Skz Fics - Tumblr Posts

galaxy - lee felix

pairing: lee felix x reader

summary: your boyfriend comes home to your cooking.

genre: fluff, idol! au, just sweet lixie

a/n: first fic! everyone cheer! *awkward silence*

You curse as you clumsily scatter sprinkles of cheese on the floor for the fifth time. It's taken half an hour just to prepare all the ingredients, and Felix is going to be back from the company any minute. A cheesy, almost spicy aroma floats around your apartment kitchen, mixing with the cold, crisp night air from the half-open window.

It rained earlier this evening. You think about how Felix must have sat at his desk, working away at lyrics and music with the other members. How he must have heard the rain and moved to the window, mouth tilting upwards as he watched the scattered, crystal raindrops thud heavily against the glass pane. You do the same thing now, wistfully staring out into the night, hair ruffling with the slight breeze.

You don't even realise you're smiling at the thought of it.

The earthy smell of petrichor floats into the kitchen as you move back to the stove, gently stirring the pot. It bubbles and sizzles, a fresh wave of the mouthwatering smell hitting you full in the face. Sure, it might look a little strange (maybe it's burnt...) but you know Felix will love it anyway. He always does.

He usually does the cooking most of the time, knowing your haphazard tendencies to drop things and clumsily hurt yourself. He would much rather cook than risk you getting hurt any day. The thought of his tenderness makes you smile again, and you're so lost in thought that you don't hear the faint sound of the door opening with a click. It's accompanied by the sound of Felix's usual sneakers, his favourite pair. He steps in quietly, careful not to trail water inside.

He peeks around the kitchen wall, watching you with a cheeky, loving smile on his face. You're bathed in golden light from the overhead lighting, casting an amber glow over your body and the various pots and pans scattering the stove. To anyone else, it might look like a mess, but to Felix, it's the equivalent of an angel standing in his kitchen, haloed by a wash of honey light.

He clumsily toes off his sneakers and socks, eyes fixed on your frame. You're still lost in thought, the bubbling of the pot causing enough of a distraction that you don't realise Felix creeping up behind you. He wraps his arms around your waist, making you drop the spoon. You twist in his grip, surprised and more than delighted to see him.

"Lixie! You're back!" You beam, and Felix's heart melts. His arms subconsciously tighten around your waist. When he speaks, his voice is deep and molten, flowing like water.

"Hey, sunshine. I missed you," he peeks at the pot over your shoulder, crinkling his nose as he smiles. "Whatcha cooking?"

A half-hearted, slightly awkward laugh leaves your lips. You look back at the pot, hand coming up to absentmindedly scratch at his blonde, pinfeather-like hair as you think. Your earlier haze of determination to cook something for your boyfriend had faded about half and hour ago, your rationality returning from its brief holiday.

"I'm not actually sure... um-"

He laughs, the sound swelling and filling the kitchen. It floats out into the night, rich and lilting. You think for a second that his laugh might mingle with the stars, creating unique galaxies and constellations that match the ones in his eyes perfectly. Twisting your head back, you give him a sheepish grin, fingertips lightly touching his freckles, dotted across his cheeks and nose like his very own galaxy. Your galaxy.

Felix kisses your nose. "I appreciate the effort, sunflower. I love you so much, you know that?"

You smile softly. "I love you too, but uh-" You turn back to the pot, which now smells unpleasantly burnt. "Maybe we should just order food instead."

Felix chuckles.

"Definitely."

a/n: how do we feel about this? do you guys want more? if so, go request! it would make my day <3

movie nights - leeknow

pairing: lee know x reader

summary: you and your boyfriend have a friday night tradition

genre: fluff, non-idol! au, little bit of crack, mild suggestiveness

a/n: hopefully this gains me some momentum... also do i call him leeknow or minho? who knows. (ha get it?) divider by @chilumitos

"Minho!" you shriek. "Give it back!"

Said man does not give it back, instead standing even higher on his tippy toes and holding your favourite plushie out of reach. A cheeky grin is stretched across his face. He holds the calico cat plushie just out of your grasp, swaying it back and forth.

You leap up onto the couch, almost slipping on the throw blanket draped haphazardly over its back, and stretch out towards minho. He steps back just as your fingertips brush the soft material and does a little dance, laughing at your reaction. The movie that was playing in the background has been long forgotten.

"Min," you whine. "Just give it back..."

Friday night movies had always been a tradition between you two. You both came up with the idea when you moved into your first place, celebrating the move-in with a movie and your favourite snacks. Every Friday after that, Minho would knock on your door, and you'd answer to a grinning cat, his arms laden with snacks and drinks. Then you two would pick a movie and cuddle as you watched it.

Sometimes you would poke fun at the characters and their actions, other times the atmosphere would be amiable and quiet. Not tonight.

You yelp as you slip off the couch, groaning when you hit the floor on your knees. Collapsing forward into the mountain of cushions, you glare up at Minho, huffing in defeat. He stands above you, still holding the plushie in the air, like he's not sure whether to drop it and ask if you're okay or continue dancing like the absolute madman he is.

You hope he does the first.

Safe to say, he does not.

Minho throws his head back and laughs so loudly it reverberates through the rooms. Then, as if it's an afterthought, he drops to his knees and tosses the plushie aside, scattering snacks and packets and drinks as he sits next to you. He clumsily knocks a few other things off the coffee table, rendered utterly unstable by his mirth.

You groan. "It's not funny."

He snickers, touching your arm gently. "It is a little."

You huff and roll over, facing away from him as you sulk. A haughty smile tugs at your lips as he prods your side, whining. Suddenly collapsing on top of you, he pokes your nose.

"Yeobo, stop ignoring mee...."

You groan and let out an oof as he shifts. He's gotten stronger and more muscly, which also means he's heavier (in the best possible way, of course). You can hardly breathe and a wheeze escapes you at the sudden realisation. Squirming away, you dislodge your legs and make a run for the plushie, scrambling across the floor. Minho yelps, grabbing your ankle. You squeal as he pulls you back, climbing up so you're both face to face. He smirks and grabs the plush with his long, slender arms.

"Minho, just-"

"Ah ah ah," he taps his lips, grinning. "Kiss. Then i'll give it back."

You sigh, and relent. He tastes like strawberry soda and fried chicken. His hand creeps to the back of your neck, stroking the shorter hairs there. You turn your head, breaking the kiss. Glaring at him, you sit up and smack him lightly on the arm.

"Now give it back."

Minho grins mischievously, and throws the plushie across the room. It lands somewhere down the hallway, and you crane your neck to see where it's gone. Your vision spins suddenly as Minho grabs your shoulders, pulling you back down onto the comfy pile of pillows and blankets. He smirks.

"Just one more kiss-"

"Minho!"

a/n: requests are open <3

the fast lane : part 2 (bangchan x reader x felix)

Summary: Welcome to the world of underground street racing. Chan is known for his flashy cars and confident attitude. You're new to the racing scene, eager but inexperienced. Felix is known for his sneaky tactics and charming demeanour. What happens when all three of your worlds collide?

Warnings: skz racer!au, fluff, mentions of blood, injuries, passing out (very light stuff tho, nothing detailed), angsty reader hours, wc 3.3k

series masterlist

part 2 : the lollipop

Y/n stormed into the backstage area, whipping around on her heel and slamming the two-way door shut behind her. The doorframe creaked as she slid down against it. Frustrated, angry tears burned in her eyes.

Retrieving the second-hand helmet tucked under her arm, she tossed it across the dimly lit room. It landed with a quiet clunk onto the floor, rolling a few metres away before coming to rest against the leg of an old, worn-out, leather sofa.

Y/n groaned and slid further down the doorframe, limp hair mussing in tangles against the wood of the door. Her back hurt from the awkward position and her leather suit chafed uncomfortably against her sweat-slicked skin, but she couldn't have cared less.

A few hot tears spilled down her cheeks, adding to the wet saltiness of her face and jawline. Squeezing her eyes shut as tightly as she possibly could, Y/n attempted to forget the memory. Making the deal with Chan, the best street racer in the city. Being so overconfident and sassy to him, positive she'd place a win, only to have spun out in the last few seconds of the race. She kicked herself mentally. How she have gotten so confident? She was a mere rookie, a beginner in the racing scene. And yet she had had the guts to pretend like she was one of THEM, dressed in an expensive, tailored racing suit, with a flashy, colorful car and a personal pit crew at the ready to respond to every whim and command.

On top of all of that, she couldn't believe she had accepted the deal wit Chan. She should have turned it down and made a name for herself. She should have let him know that she could stand on her own two feet, and that she could become one of them. It was likely, she realised, that if she had won and accepted a choice of racecar from Chan, he would have used it against her as leverage in every possible scenario. Y/n was disgusted at her gullibility and eagerness. She'd gotten so hasty that she'd forgotten all the implications and consequences that came with attempting to become a street racer.

As soon as her car had pulled to the side, Y/n had thrown open the rusty car door and fled to the backstage room, shoving through the crowd in her haste. The jeers and whooping from the other racers, coupled with the burning embarrassment and the cheers for the racer who'd actually won accumulated and swirled around her in a thick fog of shame, pathetic self-pity, and hopelessness, seeping into her bones and taking hold of her senses till it seemed that failure was woven into every single fibre of her being.

She couldn't shake the images from her mind. Chan, standing at the winner's podium, surrounded by adoring fans, raising a fist in blazing triumph. The almost sympathetic look he'd given her as she'd fled the arena. The steely glare and the tuts from the maintenance crew she'd paid for the night. The consistent, nagging feeling that she shouldn't have tried, shouldn't have gone further than simply entertaining the thought of being a street racer.

More than that, she felt humiliated.

Curling her knees to her chest, Y/n buried her face between them, inhaling the stale scent of leather and sweat. Everything was a colossal mess. If she was lucky, then maybe the universe would crack open beneath her feet and swallow her up in thick, molten rivers of lava and fiery tongues of flame. It would be better than having to face the entire arena of racers who had watched her lose her first race. Better than having to walk out, head hung in shame. She could already hear the taunts and jeers, though if they were from the racers milling around outside the backstage area or her own brain, she wasn't sure.

Look, it's that overconfident rookie!

She really thought she could win against Chan... what a joke...

If she's smart, she won't come back here.

The two-way door against Y/n's back suddenly swung open, sending her tumbling to the floor. Her head hit the dirty linoleum with an unpleasant thud. The world spun and she groaned, eyes shut. Hands flying to the sides of her head, she slowly opened her eyes, wincing. She could see two legs and the top of a pair of combat boots, all sheathed in dark, shiny leather, and further up-

Oh shit!

Flying bolt upright, Y/n turned and profusely apologized to the man standing in the doorway. Her knees hurt from the speed at which she'd whipped around on them but she ignored it, still blinded by the dazing pain in her head. Her cheeks flushed bright scarlet.

The man raised an eyebrow, pulling out something thin and white from between his lips. Y/n blinked, thinking it was a cigarette, but upon closer inspection, she could see the thin, white stick of a lollipop. He poked it back into his mouth, sucking on it thoughtfully. He didn't seem even mildly put out by the fact that Y/n had been staring up his crotch just a few moments earlier.

He was quite handsome, too. Maybe even a bit more than Chan. Somewhere in the subconscious realm of her thoughts, Y/n realised that the pretty yet staunch man in the doorway must have gotten used to being stared at. Whether it was by Y/n lying between his legs from where she'd fallen or by the other attractive girls out in the arena, he had the air of someone who had such beauty that there was no need to flaunt it.

Damn it, are all the male racers here attractive or what?

Y/n's frantic apologies faded off unsurely into the air as she stared back up at the man. She was on her knees, half-crouched, hands in front of her. She must have been frantically explaining and apologising for at least a minute now, but he hadn't said a word.

If anything, he looked intrigued.

They stared at each other a few minutes; Y/n's miserable, frantic, pleading expression contradicting his steady, sure gaze. Y/n finally collected her thoughts enough to actually look at him. He was very pretty at first sight, but up close Y/n could see faint white scars flecking his forearms, hands, and neck, as if something, or someone had scratched him. His eyes were dark and chocolatey, complementing the silky waves of purplish mahogany falling freely over his forehead, swept into a neat part in the middle. His mouth was a perfect, pink pout, glossy and rosy in the middle where he'd shifted the lollipop between them.

His outfit was a bit like Chan's but more casual, stylish shirtsleeves rolled to his arms and leather pants and boots, all in the same, intimidating shade of black. There was a large, abstract cutout in the shirt to the right side of his chest. A heavy silver chain and a wide- leather belt studded with tiny diamonds looped around his waist elegantly, framing his form.

Crouching before this absolute model of a man, Y/n felt like a common street urchin. Her mind wandered a little, and so did her eyes. But he still hadn't said anything. Y/n was beginning to wonder why he'd come into the room in the first place. Maybe to put her out of her misery. Attempting to speak, she cleared her throat.

"U-uhm..." Her voice came out thick, raw and croaky from crying. She clenched her fists and looked down suddenly, feeling a fresh wave of humiliated tears fill her eyes. He would mock her for sure.

"Hey, kid."

Y/n's head snapped up. His voice was soft and clear. Precise and measured. It wasn't like Chan's voice. Not at all. It was a little accented, but it was lovely. Pretty, almost.

Y/n tried to speak, willing her voice not to wobble. It came out quieter than she'd expected, a barely audible whisper. "Yes?"

"You're absolutely shit at racing, you know that?"

Y/n blinked, her misery temporary halted by the unexpectedly blunt statement. The man continued.

"That last turn was ass. Surely you can do better. You've got the skills, I can tell, but your reflexes need work."

Y/n gaped, dumbfounded. Who was this guy, waltzing into the room and critiquing her so bluntly? He looked like a proper racer, but still, there was no need to be so harsh about it. Y/n sighed and looked down, having come up with no retort to throw back in the man's face. She remained crouching, resigned to her fate.

She heard a small sigh from above here before a hand reached down, wrapping around her right bicep. It was gentle, but enough to lift Y/n to her feet. Firm, but not enough to hurt. His hand was quite large, rippled with veins, the knuckles a bit too big for the fingers. It was a pretty hand nonetheless, the skin smooth and tanned, and Y/n felt a small surge of thankful heat pool in her stomach at the unexpected, almost caring gesture.

Her knees throbbed faintly as she straightened herself. The man's grip on her arm loosened, but remained hovering uncertainly near, as if he was afraid she was going to fall. And in all honesty, Y/n did feel as if her legs were about to give out.

She stuttered a little as she spoke, her consciousness floating about her like a foggy daze. "T-thanks."

He tilted his head at her curiously. "Have you ever raced before? In a proper circuit?"

Unprepared for the direct question, Y/n averted his gaze, cheeks flushing. "No, I- tonight was my first time."

It must have been the adrenaline and the exhaustion surging through her body, but Y/n flushed even darker as she spoke, although her response carried no connotation whatsoever.

If he noticed, he didn't call her out on it, simply settling to fiddle with the lollipop stick still in his mouth. He let his hand fall from her arm back to his side, but it soon came back up to unexpectedly cradle the side of Y/n's head. She flinched at the surprising gesture, anticipating a hit from the racer, but he simply let his hand curve gently around the nape of her neck. He looked suddenly concerned and mildly put out.

"Did you know you've hurt yourself, by the way?"

Y/n blinked. She hadn't been previously aware of any injury on her body, but now that he had mentioned it, the back of her head stung a little, where her hairline met the soft skin of her neck. And she felt dazed, like she was floating...

Her hand came up to shakily press the back of her head, feeling for any sort of injury. When her fingertips met her nape, she felt a searing, white-hot shock of pain.

Her knees gave out and the racer was quick enough to dart forward, taking the brunt of the fall. He awkwardly looped his arm around Y/n's waist, holding her upright, and moved to sit her down on the flaking faux leather of the worn-out couch.

The world spun dizzyingly around her before going black.

~

Y/n woke to something cool and wet being pressed onto her forehead. Groaning weakly, she tensed her shoulders, testing her range of movement. She recognized the ceiling as being the backstage area; she must have remained in the same position on the couch after passing out.

A gentle, lulling hum came from her side. She turned her head to the right and saw the purplish-haired man from earlier, pressing a cool compress to her forehead. She exhaled heavily, eyes feeling baggy and tired. Closing her eyes, Y/n listened to the soft melody of the man's voice floating throughout the room. Her neck still hurt, but felt as if something had been wrapped around it; she figured a bandage of some sort. Weakly lifting her hand, she could faintly see specks of dried blood from where she'd previously touched her neck.

That confirmed her suspicions. She'd passed out because of the injury. Either that, or the exhaustion.

The man beside her poked her cheek, gently and not unkindly. A low chuckle came above her.

"Took you long enough,"

Y/m smiled, a watery, poor affair. Turning her head a little more, and wincing at the pain in her nape, she locked eyes with him.

"What time is it?"

He hummed. "Around two am. You passed out for a couple hours. Looked like your body could do with the rest, so I didn't wake you up," he paused his ministrations, gazing at her again with that deep, intense, yet gentle stare. "Did you have somewhere to be?"

Y/n shook her head minutely, pushing herself upright into a sitting position. She felt weak and boneless.

"I should go home," her voice trailed off, exhausted.

He looked up, mildly confused. "Home? I don't think you'd even make it out the door."

Y/n groaned. "Enough with the sassy comments. I'm going. Thank you for taking care of me-"

He stood suddenly, putting a hand on her shoulder. His gaze was almost fierce, stubborn, protective. Like an older brother.

"You're not going home like this. Let me drive you."

Y/n shook her head wildly, immediately regretting it. The throbbing in her head subsided as she pressed her palms to her temples.

"It's fine," attempting to stand, Y/n moved towards the door, shakily and slowly. Her legs felt like they were made of rubber bands.

The man watched her, unimpressed. Moving towards her, he offered his arm with a sigh.

"Just take it. I'll drive you home."

Exasperated, Y/n glared up at him. "I don't even know you. You could be a murderer."

He scoffed in return, rolling his eyes. "No murderer is this attractive. Look, just take my arm. You walked here, right? So that means you don't live far away-"

Y/n interrupted him, a little panicked at his observational skills. "How did you know I walked here?"

"I saw you earlier, before the race. No motorbike, or skateboard, or car. Looking around the arena like a little kid seeing a plane in the sky. Mouth open and everything."

At this, Y/n smacked him on the shoulder, scoffing at his comparison. He didn't even budge, Y/n's hit doing nothing to move him. He simply took her arm, a little more insistently, and steered her towards the door.

It took about five minutes of back and forth arguing and half-hearted bickering before Y/n finally allowed the racer to drive her home.

I haven't got much left to lose anyway, she thought glumly.

She was led to the back end of the arena, where a little dark hallway opened into the street by a creaky door. A narrow, dark, alleyway gaped at the left side of the street, and the man walked her towards it, making sure not to jostle her.

The night was dark and quiet, everything still and silent. The yellow glow of the streetlights cast abstract patterns of light onto the glistening road, soaked with rain. It must have poured down while she was blacked out. She could still hear the faint pumping of hip-hop music and the occasional rev of a car in the arena behind her.

The man led her into the alleyway, softly pointing out objects for her to move around, and kicking stray cans and rocks out of the way, lest she trip. He was surprisingly nice, considering the blunt comment he'd made about her racing earlier.

He led her to a Kawasaki motorbike, hidden behind a dumpster. It was beautiful, a sleek, dark vehicle with streaks of neon green highlighting the wheels and seat. He offered her a hand onto it and saddled himself onto the bike, revving the engine once. Y/n clung to the sides of the backseat, awkwardly hanging on. The racer took a helmet that had been concealed on top of an old AC unit and slipped it on, the big, dark shield masking his face. He flipped it up and turned to look at her questioningly.

"Well?" he said expectantly.

Y/n blinked.

He sighed. "Hold onto me. Otherwise you'll fall off and die."

Y/n rolled her eyes at his sarcastic comment. "It's fine, just drive."

She was met with a groan and another rev of the engine. He suddenly sped forward half a metre or so, then stopped suddenly. Y/n was thrown forward, crashing into his back. She gasped, arms flying to lock around his waist. She heard an amused chuckle and a click as the man flipped his face shield back down. Cheeks flushing rosy in her embarrassment, Y/n buried her face into his back, fisting the material of his dark shirtsleeves. She could feel the rush of seeping, intoxicating heat radiating into her from his back. Her arms instinctively tightened around him as he sped off.

The wind whooshed in her ears, whipping up her hair and causing a deafening rush of noise to settle around her as the motorbike sped into the night. Y/n tugged on the left side of his shirt, signalling him to go left. He picked up on it without a single hint of doubt or hesitation and Y/n fought a smile, eyes closed as she pressed her cheek into his back, and continued to tug on either the left or right side in order to direct him.

After about ten minutes of gentle tugging, the man pulled up in front of Y/n's apartment complex. The sky was beginning to lighten a little, though the deep glow of twilight still hung over the sky like a blanket.

Y/n awkwardly slipped off the motorbike, stumbling as she dismounted. The racer offered her his hand, but she'd already gotten off the bike. It hovered in the air, unsure, before dropping back to his side, pulling at the fabric of his leather pants, and then travelled back to the handlebars, gripping them tightly. He then turned to her, flipping his shield up, then pausing before taking it off entirely. His hair fell in a mussed mess around his forehead, slightly fluffy. Somehow, Y/n liked it better that way. It looked more raw, more real.

More perfect.

When he spoke, it was quiet. Quiet but gentle, but loud enough to float around the both of them, ringing in the early morning. He cleared his throat hesitantly, as if Y/n was an animal he was trying not to spook.

"I- uh, I wasn't planning to murder you, if that's what you're worried about..."

Y/n laughed unexpectedly at the statement; the sound rung out loud and clear, lighting up the sky. It felt glorious to be defying the silence that hung in the atmosphere, thick as fog on a stormy day. Like sunshine breaking through the clouds.

"Good to know," she giggled. "Um, thanks for the ride."

He simply nodded in acknowledgement, hand fiddling with the edge of the Kawasaki's windshield. The sleek, black helmet was tucked awkwardly under his arm.

Y/n turned to go, before pausing suddenly. Spinning on her heel, she thoughtfully looked at the man. He hadn't moved, simply watching her. Waiting. But it wasn't threatening or ominous in the least. It was protective, reliable. Like he was frozen, his dark, pretty eyes fixed on her own.

Y/n's voice was soft, almost hesitant. "I never got your name..."

The man smiled. Pushed his fringe out of his eyes, readjusted the helmet under his arm. The dawning light behind him illuminated his outline, all sharp, sleek angles and edges. He chuckled lightly, more airy, light exhale than sound.

"Minho."

a/n: likes, comments, reblogs appreciated !

day6 got a comeback~ what about reader and seungmin fangirling about it and listening to the album togheter?

...so the only reason i know day6 is because of lee know's 'love me or leave me' cover lol. also i know nothing about albums (can you tell) anyway here you go, anon <3

band aid - kim seungmin

pairing: kim seungmin x reader

summary: you and seungmin listen to the new day6 album together

genre: fluff, idol! au, seungmin and reader both love day6, not proofread i couldn't be bothered, sue me

a/n: comments, likes, reblogs appreciated <3 divider from @wonjuii

"Seung, the album arrived!"

There's a bang from down the hallway, the sound of what is most likely your boyfriend tripping, a muttered curse word, and then the padding of hurried footsteps as Seungmin makes his way down the corridor. He appears in the living room, dressed in a tee and shorts. His toothbrush is hanging out of his mouth as he hastily runs his hands through his hair, trying to make himself look presentable.

You laugh. "You didn't have to run. I would have waited."

He opens his mouth to speak, the toothbrush slipping out. It clinks against the floor and Seungmin groans, making his way to the kitchen for paper towels. Returning, he wipes away the toothpaste foam from the floorboards and glances at the DAY6 album in your hands. You sit down and gesture to him, grinning at his cutely disheveled morning state.

"Go and wash up first. I'll wait."

-

Ten minutes and two cups of coffee later, you and Seungmin are sitting in the bedroom cross-legged, the album between you. You glance at each other before Seungmin reaches to tear off the thin, shiny, protective plastic. He picks up the photobook and begins flipping through it while you reach for the CD. The words 'BAND AID' stand out in bold black lettering and you tilt the CD from side to side, admiring it, just as Seungmin whistles, showing you a photo from the photobook. The smell of glossy magazine-type paper fills the room and you grin just as Seungmin reaches for the lyric sheets.

The lyric sheets are always his favourite part. Once, you bought a Stray Kids album, and Seungmin had sat with you, even if he already knew what was inside. He'd immediately reached for the lyric sheets, reading over them with wide, fascinated eyes. You'd simply laughed and left him to his devices, deducing that he was simply fond of the poetic lyricism skills involved, being a talented singer himself. Every album since then, Seungmin had always claimed the lyrics. But you never minded, having shown more interest in the photocards and stickers anyway.

It was a win-win situation.

You grin and peel off a holographic sticker, picking up your phone and sticking it to the case. Handing the sheet to Seungmin, you laugh as he does the exact same, selecting one carefully, even going so far to put a similar sticker in the exact same position as yours on his own phone case.

Sifting through the various album paraphernalia, you and Seungmin lock eyes just as the two photocards appear from the pile. Taking one, you hand the other to your boyfriend face down. Locking eyes, you grin, a little apprehensively. Your bias is Sungjin. His bias is Dowoon. There's a good chance either you or him will pull your bias. Either that, or you'll fight over the photocards (Seungmin always lets you have the photocards anyway, so you're not too bothered). The tradition is to hold the photocards face down, and then count down from three before flipping them. Readjusting yourself in your cross-legged position, you grin.

"Three," you say. "Two. One."

You flip the photocards. Seungmin pulled Sungjin. You pulled Dowoon. There's a moment of stunned silence between the both of you before Seungmin screeches, lunging for the photocard of his bias, still in your grip. There's a brief kerfuffle of shrieking and flapping before Seungmin settles back into his spot, an iron grip on the little card of Dowoon. You grin, cheeks flushed from the sudden exertion, and look down at the card of Sungjin. You thump Seungmin on the shoulder.

"You could literally go and ask DAY6 themselves for a free album," you whine, reminding him. "No need to get so frantic about it."

"No."

You flop onto your back, gazing up at Seungmin as you lay your legs across his lap. "You're literally friends with your bias."

Seungmin sighs and slips the photocard into his phone case, glaring at you as you eye the card of Dowoon. He reaches across and puts his phone on the bed, out of your grasp. Just in case.

"Don't even think about it," he huffs.

You roll your eyes at his overdramatic behaviour. "You might as well join DAY6 at this rate. You own more of their albums than you do of your own group," you gesture to the bookshelf in the corner of the bedroom. True to your word, at least two of the shelves are filled with DAY6 merchandise and albums. Stray Kids' albums make up about half a shelf below them, and PuppyM is beginning to collect dust on the shelf.

Seungmin whines. "But I'm in Stray Kids."

"I thought you were in the building," you giggle as you pick up the album, yelping as it's snatched out of your grip.

"No," Seungmin grumbles, hugging the DAY6 album to his chest. "Seungmin in the album."

You laugh and thwack him in the chest, nimble fingers picking up the CD.

"Let's go listen to the tracks."

a/n: seungmin in the album yall

VENUS.

Hyunjin x reader. (s,f,a)

Author's not: Happy birthday to the most beautiful boy, Hwang Hyunjin!

Adonis.

That's what comes to your mind when you see him.

Adonis as in that one mortal, who is so beautiful even, the goddess of love herself, Aphrodite, fell in love with him.

And he is so beautiful, so painfully beautiful that you can't look away. A long nose, small eyes, pointy chin, and lips as red and as luscious as the forbidden apple that entices you to take a sinful bite.

"You need a lighter?" He asks.

The neon sign above you illuminate his face with a reddish glow adds a mystical aura to his appearance.

You stand there leaning against the bricked wall with an unlit cigarette dangling between your teeth, mouth slightly parted and unable to speak.

You stifle a nod instead.

He pulls a lighter out of his jacket and flicks it on in a second until a flame forms, then light the end of your cigarette as you take a drag.

You exhale and take the cigarette off your mouth, when the smoke disappears, you see him smiling at you.

"You have beautiful hands," he says while looking at your hand with the cigarette stuck between your middle and index finger.

No one ever praises your hands before, and you never paid any attention to them either, you just think of them as hands, nothing special about them.

A group of people comes out of the back entrance and starts talking, replacing the silence with their loud chatters.

He steps close enough to stand next to you and leans close to your ear.

"Can I draw you?" He asks.

You stifle a laugh, thinking if this is what people say when they try to flirt with someone nowadays? You get skeptical if that's his intention with you, plus, the request is so strange. Why draw you? Why did he choose you of all people?

Your curiosity kicks in and tells you to say yes.

"Yeah, sure," you answered.

He takes a step away, put his hand in one of his jacket pockets, and pulls out a pen, he tugs the cap between his teeth.

He grabs your other hand, and you get startled at how cold his hand is, he holds it up with the back of your hand facing up.

He writes something on the skin, the needle of the pen is sharp, it is one of those drawing pens with a pointy end, glad you can tolerate the pain by looking at how attractive he looks with a pen cap tugged between his teeth that you can see the faint mole on under his left eye.

Once he finishes writing, he caps the pen back then lets go of your hand.

"That's the address of my studio," he says.

You look down at his writing on your skin, even his handwriting is beautiful, thin cursive letters in black ink, the curl of the letters mimics his smile.

Then there is his name at the bottom, Hyunjin.

"Come whenever you can," he adds, then shoves the pen back into the back pocket of his jeans this time.

"Okay," you replied even though you were too busy admiring his penmanship than learning his address.

"Okay," he said back to you.

He walks backward, stepping away from the glow of the neon sign with a small smile dancing on his face, "I'll see you," he says.

"See you," you muttered to him.

You watch him walk away until his figure disappears, engulfed by the dark of the night.

You toss the unfinished cigarette smoke onto the concrete floor and step on it, you don't smoke at all, you are merely using the cigarette as an excuse to get out of the stuffy club.

And you're glad you did, because who would have thought you'll meet such an attractive man.

-

A week later, after class, you are surprised to see him again, standing outside your campus building, standing with his back against the tree at the park of the campus with his hands deep in his jeans pockets.

He stands up when he spots you walking out of the entrance of the building, he doesn't hesitate to walk up to you.

"I'm sorry that I'm impatient," he begins speaking, staying a foot away from you, "but I need to know if I can draw you," he finishes.

You look around and see that everyone glances in your direction, it is either because everyone knows everyone in here, or that Hyunjin is not fitting to be considered as a law student. You look at his faded jeans and a flannel shirt with a black t-shirt underneath, he stands out but you think it's because he is gorgeous.

But your head is filled with one big question at that time:

"How do you find me?"

He licks his lips, they are in a shade of pink under the sunlight, like the color of the cherry blossom.

"It's not hard to find you," he says.

You tip your head to the side with a questioning look on your face.

You take him to one of the coffee shops near campus and buy him a cup of hot coffee, he is more excited for the napkin though, which he immediately grabs at it.

"Can I borrow your pen?" He asks.

You rummage through your bag and pull out a pen, hand it to him on the table. He uncaps the pen and starts drawing on the napkin.

Your eyes look down at his hands, at the prominent veins on the back of his hands, the slender fingers decorated with rings, a chain bracelet dangles on his slim wrist and swaying along with every stroke of the pen on the napkin.

Mesmerized by the way his hand gripped the pen and the other hand splayed on the table, you don't hear his question until he asks again.

"Pardon?" You asked him.

"You're a law student?" He asks without looking up.

His voice was soft and light, almost melodic.

"Yes," you answered.

"Are you going to be a lawyer?"

You clear your throat and shake your head to stop ogling at him, "Uhm... yes," you replied.

A small smile blooms on his face, "how sexy!"

You blink a few times, afraid to respond to his exclamation, afraid that you misheard him. Did he just say sexy?

"Fight injustice, defend helpless people, arguing in court in black suits," he continues, "That's so sexy to me," then shots you a glance before looking back down at his doodle on the napkin.

You awkwardly smile at him, still unsure how to properly respond to his indirect praise.

You quickly come up with something to say, suddenly remember why you take him for coffee.

"So, how do you find me?"

"Not that hard to find you," he replies, eyes glancing up at you for a few seconds then back onto his doodle.

"That doesn't explain a lot," you said to him.

He stops scribbling and looks up at you, "not that hard to find a beautiful girl like you,"

"Convincing!" You scoff.

It's kind of annoying how you can't easily read his intention towards you, most men are looking for someone to fool around with, but he doesn't look like one, he looks like he wanted to make a fool out of you.

He leans in again and continues scribbling on the napkin, "I met one of your friends, the one you came with to the club and asked her about you,"

Now you get it how he knows, he should have said it sooner.

"Are you afraid that I stalked you or something?"

He's way too good-looking to stalk a nobody like you, plus, you don't have an exciting life worth stalking for, to begin with.

"Because I don't have beautiful hands, they're just... hands," you said to him, then take a sip of your coffee.

He slides his drawing at you on the table then clasp his hands together on the table.

You are wrong for saying it's a doodle, a doodle is a mindless drawing you do when you're bored, but this, this is a real drawing, a drawing of your face.

The drawing would look even more beautiful on a proper sketch paper, or even better, a canvas.

"Oh wow, this is..." you trail your words, it's so good that you can't find the words to finish your sentence.

"This is so great," you finished, but great is still an understatement, it is wondrous, amazing, beyond.

He leans forward on the table, so close that you can see the tiny mole under his left eye even under the afternoon sun.

"Is that enough to make you believe that I'm an adequate artist to draw you?" he asks with one eyebrow raised.

He recognizes why you put your guard up high, that is normal to him, and that maybe his request shocked you.

You realize that you might have offended him for not trusting his skill, but it isn't about that, it's just the way he approaches you in a peculiar way that makes you alerted, put your guards up high.

"I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you in any way,"

"I know, it's alright. It's not the first time," he assured you with a smile.

Oh, so he did it before, you said in your head.

"Why didn't you come to my studio?"

"I lost the address," you show him the erased address he wrote on the back of your hand, but you actually saved the address in your phone but decided not to come.

He nods in acknowledgment, reclines on his seat, takes a long look at you.

"Why don't you come with me to my studio now?" He invites.

He is so bold, daring like everything he does overflows with confidence, there's no hesitancy in them.

"I can't, I have another class," you replied, reminds you to check the time if you have enough time to walk to your next time, "and by the way, I have to go,"

You gather your things from the table, and he hands you your pen back along with his drawing on the napkin, "I'll come to your studio," you promise him, then get up from your chair.

"I write the address on the napkin so you have no excuse to not come to my studio," he says as he takes the first sip of his coffee.

Gosh, he's so persistent.

"I will come to your studio," you convince him then leave for the door.

-

You keep your promise.

You come the next day on a Saturday afternoon, climbing the stairs that led to his studio because there is no elevator.

You knock on his door, it takes a moment for him to finally open the door. His hair is tied into a low bun with a few loose strands curtained his face, and he's wearing a sleeveless black top with dark jeans.

"I came," you said to him as he stands there in the doorway, looking at you with a hand holding the door open.

He shots you a smile, then steps away from the door, "come in!" He says with a hand gesture to let you into the house.

You don't expect his studio is also where he lives, and sleeps.

The spacious room is divided into two big rooms, the first half which is also the bigger half of it in the studio and a kitchenette pushed to one side of the wall near the front door and the other half is his bedroom and probably a bathroom or something, you can't look inside.

As you wait for him to get you a drink, you look around his studio, stacks of canvases on one side of the wall, a wooden table filled with art supplies, from brushes to cans of paint, and the floor is tainted with drops of paint.

You walk to the window, a large window that takes the most portion of the wall with a view that overlooks the city.

You hear the sound of a camera shutter and turn around to see him taking a picture of you with a camera.

He slowly put down the camera from covering his face, "I'm sorry, I can't help it," he says.

He puts down the camera on the table and walks up to you, holds out a can of drink at you.

You take a sip of the fruity drink that surprisingly refreshes you, "you live here," you said to him.

"I do everything here," he says back, also taking a sip of his canned drink.

"So, how are you going to draw me?" You asked him, putting down your canned drink on the nearby table and saunter to the collection of his paintings on the other side of the wall, bending down to observe each one.

You look over your shoulder, "you just need to draw my hands, right?"

"Actually," he puts down his drink and comes up to you, "I have something to ask from you,"

"What's that?"

"Is it okay if I draw you naked?" He asks you.

You chuckle at him, that's two strange requests from him already.

"Not fully naked," he quickly adds, "just half-naked,"

You lean against the shelf of his art supplies, "without buying me dinner first?" You joked.

He softly laughs and brushes his hair to the back, "it's still afternoon so I can't buy you dinner, yet,"

"That's fair!" you beamed.

He waits for your answer, crossing his arms together and eyes staring at you with his mouth slightly parted open.

You've never done this before, modeling for something especially naked, but you like the rush that comes from it.

You stare back at him and say, "okay,"

Hyunjin drags a single sofa from his bedroom and positions it on one side of the room, slightly facing the window.

He turns around and sees you unbuttoning your blouse with your back facing him, he watches as the piece of clothing slides down your arms and you place it on the sofa.

He would love to help you unclasp your bra as you reach to your back to do it yourself, but he relents and walks to take his drawing equipment.

"Do I sit here?" You asked him as you make your way to the single sofa he put in the corner of the room.

"Yes," he answers.

Hyunjin returns with a sketchbook and clutches a case filled with various drawings pencils and pens then sit on a stool just a few feet from you.

"Do you want me to do a certain pose?" You asked him, you get confused about what to do with your hands.

"Just sit comfortably," he says as he flips open his sketching book.

You decide to put your legs up and fold them on the sofa and sit facing him, "Is this okay?"

When he glances up, Hyunjin has to stop sharpening his pencil for a moment to look at you, sitting half-naked on the sofa, your skin glows under the sunlight that shines through the window.

He walks up to you and stops right in front of you, his hand reaches for your hair and puts them behind your ear, then puts the rest of your hair to the back of your shoulders, preventing it from covering your chest.

You look up through your lashes when his hand stops at the side of your face.

He holds his breath, trying to fight the urge to not touch you further, and quickly walks back to his stool.

"Just tell me if you need anything," he says.

"Sure," you affirmed.

The room gets quiet as he starts drawing that all you can hear is the strokes of his pencil against the paper and your low intake of breath as you calm yourself down.

You don't know what causes your heart to beat this fast, it is probably from the way he takes a look at you, he would look up and stare at you for a few seconds before glancing down at his eyes.

The intensity of his stares mixes with how gorgeous he looks when he's fully concentrating, is a dangerous treat.

From the strands of hair falling on his face, a crease between his eyebrows, or the way his fingers wrapped around the pencil as it dances on the paper, then there's the occasional small smiles playing on his face when he looks at you.

"Have you drawn anyone before me?" You asked him.

"Yes,"

"Did you also tell them to take their clothes off when you first met them?" You poked fun at him with a low chuckle.

Hyunjin smiles, "Not technically,"

"Why me?" You asked him, you've been wanting to ask him this since that day he visited your campus.

Hyunjin stops drawing and looks up at you, "I think you're beautiful,"

It's a cliché answer, but you give him a chance to deliver his reason to backs up his answer

"You captivate me," he adds.

"From the first time I set my eyes on you, I just know I have to draw you,"

Your heart that was beating out of its chest a few seconds ago, and just now skips a beat when you listen to his sincere answer, makes you wonder if you were as beautiful as he thinks you are.

"To be honest, I'm not really sure if I can draw you," he says as he picks up his pencil.

"Why?"

"I'm afraid that I can't do justice with my drawing," he said.

"That the drawing will look much prettier than me?" You teased.

He lightly shakes his head, "it's the other way around,"

It's easy to spot someone when they're being phony, but as you keep looking at him and into his eyes, you can prove that he is not one.

You stare into each other’s eyes for a while now, communicating through the silence until the sunlight dims as the day is about to be replaced by the night.

Hyunjin puts his drawing away and walks up to you, he looks down at you for a while, and a hand reaches for something behind you.

"I think it's enough for today," he announces, then wraps your body with a blanket.

You put the blanket around your body and clutch it together, "is it done?"

"No, not yet," he replies.

He put his stool away, carries his sketchbook and drawing equipment away then heads to the kitchen, "can you stay a little longer?"

You walk up to the pile of clothes on the sofa and begin to put it on again.

"Why?" You asked without looking at him as you fumble to clasp your bra.

"I'm going to buy you dinner," he said.

You laugh at his way of keeping up his promise, "of course,"

You just don't know that Hyunjin also wanted to keep you here longer than he wanted to.

After dinner, Hyunjin opens a bottle of wine and fills two glasses with the crimson red liquid, the aphrodisiac smell wafting around the room.

You sit next to each other on the sofa, taking sips of your wine and eating fruit slices that he skillfully peeled and sliced earlier, then put it on a wooden board in a rather pleasing look.

He treats everything like a piece of art.

"How long have you been doing this?" You asked, leaning forward with a hand under your chin and prop on your knee, admiring the paintings hung on the wall across from you.

"Three years now," he replies.

"Has this always been your dream?" You asked again, put your wine glass down on the table, then turn your head at him.

Hyunjin never had this question asked to him before.

It takes him a moment to get an answer out of his head, "It's just happened," he honestly answers.

"I never thought of being one before. I just started drawing one day and I like it. And I want to keep doing it, until now!" he explains.

"Then what about tomorrow?" You half-heartedly asked.

He sees how your hand splayed on your jaw, and he gets the urge to hold your face, "to be honest, I don't know," he says.

"But that's so exciting, isn't it?"

He puts down his wine glass, "not knowing what tomorrow brings,"

You bite your ring finger between your teeth as you process his answer in your head.

He reaches for your hand on your lap, "May I?"

You nodded at him, permitting him to touch your hand.

He holds it up and observes it like your hand is a treasure that has been kept underground for centuries.

He compares your hand size with him, and you almost laugh at how his hand could engulf your hand in his, or maybe it's the alcohol you consumed that makes you loosen up around him.

Hyunjin slips his fingers in your hands next, then sighs.

"So perfect," he murmurs with his eyes looking at how perfectly his fingers fit in the spaces between your fingers.

When you think he would stop the moment he unclasps his hand from yours, he brings your hand close to his mouth, he holds it up and what he does next is unexpected.

He kisses your fingertips, one by one, with his eyes closed and mouth slightly parted open that you can feel his warm breath.

It never crosses your mind that you would feel his plush lips under your touch, and he kisses the inside of your hand next, "so beautiful," he beams with a sweet smile then place your hand on one side of his face.

He is so, so beautiful, and it hurts.

You close your eyes because he keeps drawing you in the longer you look, but then he kisses you, so softly then all at once.

You sigh because it feels like he satisfied the thirst you never knew you had, and his kisses are so sweet, intoxicating, like the wine you had earlier.

He holds your face like he wanted to do, and he regrets not doing it sooner, holds your face like you are a fragile piece of glass that could break if he holds it too hard.

"Let me have you," he breathlessly says against your lips.

You are not sure what he meant by that, whether he just wants you to satisfy his desire, or he wants to really have you.

You are sure it is the former, and for now, you are willing to give him that.

You let him hold you, kisses you deeper and harder, sucking the air out of your lungs until it burns and your head gets dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

You pull away just enough to catch a breath, and he slides his mouth down to your throat, you tilt your head up to allow him to place small kisses on the skin.

You slip your hand into his dark locks, silky and smooth, exactly like you have imagined in your head.

"Come with me," he whispers into your ear.

He withdraws himself off you, then gets up, holds out his hand out at you.

This feels like one of those moments where your choice would shape out your whole life, you look up at him, wide-eyed and slightly dazed.

You look at his face, then at his hand, tirelessly waiting for you to take it.

You take a look at his eyes once again, looking at you with a wistful gaze, then take his hand.

A hand that pulls you to step into another part of his life, a secluded one that he doesn't just share with anyone and lets you in.

His bed is unmade with the duvet making a pile on the center of it, you softly smile at him.

"This isn't part of your plan?" You joked.

"I didn't think you would really come," he responds.

You exchange a glance at him, and he grabs your hand, pulls you close against his body so he can kiss you again.

You take each other’s clothes off until there is none left to cover your body, and he impatiently roams his hands around your body along, whimpering at how soft you feel under his touch.

He tosses the duvet to the side before gently laying you down on the bed, stands there at the end of the bed just staring at your stark naked body on the white sheet of his bed, your cheeks blushing with your thighs pressed shut.

He thinks of so many things he wants to do to you, first, he wants to feel you all over. He sits next to you on the bed, a hand runs down to touch every part of your body.

He replaces his hand with his mouth next, kisses every inch of your skin with his plump, red lips and the wet marks he left on the skin, burning with desire.

You are barely functioning, you just lay there as he kisses you down and takes every searing kiss with your eyes closed while trying not to fall apart underneath him.

No man ever made you feel this way, so admired and worshipped, and the way his eyes tenderly gazing at you, makes you feel less insecure and safe.

Once he has done making a long trail of kisses, you pull his face close by his neck to kiss him, properly kiss him as you would to your lover.

He is far from being your lover, but you're willing to risk mistaking him as one, just for this moment, only for the night.

"I want to feel all of you," he says to you.

"I'm on the pill," you informed him.

And with that being said, Hyunjin let his hands roam around your body, freely and greedily, with mouths latching with yours non-stop.

His hand goes to your gushing core, tracing your folds, and lightly runs his slender fingers down your slit, wetting them with your arousal.

You sigh into his mouth when he starts circling your clit with his thumb then applies gentle pressures on it, making you arch your back to seek more friction.

With a careful move, he inserts one finger inside you, and he deems it not enough, so he adds another digit, two fingers inside you now.

You moan and let go of his kiss, eyes flicking to where his two slim fingers going in and out of you.

Hyunjin also watches how his fingers disappeared inside you, and he curls them, finding your spot to send you close to your climax.

Your hand flies to his wrist and tries to stop him but failing, quickens the pace that makes your toes curl and digs into the mattress.

"Gosh, I can feel you clenching around my fingers," he murmurs, close to your ear.

You turn your head at him and let him see how good he makes you feel.

"So beautiful moaning like that," he praises.

Your hand reaches for his arm and claws the flesh as the knowledge inside you tightens, then crashes your mouth with his to moan out loud into his mouth as you climax.

He kisses you back, open-mouthed, slobbering, and hungrily, pins you under him in a few seconds. Now that he knew how tight you feel around his fingers, he can't wait to feel you around his cock.

He teases your sensitive core from your previous orgasm with the tip of his cock, and you squirm, a few low moans slip past your mouth.

You arch your back, ready to take all of him inside you.

Hyunjin kisses you once again and keeps his eyes on you as he begins slowly pushes his length inside you.

His focus is torn between watching how his cock is buried inside you little by little or watching your face with your jaws slacked open from the immense pleasure of being filled by him.

Hyunjin lets out the most beautiful moan you ever heard, like a melodic tune when he fully bottomed out, and you pull your knees up to let him penetrate deeper and earn a loud groan from him.

"Oh, I'm going to lost it," he groans again, "you feel so good," he lowers himself on top of you, his mouth seeking solace on the crook of your neck.

After a moment of collecting himself by kissing you, he begins moving, thrusting into you, all the while his eyes bore into you and not breaking the eye contact even for a mere second.

Your breasts jiggling along to the hard thrusts of his hips against you, this is just your preferred kind of sex where two individuals are enjoying being inside each other and truly present in the moment.

He caresses your cheek, "what are you thinking?"

"Nothing," you answered because there's nothing inside your head right now but how good he feels inside you.

You put your hand on his neck and look deep into his eyes, "I can't think when you're fucking me this good,"

He smiles at you, then sink his mouth on you again, devouring your lips with his slobbering kisses as he picks up the pace of his thrusts.

Hyunjin cums inside you right after you cum around him, and he holds you so tight as he places a kiss on your mouth.

And he tastes so, so sweet.

-

You don't expect him to contact you after you leave him early in the morning, and it's been almost a week now, if he is indeed looking for you, he would have already.

He got what he wants, either drawing you or having sex with you, he got both, therefore, he has nothing left he wanted to do with you.

Hoping he'd come and see you again will only be a waste of time, so you let it go. He's nice, good-looking, a talented artist, and the sex was good, you put the end right there and move on.

At the end of the week, your friends force you to come with them to the club because uni has been a pain in the ass, and you cave in.

You are never good at being in a crowd, the feeling of being surrounded by people makes you uneasy, and you don't bother of using a cigarette as an excuse this time, you just get up and leave for the emergency stairs that lead you to the rooftop.

There are a few people in there, smoking and chatting, probably avoiding the crowd as well. You head to the corner and lean forward against the concrete barrier that lets you overlook the city, it feels nice when you feel the night spring air brushes your face, enveloping you in a warm invisible embrace.

"You need a lighter?" A voice asks.

You turn around to see him, standing just a few feet away with his hands deep in his jeans pockets.

"I don't smoke," you replied.

He tips his head to the side, "then that time...?"

"I needed an excuse to get out," you explained.

"Ah!" He nods repeatedly.

He walks up to you and stands next to you, looking out at the city view with its city lights like pinpricks against the dark of the night.

"I'm disappointed to find you were gone in the morning," he sadly says.

You can't ignore the fact that you did feel bad for leaving him that morning, especially remembering how you stayed there looking at him lying face down against the mess of the bed, like a fallen angel.

"I just thought that there's nothing left to see in me anymore," you honestly answered.

You hate to sugarcoat anything, if the truth is that bitter then take it like a big girl. And the truth is, there's not much he can see in you anymore, he had seen everything.

"Then why am I here looking for you?" He asks.

"Well, it took you days to finally find me," you subtly sneered.

"Because I have to finish the drawing first, so I have something to show you,"

You turn your head at him, at his beautiful face that you can't get enough of looking at, he doesn't have to invite you to make you come with him, he exceeds your expectations by appearing in front of you, therefore, you have nothing to doubt about him anymore.

"Let me see it," you said to him.

It takes only a few minutes of drive to get to his studio, and he lets you, holding the door open for you.

He leads you to the piece of drawing placed on an easel, he must have just finished it because the pencils are still scattered on the table nearby.

"Shouldn't you be closing my eyes and leading me to the surprise?" You said to him.

He snaps his head in your direction, "should I?"

You lowly chuckle, "It's too late for that,"

Your first instinct when you see the drawing is to touch it, it feels so real and alive, then when you truly see it, you wonder if it's really you, the person on the drawing.

He stands behind you, close enough you can feel heat emitted from his body.

"Why did you leave that day?" He suddenly asks as you admire his drawing.

"Were you scared?"

You withdraw your hand from the drawing, "A little," you honestly answered.

It's better to avoid something, avoid feelings and the misery that comes with it, sooner than later. You don't care about being called a coward, loser, have a commitment issue, you'd rather be the one leaving than the one who's being left.

"Would it scare you if I tell you how I really feel?" He asks as he comes in closer behind you, his chest against your back, heaving with every breath he takes.

He puts his hands on your arms and stays there, he buries his nose in your hair that you feel his warm breath on your scalp.

You hear him sigh so low, like the sound of the wind.

"When I told you to let me have you, I meant it," he says with his hands moving down to meet your hands and clasping it together with his on your sides.

"And I'm going to say it again,"

Your heartbeat quickens, out of rhythm, out of control, and you wonder how you still function when you think you're about to get a cardiac arrest.

Hyunjin puts his head next to yours and turns his head slightly to the side, mouth close to your ear.

"Let me have you," he says to you.

Your skips a beat, no, you believe it skips two beats, you died for two seconds that you grip his hands to take you back to life again

It's not a question, it's a plead, a plead tinted with desperation and hope at the same time.

Hyunjin takes your hands and crosses them in front of you, then hums with his mouth on your neck.

"Will it scares you that the moment I say yes, you cannot escape me?"

You turn your head at him and meet his face, "It'll be an honor to be stuck in your maze," he says.

He opens his mouth then captures your lips in a dazzling kiss, a kiss that knocks on your chest and breaks your heart open, a kiss that sets everything in motion.

Even though it's not the first time he does it with you, that doesn't stop him from taking his time to adore you, admiring your body, touching you, and caressing you with such loving.

He takes your hands and kisses each fingertip, ends it with a kiss inside your palm.

And you close your hands when he finished, hoping you get to keep all his kisses inside your fists.

He plants his hot mouth on your cunt, encourages you to move your hips against him as his tongue incessantly laps your gushing core.

You put your hand in his hair and gently tug at it, a little too hard when you cum on his mouth.

He settles himself beside you on the bed, kissing you with his hand fondling your breast, "have a sweet taste of you," he says against your lips.

And you get a taste yourself on his lips and how it arouses you even more that you lick the rest from around his mouth.

He pulls away just enough to leave a little space between you, "do you like the drawing?"

"You make me look so beautiful in it," you said even though it doesn't answer his question.

"That's how I see you," he says with a hand cupping your jaw. "You're so heavenly," he praises along with a peck on your lips, "so divine," he adds with a peck longer than the previous one.

It would be easy to believe his words if he isn't as beautiful as he said you are.

His beauty prevails anything and anyone you have ever laid your eyes on, it's ethereal and otherworldly.

It makes you wonder, whether he's really yours or you make it all up in your head as you stare into his two dark orbs of his eyes.

"Are you even real?" You asked him in utter disbelief.

He smiles, and instead of replying, he asks in the same, utter disbelief, "Are you really mine?"

You kiss him this time, so hard until you are convinced that it's real and that he isn't fragments of your imagination.

You believe Hyunjin put intimacy above anything, sex isn't just physical for him, it is bonding and trust, a union of not just two bodies but also two souls. You can feel it through his attentive touches, the tender gaze, the gentle kisses, and when the pleasure gets too overwhelming for him, his hand reaches for yours on the bed to clasp it with yours.

You both cum around each other at the same time with his forehead pressed on yours, and you hold him, his body goes rigid as he releases his seed inside you with eyes screwed shut.

He holds you close, not leaving even an inch of space between your bodies as you both drift to sleep with blissful smiles on your faces.

-

A hand grips your wrist when you're about to get off the bed.

"Are you leaving me again?" Hyunjin asks with eyes closed.

You softly chuckle, "You want me to pee on the bed, then?"

He sleepily smiles at you, "you have one minute to get back here,"

"Better hurry then!" You said.

He finally lets go of your hand and starts counting down from 60, slurring his words in the process.

You put on his shirt and head to the bathroom successfully return to the bed in the last four seconds.

He gleefully smiles when you get under the duvet with him again.

He kisses your lips along with a caress on your cheek, "let's get back to sleep," he says.

You wake up late to the sun is already high up in the sky as you see through the window. You slowly get up, and the duvet slides down your body, revealing your naked body underneath, and see Hyunjin sitting on a chair across from you.

"Morning," you said to him, hugging your knees on the bed.

He flashes you a scintillating smile that his eyes form into two crescent moons.

He puts his sketching book away and crawls onto the bed to kiss you on the lips, "Morning," he says back.

"Coffee?"

"Yes, please," you said.

He pecks your lips once again, "I'll get you a cup,"

He returns with a mug of steaming coffee and hands it to you, which you gladly take and wrap your hands around it.

"Do you mind if I finish my drawing?"

You shake your head, "please, proceed," you said to him.

He gives you a quick peck on the lips before sitting on his chair, continuing his drawing.

You sip your coffee while watching him as he glances up at you once in a while, just like usual, there's a crease formed between his eyebrows when he is concentrating.

"Is this how are we going to spend our time together?" You asked.

"You staring at me while I'm watching you draw me,"

He shot you a smile, "is this boring to you?"

"No," you quickly denied.

He puts his sketching book away and sighs, "should we go somewhere?"

"I don't mind staying in," you said to him.

After showering together, Hyunjin takes you on a trip, somewhere he refuses to tell you until you get there. It takes an hour to get there by train, when you arrive at the station, you stop by a diner to have a quick lunch.

He takes you on a walk with him holding your hand, Hyunjin brings his camera with him, and he would stop to take a few pictures of something that interests him.

He takes you to an art gallery, the building itself is so artistic, and when you enter, you look around in awe at how pleasing everything is to the eyes.

Hyunjin leads you to a part of the gallery that hung a lot of paintings on its wall, and you already guessed what he is trying to show you.

"You take me here to brag?" You playfully said to him.

"Yeah, sort of," he replies with a smirk on his face.

You look at the series of paintings on the wall, they're painting of flowers and each painting has slightly different color hues in it, but they oddly make one beautiful gradient of colors, it looks good if they're hung separately or put together as one, either way, it's beautiful.

There's the signature of his name on the right bottom corner of the paintings.

"These are the first paintings that I ever sold," he informs.

He grabs your hand and stands next to you, looking at the paintings together in silence with the same admiration.

"Anemone," you muttered.

"How do you know?"

"My mom is a florist," you shortly replied, "I know the names of flowers by heart,"

"That explains why you look like one," he praises with a smile on his face.

His eyes catch the light and they crinkle like they hold the stars in them.

"And that's also why I never received any flowers in my life," you sadly said.

"Never?" He asks in disbelief.

You shake your head, "Never,"

"I sell them and send them for someone else," you added with a low laugh.

You get quiet to stare at the paintings again, takes a closer look, and see each of his gentle stroke on the canvas, it's amazing how all those strokes of paint can create such a beautiful piece of art.

You put your hand on the small of his back, thumb lazily rub the clothed skin, "this is so beautiful," you said to him.

You can see talent once you see it like this person was born to do this, and Hyunjin was born to be an artist.

"You are so talented," you said again.

"Thank you," he mutters then steals a kiss on your lips.

Finished looking around the gallery, Hyunjin takes you to a bakery shop and buys you a bag of donuts with icing sugar on it.

You take a big bite since the lunch you had was hours ago, the white of the powdered sugar stuck to your lips and around your mouth.

Hyunjin laughs at you but stops you from wiping the mess with your hand.

"Let me do it for you," he says, then kisses you, collecting the powdered sugar with his lips, tongue faintly licks in between.

He finishes with a sweet kiss on your lips, "there you go,"

You take another bite and intentionally make a mess on your lips again.

But Hyunjin only laughs and hands you a stack of tissues this time.

You take a stroll around the city and go to the hill where you can see the view of the sunset over the city, in which Hyunjin cannot stop taking pictures with his camera and sneakily take your pictures without you knowing.

You have dinner at a restaurant near the train station and eventually, fall asleep on Hyunjin’s shoulder on the train back home.

He wakes you up when you arrive and let you rest for a bit more in the taxi, holds you by putting an arm around your shoulder, "you must be tired, mmh?"

You don't answer but nestle your head on the crook of his neck, seeking his warmth even though you're not feeling cold.

He takes your hand on your lap and intertwines it with his, "we'll be home soon," he mutters with a kiss on the top of your head.

Once you get back in his studio, you are fully awake and decide to take a warm shower to wash the day away, Hyunjin joins a while later and helps you wash up your body from the suds.

"Can I borrow your clothes?" You asked him as you dry yourself with a towel.

His hand reaches to untie your bathrobe, "Actually, I want to have you naked on the bed," he says.

He pulls you to sit on his lap with him only in a towel, his dark hair wet and drops of water dripping from its ends.

"Is it okay with you?" He asks you as he pulls you close to hold you, putting his arms around your body.

He parts your bathrobe open and lays a hand flat on your sternum, "I need to feel all of you, skin to skin," he says to your face.

This is the kind of intimacy you never experienced before yet he makes you feel comfortable doing it, moreover, you like having his hands on you, comforting you with his touches.

"Okay," you replied to him.

Hyunjin also takes his towel off before joining you on the bed, he doesn't waste time putting his hands on you, touching you with such care, and kissing your skin.

Knowing that you had a well-spent day makes you happy inside and out, makes you feel content and oddly at peace like you're right where you wanted to be.

You fall asleep carrying those feelings with you.

In the middle of the night, you feel Hyunjin’s hands tighten around you, and you turn your head to meet his, "I want to be inside you," he says.

You kiss him on the mouth to let him know he got your permission.

His hand goes to palm your sex until it's wet enough for him to penetrate you, he lifts one of your legs on the bed then slowly pushes his length inside you from behind.

Even with your head party fogged with sleep, you can't ignore the pleasure of being filled by him.

Hyunjin rubs your abdomen as he keeps pushing his cock so deep inside you and lets out a low groan so close to your ear when he fully bottomed out.

He kisses your neck and jaw, "you feel so good, love," he murmurs into your ear.

He does nothing but goes back to sleep with his cock buried inside you.

Hyunjin catches you again trying to leave in the morning, "you need to stop this habit," he mumbles with eyes closed.

"I didn't mean to sneak out but I need to go," you explained, "I have class today,"

"But it's still," he pauses to glance at the clock on the bedside table, "It's 6 am,"

"I have to stop by my place and change my clothes," you reminded him that you haven't changed your clothes in two days.

"Wear my clothes," he offers.

You softly chuckle as if his clothes wouldn't engulf you whole, "I'll be back here after class, okay?" you said to him.

He stays on the bed with a hand prop against the mattress, you can see that he's not willing to let you go.

"Get back soon, okay?" He says to you then kisses the inside of your hand.

"I will," you come to hover above him, cup his face to place a kiss on his plush lips

"Bye," you said as soon as you let go of the kiss.

-

When you're away from him, you feel like you're going back to reality, back to your boring, strenuous, dull life, and your assignments are piling up, waiting for you to start working on them.

And Hyunjin always needs you around, even though most of the time you spend with him is watching him drawing or painting, and once in a while, he would come up to you for some cuddles and kisses.

You also learn that he is always late for his meals, oftentimes, you have to stop him from working on his art and tell him to eat, you are more than happy to take care of him, but only as far as he lets you.

He's a grown-up after all, and you are not obligated to raise him cause you're not his mother.

And then it becomes a habit, being with him.

A dangerous yet delightful habit.

You feel like a fish out of the water when you're not with him, and you're aware of how wrong that sounds.

You realize that you took part in creating this, but you can't help it, you just want to gravitate towards him, revolves around him as much as he treats you like you are his sun.

There are also times when you just can't help it, you just get this sudden urge to meet him that your feet unconsciously lead you there without you intended to.

Once he opens the door of the studio, you throw yourself at him.

"Why aren't you in class?" He asks as he wraps you around him.

"My class got canceled," you answered.

You look up at his beautiful face that endlessly fascinates you and kiss him, letting him know that you come here for him and that you want him to touch you, kiss you, and more.

You steer his body to the sofa until he plops down onto the sofa, then sits on his lap, straddling him.

Sensing that you are being needy, he smiles at you with his hands holding your face, "tell me what you want," he says.

He kisses you so softly, wet and warm on your lips, "what do you want me to do to you?"

He takes your hand and does what he likes to do with your hands, kisses the fingertips.

"You want me to take care of you?"

His lips graze your hand that he holds close to his mouth as he speaks.

You place a kiss on his lips, a long, dizzying kiss that takes your breath away, then sighs into his mouth.

"I want to have you my way," you said to him.

He moves his hands down to grab you by the waist, "I'm all yours," he said with his eyes looking into yours.

Hyunjin has successfully made a fool out of you, you can't think of anything else when you're with him, but him, he makes you crave his presence in your life, he makes you addicted to his touches and kisses, and without all that, you feel like living while holding your breath.

His existence in your life has come to a great extent, it's paramount.

He looks up at you, watching your face with your jaws slacked open and breathless moans spilling out of your mouth.

Hyunjin’s eyes lower to where your cunt slides up and down his cock then snaps his eyes back up to where your hand kneading your breast that invites him to touch the other one.

"So beautiful, my love," he murmurs at you.

You look down at him and flash him a dreamy smile, lowering your mouth on his again with your hands on his shoulders as you keep moving against him.

Hyunjin drags his mouth down to your neck, making a trail of slobbering wet kisses down your chest until your breasts are right in front of him.

He takes them into his mouth in turns, sucking on the flesh and using his tongue to swirl around your nipples, making them hard and wet.

You can't decide which one is more arousing, you fucking him in the middle of the day or his eyes locked on how your cunt taking his cock with his hands steadily keeping your skirt scrunched up around your waist.

"Hmm yes, love," he coo, "so good,"

With his sweet praises echoing in the quiet room, you pick up the pace, bouncing on him harder and faster, with him putting his hands on your waist, preventing you from falling as you move at a sloppy pace.

"So close, I know you're so close," he breathlessly says.

Sweet nothings spilling out of his mouth as a way to encourage you to keep moving.

"The way you clench around me," he murmurs, "you're going to make a mess out of me,"

You bury your head into his neck and sink your mouth onto the skin, muffle your moans as you climax, cumming around him but keep the motions of your hips going, to ride out your high.

He holds you close and kisses the side of your face, "you're so beautiful," he whispers into your ear, "so beautiful cumming around me like that,"

You kiss him passionately and slowly grind on him to give him a chance to cum inside you, intentionally clenching around him.

Hyunjin smirks as he catches on to your intention, his hands firmly grip your waist to move you against him again to the pace he prefers.

You don't care about having crescent marks on your flesh, you are too fucked out to worry about such things.

Hyunjin bucks his hips from under you and eventually, earn his high and cumming inside you.

He pulls you by your neck to kiss you, open-mouthed and slobbering wet.

You glance down at the clock on the wall and notice you only have less than a half-hour to get to your next class.

You place a haste kiss on his lips, "I have to go," you said to him.

You quickly kiss him again to prevent him from complaining, then carefully pull out of him, you gasp at the sudden hollowness inside you but feel so full at the same time.

Hyunjin’s jaws slack open seeing the white of his cum dripping down your thigh, and you put your underwear back on without wiping the mess first.

You pick up the rest of your clothes on the floor and put it on, all the while Hyunjin watches you while sitting naked on the sofa with his cock wet and softened at the dissipating pleasure.

"Did you just use me?" He jokes as he pulls his jeans back up and zips them close.

You shrug as you button your shirt, "Maybe," you playfully replied. You frantically gather your things around the room and put your shoes on, "I'll be back later," you said to him.

Hyunjin gets up from the sofa to get a kiss from you before letting you leave again, he so badly wants to make you stay and perhaps go for another round.

For the rest of the day, Hyunjin smirks with his mouth slightly parted open for every time he remembers how you walk around with his cum inside you.

-

Hyunjin cannot stop drawing you.

And yes, the first time he met you, he thought you have beautiful hands, but that was before he saw the rest of your body before he could put his own hands on your body and touch your skin, how soft it feels under his touch.

Before he saw the shape of your body against the white bed sheet, the way your waist dipped, how your toes are smaller than his and curls when he touches you the right way, the noises you make, and the curve of your smile that resembles a bright crescent moon.

He believes you are made of lovely, heavenly things only.

When you wake up from the bed with the sun shining down on your naked body, he feels like he is in one of those moments where life imitates art.

Your long hair tousled and fell on your shoulders, a few strands covering your chest, the white duvet pooling around you resembles the foam that gave birth to Aphrodite, and you are a goddess to him, for you always mesmerizing him in so many ways.

Botticelli's The Birth of Venus comes to life right before his eyes.

He has done countless drawings of you but none close enough to depict how beautiful you are to him, and he probably will never be able to.

These past few weeks have been anything he truly wanted from sharing a life with someone.

He likes that you rarely talk, but once you do, it always overflows with charms and warmth, he likes sharing the silence with you but still being able to communicate by body gestures and simple touches.

Sometimes he needs to be alone, in his own space and stuck in his head to stimulate the creativity in him for him to be able to start painting or drawing, and most of the time, he needs your intervention, to reel him back to reality and comfort him.

You understand all of these needs of him without him needing to say a word.

And he thinks he is so lucky to find someone like you!

Knowing that he gets so protective of you and wants to have you just for himself.

This morning, you come up to him and hug him from the back, peppering his shoulder with sweet, gentle kisses.

"I'm going to meet some friends for lunch," you said to him.

He doesn't reply but continues working open a can of paint.

"Will you come with me?" You ask him, putting your chin on his shoulder with your hands around his waist.

"But it's okay if you don't want to," you said again even though he's not responding to any of your words.

Hyunjin can get too sensitive sometimes, and he refrains from saying things, not before he filters it through his mind first to avoid saying things he didn't mean.

"I can't," he finally replies, "I have to start on the new painting,"

You place a soft kiss on his neck with your hands feeling the firm abs under the fabric of his t-shirt, "alright then, I'll just go by myself," you said.

You move your hand to his chin and angle it towards you to kiss him on the lips.

"I'll come back soon," You promised him.

He kisses you back for a brief moment to finally let you leave for the bathroom to shower.

You put Hyunjin’s shirt that you wore to bed into the laundry basket, then turn on the water, test the temperature by holding out a hand under the shower.

You get startled when you hear someone pull open the shower curtain with so much force, and turns out, it's Hyunjin.

And before you can say anything, he splashes you with a can of yellow paint, and it gets all over you, the paint dribbling down your body.

"What is wrong with you?" You snapped at him.

He doesn't say anything but takes off his t-shirt then gets in the shower with you, he picks up another can of paint and splashes himself with it, paints his body blue.

"What is wrong with you?" You asked again with your hands held up in the air, still slightly shocked at what he had just done to you and himself.

"I won't let you leave until we both turn these paints green," he answers.

You sigh and glare at him, slightly upset, but when his hand reaches for your cheek, smearing the blue of his paint on you, you soften almost immediately.

"You can just tell me you don't want me to go," you grumbled at him as he pins you to the tiled wall.

He gently kisses your lips for a few seconds and pulls away, eyes staring into yours, "where's the fun in that?"

He pushes his body against yours, mixing the paints through your bodies and hands, mouths constantly latching onto each other.

His hands make handprints on your body as well as marking it with his mouth as he is nipping at your neck, sucking on the flesh until reddish marks bloom on your skin.

He puts you under the shower and washes your bodies together with the warm water, he triumphantly smiles seeing all the marks he made on your skin when paint washes down, the base of the tub filled with green-hued water swirling down the drain.

He continues by taking you to bed, where he makes love to you so sweetly under the afternoon sun.

Hyunjin usually indulges himself by keeping eye contact during sex, but this time, he flips you over on the bed then hurriedly runs his hand down your spine, admiring how beautiful you look from the back.

He fingers you from the back, shoves his long thumb into your hole with his mouth incessantly kissing the skin on your back.

With the pillow underneath your head, you grip the pillowcase in your hand when he replaces his finger with his cock, and you moan at how good it feels to be filled by him.

He doesn't necessarily have to move to feel the pleasure, just having his cock inside you is enough for him, well, until you clench around him.

That, he cannot control, and his body reacts on its own.

He begins moving to eventually reach your sweet releases together with his body on top of you and hands laced together on the mattress.

He turns you over on the bed and lets you face him with his face only inches away from your face, then slowly presses a kiss on your lips ever so softly.

He rubs your cheek with the back of his hand and looks into your eyes, "I love you," he mutters to you.

You put a hand on his face, "I love you," you muttered back even if it scares you, the way he loves you.

There are two reasons why it scares you: First, you're afraid you can't love him back as much, the other reason, and what scares you the most is that he will tire himself out one day if he keeps on loving you this much, with such intensity, almost obsessive even.

You can only imagine the unbearable pain that comes with it, and you hope you will never get to experience that.

-

The next day starts with him touching you, drawing you close against him on the bed, spooning you, and peppering your neck with small kisses.

A hand on your stomach slowly inches closer to your breast to eventually cups it in his hand, kneading on the flesh with his fingers playing with your hardening bud.

You turn your head to the side to meet his, with your sleepy eyes, you capture his mouth in yours, your hand reach down his body and easily find his semi-hard cock behind you.

He pinches your nipple with his finger so hard, making you yelp against his mouth, and he smirks in return.

You grumble and break the kiss, but he likes you sulking adorably like that, he does the same thing to the other nipple to earn the same reaction from you.

"Hyunjin," you grumbled again.

He laughs on the nape of your neck, "who tells you to be this beautiful, mmh?" He asks with a hand cupping your breast and softly squeezing on it.

Hyunjin can't have enough, lifts one of your legs like he usually does, then pushes his length inside you, painstakingly slow and making you feel every inch of his girth entering you.

You take his hand and put his fingers into your mouth, sucking on them as he keeps pushing the remaining of his length inside you.

He grabs a handful of your ass cheek in his hand when finally bottomed out, softly groaning close to your ear, then presses a kiss on the skin behind your ear.

"Always taking me so well," he cooed at you.

He slowly thrusts into you with a hand rubbing the back of your thigh, keeping it lifted on the bed to penetrate deeper.

"We can't stay in today," he suddenly informs.

You pull his fingers out of your mouth with a sigh, "huh? Why?"

"I got invited to this thing,"

You turn your head at him and bring his face close to kiss him, "you want me to come with you?"

"Of course," he shortly replies.

He kisses you again with a hum against your lips, "I want to show you off to everyone," he says.

You chuckle at his answer, "I'm not an object,"

"I know," he says, "but I want to let everyone know that I have the most beautiful lover,"

Because the word girlfriend sounds obnoxious to him, and he's romantic like that.

You smile at his praise and feel a knot tighten inside you.

Hyunjin groans against your lips, "You just clenched around me, love,"

"You like it when I praise you like that, mmh?" He asked you.

You don't reply but sheepishly smile at him, pulling him for another lingering kiss.

"I happen to have a lot of praises for you," he playfully remarked.

"Where should I start?" He sighs and considers his options.

He clicks his tongue in defeat, "Uhm... every part of you is beautiful," he praises.

You catch his chin between your thumb and index finger, "stop saying such cheesy things early in the morning," you complained, then kiss him.

He takes you to an art exhibition of one of his friends, in which he introduces you and to other people he is well-acquainted with.

His friend takes him to introduce him to someone, "will you be okay alone?" He asked you.

"Of course. I'll wait here," you tell him.

You take the opportunity to walk around and see the art installations, see some paintings, and see his painting that hung against the blue painted wall.

"So, you're his new muse?" A voice says.

You turned your head at the source of the voice and see someone holding a glass of wine in her hand while looking at the same painting with you.

"Excuse me?" You said, just in case she was talking to someone else, despite you're the only one close enough to hear it.

She turns her head at you, "what did he tell you when he first met you?"

You don't say anything but carefully observe her in silence, a tall beautiful woman with dark hair, she is wearing a flattering dress that accentuates her body shape.

"When he first met me, he said I have the most beautiful eyes," she adds,

"I'm sorry?" You asked again, completely fazed by her remark.

"I saw you coming with Hyunjin, so I assume you're together," she finally explained.

You stifle a nod, "yes, we're together"

And she snickers, "I'm sorry," she quickly apologized, "it's just that I never thought he would be having a girlfriend again,"

You turn to face her, confronting whatever she is trying to say or do to you, "And you are?"

"You can say that I'm his former muse," she answered.

"Oh, so you're trying to make me jealous?" You bite back at her.

"Jealous?" She asked in disbelief.

"I've been with him before you. Why would I be jealous?"

You tip your head to the side, fully confused with what she is trying to tell you, "what are you trying to say, really?"

She sighs and holds her wine glass down, "I'm trying to tell you that he's not an easy man to be with," she answered.

"Once he's done with you, he'll search for a new muse,"

You scoff at her remark, "Why would I believe you?"

"You're tough," she sneers, but it is not time to praise you.

"But be prepared to bleed,"

She takes a sip of her wine then says, "just saying," before leaving you there alone.

No matter how much you try to shrug her words away, the harder it gets to shake them off. You flinch when Hyunjin returns by looping his arm around your waist and kissing your cheek.

"Did I surprise you?" He asks.

You sigh with the warmth of his body enveloping you, "Nothing, I was so immersed in your painting," you told him, slightly lying to mask your insecurities.

He puts his other arm around you, holding you from the back with his chin on the top of your head, "what do you think?"

"It's beautiful," you answered.

"Just like you," he adds, then kisses the top of your head.

The funny thing is the longer you look into his painting, the sadder you get.

You hold on to his hands to soothe you down, to ward away the fear crippling inside of you, and try your hardest to convince yourself that everything is alright and going to stay like that.

He holds you so tight at night, knowing that you wouldn't be able to stay with him for the rest of the week since you'll be having your exams.

The timing comes at the perfect time because he too has a deadline to finish his paintings for his next exhibition.

His touches that always work to lull you to sleep seem to lose their magic that night.

He senses that you're unusually restless that he places kisses on your bare shoulder while rubbing your abdomen with his big hand.

"Are you okay?" He asked you.

You softly sigh and put your hand in his, "I just can't sleep. Maybe the pre-exam stress?" you playfully remarked.

"There's no use to stress about things that haven't happened yet," he said, "you end up stressing about them twice,"

And he is right, there's no benefit in fussing about things that haven't happened yet and probably will never happen, you end up manifesting those awful things, and you don't want that.

"You'll do great," he assures you along with a kiss on your cheek.

There's nothing sexual in his kiss, but somehow it's more sensual than the sex itself, maybe it's the sincerity in it, the words that came before it, and the assurance he gives to you.

You feel so loved and safe, you get so convinced that everything is going to be alright.

You turn around to face him on the bed and look at his beautiful face, radiant even in the dark of his room, you realize that all you need to do is focus on things that matter to you, him.

"You'll do great as well," you told him.

"You're going to finish all those paintings," you added with a finger tracing his narrowed jaw.

"And you're going to do great on your exams," he says back with a smile.

You kiss him with your heart overflowing with gratitude for him, then bury your head in his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat to finally fall asleep in his embrace.

-

It had been days you'd been away from each other.

On one side, you're happy you get to have a little space for yourself, but on the other hand, you're afraid that the space you put yourself in will only drive you further away from each other.

Added with the fact that the words from his former girlfriend lingering in the back of your head like a broken record.

You went to his studio right after you were done with the final day of the exam, unlocking his door with the passcode he gave you, then get inside to find him talking to a guy you had never seen before.

You stay in the distance since they're engaging in a serious talk, you catch parts of their conversations, something about his paintings, the exhibition, it seems like this guy wants Hyunjin to finish his paintings before the deadline.

Hyunjin spots you lingering in the kitchen and tells you to come, you obey and walk up to him.

"This is my agent," he introduces you to the guy.

You shake his big, meaty hand and introduce yourself.

After a moment of some light talks, he leaves with Hyunjin sending him on his way.

You wait in the middle of his painting studio to see his unfinished painting on the easel, you touch the visible stroke of his paintbrush on it and feel the roughness of it under your fingertips.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't pick you up at the campus," he says to you as he closes the door behind him.

You turn on your heels to face him, "it's okay, I'm just glad the exams are over," you sigh.

Hyunjin stops on his way and takes steps backward, "wait, I have something for you," he says.

He goes to the fridge and pulls out a bouquet of flowers, smiling while carrying it to you.

"I bought it this morning, and I'm afraid it would wither so I keep it in the fridge," he explains, then hands it to you.

You look down at the red roses, as red as the blood that rushes to your cheeks, making you blush, then looks up at him to flash him a smile.

You can't explain why but you feel a burst of mixed feelings brewing inside of you.

"You said you never received flowers before, and I want to be the first to do that," he says.

Your eyes start brimming with tears, you believe it is caused by the mounting stress and the fears of losing him finally getting the best of you, and with him showing his love like this melts your misery away in an instant.

"Why are you crying?" He asks you with his fingers lifting your chin so he can look at you.

You shake your head, "thank you," you muttered, "I love this,"

He brightly smiles then pulls you into a hug, "you must have been so stressed,"

He pets your head endearingly while you close your eyes with one side of your face resting against his chest.

"What about we take a bath together, mmh?" He suggests.

You look up at him and sniffle, "I'd love that,"

He kisses your forehead, "Okay, I'll have the bath ready for us,"

Hyunjin fills the bathtub with a bubble bath with calming scent in it, he gets in first then helps you get in after.

He holds you with a hand across your chest, splashing your skin with the warm bathwater, and softly washes your body with his attentive hands.

He rubs your thighs under the water, gently kneading on the flesh, glides his hands along your sides to your chest, a hand angles your head to plant a kiss on you.

"Feel better now?" He asks.

"So much better," you answered with a dreamy sigh.

You get so sleepy after the bath and perhaps it is because all the pressures has been lifted off of you.

You lay on the bed facing each other with Hyunjin caressing the side of your face affectionately while looking into your half-shut eyes.

"Your eyes are barely open," he says.

"I'm so sleepy," you mumbled.

He softly chuckles, "go to sleep then,"

You sleepily smile then place a quick peck on his lips, "Goodnight!"

"Goodnight, love," he murmurs back, then takes your hand in his, bringing it close to his mouth to do that thing where he kisses your fingertips.

You think you dreamed it, but when you wake up in the middle of the night, Hyunjin is nowhere on the bed next to you.

You sit up on the bed, from the bedroom door that he left ajar, you see the sliver of his silhouette in the studio working on his painting.

It crosses your mind to walk up to him and accompany him as he paints, but you realize you can't do much, you might be a nuisance for being there.

You lay back down on the bed and sleep.

-

Hyunjin takes his art seriously.

It's his body and soul.

When you see his paintings, you'll see how much he put himself in them, like he puts a piece of himself in each of his paintings.

That's how much it means to him.

That's also why he gets sensitive when he's working.

You try not to disturb him when he's in element, not even when you see he hasn't eaten his lunch yet. You still check on him once in a while, replace his empty bottle of water with a new one and remind him to eat his meals.

You have been going to bed alone for the past few days, and when you see his sketchbook on the desk, it has been left untouched.

You take a look to see the drawings he made of you, you flip the page to see the drawing of your hands, your feet peeking out from under the blanket, the one where you're sleeping on the pillow, and you realize he had drawn you so many times without you noticing.

Even though you have to go to sleep alone to bed for these past few days, you feel his warmth from the drawing he had done of you.

What you're worried about is the fact that he's getting less sleep every night.

But turns out, that should be the least of your worries.

Because the next day after you're back from campus, he is gone.

He left his phone in his bedroom, no notes, he is just gone. You cheer yourself up by thinking maybe he takes a walk or goes somewhere to clear his head, you wait until evening comes by pacing around his studio.

You fall asleep around midnight, curling up on the bed clutching your phone just in case he tries to contact you.

You wake up at dawn and hear the rustles from the studio, find Hyunjin is working on his painting, you sigh in relief and almost cry because of it.

You come up to him and hug him from the back, you don't care if this will irritate him.

Hyunjin does the opposite, he puts his hands on yours and sighs, "I'm sorry for leaving without telling you,"

You rest your head against his back with your eyes closed, "I've been waiting for you," you sadly said.

"I need to clear my head," he explains.

You nod repeatedly, "can we go to bed now, please?" You pleaded.

Truthfully, you hate being a needy, clingy partner, but you really need to be held by him, you miss his touches, his warmth, to put it simply, you need his presence around you.

"Okay," he agreed.

You take his clothes off for him in which he eventually takes them off himself, it's the rule that he made himself to always come to bed naked.

You get on the bed and wait for him to join you under the duvet, you don't waste time laying yourself so close to him, feeling his smooth skin against yours and sharing some warmth.

You overlap his body with yours to kiss him, placing kisses on his body like he would do to you as a way to comfort him.

You climb on top of him then put your legs on each side of his then sit up to straddle him on the bed.

You grind on him, making yourself wet, then take his hands and put them on your body, kneading your breasts along with his hands.

When you're wet enough to take him, you get up just enough to position his cock under you, align it with your hole, then slowly ease yourself down around him.

You let out a breathless gasp when he's fully inside you, you tilt your head upward.

"This is my happy place," you hummed with a blissful smile on your face.

Hyunjin can't find you more alluring than this, truly enjoying having him inside you, and he also can't deny how much he misses being inside you, your velvety walls wrapped around him, tight and warm.

You lay down on top of him, kissing him hungrily on the mouth, savoring his plush red lips like there's no tomorrow.

"I feel so much better," he sighs with a dreamy smile, "this is exactly what I need,"

He then holds you close and lays his hands flat on the small of your back, rubbing your skin up and down your sides and his mouth placing fluttering kisses on your face.

"You're what I need," he adds.

You smile at him, then nestle your head in his neck, glad that he's back to the Hyunjin who passionately loves you, and loves you still.

And when you think things are back to their right places, you are wrong.

The disappearing, the going somewhere without telling you, and leaving his phone at home getting more frequent as the deadline of his paintings nearing in, it has happened for a few times now that it worries you.

He still has one painting left to do, yet his canvas is still blank, pristine white with no speck of paint on it.

You sigh, understand that he must be having an art block, that's why he needs to get out of the studio, to refresh his mind and get inspired to paint again.

He'll come home late at night, continue painting until he gets tired, then sleep, collapsing next to you on the bed.

No kiss goodnight, no fluttering little touches that he usually does to send you to sleep, he just lays down, closes his eyes, then sleeps.

A part of you is glad that he finally finished his last painting, but the other part of you got sad seeing him working so hard, exhausted and worn out.

You let him get more sleep when you wake up in the morning, get to the kitchen to make breakfast, and brew some coffee.

You notice his bag on the kitchen island with his things spilling out of it, pens, pencils, and books cluttering around.

You place them back inside the bag, then take his book out to see what he's writing in it.

Of course, he doesn't write, he draws on it, from flowers, ducks swimming on the pond, a tree, a building, then a pair of hands in which you guess is yours, then an unfinished drawing of a face.

"You didn't wake me up," he says from the doorway of the bedroom.

You snap your head up and quickly shove his book back inside his bag, "you need to get more sleep," you told him.

"I can't. I have to meet my agent today," he says, then walks up to you in the kitchen.

"Do you want me to go with you?" You offered.

"No," he shortly replies.

You can't hide your disappointment, whether at his quick reply or that he doesn't want you to come with him.

"It'll be a boring meeting, and I won't be long," he explains with a hand cupping your cheek.

You nod at him, understand that maybe the reason why he doesn't want you to come along is that perhaps it's strictly business.

"I'll cook breakfast," you told him with a small smile at him.

He pecks your lips, "thank you, love,"

Hyunjin always keeps his words, but when you glance at the clock and it's past dinner time, and the dinner you have prepared for you two has gone cold that you reheat again to eat it on the dining table alone.

Hyunjin comes home when you're about to tuck in for the night, he barges into the bedroom and collapses onto the bed. He crawls on the bed to hug you, burying his head in your neck, then kisses your cheek.

You catch a hint of alcohol in his breath, "you've been drinking, huh?"

Hyunjin pulls away then lays on the bed next to you, "my agent insists on taking me for some drinks and I couldn't say no," he explains.

Hyunjin starts unbuttoning his shirt but failing since he's slightly drunk that his cheeks redden from the alcohol.

You shift on the bed to help him unbutton it and even lift his body to take the shirt off.

"You said you won't be long," you meekly said.

Once again, you hate being sounded like a clingy girlfriend but the disappearing and the didn't keep his words have pushed all the wrong buttons in you.

Hyunjin let out a long sigh, "the meeting took hours, and I-"

He sighs again, then turns over, lying facing down on the bed, "Actually, can we continue the talk tomorrow? I'm so tired," he says.

You slouch down the bed and lie on your side with your back facing him, wide-eyed and can't sleep, you get off the bed and head to the kitchen, pour yourself a glass of water, and gulp it at once.

You see his bag on the kitchen island, you get curious and open his bag to see what he has drawn in his book today, at least, to get a clue on what's inside his head.

You flip to the page to the last drawing he did on it and see a drawing of someone, someone so beautiful with doe eyes and button nose then you flip to the previous page, it's the same drawing of the same person from the side, and you flip again, still the same person and it's the unfinished drawing that you had seen a few days ago.

The fear starts creeping up inside you again as his ex-girlfriend's words are becoming true.

What if you are just his muse?

That you are a person he uses to evoke inspirations in him, and soon you'll be replaced once you're not doing it for him anymore.

You drag yourself back to bed and lay down on the bed next to him with uneasy thoughts running through your head and making you stare at the dark of the room for don't know how long.

You feel a hand around your waist and drags you closer to him, he presses a kiss on your neck.

"Why are you wearing clothes to bed, love?" he mumbles to you.

You start unbuttoning the shirt that you're wearing and hang it on the headboard of the bed, settling yourself down next to him again.

He immediately pulls you close on the bed, kisses your bare chest, then rests his head on the skin between your breasts.

"My love," he sighs.

He takes your hand and puts it in his hair, "I miss having your hand in my hair,"

You comply with his request, softly combing his silky hair with your fingers like you always do when you cuddle him.

But even though he is lying close to you, it's not enough to calm the fear inside you, wild and uncontrollable like a raging storm.

-

"You're so quiet," Hyunjin says as he lays next to you on the bed with a finger tracing the round of your cheek.

"I'm okay," you assured him with a lazy smile on your face.

While in fact, you are not okay.

You have been living your days holding your breath, and you can feel your heart shrink the longer you keep it that way.

You retreat from talking since his exhibition is coming soon and he has a lot going on in his mind already.

"Should we go somewhere?" He asks.

You shake your head.

"How about I cook you something?" He offers.

You hold his hand on the bed.

"Is there anything you want to eat, love?" He asks again along with a caress on your head.

You don't reply but look at him looking at you back into your eyes and close your eyes when he swipes his thumb across your lips.

"I hate seeing you like this," he sadly says.

You feel bad for making him sad because of you, "I crave something sweet," you weakly said to him.

A smile blooms on his face, bright like a sunrise.

Hyunjin makes pancakes and stacks them on a plate, putting a big dollop of whipped cream on it with strawberry slices on top.

He puts a hand on your head then kisses the top of your head.

"Eat well, my love," he says to you as he places the plate in front of you on the dining table.

He watches as you shove a forkful of pancake into your mouth and quickly wipes the cream on the corner of your mouth with his thumb, "is it good?"

You nod with giddiness with a wide smile on your face, then take another forkful and feed it to him, which he gladly eat.

Hyunjin glances at the clock on the wall and sighs, "I have to go," he announces.

"You finish the pancakes, okay?" He kisses your cheek and gets up from the chair.

Once Hyunjin leaves, it's only time until the fear eats you up from the inside again.

On the day of his exhibition, you promised to meet him at the gallery instead of going together since you have to finish some of your college assignments first.

You clutch your purse anxiously when you step inside the gallery, holding your breath as you walk until you find him among the crowd.

He's radiance, almost blinding.

He smiles the moment he notices you coming his way he walks up to you to meet you in the middle.

He grabs your hand, "You're so beautiful," he murmurs.

You've heard him calling you beautiful so many times, and each time never fails to make your heart flips, "thank you!"

He kisses your lips hastily, and you quickly wipe the stain of your lipstick on his lips with your thumb.

"Congratulations!" You greeted him with a sweet smile.

"Thank you," he mutters and when he is about to plant another kiss, someone calls out for him from across the room.

"It's okay, you go," you told him.

"I'll get back to you, okay?"

You nod and watch as he walks to a group of people in one corner of the room.

You decide to get a drink from the table that serves a selection of snacks and drinks, take a glass of drink, and carry it in your hand as you walk to see his paintings.

You are surprised to see a painting of your hands made it to his exhibition, but as you look closer there's a faint mole on the back of the hand.

You look down at your hand in reflex to check if you really do have a mole but can't find any.

Someone accidentally bumps into you as you make your way to the next painting, making you spill all of your drink on your white dress.

"I am so sorry," the girl said.

You look down at your dress and see the big wet patch on the side of your dress, it's ruined but you can't do anything about it.

"It's okay," you meekly said without looking up at her.

You see the red high heels she's wearing since you keep looking down to avoid getting embarrassed with your dress ruined by the wine.

You quickly leave for the restroom to fix whatever you can with the dress, wiping it dry with tissue and the hand dryer, but they can only do much.

You walk back into the gallery and head to Hyunjin to see if you can borrow his jacket or something, but find him talking to a girl.

From the red shoes you spotted earlier, she's the girl who bumped into your earlier. You keep walking but slowing down as the girl slowly turns around on her heels to finally reveal herself to you.

She's her.

She is that person Hyunjin drew on his book.

Then the mole on the back of her hand.

And she is just as beautiful as his drawing, so beautiful that you feel so self-conscious about your appearance.

You walk backward and eventually make your way out of the gallery, keep on walking and walking until you don't know how you get there.

You take a taxi home, back to your place, and curl up on the bed, a crying mess in the dark of your room.

You see your reflection on the mirror across you, you lying on your side with tears in your eyes, and in a time like this, you regret opening your heart, let it be hurt.

You've been loving him at full speed, and now you're forced to abruptly stop. Can you imagine how fatal the crash would be?

Your heart hurts so much that you fisted the sheet under your to hold it in, biting in your choked sobs and swallowing it all, a big bitter pill down your throat.

Your eyes snap open to the banging sounds on your door.

"I know you're inside," he shouts behind the door, "Open the door!"

You know it's him, he must have sensed something is wrong with you suddenly leaving the gallery without telling him first.

"I won't go before you open the door," he shouts again with another series of banging on the door.

You reluctantly get off the bed and walk to the door, you take a deep breath before pulling it open.

Hyunjin dashes inside the moment you open the door for him, doesn't waste his time to confront you, "why are you leaving like that?" He asks you, his eyebrows furrowed in anger.

You stand there facing him, in the middle of the small living room of your apartment, "and it's okay for you to keep disappearing but not me?"

He comes up to you and holds your face in his hands, "I thought you understand me, " he sadly says.

"What I don't understand is why you draw some other girl," you said to him.

Hyunjin scoffs in disbelief, "so this is about me drawing another girl?"

You are aware of how petty you sound right now, but you're way past being pathetic.

"I-" you pause to take a deep breath.

"I've been trying to figure out what am I to you? Am I just a muse to you? A model for your drawings? Someone, you sleep with?"

Your voice is trembling from the emotions building up inside you.

"I honestly don't know, Hyunjin," you sadly said to him with your eyes closed as if they would prevent the tears from falling.

"Look at me!" He orders you.

Hyunjin put his fingers under your chin, forcing you to look at him, and he looks into your eyes, red and pooling with tears.

"How dare you say you're just someone I sleep with?"

You can feel the bitterness in his words when he uttered it right to your face, "you mean so many things to me that I can't put a word for it," softly says, "you are everything to me," he emphasizes on the word everything.

But his words only make you cry harder.

He holds you close, steers your body by slightly lifting your body against him, then sits you down on the end of your bed.

He kneels in front of you, hair tousled with a few strands covering his face, a crease between his eyebrows and eyes looking up at you with a mix of concern, anger, and sadness in them.

"What are you thinking? What makes you think you mean so little to me?" There's an edge to his voice like he could break into tears at any moment.

You keep closing your eyes to stop the tears, but it's a fruitless effort, "I thought you don't love me anymore," you get breathless at the end of the sentence as the lump in your throat clogs your windpipe.

"My God," he sighs, "I made you feel that way?"

You keep crying into your hands as the tears won't stop streaming down your face.

Hyunjin rests his head on your lap with his hands around your waist, you can feel every rise and fall of his chest for every intake of his breath, and he stays like that for a moment.

He snaps his head up, puts your hands away from covering your face, then looks up at you, "I hate myself for making you feel that way," he says in such a low voice that you mistake it for a whisper.

"I am so sorry," he says as he holds both of your hands in his.

You get even sadder to the fact that you are the one who accused of him things, but he's the one who apologized to you.

"I will do anything to prove how much I love you," he says, pressing his lips on your knuckles.

When you look into his eyes, filled with so much sincerity in them, you feel ashamed for ever doubting his love.

"What can I do to make you feel my love?" He asks, then presses his forehead against yours even though you are a crying mess right now.

"Please stop crying! My heart aches to see you cry," he begs.

You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself down, and Hyunjin helps by rubbing your neck with his hands.

He leans in and kisses you.

ou return the kiss, slowly and softly, closing your eyes as to not spill any tears again.

"I love you," he says against your lips.

He catches your chin between his fingers and forces you to look at him, "do you hear that?" He asks you.

"I love you," he says again.

You stifle a nod.

"I don't care if you don't love me back," he says, "I love you," then kisses you again, he's whimpering against your lips as if it hurts to kiss you.

He pulls away to place kisses on your face, on your neck with a hand that steadily holds your jaw, and you give in to his will, tilt your head to let him access your neck.

"Take your clothes off for me," he orders as he puts his mouth away.

"I want to show you how much I love you,"

You obey, get up from the bed and start stripping your clothes off one by one then lay down on the bed as he instructed you.

Hyunjin also takes his clothes off then climbs onto the bed, he looks down at your naked body, flustered under his lustful gaze.

He kisses every part of your body affectionately from head to toe, every kiss is longer than the previous one, searing and burning, hot to the touch.

He flips you over on the bed so he too, can kiss the back of your body, from the crook of your neck to your calves.

This is the kind of intimacy you can't just get anywhere, it's beyond, it's not just his mouth all over your body, it's the way he appreciates and admires every inch of your body.

He turns you over on the bed to face him, hurriedly places a kiss on your mouth passionately, he gasps when he let go of the kiss.

"I want to make love to you," he says.

And he's the only one who can say such romantic things, but you don't find it phony or annoying, because you know he meant it with all his heart.

His hand moves to your abdomen and lays his hand flat there, "I want to fill you with a part of me," he says to you.

You nod at him, surrendering yourself at him and to his will with your hands turned up on the bed.

Hyunjin slowly kisses you down your chest as he settles himself between your legs, a hand tracing your folds, teasing your gushing hole with his fingers.

He doesn't break eye contact with you from the moment he gets inside you, making you even more naked than you already are.

You look at his face, hovering right above you, a crease between his eyebrows and a thin layer of sweat from the endless thrust he does against you.

He groans with his eyes screwed shut that he slows down his pace, almost losing it at how good it feels being inside you even though it's not the first time he did it with you.

"You're so good, love," he says to you.

"I love you so much," his voice quivers with the emotions the words carry in them.

And you can feel it too without he needs to say a word.

"Hyunjin?" you called him.

"Yes, love?" He asks you with a tender gaze.

"I love you so much," you muttered to him.

A tear rolls down your cheek the second you let the words out.

It's scary saying those words, and you figure because it's true, also because your love for him overpowers the love you have for yourself.

Hyunjin closes his eyes to let the words sink in, then sighs.

"And I promise never doubt your love for me again," you said to him.

"I don't want you to promise me that," he says.

He holds the side of your face with his hand, "I know that I can be difficult to be around with," he says to you, "I can be sensitive and annoying and stupid,"

"But I want you to promise to always stay with me," he begs.

And it's something you want and can provide for him, giving your everything to him, you want to be needed by him as much as you need him.

"I promise," you answered without the slightest of doubt.

Hyunjin sighs in relief, he feels like he has just accomplished something far bigger than his life, that is you.

"I love you so, so much," he says to you, then places a gentle kiss on your lips, tangles his hand in your hair, and deepens the kiss, for he can't get enough of the taste of you.

Hyunjin drags his mouth down your neck, and you turn your head to the side, catching the reflection of yourself on the mirror.

It's fascinating how you see yourself crying a while ago, and now, you see Hyunjin making love to you in the mirror.

Hyunjin angles your head at him to kiss you on the lips, "I love you," he says again with his lips grazing yours as he speaks.

"I love you," you said back with so much confidence in it this time.

You exchange a loving gaze with each other then lean in for a kiss.

Now that you had a taste of how great the pain that comes with your love is, you feel something shift in your relationship, you don't know what it is, but you hope it's something better.

One thing for sure is his kisses taste different.

He tastes so bitter yet so sweet.

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star lost with you | hyunjin au | part 14

synopsis: working in a quaint little art store, you’ve had the honor of meeting all kinds of people, but you’ve never met somebody like him.

there were many reasons hyunjin returned to his hometown; a getaway from the ephemeral and fast-paced life of the city, so he could fall in love with life again. he thought he was prepared for everything, to study art in the way that he’s always wanted to, but what he didn’t anticipate was meeting you. hwang hyunjin realises that sometimes, the best things in life happen unplanned. 

pairing: idol! hyunjin x artist! reader

genre: friends to lovers, so much angst, smut, fluff, set in the idolverse, mutual pining, unrequited love, forbidden romance, slowburn (!!!) soulmate au (kind of), star-crossed lovers

word count:35K (🫠)

warnings: cursing, drinking, jealousy, mutual pining, sexual tension, intense making out, dirty talk, mature content, sub! hyunjin, references to fingering, mentions of the word cock, dom! hyunjin, handjob, grinding, dry humping, overthinking, references to anxiety and therapy, slight confrontation, opens with a flashback

a/n: thank you for being so patient with me, and this story! i worked a lot for this chapter, and its very pivotal to the rest of the story, in terms of hyun and yn. in fact almost 80% of this chapter is just them. i hope you love it. its very longg so please grab a blanket and snacks before sitting down to read it ;)

i recommend that you can listen to my star lost playlist here!

important: all works are fiction, and do not in any way represent the real personalities or real people, they exist only as faceclaims, and are fictional characters.

masterlist

summer of 2015.

“Do you know why those stars are called Cassiopeia?” 

The constellation was more visible than ever tonight — made up of five stars, it almost looked like a Queen sitting on her throne, in the sky.

It was a real question, because you had absolutely no idea why the constellations were named after Greek myths. You’d read about it, of course, within faded literature pages in middle school, but you’d never been interested in astronomy, so you hardly paid attention.

Staring up at it now, you wished you had.

“Hmm?” He asked, and you realised that he also hadn’t been paying attention, to you.

“Cassiopeia” You repeated, pointing your hand upwards, at the bright stars.

“I don’t speak French, babe”

“It’s Latin…” You told him, “What are you thinking of?”

The sand between your fingers was icky, but once you got used to it, it wasn’t all that bad. The waves rushing over you felt calm. The sea was warm this time of year, and the only thing you had looked forward to all summer was this moment, right here.

“I’m thinking…about how I’d do anything for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich right now” He replied, as if he’d been crafting his answer with perfection for ages, as if you hadn’t just asked him about the night sky, something completely unrelated. 

Keep reading

this isn’t bts, but it’s my second love - Stray Kids.

i would both live and die for this entire skz!pack series. i constantly come back to reread and fall more in love with everything they publish. if i could metaphorically marry, divorce and then remarry an au, it would be this. i swear on everything i believe in. this is crack to me (someone who’s never done drugs or anything harder than mcdonalds sprite)

thank u x

OT8 MASTERLIST

💖Inked Petals and Message Tones

✨ SKZ!Pack Universe 🌙

"Ask the Pack"-here!

Wolf Inside

Mine

Special

Stupid Dumb Alpha

Smell Like You

Moonmates

Jealousy, Jealousy

Oh Sheet

Lemon Squares

Killing, Stalking

Pineapple on Pizza

star lost with you | hyunjin au | part 11

synopsis: working in a quaint little art store, you’ve had the honor of meeting all kinds of people, but you’ve never met somebody like him.

there were many reasons hyunjin returned to his hometown; a getaway from the ephemeral and fast-paced life of the city, so he could fall in love with life again. he thought he was prepared for everything, to study art in the way that he’s always wanted to, but what he didn’t anticipate was meeting you.

hwang hyunjin realises that sometimes, the best things in life happen unplanned.

series: star lost with you

pairing: idol! hyunjin x artist! reader

genre: friends to lovers, angst, smut, fluff, set in the idolverse, mutual pining, unrequited love, forbidden (?) romance, slowburn (!), soulmate au (kind of)

word count: 34K (im so sorry)

warnings: cursing, some angst, jealousy, mutual pining, sexual tension is off the charts, yn is very very insecure, oblivious behaviour, mature content, fluff, mentions of boners, drinking, making out, kissing, grinding, sub! hyunjin, mentions of the word cock, groping, dirty talk, opens with a flashback, dom! hyunjin

a/n: way too much happens in this chapter, but this is my favourite one yet. it has some of my favourite scenes I’ve ever written for hyunjin, and i hope you all love it! i hope it doesn’t disappoint, and that the wait was worth it. please tell me all of your thoughts. I know I could probably have broken it up into two parts, but everything has to happen together haha. it’s a really long part, so please get comfortable! 

you can listen to my star lost playlist here! thank you @ortali for this gif <3

masterlist

Yongbok’s hand was in yours, freckled skin and soft palms, the familiarity of its touch soothing you. It was a comfort that you were used to, the kind of reassurance you always had, just knowing him — knowing that his hand would always be yours to hold, at the end of any day. 

You could trace the dots on his skin with your finger, and you’d spent many afternoons counting the stars on his body. 

He hated his freckles, but he loved stars, and so obviously, that’s what you called them. 

If he so wished, you’d erase the word freckles from the dictionary, just for him, but you hoped that one day he would come to love them, just as you did.

“What took you so long?” He asked, a pout on his lips, and you knew that he’d only been waiting for you, just a few minutes, but if Lee Felix as a fifteen year old was anything — that was dramatic. 

His voice was saccharine sweet, and despite the excitement in his stature, he held your hand gently, rubbing circles over your skin.

“I just…got distracted” You mumbled, pushing the bag of your brand-new art supplies up your shoulder.

“Gosh. Y/N. You and pretty things…You’re so weak” 

Keep reading

Reading this was so satisfying

I need more quality-time centred fics. This was just so well written <3

i can’t stop (falling in love with you)

pairing: non-idol!seungmin x fem!reader

genre: fluff! very mildly suggestive content, though.

word count: 0.5k~

warnings: food mentions + slight suggestive lines (vague, but they’re there).

daisy’s notes: my brain throughout this when i mention jeongin: maknae on top oh-wooah-ohhh

“All I want for my birthday,” you had told Seungmin quietly, “is to spend a quiet night in with you.”

Keep reading

yea I def liked this one.

After I discovered that there was a whole genre of pothead jisung fics, my entire reading experience has changed for the better. Bcuz like (personal tmi), sexual pleasure while high is so other worldly and reading these just gets that

hard (but soft) bf jisung thought below the cut (not proofread - don’t come for me)

SMUT BELOW THE CUT. MINORS DNI

clouds of earthy smelling smoke filled your lungs as you laid on your bed, head hanging off the side. jisung sat at your feet, eyes closed in bliss as he took a slow drag of the joint he had rolled only minutes before.

jisung tapped the bottom of your foot to get your attention. “more?” his voice was raspy from the smoke and the lingering sleep that had yet to leave his system.

“no, i’m ‘kay.” you mumbled, eyes focused on the ceiling fan above you. around and around it spun, drying your eyes out with its gentle breeze. or maybe they were dry because you hadn’t blinked in the last minute, or maybe it was because of the weed. either way, when your eyes fluttered shut, you couldn’t help but moan quietly as they finally got some rest.

jisung finished the joint, putting the nub out on the ashtray beside the bed. the mattress moved under his weight, stopping only once he was between your legs. grabbing your knees, he spread your legs out, stretched as far as they could possible go. you could feel his legs rubbing against yours, shifting closer and closer to your middle. even in your high state, you could guess what was to come next, even lifting your hips in preparation.

but hands never found your hips, ridding you from the pink cotton layer that hid your core away. instead, you felt the weight of his head on your lower belly, jisung flipping on his side and pulling your thighs until they squished him in the middle of your body.

jisung held onto your leg, fingers drawing hearts on your bare skin. “love you.” he whispered before placing a tender kiss on your thigh.

blindly, as your head was still over the edge and eyes were still closed, your hands searched for his head, threading your fingers through his fluffy hair. he hummed against your thigh, nose nuzzling into you as you played with his hair.

“love you.”

“mean it?”

“always.”

you could feel his smile on your thigh, feel his giggle making your soft skin jiggle. he was always an affectionate partner; always doting on you, covering you with kisses whenever he could, showering you with praises and a love you never thought you deserved. jisung did, though, and didn’t let a day go by without reminding you that you did.

but something about your boyfriend high made him more lovely. praises leaving his soft lips more, kisses with a bit more passion behind them, “love you”s said a little more firmly. it was cute - the way he was so openly smitten for you no matter his state of mind.

“baby?” his voice was muffled against your thigh.

“yeah?”

“can you lift your head up? i miss your face.”

giggling, you planted your palms on the mattress and pushed yourself up. jisung rolled onto his belly, chin now resting on your stomach as he stared at you. the laziest smile painted his face, so large that his eyes fluttered shut.

“there’s my pretty girl.” his voice was low, it had been all afternoon, but something about that sentence with that tone-

“jiiiiiii.” you whined, going to dangle over the edge again. jisung was quicker than you, though, grabbing your upper thighs and pulling you further down the bed until your head was now resting on it instead of over it.

“that’s better.” he was now face to face with your collarbones from shifting you on the bed. his lips kissed where they met, little butterfly kisses landing across each collarbone. once he was done kissing those, he moved to your shoulders. then your neck. then his kisses were underneath your ears, and the room felt stuffy, and not from the weed.

his lips brushed on your earlobe, causing your hands to fly up, intertwining your fingers with his hair again.

“mm, almost forgot.” his voice was nothing but a whisper, daring to pull your earlobe in his mouth. he released the cartilage with a pop. “pretty baby likes when i’m close enough to whisper in her ear, yeah?”

his hands had gone rouge, one slipping under your tank top while the other played with the lower hem of your panties. instead of responding, you arched your back, hips pushing into the hand that was close by. you heard (more like felt) jisung huff a laugh, fingers nimbly pushing your panties to the side.

his fingers found your silt, the two of you moaning in unison as he touched you for the first time that day.

“always so wet, so ready for me.” jisung pushed his fingers up, slightly pausing to tease your clit, then down, pausing again to tease your entrance. “always such a good girl for me. right, baby? you’re my good girl?”

he increased the pressure of his movements, of the amount of time he spent at your clit and entrance. chest rapidly rising and falling, you found what little strength you had to answer. “ ‘m good girl. ji’s good girl.”

he rewarded your confirmation with two fingers pushing into you, his body breaking out into goosebumps as you arched into him more. knuckles deep, he pulled them out slowly to his fingertips before pushing back in, slower than how he dragged them out.

“my perfect, perfect angel.” he was panting now, hard on gently rocking against your thigh. the feeling made you dizzy, the weed making all of your senses feel overwhelmed in the best way. “god, i can never get enough of you. so beautiful, so wonderful and all-“ his thumb found your clit, pressing down hard and rubbing up and down “-all mine. forever.”

your hands fell to his cheeks, pulling his face out of your neck to look at you. his brown eyes found yours; red around the edges, blown wide from his highs - the high of the weed, the high of you, and the high of his love.

“forever?” your voice was cracking, but it was hard to tell if it was from the tears forming in your waterline or the rope in your lower belly that was so close to snapping.

jisung smiled at you, genuine and sweet. “forever. my girl. my love. forever.”

the words made your body tingle, dam finally breaking as your came with a moan and tears around him. head thrown back in ecstasy, you cried into the afternoon sun filled room, hips grinding against his fingers as you rode this new high out.

once his fingers were out of you, and his head was now resting on your chest, you repeated his earlier question.

“mean it?”

he squeezed you tighter, body pressed flushed against yours.

“always.”

©: chvnnie 2022

This was really cute. Glad I read it. 💜💜💜

I DARE YOU.

Felix x reader. (s)

Synopsis: The shy you meet the charming stranger, Felix, through a dare that leads you both into a whirlwind of a night filled with new, unexpected things. (17,6k words)

Author's note: It’s a late bday fic for Felix. I had soooooo much fun writing the smut in this one and I rarely said that so I hope you had fun too reading it x

Not this—being in a loud, dark club with Rex and her friends, a group of people you barely know, and the alcohol in your glass isn't any less foreign, a poor substitute for your usual chamomile tea.

A typical Friday night for you usually means snuggling on the sofa with your favorite blanket, a book in hand, and a cup of tea.

The music is thumping, the strobing lights flickering incessantly, and the sheer chaos of it all overwhelms your senses. It's overstimulating, like stepping into a world where you don't quite belong.

But here you are, trying to push past your comfort zone for one night, specifically for your best friend, Rex. You make the exception because it's her birthday.

You've known Rex since high school, and to this second, you're still not entirely sure how you two became best friends.

Rex is everything you aren’t—fierce, vibrant, and unapologetically confident—while you are introverted, shy, and awkward. Yet somehow, in that contrast, you found something that clicked. Maybe it's the way she effortlessly pulls you out of your shell or the way she always has your back without needing to say much.

For almost eight years now, this unlikely bond has stood the test of time, bridging the gap between your quiet, dull world and her wild, colorful one.

However, at times, the stark contrast between you and Rex pushes you to the edge. She thrives on excitement, constantly seeking new experiences, while you cling to routine. You like the comfort of predictability—having the same breakfast every day, enjoying the calm of your familiar surroundings. Rex, on the other hand, is always nudging you, sometimes even shoving you, to break free from that comfort zone. She wants you to explore, to live a little, and while you appreciate her intentions, it can feel overwhelming. She never seems to understand that trying new, exciting things isn’t natural for you the way it is for her.

Just like tonight. Rex has convinced everyone to play Never Have I Ever, and it quickly becomes apparent how out of place you are.

Every statement, every confession, is about wild, reckless things—everything you’ve never done. With each round, your glass remains untouched while everyone else takes shots, laughing as they reveal their mischievous pasts.

By the time the group is tipsy and lightheaded from confessing their wild and naughty escapades, you are still as sober as ever, quietly sitting there, feeling even more like a fish out of water.

Rex eventually notices your lack of participation. She puts down her glass and says, “Alright, this is getting boring. Let’s change the game!”

You notice her eyes flicking to you, and you feel your heart sink. “But I’m having fun,” you assure her, forcing an awkward laugh.

Your words are not entirely false. It isn’t like you aren’t having fun—it just isn’t your kind of fun.

Rex smirks, knowing you too well. She can see through your calm façade. “Sure you are. Alright, Never Have I Ever cheated on a test?"

Everyone else laughs, raising their glasses to take a shot, but your glass stays put.

“Guys, you shouldn’t cheat on...” your words trail off as you notice the looks they give you.

“See?” Rex says, turning back to you. “It’s not fun if you’re not participating.”

You scoff, but you can't really argue. It's true. The game isn’t exactly designed for someone like you.

“I’m still having fun,” you insist with a faint smile, but even you can hear how fake that sounds.

Rex lets out a sigh and scoots closer to you. “It’s my birthday, and I want my best friend to have fun on my birthday.”

One of her friends groans, putting her glass down with an exaggerated eye roll. “Whatever, I’m hitting the dance floor.” She slides out of the booth, and the rest follow, leaving you and Rex alone.

Maybe Rex’s birthday has become a bit boring because of you, but you told her before that you would’ve preferred a small gathering at your apartment, maybe just the two of you.

“I’m sorry I’m ruining your birthday,” you mumble, feeling guilty for being a party pooper and aware that it's unfair to her.

However, Rex’s attention has already drifted elsewhere—on someone, to be exact. She turns her head back at you with her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“He’s been checking you out,” she whispers against the loud music.

You snort and shake your head in disbelief, glancing in the direction she subtly nods toward, checking if she's telling the truth.

Across the room, a guy with bleached blond hair and tattooed hands sits casually, dressed in a leather jacket. His fair skin and delicate features are striking, but you can’t help but laugh to yourself. There is no way he is checking you out—not when Rex, your stunning, lively best friend, is sitting right next to you.

Before you can argue, Rex turns your head toward him. Your eyes lock with his instantly, and your heart skips a beat. You tell yourself it's just the loud, thumping music making your chest pound like that. He smiles faintly at you, and you quickly look away, feeling heat rise in your cheeks.

“Okay, new game!” Rex suddenly announces, clapping her hands.

You blink in shock. “Wait, what?”

“Don’t worry, it’s just between you and me,” Rex says with a mischievous grin, taking a second to sip her drink.

You raise an eyebrow, wary of what she has in mind. “Okay...?” you respond nervously.

“Truth or dare,” Rex finally reveals, her eyes gleaming with trouble. “But here’s the twist—there’s no truth.”

“Rex, I don’t—” you begin, but she cuts you off by covering your mouth with her hand.

“It’s my birthday,” she says, her voice low yet commanding. “You’re obliged to do whatever I ask.”

You sigh, nodding reluctantly. Rex removes her hand and holds yours instead, her fingers cool and reassuring despite her devious smile.

“My dear best friend,” she says, that mischievous grin lingering on her red-painted lips, “I dare you to kiss that guy.”

Your eyes follow her finger, and it's pointing at the bleached blond guy with the tattooed hands across the room.

“What? No way!” You blurt out, eyes widening in shock.

“Come on! It’s just a kiss. You can do it," Rex says casually, showing how different the two of you view this dare. She then squeezes your hand and adds, "Besides, he’s been staring at you all night.”

Your heart pounds, not from the music but from the sheer terror of Rex’s dare. Kiss a stranger? In a club? You aren’t Rex—confident and fearless. You’re the girl who barely participated in Never Have I Ever because the wildest thing you’ve ever done is stay up late to study for finals.

“But I… I don’t know him,” you stammer, your palms getting sweaty on your lap.

“That’s the point of the game!" Rex says lightly. "And it’s not like he hasn’t noticed you. He smiled, didn’t he?”

The idea terrifies you, but there is also a small part of you—buried deep under all the shyness and caution—that is curious. What if you step out of your comfort zone for once? What if you do something wild, something you’d never do on your own?

As if she hears your thoughts, Rex leans closer and softly says, “You’ve spent your whole life playing it safe. It’s just one kiss. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You glance back toward the guy. He’s still sitting there, calm and collected, his long bleached-blonde hair falling effortlessly around his face. He hasn’t looked away since your brief, flustered glance earlier. Instead, he seems… unfazed, but there’s something curious in his eyes, like he’s still watching, waiting.

“I can’t,” you mutter again, shaking your head, feeling that familiar wave of discomfort rise in your chest.

Rex leans in closer, holding your hand gently. “Look, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I just want you to have fun for once, not think about everything so much. You trust me, right?”

Of course you trust her. Rex has been by your side for eight years, through thick and thin. As wild as she is, she always has your back, no matter what.

The logical part of your brain screams at you to refuse, to stay in your lane. But there’s another voice, quieter but growing louder with each passing second, telling you to just do it, to be bold, even if just for one night.

You inhale deeply, your hand still in hers, and with a shaky voice, you say, “Fine. But if I make a fool of myself, I'll kill you and leave your body in a ditch.”

Rex bursts out laughing, not finding your words threatening at all. “Deal! Now go get him, tiger!” she says, giving you a playful slap on the butt.

“I can’t believe I’m about to do this,” you mutter under your breath, standing up on legs already turning to jelly.

You look over your shoulder and find Rex grinning, clearly delighted. As encouragement, she gives you a nudge in the guy's direction.

As you walk toward him, each step feels surreal, heavier than the last. It doesn’t take long before the guy notices you, and to your surprise, his faint smile grows.

When you finally stop in front of him, you don’t know what to say. Your throat tightens, and for a moment, you regret even considering the dare. But despite everything, you hear your own voice ask, “Do you mind if I kiss you?”

There's no turning back now, and it’s not like he's the type to say no, not with the way he's looking at you—intrigued. And despite the panic in your chest, there’s something thrilling about the way he watches you.

He looks at you with a mix of surprise and amusement, then his smile turns soft. “How could I say no to that?” he says, his voice surprisingly low and deep.

Not giving yourself time to overthink, you close the gap between you and him, leaning in as he does the same until your lips and his meet in the middle.

The kiss isn’t wild or reckless like you imagined it would be. It’s gentle, slow, and—much to your surprise—perfectly in tune with the moment. It feels like the first time you’ve ever kissed anyone, full of nerves, fluttering excitement, and the kind of tenderness you hadn’t expected from a stranger.

When you pull back, your hand flies to your lips, barely believing you’ve just done that. Your heart is still racing, but this time, it isn’t just from fear. You feel the thrill and rush of stepping out of your comfort zone, and you think... maybe you can push yourself a little more, just a little bit.

Absentmindedly, you open your mouth and ask, “Do you want to get out of here?”

-

It's a typical Friday night for Felix—hanging at the club with his friends, having a few drinks, casually watching the scene. The same kind of night he's had countless times. His eyes wander across the room, drifting from one group of people to another, and then… he sees you.

You're completely out of place, dressed in something someone would wear to church on Sunday, your glasses slightly sliding down your nose, sitting with your hands clasped tightly in your lap. The glass you're holding? He's pretty sure it's just an accessory for your idle hand. Then he observes the people you're with—they're clearly here to let loose and have fun, his usual type—the kind of girls who are bold and uninhibited. But you? You're different, and that’s what intrigues him.

Felix isn’t being judgmental. He knows everyone needs to blow off some steam once in a while, but there's something about seeing you in this environment that captivates him. You don’t belong here, not really, and yet here you are. The juxtaposition of your quiet presence amidst the chaos of the club fascinates him. He finds himself watching you without meaning to, drawn to how out of place you are.

Then, your eyes meet. You look right at him from across the room, and he doesn't look away. He holds your gaze, wondering if you’ll hold it too, but you drop your eyes almost immediately.

The shyness in that simple act is oddly cute because most girls he meets in places like this are bold, forward. They don't shy away from eye contact, but you? There is something sweet in your hesitance.

The second time you glance over, Felix notices a change. You're a little braver, and this time, you don’t just look—you stand up. Your steps are hesitant but purposeful as you cross the room, and before he can think too much about it, you're right in front of him.

“Do you mind if I kissed you?” you ask, your voice soft, small yet determined.

Felix raises an eyebrow, surprised but amused. He can’t help but smile at the way you asked for permission. Most girls don’t ask—they just do. But your politeness, your shyness, the way you're so out of place in this club yet standing in front of him, asking so sweetly—it's irresistible.

He looks at you, his smile widening. “How could I say no to that?”

A kiss has always just been a kiss for Felix—a simple way to satisfy some biological need, with no deeper meaning behind it. But this? This kiss doesn’t feel like that.

The kiss takes him back to something he hasn’t felt in years—the thrill of a first kiss. The kind that's innocent, pure, and full of nervous excitement. He can’t remember the last time he had a kiss that made him feel like this—something chaste but electrifying all at once.

As you pull away, Felix almost groans in protest. He wants more, needs more of that flutter, that spark. His lips tingle, and he can tell yours do too, as your hand flies up to your mouth as if you can’t believe what just happened.

"Do you want to get out of here?" you ask, your voice shy, but with a daring edge that Felix hadn’t expected.

Your charm is something else—shy and demure one moment, then bold and forward the next, endlessly fascinating him. There's just something about you that makes this feel less like a random encounter and more like something worth exploring.

Consider his curiosity piqued, eager to see where this unlikely encounter will take him next. He meets your gaze, a playful smile tugging at his lips, then he says, "Lead the way!"

You turn, feeling the heat of his presence close behind you as you make your way through the packed club. The noise slowly recedes, replaced by a focused, almost intimate atmosphere between you.

As you reach the exit, Felix places a hand on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd. Once outside, the cool night air hits you, a refreshing contrast to the club’s stuffy heat.

Felix glances at you, his smile still in place, and asks, “So, what’s the plan?”

-

To be honest, you have no idea why you asked him out. You acted spontaneously, which is unlike you, but you know what you want. You crave the thrill and the excitement, and ultimately, more of that explosive kiss. 

Without thinking, you reach for Felix’s arm, pulling him toward the dimly lit alley next to the club. The urgency between you both is palpable, the energy from that brief kiss still simmering just beneath the surface. 

As soon as you're out of sight from the street, Felix pins you against a stack of old crates filled with empty beer bottles. His hands find your waist and pull you close. Your lips collide again, this time more passionate, more intense. Your heart is beating out of your chest as your fingers tangle in his long hair. 

In the intensity of the moment, you lean back slightly, misjudging the proximity of the crate. Your head strikes the edge with a sharp thud, and the sudden pain makes you wince. 

You gasp and accidentally break the kiss for a second, but you decide to laugh it off—you don’t want to ruin the moment. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice tinted with concern. 

“I’m fine," you say, half-laughing. 

Felix smiles, though concern fills his eyes as he leans in close. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m okay, I’m—” you begin to blabber, wanting to resume the heated moment by leaning in for another kiss, but you immediately stop when you notice the shift in his expression. 

His hand reaches up to the side of your head, and that’s when you feel it too—the warm, sticky sensation spreading through your hair. Then, he shows you his fingers, coated with your blood. 

“I don’t think you're okay,” he mutters, his voice suddenly serious. “You’re bleeding.” 

You can feel the adrenaline and embarrassment mingling as the pain begins to set in. 

Felix gently touches your shoulder, trying to comfort you as he guides you away from the alley. “We need to get this checked out. We need to go to the hospital.” 

Oh, no! This was supposed to be your night of finally breaking out of your shell, not a night where you make a fool of yourself in front of a hot guy. 

“It’s not a big deal. I don’t need to go to the hospital,” you insist, trying to brush off the situation. 

He shakes his head firmly, but his hand remains gentle on the small of your back. “We’re getting this checked out. You can’t just ignore it.” 

Without taking any of your excuses, Felix hails a taxi until one stops and pulls to the side of the road. He helps you get in, and on the ride to the nearest hospital, he checks on you every once in a while, asking if you're okay. His tatted hands and rough exterior are such a contrast to his gentle, attentive demeanor. 

That only makes you hate how the night has taken a turn. The two of you could have done more than just kiss by now if it weren’t for you bumping your head on a stupid crate. 

“Come back if you feel dizzy, nauseous, or if there’s a ringing in your ears,” the doctor says as she takes off her latex gloves, leaving the nurse to finish the rest. 

Despite the night’s earlier excitement, you feel a tinge of embarrassment about the whole incident. You're thinking of faking a concussion just to stay the night in the emergency room, but you're aware that would only make him worry more about you. 

Guess there's no other option but to push your way through this humiliation. 

As you step out of the emergency room, you see him standing against the wall, looking impossibly cool in his rough leather jacket. With his striking features, he could’ve been doing a photo shoot for a magazine. 

“Hi,” you nervously greet him. 

The adrenaline has drained from your body, leaving you feeling deflated. It's like the girl who kissed a stranger in a dark alley has vanished, replaced by your usual shy, awkward self—plus, you now have a bandage on your forehead. 

The magic of the night has faded, and you wouldn't blame Felix if he decided to leave now that he’s met the real you. He glances up from his phone, a soft smile stretching across his lips. 

“Hey. You okay?” he asks, putting his phone back into the pocket of his leather jacket. 

“Three stitches, no concussion,” you say, trying to sound casual. 

“Oh, that’s a relief,” Felix sighs, visibly relaxing. 

“You know, you don’t have to wait for me. I can deal with this myself,” you say, feeling a little guilty. He’s already done enough by helping you get to the hospital. 

“I can’t do that,” Felix says, his voice steady. 

“Why not?” you ask, genuinely curious. 

“I can’t just leave when you’re hurt,” he answers simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. 

That's such an unexpected answer from an unexpected man. He barely knows you, yet here he is, waiting outside an emergency room just to make sure you're okay. That thought warms you—but then it hits you: you don’t even know his name. 

“Unless I’m actually concussed… do I know your name?” you ask with a shy laugh. “Or did we skip introductions?” 

Felix chuckles, holding out his hand to you. “Felix,” he says, his deep voice sending a pleasant shiver through you. 

You take his hand, offering your name in return. “Nice to meet you, Felix.” 

It's about to get awkward from here, you can feel it. The momentum of the night has stalled, and now you aren’t sure what to say or do. You like him, but it feels like the window to continue this spontaneous night has closed. Maybe it’s better to retreat. 

“I’d better head home,” you mutter in defeat, but deep down, you hope the end of the night won’t feel as anticlimactic as it seems. 

To your surprise, Felix straightens up from the wall and turns toward the exit. With a warm and genuine smile, he offers, “Let me take you home.”

-

As Felix stands outside the emergency room, leaning against the wall, he notices you stepping out, looking more like yourself again—shy, awkward, but also kind of endearing. He can see the hint of embarrassment in your eyes, like you're expecting him to vanish now that things aren't as wild as they were earlier. But you have no idea he isn’t that kind of guy, not when it comes to this. 

You walk over, your voice soft and uncertain as you greet him, “Hi.” 

“Hey. You’re okay?” he puts on a smile, relieved that you're okay. 

“Three stitches, no concussion,” you answer, trying to play it down. 

“That’s a relief,” he sighs. 

Honestly, if anything worse had happened to you, he would’ve felt responsible, and he can’t live with that. Sure, his appearance might have given off the wrong vibe, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. You need help, so he helps you. 

“You know, you don’t even have to wait for me. I can just deal with it myself," you awkwardly clasp your hands in front of you and keep avoiding his eyes as you speak. 

“I can’t do that,” he says; there’s no way he leaves you alone after everything. 

“Why not?” you ask, genuinely confused. 

Felix doesn’t really have an answer to that, so he slowly shrugs and says, “I can’t just leave when you’re hurt.” 

You give him this look, like you're trying to figure him out. He guesses you don't expect him to care, but he does, and that is that. 

A moment passes in silence, and you shift awkwardly in front of him. “Unless I’m actually concussed... do I know your name, or did we skip the introduction?” 

It only hits him now that you both indeed haven't introduced each other. He chuckles and holds out his hand. “Felix.” 

You take it, and your hand feels warm and delicate in his. “Nice to meet you, Felix.” 

You seem like you're about to wrap up the night, but he can see it in the way you're fidgeting, like you're ready to go but also unsure about how to end things. 

“I’d better head home,” you mutter, your voice almost apologetic. 

But Felix isn’t ready to end the night, and he can tell you don’t want to, either—you just don’t have the nerve to ask. And honestly, he doesn’t want the moment to slip away, so he decides to give you an out. 

“Let me take you home,” he offers, and when your eyes meet his, he can see the relief flicker across your face. 

When the taxi pulls up outside your apartment building, he watches you try to act cool, but he can tell you’re hesitating. You don’t want the night to end any more than he does, but you aren’t going to say it. 

Felix has been with enough people to know when someone is too shy to speak up, and you are definitely in that space. He leans in slightly and asks, “Do you mind if I come in for a bit? I’m afraid I need to use your bathroom.” 

Your face lights up with a smile you can’t hide, and he has to hold back a grin of his own. 

“I don’t mind at all," you say, trying so hard to conceal the excitement in your voice. 

The two of you head inside. You lead the way to your apartment, climbing the stairs, giving him a view of your back as the hem of your dress sways while you walk until you reach the fourth floor.

Thank God for that! If you climbed another flight of stairs, he would have followed his intrusive thoughts and dropped to his knees to peek under your skirt to see what kind of underwear you’re wearing. 

Felix bets it's white, cotton, probably with cute floral prints. He shakes the thought away when you abruptly stop walking as you arrive at the front door of your apartment. 

Once you unlock the door, you open it and step aside to let Felix in. He flashes you a smile as he steps in the small yet cozy apartment. He glances around and sees the pictures on the wall, mostly of you and a tall girl with curly brown hair. He remembers her as one of the girls you’ve been with at the club. 

“The bathroom is that way,” you tell him, and Felix makes his way down the hall. 

Once inside, he wastes a bit of time washing his hands, fixing his hair, checking the hair products, all the while giving you a moment to settle. 

When he comes out, you’re in the kitchen, your hair now tied back into a low bun, exposing your neck and the soft tendrils of hair on the nape of your neck. You look… different, but still really cute. 

“Would you like a drink?” you ask, sauntering your way to the fridge. 

“Anything cold would be nice,” he answers. 

You take two cans of soda out of the fridge, bringing them with you to the living room and sitting on the small sofa. 

“Sit down, please,” you say, permitting him to sit in the space next to you since there’s no other place to sit. 

“This is a nice apartment,” he comments, his eyes glancing around while his hand works the tab on his soda can. 

“Thanks,” you mutter with a smile, holding the can of soda in both hands. It has been opened, but you're not drinking it. 

"I can safely assume you live with a roommate?" he asks, then takes a gulp of his soda, which instantly refreshes him. 

"Yes," you answer. "Rex, she’s one of the girls... back in the club," you awkwardly explain, confirming that he's right—she's the same girl from the club. 

"Is it short for Tyrannosaurus—" he pauses for dramatic effect, "—Rex?" 

You let out a chuckle and push your glasses up your nose. "Her real name is Rebecca, but she insisted on being called Rex because it's..." 

"Sounds cooler?" he easily guesses. 

"Yeah," you nod in confirmation, "and it's her birthday today, so..." 

"That's why you were at the club?" he asks, slowly getting his curiosity answered. 

"I think it's obvious that I wasn't there because of my own volition," you openly admit. 

Felix can see it now—the way you seemed out of place back at the club. It isn’t your scene, and it makes sense now that you explained it is Rex’s thing. He hesitates, feeling a question burning in his mind, one that he needs an answer to, regardless of what it might reveal. 

"And the kiss?"

-

Oh, no! Not this again. 

Please don't say that Felix is actually interested in Rex and that he was checking her out instead of you. This wouldn't be your first time, but what a pity! What a pity it would be if that turned out to be true. 

Until Felix asked about the kiss and whether it was Rex’s idea or not. 

Your throat tightens, but you know you have to be honest. “Rex dared me to do it,” you admit, your words tumbling out faster than you wanted. 

He nods, but you can see a flash of disappointment in his eyes—brief but noticeable. Before he can respond, you rush to explain the rest of the truth. 

“But the one we shared in the alley? That was me. I wanted that,” you add. 

Felix gives you the chance to explain more, so you continue, determined to make him understand. You put your can of soda on the table and inhale before speaking. 

“Earlier, during this game Rex and her friends played, they were talking about all these wild things they’d done, and I just sat there... realizing how much I’ve missed out on.” You pause to let out a sigh as the weight of your confession settles between you. “I’ve spent so much time focused on studying, hitting all my academic goals, that I never gave myself the chance to live. And I don’t want to wake up one day full of regret for not taking chances.” 

You look up from your lap at him—not necessarily meeting his eyes, or else you'll be a nervous wreck. “So tonight, I decided to push myself for once. The kiss might’ve started as a dare, but when I pulled you into that alley… that was real. For the first time in my life, I felt so alive.” 

Felix remains quiet for a moment, his eyes searching yours, taking in every word. You can feel his hesitation, though—a cautious distance. His concern isn’t just about your head injury; it's something more. 

“You don’t have to do all that just because your friends have done it,” he says, his voice gentle but firm. “You do it when you’re ready.” 

His words hit home, and you feel a wave of realization. The thrill and the pressure you’ve felt earlier are starting to clash with a deeper understanding of what you really want. 

You may be naïve and know little about this intimate stuff, but you're also the one who knows you best, and you know what you want—you want this. 

“I’m doing this for me. I want it. I'm ready," you unequivocally say, full of conviction. 

Felix’s expression softens, but doubts linger in his eyes. “I think you know what kind of guy I am. I don’t do relationships. I… casually date. I’m not a good guy.” 

You can’t help but smile at that, shaking your head in disagreement at his last statement. “You insisted on taking me to the hospital, waited until I got treated, and then made sure I got home safely. If that’s not a good guy, I don’t know what is,” you lay out all the facts on why he isn't what he says he is. 

He sighs, clearly conflicted, running his hand through his long, bleached hair. “I’m just not sure if you really want to do this… with me.” 

“I want to do this with you," you say without the slightest doubt. 

There's a reason why he's here when he had his chances to walk out of this situation. He could have ditched you back there in the club, in the dark alley, or at the hospital. He could have gotten into that taxi and gone home, but instead, he chose to come in here. 

Felix is quiet again, his eyes locked on yours as he considers what you said. Then, after what feels like an eternity, he lets out a sigh, letting the last bit of hesitation slip away from him. 

"We should go to your bedroom," he says, his voice low but confident. 

The excitement flares up in your chest, your heart racing as you rise from the sofa. This is it. The feeling you’ve been chasing all night—the sense of truly living, of stepping out of your comfort zone. You lead him to your bedroom, each step heavy with anticipation. 

When you open the door to your bedroom, you pause for a moment, suddenly feeling vulnerable. It’s strange—no one ever warns you how personal it feels to show someone your bedroom. It’s not just a room; it’s a reflection of you, of your habits, your life. You close the door behind you, your breath catching as Felix steps in and takes a quick look around. 

He glances over the shelves, where countless books are crammed into every available space. A small smile tugs at his lips, a look of slight amusement crossing his face as he takes it all in. It’s like he doesn’t expect this—your quiet, introverted world clashing with the chaotic energy of the night. 

But then his eyes land back on you, and your pulse quickens. You’re alone now, really alone, in the privacy of your bedroom, and the reality of it all settles over you. You can feel the weight of the moment, not knowing how to begin but wanting to. You step closer to him, hoping he’ll take the lead. 

Felix sits down on the edge of your bed, his eyes still on you. He pats the space beside him, an invitation, and you sit down next to him, nerves tingling under your skin. 

"You have a very interesting room," he says with a playful smile, but there’s no mockery in his tone—only genuine surprise. 

You shyly chuckle, your hands fidgeting in your lap. "Yeah, I’m… very aware." 

He turns to you, his gaze softening. He’s studying you, taking you in, and when he looks into your eyes, you feel like he’s seeing something deeper. Then, as if realizing something, his brow furrows slightly. 

“Can I take them off?" he asks, nodding toward your glasses. "Will you still be able to see without them?” 

“I’m nearsighted, so yeah,” you confirm, your hand halfway to your face to take them off, but Felix gets ahead, gently removing them for you. Then he places them carefully on your bedside table. 

The world around you becomes a soft blur, but Felix… Felix is in perfect focus. He’s all you can see. His delicate features stand out, his warm brown eyes locking onto yours, his freckles like tiny constellations dusting his cheeks and nose. It’s like he’s become the center of your universe, and nothing else matters in that moment. 

You get a little overwhelmed as you take him in—his beauty so striking, so close, making your heart beat out of your chest. You wonder if he can hear it too. 

"Can I take your hair down?" Felix asks, his voice soft but deliberate. 

Unable to provide a verbal answer, you nod. His hand is quick to reach behind your head, releasing your hair from the tie, and you feel an unexpected wave of relaxation wash over you, like the tension you’d been carrying all night had been held there, in your hair. 

Felix’s fingers move through the strands gently, combing through them, letting the ends slip through his fingers. The tattoos on his hand catch your attention, and as his sleeve rides up, you notice even more ink snaking up his arm. 

"How many tattoos do you have?" you ask, unable to hide your curiosity. 

"I stopped counting a long time ago," Felix chuckles, a lightness in his voice that makes you smile. 

He notices your lingering gaze on his tattoos, and without hesitation, he starts unbuttoning the cuff of his shirt. He lets the fabric fall back, giving you a clearer view of the designs that cover his skin. The sight of his muscles beneath the inked patterns, the veins trailing down his arm, captivates you. 

"Is it okay if I touch you?" you ask, your voice quiet, unsure if it’s too bold. 

"You can touch me," he says with an encouraging smile, "anywhere." 

The last word unexpectedly provokes you; it was just a word until Felix gives it a new meaning now, and it's been echoing in the back of your mind in his deep, low voice. Anywhere. 

With a tentative hand, you reach out, slowly rolling his sleeve up higher. The tattoos become more detailed—the lines and shading intricate—but what holds your attention is the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. The combination of the ink and the physicality of him makes you feel a strange sense of intimacy. Afraid that you're overstepping, you let the sleeve fall back and flash him a smile of gratitude.

“You know this will be easier if you sit closer,” Felix says, his tone suggestive but gentle. 

You shift closer, trying to keep your breath steady. The space between you shrinks, but the heat from his body seems to rise, making your heart race. 

"Closer," Felix murmurs, his eyes twinkling with amusement. 

You move another inch. 

"More," he says, his voice a bit firmer this time. 

You scoot a little more until finally, there’s no space left between you. Your body is pressed against his, and the warmth from him feels overwhelming, your skin tingling from the proximity. 

"I think you should put your hand around my neck," Felix suggests, his voice a low rumble. 

"Are you sure?" you ask, still worried about overstepping. 

"Of course," he reassures you, guiding your hand up to his shoulder. 

From there, you let it drift to the back of his neck, feeling the strong line of muscle beneath your palm. 

The two of you are incredibly close; you can feel his breath brushing against your cheek. As if the proximity isn't enough, his hand cups your jaw, his thumb softly rubbing your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. 

It doesn't take a genius to know what comes next; you can feel it coming as the tension intensifies with each passing second. 

"I'm not a good kisser," you blurt out, your insecurities successfully breaking through the haze of the moment. 

"You did just fine earlier," he says, watching as his thumb swipes across your lower lip. 

You try to argue, but before you can say another word, Felix presses a soft kiss to your cheek, leaving a searing warmth behind. 

"Stop thinking and just..." he trails off, kissing just beneath your eye, sending a shock of sensation through you, "… do it." 

Before you can process his words, his lips find yours. The kiss is electric and powerful, wiping away every doubt and insecurity. The world narrows down to the feeling of his mouth on yours, the sound of your breath mingling in the quiet of your bedroom. 

Felix pulls away just enough for you to catch your breath, his hand moving to brush your hair to the side. He does it carefully to avoid accidentally touching the bandaged wound on your forehead. 

"Now," he says, voice deep with desire, "we’re going to put in a little tongue." 

Dazed and a little disoriented from the kiss, you nod, your brain unable to compute a word. 

He kisses you again, this time slower, more deliberate, teasing you with his tongue as it slides across your lips. It’s sensual and intimate, and when you let him in, the kiss deepens, and you try your best to move in sync with him. 

When Felix pulls away, he’s grinning, looking impressed. "See? You’re a natural." 

Flustered, you look down, but he isn’t having it. He wants your eyes, your full attention on him, so he puts his hand under your chin, gently angling your face back toward his. 

Not giving you a moment to think, he plants a kiss on your lips again—gently, but there’s intensity to it, a sense of hunger that needs to be satisfied. 

At the same time, his other hand travels down to your back, tracing down your spine before he withdraws it back to your front, reaching for the button of your dress. 

You've been handling it well so far, but when he touches you there, it triggers the alarm bells in your head. You try to convince yourself that it's okay; you trust Felix, and he's not going to harm you, but your body abruptly freezes, and you stiffen against him. 

Felix notices immediately and takes his hands off of you, concern painted on his small face. 

"Did I do something wrong?" he asks softly, not wanting to alarm you further. 

First, it was Rex’s birthday party, and not long after that, you did it again by bumping your head during a makeout session in the dark alley, and now this. You sigh and look down at your lap, wondering why you keep sabotaging your life like this. 

"I’m sorry, I just... I–I wasn’t ready for that," you meekly say, looking down at your lap, feeling embarrassed. 

"That’s okay," he says with a soothing voice. "I’d rather you tell me when you’re uncomfortable." 

Anyone else might have been annoyed or disappointed, but Felix—he’s patient, gentle, and very understanding. You feel a rush of gratitude for him. 

"Okay," you murmur, nodding. 

"Or you can just slap me next time," he jokes, trying to lighten the mood. 

Slapping his face would feel like vandalizing the Mona Lisa, so you shake your head in strong disagreement while softly laughing, "No. I wouldn’t do that." 

Thanks to you freaking out without reason, you have to start all over again, and you can only hope that Felix has some patience left for you. 

You watch as he glances toward your bedside table, eyeing the small stack of books. "Are these the ones you’re reading?" 

"Yeah," you reply, your smile returning. 

"You’re telling me you’re reading five books at once?" he asks. His tattooed fingers trail along the spines as he reads the titles under his breath. 

"Three are for school," you say, chuckling, "but the other two are for fun." 

"Oh, so you do know how to have fun," he teases you with a charming smile that makes his eyes lively. 

You know he's trying to lighten the mood, and you feel thankful that he indeed still has some patience left in him. 

Felix picks up the smallest one from the top of the stack and flips through the pages. "Poetry," he remarks. 

"Yeah," you nod, feeling a bit shy. 

He looks at you with something new in his eyes. "Would you read me one?" 

"A poem?" you stammer. 

"No, the index page," he teases you yet again. 

You laugh, feeling a bit silly for asking, and then take the book from him. You open it, easily finding the page you marked as your favorite poem. 

"Okay... I’ll try," you say as you clear your throat.

Your fingers nervously brush the edges of the page, eyes glancing at the words, but you’re aware of Felix’s gaze on you. His presence is overwhelming—his closeness, the subtle intensity in his expression. 

Despite everything, you begin reading, your voice low and a little shaky. 

"Somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which I cannot touch because they are too near." 

Felix leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. His hand moves to the back of your neck, brushing the loose strands of your hair away. 

You pause, feeling the pressure of his nearness, but he nudges you gently. 

"Keep reading," he whispers against your skin, the warmth of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. 

You swallow, forcing yourself to focus. Your voice is a little shaky as you continue. 

"Your slightest look easily will unclose me though I have closed myself as fingers; you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens—" 

Felix’s lips press softly against the corner of your mouth just as your voice falters. You draw in a breath, trying to steady yourself, but his kiss lingers, feather-light and teasing. 

You glance at him, the lines of the poem slipping from your mind. 

"Go on," he murmurs, his mouth now brushing your jawline. His hand slips to your waist, holding you in place as if keeping you tethered to the moment. 

"I... I—" you stammer, your focus crumbling under his touch, his lips trailing a path down to your neck. You grip the book tighter, trying to maintain the thread of the poem, your voice coming out as a breathy whisper: "you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose—" 

Felix presses another kiss just below your ear, making your breath hitch. He’s being gentle but deliberate, his lips grazing your skin with an intention that makes it almost impossible to concentrate. 

Your heart bursts, the words on the page becoming blurry. "Felix..." you murmur, caught between the poem and the sensation of his kisses. 

"Don’t stop," he whispers again, this time against the curve of your neck, sending a rush of warmth through you. "I want to hear the rest." 

Your voice quivers as you try to continue, the lines of the poem mixing with the feeling of his lips. 

"Or if your wish be to close me, I and my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending—" 

His kisses grow slower, more languid, as if savoring every inch of your skin. Each one draws you further away from the poem, your pulse quickening under his touch. He pulls back just slightly, and his eyes meet yours, his gaze heavy with desire, but still, he urges you on. 

"Finish it," he says softly, his thumb tracing your lower lip as he holds your gaze. 

You exhale shakily, barely able to focus anymore, but you try.

"Nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility..." 

Before you can finish the last line, Felix’s lips capture yours, cutting off the rest of the poem. His kiss is deeper this time, not asking for permission but claiming the moment as his own. The book slips from your hand, forgotten, as you lean into him, your breath mingling with his. 

The poetry becomes a distant memory as his kisses consume you, every touch drawing you further into him. And for the first time, you don’t feel the need to pull back or hesitate. You melt into the moment, into him, as the poem fades into the background, replaced by the quiet intensity of Felix’s lips on yours. 

The poem may be incomplete, but the moment is whole. 

-

Felix watches as you fumble with the edges of the poetry book, your nervousness plain in the way your fingers tremble. He can sense how hard you’re trying to focus, trying to find your voice in the moment.

There’s a certain charm in how unsure you are, the way your eyes keep darting up to him, like you’re looking for some kind of permission. But he knows you don’t need it. You want this—he can feel it in the air between you.

When you finally start to read, your voice is soft, hesitant.

“Somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence...”

Felix can barely concentrate on the words. It’s your voice—that shaky, uncertain quality—that pulls him in, and you’re so close. He leans in, pressing the warmth of his lips against your cheek, testing, teasing. He feels the way you stiffen, your breath catching. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you, but the urge to touch you, to close that gap, is too strong.

"Keep reading," he murmurs, his lips brushing your skin, barely above a whisper. He feels your pulse quicken beneath his touch.

You take a deep breath and continue, your voice even softer now, trying to hold it together.

"Your slightest look easily will unclose me though I have closed myself as fingers..."

As your voice trails off again, Felix can't resist. His lips graze the corner of your mouth, light and fleeting. He watches your eyes flutter, sees the way you're barely hanging onto the thread of the poem, and it makes him smile inwardly. He pulls back just enough to see the heat in your cheeks, the uncertainty fighting with desire in your eyes.

"Go on," he urges, this time pressing his lips to the soft skin just beneath your jawline. His hand slips to your waist, fingers curling lightly around you, holding you steady, grounding you as he teases.

"I–I..." Your voice falters completely as his lips trail lower, brushing the sensitive spot near your neck.

He loves the way you stammer, the way your breath comes in shallow gasps.

"You open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens—"

Felix hears your voice waver again, and he chuckles softly against your neck. He knows exactly what he’s doing. The poem doesn’t stand a chance against his kisses, but he likes this game, this slow unraveling of your composure.

"Felix..." you murmur, barely able to hold onto the words.

He pulls back just enough to speak, his breath warm against your ear. "Don’t stop." His voice is low, coaxing, as he brushes another kiss just below your ear. "I want to hear the rest."

You try—he can see you trying—but the way you tremble beneath his touch makes it almost impossible for you to concentrate. He watches you struggle, a mix of amusement and desire in his gaze as you fight to continue.

"...Or if your wish be to close me, I and my life will shut very beautifully..."

Felix’s lips move slowly across your skin, savoring every inch. He can feel the tension in you, the way you’re holding onto control by a thread. But then, something shifts. He presses one last kiss to your neck, soft and lingering, and watches as your resolve crumbles. The book slips from your hands, your breath hitching in your chest.

“Finish it,” Felix whispers, his thumb grazing your lower lip. He can see the words have all but left you, but he waits, eyes fixed on your trembling lips.

"...The power of your intense fragility..."

Before you can finish the line, Felix presses his lips to yours. The words are lost as he kisses you, claiming the moment. There’s no hesitation in the way your body responds, melting into him as if you’ve been waiting for this all night. The book falls from your hands, forgotten, as his hands move to pull you closer.

He feels the way you surrender to the kiss, how every bit of uncertainty you held before dissolves. His kiss deepens, slow but deliberate, until he pulls back just enough to look at you, lips still close, your breaths mingling.

Felix takes a quick check to see if you're comfortable enough to continue, his thumb brushing across your cheek as he leans his forehead against yours. He can feel the way you’re still caught in the moment, still wanting more.

His hand slides down to your shoulder, tracing the curve of your spine. He brushes your hair to the side, kissing you again—slower this time, deeper. The way you respond, your lips meeting his with growing confidence, only pulls him in more.

Felix takes your hand and gently places it on his chest. He feels the way your hand stays immobile for a moment, but then it starts to move, roaming curiously over his body. Your touch is tentative but warm, and soon enough, your fingers tug at the opening of his shirt, revealing a peek of inked skin underneath. Felix notices the way your curiosity lights up your face. “Do you want to see the rest of my tattoos?”

You hesitate, biting your lip as you think about it, unsure if you should say yes. To avoid letting him hear how eager you are, you nod instead.

“But you have to help me with the buttons,” he says, glancing down at his shirt.

It’s a subtle invitation, but the way he says it makes you feel like you’re in control. You start undoing the buttons, one by one, your fingers working carefully, as if each button is a gateway to something unknown. When you finish, you stop, leaving the fabric still draped across his chest. There’s a moment of hesitation, as if parting the shirt will reveal something too intimate, something more than just skin.

Felix senses your nerves, so he does the rest; he shrugs the shirt off his shoulders, revealing the ink that covers his chest and arms. Normally, he’s confident about his body, but under your gaze, he feels a flicker of vulnerability. You’re studying him, and he can feel the weight of it, like you’re looking past the surface.

“It’s all over you,” you mutter in awe.

One, in particular, seems to draw your attention—the dragon on his ribcage. Felix notices the way your hand lingers there, eyes fixed on the intricate design. He smiles softly, taking your hand and pressing it gently against the dragon.

“Here... feel it,” he says, guiding your touch.

Your fingers trace the lines of the tattoo, feather-light and full of wonder. Every slight graze of your fingertips sends a rush through him, and the way you’re touching him so delicately is like you’re trying to memorize the feel of each tattoo.

“Do you like it?” he asks, his voice soft but laced with curiosity.

“I had no idea I liked tattoos until now,” you innocently answer.

There's something so honest in your words, and Felix can’t help but smile, feeling the tension between you shift into something deeper, more intimate. He watches you as your fingers continue to explore, and for the first time in a long while, he feels a kind of peace in this closeness, like it’s more than just physical. There’s something in the way you touch him, like you’re seeing him for the first time—not just his body, but all the stories inked into his skin.

Then you take your hand back and fidget in your seat. You open your mouth, but no words come out. After a while, you ask, “Should I undress?”

“Only if you want to,” he says, not wanting to pressure you and also trying to make it clear that this is on your terms.

With a shy nod, you start moving, fingers flying to the buttons of your dress, fumbling a little in your nervousness. Felix notices and, sensing your discomfort, turns his head away, giving you the privacy you need. He helps by dimming the lights on your bedside lamp, knowing that a girl like you prefers the softer glow to ease the tension. Now, the room is bathed in a quiet, warm light, making everything feel more intimate, more comfortable.

“Do you need help?” he offers after a moment, his back still to you.

“I’m done anyway,” you respond, your voice softer now.

Felix hears the faint sound of your dress hitting the floor, and he inhales, preparing himself for what he's going to see. He turns his head slowly, careful not to look directly at you until he’s sure you’re comfortable. His eyes first meet yours, searching for any sign that you’re nervous, that you want him to stop, but you hold his gaze, and that’s all the permission he needs. His eyes travel down, finally taking in the sight of you.

The first thing that catches his attention is the unexpected—the matching silk and lace set you’re wearing, soft and delicate against your skin. It’s a contrast to the image he had in mind, and it takes his breath away. The colors, the fabric—it all highlights your natural beauty in a way that almost overwhelms him.

Beautiful. That’s the only word that comes to mind, but even that feels like it doesn’t do you justice. You’re beyond that. You’re captivating in a way that makes him hesitant to even touch you, as if the act itself would somehow break the spell between you.

“I want to touch you,” he admits, his voice trembling with restraint, overwhelmed by how much he desires you but not wanting to rush.

“Okay,” you say, so simply, so openly.

-

The intimacy of the moment is overwhelming. Felix is sitting there, shirtless, and the way he’s looking at you makes your skin tingle. The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken questions.

After a while, you finally manage to speak. “Should I undress?”

Felix’s gaze is soft, his voice gentle when he responds, “Only if you want to.”

His words reassure you, but still, your hands tremble as you reach for the buttons on your dress. You fumble with them, nervous fingers struggling to move faster. Felix, sensing your discomfort, turns away, giving you a moment to compose yourself. It’s a small gesture, but it makes you feel better, like he understands without needing to be told.

You manage to undo the last button, letting the dress slip down your shoulders and fall to the floor with a soft thud. You glance at Felix, and he still isn’t looking. He’s turned the light down, creating a softer, warmer atmosphere that eases some of the tension in your chest. It’s as if he knows that you’d rather not be fully exposed in the harsh glow of bright light.

“Do you need help?” he asks, his voice careful, like he’s afraid of pushing you too far.

“I’m done anyway,” you reply, your voice shaky but steady enough.

Felix exhales, turning back to face you slowly, almost cautiously. He looks into your eyes first, making sure you’re okay before letting his gaze travel down. When his eyes finally take in the sight of you, you see something shift in him. His expression softens, and you feel your heart pounding in your chest, almost painfully so.

You weren’t sure what he’d expect to see, but the look on his face—like he’s in awe—makes you feel beautiful in a way you’ve never felt before. You're wearing your favorite matching set, silk and lace, in a color that contrasts perfectly with your skin. You chose it thinking you might need something that makes you feel confident, but now, under Felix’s gaze, you wonder if it was the right choice. But then you see the way he looks at you, like you’re something precious, and all your doubts melt away.

“I want to touch you,” Felix says softly, his voice trembling, almost as if he’s afraid to break the moment.

“Okay,” you answer, trying to sound calm even though your heart feels like it’s about to explode.

Felix doesn’t rush. His movements are slow, deliberate. He brushes your hair aside, his fingertips barely grazing your skin, but it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine. His knuckles trace down your chest, stopping at the center, right between your breasts. His hand rests flat there, and you feel the warmth of his palm seeping into your skin, the beat of your heart thudding loudly under his touch.

“You're so beautiful,” he softly murmurs as he looks into your eyes.

You can feel heat spreading across your face. You want to say something, but the words get stuck in your throat. Instead, you just look down, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, by how gentle and caring he’s being.

Felix leans in, and when he kisses you, it’s not rushed. His lips are soft, and the kiss is gentle, as though he’s trying to coax you out of your shell. You kiss him back, a little more confidently this time, the warmth of his body pressing against yours making everything feel more natural.

The more time you spend with Felix, the more certain you feel that you’re in the right place, with the right person. His presence is calming, his touch patient and careful. Every kiss, every gentle brush of his hand against your skin reminds you that he’s giving you all the time in the world. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t push you beyond what you’re ready for, and that thought alone is enough to make your heart swell.

Felix holds back so much—it’s evident in the way he slows his movements, adjusting to your hesitance, waiting for you to catch up, to feel comfortable. You notice how he looks at you, always checking, always making sure you’re okay with what’s happening. He’s so understanding that you can feel your insecurities start to melt away, one by one, like the weight of them no longer matters in this space you’ve created together.

As the kissing becomes more intense, your breathing picks up, and the room feels warmer. You feel his strong yet gentle hand resting on your shoulder, his fingers playing with the strap of your bra, and you know what comes next.

This time, you decide to take the initiative and ask, “Do you want me to take these off?”

“If you allow me to,” he answers with a soft smile.

You’ve always known your body isn't the kind men fantasize about, or at least, that’s what you tell yourself. “They’re not—They’re not my best features,” you meekly admit.

Felix’s eyes don’t waver, and his smile turns into a playful smirk, one that both teases and comforts at the same time. “How can I know for sure when I haven’t seen them?”

You feel a smile tugging at your lips; he has a fair point, and you can’t argue with him when he looks at you like that—like he sees you, not just the parts you want to hide.

You nod, giving him permission, and lean forward slightly to make it easier for him to reach behind you. His fingers find the clasp of your bra almost immediately, without hassle.

The sound of it unclasping makes your breath hitch, anticipation swirling in the air between you, and then he pulls back just enough to let the bra fall away, his fingers gently sliding the straps down your shoulders. His movements are slow, with excitement simmering underneath, as if he’s unwrapping a precious gift.

And then, you’re bare in front of him, vulnerable in a way that sends a nervous thrill through you.

Felix doesn’t rush to fill the silence. He doesn’t gawk or make you feel exposed. Instead, he looks at you with a soft, quiet admiration that makes your heart flutter.

“They're perfect,” he says, and the sincerity in his praise makes your insecurities seem small, insignificant.

-

Felix's breath catches in his throat at the sight of you, bare in front of him. The soft curves of your chest stir something deep inside him, and for a moment, he has to hold back from letting his hands act purely on impulse. He swallows hard, trying to keep his cool, even though the urge to touch you is overwhelming.

“They’re perfect,” he says softly, his voice rougher than he intended. He means it. It’s not about size or shape—he just likes seeing you, just like this.

If he's being honest, you’re not what Felix thought he always wanted. But now, with you in front of him, he finds himself thinking that you’re more than enough—perfect, in fact.

He lets himself lose a bit of that self-control, his hand reaching out, grazing your skin before cupping your breast, his gentle yet curious fingers exploring the softness of your chest. They fit perfectly in his tattooed hands, and he feels heat rising in him.

“See? They’re perfect,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin as if to prove the point.

You remain quiet as he touches you, but your eyes go wide, lips parting slightly, and then, unexpectedly, you run your palms over your own breasts, fingers grazing your nipples with a restless, almost nervous motion.

The sight of you touching yourself, so innocently but also with that hidden desire, nearly drives him over the edge. He has to clench his jaw to stop himself from groaning aloud.

"Why are you looking at them like that?" you curiously ask in a shy voice.

“Like what?” he asks, his voice deep and low, almost a growl as he leans in closer, needing to hear you say it.

“Like you want t-to…” You hesitate, stumbling over your words.

“Lick them? Suck them?” he finishes the sentence for you, the words falling from his lips with an intensity that makes you look down at your lap, cheeks heated.

You nod, too shy to say it aloud.

Felix exhales slowly, his restraint hanging by a thread. “Come here!” his voice is rough, almost commanding as he gestures for you to sit on his lap.

Biting your lip, you crawl onto him and sit right on his lap.. You freeze for a moment, probably feeling his hard flesh prodding under you.

"You can ignore that," he tells you, at least for now, but he knows both of you can’t ignore that for long.

Somehow, that thought worries him, and he expected you to sit stiff as a board on his lap, but you immediately settle in close, and when he puts his arm around you, you let out a ragged sigh, instantly melting into him.

Fuck, you're so close, especially that part of you, hanging so close to his mouth. He gulps air and reminds himself to take things slowly. This is about you, not him.

You put your hand under his arm and grasp at his back, your hard nipples grazing his chest in the process, and Felix can’t resist cupping your breasts and rubbing his fingers over them.

Soon, your body softens around him, but his hands grow rough as he touches you, molding you to him as he claims your mouth. The kiss is a savage thing of teeth and tongues, but there’s no hint of protest from you. Instead, you match his roughness for roughness, kissing him back until you run out of breath.

As you come up for air, he covers your nipple with his mouth and sucks hard. He pulls you close so he can do the same with the other one; this time, he has your nipple rolling on his tongue. Oh, he can do it all night, just playing with your soft mounds.

Your fingers make their way through his hair, tugging at it as you arch your back with unconscious demand. It's apparent that you love this, losing your mind over his touches.

Felix lets go of your breast, then drags his lips upward, climbing the column of your throat until they find yours, kissing your mouth with such intensity that it causes you to sharply inhale air.

As he's kissing you, his hands refuse to remain idle. He cups your breasts, stroking the buds until they ache and pinches them, sending a burst of sensation straight to your core. With caution, he takes it to the next level, shifting his focus to another sensitive part of you. He's smoothing a hand over your stomach, and he can feel your muscles clench. Cautiously, he slides a hand up your inner thigh.

“I want to touch you here,” he says while gently palming your sex with a bold grasp, and the heat of his touch spreads through the fabric of your panties, searing hot.

Your hand immediately flies to grip his wrist, intending to pull him away, but your hand stays there; if anything, you pull it back and let it rest on his inked forearm.

“Is that permission?” he whispers into your ear.

He sees the conflict in your eyes. He guesses the reason you hesitate is that this is new to you, and you don't know how to handle this side of yourself. After a while, your body wins over your hesitant mind as your hips arch against his hand, asking him to continue, asking him for more.

He pushes your underwear to the side, and as he kisses your neck, his fingers trace your bundle of nerves, circling it, then applying the gentlest of pressure to test whether you like it or not.

A low moan slips out of you, and he can feel you tugging at his hair, hard.

"Do you want me to keep my hand there?" he asks as he looks into your dazed eyes.

You innocently nod.

"All right. I'll do that," he says with a hasty kiss on your lips. He continues by tracing your slick entrance with his fingertips, touching you there lightly, trailing around and around in dizzying circles.

"Does that feel good?" he asks, barely audible.

Still unable to give him a verbal answer, you nod again.

He aims his parted mouth toward your neck and purposely scrapes his teeth against your skin before he licks and kisses you there, causing goosebumps to spread over your skin.

"Will you let me get inside?" he asks for permission as his fingers tease your entrance.

It's obvious that you want it from the way you're arching your hips against his hand, but he doesn't want to risk losing you to the nerves again; he needs to hear you say it this time.

"Yes," you breathlessly say with a small nod.

With your consent given, his fingers search through your folds, coating them with your essence, and he lingers around your entrance for a little while before pushing one finger into you.

He feels your sharp intake of air as your head rests so close to his, your teeth faintly biting your lower lip to muffle the noises you make.

Felix gives you time to adjust before adding another digit. Two fingers are inside you now, pumping them, and he curls them, finding that spot that makes you...

"Oh!" you gasp, your hand grasping at the end of his hair like it gives you a lifeline. Your legs tremble, causing you to lose your balance, and you almost topple back, but Felix is quick to grip your waist to keep you steady.

The whole thing is so cute. Felix rubs his lips to hide a grin as you steady yourself on his lap and fold your hands in your lap. He knows that if he continues, you’d likely fall to the floor. You're the kind of girl who gets weak when you get hot, and don’t get him wrong; he loves that. If anything, it makes every bit of effort it has taken to get past your guard worth it.

"It's better if we lay down," he suggests as he removes the strand of hair caught between your lips.

"Okay," you say, your voice small and filled with obedience.

Once you get off his lap, Felix takes the lead again. He stretches out near the center of the bed, propping himself up on an elbow, and pats the space next to him. No moment of hesitation this time, you crawl across the bed and lay down next to him.

Felix leans over you and kisses you, starting right back at the beginning with innocent brushes of both of your lips and teasing licks before taking your mouth once again. He wouldn't say you're that great of a kisser, but it's entertaining feeling you learn. You may lack in skill, but you make up for it with your eagerness.

He puts your hand on his bare chest, letting you roam free from there; he needs you to feel him too, how his body heats all over from his desire for you. You drag your hand down his chest, fingers trailing the hard ridges of his abs, and then you keep heading down south, meeting the waistband of his jeans.

Felix is unprepared when your hand suddenly goes to his crotch and strokes over the fly of his pants. Pleasure courses through him, and his cock jumps in excitement, a hoarse groan slipping out of his parted mouth.

He remains calm even though you've just awakened a part of him that he wants to keep tamed, for now. He notices the curious hand and then the curious eyes.

"Want to touch it?" he offers, his eyes half shut, heavy with lust.

"Can I?" you ask back instead of answering.

It's about time to set it free anyway; his jeans have been tightening around the crotch for quite some time. He unzips the fly open, then tugs at the waistband of his jeans and pulls it low enough to let his swollen member out of its confines.

Your hand lingers on his abdomen, hesitating to put your hand on the thing you're curious about.

He takes your hand, puts it on his cock, and then makes you close your fingers around it. The sight of your soft, delicate hand wrapped around his cock makes his heart thrumming inside his chest.

"This is my cock," he says, trying to keep his voice calm.

He guides you to stroke your hand on it, pumping it up and down his length, showing you the pace he prefers: slow but steady. "I want you to tell me when you want it."

You swallow air and look down to see that he's no longer guiding you; you're stroking his cock on your own, and he must say, you're doing so good at it.

He returns the favor by reaching down between your legs, touching you there again. His fingers meet your wetness, hot and slippery, tantalizing him.

After a moment, he decides to hover above you, letting go of your lips to start making a trail of kisses down your front. Your chest is heaving as he gets closer to your core, but he does the unexpected by detaching his mouth.

"Do you mind if I take this off?" he asks, fingers tugging at the elastic band of your underwear.

You lick your swollen lips and lowly mutter, "No."

He flashes you a soft smile before doing what he asked. His palm scrapes up the outside of your leg as he pulls your underwear down. You help by lifting your hips to make it easier for him to take it off.

Felix stands at the end of the bed with your underwear in his hand. He lets you watch as he takes a long sniff of it; you smell so heavenly that he wants this smell all over him. But first, he has to make it fair. He takes his jeans off along with his underwear, exposing his naked body in all its glory for you—just for you.

In return, he gets to see all of you, your body wrapped in miles and miles of soft skin. His eyes feast on every part of you, but you cross your thighs together, blocking him from seeing the thing that tantalized him all night.

He runs his tattooed hands down your legs, offering you his warmth and comfort as a way to assure you that he wants nothing but to make you feel good. When he deems you're relaxed enough, he parts your legs open, and his eyes widen as if he sees something that goes beyond what his brain can comprehend.

"You're so wet for me," he says, swallowing air as the sight suddenly makes his throat dry.

Felix satisfies his need by taking a closer look at it, his eyes darkened and fixated on the thing that endlessly tantalizes him. He licks his lips in reaction to the overwhelming urge to taste you.

He uses his thumb to circle your clit, which engorges with every motion. "It wants my mouth so badly," he tells you, his eyes dark and heavy with lust.

Felix presses his cheek to your inner thigh and, ever so softly, places a long kiss on the skin. It's close to where he wants to be but not enough. His need grows desperate.

"Put us both out of our misery and let me taste you."

-

Felix is perfect. He stands there like carved stone, but his skin is smooth and hot to the touch, firm but giving, alive. His muscles hunch and shift as he moves, and the dragon tattoo winks at you as he steps out of his pants; the motion alone is so sexy. 

This is Felix in all of his naked glory. He is perfection, even that part of him—gosh, especially that part of him. His erection demands your full attention, hard and veiny, in flawless proportion to the rest of his beautiful body. You have never given a man oral sex before, but your mouth waters at the sight of it. You want it. 

You can’t remember how to breathe as he puts his tattooed hands on you, rubbing them up and down the outside of your legs, making you tingle down there. You see how he quietly inhales air before parting your legs open and lets all the air out of his mouth as he shifts his eyes to see what's between your legs. 

It's the most private part of you, and you expect him to see it in disgust, but the way he looks at it... you see nothing but pure admiration. He puts his focus there, needing more time to process what he's seeing. 

"You're so wet for me," he says, barely audible as he holds his breath. 

He bends down close to your wet flesh, making your nervousness spike to heart-pounding levels, and his eyes never stray away from what he wants. Then his thumb meets the peak of your sex, gently rubbing it, and you quietly moan under your breath. 

"It wants my mouth so badly," he says, receiving your body's signals too well. 

The little kisses he places on your inner thighs feel soft, but you can see that it's not quite what he wants; he's so close to it, yet he handles his self-control really well. 

He closes his eyes for a second, and when he opens them, they immediately find yours. Then he murmurs, "Put us both out of misery and let me taste you." 

It hits you now that he truly wants this, you. He likes what he sees, and his craving for your most private parts is real. It's dirty but highly erotic and exciting. You want to give it to him; you do, but you doubt that the reality will meet his expectations. 

“Will you be disappointed if I don’t like it and I don’t respond like other women?” you ask, feeling a little anxious, thinking that you’re about to ruin the moment. Again. 

“If you don’t like it, then we’ll move on,” he simply says, spreading your legs wider and then landing a gentle, closed-mouth kiss on your clit, catching you off guard. 

Your body stiffens for a second, not expecting that sensuous jolt, and then you relax in the next second. 

"Hate that?" he asks with wistful, downturned eyes. 

"I..." You still can't decide if you like it or not; you need more— 

Felix lands another kiss, followed by a slow tasting of his tongue on it. He hums his approval and covers your sex with his mouth, sucking with slight pressure as his tongue laps over your clit, repeatedly. 

Your mind shuts down; your body slowly goes limp as heat blooms inside you, and your face buries in the blanket as the pleasure intensifies. This feeling is new to you; your body is in a state of shock from the immense sensations, and you feel like you're about to cry when he abruptly stops. 

"You don't like it?" he asks after getting no answer from you. "Let me try it another way..." 

Felix pushes two fingers into you, and your eyes roll to the back as he begins a steady pace, combining it with his tongue flickering over your cunt, and somehow, you can’t stop your hips from rising to meet his thrusts. 

Oh God! You're riding his hand and smothering his face with your wet cunt. You tell yourself to stop, but you can't; you find your hands tangled in his long, bleached-blond hair instead. You're tightening around him, so wet now you can hear the slippery sounds every time he pumps his fingers into you. 

"I'll stop," Felix says as he licks his glistening wet lips, then rubs his tongue over you fast and hard, making you clench helplessly around his fingers. 

"Felix..." you breathlessly call his name. You can't believe how needy you sound—almost pathetic even. 

"One last taste..." Felix says before planting his mouth on you again. He sucks with perfect pressure, his tongue cleverly dragging out the pleasure to keep your release out of reach. He presses a parting kiss to your sex and lifts his head, stopping for real this time. 

"Yeah, you look ready now," he says it so low it's almost like a whisper. 

Truthfully, you've been ready for a while now, and you love the idea of demanding his... cock and him providing it; you just can’t get those words past your lips. 

Apparently, the look on your face tells it all. As he props a hand next to your waist, he looks at you and asks, "Do you want it?" 

You stifle a nod, and you're aware that's not enough to convey how much you want it. 

His hand reaches for the strand of hair covering your face and asks again, "Do you want it now?" 

Want, want, want. You eagerly respond in your head, but you force yourself to remain calm and say, "Yes." 

Felix nods and lands a kiss along your jaw, then drags his lips close to your ear. With a hoarse voice, he whispers, "I'll give it to you." 

His warm, soft yet firm body blankets yours as his lips bombard you with kisses, each kiss peeling away your senses along with your worries and insecurities; you eventually stop thinking altogether. 

"Excuse me for a second," he says with a kiss on your lips, getting off the bed to look for something on the bedroom floor. 

As Felix picks up his jeans from the floor, you watch the muscles on his back bunch and shift as he moves, admiring the twin indentations at the base of his spine. The view is nothing compared to when he turns around, showcasing his ethereal visuals and a godly figure of chiseled abs, not forgetting his cock in a size that demands your attention. 

He gets onto the bed, kneeling and using his teeth to tear through the foil packet to extract the condom. 

"Want to help me with it?" he offers, his eyes sparkling in the dimly lit room. 

You swallow air and say, "Yes." 

Your hands aren't steady, so you and he end up doing it together, and once you’re both done with it, he pulls you close. You shiver at the feel of your skin coming into contact; your nipples graze his chest, and his length burns against your lower belly. You suddenly feel very self-conscious. 

Felix runs his hands up and down your back as he angles his head, trying to catch your gaze but keeps failing. 

“Why won’t you look at me?” 

You look at the hollow in his collarbone and hunch your shoulders forward. "I feel—I feel naked." 

“We’re both naked," he states the obvious with a light smile. 

You don’t know how to explain that you’re not only feeling naked on the outside but also from the inside, and that if he looks into your eyes, he’d see all of you. No one wants to see that. This is supposed to be fun and educational, not soul-baring.

Felix flashes you a smile as he tilts your head by your chin, and you catch a glimpse of tender eyes before you close yours, knowing that he's about to kiss you. 

Soon, his warm lips brush over yours, tasting of him, you, and sex. His hands caress you, gently kneading the flesh of your waist before grabbing you by the thighs and hooking them around him. 

Slowly, he lowers you onto the bed and then covers your body with his. He places sweet little kisses on your jaw, your neck, your cheek, the corner of your mouth, and eventually, your lips. 

“If you don’t like it, if something hurts... I want you to talk to me, okay?" 

As always, you give him a nod before saying the words, "Okay." 

"Okay," he repeats, then sweetly kisses your lips. "Now, can you turn over for me?" 

You obey him, turning over on the bed and lying on your stomach, taking in the sight of the rumpled pillows and wooden headboard. 

"Lift your waist for me, please?" he politely demands, and you do what he asks, lifting your waist off the bed as he slips a pillow underneath. 

It takes you a moment to understand what he's doing. In this position, he chooses not to let him see you, and at the same time, it makes you less self-conscious. 

"Is this better?" he asks as he places a hot kiss on the skin behind your ear. 

"Yes," you say, feeling comfortable already, but you don't think about how you can't see him and what he's going to do to you. 

A low sigh escapes your lips as his rough hand glides down your back and massages the flesh in voluptuous motions. His firm chest brushes against your shoulder blades as he props an arm on the bed next to you. 

You take a deep inhale as his hand reaches between your thighs, his fingers searching through your folds and sinking deep, pumping fresh essence out of you until it drips around them. As if that isn't enough, he teases your clitoris with gentle touches. 

"Felix..." you desperately call his name. 

"You're ready, mmh?" he asks, planting a soft kiss on the nape of your neck. 

Soon, his hard length prods at your entrance and pushes its way inside, painstakingly slow, as if he wants you to feel every inch of that delicious cock stretching you out. 

All this time, you thought sex was repulsive, uncomfortable and painful—something you kept avoiding because your past experiences validated those thoughts—until now. With Felix, you feel nothing but intensifying pleasure even after he is fully sheathed inside you. 

"Oh, you feel too good," he whispers into your ear with a low growl. 

His words make you feel all sorts of things, and you should say something about him too—how good he feels inside you, how he fills you perfectly. You try to speak like he’s asked you to, but all that comes out are gasps and sighs of pleasure. Instead, you try to communicate with your body, spreading your thighs wider for him and trying to match him thrust for thrust. 

His tattooed hand propped against the mattress captures yours, and he interlaces both of your fingers together. 

“Now, it's perfect," he whispers. 

For a timeless moment, you're hovering on the brink until orgasm crashes over you. He knows, but he relentlessly drives into you. You try to meet his thrusts, but you can’t quite match his strength and intensity. 

With your eyes closed, you dare to look over your shoulder, and he immediately captures your mouth, stroking his tongue deep into you. Before the last orgasm has finished, you feel another building. You're clenching hard, the tiny muscles fluttering around his cock. 

With a hoarse groan, Felix surges into you one last time, hard and shallow, sending you both to your highs. He rubs his lips against your jaw and neck, then lowers your shaking body to the bed. He holds you, wrapping his tattooed arms around you and drawing you even closer, holding you like his. 

With your eyes still shut, your fingers trail his forearm, feeling the defined muscle and the smooth skin—a combination that is utterly distracting. His scent, his warmth, and his solidness surround you, slowly lulling you into a dreamless sleep. 

Now, it's perfect, you say in your head.

-

Felix breathes in deeply, letting the warm, comforting scent of your space envelop him as he burrows into the sheets, a happy sigh escaping his lips.

Slowly, he pushes himself up from the bed, and your room looks slightly different basked in the morning sunlight. Like this, he can see the colors of the books on the shelf, the hats and scarves hanging on the bedroom door, and the succulents you keep on your windowsill. Under a different light, your room looks a lot more alive.

It's also illuminating the memories of last night—your shared laughter, the sweet sounds of pleasure that echoed around him, the rustles of the sheets as your naked bodies tangled under the duvet. A rush of warmth fills him at the recollection, but as he looks around, reality settles in: he is in your room, in your apartment, and he shouldn’t overstay his welcome.

Collecting his clothes from the floor, he dresses methodically, and once in a while, he can't help but glance back at the bed where you shared such an intimate night.

Once he's decent, he steps out of the bedroom, finding you right away in the kitchen. Your hair is in a messy bun, glasses perched slightly askew on your nose, and you're dressed in a simple white t-shirt and pajama pants. You are focused on reading something on your phone while quietly eating from a bowl.

“Morning,” he greets, his voice deeper in the morning air, startling you slightly.

“Morning,” you reply, a soft smile lighting up your face.

As he continues buttoning his shirt, he slides onto a vacant stool at the small dining table.

“Orange juice?” you offer, “or do you prefer coffee?”

“Not a coffee person,” he honestly replies, and you immediately pour him a glass of orange juice, your movements easy and familiar.

You turn around to put the carton of juice back into the fridge and come back with a plate of breakfast for him, serving it in front of him.

“I don’t know what you like for breakfast, but this is what I usually cook for my roommate,” you say, sliding a plate of scrambled eggs and toast toward him.

“Wow! Thank you,” he says in utter gratitude.

Felix can’t recall the last time he enjoyed a nice breakfast with the person he had a one-night stand with; usually, he’d be gone before his partner even woke.

He glances toward the door of your roommate’s bedroom, wondering if she's inside.

“The birthday girl isn’t home yet?” he asks as he lifts his fork.

“She’s probably staying over at one of her friends,” you reply, your tone casual, suggesting you are used to this arrangement.

Felix finds it convenient this way. He enjoys the intimacy of just the two of you in the calm of the morning. The presence of another person would only ruin that.

“Is that what you usually have for breakfast?” he asks, peeking into your bowl, which contains slices of fruit, granola, and yogurt.

“Yes,” you answer with a small smile.

“Ah, that explains…” he absentmindedly says, not realizing the implications of his words until you catch his gaze.

“Explain what?” you ask, your curiosity piqued.

“Uh... that explains why you’re so smart,” he lies with a casual smile, hoping to brush off any suspicion.

The truth is, your diet explains why you smell and taste so good; the thought makes him bite back a smile, recalling the events of last night.

"Oh..." your reaction is a mix of surprise and gratitude, but he's still unsure if you understand the meaning behind his words. If you do, just know that it's a compliment.

After breakfast, Felix uses your bathroom for a quick wash-up and retrieves his jacket from the sofa. He adjusts his shirt before putting it on, realizing the time has come to leave, even though he wants to stay longer.

With heavy steps, he approaches you as you stand by the door, sensing the moment is drawing to a close.

Your eyes are on him, but your hands are clasped behind your back, your eyes shimmering with a different kind of light than when he first met you. They seem more alive now, filled with warmth.

“I want to thank you for last night,” you say, a smile creeping onto your face as the memory flashes through your head as it does for him.

“No need to thank me,” he replies. He refuses to accept your thanks when you're not the only one gaining something from last night.

“We had fun last night,” he remarks, not fully realizing he is speaking for both of you.

“I mean, I don’t know about you, but I had fun last night,” he corrects himself with an awkward laugh, pressing a hand to the pulse point on his neck out of nervousness.

“I had— I had fun last night,” you shyly remark, looking away for a second to compose yourself before looking back at him, a shy smile still lingering.

“That's good to know,” he replies, catching your shyness as it creeps into his demeanor.

A moment passes in silence as you look at each other. He has so many things to say, but no words are spoken. He can see that you're struggling to fathom your thoughts into words too.

“Felix,” you call in a different tone from the way you called him last night, yet it makes his heart flutter the same.

“Yes?” he answers, his heart beating in anticipation.

You open your mouth, but no words come out, then close it again, thinking hard about whether to say it or not.

“You can talk to me,” he assures you, his hand flying to your elbow and gently holding it.

Taking a deep breath, you finally close the distance between you, pressing your lips against his in a quick, unexpected kiss.

The surprise electrifies him, but the briefness leaves him wanting more. He quickly decides it's best to ask for forgiveness later rather than permission. He cups your jaw and leans in for a proper kiss; eventually, his lips meet yours in a kiss that means so much more than that: it's a tender connection that feels just right.

As much as he likes it, he knows he has to let go eventually. He slowly pulls away, only to see a smile blooming on your face, and his lips reflexively follow suit, smiling back at you.

“I hope that’s okay,” he murmurs, but he knows he's not sorry at all for what he did.

You nod, your smile shy yet genuine. "That’s—”

Suddenly, the door swings open, and Rex stumbles in, making a ruckus with her arrival as the keys jangle in her hand and her shoes drop onto the floor, oblivious to the intimate moment unfolding between you two.

“Oh?” she gasps, stopping in her tracks when she finally notices the two of you. Her eyes glance between you and Felix.

“Oh!!!” she exclaims again when she recognizes Felix as the guy you kissed for a dare last night.

Realizing she's interrupted something private, she hurriedly clutches her purse close to her chest and dashes into her bedroom, shouting, “I’m not here!”

The moment is shattered nonetheless, and Felix knows he can't stay here for as long as he wants, not when your roommate is now present.

“I'd better go,” he says, even though he hasn’t planned anything beyond that.

“Okay,” you say in a way that makes you sound defeated.

“Okay,” Felix repeats, hoping you would say something to extend the moment just a bit longer.

But good things often come to an end. Felix shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and takes a good look at you one last time, imprinting it in the back of his mind.

“It was nice to meet you,” he earnestly says with one hand on the doorknob.

“Me too,” you reply, your smile soft and genuine, lingering in his thoughts even as he steps out of your life.

At least, for now.

-

Here you are again, surrounded by the pulsing energy of the club with Rex and her friends. You’re still the same shy, nerdy girl, yet somehow, you handle the scene better now. It's a familiar chaos, except that tonight, it's harder to ignore Felix’s absence.

Noticing that you're not having fun like everyone else, Rex leans in closer to talk against the loud music playing in the club.

“Are you disappointed that he’s not here?” she asks, her alcohol-tinted breath brushing your ear.

“Why should I be disappointed?” You scoff, trying to mask the truth. But deep down, you are counting every second since you walked in without seeing him.

“You think I didn't know that you’ve been secretly watching the door?" Rex chuckles, almost spitting her drink. "Or the way you get a little excited whenever you spot a blonde guy?"

Guilty as charged. You are caught, but admitting it feels like opening a wound. You tried not to dwell on it, convincing yourself it was just a one-night stand and these feelings... they'll eventually fade, right?

“Don’t worry,” Rex says as she gently squeezes your knee. “He’s probably still on the way.”

“He didn’t even ask for my number, Rex,” you confess, finally voicing the disappointment that has been gnawing at you ever since that day.

“Then fuck him!” she exclaims, fierce as always. “There are plenty of cute guys, and I'm sure we can find one tonight.”

"No, thank you," you flatly reject the offer.

"Why not?" Rex asks, her eyes studying you.

You scoff again, but inside, the truth lingers: you're still hung up on him.

“Because you’ve already drunk too much," you choose to lie instead, taking her drink from her hand.

Suddenly, someone enters the booth, and you recognize him instantly, even with his bleached hair slicked back. Your heart leaps at the sight of Felix. He looks just as perfect as you remember, but doubt creeps in. Does he remember that night as vividly as you do?

He stands across the table, drink in hand, smiling at you, but you manage a polite smile back, not wanting to set yourself up for another disappointment.

“How about a round of ‘Never Have I Ever’?” he suggests out of the blue, his deep voice drawing everyone’s attention.

"Yes, let's do that!" Rex enthusiastically responds while raising her drink higher in front of her.

Felix trails the rim of his glass with his tattooed finger as he thinks of something, and a while later, his eyes fiercely stare at you with a sly smile dancing on his face.

“Never have I ever... made out with a guy in a dark alley, bumped my head on a crate, gotten three stitches, and still proceeded to give him a night he can’t forget?”

A rush of warmth washes over you, either from his eyes that don’t stray away from yours even for a second or the fact that he still remembers everything. You smile nonetheless, feeling the flutter in your chest returning.

Everyone goes silent, glancing around, unsure who might have done that, except for Rex, who squeals next to you like a giddy child.

“I have,” you confidently say, out loud with a proud smile.

You take the drink from Rex’s hand and drink it in one go, wincing at the bitter aftertaste but recovering quickly.

You daringly stare back into his eyes as you take the next turn. “Never have I ever regretted not asking someone for their number?”

“I have,” he replies without missing a beat and downs his shot in one gulp.

Felix places the empty glass on the table, walks over to you, and holds his hand out to you. “Now, I dare you to come with me.”

It isn't a dare when it's exactly what you want; it's a wish come true. You take his inked hand, feeling the warmth radiate from his skin, and let him lead you away from the table and into the night.

In the dark alley where it all started, Felix pulls you close until your bodies collide, wrapping his arms around you. Impatiently, he kisses you hard and deep, full of longing.

The kiss is intoxicating, even better than you remember, and as he steers you away from the crates lining the alley to avoid any mishaps, you softly laugh.

Felix leans his back against the brick wall and holds you close, his face lingering only inches away from yours, breath mingling in the cool night air.

“Let’s avoid visiting the hospital tonight,” he playfully says.

In that dark alley, with the world falling away around you, you realize you don’t want this to ever end. You lean in, capturing his lips once more, and you melt into the kiss, bracing yourself for what you're about to ask and the answer you'll get.

“So, what now?” you ask, your fingers caressing his cheek, tracing the contours of his face.

“We can start by finishing the poem,” he says, a playful glint filling his eyes, reminding you of the lines you have barely gotten through that night.

You grin as the weight of the time you spent worrying about not seeing him again lifts off your shoulders. “Okay, but I think I need a new beginning for this one.”

This time, you know what you want, and what you want is more nights like this, more moments, and more of whatever this is between you and him, and that’s the only dare you're doing tonight: to find out what that is.

-

“(i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.”

-

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I need...I need a part 3! 😭

THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.

PART 2

Bangchan x reader. (s)

Chapters: Part I

Synopsis: To help you moving on from your break-up, Chan takes you out for a night. However, he doesn't expect you will find a potential new love in someone else. (9,5k words)

Author's note: Here's one you've been asking for. Please tell me what you think about it! Nevertheless, enjoy x

"I think we're done for the day, huh?" You sigh in relief after dumping the dirty towels into the laundry bag and tossing it to the back room.

"No, actually, someone just walked in and wanted a haircut," your co-worker says while holding a stack of clean towels in front of her.

"Keem can have it," you resolve, you've finished all of your appointments for the day, and you're tired and ready to go home.

"Yeah, that's the problem. He specifically asked for you," your co-worker answers, putting the towels into the shelf full of them.

You plant your hands on each side of your waist and shoot a puzzled look at your coworker, "Huh?"

Is this customer aware that the salon is about to close and there's another hairstylist on duty? That exciting feeling of getting home soon is slowly fading as you head in to meet this customer who specifically asks for you.

The second you walk in, Keem, the other stylist, grabs your elbow and then leans into your side to whisper, "He's so cute."

Hearing it doesn't lift your mood at all, you just want to get it over with and go home.

"Where?" You ask as you put on your apron.

"He's right there," she whispers, pointing to the middle seat hidden behind the big mirror then detaches herself off you to go back behind the counter.

For a customer who chooses an awful time to get a haircut, you put on a phony smile and shove your hands into the pockets of your apron as you greet.

"Hi, what can I do for... You!" The infliction in your voice changes as you see who that customer is.

It's the shit-eating grin, the stupid dimples on his stupid face and

"It's enough torture to have you as my neighbor and now I have to you see at work too," you say as you cross your arms together in front of you.

"Oh, wow, is this how you treat your customer?" He says with a fake concerned look.

"Only the select few," you say with a sinister smile.

"I made it on your list of honors? Is this because we had sex—"

You hurriedly cover his mouth with your hand and make sure no one is seeing what you're doing to him, or worse, letting them acquire that piece of information.

"What do you want?" You scold him with a piercing glare.

He takes your hand off of his mouth and dramatically gasps for air, "I want a haircut," he simply answers.

With a huff, you swivel his chair to face the mirror and grab the cape for him, putting it around his neck, then clip it together. You put on a phony smile as you look at him through the reflection in the mirror.

"So, what do you want me to do with your hair besides setting it on fire?" You sarcastically ask him.

It's amazing how his grin doesn't wear off even just for a second, "We don't need to cut much, I guess just the tip," he says.

"Just the tip," you repeat, "Is that the title of your sex tape?"

Chan cracks a sonorous laugh, "That's a good one!"

Once you hear the sound of the scissors snipping away the hair, you get in the zone. You focus on giving his hair a nice shape that accentuates his strong jawline and makes his facial features more prominent.

"Don't talk much, huh?" He asks, slightly turning his head to the side.

You grab the nape of his neck and forcefully turn his head back to the front, "just here trying my best not to snip you somewhere else," you calmly mutter.

"Ooh, chills!" He responds with a shudder.

You switch your scissors with a hair clipper and it starts buzzing as you turn it on, you're holding it in his hand as you look at him and say, "You're going to regret coming here and allowing me to be this close to you with a sharp object."

Seeing you bringing the hair clipper close to his face, he reflexively closes his eyes so tightly and you hold the urge to not laugh at it.

"Oh, okay, I regret it now," he says like a frightened child left alone by his parents.

You gently place your hand on his jaw, "Stay still," you warn him.

He obeys you, keeping his head still and his eyes closed as you're carefully trimming his sideburns. You suddenly find yourself admiring his face and his beautiful features of a long, big nose and voluptuous lips.

For a split second, you so badly want to run your thumb on his lips and feel how soft they are. You did feel it once with your lips but you were too sad to notice and now you realize how much you regret it.

Before the temptation returns, you turn off the trimmer and put it away, then proceed to help brush the hair on his face and around his neck with a soft brush.

"You're all done," you announce, taking the cape from around his neck.

Chan stays on his seat as you brush the excess hair off the nape of his neck and make sure they don't stick to his skin. You put all of your equipment on the cart next to you and anticipate his reaction to your haircut.

Not trying to brag here but you did a good job here because he looks even more attractive with a fresh cut.

"Aren't you going to tell me how handsome I am and then kiss me on the cheek?" He asks while blinking his big eyes at you.

"I'm not your mom," you reply with a plain smile.

"I'm waiting for you."

When you think you already got rid of him after giving him a haircut, you see him lounging around the counter and putting on his charms for Keem. You plan on keeping it a secret that you know each other but if he starts flirting with your co-worker, then there's a possibility you'll see her walking out of his apartment the next day and it only gets messy from there. You come up to him and tug at the sleeve of his jacket, then pull him to the side.

"Why are you still here?" You ask through your gritted teeth and keeping your volume low.

"Why?"

"Because we're going out tonight," he answers.

"We?"

"And no, my panties are not in a twist," he says with a teeth-baring grin, "You can check it yourself if you want."

"Ugh. No!" You groan in refusal.

What is it about him anyway that makes the girls go crazy for him? If you're thinking with your depraved, brutal, and cavewoman brain, it must be the body that is inexplicably electric and sexually charged, braced with heavy muscles, and injected with a high dose of testosterone. In other words, he's hot, and it's hard not to be biologically attracted to him. But if you're thinking progressively and in the 21st century way, you know you should avoid this fuckboy at all costs.

"Ugh. Okay," you groan in agreement this time.

"If you don't want to go then I'll just take Keem," he says, secretly threatening not only you but also your workplace dynamic.

"I'm sure she's keem for it," he makes a pun.

And then, there's something called human error.

-

At first, Chan thought that you have that stoic expression only whenever you're around him but he was wrong. He learns that it's just your default expression and you wear it like a defense mechanism to keep the predators at bay. At least, he shouldn't worry about leaving you alone in the bar as he's working the DJ booth.

Once he's done with his set, he ignores the calls for his name and walks up to you, seeing you rather unimpressed by what he just did. What did he expect though? You're not most girls.

He taps the table, signaling the bartender to come and tend to his order, "The usual, please?"

The bartender nods and is about to turn away to make his drink when he calls for him again, "And one more for this nice lady," he adds, gesturing at you and flashing you a sly smile.

Chan turns around to face the dance floor and leans his back against the counter, "So, what do you think?"

"It was good," you answer after sipping your drink.

"You have a filthy expression on your face," he teases you and gently elbows your side, "go on, tell me what you're really thinking."

"Strangling you with my bare hands," you answer without a beat.

Chan leans in close enough that he can get a whiff of the smell of your shampoo, "so that's your kink?"

"Only when I see fear in your eyes," you answer with a wicked smile.

"Wow. You know how to excite a guy," he praises, not entirely lying about it because he gets a little excited from your snarky comments.

The bartender comes with both of your drinks and you hurriedly finish your previous one to go ahead with the next. He watches as you take a small sip and then waits to see how your nose scrunched at the bitter aftertaste.

"You're single now and maybe it's time for you to get out there, you know, find a new love," he says, secretly hoping that you'll find it in him when he looks at you.

"Hey, Chris," a girl comes and without hesitating, placing a kiss on his cheek, "Great set!"

"Thanks, Alicia," he says to the tall lady with beautiful braided hair.

"This one is on me," she says as she gives him a drink from the ones she ordered.

"Cheers then!" He says, clinking his glass with hers with his charming smile on.

The lady leaves to take the drinks away and is soon engulfed by the crowd. Chan notices that you remain calm about that interaction, and again, what did he expect?

"At least, one of us has no problems getting some tonight," you take a jab at him.

"I'm taking you out so we can have fun tonight and enjoy yourself—"

"The only way I can enjoy myself is when I'm alone."

"Oh?" He gasps and gives you a wild glare.

You roll your eyes and sigh once you realize he's taking it the wrong way, "I just want to go home and binge my favorite show and sleep," you finish your sentence with a big gulp of drink and he gets to see another nose scrunch from you.

The intention was to take you out of the apartment and perhaps, he can get you to loosen up a little bit, making this getting to know each other thing a little easier for him. It seems like he's forcing it on you and maybe it wasn't a good idea after all.

"Okay, then, we'll go home after this one," he says, lifting his glass close to his mouth.

"Or you can just stay here and do your thing, and I'm going home," you suggest a better idea after finishing your drink and you grab your bag as if you just can't wait to get out of here.

Chan is quick to grab your arm and stops you from leaving, "Hey, at least, let me finish my drink first," he protests.

"You don't have to leave with me. I can go home myself," you say to him.

"Just wait for me," he squeezes on your arm and adds, "Please?"

You consider it for a moment and then say, "I'll wait for you outside."

Since he's done a gig here, Chan has to make a proper exit out of the club, he greets a few people who work there and grabs his backpack of equipment, carrying it in his hand as he walks out of there. He finds you leaning against the street lamp and the light casts a glowing halo on your head, making you look like an angel... with a stoic expression.

He grins when you notice him coming, "Okay, I lied, there's another thing we have to do tonight," he says.

"Goodness, Chris, just bag a lady and call it a night," you groan in complaint.

Both of his eyebrows ratchet up at your words, "It has nothing to do with that."

"What is it then?" You cross your arms together in front of you.

"Only the best part of the night," he answers with a cryptic smile.

Chan knew he should have started the night with food. He can see that your mood gradually elevates with every bite you take from the delicious kebab he recommended to get after a boozy night out.

By the time you both arrive at the apartment building, you get all quiet like a drowsy child after a day out at the park and he finds it cute, especially with the way your lips slowly jutting out and you keep widening your eyes to stay awake.

"How about next Friday night we're doing it your way?" he suggests as he keeps the elevator door open for you with his back.

"If that means you'll leave me alone then yes," your eyes turn small as you politely moan into your hand.

"We're going to stay in and binge-watch your favorite show and sleep," he lists everything you mentioned earlier and an idea pops into his head.

"We'll have a pajama party!" He announces along with a poor imitation of tooting horns.

"No!" You flatly reject the idea.

"I'll bring the snacks," he offers.

You steadfastly shake your head.

"Then I'll keep knocking on your door until you let me in," he annoyingly moves into your side until he's rubbing elbows with yours.

"Then I hope you get abducted by aliens," you come out with an absurd wish and it cackles him.

"You would miss me," he confidently remarks with his signature grin.

"Doubtful. Very doubtful."

"Why?"

"I know I'd get to see you again someday—"

Chan can't help himself from smiling but little does he know, you're not done with your sentence yet.

"— in hell."

That wipes the smile off his face, "but I'm a good person. People like me," he says while making an innocent face.

"Because they don't know you, if they did, someone would have kicked your ass already."

"They'd try," Chan easily says with a nonchalant shrug, and at the same time, you both burst out laughing.

This is not flirting and he's aware there's something wrong with this interaction but you know what? He likes every bit of it.

Chan's heart sinks when it's time for the two of you to part ways and before you get to slip away from him, he tugs at the strap of your bag.

"Hey, can't wait for our pajama party," he says.

You pull your bag until the strap slips out of his hand and head to your apartment door.

"No response," he points out, "it's as a yes then."

"No!" You shout.

"So... it's a no?" He asks in confusion.

You push the door to get inside your apartment and lingers by the doorway, facing him.

"No," you cheekily respond and then close the door, leaving him with a different kind of thrill for what comes next.

-

From the way this person treats your door like a tambourine, you can safely guess that it's Chan knocking on the door for the so-called pajama party.

Ugh, why did you agree to it in the first place? It's so unlike you to let someone in on your space but it doesn't matter whether you let him or not, the boundaries have been crossed so many times that there's no such thing as personal space anymore.

Before letting him in, you check through the peephole, and just as you expected, he comes undressed, literally. He's standing on the other side of the door wearing nothing but gray sweatpants hanging low around his hips.

"Please have mercy on my eyes and put some clothes on!" You shout through the door with your hand holding the knob.

"I don't wear pajamas. This is what I wear to sleep," he responds and you can hear him faintly laughing with your ear pressed on the door.

"And what makes you think you're going to sleep at my place tonight?"

"I don't know. A hunch," he playfully responds.

"Pajama party is officially canceled!" You say through the peephole.

"Okay, okay, I'll put some clothes on," he sighs in defeat.

You watch through the peephole to see if he's really going to his apartment to change. With his broad shoulders, all hunched up, he walks back to his apartment and doesn't even bother to close the door, he grabs whatever lying close to him and puts the dark t-shirt over his head. Even under the poor lighting, the ridges of his muscles are visible and inviting you to feel it with your touch.

As though he knows he's being watched, he looks your way and then trudges his way back to your door. The first thing you see after you open the door for him is his big grin that sends his dimples sinking deep into his cheeks.

With a glare at his empty hands, you ask, "And where's the snack?"

Chan puts his arms on each side of the doorframe and leans in close, towering you with his big figure, proudly he answers, "Ma'am, I am the snack."

Can't tell if he's trying to charm you, intimidate you, or both, doesn't matter because he failed at all of them.

"But you promised!" You can tolerate people when they make jokes about anything but you can't accept when it involves food.

Chan takes his phone out of his pocket and shows it to you, "It's being delivered. See?"

Your jaws unclenched in a second and you open the door wider for him, "You may come in!" You sweetly say with a curtsy.

"Thank you, Your Majesty!" He says with a bow before steps into your apartment.

It's ironic how you prepared everything despite you were grudging it, you set the sofa, put some cushions and since he said he was bringing the food, you bought drinks for tonight.

"I have juice, soda, and beers," you list everything you have in your fridge as you're looking at it.

"We'll have the soda for now and beers for later," Chan strategically plans.

The food he ordered only lasts for two episodes and from there, you both run on beers and chips while sitting on opposite sides of each other on the couch with your feet touching.

"I like seeing white stockings on women," Chan comments after seeing the female character wearing it under her dress.

"This is why I hate watching with a man," you say in a condescending tone.

"I'm not even saying anything about her body," he defends himself and playfully rubs his foot with yours.

"Just shh..." you hush him, getting back at him by tackling his foot with yours.

The whole time the TV show is playing, your attention is on him, you're merely curious if he's genuinely invested in it or just wants to annoy you with his presence. From your observation, it seems like it's the former but the jury's still out.

"Wait, is that it?" He asks as the first season has just ended and the credit title rolls down the screen.

"That's the end of the first season," you say, starting to gather the trash on the table and put it into a plastic bag.

"But there's another season, right?" He says, looking distressed that the show ends with a cliffhanger.

"Yeah," you answer.

"Then let's watch it!" He says with a grin and slowly blinking his eyes at you.

"No, Chris, it's late," you show him the time on the screen on your phone that it's close to midnight.

"But I want to know what happens next and I need to know now," he speaks like a spoiled little brat.

You get up from the sofa to get rid of the trash, "You can watch it on your own."

Grabbing the back of your sweater, Chan pulls you hard until you plop down onto the sofa next to you then he puts his arm around you to keep you down.

"Let's just party all night, eh?" He persuades you as he leans in close to the side of your head you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek.

You leer to the side at him and ask, "I can't make you leave, do I?"

"Not a chance," he shortly answers.

Seeing that there's no other way to make him leave but to fulfill his wish, you give in and sit back down on the sofa as Chan hits the play button.

With your stomach full and the exhaustion from the day, and you feel snug on the sofa wrapped in your blanket, you're getting drowsy as the night gets late. You manage to stay awake for two episodes but not long after that, your eyes get really heavy and you can barely keep them open anymore.

Going to rest my eyes for a bit, you tell yourself in your head but close your eyes, slowly drifting into deep slumber.

-

It's not new that Chan wakes up not knowing where he is, he lifts his head and looks around, taking in his surroundings to give him clues of his whereabouts. One look at the TV screen that shows a question whether he's still watching or not, he immediately recalls where he is, what he's doing here, and—

"Owh!" He lowly gasps as you accidentally elbow him on the ribs.

There he is, lying next to you on the sofa, your back pressed close to his chest he can feel every rise and fall of your body as you're breathing. He doesn't know how it comes to this and he's not complaining though, if anything, it's an opportunity for him to admire you up close.

Cautiously, he removes the hair covering your face to the side and takes an intimate look at your facial features, first at your eyes with your eyelashes fanning out so beautifully, he runs his fingertip down your nose and eventually at your lips which he dreams of kissing.

Do you know that you're so beautiful yet so unaware of it?

Chan gently buries his nose in your neck and inhales your heavenly scent that gets him intoxicated, putting himself in a test of restraint that he'll be likely to fail. All of a sudden, you stir in your sleep and nuzzle closer as if you're seeking warmth from his body heat.

What did he just put himself into? He frustratingly asks in his head.

Soon enough, he can feel your body start to mold against him and it feels nice, you're fulfilling his need for this closeness but unfortunately, he can't control how his body is reacting to this as it wants to do more than just being pressed close to yours.

Chan carefully places his hand on your hips and quietly, he tries to push you away to make a safe space between your bodies even though he has to suffer the loss of your warmth against him.

As if your body knows what he's trying to do, you push back even further and the curve of your ass sits right on the bulge growing inside his sweatpants, putting him at a greater risk.

"Fuck!" he mouthes in distress.

If it wasn't for the TV light that casts a hazy glow on you, he wouldn't notice that your eyes are open and you're waking up to him with his hand on your hips which he's afraid only giving you the impression that he tries to pull you close instead of the opposite.

"I—" he can't say anything without sounding like he's lying because he knows that a greater part of him wanted it, wanting you.

In the next moment, he finds your hand reaching for him and unexpectedly, you put your fingers across his lips, asking him to stop talking as you bring his head close until your lips touch. He doesn't dare to do anything but when you stroke his lower lip with your tongue, his instincts take over.

To no one's surprise, Chan claims your mouth like a starved man.

However, Chan doesn't plunge right into it, he's starting the kiss with innocent brushes of his lips on yours and teasing licks before taking your mouth once again in a deeper kiss.

When he draws back, your lips are parted on soundless gasps of desire. It takes a moment for your eyes to clear enough to focus on him and with a low voice, he says, "I couldn't resist it."

He can't waste a second without kissing you so he indulges in another dizzying kiss, "I thought about kissing you all week."

Days, weeks, months, it comes to a blur to him but he learned the agony of waiting so he counts the time until his lips can reunite with yours again, hopefully, once and for all.

"Now, I can't seem to stop," As he speaks, he threads his fingers into your hair and angles your head back. He trails kisses along your jawline, nips your chin, and kisses the corner of your mouth.

A murmur humming in your throat as he kisses you yet again and your hand flies into his hair, fingertips lazily scratching at his scalp. You suddenly pull away from the kiss and gaze into his dark eyes, "Then don't stop."

So Chan hasn't been the only one, after all.

Planting his mouth on yours again, he twines his tongue with yours, and oh... this taste, this softness, your hand in his hair, kiss after kiss after kiss.

He allows himself to run his fingertips down the length of your arm and smiles when goosebumps ripple outward. Nuzzling your neck, he breathes in the soft scent of your skin and kisses the sweet spot just behind your jaw. Your lips are calling him, but instead, he sucks on your earlobe and bites it, startling a shaky sigh from you.

He allows himself to explore more by running his hand along the length of your body, cupping the curve of your breasts, and even through the layers of fabrics, he can feel the firm buds of your nipple. He so badly wants to pinch it, love on it, but there is too much fabric in the way. He simply resolves it by slipping his hand under and he finds your soft mounds in a second, not wasting another second to fondle on it.

As he kisses you harder, and you arch into his body, you're undulating your hips against the aching bulge inside its confine, forcing him to bite back his groan.

Oh, he hasn’t wanted someone like this in... Has he ever wanted someone like this?

He reels himself back to the present, glancing down at his pale hand and your nipple caught between his fingers, it's an erotic sight indeed that he can't resist pinching it and enjoying your sharp intake of breath.

"Chris..."

The sound of his name falling from your lips is just as unexpected as it is hot. He sees you breathe through your parted lips that's swollen and glistening wet from all the kissing, and then at your wide, lustful eyes that tell him you're ready for more.

An impatient hand glides down your stomach and slips beneath the waistband of your shorts, his gentle fingers caress you with slow strokes. He is touching you there, right where you need him and you shiver, then burrow closer to him as more goosebumps dotted your skin.

"My God, you're drenched," he says and with each syllable, his lips grazed your ear.

Your body clenched hard, clenched even harder when he presses a finger deep into you, filling you. He massages your clit with lazy swirls of his thumb, making you start trembling against him.

He lowers a kiss on you again, tongue and teeth invading your mouth and that's all it takes to send you climbing quick and sharp toward your release.

His mouth finds your ear and with his hot breath tickles you, he lowly asks, "Does it feel good?”

There's no answer but you sink your teeth into your bottom lip as you throw your head back, inhaling sharply. Chan can feel tiny muscles fluttering around his fingers, and he knows you are close.

He doesn't need to see to know the answer, he can feel it with his hand, "You’re drenching my palm," he whispers again.

With your hand in his hair, you bring his head close and peck his lips, "Chris, I want it," you mutter as you pull away.

You lightly nod, "Mmh-hmm."

"It?" He asks to confirm if you're thinking of the same thing and he's not taking the wrong sign.

"Condom?"

"No need," you shortly answer, "I'm on the pill."

A jolt of excitement surges all over his body just from the thought that he'll be inside you with no layer of protection and it utterly exhilarates him that he needs to calm down for a minute. He uses the time to remove your shorts and then his sweatpants next without taking his other arm from around you.

Once he settles himself behind you, he puts his hand between your legs, lifting a leg and putting it over his hips, allowing his hard member to get between your legs. It feels a whole lot different to feel how wet you are on every inch of his length.

"Feel that?" He asks you with his mouth nestled close to your ear and his swollen cock rubbing between your folds, "I'm aching for you."

Chan kisses your mouth, your jaw, your neck as hard flesh prodding at your sex, making you stop breathing for a moment and you feel nothing but a sensuous stretching that goes on and on until he seated himself fully inside you and oh, he fits perfectly.

"It's too good. You feel– oh... I'm going to lose it," he can't comprehend what he's feeling right now.

The heat, this tightness, so perfect for him and his body asks for nothing but more and more and more of you.

Responding to his body's needs, he withdraws and then thrusts back into you, soon enough, he sets a steady pace. His free hand slides down to your bundle of nerves, touching you there for added stimulation. You grip his wrist, seemingly intending to pull him away, but your hand refuses to cooperate.

The twin assaults of his fingers and his cock that fills you full kindle a flame inside you that spread all over you like wildfire. Your mouth is parted open but all that comes out are gasps and sighs of pleasure so instead of words, you communicate how you feel through your body. You spread your thighs wider and writhe to match his thrust for thrust.

There's nothing but the sounds of his hips slapping your ass and his cock that incessantly slipping in and out of you, and he likes how he finds peace despite his body being in pure chaos.

With his mouth lingering close to your ear, he knows you hear every shudder of his breath to the lowest of his sultry moans slipped out of his mouth, and honestly, he would have been embarrassed if it weren’t for your hand tangled in his curls and keep pulling him for a kiss, before finding his hand that rests on your chest and hold it.

"Perfect..." the word tumbles out of his mouth as your fingers slip right between the spaces of his fingers and lace it together.

"Ah, ah, ah," more moans fall out of your lips as you arch into him, and through it all, your eyes locked in a gaze with his, letting him see the pure pleasure that builds up inside you.

Chan has slept with a handful of people, but he’s never been so in tune with someone's body. He’s never been so desperate to please or so elated when he hears you cry his name as you cum around him.

The high takes you over and also your ability to move, speak, and think. You curl up, making you feel smaller against him. The hand interlaced with his tightens as he speeds up the motions of his hips and with one last deep thrust, he joins you in falling apart.

Using this tender moment to pour his affection for you, he's whispering your name and kissing you softly, then slowly, he eases out of—

"No, don't!" Your hand grabs at his hips, hard, nails digging into the flesh, "Stay."

Obeying your words, Chan holds you close, limbs to limb, skin to skin, hearts lying so close to each other with mere flesh and bones in between. He doesn't know what this was, but it sure as hell was not fucking. He kisses you hard and soft to find out.

It's when he pulls away and looks into your eyes that he figures out the answer as the most incredible feeling of being loved washes over him.

-

When Chan wakes up the next morning. He registers the sunlight on his face, the distant barking of a neighborhood dog, and the delicious smell of buttered toast and coffee, it's all around him and—

It just hits him that he's waking up on your sofa and he burrows into the blanket with a happy sigh once he recalls everything that happened last night to the tiniest details, summoning the butterflies to flutter around in his stomach.

The sound of your footsteps forces him to get out of his daze and he scrambles to get up when you walk past the sofa on your way to the kitchen.

"Morning!" He cheerily greets you while covering his naked lower half with the blanket.

Without looking and with your hands tying your hair, you fainty reply to his greeting, "Morning."

You didn't reply to his level of enthusiasm but that's okay, he just doesn't expect you to be this stoic this early in the day. Instead of searching for his sweatpants, he wraps the blanket around his hips like a towel and waddles his way to the kitchen.

"You're up early," he says, noticing that it's barely seven and he knows you usually leave for work a little after eight, sometimes close to nine.

"Early appointment. Have to do a client's hair. Wedding," you concisely explain as you quietly sip your coffee from a big red mug.

It's strange, the way you speak and how your eyes are looking anywhere but in his direction. For now, he's going to think that you're just tired and not fully meeting your dose of caffeine yet

"Okay, so what's for breakfast?" He asks, excitedly tapping the dining table with his hands and grinning at you.

"Toast and coffee," you say while standing on your toes to get a glass from the top cabinet.

"Anything but coffee, please?" He politely asks, watching you walk the other way to get a carton of orange juice out of the fridge.

It's a sunny day but the room shares the same temperature as the glass of orange juice you pour into his glass. He observantly watches you, searching for any clues whether this is how you are in the morning or something is actually off with you.

There's one way to know, first, he takes a small sip of his juice to help with his dry throat and then jabs around the topic, "Last night was fun, don't you think?"

There's no answer and he can't see your reaction toward it when you're standing with your back facing him and he begins to think that it's the latter.

"I'm thinking we should do this again next Friday but I'll get to pick what we're going to watch and you bring—"

"Chris, I'm sorry but..." You swiftly turn on your feet and check the time on the clock, "I have to leave now."

"Sure, yeah, you can't be late for a wedding," he playfully says while keeps searching for your eyes to make you look at him.

You walk around your apartment to gather your things, your phone, and your wallet, stuffing them into a purse. You grab another bag which he guesses is one you usually carry for work and that only confirms that you're indeed leaving for an appointment.

"You can stay for breakfast and use the spare keys to lock the door when you leave," you say those things in a hurry as you drag your bag to the foyer.

He turns on his chair to look at you as he jokes, "We've only slept together twice and you're already giving me your apartment keys?"

Unfortunately, the jokes fall short as he hears nothing but the sound of the knob turning and you're getting out of the apartment.

"Have a great day at work!" He shouts at you but all he gets in response is the door closing and then clicks in place.

Chan can't tell anymore if you're leaving for work or you're leaving him, but it feels like he's getting his karma for always being the one leaving in the morning.

-

It's wedding season and that explains why there are a lot of scribbles on your calendar, you have a lot of appointments to do this month, and you get so busy that he's hardly seeing you lately.

Work is one thing he can understand but you can't possibly work 24 hours a day without a day off, right? At one point, he should have caught you leaving or coming home from work, whichever it is, the chance never comes to him, not even once.

Chan begins to wonder if you're avoiding him, he knows because there's a slight difference to it and it's in the purpose. You've been purposely doing things to avoid him.

With an excuse prepared in his head, Chan comes knocking on your door the next Friday night. He's been keeping your spare keys and can easily let himself in but that would be impolite, he needs to be on your good side to earn your trust.

After a few times knocking with no answer, he lets himself in but not because he has the spare keys, the door is unlocked so he figures you must be at home and doing something that makes you unable to get the door.

"Anyone's home?" He shouts into the void in your living room and hesitantly walks further inside.

Hearing the loud humming of a hairdryer, he walks to your bedroom. Unexpectedly, you're coming out as he's about to walk in.

"Oh, God!" You gasp in surprise as you hold the front of your bathrobe together, "What are you doing here?"

In contrast, Chan laughs seeing your shell-shocked expression in his presence. He then crosses his arms together and leans the side of his body against the doorframe, not forgetting to wear his grin as he answers to you, "Just checking to see if my neighbor is alive."

"Well, I'm alive," You're talking as you're taking dresses out of your closet, "and I need your help."

Looking at your mood and the way you talk normally to him, he concludes that the thought that you've been purposely avoiding him was just a silly thought after all. Other than that, you need his help and he likes being needed by you.

"I'm at your service," Chan says, permitting himself to step into your bedroom and sit on the end of your bed.

You're standing in front of him, holding up two dresses in your hands, one is a white line dress with a v-neck and the other is a body-hugging velvet dress in a deep burgundy color. Both will look good on you but he needs to know one thing before he gives his vote.

"Are we going out tonight?" He playfully asks, feeling a buzz of excitement filling him.

You turn around to face the full-length mirror while holding the dress in front of you in turn to give you ideas on how it will look on you.

"I have a date," you tell him.

Hearing that, the excitement in his body vanishes in a second and is replaced by a cold shudder of panic. He tries to laugh it off in denial.

"A–a date?" He stammers.

"Uh-huh," You end up settling the dress situation yourself by choosing to go with the white linen dress, "Can you get out of my room so I can change?"

His subconscious has the tendency to obey you, he gets up from the bed and walks out of your room, and he lingers there by the door, contemplating whether he should push the conversation or not.

"With who?" He doesn't want to know but curiosity gets the best of him.

"A guy I met at one of the weddings," you share from inside your bedroom.

"Is this—" he pauses to swallow air, "Is this your first date?"

"Yes and I'm excited," your voice grows louder and soon, the door cracks open and you reveal yourself to him, "Now, tell me I made the right choice?"

He takes a staggering step backward and asks, "On the date or the dress?"

You take a look at yourself on the round mirror hanging on the wall, "Is it too casual? No?"

For a second, Chan forgets about the direness of the situation and takes a good look at you, the dress compliments your shape so well, the hem flares up like a blooming flower and the v-cut neckline offers a modest cleavage, perfect for a first date. If he has to be honest, even without the dress, it won't make you less comely but he hates that you look this good and it's not for him.

"You look... good," he tries to make it sound like your appearance doesn't make any impression on him.

You wipe the excess lipstick on the corner of your mouth then look over your shoulder, "And the date?"

He doesn't expect you to give him the chance to say something about it and obviously, he's going to try his best to intercept your plan.

"Don't you think it's too soon?" He follows you as you head back to your bedroom then stops at the doorway as you enter the bathroom after, "To get on a date."

You take off the hair rollers nestling on the crown of your hair and your hair flows down like big springs, then brush it down with your fingers.

"You told me yourself that I should get out there and find new love," you return his words to him.

That feels like he's just slapped himself in the face. Why did he tell you that? Oh, yeah, that's because he wants you to start opening up so he can let himself in and fill that position.

"But that's not– I just didn't think..." his words trailing off as he can't exactly explain the reason why he said it, not now at least.

You put all of your hair to the front then flip it all together to the back, you're shaking the end with your fingers, sending the sweet smell of your shampoo flying around in the room.

"Didn't think what?" You curiously ask as you apply a fresh coat of lipstick on your lips, the shade is bright red like a flamethrower.

"When I said you should start finding a new love, I was hoping that you could finally see me and..." he can't find another way of telling you without saying it out loud, "perhaps, you can find it in me."

That makes you stop whatever you're doing and turn around on your feet, leaning against the bathroom counter, you look at him in eerie silence, and then out of nowhere, a laugh bursts out of you.

"Chris, stop playing!" You brush past him on the way out of the bathroom.

He's trailing behind you as you pick up a purse from a collection of them in your closet, "I'm not playing," he assures you.

"Okay, yeah, I trust you," you half-heartedly respond, heading out and going to the foyer to pick your shoes next.

"Can you please look at me?" He pleads as he waits for you to make up your mind with your choice of shoes.

"Just look at me, please?" He begs again, desperately.

You take your chosen shoes and hold them in one hand as you hold his gaze, "Okay, I'm looking at you."

In those fierce eyes, Chan finds the courage to assess his feelings and tries to fathom them into words. He inhales air before letting it out in a long, low sigh.

"Don't go on that date," he demands.

"Why?"

"Because I want you here."

"Chris, that's not a good enough reason," you say with a low laugh.

He gently places his hands on each of your elbows and tenderly stares into your eyes, "Then go ahead, ask me that one question."

"What question?"

"Ask me what are we," he steadily holds your gaze even though he feels a whirlwind in his head and chaos stirring inside his chest.

You brush it off with a laugh, "Why should I ask you—"

"Just ask me the question!" He accidentally raises his voice at you and immediately lowers his voice after, he looks down to take a breather before looking back into your eyes, "Ask me what are we!"

It feels like an eternity waiting for you to ask him that but he has the patience and an answer to that, he only needs you to ask him that.

You drop the shoes onto the floor and take a step forward, you hold his gaze as he holds his breath. Deep down, he knows that you'd have to be blind to not see the light of affection in his eyes.

To his dismay, you unexpectedly retreat and pick up everything with you toward the door. With your back turned to him, you say, "I don't want to be late for the date."

-

It's been an hour since he came back from your apartment and he's still stuck in the denial stage. He's lying in the dark and stares at the ceiling of his bedroom, ignoring his phone that's been tirelessly blaring with notifications.

It's not a rejection if you don't give him a definite, abundantly clear answer, right? Besides, there's a chance that the guy blew the date and you can see that he's the better man. Is he though? Is he any better?

There are two ways to handle this situation. One, he can try to forget all about it, hit call back on one of the girls contacting him right now, get out of here, and distract himself with a physical release. Or two, wait because there's something in him that tells him to wait just a little longer.

But wait for what? Wait until you return from your date? Wait until he sees it happens, you with your new beau, all lovey-dovey next door?

It seems like he's finally progressed into the next stage: anger.

Every thought that crosses his head right now is not nice and he needs an outlet for this anger. He shoots up from the bed, he starts pacing back and forth in the room, hands balled into fists, he gets this urge to punch something, he wants to— No, he can't wait with this ugly feeling slowly taking over him and driving him insane.

"Fuck this," he curses out loud into the void in his apartment, he picks up his phone and texts someone about meeting up tonight.

While typing a text, knocking comes on his door, and whoever it is, they'd better not piss him off or— the knocking comes again, he exhales air out of his mouth to calm down and walks in heavy steps to get the door.

It seems as if his anger wasn't there in the first place, the second he opens the door and sees you, all of those nasty thoughts vanish into thin air.

You're carrying your shoes in one hand and the other is holding one side of the doorframe. You look at him with a smile ever so softly blooms on your face, "So..."

See? It wasn't a rejection. He just needed to wait a little longer and God, he was glad he did.

"So...?" He asks back, holding the urge to smile back at you.

You daringly stare into his eyes as you take a step into his apartment, "So... what are we, Chris?"

It's crazy how your magnetic field is so strong that he can't stand being this close to you and not touching you, his hesitant hands are reaching for you, they retreat and give, doing it for a while until you drop everything off your hands and put your hands around his shoulders. Indirectly permitted him to put his hands on you.

"What are we, mmh?" You ask again with your eyes flickering like they hold stars in them.

"We are..." he considers to let the truth out but what's the fun in that? He needs to get back at you for making him doubt everything earlier, "Neighbors."

"No," you shake your head in disagreement, "You're definitely going to say something else."

Luckily, he's strong enough to hold you steady as you put your whole weight against him, leaving not even an inch of gap between your bodies.

"Someone still has her panties in a twist," he playfully responds with his charming grin on, dimples and all.

"Shame on you because I don't have any panties on," you say with your small smile turning into a broad one.

His eyes widen in slight shock, and his hand automatically glides downward, landing a caress on the curve of your ass and slipping under the hem of your dress to check whether your words are true or not. His fingers edge at the lacy fabric of your underwear and it turns out to be the latter.

"Ugh, you're lying!" He groans in complaint but it doesn't make him less happy, he's elated, and his heart is about to burst.

"Partly."

"How so?"

"Because you're about to take them off," you shamelessly say.

Chan wants to let go of all the things that hold him back. He brings both of your lips together, he kisses you like you're oxygen and he's short on air. He runs his hands down your back to your hips, cupping your sweet ass, and pulls you even closer. You struggle to get closer as he kisses you deep and hard your head tilted to the back, you weave your fingers through his hair as you pour yourself into the kiss.

Everything that happened before this is in the past now, all he knows now is your taste and the hot sighs of your breath, and then this irrepressible want to devour you.

"I'm going to carry you to bed," Chan's plush lips brushing yours as he speaks.

The idea of carrying you to bed is highly appealing to him at the moment. He likes holding you and as messed up as it was, he wants to throw you onto the bed, in the most respectful way.

"Then what are you waiting for, kangaroo boy?"

A sharp gasp escapes your mouth as he swoops you into his arms and carries you in the direction of the bedroom. You have your arms looped around his neck to hold onto and place kisses along his jaw all the way to his bedroom.

Instead of throwing you onto the bed like he planned, he throws both of you onto the bed and it quakes, he immediately props an elbow against the mattress to not put his weights on you.

"God, you're so beautiful," his sigh tells how overwhelmed he is by what he's seeing and what a privilege that he's able to place kisses on such beauty.

When you try to gasp a mouthful of air, he breathes it into you with his hand resting on your jaw, you look up at him, and a starburst of emotion expands inside him. He thinks you see it in his eyes because you softly smile at him.

Giving you time to breathe, he shifts his focus elsewhere, he kisses and sucks on your neck, all the while his hands are keeping your body closely pressed against him, making you aware of the firm flesh prodding your crotch through his blue jeans.

The next thing is his mouth searching for the source of the heat and your body goes into total system failure as his mouth inches closer to where you want him. Between your thighs, you flush and tingle with wanting.

"This smell..." he hums as he buries his nose in your clothed sex, making you able to feel every sharp intake of air he inhales through his nose.

He pries his mouth open and plants it on your heating wetness, not caring about the lacy fabric that blocks him from tasting it raw.

"Mmh..." he deeply hums again, almost like the low roar of a wild animal hunting at night, "I want this smell all over me."

The intensity of your desire frightens and embarrasses you at the same time, you need a little control but control is gone when Chan tugs the waistband of your underwear between his teeth and begins to pull it down your legs.

He places his hands on the back of your thighs and slowly, lifts both of your legs upward as he keeps biting your underwear. You're watching as he tries to take it off of you with such determination.

Once he succeeds, he grabs the underwear from between his teeth and holds it up to show you his latest conquest, "Twisted panties no more," he says with a sly grin.

Instead of tossing it aside, he puts the underwear into the back pocket of his jeans, "I'm keeping it."

There are so many layers of clothing keeping him from feeling your skin but he can start by removing his t-shirt, having no problems showing you his taut muscles and his pale skin that reddens around the chest, neck, and both ears.

Next, Chan grabs your knees, he pulls them apart to bare your sex to his eyes and his chest expands on a sharp inhalation. The look on his face tells it all, he wants you, he wants you so bad that he swallows air, sending his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

It's the first time that he gets to see it open and bare, gushing with essence, tantalizing. He leisurely takes his time to admire it while plotting things he wants to do to it.

He rubs his hands down the sides of your thighs and lowly sighs, without his eyes straying away from the sight between your legs, he says, "You have the prettiest little—”

He thinks he's imagining it but he's not the only one hearing knocks on his apartment door. Sensing someone else's presence, your legs instinctively shut and you pull the hem of your dress down.

"Chris, are you expecting someone?" You ask with your forehead wrinkled in question.

"No," he shortly answers, he doesn't want you to think that he's waiting for someone else other than you, "I don't—"

The knocking comes again a while later, a little too aggressive that both of you can't ignore it anymore.

"Someone is knocking on your door," you say.

"Yeah, but I swear, I don't—"

You place your hand on his waist and look at him, "well, then, get the door and find out."

He'd rather have someone sawing him off of you than having to voluntarily get away from you, whoever this person is will be responsible for what's not going down at this moment.

"Only if you promise you won't change your mind," he tells you with a sly smirk.

"If you don't hurry and get the door, I might," you say back.

"Stay still. Don't move. Not even an inch," he pecks your lips for every warning with both hands cupping your face. He plants another long peck on your lips before dashing toward the front door and thinking of just sending this person away so he can get back to you.

This is where he makes a mistake. He doesn't check through the peephole and opens the door right away, having the faintest idea that catastrophe awaits on the other side of the door.

"Ah, there you are!" The girl says, jumping at him and immediately locking lips with him.

It happens so fast that by the time Chan registers it, the girl pulls away but keeps her arms looped around his shoulders.

"I came here as soon as I received your text," she grabs his chin and kisses his slacked-open mouth, "I hope I didn't make you wait long."

On the other end of the room, he hears your footsteps coming and soon, you come into his sight. You look so calm and he'd prefer a raging sea because with calm water, he never really knows what he's dealing with.

With an enigmatic smile, you look at him and say, "You know what, Chris? I change my mind."

-

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THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.

PART III

Bangchan x reader. (s,f,a)

Chapters: Part I / Part II

Synopsis: After a mishap on his part, you doubt that Chan is ready for a relationship but he is determined to prove it, except that he's having problems following your one condition. (17k words)

Author's note: Sorry for the late post. Hope you like the new chapter and don't forget to share your thoughts on it x

Chan has always been the type to run when conversations gets hard, when the truth is too heavy to carry. But not today.

Today, he is standing still, facing it head-on. His hand hovers over the wood, hesitating for only a second before he knocks again, his heart is beating out of his chest.

The second knock seems to last forever, but then, the door creaks open and youu stand there, looking at him with an expression that made it clear you aren’t surprised to see him.

Chan feels a lump forming in his throat—he was expecting more. Maybe shock, or even anger. But what he gets is quiet resignation, and that hurt more than he thought it would.

“Can we talk?” His voice comes out softer than he intended, laced with the weight of what he needed to say. His eyes searched yours for any sign of what you're feeling, but you are calm, too calm.

For a moment, you consider his request, eyes narrowing slightly before you step aside to let him in.

Chan exhales a breath he hasn’t realized he is holding and steps past the threshold. The apartment feels familiar, yet foreign—last night’s tension still lingering in the air like a ghost. He can feel the weight of his own mistake pressing down on his shoulders as he moved toward the living room.

You followed behind him, closing the door with a soft click before turning to face him, waiting for him to speak.

Chan runs a hand through his hair, his nerves making him fidget more than usual. He isn’t used to this—staying when things got hard. But here he is, about to dive headfirst into the conversation he would have normally avoided.

“I’m sorry,” he begins in the best way there is: with an apology

“About last night. I know it looked bad,” he winces as the whole incident flashes through his eyes.

Your expression remained unreadable, and that only made his stomach twist. He pauses, carefully find the right words to say next.

“I sent that text before you came over,” he admits, his eyes finally meeting yours. “It was stupid, I know. I was angry... knowing you went on that date. I acted out of impulse, and I didn’t even think she’d show up. Hell, I didn’t even think you’d come.”

You cross your arms in front of you, your silence heavy with expectation and he knows you are waiting for more.

“I messed up,” he continues, the next best thing to do is acknowledging his mistake.

“It’s my fault. I should’ve never sent that text, and I’m so sorry for how things turned out,” he continues, his voice tinted with regret.

Chan’s chest aches with the weight of the confession. He is baring it all, and the fear of rejection, of messing this up even more, is creeping up on him. He takes a step closer, his gaze softening as he looks at you.

“I just... I didn’t want to lose you. And when I saw you with someone else, it hurt. More than I expected it to,” He painfully admits, then he stops talking and waiting for you to respond.

For what feels like an eternity, the silence hangs between you and him like a barrier. Finally, you sigh, dropping your arms to your sides.

“I know it wasn’t great timing,” you begin, your voice calm but firm. “And I know you didn’t mean for things to go the way they did, but Chris... this isn’t just about last night.”

Chan blinks his eyes repeatedly, surprised, “What do you mean?”

You turn to lean against the back of the sofa, “I’ve been thinking about everything. About how fast all of this has been moving, and maybe... maybe I moved on too quickly from my last relationship.”

Then you look away as if searching for the right words, “Maybe we both aren’t ready for this.”

The idea of losing you now, after everything, is unbearable. His heart is sinking but he sees the doubt in your eyes, the walls you are building to protect yourself. And yet, he couldn’t walk away from this—not when he is feeling things he hasn’t felt in a long time.

“I know I’m not perfect,” he says, taking another step closer, his voice thick with emotion. “And I know I’ve made mistakes. But what I feel for you... it’s real. And it’s different from anything I’ve felt in a long time.”

Your eyes flicking up to meet his, and for the first time, he sees something soften in your expression. He presses on, sensing that this is his only chance to convince you.

“I’m not the guy I used to be,” he continues, his voice growing more confident. “Yeah, I’ve had my moments, and yeah, I’ve been a fuckboy. But that’s not who I want to be with you. I want this to work. I want us to work.”

The vulnerability in his voice hit you harder than you expected. You can see the sincerity in his eyes, feel the raw honesty in his words. And despite all the doubts and fears swirling in your mind, there is something about the way he is standing here, owning up to his mistakes, that makes you want to believe him.

“I don’t want another heartbreak, Chris,” you openly share, “The last thing I need is to go through that again.”

He nods, fully understanding the weight of your words but it only encourages him to convince you more, “I promise I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here because I care about you. More than I can put into words.”

For a moment, neither of you say anything. The room feels thick with emotion, but there is also something else—a glimmer of hope. Something worth fighting for.

You take a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you look at him, searching his face for any sign of dishonesty. But all you see is sincerity, and that is enough to make you consider his plea.

“Okay,” you finally whisper, “Let’s give it a shot.”

Chan’s face lights up with a warm smile, his heart swelling with happiness at your decision. But the joy in his expression doesn’t last long as you look at him seriously, your gaze sharp.

“In one condition,” you add.

His smile falters, and a flicker of panic replaces it. “W-What condition?”

“There’ll be no sex,” you say plainly, your voice calm and firm.

“No–no sex?” He stammers, looking at you like you’ve just told him he’s not allowed to breathe. His eyes widen, his mind scrambling to process what you’ve just said.

You nod, your expression unwavering. “I don’t want you to confuse this— physical attraction with emotional connection... Sex will only distract us from our goal.”

Chan’s mouth opens slightly, as if he’s going to protest, but no words come out. He swallows hard, blinking rapidly as he tries to gather his thoughts.

After a moment, he nods, though his expression is one of disbelief. “Okay... okay, no sex.” His voice is strained, but he’s doing his best to sound agreeable.

But then, something flickers in his eyes, and a small hope sneaks back in.

“Just sex, right?” He asks for clarification, a hopeful smile creeping onto his face. “I’m still allowed to kiss you...?”

Your eyes narrow slightly, and a sly smile spreads across your lips. “I’m afraid not.”

His face falls, the hope vanishing in an instant. “Not at all?” He asks, his voice horrified.

“At all,” you confirm, your tone playful but firm.

He stares at you, his expression a mix of shock and despair. “You’re serious?” He mutters, more to himself than to you.

You cross your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow as if you’ve just remembered something else. “Oh, and that includes no more barging into my place.”

Chan blinks, still processing the former information when your next statement hits him like a second wave.

“I know you’ve been keeping my spare keys," you say with your eyes narrowed at him, "I want them back.”

He closes his eyes, letting out a long, exasperated sigh as if he’s in the middle of a nightmare he desperately wants to wake up from. But when his eyes open, nothing has changed. You’re still standing there, waiting for him to comply.

“Come on,” you say, nudging his arm gently, “give them back.”

With a deep, reluctant sigh, Chan reaches into his jeans pocket, his movements slow, as if giving up the keys is the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. He pulls them out and holds them in his hand for a moment before finally passing them over to you.

“Thank you,” you say sweetly, taking the keys from him.

He watches you with a defeated look on his face, his shoulders slumping as you put the keys away. His lips press into a tight line, clearly still processing the fact that not only has he agreed to no sex, but now he doesn’t even have access to your place anymore.

Chan sighs again, rubbing the back of his neck. "This is going to be harder than I thought."

You catch his thoughtful expression and smirk, a playful glint in your eyes. “Well, you can just quit now,” you tease, the words light but with a hint of challenge.

His eyes snap to yours, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small smile. “Oh, just wait and see,” he replies, his voice low, but there’s a spark of determination behind it.

The teasing grin lingers on your lips, but Chan’s heart is set. This isn’t just about sticking to your rules—it’s about showing you, through his actions, that he’s no longer the guy who flirts and leaves when things get complicated. He’s here, and he’s staying.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head as if amused by his newfound resolve. “We’ll see.”

"You will," he boldly remarks, his voice steady, and there’s something in his tone that makes you pause. It’s not just a flirty remark or an empty promise. It’s real.

This time, it’s different. He’s different. And he’s going to show you that he’s ready to be the person you deserve.

-

When Chan thinks about it again, you’re not asking for much beyond that one condition—but deep down, he knows it’s more than that. It’s not just about avoiding physical intimacy; it’s about proving himself. He’s not the guy who plays games or casually dates for fun anymore. He’s not that fuckboy. He’s changed, and he’s ready for something real, something meaningful.

However, words are just words until he acts on them.

That’s why Chan waits in the lobby around the time you usually get home from work. To pass the time, he chats with the new guy working the concierge, trying to distract himself from the nervous energy building up.

The second you step into his radar, he can almost sense it. He turns his head toward the entrance, and there you are—pushing through the apartment door with a bag slung over one shoulder and another in hand.

Without missing a beat, Chan rushes toward you, grabbing the bag from your hand. “Great day at work, darling?” he asks with a cheeky grin.

You let out a low scoff, eyeing him skeptically. “And you’re still doing your best at work, huh?”

“Well, I aim to please,” he playfully responds, giving you a wink.

Before you can protest, he takes your bag to the concierge and talks to the new guy to keep it safe, leaving you standing there, eyebrows raised.

“Why... what are you doing with my bag?” you ask, looking at him in confusion.

“He’ll be keeping it safe,” he simply replies, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “While I’m taking you out for dinner.”

Before you can get another word in, he takes your hand, pulling you with him as he drags you right back out the door. You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

It’s clear: Chan’s not just saying things this time—he’s showing you.

The restaurant he is taking you for dinner is only two blocks away from your apartment building, and it surprises you that you didn’t know about it until now.

“How come I didn’t know about this place before?” you ask in wonder, chewing on your food.

Chan clasps his hands together in front of him and props them under his chin, “Maybe if you were being a lovely neighbor from the start, I would’ve taken you here sooner,” he teases.

You narrow your eyes and take a jab back at him, “And maybe if you weren’t busy taking girls home and avoiding them in the morning, you would’ve taken me here sooner.”

Chan sighs in defeat, putting his hands off the table, deciding to let the conversation slide. “But you agree that you like the food, right?”

You shovel another spoonful of food into your mouth and nod in approval, "Mm-mmh," you hum in answer.

Spotting something on the corner of your mouth, he grabs a napkin and, with a soft touch, dabs it away. You look at him, raising an eyebrow.

“You had something on your face. Was I just supposed to leave it there?” he defends with his grin.

You take the napkin from him and finish the job yourself. “You know, you don’t have to try this hard,” you say.

It's not a surprise that you would think that way, that he’s overcompensating, but he's doing it all because he genuinely cares for you.

“What? I’m just taking my lovely neighbor to one of my favorite spots nearby,” he says with his signature dimpled grin.

Shaking your head, you sip your drink, unsure how to respond. Before you can think of anything, he changes the subject.

“So, what are we doing this weekend?” he asks, as if it’s a given that you’re spending it together.

“Bold of you to assume I have nothing to do this weekend,” you say.

“Well, if you do have something to do, I can only hope it’s me,” he says with a wink.

You groan and toss a crumpled napkin at him. “I have to work this weekend.”

His groan is louder than yours. “If you’re working weekends too, when do you have time for me?”

You shoot him a look. “As far as I know, you didn’t have a problem keeping yourself entertained before.”

Chan’s smile turns cryptic as he slumps in his seat. “True... but it would be fun to play with you.”

“You remember my one condition, right?” you remind him.

He tosses the crumpled napkin back at you. “There are so many ways to have fun without sex.”

“Sshh,” you shush him, glancing around.

“Why are you still weird about it? We’ve had sex twice al—”

You cover his mouth with your hand, glaring. “You might as well announce to the whole restaurant we’ve had sex twice!”

He pulls your hand away, grinning wide as if he’s about to do it for real, just to see the horror in your eyes. But then he bursts into laughter instead and catching you off guard by kissing your hand softly which makes you withdraw your hand immediately.

“Did you really think I would do that?” he asks, his eyes twinkling.

“For a second, yes,” you admit, a smile tugging at your lips.

“You were right,” he playfully says.

When the server arrives with the bill, you get ahead of Chan, placing your credit card down before he can.

“So you’re the one paying in this relationship?” he teases. “I could get used to that.”

“Don’t,” you warn, rolling your eyes.

The server returns with your card and receipt, but she also gives Chan a familiar smile. “I haven’t seen you in a while,” she says, flirtatiously and completely dismissed your presence there.

“Uh, yeah, I’ve been busy,” he replies, glancing nervously at you.

“Next time you stop by, I’ll give you a little free service,” she says, smiling a bit too much.

You’re not blind to her tone, but you keep quiet as the two of you leave the restaurant. Once you’re back at the apartment building, you retrieve your bag from the concierge, muttering your thanks as you take it. Chan offers to carry it for you as you head up in the elevator.

“You should invite that cute server to play with you this weekend,” you say, a hint of jealousy in your voice.

His smile grows, sensing you care more than you let on. He doesn’t respond, leaving you to wonder if he’s considering your suggestion. Even after the elevator doors open, he follows you to your apartment, still carrying your bag.

“I can take it inside for you,” he offers, clearly hoping for an invite in.

“I can take it myself,” you say, effectively blocking his plan.

He hands over the bag with a pout, lingering as you unlock your door. He leans against the doorframe, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

“You’re going away for the whole weekend, and I get nothing?” he asks, inching closer.

You cross your arms. “And what do you expect?”

“A kiss would do,” he says, almost shyly, though the glint in his eyes says otherwise.

You shake your head, staying firm on your one condition. “No kisses.”

“Just a nibble then?” He grins wider.

“A nibble?” you laugh. “I’m not some... snack.”

“You’re not. You’re a whole damn feast,” he says, lowering himself to your eye level, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips and not hiding his eyes from looking at them.

Your breath hitches as he inches closer, his lips brushing past your ear. His boldness catches you off guard, and your eyes flutter shut when he kisses your jaw. Then, just as he’s about to claim your lips, you block him with your fingers.

“You’re good,” you admit with a smile, “but not that good.”

For a guy who always gets what he wants when he wants it, this is frustrating. He lets out a heavy sigh then drops his head onto your shoulder.

“I have to go,” you mutter, even as you let him hold you.

“Just give me a minute,” he mumbles, nuzzling his head further into your neck, inhaling your scent like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

He savors the moment, holding onto you a little tighter, soaking in the feel of you against him. Everything about you—your warmth, your softness, your scent— oh, it’s all so right.

“I have to wake up early tomorrow,” you whisper again, rubbing a hand along his broad back.

“Fifteen more seconds,” he mumbles, discreetly letting his hand slide lower, only for you to catch it and place it firmly on your back.

You stay like that for a moment longer, neither of you wanting to let go until you finally pull away.

“Goodnight, Chris,” you say softly, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Goodnight,” he replies with a smile, slowly letting you go, though everything in him wants to hold on.

As you take a step back, he does the same, the two of you locked in a gaze to keep the intimacy of the moment continues through your eyes until you close the door with a faint smile that lingers in the back of his head.

Letting you go isn’t easy, but sometimes he knows he has to if he wants to bring you closer.

-

Chan lies awake on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The weekend he had envisioned was simple: hanging out with you, maybe grabbing dinner or spending lazy afternoons together. But since you weren’t around, the plan had crumbled, leaving him stranded with nothing to do.

He could go out, like he usually does on weekends, but something in him resists. It's too easy to slip back into old habits, to fall into the routine of partying and avoiding the emptiness that comes with it. So instead, he’s here, in his apartment, doing nothing.

With a sigh, he reaches across the bed, his hand brushing against the smooth fabric of something familiar—your underwear. He’d kept it from that night, the night everything between you two changed.

Lifting it to his nose, he inhales deeply, letting your scent flood his senses. Just a whiff, and he’s already lost, a fire igniting in his gut. His cock twitches, aroused, stirred by the memory of you.

Closing his eyes, he lets his mind drift back to that night—the way he had kissed you, held you close, felt your warmth pressed against him. He remembers the way his hands explored your body, how he had parted your legs and exposed you, tantalizing and perfect, making his every nerve scream for more.

"Fuck," he mutters, the word hanging heavy in the quiet of his apartment. His frustration is palpable, throbbing inside him.

The thoughts alone aren’t enough. He needs more. He needs you. But you're not here, and that only makes the ache more unbearable.

Thankfully, his phone rings, pulling him from the spiral he was sinking into. He groans and drags himself out of bed, grabbing the phone off his nightstand. The call is brief, no more than a minute, but it does the job. It snaps him out of the rut he was teetering on the edge of.

It looks like Chan has to go out tonight after all.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he stares at the text that came through. Someone had pulled out of a gig last minute, and now he’s been asked to fill in. It’s a valid reason to get out of the apartment, at least. Better than staying cooped up and letting his thoughts eat at him.

Before he knows it, he's dressed and heading out the door. The club he’s heading to isn’t unfamiliar—it’s one of his favorite spots to work. Maybe it's the crowd, or maybe it’s just because he desperately needs a distraction tonight, but it feels less like work as he steps inside and feels the pulse of the music hit him.

He takes a deep breath and dives into the scene, ready to let the night carry him wherever it leads, all while keeping you in the back of his mind.

After his set, he decides to hang around the club for a bit, rewarding himself with a drink. It’s been a good night, the crowd was lively, and he deserved a little downtime.

He leans against the counter, sipping slowly as the music thumps around him. Girls have been giving him smiles, glancing his way, but he’s used to that. It’s nothing he can’t handle, especially now when he’s keeping his focus sharp.

Then the bartender sets another drink down in front of him.

“This one’s on her,” he says, nodding toward the far corner of the bar.

Chan follows the bartender’s gaze and spots her—a girl with a sultry smile, waving at him. She’s undeniably attractive, but he’s not interested.

Still, it’s just a drink, and rejecting it feels unnecessary. So he lifts his glass, offering her a polite smile of thanks from across the bar.

Before he can even take a sip, someone else steps up to him, practically radiating anger.

“Are you flirting with my girlfriend?” the guy growls, eyes dark and filled with rage.

“What?” Chan responds, confused and caught off guard.

“I said, are you flirting with my girlfriend?” The man’s voice rises, his presence looming over Chan.

“I’m not,” Chan says quickly, holding his hands up defensively. “She bought me a drink, and I thanked her. That’s all.”

But the guy isn’t having it. He steps closer, grabbing the front of Chan’s shirt with one fist. “How dare you lie to me!” he shouts, pulling Chan closer, their faces inches apart.

Before things can escalate further, the girl who started all of this rushes over, forcing herself between them.

“Stop! He’s telling the truth!” she says, tugging at her boyfriend’s arm and dragging him away from Chan.

Chan can see the regret in her eyes as she mouths, “I’m sorry,” before leading her fuming boyfriend toward the exit.

As they leave, Chan sighs, straightening his shirt and shaking his head. Maybe tonight, he should have just stayed in his apartment after all.

-

Chan arrives at his place, feeling weighed down by the events of the day. You've only been gone a day, but it feels like an eternity to him. Everything feels off without you around, stretching out every second into what feels like endless suffering.

He needs you. Desperately.

He knows it's late, and he isn’t even sure if you're home yet, but he finds himself walking toward your door. His feet move on their own, driven by an overwhelming need for comfort. When he gets there, he knocks gently at first, waiting in the quiet hallway. No response.

With a sigh, Chan leans his forehead against your door, feeling a sinking hopelessness wash over him.

“Please… open the door,” he mutters, almost to himself.

Then, to his surprise, he hears movement on the other side. He steps back quickly, his heart racing as the door creaks open, revealing you—looking slightly disoriented, your hair tousled from what must’ve been sleep.

"I'm sorry," Chan says, his voice soft with guilt. "I didn’t know you were home already."

"I just got home not long ago," you reply, your voice still thick with sleep.

Seeing you—standing there in the low light, with tired eyes and that familiar warmth—pulls at his heart in a way that makes him ache. He inhales deeply, trying to steady himself before speaking again.

“I’ve had a really, really bad day,” he admits, his voice low, almost breaking.

The truth is, you’re a big part of why his day feels so unbearable. The distance between you gnaws at him, creating a physical ache he can’t shake. He needs you, even just your presence, to feel whole again.

Without thinking, he reaches for your hand, holding it gently but firmly, as if letting go would mean losing his grip on everything.

"Can I stay the night with you?" His voice is heavy with vulnerability.

You hesitate, shaking your head. "You know that we can't—"

“I swear I’m not trying to do anything else,” he cuts in quickly, his eyes pleading. "I just... I just want to be with you tonight. Please?"

The sadness in his voice is raw, and you can see how much he needs this, needs you. You massage your neck, the exhaustion of the day visible in your eyes as you consider his request.

For a moment, silence hangs between you two. Then, finally, you nod. “Okay.”

From the way you're giving in with less resistance than usual, Chan can tell you're too tired to fight him on this tonight. He feels a pang of guilt but, at the same time, relief. A win is a win, and right now, he just needs to be near you, hoping his presence might bring some comfort, as yours does to him.

Once you let him in, there's no more talking. You silently lead him to your bed, making space for him without any fuss.

"You can have that side," you gesture to the left side, your voice soft with exhaustion.

Any side would do. As long as he's here, next to you, he couldn't care less. You crawl under the covers while Chan stands there, starting to unbutton his shirt.

"What are you doing?" Your voice holds suspicion, your eyes peeking over the blankets.

He smirks, pulling the shirt off. "I told you I sleep naked."

"Naked naked?" you ask, eyebrows raising as his fingers move to his jeans.

He notices the way your eyes fixated on his body, he knows you like what you're seeing so he makes a good show out of it. He's working his jeans open in a painstakingly slow motions, stripping down to his dark boxers.

"Your expression is filthy," he jokes, "what are you thinking?"

You let out a scoff and tuck yourself into the blanket, trying so hard to not to be affected by what he just did.

Chan can't help but quietly smiling in triumphant and comes over to the bed. Climbing into bed next to you feels surreal. It's more than just sharing a space now; you're sharing your bed.

The scent of your sheets is intoxicating, subtle yet enough to make him feel like he's sinking into you even without touching. He pulls the covers over himself, careful to leave a respectful gap between you two, honoring your one condition.

He rolls onto his side, facing you, while you lay on your back, eyes closed. The darkness wraps around both of you, the room heavy with quiet and the faint smell of your perfume lingering in the air.

"What happened?" you ask, eyes still shut, your voice breaking the silence.

"What?" Chan asks, fingers barely brushing the edge of your arm, almost on instinct.

"You said you had a bad day," you repeat, softly, your voice drifting through the stillness.

He sighs, staring up at the ceiling now. "Well, I went out tonight and I tried to be... good," he starts, his voice low. "But it turned out to be not easy."

You don’t say anything, waiting for him to continue, your presence alone urging him to be honest.

"I was at this club after my set, just hanging out. Someone sent me a drink, and next thing I know, this guy is in my face, accusing me of flirting with his girlfriend," he explains, his tone frustrated. "I didn’t even do anything. But... it just made me realize how easy it is for things to get messed up. One small misunderstanding, and it all spirals."

His fingers lightly brush your arm now, the contact gentle, but you don't push him away. He takes that as permission to continue.

"I don’t want to be that guy anymore—the one who gets mixed up in stuff like that," he murmurs. "I’m trying to be better... for you."

You don’t respond right away, your breathing steady, as if you’re already halfway to sleep. But your silence is enough of an answer for him. He feels calmer, just being here with you.

"He almost punched me," Chan dramatically shares to gain sympathy from you.

You chuckle softly, "So, the usual, huh?"

"The usual, yeah," he responds, grinning.

"But that's also where you're doing it wrong, Chris," you say, turning your body to face him and see his eyebrows knit in confusion.

"You're doing it for me." You say, resting your hand under your head as you clarify, "When you should be doing this for you."

That sinks in, and it hits him why everything's felt like a struggle lately. He's been trying to change because of external pressure—because of you—not because he truly wanted it for himself.

"Don’t get me wrong," you continue gently, your voice low and soothing. "I appreciate that you’re willing to change for me, but I want you to change because you want it. For yourself."

Your words, so calm and caring, open up a new perspective for him. It's not just about trying to impress or be better for you, but about becoming someone he's proud of. It all feels clearer now, and at the same time, he feels a deep sense of reassurance—he really is with the right person.

"Can we cuddle?" Chan asks, pulling his best puppy eyes to win you over.

You don’t answer verbally, but the way you open your arms for him is all the permission he needs.

Without wasting a second, he slides in closer, wrapping himself around you, his arm draped over your body as he nestles his head into the crook of your neck. The warmth of your body envelops him, bringing a sense of comfort he desperately needed.

"Goodnight, Chris," you murmur, patting his head softly.

"Goodnight," he mumbles back, sneaking in a kiss on your jaw.

You let it slide this time, smiling into the darkness before closing your eyes, drifting off.

Chan, however, is still wide awake, his mind buzzing with the proximity between you two. There's only a thin layer of clothes separating your bodies, and he's doing his best to respect your boundaries, but the way your warmth radiates against him makes sleep the last thing on his mind.

Still, he takes a deep breath, doing his best to settle down, grateful for this moment of closeness with you.

-

Chan is used to waking up unsure of his surroundings, but this morning is different. He knows exactly where he is, and for once, he doesn't immediately rush off. Instead, he nestles his head closer to yours, savoring the warmth of your body pressed against his while you're still unaware that he's awake.

The sound of your alarm blaring from your phone finally breaks the silence. You groan, forcing yourself to wake up, eyes still closed as your hand fumbles around the bedside table to turn it off.

After silencing the alarm, you yawn and stretch, your body still heavy with sleep. "Ugh, I have to go to work," you mutter, tapping Chan’s forearm in a silent request for him to release you.

But instead of letting you go, he tightens his hold, burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck. "No, stay," he mumbles, his voice low and groggy.

"Not everyone makes money from spinning records," you tease, a playful jab at his career.

"I’m not going to take that personally," he grumbles, his voice muffled as he refuses to lift his head from your neck.

You chuckle softly, your fingers naturally slipping into his curls. Gently, you start brushing them with your fingertips, feeling the texture of his hair as you absentmindedly comment, "Is this your natural hair?"

"Hmm," he hums, affirming.

"They’re a bit dry and..." You pull back slightly to take a better look, "...a little dull too."

"Mmh..." he hums again, clearly enjoying the gentle scratching of your fingers against his scalp.

"You should condition them better," you suggest, offering hair advice out of the blue.

An idea forms in Chan’s mind, and though he knows you’ll likely see right through him, he can’t resist. He lifts his head just enough to meet your eyes, a cheeky grin forming on his lips as he asks, "Can you show me how to take care of my curls?"

The playful gleam in his eyes is unmistakable, and you can already tell what he's up to. But the question catches you off guard enough to make you laugh.

"Show you how exactly?" you ask, raising an eyebrow as you pretend to play dumb.

Chan, trying to sound casual but failing miserably, stumbles through his words, "You know... we could, uh, get in the shower together, and you can, um, show me how to... condition my curls, or whatever…" He flashes you that dimpled grin, the one that always manages to make his adorable babbling irresistible.

You lift your head slightly, propping it up with one hand as you look at him skeptically. "You want us to shower together so I can teach you how to wash your hair?"

He nods, eyes wide with feigned innocence, fully expecting a refusal and maybe a reminder of the boundary you’ve set about physical intimacy. But instead, you surprise him by giving in.

"Okay," you simply say.

The stunned expression on his face is priceless, his eyes widening further as if he didn’t quite hear you right. "Wait, really?"

You shrug nonchalantly, "Sure. You want to learn, right?" You give him a smirk, teasing him without saying it outright, fully aware of what he's really after.

His grin grows, and for a second, he looks like he’s about to leap out of bed with excitement. "Yeah, of course," he replies, trying to keep his voice steady, though the mischievous glint in his eyes betrays him.

Without another word, you swing your legs out of bed, standing up and stretching a bit before heading toward the bathroom. Chan watches you, dumbfounded for a second, before scrambling to follow.

-

Nothing could have prepared Chan for this.

The moment you slip your nightdress off and pull your underwear down your legs, his brain shuts down. His eyes roam over your bare skin, every curve, every inch of you exposed, leaving nothing to the imagination.

As if that weren't enough, you gather your hair into a messy bun on top of your head, exposing your neck—a sight that only intensifies his desire. He stands there, frozen, unable to decide which part of you to look at first.

You step into the shower, and Chan steps aside, barely breathing as the water begins to cascade down your body. He watches the droplets slide over your skin, wishing desperately that he could replace the water, that he could all over you like that.

When you turn to face him, he lets out a low breath, trying to keep his composure. His gaze travels down your body, soaking in every detail, every inch that he so badly wants to touch. He grips the shower stall handle tightly, fighting the overwhelming urge to close the distance between you.

Your hands slide down your body, the action as innocent as washing off yesterday's weariness, but in his mind, it's anything but innocent. You're driving him crazy, and you know it. The way you look at him, allowing him to watch you like this—it's tantalizing, almost cruel.

"Okay, first," you break the silence, your voice echoing in the small shower chamber. "We need to get your hair wet."

He almost forgot the pretense of this shower. He tears his eyes away from your body and focuses on your words, trying to remember that this was supposed to be about hair care. You take the showerhead and aim it at him, chuckling as he remains rooted to the floor.

"It's hard if you stand so far away," you tease.

He steps closer, knowing that proximity will only make things worse for him. Still, he obeys. The moment you're close enough, you bring the showerhead to his hair, gently wetting it with your fingers brushing through his curls. He's so close to you, his lips mere inches from yours. He has to fight the urge to kiss you, to taste your skin.

"Now it's wet and ready," you murmur, putting the showerhead aside and reaching for the shampoo. You work it into his scalp, massaging it in slow, circular motions.

"That feels good," Chan mutters, his voice rough with desire.

"Yeah?" you whisper, stepping even closer, your chest now grazing his. "You like that?"

"Yeah, I like that," he says, his voice strained as he struggles to keep it together.

The intense eye contact is too much for him, and though he's usually good at holding a gaze, this is different. He closes his eyes, trying to calm the heat building inside him. His body is betraying him, and the situation down there is getting harder—literally—to control.

"Okay, now we're going to wash it out," you say, grabbing the showerhead again and rinsing the shampoo from his hair.

Chan almost groans when you step away, the loss of your touch leaving him aching for more. He keeps his eyes closed as you instructed, but every brush of your fingers against his scalp, every sigh you let out, sends him spiraling.

"It's all good now," you say, smiling as you wipe a stray bit of foam from his face.

He's at ease, yet burning inside. He feels taken care of, but also teased to the brink of madness.

"What's next?" he asks, his voice hoarse.

"We're going to condition it next," you explain, turning away to get the conditioner. "Your curls need moisture, so you have to condition regularly. Or just condition without shampooing sometimes."

He nods, barely hearing your words. The proximity, the feel of your breath on his ear, is driving him wild. As you apply the conditioner, you're even closer than before, so close that he can feel your breath on his neck. He’s barely holding on.

Then you ask, casually, "Do you want me to wash your body too?"

The offer hits him like a shockwave, and for a moment, he can't speak. Blinking, he nods, his heart pounding. You take a bar of soap, lathering it up before sliding your hands over his skin. Every touch is electric, and when your hand glides over his abs, he clenches them, trying to maintain control. Your hand goes lower, tracing the path along his pelvic bone.

But then, mercifully, your hand moves away. You rub down his legs and even grab his rear, making him chuckle nervously.

"Something funny?" you ask, feigning innocence.

"Nothing," he replies, swallowing hard as he lets you continue. He’s letting you do whatever you want, helpless under your hands.

When you finish, the two of you just stand there under the warm water, the tension in the air thickening by the second. The bathroom feels smaller, the space between you more unbearable.

Chan snaps. He grabs your hips roughly and pulls you flush against him, his body fitting against yours perfectly. He presses his lips against your neck, kissing the soft spot under your ear. His hand moves to your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his dark, lust-filled gaze.

"What’s next?" he growls.

You wrap your arms around his neck, dragging your lips along his jaw until your mouth hovers near his ear.

"I'm going out of the shower," you whisper, "and I'll give you a few minutes to..." Your eyes flick downward, pointedly glancing at his hardening member. "...sort out your situation."

You kiss his cheek and step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around yourself. With one last playful smile, you say, "I can't be late for work."

And just like that, you leave him standing there—wet, aroused, and utterly flabbergasted.

-

Chan’s life is different now—less chaotic, more focused. He’s found a new rhythm, avoiding old habits and temptations, reminding himself that he can be better. At work, he's polite, giving empty promises when girls ask him for drinks, knowing full well he has no intention of following through. His nights out have become rare, and if he feels that sexual urges, he'll channel that energy into working out at the gym.

Tonight, he's watching for you, keeping his apartment door open so he can see when you arrive home. The moment he hears the elevator chime, he rushes to the door and spots you stepping out, looking exhausted from work.

“Hey, neighbor,” he greets, leaning casually against the doorframe.

You give him a tired but warm smile. “Hey.”

Chan walks over, grabbing one of your bags to help lighten your load. “Come on, I cooked us dinner.”

The sight of you eating so well makes him feel proud. Every bite you take feels like a reward for the time he spent preparing the meal. When you finish your plate and look at him with a shy smile, asking for more, he grins and happily gets up, placing more fried rice on your plate.

“Thank you,” you say sincerely as he refills your glass of water before sitting back down.

“You’re very welcome,” Chan responds, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment.

Dinner ends with a cold can of beer, and soon, you're both on the sofa, enjoying the comfortable silence that fills the space. Chan sits there, the question he’s been wanting to ask weighing on his mind. He takes a breath.

“Do you have plans this Saturday?” he asks casually.

“Why?” you inquire, taking a sip of water, sensing something behind the question.

“A friend asked me to play at his sister’s wedding,” he explains, his arm resting on the back of the sofa, his hand just brushing your shoulder. “and I want you to come with me.”

“As a date?” you tease, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Chan grins, trying to suppress his excitement. “As a date, yes.”

“I’d love to,” you say, but something in your tone makes him sense there’s more.

“But?” he asks, bracing for the letdown.

“I can’t. I have a guest coming over that day,” you explain apologetically.

“A guest?” His eyebrows raise in curiosity.

You nod. “Yeah, a guest.”

“Family?”

“No.”

“Colleague?”

“Nope.”

“Friends?” he asks, growing more curious with each question.

You shake your head, hesitating for a moment before finally revealing, “Ex-boyfriend.”

Chan leans back, exasperated. “So, you're not coming with me because Lee is coming over?”

“Yes,” you answer, trying to keep things simple.

He stares at you, dumbfounded. “But why?”

“Because I told him to,” you respond, trying to sound nonchalant, though you know it’s frustrating him.

“What?!” Chan looks at you in disbelief, his eyes wide.

You laugh softly at his reaction, putting your glass down and settling into the couch. “I’ve seen how hard you’ve been trying to make this work, so, I thought maybe it’s time I do my part too.”

He’s silent, listening intently, trying to understand what you mean.

“I told Lee to come so he can take his things from my place,” you explain. “That way, I can have space for… new things.”

Chan’s pout fades into a smile as the meaning behind your words sinks in. Tentatively, he reaches for your hand, holding it gently on your lap. For a moment, he can’t believe it—the two of you are really doing this. You're starting fresh, together.

“Okay,” he says softly, understanding now. “I get it.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, smiling back at him.

“I still want you to come with me, though,” he says, the hint of disappointment still lingering.

“I’m sorry,” you reply, genuinely apologetic. Then, with a playful glint in your eyes, you offer, “But I can still help you with your hair if you want.”

Chan laughs, his grin returning. “I’ll take whatever I can get.”

Later, when he walks you to your apartment door, he dreads the moment of parting. You share a long, warm embrace, and as usual, you're the first to pull away, though you keep holding his hand for just a little longer.

“Thank you again for dinner,” you say softly.

Chan smirks, joking to lighten the mood. “If you’re really thankful, you should dream of me tonight.”

You smile, playing along. “I’ll try.”

“And I’ll try to dream of you too,” he pauses, his voice dropping to a mischievous whisper, “preferably naked.”

You scoff, shaking your head with a laugh. “Good luck with that!”

He gently caresses your face, his eyes warm as they meet yours. “Goodnight,” he says softly, then adds with a smirk, “I think we should start picking pet names.”

You shake your head, but there’s a smile on your face as you step back, ready to go. “Goodnight, Chris.”

“Goodnight… baby?” he tries, testing out the pet name.

You say nothing, just smiling at him one last time before you let go of his hand and step inside, leaving him standing there, heart fluttering, wondering when he’ll get to hold you again.

-

Chan stands in front of the mirror, buttoning up his shirt, though leaving the cuffs open for now. He can’t help but think what a shame it is—looking this good and going to the wedding without a date. You had refused his invitation, but he can’t fault you for it. There’s something good in your intentions, and all he can do is be understanding.

He’s about to grab his suit jacket when there’s a knock at the door. With a smile, he heads to open it, already knowing who it is.

There you stand, a can of hairspray in one hand and a hair straightener in the other. “It’s your hair appointment,” you announce with a grin.

Chan chuckles and motions you inside. He sits in front of the mirror while you stand behind him, carefully styling his hair. As he watches you work, he’s struck by how focused you look—creases forming between your brows, your lips slightly pursed in concentration. He never thought it was possible for someone to be both cute and sexy at the same time, but here you are, proving him wrong.

“Would that suffice?” you ask after spraying his hair one last time.

“No,” Chan says, his tone playful, “not if you’re not coming with me.”

You smile but don’t respond, busying yourself with taming the last few stray hairs at the nape of his neck. “You’re done now,” you announce, satisfied with your work.

He glances at himself in the mirror and smiles. “Aren’t you going to kiss me on the cheek and tell me I look handsome?”

“I don’t remember saying that,” you tease, tidying up the clutter on the table.

Chan stands, smoothing down his shirt, but there’s one more thing to complete his look. He picks up the tie from the table and holds it out to you. “We still have a problem here.”

You glance up, understanding immediately. Without a word, you take the tie from his hands and skillfully knot it around his collar. Your fingers work quickly, and before long, the tie is secured neatly in place.

“Okay, you’re ready now,” you say with a nod.

Chan puts on his suit jacket, then spins around with his arms spread wide, showing off the full look. “How do I look?”

You step closer, and to his surprise, you plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “You look handsome,” you say with a soft smile.

He stands there for a moment, warmth spreading through him from that simple gesture. It’s enough to make him feel like he’s already won, even if he’s going to the wedding alone. He places his hands gently on your waist and pulls you closer, his voice soft but persuasive.

"It's not too late to text Lee and tell him to come another day," he suggests, his eyes searching yours for any sign of reconsideration.

You chuckle lightly, looping your arms around his shoulders. "I don’t think it's wise to cancel it on the last minute," you explain, your tone gentle but firm.

He nods, accepting your decision even though it’s not the answer he wanted. At least you have a good reason, and it’s not as if you’re choosing your ex over him. But the tension lingers, and Chan pulls you even closer, savoring this tender moment before Lee shows up and disrupts his day. He knows he has no reason to be jealous, but it nags at him anyway—what if Lee has other intentions with this visit?

"Can't you just... put his things in a box and mail it to him?" He asks, a hint of frustration seeping into his voice.

You chuckle again, tilting your head slightly. "We’re grown-ups, Chris. We broke up on good terms. I don’t see why we can’t be civil after everything."

Chan tightens his grip around you, his eyes narrowing with playful suspicion. "But what if he asks you to get back with him?"

Instead of answering, you raise an eyebrow and ask, "And you think I’d say yes?"

His grin widens, a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah, maybe."

You shake your head, smiling. "Oh, Chris... you're ridiculous."

He sighs, leaning his forehead against yours. "Yeah, but I had to ask. I just don't like the idea of him coming around."

"He's just going to come, pick up his things, and leave," you explain, trying to reassure Chan that there’s no need for jealousy.

Chan takes the opportunity to pull you even closer, his arms tightening around you with a possessive gleam in his eyes. "No deep talking, no reminiscing the shared memories, okay? No smiling either," he warns, his voice full of playful intensity.

You laugh at his protectiveness, letting him rest his forehead against yours.

"I love the way you smile," he says suddenly, the words catching you off guard. "I want to tell you to do it more often, but I don't."

"Why?" you ask, curiosity piqued.

"Because you don’t give it to everyone," Chan murmurs, his lips grazing your cheek as he moves to whisper in your ear. "And I don’t plan on sharing you."

The possessive edge in his voice stirs something in you, and you feel yourself relax, leaning into his embrace. His fingers cup your jaw, tilting your head ever so slightly as he draws closer, his gaze flicking down to your lips.

Just as he’s about to close the gap, a knock sounds—not on his door, but across the hall. You gently break away from his hold, heading to check with Chan trailing behind, a bit flustered.

"Oh, Lee, I'm sorry, I was at Chris's place," you say as you open the door and spot your ex, Lee, standing there.

"Oh hey," Lee greets you, stepping forward and pulling you into a hug. A hug that, to Chan, feels way too long. Chan clears his throat loudly, making his presence known.

Lee finally lets go of you and acknowledges him. "Oh, hey, Chris," Lee says, extending his hand for a handshake.

Chan hates that Lee’s actually being nice—he's a good guy, and that makes him feel like the bad guy.

"Hey, Lee," Chan mutters, reluctantly shaking his hand.

"You look dashing. Going somewhere?" Lee asks, genuinely.

"Yeah, uh... a friend's wedding," Chan replies, his earlier hostility fading slightly.

As they exchange pleasantries, you unlock your door and gesture for Lee to come inside. "Please, come in," you say.

"Are you joining us, Chris?" Lee asks, seriously offering for him to stay.

Chan would love nothing more than to stay and keep an eye on things, but he checks the time on his phone and realizes he’s already pushing it if he doesn’t leave now. "I have to go, actually," he says, regret heavy in his voice.

"What a pity! I brought us food," Lee says to you, smiling. "It’s the baked ziti from your favorite place."

You smile awkwardly, glancing at Chan. "That’s so nice of you, Lee."

"See you next time, Chris," Lee says as he steps into your apartment.

Chan sighs, feeling torn between wanting to stay and knowing he has to leave. His chest tightens as he glances at you one last time.

"I’ll see you later, okay?" you say, smiling, though it does little to comfort him.

"Don’t smile at him!" Chan grumbles, trying to cling to his playfully jealous tone.

You laugh softly and surprise him by stepping forward, placing a quick but tender peck on his lips. The brief contact sends butterflies swirling in his stomach.

"Have fun at the wedding," you say sweetly, flashing him one last smile before closing the door.

Chan stands there for a moment, his heart racing, the taste of your lips lingering. He shakes his head, smiling to himself as he turns to leave, knowing that despite everything, you’re still his.

-

Seeing that most of the guests have already left and only a few remain on the dance floor, Chan decides it’s time to wrap up his set. Grabbing the mic, he announces, "Everyone, this is the last dance."

His suit is no longer in its proper form—he ditched the jacket long ago, his sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, and his tie hangs loosely around his neck. He inhales deeply, satisfied with a job well done.

As he packs up, his friend, the groom's brother, hands him a bottle of champagne as a token of gratitude. "You killed it, mate. Thanks for stepping in."

"Anytime, man," Chan says with a grin, accepting the bottle. Just as he’s about to take a sip, a voice interrupts him.

"Are you planning on sharing that?"

He turns around, surprised to see someone he least expected. "Sue?"

"Oh, I thought you forgot about me," Sue says with a teasing smile.

How could he? Sue was his first love, the one who gave him his first heartbreak. She’s older and taller than him, just like before, but Chan sees her differently now—not as the boy who once idolized her, but as a man. Yet, the admiration still lingers.

Sue chuckles and gives him a quick hug. "Of all places, we meet here?"

"I know, right?" Chan shakes his head, still bewildered. "My friend is the brother of the bride."

"And I’m one of the groom's family," Sue says, showing off the dress. "What a small world!"

They share the bottle of champagne in the garden, sitting by the pool as they catch up. The evening air is warm, and the conversation flows easily.

"Is it alright that you're here with me?" Chan asks, glancing around as though expecting someone to pop up and claim her.

"Why wouldn’t it be?" Sue replies.

"I don’t know. I figured your boyfriend would be looking for you soon," Chan jokes, though there’s a part of him that’s curious.

"I don’t have a boyfriend," Sue says casually, taking a sip from the bottle.

Chan arches an eyebrow. "That's a lie!"

Sue playfully elbows him. "Oh, I know you’re happy to know I’m single," she teases.

"You can’t be single," Chan insists.

"But I am," she assures him, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"No way," Chan shakes his head, unable to believe it. "I mean, you’re taller and more beautiful than the last time we met. You can’t be single."

Sue leans in, her tone shifting ever so slightly. "And maybe that's why we met again tonight."

The suggestion in her voice throws him off balance, and before he can say anything, they bump into a group of people running around in their underwear, dripping wet and giggling as they pass by. Some guests have clearly taken the after-party to the hot tub.

Sue looks at the now-empty, steaming hot tub and asks, "What do you think?"

"You... you want to get in the hot tub?" Chan asks, incredulous.

"You and me, together," Sue says with a mischievous grin, her fingers already reaching for the zipper of her dress.

Chan's eyes widen as she strips down to her undergarments, standing confidently in front of him.

Before he can protest, she grabs his hand and pulls him toward the tub. "Come on! It’s getting cold!"

Seeing no harm in it—and after all, it’s been a lovely night—Chan relents. He strips down to his boxers and slowly lowers himself into the steaming water. The heat engulfs him, relaxing his muscles.

Sue leans back in the tub, her fingers playfully skimming the surface of the water. "Chris, you’ve really grown since the last time I saw you."

"Nah, I’m still the same," Chan says, feeling oddly shy. Despite the years that have passed, Sue still has a way of making him feel like a nervous kid.

"You're... hot. Like, really hot," Sue says with a giggle, her eyes sweeping over him.

Chan shakes his head, his ears turning red. "Nah, nah."

Sue moves closer, her voice dropping. "I’ll admit, I regretted rejecting you back then."

"You’re only saying that to make me feel better," Chan says, trying to deflect, but there’s a seriousness in her eyes that throws him off.

"Let's hope that's the case," Sue replies, and for a moment, their gazes lock, the tension thickening between them.

The heat of the water and the intensity of her gaze make Chan’s heart race, and he’s not sure if it’s just the temperature that’s making him feel this way. "It’s getting late," he finally says, breaking the moment.

"Yeah, you’re right," Sue agrees, being the first to climb out of the tub. She picks up her dress from the sun chair—and grabs Chan’s clothes as well.

"Hey, Chris," she says, a devilish grin spreading across her face as he’s about to step out of the water. "I have your clothes."

Before he can react, Sue takes off running, leaving Chan standing there, drenched and half-dressed.

"Sue!" Chan shouts, scrambling to get out of the tub. With no other option, he chases after her, his laughter echoing in the night.

As a family member of the wedded family, Sue has a room reserved at the resort, and she generously offers it to Chan so he can clean up after their impromptu dip in the hot tub. Chan stands in the bathroom, holding a hair dryer in one hand and his damp boxers in the other. He’s wrapped in a towel, waiting for his clothes to dry as he awkwardly shifts from one foot to the other.

"Chris, are you done?" Sue’s voice calls from outside the door.

"Almost done!" Chan shouts back, his voice strained. The air in the bathroom is warm and heavy, matching the tension he feels in his chest.

Before he can finish drying his boxers, Sue barges into the bathroom, still in her wet undergarments, her towel loosely wrapped around her. She doesn’t seem to care that he’s there.

"I can't wait any longer," she announces, her voice playful but firm as she strides confidently toward the shower stall, tossing her towel to the floor.

Chan swallows hard, eyes widening as she starts stripping out of her wet underwear. His gaze flickers to the mirror, catching glimpses of her body before he quickly tries to avert his eyes, heat rising to his face.

"I–I'm almost done..." Chan mumbles, his voice barely audible now as he turns the hair dryer off, but his words trail off because Sue isn’t listening. She’s busy shedding the last of her clothing, standing completely exposed now, her back to him.

His heart pounds, and though he desperately tries to look away, his eyes betray him, catching her figure in the reflection again. She moves toward the shower, but then she pauses, noticing his gaze through the mirror. A small smile curves her lips as she saunters back toward him, utterly confident.

"Chris," she says, her voice dropping to a low, sultry tone that sends a shiver down his spine. She steps closer, her bare body now in full view. "Want to shower together?"

Chan’s throat tightens, and he can’t seem to find the words. His mind is racing, caught between a surge of old feelings and the shocking reality of the moment. Sue stands there, teasingly exposed, as if waiting for him to make the next move.

Chan was a boy back then but now, he's just a man.

-

Is Chan still mad about Lee visiting you? Or did he go somewhere after the wedding and forget to tell you? Or... maybe he simply doesn't want to see you?

You’ve been turning these thoughts over in your mind ever since that night. You thought he’d come over after the wedding, share his usual stories about the day, about anything, really—like he always does. But the silence has been unsettling.

Coming home from work today, you half-expect to see him standing at his door, greeting you with that dimpled grin, his usual "Hi, neighbor." But all you see is his closed door.

You convince yourself that if Chan wants to see you, he’ll come around like usual, to poke fun at you or make you laugh. But it’s been too long now, and a knot of worry forms in your chest. What if he’s sick? What if something’s wrong?

After dropping off your bags and changing into comfortable clothes, you make up your mind and head over to his door. You knock, heart thudding with anticipation. A few moments later, you hear footsteps from inside.

When the door creaks open, there he is. He looks well—he looks good, as usual—but something feels off. There’s no dimpled grin, no sparkle in his eyes.

"Hey, can I come in?" you ask, hoping your voice doesn't betray the unease creeping in.

"Sure," he says, stepping aside to let you enter.

You walk in and sit on the sofa, waiting for him to join you. The silence feels heavier than usual, and he seems distant, avoiding your gaze.

"How are you?" you ask, breaking the quiet.

He lets out a long sigh before replying, "I’m good." He says but it doesn’t feel like the truth.

"That’s good to hear," you say, though you can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong.

You reach out to press your hand gently against his forehead. "You’re not sick, are you?"

He lets you touch him, and you tease, "Ooh... you’re still the hottest tenant in this building."

You hope the joke might lighten the mood, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s faint, distant. You don’t want to push him too hard, but this isn’t Chan. Not the Chan you know.

"Are you trying a new persona?" you tease again, nudging him lightly. "Because this brooding emo guy thing doesn’t suit you."

This time, he chuckles, and the sound makes your heart lift a little. He finally looks at you, and his hand reaches for yours, fingers loosely intertwining with yours in the space between you on the sofa.

"I’m sorry," he murmurs, the apology catching you off guard.

"What for?" you ask, scooting closer to him, sensing that he’s carrying something heavy. You want to comfort him, whatever it is.

He leans back against the sofa, exhaling deeply. You wait, giving him the space to gather his thoughts.

"I met someone at the wedding," he begins, his voice careful.

A flicker of unease ripples through you, but you don’t say anything. You stay calm, letting him explain.

"Oh no, don't say you ran away with the bride," you joke, but it's more to ease the tension you feel building inside you.

Chan doesn’t react. He keeps looking straight ahead, a heavy sigh leaving his lips.

"I met Sue," he starts, his voice struggling to push the words out. "She’s... someone I knew from the past."

You stay quiet, sensing that there’s more he needs to get out, but the pauses between his words are long and heavy.

"We met there, talked, had some drinks... and we ended up taking a quick dip in the hot tub."

"Sounds fun," you say, but your voice is flat, far from convincing.

He swallows hard, visibly uncomfortable. "We ended up in her hotel room... we were in the bathroom at the same time, and then... she asked if I wanted to shower with her."

Your heart sinks, but you brace yourself for whatever comes next. You stare down at your lap, your thoughts swirling, every unkind possibility flashing through your mind.

"I didn’t take her up on it," he quickly adds, "but... I hesitated. And in that moment, I realized I completely dismissed your feelings. I hate myself for it." His voice cracks with regret, and you can see the pain etched across his face.

"Maybe I haven’t changed at all," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "Maybe I’ll always be... this... ‘fuckboy Chris.’" He lets out a heavy sigh, tilting his head back as if trying to escape the weight of his own thoughts.

He turns to look at you, his eyes full of sadness. "Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m not ready for this." His voice is small now, hesitant. "And I’ll understand if you don’t want to continue."

It’s a lot to take in. The silence fills the room, and you let yourself feel everything. The disappointment, the hurt, the empathy. You need time, just a few moments, to let it all sink in.

When you finally lift your head, you give him a soft, bittersweet smile. "Thank you for being honest with me," you begin, your voice steady but quiet. "And I know it wasn’t easy to say... but I’d be lying if I said I’m not disappointed."

His expression is heartbreaking. "I’m really sorry," he whispers.

"But Chris..." You take his hand, resting it on your lap, your fingers curling around his. "The fact that you acknowledged what you did was wrong, and that you took responsibility for it, shows me you're on the right path."

His eyes shift, the glints of warmth starting to return. "Don’t ever say you can’t change. You’re changing... I can see it, believe me."

Chan lets out a breath, his relief palpable. He pulls you closer, pressing his forehead gently against yours. "Goodness, what did I do to deserve you?"

You chuckle softly, wrapping your arm around his shoulder. "You don’t have to be perfect for me, Chris. You just need to be good for yourself."

He buries his head into the curve of your neck, his arms tight around you, holding on as if to remind himself this isn’t the end. Not yet.

"But, you know..." you tease, your voice light. "You could always quit now."

"Never!" he exclaims, pulling you even tighter into his embrace.

The two of you sit there, holding onto each other, your flaws laid bare. The silence between you feels different now—it's full of understanding, and something deeper starting to grow.

Chan tenderly cups your jaw, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin, and his eyes soften as they lock with yours.

"Thank you for not giving up on me," he whispers, his voice full of quiet gratitude.

You meet his gaze, the same emotions swirling within you. "Thank you for not giving up on me," you echo, because this journey hasn't been easy for either of you.

The moment between you is tender, delicate, and charged with something deeper—something that goes beyond words. You can feel it in the air, and in the way he looks at you. It feels right, like it needs to be sealed with something more, something real.

Your hands gently cradle his face, and a soft smile tugs at your lips. You swipe your thumb across his mouth, your touch lingering as you think about how much you missed the feel of him, the taste of him. Slowly, you lean in, closing the space between you, and press your lips to his.

The kiss feels unlike any you've shared before. It's soft, deliberate, and filled with all the unsaid emotions between you. His lips move against yours with such tenderness, and in that moment, everything melts away—the hesitation, the doubts, the fear. This kiss marks the start of something new, something deeper.

Chan kisses you gently, and it makes your heart tremble in your chest. Every brush of his lips against yours speaks of the emotions he's been holding back, the sadness and the sweetness of what you’ve both been through. It’s bittersweet and lovely, all at once.

This kiss signifies that you’re ready—both of you are ready to take this leap, to explore this new depth together.

When the kiss breaks, Chan can’t help but smile, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief and joy. He buries his head in your neck, inhaling your familiar scent that always calms him down. The feeling of your hand rubbing his back as you rest your head against him only solidifies how grateful he is that you're here, that he didn’t lose you.

He almost blew it, and yet here you are, forgiving him, giving him another chance. It's moments like this that make him certain—you’re the right person for him. Everything feels just... right.

You interrupt the peaceful silence with a playful tone, "It's your turn now."

"My turn for what?" Chan asks, momentarily confused as he lifts his head to look at you.

"Your turn to host the pajama party," you say, reminding him of the promise he’d made.

For a second, he’d forgotten all about that. "Huh?" he blurts out before realizing what you mean.

"I'll bring the snacks," you offer, and Chan nods, still smiling.

"Okay," he agrees without hesitation.

But you quickly add, "No weird movies, please?"

He can’t help himself from teasing you. "I know this French porn movie where the man—"

"Don’t make me cancel it," you cut him off, shooting him a stern look.

Chan laughs, "Okay, no French porn movies. Noted."

A mischievous idea crosses his mind as he playfully grins. "It's my party, though. I can do whatever I want, right?"

You raise an eyebrow at him, clearly seeing through his intentions, but to his surprise, you don’t outright protest. "Well... yes."

His grin widens as countless thoughts—most of them lewd and not remotely innocent—flood his mind. You’ve given him too much freedom now, and with that playful look in his eyes, Chan’s already thinking of ways to push your buttons.

-

The pajama party is officially on, and Chan has everything set to perfection. The bed faces the TV, freshly made with new sheets, and a scented candle flickers nearby, filling the room with a light, romantic scent. He carefully curated a movie list that’ll support the atmosphere he’s trying to create—a mix of feel-good films with enough romantic tension to get you in the mood.

As for himself, he keeps it simple yet calculated—gray sweatpants, worn low enough on his hips to give you a glimpse of his pelvic bones, knowing full well how much you like that.

He checks the room once more, muttering to himself, "What else? What else?"

After a while, he spots something."The lights!" he says, darting toward the switch.

Setting the lights to a soft, dim glow, it ensures the perfect balance—just enough to see but low enough to encourage a little closeness.

Just as everything’s ready, you arrive, right on time. He’s been buzzing with excitement, but he tamps it down, making sure to keep his face casual as he opens the door slowly.

"I'm on an all-protein diet, but I can't say no to this snack," he teases, his eyes shamelessly traveling down your body. There’s a flicker of disappointment when he sees you in an oversized sweater, hiding your figure.

You hand him the bag of snacks with a smirk, "I hope you like grapes!"

He places the bag on the table, watching as you stroll into the room, eyes observing the cozy setup he’s prepared.

"I see that you did a little renovation." You comment with eyes narrowed.

"And I see that you're not dressed according to the dress code," he quips, pointing at your large, cozy sweater with a mock frown.

"Is it necessary though?" you ask, raising an eyebrow, already anticipating his answer.

"Yes," he insists, determined.

You sigh in playful defeat, tugging at the hem of your sweater and lifting it over your head, revealing a short, black slip dress underneath. It's silky, tight, and leaves just enough to the imagination—but not too much.

As you bend slightly to place the sweater on the sofa, Chan catches a glimpse of the lacey black underwear peeking out beneath the dress. His eyes widen for a second, and his pulse quickens. Suddenly, he wonders if maybe insisting on the dress code was too good of an idea. That slip dress, especially with the way it clings to you, is dangerous.

Oh, this is going to be fun, he thinks, trying to steady his breathing as he watches you settle in, completely unaware of the effect you’re having on him.

"Do you want me to prepare the snack or something?" you ask, snapping Chan out of his daze. He’s been standing there for what feels like a full minute, just staring at you.

He quickly averts his gaze, trying to shake off the image of your nipples lightly pressing through the silky fabric of your slip dress. It's too much of a distraction. "No, I'll do it. You can just..."

"I'll just get comfortable," you say with a teasing smile, turning away and heading toward the bed. His eyes can’t help but follow the way the hem of your slip rides up with each step, revealing more of your thighs than he's ready to handle.

He manages to gather his thoughts long enough to prepare the snacks. When he returns with the tray, he finds you nestled in the bed, already looking far too comfortable. A pillow is propped behind your back, your legs casually stacked and splayed across the bed, and the hem of your slip dress rides dangerously high, showing off even more skin.

You crawl over to the side of the bed, the neckline of your dress dipping low and giving him an accidental peek at your soft, unrestrained curves. You help him place the snacks on the bed, and his mind keeps wandering as he tries not to lose focus.

"So, what are we watching tonight?" you ask, clearly unaware of the war going on inside his head.

"I don't know," Chan blurts out without thinking, his mind still stuck on how your body moves so effortlessly in that dress.

Your brow furrows, and you pout in response to his non-answer.

"I mean, I've chosen a few, but I’ll let you make the final decision," he says, completely surrendering control of the night, which had not been part of his plan.

He places the tray of snacks in the empty space on the bed, and you pick up a chip, popping it into your mouth with a playful grin. He takes a seat next to you, keeping a safe distance—for now.

"Okay, now I’m curious about your choice of movies," you say as you crawl over him to reach for the remote.

The scent of your skin, the warmth of your body so close, it’s all so utterly distracting. His breath catches as you move over him, the proximity stirring something deeper inside.

"No porn," you say with a laugh, scrolling through his movie selections. "That’s a good start."

Chan grins, but the effect you have on him is overwhelming. He needs to cool down fast before his mind strays too far. Thinking quickly, he suggests an action movie, something that could help him focus on anything other than you.

You agree without hesitation and settle back against the pillows as the movie starts, the room dimly lit, and the night now filled with a tension that neither of you can completely ignore.

"So, the father no longer lives with his daughter?" you ask, eyes glued to the screen while Chan’s attention remains fixed on your body.

"Uh-huh, yeah," he mumbles, clearly distracted.

"I don't like the stepfather," you comment about the movie, unaware of how little Chan is actually paying attention.

You turn your head to him, catching him in the act of staring. You pretend not to notice, reaching casually for a grape from the bowl he's holding. But as you bring it to your mouth, it slips from your fingers, rolling down Chan’s bare stomach and stopping right at the waistband of his sweatpants.

Without hesitation, you innocently reach for the grape, your hand brushing dangerously close to where he’s most sensitive. The moment is fleeting, but it lingers for Chan. He feels the heat rise in his chest as your fingers pull the grape free and pop it into your mouth as if nothing happened.

For a second, he’s frozen, his breath catching as the proximity of your touch leaves him wanting more. His carefully crafted plans for tonight? They seem to be backfiring, with you unintentionally driving him wild.

-

Chan may think all your actions were innocent accidents, but little does he know every move was calculated. You've been noticing his wandering gaze, the way he keeps getting distracted by you rather than the movie. His bare torso, though distracting, only adds fuel to your own plans.

When the first movie ends, you decide it’s time to build a little anticipation. You scoot to the edge of the bed, casually announcing, "Bathroom break."

You linger in the bathroom longer than necessary, letting the tension grow. When you return, Chan has cleared the tray and is fluffing your pillow—a sight that makes you grin inwardly. He’s already under your control.

"Can we watch a romcom next?" you ask as you climb back onto the bed, this time settling even closer to him.

"Sure," Chan agrees without hesitation, confirming that you've got him wrapped around your finger.

The second movie begins, and a few minutes in, you fake a yawn, casually resting your head on his shoulder. He doesn’t move at first, but eventually, his arm slips around you, his hand gently rubbing your arm. You smile softly, knowing you’ve set the perfect stage.

You lower your voice and whisper, "She’s beautiful, don’t you think?" referring to the actress on screen.

"Yes, she is," Chan replies quickly, too quickly.

You chuckle, your eyes gleaming with mischief. "I thought you'd say something like, 'but you're more beautiful,'" you tease.

That comment finally breaks his concentration on the movie. He looks at you, eyes locking with yours. The tension between you simmers, everything falling into place.

"You are more beautiful," he says, catching you off guard with how sincere he sounds.

You gently hold his chin, making sure his gaze stays on you. "Yeah?"

"Yes," his voice is low, thick with desire.

"Thank you," you sweetly murmur, leaning in to plant a soft, lingering kiss at the corner of his mouth. It's a tease, just enough to leave him wanting more.

Chan is clearly struggling to hold on, but you're determined to push him further. You move swiftly, pulling one of his legs aside and slipping between them to sit.

The sheer panic in his voice when he asks, "What are you doing?" is impossible to miss.

“I want to sit here so we can cuddle,” you reply, playing the innocent card. You settle yourself against his chest, making sure to let out a low, sultry hum as you lean back into him.

He remains tense for a moment, but you feel him give in, his hands slowly trailing down your sides. His fingers gently squeeze your waist, and then his arm wraps around you, pulling you in close. His lips find your skin, starting with soft kisses on the top of your head, then trailing down the side of your face and to your bare shoulder. Each kiss becomes more ragged, more desperate, and you can feel the weight of his breath against your skin.

Finally, he turns your head, and the intensity in his eyes says it all—he’s done resisting. His lips crash into yours, the kiss raw, hungry, filled with more than just lust. It’s deep, hard, and leaves you breathless. You're barely keeping up as he kisses you with an urgency that feels like he’s been waiting for this forever.

“How can I walk away from this?” he asks, his voice heavy with emotion, his forehead resting against yours.

You smile, your lips barely grazing his as you reply, "You don’t, because it's your party, and you can do what you want."

That’s all it takes. Something inside him snaps. Chan gives in entirely, kissing you more feverishly, his hands roaming your body, touching you everywhere at once. You feel his fingers tug at the hem of your slip dress, and you lift your body slightly, allowing him to pull it off. The fabric falls away, leaving nothing between his hands and your skin.

“You’re so soft it's ridiculous,” he murmurs in awe, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You watch as his hands trail down your arms, over your shoulders, down your sides, claiming every inch of you. He traces the lines of your body like he’s memorizing them, his breath hot against your neck as he leaves searing kisses along the way.

“Everywhere my hand slides, you fit me,” he whispers, showing you just how well with every touch—from your throat to your breasts, your hips, and down. His mouth follows his hands, kissing, tasting, marking you.

You let out a quiet whimper, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. “Please let me touch you too,” you manage to whisper.

Chan doesn’t hesitate. He flips you over so that you’re straddling him, his eyes dark with desire as he watches your every move. You waste no time, leaning in to kiss his neck, trailing your hands down his broad shoulders. Your fingers explore the firm muscles of his chest, and your lips follow, savoring the feel of his skin against yours.

You pause, admiring his sculpted abs, running your hands over them. "How do you even look like this?" you ask, awestruck.

Chan grins shyly, clearly not used to the compliments. “I don’t have anything better to do than go to the gym.”

“You do now,” you tease, tugging at him playfully.

Before he can react, you pull him down with you, both of you collapsing onto the bed together, laughing as the tension between you grows thicker.

In the dim light of the TV, Chan’s body hovers over yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he props himself on one elbow. You can feel the tension in the air, the weight of everything unsaid building between you. His eyes are locked onto yours, and you respond by slipping your hand down into his sweatpants, wrapping your fingers around him.

The way he groans, half-broken, sends a shiver down your spine. His hardness pulses under your touch, and each breath he takes sounds more ragged than the last. It’s intoxicating, knowing how undone he is because of you. Every stroke of your hand, every gentle squeeze makes him unravel a little more, and for a fleeting moment, you realize just how much power you have over him.

But before you can dwell on it, you feel his mouth. It takes you a second to pinpoint where, but then you feel it—hot and hungry, kissing your abdomen. His lips trail down, kissing along the curve of your stomach, his breath hot against your skin. The tension coils tighter inside you with each kiss.

With a playful grin, Chan grips the elastic band of your underwear between his teeth. The memory of last time flashes in your mind, and you can’t help but laugh at the familiar sight.

"Someone better not interrupt me again," he mutters between clenched teeth, determination and amusement laced in his voice as he tugs at the fabric.

The laughter bubbles out of you, half from the tickling sensation of his chin grazing your skin, half from the irony. But soon enough, the underwear slips away, and your laughter turns into a breathy sigh.

Chan wastes no time, placing wet, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs. You can barely catch the words he murmurs between kisses, your focus completely stolen by the feel of his lips and tongue, his warm breath ghosting over your skin.

It’s too much, and not enough all at once.

Your legs part instinctively, and you know exactly what’s coming next. Anticipation swirls inside you, tightening in your core as Chan’s mouth ventures dangerously close to where you need him most.

The first contact of Chan’s mouth on your wetness is deliberate—a slow, teasing swirl that feels like the soft lick you’d give to the top of a melting ice cream cone. The sudden sensation draws a sharp gasp from your lips, and you almost snort from the intensity of it. He rewards you with a soft kiss on your inner thigh, as if pleased with himself.

The second contact is a gentle kiss, a reminder of the first kiss you shared. It’s pure, almost chaste, without any tongue, yet it holds a promise of what’s to come. As you stare up at the dark ceiling, a single thought pulses through your mind—you deeply wish that his kisses were meant for no one else but you.

Then comes the third, another kiss that slowly progressing from pure and innocent to something much dirtier. His lips linger and press deeper, his tongue tracing lines that send electric shocks through your entire body.

Chan takes his time, savoring every second, and with each passing minute, your body alternates between moments of tension and relaxation, yielding completely to him.

All of a sudden, he lifts his head, groaning in frustration. "I can’t handle it..." His voice is rough, desperate. He rests the side of his head on your thigh, his fingers lightly circling your clit as he breathes out, "I need more. Please."

His words are strained, raw with need. He’s hanging on by a thread, teetering on the edge, and you know that if you don’t give him what he wants soon, he might just break. You slide your hand through his curls, tugging lightly to bring his gaze back to yours.

“More?” you ask, voice low, teasing, though his desperation makes your heart race.

"Way, way more," he whispers, the hunger in his voice unmistakable.

You smile softly, the pet name slipping out so naturally it surprises you. "Okay, baby."

At that, Chan hurriedly kneels, shedding his sweatpants in a rush, and when his erection springs free, it’s impossible not to stare. The sheer size of him, the desire etched across his face, it’s all aimed at you, and the heat between you intensifies.

He positions himself above you, taking your hands and tangling them with his own, pinning them above your head. "Finally..." he breathes, his voice thick with excitement and relief, almost bordering on ecstasy.

Despite the waiting, the teasing, you realize you were just as desperate as he was for this moment, "Finally..." you repeat.

As he pushes his hard length into you, he does it slowly, savoring every inch as your body adjusts to him. He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, and you can hear every sound that escapes his lips—soft gasps, sighs of pleasure, as if he’s trying to survive this moment and let it consume him all at once.

Fully sheathed inside you, he flexes his hips, and your eyes flutter shut. The sensation of him filling you, hot and hard, is overwhelming. It’s perfect.

"God, I was so right," he groans, his voice filled with awe. "You fit me perfectly"

Chan kneels again, his muscles contracting, his skin flushed red from the intensity. The view of him above you—his sculpted chest and arms—is breathtaking. He starts moving, each thrust measured, controlled. You can feel the pressure building inside you, and something similar to panic grips your chest, a raw intensity that threatens to overwhelm you.

“Talk to me,” Chan murmurs, leaning down to place a quick kiss on your lips.

You smile weakly, your eyes half-closed as you try to keep yourself together. "This is... this is nice," you mumble, barely coherent as your mind reels from the pleasure.

He looks almost offended, his brow furrowing as if the word "nice" is beneath him. "Nice, huh?" he repeats, voice low and teasing.

Before you can respond, his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you just enough to create a new angle. The depth he reaches now makes your breath hitch, and any attempt at keeping a coherent thought vanishes as he thrusts harder.

"Nice is good..." you start to say, but the words are swallowed by a moan as his pace increases, hitting just the right spot with every thrust. Your eyes roll back, and he grins at the reaction he pulls from you.

“I don’t do... nice,” Chan says with a smirk, leaning down as his movements grow faster, deeper, shaking the bed with every thrust.

You let out a sob, the sensation too much, and your body tightens around him, trembling as the knot in your stomach pulls tighter and tighter. It’s a battle to hold on, but there’s no escaping what’s coming.

Chan hovers lower, his face close to yours as he studies every expression, his hips moving with precision. "Is it still nice?" he growls, his voice hoarse.

You can’t answer, not with the way he’s pushing you right to the edge. Your breath hitches, and just as you open your mouth to say something, a desperate cry escapes as your body finally gives in, releasing all the tension in a wave of pure ecstasy. You cling to the sheets, legs shaking, your voice echoing in the room as Chan continues to drive into you.

Moments later, you feel Chan reach his own peak, his body shuddering against yours as he releases with a deep, guttural groan, collapsing onto you, exhausted and trembling from the intensity of it all.

Once he's come to his senses, he lets out a shy laugh, his cheeks flushed. He’s so different from the brash, confident man you expected him to be—soft and vulnerable in ways you didn’t anticipate. You gently stroke his cheek, feeling a surge of affection for this man you’re getting to know in a completely new way.

"We’re going to miss the end of the movie," you tease, glancing at the TV still flickering in the background.

Chan laughs, his voice rich and warm. "I think we finished just in time."

-

Every time Chan wakes up in the morning, he no longer wonders where he is. He’s right where he belongs, lying next to you.

On weekdays, you live your separate lives, each sleeping in your own beds. But on weekends, you’re his, and he makes the most of it. It’s not just about sex—though there’s plenty of that. Your nights are filled with movies, video games, long dinners, and endless cuddling that eventually leads to even more sex.

Once, he warned you that it would take him days, weeks, maybe even years to get enough of you.

As expected, your alarm rings just as Chan is about to pull you closer, his arms instinctively reaching for you. With a quick motion, he grabs your phone, turns off the alarm, and shoves it under his pillow, refusing to let you go.

“Work,” you murmur, still half-asleep, rubbing your eyes as you reach for your phone.

“You know what time it is,” he teases, pulling you on top of him with ease.

Chan brushes your hair back, tucking it behind your ears so he can plant soft kisses all over your face. When his lips finally reach yours, his hand glides down your spine, resting on your rear before slipping his fingers under your underwear, teasing you through the fabric.

"Chris..." you mewl, your voice a mix of protest and desire.

“It’s either we do it here or in the shower,” he says, voice thick with need. He doesn’t care about the setting—he just knows he needs you to start his day right.

“As long as you’re doing all the work,” you reply, half teasing, half serious.

His eyes widen in disbelief. "Since when do you ever—"

You cut him off with a kiss, your lips pressing firmly against his. "Are we doing this or not?"

No matter how much you protest, Chan always gets what he wants. And he knows you secretly love catering to his desires, just as much as he loves pleasing you.

Your lips move together again as he pulls his cock out of his boxers, positioning himself. You lean forward, lowering yourself onto him slowly, feeling him fill you inch by inch. His hands rest on your hips as you stay on all fours, your back arching beautifully while he thrusts into you from below.

You glance down, watching his cock move in and out of you, and let out a playful giggle. “How do you have so much energy in the morning?” you ask, a little amazed.

He grins up at you, his hips never stopping their rhythm. Honestly, just looking at you is all he needs to feel alive in the morning. Your moans, your smile, the way you move—it all drives him wild.

“That feels so good, baby,” you purr, leaning down to kiss him deeply.

Chan’s mind wanders for a brief second, wondering how he got so lucky. There was a time when he feared you might think this was only physical, that he mistook lust for something deeper. But now, he knows it’s not just his body that craves you—his heart does too.

“What are you thinking, mmh?” you ask, your nose brushing against his.

"Nothing," he murmurs, looking at you with the softest expression. "I’m just so happy."

You smile at him, pressing another kiss to his lips, and he holds you close, your bodies fitting perfectly together as he continues to move, his hips rocking into yours until both of you are lost in the sensation.

When you finally reach your peak, he follows, planting his seed deep inside you to complete what’s now become his favorite morning ritual.

As you get dressed, Chan stays in bed, a satisfied grin plastered across his face. He watches you with lazy, contented eyes, still basking in the afterglow.

"I’ll cook dinner tonight," he says, hands propped behind his head, already thinking of the next time he’ll see you.

"Okay," you reply casually, slipping your sweater over your head.

"It would be easier if you gave me your spare keys," he says, trying to sound nonchalant but failing to hide the underlying hope in his voice. "So I can cook at your place."

You pause for a moment, a coy smile creeping across your face. "You want the spare keys to my place?"

"Yes," he replies eagerly, sitting up a little straighter, hope flaring in his chest.

"Well..." You walk toward the door, glancing back at him over your shoulder. "You’ll have to earn it first."

As you leave his apartment and head across the hallway to your own, Chan lies back on the bed, his grin widening. It seems he has a new quest: earning the spare keys to your place.

And knowing Chan, he’ll do whatever it takes to get them.

-

Chan knows your morning routine by heart. He lingers in bed for a moment after you leave, his mind wandering back to the last time you were together. Whether it was this morning or the night before, the memories of your body against his make him smile lazily.

Eventually, he gets up, washes up, and grabs a quick breakfast before heading out of the apartment to send you off to work.

As he steps out of his door, he sees a sight that surprises him: you're helping someone unload boxes from the elevator. Without thinking, he rushes over to help, noticing that there are still several boxes left inside.

“You should be on your way to work,” Chan says, more concerned about your punctuality than anything else.

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t get into the stuffed elevator,” you reply with a shrug, clearly unbothered by the time.

Just then, someone else steps out of the elevator, carrying the last box. “You can use it now,” he says, smiling.

You turn to Chan and introduce him, “This is Minho. He’s our new neighbor.”

Then you turn to Minho and gesture to Chan, “And this is Chris, the other neighbor.”

Chan feels a pang of disappointment. Just the "other neighbor"? He swallows it down, deciding to let it go for now.

Minho puts the box down and extends his hand to Chan. “Minho,” he says with a friendly grin.

“Chris,” Chan replies, shaking his hand. As their hands clasp, Chan gets a quick read on him. He knows the type—game recognizes game—but for now, he decides to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“I’d better get going,” you say as Minho holds the elevator door open for you.

“Yes, please, I’d be devastated if you were late to work,” Minho says with a smile that seems just a little too smooth.

You laugh softly, waving it off. “It’s fine. No worries.”

That laugh—the ease of your interaction—it’s all too friendly for someone you’ve just met. It takes Chan back a little, knowing how long it took for you to warm up to him. Still, he lets it slide again.

As you move to leave, Chan pulls you close, intending to kiss you goodbye, but at the last second, you turn your head, and the kiss lands awkwardly on your jaw.

“Bye,” you say softly before stepping into the elevator.

“Have a great day at work, neighbor!” Chan calls after you, trying to play it off with a wave as the doors close.

Left standing in the hallway with Minho, Chan notices the pile of boxes still waiting to be moved into the new neighbor’s apartment. He offers to help, not feeling right about leaving the guy to handle it all alone.

After placing the last box inside, Minho hands Chan a can of soda as thanks. They sit for a moment, taking a breather from the unexpected workout.

“I must say,” Minho says suddenly, cracking open his can, “that was hard to watch.”

Chan’s brows knit together in confusion. “Sorry?”

“You and that pretty neighbor of yours,” Minho continues, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

Chan straightens up, his grip tightening on the can. “What are you trying to say?”

Minho lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I can see you like her, but her… I don’t think she likes you back.”

Chan feels the jab, but he doesn’t let it show. He knew there was something off about Minho from the start.

“She introduced you as her mere neighbor,” Minho adds, making quotation marks in the air with his fingers. “And that kiss dodge? Ouch.”

Chan tries not to take the bait, but it’s impossible not to feel a little stung by the comment. Pissed, actually.

“How long have you been chasing after that cute neighbor?” Minho presses, his chuckle laced with condescension. He doesn’t even give Chan a chance to defend himself.

“Hey, you can mess with me all you want, but not with her,” Chan warns, his voice low, a dark edge creeping in.

Minho only snorts, crushing the empty soda can in his hand before tossing it casually into the trash. “And here I thought you were just like me.”

Chan tenses as Minho steps closer, eyes narrowing with a fierce smile. “I could have that girl in a week,” he declares boldly.

Chan’s jaw clenches. “I told you not to mess with her.”

Minho shrugs, completely unfazed. “Just watch me.”

And with that, it’s clear: there’s a new fuckboy in the area, and Chan’s got more than a little competition.

-

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0325

SIDE B

TRACKLIST:

ANOTHER DAY. - Han x reader. (s,f)

ON TRACK. - Felix x reader. (s,f)

LEVANTER. - Seungmin x reader. (s,f,a)

SECRET SECRET. - I.N x reader. (s,f)

ANOTHER DAY.

Han x reader. (s,f)

There are so many things in this world but there isn't a space around for him to rest without worrying.

Han started to feel that his life was getting dull.

Everything that excites him didn't give him the same excitement he used to get from it.

His days felt like a big, surreal blur, one after another. The day started with a sigh and ended with an even heavier sigh. He wanted to do so many things but kept being chased by time, but sometimes, he just wanted to abruptly stop, not doing anything.

As he stared out into the void of his bedroom, endlessly sighing and dragging his yawn, he so badly wanted to get out of his stuffy room.

So he did.

He got outside and walked aimlessly, as far as he could go.

His feet led him to an empty park, he sat on the bench that overlooked the city view with the lights blinking, mimicking the invisible stars on the night sky.

He breathe the night air in but every intake of his breath only made his lungs weigh with the dreads he had been dragging around behind him.

He stared at the view of the city again, so quiet and still at this late hour of the night, and everyone probably sleeping soundly in their houses or about to go to sleep without all these worries in their heads.

And he felt alone.

At that moment he felt like the only one with all these miserable feelings, he didn't even want them, it just kept piling inside of him without him knowing.

He felt alone.

He reclined on the bench until his head tipped upward, facing the night sky, and he wondered if he could flip the switch off in his head.

He didn't want to think, he didn't want to feel, he just wanted to be free.

Then he heard the sniffles.

He looked around to find where the sound was coming and slightly got spooked because he couldn't see anyone everywhere he looked.

When he reclined on the bench again that's when he saw you.

You were sitting on the bench next to him, and he couldn't see you earlier because of the tree that blocked you from his sight.

He heard the sniffles again, he scooted to the end of the bench to listen in on you, crying while drinking a can of beer.

He stole a glance and saw you wiped your tears on your cheek with the back of your hand, then gulped your beer again.

"I'm so stupid," you said to yourself.

And he heard your crying grow louder, saw you pressed your forearm to muffle the cries, then roughly wiped it again with the back of your hand.

"Fuck," you cursed at yourself.

"Stop fucking crying!" You said to yourself.

But you cried harder, fully sobbing with both of your hands covering your face.

And Han felt like going there to comfort you.

But he was stuck on his bench, he could only listen to the sound of your sadness.

He should be feeling bad for you, but he is partly glad that he wasn't the only miserable person awake at that hour.

But he was thankful that you made him feel less alone as he also realized that there were other people out there who were going through the same rough patch as him.

Well, at least now he knew.

There were the two of you.

People have been saying that life is one endless roller-coaster ride.

And that was a down in his life.

There was also an up in his life.

Where he could confidently go through his days without worrying, days that ended with a contented sigh for being well-spent, days where he truly made the use of his time, seized his life to the fullest.

And after that up, there was another down.

He went down the same path, and the next thing he knew, he was outside, walking to the park to stare out at the city view again to clear his mind.

He let out a long sigh once he sat down on the bench, shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, and let all his weariness evaporate with the cold night air.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" A voice asked.

Han looked up to the girl standing next to his bench, it was you who he saw crying that day.

He stifled a nod, "Yeah, sure," he answered.

You sat next to him on the bench, leaving enough space in between the two of you, then handed him a can of beer.

"It doesn't feel good drinking alone," you said to him.

Han looked down at the canned beer and hesitated to take it.

"Or are you driving here?" You asked him.

"If that's the case, then it's okay,"

He immediately grabbed it before you took it back, "No, I'm walking here," he said, then popped open the can.

"Ah, so you live nearby," you said.

Han nodded before taking a sip of the cold beer.

You both stayed quiet, sipping your beers in silence and looking out at the night sky dotted with stars.

"The night is so clear today," you sighed with your head tipped, looking up at the dark of the sky.

Han slouched on the bench to recline and look up at the night sky.

"It's funny that those stars could have died or collapsed right in this second, but we can still see them, adorned our sky, blinking bright," you muttered.

And wow, Han wasn't expecting that kind of talk. He didn't perceive you as someone with such existential thoughts.

"The nearest star close to us took 4 years for its light to reach us, so when we look at them, we're looking back at our past," you explained.

You turned your head at him and pointed to one of the stars in the sky, "that star could have been 18 years old me telling me not to take the art major because it's hard to make a career out of it," you elaborated with awkward laughs.

Han softly laughed along, "well, for me, it would be not to pick a fight with someone that would be my coworker for the rest of my career," he said.

You both laughed while looking up at the sky, breaking the silence of the night with your shared laughter, and only stopped to take a sip of your beers.

You sighed after gulping down your beer.

"Well, I just hope I could still blinking bright like those stars even when I'm collapsing inside," you muttered into the night.

Han is oftentimes curious if everyone is happy except him. It's like everyone has figured out what to do with their emotions and bottled it up well, keep it concealed, keep it to themselves. Han couldn't do that yet, not without him collapsing along with all those feelings.

But when you said those words, Han knew that he wasn't the only one struggling with his own emotions and that he wasn't alone in this.

This is also why people say they love the 3 am version of people because they're vulnerable, honest, and real.

Han got it now why the saying is true as he looked at your face, looking so radiant even with the lack of light.

"Hey, you want to have a late-night snack or something?" You suddenly asked him.

Han wasn't really hungry, but the invite seemed too good to pass on it, so he relented.

You both walked to the nearest food stall not too far from the park, huddling close to the steaming selection of food in front of you.

You took a bite of a fishcake and hummed in delight, "oh, it's so good!" You exclaimed.

Han couldn't help himself seeing you eating deliciously like that, he eventually joined you, began eating, and couldn't stop himself from stuffing his mouth.

You laughed at how cute he looked with his cheeks filled with food.

He abruptly stopped chewing when he noticed you were watching him eating, and it was the first time he truly looked at you, you have a nice smile and endearing laughs, your eyes overflowed with warmth in them when you did either.

You gestured to his mouth, "You got sauce all over your-"

You didn't finish the sentence but hurriedly grabbed a tissue and wiped the mess on his face.

Once you both got full from eating, Han realized he didn't carry any money with him, "oh, I forgot my wallet," he said.

You waved him off, "it's okay, I got it," you told him and paid everything with your money.

You also went to the nearest convenience store to buy two canned drinks for both of you.

"I'll pay you back, I promise," he said to you as he took the drink from you.

"You can pay me back by winning one of those for me," you told him, pointing to the claw machine right outside the convenience store.

Han doubted if he could win one of those, he never had any luck playing those machines, but he was willing to try.

You put the spare change of money on his palm for him to play with the machine.

"I only have enough money for 3 chances," you told him with a grimace.

"I think I can do it on the first try," he confidently said.

"Well, that's great!" You told him.

You both looked down onto a pile of small plushies inside the claw machines with both of your faces illuminated by the fluorescent lights.

"Which one do you one?" He asked you.

You pursed your lips looking at the cute-looking plushies, and you couldn't pick one, "You pick one for me!" You told him.

Han also took his time to find the perfect plushie for you and spotted the star-shaped one in a pale yellow color, its eyes winking.

"Okay, I'll pick this one for you," he said after deciding on a plushie.

He inserted the money and started maneuvering the claw to the aimed plushie, when he was sure it was perfectly positioned, Han pushed the button, but unfortunately, it didn't pick up his plushie.

He groaned and slammed his hand on the glass display, "that was close!"

You laughed at his frustrated face, you immediately handed him another money, "here! Try again!"

Han took a deep breath once he inserted the money into the machine, he put all of his focus on that one last star-shaped plushie, winking at him and challenging him to win it for you.

But he failed again, and on the last try, he failed again.

"It's okay," you comforted him, "thank you for trying!" then patted him on the shoulder.

He finished his drink in one gulp.

"I have one more chance left, but I'll use it to win one for you," you told him.

Han doubted if you could win one if he couldn't win any after three tries.

You inserted the last money you had in your pocket and inserted the money into the machine, you already had one plushie for him.

You aimed the claw and pushed the button, and surprisingly, the claw took it.

Han laughed in disbelief, "how did you do that?"

You shrugged, "I don't know?" You answered with the same confusion.

You took your winning plushie and handed it to him, "I won it for you," you told him.

"An alien?" He said.

You nodded, "you don't like it?"

"Ah, too bad! I don't have any money left," you playfully added.

He nodded while laughing, "why did you pick this one?"

"It looks like you," you answered.

"An alien with blushing cheeks?" He asked and put the plushie next to his face as a comparison.

You squinted your eyes, "well, the alien looks much cooler, to be honest,"

He widened his eyes at you, "oh, should I grow another ear to look this cool?"

You laughed at his question, you glanced at your phone screen to see the time.

"It's almost 5. I have to go," you informed him.

And Han realized he should be back in the dorm too since he has a schedule in a few hours, "yeah, me too," he said.

"I live not far from here, I'll just walk," you told him as you shoved both of your hands into your coat.

"Do you mind if I walk you home first?" He asked, deep down he wasn't ready to part with you yet.

You smiled at him, "sure,"

You both walked in silence with the night sky gradually turning lighter with every passing minute, stopped walking once you arrived at the front of your house.

"This is me," you awkwardly told him, gesturing to the house with the green-painted iron gate.

"Thank you for walking me home," you told him.

Han softly smiled at you and waved the alien plushie you won for him, "No, I should thank you for this," he told you.

You laughed, "I hope he'll always keep you company,"

He laughed and looked down at the plushie.

You both stayed quiet while exchanging glances at each other with your hands shoved deep into your pockets, and you hated to be the one to break the silence, but the fatigue got the best of you.

"Okay then, bye!" You said to him.

"Bye!" He said back to you with a sweet smile on his face before you disappeared from his sight.

But Han didn't want that to be the last time he saw you.

Not when he was lying awake on his bed a few days later and couldn't think of anything else but you, he thought of you instead of getting anxious about his weary mind, and he thinks that's peculiarly interesting.

It baffled him how a stranger could give him the comfort of an old friend.

He went out in the middle of the night to search for you, he didn't know why but it wasn't his anxiety that got him that night, he went to look for you.

He didn't find you at the park, not at the food stall, you both once ate together and also not at the convenience store.

He knew your house, but it would be stupid of him to come unannounced to your house.

He needed a reason, an excuse to see you, and he knew exactly what to do for that.

He pushed the doorbell of your house and waited right outside until he heard your footsteps coming close, then opened the gate.

"Oh, hi?!" You said as soon as you figured out who rang your doorbell at 1 am.

Han smiled with such giddiness, "I won it for you!" He said then showed you the star-shaped plushie from the clawing machine.

You laughed at how adorable he was, he came in the middle of the night just to show you that.

"Oh, so you come to brag about it?" You poked fun at him.

Han laughed, "just a little," he answered, then handed you the plushie.

You took the plushie from him and squeezed its cute face.

"Did I disturb you?" He asked.

"No, I was in the middle of doing something" you muttered with your hand busy squeezing the plushie in your hands.

"Then that means I disturbed you," he said.

Your eyebrows furrowed, "No, you're not," you denied.

"Anyway..." Han trailed his word.

He hesitated to ask you out, but he came for this, there was no way he left with nothing.

"You want to take a walk with me?" He asked while down looking down at his feet.

"Yes," you shortly replied.

A smile rose on Han's face.

"Can you wait a moment? I just need to go back inside to grab a coat," you said.

After stuffing your faces with food from the stall you once ate together, Han bought you ice cream and ate it at the playground where you both sat on the swings.

"How much you spent on the claw machine to win that plushie?" You asked him out of nowhere.

"Enough to buy the claw machine itself," he playfully answered.

You chuckled and almost choked on your ice cream, your feet kicking the ground to move the swing.

"Thank you," you said out of nowhere.

Han turned his head at you while holding the ice cream close to his mouth, "I planned on beating that claw machine anyway," he responded playfully.

"I know you saw me crying that day," you said.

Han stopped swaying in his swing then turned his head at you, he felt caught and somehow, felt bad for it.

"Thank you for not saying anything and listening to my cries," you added as you stared into his eyes.

"Thank you for not making me lonely that night," you finished.

Han looked down at his feet, and he thought if only you knew how dire he was at that moment, how you indirectly saved him for just being there and sharing the comfortable silence.

It was almost 4 in the morning when you both walked back to your house, getting to know each other just enough to be more than acquaintances.

"Of course, I know who you are," you told him without him needing to explain everything.

"And that's also why I've been wondering why didn't you buy that claw machine," you joked.

Han got flustered, felt shot by your remark that you knew him all along.

"Why didn't you say anything?" He asked.

"And give you another chance to brag? No, thank you," You said while laughing.

He never encountered a person with compelling charms like you. You're funny and smart, you have a beautiful smile and endearing laughs, you're deeply an intuitive person and also open-minded.

You made things easier for him, or you made it seem so, and he's thankful for that.

You half-jogged to unlock the gate of your house and pushed it open just enough, you stood facing him.

"I guess this is it then?" You asked him with one hand keeping the gate door open.

Han was aware it was time for him to go as well, but he didn't want to part with you yet, and the next thing he knew, he got close to you.

You smiled at him and waited for him to say something, but he just stayed quiet while looking at you.

"Bye," you lowly said to him because there was no use to tell him loud when he stood so close to you.

You pushed the gate door open and got in.

Han thought of leaving, but his feet didn't move, he pushed your doorbell.

You opened the gate a moment later and laughed when you saw him again, "going to use your chance to brag now?" You joked.

He laughed while softly scratching the back of his hair, "No," he replied.

"What then?" You asked him.

Han hesitated for a second, but he took a step closer, then leaned in and kissed you, softly brushing his lips over yours.

He sighed against your lips because he didn't expect this to be this good, this right, it was like this moment was made for this.

You slowly pushed him away to catch a breath.

"You want to come in?" You asked him with your eyes looking up through your lashes.

And he couldn't say no.

He let you lead him inside your house, he was surprised to see there was no one inside, and for the lack of furniture, there were only things cluttered around a desk in one corner of the room.

"My parents live abroad with my sister, she got a scholarship for her ballet," you explained, "so, I live alone,"

Han didn't know that a warm person like you lives a solitary life, and he got unbearably sad for you that he suddenly went to hug you.

And you rubbed his back, sensing his sympathy.

But all he wanted to do was make you feel less lonely, assuring you that he was there for you.

He kissed you with his hands holding your body close as if you would disappear if he didn't hold you tight.

You steered him in the direction of your bedroom and sent both of you tumbling down your bed, making you both laugh.

He kissed you more with your hands working open his shirt, bodies tossed and turned on the bed as pieces of clothing tossed aside onto the bedroom floor.

Until you both got naked, he pinned you under him and kissed you so softly with a hand that caressed the side of your face.

"Can you grab the condom inside one of those drawers, please?" You asked him.

He nodded, outstretched his hand to pull open the top drawer, and took out a foil packet.

Han didn't mean for this to happen, he wanted to comfort you with his presence, but the moment he laid his eyes on your heavenly body, he couldn't resist.

You endlessly enthralled him, alluring, he couldn't stop touching you and feeling the softness of your skin that made him whimper.

You kissed him on the mouth as he settled himself between your legs, "I like this little mole right here," you told him, pointing to the tiny dot of dark mole on his cheek.

He smiled at your praise, and somehow that made him feel at ease.

He didn't feel nervous like he usually does, also not the pressure to make everything right. He just wanted to make you feel good.

You moaned when he pushed his length inside you, so painstakingly slow until he fully buried inside you.

"Are you okay?" He asked you.

"I'm not okay,"

Han's eyes widened in panic.

"I'm not okay if you feel this good inside me," you corrected with a sly smile.

"You!" He glared at you, buried his mouth onto your neck, and tickled you with the tip of his nose.

You laughed with your hands around his neck, he finally stopped to kiss you again then looked into your eyes, "you're so beautiful," he said to you.

"Thank you," you muttered.

He began moving against you at a steady pace while you squirmed with all the pleasure he brought on you.

You would look into each other’s faces at times and smile because this felt so right, this moment was made for this.

You held him close as you both climaxed around each other, and he kissed your neck as he relished the immense pleasure that was slowly dissipating.

You both stayed on your bed with his body overlapping yours, and you snaked a hand around his body, rubbing the warm skin of his back.

He admired your naked body under the pale sunlight by running his hand from your lips down to your chest, to the curve of the underline of your breast to your ribcage then squeezed your flesh there.

"I felt so unbearably lonely that day," you admitted, "that's why I cried,"

Han placed a sweet kiss on your lips, "and I felt so anxious that day, I couldn't sleep, I felt so hopeless and tired," he admitted.

"We are two sad people," you softly muttered with a hand gently scratching his hair.

"And we saved each other," he added.

You softly smiled at him, then held his face still with a hand on his cheek, "Hey, just because we did this, nothing has to change between us," you assured him.

"I'm okay with us being casual,"

Han took your hand and kissed the inside of your hand, "but what if I don't want that?" He asked you.

"I want us to be a chic couple," he playfully stated.

You laughed at him, "you are ludicrous,"

"I'll take that," he said as he crashed his mouth on you again.

At that moment, Han found a haven in you. A place where he can rest his soul and wash his weariness away, a place where he could replenish his strength and at the same time, be a company to you, someone you can rely on and try to comfort you with his presence.

When he felt his life going to take another down, he knew where to go.

He would come knocking on your door, and you would welcome him with a hug.

And he would melt into your embrace as you rubbed his back while softly muttering, "it's okay, it's just another day."

-

ON TRACK.

Felix x reader. (s,f)

Even a fool knows that you're the best thing he has ever got.

Felix didn't realize this when he was still having his days filled with you.

You had been friends since childhood, and that was probably what made him mistake his love for the comfort from the friendship you had built over the years.

You've been there since his dreams were just wishful thinking.

You encouraged him, supported him, gave him just enough push towards what he wanted the most, towards his dreams.

And you weren't there when his dreams were becoming true.

You knew what he was capable of even people kept telling him to stop, you knew his value even before anyone knew his worth, and he loved you for that.

He didn't know that back then.

When you had to leave because you also going to chase your dream, he just watched as the train took you away from him.

And he knew he was too late.

He only regretted it now for missing out on the chance, hated himself for not getting close to you.

He should've come up with any reason to stop you from leaving that day, he should have asked you to turn around and look at him, he would've said, 'Don't go! Don't leave me!'.

And it had been years now, he misses you.

Or is it just him that misses you?

He misses all the times he had spent together with you.

Your laughs, your smiles, your encouraging words that always lift his spirit, your comforting touches, and how he likes having your hand rub the small of his back.

And lately, he had been thinking of how things would turn out if he conveyed his feelings for you, how would he spends his time with you and probably for all of his life.

He got so used to that picture-perfect of him being together with you that it became his daily life.

When he saw you stood there at the end of the hall, waiting for him with a smile on your face, Felix felt that he got closer to that picture-perfect.

He walked up once again towards you.

"Hey," you beamed at him when he got closer with a scintillating smile.

He didn't hesitate to hug you, and you didn’t shy away from it, you hugged him back.

He hummed as he drank the scent he is familiar with, "you're here!" He said.

"I don't even know if I'm allowed to be here," you told him.

When you told him you were coming to the concert, Felix sent someone to get you to come backstage so he could meet you before he got on stage.

He lowly chuckled, "I can't believe you're really here!" He said again as he squeezed your hand.

You smiled at him, "I know right? It feels like yesterday we were taking dance classes together every Friday afternoon," you told him.

"How long will you be here?" He quickly asked.

"Just for the weekend," you replied.

"Where are you staying?"

"At the hotel," you answered.

Someone came behind Felix and whispered something to him while he nodded along.

"Oh, you'd better get back!" You told him.

Felix wanted to stay long but it was impossible with the time he has, "I'm sorry," he apologized.

"It's okay," You assured him.

"Can you stay after the concert later?" He asked you.

"Yeah, okay," you answered.

He nodded, that is one thing he could anticipate at the end of the night.

"I'll be cheering for you!" You playfully told him.

He sheepishly smiled, "I'll be seeing you!" He joked back.

"Sure, I'll be the one in black," you told him pointing to the black t-shirt you were wearing.

"Not going to be hard to find," he sneered.

You laughed at him and patted him on the shoulder, "see you later!"

"See you later!" He said back.

He got a little sad being the one leaving you right then and watched as you slowly disappeared from his sight.

At the end of the night, Felix got a little disappointed that you didn't wait for him as you promised him, but he also understood that maybe you didn’t want to make him more tired than he already was.

Felix's window of opportunity wouldn't last long since he only got until the end of the weekend to do what he always wanted to do.

He called your hotel room the next morning to make sure you were still there, "Hey," you said as you picked up the phone.

"I'm sorry about last night for not waiting for you," you began, "I assume you'd be tired so..."

"It's okay," he convinced you.

He heard you sigh in relief at the end of the line.

"I didn't mean to really," you assured him.

"No worries!" He said again.

There was a few seconds of awkward silence, Felix stalled because he wanted to pick his words carefully.

"Do you have any plan for tonight?" He asked.

"Tonight?" You asked again.

"I planned on staying in and eating in the whole day, other than that. No!" You elaborated.

Felix softly smiled, "do you want to go with me?"

"Go where?"

"Dancing?"

"Dancing?" You asked back in utter confusion.

"Dancing like we used to do back when were little," he explained.

The recollections of the two of you taking a dance class together rushed through your mind, him in those mini tuxedoes and you in your ballroom dresses in striking colors, a dancing pair for years until both of you gave up the class because you grew up and it wasn't cool to do it anymore.

"I don't know if I still remember how to dance but I'd love that, oh my God, yes," you exclaimed.

Felix chuckled because he didn't expect that much enthusiasm from you, he could feel that his plan was going the way he wanted.

"I'll pick you up at 8?" He asked.

"Yes," you replied.

"See you later!" He said with a gleeful smile.

He came to pick you up right on time, waited by the lobby of the hotel until you came out of the elevator wearing a red dress, you let your hair down, but what made you beautiful was the smile that didn't wear off as you walked up to him.

"Oh my God, you look so good!" You beamed, looking at him dressed so neatly in a black suit with a crisp white shirt underneath.

"And you look so beautiful!" He praised you he couldn't look away, you mesmerized him.

You gave him a quick twirl and the hem of the dress swaying with the movement, "I went out earlier and bought the dress," you showed him your new shoes, "I also bought a new pair of dancing shoes," you told him.

Felix softly laughed at you, seeing you excited like this that he couldn't be any happier.

But when he arrived at the ballroom, and everyone who attended the dance was mostly elderly people, he believed you were the only two young people there and that his plan just went off the rail.

He turned his head at you, ready to apologize for such a disappointing night.

But he found you smiling so brightly with crinkles in your eyes as you watched the swarm of people dancing in the middle of the ballroom, "Oh my God, how exciting!" You told him.

"Can we go dance now?" You asked him with such giddiness.

Felix nodded, somehow your excitement infected him in an instant.

He offered his hand, and you placed your hand on his, he took you to the dance floor, placed one hand on your waist, and the other clasped with your hand.

You danced the night away, sweeping the floor with both of your feet, giggling and smiling in between, you didn't even care if you missed out a few steps as long as you were having fun.

"I think we should take a water break," Felix suggested.

He understood that you were thrilled to continue dancing but looking at you panting, running out of breath, he took it that you were tired.

You waited on a vacant table while Felix took a few drinks, when he returned, an elderly asked you to dance with him. He knew you wouldn't say no to him, he nodded at you when you asked him for permission.

"I'll wait here," he told you and sat on the chair watching you dancing with the elderly man with white hair.

And this is why he loves you.

Your warmth, your charms, everything about you is just so beautiful, inside and out.

The elderly man escorted you back to your table and kissed the back of your hand, "Thank you so much for dancing with an old man like me," he said to you.

You smiled at him, "no, it's an honor for me," you courteously said to him.

The elderly man looked at Felix, "you got a fine young lady here," he said to him.

And Felix nodded, agreed with the elderly man.

Felix slid your drink in front of you on the table and you immediately took a big gulp, "I never dance this hard in my life," you said to him.

"I wish I can relate to that," he said to you.

You laughed because you understood what he meant by that, "this feels like breathing to you," you joked.

"Sort of," he replied.

"Let's have the last dance," you suggested.

"Aren't you tired?" He asked you.

You shook your head, "we can do a slow dance," you said to him.

He agreed, got up from the chair, and courteously asked for your hand for a dance.

You did a waltz dance with him, slow dancing even though the music that was playing was ideally for tango. He held you by your waist, and you put your hands around his neck. You looked up at him through your lashes, "thank you for taking me here," you said to him.

"I'm glad you like it," he said.

"Like it? I love it!" You corrected him, then rested your head on his shoulder as your bodies swayed in sync.

Felix just got closer to what he wanted the most.

You had no idea how long he had been waiting for a moment like this to happen.

Even after time keeps passing by, this constant desperation of him makes him look for you, search for you and you came to him every night and tantalize him, tantalize him more the longer he was away from you.

And now, you were so close, you were in his arms and he could smell the scent of you that give him a sense of comfort, of home.

It hurts him now that he had been keeping all these feelings for you for long.

You waited for Felix as he ordered ice cream for both of you, it was like a callback to the past of how the two of you always had ice cream after dance class.

When he returned with your favorite vanilla ice cream, he saw you were massaging your foot with your shoes off.

"Are you okay?" He asked as he sat down across from you.

You sighed, "It's the new shoe problem," you answered.

Felix looked down at your feet and saw the blisters formed on your feet, he hissed as if he was the one in pain, "that looks so bad," he commented.

"It's alright. It's not that painful really," you assured him.

"You wait here," he ordered, "and eat your ice cream,"

"Where are you going?" You asked him as he dashed toward the exit.

"Just wait, I won't be long," he told you.

Felix came back after a few minutes, and his ice cream was melted in his cup, he squatted on the floor to put ointment and bandages on the blisters on your feet.

"I can do that myself," you said to him.

He didn't reply but continued tending to your feet, then pulled out a pair of slippers so you wouldn't have to wear your shoes again.

"Oh Felix, thank you," you sincerely muttered your gratitude.

He sat back on his chair, "I can't stand it seeing you like that," he said.

"Like what?"

"Looking adorable with a scrunched nose like that," he teased you.

"Better eat your ice cream quick before it melts," you shouted at him, then took a spoonful of his ice cream with your spoon.

You decided to take a walk because the hotel you were staying at wasn't that far from the ice cream shop, Felix grabbed your hand then twirled you, you spun around, but since you were wearing slippers, you slipped and crashed onto him.

He was quick to catch you into his arms and didn't let go, he looked into your eyes then all of sudden, he blurted out, "I love you,"

It took you a moment to process those three words until it fully sank in, then you smiled, "I love you too," you said back to him.

He wasn't sure if you have the same meaning behind those words with him, so he kissed you.

You dropped the shoes you had been carrying onto the pavement, looped your hands around his neck, and kissed him back with the same eagerness.

You broke the kiss to catch a breath, "it took us a long time," you breathlessly said to him.

Felix nodded, agreeing with you, he didn't know that you have just the same feelings for him, and it was the best thing that ever happened to him, having his feelings reciprocated.

If he had known, he would have told you sooner.

The night continued in your hotel room, both of you stumbled inside once you unlocked the room with the keycard, latching your mouth together with Felix pushed your body further inside.

You dropped everything onto the floor as he lifted you, sat you down on a desk, and knocked things off to the floor.

He cupped your face with both hands and looked into your eyes, still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that you love him back.

He pressed a gentle kiss while you slipped your hands under his arms and held him close.

"You feel so surreal," he said against your lips.

You smiled at him and kissed him with all of your heart, "I am real," you told him.

He angled your jaw, and you opened your mouth for him so he could deepen the kiss, drowning you both in sensuous delight.

His hands worked open the zipper of your dress, the noise it made resounding in the quiet of the room, then he slid the dress down until it pooled around your waist.

He didn't waste time to place kisses down your bare chest with hand impatiently unclasped your bra then tossed it aside.

You reclined on the desk and let him savor your breasts, taking it into his mouth in turns with your hand tangled in his soft hair.

When it got too uncomfortable, he carried you to bed and watched your naked body splayed on the bed with nothing on but the silk red underwear you were wearing.

Your body was blotchy red, flustered under his lustful gaze, and ultimately because you were the only one naked while he was still fully clothed.

You sat up on the bed and reached for the lapels of his suit jacket, you took it off by sliding it down his arms. You unbuttoned his shirt next with his eyes intently watched your fingers work to open the button one by one until you finished, then he took it off himself.

You lay back down and watched him unbuckle his belt, your thighs pressed together when he slowly pulled his trousers down along with his underwear until he was fully naked in front of you.

He is gorgeous, despite his slim figure, he has a muscular body and firm muscles to the touch. You whimpered as you felt the muscles contract under your touch when he lowered himself on top of you.

"Make love to me, Felix," you told him.

Felix closed his eyes when he heard the request, it was like you just asked him to do what he had been waiting for all of his life.

His hand tugged the waistband of your underwear and pulled it down, off your legs. He kissed the skin around your heating core, teasing you just the right way, and when he finally landed his mouth on your cunt, you gasped in pleasure.

His mouth felt soft and warm on you, you looked down at him enjoying stimulating you with his mouth with his hands firmly keeping your legs open.

When he deemed the stimulation is enough, he retracted his mouth and settled himself between your legs, and hastily kissed your mouth.

You kept your legs open as he pushed his cock inside you little by little with your moans muffled by his kiss, he groaned into your mouth once he fully sheathed inside you.

You wrapped your legs around his waist with your hands around his neck.

"You feel so right," you breathlessly said to him with his face only inches away from you.

He kissed you again as he began moving, making love to you as you asked him to, with so much care and affection, fluttering little touches here and there.

He took your hand in his and clasped it together as he picked up the pace, "keep your eyes on me," he ordered you.

You obeyed, you locked your eyes with him and didn't dare to look away even for a mere second.

"I love you," he said between his grunts.

"I love you," you said back.

You called out his name out loud as you climaxed and he cum inside you not long after, relishing the moment by peppering your face with his kisses.

You put on his shirt after you got back from the bathroom then lay back down next to him on the bed, which he immediately pulled you into his embrace.

"Do you really have to leave tomorrow?" He asked you.

You slipped your hand under his arm and rested your hand on his back, "technically, it's today," you corrected him.

"Do you really have to leave today?" He asked again.

"Sadly, yeah," you answered.

You moved your hand back to the front to touch his muscles, tracing the outline of his abs with your fingertips.

"Don't leave!" He begged.

"We only live a few hours away from each other," you tried to compromise with him.

"I need you here," he said to your face as she cupped your cheek with his hand.

You sighed in delight, it felt like a discovery that you mean so much to him.

"I'll visit often," you convinced him.

He sighed, knowing that there was no better option since he couldn't promise you anything but tried his best for you.

He buried his head in the crook of your neck, "but it took us a long time to get here," he whined.

You hugged him back, putting your hands on his back, "I know," you sighed.

"We'll find a way," you assured him while rubbing his back in a soothing pattern.

"Can we skip the soppy talk and make out or something?" You playfully asked with a soft laugh as a way to console him.

He lifted his head to face him, "or something?" He asked with eyebrows raised.

You bit your lower lip while seductively smiling and nodding at him, "or something," you repeated.

Felix could settle with this, for now, he didn't want to pressure you to fulfill his selfish wishes, if it's the only way to keep you then he would accept it.

What matters the most is you.

When it was time for you to leave, Felix stood in front of you with a smile yet there was a hint of sadness in his eyes.

You hurriedly hugged him, "I'll come back soon, I promise," you muttered to him.

He hugged you back and tightened his hold around you, "I should have told you sooner," he muttered with regrets.

You pulled away just enough to leave a space between you, "Felix, it's better late than never," you said to him.

He nodded in agreement, pressed his forehead with yours, "Can I visit you sometimes?" He asked.

"Of course!" You shorty replied, "you can visit me anytime,"

"Okay," he smiled at your answer.

You stayed like that, enjoying each other’s presence like the world was made for both of you even though a lot of people were passing by in the train station.

"I should get on the train," you announced and shot him a sad smile.

He softly groaned with his eyes closed.

You laughed at him, adorably sulking like that at you that you couldn't help but gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"The train will leave in a few minutes," you told him.

"Then let it leave," he tightened his hold around you and not willing to let go, "I'll keep you here," he nuzzled his head deep into your neck.

You let him have his way with you, letting him hold you for a few more minutes until he let himself go.

"I'll wait for you," he said to you.

You nodded, "wait for me," you said back.

He kissed you with a hand on your neck, and you kissed him back with your hands around his body.

"I love you," he said again, he wanted to make sure you remember those three words well even if you live so far away.

You smiled against his lips, "I love you too," you replied.

"And I hate to tell you, but I really have to get on the train now," you told him with a frown.

He nodded and slowly let go of you, except you were the one not willing to let go this time. You pulled him for another kiss, pouring all of your heart's contents into the kiss.

Then quickly let go, gently pushed him away before you got the urge to kiss him again.

"Bye," you told him and walked onto the platform, waving your hand at him before getting on the train.

He waved back at you, looking at the last of your smile before you disappeared. He felt a bit sad, but the happiness that came from his dream came true was overwhelming, his heart palpitation for every time he reminded that you are truly his and that you love him back.

He watched as the train leaves, taking you away with it yet he knew that your heart would always be close to his, and keeping it on track.

-

LEVANTER.

Seungmin x reader. (s,f,a)

How can you pack your life in boxes?

In eight big boxes to be precise.

You looked around your almost empty room except for the bed and the study desk that had been accompanied you for these past years of college.

It felt like yesterday you got into college, young and curious, hopeful and eager.

Looking back at it now, you felt like missed but also lived through a lot of things as well. There was gain and loss. You just hoped you got the best of both worlds.

You took a deep breath, and the sound echoed through the still air of the room.

You sat on the end of the bed, hugging your knees, and got unbearably sad at that moment, got hit by the realization that you had to leave this life behind, moving on to a new chapter of your life.

To be honest, it was scary but exciting at the same time. Scary because life gets harder as you get older, but excited to find out more things you are capable of.

Your phone vibrated on the bed, and you picked it up to see an unknown number on the phone screen, you got skeptical but gave in, then pressed accept the call.

"Hello?" You spoke on the phone.

You heard rustles and heavy breathing, then the sound of a car passing by.

"This is Seungmin from 2018, and he wanted to take you on the first date," he said.

You laughed at him, "how are you calling from the past?" You asked him, playing along with his joke.

"By a magic payphone," he answered.

Then you remembered the first time he took you on a date, he called you through the payphone right across the street from your apartment building.

You got up from the bed and walked to the window to see if he was really there, you pulled open the window, and there he was, waving his hand at you with a sly smile on his face from inside the phone booth.

You smiled and waved back at him, "so, where are you taking me for our first date?" You playfully asked him even though you could recount how your first date went in detail.

"Why don't you come down and find out?" He said to you.

He was standing across the street, yet you could see his bright puppy smile that invited you to smile back.

You hung up the phone and quickly put on something decent for the spontaneous date, tossed your things into your purse, then jogged downstairs.

Your heart was beating fast, your breath quickened from the running mixed with the excitement of going to meet him in a matter of seconds.

You waited until there was no car, then crossed the street, saw him standing there waiting for you with his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket.

"Hi," you bashfully said.

He sheepishly smiled at you, "Hi," he said back.

And it was awkward, exactly like the first time you were on a date with him, and he scratched the back of his neck when he didn't know what to say next.

You laughed, "shall we go now?" You asked him.

He nodded, "yes,"

You walked on the pavement with you staying on the inner side but this time, he didn't hesitate to hold your hand and intertwined it with his.

It was winter when you had our first date, he took you to ice skate in the park, and he took you to the same ice rink you went to.

You sat on the bench as he put on the shoes for you then looked up at you, "is it too tight?" He asked you once he finished strapping the shoes for you.

You shook your head.

Looking down at him and the fluff of his hair gave you the urge to kiss him, and so you did.

You gave him a quick peck on the lips, then smiled, "thank you," you muttered.

He got up then held his hand out at you, you took it, letting him lead you inside the ice rink, and held on to him as the slippery ice welcomed you.

"I'm still bad at it," you informed him.

You were never good at any activity that required body balance, and that was why you always bump your knees into things, you are clumsy like that.

He took both of your hands on his and held them tight, "you can hold onto me," he assured you.

Seungmin helped you ice skate through the rink, doing a few laps together with him holding you close and keeping you steady.

"You're getting good at this!" He praised.

One praise and you lost your balance, slipped on the ice, fell on your back. You had seen this coming, and it didn't come as a surprise anymore.

"I'm okay," you quickly said to him.

He helped you get up and all of a sudden, pulled you into a hug. He put his hands around your waist and held you close, he didn't care about the existence of other people in the rink.

You put your hand around his neck and hugged him back, "is it to save me from embarrassment?" You joked.

He softly laughed, "No, I'm just so proud of you," he said.

"For falling?" You joked again.

"For getting up," he answered.

You placed a sneaky peck on his neck then whispered to him, "can you let go now it's getting embarrassing," you told him.

He slowly pulled away, but he was quick to place a kiss on your lips with a hand splayed on your jaw.

"Let's go do another lap," he said with a blank expression like he didn't just kiss you a few seconds ago.

"Yeah, sure," you breathlessly replied.

After ice skating, he took you to a convenience store, also the same one where he took you on the first date. He remembered exactly what you bought that day, a cup of noodles with a sausage, a bottle of lychee tea, and a bag of potato chips.

You laughed when he placed all of that in front of you on the table, "oh, you missed something!" You told him with a glare.

He stopped from pulling the chair, "what?"

"You forgot the string cheese," you answered.

His mouth hung open in slight shock, "okay, wait here, I'll get it for you,"

You quickly grabbed his hand and forced him to sit down, "just sit down, please?" You ordered.

And he sat down, scooted his chair closer to you, then ate your noodles together.

As you sat there watching him eating, you realized he was different from the first time he went on a date with you. He was awkward, fidgety and there was an edge to his voice whenever he talked, unsure of the words he said. But he changed now, he got confident, he knew how to be around you and provide comfort for you. Things that hadn't changed are his loving gaze and that smile of his that always put you at ease in an instant.

You scooted closer to him and rested your head on his shoulder, "since when did you get this much cooler?" You teased.

He nuzzled his head against yours, "since when did you become this clingy?" He asked back.

You chuckled even though he knew what was the reason you became so clingy to him.

"You were so nervous on our first date, and I listened to you singing under your breath to calm yourself down," you told him, looping your hand around his arm.

He laced your hand with yours on your lap, "I like you so much that was why I got so nervous," he answered with such coy as if his answer didn't make your heart just skip a beat.

You turned your head at him, "what about now?"

"I like you less," he shortly replied.

You pouted.

And he kissed your pout, "but I love you more,"

You groaned at him and hid your face in his neck, "cringe!" You exclaimed and squeezed his hand for comfort.

The last thing you did on your first date was take him to the studio on the campus where you worked on your sculpture, you didn't have anything to show him now since you just graduated, but he still took you there.

You flipped the switch, and lights started flooding the studio with the smell of clay and paints welcomed you both as you stepped in further.

You took him there to show him a sculpture you were working on for an assignment, you led his hand to touch the hardening clay, then he got panicked thinking that he had just broken a piece, making you laugh at how adorable he looked.

And that was when he kissed you for the first time.

You still got the butterflies when the memory flashed through your head.

Sadly, I don't have any sculpture to show you," you told him.

You took his hands, led him to the sofa that is a prop for a model to pose for paintings or sculptures, then pushed him onto it.

He plopped down with a low thud along with a yelp, "ouch!" He exclaimed.

You giggled, then took a few steps in front of him, close enough for him to see the whole you.

"But I got something else to show you," you said with a seductive smile.

You kicked your shoes away with giggles, your eyes looked into him as you tugged the hem of your blouse, then pulled it off of you.

"Since when did you get this bold, mmh?" Seungmin beamed then looked around the place, afraid that someone was around, and when he was sure there were only the two of you there, he slouched on the sofa and looked at you again.

You unzipped your skirt next, then let it fall onto the floor.

Low whimpers escaped through his gritted teeth as Seungmin looked at you standing in front of him, naked except for the matching underwear in pale pink colors.

"Come here!" He ordered with his hands outstretched at you.

You walked up to him and took his hands as he pulled you onto his lap.

"Is this what you're trying to show me?" He asked you with his hands gripped each side of your hips.

You nodded with a sly smile on your face.

"You drive me crazy," he told you, then crashed his lips against you.

The kiss took your breath away, and you barely functioning as he took the rest of your undergarments then lay you down naked on the sofa.

He kneeled at the end of the sofa, hastily taking his clothes off and letting them fall onto the floor.

"I usually don't let myself be reckless like this," he told you as he lowered himself on top of you.

"But you're so hard to resist," he finished, then sank his mouth on you.

The sex was painstakingly slow, each thrust went deeper than the previous, and Seungmin didn't break eye contact even for a mere second.

"Always taking me so well," he praised you as he placed a gentle kiss.

You didn't hold back from moaning and let it resound in the studio, it was somehow arousing to have sex in a place where you worked, added to the fact that someone might walk in on you at any time.

"So good, Seungmin," you told him as his cock nudged the right spot inside you.

Seungmin propped a hand next to your head to continue moving against you, putting a bit more strength and thrusting harder into you.

You moaned his name repeatedly and heard you calling his name heavy with lust in it riled him the best way.

"I'm going to cum inside you," he informed you.

"I want you to keep it inside for me,"

He lay a hand flat on your abdomen, watching as his cock went in and out of you at a sloppy pace.

"You're going to take all of me," he said to you, then went still for a few seconds as his orgasm hit him.

His eyes flicked to your fucked out face, also reeling from the climax you earned earlier.

Seungmin dug his cock deeper to release all of his seed in you, "yes, take all of me," he breathlessly cooed at you.

When he pulled out, he quickly reached for your underwear on the floor then put it on you, preventing his cum from leaking out of you.

You both stayed on the sofa, cuddling and enjoying each other’s touches against the quiet of the studio.

"This first date thing," you put your fingers in between his, "is a good idea," you said.

Seungmin tenderly kissed your knuckles.

"I love it!" You exclaimed.

"I'm glad," he said to you.

He caressed your cheek with so much love and care, tried to make a blueprint of your face then etched it onto his mind.

"Don't worry about anything," he suddenly said.

"You were born to do great things," he continued, then traced your jaw with his index finger.

And you hated to be reminded that he wouldn't be there witnessing all of the great things you'll achieve.

You closed your eyes and tried to push the tears away from coming out, "we'll achieve our dreams," you optimistically said to him despite having to do it in separate ways.

You shut him up with kisses, stopping the conversation from going in the direction you didn't want it to go, then buried your head in his chest.

You drank his scent for you couldn't get the exact same scent anywhere in the world, a scent of him, a scent that gives you comfort and warmth, a scent that would remind you of his loving embrace.

The night was getting late when he walked you back to your apartment, and the streets were getting empty, you stopped walking next to the phone booth.

"Is it really the magic payphone?" You asked him.

He nodded, "you just need to punch the number of the years you wanted, and you'll be connected to the you from that year," he said.

You chuckled at him.

"If you don't trust me, just try it," he said to you in a mocking tone.

You took the handle of the phone and pushed it close to your ear, you heard the dialing tone then hummed as you think of a number, "I'll call the 19 years old me so that would be 2019," you said the pushed the number on the keypad.

It didn't link to any number, but you pretended, "oh hello, it's you from the future," you began.

"I know that you have a boyfriend named Kim Seungmin and you'll be having burgers for lunch later," you continued.

You looked at him, smiling because he knew what you were about to say.

"You should tell him about your allergy so he wouldn't order you a burger with shrimp on it," you spoke with your eyes squinted at him.

"I'm saving you from the embarrassment of him seeing you all bloated and red, I know you could die from the allergy, but the shame lasts an eternity," you talked to the phone even though it played the disconnected tone.

"Make good choices!" You said.

You pushed the phone back to your ear to add something, "but can you keep the guy?"

You nodded as if the one you talked to was right in front of you, "yes, he's a keeper, you shouldn't let him go, no matter what,"

"Things might get rough after but hang in there!" you finished, then hung up.

Seungmin shrugged with his hands turned up, "see? It works!"

You rolled your eyes rather dramatically and let him take his turn, "your turn, now!"

He stepped into the phone booth, and you stayed inside with him, squeezing the two of you together.

Seungmin took the handle of the phone and confidently punched the number 2018, he waited as if the phone really connected.

"Hey Seungmin, it's you from four years later, don't worry you graduated with honors so you can slack off a bit," he began.

"Just a little, I said," he added.

"I know it would be the first day of college, and you are nervous, but at the end of the day, you'll meet a beautiful girl near the fountain in the campus garden," he said with his eyes looking at you.

"You'll know it's her. She has a beautiful smile, and the moon was shining so bright that night, but it couldn't match the brightness of her smile," he said.

You smiled at him as you intently listened to his words.

"She'll make a fool out of you, turn you a bit loopy, you can't sleep because you keep thinking about her," he nodded along to his own words.

"She's as beautiful as the art she makes," he added.

Seungmin sighed as he shifted his weight to his other foot and placed a hand on the booth on your side, slightly leaning at you.

"I hate to tell you this, but you'll part ways with her at one point," he sadly uttered.

"She'll be going away to chase her dreams, and so do you," he said with his eyes closed as if that hurt him from the inside.

"Because that's life, it's fucking suck," he cursed out loud

You never heard him curse like that before, but you understood from the resentment you felt in his words, he hated the world for separating you.

"But you'll always be in love with her, you'll always remember the moments you had together for life," he sadly muttered.

You swallowed the hot lump growing in your throat from holding back your tears, "and I pray that you will be able to survive losing her," he said.

And you couldn't stop your tears from falling, you cried as he too choked on his breath trying not to break down in front of you.

Seungmin cleared his throat before continuing to speak into the phone.

"And I pray that she will come back to you if she can," he finished, and his voice got broke at the end of the sentence.

You broke down against him, crying into his chest while clutching the lapels of his jacket.

You got sad because it felt so unfair to you, you found just the right person to be with you, yet the world kept wanting to separate you. You will never get how the world works, but the unfairness of it all angers you to no end.

Seungmin held you tight, then kissed the top of your head, "I told her everything already," he said into the phone, "it's all good now," he ended the call, then put the phone back.

He held you tight inside the cramped space of the phone booth, your cries resounding, and your tears seeped into his clothes.

"I love you," he hoarsely said to you, then tipped your head to place a kiss on your forehead.

He let you rest your head on his chest again, one hand rubbing your back and the other gently patting your head, "I love you," he muttered again.

He pressed his mouth on the top of your head, "It's all good now."

-

SECRET SECRET.

I.N x reader. (s,f)

It's not hard to know that Seungmin has feelings for you.

When everyone laughed, he looked at you, watching your reactions and also because your smile is that pretty, or Jeongin thought so.

And Jeongin had been witnessing all these subtle things Seungmin did around you, like how he liked to secretly watch over you and quickly looked away before you notice, or that he liked paying close attention to you when you talked to him like you were the only person existing in the world.

Then there were times he was being obvious like he would sulk when you got too close to the other members that Jeongin couldn't help but laugh at his pettiness.

You are the closest to Jeongin because you knew him long before you knew everyone else.

He could easily tell you about Seungmin, but that wouldn't be fair to Seungmin, and Jeongin has no right to tell you.

Jeongin sent you off after a night out together and watched you get into a taxi with Seungmin with him.

When the two of them got into the elevator, he tapped Seungmin’s shoulder until he looked over at him.

"You like her, don't you?" He asked Seungmin.

Seungmin got startled, "Uhm... no," he stuttered his words, the answer didn't match his cheeks which were blushing profusely.

Jeongin softly chuckled, "It's okay. I'll keep it a secret," he told him.

Seungmin got quiet and his body went rigid in front of him, when the elevator door slid open, the quickly got out as if trying to escape Jeongin's drilling questions.

When he unlocked the door to the dorm though, he considered something, and Jeongin waited behind him.

Seungmin slowly turned around to face Jeongin, "do you think you can set us up for a date?" He asked him with so much hesitancy in his voice.

Jeongin put his hand on his shoulder, "why are you so tense? It's just me," he said to him.

Seungmin shrugged, "I never like someone this much," he foolishly admitted.

And Jeongin could feel the sincerity in Seungmin's words, he likes you that much he couldn't contain it anymore.

Jeongin felt obligated to help him since he is the one closest to him, "I'll help you, don't worry!" He assured him.

Seungmin sighed as if half of the effort has done by saying it.

"Now, can you unlock the door so we can get in?" Jeongin reminded him since they were still standing outside the door of their dorm.

Seungmin laughed because he felt like a fool, then hurriedly unlocked the door to let them both in.

Jeongin successfully secured a date for you and Seungmin, the plan was to go to the movies together then he would part with you after so the two of you could have the rest of the day together.

"She doesn't drink soda," Jeongin reminded Seungmin.

"That I know," Seungmin said.

"She likes caramel popcorn, she can't eat spicy food, and she's allergic to shrimp so I suggest avoiding seafood for dinner," he informed.

"Is there anything else? Things that I hadn't known before?" Seungmin seriously asked him.

Jeongin rolled his eyes because he just told him that now, he then think of all the pet peeves you have, "she hates someone who talks during movies, makes noise while eating, and is a messy eater," he added.

Seungmin heavily sighed, "well, I'm not Changbin so I shouldn't worry," he savagely remarked.

Jeongin laughed at him, "and oh, she doesn't like flowers,"

Seungmin scrunched his nose in confusion, "why?"

"Because she can't eat them," Jeongin lightly answered.

"Huh?"

Jeongin laughed again, "she'd rather receive food as a gift than flowers,"

"Oh!" Seungmin exclaimed, "she's interesting!" Seungmin said with that foolish smile of him.

"I know," Jeongin said, and it might have slipped his mouth, but every one can easily agree that you are different from other girls.

it also mazed him how much he knows about you more than he knows himself.

Jeongin elbowed Seungmin when he saw you coming their way.

"Am I late?" You asked them the moment you got in front of them.

Seungmin shook his head, "no, you actually come right on time," he said.

Jeongin's hand reached for a strand of stray hair and put it behind your ear, "the movie is about to start in fifteen minutes,"

"I don't like waiting long for movies as long as we got enough time to buy popcorn," Seungmin said.

You gasped, "oh my God, yes, me too!"

Jeongin watched as you and Seungmin went to buy popcorn and drinks for the three of you.

You got to sit in the middle between Jeongin and Seungmin, you shared a bucket of caramel popcorn with Seungmin while Jeongin enjoyed his butter popcorn.

"Why are we watching a horror movie?" You asked Seungmin.

"Because you like horror, right?" He asked you back.

You nodded.

You turned your head at Jeongin, who watched the movie through his half-shut eyes, "you can hold my hands if you're scared," you whispered to him, then offered your hand to him on the armrest of the seat.

He glared at you but you shot him a grin instead.

"Do not hesitate to hide on my shoulder," you teased him.

But Jeongin, fortunately, survived the horror movie with dignity still intact even though he had to close his eyes so tight when the scary scenes came on the screen.

You linked your arms with theirs and led them out of the cinema, "so, what are we having for dinner?" You asked them.

"I know a place," Seungmin quickly suggested a place.

Jeongin shot a glance at Seungmin and he quickly shot him a knowing glance back, gesturing that he knew what he was doing.

Jeongin was impressed that Seungmin chose just the right restaurant, and he saw you just as impressed with Seungmin’s choice.

"I've never been here before," you beamed as you looked around.

"I once went here to try the pasta," Seungmin answered as he slid the menu to you on the table.

You scanned the list of foods on the menu but couldn't decide on one, "why don't you recommend something for me," you said to him.

Seungmin was more than happy to do it, he smiled then looked down at the menu, explaining the foods he had here before.

Jeongin saw as both of your heads huddled close together across the table, laughing and talking, and Seungmin couldn't stop smiling.

And Jeongin took it as a cue that it was time for him to leave.

He cleared his throat and pretended to read a text on his phone, "I'm sorry, guys, but I think I have to go," he said to you and Seungmin.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "why?" You asked him.

"My mom needs me to buy her something," Jeongin answered as he took a jacket from the empty seat next to him.

"Can you do it later after dinner?" You asked.

Jeongin shook his head, "you know she wouldn't text me if it's not urgent," he explained.

"Well," you pouted, "be careful then!" You told him as he headed toward the exit.

You and Seungmin waved at him as he exited the restaurant.

When Jeongin walked out of the restaurant and watched you and Seungmin together, he felt something tugged in his chest, and it was probably because he felt like he wasn't part of the picture anymore.

But he should be happy that he paired you up with someone reliable like Seungmin and he likes you so much, plus, both of you are his good friends, he couldn't be happier.

Then again, why he was feeling the opposite?

He felt... something is not right.

And Jeongin had been walking for only God knows how long, if it wasn't for the raindrops hitting his face, he wouldn't realize it.

So he stood there, let the rain wash away his worries, and let it fall with every drop of rain until the end of his fingertips.

After a few weeks, Jeongin took it that the relationship between you and Seungmin was going well because he had seen Seungmin going out with you a few times now.

At one point, Jeongin got curious that he asked Seungmin about it but tried not to sound obvious.

"Are you going somewhere?" He asked Seungmin.

Seungmin showed him a combination of outfits at him, but Jeongin shook his head, disagreed with his choice of jeans.

"I'm going to tell her today," Seungmin asked.

Jeongin stopped trailing his hands on the hanging clothes, "That's... that's great!" He half-heartedly said.

Seungmin took the jeans Jeongin had picked for him, "I'm still not sure if she likes me back, but I have a good feeling about this," he confidently stated while checking out his appearance in the mirror.

"But you went out with her several times already, shouldn't you have known by now?" Jeongin asked as he leaned his back against the wall.

"I know right? I shouldn't worry too much," Seungmin replied, even though that didn't answer Jeongin's question.

Jeongin became restless from that moment.

He regretted asking Seungmin in the first place because sometimes ignorance is bliss.

Seungmin came home earlier than he had expected, and a blank expression on his face.

Jeongin worried for him because he had never seen him like this, "are you alright? What happened?" He asked with his voice tinted with concern.

Seungmin went to the kitchen then poured himself a glass of water but didn't drink it, he just held the glass in his hand.

"I tell her everything..." Seungmin spoke so low as he tried to take a grasp of reality.

Jeongin tipped his head to the side in curiosity, "and then what happened?" He asked.

"She..." Seungmin sighed and gripped his glass tighter that his knuckles turned white.

"She just left without saying anything," he finished.

Jeongin jerked his head away in disbelief, that wasn't something you would do, because he knows how outspoken and straightforward you are as a person.

He wondered what happened to you? He got worried that he couldn't stay still, he hurriedly took his things and went to your place.

He knocked on your door a few times, "it's me," he announced.

"Can you open the door for me, please?" He pleaded.

He didn't hear anything from behind the door, but he believed you were inside, and he started to get panicked the longer you didn't open the door for him.

"I know what happened," he weakly said.

"I just want to see if you're alright,"

He knocked again a few times more for you to finally open the door.

You were crying, and he could see that from the puffy, red eyes and your hair was a mess.

"Are you okay?" He asked you.

You didn't say anything but headed back inside and let the door open to let him in. Jeongin followed you after closing the door behind him.

"Can you please say something?" He asked.

You stood there in the middle of the room looking out at the window, at the rain pouring outside and lightly tapping the glass.

He walked up to you, and you looked at him but didn't say anything to him.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Jeongin began as he put a hand on your arm.

"Didn't you say you know what happened?" You asked him back with such bitterness.

Jeongin sighed, but he understood your unpleasantness, "but why?" He asked you.

"Seungmin likes you so much," he said to you while searching for your eyes.

You put his hand away from you, "if you don't have anything else to say, you might as well just leave," you told him.

He sighed again and grabbed your hand by the wrist, "if you don't like him but feel bad for saying so, I can help you with it," he said.

You yanked your hand away and looked him in the eyes, "I like him," you said.

"I like him as a friend," you corrected, "especially because he's your friend,"

Jeongin nodded, "I can help you trying to-"

"And because I thought you like me," you meekly said to him.

Your eyes brimming with tears again as if those words were painful to admit.

"I always like you, Jeongin," you said to him.

"And I keep waiting, hoping that someday you'll say it to me," you muttered with tears streaming down your face, and you roughly wiped it with the back of your hand.

Jeongin's heart shrank as he looked at how vulnerable you were to him at that exact moment.

"And seeing you setting me up with someone else only means you don't like me, right?" You asked, your voice broke at the end of the sentence.

"I get it now, so can you please leave? I want to be alone," you told him as you swallowed the hot tears and wiped them away.

You walked to your bed and curled up on it, facing the window to see the rain that was somehow mimicked the tears that won't stop spilling out of your eyes.

You felt a hand on your arm and you turned your head to see Jeongin, sitting on the bed next to you and without warning, pressing his lips on you.

You pushed him away just enough, "Jeongin, what-"

He placed a kiss on your mouth again and lay beside you on the bed, pinned you down under him with a hand keeping your head still as he kissed you down.

"I like you too," he said to you with his face hovered above you.

"I like you so much that I can barely breathe," he breathlessly muttered with his eyes looking deep into yours.

"Jeongin..." you hoarsely called his name.

"I'm sorry that I kept you waiting," he said.

You held his face with your hands and brought it close to kiss him again. You opened your mouth for him to let him taste you more and let him put his weight on you to fully feel him on top of you.

You held him so close, so tight, then kissed him again on the mouth. You took his sweater off because you got the urge to feel his skin under your touch.

Jeongin couldn't ignore the strike of burning desire inside of him, and he let his hand glide down your body, admiring your curve and the softness of your skin.

With your legs hooked around his, Jeongin rubbed his growing bulge against your crotch repeatedly, seeking more friction with your body.

With your mouth latched with his, you moved your hands down to his jeans to snap open the button and unzip it without looking. After you successfully did, you slipped your hand inside to stroke his length in your hand.

He softly groaned against your mouth, he pulled the hem of your dress and impatiently put your underwear to the side to feel your wetness.

There was no excuse for him to be this haste, but he needed to be inside you, it was something that he couldn't perceive logically. The urge was just there, uncontrollable and almost primal.

Jeongin put your hand away so he could pull his jeans down enough to let his erection sprung free.

And the urge got out of control when you spread your legs out for him, "it's okay, I'm on the pill," you told him.

Jeongin teased your cunt with his fingers, milking your arousal until you got drenched in your arousal.

He positioned himself between your legs then slowly pushed his length inside while continuously groaning at how overwhelming you felt around him.

"You feel so good, oh," you breathlessly said when he fully buried inside you.

Jeongin groaned and kneeled on the bed, he pulled the cleavage of your dress down to expose your breasts.

He squeezed on the flesh and pinched on the nipples before finally starting moving against you.

And you looked at him the whole time he was fucking you, only shifted your gaze to see his cock slipping in and out of you and your eyes snapped back to him.

His jaws clenched, his mouth slightly parted open with a few low grunts slipped past, and his eyes pierced yours through his gaze.

Jeongin took a fistful of the front of your dress in his hand as leverage, then picked up the pace of his thrusts.

And you muffled your moans by pressing your lips together as he fucked you senseless, hands gripping his thighs on the bed.

Jeongin couldn't ask for a better view than this, seeing you fall apart underneath him, moaning a mix of pain and pleasure sounds, your breasts jiggling with every hard thrust he did on you.

His eyes went lower to where his cock going inside you, your tight cunt wrapped around his length so deliciously he didn't want to have it any other way.

He cursed under his breath as he thrust into you so hard it shattered you from the inside, you moaned out loud with mouth agape.

He felt you clench and sucked him in deeper, he knew you just cum around him.

And he kept going even though it was overwhelming to do so, and when he thought it couldn't get any better, a surge of immense pleasure ran through his body. He went as shallow as possible when he cum inside you, planting his seed so deep inside you with a hand that pinched the flesh of your thigh.

It felt like he just marked you down with his cum inside you.

And you looked like a beautiful mess to him as you rubbed his forearms while blissfully smiling at him.

"Did we just do that?" You asked him in disbelief.

Jeongin nodded with a faint smirk on his face.

"I think I tore your dress," he said to you when he spotted the torn fabric on the cleavage of your dress.

You lowly chuckled at him, "I can always buy a new one," you told him.

Somehow you both found it hot having sex out of impulse fully clothed like that.

He lowered himself on top of you, kissed your mouth, then kissed down your neck with his hand cupping your breast.

You held him close with your hands around his, "what about Seungmin?" You suddenly asked.

Jeongin propped an elbow against the mattress, "I'll talk it out with him," he replied.

"No, it's okay, I'll talk with him," you offered because it was between you and Seungmin in the first place.

"Were you going to keep it a secret if I didn't say anything about it?" You asked him.

Jeongin meekly nodded, "I'm afraid that I would only break our friendship," he answered.

You traced his sharp jaw with your fingertips while sadly smiling at him, relieved that there was nothing to hide from him anymore.

"No more secret," you said to him.

Except that Jeongin still has another secret inside of him, a secret that he wanted to keep a little longer because you probably wouldn't be ready for it yet.

The three words that would forever bind you with him, making you truly his.

But Jeongin nodded at your words, he swiped his big thumb over your lips before placing a tender kiss on you.

"No more secret," he repeated.

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What's Left

Broken! Minho x Hurt! Reader

The night was heavy with the scent of rain and earth, the air thick and suffocating. Y/N stood at the edge of the crumbling balcony, their hand gripping the cold stone railing. The city below was cloaked in shadows, a sea of lights swallowed by the storm clouds gathering above. They had been standing there for what felt like hours, watching the world move on without them.

Behind them, Minho stirred.

"You think standing out here will change something?" His voice was low, almost a whisper, but it cut through the silence like a blade. Y/N didn't turn around. They didn't need to. They could feel him—his presence clinging to the air, dark and suffocating. It was always like this with Minho. He never stayed away for long.

"I don't expect anything to change," Y/N replied, their voice hollow, distant. "I just needed a moment."

"A moment?" Minho’s laugh was sharp, cruel. "A moment won't fix you, Y/N. A moment won't fix us."

Y/N’s grip tightened on the railing, knuckles white. The words hung between them, heavier than the storm that threatened to break above. They both knew it was true. Nothing was going to fix them—not the endless nights of silence, not the fleeting touches, not the words unsaid. Not even the twisted bond that tied them together could make sense of what they had become.

And yet, Minho was still there. He was always there.

When you finally turned to face him, Minho was leaning against the doorframe, his silhouette half hidden in the shadows. His eyes were cold, hard, and yet there was something in them, something fragile—something you could never quite reach.

"Why do you stay?" your voice was barely more than a breath, a whisper caught in the storm.

Minho’s lips curled into that familiar, crooked smile. It was the kind of smile that never reached his eyes. "You think I have a choice?"

Y/N didn’t answer. They both knew the truth. Whatever twisted, rotted thing existed between them, it had been there for too long. Minho’s heart, battered and broken, still belonged to you. As much as he tried to deny it, to fight it, he couldn’t escape the hold you had on him.

"You’ve always had me, Y/N," Minho said, pushing off the doorframe and stepping closer. His voice was softer now, laced with something darker, something almost... tender. "Even if you don’t want me. Even if I’m nothing but a shell."

Y/N watched him approach, the storm rumbling in the distance. There was something tragic in the way Minho carried himself, as though the weight of his own existence was too much to bear. His eyes, once so full of life, were now hollow, haunted by memories neither of them could forget.

"It’s not about wanting you, Minho," Y/N whispered, their chest tightening. "It’s about what’s left."

Minho stopped just inches from them, his gaze locked on theirs. For a moment, there was only the sound of the storm, the wind howling around them, and the distant crash of thunder. Then, slowly, Minho reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. His touch was cold, almost mechanical, but you didn’t pull away.

"It’s always been about what’s left," Minho murmured. "And what’s left is mine."

you closed your eyes, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a physical force. you could feel it—the darkness inside him, the decay that had taken root long ago. But beneath all of that, buried deep within the ruin, there was something still alive, something that pulsed weakly, but steadily.

His heart.

"It’s broken," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm. "You’re broken."

Minho laughed, the sound hollow and bitter. "I’ve been broken for a long time, Y/N. But you knew that, didn’t you? You knew it from the start."

you opened your eyes and met his gaze. In that moment, there was no anger, no hatred. Just the two of them, standing in the ruins of what had once been. Fragments of what remained.

"I don’t want to fix you," you said softly. "I never wanted to."

Minho’s smile faltered, just for a second, and in that moment, you saw him. The real him. The one who had been hiding behind the cruelty, the madness, the darkness. The one who had been waiting, hoping, for something—anything—to change.

But nothing ever did.

"Then why do you stay?" Minho asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reached up, your hand covering his, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you felt warmth. Not from Minho, but from the connection between you both—faint, fragile, but still alive.

"Because," you said, their voice steady, "what’s left is still mine."

It’s yours—that rotted heart of his, shriveled and shabby, riddled with holes and decay, half-eaten by maggots and worms it might be, but it’s still yours. Even when his eyes flicker with madness, when his smile curls at the edges, jagged and wrong, there's a part of him that never strays too far. You own the crumbling pieces, the ones he hides beneath layers of venom and spite. He may not admit it—he’d rather burn the world than speak it aloud—but in the quiet, in the spaces between his cruelty, it’s there.

Beating. Faint.

Still yours.

L-L-Love.

Unemployed! Felix x Employer! Reader (fem)

Felix was having one of those days. The kind where the world felt a little heavier, the sky a little too grey, and every small inconvenience seemed like a personal attack. It didn’t help that he was now standing in the lobby of a company he had no business working for, hoping for a lifeline from his friend Seungmin.

"Why the hell did I think perfume was my calling?" Felix muttered to himself, tugging at the collar of his shirt. He felt out of place—like a stray dog wandering into a royal palace.

The lobby itself was too pristine for his liking, all white marble floors and cold, sharp edges. Everything smelled faintly of expensive fragrance, a constant reminder of just how out of his depth he was. Felix shifted uncomfortably, waiting for Seungmin to show up, his nerves gnawing at him. If Seungmin didn’t come through for him soon, he was going to bolt.

Seungmin finally arrived, looking all too smug in his tailored suit. “Relax, man. You look like you’re about to pass out. You’ll be fine.”

“I doubt it,” Felix grumbled, running a hand through his hair. "This place gives me the creeps. Like it's too… perfect. And the last thing I need is some uptight CEO chewing me out."

Seungmin gave him a sideways glance, a smirk forming on his lips. "Uptight? I never said anything about her being uptight."

Felix let out a heavy sigh. “You know what I mean. All CEOs are the same—cold, calculating, and out for blood. It’s not exactly my vibe.”

“You’ll be fine. The boss might be strict, but she’s not heartless," Seungmin replied, eyes glinting with some kind of secret amusement Felix couldn’t place. “Just stay on her good side.”

Felix rolled his eyes, barely paying attention, when something—or rather someone—caught his eye.

She walked across the lobby with a quiet confidence that seemed out of place in this antiseptic environment. The fluorescent lights glowed faintly around her, and Felix swore the air itself softened in her wake. Her features were sharp yet delicate, like someone had carefully sculpted her from pure elegance. There was something so effortlessly striking about her that Felix felt his throat tighten.

She was beautiful—no, beyond that. She was like something out of a dream. The way she carried herself, so sure and unbothered by the world around her, made everything else fade into insignificance. For the first time all morning, things made sense. It was as if the weight of his day lifted just a little, his mind refocusing on this singular figure.

“Who’s that?” Felix whispered, his voice barely audible as he leaned toward Seungmin, eyes locked on the woman across the lobby. It wasn’t just curiosity; it was an overwhelming compulsion that he couldn’t explain. Something about her presence commanded his attention, as if the entire room had dimmed except for the spotlight shining directly on her.

Her movements were deliberate and elegant, each step she took seemingly in sync with the steady beat of Felix’s suddenly racing heart. She wasn’t just beautiful—there was an aura about her that made everyone else in the room seem insignificant, like background noise. Felix didn’t want to blink, afraid that if he did, she’d vanish as quickly as she appeared.

Seungmin glanced lazily in her direction, then back at Felix, amusement flashing in his eyes. The smirk on Seungmin’s face only deepened the unease growing in Felix’s chest. Seungmin knew something. He always did. “Oh, her?” Seungmin’s voice was casual, almost too casual. “Yeah, I know her.”

Felix raised an eyebrow at his friend, suspicion bubbling under the surface. “You know her?” he asked, his tone laced with doubt. There was something in the way Seungmin said it, something teasing, something Felix couldn’t quite place but knew to be wary of. Seungmin had always been the type to enjoy watching Felix squirm, and Felix got the distinct feeling this was one of those moments.

Seungmin’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting with a kind of secret Felix wasn’t privy to yet. “Yeah,” he said simply, as if that explained everything.

Felix’s mind raced, his thoughts tumbling over one another. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way she had carried herself, the effortless grace in her posture, the confident way she moved through the space. Her expression had been focused, intense even, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was important. Too important for someone like him to approach, and yet…

He swallowed hard, and before he could talk himself out of it, the words tumbled out of his mouth. “Do you think I could… maybe get her number?”

The second the words were out, Felix felt a flush of heat rise to his face. What was he doing? He didn’t even know her name, much less anything else about her, yet here he was, acting like some love-struck fool. But there was something about her—something he couldn’t shake. Something that made the usually confident Felix feel a little off-balance, like gravity had shifted around her.

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, a slow, almost disbelieving grin spreading across his face. “You?” he said, clearly amused. “Asking for a girl’s number during a job interview?”

Felix groaned, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole. “Don’t make it weird,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as if that could somehow wipe away the embarrassment. “I just—look, she’s… I don’t know. She’s different.”

Seungmin looked like he was on the verge of bursting into laughter, but he held it together, though not without a significant amount of effort. “Different? You barely know her.”

Felix felt the weight of Seungmin’s teasing, but he couldn’t let it go. “You didn’t see her like I did,” he insisted, voice softening as he glanced back toward where she had disappeared down the hallway. “There’s something about her, Seungmin. She’s… I don’t know. It’s like she’s not even real.”

Seungmin’s smirk didn’t fade, but there was a flicker of something—maybe amusement, maybe pity—in his eyes. “Felix, buddy, you’re acting like you’ve been hit by Cupid’s arrow.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Felix muttered.

She glanced at Felix, her eyes flicking over him for the briefest second before moving on as if he were just another piece of office decor. She gave Seungmin a nod and continued walking, disappearing into one of the sleek glass offices.

“What was that about?” Felix asked, feeling more out of the loop than ever.

Seungmin just smirked, enjoying this.

As Felix watched her walk by again, his heart hammered in his chest. His mind was racing with a thousand thoughts, but the loudest one was simple: Don’t let her go. Without thinking, he blurted out, “Hey, excuse me!”

She turned slowly, her sharp, captivating eyes locking onto his, and Felix felt like the world around them blurred for a second. He swallowed hard. Her expression was unreadable, her eyebrow slightly raised in question, but she didn’t look annoyed. Yet.

“Uh, hi,” Felix stammered, trying to gather himself. He ran a hand through his hair, attempting to play it cool, but the nervous energy practically buzzed off him. “I know this is, like, probably the worst time… considering I’m here for a job interview and all, but I—I just couldn’t help myself.”

She crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly. “Couldn’t help yourself with what?” Her tone was calm, but there was a slight edge to it, like she was testing him.

Felix bit his lip, steeling himself for whatever was going to happen next. “You see, I don’t usually do this—especially not when I’m, uh, supposed to be here for a professional reason. But when I saw you… something clicked. Like, I don’t know—one of those cheesy moments where the room fades out, and all you can see is one person. Yeah, I know it sounds ridiculous.”

Her lips quirked slightly, just a tiny hint of amusement. “Go on.”

He felt emboldened, taking her slight reaction as encouragement. “Look, I know I’m coming off as the guy who’s way too forward, but I just have to say it. You’re—well, you’re kind of like the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in a long time. And I’m not just talking about the way you look—although, yeah, I’d be lying if I didn’t mention that. There’s something about the way you carry yourself that’s got me completely... captivated. Like I’m supposed to meet you, you know?”

She blinked, her face still mostly unreadable, but there was something behind her eyes now—a flicker of curiosity.

“So, what I’m trying to say is… Would it be too forward to ask for your number?” Felix scratched the back of his head, offering her a sheepish smile. “I mean, life’s short, right? They always say love finds you in the most unexpected places. Who’s to say this—" he gestured awkwardly between them, "—isn’t one of those moments?”

She stared at him for a beat, her expression unreadable once again. Then, to Felix’s utter surprise, a soft, almost teasing smile crept across her lips.

“Love, huh?” she mused, her voice calm but with an edge of something Felix couldn’t quite place. “That’s quite the leap for someone you don’t even know.”

Felix’s cheeks burned, but he chuckled nervously, shrugging. “Hey, it’s worth a shot, right? I mean, you never know unless you try.”

She held his gaze for a moment longer before letting out a soft laugh. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that.”

Felix’s heart soared, convinced he was winning her over. “So, does that mean…?”

Before he could finish his question, Seungmin appeared at her side, handing her a coffee. “Your coffee, boss,” he said casually, with a knowing smirk.

Felix’s face dropped in confusion, the words hanging in his throat. Boss? He blinked, staring at Seungmin, then back at her.

She gave Seungmin a nod, then turned to Felix, her smile fading into a more serious expression. “Nice try, Mr. Lee,” she said smoothly, “but I don’t mix business with pleasure. Especially not with employees.”

Felix’s stomach dropped. Boss?

...

Felix waited, anxiety curling tight in his gut as he sat in the waiting area. Every second felt like an eternity, his foot tapping nervously against the tiled floor. Employees passed by, their footsteps quick and hushed, almost as if they were afraid of being noticed. There were no friendly smiles or casual conversations—just tense, whispered exchanges. Felix couldn’t help but overhear snippets of conversations, each one making his stomach churn with unease.

“…she’s impossible to please…” “…don’t mess up around her, or you’re done…” “…seriously, who even smiles around here?”

His heart pounded as the rumors about the CEO grew darker with each passing minute. People spoke of her like she was some kind of mythical creature—an untouchable, no-nonsense figure who ruled the company with an iron fist. She didn’t just run the company; she commanded it. Apparently, she had fired people on the spot for the smallest mistakes, and there were stories about how she once made an entire department redo a project just because the font wasn’t up to her standards.

Felix swallowed hard, his palms already starting to sweat. Great. Just great. He hadn’t expected this. Sure, he’d thought maybe she’d be intimidating—what CEO wasn’t? But this sounded like she ate people like him for breakfast and didn’t blink an eye afterward.

He wiped his hands on his pants, trying to stop them from trembling. This was supposed to be a simple job interview, not a face-off with some corporate dragon.

Seungmin’s voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts. “Felix?”

Felix’s head jerked up, meeting Seungmin’s amused gaze. “Yeah?” His voice cracked slightly, betraying the nervousness he was trying to hide.

Seungmin’s smirk was infuriatingly calm. “The CEO will see you now.”

Felix’s stomach did a full somersault, the anxiety pooling into something closer to dread. “You sure I’m ready for this?” He didn’t mean to sound so desperate, but at this point, all the rumors had his confidence teetering on the edge of a cliff.

Seungmin’s sly smile widened, like he knew something Felix didn’t—like this was all part of some big, cosmic joke that Felix was the punchline to. “As ready as you’ll ever be,” he said, his tone dripping with something unsettlingly playful.

With a deep, shaky breath, Felix stood, his legs feeling like they might give out at any moment. The walk to the office door felt like a march toward doom, and when Seungmin opened the door for him, Felix was hit with a wave of cold, sterile air.

The office itself was as intimidating as the woman who sat at the desk. It was pristine—almost unnaturally so. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the far wall, giving a sweeping view of the city, but the grandeur of the view did nothing to calm the nerves gnawing at his insides. Everything about the space screamed power and control. The polished desk was large, and every item on it seemed meticulously placed, as if the slightest misalignment would be unacceptable.

And there she was—the woman from the lobby. The one he had been so smitten by just minutes ago. The one he had asked for her number. Now, sitting behind a desk with an air of authority that made his knees weak for an entirely different reason.

She didn’t look up right away. Her eyes were focused on the papers in front of her, flipping through them with a precision that felt almost clinical. But then, as if sensing his presence, she finally looked up, her gaze locking onto him. Those same eyes that had caught his attention earlier were now cold, assessing. Gone was the soft allure he’d been entranced by—replaced with a sharp, calculating focus that pinned him to the spot.

“Mr. Lee, is it?” Her voice was smooth, but there was no warmth in it.

Felix’s throat tightened. “Uh, yes. That’s me.”

She leaned back in her chair, her movements deliberate and controlled, as if every gesture had a purpose. Her expression was unreadable, though Felix thought he saw a faint glimmer of recognition in her eyes. It was the briefest flicker—perhaps she remembered their awkward little moment in the lobby.

“Hmm,” she said, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him. “I understand you’re interested in…”

Felix could feel the sweat on his palms again, his mind racing. Her intense gaze was making it impossible to think clearly. “Joining your team,” he managed to blurt out, his voice coming out more shaky than he intended.

Her gaze didn’t waver, and the room seemed to grow colder under her scrutiny. “No, that’s not it. I believe there was something else you mentioned earlier,” she said, her tone holding a subtle edge. She gestured between them, mimicking the awkward movement he had made when talking to her in the lobby. “What was it again? Something about…”

She paused, guesturing the way he did. “Love, was it?”

Felix’s mind went blank for a moment. Love? Oh god, had he really said that? He felt the heat rising to his face, his heart thudding in his chest. This was bad. Really bad. But all he could think about was how absurd this situation was. Just a short while ago, he’d been smitten by her beauty, bold enough to ask for her number. And now—now she was sitting behind this massive desk, her gaze like a hawk’s, making him squirm under her scrutiny.

“L-L-Love,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah, I think I might’ve said something about that.”

Her lips quirked ever so slightly, but there was no humor in it. “Love,” she repeated, as if testing the word on her tongue. “Bold choice of words for someone seeking a job, don’t you think?”

Felix wanted to sink into the floor, his mind scrambling to find a way to recover from this disaster. But all he could manage was a sheepish smile, his voice weak with nerves. “I… I guess I’m not great at first impressions, ma'am”

Her expression didn’t soften, but there was a flicker of something—amusement, perhaps—before she straightened in her chair again, her cold demeanor slipping back into place. “You’re right about one thing, Mr. Lee. You’re definitely not great at first impressions.”

“I understand, ma’am,” Felix said, doing his best to sound respectful.

“Mr. Lee, do you want to be our company's brand ambassador?”

Felix’s heart skipped a beat. Brand ambassador? That was miles beyond what he’d expected—he thought he’d be lucky to land a basic desk job. His mouth opened, but no words came out at first. Eventually, he nodded, still too dazed to formulate any coherent response.

She dismissed him with a curt nod, her attention already shifting back to the papers on her desk, her focus sharp and unwavering. It was clear she expected him to leave. Felix, still trying to process what had just happened, gave a half-stammered “thank you” before turning to go, his footsteps echoing softly in the room.

As he walked out, his heart pounded, a storm of emotions swirling inside him. How had his day spiraled into this chaotic whirlwind? Just this morning, he’d woken up thinking he’d be begging for a job as a junior assistant or something mundane like that. Now, not only had he embarrassed himself in front of the most intimidating woman he’d ever met, but she also turned out to be his boss—and she’d just offered him a position as brand ambassador. What does that even mean?

His mind raced with a jumble of confusion, disbelief, and—against all odds—curiosity. Why, despite her icy demeanor and the overwhelming pressure that came with her presence, did he still feel that strange pull toward her? It wasn’t just her beauty anymore. There was something more—something in the way she carried herself, the way she commanded a room without saying much at all. Felix had always been drawn to confident people, but this? This felt like being drawn toward the sun, knowing it might burn you alive, but still unable to resist the warmth.

As soon as he stepped out of the office, Seungmin was waiting for him in the hallway, arms crossed and a wicked grin plastered on his face. He leaned against the wall casually, but Felix could tell he had been waiting for this moment.

“Well?” Seungmin asked, barely holding back his laughter. “How’d it go? Surprised?”

Felix glared at him, his frustration bubbling over. “You knew the whole time, didn’t you?”

Seungmin didn’t even try to hide his amusement, his grin widening. “Of course I knew! What, you thought I was going to pass up the opportunity to watch you make a fool out of yourself?”

Felix groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Unbelievable. You set me up! I don’t know if I should thank you or strangle you.”

Seungmin shrugged, his laughter bubbling up now. “Hey, you should be thanking me. I could’ve warned you, but where’s the fun in that? Besides,” he added, leaning in with a smug look, “you got the job, didn’t you? And not just any job—brand ambassador. That’s a pretty sweet gig for someone who just flirted with their boss during a job interview.”

Felix narrowed his eyes, but a reluctant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. As much as he hated to admit it, Seungmin had a point. “Yeah, I guess I did. But you could’ve given me a heads-up, you know? I walked right into that one.”

Seungmin chuckled, clearly unbothered. “What’s the fun in that? Come on, you’re gonna love working here. She’s tough, but if you impress her, she’s loyal. Plus,” he added with a wink, “you’ve already made quite the impression.”

Felix groaned again, but this time there was less frustration and more amusement in his voice. “Yeah, well, I’m not sure if it’s a good one.”

Seungmin clapped a hand on Felix’s shoulder, steering him toward the elevator. “Don’t worry. The fact that you survived that first encounter and still got the job is a good sign. She’s not one to offer positions to just anyone, you know. You’ll be fine.”

As they walked toward the elevator, Felix couldn’t help but steal one last glance at the closed door of her office, feeling a strange mix of excitement and dread bubbling up inside him. He wasn’t sure what was more terrifying—the fact that he now had to work under one of the strictest bosses he’d ever heard of, or the fact that he was genuinely looking forward to it.

He let out a long breath, shaking his head as the elevator doors closed behind them. “This is going to be one hell of a ride, isn’t it?”

Seungmin smirked, hitting the button for the ground floor. “Oh, definitely. But hey, at least you’ll have front-row seats to the fireworks.”

Felix laughed, the tension finally beginning to melt away. “Yeah, front-row seats to my own personal disaster.”

As the elevator descended, Felix couldn’t stop his mind from wandering back to her—her eyes, her no-nonsense demeanor, the way she seemed to effortlessly command respect from everyone around her. He had a feeling this job was going to be a lot more complicated than he’d initially thought.

But despite everything—despite the nerves, the confusion, and the chaos—there was a part of him that couldn’t wait to see what would happen next. Maybe, just maybe, this unexpected twist of fate wasn’t so bad after all.

He glanced at Seungmin, who was still smirking like the cat that ate the canary. “You know what, man? I might just take you up on that ‘strangling’ offer someday.”

Seungmin laughed, unfazed. “Anytime, Felix. Anytime.”

“Seungmin,” Felix finally spoke up, his voice still slightly shaky. “What exactly is a brand ambassador supposed to do here? I mean, I thought I’d be behind the scenes, maybe handling sales or marketing, but this feels… different.”

Seungmin smirked, clearly enjoying Felix’s confusion. “Ah, you still don’t get it, huh? I was wondering when you’d ask.”

Felix frowned. “What do you mean?”

Seungmin leaned against the elevator wall, crossing his arms. “Well, when I say ‘brand ambassador,’ I don’t just mean a guy who’s walking around with flyers or doing customer service. No, no, this is way bigger. You’re not going to be just some face in the background—you’re going to be working with the face of the company.”

Felix blinked, feeling a growing sense of unease. “With the face of the company?”

Seungmin nodded, his grin widening. “Exactly. You know how most companies have models, right? People who represent the brand, the image, and everything the company stands for? Well, here, our CEO is the brand’s face. She’s the one people see in commercials, ads, everything. She doesn’t hire some random model. She is the model.”

Felix’s eyes widened as the pieces started to fall into place. “Wait… so she’s not just the CEO, she’s also—”

“—the literal face of the company,” Seungmin finished, nodding, and Felix understood, obviously, a pretty face like that wouldn't go unnoticed. “She’s the one the public associates with the brand. She’s the one in all the campaigns, the one people see and think, ‘That’s our product.’ And you, my friend, will be working alongside her, not in the shadows, but right there, front and center.”

Felix felt a fresh wave of panic. “So, you’re saying I’m not just working for her, I’ll be working with her? Like, as her partner in this?”

Seungmin shook his head. “ You’ll be modeling with her, attending events, doing photo shoots, being part of the same campaigns, but you wrok under her, man, don't forget that. She’s tough, Felix, but she doesn’t choose just anyone to stand beside her. You’ll have to earn it, but the fact that she offered you the job means she sees something in you. Maybe it was that boldness when you asked for her number, or she thinks you look good, which is, infact, very rare.” He snickered.

Felix groaned, rubbing his temples. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

Seungmin shrugged, chuckling softly. “Hey, if I were in your shoes, I’d be freaking out too. But look, this is a huge opportunity. You’ll learn the ropes, and if you can impress her—which isn’t easy—you’re set. It’s not every day someone gets to model alongside their boss.”

Felix’s nerves were on high alert now. Modeling? He wasn’t sure if he’d signed up for that. But at the same time, the idea of working closely with her, being in the spotlight… it was thrilling. Terrifying, but thrilling.

“So, I’m going to be in photoshoots and campaigns, standing next to her?” Felix asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Seungmin gave him a knowing look. “Yup. You’ll be representing the brand together. And trust me, people are going to be watching your every move.”

Felix’s heart pounded in his chest. He wasn’t sure if this was a dream come true or a nightmare in the making. Either way, he was about to find out.

"I Would've Loved Her Right"

Broken! Jeongin x Dead! Reader(fem)

Part-1

Jeongin stood at the edge of his new apartment, surveying the scene before him. Cardboard boxes were piled high around him, like miniature mountains threatening to topple, each one marked with black ink scribbles indicating their contents. The scent of fresh paint clung to the walls, mingling with the cool, crisp autumn air that slipped through the cracked window, bringing with it a distant hum of city life. It wasn’t much to look at—just a modest one-bedroom unit tucked away in a quiet neighborhood, the kind where the nights were still and the mornings were slow. But it was his. It was a new beginning, a fresh canvas. After months of his life being nothing but fragmented pieces, scattered and disordered, this move felt like the first step toward stitching the chaos back together.

At twenty-one, he hadn’t imagined starting over would be part of his plan. And yet, here he was, standing in a space that was both foreign and strangely comforting.

The breakup had been hard. No—brutal. The kind of heartbreak that left you breathless, hollowed out, with sharp edges where soft feelings used to be. Her words still echoed in his mind, playing on a relentless loop: “You’re not enough, Jeongin. I need more. I need someone who knows what they want.”

He couldn’t shake the sting of it, the way those words had carved into him. But a part of him wondered if she really knew what she wanted. Or was it just easier to push him away with that excuse? Jeongin had loved her. Maybe not in the perfect, all-consuming way people talk about in songs or movies, but in his own quiet, steadfast way. He had loved her deeply, or at least he thought he had. But clearly, it hadn’t been enough.

The past year had been a blur of confusion and soul-searching, trying to pick up the pieces of his identity after she had left. He thought he’d come further by now. He thought moving to this new place would finally make him feel whole again. But now, standing in this empty apartment, the loneliness seemed to press in on him from all sides, an invisible weight that was hard to shake.

He ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath, the silence almost deafening. Maybe this apartment was a symbol of something more. Maybe it wasn’t just the walls that needed to be filled—it was him too.

“I’ll get used to it,” he muttered, running a hand through his unruly hair, the strands sticking up at odd angles. His voice bounced off the bare walls, filling the room for a moment before being swallowed by the empty space. Aside from the occasional groan of the old wooden floorboards beneath his feet, there was nothing but silence—a silence that almost felt alive, watching him, waiting for something.

The day had been long, the hours spent unpacking stretching endlessly. Every box he opened seemed to remind him just how much of his past he was carrying with him, both physically and emotionally.

Finally, Jeongin let himself collapse onto the old leather couch he’d painstakingly dragged up three flights of stairs. It groaned under his weight, the worn cushions sagging slightly, but it was the only piece of furniture that felt even remotely familiar.

The rest of the apartment had come furnished, a detail that had seemed convenient at first. But now, sitting among the mismatched, outdated pieces, it felt a little unsettling. The furniture was old, fraying at the edges, and the entire place seemed as if someone had lived here once and left in a hurry, abandoning more than just their belongings.

The eeriness of it gnawed at him, a faint unease settling in the pit of his stomach. There was a story here, lingering in the dust, in the creases of the worn upholstery. Who had lived here before him? And why had they left so abruptly? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answers to those questions.

Kicking his feet up onto the rickety coffee table in front of him, his eyes fell on something he hadn’t noticed before. A small drawer tucked underneath the table, its handle crooked, as if it had been pulled too many times. It caught his attention like a whisper in the dark, urging him to look closer. Curiosity piqued, he leaned forward and gave the handle a gentle tug. The drawer slid open with a creak, revealing something unexpected.

Inside, nestled in the dusty interior, was a small, leather-bound book.

"Huh..." he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, as he reached into the drawer and carefully lifted the small book from its dusty resting place. It was heavier than he had expected for such a compact object, the weight of it somehow amplifying the sense of mystery that surrounded it. He turned it over in his hands, the worn leather cover soft under his fingers, smoothed by time and use, as though it had been held and handled countless times before. Its deep brown surface was cracked in places, like the lines of an old map, hinting at a long history. The texture, though weathered, felt oddly comforting—like the embrace of something familiar despite being unknown.

There were no markings on the cover. No title, no name, no decorative embossing. Just the plain, unadorned leather, worn and faded, offering no clues as to its contents or origin. He ran his thumb along the spine, where the stitching had frayed just slightly, evidence that it had been opened and closed many times, its secrets shared and sealed again. The pages, however, were a different story. Though yellowed slightly with age, they seemed remarkably well-preserved, untouched by the passing of time that had left its mark on the cover. He could feel the smooth edges of the paper beneath his fingers as he fanned them lightly, a faint, musty scent escaping—a smell like old libraries, full of forgotten stories and hidden memories.

His heart skipped a beat. It looked like a journal, the kind people pour their thoughts into when no one else is listening. But something about it felt... different. More personal. Almost sacred, as though it held more than just mundane daily entries. It was as if this little book, so unassuming in appearance, contained pieces of someone’s life—fragments of their soul—trapped between its pages, waiting for someone to discover them.

For a moment, he froze, fingers hovering over the edge of the cover, unsure of whether or not to open it. A strange sense of reverence washed over him, making him hesitate. This wasn’t just some discarded item, left behind carelessly with the rest of the furniture. This was someone’s diary, someone’s private thoughts, written down with the intent of being hidden, or at least kept secret. Whoever had lived in this apartment before him had probably filled these pages with their most intimate feelings, things they hadn’t been able to say out loud, things they couldn’t confide in anyone else. Maybe even things they hadn’t admitted to themselves.

Was it wrong to read it?

The question buzzed in his mind, a moral dilemma he hadn’t anticipated. His first instinct was to close the drawer, to put the journal back where he’d found it and leave it untouched. It wasn’t his to read. These weren’t his memories, his experiences. It felt invasive, like he was crossing a line, stepping into a space that wasn’t his to occupy. He imagined someone reading his own thoughts, the vulnerable words he kept buried inside himself, and a knot formed in his stomach.

But then again, the person who had written this was long gone. Whoever they were, they had left the apartment, left this life behind, and hadn’t bothered to take the journal with them. Maybe they had forgotten it, or maybe they had meant to leave it. Maybe, in some strange way, it was meant to be found.

He couldn’t help but wonder about the previous tenant. Who were they? What had their life been like here, in this same space where he now stood? Had they been happy? Lonely? Had this apartment held the same weight of solitude for them that it did for him? Or had it been filled with warmth, with love, with laughter, before something changed? Jeongin felt an odd connection to this unknown person, someone he had never met and would likely never know. Their presence lingered here, in the worn furniture, in the faint smell of something sweet that still clung to the walls. And now, in this journal.

The more he thought about it, the more his curiosity grew. What kind of person leaves behind something so personal, something that surely held significance? Maybe it wasn’t just the apartment that carried a story—maybe this little book did too. And maybe, just maybe, it was a story he was supposed to uncover. After all, wasn’t that the whole point of starting over? To find meaning in the things that had been lost? To rebuild not just his own life, but to make sense of the world around him? Perhaps this journal, left behind in the empty shell of an apartment, held a piece of that meaning, waiting to be discovered.

Jeongin exhaled slowly, his decision made. He wasn’t sure if it was fate or just happenstance, but he couldn’t resist the pull of the unknown. The temptation was too strong, the mystery too compelling to ignore. After all, wasn’t this what he had wanted—a fresh start, a way to move forward? Maybe this journal, with all its secrets, could offer him some kind of clarity, or at least a distraction from the thoughts that had been circling in his own mind for too long.

He swallowed the lingering hesitation, his fingers tightening around the edges of the book. Slowly, carefully, as if he were unwrapping a delicate gift, he opened the cover.

He flipped open the first page, and his eyes skimmed over the neat handwriting.

“There are some things I’ll never say aloud, some truths that stay buried because they’re too heavy to carry. I’m tired of pretending to be whole when I’m rotting inside...”

Jeongin blinked, his breath catching in his throat. It was just ink on a page, but the weight behind it felt like a punch to the chest. This wasn’t the casual doodling of someone passing time. No, this was a confession, the kind you only make to yourself when the world has turned away and left you alone with your thoughts.

He found himself reading the sentence again, letting the words settle in his mind. I’m tired of pretending to be whole... That line stuck with him. It wasn’t dramatic or over-the-top, but it cut deep, the honesty of it almost too sharp. Whoever wrote this—whoever lived here before him—had been carrying something heavy, something they couldn’t share with anyone. It was a loneliness he recognized too well.

For a second, he thought about closing the book, about putting it back where he found it and walking away from the private pain hidden in its pages.

But instead, his fingers tightened around the leather cover.

He knew he wasn’t done reading. Not yet.

He flipped the pages, as if to get an overview of the whole thing, and his eyes landed upon this sentence:

“I loved him, but love isn’t enough. Not when you’re broken. Not when every ‘I love you’ feels like a lie because you don’t love yourself.”

He cried. It was too relatable, it was too painful, he set it aside and looked at it as if it slapped him in the face.

It felt like the book looked back at him, with an intense gaze, a gaze that was too painful, begging to ease the burden it has to bear, with the painful words written on it.

He carried that book with him wherever he went now, as if it had become a part of him. It wasn’t just a book anymore; it was a place he could retreat to, a source of unexpected answers hidden within the questions scribbled across the pages. The questions she wrote were sometimes the very ones he found himself asking, though he never quite put them into words. And when he read those questions, it felt like, in some strange way, he received answers too, as if the act of reading her thoughts gave clarity to his own.

The book had become his constant companion, the one thing he couldn’t leave behind, no matter where he went. It wasn’t just a collection of someone else’s thoughts anymore; it was a lifeline, a whisper of understanding in a world that often felt indifferent. Each page was like opening a door to another world, another mind, another soul. There, tucked between the messy handwriting and tear-stained pages, was a person—someone raw and real, someone who hurt, laughed, and raged, just like him.

The questions she wrote haunted him. They weren’t just idle musings, they were the kind of questions that circled in his own mind late at night when sleep wouldn’t come.

"I'm in the kitchen now. Everyone's asleep. I'm hungry, but I don’t want to eat anything from the fridge. I don’t even know what I want anymore. Do I want to eat? Do I want to sleep? Do I want to wake up tomorrow?"

It wasn’t just hunger she was talking about. He could feel it in the words—the deeper, unspoken craving for something more, something that would fill the emptiness gnawing at her. He recognized it because he’d felt it too. That nameless ache that made you feel like you were missing something essential, something that everyone else seemed to have.

"My mother wants me to become a lawyer. She thinks it’s a respectable job. But how do you explain to someone that you can’t even imagine living long enough to pick a career?"

That line had hit him hard the first time he read it, and it hit him again every time he went back to it. He didn’t know how to explain that kind of heaviness either—the weight of expectations that pressed down until you couldn’t breathe, until the future felt like a foreign concept, like something that didn’t belong to you.

"Why is the hair on my legs so much healthier than the hair on my head? Maybe even my body knows it’s a waste of time to take care of the parts that matter."

Her humor was sharp, biting in a way that made him smile despite himself. But underneath it all, there was always that thread of pain, of uncertainty, as if she didn’t even believe in her own jokes.

"These relatives... she told me I was too young to be having back pains. Well, alright, you rotten chicken fungus of an aunt, you're too old to be alive, but here we are, aren’t we?"

Jeongin had laughed out loud the first time he read that. It was such a strange, unexpected combination of words. She was angry, frustrated, but instead of letting it consume her, she twisted it into something absurd. It was her way of fighting back against a world that didn’t make sense. And maybe that’s why he felt such a strong connection to her.

She was like him, trying to make sense of things that couldn’t be understood.

But then there were the moments when her humor cracked, when the weight of everything she was carrying bled through the pages.

"Even the shrimp in my soup looked at me like it was disgusted to be eaten by someone as useless as me. Maybe that’s why I threw up when I got home. Maybe my body is rejecting me, just like everything else does."

Those lines made his chest ache. He didn’t know her, but he could feel her pain as if it were his own. And in some ways, it was. They were strangers, but their experiences overlapped in ways that were impossible to ignore. She wrote about her feelings of worthlessness, her moments of self-doubt, and it mirrored so much of what he had felt in his own life.

"I bled too much this month. I honestly got scared, thought I might die. And for a second, I hoped I would. Isn’t that pathetic?"

Sometimes, he felt like he was trespassing on something sacred, like he had stumbled into the most private parts of someone’s soul and wasn’t supposed to be there. But he couldn’t stop. The more he read, the more he understood her, and the more he understood himself.

She had written about love too, though it was clear that love had never been kind to her.

"I think the worst part of being in love is realizing that you’re not worth being loved back. I waited for him to notice me, but I was invisible. I gave everything, but it was never enough. I’ll never be enough. Maybe no one will ever love me."

"I think about him all the time. What he’s doing, where he is, why he hasn’t called. And when he finally does, it’s like I’m waiting for scraps of his attention, begging for something that never comes. I hate myself for it. I hate myself for loving him."

"He’s always busy, always tired, always has an excuse. But when he needs something, I’m the first person he calls. And I always go. I always show up. I can’t say no, even when I know I should. I think I’m scared he’ll leave for good if I stop trying. But why do I care? Why do I care about someone who doesn’t care about me?"

"I told him I needed more. That I was tired of feeling like an afterthought, like I was always chasing him. He laughed. Laughed. Like I was being ridiculous, like I was overreacting. He said I was being clingy, that I was too emotional. He made me feel like I was asking for too much, even though I knew I wasn’t. All I wanted was for him to care about me the way I cared about him."

"I look in the mirror and I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I’ve become this person who waits around for someone who doesn’t care if I’m there or not. I feel so small, like I’ve disappeared into the shadows of his life, and he doesn’t even notice. I’m losing myself, and I don’t know how to get me back."

"He never even said he loved me. Not once. And I think that’s what hurts the most—that I gave him everything, and he couldn’t even give me those three words."

Those words stayed with him long after he closed the book, hanging in the air like a ghost he couldn’t shake off.

He traced his fingers over the blotchy ink, smudged from what he could only assume was a tear that had fallen while she wrote. It was old now, the paper yellowing around the edges, but the pain still felt fresh. His own tears fell onto the page, mingling with the remnants of hers, creating new blotches, new marks of shared sorrow.

It reminded him of his own heartbreak, the nights he had spent lying awake, wondering what he had done wrong, why he hadn’t been enough. At least he had experienced it, love, even if it had been fleeting and unreciprocated. He had felt it, even when it was small, even when it had hurt. She, on the other hand, seemed like she had never even had the chance. She had never known what it felt like to be truly loved, to be held, to be seen. And that, more than anything, broke his heart.

And sometimes, in those quiet moments when the world felt still and all he had were her words, Jeongin couldn’t help but think:

If I had met her, I would’ve loved her. I would’ve loved her the way she deserved to be loved. I would’ve held her, told her she wasn’t invisible. I would’ve loved her right.

It was a strange thought, irrational even, to love someone he had never met, someone whose face he couldn’t even picture. But it wasn’t about that. It was about the way she made him feel, the way her words spoke to the deepest parts of him. They were both broken in their own ways, both wandering through life with pieces missing. But together, even if only through the fragile connection of ink on paper, they were whole. At least, that’s what he told himself.

In one of her final entries, she had written something that had stayed with him longer than anything else:

“I wonder if anyone would notice if I disappeared. If I just...faded away. Maybe it’s better this way. No one gets hurt when you’re invisible.”

He had gone to the kitchen that night, seeking out the spot she had described. It was cramped, barely enough room to stand, let alone sit and write. He had pushed the table aside, just a little, and squeezed himself into the space. It was uncomfortable, awkward, nothing like the peaceful image her words had painted. Yet, as he stood there, the cool air brushing against his skin, he understood why she had chosen that spot. It was a place where she could be alone, but still feel connected. A place where she could write her pain into the world and, in doing so, release it, even if only for a moment.

He stood there for a long time, just reading her words, feeling the weight of them settle into his bones. And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel so alone.

In that moment, he felt closer to her than ever, connected by this strange, unspoken bond through the pages of her diary.

Months passed, and Jeongin had read the diary so many times, he could recite some of the entries from memory, it was like some kind of faith, like some kind of devotion.

Everytime he reads it, he finds something new.

It was only after the 6th read he was able to figure out that her handwriting was actually bad, she wanted to maintain her diary well.

Only after the third read he found out that she had siblings, and she was the eldest.

Yet, no matter how many times he read it, the ending always left him haunted. The last page she had written on was almost too painful to bear.

“I wonder if anyone would notice if I disappeared. If I just...faded away. Maybe it’s better this way. No one gets hurt when you’re invisible.”

After that, the pages were blank.

She had stopped writing, and no matter how many times Jeongin flipped through the journal, hoping for just one more entry, there was nothing. No final thoughts, no explanation, not even a hint of what might have happened to her. The silence in those empty pages gnawed at him, as if the story had been abruptly cut off, leaving him suspended in a web of unanswered questions. Each time he opened the journal, his fingers traced the edges of the worn paper, yearning for some kind of closure, but it never came.

It had been a long time since Jeongin had written anything of his own. In his younger days, he had filled countless journals with his thoughts, feelings, and the trivial moments of everyday life. But somewhere along the way, as the years passed, life became too overwhelming—too fast, too chaotic, too painful. The words that once flowed easily from his pen had dried up, like a river dammed by the weight of reality. Yet now, as he stared at the blank pages in front of him, something deep inside began to stir. It was a faint, almost forgotten feeling—a quiet urge to express, to release. The silence of her journal, the unanswered questions, seemed to call out to him, beckoning him to fill the empty space with his own words once again.

He grabbed a pen and began to write.

The journal had become a lifeline for Jeongin. Every day, he’d write. Sometimes it was a response to something she had written, just beside or above and near the empty spaces of the page, with a different colored ink—other times, it was just his own thoughts, the things he couldn’t say to anyone else. The pages that had once been hers were slowly becoming his too.

The breakup didn’t hurt as much anymore. The scars were still there, of course, but they had faded. He had begun to move on, even if the world felt a little lonelier without her words to guide him.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about her. About what might have happened to her after she stopped writing. The thought gnawed at him, and after a year had passed, after his graduation and the start of his new job, Jeongin made a decision.

He was going to find her.

Jeongin spent weeks searching for her, digging through old records, asking neighbors and looking for any clue as to what had happened to the woman behind the journal. It was difficult, especially since the diary hadn’t given any specific details about her life—no name, no address, no family.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he owed it to her. She had shared so much of herself with him, even though she hadn’t known him. The least he could do was find out who she was.

Eventually, after much frustration and countless dead ends, Jeongin found his answer.

She was dead.

The news hit him like a punch to the gut. He sat in the small, local library where he had been doing his research, staring at the old obituary. There was no photo, just a brief mention of her passing, no cause of death listed. It was as if she had simply vanished from the world, just as she had written about.

Jeongin felt tears burn at the back of his eyes. All this time, he had been reading her words, connecting with her, hoping that maybe she had found peace. But she hadn’t.

She was gone.

The funeral had long passed, but Jeongin found the grave—a small, unmarked stone in a quiet corner of the cemetery. It was so unassuming, almost like no one had cared enough to give her a proper place of rest, as if she were some kind of dead fish, no, a fish would've had a better funeral.

“I would have loved you,” he whispered, kneeling by the gravestone. His fingers traced the cold marble, his heart heavy with all the words he wished he could say to her. “I would have loved you right.”

The wind blew softly, as if the universe itself was listening, but no answer came.

Jeongin stayed there for a long time, just sitting with her, feeling the weight of her absence. When he finally stood, he pulled the journal from his bag, the pages now worn from his constant reading. He had one last thing to ask.

Falling, Laughing, Loving

SUMMARY: Life gets harder after falling in love, but he doesn't care

Crazy in love! Minho x Reader

Minho used to think luck was for the overly optimistic. He was always a realist—things worked out because he worked for them. The world didn’t hand out success based on some invisible charm; you had to earn it. That’s how he became the best student in his class. It wasn’t luck that got him praised by the dean. It wasn’t luck that helped him win the baseball championship either. And when he stood on stage with a certificate in his hand, or when the dean patted him on the back, or when his team celebrated their trophy win, Minho felt… nothing.

He knew he should have felt proud, maybe even ecstatic. But all it was to him was another task checked off his list, another thing expected of him.

That was before you.

Minho didn’t notice it at first. You were just his classmate, the girl sitting a few rows away during lectures, always scribbling in your notebook and looking half-lost but still managing to answer questions when asked. But the more he saw you, the more he found himself wondering what was going on in your mind.

And then, there was that one day. It was after an exhausting class—everyone was groaning about the workload, but you? You were smiling, laughing about something with your friend. It was contagious, and for the first time, Minho felt something different. A lightness in his chest. A laugh bubbled up inside him just because you were smiling.

That was when he started noticing you more. The way your laughter echoed in the classroom, the way you’d zone out and absentmindedly tap your pen on the desk, the way your eyes lit up when you got an answer right. He didn’t know how or when, but Minho was falling. Slowly, but surely.

And that’s when life decided to play a trick on him.

Minho stood with his friends at the top of the stairs near the college's entrance, chatting about an upcoming project. He was mid-sentence when his thoughts drifted. There you were, at the bottom of the stairs, laughing with someone. His mind instantly focused on you—your smile, the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed.

Then it happened.

Without warning, his foot slipped, and before he knew it, he was tumbling down the stairs. His body hit the steps hard, but his mind was still on you. When he landed at the bottom, groaning in pain, he looked up and there you were, staring down at him with a surprised but amused expression.

Minho’s brain wasn’t even processing the pain. All he could focus on was the fact that you were at the bottom of the escalator. You were watching, concern and amusement dancing in your eyes. You hurried over, a slight smile tugging at your lips.

"You alright, Minho?" you asked, crouching down to his level, gently brushing his hair away from his forehead. Your touch was featherlight, but it set his skin on fire.

Minho blinked up at you, his heart doing somersaults in his chest. "Y-yeah… I’m good," he stammered, trying to act cool but failing miserably.

You stood up, giving him a light pat on the shoulder. "Be careful next time, alright? We don’t want to lose our best student to a staircase."

Minho stood frozen for a moment, watching you leave, a stupid grin forming on his face. His friends ran up to him, their eyes wide with concern.

"Bro, are you okay?" Jisung asked, gripping his arm.

"Yeah, dude, you just face-planted down like ten steps," Hyunjin added.

Minho blinked, snapping out of it. "Wait, did you see that?" he asked, excitement bubbling in his voice.

"Yeah, we saw you nearly break your neck," his friend deadpanned.

"No, not that!" Minho shook his head, still grinning. "She laughed. Because of me!"

His friends stared at him, clearly confused.

"Dude, you almost broke your face," Seungmin said.

Minho only laughed, ignoring their bewildered looks. "She laughed," he repeated softly, his heart swelling at the memory, "Because of me, she touched my head too...".

His friends exchanged looks, clearly baffled. "Bro, you hit your head harder than we thought."

That night, Minho was at home, sitting at the kitchen table with his four-year-old cousin, Jun, who was visiting with his family. The little boy squirmed in his seat as Minho scrolled through his phone, landing on a picture of you from a group project last semester.

"Look, Jun," Minho said, showing the picture to the wide-eyed child. "Isn’t she pretty?"

Jun looked at the screen, eyes going big with curiosity before a giggle escaped him. "She’s cute!"

"Right?" Minho smiled fondly, completely smitten.

Just as he was about to swipe to another photo, Jun, in his excitement, knocked over his juice, spilling it all over the table—and Minho’s class notes. The liquid soaked through the paper, smudging ink and ruining hours of work.

But Minho didn’t flinch. Normally, he’d be frustrated, maybe even furious. Instead, he grinned, wiping the table casually with a cloth.

"Ah, Jun! You couldn’t handle her cuteness either, huh?" Minho laughed, patting his cousin’s head. "Don’t worry, she’s so gorgeous, even I can’t handle it sometimes."

His high school cousin, seated across from him, nearly choked on his food. "Are you serious right now? You’re not mad?"

Minho looked up, still smiling. "Why would I be mad? I just got to show Jun the prettiest girl in the world."

His cousin blinked, setting down his fork. "Minho, dude, are you okay? Did you hit your head today?"

Minho laughed again, a carefree sound that made his cousin squint at him like he was losing his mind. But he didn’t care. None of it mattered. All he could think about was the fact that earlier, you had laughed at his clumsiness, you called out his name, you touched his hair with your soft fingers, he could still feel them. You had patted his shoulder and smiled at him.

He leaned back in his chair, sighing dreamily. "I’m great. Never better."

The next day, Minho walked into class, his eyes immediately scanning the room for you. You were there, sitting near the window, that same peaceful smile on your face as you stared outside. He found a seat behind you, unable to focus on anything other than how much his luck had changed since you entered his life.

A few days later, you and Minho found yourselves walking out of class together. It wasn’t planned—it just sort of happened. You were talking about something, your voice filling the quiet hallway, and Minho was only half-listening. He was too busy watching you, the way your lips moved when you spoke, the way your hair bounced with each step.

He was so distracted, he didn’t see the doorframe.

With a loud thunk, Minho walked straight into the edge of the door, groaning as he rubbed his forehead.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" you asked, clearly trying not to laugh as you reached out to steady him.

Minho winced, but seeing you trying so hard not to laugh at his misfortune made the pain completely worth it. "I’m fine. Totally fine," he said, flashing you a sheepish smile.

You giggled, shaking your head. "You’re such a klutz lately."

Minho chuckled, brushing off the embarrassment. "Yeah, but if I make you laugh, it’s totally worth it."

"What?" You asked, pretending to not hear.

"Nothing, I'm just enjoying my life a bit too much" He laughs.

Before you, he’d never thought of himself as lucky. Even with all his achievements, nothing ever really felt like it mattered. But now? Every little mishap, every small inconvenience, every time he tripped or spilled something—it all seemed worth it, just because it led to moments where he got to see you smile, hear your laugh, or feel your touch, even if it was just a pat on the shoulder.

And as Minho stood there next to you, he knew one thing for certain:

He was the luckiest guy in the world.

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛꜱ

—  stray kids

—  ateez

ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ

— about me

— wips (to be added)

© santastic  —  all rights reserved. reposting, translating, copying and/or stealing is prohibited. ask permission if you wish to create anything inspired by my original ideas.

KNEE SOCKS.

Seungmin x reader. (mild smut, f)

Synopsis: Seungmin found you sleeping on his bed with knee socks on that intrigues him. (2,1k words)

“It will be done in a few minutes!” Seungmin said, letting go of your hand before he swiveled his chair back behind the desk, working on the group project that needed immediate editing.

He went back and forth between his laptop and phone since the deadline was this afternoon.

We planned on going to the movies today since it has been a while that the two of you going on a proper date.

You came early to his place with cups of coffee in your hands and some bakery goods, thinking you could have a peaceful breakfast together before going out for the day, found him stressed over a phone call instead.

“It’s okay, take your time.” You told him, giving him a reassuring smile. You turned on your heels and left him to focus on his project.

Your attention shifted to the unmade bed in the next room, it’s very unusual of Seungmin, remembering that he is a neat person.

Seungmin must have woken up and gone straight working on his project, not having time to make the bed.

You walked toward the bed, started tidying up the sheet, puffed the pillows, and folded the bedding. Once you finished, you sat at the corner of the bed, sighing and feeling satisfied.

You looked through the window at the cold frosty morning, the sun shines but not enough to beat the cold away, the softness and warmth of the duvet inviting you to lie down and snug.

You refused to give in to the temptation, looking at the way you were dressed nicely in a fluffy sweater and a skirt with knee-high socks on, but the thought just died down the second you climbed onto the bed, feeling the comfort of the bed under you.

“I’m just going to lay down for a bit.” You reminded yourself before you lay down on the bed.

You could barely keep your eyes open as you felt the warmth and comfort of Seungmin’s bed and his scent that clung on every inch of the fabric.

Seungmin was surprised to find you sleeping on his bed, curling up sideways like a cat napping under the ray of sun.

With your hands folded under your head and eyes closed, he couldn’t find you any cuter than this. He walked over to you, sitting on the edge of the bed then carefully removing strands of hair that covered your face to take a better look at you.

Rubbing his thumb over your cheek in lazy circles, he did it tenderly as if you might crack if he tapped on it.

He ran his hand down your shoulder, dipping down your waist and stopping at the curve of your hip, “So beautiful!” he murmured, his voice low, almost like a whisper.

Shifting his body so he could take in all of you with his eyes, scanning you from head to toe, something flickered in him when he saw your black knee-high socks and the back of your thighs peeking out under your skirt.

He was torn between slipping his hand under your skirt or tear down your knee socks and just by the thought alone is enough to excite him.

It feels wrong to him if he does it while you’re sleeping, mostly because it would be less exciting not seeing your reaction when he pulls your knee socks down your legs.

He holds that thought away for later, taking a sharp intake of breath to calm him down, and consoled himself by rubbing your calf.

You almost kicked the air when you felt something touching your leg, afraid that it might be bugs but found out it was just your boyfriend. You scoffed at your ridiculous thought.

He beamed with smiles the second he saw your eyes fluttering open.

“Hey, baby!“ He said, placed his hand on the small of your back.

"I fell asleep,” you croaked, “you’re done with your deadline?” You asked, slowly sitting up with your hands propped against the mattress, facing him.

He nodded, “Yes, we are free to do anything now,” he said, scrunching his nose at you.

He knows better that it gives you butterfly whenever he does that, and you know well enough that he did it on purpose.

“Anything?” You asked, head tipped to the side.

He looked down at your lap, “You dressed nicely!” shot you a sweet smile but one corner of his mouth curled slightly upward than the other.

He planned something on his mind, you have no other option but try to guess what was it, his hidden intention.

Placing a hand on his chest, you said, “Of course, I want to look good for you!”

You steered your hand to his neck and held him there.

Seungmin traced his hand down your side, down to your thigh, looking down at your lap again, he asked, “You even wear a skirt for me?”

You are not a big skirt wearer but Seungmin likes it when you dress cutely, you know he didn’t mean that you have to wear a skirt but it’s worth trying, on top of that, you want to impress him.

“You like it?” You asked as he pinching at the hem of your skirt.

“Hmm…” he hummed, tugging and slipped a finger into the elastic band of your knee-high socks.

“I like this more,” he said, snapped his head at you, eyes looking straight at you.

Is that why you found him rubbing your legs when you woke up? Your mind started to catch up with his. He likes seeing you in those knee socks covering your legs, you rubbed your legs together to test how it’s going to affect him.

“Glad you like it! I thought I looked silly in this.” You said, pressing your thighs together to tease him a little bit more.

His breath hitched, you finally caught up with him.

You let out a low chuckle, taking a fistful of his shirt with your hand to bring his face close to yours and lean in for a kiss.

His lips felt warm on you, he cupped your jaws with both hands, trying to kiss you deeper the moment you opened your mouth for him.

You kept your mouth open for him as he slipped his tongue inside, tasting you. Next thing you know, he was pressing down on you, sending both of you collapsing onto the mattress.

He sucked on your lower lip before pulling away, “You taste so good!” he said it with such coy as if his kiss didn’t send your mind spiraling out of control.

Your stomach knotted inside, feeling tingling inside.

He nuzzled his head into your neck, cold air from his exhales brushed your skin as he breathing you in, sending shivers down your spine.

His hand rested on the flat of your stomach, “You smell so good too!” He whispered into your ears, low and sultry.

He drew his head back from you, moving his hand down south to the hem of your skirt and slipping underneath.

You gasped as you felt his fingers dancing on your thigh.

“Want to know something?” He asked, so casually as if his hand wasn’t under your skirt, kneading the back of your thigh.

“Yeah?”

He gave you a quick peck on the lips before giving you the answer.

“You look so beautiful when you sleep,” he said, added another peck on your flushed lips, “I almost couldn’t keep my hands off of you.”

He gave you a slippery kiss on the corner of your mouth, now that his hand palming your rear, finger teasing the edge of your underwear.

"And seeing you in this,” Eyeing down the knee socks, he continued,

“how can you be looking so innocent that makes me want to ruin you?”

You bit your lower lip, taking in everything he said to you, feeling even hotter and bothered as you processing what he said to you.

He kissed you down your neck, down to your clothed chest and stomach, he lingered there for a few seconds before lowered his lips on the skin just above the waistband of your skirt.

You looked at him with his head buried into your stomach with one hand under your skirt, palming the plump of your flesh.

He finally got up, sitting down beside you, and his hand that was still under your skirt moved to the front, tugging at the elastic band of your underwear.

He pulled it down in a painstakingly slow motion, lifted your hips to help him.

He whimpered the moment he saw the white lacey underwear wet with your arousal but that doesn’t stop him from pulling it down and off your legs. He let out a triumphant sigh now that the underwear have gone out of the way.

He pushed your skirt upward, revealing your exposed wetness for him, feeling his eyes bore onto your skin even before he touched you. His eyes widen, darken, licking his lips, he was practically salivating over you.

You could feel the blood rushing towards your core, the fact that you were fully clothed except for your drenched core made you felt hot and bothered.

Seungmin settled himself in between your legs, hovering over your sex, was thinking of so many things he could do to you and couldn’t decide what to do first, just like a kid at a candy shop.

He lowered his head, snaking his hand under your knees, began by kissing you on your pelvic bone.

You moaned from the feeling of his warm mouth on your skin so close to your tender mound. He then kissed the inside of your thigh, trailing kisses closer and closer to your needy hole, you could feel his ragged breath against your wetness.

He lowered his head, gave a long lick along your slit then looked up to see you cried out from his doing.

He continued licking the tender flesh, you felt his slick, hot tongue sliding in and out of you, his finger rubbing your bundle nerves at the same time, earning loud moans from you.

You looked at Seungmin’s head, sinking between your legs. You shoved your hand in his hair, threading his smooth strands.

Getting even more sensitive by even the slightest of stimulation, you bucked your hips when he sucking in your juice, you tried not to pull his hair too hard.

Your moans grew louder, it seemed to encourage him more as he added more pressure on your clit, his tongue collecting your essence as the sound of his slurping could be heard echoing throughout his bedroom.

“Seungmin,” you called him.

He hummed into you in response.

“I’m so close.” You said, your voice breaking, feeling something building up inside of you and going to burst out of you at any second.

He hummed into you, understood what you were trying to say him. He picking up the pace, fingers, and tongue moving in sync, and you could feel your high closing in.

Your toes curling, legs shaking, it’s suddenly all too much putting you closer and closer to the edge. You cried out as your head tipped to the back, your eyes tightly shut, seeing stars and you screamed out his name repeatedly like a prayer.

Seungmin gave a few licks before pulling away completely, watching your core gushing with fresh juices.

You loosen your grip on Seungmin’s hair, flustered that you might have accidentally pulled his hair too hard, he perked his head up, looking at you, smiling with his mouth and chin glistening wet with your cum.

He couldn’t be hotter than this, you thought, he just ate you up and now he’s softly smiling and looking at you with such loving, all the while his head still hovering between your legs.

“Come here!” You ordered, pulling him by his shoulder. He crawled over to you.

Without any hesitation, you pulled him into a kiss, tasting your own essence in his mouth. He lets you clean it for him as you gently sucking on and around his mouth. He grabbed your wrist as he broke the kiss.

“Aren’t we going to the movies?” He asked with such coy as if he didn’t just go down on you a few minutes ago.

You hummed, thinking of how are you going to focus on a movie when your head is filled with images of Seungmin buried between your legs?

You groaned into his mouth, shaking your head no.

“The movies can wait.” You told him as you wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him close to your body.