. She purrs at his touch appreciatively, and you smile at the soft look on his face. 

"Never knew you to be this gentle", you giggle and Minho shushes you, "Let's not do this in front of the cat."

"Why are you acting as if we are a divorced couple and she’s our child."

"Easy, yn. You make it sound as if you want me to marry you."

"Now you're just projecting," you chastise and he laughs, eliciting giggles from you. He had a melodic laugh, you noticed, and you always felt a surge of pride whenever you made him close his eyes and tip his head from laughter. You felt as if it's a sight only you can see.

"I have three cats", he says softly and you gasp, "Really? We spent all of our Sundays in a cat café and this is when you tell me?"

"I only tell my friends."

"So we're friends now?" You gush and he rolls his eyes at you, "I take it back."

"What’s their names?" You ask curiously and his eyes soften at your question- you could easily tell he loved them dearly.

"Soongie, Doongie, and Dori. They are rescues."

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

"Most of my scars come from them though," he chuckles but you sober up at his words, quietly scratching the cat's ears.

"What’s on your mind?" He asks and you glance at him. It was scary how well he’s starting to know you. But it was also nice; to be known is to exist, after all.

"I just... Sometimes I wish that memories would leave physical scars on you. Because at least then, you could treat them, put a band-aid on, and watch them fade away day by day. Because when the scars are emotional, you can’t treat them, you know? And someday someone brings up a name or a place, or you smell a certain scent, and suddenly they reopen as if no time has gone by at all.”

Minho stays silent for a while, mulling over your words. You don't mind, you weren't expecting him to comfort you. You just needed to free those words from the mental prison you've held them in for so long.

"Do you know Kintsugi?" he finally asks and you shake your head no.

"It's a Japanese art. They put back together broken vases with molten gold. It represents strength despite our flaws."

"That sounds nice," you sigh wistfully and he nods. 

"It is. When you look at that vase, you know that it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty, on the contrary, it adds to it. Scars, whether they are emotional or physical are there for a reason. They remind us of how we pushed through whatever life threw at us."

"Am I supposed to be grateful I survived this?" You chuckle lowly, as your hand scratches the cat’s ear. Your fingers brush against Minho’s and you hesitate for a few seconds before moving them away.

"I wouldn't say grateful for what you went through," he speaks once again, "but grateful to yourself. At the end of the day, the reason why you're still here is you. You put yourself back together," he then bumps his elbow into your side softly, "and hey, even if your scars reopen there will come a time when they wouldn’t anymore. Sometimes, it takes a while to be okay again."

This was Minho’s way of telling you that someday it wouldn’t hurt anymore. That someday you’d be okay. And you needed to hear that. You needed to hear someone else other than yourself tell you that.

"Thank you, Minho, I needed that", you smile at him and he grins back at you before his smile turns to a smirk. "I charge 15 dollars for the hour by the way."

"Oh, come on! You didn't even say something revolutionary." You are lying. Minho's words will echo in your mind long after this night- a beacon of light to hold onto.

"Oh, so now it’s no longer ‘I needed that’. Tsk," he jokes a smirk still plastered on his face.

"Okay, Mr. Therapist. I’ll pay for your coffee tomorrow, sounds good?"

"I should have you as my client more often," he winks and you laugh, head tipped back. You were grateful more than ever for his teasing, loving how it wasn’t awkward between you after your discussion.

"You are a good listener." You tell him as you stand up, dusting your pants.

"I’m good at everything," he grins cheekily at you and you roll your eyes playfully, "And here I thought we were having a moment."

You both start walking side by side toward your home when Minho speaks again. His tone is quiet as if he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear him. "About earlier, your compliment, I mean. I suppose I didn't thank you. So, thank you," he scratches the tip of his ears and you shrug nonchalantly. "It's the truth. You might get on my ass but that doesn't change the fact you are a pretty man."

He doesn’t respond and you tug at the sleeve of his shirt playfully, "You won't tell me I’m pretty too?"

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

You laugh loudly, hand tightly clutching your stomach and he joins you. There is a newfound lightness in your steps now. Unbeknownst to him, Minho just managed to lift a small weight off your shoulders, allowing you a brief moment of respite.

"This is me," you say when you arrive in front of your apartment block, "Thank you for walking me home."

"Of course. Don't dream of me."

"Idiot," you laugh waving him off and he does the same. "Oh, and text me when you get home safely!" you shout before heading inside.

For the second time this night, Minho is blushing profusely at your words. He sighs to himself, waiting patiently until a light turns on in your place to leave.

✹✹✹

It’s been two months since the start of the new term. You still went to Limbo, every Saturday with Minho- even when you didn’t need to study. 

Sometimes you’d just grab a book and you’d both read, a cat lazily lounging at your feet. You started sitting at the same table too; you figured it was easier since one of you always pays for the other. When you have a bet, but also randomly, when you notice that the other person is feeling down and you want to cheer them up without saying anything.

That's why you bought three bubble teas for Minho in a row. He was quieter these days, you noticed. He didn’t talk to you nor did he retort back in class. It was the first time you’ve seen him this way. As if he was a simple shell of the person he usually is. 

You were walking out of your Communications Strategies class, which Minho weirdly didn’t come to when you realized that it was pouring rain. You smile lightly to yourself, grateful since you thought about picking up an umbrella this morning. 

As you walk through campus, everyone around you running to take shelter, you spot someone sitting on a bench, completely drenched from the rain. Their head is hung low and you frown to yourself. They would surely get a cold if they stay there.

But then the person raises their head and you quickly realize it's Minho. You jog up to him instinctively, standing in front of him and shielding him from the rain with your umbrella.

He looks up at you and you feel your heart clench. His eyes are void of emotion and he stares blankly at you. "Are you okay?" you ask and he blinks at your words, as if his brain hadn't yet registered that you were there.

"Yeah."

"You don't look like it", you tilt your head to the side and he looks down again. You have to strain to hear his next words, muffled by the rain and his mumbling, "I don't want to talk, yn."

You decide to put away your umbrella and sit down next to him on the bench. The rain falls rapidly on both of you, and you feel yourself grow cold from it. 

"What are you doing?" He questions, turning to the side to look at you.

"Enjoying the rain. It is kind of stupid that we have umbrellas, right?"

"You'll catch a cold."

"I mean we always complain about the drought and then when it rains, we hide from it. But it's really beautiful."          

"Stop, I don't want you to get sick."

"Well, neither do I. Let's go eat some soup. My treat."

"Yn, I don’t-"

"I thought you were smart enough to know I won't take no for an answer."

"But I-" you cut him off again. "Also, I’m doing this for me because when you order for two, they give you a lot of side dishes. Now come on."

You stand up and he looks doubtfully at you, before following suit. You open up the umbrella again and hold it over both of your heads. He has to huddle close to you, and your shoulders brush against each other. Once, twice. Not that you're keeping count. But your body is always hyper-aware of Minho’s proximity. You also notice how he silently moves from your right to your left, this way he's the one walking right next to the speeding cars. Your hold on the umbrella tightens. You were still not used to those small attentions of his. 

You arrive in front of your apartment block and he hesitates. "Come up, I won't murder you I promise." You joke and he smiles lightly back at your words. Progress.

He enters your dorm and you can see him eying his surroundings. You know that if it was another time, he would have teased you about something- anything. But he stays quiet, and you find yourself missing the sound of his voice.

"Would you like to shower?" You offer and he nods, "Please."

You lead him to your bathroom and show him where the washing machine is. "Put your clothes in there for a quick wash and dry. You can shower meanwhile."

He nods again as you hand him a towel. "I'll be outside."

You quickly leave the bathroom to place the soup orders, and Minho discards his wet clothes, walking into your shower. The water is piping hot, and he leans his forehead on the cold tiles. He doesn’t move for the first ten minutes, too tired at the prospect of lifting his limbs.

Nothing particular happened. But he’d go through days when he’d quiet down because everything around him was too much. The feel of his clothes against his skin, and the sun streaming through his curtains. But it always passes. Minho was a realistic man and he knew that his emotions would regulate themselves. That’s why he didn’t like appearing vulnerable in front of other people.

But for some reason, he didn’t mind lowering his guard with you. He knew you wouldn’t judge.

He sighs, grabbing your cherry-scented shampoo and pouring it into his hands. He can clearly smell you now. The scent of your hair that always tickles his nose, whenever you are sitting close to him. Your body wash is next and he wonders if this is how your skin smells, like vanilla and jasmine, and something entirely you. 

Forty minutes later, Minho finally steps out of the shower. His clothes are clean and he quickly puts them on. He dries his hair with the towel as he walks out of your bathroom towards the living room. 

He finds you sitting on the ground, in front of a heater that looks close to giving up. He makes a mental note of giving you the one he has since he doesn't really use it. You changed out of your clothes too, and you are now wearing a pair of pajamas with little bunnies sewn into it. The sight almost manages to make him smile. 

"Still cold?" you question when you notice him standing behind you, unmoving, and he shakes his head no.

"Good, the soup is here." You say cheerfully, pointing at the steaming bowls sitting on your table. Minho hums in reply and you stand up, grabbing the towel from his hands to place it on the drying rack.

You come back, a soft green blanket in your hands. You sit on the couch and pat the spot beside you. Minho sits next to you, and you lay the blanket on both of your laps, before handing him his soup.

You start the show you’ve been last watching, as you both eat in silence, your legs crisscrossed. You make some comments throughout the episodes. You figured that it was a safe territory, to talk about something as mundane as this. He didn't reply but you didn't mind. You weren't here to have a conversation with him. You just wanted to distract him.

You realize at that moment that Minho always looked so put together to you. But he had problems of his own too. That much was obvious. It made you feel closer to him, in a sense. You were both just trying to make it through the day.

Two hours later, you get up to grab a book, handing Minho the remote to put on a show of his own. You curl in a ball in the corner, reading where you left off last night.

"Can you... Can you read out loud?" Minho speaks for the first time in a while and you look at him. His eyes are closed, his head resting against your couch.

"Sure."

You start to read, and Minho further sinks into the couch. He feels at home here. Because the blanket is soft and the light is dim enough to not hurt his eyes. Or it could be that he smells like you, a scent so comforting he wants to bury himself in it. Or maybe it's your voice that floats through the air, slowly clouding Minho’s every sense. He feels as if he could see the words you were pronouncing dancing in front of his eyes. You enunciated each syllable clearly, making sure that no sound was forgotten.

As Minho gently drifted to sleep, he felt as if he was part of the words you read out loud. He felt as if you were treating him with the same care, making sure that he knew he wasn't invisible. At least not to you.

When you wake up the next morning, Minho is gone. And his place beside you on the couch is empty. He made you breakfast, scrambled eggs, and freshly pressed orange juice. And right next to it you find a note, "Thank you for reading to me."

✹✹✹

Minho didn't believe in having a lot of friends. He was content with the two people he had, Chan and Changbin. The latter was his high school friend, he skipped a year and ended up being in the same class as Minho. They didn't talk at first until the day Changbin dropped a book on Minho's foot. The brooding man started apologizing profusely, and that was the start of their friendship. They've kept in touch since.

Chan was his roommate at university. It's not that he particularly wanted to befriend him, but Chan was a social butterfly and he quickly managed to pull Minho into his friendly trap. He annoys Minho the most, but in an endearing way. And although Chan is older, Minho still strangely developed a soft spot for him. 

And he supposes he has you too now. At first, you weren’t friends, rivals at most. He enjoyed reeling you up and having you frown at his words in your heated debates. He also liked talking to you, because your ideas were interesting and you always gave him a new fresh perceptive to see things.

That’s how he strictly saw you as, an intelligent human who he liked to debate with.

But then he started to look forward to meeting up with you at Limbo. He no longer minded the fact that you took his self-assigned table, from his high school days. And he laughed more freely with you, enjoying how you always had a witty retort sitting at the tip of your tongue. 

That’s how he started to notice things that friends most definitely notice. How you have a charm bracelet you always fidget with whenever you are nervous. How you stray away from physical touch. How you scratch your eyebrow when you are deep in thought.

But also, how you seem to have an obsession with cherries. Your cherry pendant, your cherry-scented shampoo, and your cherry-tainted lips. A friend would most certainly think that your lips are like red wine-stained glass.

He remembers one of the many times when you were at Limbo, and he saw you reapply your lip tint, or so you called it. You caught him looking and he swiftly averted his gaze, but it wasn't quick enough. Suddenly you were in front of him, a tiny red bottle in hand.

"Let me apply it to you," you smiled and he pushed your head away with his pointer finger. "No."

"Please," you pouted and he couldn't help but find you adorable. You sometimes reminded him of a small kitten. But he didn’t dare to call you by that nickname. 

"Never."

"If I score more than you in our environmental assignment then I will do it."

"Fine." he huffed so that you'd leave him alone.

Minho didn't study for that assignment. He blamed it on a headache, not that it's ever stopped him before. And two weeks later you were in front of him, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. You applied the lip tint gently on his plump lips, carefully tracing over his cupid bow. 

Your face was mere inches away from his and he noticed how you were wearing a gloss today, for change. It was shimmering under the lights and he usually didn't like glittery things, but he couldn't take his eyes off your lips. 

"All done!" you clapped excitedly, snapping him out of his haze. You then shove your phone camera into his face so he'd look at the results.

"You should be a model. Your face is perfectly sculpted," you comment nonchalantly, before sitting back in your seat. 

“I know.” He replies confidently, but his hand kept fiddling with the tip of his now pink ears. He couldn't concentrate for the rest of the night.

You were his friend because he always worried if you were eating enough. That’s why he urged you to grab a bite in the convenience store near Limbo, whenever you finished up your studying late.

This was one of the many times you sat on the minuscule table outside, hot ramen bowls in front of the both of you. Minho huffed in annoyance between each bite, his bangs were getting longer, disturbing him when he leaned down to slurp his noodles. 

“Here,” you stand up from your place, a hair tie in your hands. 

“What are you doing?” He questions as you stand behind him. You don’t reply, silently grabbing his hair and putting it up in a tiny ponytail, this way it wouldn’t get in his eyes anymore.

“Voila,” you sit back down, resuming your eating. Minho was grateful for the dimly lit street because his entire face was burning up. Your fingers in his hair were gentle and he wondered how it would feel if you ran your fingers through it. 

This was something friends think about, right? 

"I’ll cut my hair tomorrow," he clears his throat. He didn't know why he told you. You certainly weren't interested in his hair endeavors.

"What?!" you yell, "Don't. Your hair is beautiful why would you cut it?"

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

Minho also noticed how you always threw compliments his way. Not in a flirtatious way, but in a genuine one. He couldn't help but wonder what made you this way. Did you so freely give love to others because you knew how it felt to not receive it?

"I’ll still cut it."

Minho returned home; his hair still clipped back in a ponytail. Chan eyed him weirdly but he shut him off with a glare. The elastic remained at his bedside since.

He didn't cut his hair.

The moment Minho started to consider you a close friend, was when you invited him over to watch your show. You didn’t force him to open up that night, and he appreciated it, more than he let on.

That's how a week later, he finds himself walking towards your dorm again. The thoughts in his head got too much, and Chan was immersed in his makeshift studio, which meant he won't be free for the next four hours, minimum.

He didn't plan on going to you. It was late at night and you were probably asleep, but his feet naturally led him to the direction of your place.

He knocks softly on your door. He wasn't even sure if he wanted you to open. What would you think of him showing up at eleven pm? He should have thought this thro-

"Minho?" you call out, and he startles a bit, his feet already inching away from the door.

"This was a bad idea, I'm sorry," he starts to retract back but you grab the hem of his jacket to stop him. "Do you... Do you want to watch my show with me?" you ask, a soft smile on your face and he nods tentatively.

"Okay, come in," you open the door wider and Minho follows you inside. The look in his eyes reminds you of the day you found him sitting under the rain. You didn't like it, you wanted him to find his spark back, his usual demeanor. He wasn't deserving of anything but happiness.

"I’ve started a new show, this one's a bit more romantic, so don't go around imagining me as the main character," you tease and he scoffs at your words, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He doesn't reply, but you don't mind. There was this secret agreement between the two of you, you would talk and he would listen. He needed the distraction, and you needed the company. Sometimes the line between alone and lonely blurs, and on days like these, Minho’s presence fills the void inside.

You comment on the scenes and Minho hums in reply, you watch three episodes in a row, and your eyes are getting drowsy, so you close them.

"Minho," you call out gently and he turns his head towards you.

"Yeah?"

"What color are you feeling tonight?" You ask, referencing to what he told you on your dinner celebration. That felt like an eternity ago.

"Black." You stay silent and Minho fidgets with his hands before speaking once again. "I feel a lot at the same time, too much of every color. That's why- that's why I said black."

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

"You already do." His admission came softly and it made your breath hitch in your throat. You wanted to open your eyes and look at him, but you figured it will only make him close off even more.

“Okay. Will you stay for breakfast?”, you whisper. You were very sleepy, the soft chatter of the TV and your hushed conversation were like a lullaby to you. 

"You want me to?" he asks, and he sounds so vulnerable you can't find it in you to say anything but the truth.

"I do," you admit, and that's the last thing you remember before sleeping.

Your head falls near Minho’s lap on the couch, your hair tickling his exposed thigh. Minho shouldn’t feel this way, he thinks. He’s sitting on the leather couch and his feet are touching the cold floor and yet all he can feel is three strands of your hair tickling him.

He glances at you, at your now parted lips and your relaxed eyebrows. His hand hovers over your hair, but then he curls it into a tight fist. What is he doing? He thinks to himself as he drags an angry hand through his face. He sighs, before standing up and grabbing the blanket you had on the opposing chair. He gently lays it on your body before sitting next to you once again. 

You told him to stay for breakfast. He’ll stay.

✹✹✹

2 months later

"Yn!" Minho shouts in your ear as he plops down next to you. You startle, dropping the book you were reading. 

"I hate you," you grumble, picking up your book and he smiles cheekily at you, "No you don't."

You were laying on the grass of your campus garden, in between two classes, trying to kill the time. It was April so the weather was perfect for lying under the warm sunrays. You loved spring, it always held within it the promise of a better time. 

"What are you doing?"

"I was reading before you got here and started to annoy me." 

"Don't mind me. Do your thing." 

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

"You couldn't find any other place to do so?"

"Nope."

"You're annoying" You try to sound mad but the smile on your face betrays you. You started looking forward to any moment Minho randomly shows up throughout your day. Sometimes it's late at night when he's suddenly craving sushi and he drags you with him because if he's not studying then you shouldn't be too. 

Sometimes it's during the day, when he takes you to a new garden where he found the quote "cutest cats in existence". Not as cute as his cats, of course. 

Sometimes it's late afternoon when he just knocks on your door, and he's there with Chan-his roommate who sometimes joins your study sessions- snacks in their hands. You've learned that what Minho doesn't say in words, he compensates by spending time with you. And you didn't tell him but waiting for these moments has been the joy of your life for the past few weeks.

It made you feel excited- like a child waiting up for Christmas morning to discover what gifts they are receiving. 

So, you resume reading, as Minho is lying next to you. You could smell his pinewood cologne and you wished you could pour his essence into a bottle and carry it with you everywhere. 

You notice how the sun is hitting Minho’s eyes directly, and how his eyebrows are scrunched up at the aggression. So, you grab your book with your left hand, and hover your right one over his eyes, shielding him from the sun. Minho's breath tickles your hand and you can feel goosebumps rising through your skin. 

It's as if every physical proximity with Minho made you feel hyperaware of every part of your body, and how he can lighten it with a simple breath from his part. It made you wonder what it would feel to have his hands on your skin.

As if Minho heard your thoughts, he gently wraps his thumb and index finger around your wrist, steadying your hand in place so it wouldn't strain your arm. You suddenly don't know what page you are in, too overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on you. 

His touch is very featherlight and you are afraid to move, to break the bubble you are suddenly pulled into. 

"Read to me," he tells you and you gulp. You never understood why Minho enjoyed it when you read to him. 

"Like my voice that much?" you tease, in an attempt to hide how affected you are. You were so close to him; it would be easy to slide down and lay your head on his chest. You wondered how his heartbeat would sound. Was it steady, or racing just like your own? 

"Yeah, it's calming," he replies sincerely, catching you off guard. You didn't expect him to compliment you, and now you are racking your brain for a retort, anything to make you breathe again. 

"Growing soft on me Minho?" you say, the same question you asked on your first dinner out. The first time you truly saw him, the first time you felt as if you were two pieces of the same puzzle, just waiting for someone to connect the both of you. 

He doesn't reply. And you sit there, patiently waiting. His first answer came so easily, so naturally, because he was being sarcastic, "I’m basically in love with you", he told you back then. So why can't he say it again?

"Yes, I am." He finally replies and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You try to account it for your brain misguiding you. It wasn't Minho speaking, it was the rustling of the leaves and the singing of the birds that you just heard. But it was him, and now his eyes are open and he's looking at you. Your hand is still shielding his eyes and his fingers are still wrapped around your wrist. And you are suddenly feeling. You are feeling too much. You don't know what to do with those feelings cursing through your veins and you can't face them. Because they are scaring you.

"I'll just... Yeah, I’ll just read," you say quietly, too flustered by his intense gaze. You were already on the other side, you realize. His eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey. 

"Out loud," he says and you chuckle, "Fine, Min." The nickname slips out of your tongue naturally and you quickly snap your head towards Minho to see if he noticed. 

His eyes are closed, and there is a slight smile on his face, and you can swear that he just repeated the nickname to himself softly. 

✹✹✹

You've been so sick these past days, you barely managed to go to class. Your head throbbed with pain and your entire body felt as if someone thoroughly boxed it. 

You were grateful that Minho reeled down his teasing because you had no energy to retort back. He may have noticed how sick you felt and truthfully it would be hard not to. You stayed silent throughout the day, and you looked so pale, you avoided looking at the mirror altogether.

Though Minho didn't talk to you, he still silently placed water bottles and some of your favorite snacks on your desk. You'd down the water, grateful for the relief it brought your sore throat. And when you didn't touch the food, he'd immediately text you 'Eat up', followed by a simple 'Please'. Having someone else care for your well-being felt weird, but it warmed your heart beyond what words could describe. 

You only came today to pass your Criminal Law mid-term, but your head hurt so badly that you weren't even sure what you wrote on your paper. The words blurred in front of your eyes and you almost slept in the middle of your exam, exhaustion threatening to take over your body. 

You fucked up, badly. You haven't screwed up this much in years.

You thought that you were slowly getting better since Minho surpassing you no longer sparked an unworthy feeling within you. But apparently, you were wrong to believe so. Self-doubt crept up within you once again, and the ugly feelings it stirred slowly clawed at your throat, making it hard for you to breathe.

It was one test, and yet it reeled you back ages ago. 

Tears threaten to spill out of your eyes as you hurriedly walk out of your class. You make a beeline for the library, figuring that it will be mostly empty by now. 

You pull out a chair and sit on it, lowering your head down so no one will see you. Your tears are falling rapidly and you hit your thigh repeatedly.  You hated how weak you felt in that instant. 

"Yn?", someone calls out and you curse internally. You don't have to look up to see who it is, Minho's voice has become a part of you- you could easily recognize it between a thousand mingling sounds. 

You don't want him to see you, especially not like this, weak and vulnerable and on the verge of breaking down. So you quickly slip a pair of sunglasses on your eyes, before raising your head to look at him. "Hm?"

"Are you okay?" he asks, his tone so soft it makes you want to cry ten times fold. You hated it, hated how attentive he was to you. You didn't deserve it. 

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just here to pick a book," you lie, abruptly standing up and heading toward the rows behind you. You desperately needed to get away from him. 

You pause in front of a random shelf and then you feel Minho standing behind you. You grab a random book and he peeks above your shoulder to see it, "Economics? You hate this subject."

"Why are you following me?" you turn around attempting your best to sound mad. When in reality, your heart was brimming with hurt. You wished you could get away from your body and seep into someone's soul to feel what it's like to love yourself.

"You aren't okay," he asserts and you hate it. You hate that he sounds so sure of himself. Was it that noticeable? Were you not fooling anyone?

"I am," your voice is shaking but you are adamant about contradicting him. You couldn't let him see you. What if he runs?

"Then..." he steps forward and you take a step back until your back is against the shelf. His left arm cages your body, but his right one stays by his side. He is leaving you an opening, you realize, an outing in case you feel uncomfortable. Against all odds, you don't.

 "Why are you hiding from me?" he asks, gently taking your sunglasses off your face, and placing them on the top of your head.

You don't look up at him, and he hooks his finger underneath your chin, gently raising your head. When your tear-stained eyes meet his, he frowns deeply, "Why are you crying?"

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

"I fucked up, okay?! That was the worst test I’ve ever given in years." The tears start to flow at your words and you wipe them away aggressively. You despised crying in front of people. 

Minho raises his hand to wipe the tears away for you but he quickly retracts it- you probably wouldn't want him to touch your face. It was enough that he had grabbed your wrist a couple of weeks before this. He quickly racks his brain for something to do, because the sight of your tears is making his heart ache in a way he hasn't felt before. It's as if he's feeling your emotions deep within him.

In desperation, Minho pinches your arm and you yelp, startled. "What was that for?" you whisper-shout and he raises his hands in defense, "I didn't know what else to do."

"So, you thought about pinching me?" you chuckle in bewilderment and he scratches the top of his hair sheepishly. 

"I mean, it worked. Look, you stopped crying," he points out raising his brows at you proudly and you shake your head at him.

"Remind me to never cry in front of you again." 

Minho grins at you before his face turns serious once again. "Look, you are the smartest person I know," he pauses, adding with a cheeky smirk, "After me of course." Which makes you giggle against your will. 

"Shut up", you lightly punch his chest and he smiles. "One test doesn't define you. You always work very hard. I wouldn't lie to you."

"Mm," you hum and he frowns at your lack of enthusiasm, but still, he doesn't comment. 

"No more crying," he wiggles his finger in front of your face and you roll your eyes, wiping the rest of your tears away. "Fine. Pretend as if this never happened."

"What are you talking about?" he asks as if confused, and you can't help the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It's as if Minho knows exactly what to say to cheer you up. 

"Come with me," he tells you, gently pulling you by the sleeve of your hoodie. 

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

"You're craving ice cream too," he says in a matter-of-a-fact tone. 

"Only if you're paying," you add with a giggle and he whines loudly, "I feel so so used around you." 

True to his words, Minho takes you to the nearest ice cream parlor. It's a 20 minutes walk away and you are grateful for the distance because it helps you clear your head a bit.

Minho lets you pick whatever flavors you want, and when you hesitate between two of them, he tells the cashier to put them both into your cup. This is how you end up with a container of 5 scoops of ice cream. You insisted you'd share, and Minho begrudgingly agreed when you threatened to walk out and leave him.

You then walk to a deserted alley and sit on the sidewalk. You didn't want to be around people right now, and thankfully, Minho understood without you having to say a word.  

You munch silently on your ice cream and Minho does the same, the both of you lost in your thoughts. You naturally take turns holding the freezing container, so it wouldn't numb the fingers of one of you.

When you're done, Minho stands up to throw it away in a nearby trashcan before sitting back again next to you. 

Suddenly you feel him gently tapping your hand. You look down to find that you've curled your fingers into a tight fist, so much that there are crescent indents visible on your palm now. 

"Let's play thumb war," he tells you and you giggle at his words. You never knew what to expect from him. 

Still, as your fingers hold each other, and your thumb circles one another, you feel yourself calm down slightly. You play a couple of rounds, and you know he's going easy on you, allowing you to quickly trap his thumb down. 

No one has gone to such lengths to cheer you up, and you suddenly feel so grateful for Minho’s presence in your life. You didn't care in what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it. Which in turn makes you think how bad it'd hurt if he ever leaves. 

You don't want Minho to leave. You've gotten so attached to him that the thought of not talking to him again makes your heart race in panic. 

Minho notices the change in your expression, suddenly melancholic once again. Your hand has gone limp in his, the thumb war long forgotten by you. 

He curses under his breath, before looking at you. "If I dance for you, will you quit being so sad?"

"Dance for me?" you repeat incredulously and he nods, "Yes. I’ll show you an upcoming choreography just... Please smile?" 

"Okay," you giggle, plastering a wide grin on your face. 

"Not like that you look scary."

"Get to dancing!" you clap excitedly and he rolls his eyes, standing up and looking through his phone for a particular music. 

"Oh and no comment!" he looks pointedly at you, and you nod, pretending to zip your mouth and throwing away the key. 

'Finesse' by Bruno Mars starts playing and you are left mesmerized by the way Minho dances. It's short but it leaves you yearning to see more. His body moves smoothly, hitting each beat effortlessly. He made it look as if dancing was second nature to him, that it came as easily to him as breathing. 

You were speechless, rightfully so. You wished you could build a world where all Minho did was dance. 

"That was-" you start when he stops the music but he cuts you off instantly, "I said no comment."

"But--" Minho places his finger on your mouth to silence you, seemingly not thinking too much of it. But the feel of his finger on your lips makes you dizzy. Minho quickly takes off his hand, a blush evidently creeping up his neck. 

"Let's just go home," he sighs in defeat and you laugh despite the intense feelings cursing through you.

You don't know if you are imagining it but you swear that your pinkies brush against each other on your walk back. As if there was this magnetic force pulling them together. You wondered what would happen if you just linked your pinky with his. Would he grab you by the hand or will he let go of you entirely?

You were too much of a coward to find out. You were scared of messing up anything with him. So, you'd settle for this. Stolen glances and random outings. You just need him in your life. 

"Thank you for today," you tell Minho once you arrive and he shrugs, as what he did wasn't a big deal.

"No, I mean it. Thank you," you repeat, trying your best to convey how sincere you were being. You take in a deep breath, before grabbing his hand and squeezing it, for a fleeting second, before dropping it again. 

Minho is sure that your hand will now be imprinted into his, that the lines tracing over your palm will merge with his as one. Your touch was barely there but it had electrocuted him. He wondered to himself if his body would be able to handle more from you. But he'd gladly burn in your fires for the sake of holding you. And he'd wait, unwaveringly, as time stretches alongside the two of you. He'd wait as long as it takes for you. 

"Yn, I..." he stammers, taking a step closer to you. His scent engulfs you and you shamefully close your eyes, inhaling it. When you open them again, you find Minho glancing down at your lips. You gulp, dazzled by his proximity. 

"You have a mole on your nose," you suddenly speak up and his eyes snap back to yours, an adorable confusion drawn on his features. 

"I like that mole," you continue and you wish you could dig yourself a hole and bury yourself in it. 

"Thank you," he chuckles and you nod vigorously, "You're welcome." 

"Can I ask you something?" he says and your breath hitches in your throat. "Sure."

"You don't like it when people touch you, right?" 

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?" 

You want to confide in him, to tell him that it’s because you long for it, you crave it so badly. That this need has woven itself into the very fabric of your being. An ache so raw that it scares you at times. You’ve never known what it feels like to be held- it was uncharted territory to you. 

"Isn't everyone scared of the unknown?" you settle on saying, and he nods in understanding. Of course, he understood. No one knows you as well as him. 

"It's okay. I just wanted to know if I ever overstepped my boundaries."

"You didn't," you reply instantly. 

"Good. You'll tell me if I ever do, right?"

"I will." 

"Okay." 

"Um. I'll get going," you point behind you and Minho smiles at you, waving you off.

You walk for a few steps before coming back again quickly. You then grab Minho’s hand, gently squeezing it like before, "You are an amazing dancer." 

And then you drop it, running back towards your apartment block without waiting for a reply. 

Minho stays frozen in his place. You think he's an amazing dancer. And you held his hand for five seconds. 

That's four seconds more than the first time. 

Progress.        

✹✹✹

You haven't gotten out of your house for the past three days. 

Everything crashed around you rapidly, it made you realize that the ground you once stood on was only an illusion, elusive and fleeting. 

You were doing well; you were getting better. But then Monday came and you went out for a walk in the park near you. As you sat there, you saw a little girl playing on the swings, delightful joy dancing across her features. But then she fell to the ground and you instinctively stood up to help her, only to notice her mother running to her. 

The world stilled around you as you clearly saw it- how the little girl clung to her mother's embrace, her embodiment of hope and love. You never had that. You don’t even know what perfume your mother used because she never allowed you to get that close to her. 

You stood up abruptly, quickly heading back to your apartment block. As you ran up the stairs, you ended up bumping into one of your neighbors. You were quick to apologize but they ignored you, and the feeling of being invisible came back to haunt you ten times fold. 

You knew you shouldn’t have done it, you knew you should have deleted your mother’s number when she sent you away to university without a backward glance, relieved at the thought of you getting a full-ride scholarship and not needing her anymore. But you didn’t, you kept her number in the hopes that she’d call. On your birthday, on holidays, on a random Thursday to tell you that she did remember who you are. 

With trembling hands, tears welling in your eyes, you dialed your mother’s number for the first time in a year. You didn’t know what you were expecting. Maybe she regrets it. Maybe she misses you. Maybe she didn’t find the courage to mend her wrongdoings and that's why she never called. 

"Hello?" her voice rang through your apartment. Goosebumps erupted on your arms and your hold on the phone tightened. Her voice took you back to memories you thought you had buried. How you spent countless nights yearning to hear the sound of her voice, how you regretted it once she spoke to attack you.

You hate her. You miss her. You want to hang up. You need to ask if she's doing okay. 

“Who is this?” Her voice was devoid of recognition, freezing you in your tracks. You felt as if a bucket of ice was thrown over your head, dousing the flame of hope that flickered in your heart. 

She deleted your number.

You quickly hung up, placing your phone down on the table. The tears refused to fall. It was as if your body had long anticipated this outcome, leaving only your wounded soul to bear the pain. 

Healing isn't linear, you've read about it in books and heard it in shows and movies. One step back doesn't mean that your entire progress is gone. You know this, you've memorized those sentences. So why do you not believe them? Why does it feel as if you can never be free from the past? Why does it feel as if you’ll always seek something out of her? 

Those questions roamed your mind for the past three days, making you too tired at the prospect of lifting your limbs, let alone leaving your apartment. You sent your two friends a text, telling them that you're sick so they wouldn't worry. Not that you believed they would. Nothing made sense to you anymore.

You laid on your bed in utter silence- a tense quiet that was disrupted on the third day by someone knocking on your door. You didn't know who was there; you just hoped that they'd leave you alone.

To your surprise, you open the door to find Minho, some notes in his right hand and a coffee in his left. He sends an easy smile your way. You don't smile back.

"What do you want?" your voice is cold, but Minho doesn't bristle. A cheeky smile settles on his lips as he leans on your doorway.

"You didn't come to class for the past three days, so I brought you the notes. So, you wouldn't think our competition is unfair."

"Competition," you chuckle coldly, heading inside your apartment, and he follows suit. You start to pace around furiously, and Minho looks at you worriedly. "Competition?" you repeat, the word dripping off your tongue like venom. You turn around, marching towards Minho and standing a few inches from him. "You know what? Fuck you and your competition!"

"Yn-"

"Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted a part in this competition? That all I wanted was to be left alone?" you say, growing louder as you jab your finger into his chest repeatedly. "I never wanted any of this! Do you understand? I never wanted to be this way," you shout angrily in his face.

The worried look in Minho’s eyes snaps you out of your haze. You realize that you are being utterly ridiculous lashing out at Minho, when the one person you are mad at is yourself. 

Your anger quickly deflates, leaving in its trail an agonizing sadness. It's so sudden that it knocks the breath out of you, and you clutch your chest as if it could soothe the burn in your heart. Suddenly you are twelve years old again, crying in your room because you feel like no one has ever loved you.

But this time you aren't alone. Minho is in front of you, and his eyebrows are so furrowed you want to lean forward to ease the tension between them. His eyebrows, you liked his eyebrows, they were arched, and they framed his eyes nicely, and his eyes are brown and so big, and they always look at you softly and why is it getting so hard to breathe-

"Did I do something to you? Whatever it is I’m sorry," Minho panics, cutting off your frantic train of thought. But now, the weight of guilt adds to your overwhelming emotions. You shouldn't have lashed out at him, he brought you coffee and you yelled at him. Maybe your mom was right after all.

You shake your head left and right furiously, your words coming out in hiccups. Since when did you start crying? "It isn't- it isn't you."

"Then let me help you-", he steps forward, hand outstretched, but you take three hurried steps back and wrap your hands around yourself protectively. "Don’t. Please, don't."

"Why are you pushing me away?" his tone isn't accusatory. You've learned time and time again that Minho wouldn't do anything that made you feel uncomfortable.

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

"Because I’m afraid!" the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. "I’m afraid if you ever hug me, I wouldn't be able to go back to hugging myself. I'd need you and I can't afford to need someone else."

You regret the words as soon as they fleet away from your mouth. He would look at you differently, he would find you pathetic and then he’d leave. And you wanted him to leave. But you also wanted him to stay. It was all so confusing. 

You felt as if your being was torn between two great forces, each one of them trying to win the war raging inside you. You wished someone else would make the decisions in your place, for once.

Minho places the coffee and notes on the ground before approaching you, his palms facing up in a gesture of surrender. "I won't leave you," he says softly. "I’ll be by your side for as long as you'll have me."

"Minho..." your voice catches in your throat as you utter his name- like a broken prayer. He stands before you, his eyes shimmering like the reflection of a river on a sunny day.

"Please, let me make it better." 

You nod tentatively and Minho comes even closer to you. He was treating you like one would with a wounded animal, giving you a chance to ultimately back out. But for once, you listen to what your heart has been yearning for. Your bones are aching to be held, to feel the warmth of a body against your own, to feel safe and secure. 

Minho embraces you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you to him. You slowly bring your arms up and lace them around his waist. You are afraid, deathly afraid. His grip is loose, and you almost can't feel him around you, but when you lay your head on his chest, he tightens his hold on you and you instinctively let out a sob. 

He's hugging adult you, the woman whose heart was once again broken by her mom. But he's also hugging little you, the girl who was craving affection from everyone around her. In that instant, Minho is hugging every single version of you that ever needed a hug. 

You were right to be scared because you don't want to let go, you want to stay in his arms because they feel safe, like a shield protecting you. You can't go back to not hugging Minho. 

The sensation is overwhelming and your knees buckle underneath you. But instead of holding you up, Minho falls to the ground with you, as if you are two inseparable pieces of one puzzle. He isn’t here to fix you, he’s here to break down with you and help you pick up the scattered pieces.

You think back to that night in the park when Minho told you about Japanese vases. At this moment, it dawns on you that Minho has found a way to become a part of you. He was the molten gold binding your broken parts together. He was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together.

Who were you fooling? It was him; it was him all along. 

Minho rocks you gently as you cry and cry and cry. His hand finds your hair and he plays with it as you sob. He tells you you'll be okay, you'll feel better and you try to believe him, his words wrap around your bruises like a healing balm. 

"There, there, love. You are okay", he murmurs, tenderly patting your head. A fresh set of tears wells up in your eyes. Love.

"I’m sorry. I'm so sorry," you apologize as you pull away from his embrace. 

"Why are you apologizing? Is it because you wet my shirt? I don't mind," he reassures you with a smile and you shake your head. 

 "I was mean to you and you didn’t deserve it," you explain through hiccups.

"It's okay, you weren't mad at me, were you?" he asks, wiping your tears away so gently with his thumbs, careful not to irritate the sensitive skin.

"No. Still, it isn't okay and I’m sorry. I'm so sorry." 

"Shh, don't apologize. It's okay." you look at him doubtfully and he rolls his eyes playfully, "Here I’ll even do your silly pinky promise, okay?" he laces his pinky with yours, but then he suddenly leans forward and places a chaste kiss on your thumb pad. "There, sealed forever."

You giggle faintly as a blush dusts your cheeks, "That's not how it works."

"I know."

Your giggle was far different from the ones Minho was accustomed to. It was small, and it didn't brighten up your face like usual. But he was grateful for it nonetheless. He realized how much he missed your laugh, and how all the other sounds in the world pale in comparison to it.

In that moment Minho thinks to himself that he'd do anything to make you smile again. He'd make a fool out of himself if it meant making you happy. He'd settle for a simple tug at the corners of your mouth, anything but the sadness that seemed etched in your face, as if it was blended into the colors that drew you.

You tentatively move around, before laying your head on his lap. Minho's hand instinctively finds your hair and he starts to gently play with it. It feels as if you've done this a million times before, when in fact it was the first. 

There was something wildly intimate about laying on the floor with the man who just comforted you. It made you want to spill all your secrets to him, one by one, and have him hug you through them.

"Did you mean it? When you said you'll stay?" you felt so vulnerable in his hold, as if he could twist you whoever he liked. But you trusted him. You trusted yourself with Minho.

"I did. Your walls are always up. It's hard to peek behind them. But I don't want to tear them down. I want you to slowly unbuild them. I want you to do it for yourself."

To do it for yourself, it's hard to even know who you are anymore. 

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

"Okay. Take your time, kitten." he pats your head gently, and you try to sync your breathing to the rhythm of his touch. You were grateful that you were lying on his lap since you couldn't see his face. It made talking feel a little less daunting.

"On my 9th birthday... I was very excited. I'd been on my best behavior that month, trying to please my mom in the hope that, for once, we'd celebrate my birthday. Like a normal little family," you smile sadly, you were so hopeful back then.

"My birthday came, I woke up, excited. My mom was still asleep, nothing out of the ordinary. So, I made my breakfast and walked to my school. I wore my prettiest dress and put on pigtails with hair clips. It was my birthday after all," Minho smiles softly at your words, his hand now resting on your own.

"I got back home and waited for my mom to come back. She remembered my birthday, I thought. And then, she came but she didn't talk to me. So, I thought, oh a surprise party!" you chuckle, but this time the smile on Minho’s face is gone.

"It was then 11 pm, and the hope had slowly died in me. So, in my stupid innocent self, I went to my mom, and asked her "Did you forget my birthday?". And I remember... I remember the way she laughed. Cruelly. Like I had told her the funniest joke in the world. And then. Then she looked me dead in the eye and said 'I hate the fact that you are born. Why would I celebrate that?'"

Minho sucks in a deep breath at your words, and you exhale one right out. It felt comforting, to have someone else stomach the hurt for you. To take the weight off your shoulders, allowing you a few moments to breathe.

"I confronted her about it one day, but she said she doesn't remember saying that. It's funny how it was a random Thursday for her, but for me, it shaped my life." you smile bitterly, "I remember how jealous I was of the way the other kids talked about their mothers. They said the word so lightly. It must have reminded them of sunshine and ice cream and rainbows. But for me, it held an uncharacteristic heaviness to it. I grew to hate the word."

"I drove myself crazy, Min", you whisper and he brings you closer to his body, "was it me or was it her? When did it start? Was it because I was too loud as a child or maybe too quiet? Did I not cater to her fantasies of a kid? I wanted to remember every single thing that happened throughout my childhood, thread through every single memory. I tried to pinpoint the exact moment my mom stopped loving me."

Minho squeezes your hand tightly in his, and you feel as if he was pulling you away from the memory that had long trapped you. You were now watching it unfold from outside of the window, your hand in his, safe from the hurt it had inflicted on you.

"It's not you. It could never be you. Some people are simply not fit to be parents. It's never their kid's fault."

Minho tries his best to keep his touch soothing, to make his voice sound as soft as possible. But he was angry, he was so angry at the world for not taking care of you when you were younger. His heart broke, thinking of 9-year-old you being told such cruel words.

He wanted to turn back time and tell you that you were enough. He wanted to make the pain that seemed so anchored in you float back to the surface, and dissipate like sea foam meeting the shore.

But he couldn't do that. All he could do is comfort present you.

Minho gently pulls you up from his lap, making you sit upright. He crisscrosses his legs and you do the same. Your knees brush against each other and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You didn't know that even knees could emanate such warmth.

"Yn, look at me. The world wouldn't be the same without you in it," he cradles your face between his hands, "You hear me yn? I’m so thankful you exist."

His doe brown eyes are sincere, and it made you want to believe him badly. That's a good start, right?

"I’ll be back," he tells you, letting go of your face and standing up.

You hear Minho rummaging through the kitchen and you take the time to calm yourself down. Sharing those parts of you with Minho felt therapeutic. As if you were healing parts of your inner child. You have never talked about this with anyone before, maybe this is why it still hurt as badly.

Minho comes back five minutes later, his hands behind his back. You raise a brow at him inquisitively and he just smiles secretly at you. "Close your eyes," he tells you and you giggle, doing as he says. He crouches in front of you, and you hear him shuffle in his place for a bit.

Then, "Open your eyes yn," and you find him, in front of you, a cupcake you had stored in your fridge in his hands, and a makeshift candle lit up. "Happy 9th birthday, love. You did well."

You stare at him in utter bewilderment. You couldn't believe your eyes. How could this man be so thoughtful? He was wishing you a belated birthday, to compensate for the 9th birthday you didn't celebrate.

You panic, at the look in his eyes. You've never seen it, never dared to dream of it, of someone caring for you unconditionally. So, you try to scare him, to push him away. You didn't want him to regret knowing you.

"There are things I need you to know um", you chuckle nervously, "When I... When I throw up, I hold my hair, and when I’m sick I nurse myself back to health, and when I have a nightmare I- I hold my hand in the dark. It will be hard for me to hold yours instead."

"We'll start a finger at a time, yeah?"

"It will take time."

"I have time," he speaks easily, as if loving you was effortless and not a strenuous task. You couldn't fathom it.

"You are too busy-", he cuts you off instantly, "Not for you." 

"The world doesn't stop because we need it to." Your voice is quiet; this is your very last try. You are tired of fighting. You are putting down your armor and waving a white flag.

"We'll make it stop. Here, the two of us. On this floor. We'll take as long as we need to."

"I never deemed you as an optimist", you smile a little, a hint of teasing in your tone.

"I’m not," he pauses, gazing down at the cupcake between his hands and then at you. "But I feel that we deserve a bit of happiness together, don't we?"

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

You close your eyes for a few seconds, before blowing on the candle.

"What did you wish for?" he asks a fond smile on his face.

The answer came naturally to you, you didn't even need to think about it. "I wished for you."

Minho's lips come crashing down on yours, and you imagine that this is what it feels like to see colors for the first time. To discover a new world beyond the one you've always known.

The kiss isn't urgent nor feverish, it is one of comfort. Your lips spilling the words you have not yet said to each other. "I love you," he kisses you, "I love you too," you kiss him back. "I need you to stay," you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, "I’m never leaving you," he opens his mouth allowing you entrance.

As you kiss him, you remember a fact you once learned in high school. The human body possesses seven trillion nerves. And for the first time in your life, you feel as if each of these nerves is alive. You feel that even the smallest atom is electrocuted with Minho’s love and it’s all you know within you.  

You feel as if the pain, the hurt, and the ache you've been through are slowly unraveled, and in their place, a timid happiness is starting to bloom. You imagine that when Minho’s lips met your own, the seven trillion nerves inside you exhaled in relief 'We've made it', they said, 'we'll finally be okay.'

Epilogue

You've always thought that epilogues were useless. How can you resume the rest of your life in one sentence, boil down the rest of your existence in mere pages? Because life doesn't stop at the epilogue, and a new book can start once again, right where you left it off.  

But with Minho, you didn't mind an epilogue. On the contrary, you longed for a soft one. You wanted to rest on this last page, you wanted to lay your worries on the words and tuck them into the syllables. And you wanted to wake up anew.

And this wasn't the end of your story with Minho. A lot happened after it. But it didn't worry you, because epilogues are about the one thing that doesn't change throughout the long march of time. And luckily for you, that constant was Minho’s love for you. From that day he held you, he has never let go.

It took time, for his warmth to seep through your bones. It took time, for your heart to forget the cold. But you wanted to do it. With him. You wanted to love and be loved.

The sound of cats mewling fills your apartment, pudding can always be found in your fridge and you haven't felt invisible in years.

An eye for an eye.

assassin!hyunjin x journalist!yn. slow burn. suggestive and angsty at times. she/her pronouns. 7.4k.

it is perhaps the most decisive night of your life. what are the odds that at the same time and place, it happens to be hyunjin’s too?

warnings: mention of alcohol, guns, bruises and injuries. brief talks of grief.

a.n: this is prompted by how hot villain hyunjin looks in the ate era 😭 it was supposed to be a drabble and i didn’t plan on it to be this long.. but i hope you’ll enjoy reading tehee it’s different from anything i’ve ever written so please feedback would be so appreciated,, muah muah 😘❣️

A ruby red lipstick. 

Your first childhood dream was to become a journalist, but not the complacent, obedient kind. You wanted to shed light on uncovered events, dig into the raw truth with your claws, and hold it up for the entire world to witness. You craved justice. You never believed in letting things flow their way, like a current that morphs into a torrent, destroying everything in its path.

No, you were a dam, forcing the water to change its trajectory. After all, you have always believed that all it took for change to happen was a trigger, a single flicker that would in turn burst into flames.

You wished to be it.

It was hard to grow into this specific kind of journalist, though. Not because you lacked drive, passion, or discipline. Especially not because you weren’t curious enough, brave enough. You were Seoul Press’s youngest and brightest reporter, after all.

But in a highly competitive field, you still needed your big story, your breakthrough which would put you on the radar of esteemed awards that all journalists venerate. Though you deemed it much easier to obtain a Pulitzer than to squelch your heart’s quest for truth, justice, and most importantly, in an unpredictable curb that life threw at you— revenge.

Your second childhood dream was to put on ruby red lipstick. Your thirteen-year-old self deemed it the ultimate show of power and confidence, each time you saw your aunt wearing one to her most important meetings. You dreamed of the day you could put it on as well, on your way to uncover the truth. 

And tonight, as you applied your ruby lipstick precisely, gliding the vibrant color across your lips, you felt nerves tighten like thorny vines in your stomach, puncturing your tender skin and leaving you a bloodied mess from within. 

Tonight, in your black gown and your ruby lipstick, in San Heo’s mansion, your country’s most prominent presidential candidate, and the man who ruined your life, it seemed like you were about to achieve both dreams at once.

… 

The clock hand points nine on Hyunjin’s Tank Louis Cartier watch. He throws a fleeting glance at the Victorian watch, before eyeing the people mingling at San Heo’s party. 

He knows all of the guests, memorized their faces and their habits. He knows the school where they drop off their kids and what bar they frequent every Sunday. He memorized their mannerisms and antics, knows what set them off and what did not.

This is the fruit of two years of work, after all.

He knows exactly why everyone is here, tonight particularly. Three politicians’ families and friends gathered as a show of power, to prove that they weren’t afraid of whoever’s been forcing politicians to come clean about their crimes for the past three months.

In the least glamorous manner, at that too, to put it delicately—ten bloodied tapes sent to the country’s most prominent media channels, where ministers and heads of multinationals are bound by ropes to a chair, recalling their most heinous crimes: money laundering and embezzlement for most, theft and murder for some.

The latter is Jung Cho’s case, San’s most successful competitor for the presidency, who has also mysteriously vanished from the police’s grasp since the release of his tape. No one can get a hold of poor Jung Cho anymore. 

Hyunjin smirks lightly to himself. His knuckles seem to have healed well since he last dislocated Jung Cho’s jaw. Well, that was before he shot him through the roof of his mouth.

The golden cuffs of Hyunjin’s Versace blazer reflect the light of the dangling crystal chandeliers, and he runs a weary hand through his black locks. He never chose to gel them back; he wasn’t one for structure, preferring the feeling of his silky strands brushing against his fingers. 

His eyes catch those of San’s across the room, who tips his glass of whiskey towards Hyunjin—a job well done, he reads in San’s stare. Hyunjin raises his red wine back, before settling it across the table once more.

It is a boring half an hour that awaits Hyunjin.

That is until he sees you.

You weren’t here two minutes ago, Hyunjin is sure of this. And, judging by the way you are leisurely sipping your sparkling water, your eyes gliding across the room in search of someone in particular, you had just stepped foot into the party.

Fashionably late, if he were to add.

But that is none of Hyunjin’s concern. What intrigues him the most is that your face isn’t familiar to him. That isn’t normal.

You weren’t supposed to be here, then.

Who are you?

As if hearing his question, your gaze locks onto his. He cocks an eyebrow at you; you mirror the gesture like clockwork.

Thus ensues an intense game of eye contact. You don’t break away from his gaze until two minutes later, a light scoff escaping your lips that he can discern even from afar. You then turn to look at San, your eyes morphing into something fiercer, more determined— a sniper finally locking eyes on its target.

Hyunjin feels a slight headache growing at the base of his temple. He downs his drink, before taking long strides towards you.

It’s official, you’re going to be his nuisance for the night.

27 minutes.

“Care to dance?” Hyunjin inquires as he materializes before you, a hand extended towards your body.

“Pardon?”

“A dance? To the lovely music we are hearing right now?” 

“I know what you mean,” you roll your eyes, leaning your body against the chair right next to you. Hyunjin’s eyes glaze over your legs peeking through the high slit of your dress. Had it been another setting, the sight of your black sheer tights would have made this night turn much differently.

Your voice dispels his thoughts like morning fog. “I mean why are you asking me?”

“Because I’m bored.”

“How flattering,” you grin sarcastically and Hyunjin feels the smallest urge to return your smile, although he knows it isn’t genuine.

“I know. Shall we?”

Your gaze flees to San once again, seemingly debating something in your head before finally sighing.

In the few seconds of scrutiny you consecrate to his boss, Hyunjin’s gaze lingers on your bright red lipstick, and the way you tuck your lip slightly into your mouth as you ponder.

A beautiful nuisance, he corrects himself.

“Fine,” You place your manicured hand in his in response.

“What’s your name?” he asks, as he settles one hand atop your waist. The fabric of your black dress is too thin, he can feel the heat emanating from your body seeping through his palm.

Focus. You need to discover who she is.

“Julia,” your hand settles atop his shoulder, while the other entwines with his. “And you?”

“Sam. What are you doing here?” he quickly inquires.

You shake your head slightly, gliding your hand from the base of his neck to the end of his shoulder.

“Isn’t it my turn to ask you a question?”

Hyunjin tilts his head curiously at you, before smirking slightly— “Yes ma’am.”

“What do you work for?”

“I’m Mr. Heo’s political adviser.”

“You’re quite young, though,” you note.

“I know.”

“And I don’t see you by his side a lot.”

“I work in the background, mostly. I don’t do well with the cameras.” He spins you around, picking up speed as the orchestra picks up the violin. “How do you know Mr. Heo?”

“I’m Kang’s niece, you know, Mr. Heo’s economic adviser? Uncle Kang is ill, and my father is out of the country so both of them chose not to come.”

Hyunjin’s memory faintly brushes off Kang’s single niece, completing her architectural studies in Paris’ Sorbonne. 

“C’est beau à Paris?” Is it beautiful in Paris?

You don’t even blink— “Même magnifique, tu devrais visiter.” Marvelous even, you should visit. 

Checks out.

“I’ll hold you on to that offer,” he says, before spinning you around, your chest settling across his back. Hyunjin ignores how his heart skips a singular beat at your proximity.

“So, what are you doing here?” he asks, his lips tantalizingly close to the shell of your ear. He watches as your chest rises once before your airy voice floods his ear.

“Networking, though you didn’t quite allow me to speak to anyone but you,” you tease slightly.

“I fail to see what an architect has to do with politicians,” he muses, as he sways you gently from left to right.

“I want to oversee the building of Jamsil Sports Complex.”

“So you’re using your father for work connections?” he taunts and you swivel around, placing both your hands on his shoulders before interlinking your fingers behind his neck, caging him within the notes of your perfume.

“Is it a crime?” your voice is airy, too airy, everything you say sounds rehearsed, you don’t seem intimidated by him, by this setting, as opposed to how a newly graduated student, one who grew up away from her father’s world should.

“Depends on your definition,” he counters.

“Do you regard it as such?”

Hyunjin’s gaze flickers all over yours. He senses something urgent in your gaze, as if you are pushing for more, beyond what this simple question entails.

When he remains quiet for a tad too long, you let your hands drop by your body, taking a step away from him.

“I need to go,” you say. He grabs your wrist instantly. “Where to?”

“Bathroom.” And with that, you quickly turn around and walk away, leaving behind notes of your floral perfume and ghosts of your ruby lips.

Hyunjin steals a glance at his clock. 09:13 p.m.

He drags a hand across his forehead wearily. He won’t let you ruin this night.

17 minutes. 

You are washing your hands obsessively in the bathroom, lost in thought as you gaze at your reflection, all blurry from your unfocused eyes. You only turn off the water once your skin starts to sting from the force of your touch. 

The orange-scented soap doesn’t seem to get rid of the stench of blood. 

A week ago. 

“I don't understand your obsession with Mr. Heo,” Christopher Bang calmly removed his glasses, placing them next to the shiny placate reading ‘Editor in Chief of Seoul Press’.

“He is corrupt.”

“As all politicians are,” he spoke matter of factly, and it angered you how unfazed he seemed before your, you admit, far-fetched request. 

“You don’t understand, sir. He’s different.”

“Did he do something to you?” Chris asked, leaning back against his chair. You felt exposed all of a sudden, like a flower left bare without its stem. 

“Would my answer change anything?” You inquired tentatively. 

“It would explain many things, yes actually,” he got up from his chair, before sitting on the one right across from you. “You are a talented journalist, Yn.”

“Thank you—“

“But you are utilizing the company’s resources to conduct your personal investigation on San Heo.” 

He knew. 

“You’ve been working on his case from the day you joined our media. Which was exactly 389 days ago. I know that you’ve managed to uncover quite some dirt, one that would make an explosive case if you get more information. That’s why I turned a blind eye to everything you did because I trust your skills and integrity.” 

You remained silent.

“But now, you’re asking me to completely disregard my deontology by finding a way for you to break into Mr. Heo’s mansion. That is a crime.”

“Not break in. I want an invite to his party, it is the first time he organized one in his home, probably the last time, it is my only chance to—”

“Details,” he waves a hand disinterestedly in the air, cutting you off. “Your intentions aren’t to mingle with politicians, it is to dig in his office and find something of substance. While I admire the lengths of what you want to go through, I must stop you here.” He leveled his eyes with yours. “This can land you in jail, he is the most important man in our country right now.”

“What if I tell you he did something to me, that he ruined my life? Would you help me then?” your voice was hoarse, tears pricked your eyes as you tried your best not to avert your gaze. You hated displays of weakness, despised them even more in professional settings. 

“What did he do?” 

You bristled at the question, ugly memories flashing before your eyes like a blinding light, your body begging you to flee away from this question and the heavy response it entailed.

Still, you spoke. 

Christopher remained silent as you recalled what happened on your doomsday, the night in which your world ceased to spin, and simultaneously, the reason why you joined his company, to begin with. When your sniffles subsided a few minutes later, he gently handed you a napkin, a silent invitation to wipe away the tears that had escaped.

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his weary face before finally speaking. 

“I’ll give you the invite tomorrow. Say that you are Kang’s niece, her name is Julia. She went to Paris for architectural studies, and that you are back for a vacation. Kang is ill these days, he won’t attend the party, and his brother is out of the country, no one will question you.”

“How do you know this?” 

“Because I know them,” he toyed with his lower lip lightly before a tiny smile drew upon it. “An eye for an eye, right? I’m Kang’s cousin. I changed my last name because I didn’t wish to deal with them anymore.” 

“So Bhang isn’t your real last name?”

“No.” He ran his thumb across his lower lip, seemingly debating adding something. “San’s office is on the far end of the third floor.” 

You heaved a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you.” 

“Don’t get yourself killed.”

13 minutes. 

It was one thing to stare at photographs of San seared behind your reddened eyelids or to stand at the far end of his press conferences. It was another to step foot into his mansion, to stand amidst powerful people who are capable of ruining your life had they known of your motives. 

But you didn’t have time to dwell on your personal feelings. Fear, nerves, all of those feeble emotions pale before the chance you have today. So, you nod at your reflection in the mirror, count to three in your head, and finally head out of the bathroom. 

“Five minutes, were you crying?” Sam’s bored voice startles you as soon as you set foot outside. He’s leaning on the wall across from the door, hands deep into the pockets of his suit.

Not again. 

“I know that I’m very pretty but don’t you have better things to do than to follow me?” you ask, pausing right in front of him. 

“I’m not following you, I just happen to be particularly fond of the architecture of this corridor,” he jokes and you ignore his words, walking past him with a renowned determination. He pushes himself off the wall, only to grasp your wrist once again, spinning you around until you’re facing him. 

He chuckles softly, tilting his head to the side. His icy blue contacts pierce through your skin like a puncture needle.  “You know, I’m curious, Julia. You seemed very eager to get away from me.”

You take a step forward, closing the distance between you two. “Have you considered that I found your company utterly boring?”

“You wound me,” he places a hand on his heart, any trace of humor absent from his voice. His grip tightens on your wrist for a millisecond. A warning. “I need you to leave.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“I’m serious. You shouldn’t be here tonight.”

“And why should I listen to you?” you challenge and his eyes darken further. 

“I can’t tell you.”

“Then let me go,” you mutter, slipping your hand away from his grasp. 

“Julia,” he says sternly, pulling you back till your back is against the wall, his hands rooted on either side of your body. 

It is a dimly lit hallway, and the sound of the orchestra barely reaches you. Your worry intermingles with a new kind of nerves, all orchestrated by his proximity, and the way his gaze brushes against your body like a skilled painter. 

“I’m not joking, leave.” His voice is much softer when he adds, “It’s for your own good. What will happen later doesn’t concern you.”

He knows something that you don’t know, something that, from his tone, none of the guests are aware of. You see something human in his eyes, in the slight crease doting his eyebrows. He seems genuinely worried for the innocent civilian he thinks you are. 

Your eyes turn to look at his hand near your head, only to notice his faintly bruised knuckles, shades of purple and green doting a delicate porcelain skin. They have healed well, then. 

Should you unearth the memory from two weeks ago— pleas for mercy, a deafening gunshot, and an excruciating silence afterward, the quiet after the murder that you remember most? 

Then, another scene rings in your head like bells of an ancient church— a bruised hand brushing against your own in an art gallery from two days ago, raven locks, and familiar, melancholy-tinted eyes. 

Could it be? 

Your voice turns sweet, tender, “should I trust you for the night?” your thumb brushes against the skin underneath his eye, wiping away the concealer you knew you spotted.

There it is, the eye mole you thought he covered. 

It clicks in your mind in an instant, pieces of a puzzle falling into place, there are still a few missing but you manage to grasp the bigger picture.

If he’s not letting you go then he could be of good use. 

What other choice do you have but to gamble with a killer? 

Your sharp nails drag across the nape of his neck, before settling right beneath his jaw. You mimic a gun, his eyes narrow in response.

“Is this how you killed Jung Cho, Hyunjin?” 

You feel a cold barrel instantly press against your stomach. “Police officer?” he asks. 

“No.”

“Journalist ?”

“Yes,” you slowly mutter.

“What’s your name?”

“I don’t wish to tell you.” The gun only presses further onto your skin. You feel a cold bead of sweat roll down your exposed spine. 

Breathe. 

“It’s Yn.”

“What do you know?”

“It’d be easier for me to talk if you removed the gun,” you smile lightly and Hyunjin only leans further, a distance as thin as a blade between you both.

“Speak.”

“You killed the only candidate that stood a chance in front of San. You drove him to the empty deposit near Inwangsan Mountain, tortured him for three days, filmed his confessions, and then sent them to many media outlets. Ours included. I know it because I followed you.” 

“Why did you follow me?” he questions. Your eyes flee to the end of the corridor where an impossible staircase sits. You are wasting your time. 

“Because I am investigating San. And through following him I ended up getting to know you. You are different from everyone he meets. Very secretive. So I figured it’d be worth a shot following you too,” you explain as calmly as you can. You’re sure the barrel of the gun will leave a bruise on your skin. 

“And why didn’t you write a piece about me? Everyone is dying to know who I am.”

“I have, I just haven’t released it. If I don’t come back home in an hour my head chef will post the video of you murdering Mr. Cho on every SNS. The public loves you for what you’re doing. But the politicians will come together to kill you. They have a price on your head. You are threatening everything they ever built.” 

Hyunjin drags his gun up your stomach slowly, trails it across your collarbones before it settles on your jaw. 

“I could kill you too, right now.” His tone is cold, evil. Very different from the man who asked you to dance. You know that I can.” 

“My death would only sign yours.”

Hyunjin’s forehead rests on the wall right next to your head. You can hear him inhale deeply, hear the gears turning in his head. “Fuck, you are driving me crazy.”

He drops the gun and takes a step back. “Why didn’t you expose me?”

“You are not the one that matters to me.” 

“What do you want from me then?” 

“Three minutes. Open San’s office, and then I’ll go. No one will ever know of your identity.” 

He remains silent. 

“Hyunjin, please.” 

“Fuck, fine. But whatever happens next you’ll have to trust me, okay?” his hands settle on your shoulder, his eyes leveling with yours, “if you’re not leaving then you’ll have to trust me enough, for tonight.” 

8 minutes. 

“After you,” Hyunjin bows slightly as he opens the door to Heo’s office. You step in first, and he steals a quick glance behind him—no one’s here, for now.

“That saved me the hassle of breaking the door.”

“You know how to do that?” he asks, slightly impressed.

“One of my hobbies,” you shrug before walking directly to the desk. Hyunjin leans against the wall, watching as you lift your dress slightly, revealing a small packet tucked into your garter. The sight drives Hyunjin a little crazy, and he closes his eyes for a second.

He really, really wishes he hadn’t met you here tonight.

You take out a listening device, tapping the bottom of the desk until you find a suitable spot, and then you stick it in place.

“Another one of your hobbies?” he smirks.

You giggle. “Mm, aren’t I the most fun?”

“You are,” his eyes drag across your figure, and he notices a slight falter in your posture, “the most beautiful too.”

You blink, and he’s suddenly in front of you, trapping you between the auburn desk and his toned body. You don’t seem intimidated, placing a palm on his chest as you tilt your head to the side. 

“Aren’t you curious why I’m going after San?”

“No, he angers a lot of people.” His thumb caresses your cheek, a touch so soft in contrast to his next words. “A lot of people fantasize about his death.”

“Are you one of them?” you question, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Right now, all I’m fantasizing about is you.” His voice is husky, and he finds it comes out much easier when he actually likes the person he’s attempting to seduce. 

It takes you a few seconds to speak again. “Is that so?”

“Mm, let’s dance.”

“Didn’t we dance downstairs?”

“That was Sam and Julia dancing,” he says as he entwines his fingers with yours. “You see, Hyunjin is a different kind of dancer.” His hand presses against your back, snaking against your bare skin. “Can I pull you closer?” he asks, and you simply nod, eyes fleeting widely all over his face. 

His chest presses to yours, so close he’s sure your hearts are syncing with one another, his inhales alternating with your exhales. 

“Yn,” he whispers your name, as you look up at him through the curve of your eyelashes.  

“Yes, Hyunjin?” His name sounds soft as it stumbles from your ruby lips, innocent from all the blood that drenches his soul.

“I like the way you say my name.” He glances at his watch above your head. 9:57.

“Hyunjin,” you repeat, as your hand drags up his neck, grabbing a fistful of his hair and gently dragging it backward, exposing his enticing neck to you. “You are always looking at your watch, what are you waiting for?”

He chuckles faintly, grabbing both your hands and spinning you around till his chin rests on the small of your shoulder. “You’re perceptive,” he mutters, as his fingers drag down your bare arms. “But so am I,” he says coldly as he grabs both your hands, bringing them behind your back. “Look, your hands are shaking just from my proximity. I don’t think you have it in you to film me killing Jung Cho. I don’t think you have it in you to watch me torture someone for three days.”

Click. Cold metal wraps around your wrist in an instant, handcuffing you to the leg of the table before which you’re standing. 

“I think you lied to me, Yn. I don’t like being lied to.”

“What are you doing?” you ask disoriented, panic spilling from your being like an overflowing cup.

Hyunjin pays you no mind, taking out his phone and dialing a number. “Boss, we have a problem. I caught a journalist trying to get into your room,” he taps his chin slowly as he looks at you. “No, no need for security. Just come alone. Don’t alarm the guests.”

2 minutes

“Are you serious?” you ask as soon as he hangs up, a prominent lump in your throat. “You told me to trust you.”

“Did I say I was worth that trust?” he pouts, seemingly mocking the vulnerable ordeal you found yourself in. 

A loud chuckle escapes your lips, your head thrown back as if before a hilarious spectacle of sorts. Hyunjin frowns, crossing his arms in front of his chest as your giggles slowly quiet down. 

“You’re a peculiar person, aren’t you Hyunjin? You need to hide your identity but you crave normalcy still, so you open your art gallery. You go to crazy lengths to cover your moles and wear contacts because you wish for people to look at you with admiration in their eyes, kindness. But you don’t deserve it.” There is a fire lit in your eyes, flames latching into his black suit and burning his already scarred skin. “You’ll always be as evil as them.” 

Hyunjin doesn’t respond for a while, his eyes simply softening at your words.

“I know,” he whispers. 

“Who’s this?” San’s voice booms loudly as he sets foot into the office. Hyunjin’s eyes break apart from your figure to look at San, bowing slightly to greet him. 

“Julia, she infiltrated the party,” Hyunjin explains, stealthily locking the door behind San. “She’s been investigating you for quite some time now. And… She knows about the murders.”

“Mm, she’s clever. Should we hire her?” San jokes and Hyunjin smiles politely, dragging his eyes over your face. You simply roll your eyes, seemingly more bored than scared. 

Cute. 

“Anyways,” Heo stares at you for a fleeting second before tapping Hyunjin’s shoulder. “She looks easy to kill. Just get rid of her. But don’t stain my carpet though, it's expensive.”

“Sure thing,” Hyunjin nods, taking out his gun and pointing it at your temple. He steals a final look at his watch— 9:30 p.m. he reads. 

Time’s up. 

“You didn’t think I’d let you go?” Hyunjin mocks, cocking his head at you. In a split second, a bullet ricochets loudly, but not at you. It grazes San’s ear, making him pause near the door, his back towards you both. 

“Right boss?” Hyunjin’s tone is slightly whiny, annoying is the best way to describe it. You can hear police sirens blare loudly outside, see the red and blue hues reflect off the window. Loud shouts erupt downstairs, Hyunjin leisurely reloads his gun, one hand deep into his pocket, San’s posture slightly falters, his fingers digging into the skin of his palm. 

“Do you hear that Heo? Your mansion is surrounded. All your filthy dirt is exposed. The police officers are arresting everyone downstairs right now. And they’re coming for you. The man of the hour.” Hyunjin makes a show of curtsying deeply. You stifle a giggle at his theatrics.

“You dare turn your back on me?” San yells, pivoting around to face Hyunjin’s barrel, the latter simply yawns as if it’s a regular Saturday activity for him. 

“Oh, don’t get emotional on me,” Hyunjin pouts, before his eyes narrow down coldly. “Now kneel. Let’s end this without staining your carpet.”

You see San slowly lowering himself to the ground, Hyunjin’s gaze sets on you for a millisecond, his pupils dilated in apology, in concern, you don’t know, you don't get to decipher his look because San is taking out his gun from his back pocket, aiming it at Hyunjin. “Watch out”— is all you manage to shout, and hyunjin ducks in an instant, propelled by the sound of your voice to the ground.

He could have died, he could have died because he looked at you. 

It all happens so fast, Hyunjin diving into San to take away his gun, both their weapons flinging into the air, San punching Hyunjin’s mouth and the latter retaliating by flinging his fist up against his nose. You’re struggling with your restraints, trying to reach out for the lone gun that fell to your right. 

A bit more, tune out the sirens, tune out the punches, slowly, only a few centimeters left, your wrist is on fire but that is the least of your concern, almost, there, you grab it.

You fire the gun.

It’s quiet once again, for the first time in two years, it is quiet in your head.

It’s over. 

You close your eyes, tilting your head back into the desk. The sound of your mother’s laughter floods your ears, her airy giggles as she brushes your hair and tucks you into her chest, her being a vision of beauty underneath the sun’s caress. 

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin kneels before you, wiping away the tears rolling down your cheeks with his bruised knuckles. He is worried, even behind those icy blue contacts, you can still grasp his worry.

You nod, swallowing the sob that is lodged within your throat. Hyunjin is quick to unlock your handcuffs, entwining your fingers with his as he pulls you off the ground. 

You slightly push him aside, your eyes set on San’s bleeding figure. He’s still alive, rugged breaths escaping his chest, his palm pressed to the bullet that punctuated his stomach. 

“I want him dead,” you mutter, grabbing Hyunjin’s forearm to support yourself, “but I want him to rot in prison too.” 

“He will, for all his crimes. I have it all documented. The police have it too,” his palm rubs soothingly against your back, you lean further into his touch.

“He’s a monster.” 

“I know. They all are. That’s why I killed them,” he simply says, before guiding you back to a couch on the right of the office. He shrugs off his suit, draping it over your trembling shoulders. 

“Give me a minute.”

You watch as he grabs the gun you fired off of the ground, before taking a handkerchief out of his pocket. He wipes your fingerprints, making sure to leave his all over the gun. He then walks to the table, taking away your listening device and crushing it to the ground.

He’s calm and collected as he rearranges the scene to his liking, it looks like he has done this a million times before, as if this is the element in which he thrives— a sunflower turning to face the sun, at long last. 

He kneels before your freezing figure one last time, tilting your chin to the side so you’d look at him.

“I fired the gun. You had no idea any of this would happen, you’re just an ambitious journalist who wanted an insider scoop.” He senses you’re somewhere far, pulled by the ropes of memories that had long haunted your dreams. His warm palm presses to your cold cheek, your eyes are glossy as they rest on him. 

“You didn’t do anything. I’m the one who used you as a scapegoat to bring San up here, just like I agreed with the police. Alright? You did nothing.You know nothing.” 

“Alright.”

Hours pass in a cold blur, the weight of time lost on you as three police officers take turns questioning you. You repeat the lines Hyunjin taught you, your voice flat, devoid of emotion. Even as you step out of the police station, with Hyunjin's hand resting gently on your back, you feel nothing. A slight tremor runs through you when he mentions that San survived and will be transferred to prison once he's healed.

You don’t know why you’re disappointed you didn’t become a killer.

You don’t know anything, don’t feel anything as Hyunjin drives you home. You don’t question how he knows your address or the code to your elevator. It’s only when you unlock your door and he starts to pull away that reality snaps back.

Without thinking, you grab his wrist, suddenly aware of the loneliness that awaits you inside, an uninvited guest preying on your vulnerable heart.

“Would you like some tea?” you ask, your voice tinged with hopelessness, knowing just how silly you sound. Why would he stay? He has so many loose ends to thread after his finishing blow, you know he’s part of something far larger than you. 

As if mocking your question, his phone buzzes for the tenth time in the span of five minutes.

But then, to your surprise, he turns it off.

“Yeah,” he says with a soft smile, “I’d like some tea.”

As you bring the water to a boil, Hyunjin rolls up the sleeves of his white shirt, casually wandering around your apartment as if it’s not his first time setting foot in here. He’s always at ease— with a gun pointed at him or while looking at the souvenir magnets on your fridge. 

His calmness helps instill some peace in your heart too. 

“I like your apartment,” he says, accepting the cup of chamomile you hand him. “It’s cozy, feels like a home.”

“Thank you,” you whisper as you sink into the couch, your head hung low. So much has happened in just half an hour, too much for you to fully comprehend and process.

“Let me see,” he says a few sips later, as he gently removes the cup from your clutch, before sliding his thumb across your right wrist. The bruises have already begun to form, the red marks from the handcuffs clear evidence of your struggle to reach the gun.

“I’m sorry I involved you in this,” he murmurs, frowning as he avoids your gaze, staring intently at your wrist as if he could will the blue hues away. “I didn’t plan for you to be at the party.”

“I involved myself,” you chuckle softly. You’re not one for physical touch, but you don’t feel the usual urge to pull away from his grasp. His hands are warm, the roughness of his fingertips a stark contrast to the softness of your skin.

“You’re a stubborn journalist,” he says with a small smile, finally meeting your gaze. you suddenly yearn to look into the rich brown of his eyes once more. Was its shade as deep as you remember?

“And you’re an excellent painter,” you retort, eliciting a surprised laugh from him. The sound is unexpectedly endearing, and you’re caught in a whirlwind of contradictions. Is this really the same man you saw taking a life? The same man now holding your wrist as if it were made of porcelain?

“Right, you figured out my identity. What gave me away?” he asks, still smiling.

“I heard about this new gallery where the artist’s only clue to his identity was the name signed on his paintings. So, I decided to see for myself. While everyone else was captivated by the artwork, I noticed you, standing in the corner, observing the reactions of everyone around. You smiled when someone smiled, and your grin grew wider with each compliment. That’s when I started to suspect that the artist was you, all along.”

“I remember it now. I bumped into you as you were leaving,” he says, and you nod.

“What stood out to me were your sad eyes. That’s what I remember most. Well, besides your bruised knuckles.”

“And that’s how you connected the dots.”

“Yes, and your eye mole, too. Even though you tried to conceal it with makeup, it still showed.”

“Very perceptive,” he says with a grin.

“Thank you.”

“Aren’t you worried I’ll expose your identity?” you ask, as his hand gently slides into yours, his fingers resting lightly on top of yours. A simple, innocent touch, yet it stirs something unknown in the pits of your stomach. 

“I trusted you when you said I’m not the one who matters to you.”

“Why would you trust me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because I miss putting my faith in someone, even if they end up failing me. Isn’t that the most human trait of all?”

How could an assassin create such heartfelt paintings, overflowing with emotions too hard to explain with words, let alone colors? Perhaps because this isn’t the life he always wanted.

“Did you choose this?” you ask softly, your voice barely a whisper. Maybe it’s the exhaustion from the interrogation, or the near brush with death, or perhaps the relief that this chapter is finally closing for both of you. But something compels you to keep talking, to ask, to hold on to Hyunjin just a little longer.

“Being a killer, you mean?” His voice carries a tenderness that seems at odds with the weight of his words. He’s a walking contradiction, balancing two identities within himself—Hyunjin and Sam. One feels heavier on his bones than the other. 

“I grew up in this world,” he continues. “My parents run a large network of assassins—or vigilantes, depending on how you see it. Some people hire us, and sometimes we act on our own when we see injustice or corruption festering for too long. We conduct thorough background checks. We only kill those who truly deserve it. We always make sure of that.”

“An eye for an eye.”

He nods, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I always feel good in the midst of a case. One less evil in the world. But after, there’s just this emptiness. Now what? I always wonder. So I try to fill the void with painting.”

“Now what…” you repeat, your voice trembling as a lump forms in your throat. “Now what? What should I do now?” Tears well up and spill over suddenly, streaming down your face in an unstoppable torrent. “San is behind bars, but my mom isn’t coming back. So what now? What was all of this for if I can’t get her back?”

You find yourself burying your head in the crook of Hyunjin’s neck, his arms wrapping tightly around you, holding you close as if he could contain your sadness, preventing it from seeping from your soul and reaching your mother, wherever she may be.

You haven’t allowed anyone to hold you like this in two years, denying yourself any comfort until you could bring your mother’s killer to justice. It was a promise you made to yourself after San drunkenly ran her over and fled the scene, leaving you alone to hug her cold body in that sterile hospital room.

“It drove me crazy,” you sob, your words broken and incoherent. “He bribed everyone—the doctors, the paramedics, the stores nearby. Everyone acted like my mom didn’t d-die because of h-him,” you hiccup, and Hyunjin only holds you tighter, closer, enough to stitch your wounds with time, only if he remains this close to you. If he wishes to, if you allow him to.

“But now he’s behind bars, and I still don’t have my mom. What do I do now that I can’t bury myself in revenge? Hyunjin, what should I do when I miss her so much and I can’t see her?”

Five hours later.

“The article is perfect, no corrections needed,” Chris says, removing his glasses and looking at you with approval. “Excellent work, Yn.” 

“Thank you,” you nod, feeling a mix of relief, but mostly exhaustion. “I stayed up all night working on it.” 

“Goid, it’s only 6 a.m. so we know that no other media outlet has touched this yet. Our article will be the one to shape public opinion. This is a big win for us. It’s a thorough investigation, and I’m confident you’ll get the recognition you deserve,” he writes something down onto his notebook before looking at you once more. “Take a few days off—you’ve earned it. I’ll reach out if anything urgent comes up.”

“Thank you, sir.” You bow slightly before turning to leave the suffocating office. Or maybe it’s your own mind that’s suffocating you. You don’t have time to dwell on the question before Chris speaks again. 

“Oh, Yn?” Chris calls out just as your hand touches the doorknob. “One last thing, did you ever figure out who was behind all those tapes?”

Your grip on the doorknob tightens imperceptibly. “No sir, no clue.” 

One month later. 

It’s a few minutes before the art gallery closes when you walk in. Hyunjin spots you before you see him, your distinctive walk etched in his memory as vividly as if it were only yesterday that he had seen it.

He approaches quietly, stopping behind you as you gaze at the newest addition to his collection.

“Is this us?” you ask, not turning around. Hyunjin’s eyes follow yours to the abstract painting of a couple waltzing in a ballroom, their hands intertwined just like yours were, four Saturdays ago.

“Yes,” he replies softly.

“It seems I left an everlasting impression on you,” you tease, he can hear the smile in your voice without seeing it. 

“You did. You looked beautiful.”

“So did you.”

“I’m glad you came,” he says sincerely. “I missed you.”

“But we only spent a day together,” you giggle quietly, and Hyunjin wishes he could capture your laugh and tuck it away in the veins of his heart.

“Didn’t that day feel like a year, though?” he muses, resting his chin gently on your shoulder. You lean back into him, closing the space between you.

“It did,” you admit before nervously clearing your throat. “Are you free right now? We could grab a drink, if you’d like?”

“Chamomile tea?” he chuckles, and your laughter vibrates through his being.

“No, something stronger this time.”

He hums, hesitating as he despises the words that would stumble out of his mouth. “I have some things to handle tonight. Urgent matters.”

“Ah,” your voice dips slightly, the disappointment clear in your tone. “Well, it’s okay. I’ll see you another time, then,” you say, finally turning to face him. 

He really missed you. 

“Okay. I’ll see you.”

“Okay.”

“Congratulations on your award, by the way,” he says, watching your expression soften, a delicate smile forming on your lips.

“You saw it?”

“I did. I read your piece, too. I’m sure your mom would be proud of you.”

Tears of gratitude well up in your eyes, and you squeeze Hyunjin’s hand tightly as you whisper, “Thank you. Really. Thank you, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin’s words linger in your soul, echoing through your mind for the rest of your day, his voice the only sound that seems to fill the silence within you. That is until three loud knocks resonate through your apartment, just minutes before midnight. 

You open the door to find Hyunjin standing there, a fresh bruise marring his jaw, his knuckles freshly scraped and bloodied.

“Let me guess, you had nowhere else to go?” you joke, trying to regain your composure at the sight of him once more.

“No,” he replies, his tone earnest, “I wanted to come to you.”

Your smile falters at the sincerity in his voice. You can’t quite place what it is about Hyunjin that pulls you toward him, how amidst everything that’s happened in the past month, the most vivid memory is how he held you gently as you cried and cried.

“I forgot something,” he says, pulling a tube of cooling cream from his back pocket and offering it to you. “I meant to give this to you for your bruised wrists.”

He’s a month late, you both know your wrists have long since healed.

“I… yeah,” he sighs before your silence, turning to leave, a light blush tinting his cheeks. But before he can, you drop the tube and grab his hand, spinning him back around.

“I forgot something too,” you say quickly before pressing your lips against his.

You don’t fully understand what draws you to Hyunjin, but you know his lips taste as sweet as cherry chapstick, that his hand around your waist feels like water flowing gently over your skin, warm and encompassing. That his brown eyes remind you of sunlight dancing on autumn leaves, that no one has touched your soul as deeply as he has.

You know you wish to make him feel as human as he makes you.

How To Ruin Designer - Hwang Hyunjin

Masterlist

pairing: idol Versace prince Hyunjin x afab reader

wc: 1.7k

type: requested. Smut with little plot.

warnings: mention of alcohol consumption, fingering (f. rec), unprotected, anal play, foot play, anal penetration (f. rec), squirting. MDNI! I think that’s it?

not proof-read

a/n: This was inspired by when Hyunjin admitted he was drunk at the Versace after party. Rewatching those clips were so much funnier after finding that out 💀

Enjoy lovelies!

There was a feather light tickle on the crown of your head that made your eyes flutter open. It was Hyunjin peacefully sleeping, his chest pressed against your back and his face buried in your hair. The sun made your vision a little blurred as you came to, the memories from last night flooding back. You were still in last night’s dress, it being tight and uncomfortable to sleep in, but you looked stunning according to everyone else at the event. The after party left you and Hyunjin more than a little buzzed which explains being mostly clothed and barely making it to the bed last night. You rubbed the heel of your palms to your eyes as if wiping the remaining sleep from your face.

You went to move, but halted once Hyunjin groaned and pulled you closer. As tempting as it sounds to stay in bed with your beloved all day, you felt an overwhelming need to get out of last night’s dress and shower. If you were uncomfy, you could only imagine how restricted Hyunjin felt in his tight leather pants.

You went to move again then froze instantly, your butt pressed against something hard. Oh, that’s right… he didn’t feel all that restricted because his pants were halfway down his thighs. Your dress was halfway above your butt, and you could feel the tip of his hardened cock peek through the waistband of his boxers. No wonder you felt like your panties were out of place. You both may have been drunk last night but that definitely didn’t stop either of you from getting in a quick session before passing out.

With your cheeks thoroughly blushing, you tried once more to untangle yourself from your boyfriend’s form, “no leaving.” You startled at his gravely morning voice. When did he even wake up? “Hyune, I just want to get out of these clothes. I feel gross.” You immediately felt his hands slip along your back to reach the zipper of the dress, “what are you doing?” you inquired.

“What does it look like? You want it off so we’re getting it off.” He said matter-of-factly. You could practically hear the side-eye in his voice. “Well I wanted to take a shower too,” you murmured while scooting your way off the bed. His hands grabbed either side of your hips and pulled you back so forcefully that your upper back was flush with his toned chest. “I told you, no leaving. We can shower later, my love.” He mumbled with his lips kissing along your exposed back.

You couldn’t help the little moan that escaped once his lips made contact with your exposed skin. Your body was always more sensitive the morning after a night out. Maybe it was because of all the adrenaline previously rushing through your veins? Nevermind that, Hyunjin was making himself busy rubbing his hands down your hips to the front of your thighs, then snaking them up under your hiked dress.

“Jinnie, we can’t.. I’m still sore,” you weakly protested. Thighs snapping closed to shut out his hand, the action making him groan. “C’mon doll, ya know I can make you feel better. Wouldn’t you like that baby? I promise I’ll be gentle.” His voice was like velvet, so deep yet so smooth in the mornings. You’d do anything he says when he talks to you in that voice; well you would do anything for him regardless, but that’s beside the point. “Open up for me… that’s it,” he praised as you barely spread your legs for him to allow access for his slender fingers to reach that sweet cunt of yours.

Hyunjin’s touch was feather light as he ran his fingertips through your slick folds. Some of his cum from last night had leaked out of your entrance allowing his movements to be even more slippery than usual. “Fuck- Hyune,” you gasped once his middle and ring finger breached inside your walls. “Mmh?” He groaned as if asking a silent question while kissing along the curve of your waist, his tongue poking out of his mouth to trace your form. Hyunjin’s fingers repeatedly delved into your fluttering pussy in time with the languid strokes he circled onto your clit with his thumb. “T-too sensitive,” it came out as a whine. “I know baby, I know.” He marked each word with a kiss.

The hand that wasn’t working your core was free to push up your dress even further. The pesky piece of clothing getting in the way of your lover's next goal: your ass. Once exposed, Hyunjin sunk his teeth into the supple flesh causing your back to arch and your legs to kick. You took the opportunity to place the sole of your foot directly on his hard leaky tip. He hissed as he grinded his hardened length into your heel, the friction making his eyes roll back temporarily.

Even during his humping of your foot his hands never stopped their mission in pleasuring your body. He curved his fingers that were in your heat to massage that spongey spot that drove you wild and pushing you closer to the edge, “ah g’na cum p-please~” you bit your lip to keep from screaming. “Yeah? Go on, doll. Cum on my fingers,” Hyunjin pistoned his digits at a steady pace, but what sent you over the edge was the feeling of his warm wet tongue pressing against your tight rim. Your orgasm washed over you thoroughly causing a scream to rip from your throat and juices to gush into his palm.

“So fucking good, love.” He said with his tongue still lapping at your puckered hole, but you didn’t quite hear him because your head was in the clouds and your body seemed to turn into putty in Hyunjin’s hands. You hadn’t even noticed when he stopped and moved your body down so your butt pressed along his solid cock. The humping he did on your foot earlier had caused his boxers to fall further off his hips, now he had full access to you. Hyunjin’s heavy breath mirrored your own as he ran his member through your still gushing pussy. Every few strokes the tip would catch on your entrance causing your breath to hitch. You thought he’d eventually push in to your clenching heat, but he had other ideas.

Once his cock was thoroughly wetted he lined himself up, “babe, no please.. it’s still sore,” you pleaded half-heartedly. Hyunjin let out a snort, “won’t be the only thing that’s sore, baby.” You could hear the smirk in his voice and before you could grasp what he meant, it was too late. The end of his cock breached your other hole, making the both of you moan in unison. It’s not like this was the first time you and Hyunjin had done anal, but it was the first time you had done it with little to no prep. Regardless, you were very accustomed to Hyunjin’s dick and he knew your body would be able to adjust fine; that’s just the kind of trust you had in each other. Plus, you had an established safe word if it was actually too much.

“So damn tight, doll- fuck,” he groaned while sinking ever so slowly into your second entrance. You squealed as his cock filled you so well, anytime he was fully seated inside you your brain and body felt nothing but burning pleasure. Hyunjin was such a romantic that every time you both got intimate with each other the passion would be off the charts. He grabbed your chin, turning you back to connect your lips. Once adjusted to his full length you began circling your hips, Hyunjin swallowed every moan you let out.

Hyunjin lifted your top leg placing it back on his hip then used the same fingers that previously pumped your pussy to rub at your bundle of nerves. He started pulling his pelvis back to pump into your tightness and match your pace. Wet skin smacking echoed throughout the room along with his grunts, the sounds of sloppily making out, and your muffled moans. Each time you’d fully connect he could feel your ass jiggle on his lower abdomen and somehow that’s what drove him feral.

Hyunjin picked up the pace chasing his high while still drawing messy circles on your clit. You pulled away slightly from his mouth, still close enough to breathe each other’s air while whining louder at his assault on your tight hole. “H-hyune, baby slow d-down,” you whimpered. You reached a hand back to lightly push at his lower abdominals to tell him to ease up but really you didn’t want him to slow down. He knew you didn’t because you were so close and he could tell. “But you’re taking me so well. I know you wanna cum, baby. You always cum so hard when I fuck your sweet tight ass.” He stated with a rough smack to your butt then gripped it firmly. His other hand that was circling your clit slapped your wet pussy over and over again making your body ever closer to snapping.

As if on queue your body shivered and white hot pleasure enveloped your senses causing both of your holes to flutter and clench. The spanks to your clit making you squirt. You heard Hyunjin groaning behind you as he released, flooding your ass with his cum. Hyunjin hid his face in your neck to catch his breath before moving. Your body was still shaking with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Both of you are covered in sweat.

A few minutes pass and his cock softens enough to pull out without causing much fuss. Hyunjin looks at where you two were previously connected and takes in the mess you two have made. “I don’t think Versace is going to want these pants back,” he chuckled and you were mortified once you saw that your juices had not only soaked the bed but also the designer pants your boyfriend was half wearing. “Why didn’t you take him off?!” He shrugged, “not my fault I get hypnotized by my incredibly attractive muse.” You facepalmed as your blush gave away your utter embarrassment.

How were you two supposed to explain this? Oops sorry, we got kinda carried away this morning and got cum all over your super expensive designer clothes. Yeah, right.

During your inner turmoil you didn’t notice Hyunjin get out of bed. He was now standing in front of you with his hand outstretched.

“How ‘bout that shower now, hm?”

Taglist: @doitforbangchan @jehhskz

When Tulips Kiss | Hwang Hyunjin SMAU

you and hyunjin were THE couple back in high school, and the two of you thought that you had found your perfect match. until one day, one misunderstanding turned everything around. the love that you had for one another turned into spite, anger, and hatred. a few years later, one of your best friends since childhood came home from studying abroad, resulting in your friend group to finally be complete again. but on your way to meet up with your friends at the local boba place, you run into the one whom you have grown to despise.

PAIRING: hwang hyunjin x f!reader

GENRE: social media au (with written parts), university au, non-idol au, crack, fluff, angst, slow burn, enemies to lovers, lots of push and pull, hyunjin’s a fuckboy

WARNINGS: mature themes, profanity, suggestive and talks of sexual intercourse, kms+kys jokes

FEATURED IDOLS: all stray kids members, soloist chuu, jiwon of fromis_9 (y/n fc), chaewon of le sserafim, and more

STATUS: ongoing

DISCLAIMER: this is 100% fiction and doesn’t portray how the featured idols act in reality, this is made purely for entertainment

𝜗𝜚 NAVIGATION

PROFILES: 𝜗𝜚 sonny angels || 𝜗𝜚 big hero 6

ZERO || introduction

ONE || let’s get the band back together!

TWO || we are SO back

THREE || LOVESTAY NIGHTCLUB!!!

FOUR || something about her

FIVE || hyunjin approved (?)

SIX || civil

SEVEN || the best of both worlds

EIGHT || de-stress

NINE || happy birthday

TEN || what is she doing?

ELEVEN || nintendo

TWELVE || keep it down

3TEEN || who are you

4TEEN || friends

5TEEN || don’t be mean

6TEEN || wish you were sober

7TEEN || hush up boy

8TEEN || ayen on top!

9TEEN || no feelings at all?

TWENTY || what a coincidence

TWENTY-ONE || gyu

TWENTY-TWO || guitar hero

TWENTY-THREE || take a hint

TWENTY-FOUR || nobody’s surprised

TWENTY-FIVE || log off.

TWENTY-SIX || WRONG ACCOUNT.

TWENTY-SEVEN || am i cooked?

TWENTY-EIGHT || nothing has changed

TWENTY-NINE || the second time?

THIRTY || a win is a win

THIRTY-ONE || #needthat

THIRTY-TWO || i’m a simp

THIRTY-THREE || i like studio ghibli

THIRTY-FOUR || throwback

THIRTY-FIVE || hwangster

THIRTY-SIX || better off

THIRTY-SEVEN || what if

THIRTY-EIGHT || + hyune

THIRTY-NINE || goodnight

FORTY || our gf

FORTY-ONE || THAT’S TERRIBLE

FORTY-TWO || …

FORTY-THREE || …

FORTY-FOUR || …

FORTY-FIVE || …

AND MORE TO COME…

TAGLIST (CLOSED)!

—heart out.

when your long-term boyfriend left you for someone else, not only were you left to deal with a broken heart, but also with the discouragement of never finding true love in your life.

after all, you were completely unaware of the fact that your best friend’s little brother fell head over heels for you the moment he first saw you six years ago, and he’d be damned not to show you, firstly, that he was no longer the teenage boy your mind made him up to be, and, secondly, that he would be the man to step up and love you right.

◇ pairing: hwang hyunjin x female!reader

◇ genre: social media au, non-idol au, best friend’s brother au, friends (kinda) to lovers, one-sided pining, fluff, angst, humor, eventual smut

◇ warnings: age gap (only three years, y/n being older), not all members of skz are featured although those who aren’t might make an appearance later on (i have trouble handling seven side characters, i’m sorry), y/n is portrayed by cho miyeon, swearing, mentions of heartbreak and toxic relationship (not the main couple), mentions of sex, mentions of alcohol, mature content in general, eventual written parts, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

◇ status: ongoing

◇ tag list: open. i only ask for reblogs and/or feedback in exchange, please. if you do want to be added, send me an ask! otherwise i might miss your comment under the posts.

◇ author’s note: helloo! pretty much two weeks have gone by since i got this idea and i’m still very excited about it and have it all planned out (minus some minor details lol), so i figured out why not just post the masterlist for now. idk how many parts it’ll have, i would like it to be on the shorter side (like 20-ish parts) but then again it’s me we’re talking about and i tend to get carried away hehe. so anyway, i hope you guys enjoy this story as much as i’m enjoying coming up with it! there won’t be a set update schedule for it, but so far the introductions should be up sometime soon next week<3

00. profiles

01. make it romantic

02. karma diem

03. murder mood

04. sugar rush (written)

05. wanna be yours

like it (h. hj)

"a no-label relationship, how thrilling can it be?" | cover preview ׂ╰➤ hwang hyunjin x reader (ft jay, jake and jungwon from enhypen, chan, seungmin, jisung, minho) genre angst, toxic relationship, reader has long hair, toxic LAWL, aruging crying kissing in the rain (we love to see it), reader enjoys photography w/c 17.2k warnings toxic relationships (ig), arguments, manipulative, aggressive kissing (gasp!), a lot of kissing (I HOPE I DID OKAY FOR THE KISSING SCENES), hyunjin is possessive, hyunjin invades reader's privacy, hyunjin takes things without permission, hickies, slightly suggestive ig?, occurrence where the reader gets harassed/assaulted physically, fighting, cheating, THERE IS MORE BUT ILL UPDATE WHEN I WAKE UP COS I JUST WANNA POST THIS ASAP, semi-proofread

a/n finally, the fic is out! it came out later than expected, and i apologise to yall for that. this is the first long fic i've ever written and ive learnt that long fics arent for me LOL. cringed so much writing this, i literally have a love-hate relationship with this, but i seriously hope yall enjoy this because i spent so much time on it. likes comments and reblogs are appreciated, and once again so sorry it took so long!

now playing i like it - stray kids

It was getting dark outside — the sun slowly setting, roads having slight traffic due to it being a little after peak hour, and your window blinds were closed, your living room being dimly lit from the lamp on the table and the ceiling light that was barely working.

"Don't tell me you're still going out with Jay?"

You finished tying your hair up in a ponytail before averting your gaze to Hyunjin, an expression of grimace on your face. He was resting on your couch, legs were in a manspread, his arms crossed and his head thrown back on the cushion. He returned the sour expression and all you could do was turn your head back to the mirror to touch up on your make-up, picking up the different brushes.

"Why can't I?" you retorted back, your annoyance towards him gradually growing as you start to dab the brush on your face, focusing on the small details. You two just had an argument moments before, a big reason was because you had plans with other males — well, just one, your best friend, Jay. You two also bickered about other small things, nitpicking each other’s small habits, and it all led to this.

"Because I'm here?" He sat up on the couch, his posture straightening as he locked his gaze onto you, his eyes showing fury as you remained unphased, putting down your brush and holding up your eyebrow pencil, drawing over your eyebrows. His sentiment sounded contemptuous, but this wasn't your first rodeo with him.

"Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it?" you taunted, clearly not intimidated by him as you fully turned your body to face him. The corner of his mouth curled up, raising his eyebrows as he set himself up from the couch, walking towards you until he was in front of you. Considering you were seated, you had to tilt your neck upwards to maintain eye contact with him, your eyes showing no remorse towards him.

"What will I do?" He leaned forward, his face mere inches away from yours. On the outside, you remained nonchalant about it, but on the inside it felt like your heart was going to burst out. "What do you think I'm going to do?" he threw the question at you, and you could feel your heart skip a beat. The way you two were holding eye contact so intensely made your eyes linger over his lips, admiring how plump and captivating it looked, and it didn't go unnoticed.

He leaned in, smashing his lips onto yours with no warning and you gasped. He took the chance to slip his tongue inside your mouth, two of your muscles dancing strongly against each other with strong passion. You closed your eyes and your hands slowly wrapped around his neck. His hands cupped your jaw, manually tilting your head so he could gain more access to your mouth. The passion in the kiss was so evident and it fueled the fact that you both despise yet yearn for each other so much. You slowly felt as if you were running out of breath, so your hands snake down to his chest and you attempt to push him back, but your attempt is fruitless.

This only made him kiss you more aggressively, and this was a way of expressing his frustrations and jealousy to you, since you obviously didn't want to obey him. You gradually started to feel light-headed, and he finally pulled back from the kiss, his forehead resting on yours as he looked at you with the same fury in his eyes. You panted, desperate to catch your breath as you could physically feel your heart racing. His gaze averted to your lips and he chuckled at the sight of your red lipstick being smudged, bringing his fingers up to smudge your lipstick even more.

"Forget Jay, Y/N. How could you think about him when I'm right in front of you?" his eyes softened and he pleaded, causing a pang of guilt to hit your heart. You released a sigh, your hands falling back down to your sides as you leaned back from him, looking around the room to avoid eye contact with him. "I'll cancel, okay?" you muttered, feeling guilty for making Hyunjin feel that way, as well as for cancelling plans with Jay extremely last minute.

You and Jay originally had plans to go see a movie, and you had been looking forward to it for a week, but guess things just don't go accordingly sometimes.

Upon hearing that you'd cancel, his face lit up and a wide grin spread across his face. He brought you into an embrace, his broad frame perfectly wrapping around yours as you nuzzled your face into his neck, enjoying his warmth. 

“Thank you, baby,” he mumbled, hugging you tighter and you shook your head.

“I’m still mad at you,” you replied and he only laughed it off.

You felt so complete with him, so many moments when you wanted to rip your hair out because of him but it always ended up like this. Always ended up in his arms, and no one else.

"You signed up too?!" you exclaimed, nearly choking on your food as you kept your focus on the boy in front of you. Jay lightly grinned at your reaction and nodded his head. Loud chatters fill the cafeteria as you stared at the boy in front of you with a wide grin. Bliss filled you as you processed that you wouldn't be alone in the photography club; it's always nice to have someone familiar around.

"I didn't know you were into photography too, Y/N!" he chuckled, taking a bite out of his sandwich afterwards and glancing at you. You were so excited to finally have a mate that you could talk about photography with. Even if he was your friend for a while, you never knew he had the same interest as you. You were experienced with it, having bought your own camera a little while ago and playing around with it whenever you had free time. Unfortunately,

"Yeah! I actually bought my own digital camera a while ago but I recently lost it.."

Jay pouted upon hearing the news, sharing the sorrow you felt when you first realised you had lost it. "But it's okay! They provide cameras in the club, don't they?" you added on, lightening up the mood.

Jay chuckled and nodded, admiring how you could quickly light the mood up. You took another bite of your meal, munching it down and took a sip of your chocolate milk from the plastic straw.

"Actually, I've already been in the club for a while, I could introduce you to a few of the members right now if you want?" he offered, and your eyes instantly lit up, your face leaning closer to his. "Seriously?! Right now?! You would do that?" you jubilantly expressed, feeling euphoria run through your veins. Jay gave you a small smile and nodded, and you stood up from your chair immediately, creating a loud dragging sound from your chair which caught the attention of a few others in the cafeteria, but you could care less.

"Let's go now then!" you exclaimed, taking Jay's wrist with your left hand and your right hand still holding your half-eaten burger. Jay looked surprised at your excitement, but went along with it regardless. He was more than happy to lead you to the club room. On the way you kept telling Jay about your experiences with photography, and he shared some of his experiences too, helping you to realise that Jay was really interesting as well.

"Well, here we are!" Jay stood in front of a door, glancing at you and realising you had the brightest expression on your face. He chuckled at the sight of you being so eager and he nodded at you, opening the door and gesturing for you to enter first. You slightly bowed and mumbled a small 'thank-you' before stepping in and realising how the room was filled with about 5 people. All of them were new faces, or so you thought.

"Hey guys, we have a new member!" Jay stepped in and closed the door after himself, glancing between at his club mates and at you, flashing you a welcoming smile. From the way he spoke, you could somewhat tell that he was already close with the members, and it reassured you since it would be easier for you to make friends through him. You looked at each person one by one, noticing how each of them were at their own individual spots and giving them a friendly smile until you looked at the last person.

Hyunjin.

And he was holding the camera you mentioned about, angled at the corner of the room closest to him. The one you had lost.

"Oh?" Hyunjin said, his tone sounding amused as he eyed you up and down. You looked at him with widened eyes, not expecting him to be here out of all people. You cleared your throat and averted your gaze away from him, feeling his eyes burn a hole on you from his intense gaze. It was true you and Hyunjin had something, but you two never revealed it in public.

"Do you know her, Hyunjin?" Jay questioned, your sudden awkward behaviour not going unnoticed. Hyunjin smirked and raised his hands up as if he were surrendering, "Who knows?". You bit your lip, feeling uncomfortable at this situation and feeling like anyone would be able to infer that you and Hyunjin had something, but your thoughts were interrupted by Jay's laugh.

"You're scaring the poor girl, at least be more welcoming," Jay laughed out and walked over to the side of a boy who had silky straight hair, his hair slightly over his eyebrows and partially covering his eyes, and a black hoodie nicely fitting over his torso. You formed eye contact with the boy and he flashed you a small smile, a dimple forming on one side of his cheeks.

"Y/N, this is Jungwon, the president" Jay gestured to Jungwon, and Jungwon slightly bowed down. "Hi Y/N! I remember seeing your name in the list; just didn't expect to be seeing you so soon!" he spoke, his voice sounding like honey. He extended his arm for a handshake, and you nervously walked towards him and took his hand, firmly shaking it. You were slightly taken aback to how casual Jay was with the president of the club.

"Hi Jungwon! Nice to meet you!" you greeted him. You felt as if you were walking on eggshells, knowing very well that Hyunjin was watching your every move, and you were familiar with his outbursts after seeing you interact with other males. After the handshake with Jungwon, you quickly pulled your hand back and fidgeted with your fingers, already imagining the argument with Hyunjin in your head.

Jay helped to introduce to the rest, initiating friendly small-talk and helping you to getting to know the members. They were all pretty friendly and lovely people to get to know.

As you reached the last person, Hyunjin, you formed eye contact with him, biting your lip as the tension between the two of you became increasingly unbearable.

"Y/N, this is Hyunjin, and Hyunjin this is Y/N!" Jay introduced. You felt a lump in your throat, suddenly losing the ability to talk.

"Hello, Y/N. Nice meeting you," he extended his hand and flashed a smirk, his gaze on your hand and waiting for you to take his. You cleared your throat and nervously raised your hand up to take his hand until the loud school bell rang. While everyone else looked at the clock or at their wrists for the watch, you immediately pulled your hand down. Hyunjin watched you and slowly put his hand down.

While everybody else was distracted by the school bell and packing up their belongings to head to the next class, Hyunjin took the chance to lean to your ear and whisper, "Meet you after school".

You stumbled back, a shiver running down your spine and you were aggressively shaking your head and shooting a glare at him until he raised his occupied hand. The hand that was holding your camera.

"Unless you don't want this?" he mouthed, not voicing anything out.

You scoffed and scowled at him, giving him a single nod before turning your back on him to leave the classroom. Your eyes immediately met Jay's and you both started to converse while leaving, knowing that you two share the next class.

"Like Jay more than me?" he shot out, swinging the straps of your digital camera as he walked. You walked beside him, keeping your eyes on the camera to make sure he didn't accidentally drop it and he suddenly came to a halt, catching you off-guard and almost causing you to slip.

It was currently late evening, considering that your school ended later than usual today. You and Hyunjin were walking around in a more secluded area in the city that was still near the school, the place being dimly lit and fewer people being present.

Suddenly his body fully turned to yours, his hand lifting your chin up so you could look at him. Your eyes widened as you realised what he was doing, forming eye contact but remaining completely still.

"I asked you a question, darling."

You blinked your eyes at him in confusion, not realising that he had actually asked you a question after cautiously watching your camera that he was holding. You stuttered, "Huh? What? What question?".

"Do you like Jay more than me?" he questioned once more, his face darkening as he stared into your eyes and leaned closer. You gulped, wanting to jump off the earth as you immediately closed your eyes as the proximity increased. The weight of the question hung heavily in the air as the silence grew to be more unbearable. You slowly opened your eyes and were expecting to be met with an angry expression, but you are met with the opposite.

His eyes looked sad, and his eyebrows furrowed upwards. Your heart broke at his expression and you finally answered.

"No."

"Really?" his face lit up, his eyes blinking at you in elatedness. You were shocked to see that he wasn't angry or asking it repeatedly for reassurance but you weren't complaining. "Yeah. I like you more than Jay," you stated.

He flashed you a warm smile and cupped your cheeks, placing a soft kiss on your lips which caught you off-guard. It was almost a switch inside him flipped and he was happy all of a sudden. You felt as your heart started beating in a frantic rhythm, and blood started rushing to your face. You started to feel nervous and you flashed him an awkward smile, avoiding eye contact afterwards.

"Tell me more!" he leaned backwards, still looking at you. "Am I more handsome than him? More attractive?" he continued, clearly wanting your validation and you honestly found his jealousy adorable.

"Yes, you're more handsome than him, okay?" you reassured him, the warmth in your heart growing as your gaze went back to him. You took the time to notice his attire, his straight curtain hair parted into two different sections and a few strands of hair over his eyebrows. His looped silver earrings and necklace nicely complemented his skin tone, and his strong perfume filled the air.

He seemed overjoyed at your response, clearly wanting to hear more. "Am I the only guy in your life?".

Oh.

You blinked at him, slightly taken-aback to his sudden question. Was he the only guy in your life? I mean, technically yes, from how you two acted, but you two never.. had a label. You wanted to agree to his question, but you were reluctant. You answered back with a question, "Are you? You tell me."

He chuckled at your response before pecking your forehead and letting go of your face.

"Let's go."

You looked at him, feeling confused to where he meant but he took your wrist and started dragging you. "Where are we going?" you questioned, feeling genuinely clueless but he continued to drag you, not looking back to answer you.

"Nowhere."

You ended up in the subway with him, walking around the station as you both waited for the train to come. Your hand was interlocked with his, your arms swinging back and forth. There weren't a lot of people since it was starting to be late and the day after was still a weekday. You wanted to ask him so many things, like — when did he take your camera? When did he join the photography club? Since when did he actually know Jay?

"What are you thinking about?" he questioned, breaking your train of thought and causing you to gain back consciousness and look back at him. He had a soft expression, sincerity evident in his voice as he softly grinned at you.

"I have a lot of questions about today."

"Oh yeah? Spit."

"You had my camera the entire time?" you shot out the first question that had been at the back of your head for the entire day after you saw him in the club room. You were happy that your camera was with someone you knew, but you were confused about how he even got it. Sad too, that he practically stole it from you.

"Yeah. Took it while you weren't looking when I came over," he confessed, his tone showing no guilt or remorse. "So.. you deliberately took it without asking me?" "I guess so."

You weren't surprised, you were already used to this, just slightly upset that he didn't tell you first.

"But why?" you asked the part you've been eager to hear the most. "I wanted to make sure there weren't other guys."

'Is that so?' you thought to yourself.

"So did you find any other guys?" you asked. You knew you didn't have any photos of other guys in your camera, but you wanted to hear his response. "You're in the clear," he tilted his head upwards, giving you a downwards smile and his hair fell down to his temples from his forehead. "Must be fun invading my privacy, huh?" you wried, but at the same time you felt thrilled at the thought that he was being possessive.

He simply laughed at your comment, feeling guilty about your statement. He asked, "Shoot more questions, bet 'ya have more".

"You were in the photography club?" "Yeah." "Why didn't you tell me?" "You never asked."

Fair point.

You sighed at his comment, now realising that you don't know much about Hyunjin but it was a stark contrast when it came to Hyunjin's knowledge about you. It felt almost as if he knew everything about you, and it made you feel so vulnerable to him.

"You knew Jay?" you asked the final question.

Hyunjin hummed, indicating he was thinking before he nodded.

"You never told me you and him knew each other personally." "Once again.. you never aske—" "I know that, but you could've just said a simple 'Oh, him and I are club mates' or whatever."

You thought that Hyunjin only knew Jay because you brought up Jay multiple times and that you and him hung out in school. Jay and Hyunjin knowing each other personally was the last thing you expected, especially in a photography club.

"Well, now you know."

The train arrived, the sounds of the train railing in filling up the atmosphere in the train platform. You glanced at Hyunjin and he nodded, both of you walking at one of the doors where the train would open.

Both of you sat in the train, talking to each other and resting on each other. With your hand interlocked with his, his thumb slowly caressed yours and you felt at ease with him, forgetting about all of the relatioship's toxicity. Time passed by, both of you just sitting in the train accompanied by each other's presence as the train stopped at every stop, the cabins slowly emptying out as it became later.

There was endless chatter, laughter and bickering and before you realised, your train eventually reached the last station, the clock already striking past midnight. It was already time to go home since it was a school night, and you two had classes to attend to the following day.

Before you two parted ways, he spoke up, "Hey, about my question, what's your answer?". You flashed a perplexed look, trying to recall what question he had asked.

Oh, that question. You took a few seconds to think about it, feeling like your answer weighed heavily and required sincerity, possibly impacting whatever relationship you had with him.

Am I the only guy in your life?

"Yeah. You're the only guy."

Your response made him smile, and he took your hands into his, bringing you closer.

"It's the same for you, okay? You're the only girl in my life". Your heart melted at his words and you felt truly percepted. He continued while planting a kiss on your cheek "Goodnight, Y/N".

You watched as he walked away from you towards the opposite end of the station, entering the train which was practically desolated and your heart clenched as the doors watched, your eyes on him even as the train moves away. (You didn't want to admit it, but you were feeling upset that he wouldn't take you home, but you tried to brush the feeling away).

By the time you've reached home, it was already 3am. Upon opening your front door, you didn't even bother to turn on the lights, just heading straight to your room and flinging the door open. You felt exhausted, but recalling the quality time you spent with Hyunjin warmed your heart up (but a pinch of sadness because he didn't take you home).

You carelessly drop the bag onto the floor beside your table, a loud thump echoing through the room and you immediately shuffle your feet towards your bed, falling on it, your arms and legs widely spread as you stared at the ceiling, not even bothering to change your clothes first. Your room was completely dark, but the moonlight that entered through your window made certain areas in your room visible — though barely. Not only did you get to spend time with him, but knowing that your digital camera indeed didn't get lost assuaged your worries.

Wait.. Talking about your camera.. Did he even pass it back to you?

You immediately sat up, setting your feet on the floor before walking towards your light switch, making extra effort not to accidentally kick or trip over anything. Upon flicking the lightswitch, the sudden bright light caused you to flick your head downwards and shut your eyes. You slowly opened your eyelids as you gradually grew accustomed to the different lighting and you looked at the corner where you had placed your school bag when you reached home.

You quickly shuffled your feet towards your bag, unzipping the front pocket to see if there was anything, followed by the biggest pocket. Your anxiety grew as you slowly unzip, peeking your head into your bag. To your relief, your camera was resting nicely inside the big pocket on top of your school materials. You quickly snatched it out, inspecting the camera to ensure there were no scratches or dents, and luck was on your side because your camera was in perfect condition from the last time you saw it.

You released a sigh of relief and slouched your back, feeling as all the worry inside of you disappeared. You turned on your camera, wanting to quickly get the feeling of using your camera again after being so sure that you had lost it, and you wanted to quickly take a random shot.

Your bedroom could be considered neat. You were sitting beside the table that was at one corner with your laptop on it, a lamp and at the other side of the room was your bed, but your sheets were all ruffled up from a moment ago. You quickly shot your bedroom, hearing the camera click and a flash shooting through the room.

You pulled the camera away from your face, pressing a few buttons and quickly looking at the photo you took and smiled. You clicked buttons to see your other shots until you realised that there were photos that you don't recognise at all. And that's when you realise that Hyunjin has probably taken a few shots himself from when he deliberately stole your camera.

The first photo was a photo of.. you? And it was a shot of you talking to Jungwon and shaking his hand. This must've been when Jay brought you to the club room earlier.

Second, third, fourth shots were all him taking mirror selfies. There were more photos where he was intentionally making a stupid face and you giggled at his stupidity, your heart feeling warm that you had these photos for yourself, and you continued to click until you reached one photo.

It was a shot with the flashlight on, the photo slightly blurry. A girl could be seen raising her hand up to the camera, probably to block her face and as you inspected the photo more, you realised that there were purple marks visible down her jugular, causing you to gasp. You could physically feel your heart shatter as you continued to scan the photo, now zooming in and realising that the background of the photo seemed familiar.

You could make it out that it was Hyunjin's bedroom, and the girl was sitting up on the edge of his bed. Her hand had fully covered her face, leaving her identity unknown to you but all you could care about were the marks down on her neck.

You felt as nausea washed over you and your heart dropping. You knew that unless Hyunjin was a dickhead and shared your camera around, it had to be him who took that photo. You instantly turned off your camera and dropped it to the floor, not caring about the potential damages done to it and you just flicked the lightswitch to turn off the light. You threw yourself on the bed and nuzzled your face into your pillow, feeling as tears form in your eyes.

Tears slowly start to escape your eyes, feeling deeply betrayed by your discovery. The fact that that photo took a while to reach in your camera gallery just tells you that it's been a while since it's been in your camera, so how could Hyunjin treat you so nicely and restrict you from seeing other people when he goes out to meet people other than you? Heck, you didn't even have the thoughts to go down on Jay on the day you were supposed to go to the movies, but here Hyunjin was, marking others.

"'only girl in my life' my fucking ass, bro" you thought.

"Fuck you....." you mumbled weakly to yourself and your voice cracked as the image of Hyunjin's face appeared in your head when you closed your eyes. You whimpered, feeling as if the whole world just came crashing down and you continued to cry yourself to sleep until you eventually drifted into a deep sleep.

The bright sunlight crept into your room from your window without warning, and your eyes fluttered open as your nose felt congested and your eyes puffy. You groaned, feeling your body score and you rolled over to the other side of your bed where your phone was laying, and you checked the time.

11:28a.m.

You missed class, and typically you'd be panicking and immediately getting yourself ready for school, but not today. Today you were tired and you just needed the day to yourself — a day without school, interacting with people, and also a day without seeing Hyunjin. You picked up your phone from the nightstand and tried to turn it on, spamming the turn-on button repeatedly and realising that your phone was dead probably since you forgot to plug in your phone before going to sleep. That was probably why you didn't wake up, your alarm didn't even ring to wake you up —but it wasn't like you were going to get up anyways.

You sighed and turned to lay on your back, your arm resting on your forehead as you closed your eyes, recalling the reason you were even upset in the first place. It was such a lovely hangout with him last night and it felt as if you two became even closer, but now it felt like he was a completely different person to you.

Still holding your phone, you took a moment to reflect upon everything that has a moment and a bittersweet feeling ran through your veins. You sat up from your bed, looking around and still realising your digital camera on the floor. You set your feet on the floor and shuffled your feet towards the camera resting on the floor and picked it up, inspecting it for damages. Luckily for you it was still in perfect condition, but for now you just didn't want to use it — for now, you could only recall bad memories with it.

Walking to your table at the other corner of the room, you gently placed your camera down and plugged in your phone, seeing the charging screen. You released a heavy sigh and turned away from the devices, stretching your arms in the air and letting out a loud groan.

Did he take that photo intentionally? Were you not meant to see that photo? Would he message you and reassure you out of nowhere?

You slapped yourself for thinking about these questions. You didn't want to see him physically yet he was implanted in your mind, and it pissed you off.

Today, you were going to spend it on yourself. No one else, just you.

It was a nice day outside, beautiful even. The sun was out shining, the breeze brushing against your face and the streets being lightly occupied since the majority of the people were busy in school or work. You skipped down the street, feeling your hair blow as you smile at the different people you form eye contact with. Sometimes when other people return the smile it almost makes you forget how much your heart had been hurting. Keyword — almost. You look down at the pavement, releasing a loud sigh as the road beside you had cars driving past you at steady speeds.

You weren't just going anywhere, you were going to your comfort place. Your favourite cafe — Chronos Brews. You always bought the same pair of items, but maybe today you were going to get something different.

As you pushed the glass door open, the bells attached to the door chimed and while forming eye contact with the worker at the counter, you grinned at them. You strolled towards the counter and went face-to-face with the worker.

"Hey, what can I get for ya?" the male greeted, his Australian accent strong and your eyes shifted to his nametag that was hanging above his left chest pocket.

Sim Jaeyun.You have never seen him before, perhaps he was a new worker?

"Hey! Uhm.." you greeted and you trailed off, looking at the menu to search for something new. Once your eyes found an item you found interesting, you continued, “Could I get a New York cheesecake and a..” your voice trailed off as you eyes continued to scan the menu, “passion yoghurt smoothie?”. 

The male smiled at you and nodded, proceeding to press buttons on the cash register and looking up again afterwards. “That’ll be 11.90, cash or card?”

“Card.”

“Okay.” He smiled.

You sat on a vacant table, the cafe being emptier than usual since everyone else was at work or school. You never realised how calming it could be when you were in your favourite cafe with barely anyone else inside. Just you, the apparent new worker - Sim Jaeyun as well as another girl, sitting at one corner busied by her laptop. As you heard footsteps approaching you, you looked up and you were met with the worker holding up a glass cup containing yellow slush with a straw poking out, and a small plate which had your cheesecake accompanied by a mini fork. He set the food down on your table, and gave you a warm smile. 

“Good choice,” he suddenly spoke up, causing you to raise your eyebrows, “as in, your food choices. I like the passion yoghurt smoothie too.”

You smiled at him, “Just wanted to try something new today. I hope it’s good.”

“It will be, no worries,” he reassured, watching as you lean closer to the straw, sipping up with the drink. Your face immediately lit up, your eyebrows raising, your eyes slightly widening and a smile plastered onto your face, “You’re right, this is good”.

You continue to sip on the drink, the liquid level quickly dropping as he laughed at you. You lean back on your chair, and look at him again, “Say, I come here often but I’ve never seen you before”.

He quickly nodded his head, “Yup, just started a while ago. Usually take morning shifts, do you usually come in the afternoon?”.

You nodded your head, “Yeah I do. Makes sense why I’ve never seen you before”.

He suddenly raised one eyebrow, humming in thought. He asked, “No school or work? It’s a weekday morning” and you quickly shook your head. “I mean, I do still have school but.. Today’s my day.”

He nodded, understanding what you meant, “Well then, could I give you my number?”. You shot your gaze at him, caught off-guard by the sudden question and you raised your eyebrows. He continued, his face growing red as his eyes widened

“A-ah, not for any particular reason! You just kinda.. Seem cool, y’know? And if you need anyone to talk to..”. You laughed at him as you watched him aggressively shake his head and hands.

“Okay, sure, why not?” you giggled, handing your phone and watching as he nervously tapped his phone number, his hands slightly quivering.

After you got the new worker’s number, you left the cafe and went to different places, walking in a mall and buying things, walking in a park. It was a day out with yourself.

Must be fun, huh?

You came back home just a little bit before you ate dinner, and dropping all your bags from shopping, you immediately found your way to your room, picking up your phone and turning it on with high expectations. Your hope only crumbles when you realise that you do have notifications, but not from him. Not a single ‘Why didn’t you come to school today?’ or a ‘Are you okay?’ or if you were lucky, an ‘I’m sorry’.

Before you knew it, you were already grabbing your jacket from your closet, picking up your personal handbag from the floor and putting on your slippers, preparing to leave your house with one goal in mind - confronting Hyunjin.

He first wronged you by taking the photo of the girl, maybe it was intentional to make you jealous? Maybe it was unintentional, but you don’t know which one was first, but at this point you didn’t care. You were mad and wanted to hear it from himself, and if he wasn’t even going to reach out to you, you’re going to reach out to him first.

Standing in front of a door you’ve been in front of so many times, you anxiously knock on the wood, folding your arms as you wait for a response. Seconds felt like hours, and you felt the anxiety in you growing. Sweat rolled down your temples and you bit your lip, suddenly forgetting the words you rehearsed on the way to confront him when you actually saw him face to face.

Your head shoots up as you hear the door unlocking, watching as the door swiftly opens, revealing the man who has you wrapped around his finger. The man who puts you on an emotional rollercoaster, never once getting a break from how unpredictable he is. He looks bewildered at the sight of you, his eyebrows raising, eyes widening and his lips slightly parting, clearly speechless.

He takes a few seconds to process that you were right in front of you and finally breaks the silence, “Y/N? Why are you here?”.

You immediately frowned at his question.

Was he not going to ask how you were? Where were you instead of school? His words pricked your heart but you kept your head high, folding your arms as you lifted your head, “I saw the photo”. Features of confusion washed over him as he looked at you as if you were speaking alien language

“What phot-” “You have another girl you’re fucking with.”

His eyes immediately widened, blinking at you repetitively as he tried to find words to respond to you. “Y/N, what are you-”

“Don’t fuck with me, Hyun. I saw it in the photo in my own camera. A girl, on your bed, with hickies. You can’t tell me I’m hallucinating.” you emphasised ‘with hickies’, your chest finally feeling light as you finally let out the words you’ve been wanting to say ever since you saw that photo in the morning. 

You watch as he gives you a confused look, and it makes you feel stupid about yourself, almost doubting yourself.. “Y/N, do you seriously think of me like that?”.

“Hyun, don’t turn this around on me. I literally saw-” “Y/N,” he interrupted, his gaze softening as he tilts his neck, “you do remember I told you that you’re the only girl in my life, right?” “How the fuck is that relevant in this?!” you yelled. You quite literally couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

His shoulder relaxes, folding his arms, “I genuinely have no idea what photo you’re talking about. I did take photos on your camera, yes, but it was all photos of me, Y/N. Trust me, I never had a girl over, and if anything, the girl would only be you.”

“So you’re saying my eyes are lying to me?” “Yes. I genuinely have never taken any photos of girls, or even girls on my fucking bed. You know me Y/N, I only have eyes for you.”

“No Hyunjin, I literally saw-” “Y/N, please? I know this is serious but I’m really busy right now. Can’t you just forgive me?” He steps forward towards you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to him, his body now pressing against yours as he looks at you with a pleading expression. 

You want to pick up a fight against him. You want to stand your ground, and tell him that you know that what you saw was right. But the way he was pleading, the way his voice sounded so soft, the way he was looking at you so softly and holding you so gently, it made you think otherwise. You averted your gaze, suddenly having a pang of guilt hit you as you sucked the insides of your cheek, not daring to look at him.

“Look at me, please?” he used one of his hands to hold your chin and lift it up to meet your eyes. You looked back at him, your jaw tightened as the guilt grew. You notice how he eyes your lips and how he was gradually leaning closer and you shut your eyes, almost afraid for what was coming.

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours, however, the feeling was different. Typically, kisses with him would be intense, greedy and passionate, but this time it was slow and gentle. He was taking his own time as he slowly cupped your jaw to angle your head. His mouth moved slowly with yours, and you could feel yourself meaning.

As the kiss continued, you felt your anger for him slowly dissociate, your stomach being filled with butterflies and your chest feeling fuzzy as you finally wrap your arms around his neck to pull his face closer to yours. 

You had thoughts that you never wanted this to end, or that he was right, he would only pick you, but suddenly the image on your camera appears in your head again and it causes you to push him aggressively, breaking the kiss and his hold around you.

He looks at you flabbergasted, evidently bewildered as to why you suddenly pushed him away and you just spoke weakly, “We can’t do this..”. No matter how hard he tries, you know your eyes weren’t playing with you and that the photo was real, and you can’t kiss him or the greed for him and the pain would be worse.

“Hyunjin?” a high-pitched voice spoke out from behind Hyunjin, causing your heart to drop and your blood to go cold, already knowing what was about to come. As you averted your gaze from Hyunjin to the voice behind him, you saw it. You saw the girl in the camera, the same girl in your camera on Hyunjin’s bed with hickies all over her neck.

She had the same blonde straight hair, bangs that were slightly uneven and she was wearing an oversized shirt that you hated you recognised. It was a shirt you yourself wore multiple times.

You could now confirm that the girl was definitely in Hyunjin’s bed, and that all her hickies were definitely from Hyunjin herself. You were speechless, frozen, you were unable to do anything as your mouth remained agape, not being able to form words as your mind goes blank.

The silence between the 3 of you became extremely uncomfortable, and though no words were spoken, each second was like a knife piercing your heart and being twisted. 

You couldn't do this anymore. You can’t deal with this bullshit anymore. Without thinking, your palm swiped across Hyunjin’s cheek, a loud slap echoing the atmosphere as you scowled at Hyunjin.

You were done and you weren’t going to feel like you were just one of his toys he can use and throw away once he was bored. “Fuck you, Hyunjin,” was the last thing you said before you readjusted your bag on your shoulder and stormed away, not looking back. You could feel both of their gazes on you as you walked away, but you couldn’t care less, not wanting to face them again, or anymore. 

The only thing you could think about was Hyunjin and that girl. You were feeling so many emotions to the point it was overwhelming - humiliation, betrayal, anger. You felt so ashamed for actually believing that you were going to be the only girl in his life. So much for a relationship with no actual label, right?

Anger grew inside of you as you replayed the scene in your head repeatedly, wishing that you didn’t just slap him, but also yelled at him and put him in his place. Who was he to throw you around and treat you as if you were nothing? 

Fuck him. Fuck Hyunjin. He’s a fucking dickhead. 

You slowly tried to regulate your breathing, staring at the ceiling and occasionally shutting your eyelids as you tried to put your mind to something else. That girl can have him all she wants, and you were just done with him.

You needed to take your mind off of this, put yourself out there to forget about him, but what is there to do? Maybe you can hang out with a friend, listen to music, talk to new people, and what’s a good way to do all at once? A fun night at the club, of course.

Loud music plays through the speakers that surround the entire room, people being able to be spotted in every single corner, everyone having their different reasons for being there. Some want to hit up with others, some want to bond with their friends, some wanna have a drink, and some want to forget their miserable ex. In your case, it was all of the above.

You were walking past the crowd, trying to get past people and constantly angling your body to get through, and once you were finally at a corner with lesser people, you released a breath you didn’t realise you were holding in. You were enthusiastic at the idea of going to the club, but now that you were actually here, the atmosphere was quite overwhelming.

There were people who were literally all over each other, making out with each other as if they weren’t surrounded by a hoard of people, people vomiting and drinking, and people who were just there to dance and vibe to the music. You took out your phone from your purse, nervously checked the chats with your friend and typed to ask them what they were.

Just as you sent a message, you felt a tap on your shoulder, causing you to jump and immediately shoot your head at the person tapping your shoulder, and you release a sigh of relief once you realise it was your friend. Sim Jaeyun, the worker you met at the cafe a while ago. He nervously laughed and scratched his neck as he blinked at you, “This was the last thing I expected when you asked me to go out.”

You laugh at his comment, his presence being a sense of reassurance in an atmosphere of people you didn’t know. You smiled at him, “Is this your first time at a club?”.

He ran his hand through his hair, huffing his breath and blowing his fringe, “I mean, no, but the last time I was here I was just stuck to my friend ‘cause I had no idea what to do..”.

Your eyes lit up at his response, “Right! Like you have no clue how to dance, or if you should talk to someone new, y’know?”. You felt even more comforted that someone was exactly like you, clueless on what to do when you were in the club.

The club was famous for letting people forget their emotions, but you only felt like you confronted your feelings more in the club. He shook his head aggressively, snapping his fingers and pointing at you “Exactly that!”.

As time passes by, you and Jake start to get to know each other, like how he owns a pet dog named Layla and how he loves building legos. You also learnt that he came from Australia (which was kinda obvious from his accent) and that he’s a music-freak - he knows how to play so many instruments that you can’t even name all. You two had bought drinks and were sitting on a table, just chatting as you both got to know each other.

“Hey, I gotta go to the toilet real quick, yeah?”. You gave him a quick smile and nodded, watching him as he stood up and left for the toilet. You relaxed on your seat and sighed, feeling happy that you had a night to get to know someone new, and it felt like forever since you’ve done that considering how much Hyunjin had restricted you.

As you folded your arms and stared into blank space, you felt an arm wrap around you and you immediately flinched, trying to shift away but couldn’t. You turned and saw a man, probably in his late 20s and your stomach drops, suddenly freezing and being unable to do anything. You could tell that he didn't have good intentions, his smug smile telling you everything as he eyed you up and down.

“What’s a pretty babe doing alone in a club like this, hm?” the man said, his tone confident yet sounding so suffocating and your breath hitched, unable to form words as you just stared at the man. 

“Why do you seem so uncomfortable?” he laughed out loud and you nervously laughed, your eyes constantly blinking as you looked down to your feet, feeling so small as he pulled you closer, feeling his warmth against your body.

You wanted to push him away, you wanted to scream at him for touching you but for some reason you just couldn’t do anything. Your heart was rapidly beating as your breathing picked up the pace, anxiety starting to grow inside you as you got nervous about what the man would do to you. 

“Baby, do you like this?” he suddenly put his hand on your thigh, making you gasp and hold your breath. Tears were forming in your eyes as you bit your lip hard, not realising the cut that formed.

“S-stop..” you softly cried out.

“Why baby? Don’t you like it?” his hand slowly traced up your thigh, and you were regretting wearing a skirt to the club. You felt the tears break free from your eyes and you shut your eyes, not being able to fight back. That was until you heard a loud thud beside you and his arm on your thigh being hastily removed.

You shot your eyes open to see what happened and saw the man holding his face as he was forced to turn to you. You looked up further and saw Hyunjin, panting and his face full of fury as he held up his fist, his position as if he just punched the man.

“H-Hyunjn..” you weakly called out, and for a second his gaze softened as he looked at you but was quickly averted to the man. You suddenly forgot all your hatred for him when you saw him again.

“Get. Your fucking hands. Off of her.” Hyunjin commanded, his eyes full of rage as his jaw clenched and his fists shaking, his fingers white from how tightly he was clenching his hands.

The man simply turned his gaze back to Hyunjin, chuckling slowly as he looked at Hyunjin’s expression, scoffing at the sight in front of him, his hand touching the spot on his face that got punched. “And why should I?” the man taunted and leaned back to you, his arm remained wrapped around your shoulders and you stiffened up further.

Hyunjin smirked and cracked his neck, the sounds being loud “You better listen before things get fucking messy, old man, now get your hands off of her. I won’t repeat myself again.”

The man shook his head and laughed, “Look man, I’m not trying to-”.

And before you knew it, the man got punched again and you gasped at the sudden action, your hands flying to your mouth. You noticed how there was now blood flowing out of the man’s nose, and that Hyunjin was tilting his neck and pulling up his sleeves, his eyes almost looking psychotic as he rubbed his fists, his gaze fixated on the man and watching his every move.

You looked at the man and he looked like he lost his mind, his grin so wide and he started to laugh uncontrollably, his head slowly turned back to Hyunjin. His arm slithered away from you and he stood up from the chair, walking up to Hyunjin. “Do you fucking know who you’re messing with?” the man threatened, his head tilted and Hyunjin simply stared down at him. 

Suddenly, Hyunjin grabbed his collar and heatbutted him, “Look, I don’t give a fuck about who you are, you touch my girl again I’m fucking killing you, got it?”. You were afraid that a fight was going to break out, but the man simply pushed away, lifting his hands as if he was surrendering and he shook his head, “I got you man, no need to be so fucking sensitive”.

The man was about to pat Hyunjin’s back to form a truce but Hyunjin gripped his wrists tightly and only glared at him, his glare being enough to tell him to fuck off and the man simply went away, glancing once more at you before he disappeared into the crowd.

“Y/N” he called out to you, his eyes still being full of fury as you stared at him. Deep down, you still hated him, but given that he just saved you from that situation, all you could think about was how grateful you were to him, how much you wanted to go back to him, how much you wanted him again. You stood up from your seat and walked towards him, saying nothing and pulling him into a tight embrace.

Upon coming into contact with you, he froze but after a few seconds you could feel his hands rest on your back, slowly caressing you as you found comfort in his hands, almost wanting to burst out crying from the situation you just experienced.

“Sorry, is this your boyfriend?” a voice spoke out and you immediately pulled back from the hug to see Jaeyun. Your eyes immediately widen and you start laughing nervously, not knowing how to respond. Hyunjin stepped towards the guy, clearly feeling threatened, “And who could you be?”. 

You immediately step in, “Hyunjin, this is Jaeyun, Jaeyun this is Hyunjin”. You nervously smiled and scratched your neck. Jaeyun was smiling at Hyunjin while Hyunjin was glaring at him. You realised that you needed to thank Hyunjin, and also that you and him needed to have a talk.

“Ha..ha.. Jaeyun, let's meet again another time, thanks for tonight,” you said as you grabbed Hyunjin’s wrist and started to pull him out. You looked over your shoulder as you started to walk out, watching as Jake smiled and said his goodbyes.

Once you and Hyunjin were out of the club, you and him stood under a streetlight, and you were now face to face with him. As you looked at him, you noticed his stern expression still being present. “Who is he and where did you meet him?” he questioned, his tone evidently displeased.

You were taken aback by how pissed he sounded, your anger for him slowly returning and overpowering your gratitude for him, “Now why does that matter when you literally had a girl over just a while ago, huh?”.

Hyunjin groaned while running his hand through his hair, biting his lip, “Look, I know you might not believe me but I broke it off with her?”.

“And how am I supposed to know if you’re lying or not?!” you yelled.

“I swear this time. I kicked her out that very day you saw her, blocked her and even broke it off.” he said, his tone sounding serious but you had no idea if you should trust him or not. 

“Look, you’ve lied to me once and you can do it again, Hyunjin,” you stated, your heart aching.

“No, please, I understand why you’re mad at me, and I’m a fucking dick for it, Y/N, but please just trust me this one time,” he pleaded, his gaze softening as he took a step towards you, his hand moving upwards to hold you by the waist but you slapped his hand away.

“Hyunjin, trust me, I really want to trust you, but I don’t want to constantly get disappointed and hurt again,” you spat out, “Do you know how hurt I felt when you literally lied to my face and that girl just appeared right behind you?”.

“And do you know how angry I felt when I saw you with that guy?!” he snapped, causing you to flinch. He noticed and his gaze softened, “I-I’m sorry-”

“I don’t give a fuck Hyunjin, you hurt me so much, do you think I care if you’re angry?” your voice cracked and you could feel tears welling up in your eyes as you relive the pain you felt just a while ago.

“Please Y/N, give me another chance, I promise you I won’t hurt you again,” he pleaded, sounding desperate as he took another step closer, your bodies almost touching as he looked at you. 

He continued, “Don’t.. Walk away from me.. Don’t walk away from me.. please..?” 

You shook your head, biting your lip, “Hyunjin.. I really don’t know..”. He cupped your cheeks and his eyes softened as he saw your hurt expression. He caressed your cheeks with his thumbs, his eyes looking at your facial features. 

“I’ll do anything it takes to earn your forgiveness again, please?” he pleaded once more and all you could wish for was your heart to stop beating so fast so you could think straight.

“Okay,” you replied, but it came out as a raspy whisper. “Can I.. kiss you?” he questioned, his eyes already on your lips as he slowly started to lean closer to your face. You nodded your head, afraid that you were making the wrong choice, but your heart longed for this, your heart longed for him, and at this point you weren’t even thinking about the consequences.

As his lips finally landed on yours, you felt the tears break free from your eyes. He angled his head for more access to your mouth and your hands grabbed his shirt, slowly pulling him closer. The kiss was hesitant, Hyunjin probably afraid you would’ve pushed him away or reacted negatively, but once you responded, he released the breath he never realised he was holding in.

His mouth moved so tenderly against yours, mouths moving in a similar rhythm as he tries to show you how much he loves you without any words. His hands slowly slithered down to your waist and pulled you impossibly closer, feeling his warmth against you and you could slowly feel yourself losing to this kiss.You knew you’d only get hurt over and over again if you were with him, but being with him just feels so right. His lips complemented yours so well, and the way you both always ran back to each other just proves that the feeling was mutual. 

You felt yourself growing breathless so you tapped his chest, signalling to pull back but he interpreted it different and only kissed you harder, causing you to form a muffled whimper as he kisses you more passionately, his lips moving more vigorously and he ran his lip on your bottom lip, silently asking for entrance and you obey. Your head was feeling fuzzy as he continued, slipping his tongue into your mouth and your tongues fighting in a fiery battle for dominance. He finally pulled back, panting heavily as he rested his forehead on yours and stared into your eyes intensely.

“Tonight, stay with me, okay?” he pleaded, his eyes soft as he continued to pant, his lips agape. You nodded, your heart about to burst from how fast it was beating. You stared at him, noticing the bruised spot on his cheek from your slap and you caressed the spot lightly, feeling guilty for it

Few days after the incident at the club, you and he became close again, reverting back to your old non-labelled relationship, your kisses being more passionate and your greed for each other being increasingly evident.

Today, he wanted to have a game-night with his boys and also invite you over, wanting your presence around him even as he hung out with his friends.

Maybe he was improving, since back then he wouldn’t even want to bring you near his friends from the fear of them finding out that you two were a thing.

Maybe now that he was more open to his friends seeing you and him together, he was serious about you, and maybe he’d be asking you out soon. Who knows? 

Your heart flutters at the thought, thinking about all the different ways he would ask you out. Maybe he was going to do it while the other boys were around. Maybe another day, and he’d gift you a bouquet of flowers? Maybe a romantic dinner - the list goes on and on, but you just couldn’t wait to make it official with him.

Game night he said. His friends were sitting around you on the couch as 4 of them hold up Switch controllers, all of them yelling at each other as they stare intensely at the screen, trying to get the task in the game done.

In the room there was Chan, Minho, Jisung, Seungmin and of course, Hyunjin himself. Since there were only 4 controllers, everyone but you and Seungmin was playing, and you just awkwardly watched as they continuously shout random call-outs to each other. Seungmin was to your left, and Hyunjin was to your right, your legs in physical contact.

Being aware that Hyunjin was too occupied with the game, you looked at Seungmin who was attentively watching the screen, and feeling your gaze on him, he quickly looked back at you to form eye contact. He gave you a small grin and greeted you, “Hey Y/N”.

You knew Seungmin but never really talked to him even in class since he was always around other people. At other times, he was around Hyunjin, and you and Hyunjin never really talked publicly for.. many reasons, of course. This was the first time you actually had the opportunity to talk to him properly, and you mirrored the smile, greeting him back.

“Hey, Seungmin”.

You knew that even if he hung out with Hyunjin who could be a bad influence, Seungmin’s kind heart still remained, and your impression on him always remained positive from the times you see him in class. “How are you?” you questioned, feeling less awkward as you finally find someone to chat to while the others are busy with their game.

“Been okay, just been having my usual baseball practices, class been tough lately, you?”, he replied, the soft smile never leaving his face. You looked around the room and hummed like you were thinking and you shrugged, “Just been the same, I recently managed to find my lost camera so that’s great”. Upon saying that, you glanced at Hyunjin who was still chaotically playing his game, holding his fist up to cheer once they managed to finish their mission. 

“Is that so? Must be nice finding something you lost,” “I agree,” someone to your right voiced out, feeling an arm wrap around your shoulder as they pulled you closer. You looked to your right and made eye contact with Hyunjin, him giving you a smug expression as you glared at him since he was the culprit.

“Say, wanna play Y/N? I bought a new game earlier this week, I think it’s pretty fun” Hyunjin questioned, his smug expression never leaving his face as your eyes softened, and you slowly nodded your head, “Why not?”.

Next thing you knew, you were holding the console and chasing after Hyunjin in the game. Apparently, the game name was 'Cops N Robbers’, and you scream at him from all the tactics he uses to juke you. The game setting was in prison, and you were the cop while he was the robber. There were snickers from the other boys who were also playing, finding it hilarious how naive you were to games and how Hyunjin could easily trick you. 

“Y/N, don’t you think this reminds you of us?” He suddenly blurts out in the middle of his laughter. Still furious, trying to chase him, pressing the buttons aggressively “What the hell do you mean? Just get back here!”.

Hyunjin continued to laugh, “Like how you always chase me, y’know!”.

Your fingers stop moving on the console, taking the time to straighten your posture and look him in the eye. He sensed your gaze on him and he did the same, leaning back on the couch to give you his mischievous expression that you had a love-hate relationship with. Your face turned sour as you immediately understood his implication, and the corner of his mouth curved up while raising his eyebrows.

“It’s not one-sided, Hyun, it’s mutual,” you stated, your tone dead serious.

Hyunjin simply smiled, his eyes practically lighting up, “I know.”

You excused yourself after a while to use the restroom, needing a moment to yourself and as you finished washing your hands, you walked down the hallway and heard the other’s voices while wiping your damp hands on your shirt. You felt uneasy as you recalled the conversation you had earlier with him. ‘Like how you always chase me’  ‘I know’

So he knows that the two of you are after each other. Wouldn’t that mean that there is something special then? Maybe.. there is a need for establishment?

You stared into blank space, their voices gradually getting louder as you get closer, their words falling on deaf ears until you heard something that stood out to you. 

“Are you guys seriously not going to get together?”

You feel your body turn cold and you instantly halt to a stop. You stopped breathing as if they would be able to hear you, and you slowly shuffled your way closer to be able to hear their conversation better. You peeked into the living room, seeing the back of their heads while seated on a couch, still playing. 

You saw Seungmin avert his head to Hyunjin, “Yeah, seriously, the way y'all look at each other is insane.”

Seungmin wasn’t wrong. Your eyes then went to Hyunjin, though it was only the view of the back of his head, hopeful that his response would be something you wished for.

“Why do we need a label?”.

Oh. He continued, “Her and I are fine as we are now, we don’t need a label.”

Your heart dropped, shattered, sunk. His words were like a knife that just stabbed you in the heart, and it definitely was the opposite of the response you desired. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t hurt, but maybe he was right. Maybe a label is not needed, maybe you were just too expectant.

You instantly turned your back and sprinted back to the toilet, not caring if you were making noise. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you were not about to cry. Not now.

The boys had probably noticed your presence from the sounds you made as you shut the toilet door shut, looking into the mirror and turning on the faucet to wash your face.

One half of you was telling you that you should stop hoping, while the other half was telling you to establish what the both of you were,, and it was the only thing you could think about.

Fuck it. You’ll ask him later. 

You stared at your own reflection on the mirror, the features of worry taking over as you bit your lip, praying for the best. If not, you were praying you’d be able to take his response well. You didn’t know which was scarier - losing him or yourself in the process.

“Hyunjin, don’t you think you’re too obsessed with that camera? It’s literally all you ever hold nowadays..” Seungmin grumbled, holding onto Hyunjin who was trying to pull his arm back. Seungmin pulled Hyunjin into the crowd of people, loud music blasting from the speakers that were placed at every corner of the place, people dancing and getting all over each other.

It was a sight that Hyunjin wasn’t unfamiliar with, but a sight that he wasn’t that uncomfortable with. The room was slightly dark, the disco lights flashing rainbow colours and Hyunjin sighed, wishing he was anywhere else but at the club. 

“Now why’d you drag me here again?” Hyunjin grumbled, looking around the room, probably finding something he could photograph. He brought the camera to his eyes, angling it around to find something that could be photographed, whether it was the crowds of people dancing, or the sofa area where people were getting messy with each other.

“You’re such a fucking loser, y’know? Stuck in your room all day, get a girlfriend for fucks sake,” Seungmin hissed, sick of his best friend having an image of a loser. 

“What’s the point? Relationships are so troublesome,” Hyunjin complained, still shifting his body to find anything to photograph until his camera is directly pointed to you, standing at one corner, talking  to one of your girl friends and he accidentally snapped a photo, the flash turning on and he immediately tried to cover the flash with his hand, bringing the camera down frantically.

“Who’re you taking a photo of?” Seungmin followed the direction that Hyunjin was looking at, his eyes landing on you laughing with your other girl friends and he sighs.

“No one, it was an accident,” Hyunjin spat out, clearly flustered that he almost took a photo of a stranger. 

“Are you interested in her?” Seungmin suddenly questioned, causing Hyunjin to choke on hair, putting his hand on his chest as he tried to stop coughing. Seungmin shook his head and patted his friend’s back, helping him to let all the air out.

“It’s okay to be interested. I’m kinda grateful you found something else other than your camera interesting for once,” Seungmin teased, watching Hyunjin recover and stand back straight.

Hyunjin cleared his throat, “Who is she?”. Seungmin smirked at his question, “That’s Y/N, she’s in the same class as me.”

“Is that so?” "Yeah, you like her?" Seungmin turned his neck to him, smirking at the boy. "Yeah."

After Hyunjin said goodbye to the boys at his apartment door, the sounds of the door closing and feet shuffling towards you could be heard. Your eyes were closed, head resting against the cushion of the couch as you folded your arms for extra warmth, and you felt a weight sink you down on the couch beside you. You felt an arm wrap around your shoulders, pulling you to lay on their shoulder and you inhaled a familiar scent, a scent that drove you crazy without fail.

You opened your eyes and looked up at Hyunjin who had his gaze locked onto you, his gaze dark as he scanned your features slowly. Your eyes, nose, lips, and he also studied your behaviour, noticing how you mirrored his actions and how your chest was rising up and down at a slow but steady pace.

His expression was unreadable - as usual, and the amount of thoughts that fill your head became overwhelming. No words were spoken, and you had no idea what was going to happen now that you and him were alone. So many questions you wanted to ask, and you were so afraid that if you said the wrong thing, he was going to slip away. 

“What are you thinking about?” he spat out, finally breaking the silence between the two of you.

You hum in thought, thinking about the right words while looking into his eyes, your eyes flickering to his lips every once in a while and you finally respond, “Us”. It took a lot of confidence for you to confess that, and you bit your lip anxiously, almost instantly regretting it as you thought about how he would react to it. 

The way your eyes constantly flickered to his lips didn’t go unnoticed, and the corner of his mouth curves up, his hands snaking down from around your shoulders to your waist,  bringing you to closer proximity as he leaned in, “What are you talking about, Y/N?”. 

His hot breath hits your lips, his eyelids halfway closed as you finally shoot the question that you’ve been dying to ask, “What are we?”.

In almost an instant, you could feel the mood of the atmosphere change. Hyunjin's breath hitched, leaning backwards and he looked at you, his expression still unreadable.

You loved how handsome he was, but you absolutely despised how you could never read him, never predict how he felt or what he was going to do next. Your eyes fell on his lips, watching how it was opening and you were anticipating his answer.

“It’s late, you should go home,” his tone shifted, sounding cold and distant. “What?” you looked at him, your eyes widened as you felt bewildered at his response. Is that even considered a response?

“You must be tired, let’s talk soon, yeah?” He moved back, removing his arm around your waist as he folded his arms, his gaze averting to the light above the two of you.

“Hyun-”

“I’m tired, Y/N, I can’t bring you home, sorry, I’m going to sleep now, goodnight.”

You watched as he stood up from the couch, the weight beside you disappearing. He was so evidently avoiding eye contact and he started to walk towards his room. Before he could step into his room, you stood up and blurted out, “I heard your conversation earlier!”.

He suddenly freezes, a few moments of silence before he turns around, his eyes finally meeting yours. “It’s not important, I don’t want to talk about it,” he firmly stated. This time, you could tell that he looked uncomfortable, angry even. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was sucking the insides of his cheeks, his jaw clenched.

This sight of him was like another knife added to your heart, and you bit your lip as you slowly nodded, “Okay.”

You didn’t know if it was appropriate, but you spoke up, “Goodnight, Hyun.”

You turned your back on him, picking all your things on the couch before pacing for the door, and as soon as you stepped outside, you slammed his front door shut. Once you were outside, you exhaled as if you were holding in a large amount of air and you leaned against the door, rethinking about what you just asked.

The thing you just asked may have just potentially ruined your entire relationship and you wanted to beat yourself up for it, wanting to turn back time and keep your mouth shut, but whatever’s been done is done, and you just have to wait and see what happens.

Before you knew it, it was the start of a period where he didn’t contact you. Like, at all.

Heck, he even avoided you like the plague. On campus whenever you’d see him, he’d notice you then turn the other away, pretending like he didn’t see you at all. You’d go to the photography club to see him more often and on days you were lucky, he was there, but he’d be occupied talking to someone else.

You’d patiently wait until he was finished conversing with the person but when he was done, he would find an excuse to leave as soon as possible. And every single time he did, he had this unpleasant expression on his face. It was the same one you saw the night you dropped the question on him, and you watched him slip away from you.

With Hyunjin practically gone from your life, you had more free time to hang out with Jay, but everytime you were with Jay on campus, you’d always catch Hyunjin staring at the two of you in your peripheral view, immediately looking away once eye contact was formed.

If you were going to be honest, you felt like shit. Were you seriously in the wrong for wanting to establish something? Wanting to make things official?

The first few days, you cried your eyes out, burying yourself in your blanket and feeling regretful for asking him in the first place. You constantly checked your phone for any notifications from him and reread your past chats to relive the past emotions. Once you even called him on accident, your face going cold but before you could drop the call, he had already rejected it.

Talk about brutal. 

When Hyunjn was gone from your life, your life became peaceful, but was it really peaceful when he intentionally did it without warning? You eventually accepted it, limiting the amount of times you open your chats with him and looking out for him in the hallways. 

3 weeks fly by, and you were so convinced that you’ve moved on from him - except you didn’t.

You tried finding the spark in other guys, like Jay, but your heart never melted for him the same way it did for Hyunjin. Your eyes never scanned the room for him like you did for Hyunjin, and you never checked your phone for his notifications like you did for Hyunjin. 

What made it worse was that even with Hyunjin avoiding you, he was always somehow around you. Always. 

In your favourite cafe whenever you were about to leave, you’d feel someone’s gaze on you and when you look up, you'd accidentally make eye contact with someone and it would've been him. He was definitely watching you the entire time you were there and you remained clueless about it.

Another time when you were eating lunch with Jay, you saw him at the corner of your eye, watching as he sucked his inner cheek and clenching his jaw. 

You felt so many emotions. You felt upset and humiliated because you realised you were being toyed with, longing because you missed his touch and also satisfaction from the way he seemed jealous whenever you were with someone else and that he was always watching you.

It was as if you won the game, having him wrapped around your fingers and following you around like a dog, watching your every move. No matter how much you were in love with him, you were satisfied that you were getting under his skin and getting a reaction out of it, you loved seeing him pissed. It was difficult, but it used up every muscle in you to not lose self-respect to contact him again, whether it was by approaching him in real life or texting him.

You were sitting in front of your mirror, the air conditioner on, windows shut and the room dimly lit as you do your skincare, your thoughts drifting to Hyunjin when you suddenly get a notification.

As you swiped up a fair amount of moisturiser from the container into your index and middle finger, you looked at the direction of where your phone was facing downwards and shrugged it off, thinking that the message can be attended to after your self-care session. You applied the cream on your face, ensuring that each area on your face had equal amounts of it when your phone ding-ed again.

And again.

You raised your eyebrows and rushed to spread the cream evenly on your face, curious to who could be messaging you at this time at night. You hurriedly wiped the remaining cream on your neck as you quickly picked your phone up. You were expecting a spam notification from one of those brands you forgot you subscribed to, or maybe a message from Jay or Jake, but it was one you were never expecting.

hwangjin ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ : hey im outside

hwangjin ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ : open the door 

Your eyes widened as your head shot forward in disbelief. You didn’t know if he was joking and was about to just turn your phone off until another one came in.

hwangjin ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ : please

Next thing you know, you swung your apartment door open to reveal a Hyunjin who was panting, probably from running, his leather jacket wrapped around his wide figure and you eyed him up and down, not believing the sight in front of you. You knew that you were going to see him again, but you never expected it to be at his own accord. Your jaw dropped slightly, your eyes scanning his entire figure.

“I’m cold, can I please go inside?”

Still slightly confused, you nodded your head slowly and moved aside, gesturing for him to go inside and he gave you a small smile, stepping in and you closed the door as he entered. You watched as he removed his shoes and placed it at the rack at the spot he usually places it.

Without looking back, he stepped into your living room as if he hadn't ignored your existence for  3 whole weeks.

You quickly followed behind him, watching his every move. It almost felt unreal that Hyunjin himself was in your living room, walking around. He set himself down on your couch, a loud sigh leaving him and he pursed his lips, looking up at you. Eye contact with Hyunjin wasn’t new, but with the thing of him ghosting you, you almost thought you were dreaming. You stared at him with your mouth slightly agape, your eyes not blinking even once as he chuckled.

“Why.. are you here?” you finally mutter out the question that confused you the most.

“I missed you,” he replied with no hesitation.

You were taken aback at how easily he could just show up at your place out of nowhere and just admit he misses you after ghosting your entire existence for a long period of time. 

“What the fuck?” you blurted out, features of disgust taking over you.

“Look, I know I ignored you, okay? But-” “Yeah, you better have known you fucking did.”

He sighed, looking down and leaning forward, his arms resting on his knees and hands clamped together before continuing, “I just needed time. Time for myself.”

“For what exactly?” you shook your head in disbelief.

“I don’t know, my head was just.. Kinda all over the place,” there was a moment of silence before he continued, “I’m here because I want to make it up to you.”

“I’m not forgiving you so easily, Hyunjin. You threw me away too easily for 3 whole weeks.” “You’re counting?” “Of course I am, dipshit!” you shot and he only shook his head, a playful smile on his face indicating he wasn’t taking you seriously.

“I know it won’t be easy, but just give me another chance, hmm?” he pleaded, his eyes lighting up as he looked up at you, flashing a small pout. 

You cross your arms, biting your lip as your mind gets flooded with so many thoughts. You wanted to forgive him, but you were afraid he was going to throw you away again. You wanted to shut him out, but you feel empty without him. “You can’t just leave and expect me to accept you into my life so easily,” you shot, feeling overwhelmed that you had to make a decision.

He stared at you in silence, so many thoughts behind his eyes before he suddenly held his hand up, “Let’s go on a walk”.

You tilted your neck, “Are you crazy?!’. You turned your head to look at the clock hanging near you, “It’s literally past midnight, Hyunjin!”.

“I know,” he replied, with no emotions in his voice. “I’ll bring you to eat your favourite,” he added.

“It’s cold outside,” you gave another excuse. He immediately unzipped his jacket, discarding it from his body and offered it to you. You shook your head in disbelief, “I just can’t-”.

“Please? Pretty sure your favourite cafe is still open, and I know a few photography spots if you wanna bring your camera along,” he asked again, his words so tempting. You sighed, not believing what you were going to say next, “Fine”.

That night, he brought you out to Chronos Brews, treated you to anything you wanted and you two eventually started to talk again, though you had your guard up.

You brought your camera and he really did bring you to a few photography spots that were amazing despite it being night time. You did this once.

And twice.

Thrice.

A fourth time wouldn’t hurt right?

He was now the one frequently messaging you, double-texting (sometimes even triple) and calling you at night just to hear your voice, and facetime you just to see your face. He even brought you flowers on a random occasion and you two went to school together, frequently heading to the photography club to chill together afterwards and hanging out afterwards. It was like how it was before, but you saw him even more frequently and you had no idea if it was a good or bad thing. But as long as your heart feels happy, right?

Frequently when you were with him, you’ve always felt a bit scared that he would just slip away again, part of you thinking it was because you asked the question but you tried to brush it off, thinking that you were just overreacting and that you should just be happy with whatever you have now. 

Everything is so perfect now, why ruin it because of your overthinking?

You laid in his bed, his arms wrapped around you as he gently caressed and patted your back, his touch making you feel sleepy. The past few days have been amazing. Hyunjin was now doing everything that a boyfriend would do - bringing you more flowers, playing songs on his guitar for you, calling you every night just because he wanted to hear your voice and see your face, acting intimate with you even in the public eye.

He surely seemed more serious about you, wanting to show everyone that you belonged only to him, glaring and threatening anyone else who showed signs that they wanted to hit on you or even befriend you. You looked up at him, the way his eyes were closed and his bangs were covering his eyebrows, looking so peaceful.

You could tell that he was gradually falling asleep from how his hand movements got slower and weaker, and you only stared at his features, softly giggling to yourself about how cute he looked. His chest rose up and down slowly, his body completely relaxed with you in his arms and you could only wish that you and him could stay like this forever.

Sitting on his couch, your eyes were glued to his bare back as he stood at his kitchen sink, washing the dishes after you and him had eaten dinner together. You softly smiled, feeling comforted by his presence, finally feeling like he wanted you as much as you wanted him.

“Hyun,” you softly called out, and he hummed in response, his head slightly turning over his shoulder as he continued to wash the dishes.

“Come here, quick,” you pleaded, wanted to feel his warmth again and he chuckles, nodding his head but not sparing a glance at you. You observed as he finished washing the dishes, placing the plates on the drying rack and washing his hands before he turned his back, eyes forming eye contact and he approached you with a small grin on his face.

He sat himself beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you to his chest, “Miss me that much?”. You giggled and nodded your head, ruffling your head into his neck. 

“Hyun,” you softly called out, your heart starting to beat faster as you mustered up courage to shoot the question again.

You continued, “Can I ask you a question?”. He hummed, caressing your shoulder with his thumb, and you shot your gaze at him, looking at him with doe eyes. 

“What is it, Y/N?” he smiled down at you, his eyes filled with affection. Looking at how comfortable he was, it warmed up your heart and made your chest feel fuzzy, butterflies filling your stomach and you couldn’t help but feel that your feelings were being properly reciprocated. 

“Promise me you won’t get mad?” you asked, suddenly feeling hesitant. You had faith that he wouldn’t get angry anymore from how much the two of you have been bonding the past few weeks, but you still felt dubious since you remember how fast he switched up the last time you asked him the question. You were afraid he was going to slip away again, but you were hoping that this time he’d react differently.

“As long as it’s not that one dumbass question, I won’t,” he chuckled and your heart instantly dropped. Your smile started to fade and you blinked at him in confusion,

“What ‘dumbass’ question are you.. Referring to?”.

“That stupid ‘what are we’ question or whatever you asked last time,” he spoke, the smile on his face remaining which caused your heart to shatter. Even after all this time with you, he still didn’t want to establish anything and even called the question ‘stupid’.

You immediately pulled away from him, features of hurt on your face as it was now his turn to be confused, the warmth he felt from you slowly disappearing. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and the way he was so clueless made you feel so irritated, “Oh..” he now understood your reaction, “Don’t tell me you were going to ask that shit again..”.

“I don’t see what’s so ‘stupid’ about it, Hyunjin” you spat out, frowning your eyebrows as you felt a knife stab your heart.

“No-” he seemed flabbergasted by your response and scoffed, “I don’t see what’s so important about knowing what we are, Y/N,” his words twisted the knife in your heart, and you clenched your fists, your fingers turning paper white from how tightly you were clenching them, “Can’t we just be happy as we are? Don’t you think it’s fun?”

“It’s not fucking fun, Hyunjin!” you snapped, and his eyes widened, taken aback that you raised your voice at him. He stared at you, his jaw dropped and his eyes darkened, his eyes expressing how infuriated he felt.  You continued, “I’m worried every single fucking day that you’re going to just suddenly slip away one day, Hyun,” you bit your lip and your voice started to crack, “Why don’t you want the same thing? After everything?”.

He took a deep breath and turned away for a second, huffing air afterwards and causing his bangs to fly up. “Do you realise how much of a clingy, annoying bitch you sound right now?!” he yelled, causing you to flinch. Your eyes widened as you realised what he said, bewildered that he could say such degrading words to you. You both stared at each other, the weight of the air being heavy and the knife in your heart twisting even more now.

“Clingy.. Annoying.. Bitch?” you repeated, your voice soft and in disbelief as you still needed to process what he said to you.

“I thought you were different, Y/N, it was more fun when you weren’t worried about all these shitty things,” he continued, and you shook your head. “Since I’m not so fucking different, then I can just walk out right now, can’t I?” you stood up from the couch, your body still fully facing him as you kept your guard up in case he tried to do anything to you. 

“Fuck, just go! I don’t give a fuck!” he yelled and you could feel tears forming in your eyes, but you weren’t crying. Not right now, not in front of him. You weren’t going to let a dick break your heart and make you feel sad. You flashed him a hurt expression and almost in a snap, his facial expression softened, “Wait- Y/N- I didn’t mean tha-”

“I’ll go since you want me gone so bad,” you stormed to his room to take the bag that was laying on the floor, looking around to ensure you left nothing behind. He quickly followed behind you, trying to get you to look at him, “Y/N, please look at me”.

You ignored all his pleads, not even sparing him a glance as you walked past him out of his room, already heading straight for the door. He grabbed your wrist and you stopped moving, “Please, I didn’t mean that Y/N and you know that”.

You flicked his hand away from your wrist, turning your body to look at him, tears already breaking free from your eyes as you shouted, “I’m fucking sick of being treated just as one of your toys! I’m done Hyun, I don’t wanna see you anymore!”

“I’m sorry Y/N, I didn’t mean it-”

“I’m done. I’m done with.. whatever we have!”

You turned your back to him, heading straight for the door. This was the moment you’d never thought you’d be experiencing so soon. You were so afraid of the day that this was going to happen, and now that it happened, you had no idea how to feel. You opened his front door and looked at him one more time before stepping out and slamming the door shut. 

The day you left, he tried to contact you multiple times, whether it was call, text, going to your house, approaching you in school, but you brushed him away every single time. You didn't want to deal with his bullshit anymore, but he wanted you to let you understand his perspective. The last time you saw him, he mentioned a time, date and location. You had the choice to go, but you didn't know if you were going to meet him. You didn't know if you were ready or if it was worth hearing it.

That day eventually came, and you were just hugging your pillow, all cozy in your bed. Your phone vibrated and you lazily rolled over your bed to pick it up and see what notification you received. Your heart aching when you realised it was from him, a feeling you were so familiar with.

hwangjin : hey

hwangjin : you remember we're meeting up right?

You knew that if you went, it could possibly be the end of everything. A part of you was so afraid of what he was going to say. You were about to turn off your phone until more notifications came in.

hwangjin ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ : i'm really sorry, okay?

hwangjin ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ : i really hope you come

hwangjin ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ : give me a chance to explain myself

hwangjin ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ : okay?

You received another notification which broke your train of thought.

Weather Alert: 🌧️ Heavy Rain Expected! 🌧️ Get ready for showers! Rain is expected to start within the next hour and continue throughout the evening. Make sure to carry an umbrella and stay safe.

"Y/N!" the familiar voice called out to you, and you scanned around the cafe until you spotted the figure that was aggressively waving his hands and looking at you.

You sighed at the sight of him, not looking forward to the conversation you two are going to have. You took your time to walk to him, dragging the chair opposite of him and sitting yourself down, his eyes locked onto you and watching your every move.

You set your eyes on the table, realising how all your favourite items from the menu were nicely set down and you looked up at him, noticing his guilty expression.

"I.. bought your favourite!" His voice sounded nervous, and you looked at the classic New York cheesecake that was served on a nice small rounded plate, accompanied by the usual passion yoghurt smoothie that was packaged in a plastic cup, a small amount of whipping cream overflowing from the hole of the dome lid.

You raised your eyebrows at him, praying that whatever explanation he had would be convincing enough and make your anger for him perish.

You pick up the small fork that was resting on the plate and stab the cake, putting the cake to your mouth and chewing. You didn't say a single word, you wanted him to do all the talking so you could evaluate to see if he was even being serious about wanting to clear up the misunderstandings you both shared.

You savored the sweet taste that filled your taste buds as you continued to eat on the cake, patiently waiting for him to speak up.

"Y/N..." your eyes travelled to his, raising your eyebrows as you anticipated what he was going to say. "I love you."

You dropped your fork to the floor, creating a loud metallic sound across the entire cafe. You received glances from other people, but they quickly went back to their business. You blinked at Hyunjin in disbelief to what he had just confessed, and your mind that was overflowing with thoughts suddenly cleared up.

His confession didn't particularly make you feel overjoyed, just shocked. You'd be lying if you said you would have expected this.

"You.. love me?" you blurted out, still feeling taken aback by his sudden confession when you were expecting him to do anything else, like apologise or whatever.

"Yes. Yes I do," his voice sounded serious. You were never expecting the day that Hyunjin, your situationship, was going to be direct with his feelings and not fucking around.

"How so?" you shot out, curious as to his reasons on why he 'loves' you. A soft thunder accompanied your question, adding more suspense to the situation.

He looked slightly taken aback by your sudden question before he cleared his throat and looked around, blood rushing to the tips of his ears and a hint of pink flashing.

"I.. love the way you look so gorgeous" he hesitated, but he looked relieved after mustering up the courage to voice it out. You didn't feel satisfied one bit. You only felt annoyed at his answer, scoffing upon hearing it. "Okayyy? That's all?".

He seemed slightly puzzled as to how the first reason wasn't sufficient, but he cleared his throat and continued, "I like the way you kiss me.. hug me..". You rolled your eyes, not feeling a pinch of sincerity in his words and you sat back, folding your arms.

"Are you serious right now?" you scowled. Even a kid in elementary school could show more sincerity than Hyunjin, and this thought made you just want to slap him and leave him.

"Why wouldn't I be, Y/N?" he asked, giving you the puppy eyes before you roll your eyes once more, the annoyed feeling slowly turning into irritation. You spat out, "Let's be serious, Hyunjin. You're only with me for fun". A louder thunder was followed by your words, the sound of rain dropping commencing.

His facial expression immediately showed that he felt offended, and he defended himself, "If I was only with you for fun, I wouldn't be thinking about you every fucking second!".

'Now that's what I'm talking about.' you thought.

He continued to rambled on, "I wouldn't be imagining you while messing around with other people, or—"

"Okay, so what are we?"

He fell silent but he continued to stare at you, noticing the grimace on your face. He finally spoke up after a while, "We're friends".

'Ouch,' you thought.

"So we're friends that hug, kiss and get jealous over each other?" you contradicted his statement, your tone filled with sarcasm.

"Friends with benefits?" he stated, almost sounding confused and it made you want to scream at him.

"No.." you stood up from your chair, taking your belongings and he mirrors your actions, immediately standing up and panicking and feeling puzzled as to why you were preparing to leave. "Y/N—"

"No. I don't want to do this anymore." you stated, tears slowly forming in your eyes as you shot a glare at Hyunjin. He bit his lips and seemed unsure of what to do, and this sight of him broke your heart even more.

You picked up your bag, storming out and upon opening the front door of the cafe, you soon realised that it was pouring heavily, but it was the least of your concerns. You stepped out into the rain, feeling the cold water hit your skin and you shivered at the contrast in temperatures from inside and outside of the cafe.

You heard a voice behind you, "Wait, please!". You knew it was him, and it took every part of you to just not turn around and just continue walking, but you were forced to a stop when he gripped your wrist tightly to prevent you from walking even further. "Please.. can we just please talk?".

"I'm just.. so fucking confused! What the hell are we?!" you cried out, throwing his hand and turning your body to him, your tears continuously running down your cheeks but blending with the raindrops that fell onto your face. Your face wrinkled up, feeling so furious yet the emptiness in your heart yearning so much for Hyunjin.

Hyunjin's gaze softened at you, his eyes showing remorse as he cupped your cheeks, pecking your forehead before resting his forehead on yours. You continued, "I don't see a point in this, you already stated clearly that we're just friends with benefits, you don't want a label, but that's exactly what I want, Hyunjin".

"You love me, and I love you, so I don't see why it's so hard to—" you rambled on but your words were quickly put to a stop when he placed his lips on yours. Your hands immediately snaked up to his scalp, grabbing his hair while he cupped your cheeks, pulling your face closer to him. The kiss was slow and intimate, and it was almost like all your problems and misunderstanding vanished in one second.

The rain continued to pour, both of your bodies getting increasingly drenched but it was a problem that didn't bother you and Hyunjin. The warmth that was filling your bodies was sufficient, and the burning desire for each other only brought the two of you closer.

He tilted his neck in desperation to gain more access to you. He softly nibbled on your bottom lip, silently asking for permission for you to open your mouth, and without any reluctance, you opened your mouth.

Your tongue is immediately met with his, and they are swirling against each other. He took this chance to explore your mouth, your heart slowly melting at the passionate kiss. Blood rushed to your faces, both of your faces being a bright red as you both were desperate to sate your desires for each other.

It was obvious, you two were made for each other. Regardless if there was a label or not, you both always ran back into each other.

He softly pulled away, his eyes locked onto yours as he beamed at you. You returned an annoyed smile, and you ran your hand through his dripping hair, slicking it back.

"Please just tell me, I don't want to just be your 'maybe', Hyun," you stared into him, your gaze intense.

"For all I know, you aren't just a 'maybe', Y/N," he replied.

There were a few moments of silence before he continued, "I'm scared, Y/N, I really am," he tucked a hair that stuck to your face behind your ear, the raindrops never stopping to drench your bodies, "But I wanna figure it out with you, please".

You shook your head, not feeling completely satisfied but you were feeling happy that he was honest. He finally opened up to you, and you felt like it was a big improvement.

You two stared at each other for a moment, and you chuckled at the sight of him, warmth filling your heart as you felt like everything had changed. Realising that you were chuckling at him, he stuck his tongue out at you, and pecking your cheek afterwards, holding you oh-so-gently.

"Don't hurt me again," you said, but it came out as a raspy whisper and he slowly nodded.

"Of course," he replied. "I love you," he blurted out and it caught you off-guard, but you quickly composed yourself and chuckled at him, squeezing his cheek, "You're so adorable, you know?".

"Don't tease me, god,"

"I love you too," you replied. "I know you do"

And he pulled you into another kiss.

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Hyunjin and right here please please 🫶🏻

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☾ ━━━ PAIRING: HYUNJIN X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: FRIENDS TO LOVERS, TOXIC FRIENDS, ALCOHOL MENTIONS, LOTS OF FRIENDSHIPS, SEX IMPLIED, SUGGESTIVE, NDA MENTIONS, FOOD MENTIONS ☾ ━━━ SS: 13 ☾ ━━━ NOTE:  ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

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© 2024 MINNIESMUTT. DO NOT COPY, REPUBLISH OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE

the rescue ; skz; aotm!hyunjin x reader

original ask: requested by @tattywood: ❛ i'm simply enjoying the view. it's not every day i get to fuck someone so pretty. ❜ would 100000% fit Hyunjin 🩶 + requested by anonymous: ❛ you're mine, and i take care of what belongs to me. ❜ with hyunjin? thank you

pairing: hwang hyunjin/reader content info: artist of the month!hyunjin was inspo here. gangster stuff, reader has been kidnapped and is in a see through nightdress, most violence off page though, bad guy hyunjin who is actually a good guy, arranged marriage, multiple smut scenes, not great communication but gets better lol. smut includes fingering, blow jobs, pussy eating, piv, spanking, light choking, husband/wife kink. word count: 6300 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy! <3

-

“I’ve already explained,” you say, equal parts frustrated and exhausted.  “My husband isn’t coming for me.” 

The gangster cronies still don’t seem to understand.  You are tied to a chair in their basement (because they are preposterously corny goons, tying you up like a comically silly damsel in a ridiculous film) while they berate you for your husband’s tardiness.    

You have tried explaining, over and over, that Hyunjin is not coming, but they won’t accept that answer.  The fools try in vain to reach him again, but his line leads straight to a dial tone. 

He went radio silent after the initial video contact, when your captors demanded a price for your healthy return. 

Hyunjin was quiet on the call.  Your husband is a quiet man in general, though he knows how to use his charms and work a room, and he has certainly perfected the art of severe intimidation.  When your marriage was arranged, one mob family to the other, you mistakenly assumed you were marrying a monster. 

Hyunjin is very reserved when not conducting business.  He doesn’t engage in any of the more debauched sides of the business, unlike the men in your family.  Evenings at home are silent and still, the penthouse view of the glittering cityscape the only real bustle. 

Maybe that shouldn’t have surprised you.  When he took over his family’s business, Hyunjin altered a lot of their practices, cutting the crueler sectors, opting for illicit crimes of more practical varieties. 

The country is in a political chokehold, government affairs conducted none too differently from the criminal underworld.  The cops are all dirty, the politicians corrupt, the wealthy depraved.  Hyunjin has taken it upon himself to alleviate the pressure suffered by the regular people, the civilians who truly pay the price of a broken system.

In a world with no good guys, sometimes only villains can be heroes.    

You think of his face now, how he certainly looked the part of a villain on the video call.  Hyunjin has a very austere demeanour, exacerbated by his severe appearance: sharp marble features and dark, vicious eyes often further darkened with heavy lining, sleek black hair, scattered scars and tattoos, and the sort of regard that judges at a glance.  He is young, but he has the air of a man who has already traversed the universe and found it wanting.       

You think of his face now, the silent perusal he gave your bound body on that video call.  You are dressed in your favourite nightgown, your underthings partially visible through the light material, but it was not willingly donned.   At the time of your kidnapping, you were attired appropriately for the wealthy wife of a famous gangster.  You were returning from a family visit when your captors intercepted you in transit from the airport. 

Either to intimidate or threaten or just because they could, they made you remove all your jewelry and fine clothes.  They rifled through your luggage and demanded you change into the nightgown. 

Hyunjin recognized the nightdress, realized you must have been stripped, and likely inferred the very worst. 

“Address,” was the only word Hyunjin said.   He ended the call seconds later.    

“Oh, he’ll come,” your captor says.  He points at you with a hand that feels more threatening than a knife.  It makes your terrified heart leap into your throat.  “Or else.” 

“He won’t, though!” you exclaim.  “You’re wasting your time!”

They are not listening.  They leave the basement, slamming the door behind them.

You huff and settle back in your bonds. 

It is only a matter of time before they realize you are telling the truth.  Hyunjin will not waste the money or resources to rescue you.  He has always been respectful of the marriage arrangement, but your husband is not sentimental.  There is a professional distance between you.  His decision will be based in the logic of all his strategies: nothing personal, just a matter of business. 

You sometimes see a different side of him, something buried under that quiet intensity.  He collects fine art and spends hours poring over his favourite pieces, listening to music, losing himself to artistic fantasies.  He always comes back, but you know there are other worlds in his mind. 

Every attempt to bridge the gap has been gently rebuffed, but there have been moments when your husband seems curious about you.  You often catch him staring.  He gets a wistful look that softens his face, even with that shield of make-up.  His eyes are gentle when you talk about your passions.  You never let his quietude deter your friendly penchant for chatter.   He seems more than content to listen.  He remembers everything too. 

You know he finds you attractive, if nothing else.  He has caved on that front several times over, though not right away.  He didn’t touch you on the wedding night, nor the honeymoon.  He left your beach holiday early to return to business, leaving you in a villa with security and his credit card.  It was the first time you realized the material world was no replacement for true companionship.  You missed his dark eyes.

Your family also had expectations.  There would be consequences if the marriage fell through.  You would be blamed, not him.  Worried he would renege on the nuptials, you did everything to try and seduce him. 

He politely rejected you at every turn. 

Just when you were resigned, he arrived home after a job.  It was almost three in the morning when he entered the penthouse.  You have separate bedrooms but they share a connecting bathroom.  You could hear him cursing above the running water. 

You only meant to peek.  The sliding door on your side was partially ajar so you tip-toed over. 

Hyunjin was standing in front of the mirror, shirtless, pressing a rag to his wounded shoulder.  There was a mess of blood streaked down his back, making you gasp at the terrible mosaic of pain, his body littered with violent scars. 

That gasp contained multitudes, for the horror, for his beauty.  His dark eyes were as severely lined as ever, expression intense as he breathed hard through the pain.  Smooth black hair fell across his face when he tipped his head. 

He froze at the sound of your gasp.  His turn was very slow, eyes peeking through the curtain of his short hair.  They captured yours.   

You held your breath. 

Eventually, he straightened, flicking his hair out of his face.  He looked in the mirror and sighed.    

“You can come in,” he said.   “This is your home too.” 

You slid the door open, just enough to squeeze through.  Your attention was utterly transfixed on his bleeding shoulder.  You could see the wound was a thin stripe.  It was not deep so stitches were not necessary, but it was slightly out of his reach as it sloped towards his back.

“Oh, Hyunjin,” you said, thoughtlessly taking the rag right out of his hands.    

In spite of the violence that raised you, or maybe because of it, you can’t stand to see suffering.   You and Hyunjin have had that in common from the start.  You were quick to help him clean the wound, wordlessly wiping all the blood then applying cream across the clotted cut. 

He flinched when the stinging cream made contact.  You went to apologize but your words evaporated when your eyes met through the mirror.  You were surprised to find him already looking at you, that expressive gaze as thoughtful as ever. 

“How did this happen?” you couldn’t help but ask, eyes rivetted to his reflection.   “You – you have people to protect you.”  You managed to rip your gaze away, looking at your task, feeling hot in the face. 

“I do,” he said.  “But I’d never ask someone to do something I’m not willing to do myself.” 

This did not surprise you to hear.   It is obvious that Hyunjin cares very deeply about the wellbeing of other people.  It is a fact known to few.  It aggravates you at times, but his reputation does not seem to bother him.  He would rather people think him a monster while he secretly does good rather than be praised in public while cruel in private. 

You have never known another man like him.  Looking at that scar that night, the realization truly struck you. 

Your fingers began to tremble where they brushed his bare skin, your eyes widening as you looked at the scar and many others.  If something happened to him, what would become of you?  Certainly, as his widow, you would be financially sound, but what did that matter?  This world would lose something irreplaceable if it lost Hwang Hyunjin.  This penthouse could be brimming with silver and gold and it would be empty, worthless. 

Tears in your eyes, you succumbed to desire, kissing him very gently on his hurt shoulder. 

“Hyunjin,” you said, your eyes closed, lips grazing his skin as you spoke.  “Please make sure you always come home, okay?” 

He did not answer at first.  When you lifted your eyes and looked in the mirror, those dark eyes were so enflamed that you were surprised nothing caught fire. 

“Hyunjin?” you said softly.   

“You mean that,” he said, not quite a question, more like a realization. 

“Of course,” you replied. You looked at his scarred back again, let your fingertips brush down the length of his spine.  It made him stand a little straighter.  “Have you ever known me to lie?” you asked. 

He finally turned around, looking at you with an long-engrained wariness, but also a hunger.  He was a starving man presented with a banquet, but one who did not easily trust when sitting at someone else’s table. 

“You’re a smart woman,” he said.  “I know that.  And I know that you’re – good.” 

Good was an exhale, like the word was too heavy for his tongue.  You realized that his wariness was less suspicion for you than hesitation regarding himself.  He was only starving because he though himself undeserving of the meal he wanted. 

“You’ve seen – and done – many bad things tonight, haven’t you?” you asked. 

Having the full force of his gaze was overwhelmingly heady.  You remember how it made your heart race like you were being chased, your breath catching over and over until you were almost panting. 

Arousal struck quickly, a sensation like you never experienced before.  You thought you understood attraction, but not until that moment when he released a breath, so close to your face, and you became truly aware of his proximity.   Of him, of all that he was, all that he did.  His character, his hidden depths.

Your husband. 

It made your racing heart thunder something fierce, your blood pumping hotly, throbbing places you did not know were so sensitive. 

You desperately wondered what was on his mind.  The gears in his head were spinning and whirring, delaying his response.  Was he feeling the same tension?  Were his thoughts the same realization?

 My wife.  

“Yes,” he finally said. 

“Is there something I can do to help?” you asked.

His tattooed hand cupped your head, tilting it just so.  It made your lips part with a gasp, eyelids heavy with anticipation for a kiss. 

He took his time looking at you, like he was scrubbing all those bad memories away, replacing them with the flustered look on his aroused wife’s face. 

“Yes,” he said again, and kissed you for the first time. 

You were so glad he rebuffed your previous half-hearted advances, clumsy seductions made out of obligation rather than desire.  It was so different to that kiss.  You would not have known how to even ask for a kiss like that.  You never knew what you were missing. 

Your quiet husband and his multitudes.  All that simmering intensity, hot just below the surface of his icy demeanour, burned right through his skin.  His kiss was ravishing, entirely possessive, like he wished to take your whole essence into him and hold it forever. 

He walked you backwards.  With a snap of his wrist, he slid the door open the rest of the way, so sharp that it tried to bounce back.  He continued onward, kissing you until you were dizzy with it.   

He picked you up just to put you on the bed himself.  Your kiss separated only then as you landed with a bounce and a breath. 

He loomed over the edge of the bed, this man who was both stranger and husband, hero and villain.   He looked at you like he already loved you.  He looked at you and saw the reciprocation.  You had fallen for him without realizing you had ever even stumbled. 

He ran his hands through his hair, the sleek black locks fluttering back into place.  His eyes were still rivetted to your face, to your body.  You were wearing the nightdress you are wearing now.  It is why it became your favourite. 

He looked down at you, the material translucent enough to see the details of your body.   It broke through that last layer of ice.  He surrendered with a choked breath. 

He unclasped a holster on his thigh, dropped a knife that was hidden in a pocket.   Once unarmed, his hands went to his belt.  You watched those nimble, efficient fingers, swallowing hard.   You were aching to an embarrassing degree, undoubtedly obvious in your desires.  No one ever warned you it would feel like this, just being looked at, never mind touched.

Then his belt was on the floor and he touchedyou for real.   His calloused hands moved up your thighs, pushing the nightdress up and out of his way.  He climbed on top of you, swift as a feline, mouth descending onto yours with that same desperate hunger as before. 

Recollection makes you crave another kiss.   You think you will always be starving for more. 

“Hyunjin,” you whispered, hands on his face, his shoulders, down to his chest. 

He took your hands and laced your fingers with his, pinning those hands to the bed.   He kissed you again, long and slow.  It was all more sensual than desperate.

His voice, however, was desperate when he begged, “Let me make you feel good, please.”  He kissed down your face, your jaw, your throat.  “Please, my wife.”  He kissed further down still, through your nightdress, tracing the curve of your breast with his tongue, wetting the material and awakening every nerve beneath it.   “My wife,” he repeated. 

“My husband.”  The words left your lips in a dizzy, delirious whisper.   

It was all the confirmation he needed.  Those deft and skilled hands, so quick to assemble weapons and pull triggers, applied themselves with a startling gentleness.  He took you apart and put you together with the same efficient ease.   

He hooked his fingers in the only material between him and his desire, tugged it out of his way.  His fingers went to you, slipping through all that wetness.  Those intense eyes rolled back even though it was just his fingers inside you, then he closed his eyes like it was too much, and it seemed he had to temper himself, murmuring nonsense as he let his fingers sink into you. 

He kissed you again, drinking down every sigh and gasp and moan while he fucked you with his long fingers.  It was like he could taste your pleasure, like he was trying to get drunk on it, every noise you made filling his mouth.  He gave them back and brought you over a peak, first with his hands, then with his mouth.  He laid between your legs and put your thighs around his head, losing himself entirely in you. 

He did not remove a single article of your clothing nor his pants, not that first time.  He simply held the material to the side as he unzipped and finally got inside you.  It made your whole body keen, coming to life like it never had before.  You forgot all your sensibilities and let every wanton sound and action loose.

He responded in kind.  His kiss tasted like your pleasure, his heart pounding as fast as yours where your chests pressed together.  You were careful near his injured shoulder, fingertips dodging scars.  Your soft touch made him whimper, this powerful man entirely undone by a few caresses. 

His skin was hot and he worked up a sweat, but his stamina seemed endless.  He always wanted more. 

You fell asleep tucked in his arms, content to believe the walls had crumbled.   However, they revealed themselves in the morning light, as concrete as ever.  He slipped away and left a note to excuse his absence as he was called away to business.   You thought about phoning or messaging him, but those lines were not always secure, not for such intimate conversations. 

When he returned a few days later, he hid behind those concrete walls, but too much had changed.  There was now an awareness of your proximity and your distance.  The lack of intimacy was not called into question before, the absence of something being a nothing.  But now that nothing was something, or had been something for a moment, and it made you both very aware of how it was now missing – and anticipating always when it might again appear.

He tried very hard to keep away, to stay cordial at best, his habitual quietude even heavier than before.  But while his silence was significant, so was his glance.  Every time you turned around, he was already looking at you, a longing in his eyes and a thought on his lips that he never dared to speak aloud. 

You granted him some distance for a time.  When it became abundantly obvious he was holding himself in check, you realized that your own vulnerability was required to bridge the gap. 

One night you crossed through the bathroom, slid open the door on his side.  You found him at his desk, dressed down in a white dress shirt and pants.  His blazer was discarded on the floor, his face still made up. 

He stood quickly when you entered, though he didn’t say anything. 

It was strange to imagine this man would need any reassurance, but you felt that was the case.   His fingers fidgeted at his sides, his roving eyes studious.

You said nothing.  You approached him, laid your hands on his chest, and gently guided him back into his chair.  He sat slowly, his eyes on your face the entire time, even when he had to tip his head back to peer up at you. 

You ran your fingers through his hair.  When you entered the room, his face was tightly screwed in an expression of aggravation, but all those harsh lines softened as you traced a thumb down the sharp slope of his cheek. 

There were some wipes on his desk.  You took one and began to carefully remove that shield of dark make-up.  His hand lifted but not to stop you, simply to rest his palm on your waist.  He began to really touch you, feeling the shape of your body through your robe as you helped him come back to himself. 

“Hello,” you finally said, looking at his bare face.  Still impossibly beautiful.

“Hello,” he replied. 

His fingertips dipped towards the hem of the robe.  Before he could distract you with your own pleasure, you sunk to your knees in front of him.  This startled him, his hand frozen in the air as you fit yourself between his open knees. 

He caught your hand, his reflexes fast, before it could reach his fly.   You could see he was already affected, a heavy bulge in the black material making your mouth water and core tighten. 

He squeezed your hand and you looked up at his face.   He tipped his head, blinked rapidly, an expression of mild confusion.

You took your hand back and unknotted your robe.  The silk fell from your shoulders and down, sliding like water right off your body.  You were completedly naked underneath. 

It clarified everything, his confusion gone, replaced with surprise.

“You—” he began.  It was interrupted when you put your head in his lap, resting on his thigh.  You led his hand to the back of your neck and kissed him through his pants.  It made his fingers clasp tighter around you.  

“Please,” you said. 

He would never deny you anything.  Not the smallest gift nor grandest gesture.  When you started a new charity to further your combined philanthropic efforts, he spared no expense in aiding the endeavour.  You shared passions, and now you shared this.

He was stiff at the start, but gradually let himself go lax in his seat.  His hand kept a steady grip on the back of your neck, not guiding but holding, like he thought you might disappear otherwise.  He murmured your name, letting his head fall back as you worked him in your mouth. 

You intended to make him finish like that, seeking nothing for yourself at that precise moment.  He had other ideas, needing more of your shared pleasure to take him over that brink. 

He lifted your face, adjusted his pants, and was on his feet in a matter of seconds.  That hand on your neck dragged you up, up, up until your naked body was pressed against his clothed one.  He clung to you needily, claiming your mouth in a wanting kiss. 

His hands moved over you, every new inch of skin making him moan as he walked you towards the bed.  The kiss only broke when you both sat down, his lips against yours as he breathed, almost smiling, “My pretty wife.”

“Hyunjin,” you said, shaking your head, feeling suddenly shy just because of a simple compliment. 

He did not allow you to curl into yourself with any shame.  When you tried, he seized you, pulling you onto his lap so you straddled it.   His eyes moved up and down your body, hands following, from your thighs to hips to waist and up. 

 “What are you doing?” you said, laughing helplessly when he kissed somewhere ticklish on your throat.  The sound made him smile, even softer than before, though it turned a little wicked as his mouth went lower. 

“I’m simply enjoying the view,” he said, then wrapped his lips around the stiff peak of your breast, ran his tongue up and over.  He licked and kissed back up to your mouth.   “It’s not everyday I get to fuck someone so pretty.” 

As he said this, he opened his pants again, eyes on yours as he grabbed your thighs and moved you so he could thrust up into you.  His hips moved with a slow roll, letting you adjust to him.  It had been a little while, and this angle was different.

And Hyunjin is not small.  Your husband is built in perfect proportion, his body a long, hard, slender build – everything inside you at that moment was no exception.   This angle made you whimper, clinging to him like  he was a life preserver in a storm.  The roll of his hips kept coming like waves and you were sure you would drown otherwise. 

Your arms were around his neck, his graceful but strong hands digging into the meat of your thighs as he fucked you.  He felt impossibly deep, every upward stroke feeling like it was bursting past something, pushing everything inside your body up to your throat. 

You swallowed again and again, the taste of him still on your lips, the feel of him inside every inch of you.  You clenched and tightened involuntarily, just pure animal reaction, and it made him moan and find all those sweet spots to make it happen again.    

“Help,” was your somewhat nonsensical request, blurted in the midst of some moaning babbling.

Fortunately, he was and is a smart man.  He understood.  He clasped you tight to his body and fell back on the bed, thrusting up into you with sharper, more focussed determination, faster until you were weeping on his chest, delirious with pleasure.  His shirt was unbuttoned and you accidentally ripped a few buttons right off, trying to press your face to bare skin. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you said as you tumbled over a height you never reached before.  You never knew you could come just from that, stimulated somewhere so deep inside you, but it made you come undone in his arms. 

He watched you unravel and it made him follow, clinging to you as he just barely pulled out before coming between your dripping thighs.  It was all so messy and wet, your legs trembling, but it felt so good that it hardly mattered. 

He caught his breath, then looked at your face just lose that breath again.  He moaned and dragged you in for another kiss.

Then you were on your back, the night far from over. 

That second night is the one that truly opened the door to more.  Though your husband can be reticent in other regards, he is not quiet when he is inside you.  You have come together again and again, a conversation with your bodies as you look for pleasure in a dangerous world.   You always find it, tucked in the protective circle of his arms, wrapped around every inch of him. 

You have been out of his arms for too long.  Your visit to your family grew tedious before long.  Your home is with Hyunjin now and you were eager to return. 

Now it seems you may never see it again.  You may never see him again. 

No.

Just like the night when you took control for yourself, you must take control now.  You realize if anything is to happen, then you must take the reins of your own rescue.  You would not want Hyunjin to compromise himself or his important business.  You know if something bad happened to you, it would weigh on his conscious, even if it was the better business decision.  You must eliminate the need for choice. 

It turns out, comical rope bindings are truly best suited for silly movies.  When the men come to check on you again, you have slipped free of your bindings.  There was an array of weapons in the room, so carelessly disposed because the assailants never assumed you would get free – or, if you did get free, that you would not know how to use them. 

It is true, you do not like violence. 

That does not mean you do not understand it. 

You leave the two men unconscious in their basement.  Unfortunately, you cannot find your suitcase and you do not want to hang around, so you venture outside in your nightgown.  You are debating your next move when a car pulls into the driveway. 

You back away quickly, raising the gun you stole as more men get out of the vehicle.  You only stay your hand because you recognize one of them, though it takes a second to place him as one of Hyunjin’s lieutenants. 

Then Hyunjin emerges.   You have seen your husband before and after a confrontation, but never during it.  If you thought he was an intimidating figure in the aftermath, he is all danger and darkness as he storms up the driveway now.   There is such an energy radiating from him, it makes you stumble and forget yourself entirely. 

Then he stumbles, recognizing you.  You are both startled, staring at each other with the gun raised between you. 

He looks nowhere but your eyes. 

“Hyunjin?” you finally say. 

“I—”  He looks at you, the gun, the nightdress.  He shakes his head.  Some of that bravado returns when he says, “I’m here to save you.”

“Ah,” you say.  You slowly lower the gun, at a loss how to reply.  You were so resigned to the idea this was all still business.  The reality of your husband risking himself to rescue you from unknown hostiles is making your heart pound.  

In the end, all you can think to say is, “Sorry.  You’re late.” 

That wicked smile crosses his face, his tongue pushing at the corner of his mouth.  He is suddenly nothing but amused, looking at you, then at the house.

“I can see that,” he says. 

He whistles sharply and gestures to the house with a gloved hand.  His lieutenants run past you and charge the door, no doubt heading inside to finish the job you started.        

You turn to watch them go.  In your distraction, Hyunjin grabs your arm.  He is fast, effectively disarming you.  He catches the gun with a twirl before tossing it aside.

It is not the gun he wants; it’s you.

Still holding your wrist, he tugs you into him.  You throw your arms around him.  The hug is surprisingly chaste, his face in your neck as he squeezes you like it is the only thing keeping him alive and standing.

“Are you hurt?” he asks. 

When in his arms, it seems impossible to consider you could ever feel any pain. 

You shake your head, daring to kiss his cheek.  He turns his face to yours, your lips close enough to brush in a swipe. 

“I’m all right now,” you say.  “Sorry I beat you to the punch.  I – I wasn’t sure if—”

His brow crinkles.  That gloved hand goes from your wrist to your chin, seizing it between thumb and forefinger.  He tips your head so he can look at your face.  He always regards you like he does one of his masterpieces, like he can never get his fill, like there is always something new to find.  He is enchanted every time. 

“You’re mine,” he says.  “And I take care of what belongs to me.” 

You gasp when those fingers go from your chin to your throat, just enough to pull you in that last breath of a space.  He kisses you there in the sunlight, utterly shameless. 

“Do not ever doubt that,” he says.  His eyes are soft with his affection, but his voice is hard, skirting the edge of a threat he would issue an adversary.  It makes you tingle from head to toe.  “Do I need to remind you?” 

You never actually answer.  You are not sure if your answer would have made a difference, as Hyunjin is determined to show you the very second you are home. 

You reach the penthouse. There is no time to shower or decompress once you cross the threshhold.  He sweeps you off your feet, your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist.  You are wearing his blazer over your nightdress to preserve your modesty – not that it will last long.

He carries you to the bedroom where so many slow and subtle exchanges took place.  Now, he is not slow or subtle.  He is a force of nature.   He tells you that he held no greater fear than losing you and he tried to keep his distance, but he regretted it the moment he saw you on that video call. 

“You’re my wife,” he says, peeling his blazer off your body.  “I’m your husband.  There is nothing I should be holding back.” 

“Yes,” you say, running your fingers through that smooth black hair.  You shiver as he bunches the fabric of your nightdress, the material spilling over his fingers.   “Don’t hold back,” you say, mouth open against his, stealing his every breath.   “Do whatever you want.” 

He tells you exactly what he wants, using his words for a change, finally letting those walls come down.  He whispers every filthy thought into your ear, between kisses, between bites.   You shiver at every suggestion. 

And so, moments later, he is sitting on your bed.  He arranges you to lay across his lap, facedown in the pillows while he runs his hands down your spine and over the curve of your ass. 

“You’re my wife,” he says.  The first tap of his open palm is through the thin material of your nightdress.  It is truly just a warning tap, just enough to make you bounce.  “Don’t ever doubt me again,” he says, swinging that strong hand a little harder.  

This time a yelp escapes your lips.  You wriggle until he pins you down, a hand on the back of your neck and the other lifting your dress.   He already stripped your underthings, his open palm smoothing down all that bare skin.  

You tingle with anticipation, braced yet still unprepared for the sharp smack he next delivers.  You feel it tingle all the way up to your head, as well as the next one, and the next.   You squirm under his firm grip, groaning his name as your thighs get tense and press together. 

“Don’t say my name,” he says, and smacks you again.  “Who am I?”

“M-my husband,” you say, practically mewling like a kitten when he next brings his hand down.  “My husband,” you say again. 

“And you are—”

“Your wife,” you say, though it comes out almost like a sob, a desperate gasp as he slips his fingers between your thighs and finds a new way to torture you.   With your backside hot and stinging, the pleasure of his hand in that sensitive place feels amplified by a tenfold. 

“Husband,” you say, hips bucking.  His free hand goes from the back of your neck to your lower spine, holding you in his lap as he slowly finger-fucks you.

“Yes?” he says.

You do not even remember what you were going to say, or beg, or plead.  You are overcome with sensation, tingling all over, intensifying the press of his fingers as he curls his fingers into that soft, soft place.  Then you are really squirming, helplessly, instinctively, whining into the pillows. 

“I make you feel good,” he says.  “I take care of you.  You, who are so good, and so smart, but so—”

You cry out when he angles his hand just a little differently.  Your vision swims with stars as he speeds up. 

“So soft,” he says, his own voice going soft, just a whisper as he makes you come all over his hand in a throbbing, aching, desperate wet mess.  “Just for me,” he says in that whisper.  “Just for your husband.” 

“Mmmf,” is all the response you have left in you. 

Your thighs are trembling and your pussy throbbing with aftershocks when he picks you up.  He stands and turns, laying you on your side in the bed.  You are grateful, as your backside still stings, though you suspect he is not done yet.

He strips out of his clothes, tearing through his shirt, leaving the pants in a heap.  He forgets to remove his necklace.  All that silver is cold against your hot skin as he lays down behind you.   You do not have time to linger on it, as he gathers up the hem of your dress and adjusts himself behind you. 

He has taken you many times, in many ways, many positions.   When you are on your hands and knees, he is overtaken by a primal urge, your hips as leverage in his hands as he pounds into you like it is a chase.   When you are on your back, he sinks into you slowly and deeply, rocking his hips into yours like he intends to fuck you forever.  When you are in his lap, he rolls his hips in steady, needy waves, captivated by the sight of you in his arms. 

He lays behind you now and wraps his arms around you, coaxes your thighs apart.  Your nightdress is bunched every which way, leaving nothing to the imagination, and you feel especially exposed and vulnerable in this position somehow.  Perhaps it is the fact he is the one holding you open, keeping you in position so he can take you.

You let yourself fall into it, fall into him.  You let him tell you, with words and actions, exactly how he feels. 

Before it ends, you change position.  He lays back and you straddle his hips while stripping off your dress entirely.  He keeps rolling up into you, only stopping when you plant your hands on his chest to slow him down.  Then he practically sinks in the mattress, murmuring your name.  His make-up is smudged, his calloused hands rough on your body.  Whatever pains you experienced have been overtaken by his hands, by the smarting on your backside, still tender as you bring your body down onto his again and again.  He has completely claimed you for himself and you take the same in turn. 

“Hyunjin,” you say.  “My husband, oh—”

He kisses your hand, long and hard, like he needs his mouth on some part of you desperately.  Your fingers are curled into his pretty mouth when he comes, his hands on your hips and his cock buried inside you. 

“Oh,” is your final sound before you slump on top of him, skin to skin. 

He rolls you onto your side, though he keeps you wrapped around him, his arms around you in turn.  His hair is already a sweaty mess and you rub your thumb through some of his shadowy make-up, but those familiar dark eyes are gazing at you with so much warmth.   There is no more ice, no more cold concrete. 

“I should let you rescue me more often,” you say with a laugh. 

He doesn’t laugh back, but he does smile softly.  It should be incongruous with his severe appearance, but it somehow comes together, layers of him exposed all at once as he strokes your cheek.

He looks at you like his favourite work of art. 

“You were the one who rescued you,” he says.   “Just like you rescued me.” 

You cannot find the words to reply, so you kiss him.  It speaks volumes, and he replies, kissing back. 

You lose yourself to the sweetness, to the heat, to the passion, to all those things more, knowing there are many more to come with this man as your husband. 

↬watercolor.

you have a crush on him, he feels nothing. you’d do anything as long as you get to spend time with him, he takes it for granted. but even those who have feelings for someone can reach their limit, and hyunjin is the only one to blame.

↬pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader

↬genre: social media au, angst, fluff, pining, unrequited love, slow burn, college au, dance major hyunjin, art major reader

↬warnings: eventual written parts (w), mentions of sex, mentions of alcohol, +18 content (minors dni!!)

↬status: completed

↬playlist

↬a/n: if you’re interested in being part of the tag list, send me an ask! all i ask for if you wanna be in it is some feedback in return as the story goes on, since that is what gives me motivation to keep it going. i hope you guys enjoy!

🌼 y/n’s squad

🌼 hyunjin’s squad

🌼 part one — coffee

🌼 part two — the new jeongin

🌼 part three — tickets

🌼 part four — third wheeling

🌼 part five — definitely nothing

🌼 part six — devil on my shoulder

🌼 part seven — one time thing (w)

🌼 part eight — unbelievable

🌼 part nine — booty call

🌼 part ten — walk of shame (w)

🌼 part eleven — wingwoman

🌼 part twelve — loving love

🌼 part thirteen — spasm

🌼 part fourteen — spotlight

🌼 part fifteen — psycho (w)

🌼 part sixteen — nothing important

🌼 part seventeen — double date

🌼 part eighteen — ultimate nerd

🌼 part nineteen — dreamlike (w)

🌼 part twenty — snitch

🌼 part twenty one — kicked out

↳ bonus — lost (w)

🌼 part twenty two — faithful

🌼 part twenty three — raincheck

🌼 part twenty four — fling

🌼 part twenty five — again

🌼 part twenty six — busy

🌼 part twenty seven — closure (w)

🌼 part twenty eight — code red

🌼 part twenty nine — (not) okay

🌼 part thirty — local cliché

🌼 part thirty one — open secret

↳ bonus — art studio (w)

🌼 part thirty two — cool

🌼 part thirty three — don’t care

🌼 part thirty four — going crazy

🌼 part thirty five — slow walkers

🌼 part thirty six — hairband

🌼 part thirty seven — detour

🌼 part thirty eight — old habits

↳ bonus — q&a (w)

🌼 part thirty nine — mean it (w)

🌼 part forty — non-platonic

🌼 part forty one — badmouthing

🌼 part forty two — hating hwang hours

🌼 part forty three — wrong

↳ bonus — pfp

🌼 part forty four — cancelled

🌼 part forty five — lamb skewers

🌼 part forty six — drunk words (w)

🌼 part forty seven — unblock me

🌼 part forty eight — chickened out

🌼 part forty nine — little push

🌼 part fifty — daisies (w)

🌼 epilogue 1.0 — belated realisation

🌼 epilogue 2.0 — never looked back

Overheard

fem*Reader x Hyunjin

*WARNING*

contains: p n v, sex, unprotected sex, kissing, second hand embarrassment, "caught", not proof read, I'm sure I missed something; let me know in the comments.

WC: 2.6k

*****

“Yeah, yeah, I just got home, " you say as you close the door to your friend's apartment. You didn’t tell him you were coming over, but he wouldn’t have given you a key to his home if he didn’t want you showing up unannounced. If that's not the case, then it's really on him. 

You told your friend you were headed home, but you didn't want to go home. Home is empty and cold, but Hyunjin’s home is warm and cozy, not yours, so you decide to go to his instead. It's perfectly normal for you to sleep over at his house; you two have been friends for years, and you're both completely comfortable with each other; it's totally not related to the massive crush you secretly have on him… yeah, that has nothing to do with anything. 

“Oh. My. God. No. Way.” you dramatically roll your eyes as your friend nags you about the latest drama in your friend group. You cared about your friends, of course you did, but at the moment, you couldn’t care less about what was happening in other people's lives. All you wanted to do was to relax and watch bad TV in your best friend's arms on the couch, with a nice cup of tea and a warm blanket.

You kick your heels off by the door and drag yourself to the couch, where you lay your bag. 

Hyunjin is utterly unaware of your presence in his apartment. He gave you that key because he knows you and always wants you around, but usually, he would hear something, either the door opening and closing, announcing your arrival, or maybe a dramatic groan from you, a groan he would laugh at, a groan he secretly loved. 

But this time, he didn’t hear anything; as far as he knew, he was utterly alone in the apartment. So, he stepped out of the shower with a towel loosely wrapped around his waist and water dripping from his long hair. He went to the kitchen to grab the cup of tea he had prepared before showering.

He still didn’t notice your presence even when he entered the shared kitchen/ living room, the living room you were currently in, sitting on the couch….eyes popping out of your skull. 

You stopped talking to your friend way before Hyunjin walked into the room practically naked. Sure, you'd steal a glance every now and again when he lifted his shirt, but you’ve never seen him shirtless. You're basically foaming at the mouth, staring at his back as he stirs his little cup of tea. 

As you watch him, you swallow thickly; you can't help but notice the intricate movements of his muscles as they subtly contract and relax. The fabric around his waist drapes casually, emphasizing the contours of his body. With each strand of hair that cascades across his face, you feel an overwhelming impulse to delicately brush it away.

Suddenly, Hyunjin felt a thickness in the room and a slight shuffle. He turned around, holding the counter tightly behind him. Once your eyes connected with his, they bulged in surprise. “Y/N! What are you doing here?” His voice came out in an awkward high pitch, which would have made you laugh if it wasn’t for the towel slowly cascading down to the floor. 

Your mind becomes cloudy, and words fail to escape your tongue. Your breath turns into a suppressed gasp, refusing to break free, and your eyes remain open, unable to close even if they want to.

Hyunjin isn’t fast enough. You’ve already seen…it. And the blush has already covered his cheeks. Before a word can be uttered, Hyunjin flees from the scene and dashes into his room.

You're left alone in a heated room, cheeks flushed, mind dizzy, and your friend yelling at you on the other end. 

“Oh, sorry!”

****

The cold breeze makes your skin shiver. Shortly after Hyunjin ran, you fled the scene yourself to the balcony of the apartment, trying to focus back on your friend. But you couldn’t help it; Hyunjin clouded your mind more than before. What was once just a simple and harmless crush was now going to become much more dangerous now that you knew what he looked like. 

“You sound like you're somewhere else,” your friend gives up. 

You sigh. “I’m sorry, it's just…I had an…awkward encounter with Hyunjin a little bit ago, and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“What happened?” your friend perks interest, noticing your mood change.

A smile creeps up as you recall the memory. You probably shouldn’t tell your friend; it was embarrassing, and Hyunjin probably wouldn’t want them to know. But it's eating at you not to tell someone, especially not to tell someone what you saw. 

He knew he had to face you at some point. You were still out there, in his living room, probably standing there with shock written all over your face. He slowly made his way out of his room, now fully clothed. Once he got out into the living room, he saw you on the balcony, talking on your phone. A sigh left him, knowing the awkward moment could be spared a bit longer. 

As he turned his head, he caught a glimpse of the side of your face. A lovely pink blush adorned your cheeks—you only blush when you're talking about something exciting. And your eyes gleam with a sparkle—he desperately wants to know what you're talking about. 

Without thinking, he walks to the balcony door, your back facing him. He creaks the door open only slightly to get a hint of what you're talking about. His name falls from your lips, and he immediately smiles….until he knows why his name fell from your delicate lips. 

“And he was so….” words fail on your tongue.

“So what! Big? Small? Average??! “

“BIG,” you try to keep your voice down, not wanting Hyunjin to overhear in case he is in the next room. Little did you know he could hear everything. “F/N, he was huge, and I’m talking like Magic Mike level.” A soft laugh leaves you, and you can hear your friend getting excited - She knows you’ve had a major crush on Hyunjin for a while.

Hyunjin leaves the door as is, thinking you might just ignore the fact that it was ajar. He leaves with a proud smile, stretching his face. You thought he was big… his chest puffs out with ego written all over it. 

Hyunjin noticed you finishing your conversation on the phone and beginning to hang up. He quickly returned to the kitchen as if you didn’t make his heart spike. Fortunately, he managed to make his way back to the kitchen, casually stirring his team, giving off the impression that he was unfazed.… Yeah, everything is perfectly normal. There is definitely not any discomfort in his pants at the mention of you saying he's big. 

You walk in, trying to act casual, until you see Hyunjin leaning against the counter with a cup of tea in hand. Your heart sinks as you immediately recall the moment just a while ago, at that very spot, with much less clothing. 

“Hey,” he says in a calm, relaxed tone. 

“Hey,” you mimic. 

“So, what were you and your friend talking about?” he smirks while taking a sip of his tea. 

Your mouth works quicker than your head can muster up an excuse, “Oh uhh. Nothing, just girl talk.” You try to distract yourself by making your way into the kitchen, trying to find a cup of your own to make some tea. 

“Ah, I see.” There is a long pause before he says, "Sorry about earlier.” Your cheeks flush. 

“Earlier?” you turn back to Hyunjin, who is rubbing the back of his neck while his eyes look up at you. “OH,” you deserve some sort of acting award or something like an Oscar. “Don’t worry about it; I didn’t see anything.” 

“Really?” he rounds the corner of the counter, coming closer to you. Your grip on the white mug you grabbed earlier tightens as Hyunjin comes face-to-face with you. 

“Yeah… really?” you swallow so hard you think he can hear you. 

He nods with a sure smirk and starts leaning back on the nearby counter. You watch his frame relax into the counter, his cup of tea still in his hand. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. For a second, you thought he heard you on the balcony; that would be -

“So, you think I’m big?” 

The cup in your hand clings to the floor, along with your heart. He watches you slowly turn your head to him with a terrified expression. “I-uh-i,” you stutter, but all your met with is Hyunjin’s laughter. 

He barrels over in a fit of giggles, holding his stomach like his insides will explode out of him. “My god, you should see your face right now.”

“Ha. ha.” Your laugh is humorless as you continue to watch him. Suddenly, his back straightens, and he composes himself. Your mind races with potential situations. He could yell at you for being disgusting, or he could continue laughing at you, or he could kiss you. Wait, what?

His long sigh brings you back to reality, a reality that has Hyunjin right in front of you with a different kind of darkness in his eyes. His cup has somehow transferred to the counter, leaving his hands empty and itching for something to hold. His smirk still plays on his lips, making you shrink. 

“You're cute when you blush.” The warmth on your cheeks burns your skin, and your eyes dart anywhere but his. 

Your hand comes up to feel the heat radiating off of you, “you didn’t answer my question, pretty.” his dark change of tone makes your thighs clench and your insides melt. His silky voice is like a broken record in your mind, making your legs feel weak. 

“Y-yes,” you whisper. 

“Do you want me to show you exactly how big it is?” His face comes closer to yours. You can feel the warmth of his breath; both your lips at a whisper of a touch.

“Y-yes” 

“Yes what doll?” His hand carefully cups your jaw, forcing you to look nowhere but at him. 

“Yes, sir?” His devious smirk widens as a devilish glint sparkles in his eyes.

It was a struggle to untwine your bodies with each other, but you both eventually made it down the hall and into Hyunjin’s room without your lips disconnecting. His hands held you like a vice, grabbing every bit of your body he could. 

Your clothes are being pulled off your body, leaving you bare on Hyunjin’s bed. His tongue darts out to swipe a long stripe up your stomach to your chest. You arch your body, chasing more of him, wanting more of him. 

Your pleas and whines don’t go unnoticed, and Hyunjin is quick to pull his shirt over his head. You take a moment to admire the perfectly sculpted torso thats before you. You ogle over every ridge and define sharp lines that make up his body. 

“Like what you see, doll?” 

You swallow your words, nodding your head instead. “Awe, barely even touched you, and you're already too fucked to speak,” he giggles, leaning his body down to ghost his lips across yours. Your body begs for the satisfying feeling of his lips on yours, for his body pressing down on yours. 

You squirm underneath him, not getting the friction you so desperately need. Small moans and whimpers are music to Hyunjin’s ears. “You want me, baby?” you nod your head vigorously, the dark colour of his voice sending sparks of pleasure shooting to your heat. 

Suddenly, Hyunjin is slipping out of his sweats, scrunching them to his waist. His cock springs free, shooting against his lower abdomen. Slowly he spreads your legs apart, presenting your dripping bare cunt. He coats his throbbing tip between your dripping folds, spreading the wetness all over your inner thighs. “I’ll show you just how big I really am”. 

And with one final teasing flick against your clit, he’s pushing inch by thumping thick inch into your clenching walls. The unprepared burn freezes your entire body, making you still underneath him, but Hyunjin doesn’t let up. He keeps pushing every inch he has, pressing his pubic bone to your hips. You can feel him kiss your cervix with a gentle push of his thighs; anything that could form into words melts into moans, and your eyes cross with no thought in mind. 

His head disappears into the crook of your neck, and he smells your sweet scent like it's the only thing keeping him in control, the only thing holding him back from setting a brutal pace. 

You could feel your body relaxing into the pleasurable burn that was the stretch of Hyunjin’s cock. You could feel the juices of your own arousal dripping downwards. “Baby,” your strained whisper brought Hyunjin back from whatever euphoric spell he was under, bringing his head back up to you, “move baby, I need you to move”.

With that, his hips started to push inward, pulling his cock to a halfway point only to slowly push forward. You could feel your walls stretch and flex with every move he made. Your body practically vibrated, and your hands were clawing at Hyunjin’s back, wanting him to bully your cunt like it belonged to him, like you belonged to him. 

You swing your legs around his hip, urging him on, but it only gives him an idea. 

He could feel your walls clenching around his length like your life depended on it. He knew you wanted him deeper, faster; he knew you wanted more, but you were going to take what he gave you. Giving you a small hint of success at your little plea, he sprung his hips all the way back until his tip kissed the outskirts of your folds, only to slowly push back in, feeling your walls hug his cock perfectly. You made a pitiful moan in frustration, a sound that seemed to amuse him as he let out a dark and mocking laugh. “You’ll take what I give you,” he spat, which only made you clench around him. 

He set his pace slow and deep, forcing you to take it his way. Until he couldn’t take it anymore. You were so warm, so wet for him, so perfect to the touch, and you even smelled so sweet. His hips started to rock, forgetting his previous pace; he began to lose all control with the feeling of being inside you. 

With everything that had been happening, you could feel the heavy knot twist and turn with every deep plunge Hyunjin made. But with the added pressure of his cruel pace and the way his dick curved in just the right way to bully your g-spot, your legs began to shake, and your whole body tensed. The knot quickly snaps, sending you in a spiral of pleasure. 

Hyunjin refused to stop; with every intrusion of his thick cock battered against your over-stimulated walls, dragging shrinks of pleasure from your throat. You lost yourself in complete bliss, your body seizing and trembling out of control. 

You could feel his thrust getting sloppier up till when you felt his thick seed coat your inner walls white. You will never forget this feeling, the feeling of being completely and utterly full of Hyunjin’s cum, of it dripping out of you while him still being inside of you.

Hyunjin collapsed on top of you, propping his forearm next to you so he wasn’t completely crushing you. 

“So…was it as big as you thought?”

take it | H.H

chapter 1

ミ★pairings : bully!hyunjin x afab!reader

ミ★warnings: !MDNI! ,mean Hyunjin , creampie,cum exchanging/tasting,marking(f. Receiving),unprotected p in v(wrap before you tap!),fingering(f.receiving),semi-public sex, mentions of alcohol,choking,dacryphilia, reader is called slut&whore,manhandling, degrading kink

ミ★Wc : 3.2k

Note :first time writing smut i hate this so much I’m trying get better this was just a quick lil thing i made + not proofread. Reposting would be very helpful🥰

Every day was the same. From the moment you stepped into the school building to the second the final bell rang, Hyunjin was there. He seemed to find an endless supply of joy in making your life difficult. It started with little things—snide comments, “accidentally” knocking your books off your desk, smirking as he walked by with his friends. But over time, it escalated.

Today was no different.

You walked into class, trying to keep your head down. You’d perfected the art of becoming invisible over the past few months, hoping it would spare you from Hyunjin’s attention. But as usual, it didn’t work.

“Hey, loser,” Hyunjin’s voice was smooth, but there was a sharpness to it that sent a chill down your spine. You hadn’t even sat down yet, and already he was on you. 

You sighed inwardly, not daring to look up. Maybe if you didn’t react, he’d get bored. But of course, that wasn’t how it worked.

“What’s the matter? Can’t hear me?” Hyunjin continued, his voice dripping with mock concern. He leaned down closer to you, his breath warm against your ear. “Or are you just too dumb to understand?”

You clenched your fists under the desk, trying to focus on the blackboard in front of you. He wouldn’t get to you. Not today.

But Hyunjin wasn’t finished. “I’m talking to you,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. He flicked your ear, making you flinch involuntarily.

That tiny reaction was enough to make him grin in triumph. “There you go,” he said, straightening up. “See, wasn’t that hard, was it?” You kept your eyes down, praying for the teacher to walk in ,anything to make him stop.

Hyunjin seemed satisfied, at least for now. He backed off, wandering over to his desk with a smug expression on his face. You could hear his friends laughing in the background, obviously in on the joke. They always were.

You let out a shaky breath, hating how much he got under your skin. It wasn’t just the teasing,it was the way he made you feel so small, so stupid. And the worst part? You had no idea why he’d singled you out in the first place.

As the day dragged on, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feelings that had settled in your stomach. Hyunjin’s taunts seemed to echo in your mind, making it hard to focus on anything else. By the time the final bell rang, you were more than ready to get out of there.

You were packing up your things when a sudden tap on your shoulder made you jump. You turned around, expecting to see Hyunjin again, but instead, it was one of his friends, Minho.

“Hey,” he said, his tone surprisingly neutral. “You’re coming to the party tonight, right?”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “What party?”

“Hyunjin’s throwing a party at his place,” Minho explained, as if this were common knowledge. “Everyone’s gona be there.”

You hesitated, not sure what to make of this. Why would Minho invite you to Hyunjin’s party? It didn’t make any sense. But before you could respond, Minho gave you a grin. “It’s gonna be fun,you should come.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you standing there, completely bewildered.

You stared after him, your mind racing. The last place you wanted to be was at a party hosted by Hyunjin. at the same time, a small part of you was curious. Why had Minho invited you? was this some kind of trick? or did Hyunjin actually want you there?

The more you thought about it, the more the idea gnawed at you.

By the time you got home, you’d made up your mind. You were going to that party.

You’re wearing a sleek black pleated skirt that flares out just above your knees, paired with a fitted, cropped top in a deep burgundy that shows just a hint of skin. The outfit is completed with a pair of ankle boots and a simple choker necklace, adding a touch of edge to the look. The soft fabric of the skirt sways with every movement, drawing attention to your legs, while the deep color of the top highlights your figure perfectly.

The sound of bass-heavy music thumped through the walls of Hyunjin’s house as you approached. You could feel it in your chest, a steady, rhythmic beat that seemed to echo your own nervousness. The house was packed, lights flashing through the windows, and the faint smell of alcohol hung in the air

You hesitated at the door, rethinking your decision. What if this was a mistake? What if they were just waiting to humiliate you in front of everyone? But before you could turn back, the door swung open, and you found yourself face-to-face with Minho.

“Hey, you made it!” he said with a grin, leading you inside before you could respond. “Come on in.”

You found yourself trapped into the crowd of people. The music was louder inside, almost deafening, and you could barely hear yourself. You scanned the crowd, expecting Hyunjin to jump out at you at any moment, but there was no sign of him.

Instead, you found yourself being handed a drink by Minho. “Here,” he said, pushing the cup into your hands. “Have some fun.”

You took the cup, but didn’t drink. You weren’t sure you wanted to let your guard down just yet.

“Don’t look so nervous,” Minho said, noticing your hesitation. “It’s just a party.” you forced a smile, nodding. But as Minho wandered off, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched.

You spent the next hour trying to blend in, sticking to the edges of the party and avoiding eye contact. Every time someone bumped into you, you jumped,expecting it to be Hyunjin but there was still no sign of him.

Eventually, you found yourself in the kitchen, away from the crowd. You leaned against the counter, trying to catch your breath. Part of you wanted to leave, to just run out the door and never look back but another part of you was determined to stay, to prove that you weren’t afraid.

You were lost in thought when a voice suddenly interrupted you.

“Well, well, well. Look who decided to show up.”

You froze, recognizing the voice instantly. Hyunjin.

You turned around slowly, and there he was, leaning casually against the doorframe. His usual smirk was present, but there was something else in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite explain.

Hyunjin’s eyes linger on you the moment you turn around and he sees your outfit. The way the pleated skirt flares out just above your knees catches his attention, the subtle movement drawing his gaze. He notices how the deep burgundy top hugs your figure, showing off your curves in a way that makes his breath halt

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he thinks what it would be like to pull you closer, to feel you under of your skirt with his fingers as he holds you tight. The thought sends a thrill through him,making him even more determined to keep your attention on him tonight.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone light .

“I was invited” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “really?” Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “And here I thought you’d be too scared to show your face.”you bit back an insult, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of getting under your skin. “I’m not scared of you,” you said instead, hoping it sounded more convincing than it felt.

Hyunjin’s smirk widened. “Is that so?”

Before you could respond, a loud shout came from the living room, followed by a chorus of laughter. Hyunjin’s eyes flicked toward the noise, and he pushed off the doorframe.

“Come on,” he snapped, grabbing your wrist with a rough grip. “Don’t be a coward. They’re about to start something fun.” His tone was commanding, his eyes cold as he dragged you towards the commotion.

You had no choice but to follow as he pulled you into the living room, where a group of people had gathered in a loose circle. A girl you recognized from your biology class, Jisoo, was in the middle, holding an empty bottle.

“we’re  playing 7 minutes in heaven,” she announced with a mischievous grin.”who’s in?”

The room erupted into cheers and laughter as people started volunteering. You froze, suddenly understanding why Hyunjin had dragged you in here. This was exactly the kind of thing he would love to torment you with.

But before you could back out, Jisoo’s eyes landed on you. “Oh, look who we have here! Perfect timing.”

You felt a sinking feeling in your stomach as she waved you over. Hyunjin’s grip on your wrist tightened slightly, and you glanced at him, but his expression was unreadable.

“Come on, don’t be shy,” Jisoo said, her grin widening. “It’s all in good fun.”

You wanted to refuse, to walk away and avoid whatever humiliation they had planned for you. But something in Hyunjin’s gaze stopped you. Maybe it was the challenge in his eyes, or maybe it was the fact that you were tired of running.

“Fine,” you said, stepping forward. “I’ll play.”

The group cheered, and Jisoo handed you the bottle. “You spin first.”

Your heart was pounding as you took the bottle, your hands trembling slightly. You glanced at Hyunjin, but he was watching you with an unreadable expression.

You took a deep breath and spun the bottle.

It felt like the whole room held its breath as the bottle whirled around, you could feel your heartbeat  in your ears, and all you could think was, ‘please don’t land on Hyunjin please.’

But of course, the bottle had other plans.

The bottle slowed down, the spinning becoming more deliberate, until finally, it stopped. Pointing directly at Hyunjin.

There was a collective gasp from the crowd, followed by a burst of laughter and excited whispers.

Hyunjin pushed the closet door shut with a thud, the darkness enveloping both of you. The air was thick with tension. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “Do you think you can handle being here with me?”

You shivered at the heat in his voice, trying to steady your breathing. “Why are you doing this?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

He chuckled, the sound low and taunting. “Because you need to learn your place,” he said, his hands finding your shoulders and pushing you harshly against the wall.

He started to trace his fingers along your collarbone, his touch possessive. “You’re always so quiet, so submissive,” he said, lips brushing against your neck. “But I know you have a fire inside you. Show me.”

His hand moved slowly, almost deliberately, exploring every inch of your skin. His words were harsh, but his touch was betraying his true intent, leaving you in a confusing mix of discomfort and longing. You could feel the heat between you growing as he leaned in closer, his lips just inches from yours, teasing and demanding.

“You think you can resist me?” he asked, his voice a mix of challenge and desire. His hands were now gripping your waist, pulling you closer. “Or are you just going to give in and let me have my way with you?”

You could barely respond, the intensity of the moment consuming you.

“I fucking knew it,such a slut” he places a quick peck on your lips before snaking his large palms around your neck choking you. His other hand sliding down your body and groping your breast roughly as you let out a muffled moan. 

“What was that?,” Silence fills the room as only your quiet moans could be heard in the room and Hyunjins degrading penetrates through your eardrums “i can’t hear you , louder.” His words sliced through you, and you immediately obeyed, lowering your hand from your mouth. A moan escaped your lips, and he let out a low, satisfied giggle. “Such a good girl” he says, with his voice low and husky.

He then hikes up your skirt that just barely covered your ass and yanks your pretty pink underwear down to you knees before landing a harsh slap to your ass cheek causing you to wince and whimper in pain. “such a pretty pussy,” he uttered as he inserts a finger into your dripping cunt “all this f’me?” He taunts as he continues to finger you before slowly slipping another one of his slender, skillful fingers inside you, the sensation intensifying as he stretches you further. “Yes... fuck …all for you, Jinnie. Just for you.” You moan out breathlessly from the intense sensation as Hyunjin just savours every moment of your response.

he then kicks your legs apart , flipping you onto your stomach with a vicious snarl and begins to unbuckle his pants. “gonna be good f’me yeah? Gonna be a good little slut? Say it.” he said before taunting your hole by just circling his long girthy cock around it and pushed away every time you tried to sink down onto him “y-yes Hyunjin I’m gonna be good for you.. put it in please” you breathlessly responded “aww you’re gonna have to beg a lot harder than that if you want everyone to know who you belong to..” he chuckles looking at your face , so desperate for him “ please jinnie … let everyone know I belong to you, I’m your little slut” you plead

He emits a low, satisfied giggle before finally pushing into you, both of you moan, the feeling causing a mixture of pleasure and strain.he pushed ball deep into you, stretching you out in way you never knew you could be stretched in “ngh.. so. Fucking. Tight.” He punctuated every word with a thrust , his hips bucking into you . Your wetness and the aggressiveness led to his cock slipping out letting a cute little whine to leave your lips before grabbing his shaft and lining his angry red tip at your entrance , you’re taking control this time .

You sink down onto him, still trying to adjust to the stretch before finally moving and bouncing up and down. All that could be heard was hyunjins grunts as you plopped down onto him and the sound of flesh slapping flesh. “Fuuuuuuuck” hyunjin prolonged his words drunken in the pleasure as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He comes back to his senses and latches onto your neck like a parasite sucking,licking and biting hard, his lips tracing down your neck and his breath as hot as his touch. Your fingers were tangled in his hair as you bit your lip and tears start running down your face at the overstimulating sensation

He then moves down to your boob latching onto it before biting the sensitive nub and moaning into it “such a slut for me hm?” He whispered as he continued licking and biting purple marks all over your skin. Meanwhile, you are a moaning, wet mess on top of him, your sticky arousal getting everywhere as you feel your orgasm about to wash over “jinnie .. im gonna fuck I’m gonna cum” you cry out “not yet princess” you whine on top of Hyunjin ,your cries like music to his ears ”please jinnie” he responds with a harsh slap to your ass “I said not yet” he whispers in your ear almost growling .

His moans and grunts become louder “hah uh ha ha”

your moans were now also growing louder not caring who heard you anymore “so fucking tight, ngh is this what you’re into?”he breathlessly moans out and you just nod in response as he smirks at you realising the effect he has on you, “ me being mean to you? Such a dirty whore “he then rips out a high pitched moan as he quickens the pace.“ngh- uh ha hah ha,” you moaned as tears started flowing down your cheeks “jinnie … I -I can’t take it anymore so big-“ he cuts your moaning of with a passionate sloppy kiss while his cock was pumping with desire inside of you. you become a moaning mess screaming and crying over his cock ”awe my poor baby is crying , how cute ,take it.” he mocks you, him degrading you just turned you on even more ,made you’re delayed orgasm closer.

He lost himself in a sense of domination and power over you, your whimpers and the slapping of flesh against flesh almost made him cum right then and there. “fuck.. so full,” you cried out “jinnie i can’t take it anymore im gonna-“ “cum for me baby, show me how good you are for me”with that you yelp out in pleasure cumming hopelessly on Hyunjin “that’s it baby cum all over my cock” his breathing laboured and harsh and he continues pounding into you even after your orgasm fucking your cum back into your tight little hole , his breathing soon changes to grunts as he slams into you 3 times before a pretty strained moan leaves his lips “ ah- ngh..fuck” his hot seed splurted into you and he let out a roar of his release. 

Satisfied, he pulls out with his softening member glistening with your fluids and his own as if you were a trophy. You were lying there , a whimpering mess and shaking after Hyunjin had just violently rammed himself into your hole nonstop. He gathers the blend of your arousal and his, savoring it with a deliberate, lingering taste. As he pulls away, his eyes lock onto yours with an intense, hungry gaze. He leans in slowly, his lips brushing against yours with softness. The kiss deepens, becoming an exchange where he melds the intimate flavors,the two of you savour the kiss, ”so sweet,”he moaned into your mouth before pulling away a smiling “Told you, you wouldn’t be able to resist me,” Hyunjin teased, a smug grin on his face.

“Whatever, Hwang,” you shot back, trying to sound annoyed.

“Aww, but you were just moaning ‘Jinnie’ a moment ago,” he chuckled before imitating your moans, the teasing tone in his voice making you glare at him. Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but crack a small smile.He smirked and helped you wear your clothes, his touch lingering just a bit too long as he’s about to place one single final mark on you before jisoo’s voice erupted from the other side of the door

“Hey guys, the 7 minutes are up! You can come out now!” Jisoo shouted.

Hyunjin smirked, his expression softening partially. “Sorry, baby,” he said, his voice low and almost tender as he wiped away your tears. He pressed quick, gentle kisses all over your face, each touch a contrast to his earlier harshness. “We’ll have to continue this another time, okay?”

You whimpered softly as he led you out of the closet, your hands entwined. The crowd’s murmurs grew louder, their eyes following you with a mix of curiosity and surprise. As you walked, you weren’t aware the evidence of your shared moment was clear, with a trail of wetness trailing down your thigh.

Shit.

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