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emo-cosplayer · 3 months ago

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loving you is forever ⋆˚ʚɞ

pairing: lee heeseung x reader 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ♡

synopsis: after a one night stand leaves you with a lasting memory of the boy you left behind in the name of your daughter, heejin. you finally decide that it was time to move back home to south korea after living abroad for the last 5 years. reuniting with your old friends was everything you could've wished for as they welcomed you and your daughter; but you don't think you could ever prepare yourself to face the father of your child.

warnings: profanity, kissing, suggestive, mentions of hooking up/one night stands, drinking, characters are in their late 20s, absent father!heeseung (but its not his fault) implying that they didn't use a condom (wrap it up!!), overall 18+

genre: single mom!reader x heeseung, old friends to lovers, kind of exes to lovers, one night stand, angst, romance, drama, hurt/comfort, slow burn-ish

wc: 16558 (idk what happened i swear i blanked out writing this)

hoonieyun notes: she's finally here djfkd it took so long to finish this because i didn't want to rush it and feel like i just had to get it done to get it done. i really hope you all enjoyed this piece of work, i loved writing it and i just want to say: happy valentine's day!! you are all so deserving to be loved and surrounded by those who love you <3

the days of being in seoul, south korea felt just like yesterday when you were a college student awake at 3am eating a hot bowl of ramen after a long night of studying. ramen was your favorite thing back then but as you’ve gotten older, the days of being a broke college student turned into meticulous routine based days where all your focus went to raising your daughter, heejin.

ramen was your favorite, past tense.

you cut the habit of eating ramen so often because you needed to choose healthier options for yourself, setting an example for your daughter that although convenient and inexpensive, eating instant ramen so often wasn’t the healthiest for you.

even though you were her mom, your daughter taught you a lot and you were constantly learning as you grew together. she taught you new habits that made living better like learning to take it easy and lounging around the house with your favorite snacks while watching your favorite show was the best way to clear your head and relax.

you also learned that your previous lifestyle of putting others over yourself was something that would stay with you as you’d do anything for your daughter even if it meant that you sacrifice things that are meant for you if it means that your daughter would have what she wanted.

the air when stepping outside of the airport is crisp, the snow has melted into a thin layer of water coating the ground and it’s slightly cold but nothing a puffer coat couldn’t fix. you looked over to your daughter who was fiddling with the zipper on her own puffer coat, “bambi, you have to keep your jacket on or you’ll get sick.” you softly tell your daughter as you crouch down to her level, zipping her coat back up and adjusting the hood of her hoodie that she had layered under. she pouts to herself but ultimately knows better than to argue because she knows mom is right and because she hates being sick.

when heejin was 4 years old, she had gotten a cold for the first time and although she enjoyed being at home cuddled up under a fuzzy blanket with her favorite plush toy; she hated having a runny nose and being forced to take the yucky medicine, her words not yours– although you agree.

your phone rings and karina’s contact photo lights up on the screen, “hi, yn! i’m here, what pick-up area are you at?” she asks on the other end of the phone, slightly louder than usual so you assume she’s yelling into her car’s built in phone call feature to avoid having to drive with her phone in her hand. you tell her that you’re at arrivals 12 and soon enough you can see karina driving up to you and heejin in her silver suv. karina is your best friend, sister even, you have known each other since you were little, even though she was only a few months older than you she was often that older sister you never had, guiding you through new experiences together and you just wished that when you grew up together, you realized sooner that she was also navigating those new experiences alongside you.

“yn!! it’s been so long!!!” karina cheers as she steps out of her car, rounding the vehicle to give you a warm hug, rocking the two of you side to side as you wrap your own arms around her. “been too long.” she says, emphasizing the words like you were away for a long time. in a lot of ways you were. 5 years is a lot of time away from someone but to you those 5 years went by so much faster.

“is this heejin?” she asks, crouching down to your daughter so she can greet the child. “hi heejin, im aunt karina but you can call me rina, ok?” she says, softly shaking heejin’s small hand with two fingers. “hi auntie rina!” heejin says happily, throwing her hands into the air with a smile.

your daughter was probably the most cheerful and joyful child you’ve ever met. she never threw fits, rarely cried after the age of 2, and was very social with strangers. flashing her cute smile that would instantly melt stranger’s hearts garnering you a, “such a cute baby!” every time they’d see her.

karina stands back up straight and helps you pack your luggage into her trunk, “is this all you brought?” she asks and you explain that you didn’t want to pack too many things because moving with a lot of belongings would make it difficult. you had only flown with 4 suitcases and had 2 boxes shipped over from your old home. opting to only take what truly was important and other material things could simply just be repurchased.

you and karina share another hug before strapping your daughter into her carseat and taking a seat into the passenger side of the car. you and karina catch up like no time has passed, acting like you two were only separated for a few days when in reality it was 5 years. of course the two of you spoke on the phone every now and then while you were abroad but the time difference interfered.

“how was seattle? do you miss it already?” she asks and you have to think about the question. do you miss seattle? or were you happy to be back.

“i'm not sure to be honest. i don’t think ive been away long enough to miss it yet.” you simply say and she nods, “well i know you must’ve seoul. i know we missed you.” she says, glancing over to you

you smile at her remark and tell her that you’ve missed korea and her a lot. those 5 years in seattle went by fast because of your daughter but being away from all of your friends and even your parents was tough. you stayed with your aunt and uncle who lived in seattle who so kindly opened their home for you and 2 years after giving birth to heejin, you had enough saved up to get the two of you a small but perfect 1 bedroom apartment. it was enough for the two of you but to your daughter it was like she was living in a castle; and that’s all that mattered– knowing your daughter was happy.

“you ok?” karina asks and you’re brought back to reality. “yeah, just reminiscing i guess.” you respond and karina chuckles.

“don’t tell me you’re already thinking about going back? you can’t leave just yet, i’m not letting you go.” karina retorts and the two of you burst out into laughter. you reassure her that you weren’t going to leave korea any time soon and that you’d have ample amount of time together to catch up and make so many more memories.

“plus, i’ve got 5 years to catch up with my favorite niece. right, heejin?” she asks, looking over to your daughter in the rearview mirror. “yes aunty rina!” heejin says cheerfully. you laugh at them both and give karina a funny look, “she’s your only niece dude.” you say and karina shrugs, “and? she’s still my favorite!”.

the rest of the car ride is filled with more chit chatting and laughing, happy that the two of you are finally reunited and that you weren’t separated by thousands of miles. soon enough karina is pulling up to your home and she’s quite impressed. while living in the states you had saved enough money to purchase a beautiful home here in seoul.

it’s not the biggest but it has everything you need for you and your daughter. it has 2 rooms and 2 bathrooms, an office space for your work, a big living room with enough space for your daughter to run around in and a backyard for the same reasons. you were happy to have gotten to this point in your life and you were so happy to have a life like this with your daughter.

karina doesn’t stay long after dropping you off, only staying to help you bring in your things, and do a small tour of your home. “i promise i’ll come back tomorrow! i’ve just got some things i need to finish for work.” she explains and you let her know that it’s fine and thank her endlessly for picking up you and your daughter from the airport. you and heejin wave her goodbye as she drives away.

you walk back inside still carrying heejin on your hip. “alright, bambi. it’s just you and me, and our new home.” you say softly and heejin smiles at you.

“just you and me mama!” she says and it makes you smile as you nuzzle your nose with hers.

⋆˚ʚɞ

the next few days are filled with unpacking boxes, waiting for deliveries of furniture and food, and exploring the neighborhood and town. your car was delivered on your 2nd day back in seoul so thankfully you didn’t have to wait around at home or feel guilty of asking karina to drive you around places since she had her own fair share of responsibilities.

your other friends have asked you when they could come visit, especially your cousin; jay– who said, “i can’t believe you let karina see my niece and she’s not even blood!” when he found out karina met your daughter before your cousin.

karina was like your sister but jay was actually blood. jay is your cousin on your mom’s side and you had stayed with his parents while living in seattle until you were able to get a place of your own. he’s a few years younger than you but he was always the wiser of the two of you; he was like the angel on the shoulder of life while you were the devil– however you weren’t evil… just chaotic.

you, jay, and karina all grew up together so you all had a bond that's unbreakable. people often made comments about how jay was the gentleman he is because of all the women he grew up around and you’d agree. he was the kindest and most mature boy you know and even when he loosened up a bit and got chaotic like you, he was always the level-headed and mature jongseong at the end of the day.

when you would sneak out with boys in high school, jay would cover for you.

when you got in trouble for getting a C- on your chemistry exam, jay vouched for you and said that the chemistry teacher at your high school was sexist and punished all the girls in the class.

when you found out you were pregnant, jay was the first person you called and was right by your side every step of the way up until you were boarding the plane to seattle.

jay was your rock and you wished he was your brother but a cousin would suffice just as long as he was always there for you.

you’re about 90% moving into your new home, the last thing that needs to be completed was just tossing out all of the trash and recycling that has accumulated from all of the items you bought or takeout that you’ve been getting so you didn’t have to worry about cooking for the first week of moving back.

you’ve invited jay over for dinner after he’s insisted on cooking dinner for you and your daughter, claiming that he wants to make a good impression on his niece so he wasn’t necessarily going to take no as an answer, and honestly– a home cooked meal by jay sounded nice. he was a great cook, excellent even, you? not so much.

you knew how to cook a variety of things but most of it was out of convenience so that you weren’t always eating takeout. your daughter was simple when it came to her taste buds and favorite foods, 80% of the time she just wants to eat chicken and thankfully she doesn’t complain much about having to eat vegetables. however, never brussel sprouts. she hates brussel sprouts.

it’s around 5PM when you’ve finished putting all of your trash bags outside, giving you just a half hour to freshen up your daughter and you before jay would be arriving. he felt apologetic for not being able to help you move in but you told him that he had nothing to feel sorry for and that you knew he had a busy schedule ever since he took over his dad’s company at the beginning of the year. jay’s dad owned a construction company in seoul and although jay had different passions like music and fashion, he was the type of child to never refuse his parent’s wishes and eventually accepted that he would become the owner when he grew up so there was no point in arguing with his dad.

he was an only child so it was hard not to feel bad for him and see that he had so many things he wanted to do for his life but was often shortsighted and left responsible for whatever his parents wanted because he was their only child.

that was probably why you often felt like you needed to bring jay out of shell and loosen up a bit. being so caught up with the responsibilities he had at home, you wanted to make sure that he still had fun as a teenager because his life as an adult was already planned out for him.

when jay turned 16 you spent all of your christmas money on a guitar he had been talking about for months. jay rarely cried but you remember the pure joy and gratitude in his eyes when he unwrapped the box and saw the familiar leather case he had seen so many times at the guitar shop. you swore you could see his eyes glow from excitement when he unclasped the guitar case and finally saw the instrument on the inside. the fender eric clapton stratocaster electric guitar shined onto his face and you’d never forget the smile on his face as he set aside the guitar next to him so he could get up and give you a hug. telling you how grateful he was and that no one would know how much that gift meant to him besides you.

after changing yourself and your daughter into a fresh pair of clothes, jay was ringing your doorbell. he barely greets you when you answer the door, placing the bags of ingredients into your arms when you open them for a hug and instead he runs into your home to scoop up his niece into his arms.

“jinjin!” jay says as he carries her above his head. a nickname they both came up with whenever they’d facetime.

“uncle jayjay!” she says, giggling at him as he gently tossed her into the air and hugged each other. “yeah i’m here too y’know!” you say, narrowing your eyes at your cousin as you put the bag of groceries down onto your kitchen counter.

“yn-ieee!!” jay says, setting your daughter down onto the counter next to the groceries and giving you a hug of your own. “been so long cousin!” he says and you hum in agreement.

“well it’s not like you couldn’t come visit me in seattle!” you say teasingly and jay rolls his eyes, “oh, please! you wouldn’t even let me no matter how hard i tried– plus you know how busy i got after dad passed over the company.” he says and although he didn’t mean it in that way, you felt a slight tinge of guilt.

“i know, i know jong, just teasing. i missed you.” you say, hugging him again but this time ruffling his hair like you used to do when you were younger.

“so what’s on the menu today, chef?” you ask as you help him unpack the groceries.

“yeah, uncle. jinjin hungry!” your daughter says and you and your cousin laugh at your daughter’s remark. as she’s gotten older and has begun watching toddler shows, she’s picked up on their habits of speaking in 3rd person.

“well, jinjin. uncle jayjay is going to make you ravioli and meatballs. sound good?” he asks, staring at your daughter with a box of ravioli pasta in his hand.

“ravioli?” she asks and jay nods.

“right, you’re 5; you don’t know what that is.” he mutters and you just chuckle.

“come on, heejin. why don’t we set up the table while uncle cooks, hmm?” you ask and she nods eagerly– always excited to be a part of the activity in some way or another just as long as she’s included.

“i want the pink plate!” heejin says as she raises her arms so you could pick her up off the counter and set her on the ground. while you and heejin were at ikea shopping for home supplies, she saw a pink plate with the face of a pig on the top and the tail on the bottom and just had to have it. and honestly, your daughter looked so cute looking at it that you couldn’t say no. as a matter of fact, the plate wasn’t even very expensive and it was cute so it wasn’t a hard decision to say yes.

jay doesn’t take long to finish cooking dinner; knowing to choose something quick and easy to make so that he could feed the two of you and so he could have ample time to hang out with his niece.

needless to say, heejin loved the ravioli and was completely baffled at how they got the cheese inside of the pasta– constantly asking jay how they did it as if it was some sort of magical spell to create a ravioli.

after dinner is over and your daughter insists on dessert, the three of you enjoy some ice cream even though it’s still winter and with jay’s help in convincing you because “ice cream tastes good in every season”. you offered to wash the dishes since jay cooked you dinner and although he insisted on washing the dishes, you told him that it was okay since he could spend more time with his niece instead– to which he didn’t argue.

the rest of the night was filled with giggles as jay got to hang out with his niece outside of a phone screen. learning so much about her and how similar he was to you. he even got the opportunity to put her to bed when she got sleepy after watching bambi, her favorite movie.

“bambi, huh?” he asks after the two of you quietly slip out of her bedroom.

“yes… bambi. it’s her favorite movie so i nicknamed her bambi…” you respond, trying to avoid his stare.

“no other reason?” he asks and you shoot him a glare. “alright alright. i’ll drop it. it’s a cute nickname anyway.” he confesses and you mutter a small thank you, thankful that he’s not prying any longer.

“i know, she’s cute like a baby deer, what can i say?”

you and jay find your way into the kitchen, putting away the dishes from the dishwasher and beginning a new topic of conversation.

“does everyone know you’re back?” jay asks genuinely, not intending to allude to a certain person from your past.

“yeah, karina and ningning know. i spoke to jake and hoon yesterday and i told them i’d come up with a day they could all come over for dinner.” you explain.

you had a close friend group going into college. you, karina, and jay all grew up together and early during college you had met ningning, jake, sunghoon, and another… friend.

the seven of you were inseparable and were always together despite having completely different college majors. you, ningning, and karina all moved in together for the last half of your college career while the guys did the same. you’re all older now and have all of your own lives but most of them kept in touch with you after you decided to move away all of a sudden.

opting to not ask questions out of respect but always making sure to check up on you every once in a while.

“should i reopen the groupchat? haven’t seen the silly seven back together in a while.” and just as fast as the words leave his mouth, jay regrets it just as fast. he notices you tense up a bit as you’re putting some dishes away into the cupboard and he realizes he’s made a mistake bringing up your original seven friend group. a certain member becomes a tainted memory inside of your heart that you wished to not remember but are forced to remember in the most endearing and loving way.

someone you wished you could leave in the past but you’re glad you chose not to as the memory continues to live through your daughter.

“um, i’ll let you know. i’ve got some things i need to finish up before i start reuniting fully with everyone– plus i still need to get heejin caught up on all of her medical stuff for school so…” you begin to say and jay catches on.

“ahh, don’t worry about it! just got a bit excited to see everyone back together again. i’ll look forward to it when it comes.” jay says, softly rubbing your back and offering you a smile that you return.

“thanks jay…” you mutter quietly as you try to avoid his gaze.

⋆˚ʚɞ

after three weeks of being back home in korea, you’ve finally gotten somewhat of a routine down as you’ve settled into your new home and neighborhood. you’ve got pretty accustomed to being back in korea and although it’s only been five years since the last time you were here; a lot has changed within those five years.

you’d wake up on weekdays around 6am to get your day started, making breakfast and your daughter's school lunch before you woke her up at 7am to get her ready for school. she hadn’t started school yet back in the states so you wanted to ensure that you enrolled her into school once you had settled into your home.

she was surprisingly excited to start school and make new friends. her favorite part of kindergarten so far was break time when she and her classmates would spend 30 minutes a day at the playground. she’d come home with unruly hair opposite of the sleek bun or pigtails she had previously had when you dropped her off.

when your daughter was at school you’d spend the day cleaning around the home, finishing up the last parts of your move that had to do with papers and legal stuff, and would spend the rest of the time before your daughter got off school to run errands like going to the market or getting used to driving around your neighborhood.

it's about an hour before your daughter is off of school so you decide to quickly freshen up before heading over to pick her up.

today, you had plans to have an early dinner with karina as you hadn’t seen her since you had gotten there so it was due time to catch up now that you’ve settled in for the most part.

⋆˚ʚɞ

“where are we going, mama?” heejin asks as you help her into her car seat. “getting dinner with auntie rina, remember?” you remind your daughter and she cheers, excited that she gets to see her auntie rina again.

“why are we eating early? i want chicken!” she says and you just chuckle at her. “ok, i’ll get you chicken, ok?” you say, kissing your thumb and putting it towards her and your daughter does the same, connecting your thumbs, at the same time the two of you turn your hands 180 degrees with your thumbs pointing downwards so that your hands make the shape of a heart.

it was a small gesture the two of you did, a small way to be connected with your daughter through a special handshake between mother and daughter.

⋆˚ʚɞ

dinner was filled with laughter as you watched your daughter and karina bond over chicken, your daughter having the time of her life with all of the different flavors of chicken; her favorite being the cheese flavored one.

“so, when are we getting the gang back together?” karina asks as she places another piece of chicken on heejin’s plate, the both of you watching your daughter pick up the piece of chicken and munch on it like her life depended on it. you tried to tiptoe around her question, afraid that it would only lead to the inevitable that you were constantly postponing.

karina waves her hand in front of your face as she realizes you’ve somewhat spaced out and reiterates her question, “um.. i’m not sure. i really want to see everyone but you know..” your voice getting quiet at the end of your sentence as you realize only jay, your cousin, knew who heejin’s father was.

your friends knew of your longtime crush on heeseung when you were all in college and all somewhat knew that you’ve avoided him because of some reason that you haven’t told them. there were theories amongst the friends of why you no longer spoke to heeseung but only jay knew the reason. your friends didn’t want to pry but curiosity always filled their minds whenever they would think about you or see the photos you posted online of you and your daughter. with all of the theories they came up with, no one seemed to put together the most obvious reason and you’d rather keep that way.

it wasn’t that you didn’t want any of them to know, you just weren’t ready for them to know and aren’t entirely sure when you’d be ready. karina noticed your shift in behavior with her question and chose to ask any more questions. the rest of the dinner was karina giving you suggestions on things you and your daughter could do like activities, sports and extracurriculars, and whatnot.

“i’ll see you soon, ok?” karina says while giving your daughter a warm hug. the two of you bid each other goodbye and go your separate ways. karina’s question weighs on your mind heavily as you drive home, thinking about how long you could keep this a secret from your friends and also hide the fact that you were back in town from heeseung who just seemed to constantly be on your mind since you’ve arrived back in korea.

a part of you wanted to see him, you missed him so much, the way he made you laugh, the way he knew you so well that he used to always bring you breakfast during your 8am lectures because you loved to sleep in until the last minute so you never ate breakfast, the way he knew when you were sad, the way he knew you were uncomfortable, everything.

he knew you so well but that night, that unfortunate night, it seemed that he was the person that knew you the least in the world.

⋆˚ʚɞ

a few days after your dinner with karina and some encouragement from jay, you finally decided to send out invites to all of your friends to come over for dinner. your place was getting to a point where it was feeling like home and you wanted your daughter to meet some of the most important people in your life. you obviously weren’t going to invite heeseung but you thought about it and you quickly found yourself shutting down that idea.

“hi guys! please let me know if you’re free this saturday around 6pm! i’d love for all of you to come over for dinner and meet heejin! if it’s okay could you all bring a small dish? heejin isn’t picky but she is allergic to fish so keep that in mind. she’s very excited to meet her uncles and aunties!”

karina: i’m always free for you! minjeong: i’ll bring the chicken hehe jake: lets goo!! can’t wait to meet little yn! sunghoon: i already know i’m gonna be her favorite uncle jay: yeah right i’m her favorite already, nice try bro

all of their responses made you smile and for once you weren’t stricken with the anxiety of the past and how all of this could crumble down onto you– but you were dedicated to not letting that happen. you missed your friends dearly and being surrounded by your loved ones you haven’t seen in years was long overdue.

⋆˚ʚɞ

friday rolls around a lot sooner than you expected, which you didn’t mind because it was all you were looking forward to after spending the weekdays trying your best not to spiral. you were constantly thinking about what would happen if they brought up heeseung or if he miraculously showed up unannounced and uninvited. you made several dishes as the main course and set up your kitchen so that everyone could eat buffet style.

there were rolls of kimbap that your daughter helped you prepare, tofu stew simmering low on the stove to keep it warm, and other food that you knew your friends and your daughter loved.

as the day went by and the time that your friends would all slowly start arriving would come, you noticed that heejin seemed to be antsy. like something was bothering her, she was constantly squirming around unable to find a comfortable seat at the dinner table, the couch, or even her favorite bean bag chair designed to look like a peach. she was fidgeting with the hem of her dress so much to the point that she had pulled a loose thread, causing the dress to tear. you were more worried than upset, it was just a piece of fabric it didn’t matter if it broke, although you did keep a mental note not to buy from that store again; so you sat her down to talk about it.

“bambi.. what’s wrong?” you asked her as you helped her change into new clothes, something she had chosen and although it was more casual than the previous attire she had on; she was way more comfortable in it. she shook her head with a pout, indicating she either didn’t want to talk about it or that there wasn’t anything wrong– and considering her actions moments ago, it was the latter.

“you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong but just know mommy is here for you ok? i don’t want my little bambi to be sad or upset and feel like she can’t talk to mom about her problems..” you told her softly, fixing her hair as it had gotten slightly messed up while you dressed your daughter. heejin was everything to you, she was your life and blood, she was your light and you’d be damned if you ever made your daughter feel like she couldn’t fully be herself or come to her own mother to help her fix her problems.

even though heejin was still young, you made sure to make an emphasis on communication with your daughter, teaching her to articulate her feelings and emotions in a way that was healthy to her and those around her– and for the most part, she did that. she often told you if she was uncomfortable or if she was feeling upset about something as small as her socks making her feel itchy– but right now; she wasn’t communicating to you why she was acting the way she was and it left you stumped.

you weren’t necessarily sure how to go about it. you didn’t want to pressure your daughter to tell you what was wrong but the mother inside of you couldn’t continue without knowing what was bothering your daughter and how you could alleviate her troubles. “are you ok, heejin?” you ask and she once again shakes her head.

“can you tell mom what’s bothering you?” you asked, lightly patting your daughter's head as you finished doing her hair.

she looks up at you with her big doe eyes and for a second you see the uncanny resemblance of her and her father. “mama, who is my dad?” the question comes as a shock to you because although she had asked before, she’s never let the absence of her father trouble her the way it has now. your mouth slightly opens at her question but you quickly recollect yourself so she doesn’t notice your demeanor falter, afraid that your expression could cause her more worry if she was to realize how you reacted to her question.

you so desperately wanted to comfort your daughter, tell her everything you knew about her father and how he lived only miles away; but you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. it may seem selfish, and it was, but you simply weren’t ready to have that conversation with your daughter. even if it broke your heart to see her pleading eyes begging you for a single crumb of information on her dad, you couldn’t do it. it caused you an immense amount of pain to deny your daughter something she seemed to want so badly.

“bambi, why the sudden interest?” you ask and she goes on to explain that when she was waiting to get picked up from school that day, she saw all of her classmates getting picked up by their dads and it got her thinking of her own, more specifically, the absence of her own father.

your heart broke even more at her words but you chose to give her the answer that you’ve given her several other times she asked in the past.

“bambi, your papa may not be here but he’s always in your heart, ok?” and you were glad that it provided her some form of comfort because it seemed like she knew you were going to say that so she closed her eyes and gently placed her small hand over her heart. it was moments like this that made you question yourself as a mother. denying your daughter from someone who was half of her all because of your own selfish intention and pain that you aren’t able to heal from.

the two of you share another tender moment as you engulf your daughter into your arms for a warm embrace and try your best to get her to smile, which was fairly easy as your daughter was very ticklish.

just in time, your doorbell rings indicating that some of your friends have arrived so you decide to carry your daughter to your front door to greet everyone. you gently rub her back to further soothe her worries, hoping that the emotional and vulnerable moment the two of you just shared didn’t cause her anymore worries despite the fact that she still had that longing look in her eyes. waiting for the day she could get the answer she was looking for and the day she’d get to meet her dad.

⋆˚ʚɞ

you’re carrying your daughter in your arms as you open the door to welcome your friends and all of their eyes light up at the sight of you and your daughter. one by one they file inside of your home with a dish in their hands, greeting you and heejin with bright warm smiles. you return with a smile of your own as heejin waves at the strangers entering your home who she will grow to learn are the aunts and uncles that would love her and support her as she grows older.

once everyone has gotten inside, you point to where they could all settle the dishes they brought and soon enough you’re setting heejin down to introduce her to everyone.

“heejin, you know auntie karina and uncle jay, right?” you ask her while you crouch down to her, she nods her head in agreement, slightly shy as she still doesn’t know the several other people in the room.

“this is uncle jake, he has a really big puppy, you like puppies right?” and once again she’s nodding but this time with a smile as she gets excited at the mention of a dog. when heejin started to learn how to speak, one of the first words she spoke was “dog” and would later on constantly ask you to get her dog when she learned how to form full sentences.

“heejin, i’ll introduce you to my dog, ok?” jake says with a smile and she cheers, happy that she finally gets to play with a dog since you wouldn’t let her get one of her own.

“this one is auntie minjeong, can you say hi to her?” you ask and heejin shyly waves her hand and when minjeong waves back and asks if she can have a high five, heejin gives her one excitedly as you’ve taught her that high fives were a gesture of encouragement and sharing a high five with a friend was a good thing so she instantly felt happy when minjeong asked for one, already identifying her auntie minjeong as a friend.

lastly, you point to sunghoon, “that’s uncle sunghoon, you like the snow right? uncle sunghoon is really good at ice skating.” you explain and her eyes and mouth widen at the thought of ice skating. “ice skating? do you make snow angels?” she asks and it causes the lot of you to laugh; to which sunghoon nods and tells her that he’ll teach her how to make some of her own.

introductions go very well and heejin is calling everyone auntie and uncle in no time, opening up and breaking out of her shyness once she chats with your best friends some more as she tries all of the food they’ve brought.

“yn, all this food is amazing by the way but you should’ve let us help more or at least bring more food so you didn’t have to cook so much!” minjeong says as she’s putting away her dish into your sink.

“yeah, yn. this is delicious but next time let us take care of all of it okay? we’ll be sure to bring all the food that heejin likes. heejin, what’s your favorite food?” jake asks her and she cutely raises the chicken wing in her hand and shouts chicken and once again the room is filled with laughter because of your daughter’s cuteness. you were so happy to see your daughter being accepted by everyone, not necessarily because you thought they wouldn’t but because for the time that you’ve been gone; you were afraid that this drastic change in your life would affect the dynamic between you and your friends.

but it didn’t.

at least not completely.

jake is slurping on his noodles when he suddenly says, “yo, heeseung brought me these noodles one time; it was so good we should all go some time.” and at the mention of heeseung’s name you’re almost frozen in your spot at the table.

the room is instantly silent when they notice your attitude shift after hearing heeseung’s name. no one besides jay really knows what happened between the two of you and even then you’ve left out certain details from the story because you couldn’t bear to relive the pain from that night just so that someone could fully understand why you did what you did.

sunghoon shoves jake lightly at his careless action and he soon realizes why the room had fallen silent, he glances over at you with an apologetic look followed by a string of apologies, “i’m so sorry, yn. i shouldn’t have brought him up- i wasn’t thinking.” jake says and you shake your head explaining that it was okay and that he had nothing to apologize for.

“it’s fine, jake. he and i just don’t talk anymore.” you leave it at that and everyone chooses not to pry because it was truly none of their business.

before the night ends you all take a group photo with heejin in the middle, you decided to have her sit on your shoulders as your friends crowd around her with warm smiles that could be felt through the photo. you were so happy to see the happiness radiate through the image that you didn’t necessarily care that all of your friends were quick to post that photo, the possibility of heeseung seeing it nowhere in your mind because you were more focused on the love that your friends were giving you and your daughter.

you bid goodbye to your friends but not before you pack them their own little containers with leftovers because it was way more than what you and your daughter could finish alone. heejin happily waved goodbye to her aunties and uncles and had long forgotten about the sad moment the two of you shared before this dinner.

she was so happy to meet them and to her they were all just her friends. your friends are equally as happy to meet your daughter and be a part of her life and yours again.

⋆˚ʚɞ

on the other side of the city, heeseung is scrolling through his social media alone in his bed when he scrolls past the group photo you all took on several accounts. a pang of jealousy budding in his chest as he sees you in the center, happily carrying your daughter on your shoulders.

heeseung couldn’t help but feel left out but all he could think about was why you hadn’t let him know you were back in town after disappearing for the last five years?

so, he does what he thinks is right and opens the groupchat he has with the boys.

“yo, you guys free tomorrow? wanna grab lunch?” heeseung taps into his phone and presses send and in a few minutes, sunghoon, jay, and jake are all responding to heeseung’s text.

they all coordinate a plan to have lunch the next day. heeseung plans to let it come naturally, bring you up as smoothly as he can without coming off like he wanted to hang out with the guys just to find out information about you.

but he knew deep down that he was going to get the information he needed one way or the other.

even if it made him feel crazy because love makes you do crazy things.

⋆˚ʚɞ

when the next day rolls around and heeseung is making his way to lunch, he realizes that his dreams that night were filled with one thing: you.

he dreamt about all the ways he wanted to make up for lost time, he dreamt of past memories, he dreamt of you and he slept soundly knowing that you were so happy in his dreams. only hoping that he could make you as happy in real life like how you were in his dreams.

you were truly the girl of his dreams and now that you were back; he wasn’t going to let you go so easily like last time.

“whats up guys!” heeseung says as he walks over to the guys who had gotten a table for the four of them. they were all browsing the menu when heeseung arrived and they all did their usual greetings, asking how one another was and all of the normal things.

they soon order food and jay could tell that heeseung was a bit antsy, sending glances over to jake and sunghoon with a gesture to look at heeseung and they do; realizing his leg hasn’t stopped bouncing since he sat down and he was chewing on his nails– something that he’s never done in the past.

heeseung could no longer wait, he just had to ask about you even if it made the air between all of them awkward. “so..” he begins and jay cuts him off before he could finish.

“heeseung, i know you’re going to ask about yn.” jay says and heeseung stops in the middle of his sentence, his mouth slightly ajar as those words leave jay’s mouth. he’s shocked that they knew, was he being less subtle than he thought? or was he just that predictable.

heeseung and you were inseparable when you were younger, you couldn’t take one without the other coming along, the true meaning of a package deal. but when you left, heeseung was left with so many questions, none of which could be answered by you as you cut off communication with him completely.

the rest of lunch consists of the guys informing heeseung about you, small details that they thought you’d be comfortable with sharing with heeseung, and although heeseung wanted to learn more; he was happy to learn anything new about you since you’ve been gone for the last five years.

they could tell that heeseung’s love for you never died or diminished in any way possible. when you first left, heeseung was a wreck and if they didn’t think he loved you then; his reaction to you leaving solidified that. he didn’t sleep, he cried almost everyday and he would try to write you letters even when he didn’t have an address to send them to.

it wasn’t until about a year after you had left that heeseung started to somewhat go back to normal. he stopped moping around and he returned to the heeseung all of your friends once knew. but deep down, he and all your friends knew that he would never be the same without you in his life. he threw himself into his work and other priorities to distract himself so he didn’t have to think about you but in the end, it always came back to you.

he’d be walking on the street and would pass by your favorite restaurant and he’d think about you.

a song would play and he’d be reminded about all of the times you two would dance and sing along to it.

he’d see a cloud shaped like an animal in the sky and would remember all of the times you two would spend hours laying on the grass and spotting clouds shaped like whatever your mind could identify it as.

everything he saw reminded him of you and although it hurt him to think about you, thinking about you was the only thing keeping you close to him when you were unknowingly so far away.

when the four of them part ways from lunch, jay pulls heeseung aside for a quick chat before he leaves, “hey, i shouldn’t tell you this but…” jay says, whispering something to heeseung and sending him a text. heeseung’s eyes widen at the text and he’s instantly bringing jay into a hug, thanking him for whatever it was jay had told him.

“yeah, yeah.. don’t make me regret this, she is my cousin; i’ll beat your ass if you fuck this up.” he warns and although he was slightly joking; jay was speaking with some truth because he knew how much all of this affected two people that were so important in his life.

heeseung slept with a smile on his face later that night, not only because he was excited to be able to see you in his dreams again, but also because of what he had planned for tomorrow morning.

⋆˚ʚɞ

“heejin! let’s go, bambi!” you call for your daughter as you slide your shoes on. heejin appears with her backpack dragging behind her, taking a seat next to you so she can put her shoes on to which you help her. you’re about to bring her to school, glancing at the clock near your front door when you realize you’ve only got 20 minutes to get her there.

when you open the door, however, you’re met with a face that you hadn’t prepared yourself to see, at least not for a long time from now.

“heeseung?” you ask as you look at him, standing at your front door with a smile on his face, flowers in his hand, and eyes as bright as they were when the two of you first met.

“hi, yn.. long time no see.” heeseung responds, a sheepish grin on his face as he’s finally able to see you for the first time in five years. “sorry, i need to take heejin to school.” you explain, slightly moving him out of the way to lock the door and make your way to your car.

“let me take you?” he offers and although a part of you wants to deny, you know that heeseung has always been stubborn and that if you were to try to decline; the two of you would just be going back and forth and before you know it, heejin would be late to school.

so, you reluctantly accept his offer; quickly grabbing her carseat from your car and setting her up in the back of heeseung’s car. “mama, who is he?” heejin asks and you explain that he’s just a friend. “how come he didn’t come to dinner?” heejin continues with another question and you answer with something dismissive and tell her he was just busy.

“ready to go? don’t want her to be late.” heeseung says and you look over at him and he’s still got that smile on his face like he knew exactly what he was doing and was happy that you were going along with it. you give him a tight lipped smile as you place a kiss onto heejin’s forehead before taking your seat at the front passenger seat next to heeseung.

in the past whenever you two were in a car it would always be you in the front next to him because he trusted you the most with directions and music but mostly because he loved being able to see you next to him. it was such a simple and innocent thing to be so close to you even if you were just sitting next to him but it never failed to make his heart race whenever you would look over at him, catching him staring at you when he needed to be focusing on the road.

you’d tease him by saying, “eyes on the road” and talk about how you’ll crash if he keeps staring at you and he’d just respond by saying he would never hurt you or do anything that would put you in pain.

heeseung tried to keep that promise and broke it without even knowing that he did.

⋆˚ʚɞ

“bye heejin, have a good day ok?” you send your daughter off to school, watching her small figure skip away as she waves and greets the friends she sees as she walks into school. “she’s adorable.” heeseung says as you turn towards him. a part of you slightly forgetting that he was there because all of your focus was set on your daughter.

“thanks.” you mutter, barely above a whisper.

“wanna grab breakfast? my treat.” heeseung asks, a cheesy grin on his face as if he’s using his smile as a way to convince you to say yes; it worked… just a little bit.

“fine.” you say while rolling your eyes, a part of you only saying yes because you had nothing better to do and he was the one that drove. the car ride was silent, filled with awkward tension as you couldn’t get comfortable in your seat knowing that you haven’t seen heeseung in five years and had no idea where this was going to go. would everything be the way it was before you left? or would it be filled with boiling tension that would eventually blow up.

heeseung was fiddling with the steering wheel, tapping on the leather of the wheel, messing around with the car compartments, and constantly clearing his throat to drown out the silence that was so loud.

“so… how’ve you been?” heeseung asks, slightly looking over at you as if he was suddenly nervous to make eye contact, fearing for how you’d react.

“okay.. yeah i’ve been ok.” keeping your answer short so that you didn’t end up saying more than you wanted. you weren’t sure how comfortable you’d become with heeseung, someone who you once would’ve associated with the word “comfort” now was more closely aligned with “unknown”.

“thats- thats good..” heeseung stutters.

he doesn’t ask any further questions after he’s taken notice that you weren’t inclined for small talk or maybe just talking to him in general. which he couldn’t blame you for, you haven’t seen each other in five years and he understood that things were a lot different than before.

you and heeseung used to be able to talk about anything and everything, whenever one of you or both would be stressed; you’d just talk for hours about anything to distract yourselves from whatever was troubling your minds. one time the two of you had even spent 63 hours on facetime, uninterrupted because you were both away from each other for the first time and couldn’t stand being that far away.

the two of you were only separated for a weekend but it was too long for either of you.

“order anything you want, ok?” heeseung says as he looks at the menu, browsing for what he wants to eat. you mirror his actions but you lift the menu a bit higher to cover your face because you were a bit shy. you didn’t know how to act around heeseung anymore and felt like shielding yourself away from.

“are you two ready to order?” the waitress asks and quickly jots down your order, coming back momentarily to drop off your drinks and returning about 20 minutes later with the food you had ordered. heeseung had ordered ramen for breakfast, it came on a small personal burner so that it remained hot as he ate. you slightly smile to yourself, trying your best to hide it because this habit of heeseung hasn't changed in that aspect.

heeseung always loved ramen, it's his favorite.

you had just gotten rice with some grilled meat and a fried egg, something simple but delicious. heeseung is busy slurping on his noodles when you decide to break the silence, “how did you find me, heeseung?” you ask, causing heeseung to choke a bit on his food at the random question.

he quickly apologizes, grabbing a tissue to wipe his mouth before responding, “oh, yeah about that. don’t be mad but jay told me. it’s not his fault though, i practically begged him.” heeseung says, eye widening as if to prevent you from getting upset that jay had given heeseung your address without permission.

you were a bit upset, especially because jay was the one that knew what happened with everything out of all of the people in your life. you made sure to bring this up to your cousin when you had the chance, keeping in mind that jay would get a piece of your mind about this.

the rest of the breakfast was filled with the same awkward tension as you two ate your food in silence, every once in a while asking each other questions for some small talk but nothing that the two of you talked about did anything to cut through the awkwardness. when you and heeseung finished eating, he kept his word about taking care of the bill, and although you wouldn’t have cared if he didn’t, it was nice because it felt just like old times.

back in college, when you and heeseung were little broke college kids; he always paid no matter what it was. a late night snack? heeseung paid. you were craving boba? heeseung paid. it was your birthday? heeseung paid. even when it wasn’t food, heeseung paid because he loved taking care of you even in small matters like paying for your things.

a sign you should’ve seen sooner that heeseung saw you as more than just a friend.

“thanks for breakfast and dropping off heejin at school. have a good day, heeseung.” you say while exiting his car. you’re startled by heeseung’s sudden action when he shouts when and runs out of the car and around to your side, you give him a confused look from inside of the car as you watch him. heeseung closes your door and reopens it for you, “madam.” he says, while gesturing with his hand and a slight bow.

you couldn’t help but laugh but when heeseung raises his head to look at you, your expression instantly changes because you didn’t want to give heeseung the satisfaction that you found it amusing. you were still upset at heeseung for something of the past and although it’s been harbored inside of you for years on end, you couldn’t help but feel it slowly rising back to the top ever since you had returned to korea.

heeseung walks slowly behind you as you make your way to the front door like a lost puppy and when you get to unlocking your door, he clears his throat, gaining your attention.

“look… i know we haven’t spoken or seen each other in years, but i’m not going to act like it wasn’t the hardest five years of my life. you kind of just disappeared without explanation and when i tried to reach out… i didn’t hear back.

i had even asked our friends and they didn’t have anything to tell me, i mean- i knew jay would’ve known because he’s your cousin but he didn’t tell me anything.

can we please just talk?” heeseung was rambling and you felt bad because you could tell he was a bit anxious and probably rehearsed this in his head.

“yn.. i missed you so much and i tried to practice what i wanted to say to you when i saw you again but i’ve just thrown that all out the window.

say something..? please?” and you could feel yourself slowly falling back into that old familiar place. the one where you could look into heeseung’s eyes and you could tell how he was really feeling even if he tried to mask it with his rambling.

“heeseung, why don’t you come inside and then we can talk… not out here..” you said with a chuckle and heeseung eagerly nods, a smile on his lips at the invitation into your home, a stepping stone back into your life.

you don’t know where this conversation was going earlier and now that it’s almost been two hours since you saw heeseung again, you still didn’t know what to expect.

“can i get you something to drink?” you ask and he lets you know that water is fine so after a few minutes, you return to find heeseung standing in your living room, admiring the photos you framed of yourself and your daughter.

“you guys look so happy.” heeseung comments as he joins you on the couch, setting the two cups of water in front of the two of you. “heeseung.. i don’t know what to say to be honest. there’s a lot i’ve wanted to say to you and over the last five years, i’ve only wanted to say more.

i didn’t mean to disappear i just-”

“then why? why did you leave?” heeseung says, interrupting you and his eyes have transitioned into one that expressed that he was pleading, begging, and waiting for an answer from you. an answer that he had been waiting for since the day you left.

on the other hand, you were too. you had so many questions for heeseung but you knew that you couldn’t get answers without having to answer any of heeseung’s questions. you weren’t sure how to answer heeseung. you wanted to be honest and tell him the full truth but you didn’t even know if you were ready to face that.

it was five years ago but now, sitting in front of heeseung as he looked at you with tears threatening to fall from his eyes, you couldn’t bring yourself to relive those moments where you felt the most alone, unwanted, and misunderstood person in the world.

you stuttered to answer and the longer you thought about the more complicated it became in your head. your breathing started to become heavy and your eyes were constantly blinking. you couldn’t look at heeseung any longer because it made you feel uneasy and nauseous, the anxiety of this moment having built up inside of you for so long that now that it was all happening, it was corroding the stability you had worked so hard to build in your head.

“are you ok, yn?” heeseung asked and his voice sounded muffled to you and as he scooted closer, the image of heeseung in your vision blurred and doubled like he was a mirage. you were starting to get light headed and that was when you knew that you were going to faint, the anxiety had taken over your brain and before you knew it your eyes were fluttering closed and heeseung was catching you in his arms before your body could fall over onto the coffee table.

heeseung catches you instantly when you notice your body start to go limp, rocking back and forth. he wasn’t sure what happened but something must’ve been bothering you so much that you had fainted in his arms. heeseung tries his best to gently position you onto your couch in a comfortable position, moving your legs into place and softly setting your head on the armrest with a pillow propped up under.

he admired your sleeping figure and if it wasn’t for the fact that you had fainted, he probably would’ve found this moment cute. it reminded him of the first time heeseung had realized he liked you more than he thought he did. the two of you had gotten very drunk one night after failing your economics exam and you had a habit of getting sleepy when drinking.

you were in the middle of talking when your head started to get wobbly and your eyelids had become heavy and before you knew it; you were falling asleep next to heeseung; your head softly landing on his shoulder like a makeshift pillow. he found it cute and he still does.

⋆˚ʚɞ five years ago

you had been texting with heeseung all night, he had been going through something and although you wanted to know what it was; you settled on just making him feel better. like a good friend would do. your crush on heeseung has something your friends had known about for a while and although you’ve wanted to confess your feelings to him for a while now, you were too afraid of ruining your friendship and it potentially affecting your whole friend group.

heeseung was currently on his way to your dorm and it was like you were waiting for a blind date. you fidget with the tassel on your throw pillow as you wait for him on your bed, running through the different scenarios in your head of what’s been bothering him.

he was fine the last few days but today something had shifted; heeseung felt like he was carrying something heavy on his mind and it was showing. he had sent you a string of messages that represented someone on the verge of a crash out and all you could do was worry for him, eventually inviting him over so you could talk and find a way to make him feel better.

to which heeseung accepted instantly as if that was what he was waiting for.

after a few minutes, a knock on your door softly echoes throughout your dorm as you’re just about to text heeseung if he was alright. “hee-” you say, getting cut off when heeseung storms into your room, breathing unsteady as if he had run over to you.

“what’s wrong, are you ok?” you ask, worry settled onto your face as you shut the door behind you.

heeseung is standing facing away as he tries to catch his breath, unsure of how to talk to you about what has been weighing on his mind heavily. a reality that he’s finally chosen to come to terms with despite thinking it was all his delusions until recently.

“hee?” you ask again and he whips around to face you, your expression softening when you see that it looks like he hasn’t slept and looks absolutely exhausted. his eyes were red, cheeks a bit sunken, and the shadows around his eyes were more prominent. he looked like he’s so emotionally and physically drained you couldn’t help but rush over to him, cupping his face in worry– rubbing his cheek with your thumb and you could feel heeseung melt into your hand.

his eyes flutter closed as he breathes a sigh of relief; like your touch alone was enough to soothe his mind even though the reason for his distress partially had something to do with you. you guide heeseung to your bed and you can’t help but frown at his appearance, you didn’t know how long this has been going on but it seems that it was enough to reflect on his face.

“hee? are you ok?” you ask and he finally takes a deep breath before responding, “yn.. i just want you to know that i don’t want any of this to change us.. and i hope we’ll be okay after this but-” heeseung begins.

“heeseung you’re scaring me..” you whisper, anxiety building inside of you as heeseung tries to avoid eye contact with you.

“just- please listen.. i don’t want you to think of me any differently after i say this but…

i think i love you.”

and when those five words leave heeseung’s lips, everything goes silent.

you’ve been wanting to hear heeseung say those words for so long, wishing that he would reciprocate your feelings, confess his love to you the way you’ve been too afraid to confess to him, and now that he has; you didn’t know what to do or say.

heeseung was finally able to look into your eyes, looking for an answer because the silence after his confession had him thinking that he shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.

“please, say something..” he whispers, voice trembling like he’d be in tears at any moment.

“hee… i just-” when you try to respond even though you weren’t sure what to say, heeseung brings his hands to your face and brings it closer to his; “please tell me you feel the same way or else i might go insane.” he whispers, his lips just a few inches away from yours.

heeseung’s gaze trails from your eyes down your face and lands to your lips, heeseung absentmindedly licks his own as if it were a physical reaction to seeing yours. “i do heeseung-” you begin but before you could finish your sentence; his lips are on yours.

the dryness of his lips instantly disappears as your two lips dance with his. a kiss that both of you had been longing for since you two have first met, like there was tension between the two of you that could only be relieved with one another. everyone in the room could feel it but neither of you ever wanted to confront that no matter how badly you wanted to.

heeseung pulls away for a moment, allowing the two of you to catch your breath; “i’m sorry, i should’ve asked but i just couldn’t wait any longer..” heeseung murmurs, his bedroom eyes glued onto yours as you try to gather your thoughts. you had been waiting to share this moment with heeseung for so long but for some reason it wasn’t like how you’d dreamt.

“heeseung, this is wrong.. what about your girl-” you’re about to bring up heeseung’s girlfriend but he just shakes his head. “you’re the one i want.. it’s always been you” he says, connecting your lips once again, the kiss being just as passionate and filled with hunger like you’re both deprived of the other.

your dorm was soon filled with you and heeseung’s pleasure, a craving that was finally satisfied after so many years; finally having you in his arms. you never thought this day would come and although you thought that it would never come; you were going to cherish this moment with heeseung.

the next few days felt like a dream. you and heeseung were inseparable and it’s everything you had hoped for when you used to think about how your life would be after confessing to heeseung about how you truly felt.

only for him to confess first, leaving you shocked that he felt the same way.

the conversation after that night in your dorm room was a bit awkward but the two of you quickly learned to laugh it off and move forward with your relationship. you had agreed that you’d keep this between yourselves for now because you were unsure of how it would affect the dynamic of your friend group. you even held off from telling jay, your cousin, who you told everything to.

it was hard for the first few weeks to hide your relationship with heeseung because whenever all of you were together, you wanted nothing more than to hold his hand or sit on his lap, the tension from before being converted to secret longing glances and smiles that you two would try to hide from your friends.

the good lasted for only a few months, until the fateful day that would change your life forever. you had woken up feeling like a ton of bricks had fallen on top of you while you were sleeping. you were fatigued, nauseous, and spent the morning hunched over your toilet as you threw up your dinner from the night before.

you weren’t sure why your body was suddenly feeling unwell so you made a trip to the pharmacy to grab some medicine, browsing the aisles to see what would help with your symptoms, and that was when your eyes landed on the sleek white box towards the end of the shelf.

“pregnancy test: accurate results in just under 10 minutes” it read on the box in bright blue font. there was no way that could be the cause of your distress, you didn’t have sex with anyone else besides.. heeseung… that night.. three months ago.

your mind starts to spiral as you think about the possibility that you could be pregnant with heeseung’s child as that night replays in your head– now just remembering that the idea of a condom was absent from both of your minds as you were both in the heat of the moment, exploring one another’s bodies.

frantically grabbing a few boxes, you make your way to the cash register but are stopped in your tracks when a voice calls out to you; “yn?” and when you turn around it’s heeseung’s ex-girlfriend.

the conversation with her was short but awkward. she just wanted to clear the air, letting you know that she had no animosity towards you or heeseung and that she wished you two the best. which confused you because you certainly didn’t tell her and know that heeseung wouldn’t have told her without discussing with you first. when you asked her to clarify, her explanation only heightens the mental distress you were currently in.

“heeseung and i broke up a few months ago and i just figured you two would be together by now..” was all she said before walking away.

the night that heeseung confessed his love to you and where you had shared one of the most intimate moments two people could experience together; also happened to be the same night that heeseung broke up with his girlfriend.

leading you to believe that it was the only reason he felt so inclined to be with you. like you were just some rebound that heeseung knew would be waiting for him like a lost puppy who had been left at home all day, knowing that if he called out to you– you’d come running to him.

you were a rebound.

did he even mean anything he had said to you or was it all just a way to get you to play along with his desires? did he even know you felt that way about him? and he used it as a way to get what he wanted?

you felt disgusted knowing that the moment you shared with heeseung that you had been waiting for was merely just a way for him to get over his ex-girlfriend. a second option that he knew he could fall back on but not in the same way that he would’ve been supported by his friends who he could fall back on during a hard time, but more so like you were just a stepping stone and a temporary fix for the despair he was in that night.

using you to forget his ex if it meant that he would feel better at your expense.

it feels like the ten minutes that you were waiting for the pregnancy test to be ready was the longest ten minutes of your life. “less than ten minutes, my ass” you scoffed as the clock showed it’s been ten minutes and the results weren’t being shown through the small indicator window yet.

your head falls back in annoyance and to your surprise, the next time you look at the test, a giant plus sign is clearer than day. you swallowed the dryness in your throat, throwing the test into the garbage and ripping open into the two other boxes you bought to test again.

refusing to believe that the first one was accurate, like it was a fluke, a false positive, anything to convince yourself that this was not happening.

but it was.

⋆˚ʚɞ

when you wake up, about an hour later, you almost don’t recognize where you are until you realize you’re wrapped up in a blanket on your bed. you remember being on the couch but don’t recall how you ended up on your bed. you sluggishly roll out of your bed, eyes half open as you scratch your head and make your way to the living room; only to find heeseung sleeping soundly on your couch.

shock shoots through you as the memories of what happened before you fainted return to your mind, remembering that you and heeseung had reunited after not seeing one another for the last five years when he showed up unannounced at your front door.

you slowly walk over to him, momentarily admiring his peaceful face as he snoozed on your couch, clutching onto the small pillow with his arms. “i know you’re staring at me.” heeseung murmurs, opening one eye to look at you; a grin on his face when he sees the annoyed look on yours.

“what are you still doing here?” you ask, crossing your arms and tilting your head to one side as you questioned him. “wow, already kicking me out? if we were in college you would’ve begged me to stay while you tried to convince your roommate to leave.” he says, sitting up straight with the same playful smile on his lips.

“okay, if you’re gonna stay then i guess we need to have this talk don’t we?” you ask, swallowing the lump in your throat as you try to muster up the courage to have this conversation after it led you to faint just an hour prior. you take a seat next to heeseung, much like how the two of you were positioned earlier and the night when he showed up at your dorm, both of you sitting on your bed; looking into each other’s eyes as if you were the only two people that existed.

holding one another so closely like at any given moment one of you would be torn away from the other. only if heeseung knew that you would be torn away from him months after, maybe he wouldn’t have made the decision he did that night.

but that night was nothing that he’d ever regret.

“so.. where do i begin.. you say trying to think of how you wanted to start–

that night, when we hooked up in my dorm room; i know why you showed up. when you told me that you loved me it was everything that i could’ve hoped for. i feel like i started to fall for you the day we first met and every day since then i fell for you even more but i just thought that i wasn’t someone that you could ever love.

so, even though it hurt me, i settled with being okay with just being friends; because it was better than not having you in my life at all.

but when you told me you loved me that night, i was the happiest girl in the world. until i wasn’t. i felt like the few months that we were dating was the happiest moments of my life, obviously not compared to now because i have my daughter, but i’ll cherish those moments forever because it truly made me so happy to be with you–”

“then why did you leave?” heeseung pleads, begging for an answer as you somewhat tiptoe around it. “a few months later, i ran into your ex while i was in the store and i found out that the two of you had broken up the same night we hooked up…” heeseung was now shaking his head in denial at what he was hearing.

“heeseung, you used me as a rebound for your breakup– no, yn. that’s not true. i promise i would never do that to you.” heeseung whines, shaking his head in frustration that you’ve harbored this misunderstanding about him for the last five years which drove you away from him.

⋆˚ʚɞ five years ago, two days before moving away

“why have you been so distant?” heeseung asks, his doe eyes looking at you as he pleads for your attention, lights reflecting in his eyes that made it look like he was tearing up, and he was trying his best not to cry in front of the girl he’s loved for so long.

you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him, this battle inside of you that you’ve been going through on whether or not you wanted to tell heeseung the life changing news, your oversized hoodie covering up the secret you have.

“heeseung, i just don’t think we can do this anymore.” was the only thing you could say before having to do the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do.

walk away from the boy you’ve loved for so long.

heeseung didn’t know what he had done that led you to breakup with him but he held onto this idea that you hated him ever since. he respected you enough to let you walk away from him even though it took every ounce of strength inside of him to not run after you and engulf you in his arms. he would’ve begged you to stay if he could, but he didn’t.

not running after you and fighting for your love was his biggest regret.

two days later, he’d find out from jay that you left the country and although he begged and begged jay to let him know where you moved to, how to reach you, and to help him get in contact with you; jay respected you too much after learning what led you to leave to just set you back by allowing heeseung to waltz right back into your life.

jay tried his best to not let his judgement of heeseung be clouded by what you told him, but he couldn’t help but feel empathy towards you. his cousin who’s life was going to change drastically because of his best friend and all he could do was support you from afar even if it meant helping you move into his childhood home where jay’s parents would be there for you to help you throughout the whole thing.

⋆˚ʚɞ

“heeseung, this is all too much for me right now. i want to have this conversation, i’ve thought about it every day for the last five years, but i don’t think i’d ever be ready for it.

i think you should leave.”

and as much as heeseung wanted to stay, beg for you to let him stay and talk it out, but he respected you too much to fight with you.

so just like that night, he walked away even if he didn’t want to.

you sighed as you closed the door behind heeseung, peeking into the small window beside your front door to watch him leave, shoulders low and head hunched over as he walked to his car. you close your eyes and exhale before swinging the door back open and calling for heeseung, “heeseung!” you shout and he’s instantly whipping around at the sound of your voice.

“heejin’s birthday is in two weeks, you’re invited if you’d like to come.” and heeseung’s attitude changes, a bright smile spreading onto his face as your words ring like church bells in his ears.

“i’ll be there.” he says before waving goodbye and driving off.

a small smile tugging on your lips as you tried your best not to feel like that young girl you once were whenever you’d get shy around heeseung.

⋆˚ʚɞ

the next two weeks is filled with heeseung’s endless attempts to make his way into your everyday routine whether it was showing up again unannounced to take heejin to school, to which she’d never deny because heeseung always brought her the juice box she really likes, or if it was him asking you if you needed help with anything for heejin’s birthday.

heeseung was going to find his way back into your life even if he annoyed you– but all you had in your mind was her birthday despite heeseung’s attempts to occupy your every waking thought.

the build up for heejin’s birthday was filled with excitement and anxiety as you tried to make her 6th birthday something special because it would be her first birthday in korea. in the past, her birthdays in seattle was mostly just you and her, sometimes your parents would fly in town to visit but not often.

and now that you’re back in korea and surrounded by so many people that loved you; you were going to make sure this birthday was something that she remembers. her birthday was in just 24 hours and everything was set in place.

it was somewhat difficult to keep everything hidden from her because she was one curious girl and was constantly rambling about what she wanted for her birthday, unicorns, rainbows, the color pink, a cake that was chocolate but also vanilla and had strawberries, the color pink, a pinata that was shaped like bunny or maybe a unicorn, and oh, did i mention.. pink?

pink was her favorite color and it showed with every since thing she always picked out for herself was pink.

at midnight when the clock indicated that it was finally her birthday, you snuck into her room as she slept soundly with a small cupcake and a number six candle in the center. you gently walked over to her and softly sang happy birthday, waking her up and her eyes instantly widened at the sight of you.

She was smiling from ear to ear and clapping her hands together in joy. “happy birthday my sweet bambi.” you said after singing happy birthday, softly patting her head as she makes a wish and blows out the candle.

“thank you mama.” her small voice coming out just above a whisper. “sleep now, okay? you have a big day tomorrow.” booping her nose as she enthusiastically goes back to bed, eager to fall back asleep and wake up the next morning to her big day.

birthday preparations started earlier for you as you made sure to do some last minute cleaning and organizing for the party. setting out all of the stuff in your backyard with the help of jay and your parents. your mom busied your daughter so that she wasn’t running around and to stop her from looking through every single thing at her party.

she was so happy, a type of happiness you wished would stay with her forever.

soon after, the preparations were complete and heejin was dressed in a sparkly pink dress, one that she had picked up several weeks in advance when the two of you were shopping together on a mommy and daughter date.

your friends, sunghoon, jay, jake, karina, and winter had shown up with gifts that made your daughter smile so bright. her classmates had shown up, excited to celebrate heejin on her big day– you watched from the side as you took in all of it. some of the people you loved most in one place to celebrate the person you loved most.

seeing your daughter happy made you happy and that was all you could wish for.

you took a gander at all of the people enjoying the party when a knock at your front door catches your attention. you jog over to the door and are met with heeseung, a cheesy grin on his face as he carries several boxes in his arms, peering from behind it to reveal himself.

“i hope i’m not too late?” he says and you just chuckle, telling him that the party was just beginning. you invite him inside, instructing him to set her gifts onto the table in the far side of the kitchen as the two of you join everyone in the backyard.

you can hear gasps coming from your friends as they see you and heeseung standing together, a sight that none of them thought they’d see so soon. “yo! heeseung, you made it man.” jake says, standing up to shake his friend’s hug as everyone follows to do the same.

karina and winter send you a teasing glance, the two of them pointing to you and heeseung like you were all kids teasing their friend when their crush walks by, earning them an eye roll as you laugh it off.

“where’s the birthday girl?” heeseung asks, still holding onto a small gift as he walks back to you. you pointed at heejin who was playing tag with her friends; unafraid to get rowdy with the little boys in her class. “heejin, bambi! come here, you’ve got a gift.” you shout and she comes running as she hears the word gift.

heeseung crouches down to her size and hands her the gift, “happy birthday heejin.” he says with a soft smile, one that heejin returns. hugging him to thank him, “can i open it mama?” she asks and you gesture her to ask heeseung since it was his gift– earning an eager nod from heeseung who encouraged her to open it.

heejin tears into the small box, a gasp escaping from her tiny mouth as she sees the box, the gift wrap revealing a soft brown deer plushie with a pink bow and blushing cheeks. she jumps up and down in excitement, her arms wrapping around heeseung’s neck to show her appreciation for the gift. seeing heeseung hug her back pulls at your heartstrings as you watch all of it unfold, an image in your head that you thought you’d never see.

your daughter and her father sharing a tender moment with an embrace.

⋆˚ʚɞ

the party dies down once the sun has set and most of the guests have gone. the only people left were your parents, winter and sunghoon, and heeseung. your friends had offered to stay back to help you clean and because your mother was your mother, she wasn’t going to let you clean up alone even if you had your friends to help.

heejin was in the living room with bright eyes as she looked at all of the gifts she had received, several gifts of stuffed animals, toys, clothes, and other presents that a small child would appreciate. “okay, bambi let’s get ready for bed. you can play with all of your toys tomorrow, ok?” and heejin nods, grabbing the deer plushie that heeseung got her and taking it with her as you help her get ready for bed.

heeseung notices you and heejin walking away and excuses himself from your mother to which she just nods and tells him it’s okay and she’ll take care of the rest of the chores in the kitchen. heeseung parted with a small bow as he makes his way to what he assumes is heejin’s room.

winter and sunghoon on the other are glancing at each other, having confirmation with just their eyes as they watch heeseung run after you.

“you know.. not to be a conspiracy theorist but doesn’t heejin look like.. heeseung?” winter asks, whispering to sunghoon as she walks a bit closer to him. “no, i see it too. also, the nickname? we used to say heeseung looks like a baby deer all the time when we were in college and yn nicknamed her daughter bambi?” sunghoon adds and winter looks at him like he’s just spilled the deepest secret one can hold.

sunghoon and winter send each other knowing glances as they both arrive at a revelation.

“hey, you guys alright?” heeseung asks while popping his head into heejins room with a soft knock. you tell him that you’re just her ready for bed when you wave him inside. “thank you for the gift, she loves it a lot. i’ve been looking for that thing for months and i can’t believe you were able to find it.” you tell him and heeseung chuckles.

“it’s no big deal” he responds and you ask him about how he knew to get that for her. “she talks about it whenever i drive her to school, she also mentioned that her mommy calls her bambi and i figured it would make the perfect gift.” he explains, making it a point to reference the bambi part as he knew that was also a nickname he had within your friend group, one that you started.

you hoped that you weren’t too obvious with that but chose not to dwell much longer on the nickname as it could just be coincidence– although it wasn’t.

“thank you for the bambi!” heejin says as she walks back into the room in her pajamas. heeseung pats her small head as she climbs into her bed, tucking her into her blanket as you ask her about her day– heejin rambling on about her favorite parts of the day which just turned out to be every single aspect of her party.

you smiled at her as she went on and on, “but my favorite is the bambi.” she says while stretching her arms out with the plushie in her hands and then bringing it into her arms for a hug. “thank you dad.” heejin says and it catches you and heeseung off guard– heejin herself doesn’t even realize what she’s said as she gets cozy in bed.

there was a sense of awkwardness between the two of you at the comment by your daughter and it causes heeseung to start questioning things and putting puzzle pieces together. the possibility that he could’ve been heejin’s dad hadn’t crossed his mind once and now that it’s been brought up; it’s all he was thinking about.

“goodnight, baby.” you say before placing a kiss onto heejin’s forehead and as you’re about to leave; she calls out to you. “mama, can you sing me a lullaby?” she asks and even though you were exhausted, you weren’t going to say no to your daughter.

“can i?” heeseung asks and you couldn’t bring yourself to say no when heejin looked so excited, so you nod and heeseung takes a seat on the bed next to heejin who was still hugging the deer plushie.

heeseung then begins to sing a song to your daughter. you haven’t heard his voice in so long, the melodic trill of his vocals, a symphonic honey like sound that lulled your daughter to sleep in no time, her soft snores mixing with heeseung’s beautiful singing.

when the two of you were certain that she was sound asleep, you carefully walked out of her room and shut the door as softly as you could. as you try to walk back to finish some cleaning, heeseung holds onto your hand and whips you back around to look at him, his gaze filled with love and the same type of longing that has lingered inside of him for years on end.

“can we talk?” heeseung says and you nod, letting him know to continue.

“i know that i hurt you when i made it feel like you were just a rebound, but that couldn’t have been more wrong. it was always you, i’ve always loved you and i would always choose you. my ex and i were constantly fighting throughout that week and the day i came running to you was when we broke up but i never told you why…

we broke up because she realized how much i loved you in comparison to her and it wasn’t fair that whenever i was with her, all i could think about was you.

i’ve loved you since the day i met you and i just never had the courage to say that, but i would write your name in the sand again and again after the waves have swept it away if it means that my love for you is shared across the seas.”

tears streaming down your eyes as heeseung’s hands gently cup your face, his thumb wiping your face of your tears. heeseung brings you into his arms for an embrace and when he feels your arms wrap around him, he breathes a sigh of relief knowing that he was finally able to get that off of his chest.

something that he’s had weighing on him for so long and was so happy to finally profess his love for you. the girl he loves and will always love.

when you pull away from him with a sniffle, heeseung wipes your tears again as you lock eyes, “is she mine?” he asks in reference and you nod, finally telling heeseung the secret that you’ve held for the last five years.

tears sting heeseung’s eyes at the information and he holds you even tighter in his arms when he hears the news. he couldn’t believe that the beautiful girl he just sang to sleep was his daughter. joy was an understatement to describe the emotion that he was feeling. the type of love only a family could share where they’d do everything to keep the family together and happy.

you and heeseung spend the night sharing stories of what you’ve missed in each other’s lives in the time that you were gone. tears, laughter, and tender touches shared between the two of you as you do your best to rebuild your relationship from scratch.

“thank you for giving me another chance.” heeseung whispers as you lay in his arms, the moonlight shining onto your faces, leaving a small white cast into the room.

“thank you for not giving up on me.” you respond, heeseung placing a small kiss onto your temple before you both drift off to sleep. a type of joy and delight radiating from your bodies that neither of you have felt in so long. something you would have only gotten from one another.

⋆˚ʚɞ

you’re awoken to the smell of grilled meat wafting throughout your home, your nose dragging you to the living room to find heejin and heeseung in the kitchen cooking together. “what do we have here?” you ask and they turn to look at you, “mama! he’s teaching me how to make pancakes and bacon.” she says, running over to you and hugging your legs. you pick her up and walk back to heeseung who was setting the last pancake onto the plate.

“let’s eat.” he says and you all sit at the table together and enjoy breakfast like a family for the first time. a moment that you’ve always wanted to share as a whole family and now that you’ve finally been able to share the truth with heeseung, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

“heejin, i have something to tell you, ok?” you tell her and she’s looking up at you with her big doe eyes, identical to heeseung’s who was shyly sitting to the side. “remember when you asked me where your papa is?” and heejin nods, a small pout on her lips.

“bambi, heeseung is your papa.” and you’ve never seen heejin move so fast before as she’s jumping out of her chair and into heeseung’s arms to which he welcomes her, hugging his daughter with so much love that you could feel it coming off of them. heeseung extends one of his arms to invite you over and as tears fall from your eyes once again, you join in on your first ever family hug.

you didn’t know when this day would come and you were elated that it came sooner after you had been running from it for the last five years. the happiest moment of your life with the family you’ve created could’ve never happened if you didn’t face heeseung and allowed for him to bare his soul and heart to you. something you should’ve never been afraid of.

heeseung waited for you every single day, thinking about the day that you’d come back to him and when you’d finally be his. to his surprise, you gave him a beautiful daughter that, although he has a lot of time to make up for, was so happy that he wasn’t too late to watch her grow and be a part of her life.

no matter how hard you tried to run from having to face this hardship, heeseung was thousands of miles away back in korea waiting for you with only love in his mind. wanting nothing more than to have you back in his life and to never let you go like he had done the first time.

the image of your broken face replayed in his mind every night when he slept, thinking about the pain he must’ve put you through without knowing the full capacity of what you had to experience alone. he wished he was there by your side through every single step, holding your hand in the delivery room, taking photos of you as your stomach grew, witnessing his daughter’s first steps and first word, everything.

but now that he was back, he was going to make sure that he didn’t miss anything else.

you and your daughter instantly became the most important people in his life, knowing that he’d love the both of you endlessly, unconditionally, and forever.

forever.

something that he’d always associate with you because you are his forever and now, so is your daughter.

love should be forever and you were forever going to be loved by him. it was like love and forever was synonymous with you because to heeseung, loving you is forever.

⋆˚ʚɞ

ᡣ•.•𐭩♡ @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @17ericas @manaah02 @heeseung64 @zorange13 @firstclassjaylee @leipforggy

@seonhoon @maliakealoha @melancholy-z @woniefull @clandestineself @xylatox @yjngwon04 @enhaverse713586 @lovingvoidgoatee @lizdevorak @arourababy @m3owzz @tvm-m-blog @hommyy-tommy @ikeulove @hhyvsstuff @theoskies @gyuternally @dksfml @luumiinaa @jungwonchocochipcookie @ikeuwoniee @river-demon-slayer @horijiro @byuniieo @serinebsblog @aonneh @sumzysworld @rikiiisoob @sxnmavi @fancypeacepersona @cloud-lyy @tya0

all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.

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emo-cosplayer · 3 months ago

Text

RAIN LILIES

pairing: soulmate idol choi beomgyu x soulmate fem!reader

Sitting at parties surrounded by lovers, a silent third wheel at movie nights, the friend holding the camera at weddings—your hands are always... alone in the spaces where others are full.

Were you an error in the grand scheme? An anomaly? A glitch in the unforgiving script? Or maybe, he simply doesn’t really… exist.

That’s how you ended up here, standing beside your korean-pop-obsessed friend who practically dragged you out and swore you’d love the show. It all became a blur when your eyes met his.

He’s on stage, gripping the mic impossibly still, staring down back at you like he feels it too.

He shouldn’t be real.

warnings: red-string au, strangers to lovers, reader is two years older, normal society norms, waiting, anxiety, doubts, sasaengs, insecurities, hasty decisions, drunk-in-love beomgyu. pov switching. everything written is a work of fiction. let me know if I missed anything.

smut-warnings: MDNI, explicit-descriptions, missionary, fingering, oral!fem receiving, dom beomgyu.

wc: 20k — playlist.

notes: fighting both my delulu and my demons while writing this. 😭 Might just be the fic I enjoyed writing the most—I hope you love it just as much! so glad to be part of this beautiful event. a big thank you to my beta reader.

1/5 part of the valentine event with talented moas! see the full masterlist here.

If fate promised you something so certain, how could you not long for it?

Since childhood, you’ve heard the stories. The way people speak in hushed voices, weaving fate into riddles, how somewhere out there, it's waiting—a single red string, unseen until the exact moment it’s meant to appear.

The rules are simple: the second your eyes meet theirs, a delicate crimson thread will wrap and tug around your ring finger, stretching across, tied to the one who is destined to love you.

You watched it happen to everyone else. From playground giggles in elementary school to whispered confessions in high school hallways, to late-night talks in college dorm rooms. You listened as your friends spoke about finding their own soulmates, the feeling—the pull, the process. It's everywhere. In the way, your parents fit together like pages of the same story. On the way your younger sister—still so new to the world found her match.

When you’re told your whole life that destiny is waiting for you, how could you not ache for it?

The universe doesn’t make mistakes. And yet, your hands remained... stringless.

And now you wonder if it did—with you.

"One, two, three, smile!"

You press the shutter, capturing the way they look at each other. You lower the camera, but they don’t even notice—they’re too caught up in their own little world, whispering sentences only they’ll ever understand. They laugh, eyes soft, bodies leaning in just a little closer.

How does love do that? How does it make someone shine like they’re carrying sunlight beneath their skin? Like just standing beside the right person is enough to set them alight?

And why, no matter how long you wait, does that light never seem to find you?

There are days you curse it—this cruel design, this aching uncertain certainty. You tell yourself it would be easier not to know, to live without the quiet hope that somewhere, someone is meant to find you, or that fate had already written your name beside someone else’s.

And then there are days you fear it.

What if they don’t want to find you? What if that’s why you’re still alone? What if they got it wrong, skipped over your name, and he simply… doesn’t exist?

You're an anomaly. A glitch in the well-made script.

You lost count of how many times you wished it was never made this way. That love shouldn’t be a promise. Yet in the deepest hours of the night, you found yourself—gasping, trembling, and sobbing to your palms. The feeling of—

How can you miss someone you've never met?

You want to reach for a hand you’ve never held. You long for a voice you’ve never heard, a scent you’ve never breathed, a shadow you’ve never chased. And more than anything, you wish you had a name to whisper, to give you hope.

You swallow, forcing a smile as you turn back to the couple. "Congratulations," you say, "It’s a beautiful wedding."

"Thank you, Y/N!" Ha-rin squeals, practically glowing as she steps forward to hug you. "And thank you for being our photographer—I know you must be busy."

"You’re welcome," you reply, adjusting your camera strap. "It’s what I do, after all."

Ju-won steps in then, reaching for Ha-rin’s hand like he can’t stand even a moment of space between them. "Thank you, Y/N," he says, his eyes never straying far from his wife.

They were your high school classmates. You remember the day they met—first year, first morning, when their eyes met across the classroom, and just like that, the red string appeared. They grew together, from awkward introductions to effortless friendship, and now, here they were, husband and wife.

A picture of everything the universe had promised them.

Ju-won leans in, pressing a kiss to Ha-rin’s cheek like it’s the first time, like they haven’t spent years by each other’s side. The look in their eyes is so easy, so full of love, that you have to look away.

You can't look.

"Uh, I’ll get some drinks," you say, forcing a smile that feels as out of place as you do. You don’t wait for a response. You just turn, your heels clicking against the polished floor, head spinning as you try to count how many weddings you’ve attended this year.

Or no. You’ve lost count.

Everyone you grew up with—your friends, your classmates—have already found their soulmates. Most are married now, some already raising children.

Your heels dig into your feet with each hurried step, but you don’t slow down. You just keep moving, past everyone. You know exactly where you’ll end up. The same place you always do.

Alone at the sidelines.

You grab a drink, bringing it to your lips a little too quickly, hoping the cool burn will settle the unease twisting in your stomach.

"Hey! It’s been a while!" A voice cuts calls out, familiar—but not familiar enough. You turn to see a girl skidding towards you, her face vaguely recognizable. A former classmate? A clubmate? Someone who once sat next to you in a lecture hall?

"How have you been?" she asks, taking a drink for herself.

"I’m fine, thanks," you reply, forcing an easy nod before taking another sip.

A second passes, and then another girl joins the conversation, breathless with laughter. "Beom-seok finally let me go," she teases, tilting her head toward the man across the room—her soulmate. "The guy’s obsessed."

"Of course he is," the first girl grins. "He’s your soulmate." She swirls her drink before adding, "Mine just got back from overseas. He’ll see me tomorrow once he’s in the city." And there it is again—circling back to the same topic, the one you can never take part in. You nod, offering a small smile, pretending to listen.

Because what is there to say when everyone else has something you don’t?

"Y/N?" Your name pulls you out of your thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Did you meet yours yet?" The question hits like a slow, squeezing ache in your chest.

"No," you say, reaching for another drink. It's embarrassing that everyone knows you're empty. "I haven't."

"That's… weird, right?" The first girl tilts her head, genuinely puzzled. "I mean, we sat through those lectures together. Didn’t the studies say most people find their soulmate before twenty-five? That’s what the records say."

There’s no malice in her voice, just matter-of-fact. Like she’s pointing out a statistic, saying out what’s already been made painfully clear to you. it’s the same tired reminder, the same unspoken question: what’s wrong with you?

You’re used to it by now.

"Yeah," you say, unwilling to argue. What’s the point? Your mind slips back to those reckless high school days—the days when older girls, too cool and too cruel, mocked you for not having a soulmate. You remember snapping back, pretending their words didn’t sting.

Later, the tears came on the bus ride home—carving rivers down your cheeks as you sob. Strangers offered tissues, soft words, awkward kindness, but none of it could stitch you back together. You remember your mother's words after seeing her home. To stop them from hurting you, you have to accept all of yourself.

But how do you accept the whole of you, when it doesn’t even feel like you have all of you?

From the corner of your eye, you catch the second girl nudging her. "Don’t mind her, Y/N," she says quickly. "She doesn’t always think before she talks." Then, after a beat, she adds, "Have you tried dating in the meantime? You know, while you're waiting?"

You blink at her, taken aback.

"I mean, it's not like it’s cheating, right? Since you haven’t met them yet."

You set your drink down, your fingers suddenly cold. "Why are you suggesting something you wouldn’t even do?" Your voice is calm, but it makes her shift uncomfortably. "Or did you? Does your soulmate know?"

Neither of them speaks. Guilt in their expressions. You don’t wait for an answer. You're done for tonight.

It’s time to go.

You turn away, not bothering to look back. No one needs you here—your part is done. Your role here is over. You pull out your phone, quickly typing out a polite apology to the bride before slipping it back into your pocket.

The drive home is silent, and the buzz of the engine is the only company you have. Your hands grip the wheel a little too tightly, your thoughts drifting despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. When you finally reach your small apartment, you step out, clutching yet another wedding souvenir in one hand a meaningless token of a night that wasn’t yours to celebrate.

You lock the door behind you and lean against it blinking, exhaling shakily. "I guess today wasn’t the day either," you murmur to no one in particular, wiping away the single tear that managed to escape. "What's taking you so long?"

No matter how often you whispered this question, it never hurt any less.

"What's taking you so long?"

Beomgyu groans from under the covers, trying to burrow deeper into the warmth of his bed. The sudden tug of his blanket makes him blindly reach out, attempting to grab it back. "You shi—"

"Beomgyu, you're the last one. We're all almost ready to go," Soobin says, adjusting his belt in the mirror. "Look at this little child."

Beomgyu stretches with a dramatic yawn. "I'm up, I'm up," he mumbles, sitting up sluggishly and blinking against the light. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, feet landing on the bedside table. Soobin shakes his head but doesn't stick around—his job is done. Beomgyu is finally awake.

Minutes later, Beomgyu trudges into the living room, hair a mess, voice still deep with sleep. "Are we eating there?"

The entire room turns to look at him.

"You woke up late, and that’s the first thing you care about?" Yeonjun teases, shaking his head with a laugh.

"Well, I didn’t eat last night," Beomgyu grumbles.

"Oh?"

"Liar," the maknae pipes up from the couch, casually applying lip balm. "You literally snuck out to eat."

"You snitch," Beomgyu gasps, feigning betrayal. "I didn’t raise you to turn on me like this!"

"You? Raise me?" Kai scoffs. "Soobin hyung’s the one who raised me, what are you talking about?"

Soobin smirks and chucks Beomgyu’s towel straight at his face. "Exactly. Now go shower, you idiot."

Laughter erupts around the room as Beomgyu groans, trudging toward the bathroom. "Shower quick, hyung," Taehyun calls out.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Beomgyu’s slightly damp hair clings to the back of his neck. He hadn’t had time to dry it properly before they rushed out of the dorm—there was no room for delays today. A broadcast for their comeback. Another promotion. His stylist would handle it in the green room anyway.

They pile into the van, the usual quiet settling over them. Despite being fully dressed and ready, exhaustion hangs heavy. One by one, his members drift off, heads resting against windows, bodies slumped in their seats. Only Kai remains awake, lost in his own world, music pulsing through his earphones. The maknae was so engrossed on his phone, obviously texting with a small smile on his face.

Beomgyu sighs, pressing his forehead against the cool glass, his breath slightly fogging up the window. Today would be a long day. Rehearsals, performances, a challenge video, taping. He missed this. He missed MOAs. The rush of the stage. The high of performing. And then—

Oh.

The van slows at a red light, and his gaze drifts absentmindedly to the sidewalk. His chest tightens.

A couple walks by, laughing, hands intertwined, completely lost in their own world. The way they move together, effortlessly in sync. In love. Content. Happy. He stares longer than he should.

He can't look away.

His throat feels tight as the van lurches forward again, pulling him out of his thoughts. He blinks hard, shifting in his seat. The image stayed, pressed into the back of his mind.

All four of his members had already found theirs—their soulmates. The one they could lean on when the world became too loud. Beomgyu was happy for them, of course, he was. He remember how he was when Kai blushed when he met his soulmate recently, right after his 23rd birthday.

Everyone teased the maknae relentlessly for weeks.

Beomgyu had been too busy his whole life, training since he was just a kid, running full speed toward a dream. His mind is busy to the point he sometimes forgets it. He does not mean to. It's just that—he never let himself dwell on it for too long. Pushing it aside became second nature, the same way he’d forget to eat when he was too busy, too distracted.

But every year, without fail, when the room dimmed and the birthday candles in front of him, his wish was always the same.

His soulmate.

It didn’t matter how many years passed or how much he achieved—when the glow of those tiny flames danced in his eyes, it was the only thing his heart whispered.

Beomgyu exhales shakily, his fingers curling into his hoodie. a quiet sigh slipping from his pouting lips.

Where are you?

The stark white walls of the hospital room loom over, mocking your awkwardness.

"There's nothing wrong with you, dear," the woman in front of you says, her lab coat lending a sense of authority to her words. Her voice is gentle, reassuring, but it barely soothes the unease twisting in your chest. "Soulmates do tend to find each other early, statistically speaking. But that’s just a pattern, not a guarantee."

You swallow hard. The lump in your throat stays put. "Is there… any chance this is a mistake?" Your voice is quieter than you intend, fragile in a way you hate. "That someone could go their whole life without one? That—" you hesitate, your chest tightening, "that I’m just… meant to be alone?"

Something flickers across her face—pity, maybe. You’re not sure. "I’ll look into it, I promise," she says after a moment. "I know twenty-six feels late, and I know it’s frustrating. But… trust in destiny a little longer. If you want, I can also recommend a therapist. I know the pressure can get to you."

Her words are meant to be comforting. They only make the weight in your chest heavier. You shake your head, managing a quiet “thank you” before slipping out of the room, the door clicking shut behind you.

“How was it?” Da-hee’s voice reaches you before you even look up. She’s already on her feet, eyes scanning your face, searching for an answer. “What did they say?”

“Nothing I haven’t heard before.” You sigh, walking past her. “I told you I should not do this.”

She huffs, crossing her arms as she falls into step beside you. “You never tried it,”

Your best friend doesn’t argue anymore, following you to the counter in silence. The cashier barely looks up as they say, “That consultation is $120 total, plus taxes, bringing it to $145.86. Card or cash?”

You catch Da-hee reaching for her wallet, but you gently push her hand away. “Don’t,” you murmur. “This was for me.”

You hand over your card. A quick swipe, a faint beep. And just like that, you’re down nearly $150 with nothing to show for it but a sinking feeling in your stomach.

That much money for a consultation. A conversation. No treatment, no tests, nothing tangible. Soulmate doctors are expensive. Too expensive. And health insurance? Useless. They don’t cover something as rare, as unquantifiable, as soulmate problems.

Because to them, it’s not a real sickness, proving that you are—once again—the outlier.

Perfect.

“Come on,” you say, nudging your still-guilty-looking friend. She follows you out of the hospital, quiet and pouting.

At the car, she pulls open the driver’s side door. “Let me at least drive?” she offers, voice softer now.

You chuckle at her persistence, shaking your head before tossing her the keys. “Okay.” Sliding into the passenger seat, you reach for the radio, as she pulls out of the parking lot.

"Let's hang out at your place," Da-hee says, and she grins as she sees you nod your head.

Music played softly through the speakers, blending with the casual flow of conversation. The air is light, and easy—until your car rolls past a towering black building.

HYBE.

Funeral wreaths. Trucks. Massive banners.

Your brows furrow as you take it in, the sight so jarring that it silences you for a beat. The road ahead clogs with slowed traffic, people lingering to gawk at the scene.

“What the fuck?” Da-hee mutters, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, eyes darting across the scene. The traffic slows as more people crane their necks to look. You do the same, stomach twisting at the sheer scale of it. "This is insane."

“What’s going on?” you ask, still trying to piece together the meaning behind it all.

She exhales, lips pressing into a thin line. “Lee Heeseung. An idol,” she starts. “News got out that he recently went out with his soulmate.” Her voice dips, sadness flickering across her face. “And now… now, people want him out of the group.”

Your stomach twists. “What?”

You strain to read the bold, angry messages plastered across the banners:

GET LEE HEESEUNG OUT OF HYBE.

APOLOGIZE, LEE HEESEUNG.

EXPLAIN THIS, LEE HEESEUNG.

ENHYPEN IS NOW ONLY SIX.

IDOLS WITH SOULMATES ARE NOT IDOLS.

The messages feel suffocating, each one worse than the last. Then you see it—one of the trucks, its LED screen flashing an image like a public execution.

A man, young and striking, caught mid-laughter as he eats ramen with a girl beside him. She’s smiling too, her expression warm, content. The matching caps on their heads make them look like any ordinary couple, but the grainy, long-lens quality of the photo gives it away. Someone had been watching. Someone had been waiting to expose them.

Your stomach turns.

“It’s worse when so many fans are… young,” Da-hee murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. “Most of them are stringless.” She says the last word carefully like she doesn’t want to offend you.

But you almost hear what she isn’t saying.

Stringless people can’t understand the soulmate bond. And when it comes to idols, that misunderstanding twists into darker. As insane as it sounds, they feel entitled. Possessive. Like their devotion should be enough. Like an idol’s life—who they love, who they belong to—should be theirs to control.

It’s the only explanation, isn’t it?

The car inches forward, and your eyes drift back to the scene outside. Security guards push against the surging crowd, their faces strained. The banners wave wildly, like battle flags in a war meant to punish.

You swallow hard. “I don’t get it.” You don’t know him. You don't need to know him to know the injustice of it. “Why treat him like he committed some kind of crime? He’s meant to have someone. He’s a person, not—” You gesture vaguely at the protest, frustration bubbling up. “Not their property.”

Da-hee sighs. “That’s why idols who are caught with their soulmates—especially the ones who confirm it, get cancelled. Fans turn on them. They lose everything.” She shakes her head, voice laced with exhaustion and resignation. “It’s sad that they have to hide it.”

The thought of society hating someone just for loving who they’re meant to love makes your chest feel tight. How could something meant to be beautiful turn into this?

You guess your own situation isn’t the only cruel, unfair thing in this world.

The two of you make it back to your apartment, settling in for a movie with a bowl of popcorn between you. The glow of the TV flickers across the room, a comfortable silence stretching between you—until Da-hee suddenly squeals, nearly knocking the popcorn over in the process.

“Oh my god,” she gasps, shoving the popcorn bowl off her lap as she scrambles to her feet. “OH MY GOD.” She starts stomping in place.

You glance at her, unimpressed. “I want to wipe that ridiculous grin off your face.”

She just giggles and shoves her phone in front of you. “Joon bought me VVIP tickets. I’m going to die.” She pumps a fist in the air, bouncing on her toes like a kid who just won the lottery. “And there’s two. He can’t go—oh my god. Please, please, I am begging you to come with me. It’s next week! That sneaky bastard didn’t even tell me he bought them ages ago.”

You hesitate, already feeling the excuse forming on your tongue. “I don’t think—”

“Come on, Y/N.” She grabs your arm, shaking it dramatically. “Look at me. I have a soulmate, and I still thirst over Tomorrow X Together.”

You nearly choke on your drink. “That’s a long-ass name.”

“They’re my babies,” she says, clutching her chest like she’s been personally blessed by the gods. “You’ll love the show, I promise. And maybe—you’ll be like me. While you wait for your soulmate, it’s harmless to fangirl a little. OMG, what if you become a MOA? That’s my dream. Imagine us going to cafés with photocards, buying merch, collecting albums—”

“Okay, first of all, they are grown men. Not babies.” you cut in before she spirals. You know from experience that once she starts talking about her fangirl life, she never stops. “Anyways, okay, I’ll go. But don’t expect anything.”

Da-hee lets out another excited squeal before launching herself at you, wrapping her arms around your neck and squeezing way too tight.

“You won’t regret this!”

You already do.

It was your turn to trail behind Da-hee like a lost puppy, weaving through the sea of fans decked out in carefully coordinated outfits. Everyone is well dressed. So prepared. Keychains and accessories dangled from their bags, the sound of clinking metal filling the air.

"Look at them," Da-hee suddenly stopped, pulling out her phone. You followed her gaze to the massive banner hanging outside the arena.

TOMORROW X TOGETHER

They... didn’t look bad.

"My husbands," Da-hee sighed dreamily spinning turning to you with wide eyes. "Let's take a selfie!"

Before you could protest, she yanked you in, holding her phone high. The two of you posed—her grinning ear to ear, you looking like a reluctant daughter humoring her overexcited mom.

At the ticketing section, an attendant handed you both event wristbands and ID laces. You're about to shove yours into your pocket, but Da-hee looped it around your neck like a medal.

“So you don’t lose it,” she said firmly.

You sighed, adjusting the strap as you followed her toward a merch booth. Fans swarmed the display, eyes gleaming as they scanned the shelves stacked with albums, shirts, and accessories.

"Everyone's so hyped," you muttered, glancing around. "I can see a lot of Da-hees here."

"Of course they are," Da-hee said ignoring your last comment with a dramatic sway of her hand. She skimmed the display. "This comeback is a masterpiece."

You frowned. "What are we even doing here?"

"You need a picket." She says. "And don’t even think about saying no. I’m still heartbroken you refused the lightstick, so at least take this. We’re gonna be right at the barricades, you can’t just stand there empty-handed. Pick one."

You groaned, "Fine."

Your eyes sweep over the options, scanning each face printed on the glossy boards. You won’t say it out loud—not yet—but you’ll admit it now. They’re all… ridiculously handsome.

And one of them stands out.

Soft brown eyes. A small, almost knowing smile. Something about his face makes your breath hitch. "Uh..."

Da-hee leans in, brow furrowing. "What are you picking? Wait. Are you okay? Why are you so red—"

"I'm not," You quickly pointed at the picket, avoiding her stare like your life depended on it. "This one."

A slow, mischievous grin spreads across her face. "Oh-ho." She turns to the waiting merch seller, smiling some more.

"One Beomgyu, please."

You followed her... once again.

You didn’t have much of a choice. But this time, your steps felt… lighter. Movements are less reluctant than when you first arrived.

You weren’t sure why. Maybe it was the way the heat had finally eased, the golden glow of late afternoon settling over the pavement. Maybe it was the way MOAs—total strangers—smiled at you like you belonged, their warmth making you feel strangely at ease. Maybe it was the fact of not hearing the word soulmate even once. That you don't feel the odd one out.

Or maybe—just maybe—it was the picket you now held carefully in your hands.

You didn’t know how it happened. How you went from teasing Da-hee about her obsession to clutching a piece of laminated paper like it meant something. But the more you looked around, the more you understood.

It wasn’t just about the idols printed on banners or the music playing faintly in the background. But also, it was about them. These people who glowed with excitement, who found joy in simply being here, in loving unapologetically.

You were sceptical of it at first, seeing the front of HYBE last week. The protest. But just like everything, you saw it. The good side of being a fan.

How they shined—not only because of who they adored, but because of how they adored. How happy they were to love, and to share that love with everyone around them.

And somehow, standing here among them, you felt a little brighter, too.

"Where are we going now?"

"MOAZONE," Da-hee answers without hesitation, pulling you toward yet another booth. The concert doors won’t open for another thirty minutes, but she’s on a mission. The funny thing is—she doesn’t really need to drag you anymore.

Something has settled in your bones. You’re going to see this through, stay until the last song fades. And maybe—you’ll find yourself here again next time.

"It’s a booth where you can pull a concert-exclusive photocard," she explains further, eyes shining with excitement.

You nod, letting her lead the way. The line is long. When it’s finally Da-hee’s turn, she gasps, then squeals so loudly people around her chuckle. "Yeonjun!" she cries, clutching the card to her chest like it’s the most precious thing in the world. "I got him!"

Then, it’s your turn.

A row of face-down cards is laid out before you. You don’t think too hard about it—you just point to one.

The staff hands it over, and when you flip it, your breath catches.

"You got Beomgyu?!" Da-hee shrieks, bouncing on her toes beside you. You barely hear her. Because there he is.

Elbow propped up, chin resting on his hand, that same small, knowing smile—only this time, it’s wider.

Fucking hell.

Da-hee grabs your arm, shaking you. "Girl, you are officially a Beomgyu magnet. I'm unfriending you if don't start liking them,"

Beomgyu.

Beomgyu. His name loops in your mind, over and over. And for some reason, it fits. His name suits him.

You tried your best not to break a smile. "Come on,"

If you had told yourself a year ago that you’d be here—crammed into a packed venue, surrounded by screaming teenagers—you would’ve laughed. Hard.

And yet, here you are, laughing. Not at the absurdity of it, but with it. Caught up in the moment with Da-hee, the crowd’s energy vibrates as hundreds of voices chant their names.

“It’s soundcheck first,” Da-hee leans in, her voice barely cutting through the noise. “Then the main concert.”

You nod, still grinning. “Okay.”

Then, the opening notes of a song play through the speakers. The crowd erupts. “Oh my god!” Da-hee shrieks, “It’s Deja Vu!”

The five of them step onto the stage. It’s a blur—lights flashing, voices screaming. Your heart pounds against your ribs as the music swells, wrapping around you like something alive.

It’s beautiful.

A tall man—easily the tallest—moves toward your section, waving with an easy smile, deep dimples carving into his soft-looking cheeks. It reminds you of bread. The warmth of it is infectious, and before you even realise it, you're waving back, grinning at someone whose name you didn’t even know this morning.

Then, the song begins to wind down. And that’s when you see him.

Beomgyu.

His steps are slower than the others, like he’s taking his time, scanning the crowd with careful eyes. You tell yourself not to look. Not when he gets closer. Not when that strange, restless nervousness twists in your stomach. You clench your fists and stare at the ground. Why? Why does this feel so overwhelming?

Around you, voices grew. The energy shifts, and you know it’s only a matter of time before you give in. You look up, unsure.

The mic is at his lips, his voice singing into the melody—until suddenly, he stops.

All because his eyes meet yours.

Everything else fades. The crowd, the shake of Da-hee beside you, even the music that was supposed to be loud. All that’s left is the pull—a red thread stretching between, searing itself into your vision, blinding in its intensity—demanding to be seen.

On stage, he stands impossibly still, his fingers gripping the mic like he sees it too.

It can't be real.

“We're trending again,” Taehyun says, flopping onto Beomgyu’s hotel bed with a sigh. “What the hell?”

Beomgyu leans back against the headboard, “How much time do we have?”

Taehyun checks his watch. “Practice is in… oh. Hours.” He exhales, shaking his head in awe. “This is actually happening. A sold-out stadium, Beomgyu. Can you believe that? Remember that tiny, run-down building we used to train in? The cracked floorboards, the growing mushrooms?” He laughs, eyes distant.

“When Yeonjun used to sneak his soulmate in, trying to show off like he was already famous? As a trainee. And now—now, we’re here.”

Beomgyu snorts. “In that practice room, too. I still don’t know how his soulmate put up with that. Or how Yeonjun didn’t get kicked out.”

“Yeah. They just couldn’t let go of each other.” Taehyun laughs, shaking his head. “And I don't think Big Hit will let go of him too."

It had been one of the first rules drilled into them during training—no soulmates. No... searching. And if they already had one? They had to tell them. Have the conversation. An agreement that would turn everything into a secret.

Soulmates were inevitable, unstoppable. Beomgyu still remembers the contract in his hands, the way he read every word over and over, heart pounding. As if somewhere in the fine print, there was a clause that might hurt his soulmate. In the end, he signed.

If he ever found his soulmate, no one could know. Not until everything was over. In other words, disbandment.

"I'm missing her like crazy these days."

Beomgyu doesn’t respond right away. He just shrugs, tossing things out of his suitcase—a hoodie, a toothbrush, whatever his hands find first. He had noticed how restless Taehyun had been, the way he kept his phone glued to his hands, typing, hesitating, typing again. But what was there to say? What could he do about it?

The others were good at pretending. Hiding. The quiet hotel meetups, the stolen hours between schedules. But if Beomgyu was being honest, he could count on both hands the number of times any of the four had actually been with their soulmates since debut.

The fear of getting caught kept them all in line. Not just by the company, but by the fans. The horror stories weren’t just industry rumours—some were ancient, some recent.

If this doesn’t work out, I don’t know if I can take it. Taehyun had said that once. This career was everything. He wasn’t going to risk it. He wasn't ready. And Beomgyu understood. Everyone understood. He could already picture the protest trucks outside the company building if anyone ever slipped up.

"You heard anything from Heeseung?" Taehyun asks, his voice careful, his fingers tightening around his phone. Beomgyu knows him well enough to catch the shift—the way his mind drifts, went from missing his soulmate to remembering the latest scandal in their world.

Heeseung, the newest idol thrown into the fire.

He, who got caught with his soulmate.

"Yeah," Beomgyu says, swallowing. "He's okay, but… his soulmate is taking the worst of it."

Taehyun stills. The thought of his own soulmate being dragged into something like that—starts to burn at the back of his mind. What if it were her?

"Hey, don't overthink it," Beomgyu says because he sees it. He sees it in all of them. The quiet way they carry it, that they aren’t supposed to want. In their world, the idea that you should be free with your soulmate is just that—an idea. Or maybe worse. A peril. A risk too big to take.

He remembers Soobin crying once, blaming himself for wanting this life—this job. And how, in the end, the only person who could calm him down was his soulmate. The same person the company treated like a liability. Yet, the only one with the power to bring their leader back to himself.

The irony.

He also remembers the night he sat with his dad, asking him how he knew Mom was his. He had tilted his head, recounting their encounter, before he said one thing that stuck with him.

"Before I even saw the string, I knew… it was her."

Beomgyu used to cringe at that. Now, he wonders if he'll ever get the chance to feel it.

“Did you see everyone? Insane.” Yeonjun says, eyes wide as they sit in the salon-like chairs. “They’ve been out there since last night.”

Kai glances at him as much as he can without moving his head, his makeup artist carefully blending eyeshadow. “Yeah, I saw them. MOAs are bundled up out there, and it’s freezing. It's worrying me.”

"I feel like I'm about to throw up. I'm nervous,"

Playing a stadium—a sold-out one, this is the dream. The one every trainee chases, the one Beomgyu used to stare at the ceiling imagining, too afraid to believe it could ever be real. And yet, here it is.

His mind pulls him back to the past. The long nights, the aching muscles, the quiet sobs muffled into his pillow. The moments of doubt, the voices—his own, the other's—telling him he wasn’t enough. He remembers how hard they worked. How hard he worked. How many times they shared one meal because they couldn't afford another one. And still, somehow, they held on.

He knows he earned this, and fought for it with everything he had. But standing here now, bathed in the price of it all, it still doesn’t feel real. He stares at his hands once his stylist is done with his eyes. There’s something else tugging at him, a strange feeling that’s been lurking since morning.

What it is, he can’t quite say.

Beomgyu's eyes sweep over the big space. The kind of big that makes his head spin if he thinks about it too much. In a few hours, this place will be much packed. He’s been—on stages just like this, under lights just as bright but somehow, it still knocks the wind out of him.

It's soundcheck. He likes it because, with the lights up, he can actually see everyone. It was one of the rare moments he could see faces. He likes it as much as the offline fan signs. They move through the set, running back and forth across the stage, but his feet keep pulling him toward one side—like an instinct.

Beomgyu likes looking at MOAs. It feels good. Familiar, almost. Sometimes, he even recognizes a face— it was a feeling like a reminder of home, a classmate from school, someone he’d seen before. And then there’s the simple joy of it all. The way someone’s face brightens up because of him. It never gets old. It never stops making him happy, too.

But then, he notices one weird thing.

It’s strange. He’s right here. He could understand if you were looking at another member—fans have their favourites, after all. But you’re not looking at anyone. You're staring at the floor?

You’re not looking at all.

He tilts his head, trying to see better—to get a curious glimpse, and suddenly, his whole world shifts. His heart slams to a stop. It’s so sudden, so overwhelming, he almost stumbles forward, yanking him toward the barricade. "What?"

And then—you move, as if you heard his thoughts.

Just the slightest turn of your head, your face lifting, eyes locking onto his. He stops breathing. His fingers go numb around the mic. Everything slows, softens, blurs at the edges until there’s nothing but this moment. Just the two of you, staring.

The closeness of Beomgyu makes the crowd shift, bodies pressing closer—but you don’t move. You just stand there—still, steady—while the rest of the world shifts around you. Like the last grain of sand in an hourglass, holding on as everything else rushes past.

He swears he would’ve stayed like that forever—frozen, staring, lost—if not for the firm hand on his shoulder. A small tug. He blinks, the spell breaking just enough for reality to slip back in.

"Beomgyu? What's wrong?" Soobin. His leader gives him a look of worry and urgency, and that’s when he hears it, the music. He closes his agape lips, and clears his throat. The song is still playing. Right. He’s supposed to be—

But then his gaze flickers back to you.

It’s nothing, he tells himself. You’re just so so pretty. That’s all. Maybe it was your eyes or your hair or the way you did it. It was just fucking cute. It doesn’t mean anything. And—

His breath falters. He sees it.

He hadn’t noticed before. He had been too busy looking at you. Too caught up in the moment that he missed it entirely. Something all of the members have. Something Beomgyu had waited for his whole life.

The thread.

Thin, and so impossibly red. A string stretched between, glowing faintly under the stage lights. He looks down at his hand—at his ring finger— it's tied there. His eyes trace its path. To you. His chest tightens.

"Before I even saw the string, I knew… it was her."

Soulmate.

You’re his. After everything—after all this time—

He finally found you.

The dressing room is a blur of movement, stylists rushing, last-minute adjustments being made, and voices overlapping but he just sits there. Staring at the floor.

He’s dressed. He’s ready. He should be used to this by now, the pre-show jitters, the nervous energy that always sits in his chest before he steps on stage. But—his soulmate is out there. Somewhere in the crowd. And the thought grips him so tight it almost hurts. What if he never sees you again? What if you’re gone before he can find you?

Your face lingers in his mind, vivid and haunting. The way the lights hit your dress, the way you looked at him—it knocked the breath right out of his lungs. He was completely unprepared for it. You were so beautiful that he almost forgot what he was doing.

He’s never been shaken like that before. Not in his personal life. Not as an idol. Not in school, at the company, on stage, meeting seniors, at award shows—never.

Waiting for the music queue, he finally lifts his head.

Muscle memory takes over. His body knows what to do. He’s trained for this, conditioned for it. Every movement, every note, every expression—it’s muscle memory now. His instincts take over before his thoughts can catch up. This is his life. His career. The one thing he chose, out of everything he could have been. How many people in the world get to do this? To stand under those lights, to hear thousands of voices calling his name, to live a dream most wouldn’t even dare to chase?

Would he trade it all, just to see you again?

His feet move—before he can stop them, despite his thoughts, his heart pulls him stronger toward your section. It's a force beyond his control. When he finally sees you again, it feels like a miracle. You’re still near the barricade, still close enough that he doesn’t have to search.

He keeps up, waves, and makes faces—things for MOAs, things he’s done a thousand times before. But his mind isn’t on them. It’s on you. And you’re just standing there again, frozen in place like you don’t trust yourself to move.

He waves again, but this time, it’s for you. Directly. You tilt your head, hesitant, and then—an unsure wave back. It’s so small, so subtle, but it makes him smile. His grin spreads before he can think twice.

Got you, beautiful.

He pumps his fist in an exaggerated show of triumph, like he just won a game only the two of you are playing. He watches as your eyes go wide, and if the lights weren’t so blinding, he swears he’d see the warmth rising to your cheeks. He fists his hand, trying to hold back from reaching out to you.

He crouches, and the fans around you surge forward, eager to be seen, but you don’t move. And then, he sees it—your eyes kept flickering downward, tracing the thread again and again, like you were making sure.

Yet you see it perfectly too.

You smile—small, hesitant, like you’re not sure this is really happening. Then, as if on impulse, you lift your hand, forming a careful, uncertain hand heart.

He doesn’t even wait a second before returning it.

His eagerness made you laugh. A breathless, disbelieving kind of laugh. He can’t hear it, not over the noise of the crowd, but he sees it in the way your shoulders shake, the way your eyes crease at the corners. His chest aches.

You're even more beautiful when you laugh.

He tosses a few kisses out into the air, but he gives his last kiss, the last one to you. You hesitate for only a second before sending one back. His response is instant—dramatic, ridiculous—clutching his chest like you’ve just shot him straight through the heart. He stumbles back, clutches at his clothes, so completely gone for you.

It’s meant to be a joke, but it isn’t.

Because you do have his heart, don’t you? And the strangest thing is, he doesn’t even know your name. Has never heard your voice. But right now, none of that matters. Maybe he’d stay here forever if he could, but the next song cut through the air, pulling him back to the present. His feet move, leading him away—away from you.

Before he joins the centre, just for a second, he looks back. A second to meet your eyes again, to make sure you're watching him.

And you are.

"Hyung," he breathes out.

Soobin turns, both of them standing still as stylists tug their sweat-drenched shirts off, replacing them with fresh ones.

But Beomgyu isn’t thinking about the show anymore.

He’s looking at Soobin. Waiting. Searching for the right way to ask without anyone else catching on. He doesn’t want them to hear. Doesn’t want them to know.

Not yet.

Soobin frowns slightly. “What? You've been looking distracted since earlier. Are you okay?”

“Your soulmate…” His eyes flicker down. He hesitates, searching for the right words. The right way to say this. "At—Tokyo? How did you…?"

He doesn’t need to finish the thought. How can the older forget the only time he managed to sneak his soulmate backstage? Soobin stares at Beomgyu. The latter's face is practically screaming his questions. How did you do it? How did you get them backstage? How did you make it happen?

Beomgyu has to see you. In front of him. Next to him. Because what if you disappear? What if he lets this slip through his fingers, and suddenly—you’re just gone? And what if this is his only chance?

The room moves around him—zippers, voices, fabric rustling—but all he can hear is his own ragged breathing. He moves his eyes. And there, watching him is their leader who knows him better than anyone—with that equally knowing look on his face.

"Let's talk. Just the two of us."

Beomgyu is your soulmate.

The boys just disappeared backstage, their song still ringing in your ears, but your hands won’t stop shaking. Your chest is tight, your throat burns, and there’s a sting at the corners of your eyes.

You're not a mistake. He’s here. He saw you.

His eyes, his smile. The way he moves, the faint dimple that appears when he does. The thought is too much—it makes your knees weak, and forces you to grip the barricade to keep yourself upright.

"Girl, I swear Beomgyu kept looking over here," Da-hee says, nudging you, completely oblivious to the storm unraveling in your chest. Then she catches sight of your face—at your trembling fingers, at the way you can’t seem to catch your breath.

“Y/N?” Her voice softens. “What’s wrong?”

The words leave your lips before you can even think. "I saw my soulmate."

Your voice shakes, barely above a whisper, but Da-hee hears it. Her eyes go wide. "Wait, what? Oh my god—where is he? Is he a MOA? Is he—”

She doesn’t even get to finish the thought before she freezes.

It clicks.

Then, slowly, her face shifts—from confusion to shock to absolute disbelief. The finding out, then the realising. She stares at you, her mouth slightly open, her hands hovering in the air like she doesn’t know what to do with them.

“Oh my fucking god.” Her hands fly to her mouth, like she needs to physically stop herself from screaming. Then she grabs her hair, like that’s going to help her process this.

“Is he—is Beomgyu—” She cuts herself off, whisper-shouting now, eyes darting toward the stage, toward the place where he just was. “Is that why he kept coming back over here?”

Her grip tightens on your arm, searching your face, waiting for you to confirm what she already knows. But you can’t say anything. All you can give is a small nod.

Minutes pass. The music swells and fades, song after song drifting through the speakers.

Da-hee stays by your side, rubbing soothing circles on your back, whispering reassurances you can’t fully process. At some point, you catch her sniffling into her hands, wiping away her own tears.

Sixteen years.

Sixteen years of friendship, of growing up together, of knowing each other better than anyone else ever could. She’s seen every version of you—the messy, the broken, the parts of you even you struggled to accept. She’s cried with you, cried for you, carried your grief like it was her own. Even after finding her own soulmate, she never left you behind. Never made you feel like you were missing something, like you were less.

And now—now she’s the reason you’re here.

She’s the reason you met him.

You think of every birthday candle she ever closed her eyes for, every whispered wish she made on your behalf—because she believed that if two people wished for the same thing, the universe had to listen.

And maybe she was right.

It doesn’t matter if he never speaks to you. If the lights were too bright, if the crowd was too big, if he never even saw the thread at all.

It doesn’t matter. Because you saw it.

And that means you were never a mistake. Never some error in the grand design.

He exists.

Da-hee squeezes your hands, grounding you as a woman in staff uniform approaches. Her eyes lock onto yours, scanning your face, your outfit—like she’s confirming, making sure. Then, she stops directly in front of you. “We need to check some information on your tickets.”

Your heart slams against your ribs. You’re not stupid. You know what this is. You know they wouldn’t say it outright, not here, not in front of all these people.

“I—I have a friend with me,”

The staff member hesitates, studying you for a beat too long. Then she nods. “She can come with you, but she’ll have to wait in the holding room.”

You turn to Da-hee, and she’s already looking at you, her eyes wide and glassy. For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then she forces a wobbly smile.

Let's go.

You’re going to meet Beomgyu.

The walk was terrifying. Your hands clench tighter with every step, nails digging into your palms, but it does nothing to steady you. Every passing glance burns into your skin—people sneaking curious glances—staff members, crew, people who know exactly why you’re here.

Da-hee had to stay behind in the outer lounge. Now, it’s just you and the staff member leading you deeper into the backstage hallways. The air is thick, suffocating, and you force yourself to breathe through it.

Then she stops. A white door stands in front of you. Dressing Room is printed neatly on a sign, but the words blur as your mind spins.

She knocks. Opens it.

Panic rushes in. What if he doesn’t want this? What if he only let you come here to reject you—to tell you, to your face, that even if the universe says you’re meant to be, he doesn’t want you? What if—

The thought vanishes the second you see him.

Beomgyu.

He’s mid-step, like he’s been pacing. He removes his hands from his face, his eyes widening just slightly before he clears his throat. “Come in,” he says, voice softer than you expected. It’s meant for the staff member, but his gaze never left yours.

The staff steps aside, gesturing for you to enter. Heat crawls up your neck as you force yourself to move, hyper-aware of the way he’s watching every step.

“You have 60 minutes, Beomgyu,” she says before closing the door behind you.

Beomgyu stares at you, and you stare back.

For a moment, neither of you move. Just standing there, eyes locked, as if the world has paused just for this. To anyone else, it might look awkward—but you can't look away as he does.

Your eyes traces over his face, bare and fresh like he just washed up. The soft curve of his cheekbones, the freckles and moles scattered like constellations—proof that the universe took its time with him. Perfect in a way that makes your chest ache.

He blinks, and your eyes catch on his lashes—delicate, dark, fluttering against his skin like something out of a dream.

How can someone be made this perfect?

The question lodges itself in your throat, and before you can stop it, your vision blurs. Tears threaten to spill, but you blink them away. You don’t even know if he wants this yet—

"What’s your name?" Beomgyu asks, his voice quieter than he expected. He watches the way you blink, the slight parting of your lips like you hadn’t expected him to speak first.

His hands curl into fists at his sides. The urge to reach out—to cup your face, to feel your skin—is overwhelming. But he holds himself back.

Beomgyu has never considered himself the kind of person to take the first step. But not this. Not with you. He wants to start a conversation, anything—to get you talking, to hear your voice, to know you.

"Y/N." The sound of your voice stills him. It settles in his chest, not as something new, but as something he swears he’s always known—like a song he’s heard in a dream, waiting to be remembered. His lips twitch into a small, almost dazed smile.

Your voice is so pretty, he thinks. So pretty that it hurts.

He repeats your name, slower this time, rolling it over his tongue like he’s memorizing the way it feels to say it. And when you smile—just the faintest curve of your lips—his own smile widens into a grin.

"So, uh, hi?" Beomgyu says, and it pulls a laugh from you. His heart stumbles over itself at the sound, warmth blooming in his chest. It’s ridiculous, really, how easily you affect him.

"Did you come here alone?" he asks, trying to steady himself.

"I was with a friend," you say, and his eyes flicker—just for a second—to your lips before settling back on yours. "She’s outside."

"Hm." Beomgyu nods slowly, as if letting the thought settle. Then, slowly, he reaches out—his palm open, facing up, an unspoken invitation for you to give your hand out.

Your breath catches. Hesitation flickers for just a moment before you place your hand in his. Beomgyu feels warmth creep up his neck the second your skin meets, a flush he hopes you don’t notice. His fingers curl gently around yours, testing the weight of your hand in his own.

"Come on," he says, his voice softer now. He tugs you forward—careful, gentle, afraid he's hurt you in any way if he pulls too hard. "You should sit. You must be tired from standing out there."

"I could say the same," you murmur as you both sink into the couch. Beomgyu turns slightly toward you, his knee brushing yours, but he doesn’t let go of your hand. His thumb traces absentminded circles against your skin. "You danced and ran around the stage all night," you add, tilting your head at him.

He chuckles, the sound low and a little breathless. Your eyes drift around the room—clothing racks, scattered bags, the quiet remnants of a space that had been buzzing with energy just minutes ago.

"Yeah, I was pretty tired," he admits. Then, after a pause, softer this time, when you look at him again, he’s already staring. "But not anymore."

Beomgyu takes in everything—your lips, the way the light catches in your eyes, the soft of your hand in his. He doesn’t even think before he speaks, before the thought that’s been looping in his head since he first saw you finally slips past his lips.

"God, you're so beautiful."

Beomgyu watches as your cheeks flush, the warmth creeping up your skin like the slow bloom of dawn. He knew—you were his soulmate. Fates stitched together long before this moment, yet nothing could have prepared him for the way you looked right now. He never imagined that watching you blush under his words would feel this intoxicating.

"You’re the one who’s beautiful," you murmur, barely above a whisper. The words feel foreign on your tongue, yet true in a way that unsettles you. You clear your throat, trying to mask the way your heart stumbles over itself, but Beomgyu only tightens his grip on your hand.

You wonder how you even got here. This morning, you woke up with no idea that by evening, you'd be sitting across from your soulmate, flirting like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He chuckles—Beomgyu has heard the word beautiful more times than he can count. It’s been thrown at him in passing, whispered through screams from fans, printed in glossy magazines. But somehow, from your lips, it sounds different.

The next few minutes passed in easy conversation. Beomgyu had already pieced together bits of your life—you were only here because Da-hee dragged you along—he’d been hoping to meet her too, if only to thank her.

He knew you worked a corporate job, that photography was your escape. That you were two years older than him, a fact that he immediately latched onto, whispering noona in a teasing lilt just to see the way you’d roll your eyes laugh and swat his arm. But the truth was, he didn’t want to call you that. It was your name he wanted to say. He felt like he’d already spent a lifetime missing it, and now that he knew it, he never wanted to stop saying it.

You had learned things about him, too. That he’d loved music since he was a kid, that he picked up a guitar before he fully understood its chords. That he was cast as a trainee before he even hit the climax of his teenage years, and that six years had passed since he debuted. Things you could have easily searched online, or you could have read every article, and watched every interview, but nothing made your heart flutter quite like the way he told his own story.

The contrast between your lives was undeniable. Maybe that’s why it took so long for fate to push you toward each other.

While you were drowning in homework, he was in a practice room, chasing a dream. While you sat through lectures and worried about exams, he was in a studio, recording songs that would echo through stadiums. While you cried over a failed job interview, he stayed up until dawn, running through choreography again and again until his legs gave out. Your society—were parallel lines moving in different directions.

But sitting here, watching him scrunch his nose in laughter, none of that seemed to matter. Two people from different worlds, felt like it had faded into one—just by being next to each other.

He hadn’t once let go of your hand for the past hour.

"No, I just—I didn’t know where else to put it, so I stuck it there." You fumble for an excuse, cheeks burning as Beomgyu grins at you. He had spotted the photocard of him tucked into the back of your phone case, and he hadn’t let it go since.

“And it was random,” you add quickly, feeling your face heat up. “You have to randomly pick it.”

The truth is, Beomgyu knows. He knows it was a random selection. He knows you’re flustered. And he loves it. Loves the way you try to explain yourself, loves hearing you ramble, loves the way your face heats up under his stare. And to be honest, if it had been another member’s face staring back at him, no matter how petty it sounded, he also knows he wouldn’t have been too thrilled about it.

He’s in deep.

"Beomgyu, it's time to go." The same staff member says, pulling you both back to reality. You didn't even hear the doors opening. Her eyes flicker to your joined hands for a second, but she doesn’t say anything—just turns and steps outside.

You glance at Beomgyu, and he’s pouting. "We’re flying to Japan tomorrow morning, Y/N."

"Oh." The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. You just met your soulmate, and by morning, he’d be gone. "Okay."

You stand up, expecting him to do the same, but he doesn’t move. Your hands dangle between you because he still hasn’t let go. "Beomgyu?"

"I’ll see you as soon as I get back, okay?" His voice is softer now, like he’s trying to find the right words. His gaze lingers on you, unreadable for a moment, before he finally stands. He squeezes your hands gently. "It won’t be too long."

"Alright… we have each other's numbers, so… text me."

"Just know your phone might be buzzing non-stop,"

"Got it." You roll your eyes, smiling. "I’ll survive."

"And wear warm clothes—it’s winter."

"You too."

"Eat on time."

"You’re the one doing concerts. I should be the one saying that."

He ignores your deflection, pressing on. "Sleep well. Lock your doors properly. You live alone, so it’s dangerous. Don’t go out too late. And if you do, call me, okay? Actually, I’d prefer if you didn’t go out too late at all. Please—make sure you don’t—"

He doesn’t get to finish. Before he can say another word, you reach up, sliding your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him into a hug. His words cut off instantly, replaced by a soft inhale—like he hadn’t breathed since he started speaking. Your heart squuezes over itself at his endless concern, spreading through your chest. Blinking rapidly, trying to push away the tears threatening to spill.

For the first time tonight, Beomgyu lets go of your hand—only to wrap both arms around you, one firm around your waist, the other reaching up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair.

"I’ll see you soon, Beomgyu," you murmur.

You feel him tilt his head slightly before pressing a fleeting, warm kiss to your temple. "I’ll see you soon."

Elevators terrify you. It scares you because it feels like everything could come crashing down at any second. Why would you trust something that rises so quickly—too fast?

It can't last, doesn't it?

You feel him snuggle to you more, and you chuckle, pressed against him, his scent, his arms around you, holding you safely—his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek, as if whispering that the fall you fear will never come.

Elevators terrified you.

You wish you could have captured Da-hee’s face when she saw you walking over with Beomgyu beside you, his hand resting firmly on your back. Her eyes widened, mouth slightly agape, before she shot you a knowing look.

Beomgyu offered her a quick thanks, the paper bag with your heels swinging from your hands, and you stood there in the fresh pair of sneakers he’d somehow found in your size—because he wanted to. His eyes met yours for just a second longer before he turned to leave.

The second you stepped into the parking lot, Da-hee lost it. She let out a squeal so loud you had to clamp a hand over her mouth, laughing as she practically vibrated with excitement. "What just happened?!" she whispered against your palm, her eyes sparkling.

That night, as soon as you got home, your phone rang. His name lit up the screen.

It took only a second before answering.

It was awkward at first—neither of you really knowing what to say—but before you knew it, you were talking about everything and nothing, voices laced with exhaustion but neither willing to hang up first. He was leaving in a few hours, and you had to be the one to convince him to sleep, reminding him—more than once—that he had a flight to catch.

You had just curled up in your blankets when your phone buzzed again. Dozy, you reached for it, thumb swiping across the screen.

Choi Beomgyu I’m sorry for making you wait. I promise we’ll make up for all the time we lost. Sleep well, beautiful.

Even as sleep pulled you under, the smile on your lips never faded.

You wake up to the relentless ringing of your doorbell. A groan slips past your lips as you burrow deeper into your blankets. It’s Sunday. No work. No alarms. Just sleep—at least, that was the plan.

The doorbell rings again.

With an exaggerated sigh, you drag yourself out of bed, doing the bare minimum to look somewhat presentable. Your hair is probably a mess, your face still puffy from sleep, but you don’t care. Whoever decided to disturb your well-earned rest better have a damn good reason.

You glance at the clock on your way out. Oh. It’s not even early—it’s almost 1 PM.

Squinting against the bright light as you crack the door open, you’re met with a sight that instantly wakes you up. A delivery man stands there, arms full, holding the biggest bouquet of red roses you’ve ever seen. The sheer number of petals is overwhelming, a deep sea of crimson spilling over the edges of his grasp.

"What—" Your brain struggles to catch up, and then it clicks. Beomgyu. He asked for your address yesterday.

"Y/N?" The man confirms, struggling under the bouquet.

Your eyes widen. "Damn, just how many are in there?"

"Three hundred and fifteen roses," he says, barely holding onto the mass of flowers. "Please sign here."

Three hundred and fifteen. You’re smiling as you take the pen from him.

You stumble slightly, still half-dazed as you carefully set the massive bouquet down, trying not to crush a single petal. Your fingers tremble as you reach for the small card nestled between the roses, your heart already beating a little too fast.

315 months of not being with you. This won’t make up for it, but I hope it makes you happy.

You inhale sharply. Your chest tightens. 315 months. He counted. Beomgyu counted the exact number of months you’ve been alive—how does he even think like this? Tears prick at your eyes before you can stop them. He’s ridiculous. He’s thoughtful in a way that completely undoes you.

Before you even realise what you’re doing, you’re running. Not walking—running. Because suddenly, every second without hearing his voice feels like a second wasted.

Your fingers fumble as you dial his number, pressing the phone to your ear. It barely rings once before the line clicks open—like he had been waiting for this call all along. “Beomgyu—” your voice comes out uneven, breathless.

He chuckles softly, “So… I take it you liked it?”

It’s already 3 PM.

Somehow, you lost track of time, carefully splitting the bundle into smaller arrangements, placing them in vases around your apartment. Now, your living room and kitchen are drenched in the scent of roses—not that you’re complaining.

Beomgyu had stayed on the phone with you the entire time, talking about his morning, his voice in the background as you worked. That is, until someone called for him on the other end, reminding him he had things to do.

You sighed when the call ended. It's sunday, and his sunday is like the worst day of your week. And you're here, resting.

Now, fresh out of the shower, droplets of water still clung to your skin as you stepped onto the cool tile. A shiver ran down your spine as you grabbed a towel, pressing it to your face, inhaling the soft, familiar scent of fabric softener.

Dressed in cozy clothes, you curled up on the couch, remote in one hand, a bowl of yogurt and berries resting on your lap. Television played softly as you mindlessly scrolled through channels, enjoying the quiet.

Until your phone buzzed. You unlocked it, eyes immediately landing on the message.

Nut-job Da-hee. Girl! He's extra glowy today!! OMG <link>

You tapped the link, expecting a video to pop up, but instead, it directed you to download an app. You went along with it, quickly signing in and typing out a cheeky username.

The video loaded—Soobin and Beomgyu, in a hotel room. A small table sat near the camera, cluttered with food containers and drinks. Beomgyu was on the bed, lounging comfortably but still close enough to be part of the frame.

And Da-hee wasn’t exaggerating—he looked good. The black shirt fit him just right, his dark hair falling effortlessly, lips tinted a soft pink. A phone in hand, completely unaware of just how stunning he looked.

An idea sparked in your mind.

"It's not barley tea, MOA," Beomgyu laughs, shaking his head as Soobin insists otherwise. No matter how many times their leader repeats himself, the comments keep flooding in, doubting him.

"Choi Beomgyu really traumatized you, huh?" he teases, eyes crinkling with amusement.

"What do you mean?" Beomgyu argues, but Soobin is already moving on, reading a new comment aloud. "Barley tea is healthy,"

Just then, Beomgyu’s phone buzzes. He glances down at the screen.

My Y/N Live?

His back immediately straightens. Shit. You’re watching? He’s about to type out a response when another message pops up.

You look handsome.

Beomgyu presses a hand over his mouth, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. He wants to—

"Beomgyu, MOAs are asking what you're doing," Soobin interrupts, his eyes full of silent curiosity.

"Nothing," Beomgyu says too quickly. "Kai sent a meme." He shifts closer to the camera, Soobin right beside him. With his phone in his hands, he types a message, fully aware that Soobin is peeking at his screen. They probably look ridiculous—both of them staring down at their phones while thousands of people watch.

You're watching?

A few seconds pass before your reply pops up.

Yes.

Beomgyu inhales, trying to focus as Soobin keeps talking. His fingers move instinctively.

I'm shy.

Why? You look good.

A pause. Then another message.

Wait, stop looking at your phone. Let MOA see you? Username: 315flowersmyass.

Beomgyu chokes on a laugh. His lips curl up as he locks his phone and holds it up to the camera, as if to prove he’s done. As if to prove that he followed your words.

"So cute," he sings, the words slipping out without thought. The chat erupts, MOAs spamming hearts and messages.

Then he catches it.

315flowersmyass kekekeke -

His grin stretches wider. He closes his face on the screen. "Hi, MOA." He giggles.

This—this is cute. He’s always enjoyed going live, but now he knows you’re watching, he discovers a love for it he never even knew was possible.

The live eventually comes to an end. As soon as it does, Soobin turns to Beomgyu with a knowing smile. "I'm happy you finally found her," he says simply. Beomgyu doesn’t respond right away—just smiles, warmth spreading through his chest. Then his phone buzzes.

He checks it, and the moment he does, a gasp slips past his lips.

It’s a picture. You.

A snack is held near your face, your expression relaxed. You’re in cozy clothes, looking effortlessly beautiful, breathtaking. The picture made Beomgyu wish he could fly back to you right there and then. Over his shoulder, Soobin leans in. "Is that her?" he asks, then grins. "She's pretty."

Beomgyu doesn’t look away from his phone as his lips curl into a smile.

"She is," he murmurs, almost to himself.

"She’s here."

Ji-an’s voice pulls you from your focus. She’s standing beside your desk, phone pressed to her ear, while you scan last week’s finance report. Your eyes flick over the spreadsheet, catching an error in a formula, but before you can fix it, Ji-an calls your name. "Y/N, there’s a delivery for you. They’re at the door."

"Oh," you murmur, pushing your reading glasses up the bridge of your nose. Contacts felt like too much trouble today. "Thanks."

As you stand, a familiar warmth spreads through your chest. Outside, the delivery man hands you a bouquet—this time, white roses.

You peek at the note while walking back, the click of your heels filling the space. Your way back to your desk by the window. The skyline stretches endlessly beyond the glass, a vast expanse of city lights and open sky.

Ow! I fell! Fell for you~ —bg <3

A laugh escapes before you can stop it—he's so silly. One of the things you realised recently.

"That's the fourth bouquet this month, Y/N," Ji-an muses, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "I know you just met your soulmate, but flowers every week? That’s next-level sweet. I’m jealous—mine isn't really a flowers kind of person."

You return her smile, "Yeah, he's the sweetest."

It’s been a month since you met Beomgyu. A single day—that’s all you had together. And yet, in the weeks that followed, he never let distance become an excuse. Even with his tour in full swing, miles stretching endlessly between you, he still found ways to reach you. A call in the middle of the night. A voice note filled with sleepy laughter. And these flowers—his way of saying, I'm here. I'm coming back to you soon.

Ji-an leans against your desk, eyes glinting with curiosity. "So… when do we get to meet him?" she asks, wiggling her brows. "You know the drill—everyone meets everyone’s soulmate. It’s basically tradition. At least one or two quick bond drinks a year, right?"

The playful edge in her voice makes your stomach twist. Because as much as you want to laugh along, to pretend that everything is as simple as it should be… you know the truth.

They can’t meet him. Your friends, your family—none of them can. Maybe not now. Maybe not ever. You don’t even know when you will see him again.

You swallow, forcing down the sudden tightness in your throat. The warmth you felt just moments ago, thinking about him, is now laced with something heavier.

"He's—he's busy," you say, hoping your voice doesn’t betray you. You glance at the bouquet on your desk, fingers tracing the petals as if they hold an answer you don’t have. "Maybe next time."

The day finally ends, and you’re grateful Ji-an didn’t push for more.

You clutch the bouquet a little tighter as you step into the elevator, the faint scent of roses lingering in the air. By the time you make it to the parking lot, exhaustion weighs on you—but then you remember.

You forgot to send a text. Pulling out your phone, you type: I’m heading home now.

The message sends, and a small smile tugs at your lips. Beomgyu is probably fast asleep by now, lost in a time zone opposite yours. He won’t see it for hours, but you text him anyway—because you can already hear his voice in your head, playful and pouty. You forgot to tell me again, he’d whine. Can you please let me know?

You’ve learned a lot from him in such a short time. How simple it is to make someone feel remembered. How easy it is to reach out. How even in the busiest moments, there’s always a second to say, I haven’t forgotten you.

Because that’s what he’s been doing for you all along.

You slip your phone back into your pocket, ready to head to your car when someone stops you. Your steps slow, brows knitting together as your scan lands on a girl—sitting right on the hood of your car.

Your car. She’s perched there like she belongs, fingers idly tracing patterns against the metal.

"Hey," you call out, keeping your voice even. "It’s not really polite to sit on someone else’s car, sweetheart."

Her head lifts, eyes locking onto yours with disdain, "Don't sweetheart me, you slut."

The venom in her words knocks the air from your lungs. Your breath catches, shock flashing through you as she stands. She’s young. Much younger than you.

"Excuse me?"

"Are you fucking deaf?" she snaps.

Your instincts flare—this isn’t normal. You take a step back, "Leave. Now. Before I call the police."

But she doesn’t move. Instead, she tilts her head, and smirked. "You’re Beomgyu’s soulmate, aren’t you?"

Your body locks up. How does she know? Your fingers tighten around the stems of the flowers, the thorns pressing into your palm. You want to speak, to deny, to do something, but the words won’t come.

Because you know—whatever you say next could make this worse.

She clicks her tongue, taking a slow step toward you. "Do this while I’m still being nice," she says, voice eerily light. "Stay away from him. Or I’ll destroy everything." She tilts her head again, a slow blink. "I’d rather see him ruined than with you, unnie."

She steps past you then, her shoulder knocking into yours just hard enough to make you stumble back. Your hands cold, heart hammering against your ribs. She doesn’t look back. Not until she’s a few feet away.

"Don’t think I won’t do it," she murmurs. "Just think about how I knew. Your name. Your workplace. Your parking spot."

She smiles, "Don’t test me."

I’m heading home now.

Beomgyu rubs the sleep from his eyes, his fingers fumbling for his phone the moment he wakes up. Checking for your messages has become second nature—his first instinct, before he even fully shakes off sleep.

The corners of his lips curl into a soft smile as he reads your text. You remembered.

God, he misses you.

When he gets back, he’s not letting you out of his sight. He’ll beg his company if he has to—anything to steal just a little more time with you. He wants to spoil you, to show up with flowers every single day just to see that shy smile of yours. He’d buy you things you didn’t even know you needed, take pictures of you at every chance, make playlists for you, drag you into late-night game sessions just to hear you laugh and call him ridiculous. Love is effort. That’s what his parents always told him. He’d give it—all of it.

Maybe one day, he’d convince you to visit Daegu with him. Introduce you to his family, let his mom fuss over you, watch his brother tease him relentlessly. And Toto… Would you like Toto?

The thought makes him chuckle as he taps your contact and presses call. It rings. Once. Twice. Three times. His smile falters.

Then, voicemail.

His brows knit together. He tries again. Straight to voicemail. The phone feels heavier in his hand now.

It’s the first time you haven’t picked up.

He’s in the van now. It’s been hours.

Beomgyu grips his phone, scrolling through his notifications, eyes darting to every new alert. His heart lifts for a second—only to sink just as fast when he realizes it’s not you. The screen dims in his hands, but he doesn’t put it down. He can’t.

"You still haven’t heard from her?" Soobin asked. He’s the only one still awake, eyes heavy but observant. Beomgyu hadn’t meant to make it obvious, but he’s never been good at hiding things—not to his members.

"No," Beomgyu mutters, shaking his head. His throat feels tight. "We always talk before she falls asleep."

Soobin exhales, tilting his head back against the seat. "She probably crashed as soon as she got home. Long day, maybe?" He keeps his tone easy, reassuring. "Just focus on later's concert. She’ll probably be awake by then."

Beomgyu nods, forcing a small smile. "Yeah. You’re right. Thanks, hyung."

Soobin claps a hand on his back. "Don't think about it too much."

Beomgyu did his best to push thoughts of you aside during the concert. He smiled, he sang, he danced—gave everything to the stage like he always did. But the second he was backstage, drenched in sweat and breathless from the high of performing, his hands were already reaching for his phone.

Still nothing.

Back at the hotel, Soobin and Yeonjun made sure he ate. He forced down a few bites, just enough to keep them from worrying. Now, fresh from a shower, exhaustion settles deep in his bones. His muscles ache, the weight of the night pressing down on him, but sleep won’t come.

His phone sits beside him on the bed. You’re probably asleep. He tells himself that. He should leave it alone.

But knowing doesn’t stop him from pressing call. It rings.

Once. Twice.

He’s about to give up when the line clicks.

“H-Hello?” Beomgyu stutters, his voice unsteady. No response. His heart pounds as he pulls the phone away, checking the screen just to be sure. The call is still connected. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Beomgyu.” The way you say his name makes his breath catch.

“Are you okay? I’ve been—”

“Beomgyu.” You cut him off again, your voice softer this time. “Yeah, I’m… okay.” He hears you take a shaky breath. “I’ve just been thinking for the past couple of hours, and…” His grip on the phone tightens.

"What is it?"

“Maybe we should lie low for a bit? You’re busy, and you’re at the peak of your career.” A pause. “It’s not that I’m going away,” you add quickly, “I’m your soulmate, after all.” The last part is barely a whisper.

Beomgyu shoots up from where he’s sitting, running a hand through his hair, fingers pulling at the strands. He feels cold all over. His pulse pounds in his ears.

“Where is this coming from?” His voice is raw, edged dangerously close to panic. “What happened, Y/N?”

“Nothing, really,” you say too quickly. “It just… crossed my mind.” There’s a pause. A beat of silence that feels like a lifetime. “It’s late there. It’s 2 AM. Please sleep.”

His chest tightens. “Are you breaking up with me?” The words feel foreign in his mouth. His voice drops to a whisper. “Do you not want me? Do you not want this?”

“Beomgyu, please.” You voice wavers. “Our fate is certain. But right now… I just feel like it’s not working.” You exhale slowly. “You should sleep, okay? Let’s talk again… soon.”

And then the line goes dead.

Beomgyu stares at his screen, his fingers frozen, his mind racing to process what just happened. His chest caves in, breath shaky as he stumbles back onto the bed. And then—he breaks.

His hands cover his face, shoulders trembling as it all crashes down on him. He had a feeling when you didn't answer his call. A whisper of doubt, an inkling of fear.

And now, it’s real.

4 AM, and Beomgyu still hasn’t slept. His eyes burn from exhaustion, but his mind won’t shut off. He’s been texting you, calling you—over and over—but every attempt goes straight to voicemail. At some point, your phone must have died, or worse, you turned it off.

He lies on the stiff hotel bed, staring at the ceiling. It’s unfamiliar. Cold. But then again, when was the last time anything in his life felt familiar? Felt like home?

His phone dings.

He scrambles for it, heartbeat hammering, but before he can check the notification, an unknown number flashes across the screen. It’s stupid to answer an unknown call at this hour. Their managers had given them talks about it. But something—something in his gut—tells him to pick up.

“Hello?” His voice is hoarse.

“Beomgyu.” A pause. Then— “It’s Da-hee,”

His breath catches.

“She’s going to be angry if she finds out I called you,” Da-hee says, voice hushed, urgent. “But I can’t just sit back and watch this happen. Just listen to me. I’m going to tell you everything—from the start.”

"Please."

"Don’t think I won’t do it," she murmurs. "Just think about how I knew. Your name. Your workplace. Your parking spot."

She smiles, "Don’t test me."

You take another sip of whiskey, curled up on the couch, knees drawn to your chest. The tears won’t stop. No matter how many times you wipe them away, they keep coming, slipping down your cheeks, burning just as much as the liquor sliding down your throat.

Your thoughts won’t stop either.

Beomgyu.

He has everything—his dream, his career, a future so bright it could swallow you whole. He has the world at his feet. And you? You’re just… you. Not worth the risk. Not worth the detour. Maybe this was always how it was supposed to be. Maybe that’s why your paths were never meant to cross in the first place. You saw the consequence, felt it when you passed the Hybe building, that heavy reminder of the impossible divide between your worlds.

It should be enough. Enough that you got to know him, enough that he even knows your name. Enough that you get to see him on a screen. It should be enough.

But is it?

“Fuck,” you choke out, voice breaking. You press the heel of your palm against your eyes, as if that could stop the ache. “Just when I finally saw you… What a joke.” You shake your head, wiping your face with the sleeve of your sweater. “The universe is a fucking idiot for ever thinking we were meant to be.”

You take another drink, and it burns.

“Y/N.”

You blink up, vision swimming, to see Da-hee standing in the doorway, concern etched across her face.

“I’ve been ringing your doorbell,” she says, stepping closer. “I used the spare key—why are you crying?”

You don’t respond. You just stare at her, eyes glassy, cheeks wet. She moves toward you, eyes flickering to the near-empty glass in your hand. You’ve been drinking for hours. You already called in sick to work—there’s no way you could function like this.

"Oh, honey," She sighs, reaches for the glass, and you don’t fight it. You let it go. "What happened?"

“Fate is already taking back what it let me borrow.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but Da-hee hears it. She your holds your hand.

“What are you talking about?” she asks. “Explain.”

You swallow hard. Your throat feels tight, like every word is fighting to stay buried. But you force them out.

“A sasaeng,” you murmur, watching as Da-hee’s eyes widen in alarm. “She found out about me. She knows everything, Da-hee. Where I live, where I work, my family—everything.” You suck in a shaky breath, blinking back fresh tears. “And the worst of it, she fucking said she’s going to ruin Beomgyu.”

The moment the words leave your lips, your resolve shatters. You cry—like a child finally breaking after being scolded in front of everyone, holding it all in until no one’s around to see. Da-hee pulled you into her arms as you sobbed. You cling to her, hands fisting her sweater. “I have to let him go,” you choke out. “I can’t do this to him. To them. They don’t deserve this.”

Da-hee pulls back, her hands firm on your shoulders. “No,” she says, shaking her head. “You don’t have to do this alone. We can go to the police. We can tell Beomgyu—”

“And then what?” you cut in, voice hollow. “What can they really do? Stop her from telling the world? Keep every single person quiet? Even if she gets caught, the damage will already be done.”

Da-hee doesn’t answer. She just sinks onto the couch beside you, eyes shining with unshed tears, because she knows you well. She knows you too well—knows that the emotional version of you wouldn’t be able to hear her, not right now. Not until the sobs quiet down and the pain in your chest eases just a little. So, she just holds you.

Your phone screen lights up between you. Another call.

Beomgyu. He’s still calling. Still trying.

"I don’t think it’s best to answer it right now—"

But you don’t listen to Da-hee’s warning. Your fingers tremble as they hover over the screen. You have to end this. Now. While you still have the strength. Because deep down, you know—

If you wake up tomorrow, you might not be able to let him go.

“H-Hello?” He stutters on the other line, his voice unsteady. Your breath catches in your throat. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Everything. Everything is wrong.

“Beomgyu.”

I miss you. How can I go on without you?

“Are you okay? I’ve been—”

“Beomgyu.” You cut him off again, your voice softer this time. “Yeah, I’m… okay.” You take a shaky breath. “I’ve just been thinking for the past couple of hours, and…” You hesitate.

I’m not okay. I’ve been thinking about you, only you, and how my existence could ruin everything you’ve worked for.

"What?" His inhale is sharp, laced with the beginnings of panic.

“Maybe we should lie low for a bit? You’re busy, and you’re at the peak of your career.” You pause, fingers trembling. “It’s not that I’m going away,” you add quickly, desperate to believe your own words. “I’m your soulmate, after all.” The last part is barely a whisper.

I should be replaceable. And I shouldn’t be your priority. You press a hand to your mouth, as if you can keep the words from spilling out—keep the truth from bleeding through.

“Where is this coming from? What happened, Y/N?”

My heart is breaking. And you’re too far away to hold it together.

“Nothing, really,” you say too quickly. “It just… crossed my mind.” You pause, swallowing. “It’s late there. It’s 2 AM. Please sleep.”

Please sleep. And forget about me.

“Are you breaking up with me? Do you not want me? Do you not want this?”

I want you more than anything. That’s why I have to do this. If I can save you from losing everything, I’ll do it. Even if it means losing you.

“Beomgyu, please.” You voice wavers. “Our fate is certain. But right now… I just feel like it’s not working.” You exhale slowly. “You should sleep, okay? Let’s talk again… soon.”

You press the end button.

The sobs rip through you, shaking your whole body and stealing the air from your lungs. You curl in on yourself, pressing your fist to your mouth, as if that could stop the sound, as if that could stop the pain. How can love be this cruel? How can the same thing that made you feel so alive now leave you feeling so hollow?

But this is for him. You tell yourself that over and over, like a mantra, like a prayer, like a desperate attempt to make it hurt less.

You’ll do this for him. Even if it destroys you.

Da-hee wipes at her eyes, sniffling as she looks at you—curled up in the fetal position, your body tense like you’re bracing for impact even in sleep. She managed to get you into bed, but it doesn’t feel like enough.

She’d do anything for you.

Carefully, she tiptoes to the bedside table and picks up your phone. Her heart pounds. If anyone’s watching me, I’ll beg for forgiveness later. But right now, she comes first.

She types in your usual password. 8888. Incorrect. She frowns, thinking. You changed it? Then, almost without realizing it, her fingers move on their own. 0313. The screen unlocks.

Beomgyu’s birthday.

Da-hee lets out a small, disbelieving laugh. “You idiot,” she whispers, shaking her head. “You love him so much, and yet you’re willing to walk away. How can you be this selfless?”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she scrolls through your contacts, searching for his name. Her thumb hovers over it for only a second before she types his number on her own phone.

You’ll be furious. You might never forgive her. But if there’s even the slightest chance this stops you from making the biggest mistake of your life—she’ll take that risk.

Someone has to tell him the things that you can’t.

The line connects, and Da-hee inhales. “She’s going to be angry if she finds out I called you, but I can’t just sit back and watch this happen. Just listen to me. I’m going to tell you everything—from the start.”

She’ll prepare her apology later—more than that, she hopes Beomgyu will fight for you.

"I want to go home." Beomgyu’s voice is firm, but his hands are clenched into fists at his sides. His manager looks up from his laptop, brows furrowing.

The door bursts open. Soobin stumbles in, slightly out of breath—he must’ve run after him. Beomgyu doesn’t care.

Beomgyu already knows everything—Da-hee told him. Every sickening detail. And now, standing here, he has no idea how to fix this. No idol has ever come out of this unscathed. But none of that matters right now. His only priority is getting to you.

His manager sighs, already exasperated. “You’re flying back home in a few days, Beomgyu.”

“No,” he says, jaw tightening. “I mean now. I need a few days. To rest. To handle something personal.”

“You know your schedule is packed—”

“Then move everything,” Beomgyu interrupts sharply. He feels Soobin’s hand on his shoulder, hears his name spoken softly, but he shrugs it off. No one is stopping him from getting to you.

His manager sighs again, firmer this time. “We can’t do that.”

“You won’t even try?” His voice wavers between frustration and desperation. “You won’t even let the management know?”

“We can’t make last-minute changes like this.”

Beomgyu lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Right. Of course.” He clenches his fists. All his life, he’s done everything they asked. Pushed through exhaustion, smiled through sickness, showed up even when his body begged him to stop. “I won’t follow you on this,” he says, voice steady. “I can’t do this. Not this time. If you won’t let me go, I’ll still leave.”

“Beomgyu, let’s talk about this when you’re calm,” Soobin says gently, patting Beomgyu’s back. “Please.”

Beomgyu turns to him, his eyes dark with frustration. “I love MOAs, hyung. I love all of you. They gave me everything.” His voice wavers, but he pushes through. “But Y/N… she is my everything.” His breath hitches. He can't even explain it properly. How badly he needs you. “You’re lucky. All of you. Your soulmates—"

“So this is about your soulmate?” The manager exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “Don’t you see? She’s making you choose between her and your career.”

“No.” Beomgyu’s voice breaks, his chest tightens, and the lump in his throat is unbearable. “She’s not making me choose. She’s already choosing for me.” His next breath is shaky. “She’s leaving. Can you let your own soulmate leave?”

The room falls silent. Soobin watches him, stunned. He’d never seen Beomgyu like this before—this angry, this desperate. And the question stings the older.

Beomgyu turns away, blinking rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. Explaining further is useless. He’s already said everything that matters. Nothing is going to stop him now. When he steps into the hallway, he sees Yeonjun standing there, leaning against the wall.

He’s been listening the whole time.

Yeonjun immediately reaches out, tugging at his arm. “Yah, Choi Beomgyu, come on,” he says quietly. “Let’s talk with everyone.” Beomgyu exhales shakily. If there's anyone he owes an explanation. It's them. His brothers.

So Beomgyu told them everything.

About the sasaeng. About the threats. About how you were walking away to protect him. About how he refused to let that happen. And just like he knew they would, the four of them listened—not as bandmates, not as colleagues, but as brothers.

No one understood him better than they did.

They didn’t tell him to reconsider. They didn’t tell him to stay. Instead, they held onto him, arms wrapped tight, as if they could shield him from the storm that was already brewing. They prayed—not for him to change his mind, but for the world to understand.

Kai was the first to break. His voice barely above a whisper, “Is it really worth it… if the world doesn’t want us to have soulmates?”

It shattered something in all of them.

Beomgyu didn’t answer—not with words. Because what kind of world was it, where love had to be hidden? Where choosing your own heart felt like a betrayal?

With the help of his members, he managed to slip through the cracks, securing a last-minute flight. Now, as he sat on the plane, adjusting his mask, pulling his cap low, he caught his own reflection in the window.

Maybe it was time. Time to stop pretending. Time to stop hiding.

Because an idol in love isn’t supposed to be shameful. Because having a soulmate shouldn’t be treated like a scandal. Because loving you would never make him love his dream any less.

He just had to believe in MOAs. In the people who gave him everything. What he has with them, he treasures so much that the thought of baring his heart isn’t impossible.

And he would.

Completely.

He would trade it all, just to see you again.

The pounding in your head hasn’t let up, a dull, relentless throb that even the hot shower couldn’t wash away. You pop an aspirin, sighing as you press your fingertips against your temples, willing the ache—and everything else—to disappear.

Then the doorbell rings. Right. The food.

Dragging your feet toward the door, you barely think as you swing it open—then freeze.

Choi Beomgyu.

His face bare, a backpack slung over his shoulder. A car idles in your driveway, but you barely process it. Your eyes lock onto the messy strands of blonde peeking out from under his hoodie, his gaze searching yours. He looks at you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he blinks.

“Y/N—” The door slams shut in his face before he can say another word.

Your breath stumbles. Your pulse pounds. The damp strands of your hair cling to your neck as you press your back against the door, fingers gripping the handle like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. Shit. He fucking looks good with his new dyed hair— wait. Don't think about that. What is he doing here?

“I’m parked out front,” his voice comes through the door, muffled but you hear it. “I just want to talk.” A shaky inhale. Then softer, “Baby, I’m here. When you’re ready, just open the door.”

His footsteps retreat.

You start pacing, your heart ricocheting against your ribs. He’s here. He came all this way. After everything you stupidly said. You hurt him yet—

The doorbell rings again.

You yank it open, “Wait, my ass—”

“Chinese takeout for Y/N?” The delivery guy blinks at you, holding up the bag.

“Oh.” You blush, embarrassed. You fumble for your wallet, signing the receipt with shaky hands. Your eyes keep drifting past him, toward the car still parked in front of your house.

Just like what he said. He's there.

The hours slip away unnoticed, morning fading seamlessly into afternoon. Every time you steal a glance through the curtain, he’s still there. Evening creeps in as you start making dinner. Without thinking, you plate portions for two. Your hands hesitate over the dishes, your heart heavy. When you check the clock, it’s 8 p.m. He’s been outside for twelve hours—silent, waiting.

Just like he promised. He never knocked again. Twelve hours. Your hands tremble as you turn off the stove. He must’ve just come from another gruelling day, looking like he’d stepped off a plane after hours in the air—rumpled, drained, and still without rest.

Why did you let him wait this long?

You don’t stop to think anymore. You grab your keys, shove your feet into your slippers, and head straight for his car, blinking back the tears that blur your vision.

He must see you coming because, before you even reach him, the car door swings open.

And there he is.

His hoodie is pushed back now, his hair slightly dishevelled like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times. His face is drawn, exhausted. His eyes—red-rimmed, heavy, like he’s been crying for hours. You swallow the lump in your throat.

“Come inside,” Your voice cracks, but you don’t stop. You just turn around and head back toward the door. You don’t have to look back to know he’s following.

He steps inside, his tall frame filling the space as you quietly shut the door behind him. Your apartment looks small with him around. When you turn, your eyes meet, "Beomgyu—"

You barely get his name out before he’s on you. He can't stop himself anymore. It’s how you looked outside, so effortless—your hair pinned up, the simplicity of your everyday clothes, and yet, you somehow seemed untouchable. He envisions a life with you, a routine, your soft smile waiting for him when he comes home, you looking like something angelic—his hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him, his body heat searing through your clothes. His lips crash into yours—hungry, desperate, like he’s been starved for you. His mouth moves against yours, claiming, taking.

His fingers thread through your hair, tilting your head back as his tongue slides against yours. His hands roam down, gripping, pulling, making sure you feel every bit of him. He grabs your wrists, lifting them, wrapping your arms around his neck as his lips move to your jaw, then to your neck, his breath ragged as he nips your sensitive skin. "I missed you," he murmurs. Another kiss—hotter, deeper, his body pressing your back against the wall. "I got fucking scared you'd never open the door."

His movements were hurried, frantic, as if he were afraid you’d disappear if he let go. In one swift motion, he lifted you, his steps unsteady as he carried you to the bedroom. Your bedroom. The air felt heavy as he laid you down on the mattress.

"I get it. I know you don’t mean it—that you really believe this is for the best." His voice softens, almost breaking. He presses his crotch to yours, eyes seeking yours. "But did it ever cross your mind what I want? What I think is best for me? For us?"

“I'm sorry,” you said weakly, your hands clutching at his shirt, your voice trembling as much as your resolve.

"I'll always forgive you." His hands moved to your shoulders, then slid down to your waist, pulling you to him. He grinds desperately to you. You never knew that lips could talk without uttering a word as he captures your lips again and again. "Because your words could never hurt me as much as your leaving does."

You surrendered to his touch, your body softening beneath him. Your hands gripped his shoulders for balance as he pressed you deeper into the mattress, which groaned under your shifting weight. You reached for Beomgyu’s lips, catching him off guard as you kissed him with everything you had, tongues colliding in a heated frenzy. His hand slid between your thighs, cupping your middle and sending a shiver through you. But even in the haze of his taste, a heavy guilt settled in your chest. "Gyu,"

"I need you, baby. Or I'll go crazy." His breaths were ragged, syncing with your every moan as his tongue tangled with yours. Your fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling him closer, urging him on. His body pressed against yours, grinding to yours, while his hands roamed over your skin, igniting every nerve he touched. His lips trailed downward, leaving soft kisses that melted into your flesh, a path leading straight to your core.

He stripped you of every barrier, leaving you bare under his gaze. His eyes shimmered with adoration and awe as they traced your body. You hadn’t realized how powerless you were against him until your legs parted, welcoming him. He's on top of you, looked at you like you were sacred, like you were his entire world.

Beomgyu's eyes never left yours as his fingers found your hand, seeking the place where the string was tied. The red thread appears, and he lifts it to his lips. A kiss—featherlight, reverent—pressed against the place where destiny tied you to him.

“It's going to be okay…” he whispered between kisses, his voice breaking in a way that made your heart ache. Tears pricked your eyes because you wanted to believe him. You needed to believe him. His hands explored further, his fingers shakily reaching for your clit, pinching softly then roughly rubbing, coaxing sounds from your lips that you didn’t know you were capable of.

"I'll fix it for us, for you." He looks at you—wanting to see every expression you make. He’s going to fuck you until you cum all over his dick and then he’ll do it again. Until you won't be able to think about leaving him anymore. He goes down further—kisses down and the smell of you is divine.

His face hovers and with his fingers he spreads you apart. He swallows—salivating. He sticks his tongue out, lightly licking your clit. You taste so—He buries his face in, tongue inside, hands on your hips. "Shit, you were really gonna leave me? And I was gonna miss this?" He groans, lapping up, sucking the arousal out of you. He moves up, nose bumping on your clit then he suckles more. His cock throbs with every taste of you, the way you melt against his mouth driving him insane. He feels you slick against his chin, but he doesn’t stop—doesn’t leave a single inch of you untouched by his warm, greedy mouth. It was as if your body had been crafted for his lips alone, flesh and heat meant to be devoured at his leisure.

When you tug hard on his hair, he groans against you, finally pulling back. His lips glisten as he moves up your body. He crashes his mouth onto yours, the kiss deep and hungry, and you taste yourself on his tongue—messy, desperate, a mix of him and you, blurring the lines between who’s devouring who.

“I love you,” he murmured as he positioned himself, slowly sliding into you. A low, guttural sound escaped him as he felt you, tight and warm, pulling him deeper. He's sure he'll come right there and then. His face buried itself in the curve of your neck, and his words spilled out—"I'm sorry it took this long."

"You feel so so good, don't ask me to stop, please." His touch was gentle even as his thrusts inside you grew more desperate. He cradled your head, kissed away your tears, and pressed his lips to your cheek. “I’m in love with you, Y/N,"

“I love you,” you replied, capturing his lips in a desperate kiss as you both unravelled together, bodies trembling in unison. Your thighs clenched tightly around his waist.

"Beomgyu, I— It was selfish of me—" You whispered his name and it made tears well up in his eyes. His hand gently pushed the damp strands of hair from your face, and he pressed tender kisses along your cheeks, your temple, and your jaw.

“Shh, no,” he whispered, pulling you against his chest, holding you like he was afraid you’d slip away. His lips brushed the crown of your head. "None of this is your fault," he murmurs. "But you have to trust me now."

All the horrors inside you dissolve with every kiss he presses to your skin, each one stripping away the fear, the doubt, the self-imposed distance. He kisses you like he’s rewriting everything, like he knows exactly where every shattered piece of you belongs. As if he’s memorized the map of your ruin and decided, you were always meant to be whole.

And you let him.

Because now, in his arms, with his lips claiming yours over and over, only pulls away when breathing becomes a necessity—his forehead pressing against yours for a fleeting second before his mouth finds yours again, as if letting go for too long might break him, you realise the truth—it was foolish of you to think that pushing him away would solve it all.

It was foolish to ever believe you could ever live without him.

Waking up with Beomgyu’s arm draped over your bare waist felt like something out of a dream.

The second you tried to slip away, he pulled you right back in, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a sleepy rough hum. His grip was loose but unwilling, like even in sleep, he couldn’t bear to let you go. He filled your morning with lazy kisses, tangled limbs, and muffled laughter, his fingers tracing over your bare skin.

You could live a lifetime like this and still never believe it was real.

Now, you sit at your vanity, dressed for work, fastening an earring as Beomgyu, fresh from the shower, tugs on a clean hoodie. He catches your eye in the mirror and grins as he walks over. “What are you doing baby? Dolled up and all.”

“Drying my hair,” you say, “I’m actually early today. Da-hee is dropping by later too, by the way.”

“Okay. I’ll drive you.” He leans down, eyes flickering to the hairdryer on the desk. He picks it up, flipping it on. “I know how to do this.”

You give him a skeptical look. “Oh, really?”

“Uh-huh. I could probably do your makeup too.” He presses a teasing kiss to your cheek, making you giggle.

The warmth of the dryer was against your scalp as he carefully runs his fingers through your hair, drying it with surprising patience. His touch lingers even after the dryer clicks off, his fingers gently gathering strands of your hair.

“I used to braid my mom’s hair when I was younger,” he murmurs. “I want to do yours too.” You nod, watching him through the mirror, watching the way he looks at you with so much quiet devotion it nearly steals your breath. "It will be an honour to do this every day for you, you know."

And just like that, you fall in love all over again.

You sit in the passenger seat, your hair loosely braided—the proof that he wasn’t just bluffing. His fingers lace with yours as he drives, his thumb idly tracing circles against your skin. Every time the car slows at a red light, he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I love you,”

He grins, that same cheeky, heart-stopping smile. "Love you more," he replies.

You let out a quiet breath, leaning your head against the window, watching the world blur past. But then—out of the corner of your eye—you see it.

And your breath catches in your throat.

Rain Lilies.

Flowers that shine the brightest in the wake of the storm.

It looks out of place. You remembered last night’s rain. It had come down in furious sheets, drowning the streets, washing everything away. The pavement is still slick, puddles reflecting the grey morning sky. And yet—there it is.

Small. Alive.

In the middle of a city that never stops, where people rush past without a second glance, too busy to care about a thing so insignificant, so easily overlooked—it stands, untouched. A quiet defiance against the cruelty that tried to take it.

It looks out of place, and it's beautiful.

If something this fragile can survive and still bloom—maybe, just maybe, so can you.

"Hyung!" Beomgyu’s laughter rings through the air as he runs straight into his brother’s arms. They embrace, laughing like they’re kids again, the older one attempting to lift him off the ground. Behind them, his parents rush to catch up, smiles stretched wide across their faces. The house, with its endless stretch of green, looks like out of a memory—soft, a paradise.

Beomgyu turns to you then, his hand resting gently on your back. His eyes soft when he speaks.

"Mom, Dad," he says, "This is Y/N."

You bow politely, but before you can even rise fully, his mother pulls you into a hug. "I’ve wanted to meet you for so long, dear," she murmurs against your shoulder.

When Beomgyu’s father steps forward, you feel your chest tighten. He smiles, and for a second, it’s like looking at Beomgyu in the years to come. His hug is just as warm, just as safe.

Lunch is a blur of laughter and stories, of hands brushing, of Beomgyu sneaking glances at you when he thinks you aren’t looking.

His parents laugh along with your stories—the one about meeting his sweet members, and how Da-hee had begged to meet them in person. You describe her pale face, wide-eyed and on the verge of fainting the entire time, and how Beomgyu grew irritated every time Yeonjun jokingly flirted with you, insisting he should be your favorite.

But it’s the story of Beomgyu meeting your family last week that really gets them, how he’d been so polite, yet adorably nervous, his hands fidgeting in his lap as he tried to make the right impression.

His mom grins, her eyes bright with excitement. “I’ll have to meet them soon,” she says, already making plans in her head, as if you’ve always been part of the family. At some point, Beomgyu tells them you’ll be staying for the week. They are overjoyed, and Toto, takes an instant liking to you.

Beomgyu sits on the porch, it's evening now.

This deck—he’s spent years here—on this very step, staring out at the world, wondering when he’d find you. Wondering if he ever would.

His fingers tighten around the handwritten letter on his phone screen, the words waiting to be sent out into the world. His heart pounds. What if they don’t understand? What if this changes everything? What if—

Laughter drifts from inside the house, yours mixing with his mom’s, his brother’s. It was the only assurance he'd ever need.

He exhales sharply, thumb hovering for only a second longer before he clicks post. It loads. He doesn’t watch. Just locks his phone and sets it aside as the front door creaks open.

"You’re trying to escape me, cookie?" Your voice is playful, arms crossing as you step toward him. Beomgyu only grins, shaking his head at the nickname his father gave him. He slips an arm around your shoulders as soon as you sit down, pulling you while he presses kisses on the side of your head.

"Never," His fingers find yours, a new habit of his—thumb caressing over your ring finger. His thoughts slip to the diamond ring hidden in his dorm, the one he bought after a week of meeting you. He just needs to find the right moment, the right words. Because even now, after everything, you still make him nervous. The way his heart races when you walk into a room, how everything seems to stop for a moment when you look his way.

He meets your smile with one of his own. Would he ever be this lucky in another life? To find you, to love you—not by destiny’s design, not by some divine script, but by choice?

Even without a soulmate mark, even without fate—

It would always be you.

Maybe in another world, the sky is burning, the world is ending, an apocalypse, and he still falls in love with you. Maybe in another life, he is a man undone, a husband who shatters more than he mends, but even then, he would spend eternity piecing himself back together just to be worthy of you.

Beomgyu knows this much: no matter the lifetime, no matter the universe, he will love you. Again and again, without hesitation, without end. As if loving you is written into the very fabric of his existence.

His fingers graze your cheek, and you lean into him like you were always meant to—like the universe has been bringing you back to him for centuries. Your smile reaches your eyes, soft and certain. His missing piece. The better half of him.

Beomgyu looks at you, and to him, you are something that comes after the rain—the hush of the earth reborn, the golden light breaking through the clouds, the promise that even the chaos was worth it.

He can’t help himself. Not when you’re looking at him like that. Not when your smile is the only thing he ever wants to see.

So he leans in.

The phone sits forgotten, lighting up with messages—teary words, heartfelt congratulations, the world calling for him. But none of it matters.

Because right now, you are in his arms. Right now, he is kissing the soft of your addicting lips. And right now, that is all that ever was, all that ever is, all that ever will be.

THE END.

taglist: I love you @.beombunni @.lovingbeomgyudayone @.virtaideen @.hyukascampfire @.fancypeacepersona @.bamgeutori @.lilbrorufr @.beomieeeeeeeeeeees @.xylatox @.imlonelydontsendhelp @.yunverie @.baekberrie @.soobabby @.hyunelixbun @.kejingken @.blossommi @.sumzysworld @.tyunningstar @.filmnings @.channieismylove @.frankghgr @.missychief1404 @.fatbixchwithanopinion @.saejinniestar @.brrytears @.sbnslver @.hoefororeo @.pagelets @.urlocal-moa @.ewsnup @.moagyuu @.melmochii

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emo-cosplayer · 3 months ago

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enhypen fic recs pt. 1

main masterlist - enha fic recs pt. 2 - enha fic recs pt. 3 - enha fic recs pt. 4

· · ♡ · · tysm to the amazing creative minds of the writers for giving me sevaral moments of joy reading your creations

pls remember to reblog if you like any of my recs❤️

brought the heat back - ( @neos127 ) toxic!enha, listen,,,,SÑDFLHSÑDJFH the sunghoon one had me giggling at my laptop like a gremlin omg

their s/o falls asleep waiting for them - ( @heeliopheelia ) ot7. fluffFFYY

you take your engagement ring off during an argument - ( @heeliopheelia ) ot7. angst, love it

leche of the sirens - ( @thinemoonshine ) dark romance, mature themes, revharem ot7, obssesive and possesive behaviour, corrupt nobles!enha, siren!reader. GRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAA (insert that one pic of a werewolf ripping his shirt) THIS IS THE BEST THING I´VE READ IN A HOT MINUTEEEEEE!!!!! omg I literally DEVOURED this

you´re short - ( @nikrangdan ) fluff, crack, love itttttt

"i wanna break up" prank hyung ver , maknes ver- ( @luvrseung ) text, crack, JAY IS MY KIND OF MANNNN, and riki LMAOOOO why is he like that.

makeup voiceovers - ( @kairoot ) fluff, crack, this is so creative omg, I love itttttttt

possessive - ( @kairoot ) text, fluff, crack, DKJSADKJHKASD so fun to read

dear husband - ( @atrirose ) fluff, you doing that one tiktoktrend where you call them husband outta nowhere, so cuteee

exe.enhaboy_stopped_working.exe - ( @star-sim ) fluff, making them flustered. the Jay and Ni-ki ones are my favsss

is your girlfriend single? maknea line, hyung line - ( @star-sim ) fluff, crack, youtuber! non-idol bf! enhypen. when your youtuber bf finally shows you for the first time to his audience and the chat starts simping. PLSSSSSSSSSSSS READ IT, ITS SO GOOODDDD

"i want to break up" prank - ( @enha-stars ) text, crack. "wanna hear it in spanish? NOH" LDSJHFSJFDH WHY WOULD HE-

"we´d make a cute couple" - ( @sainns ) text, fluff, crack. NOT jay asking at what time u had a thought last night so he can be prepared lmao

“If you were walking past a strawberry field and you were very hungry, would you eat a strawberry?” - ( @luvrseung ) text, fluff, crack, heesung aint even know wtf he did lmao

hands - ( @cypherchii ) text, crack, enha legal line. "aint nobody looking at that", the sunghoon one .... no bc author is so real for that

another man paying for your nails - ( @joysbaereal ) text, fluff, crack, JAYYYYYY once again being the standard

a little less scandalous - ( @bywons ) fluff, suggestive, bad boy!enha

"i miss being single" prank hyung line - ( @joysbaereal ) text, fluff, very suggestive, sunghoon needs to chill out LMAO.

the other man?? - ( @thinemoonshine ) text, jealousy, crack, they are NOT about to let their girlfriend be in the same vicinity or presence of another man—especially, not one-on-one.

brought the heat back - ( @neos127 ) toxic!enha, highschool au, the sunghoon one was sexy ngl LFJSDFKJSH

sending them dirty texts while being surrounded by family - ( @heejake-hoon ) hyung line, VVERY suggestive. SDLFKJLDKJFH STOPPP I HAD TO PUT MY PHONE ASIDE WITH THE JAY AND SUNGHOON ONES,,"Be careful what you wish for, baby girl… you know damn well this dick doesn’t play fair." HAD ME TEARING UPPP

charmed by her - ( @xoamiiren ) noona!reader, younger bf!enha, BC WHY DID HEESUGN AND JAY HAD ME GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET

give you the world (when you pout) - ( @okwonyo ) fluff, e.r NAURRR, NOT JAY CALLING HER "MY HEART" i lit threw my phone across my room, and sunghoon omg :(((( so fluffy

blinded by your lethal face card - ( @blairbliss ) fluff, KSHKDFJHSKH stoooop this had me blushing n shii

dress to impress? - ( @mlyscha ) crack, fluff, ASKJHS I LOVE THISSSSS, it´s so fun, JAY WAS SO OUTTA POCKET LMAO HAD ME LAUGHING OUT LOUD, thank god i was alone in my room or else

3K notes · View notes

emo-cosplayer · 3 months ago

Text

Not For Sale

droid!yang jungwon [enhypen] x reader [afab] // smut

concept: running a parts shop in the time of androids is a pretty decent business, until someone drops an unwelcome fully formed droid on your doorstep. fixing it up seems fine, until you realize just what exactly you have on your hands.

w/c: 8.4k

warning: older reader, use of the term "noona", android au / robot au, robophilia, robot fucking, eroticism, sexualization, the eroticizing of mechanical work, in-depth discussion of synthetic humans and synthetic human parts [including but not limited to genitals and bodily fluids]; sexually explicit content, dub con, forced removal of clothing in the form of ripping, fingering, edging, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, screaming, vaginal sex, rough sex, overstimulation, unprotected sex*, creampie, excessive cum.

The mechanical drop box outside your shop is always teeming with parts. Not a day goes by that you aren’t reaching in and finding the odd mechanical part, usually quite a few, stacked on top of one another. Most of them are able to be mended, maybe repurposed, scrapped for parts so you can use them in others. In a world of droids, everyone needs replacement parts, it’s a great way to keep yourself afloat, a good business, your days filled with scraping parts clean, reusing bits and pieces, making new builds or just fixing old ones to sell at a higher price. It’s a use for your mechanical engineering degree even if it’s not what you expected.

However, there is one rule in big, bold writing right above the drop box, the only rule for the drop box: DO NOT DROP FULL DROIDS HERE.

Full droids are the last thing you want. It’s impossibly difficult to handle, mostly because they’re too big to have to haul into your shop and disassemble. Also, it’s rare you can reuse everything on a decommissioned droid, there are always rusted broken parts, the batteries don’t charge anymore, the motor is faulty, this reason or another. You don’t want full droids, full bots are nothing more than a pain in the ass and you’ve been lucky that no one has used your dropbox as a scrap yard yet. There are shops that do take full bots though, so maybe people are just, thankfully, using their head and giving their decommissioned droids to someone who can actually scrap them properly.

This was wishful thinking though. You’ve only had your shop for a little while, a few months, so you had to expect that it would happen eventually. Someone would choose to either not pay attention or simply ignore your big, bright sign and drop a full droid on your doorstep. Which is exactly what you find when you step out of your shop in the morning, coffee in hand, opposite hand covering a yawn. You look down and sigh to yourself.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You groan, finding a droid sitting out next to your dropbox.

To the untrained eye, it would look like a dead body. You can see, however, the metal plating peeking out behind its ear, the slight tears in its synth skin, the way that its eyelids are half open, revealing black optics completely devoid of life. No, this is a droid, a really high tech one, and someone decided that rather than take it to an actual scrapper they were going to give it to you. You, a part engineer, a literal parts shop, so you can figure out what to do with it. It’s a step above just dropping it in a dumpster but then again, at least they didn’t do that. This planet can’t afford anymore decommissioned bots in landfills.

“Okay,” you mumble, reaching over to set your coffee on top of your drop box. The lid is sitting evenly on top of the box, so at least it’s not overfilled this morning. You crouch down next to it, fully planning on taking to your nearest scrapper. They might even pay you for it, as a business transaction. You reach out, turning the head of the bot this way and that, trying to find the serial number. The metal plating behind the ear is peeking out so you reach into your pocket, pulling out your multitool. You have to slice it a little further, this one is clearly more advanced, it’s not your run-of-the-mill house installation, this one is supposed to be human.

Not many models are supposed to look this human. You already have an idea as to what it could be, which kind of makes you anxious.

The synth skin cuts easily, allowing you to see the metal plating along the skull. YJW040209 is stamped on the plating. Well, that’s confirmation in and of itself, serial numbers starting with letters belong to bots that are supposed to be more human than not. Great, this all just too much. Too much work, too many consequences if you fuck it up trying to restore it, no. This is not your problem.

You turn to the bot, turning its head to face you. It’s got pretty features, shaggy black hair, big eyes, well shaped nose, heart shaped lips. It’s meant to be pretty, you can tell. You shuffle backwards to look at all of it, already knowing it’s going to be a pain to get into your shop. It’s long, for sure, with long limbs and a thin waist but broad shoulders. Oh yes, this is clearly a very particular kind of droid but you can’t leave it out here. Someone might actually think it’s a dead body so you stand up, sighing to yourself.

You have to grab it from under the arms, and drag it back into your shop to get it off the street. You break a sweat doing this, this thing is heavy with mechanical parts, its insides must weigh a ton, the whole thing drags slowly across the floor of your workshop, the clothes it’s still wearing, presumably from its previous owner catching on the floor as you pull it. You groan with effort, dropping it in front of your droid rack and falling onto your ass. It lies, lifeless, on the floor of your workshop, eyes still half lidded.

“Fucker,” you grumble to yourself, getting to your feet. “You are going to be such a pain in my ass,” you mumble, heading back to your shop door to get your coffee. It doesn’t react, battery dead, unmoving on the floor of your workshop.

You leave it lying there for a few hours, pulling a handful of other parts that are inside your drop box. There’s an arm, a defunct motor, some synapse wires that you can probably solder and sell for a pretty penny. A humanoid droid is completely useless without a synapse system and they tend to wear out pretty quickly, they sell well whenever you can fix them. You get to work on those first, as soon as you finish your breakfast upstairs in your apartment above your shop. You hesitate briefly, looking at the droid sitting on the floor of your shop, then shake your head to yourself. It can wait, it’s going to be a huge pain to deal with anyway.

The synapse wires are mendable and you manage to untangle and solder a few of them back together by the time you get hungry for lunch. You lift your visor, sighing to yourself as you set your soldering iron aside. Your eyes fall on the droid still sitting on the floor of your shop, an empty husk. You figure you should probably do something about that.

“Dammit,” you mutter to yourself.

After lunch, you go through the arduous process of putting it on the rack, stringing up its arms and legs. You never use your rack for yourself, you just have it in the case of emergencies or installation if someone doesn’t know how to install a part they’ve bought from you themselves. This is the first time you’ve had to put a droid on it for you and you step back as soon as it’s clasped into place, crossing your arms over your chest, pursing your lips.

“Well, I guess I should see if you turn on,” you say to yourself, looking it over. Scrappers sometimes still take functional droids but it’s more useful to them if it isn’t. Functional droids sell better when they’re in one piece, all of their originals and that’s not useful to a scrapper. You step around the rack, checking the back of its neck. The port is there, right at the nape, and you pull your charge cord out of the wall, plugging it into the port. You walk back around to the front, waiting to see if the battery and / or motor will turn on.

A low hum starts to come from the droid, which tells you that the motor works but not very well. It probably needs to be cleaned, if you had to guess, but that requires opening the head and you don’t really want to do that. You wait, watching for a few more moments. The battery could be dead or it could just need some time to charge or the battery is legitimately broken. You watch to see if it’s eyes open.

Under half mask eyelids, the optics suddenly turn on, turning white and then filling with brown irises. Its eyes slowly blink open and you groan to yourself. It works, the damn thing works. You can’t give this to a scrapper, they probably won’t even want it. Someone dropped a fully operational droid at your dropbox and now it’s your problem. Shit.

“I’m,” it starts and then it glitches. “I’m⁠- I’m- I’m-”

“Stop,” you tell it and it silences itself, looking at you with its big, brown eyes. “Your motor is in bad condition and your battery is currently plugged in. I bet it’s the only way you can work,” you tell it and it simply blinks at you. “You’re going to need a lot of work to make you operational again.”

“Will you- will you- scrap- scrap me?” It asks. It has a nice voice, soft and sweet. You shouldn’t have turned it on, you realize this as you’re looking at it stare back at you. Its eyes are big and earnest, staring at you openly, curiously. It doesn’t look scared but bots like these aren’t supposed to feel scared. Whatever it’s programming, you’re not quite sure but, you know it’ll accept whatever you tell it. You don’t like that, it pulls at your heart strings. This is why you hate droids, you’ve never owned one before and you didn’t think you ever would. But this one… well…

“No,” you sigh, already knowing in your heart that you couldn’t do it. Looking at bots in pieces is a lot easier to stomach than looking at it in full form. If you came to you already disassembled, maybe you would have an easier time calling it a droid and reusing its parts, but in one piece? Looking at you? There’s no way.

“Name,” you say.

“Yang- Yang Jung- Jungwon,” it stutters out. Its vocal board is all messed up, you’ll need to fix that.

“Owner.”

“L-” It glitches, hard. Eyes turning white, mouth suddenly closing. You watch as the body shudders, like it can’t control itself. When its brown eyes return, jaw unclenching, it sags against the clasps, like it’s physically exhausted. It seems to have completely forgotten your command, it doesn’t try to tell you it’s owner again.

Whoever owned this bot, they knew a thing or two about droids. They probably tore something out of its motor, the memory processing would be your best guess. Normally commands like yours would be easily answered, but it glitched so hard just trying to answer your owner question there’s no doubt in your mind, it doesn’t know anymore. They did it on purpose, either because they didn’t want someone to know they used to own this thing or they already planned on dropping it somewhere they weren’t supposed to. They wouldn’t be the first to do something like that, even though you’ve never experienced it yourself. Droids like these are expensive, yes, but owning one of these is a tell-tale sign you’re keeping it for more than just household chores.

“Okay,” you mumble to yourself. “You’re gonna need some work,” you say, looking it up and down. “Good thing I know how to fix you.”

“You- You’ll fix- fix me?” It asks, blinking at you.

“I guess.”

It takes weeks to get it in working order again. You have to undress it and then open it up and you realize, whoever had this droid knew far more about droids than you expected. It’s completely torn apart on the inside, the synapses are all messed up, the motor is dusty and missing several pieces, there’s corrosion on the battery. You have to fix everything, and before you know it, Jungwon has become your pet project.

Between normal working hours, or after the shop is closed, or before you open, you’re going through your stash of parts and trying to put Jungwon back together. You have a lot of pieces and parts already at your disposal so it’s kind of nice, being able to basically build him back up. (Calling him ‘it’ just didn’t suit you, ‘him’ is a better pronoun, especially when you have to open him up below the waist.) You try to keep as many of his original parts as possible, his optics for sure, his eyes are beautiful, and his vocal board even though you have to fix it, you don’t want to ruin that voice. Over time, he starts to be functional again, a clean motor, a new battery (which you had to buy but it’s a higher volt so he should run for longer without being plugged in), and when you plug him back in once it’s all installed, his eyes seem brighter.

“Hello, I’m Companion Bot, serial number YJW040209, but you can call me Jungwon,” he introduces himself. “And you are?”

“Very impressed,” you say and he smiles, clearly understanding that that’s not your name. It’s a normal reboot answer, he’s not humming, his battery is working and all your work seems to be paying off. You grin to yourself when you realize he has a built in dimple. How cute. “But you can call me Y/N, or noona.”

“Noona is an honorific and can mean big sister,” he tells you. “Noona suits me just fine.”

“Wonderful.” You look back into his open chest, watching the electronic panel on the front of the battery blink as it slowly fills with power. “You still have a long way to go, but it seems like you’re working just fine. I’ll turn you off for now,” you say, reaching up to find the button beside his port at the nape of his neck.

“No!” He says and you’re startled, jerking back in surprise. “I mean, you don’t have to turn me off. I don’t mind being on while you work on me.”

“Uhm,” you swallow. “You have a lot of work that needs doing, Jungwon.” He smiles gently at you when you say his name, causing you to smile back. “Your synapses are all messed up, your battery components should be replaced, the corrosion from the previous one might cause them to break.” You step back, looking down at his hips. “And I only opened you up below the waist once, I should really make sure that’s all in working order, you might have a leak⁠—”

“I don’t mind,” he says and you meet his eyes again. “Please don’t turn me off again.” Your expression softens at the way he phrases it, blinking his big eyes at you.

“I’ll make you a deal,” you tell him and he tilts his head at you. “I’ll turn you off just to make sure your battery and motor are working, I have a few pieces that still need replacing and I can’t do it with you being on right now. But after I make sure those are all working, I’ll turn you back on and let you be awake during the rest of the work, okay?” He frowns at you and you smile gently. “I can’t fix those with you being on, it might hurt me. You don’t want to hurt me, do you?” He shakes his head. You gently rest your hand on the side of his neck, fingering the power button. “Okay then. Just rest for now, Jungwon.”

“Okay, noona.” You press the button and his eyes slide closed, going dark behind the synth skin. You step back, looking at the inside of his chest. The battery panel continues to glow as it charges even though Jungwon is powered down. You cross your arms over your chest, sighing to yourself. What he called himself sticks in your brain, a Companion Bot.

You do a bit of research on your own, not that you haven’t previously, but now that you have a name to what he is, you can dive a little deeper. All synthetic human droids (that’s their official name) are pretty much the same, they take the same batteries, the same motors, a lot of their parts are interchangeable, but Companion Bots are so much more than just droids.

You find yourself in a pretty sketchy part of the internet when you search Companion Bot, realizing that these things are little more than fucking machines. You can get them in female or male and they come with all sorts of bells and whistles, it turns out. It explains what you found when you opened Jungwon up below the waist, a far too realistic and oversized penis attached to the crotch, a tank in his thigh with tubing attached. He’s basically just a fucking machine, that’s what he was built for. You can program them to do other things, in fact websites that advertise them boast their ability to be able to program their “sexual appetite” and that the more you use them the better lovers they become. You end up closing the internet with a flush in your cheeks and heat pooling in your stomach. You’re not surprised but it is a little more than you wanted to know.

When you return to working in Jungwon in the morning you close his chest, and crouch down to open him up below the waist. He’s been nude since you decided to start working on him but you also removed the… oversized endowment since you began, not wanting it to be a distraction as you tried to fix him. It’s sitting in his parts box somewhere but it’s not important right now as you unbolt the seam of his hips, opening him up.

The tank in his thigh has a spigot that you can unplug, so you drop a bucket underneath it, opening it up to let it drain. You’re not sure how to feel as white liquid pours from the spigot into the bucket, translucent and thick. You don’t need to check, you know what that is and you look away, trying to figure out the rest of the functions down below.

All the synapses down here seem to be a little more… worn, not that it surprises you. Maybe you should’ve spent more time down here before you turned him on, in your original once over you didn’t look too closely at any of the wiring, assuming it would be the same as all the other droids you’ve seen. Clearly, you were so wrong, discovering a plethora of wiring in his hips, weaving and threading through the walls and in the cavity. You look over when you don’t hear the trickle of liquid anymore, realizing that the tank is empty.

The tank, which holds so much more liquid than you thought. The bucket isn’t very big but it’s at least half full of white, milky liquid and you move it away so you can inspect the tank itself. It’s welded well, it doesn’t seem to be leaking anywhere, the last thing a droid needs is an internal leak, especially one like this. The tubing could do with replacing though and you make a mental note to do that.

Wait. Replacing the tubing? Do you really need to do that? You’re not going to use this droid. Not for… for that. You don’t need to replace it. You don’t even need to put that dildo back on it if you don’t want to.

Unless you plan on selling him? Maybe you could. Maybe if you put him back together, you could sell Jungwon for a lot of money. And really, what’s the worst thing about replacing all of his parts. He works better than before? Hm, could be worth it.

Yeah, you’ll replace the tubing. Why not? You should probably make sure that dildo works too, just to be safe.

You have to order the parts online, because of course, no normal droid shop has those items. You didn’t think they would, so you wait for them to be delivered, closing Jungwon up and dumping out the bucket. You keep up with your other work in the meantime, checking your dropbox, repurposing other parts, mending pieces. It’s during one these days that a friend of yours comes to visit.

“I thought you would’ve given up on it by now,” she says when you let her into the shop. You roll your eyes, hopping up onto your workshop table. “I’m kind of surprised it’s going so well. There’s only about a thousand parts shops in the city,” she points out, leaning on the table.

“Well, the dropbox is pretty useful,” you reply.

“I bet it is,” she comments, eyes scanning the shop. They stop on your rack. “What is that?” She says, pointing towards your rack. You look over, having forgotten all about Jungwon. He’s sort of… just a part of your shop now, hanging on your rack at all hours, still powered down as you wait for the parts to come in. She pushes off from the workshop table, approaching him. You follow closely behind.

“Someone didn’t read the sign on my box,” you say, putting your hands on your hips while she inspects the droid. “I’ve been trying to put him back together. Figured he might be worth some money if I can resell him.”

“A fortune, you mean,” she says, knowingly. She leans away from him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Do you even know what this thing is?”

“I’ve done my research,” you reply. “He was in pretty rough condition when he was dropped but he’s almost working now.”

“I would keep it,” she says and you look at her with wide eyes. “What?” She laughs. “These things are so expensive and it’s not like you have a boyfriend.” You glance away, running an anxious hand through your hair. Your job keeps you pretty busy and being an mech engineer is kind of a turn off for some guys. You’ve never really had a chance to date, but she doesn’t need to point it out. “Could be worthwhile to keep it around. Y’know… when you get frustrated.” She winks at you.

“I don’t need a droid to do that for me,” you tell her, but your skin feels hot. “I have toys for a reason.”

“Would it not just be a big toy?” She points out. “Could be kind of fun. It’s cute,” she says, looking at it again. Jungwon is hanging limp, powered down, but the way she’s looking at it makes you uncomfortable. You can’t figure out why.

“Yeah, I guess,” you say. “Hey, you wanted to get lunch, right?” She looks back over at you. “Let’s go, before it gets late.”

“Okay,” she giggles, glancing over her shoulder at it as she turns to leave.

She doesn’t bring Jungwon up again at lunch but you come back from the meal giving him a long once over. You managed to replace the parts you could get from shops or were dropped in your box, fresh, new connectors on the battery, resoldered the pieces in the motor, there are only a few synapses that you have to fix inside. You don’t think too hard about it, the battery is charged to full after all, so you press the power button. He’s not even attached to the cord anymore, and he powers up immediately. His eyes light up, optics blinking alive as he turns on, looking at you.

“Hello, noona,” he greets you and you smile.

“Your battery’s in perfecting working order. Let’s make sure your motor works too, hm?” You say and he grins at you.

His motor works perfectly, as you suspected. You’ve spent enough time fixing it, it doesn’t hum, he doesn’t glitch and his voice is just the same. He can carry on full conversations now, sometimes even chatting with you as you work on other parts in your workshop when you’re not working on him. You’ve been hesitant to work on him while he’s awake anyway, he said he was fine with it but still… the idea of working on a droid while it’s on kind of freaks you out.

He notices though. Of course he does.

“Am I fixed?” He asks once while you’re sorting through a series of parts that have been dropped in your box. Nothing too exciting, a few bits and bobs, more scrap parts than anything. You’ll have to repurpose them if you want to sell them. You’re surprised to hear him talking to you and you look over across the workshop to see him staring at you. “Have you finished fixing me?” He asks and you sigh.

“No,” you admit, thinking of the box of parts that came in two days previous. It’s the tubing and the… synthetic liquid you got to fill his tank. You managed to finish cleaning it out while he was powered down but you’ll need to refill it if you want to sell.

If you sell him.

“Why not?” He asks.

“I just haven’t gotten to it yet,” you say, staring down at the parts on your table.

“You can finish fixing me while I’m on,” he says and you look at him, hesitant. “I don’t mind. You want to finish fixing me, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“So?” He blinks at you, eyes wide and innocent. At least, he seems innocent, you’re not so sure. Can a bot built to have sex really be innocent? That’s a moral question, perhaps. One you don’t have the answer to. “I would like to be fixed.” He tells you and you sigh.

“Okay,” you say. You step out behind the table, walking towards him. He watches you with unwavering eyes as you approach him. “You really don’t mind?” You ask and he shakes his head. You pick your drill up from the table, and step up to his chest cavity. “Alright.” You unbolt his chest cavity, opening him up.

It’s a little unsettling, in the beginning, Jungwon’s eyes watching you as you put your visor on and solder his synapses. What’s more distracting, however, are the little noises he makes when you fix them, gasping and humming under the electric sound of your soldering iron. You grow used to it, though, soldering the pieces of him back together while he’s awake. You start to expect the gasp he lets out when you touch his synapses with the iron. The little hum he lets out when you coat them with rubber, closing them up. You reach in with rubber gloved hands, adjusting his wires, tucking them into place and listen for the little gasp he makes when you run your fingers over exposed metals.

Maybe you’re dragging it out, you think, taking your time making sure all of his wiring works, making sure he’s completely functional. Thoughts that are easy to ignore when you attach a battery connector to those wires, telling him you’re checking his wiring and watch as his eyes flutter closed, mouth falling open when you send shocks through his synapses. When you stop he pants like he’s got lungs, shivering with aftershocks from your tests. There’s something erotic about it, disconnecting the connectors and listening to him moan under his breath when you do.

When you close him up for the final time, sure there’s nothing else to do inside his chest cavity, he watches you with intent eyes. You bolt him up and sew his synth skin back together, the synthetic skin mending itself seamlessly when you do so. You look up at his face, the droid still hung up on the rack he’s been attached to this whole time.

“All done,” you tell him.

“In there,” he says and you nod. “What about underneath?”

“Don’t you want a break?” You suggest.

“But you’re so close to finishing me,” he insists and you smile gently at him. “Don’t you want to finish me, noona?”

Every time Jungwon insists on being done, it drives you that much closer to insanity. Convincing yourself to sell him as soon as he’s done is going to be so hard. You already know it. But you can’t keep him, what’s the use? It’s just a droid, a droid that you don’t even need. No, you need to sell him. As soon as he’s finished, as soon as he’s in perfect working order, you’re going to sell him. You have to.

“Tomorrow,” you tell him and he pouts. You gently touch his cheek. “We’ve been at this all night, and I need some time to rest. I’ll work on your hips tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he relents. You smile up at him, and then step back. “Rest well, noona,” he says and you sigh.

“I will. Good night, Jungwon.”

When you return in the morning he’s in sleep mode, of course he is. He goes into battery reserve whenever you’re not working on him, he always does. You go out, check the drop box, set up your workshop with a granola bar sticking out of your mouth. Normal morning things, glancing up every so often to check and see when Jungwon wakes up. He stays in reserve for quite awhile, which isn’t a surprise. You were up late last night to finish him.

He wakes up when you’re finishing oiling an elbow joint, checking the synapses with your battery connector, making sure it works. You glance up to see him blinking his eyes open, looking across the workshop at you.

“Good morning,” you greet him and he smiles back.

“Good morning, noona.”

You unbox the parts that you’ve had hiding under your workshop table in front of him that night, his hips open in front of you. His box of extra parts is sitting open next to you as well, most of them are unusable, pieces you had to replace, even the old tubing is shoved in there now, but there’s also that part of him you’ve yet to reconnect.

“Are you going to put me back together?” He asks, watching you pull out a loop of tubing.

“That’s the plan,” you agree. “Maybe even back to how you were before,” you offer with a smile.

“Would you like me to be like that?” He asks and you sigh, pausing.

“It doesn’t matter what I would like,” you tell him. “Jungwon,” you look up at him and he blinks down at you, “you know I’m not going to keep you, right?”

“Why not?” He asks, innocently.

“Because I don’t need you.”

“I’m not a necessary bot,” he tells you and you sigh again, looking back down at the box. “I’m not needed for any particular reason, I’m a luxury bot. Needing me isn’t a reason to not keep me. Don’t you like me?”

“Of course,” you agree.

“Then you should keep me.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Humans make things more complicated than necessary,” he says, almost to himself. You look back up at him, seeing him tilting his head back, looking up at the ceiling. “If you like it, you should have it.”

You can’t even deny that. Maybe he’s right. Rather than argue though, you keep unpacking the parts box, staring hard at the industrial sized tube of synthetic cum you bought. You don’t need him, you have no use for him. Especially not for something like this.

You fall back into the rhythm of soldering his synapses, listening to the sound of his little noises. It makes you smile, hearing him gasp and hum and moan as you fix all the connections. Whoever used him last used him a lot, enough to wear him down pretty well. They also didn’t keep up with his maintenance, which does sort of bother you. What’s the point in owning something, especially if you understand droids, if you’re not going to take care of it? You make sure to wrap every connection in rubber, taking extra care to make sure all the connections are strong, that all the synapses are functional.

The sound of Jungwon’s moans when you do so is just a bonus.

You replace his tubing and fill the tank last, sighing heavily as you fill it with the liquid. It’s all a little too realistic, the synthetic white liquid dripping into the tank slowly. You set the tube aside once it’s full, making sure the tubing that runs from the tank is firmly in place, sealed with rubber seal. You connect the tubing to the front panel, and then sigh to yourself, looking at the two boxes beside you.

Impulsively, you bought a different penis attachment for him. This one is smaller, average size and realistic looking. The other is realistic too but far too big to be considered a normal. You hesitate for a second, unsure which one to attach. Jungwon doesn’t say anything, which you are silently thankful for. After a series of moments you pick the new one up out of the box, cutting open the plastic with your multitool.

“The other one isn’t to your liking?” He asks and you bite your lip, peeling open the plastic.

“It was used,” you say, clearing your throat when you hear how rough your voice sounds all of a sudden. “I cleaned it but… if I plan on selling you I wouldn’t want to sell you with a used part. That’s… not safe. Unsanitary.” You pull the attachment out, running your fingers over it. “Besides, this is much more appropriate. The other one is too big.”

“I see,” Jungwon says, voice deceptively light.

With it still open, you attach the fake penis to the front of the panel, making sure the tubing is lined up. The electronics catch, Jungwon gasping above you. You don’t dare look, the implication of this a little too much for you. The synapses seem to be all lined up though, which is a good sign. You pull back, closing the panels of his hips once everything seems to be connected correctly.

“I think that’s everything,” you say, closing him up. “You’re done,” you tell him, picking up your drill to bolt him closed.

“I’m fixed?” He asks and you nod, closing the panels and then sewing the synthetic skin closed down the middle and then around the base of the penis attachment, underneath the balls. You shuffle back, standing up once he’s all closed up. You look away, the realism of the penis attachment a little too much, like you shouldn’t be looking at it. You look at his face instead, Jungwon looking at you softly. “You finished me?” He asks and you nod.

“You’re finished,” you agree. “I think I’ve done all I can do. You’re practically a new droid.”

“Can I come down now?” He asks and you hesitate.

Two months. He’s been hooked up to the droid rack for two whole months. You’ve not even taken him down for a second, not even since he’s been functional. The rack has kept him safe and immobile while you worked on his insides, making sure his motor worked, his battery is functional. Taking him down is the next step, right? What if his joints don’t work, what if there are other parts of him that need work? You should take him down, right?

“Yeah,” you say but for some reason your heart trembles in your chest. “Uhm, sure,” you agree. You step towards him again, reaching up for the clasps around his wrists.

You unfasten the clasps around his wrists, his ankles, and then step back to flip the switch, disconnecting the piece that holds onto his spine, keeping him still. You walk back around to see Jungwon step down from the rack, stretching and moving. He seems almost human like this, rubbing his wrists and testing his joints. You watch with bated breath as he gets his bearings.

“How do you feel?” You ask.

“I feel great,” he tells you with a grin. “I don’t remember the last time I functioned this well.”

“Good,” you say, sighing with relief. “Your joints and everything too. You’re not sticking, everything’s well lubricated?”

“No, everything works,” he assures you and you lean back against the work table with a smile.

“Good, I’m glad.” You watch him step towards you, blinking a couple times. “You look a little confused. That’s okay, I don’t know how long you were out of commission before you were given to me. Give it some time, you just need⁠—” Jungwon closes the distance between you, resting his hands on your waist. You rest a hand on his shoulder. “Jungwon?”

“Thank you,” he says, causing your brow to crease. “For fixing me. I appreciate it.” You smile gently at him. “But we don’t know that everything works.” You tilt your head at him. Jungwon grips your waist, picking you up. You gasp, grabbing at his shoulders as he puts you on the table. He steps between your spread legs, chest to chest with you. Your breath catches in your chest as he presses into your space. “Don’t you want to make sure all of me works?”

“I…” you swallow, “Jungwon.”

“You can’t sell me without knowing if all of me works,” he says, one of his hands slowly making its way up your body, smoothing up your waist, cupping your breast over your shirt. You gasp when he squeezes gently, leaning in closer. “What if I break, noona?”

“You won’t, I- I just-” he presses a kiss to your cheek, and your eyes flutter closer. His mouth is satin soft, dragging down your face, under your jaw, along your neck. “Jungwon. Stop.” He stops abruptly, pulling away from you, hand dropping away.

“Noona,” he whines, pouting at you. “That’s not fair.”

“I can’t sell you used,” you warn him.

“Then don’t sell me,” he says. He grabs you by the waist again, leaning in close. It’s on the tip of your tongue, you can tell him to stop, but you don’t, Jungwon pressing his forehead to yours. “Keep me. I’m all yours.”

“But- I-” He kisses you, cutting you off.

His mouth is soft but firm against yours, his hands going for the button of your jeans. It surprises you, how intent he is, how much he wants you. He’s a droid, he doesn’t want, and yet he’s pulling at your clothes, unbuttoning and unzipping your jeans, trying to push them down your hips. You writhe against him, trying to push him off you, his mouth on yours stopping you from stopping him. You can’t say anything if his tongue is in your mouth, if his lips are on yours.

Your jeans tear, you hear the sound of ripping denim in your ears, gasping against his mouth. Jungwon’s strength is so much more than that of a human’s, you nearly forgot what kind of thing you’re dealing with. He literally rips them off of you, the torn shreds of your jeans falling to the floor as he pulls them down your hips. You try to push him off but he’s not done with you. His hands grab at your panties next, ripping the cotton like tissue paper in his hands.

When he pulls back, finally, you’re undressed from the waist down, the ripped pieces of your clothes on the floor of your workshop. You gasp for air, digging your fingers into his bare shoulders.

“Jungwon-” You gasp.

“Don’t tell me to stop,” he warns you, mouth still close to yours. “Or I’ll have to take what I want.”

“You’re a droid,” you remind him. “You’re not supposed-”

“I’m not supposed to want you?” He asks, mouth ghosting over your cheek, down to your jaw. “What was I supposed to do? Just let you keep playing with me? Just let you keep putting your hands inside of me, playing with my insides, making me moan for you? Did you think that that wouldn’t have consequences?” His lips press to your pulse, fluttering under his lips. “Do you know what I could do to you, noona? Do you have any idea what I’m capable of?”

“Jungwon⁠-”

“Pretty noona,” he purrs into your throat, letting his hand slip between your thighs, spreading your legs further open with his other hand. You jerk when his fingertips touch your folds, dipping between them to play with your entrance, sliding up and down your folds to touch your clit. “I’m gonna make you moan the same way you made me moan. I’m gonna make you feel like I did when you kept that battery connected to my wires. You’re gonna beg me to stop.”

“Fuck,” you curse as he presses his fingers up into you, stretching you open. You’re already wet, getting wetter as he rubs his fingertips against your walls. Slowly, agonizingly, Jungwon drags his fingertips against your walls, thrusting slowly, letting his fingers scissor and press and rub against your walls, playing with you. It shocks pleasure up and down your spine, your mouth falling open as your gasp, squirming against him.

It goes on forever, it feels like, the way Jungwon keeps playing with you, shoving his fingers in only to pull them out slowly, rubbing against your walls. Over and over and over again, your head falling back and moans falling from your lips, gasping and sighing. Jungwon’s mouth works over your throat as you moan for him, humming against the front of your neck as he finger fucks you.

His fingers reach so deep inside of you and when he curls his fingers up you yelp, hips bucking against his hand. He chuckles, the tone sinister to your ears. You curse your reaction when he presses his fingers in again, pushing his fingers up against the spot, rubbing torturously against it. You whine, hips writhing, causing him to hold you down against the table as he prods against your walls, purposefully shoving his fingers back against the place that makes you whine. When he jabs his fingertips into it you scream, hips bucking, back arching. He cups his free hand over your mouth to silence you, lifting his head from your neck to meet your eyes, watering with the bridled pleasure he’s been forcing you to take.

“Shhh,” he shushes you. “You don’t want someone to hear you, do you? What would happen if someone walked in here right now, watching me play with your insides?” He prods at your walls again, making your eyes roll back, mouth falling open behind his hand. “You’re so much more fun to play with than I thought, noona. So soft and warm inside.” He pulls his fingers out only to push them back in, stretching you around the digits. “Is it more fun than when you put your hands inside of me? Does it feel just as good?”

“I’m gonna come,” you mumble into his hand. Jungwon grins. “Jungwon, please.” you plead, fingertips digging helplessly into his shoulders.

“What makes you think you deserve to?” He asks, and you cry into his hand. “What makes you think that after the way you played with me you should get relief? I never got any relief, pushed to the edge over and over and over again.” He fucks his fingers into you with every word, making you sob into his palm. “You’ll come when I let you come, noona. You’ll come when I think you deserve it.”

You start to lose track of reality, the longer he keeps you spread out on the table, fingers pushed into your pussy, rubbing and dragging his digits against your walls, edging you. So many times you get close to coming only for him to pull his fingers away from that gland inside of you that’ll get you there. Tears build in your eyes, dripping down your cheeks, Jungwon’s hand keeping you quiet as you writhe and sob against him. He chuckles meanly as you buck and rock against his hand, trying to come and not being able to.

“What’s wrong?” He mocks you, spreading his fingers, stretching your pussy around them. “Are you close?” It’s nothing short of diabolical, the way Jungwon keeps you on edge. The way he pushes you right there only to take it away from you, over and over again. Your cunt is soaked from the way he keeps building your arousal to the edge, dripping all over his hand, creating a puddle of slick on the table underneath you. You’re not sure it isn’t about to drip over the edge of the table onto your workshop floor, with how long he’s been fingering you.

Finally, he slips his fingers out of you, letting his hand drop away from your mouth. You suck in a deep breath, collapsing against his shoulder. You’re so strung out you’re shaking, clinging desperately to him.

“Please,” you gasp.

“Please what?” He whispers in your ear, circling your clit with a fingertip. It makes sparks shiver up and down your spine, your whole body trembling with need.

“Please, I need to come,” you whine, tears still dripping down your cheeks. “Please, please, please.”

“Will you take what I give you?” He asks and you nod, helpless to do anything but agree, mind fogged with need. “You’ll do whatever I say, won’t you?” Jungwon takes you by the jaw, tilting your head up. You look into his eyes, half mast and glowing dimly. There’s something you can’t understand in your aroused haze behind those eyes, but it doesn’t matter to you. All that matters is the heat in your hips, the way you need to come. “Answer me,” he demands, holding you tighter by the jaw.

“Yes,” you cry. “Yes, anything.”

He shoves you down with the hand on your jaw, back flush to the tabletop. Parts fall off of your workshop table from how hard he pushes you down, pinning you. His free hand lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, the other falling from your jaw to grab the collar of your shirt. You watch as he lowers his head to your collar, taking it between his teeth, tearing it with his teeth and his hand, right down the middle. Most of your clothes are in shreds around you, leaving you only in your bra. He tears the center of your bra with his teeth too, revealing your breasts to him, which he tenderly cups in his hand.

“So pretty,” he coos. “I knew you would be so beautiful, noona.” He pinches your nipple, making you cry out, back arching off the table. “I didn’t know you’d be this easy though.” He leans over you, and taking your nipple into his mouth, laving over it with his tongue. Your hands come up to his head, holding him to you as he sucks at your breast, your hips bucking uselessly in the air. He moans against your chest, pulling gently at your nipple with his teeth. When he lets go, he leans back, your hands falling away as he takes his cock, thick and pearling at the tip with synthetic lubricant, in hand.

Once aligned with your entrance, he shoves it into you in one swift, hard thrust, making you cry out. Your hands grip uselessly at the table, unable to grab anything to hold onto. Jungwon holds you by the hips, fucking into you hard, pistoning his hips into you at a mechanical pace, so fast you can’t even think. All you can do is writhe underneath him, whining and moaning, nothing less than a human cocksleeve for him.

When he nudges against your g spot you scream again, Jungwon’s hand leaving your hip to cover your mouth again, muffling your screams. He’s relentless, railing you within an inch of your sanity, holding you so tightly there’s sure to be bruises on your skin. Tears spill down your cheeks as you scream, your orgasm crashing over you.

You come and then keep coming. Jungwon doesn’t stop even as you scream, cum and slick gushing out of you and all over his cock. The droid doesn’t stop, fucking you oversensitive, orgasm after over sensitive orgasm shuddering through you. More and more cum spills out of you, squelching lewdly as he fucks you, all over the table, dripping wetly to the floor of your workshop.

“I can’t!” You scream into the hand over your mouth.

“Then make me come,” he demands. You sob into the hand over your mouth, body too fucked out and limp to clench around the cock bullying your insides. You have no idea when it’s going to stop, when he’ll come, your body nothing more than a cocksleeve for him as he keeps drilling your pussy, fucking you mindless.

When it stops, when his hips finally still, you’re thankful for all of a second until you gasp, eyes rolling back when you feel your pussy being filled. A thick wetness fills you, the cock shoved inside you pulsing wetly, an imitation of a real cock. When the sensation is done shuddering through you, you look up at Jungwon to see just the whites of his optics, body shivering as he comes. When you look down, between your legs, you watch as white liquid pours out of you, gushing all over his cock and dripping down his hips.

You never checked the settings. You have no idea what the settings were for his sex mechanics. Not that you think it would’ve made a big difference but it takes a full 30 seconds for him to stop coming. When he does, he pulls out and you whimper, feeling synthetic cum gushing out of your cunt. You can hear it dripping to the floor.

“Oh my God,” you sigh, going limp against the table.

You truly believe that you’re going to be cleaning this up yourself, feeling like your brain is slowly resolidifying in your skull after all of that. You’re too exhausted to move, content to stay on the table until your joints start to function again. You’re surprised by the arms that slide under your back and knees, picking you up. You flail momentarily and then grab for his neck, Jungwon holding you against his chest.

“Would you like a bath or a nap?” He asks and you lean your head against his shoulder, a tired smile on your lips.

“A bath and then a nap.” You tighten your hold around his neck. “And then for you to hold me.”

“Yes, noona," he coos, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

Needless to say, you don’t sell Jungwon. You don’t think you ever could.

a/n: *this being a robot / droid fic and there being absolutely no chance of pregnancy or transmission of infections, i figured it was well within my liberties to depict unprotected sex, but please remember to engage in safe sex practices in real life, such as the use of contraceptives and condoms. remember: safe sex saves lives! additionally, this isn't quite monster fucking but it's pretty close and an idea i've had tumbling around in my brain lately. i hope you enjoyed, this one was a thrill to write <3

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emo-cosplayer · 3 months ago

Text

espresso ☆ sunoo kim

☆ super mega down bad!sunoo x fem! reader ☆ summary: that one time sunoo had a not-so innocent dream about you, and suddenly you're the only thing that consumed all of his senses. the problem? you're the most popular girl at the academy, and he's just a nerd. driven mad by his feelings for you, it felt like his chances with you were next to zero. it's actually much higher than he thought! ☆ genre: dark academia! au, classic popular girl x nerd, a looooot of romantic and sexual frustration LOL, a bit of nerdy lingo , loser and desperate sunoo!! ☆ warning(s)? slightly suggestive, but mostly just pure silliness and fluff :3 ☆ word count: 9.5k ☆ happy belated birthday to sunoo! the sunoo fic disparity is criminal. this is for you @ashtxrie. inspired "espresso" by sabrina carpenter. i hope i did mintchoco king justice. enjoy!

Ugh.

Popular kids.

Sunoo narrowed his eyes, clutching his textbooks even closer to his chest as he walked past the hoard of snobby rich kids. Their expensive pearl necklaces and diamond rings gleamed under the warm hallway lights, but no golden jewelry would take away how downright obnoxious they were.

"How could anyone be so loud right now?" Sunoo grumbled under his breath, pushing up his thin golden-framed glasses. Seriously though, he had a point. There was no reason for anyone at all to be screaming at the top of their lungs at 10 in the morning. But alas, here he was, rolling his eyes at the stuck-up rich kids.

The Academy had a pretty simple admissions system. Either you pay to get in, or you apply and get evaluated based on your application. Most of the students at the Academy were from wealthy families, so they obviously paid to be admitted. Sunoo, on the other hand, had more humbler origins.

To say that he worked his utmost ass off to even be able to apply was an understatement. It was almost patronizing to see all of these kids born with a silver spoon in their mouth act so carelessly.

They all acted so condescendingly, as if they didn't get admitted because of their father's paycheck.

"What's got your panties in a twist?" A new voice interrupted Sunoo's thoughts. It was his younger friend Riki, who threw an arm around his shoulder.

"Nothing," Sunoo murmured, tearing his eyes away from the group of popular kids.

All of them were the same. All arrogant, all pompous, all vain, all—

"Are you sure?" his other friend, Jungwon, joined. "You look a little bit—err— disturbed."

"I'm not."

Riki and Jungwon shared a look.

Okay, maybe not all rich kids were the same.

Because there were a few exceptions, such as—

"Are you still mad about that one time that snobby little Sanghyeok threw a ball at you?" Riki asked, blinking owlishly.

"No, what are you—"

"He's a rugby player, isn't he?" Jungwon thought aloud. "Geez, all the rugby players love tossing that goddamn football around, don't they?"

"Erm, actually, it's called a rugby ball," Riki corrected in a nasally voice.

"Whatever. It doesn't matter. Why would anyone throw those around? It's like a ball of concrete!"

Sunoo tuned his younger friends' bickering out. He'll admit it, he's just a little bit of a hater.

Among the snobby rich kids, there's definitely a few exceptions. Jay Park was a pretty cool guy, and so was Jake Sim. Sunoo could've sworn that there's one more person that he didn't mind too much... He just couldn't remember who....

"Watch out!"

It happened so quickly, because one moment Sunoo was lost in thought. And the next, a rugby ball was hurling at him, pummeling him square in the head.

Not again, was the last thing he thought of before he fell to the ground, blacking out.

"Aw man, you hit the nerd again?!"

"Hey, I didn't mean to— Ack!"

Sunoo stirred. It was weird. He could feel himself gain consciousness, but his head and body were pounding. Excruciatingly.

He could hear a little bit of arguing and a few masculine voices, all muffled yet somehow also painful to his ears.

"Quiet down," a new voice entered. It was a voice that Sunoo recognized, a voice that was much kinder and softer on his ears, almost healing. "If you keep yelling, you'll overwhelm him."

Whose voice was this? Sunoo knows that he knows this voice, but he couldn't quite put his finger on who.

Then, Sunoo felt a few gentle fingers run through his hair, and then a cold, ice compress pressed on his forehead.

"Just leave," the voice told the others. "Get to class. I'll take care of him."

There's some murmuring, and then some shuffling, and finally, the door slammed shut.

And the moment that it did, Sunoo's eyes shot open.

The first thing that he's met with as full consciousness pervades his body is a sharp pain everywhere, much more amplified and extreme this time.

The second thing that Sunoo sees is... you.

Of course, that makes sense now. You were the voice, and you were the person he was thinking about earlier. You were one of the exceptions to his "all rich kids are annoying" gag.

Of course you were.

Everyone knew you, and everyone loved you. Who wouldn't?

You were incredibly sweet, had a knack for calling everyone with affectionate nicknames, and every reason why Sunoo couldn't bring himself to hate everyone in the popular crowd. He's had a few classes with you in the past few years. You weren't the top student or academically driven by any means, but he could sense your effort.

Not to mention, you were really pretty. It was no secret that every single guy in school wanted a chance with you. Sunoo wasn't like that, but he wasn't going to sit there and deny that your face was nice to look at. Truthfully, it was difficult to not like you, one way or another.

In total, Sunoo's spoken to you a total of probably four times. Nevertheless, you were a lot more than just tolerable, compared to the rest of your peers.

Now Sunoo was in the infirmary, after that rugby ball smacked him right in the head and knocked him out. He was lying down on the gurney, a cold compress to his head. And you were taking care of him.

"You're up, sweetheart," you said softly, jumping to your feet once you realized that Sunoo was awake. You handed him his glasses that were folded neatly on the table, and then you went to the shelves. Sunoo attempted to raise himself up to sit, but almost immediately he was met with that horrible, aching pain again.

"Aghh!" he groaned, dropping himself instantly and clutching onto the ice pack on his head.

You hissed, scurrying over to his side.

"Don't move," you instructed him. Sunoo got a good look at your face now. Pretty, as always, but you had a pinched expression. You looked frustrated, and as you unfurled the bundle of bandages that you fetched from the shelf, your eyes traveled to him and almost looked apologetic. "Let's get you fixed up, sweetie."

Very gently, almost as if you were dealing with glass, you lifted Sunoo's head just enough so that you could wrap bandages around his forehead.

"Is that okay?" you asked him quietly, your nimble fingers brushing against his skin gently.

"Mmm—" Sunoo was cut off by a guttural sound in his throat— "Mhm."

You pushed his dark locks out of the way, humming.

While you worked on him, Sunoo couldn't help but notice how.... concerned you looked. As a matter of fact, where were the rest of your friends? Where was that bastard Sanghyeok that threw the damn rugby ball at him in the first place?

It wasn't like you were a student nurse or anything. Aside from just being a nice person, what reason did you have to go out of your way to fix Sunoo up? It wasn't like you were the one that threw the ball.

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, your brows furrowing together. Something was on your mind.

"I'm sorry," you finally blurted, your eyes wide and nearly glassy.

???

"Wha—"

"I'm sorry that Sanghyeok threw that ball at you," you continued, words spilling from your glossy lips like a waterfall, your eyes trained onto the floor and your head hung low. As words tumbled out, you stopped your ministrations on him, your hands taking solace on the hem of your uniform skirt. "I-It was very wrong of him, and it's even worse that you're now injured, and—"

"Why are you apologizing?" Sunoo interrupted you, though with labored breaths between his words, as he didn't want to hurt himself.

You frowned even harder, your fingers wringing each other. "B-But—"

Sunoo's face scrunched. "You didn't throw the ball at me. Sanghyeok did, so there's no reason for you to say sorry to me."

You shook your head.

"Still!" you huffed, your cheeks filling with air as you tapped your foot. You let out an exasperated breath. It smelled of coffee. "I know that it's not my fault, but— but that doesn't make what happened right."

Sunoo opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off, beginning your ministrations once again. "I'm just doing what's right."

By the end of the school day, Sunoo got out of the nurse's office, just slightly stumbling. His head still hurt, but thanks to you, who missed a few classes, it hurt a lot less than it should have. Once again, you proved that you weren't as bad as the rest.

If it was any other day, Sunoo would go to the library to fit in a few hours of studying, but after today's events, he just wanted to go back to his dorm.

It's been a long, stressful, and painful day.

The moment that Sunoo's dorm door shut, he made a bee-line for his bed, completely ignoring his roommate Sunghoon. He threw off his uniform shirt and tie, peeling them off like they were some nuisance.

And just like that, the second that Sunoo's head hit the pillow, he knocked out.

Sunoo opened his eyes and he was in a bed. Not his own bed, but a softer, much more comfortable bed.

He felt a warm—really warm— almost fuzzy, feeling in his chest. Sunoo's hands feel around the bed. The sheets are smooth and clean, and under his fingertips they wrinkle ever-so slightly. Now that he was looking around, it seemed to be early morning, with rays of sunlight peeking through the windows. In fact, this dorm room wasn't his. It smelled of espresso coffee, and was so pristine and neat.

Sunoo didn't notice it now, but all the pain he was supposed to be feeling disappeared. And just as he was about to get up to his feet to inspect, someone appeared at the doorway.

You.

"You're up, sleepyhead?" you said, leaning on the doorway as a sly smile spread across your face.

Why was he in your room?

And more importantly, why were you in only a bathrobe?

Sunoo looked down, and that's when he realized that he, too, was shirtless.

Instead of responding how he'd want to— confused out of his mind— words tumbled out of his lips, almost like he had no control over them. "I was waiting for you."

You giggled, pretty sounds falling from your pretty lips. You slowly sauntered over to the foot of your bed, your gentle hands coming down to brush against Sunoo's leg.

"You look so handsome, sweetheart," you rasped. The warmth and fuzziness that he felt earlier began to spread from his chest to his entire body.

And the next thing that Sunoo knew, you were on top of him. Your lips pressed wet kisses all over his bare chest. Sticky gloss clung to his flushed skin, leaving pretty lipstick marks across his skin.

"God, I want you so bad," you groaned, before taking his skin between your teeth. You sucked on it gently, earning a gasp from the boy. You giggled into his ear.

By now, Sunoo was burning up completely. Each graze of your lips was like a scorching hot iron piercing his skin, but it burned so good. If it weren't for his fingers that dug into the crisp bed sheets, or the way that you gripped his chin, Sunoo would have fainted already. Each gasp for air as you marked his soft skin was ripped from his throat, hot lines of electricity running through his veins.

"Please..." Sunoo pleaded through a strangled whimper, letting out a soft moan when you bit onto his ear, your warm breath brushing up against his skin in a way that made him shudder. "Please, [Name]."

Everything before had a haze over it, a blurry screentone cast over Sunoo's eyes.

But as you looked up at him through your pretty eyelashes, lips swollen from abusing his skin, Sunoo swore that he could see everything so clearly. Every line on your face, every shadow and every highlight, every blemish and every perfection— he could see all of it.

"Please, what?" you murmured, your lips spreading into a grin. "What are you begging for, sweetheart?"

And it drove him crazy.

Sunoo threw his head back, an airy moan tumbling from his lips, giving you better access to his neck.

"I need you," he whined, his chest heaving up and down as he failed to catch his breath. "Please, I need you so bad."

You giggled again, pressing a hand against his chest.

"Anything you want you get—"

Beep beep! That was an eerily familiar alarm sound, one that was familiar enough to make Sunoo's head whip around.

You looked unfazed, only giggling again before leaning in to press soft kisses on his chest.

Beep beep!

There it was again! This time, Sunoo's body jerked at the sound, his face scrunching. Why weren't you reacting?

"Focus on me, sweetie," you whispered in his ear.

Sunoo complied (because of course he did), closing his eyes as you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. And just as he was beginning to forget that godforsaken sound, sinking into the sweet taste of your lips...

Beep beep!

Sunoo couldn't help the way that he jerked away from you.

And as he did, Sunoo jerked awake.

His eyes shot open.

Dark room, completely drenched in sweat, burning up, and unfortunately alone.

"I swear, you always look like someone pissed you off."

"Right? He always looks so... constipated?"

On most days, Sunoo could endure his friends' teasing. Not this morning though.

He woke up from that dream completely disoriented. With his hair disheveled and face flushed, Sunoo arose from his slumber with beads of sweat running down his temple. It took him four more rings of his alarm clock and his roommate yelling at him to truly regain his consciousness— for while he was physically awake, he wasn't truly awake. Not after a dream like that.

Sunoo told everyone so far that he woke up with a fever, which was true. His cheeks were bright red, and his skin was hot to the touch, as he was bundled up in a few layers of coats.

Truthfully, his physical condition wasn't what was causing him to be so disoriented.

It was you.

What the fuck was that dream?

Usually, Sunoo couldn't remember his dreams, even if they were fever dreams. But now sitting in the dining hall, nibbling on his breakfast, Sunoo could remember every little thing so clearly in his mind.

He could remember how your room looked, how your bathrobe made your skin look so beautiful, how your plump lips felt against his chest, how fucking gorgeous you look—

Clank!

Sunoo dropped his fork onto the table, the metal cutlery clanking with the porcelain plates around him.

"What's up with him?" Jungwon not-so-quietly whispered to Riki. The two watched, perplexed, as Sunoo's cheeks turned even more red, the older boy's tired eyes squeezing shut as he hid his face in his palms.

Sunoo groaned, looking through his palms to look at his friends' confused expressions.

He felt hot. Maybe it was the fever.

He looked down at his palms, the reddy patches sticky with a thin sheen of sweat.

Definitely not just the fever.

He couldn't get your voice out of his head.

It was well-known that you liked to call everyone a nickname of sorts. It seemed like his nickname was "sweetheart."

Sunoo knew it was innocent, especially when you were fixing him up yesterday. But now with a new context—the context of his not-so innocent dream where you rasped "sweetheart" into his ear— he couldn't help but feel shy.

Sunoo's chest heaved. His tweed coat felt too thick now. His fingertips were held together by threads, and if he wasn't careful, he'd burst with blazing plasma.

Tuning out his friends, Sunoo couldn't stop his mind from drifting back to last night's dream.

He'd absolutely combust if he saw you again. Sunoo had no idea how he'd even look you in the eye, after doing unthinkable things with you in his dream.

God, there was no way that he'd ever let anyone, let alone you, find out about this. He felt like some pervert, some sick creep using you to fuel his nasty fantasies. He was not, but he sure felt like it.

Sunoo didn't dare look anywhere except down at his plate. If he did, he feared that he would catch sight of you, and completely die. As a matter of fact, even hearing the names of your friends in passing made his stomach do flips.

The school bell rang, and now Sunoo had to drag himself to class. Murmuring a small good-bye to his friends, his heavy footsteps took him where his first period morning class would be.

Gosh, he fell asleep almost immediately last night! Quick, was there homework that he was supposed to complete? His morning class started with his elective, botany.

Botany, botany, botany, he repeated in his head, jotting his memory. There weren't any notes due until the end of the week, and the closest test from today is two weeks. So why did he feel like he was missing something? Was there a presentation that he didn't remember? Maybe they were having a lab today and he forgot to bring his gloves. Or maybe—

Sunoo stopped in his tracks.

Just as he was cooling down, he felt his skin erupt with goosebumps, warmth overtaking his entire body.

If it weren't for his acute awareness of his surroundings, Sunoo would have tripped over his feet.

Because you decided to appear.

Oh fuck, why were you right there? Standing across the hall from him, all prettied up and completely oblivious to the hell that you were putting Sunoo through.

Had you always looked so pretty?

Of course, Sunoo recalled how perfect your face looked at all times, how jaw-dropping you managed to look even when you didn't try. The way that the light reflected off your skin made you look like you were glowing. Like a halo.

Sunoo's face burned. You definitely looked prettier in real life than in his dream. Not even the intricate workings of his brain could capture your beauty.

A strangled noise escaped Sunoo's throat, his face turning as white as a ghost, eyes big as saucers.

No, no, no! Sunoo squeezed his eyes shut. Of course. He had morning Botany with you! How could he forget!

"Move, you nerd!" someone grumbled as they shoved past him. Usually, on any other day, Sunoo would cuss back at them, maybe shove past them even harder. But all he could do now was stand back dazed.

He forced himself to pick up his feet again. After all, class was starting, and the bell would ring in a matter of minutes.

What was harder than pulling himself out of his daze was walking into that Botany lecture hall. Sunoo didn't dare look anywhere that wasn't his shoes, in fear that if he even caught a glimpse of you, he'd evaporate.

With quick, hasty steps, Sunoo scurried along the sides of the hall, ignoring the little hi's and good morning's from his classmates.

And just as he thought he successfully made it to his seat...

"Good morning, Kim!"

To say that Sunoo nearly jumped out of his skin would be an understatement.

As you appeared before his seat, seemingly out of thin air, Sunoo felt every inch of his body flare up with warmth.

You looked even better up-close.

"Oh— Uh—" Sunoo couldn't help the way he stared at you with wide eyes, his lips agape.

"Good— Um, Good morning, [N-Name]," was all he could manage out.

You stared at him for a few moments, blinking a few times, before a wide smile broke out on your lips.

You reached out, your hand resting gently on the crown of his head, completely oblivious to the way that the boy tensed under your touch. "How does your head feel, sweetheart?"

Sunoo completely forgot that he'd sustained a head injury earlier. How could he remember when something (or someone) else was making his head hurt?

"I-It's good!" he stammered quickly, words tripping over themselves. "I'm good!"

You cocked your head, your brows furrowing.

"No one picked on you, right?" you looked around, leaning closer to him— close enough that he could feel your breath on his neck. "Did any of my friends try bothering you again?"

Sunoo flushed at the proximity. This was feeling a little too familiar.

"No!" Sunoo nearly shouted. When everyone turned to look at him weirdly, the room falling silent for a mere second, he muttered a quick sorry. "I mean— No, n-no one bothered me again."

You nodded slowly, before you brought your hand to his forehead. "You're feeling a little warm, sweetie. You aren't sick, aren't you?"

If he had less self-awareness, Sunoo would have run around that lecture hall a few times, dunked his face in a bucket of iced water, and maybe even screamed a few times before answering your question. But he couldn't, so all he could do was shake his head no.

"Good," you said with a smile. "I'll see you around."

With that, you turned on your heel, and went back to your seat.

Class started, but Sunoo couldn't quite focus.

Sunoo felt like this had to be some joke. It felt like Jungwon or Riki were about to come out behind the curtains and scream "Gotcha!" in his face.

Because why on earth were you and him on the same path to the boys' dormitory?

After his daily study session in the library, Sunoo figured that the chances of him running into you again would be low.

But lo and behold, as Sunoo was on his way back to his dorm, you materialized from thin air and started walking with him. In silence, of course, but you greeted him with a smile.

Even after 10 hours of being out and about, you still managed to look so perfect.

In all the years that he'd attended this Academy, Sunoo's never seen you take this route, let alone go to the boys' dormitory.

Did you have a boyfriend? Or a special relationship with a boy? Sunoo's stomach dropped. What if he's been thinking about you all this time when you were taken already?

Sunoo opened his mouth to talk, but you beat him to it.

"Sooo, Sunoo," you said in a dreamy, sing-songy voice. "How's your day been?"

Torture, because of you. "I-It's been okay."

You hummed. "That's good to hear."

Silence.

It wasn't like he was in love with you. But for some reason, it bothered Sunoo that you could be heading to the boys' dorm for a possible boyfriend. He just needed to know.

"Where are you— Where are you headed?" Sunoo winced at his question. You probably thought he was weird now. He felt hot all over.

You smiled, clicking your tongue with a playful eye roll. "Just to my cousin's dorm. He just transferred here so my parents want me to help him move in."

Sunoo blinked.

Oh.

"Th-That's nice," Sunoo quipped. "I'm just going back to my— uh— dorm."

Of course he'd be going back to his own dorm! Sunoo chided in his head. You definitely thought he was an idiot by now.

The trip up the stairs and down the hall was quiet, awfully silent— only the distant sound of students and footsteps filling the air.

Eventually, the two of you met a stop.

"I should be turning at this corner now; his room is just down that hall," you said to him, earning a nod. "Thanks for walking with me, Sunoo."

"Of course," Sunoo said back shyly, a small smile on his lips. " 'It's my pleasure."

"No seriously," you continued, a bashful smile on your lips. "The halls during this time of year are a little sketchy. Sometimes, I can't even trust my own guy friends to walk me."

Sunoo cocked his head.

"The point is," you said, your eyes unwavering as they met with Sunoo's eyes, "You make me feel safe."

Before Sunoo could respond, you shot him a kind smile, before turning on your heel. "Good night, sweetheart!"

Sunoo was rendered speechless, staring at your retreating back.

"Good night," he muttered under his breath, not audible even to himself. "Sweetheart."

(He definitely thought about this interaction later into the night, and burned up severely.)

Although no one would guess it, the next few weeks were hell for Sunoo. It was almost terrifying.

How did you manage to show up everywhere?

Truly, it felt like everywhere Sunoo went, you just happened to show up.

It started with little things. In the middle of class you would come in to give back a sweater you borrowed from your friend. Sometimes you would come in and sit at the back of class to make up a test that you missed, or to ask the professor any question you had about the upcoming assignment. Each time, you'd wave at Sunoo, sometimes even before you waved at your friends.

All normal, of course. Every time he'd see you, he'd immediately straighten his back to make sure his posture was perfect— maybe even brush his hair out of his eyes and adjust his glasses, all in the hopes that if you looked at him, he wouldn't be a pain to view.

All as if he wasn't screaming on the inside. There was just something about how you always had that dreamy look in your eye, like a princess. How could he possibly look you in the eye?

Sunoo wanted to look perfect and pristine for you, but at the same time, he wanted to disappear under your gaze. Sometimes, he wanted to disappear because he simply couldn't handle the power that your eyes had. Other times he wanted to disappear so that he could look at you— observe every line, perfection, and imperfection of your face— without the existence of others around him.

No matter the time, one thing was common: Sunoo always turned four shades redder whenever you walked into the room. And it was frustrating.

"Why are you red?"

"You look embarrassed. Did you fart or something?"

"Tomato boy."

It was embarrassing, especially because his seatmates always ended up being the biggest assholes anyway.

Then, you began waving to him in the hallway. It started with small waves, sometimes with you mouthing hi or hello. But then you'd sometimes run up to him with a wide smile just to say hi.

Maybe you were just really nice, Sunoo thought, though he'd be lying if he said that he didn't wish you were giving him special treatment. In fact, it made him feel sick just thinking about how you called your friends cute pet names like darling, too. He almost had to excuse himself to the washroom when thinking about you calling other people sweetheart. You were bound to, of course, but that didn't mean that Sunoo particularly liked that idea.

All of these were small little things, pretty insignificant in the grand scheme of things, especially considering that you were the most popular girl in school.

But then it started getting bad.

And it wasn't your fault.

Why— just why— did you have to be in every single one of his dreams?

The first dream he had about you was already enough. Why did he need a bajillion more?

The dreams ranged from extremely mundane to scary to a bit... raunchy. And yet, you still managed to be in every single one of them.

In the mundane ones, you'd be the person that mutters a remark to him before disappearing.

In the scary ones, you'd be the person that Sun threw over his shoulder as he ran away from the undead.

In the raunchy ones, you'd be under him, your arms thrown around his neck as he lays wet kisses on your skin, basking in the pretty sounds that you make— Too much!

He couldn't help it. He really couldn't.

There were times where Sunoo was afraid to go to sleep. Not because seeing you was a bad thing, but because the aftermath was always bad.

Sunoo always woke up sweaty and burning up. He'd trudge to the shared bathroom and splash water on his face. No matter how cold the water was, whenever he closed his eyes all he could see was your face. Your pretty, pretty, face. You seemed to get prettier with every dream, yet dream-you couldn't ever compare to real life-you.

Seeing your face wasn't the problem. He loved to see it. The problem was that every time he saw your face Sunoo would get all clammy and mushy and warm on the inside. His cheeks would burn, and he'd feel warm all over.

And the hardest part was that every single time, all he could hear was your voice calling him "sweetheart" — over and over, in a hypnotizing cadence that only made him want to fall into your essence even more.

It was weird.

So, so, weird.

And Sunoo thought that he was going to die.

It seemed like Sunoo was always in for a surprise.

By the end of the month, Sunoo managed to convince himself to forget about his dreams completely.

After all, after a few days of doing his best to avoid you, he was able to assure himself that all of these feelings would disappear with time, since his attraction to you was random anyway.

Sure, you're pretty, Sunoo told himself. And very kind and sweet, but it wasn't like you and him were best buds. So whatever delusion that was going on in his head was bound to go nowhere. He was just being a teenager, probably.

He'd never felt this way towards anyone before. It was best to just ignore it.

Sunoo clenched his fists. Yeah, he'd do his damn best to ignore it.

But as he was in line in the Academy's library, preparing to check out a new book about whatever topic he wanted to read up on, Sunoo felt a pair of hands clutch his shoulders.

"Hi, Sunoo!"

Sunoo whipped his head around and jolted, a small "Ah!" leaving his lips. Startled, he nearly dropped his massive hunk of a book, earning a glare from the snobby student-librarians.

It was you.

The moment that he laid eyes on you and your silly little grin, Sunoo's resolve weakened. Like walls of a fortified castle crumbling under the force of a cannon, if Sunoo didn't look away now he'd be absolutely beat.

"H— Hey there, [Name]," he said quietly, tearing his eyes away from you and turning back to the front, holding his book close to his chest.

"Whatcha got there?" you asked him curiously. He could still feel your hands on his shoulders squeezing him playfully.

Sunoo looked down at his book.

Thematic Cartography and Geovisualization?

Oh god, you were definitely going to think he was a nerd.

"Nothing..." he murmured, clutching the book even closer to him.

You shook him by his shoulders playfully, a little chuckle coming from your lips. "Oh, c'mon! I know that massive book isn't just 'nothing.' What're you reading?"

"It's..." Sunoo winced. "It's embarrassing."

You pouted, a little hmph! coming from you.

"Next!" the librarian called, and Sunoo moved forward in the line to check out his book, though he was distracted by the way that you still continued to cling to him.

"You didn't— You didn't get a book?" Sunoo asked as you followed him to a library table, your hands empty.

"Nope," you said smoothly. "I'm just here to study!"

"Oh." Sunoo blinked, pushing up his glasses. It was quiet and he didn't know what to say. "What are you studying?"

"I'll tell you," you smiled, "Only if you tell me what your book is about."

He sighed. Sunoo sat down, and naturally, you followed suit, sitting across from him. He plopped his massive book down onto the table, and slowly slid it over to you.

Your brows furrowed together as you read its title.

Sunoo's cheeks burned. You definitely think he's some nerd. How embarrassing.

You finally looked up at him. Only, instead of looking at him with condescension or ridicule, you looked embarrassed.

"Um," your brows knitted together further. "What's cartography?"

Sunoo stared at you. You don't think he's weird?"

"I-I'm sorry," you continued, letting out a deep breath. You looked perplexed. "I'm not very smart. I don't know what cartography is. Or what geo-something-something is. Can you explain it to me?"

He stared at you again.

After what you just said, there was no way that he'd possibly let his feelings for you fade away. There were a lot of things that Sunoo couldn't agree with when it came to the popular kids at his school. But here he understood why hoards of boys would be at your feet, begging for just one chance.

The corners of his lips lifted. The bashful look on your face was... cute.

"It's okay," he began. "Cartography is just the science of making maps."

You looked even more confused, but also relieved. Relieved that he wasn't going to make fun of you for not knowing. "There's a science behind making maps?"

"Hm," Sunoo paused to think, "Not exactly. But there's a lot of thought that goes behind making maps."

"Why?"

Sunoo thought he was going to fall in love. He loved his friends, of course, but none of them were ever as curious about his interests as you were.

"Well," Sunoo's hands joined to make a circular shape. "The Earth is a three-dimensional globe." You nodded to show that you were listening, staring at him with curious eyes. "Imagine even trying to transfer a 3D globe onto a flat, two-dimensional surface. It's pretty difficult to do without intense distortion."

You nodded slowly, your eyes narrowing.

"Was I rambling?" Sunoo asked quietly, so quietly that he didn't even think you could hear him.

"No!" you jumped to answer, earning a glare from the librarian. "I'm just trying to process it."

After a few moments of silence, you sucked in a deep breath. "I get it now, sweetie. You're so smart."

"Th-Thank you..." Sunoo stuttered out. Did he really just ramble to you about maps? And did you actually just listen to him with interest? "What are you studying?"

"Oh, me?" you looked down, embarrassed again. "It's just history. I can't wrap my head around it and I have an exam next Wednesday."

"Oh...." Sunoo blinked. "I can help you."

And that's how he got invited to your dorm.

(And to hell with forgetting his feelings!)

Truth be told, you weren't the person that everyone thought you were.

It seemed like, to the rest of the school, you were just a perfect little angel. And the fact that you rejected every guy that made advances toward you only helped that image grow.

Everyone thought you were perfect, beautiful, and most of all, untouchable.

And that couldn't be any further than the truth.

The truth was simply that no one was good enough for you.

Everyone had an essence of snobbery to them, something that you just couldn't get past. You wanted someone raw and genuine, someone that had more substance to them than just their daddy's money.

Which was why you wanted Sunoo Kim.

And you wanted him bad.

There was something so fucking attractive amount the way he'd push up his glasses, eyes squinting to get a better look of the board as he messily jotted down notes.

There was something so charming about the way he clenched his jaw when he was concentrated, his brows furrowing.

There was something that made your stomach flip whenever he rolled up his sleeves to do some math problem that you probably couldn't understand.

There was something that made you so obsessed whenever he swiped his tongue over his plush lips, his eyes brightening as he explained his favorite topic.

God, you didn't just want him. You needed him.

All these years, you did everything with him at the back of your mind. Would Sunoo Kim look up from his massive textbook if you wore this skirt? Maybe he'd even breathe in your direction if you got a better grade on this exam.

You didn't get it. Everyone looked at you, yet the only person that you wanted to look at you did not.

You wanted Sunoo Kim, and you wanted him bad.

You and Sunoo agreed to meet on Monday and Tuesday to help you study for your history exam on Wednesday.

On Monday, the two of you met in the library right after school. It was a quiet, focused session, covering all the necessary sections in a short amount of time. For the first time ever, you actually understood the concepts!

On Tuesday, the two of you agreed to meet in your dorm at 7PM, because that was when you knew your roommates would be gone.

You glanced at the analogue clock pinned high on the wall near the entrance of your dormitory. Every dorm room had one, as mandated by the school to promote punctuality— all the exact same model with a red-brown base, serif lettering, and a gold trim. Yet, the clock in your dorm felt slower, much slower than it should.

6:47PM, it read, the slow ticks pushing off the walls as if to tease you.

Couldn't 7PM come any faster?

Your eyes fell over to your roommate's mirror in the corner of her desk.

The Academy's uniform was strict. Collared button-up, the school blazer with its crest crisply embroidered on, for girls the skirt at a reasonable length: it was all very stringent. All students were required to wear the uniform during school hours.

This study session with Sunoo would not be during school hours. You picked out your best top— a pretty, white top with a delicate lace trim. You always got the most stares when you wore this one (and hopefully, Sunoo would stare at you).

You never thought that you had to put any more effort into your appearance than you usually did, but as the clock ticked on the wall, you couldn't help but feel self-conscious.

You knew you were pretty, but what if Sunoo didn't think the same? Did you look weird today? You swore your face was feeling puffy earlier— should you do something? What if you suddenly woke up today and you morphed into a frog-like creature, and everybody knew except you?

You picked at your fingernails as you waited (im)patiently for 7PM to come. Your palms felt a little clammy, and your heart pounded in your chest with each passing minute.

And finally, just when all of your self-confidence was beginning to slip from your grasp, you heard a knock at your door.

If it was anybody else, you would've taken your time to get to the door, maybe even shout a little "Just a minute!"

But because it was the Sunoo Kim, you couldn't help but eagerly scurry to the door. You would've been embarrassed because Sunoo could 100% hear your loud footsteps as you rushed to the door, but you were too engulfed by your nerves to even think of it.

"Hi, sweetheart!" you blurted the second you opened your door, a bright smile on your face. There Sunoo stood, with his delicate face and thin gold-rim glasses, looking composed and focused as ever. And god did that make you want him.

"Oh, hi," Sunoo said coolly, pushing up the glasses on his nose. Though, you missed the way his eyes twitched, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip as he sucked in a sharp breath.

The two of you stood at the door for a few moments, just staring at each other. Your smile never faltered. If anyone were to see you, they'd see hearts in your eyes and a sparkly, pink lovey-dovey aura radiating off of you.

"Come in!" you said cheerfully, letting the boy into your dorm.

The two of you got to work pretty quickly. If there was one thing about Sunoo that you could appreciate, it was his sheer willpower and concentration when it came to academics.

It wasn't like you didn't try in school. That couldn't be further from the truth; you always tried your best, even when your best didn't earn you the best marks.

Sunoo was just another level. You couldn't understand how he did it. He was so focused and intelligent, it made your chest feel warm and fuzzy.

The moment that he stepped inside, he had your textbook and notes cracked open immediately, asking you questions that were just a little too difficult for your mind to wrap around.

"What?!" you cried, your face scrunching as jumbled words that you couldn't understand fell from his lips. You looked at Sunoo incredulously. "We did not study that!"

You could have sworn Sunoo chuckled at your confusion, his eyes squeezing into thin crescents as the corner of his lips lifted. Usually, you'd feel embarrassed for not quite being the brightest, but Sunoo never made you feel that way.

"Lee is your professor," Sunoo pushed up his glasses, unable to hold back airy chuckles at your outrage. You nodded. "Well, he's notorious for his ridiculous trick questions, right? As your study-buddy, it's my duty to prepare you as best as I can."

That's when you got up from your desk chair and flopped over onto your bed, groaning into your pillows.

"Why do you have to be so thoroughhhh?" you whined, kicking your feet.

Your heart fluttered when Sunoo laughed.

Yes, laughed.

It was high-pitched and breathy, like he was sucking in breaths of air only to push it out with a pretty giggle.

You whipped your head around, picking it up from the pillow. You stared at the boy with wide eyes.

God, how could anyone be so beautiful?

You watched the boy laugh, completely and utterly infatuated with him. He was so cute. You needed him now.

You threw your head back into the pillow, continuing to groan and whine, in the hopes that it would make him laugh.

"You hate meeeeeee," you whined, "You hate meeeee!"

"I don't!" Sunoo laughed, his hands slapping his knees, "I don't hate you."

You whined again, kicking your feet. "You doooo."

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, filled with quiet giggles. From your desk, Sunoo nudged you with his foot, earning another cute whine from you.

You were cute. And hardworking and enthusiastic. But that wasn't a surprise to Sunoo.

Sunoo watched as you shouted at your roommate who came back to the dorm to fetch something she left behind.

"Hurry up, Yujin!" you chided quietly, trying to get Yujin out of the dorm as quickly as possible... before your momentum with Sunoo was lost. "Move it, move it!"

"Geez, sorry!" Yujin rummaged through her things, trying to look for whatever she forgot.

When Yujin finally left, you never closed the door any fast, eagerly turning back to Sunoo and plopping down on your bed.

"Sorry, sweetie" you murmured, a frown on your face. "My friends are having a party tonight and Yujin forgot her lipstick, or something. Her stupid crush is there so she needs to look 'perfect' or whatever."

"Party?" Sunoo cocked a brow.

"Yeah," you rolled your eyes. "It's for someone's birthday."

Sunoo narrowed his eyes.

Did you skip your friends' birthday party just to study for your history exam?

Pause.

Did you just ditch your friends just to study with him?

A strange noise came out of Sunoo's lips as his cheeks felt warm.

Relax, he thought. It wasn't like it was a date or anything. Surely, you were just trying to get a good grade. That's why you chose to study instead of party.

"I was gonna go," you said smoothly, looking at your nails, "But how could I miss out on time with you?"

Sunoo's ears burned.

"Oh— Well—" Just as words were becoming coherent in his head, you just had to drop that on him. He spluttered. "Thank you...? I-I— I mean—"

You chuckled. You got off the bed and joined Sunoo again at your desk. "Let's study, sweetheart."

For the next hour or so, the two of you were in a deep study session. Every word that you read and every word that fell from Sunoo's mouth, you soaked up like a sponge. You needed to pass this exam, and even more, you needed to make Sunoo's efforts worth it. He already spent yesterday and today helping you; you did not want to waste his time and fail.

Your dorm room was quiet now. Other than the sound of pages turning, pencils on parchment, and the distant sound of partying down the halls, the room was silent. From time to time, someone would run down the halls, probably running after their friend. You and Sunoo would look up at each other and share a chuckle.

You had just finished a practice test a few minutes ago, and now Sunoo was grading it for you. Meanwhile, you read up on your notes once again. Holding the notebook up, you hid behind it, creating a wall between you and Sunoo.

You feared that if you could see Sunoo, you wouldn't be able to concentrate.

Well, just him being in the same room as you was already enough to make your mind drift. How could you not?

His concentrated expression made you feel weak to your knees, his fox-like eyes drilling into your practice test. His skin looked so perfect and airbrushed, you just wanted to pounce on him and mark it up and—

Okay, too far.

But still.

You've been studying for a good hour now. It wouldn't hurt to take a break, right?

You peeked over the side of your notebook to catch a glimpse of Sunoo. He was minding his own business and doing it quietly, but he looked so good that you couldn't tear your eyes away.

Yep, this was the break that your eyes needed, from those hunking paragraphs of text and difficult-to-read stimuli.

"Do you need something?" Sunoo asked, not moving his eyes from the practice test that he was currently grading.

You felt your cheeks heat up. How did he notice your staring so quickly? This must mean that he could always notice you staring at him! Fuck, fuck, fuck, were you weird? He definitely thought you were weird now, and—

"N-Nothing," you stammered out, immediately burying yourself back into your notebook. In fact, you even went as far as turning your entire back from him out of embarrassment.

So embarrassing!

"I don't mind..." Sunoo murmured.

You snapped your head over to him. "W-What?"

Did you hear him correctly?

"I said..." This time, it was Sunoo's turn to hide his head behind the paper, making it impossible for you to see face. "I said I don't mind if you stare at me."

You felt light-headed.

Everything— from the deep espresso scent in the air to Sunoo's soft cologne to the way his moles littered his skin to the way he was sat so attractively at your desk, spouting intelligent nonsense at you to the very way that his glasses sat on his nose— everything about Sunoo was driving you mad.

Insane.

You didn't feel like yourself. You didn't feel like the perfect angel that everyone wanted you to be.

You felt like a selfish animal about to pounce on another. You felt like you were going to sink your teeth into his neck and ravage him.

Your head was spinning. Everything was spinning. Your skin felt hot, your mouth dry, as if it needed something to satiate it now. You were thirsty, thirsty for Sunoo, and nothing would be able to satisfy you but him.

And before you could even control yourself, you threw aside your notebook, grabbed Sunoo's face, and smashed your lips against his.

In that moment, it felt like all time stopped.

You couldn't feel anything, other than your hands that delicately clutched Sunoo's face, and your lips that were pressed against his. Your heart pounded in your ears. You felt like you were tied to a pyre, burnt like a sinner at the stake, yet it felt good.

But the moment that you heard Sunoo's breath hitch in his throat, a guttural sound tumbling out, you regained your senses.

Immediately, you pulled away, stumbling back as you caught your breath.

Sunoo's face was bright red as he stared at you. He took heavy breaths, almost like he wasn't breathing before.

"I-I'm—" you blurted, your mind not quite thinking straight. When your eyes met with Sunoo's you nearly bursted. "I-I'm so sorry— I don't know what came over me."

Sunoo only stared at you.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. What on earth did you just do? Suddenly, you were hit with regret and embarrassment.

You spluttered, apologies and jumbled words spilling out of your lips. Yet, Sunoo wasn't listening.

Your words fell upon deaf ears.

Sunoo was too busy staring at your lips.

And if you weren't too busy apologizing, you would notice the way Sunoo's teeth dug into his bottom lip, his fists clenching as his nails prodded into his palms. You would notice the way Sunoo stared at you with glazed over eyes, how his pupils were blown out.

You would notice Sunoo's own self-control slipping out of his grasp.

After all the torment that he's been through— all your light touches, appearances in his dreams, and goddamn pretty smiles— Sunoo could feel his resolve being torn from his hands. He did his best; he dug his claws into what determination and control he had, but alas, it wasn't enough.

And as fast as you could blink, Sunoo grabbed your wrist and pulled you in against his chest.

Holding you by the waist, Sunoo gripped your chin.

"Can I kiss you?" His voice was desperate. "Please, can I kiss you?"

"Yes," you whispered, your hands sliding up his chest to hold his broad shoulders. "Yes, please kiss me."

As the last syllable left your lips, Sunoo wasted no time crashing his lips against yours.

Unlike his usual quiet and calm self, his lips were the complete opposite. They were rough and hungry, eating you like a starved man. You whined against his lips, gripping Sunoo's hair with weak fingers.

It was a messy kiss. An inexperienced, messy kiss that any of your friends would jeer about. No rhythm, no ebb or flow, just feeling.

But to you, this was what you needed.

You could taste the desperation on Sunoo's tongue; the taste of someone pushed to the edge and now finally tipping over. It sent electric waves of warmth down your skin, your stomach doing flips as his hands roamed.

Then, Sunoo gently pushed you onto the bed, his lips swollen as he peered down at you.

"Are you okay?" he asked quickly, making sure that he didn't push too hard.

You only smiled. "Mhm."

Sunoo got on top of you, being careful to not crush you under him.

It looked just like his dream.

The smell of espresso coffee in the air, the two of you in bed, and did you think he wouldn't notice the white lace top that you chose to wear? Just for him.

Sunoo leaned on his elbows for support as he was on top of you, leaning in to kiss you.

Except, before his lips could meet yours, you giggled, placing your hands on his shoulders to stop him.

Sunoo looked at you concerned, like a deer in headlights. Had he done something wrong?

But you only smiled.

Gently, you put your hands on his glasses, straightening them out. They had gotten crooked earlier when the two of you first kissed.

"Can I take these off, sweetie?" you asked.

Shivers ran down his spine at the nickname. Sunoo hummed, too eager to kiss you to even care if he'd be half-blind without them. You took his glasses off, putting it on your bedside table.

Sunoo took your face in his hands, his fox-like eyes staring into your eyes.

"You look so beautiful," he breathed. Sunoo's head dived for your neck. His breath tickled your skin, making you let out a whimper. "So, so, so beautiful."

With that, Sunoo began pressing open-mouthed kisses on your neck. With each kiss you let out a moan, your arms tightly wrapped around his neck and pulling at his hair. Your legs wrapped around him, your head falling back into the pillows to give Sunoo better access.

"Su— Sunoo— ahh," you struggled out, especially when Sunoo sucked on your skin. Although he was only kissing your neck, your entire body felt like jelly, including your brain. "Sunoo— I-I'm sensi— sensitive there."

"Sensitive where?" Sunoo asked simply, ignoring the way that you squirmed under him.

When you could only moan in response, you could feel Sunoo grin against you.

His lips nipped at your collarbone. "Sensitive here?"

"A-Ah—" you moaned, your arm jerking out to grip the bed sheets below you.

Sunoo kissed a wet line to your jugular, right at the center of your neck. "What about here?"

When all you could do was whimper, he grinned again. His lips traveled to the very side of your neck, just under your ear.

"What about here?" he asked again.

But instead of a moan or whimper, you laughed. You threw your head back again, pulling Sunoo's head into your chest in an embrace as soft giggles left your lips.

"I'm ticklish there," you giggled out. You bring a hand up to brush up against that spot on your neck. You grinned softly. "Sorry, I'm ticklish there I guess."

Sunoo nodded into your shoulder. He took in your scent, the feeling of you pressed up against him. He didn't mind that your little session was interrupted by something light-hearted. After all, he got to learn something about you, no matter how small.

And just as Sunoo was listening to your heartbeat, you pulled him back.

"Turn over," you instructed. He did just that. You were now on top of him. "My turn."

Just like in his dream.

He was in for a long night.

"Sunoo!" you shouted, your legs moving faster than you could think. The moment that you spotted his familiar back, you pounced on him, throwing your arms around him. "Sunoo, guess what?!"

Sunoo looked over his shoulder, swallowing back any embarrassment and shyness as you hugged him. Everyone in the hallway was staring at you by now, but it seemed like you didn't care. And if you didn't care, then he didn't care either. "What?"

You turned the boy over. It was now that he noticed the papers in your hands. You shoved it in his face, big red numbers at the forefront.

"One hundred percent!" you exclaimed. It was your history exam. "I got one hundred percent!"

The two of you celebrated (i.e. you hugged Sunoo) in the hallway, completely ignoring anyone that was staring. After all, it was Wednesday afternoon and the dining period was ending soon.

"Good job," Sunoo smiled. He was happy. "You did great."

"I couldn't have done it without you!" Your smile was so bright that it could light up the entire academy. You threw your arms around him again, this time pushing your face into his neck. You squeezed him. "Oh, thank you, thank you!"

You pulled back, looking at him with big, glimmering eyes. You took his hands in yours, squeezing them excitedly.

Feeling bold, Sunoo pushed up his glasses before leaning down to whisper in your ear. "Your neck," he rasped, "I can see the hickeys."

Your eyes widened into saucers at that, immediately fixing your shirt's collar. Your face was painted with shyness, squeezing your eyes shut. Your panic was so evident that anyone could probably tell. So cute.

"Just kidding," Sunoo chuckled, before he turned on his heel and began walking away from you, ignoring your cute shouting as you followed after him.

Yeah, he'd regret that later. After all, you had him on a leash, and there was no way in hell that he could escape you.

He wasn't going to sleep tonight, one way or another. Not if it's you.

898 notes · View notes

emo-cosplayer · 3 months ago

Text

half agony, half smoke | k. jongseob x reader

syp☆彡: kim jongseob has a problem. well, lots of them actually. his lighters never last long, his friends keep pestering him, he’s recently discovered he’s a lot more of an outsider than he thought he was, and the librarian is doing something strange to his heart.

word count: 14.4k

warnings: delinquent!jongseob (as i have pegged it) x librarian!reader .. 18+, nsfw, does contain smut at the end, minors do not interact! light angst (gets resolved quick dw), mentions of smoking (devils lettuce), drinking, some profanity.

⛓️authors note : debut fic lol !! this is v self indulgent, i love jongseob killing it era and i love books how can you blame me(^_^) havent written fic in forever and used to be an ao3 author, only proofread once so pls be nice!! i hope to open requests in the future :3 hope u love!

🏷️: #p1harmony fanfic #p1harmony smut #kim jongseob #i love this one #pls love it too

“Out of all of us…I think Jongseob’s the worst.”

Is what came out in chuckles from Keeho’s mouth, followed by 4 other snickers and remarks of agreement. Jongseob, in question, was staring at the ceiling in a daze, when the statement made him bring his half lidded gaze back to his friends.

“The worst? How, hyung?” Jongseob said with a growing smirk, his body sunk into the couch as a familiar wave of relaxation took over him.

It was a typical weekday night, at least for Jongseob and his friends it was. They had just finished band practice, which usually consisted of running through a small setlist and messing around in the studio, which was just a small corner with all their necessary equipment in Theo’s basement. Oh, and of course the obligatory blunt (or two…or three) that they passed around after every practice like some sort of closing ritual.

Keeho was sprawled on the floor, joined by Shota, when he propped up on his elbow to stare at Jongseob with the same half lidded eyes. “You’re a total…delinquent.” He began, receiving nods from others. “I mean, we all are, I guess. But you’re like…especially worse.”

Following that statement came sounds of mmmm’s, indicating agreement from the other equally stoned guys in the room. And, well now Jongseob’s entire high was ruined.

He sat up to look around and couldn’t believe his barely opened eyes that these guys were mutually agreeing that he was the most misbehaved out of them all. Not when he’s seen Theo and Intak play a garage show for one of those stupidly large buzz balls. Now he was offended.

“Worse?” He spat with a puzzled look knitted in his eyebrows. “What do you mean? I’m not even in the top three in this room.”

Keeho snickered, joined by Intak who now took responsibility in explaining to Jongseob this twisted agenda that was being spread. “Dude, Come on. You’re the youngest, for starters.” He said as he took a drag, the neatly rolled blunt resting in his fingers. “So automatically you’ve got that edge to you…You were in the back of a cop car once. Theo had to call and pretend to be your dad, remember?”

Jongseob stared at him with thin, offended eyes as the blunt was passed down to soul, and apparently the shit-talk-jongseob baton to Keeho as he took over. “I definitely remember that. You're also addicted to those little pens, even though we tell you those things are bad for you. Let’s see…you fought throughout like all of your freshman and sophomore year. No idea how you graduated, by the way.”

Jongseob scoffed, running his hand through messy hair as he looked at the ceiling. “That was so long ago.”

“Whatever, you still did it.” Keeho retorted, giggling at soul puffing his cheeks with smoke. “What else……..oh! There was also your graffiti phase, too. Although we can’t get on you too much for that one. Sometimes you cuss like a sailor, You’re a little asshole to all of us. Aaaand…You’re failing community college. Even Jiung and Theo, and I have music degrees, man.”

Jongseob was passed the blunt from Shota (not so much passing as Jongseob snatching it) and took a long, hard drag before he shook his head and spoke. “Music degrees, wow. You’re gonna be baristas.”

Theo clicked his tongue and let out an annoyed sound as he looked over at an unbothered Jiung and very bothered Keeho. “See, little asshole.”

Shota, who out of he and Jiung would be most likely to defend Jongseob, finally sighed. “I don’t know Seob, that’s pretty bad.”

Jongseob was just irritated now. Cause honestly, if he began listing everything this bunch has done, himself excluded, they’d be there for an hour. Only because he was the youngest, and maybe a little snarkier, and maybe caring the least for any type of school or employment outside of music, was he named the biggest delinquent. What it was was, “Bullshit. You guys are all on your high horse but I’m really not bad.”

The next pillar who was meant to defend Jongseob came crumbling down, leaving his foundation crumbled and turned to dust as Jiung spoke up. “Jongseob…when was the last time you read a book?”

Jongseob stayed quiet, the question catching him off guard, and just as he was about to answer, Intak cut him off. “No comic books don’t count.”

He made a point to blow smoke in his face as he rebuttled, “Shota literally reads comic books, too.”

Keeho waved him off, a hand patting Shota’s head. “Shota’s just different. Whatever, the point remains. Not like you can help it though. You’re younger than all of us, so you’re going to be less mature. Now pass the blunt, it’s my turn.”

Jongseob shooed away the hand that was reaching for it, leaning back and looking at the ceiling, the blunt following his mouth. “Screw off, roll a new one.”

★彡

It had been maybe a day later when Jongseob found himself holding onto the rail of a train headed to an outer district of the city, known for housing one particular facility.

The library.

He had his headphones on, trying to bob his head to the song he was listening to, but he kept asking himself the same question. It was in only a few short minutes that he decided to grab his go-to dark wash jeans from the floor and any tank top that went with it, and make his way to the train station to go to the library.

But, the question was none other than why?

The truth is, every man has an insatiable ego, and Jongseob was not going to let it be bruised due to “being too much of a delinquent”, all at the fault of the epitome of rebellion themselves. (His dear, dear friends.)

So, he was going to read a book, damnit.

He didn’t care which, truly. Unfortunately, their statements had held true. Jongseob vaguely remembers reading a random chapter book back in his 6th year, but that was the last he had seen of that. Any book that he ever gave the light of day to were in fact comic books, and maybe he’d occasionally read a paragraph or two if one of his favorite artists had a written interview.

He didn’t care what book he read, he just needed to read something. As long as it was profound and complex and pretentious and educational or whatever, it would do the job of rubbing it in his friends face that he was more well rounded than they made him out to be.

That is the goal he was laser focused on as he stepped off the train, walking the short distance through the city and pushing through the heavy doors of the library, despite every bone in his body rejecting the idea.

He took a deep breath as he walked in, fumbling to turn off the music leaking from his headphones as it contradicted the quiet environment. Jongseob made his way to the front desk, suddenly conscious of every noise he made. Did the library require pin silence, or just no talking? Hell if he knew.

The front desk was empty. Momentarily, Jongseob searched for a bell, but realized that would be quite counter productive in this setting.

But, he didn’t have to search for long. He could hear shuffling behind the wall, coming from the room behind the front desk that said “archives” on the plaque. He looked down, and saw the belongings of someone who was there, surely someone was working.

Jongseob cleared his throat after a few seconds, deciding he had no choice but to call out, and so he did. “S’there someone back there?”

The shuffling stopped for a second, and continued, as a female voice could be heard. “Uh, yes! I’ll be out in a moment.”

Jongseob ran a hand over his neck before leaning on the counter. So, apparently it is okay to talk that loud in libraries. He struggled in stifling an annoyed groan as all that ran through his mind was that he didn’t want to be here longer than he needed to. But, alas, he had to see it through.

He lifted his head up from his shoes, staring at the wall that separated him and the librarian. “I just need to know…what uh…what books are the most important, you know? Like, what had the most impact or something.”

A sigh and continued shuffling could be heard as the librarian continued tending to what she was doing. “Oh, so…like the most influential? Um, I personally would say authors like Homer, Tolstoy, Voltaire, Plato, Dostoyevsky, they definitely have some of the most important books written. Something everyone should read.”

The librarian seemed to be fond of the question, but Jongseob wasn’t particularly fond of the answer, considering all of those names already sounded complicated.

A thud could be heard from the back, “But you also can’t forget the women authors that shaped literature. Toni Morrison, Jane Austen, the Brontë sisters…” The librarian rambled.

Jongseob was already discouraged, his head leaning on his hand. He was almost close to walking off, accepting his delinquent and classic stoner title, when the librarian stopped shuffling. Footsteps could be heard and out emerged you.

When Jongseob thought of a librarian, he thought of a middle aged lady, one who needed to desperately get laid and interact with someone other than her cats. Not a girl his age (who looked way too bright), with a sweet smile plastered on her face.

Jongseob stood up straight from where he was leaning, watching as you straightened out your clothes, and pushed up your glasses. You had a look of understanding, like you knew Jongseob was lost and clearly needed some elaboration on every word that had just come out of your mouth.

“Though, all those names can be a lot if you’ve never heard them before…” You said, your hands resting on the counter as Jongseob took in every aspect of you.

Your hair, braided to the side with strands sticking out in a perfect almost intentional way. Your eyes, doe-like and big, as if you could talk about this all day, even with someone like Jongseob. Your clothes, soft and delicate, nothing like Jongseob’s style, yet just so fitting on you. There seemed to be only one thought running rampant in his mind now as he processed all of these micro details.

Damnit, she is so cute.

Jongseob was interrupted from his thoughts as you spoke again. “I would recommend The great gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald to start off, and Animal Farm by George Orwell. Those are always the easiest to digest.”

Jongseob was too entranced to even care about the fact that you already knew he was too stupid to read any of the authors you had stated at first. He was almost too distracted to answer, but he managed to anyway as he swallowed the fluster in his throat. “Uh, okay, yeah. Great Gatsby…Animal Farm. Where can I find those?”

You pushed away from the counter, ducking down and leaving Jongseob’s sight. And strangely, it took everything in him to not lean over the counter to watch, but he didn’t have to as you popped shortly after, startling him into leaning back a little.

“Lucky for you, I haven’t put these back on the shelf. Here,” You said, pushing the books towards him, “You can read the backs!”

Jongseob reached out, picking up The Great Gatsby first, breathing in deeply before he started to read, already worried about seeming like a dumbass.

He began to skim through the paragraph in the back. A skim, because he would read a few words, think about it, and look up at you as sneakily as he could. By the time he remembered what he had to be doing, he had lost his place, and skipped a few words as he repeated this method.

Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald's third book…She’s pretty…Jazz Age…Generations of readers….She’s not doing anything, but she’s pretty…A Story of the fabulously wealthy Jay Gatsby and his love for the beautiful Daisy Buchanan…Can she see me looking?…Lavish parties…"gin was the national drink and sex the national obsession,"…God, I think she saw me stare…Exquisitely crafted tale…1920s….one of the great classics of twentieth-century literature.

As Jongseob started to lower the book from his line of view, you took note, stopping from scanning the barcodes of recently returned books to look at him. “What’d you think?” You asked him enthusiastically, genuinely curious to know.

Jongseob stayed quiet for a few seconds, partly because he was trying to process both what he just read, but also that you were standing in front of him again and he shouldn’t be this nervous. “Uh…so it’s, about parties? And some guy who’s in love with a girl?”

Hearing the extremely simplified yet somehow accurate summarization of the book from Jongseob, you giggled, the back of your hand coming to your mouth momentarily before looking back at him with a smile. Jongseob should NOT have felt so many emotions from a simple laugh. “Pretty much. But, like it said, super fancy parties. Not like the regular house parties we know.”

Jongseob pulled his gaze to the counter, placing it down as his rings made a noise grazing the wooden surface, still recovering from the sound of your laugh. “I don’t go to parties, so…don’t know what they’re like, but I’ll keep that in mind.” Jongseob said, before his eyes darted up to you. Why’d he say that? Was that rude, awkward, or worse, stupid? Why does he want you to know he doesn’t go to parties? I mean, he doesn’t, but is he already trying to convince you he’s not as much of a jackass as he looks?

Either way, you had definitely taken him as the type to go to parties, and that was evident by the way your eyes widened a little. Just subtly enough that if Jongseob wasn’t staring right at them, he might have not noticed. “Ah, I see,” you say through a smile, “I don’t either, but still, you’ll see the difference!”

You pushed the other book towards him, Jongseob watching your every movement. “Read the other! I think this one is the more interesting of the two!”

Jongseob nods, picking up the back of Animal Farm, prying his eyes off of you as he breathes and prepares himself for another synopsis with unnecessarily big words. With an internal sigh, he tries to shake off any surrounding thoughts to get a better grasp on this one.

A farm is taken over by its overworked, mistreated animals. With flaming idealism and stirring slogans, they set out to create a paradise of progress, justice, and equality. Thus the stage is set for one of the most telling satiric fables ever penned—a razor-edged fairy tale for grown-ups that records the evolution from revolution against tyranny to a totalitarianism just as terrible.

Jongseob can just tell his eyebrows are a little contorted. Despite not having an absolute grasp on what exactly tyranny and totalitarianism was, what he got from that was some poorly treated animals took over a farm, and somehow started to run it themselves? He wondered for a second if he was still high from yesterday, before you entered and cleared any confusion.

“Yeah, that one can seem a bit odd,” you said as you walked back over to him. “But, it is in fact about farm animals who take over their farm. Just with the added element of how power corrupts. I swear, it’s interesting once you start it up.”

Jongseob looks down at it, using every part of his brain that was tied to memory as he tried to pick apart the word totalitarianism. “So what, the animals turn into like, Stalin and all those other guys?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Yeah, just like that actually! George Orwell wanted the book to be an allegory, or a…hidden message, that represents the Russian revolution.”

Jongseob nods, a more smug look on his face knowing that he accidentally hit it on the dot. If only keeho could see him right now. It quickly turned into him looking like an idiot however, as not only could he simultaneously not stop looking at you but not holding eye contact, but he also wanted to hear you talk more, with no clue what to say. He was such a loser, why can’t he speak? You were just a girl, after all. What should he say? Does he even say anything? Can you tell that he’s nervous? And again, he shouldn’t be this nervous-

“So, you want to check them out? I can do that for you.” You said as his thoughts whirled, reminding him that he was standing in a public library.

Jongseob rubs the back of his neck and nods as he manages to slow his heart rate. “Yeah, I’ll take them.”

The next few minutes are spent with you and Jongseob going back and forth. Asking if he has a library card, Jongseob says yes, not wanting you to think this is the first time he’s ever been around a book, but he actually doesn’t know. You ask him for his number, put it in the system, and it turns out he doesn’t actually have a card.

Eventually, Jongseob ends up with a library card and Animal Farm and The Great Gatsby checked out under his name. As you slided the books back over to him, telling him he was all set with that stupidly sweet smile, he froze.

“So, how long do you think these will take me to read?”

He doesn’t know why he said anything, when he could’ve just bid you farewell and been on his merry way. Well, actually, he does know. He needed to talk to you more, and blurted the first question to come up in his mind. It’s just embarrassing to admit.

You tilted your head at him, thinking about it with inquisition, “Hm, well they’re both only a little over 100 pages…How long did it take you to read your last book?”

He really should’ve just walked away.

“Maybe…like a week.”

Lies. Such a lie. He could only pray the questions stopped there.

“And how long was it?”

Jongseob paused, pretending to think about it, but in his mind scrambling for any impressive number. Over 200 pages was good right? No, too little. 300? 500?

“Um…I think around, 620…?”

You didn’t have to know 6 represented the number of members in his band, and 20 derived from the number that represents his favorite substance.

But of course, you believed him. Having no reason to doubt, really. Looking pleasantly surprised, you nodded. “That’s pretty good! I think both should definitely take you no more than a week.”

If Jongseob already wasn’t feeling embarrassed, he was now also overwhelmed with annoyance. Less than a week implied a few days, and he had never spent more than 10 minutes reading. Still, he tried his best to feign indifference, nodding his head. “Alright, well, thank you.”

You waved at him as he pushed away from the counter. “Anytime! I look forward to hearing your thoughts!”

Jongseob smiled politely, and turned around to walk away, swearing that he let go of a breath he had been holding since he walked in.

His headphones slipped back on as he recalled everything that had just happened. Not only does he now have two books in his hand that are definitely biting off more than he can chew, he interacted with the prettiest girl who he has seen in a while, but likely made a fool of himself and lied straight to her face.

He shook his head, wishing he could slap himself as he clenched on the books and swearing he would take this to the grave. Only the lord knew if his friends found out it would never die down.

Yeah, he was never coming back. And he certainly wasn’t reading these snoozefests. Jongseob had accepted defeat.

★彡

It had only been four days since he came that the blonde boy was back.

You have always loved reading. For most people, reading was something that they just had to do throughout school. Ever since you remember though, reading was never just a chore.

Since you were old enough, you made it your life’s mission to read whatever you could get your hands on. Prose, Poems, Novels, Biographies, Memoirs, Trilogies, Nonfiction, Fiction, Plays, and everything and anything in between.

If that made you a goody-two-shoes or not, you didn’t care. You were simply too busy immersing yourself in everything the well educated in society had to say, whether it was recent or from 500 years ago.

You always knew you wanted to pursue a type of career where you would somehow be involved in written media, in any way, shape, or form. Therefore, when an internship for a weekday program as an assistant librarian presented itself, you were all over the opportunity.

The job was going well. Afterall, you were getting paid to be surrounded by what you loved most. Sure, there would always be the rather fascinating people that you had to handle, but that came along with any job.

Jongseob, as the name on his file states, was certainly one of them.

It was odd enough that someone was asking for book recommendations with the criteria of being ‘the most important, you know?,’ but to continue to have a roller coaster of a conversation, bouncing from parties to hearing he allegedly read over 600 pages in a week.

You like to believe that literature always found people in life when they needed it. And throughout the time you spent at the library, you had come across many different characters reaching that point of their lives.

But never someone like Jongseob. Someone who looked like he was out of a rock band, throwing or attending the heaviest ragers in town during the weekends, and overall being what society liked to call an outsider. Someone who was pushing through the wooden double doors of the library and making a b-line to the front desk with books in hand you thought you’d never see again.

You smiled up at him from your computer, surely he wouldn’t be here for long if he was back so soon.

“Hello again? Didn’t like the books?” You said, watching him as he leaned against the counter again, taking in his what seemed to be classic dazed appearance adorned with baggy all black and a chain or two. Yeah, surely he was just dropping them off.

“Nah, I finished them…I have…lots of questions, though.”

That, you certainly weren’t expecting.

Regardless of how shocking the news may be, you were ecstatic. Not only that you had helped encourage a new person to read, but this person now had questions. Even someone like him. You beamed as you stood up to stand in front of him eager for this. “I’m sure I have answers.”

Jongseob seemed to ground himself with a sigh as he grabbed ‘Animal Farm’ in his hands. “You were right, this one was interesting when I started. So…was that one pig Napoleon, he really trained those puppies just so he could gain power?”

You nodded as you looked down and back at him, finding the curiosity and questioning in his face pretty…..endearing. “Uh, yeah, seems like it. And also as a way of keeping the rest of the farm scared,” You explained with a smile.

Jongseob nodded in understanding, his eyes narrowing as he searched for his next words. “I don’t get why Boxer was so loyal…I mean, I get he was dumb and all…but even then he couldn’t see what was happening, you know?”

You hummed in understanding, noting the way he waited for your word. “Well…since the book is an allegory to the Russian revolution, Boxer is supposed to be the Russian working class. They weren’t dumb…just tricked into doing work, similar to Boxer.”

This time it was Jongseob’s turn to nod as he looked down at the book, and this time seeming to have a much better grasp on the conversation as the first time he came around. “It was…it was pretty alright. I think it’s cool he did that, the author.” Jongseob began as he looked up, his hands tapping on the counter as he spoke to you with intrigue.

“He made the revolution easy to understand through a story about…pigs. That’s pretty cool, honestly. Cause I definitely didn’t understand any of that in sch-…….” Jongseob was saying before he seemed to freeze, his expression going sheepish as he stopped himself from finishing his sentence. “Um, yeah. Good book.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the save. Clearly, before this book, he hadn’t had a clue what happened during any revolution for that matter. Yet he didn’t want to let you know that. Perhaps from embarrassment, or an attempt to impress you. For some very odd reason, you were hoping it was the latter. You motioned to the second book at the counter, “What about great gatsby?”

Jongseob blinked himself to his default before he put down Animal Farm, switching the subject to the second book he read. “That one was ... .it was…not complicated but…hard to sit though?” He said, looking up to meet your eyes to check if that hadn’t hopefully passed as a ‘it was majorly confusing.’ “It’s about…money, right? Or…how people obsess too much over it and stuff.”

You nodded eagerly in approval, happy that even if he could barely get through it, he at least took away the most important aspect of the book. “Yeah! It played with the ideas of old money and new money, but at the end of the day, money was a major theme.”

Jongseob’s shoulders relaxed as if he had passed a quiz, and he leaned against the counter with a less tense demeanor. “So the Gatsby guy, he threw all those parties for Daisy. But…I don’t know. How could he expect a girl he dated for a month to wait 5 years for him?”

You pondered the question. It typically wasn’t one people asked, but he had a point. “He thought their love was strong enough, I guess. Maybe it was at some point, but not when they met 5 years later.

His face contorted a bit, as his head tilted like a confused animal. “She clearly didn’t love Tom either.” He remarked, and it was amusing how the conversation could pass as two people discussing a cheesy romance novel.

You shrugged and hummed in agreement with him. “No, but, greater than the love she once had for Gatsby, she loved the wealth and status Tom could give her more.”

Jongseob scoffed standing straighter up as both his palms rested on the counter. It was nice to see someone feeling everything that Fitzgerald likely wanted the reader to feel from the book, but somehow comedic to see that Jongseob almost seemed to be taking it personally. “That’s fu-, I mean, that’s messed up. How weird do you have to be to choose that over love? Gatsby was loaded too. And then, letting Gatsby get killed for Myrtle's death, when she was driving? I don’t think she ever loved him, honestly.”

It wasn’t the first time you talked to someone about books like this, but maybe the first that it was to someone your age that looked like this and seemed to be just as into it as you are. That made it all the more exciting. “My favorite part of that book was the last chapter. I think it really ties it all together how Gatsby had all these socialites, luxury, material things around him, but no one came to his funeral. Really makes you think, right?”

Jongseob nodded, a small turn in the corner of his mouth as he looked at you. “Yeah, it really did.” Jongseob said as he slid the books across to you, “I guess I’ll…return these now.” He said with an expression you couldn’t quite place.

You took the books back with a smile, making quick work of scanning them as you spoke. “I hope my picks weren’t too boring, but…in terms of most ‘important’, those are definitely a must.”

He stood with a hand on his neck, staring at you with pursed lips as you finished scanning his books. “Is there…a section where I can find more…?”

Your eyes brightened as you looked up at him, processing his question before feeling a smile come across your face. “More? Ah…well, the classic literature shelf. That’s where these came from.”

If you weren’t reading him so intensely, you wouldn’t have noticed the red tinge of color on his complexion, as he ran a hand through his hair. “Could you show me where?”

It was such a simple request, but it made your body stutter, almost as if you were nervous. When really, this was simply another visitor of the public library who it was your job to help. There was really no need to be nervous. I mean, he was just a guy with a grunge look to him (and not importantly, a flustered mess) that came in looking like a problem, but turned out to be one of the most recipient and easiest people to converse with. Nothing special.

“Yeah! I can show you!” You said as you stood up, going around the counter to motion at Jongseob to follow you.

When he had reached you and you began to lead him, he was taller than you expected, reaching over you only a little, but enough for it to be noticed. But not important. Also unimportantly, he smelled clean with a certain musk to him, in a good way. Again, Unimportant.

Jongseob followed the few feet with his hands in his pockets, stopping abruptly just next to you as you stood in front of the beefy shelf with your hands spread out. “This is it! I can leave you to it.” You said, turning your head right to look at him, hitting ridiculously large brown eyes boring into you. “Or…help you, if you want…”

Jongseob looked at the shelf for a moment, without looking your way, speaking up. “I never got your name.”

That shouldn’t have made your heart momentarily race, but alas, it did. You kept your eyes on him as you answered, your hands hidden behind your back. “Oh…sorry! It’s y/n.”

He kept his eyes scanning over the many options, but it didn’t feel like he was looking at the books. More like he didn't yet want to look at you. He contemplated with himself for a moment, before quietly yet loud enough for you to hear, he spoke. “Y/n….”

“Show me your favorites.”

★彡

The weeks that followed were something of a blur. When Jongseob had returned home from his first visit to the library, he sprawled on the ground, just staring at his books. It was insane to him that he had walked in with the intention to boost his pride, but now that was the last thing on his mind.

All he could think about was a stupid side braid, glasses, and voice that shouldn’t have been running in his head that much.

Sometimes, you meet people who intrigue you so much that you want to talk to them endlessly, about anything and everything. But, that meant having the courage to engage in a conversation of that sort. Jongseob thought he was strong enough to fight past the initial nerves, but after his performance in the library, he clearly was not.

Besides, what would he talk to you about? He doubted you were interested in hearing about his douche band or the stupid thing he and his friends had done recently. Overall, he was certain it was a lost cause.

Jongseob sat up faster than ever when he realized something. Surely, a librarian would love to talk about books. And he had two in his possession that you had just recommended.

Suddenly, it seemed he had the motivation to sit himself down and force his eyes to take in every word of every page of the books you had recommended. And surprisingly, it was….not too bad? Animal Farm was a heck of an allegory (whatever that was) and The Great Gatsby used more big words than he thought was necessary, but managed to intrigue him nonetheless.

Jongseob made a point to b-line for the library as soon as he was finished to report back to you. After a conversation he’d never imagine he would have, he knew he was crazy. And not about the books.

It didn’t seem fair to him that someone could have such a comfortable voice when they spoke about something they liked, a perfect pink color when they seemed flustered, or an addictive crease of their eyes whenever they smiled.

He knew then he was going to be seeing much more of that library. (You.)

He took one recommendation after the next, to Of mice and men, The Picture of Dorian Gray, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, The Metamorphosis, The Stranger, and whatever else he had read that he already lost track of.

With every book, he asked himself why he had always deemed he hated reading, when it’s actually not all that bad. The books were interesting, and even more so when he thought about the effort and creativity into writing one. He figured it wasn’t much different than music or performing (or graffiti art), someone has a vision and sees it through. Books were just an amped up version of that.

He was reading books front to back so often that he was seeing you frequently. So often you could tell it was him by the way the doors closed softer than usual, his clunky shoes and rattling chains echoing before you could even see him. So often he knew what your exact schedule was, when it was the best time to see you. So often that everytime he came, grinning with that snaggletooth, it made your whole face warm in a fuzzy feeling. So often that you’d recommend the shorter books you knew he would fly through easier, so he would come back sooner.

And when reading a whole book and returning it wasn’t frequent enough, he started to come in just to ask you about whatever part he’s read so far. He was hesitant at first, because surely you would know by that point that there was more to it than just expanding his literary knowledge. Yet, when he came in and asked you to explain a chapter of The Metamorphosis, catching you as you were busy stashing books back on their respective shelves, you stared at him blankly for a few seconds.

He was certain you were weirded out to your core, but then that candy pink glow was back, and you smiled down at the floor before looking at him with these stupidly big brown eyes.

“Do you actually have a question, or did you just want to talk to me?”

Jongseob’s breath hitched, and surely he looked pathetic as he clammily fumbled with the book in his hands, his entire body on fire.

“Can’t it be both?”

There was no library big enough to fit all the books he would read just to see your face light up as you talked about the things you loved, which he quickly came to know were more than just books. You also liked listening to music (not the kind his band makes, which totally didn’t hurt his feelings), taking strolls through the city while listening to said music, thrifting for clothes at second hand stores and loving finding pieces that remind you of ‘grandma clothing’, and stargazing. One of your favorite spots being the grassy hill in town that was barely tall enough that if you angled yourself in just the right position, you couldn’t see the bustling streets under it, just the stars that were bright enough to shine.

Although he was hesitant at first, Jongseob opened up to you as well. He told you about his band and their hip-hop/noise music/all-over-the-place style. His love for wearing dark, layered clothes and chains. He told you about how much he likes to rap and write his own, how it’s the way he met his friends in the first place. Speaking of his friends, he let you in on the delinquency that they’re often caught up in, that he claimed he wasn’t that proud of with a smirk on his face.

As he explained to you that being dubbed the “worst” in his friend group was the reason why he picked up reading, he was nervous that you would see him differently. Up until then, although you may have had your speculations, he was just a guy with a much different aesthetic compared to yours that happened to share the same interest in books. But, he felt he knew you well enough to know that you wouldn’t criticize him like that, and he was proven right when you only giggled at the thought.

“That’s impressive, though. Really, there aren’t many people who can recognize that they need to read a little more. I’m glad they teased you for it. After all, how would we have become friends?”

Jongseob needed a long breather after you said that one. For many reasons, the most pressing, the word friends.

It excited him, but discouraged him all the same. He was pleasantly surprised that someone like you would consider him a friend, even knowing everything you got to know about him the past two months or so. He was also discouraged, because it’s exactly what he was to you.

A friend doesn’t inch closer to you as you sit on the table, just so he could take in your warmth and scent a little better. A friend doesn’t have the image of you pushing up your glasses as you talk to him imprinted in his mind. A friend doesn’t find himself zoning out on a conversation about the book he just read, taking dangerously long glances at pink lips, wondering what it would feel like if he just-

No, a friend wouldn’t do any of this. Yet that’s all you were to him.

Jongseob knows he’s not exactly the best at NOT wearing his emotion on his sleeves. You were also the smartest person he had ever known, not an idiot that would miss the psychological clues he can’t hide about how he has the fattest crush on you.

It would be one thing if you made it clear that you weren’t interested, but…you never gave that impression in the slightest. If anything, sometimes he wondered if the way your cheeks would go from shades of red and pink was for everybody, or just him. He wondered if he wasn’t actually seeing things when he swore in the corner of his eye you would stare at him until he looked back up.

These were the thoughts that had been racking his mind, running every scenario, every glance, every desire in dizzying circles. Surely, you had to have at least thought about it before, right? He didn’t know, and he wasn’t going to make a fool of himself and ruin something so great by asking you. So, he decided he would wait for a signal— whatever that was—to let him know he was actually in. In the meantime, he’d have to settle with only being your friend.

Today, he found himself in the narrow space of two tall bookshelves. Jongseob sat against one side with his legs tucked, flicking his pen back and forth through his hands as a beat poured through his headphones. Of course, you sat on the opposite side, your book propped up against your knee with that look of focus that came up every time you read. He tried not to pay attention to the way both of your legs were centimeters from touching, or else probably explode.

The both of you were waiting for the library to clear out as it closed to the public, having made plans to go to a cafe downtown. It had become somewhat of a routine to leave the library and do something fun every week. He didn’t have to wait with you, but he found that you were the type of person that even comfortable silence was enjoyable. It even made him focus better.

So, Jongseob sat engrossed in the notebook in his lap, reading over lyrics that he had written down so far and bobbing his head along. He had made pretty good progress after he finally managed to stop himself from sneaking glances at you. He was too engrossed though, to the point where he hadn’t noticed the library go even more pin silent then it already was as you and him were the only ones left. Or the way you had put your book down and were staring at him after you had called his name twice with no answer.

He noticed when your hand reached out and pulled one of his earbuds out however, and his heart nearly stopped at how gently you did it, and how closely leaned in you were as you smiled at him. “Is the song that good?” You teased.

He held his breath until you backed away, letting out a shaky exhale as the distance he was accustomed to returned, and he could finally return the grin as he took out the other earbud. “Sorry, sorry. I don’t know how I missed you.” He said as he used his ring littered hands to roll up the earbuds and put them in his bag next to him. “It’s not a song…just a beat. We wanna play a new song for the gig I told you about in two weeks but...I’ve been stumped. Couldn’t write a single lyric until now.”

You hummed in understanding, pushing a strand of hair out of your face as you tried to peek at his notebook. “Did you get a lot done?”

Jongseob nodded with a proud grin, his lips slightly pursed, holding up his notebook to show you the lyrics he had written, only his beaming eyes visible behind it.

You nodded with slightly wide eyes leaning in to skim over some of the words, and an endeared smile on your face as you looked at the doodles littered around the writing. “That’s pretty good! 2 verses there at least.” You said with a small clap as Jongseob put his notebook away as well, returning his attention back to you.

“What about you? How was your book?” He asked, tilting his head to try and read the title, which you noted looked a lot like a cat.

You handed your book to him adorned with a black cat bookmark, so he could read it himself. You were reading A Midsummer’s Night Dream. “I like it so far! It’s actually a play, remember I told you William Shakspeare is most famous for those?”

Jongseob hummed, nodding his head as he looked at you intently as you began your rant, “Yeah, the guy who wrote Romeo and Juliet, right?”

You nod as he handed you the book back, flipping through the pages carelessly as you spoke. “That’s the one. One day, we have to work you up to read one of his plays. They really are amazing. If I ever write something, I want it to be so meaningful it’s still important hundreds of years later, you know? That’s always been the dream, to say something in my writing and have so many people listen.”

Jongseob watched as you trailed off into your own thoughts as you stared down at the book, that familiar twinkle in your eye as you thought about your future, your goals, how you knew exactly what you wanted. It was one of the many things he liked about you, and at that moment it brought a strange heart-sinking feeling. He sighed as he shook himself off. “What’s it about?”

You broke out of your trance as you heard the question, perking up as started another passionate conversation. “Well, it’s a comedic play, and it’s got a lot of different themes, like magic…dreams…jealousy…but the main one is love, or how it’s difficult.”

Jongseob is suddenly paying more attention now. “Difficult?”

You nod as you search for your next words. “Mhm! The plot of the story revolves around a love potion, where the characters fall for each other based on their looks and nothing else. A main point though is when love is…out of balance. So, like a romantic relationship that is interfered with by the differences or inequalities of two people.”

Jongseob was listening to what you were saying, but his brain was processing it differently. Dissecting each and every word, and this time his face of adoration and focus on you was laced with something else you were too busy to name.

“Like… these two characters,” you continue as you talk with your hands. “Bottom and Titania. Titania is beautiful and graceful and this enigma, while Bottom is clumsy and ugly, but she still falls in love with him. Well, because of the potion, but still goes to show that imbalance. Listen to this quote, I really liked it,”

“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged cupid painted blind.”

Jongseob hates the way he felt, the way that he couldn’t look at you now, but there was a clear thought that invaded his mind and kept eating away at it. He stayed quiet and solemn long enough for you to notice, and as soon as you went to ask him if he was alright, he beat you to it.

“I’m…your friend, right? You like me?”

There was a pin drop silence added to the already dead silent library, but it was loud. All Jongseob could hear was the blood rushing through his head as he looked at your confused and wide eyes.

Your expression twisted slightly in confusion as you looked at him, swallowing before answering. “What? Of…of course I like you. You’re my friend.”

Jongseob’s knuckles went white as he gripped his bag tight. You had seen many emotions on his expressive face, but never this, never one that looked so defeated.

You could barely process what that meant as he stood up, throwing his bag on his back as he looked down at you. “I have to go. Sorry, Y/n.”

He started walking away before you could even register it, sliding your book off your lap as hurriedly stumbled to your feet, staring at his back with nothing but a sinister mixture of confusion and frustration. “Seob, wait! What happened?” You questioned, your voice raising the loudest it ever has in that room.

A part of you wanted to go after him, grill him and insist that he told you what was wrong, what made him feel that way. But Jongseob was already exiting the door, too fast to even consider it, and something told you he wouldn’t tell you anyway.

Since you met Jongseob, all you had been met with was a cheeky smile and a rosy fluster, all your favorite images of him. This time however, the only one that ran through your mind was the way he had just looked at you.

Like he had lost something.

★彡

monday, 8:34pm

y/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶): hi jongseob. i haven’t seen you since sunday. you left pretty upset. if you need to talk, you know you’re always welcome

wednesday, 10:09am

y/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶): good morning seob, please remember my last message. you know what times i’ll be here

friday, 11:08pm

y/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶): at least let me know that you’re alright.

It was a pretty standard Saturday night. Jongseob’s friends in the upstairs of Theo’s home, probably eating pizza or pregaming for a party, Jongseob and Shota sprawled on the bean bag chairs, blasting music.

The only difference might be the big fat book in Jongseob’s hands.

He doesn’t know why he’s still reading, when he had given up on ever having a chance with you. Yet here he was, Sense and Sensibility on its 162nd page, even rejecting Shota’s advances to play Mario Kart instead.

The last time he had seen you, something that he had been trying to avoid so long had dawned on him. He liked you. So much. To the point where sometimes it was debilitating. Likely chances were that you could possibly like him as well.

That wasn’t what he had been avoiding, however. Jongseob was very certain of that fact. He realized why he was only ever going to be your friend. You were just like Tatania—or whatever her name was—smart, goal oriented, knew what you wanted, and god. So, so beautiful.

Meanwhile, Jongseob was just that other guy. Sure, maybe he wasn’t the ugliest, he likes to think he does pretty well for himself. He also wasn’t terribly clumsy like the character from the play.

In real life however, he was a total failure in your light. Getting high on the weekends and drifting around with his friends for the hell of it. Holding onto this false idea of being able to make a band work as a career one day. And although it is a long, complicated, and layered story, he had in fact been in the back of a cop car once.

The both of you were a real life version of a love “out of balance.” Hearing those words verbalized by you without you even realizing it had shattered down all the walls he put up attempting to mask that very truth.

The way you had spoken about love being about the mind was another deafening blow. It would make sense that someone like you would want someone sophisticated, well spoken, mature. No, it was what you deserved.

It had dawned on him that he probably wasn’t any of these things to you.

He had to leave that day. Had he not, he would have broken down on the spot. So he did what he felt was right, and valiantly exited out.

Or at least, he thinks it’s right. He doesn’t know. He’s read your messages, wondered how you must be feeling, and he becomes conflicted all over again.

Like now, when the mere recollection of the events of the past week had caused him to groan and flop back, shutting his book as he looked over at Shota, eyes glued to the TV with a disposable weed pen and the switch controller in his hands.

He sighed as he sat back, staring at the book in his lap. The words were too big anyway, and there was a lot going on that he needed help dissecting. Knowing just the person who could help made it ten times worse

He didn’t know if he had made the right choice. The only thing certain is that he hardly deserved you as a friend. Let alone a lover.

Jongseob sighed before sitting up straighter, putting his book on the table next to him, his arms on his knees. “Shota, let me borrow your pen.”

Shota glanced over at Jongseob quickly, before turning back to the Mario Kart screen to pause it. Then, looking back at Jongseob again with an Incredulous look on his face. He put down his controls, before turning around and cupping his face, screaming, “Steph!!! Come down here!!”

As Shota turned back to Jongseob, Jongseob gave him a look of annoyance and confusion, to which the other boy only shrugged and continued his game.

Keeho came down the stairs mere moments later, scanning the basement until it landed on both boys. “What is it, Sho?”

“Jongseob’s trying to get high out of his mind again.” Shota said, not once taking his eyes off the screen.

Jongseob groaned as Keeho walked up to them, throwing his head back in annoyance. “All of a sudden everyone’s trying to be saints.”

Keeho sighed as he sat on a stool, shaking his head at him. “And you’re trying to be dead. Theo told me you’ve been loitering around down here getting high all damn week with that book.” He said, nodding to Jane Austen’s novel on the table. “Something’s up.”

Jongseob sighed, averting his gaze from Keeho to the Mario Kart screen. “Nothing is up. I just… wanna get high more. That’s all.”

Keeho rolled his eyes, boring them right back into Jongseob. “Last time you felt like that turns out you were sulking over that stupid game you play. Spill.”

Jongseob shook his head in a soft motion, looking down at the floor. “It’s nothing. It’s stupid.”

Keeho stayed quiet for a moment, before speaking up again. “So…it’s a girl.”

Jongseob buried his hands in his face, hearing the game of Mario Kart pause once again as four eyes bored into him now. “God…why do you always jump to the furthest conclusion?”

Keeho scoffed, shaking Jongseob by the shoulders a bit. “But I didn’t this time. It’s a girl. You think we don’t notice how you disappear for hours? Try to dress nicer, wear cologne? Read those books?”

Jongseob rubbed his eyes, looking at the ceiling, sighing in defeat. He had reached a point where he couldn’t deny it even if he tried with the way Shota and Keeho were burning holes into him. Even if he was able to, there was something strangely comforting about his cover being blown. Like he was given the chance to at least get a small weight off his chest.

“Maybe…there is a girl.” Jongseob murmured, his hand tracing down his eyes as they fluttered shut and all he could see was you.

“Don’t leave out anything.” Keeho said, leaning in closer to make sure he heard every word. It was rare that Jongseob was ever this distraught.

Jongseob didn’t even know where to begin, how to cover everything he had felt in the past few months. So, he simply decided to let his thoughts blurt out in whatever order they came in, and go from there. “She…She’s perfect.”

His breath went on shaky as his scramble of words continued. “She works at the library. I only met her because all of you made fun of me, saying I’m the biggest slack and idiot, I needed to prove that wrong. I was only supposed to read one or two books. But…she was there. So smart and nice and god–way too pretty. How could I not like her?”

Jongseob swallowed a lump in his throat as he sat up, his head dangled to the ground. “So I just kept reading so I could talk to her. And it wasn’t bad, I liked it. I liked her more. We became friends eventually, and I kept telling myself…maybe I had a chance. We spent so much time together, got along well, so maybe…she’d like me back one day.”

“I was with her last sunday and I just stormed out. I just…I realized that I can never be more than just her friend. I just can’t.”

Keeho and Shota exchanged glances as they processed his words, with the latter finally speaking as he cleared his throat. “So she rejected you?”

Jongseob shook his head with a frustrated sigh, his emotions whirling faster the more he had to relive this. “No, no. I haven’t even officially told her that I like her.”

The room was quiet a little longer, the silence heavy and brooding as the other two in the room were confused. Keeho breathed in and out before speaking. “So…why can you never be more than her friend?”

If Jongseob had 10% more of a problem with anger issues, or if it was in his nature, he’d get up and yell it in their faces. He didn’t though, and he didn’t have the energy to make it a grand thing either. So, his words could only be described as a pathetic, whiny, ramble.

“You won’t get it. Unless you know her like I do. She’s so kind…even to someone like me. The smartest person I’ve met. She’s got such a drive, determination, and knows what she wants in the future. The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. She’s perfect. And me? I smoke and drink and I do stupid shit when I’m with you guys. I’m in a band thinking I’ll make it far in life that way. And even though it’s gotten better now, I must be the dumbest guy on earth. You guys were right, I really had never picked up a book. And as much as I try to match her, I won’t get there. She’s perfect, and I’m not even average. Not even good.”

If he could exit his body and slap himself for laying out all of his insecurities, he would. It was too late now, however. So it wouldn’t hurt anyone for Jongseob to say everything he had been wanting to.

“It’s not that we can’t be anything more than friends. Who knows, maybe we could. It’s just that I don’t deserve to be anything more with her.”

It was all embarrassing for Jongseob. The silence of Keeho and Shota, the way that whole monologue sounded somehow even more pathetic aloud than in his head, the way he couldn’t look anyone in the eye. He thought to himself this is why he didn’t say anything from the beginning.

“All that stuff I said about you being ‘the worst’ of us all, do you really believe it?”

Jongseob looked up from the floor, finding Shota had scooted closer, and Keeho was looking at him with a sincerity he rarely got from his friends as they had always been lighthearted with each other.

“I mean…it makes sense. I kind of am.”

Keeho sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with a shake of his head. “First of all, I was blasted out of my mind when I said that. You know we shouldn’t take any of each other’s words seriously by that point.” Keeho explained with a scolding look in his eye. “Second of all, you are not some lowlife drifter, Seob. Well…maybe on occasion, you are. But you know what you also are? The youngest.”

Jongseob was looking at him with questioning eyes, his lip caught in his teeth as he listened to his older friend speak.

“Jongseob, you’re only 19. I can assure you, Theo and I were doing much worse at that age. Sure, you get into some trouble, enjoy some things you shouldn’t enjoy,” Keeho said, as he looked over to grab the disposable in Shota’s hand and pocket it away. “But that doesn’t take away from the good qualities that landed you five friends that see you as family. You may be rough around the edges, but deep down you’re a good kid. You’re nice when it counts, passionate about the things you like. Total cutie, too. Right, Sho?”

Jongseob searched Keeho’s face for any deceit, finding none. He was only more reassured when he looked over to Shota, finding him nodding eagerly.

“And trust me, you have all the time in the world to grow into that identity and retire that delinquent title. And I know you will when you’re ready.” Keeho said, a small smile on the corner of his lips. “So don’t push what sounds like an amazing girl away because you’re still figuring your shit out. Who knows, she probably sees the same things in you that we do. If she’s as nice and smart as you say she is, she’ll hold her own against a jerk like you if that’s what she wants. You deserve it just as much as any other asshole.”

It was always strange how his friends had the power to turn Jongseob’s mood in a complete 180. Because now he was smiling, and suddenly the cloud of moodiness and a sour mix of emotions hovering over him the past few months had started to clear, and the words Keeho had said made much more sense than Jongseob’s little outburst.

“Shota…Hyung…Thank you. I needed someone to tell me that.” Jongseob said, taking a deep breath as he sat up straight.

Keeho smiled, reaching over to fluff up Jongseob’s blonde hair. “You still have a problem, though. Have you talked to her since sunday?”

The momentarily lifted weight off Jongseob’s shoulders returned once again, and he sighed as he rubbed his eyes. “Fuck. I haven’t. I doubt she wants anything to do with me at this point.”

Keeho shook his head as he stood up, grabbing Jongseob by his shoulders. “No, shut up. You can still fix it, it just has to be now.”

Jongseob looked up at him with his eyebrows in a furrow. “Now? As in…right now?”

Shota took the keys out of his pocket, throwing them over to Jongseob. “Take the car.”

Keeho dragged Jongseob to his feet, throwing a nearby hoodie at him as he grabbed him like a coach talking to his quarterback before the game. “Don’t think about it. Just go. Before it’s too late.”

Jongseob could barely process throwing the hoodie on, his blonde hair messy as he was pushed out of the house by Keeho and Shota, and suddenly he was driving.

Jongseob had a new mindset, but his palms were sweating, sliding around on the steering wheel. He knew he needed to see you, but he wasn’t sure what he would say. He told himself it had to be the truth, and only the truth. It was what you deserved. All he had to do was find you now.

He drove by the library, but as he glanced at the time, it was already 7:30. It had been closed for half an hour, and it looked completely locked up already.

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, asking himself where you could be. His eyes lit up as he remembered something, the car making a quick U-turn as he drove the direction he had just come from.

Mere minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of the local park, making swift work of stumbling out and locking the car behind him. Jongseob started walking towards the back of the park, his legs tiring out as he started slowly going uphill. The city’s best spot for stargazing, the one you loved.

Even though he wasn’t sure you’d be there, he kept going anyway. It was a pretty good guess, and it proved to be right as more stars and less city came into view, and you sat there with your legs close to your chest as you looked up.

As he reached the top, a foot came down too loud, loud enough for it startle you out of your thoughts. You turned around initially anxious, almost immediately standing up, but your face softened once you made it out to be him. “Jongseob? What are you doing here?”

He took a couple quick breaths as he stood in front of you, breathless for many different reasons and taking in the face he had missed seeing. “Looking for you.” He said quietly, his eyes starstruck.

“I haven’t heard from you in a while…what happened? Are you alright?”

Jongseob sighed, nodding his head as he pursed his lips. “I can’t believe I ghosted you for a week and you’re still worried about me. I’m fine, Y/n. I just had to sort through some things.”

“I’m just worried about what happened the last time we saw each other. You left pretty angry, I don’t know if I said or did something.” You said, your hands clammy as you played with them, looking up at him.

Jongseob was just frustrated now, his hands falling to his sides. “No, god, no. You could never do anything wrong.”

Your insistence continued. “It had to have been something. Was it the friend thing? Because I-..” is all you managed to get out, before suddenly a palm was pressed against your mouth.

Jongseob was only left with the option of looking into your eyes, the ones always so big and vibrant and currently weren’t helping the nerves coursing through his body. “You did nothing wrong. I’m the stupid one.”

He slowly pulled his hand back, looking for the courage within himself as he looked at you. Confused, Anxious, probably shivering a bit, wearing a jacket way too light for the time of night. So beautiful. As if you only got prettier the more he looked and if he kept looking he was bound to die a blissful death. He finally took a deep breath, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“You know, I like you, right? So much. As in way more than a friend?”

Your face flushed red, a tint seen even with how dark it was. You swallowed before answering. “Um…I had…an idea.”

He chuckled as he looked at his shoes quickly looking back up to make his eyes meet yours again. “I have ever since I first met you. I like you so much you made me finish a chapter book for the first time in years.”

“That day, when you were talking about that Shakespeare play, I couldn’t stop thinking about how it sounded just like us. Like we were that one out of balance couple. We’re so…different. It made me think, It could never work.

Jongseob was quiet for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “Compared to you, I’m a total doof. I’ve only barely started reading, I like to do dumb things with other dumb people. I skip college to write dumb songs with my friends, and I never figured out what I want to be when I grow up. And to me, you’re so perfect in every way imaginable. My complete polar opposite.”

Jongseob stepped closer, without even realizing it, his eyes big and pleading. “Maybe we are out of balance, maybe every norm or tradition or whatever isn’t in line with this. I realized now that I don’t mind. If you’d let me, I’d do everything to make it work. To show you that no matter how out of balance, it could work. I don’t care if it doesn’t make sense, all the best things never do.”

Your lips quivered a bit, looking at him with your whole body hot. Never in your life did you think you would be living out a love story that you could only fathom reading over and over. And not with the unruly grunge guy that had walked in the library months ago that you had pining for since.

You wiped your sweaty hands on your clothes, swallowing before you started talking. “A midsummer’s night dream was also about…how love looks with the mind, not the eyes.” You began, your voice a little shaky as you tried your best to look him in the eye. “Since I met you…I knew behind the exterior and the stuff you usually get into, you were a good person.”

You smiled as you recalled the first time he came in. “You’re always so expressive, I can read every emotion off your face. You’re curious, always asking questions. Patient, kind, passionate, charismatic. I could keep going, but all this to say,”

“I wouldn’t like you too if I didn’t think we went well together, despite all the differences.”

Jongseob took another step forward, and swears that even if you pinched him, he still wouldn’t believe any of this is real. The way that you looked at him with an adoration and warmth that had always been there. The way the wind slightly rustled your hair and his, proving that the both of you were here. Finally, he spoke softly. “You’re serious?”

You giggled a bit, nodding as you held both of your hands out. “I’m very serious. I like you a lot.”

He took your hands, looking down at them with incredulous brown eyes. They were softer than he could’ve made them out to be in any daydream. Gulping, he asked a question he had been dying to ask since that very first day.

“Y/n…please, can I kiss you?”

His lips were on yours before you knew it. And much to your surprise, it tasted a lot like a fruit punch.

☆彡

It had been a week since you and Jongseob had made up, and consequently a week since you started dating. After he had driven you home, he hurriedly popped the question as he hung out the passenger side window, like if he didn’t ask at that moment, there’d never be another chance. And of course, you agreed.

Today was your first date, which ended up being the show he and his band were playing. You stuck out like a sore thumb in a crowd of people dressed just like your boyfriend and his friends, the best outfit you could muster being a brown sweater and a denim skirt with doc martens.

You had never been to a small local show, but the energy from the crowd and the band, the setlist and the lights, everything tied together into being an enjoyable first experience.

You and Jongseob were now gathered around him and his rowdy friends at the back of the venue. You initially were only there to meet his friends, but it turned into a hangout of sorts. A few drinks and cigarettes caused a cheery conversation as they rode through an after show high.

You and Jongseob sat on a step with you watching as he and Shota played a game of cards. Shota kept beating him, even as you tried to whisper tips in his ear.

After a while, it was getting late, and after sitting for some time, you were a bit tired. Your head leaning on his shoulder as your energy started to dial down. On top of that, you also had to go to the bathroom.

You tapped Jongseob’s hand, whispering in his ear. “Can you come with me to the bathroom?”

Jongseob nodded, handing his cards to Shota as he shot up, giving you a hand. “Course. I’ll be back, guys.”

He took your hand, leading you through the empty venue, all the way to the bathroom, where he waited outside for you to be finished.

He smiled at you as you came out, noting the slightly more tired smile he got back from you. He put his hand out, wanting you to come closer. “I’m sorry. You’re tired. I’m the designated driver for some of these guys, though.”

You took his hands, pulled into a hug as his hands settled on your waist. “It’s okay,” you told him, your hand reaching up to pinch his cheek. “I get it.”

He chuckled at you, his eyes full of love and a completely smitten look. “I never got to tell you that you look really pretty today.”

His compliment sent a shiver down your spine, every word of endearment being so new still. “I didn’t get to tell you that you looked really good on stage tonight.”

It was Jongseob’s turn to be flustered as his cheeks washed pink, and like he had been doing since he first got a feel for them, he couldn’t stop looking at your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

You giggled, your hand already resting on his face in preparation. “I told you, you don’t have to ask.”

He titled his head, leaning closer as he smirked down at you. “Gotta be a gentleman, right?”

His lips came down on yours soft at first, softly molding them onto his as he got a feel for them. You swear he was trying to memorize every crevice and curve. But, as you put your hands over his own that laid on your waist, dragging them up and down in permission to let him feel, the air shifted.

He gasped shakily on your mouth, in such a needy way that shouldn’t have made your body go hot. He took the reigns of letting his hands run up from your sides all the way down to plump skin that drove him crazy being able to touch.

It wasn’t long before both of your tongues had made their way to each other, and suddenly it was evident to both of you there was something entirely different about this kiss. His hands were all over you, and yours tracing patterns on his chest and arms. There was a newfound lust in this one that both of you couldn’t deny

Yeah, this was different. If it wasn’t clear from the way you were pressing into him. And when you pressed too hard, he let out a soft moan in your mouth that shook you to your core.

He pulled away abruptly, his hands on your shoulders as he stared at you breathless, with new pink lips and a need in his eyes.

You wanted to complain about the distance, but before you could, he was fishing for his car keys in his pocket, his other hand intertwining with yours. “Let’s go to my house.”

Your eyebrows contorted, looking him up and down. “Why? You still have to drive your friends home.”

“They’ll figure it out.” He said, finally pulling out his keys and jangling them in front of you. “Besides…,I can’t fuck you here.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he started pulling you out, but you followed him wordlessly. His friends noticed quickly as you both walked out, Jongseob with a mission to get you to his house as soon as he could. One of them called out—Intak if you remember correctly—noting the way he didn’t stop. “Seob! Where are you going? How do we get home?”

“Get an Uber!” He yelled without looking back, as you turned around and mouthed a small ‘Sorry!’ with a wave.

Jongseob wasted no time in opening the door for you and driving off as soon as you were buckled in. The car pulled out of its parking spot and his hand almost instinctively found its way to your thigh, rubbing the exposed skin your skirt showed in a way that he had to know was making you squirm.

The drive was agonizingly slow, his hand kept running down and getting dangerously close to where you were starting to yearn for him. “Are we…almost there?” You asked a little breathless only a few minutes in, although it had felt like hours.

Jongseob glanced over at you quickly, swallowing thickly at the sight of you clearly impatient for what was to come. “Soon, Y/n. Just a little longer, angel.”

He made it a point to go faster, as fast as he could without it being borderline dangerous. When he finally reached his house, the tires quietly screeched with how fast he pulled in, and the car was off and in park before you could blink.

His hand disconnected from your thigh, and already his absence was felt. He barely made it around to open your door as you stumbled out as well.

“My parents are asleep.” Jongseob announced, as he led you to the doorstep. You kept a grab on his jacket as he fumbled with his house keys. The more desperate he got, the harder it was to get them to function.

Eventually, the door opened quietly, and he used the same quietness to lock it behind you. After you had both discarded your shoes, with a swift motion his hand was in yours again as he plopped his keys on the table, leading you to his room.

His room was so unbelievably him. Scattered with posters of his favorite rock and indie bands, the biggest being a ‘Plastic Beach’ by the Gorillaz in the dead center. Messy and dark bedding, his gaming consoled all over. What had caught your eyes first, was the book you had just checked out to him, neatly stacked on his nightstand.

His room—that smelled only a little like weed—was the least of your concern, however. Not when he plopped himself on his bed, immediately pulling you on his lap to straddle on top of him as his lips crashed onto yours.

His hands only had gotten more adventurous, his whines less and less contained as his tongue immediately found yours again.

You felt like you were heaving into the kiss, it was all too much. The way his mouth danced with yours, your hands grabbing onto his neck, his own gripping at your ass in a way that made you question if this was your boyfriend. Too much, yet you wanted so much more.

Jongseob had started tugging at the hem of your sweater, but before he did anything, he pulled away from the kiss, a string of saliva between you both. He looked up at you doe-eyed and out of breath, the sight ethereal. “Do you want this? I’ll stop right now if you don’t.”

You couldn’t have nodded faster, your hips starting to move on their own. “Yeah, of course I do. Please, Seob.”

Jongseob didn’t need to hear anything else as his hands started to get rid of your sweater, swiftly throwing off his own shirt afterwards. All you were left in was your bra, but he didn’t so much as glance, he couldn’t until he knew you were fine. “You need to tell me if you ever want to stop, Y/n.”

You nodded as his hands finally went to your back, fumbling with the clasps of your bra for a moment before you reached back, helping him get it off faster.

As it was thrown with the rest of the clothes, his eyes glazed over you, his face hot. Something in his expression that looked like he wanted to consume you. “Fuck…Y/n. You’re perfect. So, so perfect.” Jongseob said breathlessly as his lips found your neck.

Jongseob started peppering kisses wherever his heart desired, his hands reaching up to hesitantly cup your chest. “This okay?” He breathed against you, with you only giving him a shaky ‘yeah’ in response.

His touch felt like a trail of fire, and every kiss, every squeeze, brought a soft moan from your boyfriend, his thoughts spilling out in soft chants. “My Y/n…so perfect…so pretty.”

The kissing, the hickeys, the squeezing, it was all euphoric. But with every bit he gave you, you only needed more. Jongseob was too entranced in feeling your every curve to notice. It was only when your hips rolled into him on their lonesome that he was brought to life, a whine leaving his mouth.

You tried catching your breath before looking him in the eye, your heart beating out of its place. “Jongseob…please…I really…need you.”

If everything hadn’t driven him off the edge by now, your pleading did, and he nodded as he reached down for the zipper of your skirt, wasting no time in fulfilling your wish. “I’m taking these off, okay angel? Lift your hips for me.”

You listened to his requests, your lip caught in your teeth as the both of you worked on getting off your pants and the panties that you had soaked through long ago.

Jongseob looked at you as his hand reached down, placing a soft kiss on your lips as you finally felt his hand on your throbbing cunt. “Let me know if I need to stop. I need to prep you first.”

Your face was buried in the crook of his neck as his hand explored you, and despite not having the most experience, he learned quickly. His thumb found your bundle of nerves, tracing soft circles as he listened and studied your every reaction, his free hand roaming up and down your back. It was only a matter of seconds before he found your entrance, already slick with arousal as he inserted one finger in, pressing and running it against your walls.

“Does that feel good?” He asked softly.

You wondered why he even had to ask, especially when you were practically melting in his arms, your body shivering. “It does.” You said in a pant, your desperate voice going straight in his ear and down to his core.

“I’ll do another.” He announced, inserting a second finger.

He kept his thumb on your clit, continuing those small circles, as he moved his two fingers to press and pump them in and out of you, spreading them wider to loosen you up from time to time. As he did, he continued watching and listening to your quiet moans and sounds of pleasure, sounds that told him he was doing something right.

You were a mess at that point, your body even pressing down into him as he became more rigorous. “Seob…it feels good.”

Jongseob placed a kiss on your head, the sight of you falling apart over him driving him insane. “I know, Y/n. I know, angel. You’re doing good.”

It only took a little longer before your body started to tremble, your walls contracting over his fingers, and Jongseob knew you were close. He pulled his hand away, leaving you whining as you sighed. “Seob…” You begged, “Why’d you stop?”

He leaned in to kiss your forehead, his cheeks red with all the blood rushing through him. “Sorry, angel. I want us to cum together.”

That was a request you couldn’t deny him, and you held onto him tight as he leaned over to open his dresser, pulling out a condom Jiung had given him for ‘emergencies.’ He’d definitely have to explain that to you later.

He held the condom between his teeth as he reached for his belt buckle, pulling it off as you used your knees to hover above him, helping him pull them off. When his dick was finally out, it was leaking at the tip, painfully hard due to everything that had just happened.

Jongseob ripped the condom with his teeth, and you took the rubber to place it on yourself. He gulped at the sight, his breath growing shakier the more excited he got. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Once it was on, you situated yourself just above him, his hands finding your hips. “I told you, Seob. I’m sure.” You said, leaning in to place a soft yet deep kiss on his lips.

You grabbed onto his shoulders as he smiled up at you. “We’ll go as slow as you need.”

You didn’t want to wait anymore, neither of you did. Slowly, you sank down onto him, Jongseob helping guide you all the way. Taking the tip and going further, his sounds growing more and more pathetic as he bottomed out, the both of you stifling moans.

He threw his head back in an overwhelmed state, his chest heaving. “Fuck…You okay?” He asked, noting the way the corner of your eyes pricked with tears.

“I’m okay, Seob. Just give me a minute, s’too much.” You breathed, your hands tugging a little at his hair.

Jongseob nodded, his body trembling for friction as he held you down on him. “God…it’s…you’re….so tight around me.”

A few moments later, the weird pressure had subsided, and all the both of you wanted was to move. Jongseob looked both as if he was nervous to hurt you and the feeling of you was too much. It didn’t stop you from rolling your hips, though, looking at him with a look that told him everything he wanted to know.

Jongseob shuddered at your sudden movement, taking the hint to start moving. He helped lift your hips up and down onto him, all while your body involuntarily rolled into him by itself.

The pace picked up, and so did the pleasure. In this position, every subtle movement had his dick reaching as deep as it could go, making your brain go foggy and your moans threaten to get louder. Jongseob wasn’t any better. Every time he dragged against your gummy walls, every roll of your hips, his mind would go blank, and all he could do was place small kisses on your neck. “Y/n…feels so good…way too good.”

You had to bite down on your lip. Not only was he fucking you right, he was whining all the way through it. Going crazy at the feeling, at the way you made him feel. And it only instilled a desire in you to go even harder as you started to bounce up and down on him.

Jongseob’s breath hitched, and he had to bite down on your neck at your sudden movements. “Sh…Shit. Y/n, you can’t do that.” He said through pants, the sound only fueling your fire.

“Can’t stop.” You moaned a little too loud in his ear.

All inhibitions in the both of you had snapped by then. You kept riding him like it was never enough, Jongseob’s hands and lips touching everywhere, all of you, and he could barely keep the both of you up.

It wasn’t long before that familiar pit bubbled in your stomach, and this time Jongseob felt your walls clench around him. You were close, your movements sloppier and your pants and moans erratic.

Jongseob wasn’t far off himself, and he held onto the smallest part of your back as he helped you get there. “Cum, Y/n, My perfect girl. Do it on me. Please.”

His words and the look of lust on his face was all that you needed to finally get there, stifling your sounds in his neck as your whole body reached an impossible high.

Jongseob reached his own climax as you rode out yours, his hips rolling into yours one last time as you had the pleasure of hearing all of his heightened whines and gasps right in your very ear.

His body gave out, and unable to hold up the both of you, falling onto his bed as he slipped out of you.

As you both came to your senses, catching your breaths and reliving everything that had just happened, you scooted off of him, only your head lying on his chest as you listened to his slowing heartbeat.

Jongseob was the first to break the silence with a giggle.

You sat up a bit, looking at the smirk on his face. “What?”

“Nothing, Y/n. It’s stupid.”

“Just really glad I finally started reading.”

668 notes · View notes

emo-cosplayer · 3 months ago

Text

touch me, tease me | choi jiung

summary: what started as a silly crush, ended with this - pinned beneath Jiung, his touch slow, deliberate torment. only one thought lingers on your mind: how much longer could you withstand Jiung‘s teasing?

pairing: jiung x female!reader

genre: smut

warnings: mdni! foreplay (f receiving), protected sex, looots of teasing

word count: 10k

a/n: well that escalated quickly lol this wasn‘t meant to be this long but i just couldn‘t stop writing about teasing Jiung 😝 (also blonde Jiung is just ugh!!!) it's been a while since i have written smut and i like keeping it a little decent 🙈 thank you @lilacs4ung for requesting this, i hope this matches your suggestions :) hope you enjoy reading it ♡

The club was loud, music pulsing through the air, lights flashing in chaotic patterns, and bodies moving in every direction. You had lost track of how many drinks you had, but you knew it was enough to make the room spin slightly. Keeho and Intak had kept a close eye on you all night, laughing at your slightly clumsy movements but making sure you didn’t get into too much trouble.

You stumbled off the dance floor, giggling at absolutely nothing, and found them sitting at a booth near the bar. They looked up as you approached, and Keeho immediately raised an eyebrow.

"Are you okay?" he asked, reaching out to steady you as you nearly tripped over your own feet.

Intak, on the other hand, just laughed. "Yeah, you don’t look okay," he teased. "Maybe we should get you home?"

You shook your head, then paused to steady yourself. “Can we go to your place?”

Keeho and Intak exchanged a glance.

"Whyyy?" Keeho asked, dragging the word out as if he already knew you were about to say something stupid.

You didn’t even hesitate. “Because Jiung is there.”

The second the words left your mouth, you realized your mistake.

Silence stretched between the three of you, the club’s pounding music suddenly background noise compared to the sheer weight of your drunken confession. You watched as Keeho and Intak turned to each other, their confusion melting into matching smirks.

“Ohhh,” Intak said, grinning from ear to ear.

Keeho leaned in, eyebrows raised. "Interesting."

Your stomach dropped. "What?"

Intak nudged Keeho. "She wants to go to our place because Jiung is there."

Keeho gasped dramatically. "Wait- could it be? Our dear friend has a crush?"

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Can we just go?"

Keeho and Intak exchanged another knowing look, their grins widening. They didn’t say anything as they grabbed their coats, but you just knew this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

“So, since when have you had the hots for Jiung?” Keeho asked, his voice dripping with amusement.

You rolled your eyes, stumbling slightly as you walked. "I don't have the hots for him."

Intak snickered. "Uh-huh. Sure. That’s why you immediately asked to go to our place when you found out he was there?"

The alcohol had you feeling bold or reckless, maybe both, so you huffed and threw your hands up. “Fine! I think he’s hot! Like, stupidly, unfairly hot! I mean, have you seen him? His jawline? His voice? His hands?”

Keeho and Intak bursted into laughter, but you were on a roll now.

“And he’s so… I don’t know, cool. Like, effortlessly cool. It’s annoying! And don’t even get me started on when he wears those sleeveless shirts because oh my god. I want him so bad-”

You stopped. The realization hit like a truck. Your eyes went wide as your drunken brain catched up with what your mouth had been spewing for the past minute and a half.

Slowly, you turned to look at Keeho and Intak, who were now wheezing, practically crying from laughter. Keeho was bent over, gripping his stomach, while Intak was clutching onto his shoulder for support.

"Oh no," you whispered, horrified. "I talked too much."

Keeho wiped a tear from his eye. "Oh, you sure did."

Intak grinned. "I think my favorite part was when you said you wanted him."

You choked. "I said what?"

Keeho smirked. "You said, and I quote - 'I want him so bad.'"

You stared at them in absolute horror as the words replayed in your head. You did say that. Out loud.

"Take me home," you mumbled, covering your face. "Bury me in the ground. I don't exist anymore."

But Keeho just threws an arm around your shoulder, shaking his head with a devilish grin. "Oh no, we're definitely going to our place now."

"And you're definitely facing Jiung," Intak added.

You were doomed.

The ride to Keeho and Intak’s apartment was torture. They wouldn’t shut up about Jiung, throwing your own words back at you every chance they got. You threatened to jump out of the car, but that only made them laugh harder.

By the time you arrived, you were fully expecting to die of embarrassment the moment you stepped inside. But then - relief.

Jiung wasn’t there.

“Thank god,” you mumbled under your breath, slumping against the doorway.

Keeho glanced at his phone. “He must be working late,” he muttered before tossing his keys onto the counter. “Lucky you.”

You let out a huge sigh and stumbled toward the couch, throwing yourself onto it dramatically. The cushions were soft, and your body finally relaxed now that the immediate threat of Jiung witnessing your humiliation had passed.

But Keeho and Intak? They weren’t about to let you off the hook so easily.

“So…” Keeho dragged out the word as he flopped onto the couch beside you.

Intak plopped down on the armrest, grinning. “Are we just gonna ignore the fact that you said you want Jiung?”

You groaned, burying your face in a pillow. “Can we please forget that happened?”

Keeho scoffed. “Absolutely not.”

"You said you want him," Intak reminded you, smirking. “So, maybe you should try to get him.”

You lifted your head just enough to glare at him. “Yeah? And how do you suggest I do that?”

Keeho shrugged. “I mean, Jiung is still single. He’d definitely be down for a little fun.”

Intak hummed in agreement. “He hasn’t been with a girl in a while, so honestly? He’s probably just as desperate as you are.”

You choked. “Excuse me?”

Intak grinned. “I’m just saying…”

“Stop,” you groaned, dragging your hands down your face. The heat creeping up your neck was unbearable, and it only got worse when Intak and Keeho exchanged that look, like they were already planning ways to make this worse for you.

But thankfully, after a few more minutes of teasing, they seemed to get bored of torturing you. Keeho stretched with a yawn. “Alright, I’m heading to bed. Don’t stay up all night thinking about Jiung, okay?”

Intak smirked as he stood up. “Or do. Might help you manifest something.”

You grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. He dodged effortlessly, laughing as he disappeared into his room. Keeho followed, leaving you alone in the living room.

You exhaled deeply and sank further into the couch, exhausted. The apartment was quiet now, the only sound being the distant hum of the city outside. The warmth of the alcohol still lingered in your body, making your eyelids heavy. You didn’t even bother grabbing a blanket. The couch was comfortable enough, and after the chaos of the night, sleep took you instantly.

The first thing you felt when you woke up was a pounding headache. The second was the realization that you weren’t in your own bed. Your eyes fluttered open, and as you stared at the ceiling, it took you a moment to remember - Keeho and Intak’s apartment. The place they shared with Jiung.

Panic set in.

You groaned softly, rubbing your face as memories from last night started flooding back. The club. The drinks. The things you had told the boys about Jiung.

Oh god.

You squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment, silently praying that Jiung hadn’t seen you passed out on the couch. Maybe he still wasn’t home. Maybe you could sneak out before anyone noticed. Slowly, you sat up, scanning the apartment. The place was quiet, and there was no sign of Keeho or Intak. That was a good sign, right? You quickly gathered your things, trying to be as quiet as possible. If you could just slip out the door without making a sound-

"Leaving already?"

You froze.

That voice was too familiar. Your breath caught in your throat as you turned around, heart pounding.

There he was.

Jiung stood a few feet away, looking effortlessly attractive despite being dressed casually in sweatpants and a hoodie. His bleached hair was slightly messy, and the soft morning light from the window made him look even more unreal.

You let out an awkward laugh, trying to mask your nervousness. “Uh- yeah. I need to shower and everything.”

Jiung tilted his head slightly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You can shower here.”

You blinked. What?

Before you could respond, he walked past you toward the kitchen. “I was about to make breakfast,” he added casually. “It’d be a shame if you couldn’t try the best pancakes in the world.”

Your brain short-circuited. Jiung was… inviting you to stay? Why was he being so nice to you all of a sudden? You had never really talked much before, and now he was offering you a shower and pancakes?

You swallowed, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks. “O-okay. I’ll just ask Keeho if I can borrow some clothes.”

Jiung nodded before disappearing into the kitchen, leaving you standing there, completely dazed.

As you made your way to the bathroom, your mind raced. Was Jiung just being polite? Or did he- no, stop. Don’t overthink this. Still, as you closed the bathroom door behind you, you couldn’t help but let out a deep sigh.

This man was going to make you suffer.

After a quick shower and changing into the clothes Keeho lent you, you took a deep breath and stepped out of the bathroom. The scent of fresh pancakes and syrup filled the air, making your stomach grumble. As you entered the kitchen, Keeho, Intak, and Jiung were already sitting at the table, plates of food in front of them.

The moment Intak spotted you, he grinned and, with a mouth full of food, yelled, "Good morning, drunkard!"

You froze.

Keeho burst out laughing, and even Jiung let out a small chuckle as your entire face heated up. You groaned, rubbing your temples as you sat down at the table, avoiding their amused gazes. "Can you not?"

"Sorry, sorry," Intak said, clearly not sorry at all. "You just had a lot to say last night. Very entertaining stuff."

You shot him a glare before quickly turning your attention to the plate in front of you. The food looked incredible, but more than anything, you found yourself staring at the stack of pancakes Jiung had made. They were golden brown, drizzled with syrup, and smelled heavenly.

You picked up your fork and took a bite, your eyes widening slightly. "Oh my god."

Jiung glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. "Good?"

"So good," you admitted, immediately taking another bite.

He smirked slightly before focusing back on his own food. Keeho, however, wasn’t about to let the moment slide.

"So, what’s the plan for today?" Keeho asked, stretching lazily.

Jiung leaned back in his chair. "We could just stay in. Play some video games, watch some movies."

Intak nodded. "Sounds good to me."

You swallowed the last of your pancake and wiped your hands on a napkin. "I should probably head home after breakfast."

You expected them to just nod, but instead, Jiung looked up from his plate. "You can chill with us if you want."

Your heart stopped for a second.

Keeho and Intak both turned to look at you, and you could practically feel their knowing smirks burning into your skin. Why was Jiung asking you to stay? You weren’t even that close. You’d barely talked before.

You hesitated, still processing his words, but then… you realized something. This was your chance. Your chance to get closer to him, even if it was going to be awkward as hell now that Keeho and Intak knew just how down bad you were for Jiung.

You cleared your throat, keeping your expression as neutral as possible. "Uh… yeah. I guess I could stay a little longer."

Intak smirked. Keeho wiggled his eyebrows. Jiung just nodded and continued eating like he hadn’t just thrown your entire world into chaos.

You were so doomed.

The day had gone by in a blur of video games, silly movies, and way too much teasing from Keeho and Intak. You had done your best to act normal around Jiung, but every time you glanced in his direction, you felt the heat rise to your cheeks.

Now, as the evening settled in, you stretched your arms and let out a small sigh. “Alright, I should really head home now.” You glanced at the others, expecting someone to offer to drive you. “Anyone down to take me?”

Keeho suddenly let out an exaggerated yawn, stretching his arms. “Ahh, I’m so tired. I think I need to go to bed right now.”

You narrowed your eyes. Liar.

Intak smirked. “Yeah, same. I have to prep some things for work.”

Before you could argue, Keeho turned to Jiung, grinning way too much. “Jiung can drive you home.”

Your stomach dropped.

Jiung barely hesitated before nodding. “Sure, I can do that.”

You swore you heard Intak snicker under his breath. Keeho gave you a pointed look, and before you could even react, both of them were already heading toward their rooms, leaving you alone with Jiung.

You glared at the hallway where they disappeared, knowing full well they did that on purpose.

Jiung grabbed his jacket and car keys before turning to you. “Got everything?”

You nodded quickly, still trying to process that this was actually happening. “Yeah.”

The two of you headed outside, the air crisp against your skin as you climbed into Jiung’s car. The moment he started the engine, a thick awkward silence settled between you. You stared straight ahead, your hands resting in your lap, too aware of his presence beside you. Jiung, in his usual effortless way, didn’t seem fazed at all. But you? Your thoughts were racing.

Then, after a beat, Jiung reached for the console and turned on some music, filling the quiet with a soft melody. You exhaled, relaxing a little. But then, as you subtly glanced at him from the corner of your eye, a new problem presented itself.

Jiung looked… insanely attractive when driving.

The way his hands gripped the steering wheel, the faint glow of the dashboard lights reflecting off his skin, the relaxed expression on his face as he focused on the road - it was almost too much.

You swallowed, quickly looking away. This is fine. Just act normal.

But no matter how hard you tried, the thought wouldn’t leave your head.

The rest of the drive to your apartment had been quiet, aside from the soft hum of the music playing through the speakers. You spent most of the time overthinking, stealing glances at Jiung while trying to act normal.

But somehow, you had survived.

As Jiung pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex, he slowed to a stop. You exhaled, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment. Relief because you finally made it home without embarrassing yourself, but disappointment because you didn’t want the night to end just yet.

You turned to Jiung with a small smile. “Thanks for the ride.”

He nodded, lips quirking up slightly. “Anytime.”

You reached for the car door handle, ready to step out - but then, a thought hit you.

This was it. Your chance.

You had spent so long admiring Jiung from a distance, always feeling like there was some invisible barrier between you two. But now, after everything that had happened today, the breakfast, the movies, the car ride, you felt closer to him than ever. If you didn’t take this opportunity now… would you ever get another one?

Your heart pounded. Before you could talk yourself out of it, the words left your mouth.

"Do you maybe… wanna come up?"

The second you said it, regret hit you like a truck.

Why did you say that?!

Jiung was probably going to turn you down, politely decline, and you’d have to live with the embarrassment for the rest of your life. You braced yourself, already planning how you’d laugh it off and pretend you weren’t dying inside. But then-

“I’d love to.”

Your breath caught. You turned to him, eyes wide, expecting him to be joking. But Jiung just looked at you, completely serious. He wanted to come up.

You quickly nodded, trying to ignore the way your pulse was racing. “O-okay. Cool. Yeah. Let’s go.”

Jiung smirked slightly, unbuckling his seatbelt.

As you both stepped out of the car and walked toward your building, one thought consumed your mind. What the hell did you just get yourself into?

The moment you stepped inside your apartment, a strange, heavy tension filled the air. Jiung followed behind you, his presence impossible to ignore. You set your things down, pretending to be busy while trying to calm your racing heart.

Jiung leaned casually against the wall, watching you with a small smirk, as if he could tell just how nervous you were. Then, his voice cut through the silence. "So… why did you invite me up?"

You froze.

Your breath hitched as you turned to look at him, caught completely off guard. "I- uh- I just thought maybe you wanted to, you know… chill a bit more before heading home."

Jiung raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Oh?" He tilted his head slightly, taking a slow step closer. "And why do you think I agreed to come up?"

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the way he was looking at you. There was a small pause, the tension between you both thick enough to drown in.

Then, finally, Jiung spoke again. "Well… if I'm being honest… I wanted to spend some time alone with you."

Your mind went blank.

What.

Did he just-?

You stared at him, trying to process his words, but your brain refused to function. Jiung could sense your nervousness, and instead of backing off, he only made it worse. He took another step forward, closing the space between you. His voice dropped slightly, teasing yet soft. "Isn’t that what you wanted too?"

Your head snapped up, eyes locking with his. Your throat went dry. Your heart was pounding. You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat before you finally stammered out, “Y-y-yes.”

Jiung’s lips curved into a soft smile, and before you could even react, he reached out and gently took your hand in his. "You don’t need to be nervous," he murmured. His thumb brushed lightly over the back of your hand, sending shivers down your spine.

But how could you not be nervous? Jiung was this close, his touch was this gentle, his gaze was this intense. How were you supposed to survive this moment without completely falling apart?

Jiung’s thumb brushed over the back of your hand again, his grip gentle but so distracting. You felt like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, the air thick with something undeniable.

“I have to admit something,” Jiung said, his voice smooth yet laced with amusement.

You blinked, still trying to get your heart rate under control. “W-what?”

He leaned in slightly, the teasing glint in his eyes unmistakable. “Keeho and Intak told me about what you said at the club.”

The world stopped.

Your entire body went stiff. Your face felt like it had been set on fire. The ground beneath you? Gone. The last shred of your dignity? Disintegrated.

Jiung knew.

He knew what you had said about him. That you found him hot. That you wanted him.

Your brain screamed at you to run, to somehow escape this nightmare, but your body betrayed you, completely frozen in place.

Jiung tilted his head, watching your reaction with pure amusement. “You’re really quiet all of a sudden.”

You snapped out of your panic just long enough to stumble over an apology. “I- I’m so sorry, I was just really drunk, and I didn’t know what I was saying, and I-”

Jiung’s expression shifted slightly. His eyebrows furrowed, and his grip on your hand tightened just a little. “So you didn’t actually mean what you said?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

Crap.

You had meant it. Every. Single. Word. But how were you supposed to admit that to his face? You could barely even breathe properly around him, and now he was expecting you to just… say it? You scrambled for an answer, but before you could even attempt to dig yourself out of the hole you were in, Jiung let out a small sigh.

“Well, too bad.”

Your breath hitched.

Jiung’s gaze locked onto yours, and with the most casual expression in the world, he added, “Because I was just about to tell you that I feel the same way about you.”

What. The. Hell.

Your brain short-circuited. Your mouth fell open, but nothing - absolutely nothing - came out.

He felt the same way? Since when?! You couldn’t process it. Couldn’t even react properly. All you could do was stare at him in complete shock, your heart threatening to explode. Jiung, on the other hand? He looked so smug. So completely amused by your flustered reaction. And you? You were absolutely doomed.

Jiung chuckled softly, his smug expression only making your flustered state worse. "You should say something," he teased, tilting his head slightly.

But you couldn’t. Your brain had completely shut down, your words tangled up somewhere between your rapidly beating heart and the overwhelming realization that Jiung liked you back. "I-" you swallowed, struggling to find the right words. "I don’t know what to say."

Jiung let out a small hum, his amusement only growing. "That’s cute."

Your face burned even hotter, and Jiung, clearly enjoying how easy it was to tease you, decided to push a little further.

"So?" He leaned in just a fraction closer. "Are you going to admit it?"

You bit your lip, your fingers curling into your palms. He wasn’t going to let this go. He was waiting - waiting for you to say it out loud. And god, you wanted to deny it, to keep holding onto whatever tiny bit of composure you had left, but the way he was looking at you, the way your heart was racing just being near him.

You inhaled sharply before finally muttering, “I- I like you.”

Jiung’s smirk widened. "See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

You glared at him, your face still burning, but before you could come up with a response, Jiung's tone suddenly shifted, just slightly. "Since we’re being honest…" He let his fingers brush against your wrist, his touch light but deliberate. "I’d be down so bad to have a little fun with you."

Your breath hitched.

Jiung watched you carefully, his expression playful but also sincere. "But only if you wanted to of course," he added. "I don’t want to push you."

You knew what he meant. And the thought alone sent your entire nervous system into overdrive.

"I-" You opened your mouth, then immediately closed it, panic creeping in. "I don’t… I don’t know how to do that."

Jiung’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Do what?"

You hesitated before forcing yourself to say it.

"Get intimate with someone?"

His lips parted in surprise, and for a second, you thought he had misunderstood what you meant. But then you quickly shook your head. "No! I mean- that’s not what I meant."

Jiung tilted his head, now genuinely curious. “Then what do you mean?”

You exhaled, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "I mean… intimacy without commitment."

Jiung’s expression shifted slightly, his usual playful smirk replaced by something more serious. He studied you for a moment, his gaze searching, as if trying to figure out exactly what you meant by that.

The silence between you felt heavier now. Not awkward, but weighted, like you had just opened a door neither of you had ever stepped through before. And for the first time all night, Jiung didn’t immediately have a teasing remark ready. Instead, he simply watched you, waiting for you to say more. Waiting to see where this was going to go.

Jiung was silent for a moment, his gaze locked onto yours, as if carefully considering what you had just said.

"Intimacy without commitment."

His fingers, still lightly brushing against your wrist, suddenly traced a little higher, barely grazing your forearm. The touch was subtle, almost innocent but not quite.

"You don’t know how to do that?" he murmured, voice low and laced with something undeniably teasing.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Jiung tilted his head slightly, studying your reaction. "So… does that mean you’ve never done it? Or just that you don’t know if you could?"

Your throat went dry. He was testing you, pushing just a little to see how much you could take. "I just-" You swallowed, trying to keep your thoughts straight. "I don’t know how to… separate it. How to be close to someone without getting-"

Jiung took another step forward, closing the space between you inch by inch. "Attached?" he finished for you.

You nodded slowly, pulse hammering in your ears.

He hummed softly, his fingers trailing down your wrist before finally pulling away. The loss of contact made you exhale, only to realize that now his entire focus was on you.

"So if I were to touch you like this…" Jiung reached up, his knuckles barely grazing your jawline as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His touch was gentle, featherlight, but your entire body reacted to it like a live wire. "Would it be too much?"

Your breath hitched. Was it?

You didn’t move away. You didn’t even flinch. But the way his fingertips lingered near your skin, the way his voice dripped with curiosity and amusement, it made it so much harder to think straight.

Jiung let his fingers trail down, brushing the side of your neck so deliberately that it sent a shiver down your spine. "Too much?" he asked again, his voice barely above a whisper.

You should say yes.

You really should. But instead, you just whispered, "No."

Jiung’s lips quirked up into a small, knowing smirk. "Interesting."

His hand dropped back to his side, but the electricity of his touch still lingered on your skin. You barely had a second to process what just happened before Jiung leaned in just enough for his breath to tickle your ear. "So, if there were no feelings involved," he murmured, voice dangerously soft, "you think you could handle this?"

Your heart nearly gave out. Jiung was testing you, pushing just enough to see how far you were willing to go. And the worst part? You weren’t sure if you even wanted him to stop.

The air felt thick, every breath you took weighed down by the lingering touch of Jiung’s fingers against your skin. You barely had a second to react before he suddenly reached for your hand. His grip was firm yet unbelievably gentle, and without a word, he guided you across the room toward the couch in your living room. Your pulse skyrocketed.

Jiung didn’t hesitate. He led you to sit down, his movements slow, deliberate, like he was savoring the way your body tensed under his touch. Then, without warning, he knelt down in front of you. Your heart stopped.

Jiung was right there, at your feet, his hands resting casually on his knees as he looked up at you with that same infuriatingly smug expression. The sight alone was almost too much. Too intimate. Too dangerous.

"You’re nervous," he mused, tilting his head. His voice was soft, but the teasing lilt in it was impossible to ignore.

You swallowed hard, gripping the fabric of your borrowed clothes. "I- I’m not."

Jiung’s lips curved into a smirk. "Liar."

Your face burned.

Then, slowly, he lifted his hand and rested it lightly on your knee. Not firm, not insistent, just enough for you to feel it. "Tell me," he murmured, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against your leg. "How far do you think you could go without catching feelings?"

Your entire brain shut down. The way he was looking at you - his dark eyes filled with pure amusement, like he was enjoying every second of watching you unravel - was enough to completely wreck you.

"I-" You swallowed again, your thoughts barely stringing together. "I don’t know."

Jiung hummed, pretending to think. Then, with excruciating slowness, he leaned in closer, his face inches from yours now, his breath warm against your skin. "Should we find out?"

Your stomach flipped.

Jiung’s hand, still resting on your knee, squeezed ever so slightly, just enough to send a spark of heat straight through you. He was testing you again. And you were seconds away from breaking. The air between you was thick, suffocating in the best and worst ways. Jiung’s presence, his touch, his words, had you balanced on a razor’s edge, and you had no idea how much longer you could hold yourself together.

Then, he dropped the bomb.

"How about we start off by getting rid of Keeho’s clothes?" Jiung murmured, his voice smooth yet playful. "It’s kinda distracting me."

You froze.

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Your brain struggled to process what he had just said. "W-what?" you finally managed, looking at him in pure shock.

Jiung let out a soft laugh, clearly amused by your reaction. "Okay, okay. I’ll start first."

And then, before you could even fully react, he reached for the hem of his hoodie and pulled it over his head in one smooth motion

You stopped breathing.

The fabric landed somewhere across the room, but you couldn’t care less. Because now, Jiung was kneeling in front of you, shirtless, his toned chest and sculpted shoulders fully on display. His hands - warm, gentle, deliberate - rested lightly on your thighs again, his fingers barely brushing against the fabric of Keeho’s sweatpants.

That was it. The breaking point.

Your pulse skyrocketed, your entire body burning under his touch.

Jiung tilted his head slightly, his expression a mix of amusement and something deeper. His gaze never left yours, watching every tiny reaction you gave him. He was still teasing you, but carefully.

"You good?" he murmured, his fingers tracing small circles against your leg.

You swallowed hard, nodding way too quickly. "Y-yeah."

Jiung smirked. "If you don’t want something, stop me, alright?"

You barely had the chance to process his words before your body reacted on its own.

"Don’t stop."

The words left your mouth before you could even think about them, barely above a whisper, but Jiung heard them loud and clear. His smirk deepened.

"You like when I tease you like this?" he asked, his voice lower, smoother, almost testing you again.

Your body betrayed you, a tiny, involuntary shiver running down your spine. Jiung’s hands squeezed just slightly against your thighs, his touch light but firm enough to send another wave of heat through you. Your lips parted, your breath shaky, as you stared at him, completely spellbound.

Jiung chuckled, leaning in just a little closer, his bare skin impossibly warm. "Very interesting," he murmured.

And just like that, he had you completely in the palm of his hand. He knew exactly what he was doing. The way he watched you, his gaze intense yet playful, made it impossible to think straight.

You barely had time to process the next wave of teasing before Jiung’s hands slid up just slightly, his thumbs grazing the sensitive skin where your thighs met your hips. His touch was featherlight, but it sent a shiver straight through you. Your breath hitched. Jiung noticed.

And that was when his teasing stopped - just for a second. His smirk softened, his grip on you easing as he looked up at you through his lashes. Then, his voice dropped into something quieter, something almost hesitant.

"Can I…?"

You barely had time to process the question before Jiung slowly, so achingly slowly, leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. Your entire body froze. Then melted.

His lips were warm, soft, and so deliberate, like he was giving you time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Jiung took your lack of resistance as an answer, his hands shifting slightly, still firm, still keeping you grounded, but now… closer.

The kiss was slow, teasing in the way he barely applied pressure at first, like he wanted to see just how much you wanted him before giving you more. And god, you wanted more.

When he finally pulled back just an inch, his breath still lingering against your lips, he tilted his head and smirked. "You’re shaking," he murmured.

You were. And you had absolutely no idea how you were supposed to recover from this. And you couldn’t take it anymore. Before he could pull away completely, you closed the distance, crashing your lips back onto his. Jiung let out a small sound of surprise, but it quickly melted into something deeper, something more certain. His hands gripped your thighs a little tighter, his body tensing slightly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

You needed more.

Jiung felt it too.

Because without warning, he stood up from the floor, his hands never leaving you, and slowly pushed you down onto the sofa. Your back met the cushions, and before you could even process what was happening, Jiung was hovering over you, his body perfectly aligned with yours.

This time, the kiss was different. It wasn’t teasing anymore. It was hungry. Intense. Like neither of you wanted to hold back any longer. Jiung’s lips moved against yours with purpose, his hand sliding up to rest at the side of your face, his thumb brushing lightly against your jaw.

You let out a small, shaky breath as his weight pressed slightly into you, grounding you beneath him. It was overwhelming - his warmth, his touch, the way his fingers gripped the fabric of Keeho’s borrowed shirt like he was seconds away from pulling it off of you. Your fingers tangled into his hair, tugging slightly, and that was when Jiung let out a low, satisfied hum against your lips.

"Eager, huh?" he murmured against your mouth, his tone dripping with amusement.

You barely had time to feel embarrassed because the next thing you knew, Jiung’s lips left yours only to trail lower, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your jawline, down to the side of your neck. Your breath hitched, your fingers tightening against his shoulders.

Jiung chuckled at your reaction, his voice low and warm. "I knew you liked it when I teased you."

And honestly? You couldn’t even deny it anymore.

Jiung’s lips moved against your skin with a deliberate slowness, as if he wanted to memorize every reaction you gave him. The warmth of his breath against your neck sent a shiver down your spine, and you could feel the way he smiled against you, completely aware of how much he was affecting you.

Then, his fingers grazed the hem of your borrowed shirt. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes filled with something intense yet undeniably gentle. His hands rested at the edge of the fabric, waiting. "Can I?" he asked softly, his voice lower now, more serious.

Your chest tightened, not from nerves, but from the weight of the moment. Jiung, for all his teasing and confidence, was still giving you control. He wanted this, but only if you did too. You nodded. That was all he needed. With excruciating slowness, he lifted the fabric, his fingers grazing your skin as he pulled it over your head and tossed it somewhere behind him. The way his gaze darkened as he took you in made your heart skip a beat.

His hands traced a slow path down your sides, his fingers barely pressing into your skin, just enough to leave a trail of heat in their wake. "You look so good," Jiung murmured, his voice laced with something deeper, something real.

Your breath hitched as he leaned back down, his lips brushing over your collarbone, lingering, before he kissed lower. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t hurried. It was slow, deliberate, like he wanted to take his time with you. Like he wanted you to feel everything.

Your fingers instinctively threaded through his hair, holding onto him as his lips pressed soft, mellow kisses along your skin, his hands mapping out every inch of you with an unbearable gentleness. It was intoxicating - the way he touched you, the way he worshipped every reaction you gave him, like he was savoring it.

"Still doing okay?" he murmured between kisses, his voice breathless but completely focused on you.

You nodded, but it wasn’t enough for him.

Jiung pulled back just enough to study your face, his fingertips trailing lightly over your waist, his expression softer now. "I mean it," he murmured. "I need you to tell me."

Your heart squeezed at his words, at the way he made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in this moment. You exhaled, your fingers tightening slightly against his shoulders. "I’m okay," you whispered.

Jiung smiled, really smiled, before pressing another kiss to your lips. "Good," he murmured against your mouth. And just like that, he pulled you right back under with him.

Jiung's lips were everywhere - soft, warm, deliberate as they trailed across your skin, leaving a path of heat and electricity in their wake. His fingers followed, tracing along your waist, your ribs, mapping out every inch of exposed skin like he was trying to memorize you. The slow drag of his touch sent shivers down your spine, and you knew - he was doing this on purpose.

Jiung pulled back just slightly, his breath warm against your skin. His dark eyes flickered up to yours, and the way he looked at you, like he was taking his time, like he was savoring this moment, made your stomach flip.

"You’re so easy to tease," he murmured, his lips curling into a small, knowing smirk.

Your face burned, and you let out a shaky breath. "Jiung-"

He shushed you, pressing a soft kiss to the edge of your jaw before whispering, "I like hearing the way you say my name."

Your fingers curled into the fabric of the couch, your entire body reacting to him in ways you couldn’t control. Jiung chuckled, obviously pleased with himself, his hands slowly traced down your belly, his eyes never leaving yours. You could feel your heart racing as he reached for the hem of your borrowed pants, his fingers brushing against your soft skin as he began to pull them down. You lifted your hips off the couch, helping him as he slid them down your legs and tossed them aside.

You were left laying there in just your panties, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you carefully watched Jiung. He ran his hands over your thighs gently, his hands exploring further, taking in every inch of you. His teasing sent your mind into overdrive and you could feel yourself growing more and more aroused by the second, throbbing with need.

"You’re really not stopping me," he murmured, his voice quieter now, less playful, more real.

You swallowed hard, your hands moving instinctively to pull him closer.

"I don’t want you to stop," you whispered.

Jiung could see the anticipation in your eyes, the way your breath hitched every time his hand moved lower. With a smirk, he slipped his hand between your thighs, his fingers finding the damp fabric of your panties.

"You're so tense," he teased, tilting his head. His fingers danced over your panties, barely touching yet setting your nerves on fire. "Relax for me."

Relax? How were you supposed to relax when he was doing this?

Jiung’s hands continued their slow descent, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours but never quite closing the distance. You could feel his smirk against your skin.

"You can still stop me anytime," he reminded you, voice softer now, gentler, as if he wanted you to know that you were still in control.

But stopping was the last thing on your mind. You weren’t sure when it had happened, when your hesitation had started to fade, when the tension had become something you actually wanted to lean into instead of shy away from. Jiung saw it. Felt it.

And that was why, without warning, he tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Tell me how much you want this," he murmured, his lips barely an inch from yours.

It was a challenge. A test. And god, the way he looked at you, like he was daring you to admit it, made your whole body heat up. Your lips parted, your breath shaky.

Jiung waited.

And then, finally, you gave in.

"I want this… so fucking bad." Your voice came out softer than you expected, but it was honest.

Jiung smirked at your response, his eyes glinting with mischief. ''Oh, I know you do,'' he said, his voice dripping with confidence. ''But I'm going to make you wait for it.''

You bit your bottom lip, feeling another rush of arousal flood your panties at his words. You couldn't help but squirm as Jiung's body hovered just above yours, the heat radiating off of him, and you wanted nothing more than to feel his skin against yours.

Jiung leaned forward, his breath hot against your skin as he placed a gentle kiss on your bare chest. You shivered, hips bucking up towards him as you let out a low moan. You could feel his smile against your skin as he began to tease you once more, his fingers tracing lazy circles over the fabric of your panties.

''Please Jiung,'' you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. ''I need more.''

Jiung chuckled, his fingers continuing to tease you as he looked up at you. ''Patience y/n,'' he said, his voice low and husky. ''I'm going to make this so good for you.''

Before you could respond, he slipped his fingers under the edge of your panties, teasing you with the barest of touch. You let out another low moan, as you felt his fingers brush against your wet folds.

You gasped, your back arching as Jiung's fingers began to explore. He teased you under the fabric, his touch light and taunting, as his thumb began to draw small circles over your sensitive spot. The heat between your legs grew more intense with each passing second. His fingers danced over your skin, before he finally - finally - pushed two of them inside you slowly.

You barely had time to breathe before he started pumping them gently inside of you, making you feel a desire you had never experienced before. Jiung continued pressing soft, lingering kisses along your collarbone, down your shoulder, each one making your pulse race even faster.

That's when he paused, glancing up at you, making you whine at the sudden stop of his movement.

"You’re really letting me do whatever I want, huh?" Jiung murmured, his smirk deepening.

You bit your lip, your breath shaky. "Maybe."

"Dangerous answer," Jiung chuckled, shifting just a little closer, his fingers curling up just a little inside of you. "Still no complaints?"

You couldn’t complain. Not when he was looking at you like that. Not when his hand made you feel like your entire body was on fire. His lips found your neck again, his fingers moving just a little faster inside of you now and just like that, you were completely lost in him. You felt yourself growing more and more desperate, letting out sharp gasps as your body shivered slightly.

"Sensitive, huh?" He smirked against your skin, pressing a kiss just below your jawline before whispering, "I like that."

You swallowed hard, gripping the fabric of the couch beneath you. "Jiung-"

He hummed, acting completely unbothered, even as his hands explored new territory - testing, pushing, waiting to see how much you’d let him get away with.

''Please,' you whimpered, your voice full of need. ''I need to cum.''

For a moment it seemed like he finally gave in to your begging, his fingers diving deep inside of you as he moved them with a fierce urgency. You let out a load moan, as you felt yourself spiraling out of control.

Just as you felt an orgasm building up inside of you, Jiung pulled his fingers away, leaving you panting and desperate for more. You frowned, your body aching for release.

Jiung simply chuckled, his eyes filled with mischief. ''I'm not gonna let you have all the fun to yourself,'' he said, his voice low. His lips hovered over yours, so close yet still refusing to fully close the distance. "You said you wanted this," he murmured, his voice smooth and knowing.

You swallowed hard. "I do."

Jiung tilted his head, his hands slowly dragging lower. "Then how much do you trust me?"

The question sent another wave of heat through you. Your body reacted first, shifting instinctively closer to him. Your fingers tightened around his bare shoulders, the warmth of his skin under your touch making your head spin.

Jiung chuckled at your silence. "That much, huh?"

Then, with deliberate ease, he reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging them down along with his boxers, kicking them off completely.

You gasped at the sight of Jiung being fully exposed to you now.

Jiung noticed.

"You’re staring," he teased, smirking as he settled back between your legs, his fingers dipping beneath the hem of your panties.

Your stomach flipped as he toyed with the waistband, giving you plenty of time to stop him. You should’ve been embarrassed. Maybe even hesitant. But the truth was, you had already let him push you this far, and stopping now… stopping now felt impossible. So, instead of answering, you lifted your hips slightly, wordlessly giving him permission.

Jiung’s gaze darkened. And with excruciating slowness, he hooked his fingers into the waistband and slid your panties down, leaving you completely vulnerable beneath him. He took his time, his eyes dragging over you, admiring every inch of skin he uncovered. Then, finally, he exhaled.

"God," he muttered, shaking his head slightly, his fingers pressing into your hips. "You have no idea how good you look right now."

Your face burned. Before you could response, Jiung reached for his sweatpants again and pulled a silver wrapper out of its pocket. Once he wrapped it over his length he hovered over you, steadying himself between your legs. His hands remained firm on your waist, grounding you, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

But just when you were about to completely melt into him, he pulled back slightly, his gaze meeting yours, his smirk softening just a little. "Still doing okay?"

You smiled, nodding. "Yeah."

Jiung studied you for a moment, as if making sure, before leaning down and pressing another kiss to your lips - slow, deep, filled with something more than just teasing. Something undeniable.

"Tell me what you want," he whispered against your ear.

Your stomach flipped at his words, heat pooling in your chest as Jiung’s hands resumed their slow exploration. His fingertips skimmed over your skin in featherlight touches, never lingering too long in one place - just enough to drive you insane.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your fingers tightening in his hair as you exhaled shakily. "Jiung… please, just-"

That was all he needed.

His grip on you tightened, his body pressing closer, his breath mixing with yours as he finally let himself fully sink into you. You moaned softly, your body stretching to accommodate him. Jiung moved slowly at first, his thrusts gentle and controlled and you could feel every inch of him, the sensation overwhelming. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper.

Jiung groaned, feeling his control slipping. He began to thrust harder, his movements becoming more frantic. You met him thrust for thrust, your nails digging into his back. You could feel yourself getting closer, the heat between the both of you building. Jiung's thrusts became erratic, his body shaking with effort. Your bodies intertwined, the tension grew as you moved together, your rhythm syncing perfectly.

This had started as a game - slow, teasing, meant to test you, to push you just far enough without completely unraveling you.

But now… now it was different.

Jiung had finally given in and now, neither of you wanted to stop.

His lips moved against yours with a new kind of urgency, a quiet hunger that wasn’t just about teasing anymore - it was about you. About this moment. About finally letting himself want you the way he had been holding back from all night.

Jiung, who had spent the entire night pushing you to the edge, was now fully lost in you too. You felt it. In the way his fingers curled into your waist, in the way his body pressed against yours, in the way his breath hitched slightly when your nails digged into his back, pulling him closer.

The playful remarks - they were gone now, replaced by something deeper, more raw. Because this wasn’t just about testing boundaries anymore. This was about crossing them together.

His forehead rested against yours for a moment as he caught his breath, his fingers still tracing slow, absentminded patterns against your skin, like he needed to memorize the feeling of you beneath him.

When he finally pulled back enough to look at you, his expression had changed.

"You’re really letting me have you like this," he murmured, his voice lower now, softer, almost as if he was still processing it himself.

You moaned softly, nodding. "I am."

Jiung exhaled, his fingers tightening slightly against your skin before he leaned down again, this time, pressing a kiss that was slow, deep, meaningful.

Not just teasing.

Not just desire.

But something more.

And neither of you ever wanted it to end.

Jiung could feel you getting closer, how your body tightening around him. He knew you were on the edge, and he was determined to send you over. With a final, deep thrust, he whispered your name against your ear. Your eyes squeezed shut as your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, your body arching off the couch. A soft moan escaped your lips, barely audible, yet electrifying. The sensation was like nothing you had ever felt before.

Jiung watched you carefully, his own release following quickly, as his thrusts slowed down and became more sloppy. With a raspy, whimpered moan, his orgasm finally washed over him. His body trembled above you, as he buried his face in your neck.

The room was quiet now, the only sounds filling the space were the soft, uneven breaths you and Jiung shared. The tension that had been so thick between you all night had finally unraveled, leaving nothing but the warmth of him against you.

Jiung collapsed on top of you, his body heavy yet comforting, his chest rising and falling with deep, steady breaths. His head rested against your chest, his damp hair tickling your skin, his warmth completely surrounding you.

You exhaled slowly, your fingers gliding gently down his back, tracing the lines of his shoulder blades, feeling the way his muscles relaxed under your touch. His skin was warm, slightly damp from the heat between you, and you could feel the way his heartbeat slowly began to steady against yours.

Neither of you spoke.

There was no need to.

Jiung let out a soft sigh against your skin, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns along your waist. You wondered what he was thinking, if he was feeling the same overwhelming mix of emotions crashing into you all at once.

You stayed like that for a little while, wrapped up in the warmth of each other, neither of you in a hurry to move, to break the fragile moment that had settled between you.

But eventually, Jiung stirred.

He lifted his head, his dark eyes meeting yours, something soft, unreadable flickering behind them.

His arms tensed slightly as he pulled himself up, his hands resting beside your body, caging you in without feeling overpowering. He studied your face for a moment, his lips slightly parted, like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how.

And for the first time tonight, he looked hesitant.

You weren’t used to seeing Jiung like this - the ever-confident, ever-teasing Jiung now looking at you with something uncertain, almost vulnerable in his gaze. As he hovered over you, his arms still bracing him on either side of your body, his dark eyes locked onto yours. There was something different in his gaze now - softer, yet just as intense as before.

Then, after a beat of silence, his lips curled into a slow smirk.

"That was amazing," he murmured, his voice low and slightly breathless. His eyes scanned your face, taking in every little detail - your flushed cheeks, your dazed expression, the way you were still trying to catch your breath.

His smirk deepened.

"You looked really good just now," he added, his tone so effortlessly teasing that it made heat rise to your face all over again.

Your stomach flipped, and you immediately covered your face with your hands, groaning. "Jiung, stop."

He laughed, the sound soft yet filled with amusement. "What? It’s true," he said, nudging your hands away so he could see you again. His fingers lightly traced your wrist, his touch still gentle, still lingering. "You should’ve seen yourself."

You could barely handle the way he was looking at you. Smug, teasing, but still incredibly fond.

"Jiung-" you tried to protest, but he was relentless.

He leaned down, his bare chest pressing against yours, his lips ghosting over your ear.

"Shy now?" he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "You weren’t so shy a few minutes ago."

Your entire body burned at his words.

"You’re insufferable," you muttered, attempting to turn your head away. But Jiung only grinned, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before pulling back just enough to see your reaction.

"Maybe," he mused, tilting his head, his fingers now tracing lazy circles on your waist. "But you like that about me, don’t you?"

Your heart skipped a beat.

And the worst part?

You did.

But there was no way you were going to admit that out loud.

So instead, you huffed, looking away. "I liked you better when you weren’t talking."

Jiung chuckled. "Liar."

His hands skimmed up your sides, slow and deliberate, sending another shiver through you. Your breath hitched - a small reaction, but one Jiung caught immediately.

His smirk widened.

"Oh?" he teased, watching you closely. "Do you want me to stop talking then? Or do you want me to-"

"Jiung!" you cut him off, your voice higher than you intended.

He laughed again, the warmth in his expression making it impossible to be mad at him.

Jiung leaned down one more time, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against your forehead before pulling back.

"Relax," he murmured, his tone finally softening. "I’m just messing with you."

You exhaled slowly, your heart still pounding, your emotions still all over the place. Jiung was back to teasing you like nothing had changed - but something had. His gaze flickered over your face, thoughtful, before he spoke again.

"So…" he murmured, voice low, teasing but curious. "How do you like the idea of intimacy without commitment?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. Jiung didn’t look away, his fingers lazily tracing over your waist, waiting for your answer. You took a moment to think.

After everything that had happened tonight - the teasing, the tension, the way he had pushed your boundaries yet still made you feel completely safe - you realized… You liked this. You liked him. And maybe, just maybe, you could get used to this.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you exhaled slowly. "I think… I could do this more often."

Jiung’s smirk widened.

"Really?" he mused, tilting his head slightly. His fingers pressed into your waist just a little more, his touch still slow and deliberate.

You nodded, watching his reaction carefully.

Jiung let out a low chuckle, his gaze darkening slightly. "Good," he murmured. "Because I’d be down for it too."

You giggled, unable to help the warmth that spread through you at his words. He smirked, clearly enjoying how flustered you were, before grabbing your wrists and pinning them down for a second, just to tease you more.

"Am I making you shy again?" he grinned, hovering closer.

"Maybe," you muttered, biting back a smile.

Jiung just chuckled, releasing your hands, his fingers lightly brushing over your wrist before finally pulling away. Then, after a moment of silence, he spoke again, this time, his voice softer, more curious.

"What do you think about me staying over tonight?"

Your breath hitched.

"You want to?" you asked, searching his face for any hint of hesitation.

Jiung’s lips curled into a lazy, knowing smile as he leaned back down, his mouth barely an inch from yours.

"I mean… the night’s still young," he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. Then, with pure confidence, he added, "and we were just getting started."

Jiung’s words hung in the air between you, thick with meaning, his smirk never faltering as he watched your reaction. Your stomach flipped, your fingers still curled slightly against his arms, your body responding before your mind could even catch up.

You should have hesitated. Should have questioned what this meant, what you were getting yourself into. But the way Jiung was looking at you, his dark eyes filled with amusement, his bare chest still lightly pressed against yours, his breath warm against your lips, it was impossible to think about anything else.

So instead, you exhaled, a small smile pulling at your lips.

"Then stay," you whispered.

Jiung’s smirk widened.

"Yeah?" he teased, watching you carefully. "You sure?"

You nodded, your voice more certain this time. "I want you to."

His gaze flickered, something unreadable flashing behind his eyes before he leaned down again, kissing you slowly, deeply, like he had been waiting for you to say that. His hands slid down your sides again, reclaiming the space between you, his touch both teasing and deliberate.

"You’re gonna have to keep up with me, then," he murmured between kisses, his tone light but challenging, his smirk pressing against your lips.

You giggled softly, your fingers tracing over his shoulders. "Oh? Think I can’t handle you?"

Jiung chuckled, shaking his head. "I just know how easy it is to make you fall apart beneath me."

Your face burned, and Jiung grinned when he noticed.

"You’re doing it again," he teased, tapping your chin lightly, his expression smug.

"Doing what?" you muttered, looking away.

Jiung tilted your chin back toward him, his thumb brushing over your jawline.

"Looking at me like you want me to ruin you."

You gasped, shoving at his chest, but he just laughed, his head tilting back slightly in amusement.

"You’re impossible," you mumbled, biting back a smile.

"And yet, you’re still letting me stay," Jiung mused, trailing soft, lazy kisses along your jaw, his touch slow, unhurried, like he wanted to take his time with you all over again.

Your fingers curled into his hair, pulling him closer, your heartbeat pounding against his.

And in that moment, with Jiung hovering over you, his hands exploring your skin like he had all the time in the world, you realized…

The night really was just getting started.

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emo-cosplayer · 3 months ago

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oops, i think i love you | yoon keeho

summary: falling for your best friend was never part of the plan, but when Keeho returns home, teasing turns into tension and a secret comes to light. now you‘re faced with the question: was this always meant to be or will it ruin everything?

pairing: keeho x female!reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 8.3k

a/n: sassy Keeho with a little bit of teasing on top makes the perfect match 🫶🏼 thank you to the anon who requested this, i really enjoyed writing it :) hope you enjoooy!! ♡

The soft hum of your phone vibrating on the nightstand broke the silence of your dimly lit bedroom. You reached for it instinctively, already knowing who it was before even checking the screen.

Keeho.

Swiping to answer, you were immediately greeted by his familiar voice, laced with exhaustion but still carrying that unmistakable warmth.

“Yo, you still awake?”

Rolling onto your back, you stared at the screen. “Obviously. Who else would pick up your late-night FaceTime calls?”

His laughter was soft but genuine. The screen stayed black for a moment as he fumbled with his phone, probably trying to prop it up somewhere. Then, his face appeared, slightly disheveled, hair damp, probably fresh from a shower. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but somehow, he still looked effortlessly good.

“So,” you teased, propping yourself up on one elbow, “how was the day in the glamorous life of Keeho?”

He groaned dramatically, dragging a hand down his face. “Brutal. Dance practice for hours, then interviews, then photoshoots… I think my soul left my body at some point.”

“Did you find it again, or is this just your ghost calling me?”

“Not sure. Wanna exorcise me just in case?”

You laughed, shaking your head. This was how it always was between you two - easy, effortless. No matter how busy he got, no matter how exhausted he felt, Keeho always made time to call. It was a small thing, but it meant everything.

“Hold on, let me get comfortable,” he muttered, and the screen blurred as he moved. He shifted until he was lying down, his head resting against a pillow. “There. Now we can suffer together.”

You scoffed. “I’m not suffering.”

“Liar.”

You opened your mouth to protest but stopped. He wasn’t entirely wrong. Lately, things had felt… different. It wasn’t just the same old playful friendship anymore. Not for you.

It started subtly. The way your heart raced when you saw him perform on stage in videos, the way your stomach flipped whenever he sent you a random selfie looking stupidly handsome, the way you found yourself replaying old voice messages just to hear his voice.

And now, lying there, watching him through the screen as he lazily blinked at you, you felt it again - that soft ache in your chest. The one that whispered, this is more than just friendship.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Because if you were wrong, if this was one-sided, it could ruin everything.

You took a quiet breath, pushing those thoughts away. “Anyway, are you at least eating properly?”

Keeho smirked. “Look at you, being all caring.”

“Shut up. Just answer.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, I’m not about to starve to death.” He shifted slightly, looking at you with an unreadable expression. “Hey… you good, though?”

The question caught you off guard. “Huh?”

“I don’t know. You seem kinda… off lately.”

Your heart skipped. Were you that obvious?

You forced a laugh. “I could say the same about you, Mr. ‘My Soul Left My Body.’”

Keeho narrowed his eyes like he wasn’t buying it, but he didn’t push. “Fine. I’ll let you off the hook. For now.”

“How generous of you.”

You stayed on the call for a while longer, talking about nothing and everything, until eventually, his breathing evened out. He had fallen asleep.

You watched him for a moment, a small smile tugging at your lips. He’d probably scold you for not hanging up, but you didn’t care.

You whispered, just to yourself, “Good night, Kyo.”

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself wonder - what if?

You weren’t even planning to watch the interview.

It had been a busy day, and you were just about to unwind when a notification popped up: P1Harmony’s latest interview was out. Normally, you caught up on these things eventually, but this time, something told you to watch it right away.

So you did.

The interview started off as expected: questions about their latest comeback, funny stories from the practice room, and the usual chaotic energy from the group. You smiled absentmindedly as Keeho joked around, his personality effortlessly shining through the screen.

Then came a question that made you sit up a little straighter.

“Do you guys even have friends outside the group? Or is it just you six, 24/7?”

The members laughed, exchanging knowing glances. Keeho was the first to answer.

“Of course, we have friends! But honestly, we barely get to see them because of our schedule.”

That much was true. He was always busy, always moving, always working. You had long accepted that your friendship existed mostly through late-night FaceTime calls and stolen moments when he was in town.

But then, Keeho continued.

“I actually have a best friend from childhood.”

Your lips curled into a small smile. That’s me.

“He understands my situation really well. He’s always there for me, especially in tough times, and I’m really grateful for that.”

The smile froze on your face.

…He?

Did you mishear that?

You quickly grabbed the remote and rewound the video, listening again.

“He understands my situation really well. He’s always there for me, especially in tough times, and I’m really grateful for that.”

Nope. You heard correctly.

Keeho just called you “he.”

A mix of emotions bubbled up inside you - confusion, annoyance, disbelief. Why would he say that? It’s not like the interviewer asked for your name. He could’ve just said “my best friend” and left it at that. But no. He specifically chose to refer to you as a guy.

You tried to brush it off, but it stuck with you for the rest of the day. So when Keeho called you that night, you were still fuming.

The second you picked up, you didn’t say a word. You just stared at him through the screen, arms crossed, lips pressed into a tight line.

Keeho, fresh from whatever long day he had, blinked at you in confusion. “Uh… what’s with the face?”

You narrowed your eyes. “So your best friend… who is he? And why have I never met him?”

Keeho paused, processing your words. Then, realization dawned on his face, and just like that, he burst out laughing.

“Oh my god,” he cackled, burying his face in his hands for a moment. “You’re mad about that?”

“You called me he on national television!” you snapped, though the irritation was quickly dissolving into something more playful.

Keeho wiped a fake tear from the corner of his eye, still grinning. “I had no choice! If I said she, people would start digging and freaking out.”

“Wow. So I’m just some mysterious guy to the world now?” You crossed your arms. “I feel so special.”

Keeho smirked. “Hey, technically, I still called you my best friend. You should be honored.”

“Oh, yeah. So honored.”

He rolled onto his side, resting his head on his hand. “You’re really pressed about this, huh?”

“I just think it’s funny,” you said, even though your face was still stuck in an unimpressed expression. “Do I look like a ‘he’ to you?”

“Hmm.” Keeho squinted at the screen like he was deep in thought. “Now that you mention it… maybe a little.”

Your jaw dropped. “You are so dead.”

Keeho cracked up again, his laughter filling the screen. “Relax, relax! You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Sure you didn’t,” you muttered.

The call naturally shifted into your usual banter after that, bouncing between playful teasing and casual conversation. Even after years of friendship, talking to Keeho always felt the same - comfortable, familiar, easy.

Then, near the end of the call, Keeho let out a content sigh. “Man, I can’t wait to go home next week.”

Your ears perked up. “Wait- You’re coming back?!”

“Yeah. Finally. It’s been way too long since I saw you in person.” He gave you a lazy smile. “I mean, technically, I see you every day, but you know what I mean.”

You rolled your eyes, but warmth spread in your chest anyway. “Took you long enough.”

“Missed me that much?” he teased.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said sarcastically, but the truth lingered behind the words.

Keeho grinned. “Good. ‘Cause I missed you too.”

And just like that, your heart did that stupid thing again - the little flutter, the quiet ache, the feeling you were still too scared to name.

You exhaled, shaking your head. “Whatever. Just hurry up and get back.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a lazy salute.

The call ended a few minutes later, and you fell back against your pillow, staring at the ceiling.

Next week.

You were finally going to see Keeho next week.

And somehow, that thought made it impossible to sleep.

The anticipation had been building all day.

Keeho was finally back.

You had offered to pick him up from the airport, but he had immediately shut that idea down.

“Too risky,” he had said over text. “If anyone sees us together, it could cause problems.”

You understood, but that didn’t mean you liked it. The thought of Keeho stepping out of the terminal, exhausted from his flight, and having to go home alone instead of being greeted by a familiar face didn’t sit right with you.

Still, you waited.

And then, finally, the doorbell rang.

You practically ran to the door, throwing it open with an excited grin. The second you saw Keeho standing there, his suitcase by his side and a playful smile on his lips, you launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.

“Whoa-!” Keeho laughed, stumbling back slightly before regaining his balance. Then, in true Keeho fashion, he took things a step further.

Before you could react, he lifted you off the ground and spun you in a full circle.

A surprised giggle escaped your lips as you clung to him, the familiar warmth of his embrace sending a rush of happiness through you. His presence, his scent, even his stupid antics - it all made your heart skip a beat.

When he finally set you down, you beamed up at him. “I’m so happy to finally see you again.”

Keeho smirked. “I don’t even know how you survived without me.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder. “Shut up.”

He chuckled and reached out to tousle your hair, messing it up on purpose. “I’m just kidding. I missed you too.”

You wanted to be annoyed, but you couldn’t stop smiling. It had been way too long since you had moments like this.

As you finally took a proper look at him, something about him felt… different. Of course, he was still the same Keeho, the same ridiculous goofball you grew up with, but there was something new in the way he carried himself.

“You look so different,” you said, tilting your head as you took him in.

Keeho smirked and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Glad you noticed that I got super handsome.”

You let out a sharp hiss of disapproval. “Cocky much?”

Keeho burst out laughing, nudging your arm. “I’m kidding! Without my team of stylists, I’d still be that ugly guy from a few years ago.”

“Okay, okay,” you sighed dramatically. “I get it. You are suuuper handsome now.”

You both laughed, the playful teasing feeling just as natural as ever. But there was more to it than just his looks.

“It’s not just that,” you added, suddenly more thoughtful. “It’s your whole presence. You’re more confident now.”

Keeho raised an eyebrow, watching you carefully. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

You met his gaze and smiled. “It’s good, of course. As long as you can still be your old self around me.”

Keeho’s expression softened slightly. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

The moment lingered just for a second before he smirked again. “Now, can we go inside? I need to destroy you in Mario Kart.”

With that, the conversation shifted back to its usual energy, but your words stayed with you. Keeho had changed. And as much as you liked teasing him about it, part of you wondered: was it only his confidence that had changed? Or were his feelings changing, too?

Once Keeho settled in, the two of you ended up on the sofa, falling into your usual routine - lazy, comfortable, and filled with endless teasing. Mario Kart became the game of the afternoon, and soon, the living room was filled with dramatic reactions and exaggerated insults.

“You are so bad at this game,” Keeho groaned as you crossed the finish line before him.

“You’re just mad because I’m winning,” you teased, flashing a smug grin.

“I’m mad because you got lucky,” he shot back.

“Excuses, excuses.”

Keeho dramatically collapsed against the couch, pretending to be gravely wounded by his loss. “How did I ever let you get this good? I trained you! I made you!”

“You did not train me,” you laughed. “You just sucked at the game from the start.”

He gasped, clutching his chest. “Betrayal.”

It was stupid, it was childish, it was perfect. Just the kind of moments you had been missing ever since Keeho moved to Korea and his life became a whirlwind of schedules and stages.

After a few more rounds, you finally asked, “By the way, why wouldn’t you let me pick you up from the airport?”

Keeho groaned, stretching his arms above his head. “Because there could’ve been fans there. If someone saw us together, it could start rumors.”

You frowned. “What kind of rumors?”

He glanced at you, as if the answer should have been obvious. “A dating scandal.”

You blinked. “Dating scandal?”

Keeho laughed. “Yeah. If I get spotted with a girl, people will definitely assume something.”

The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind before, but now that he said it, it made sense. To fans, Keeho wasn’t just a normal guy hanging out with a friend. He was an idol, and any interaction with a woman could spiral into endless speculation.

Still, a teasing glint appeared in your eyes. “Would that be so bad?”

Keeho let out an exaggerated “Uh-huh.”

But then, with a mischievous smirk, he added, “Also… just imagine people thinking you and me were dating. Wouldn’t that be so weird?”

Your stomach twisted.

It was just a joke. Just Keeho being Keeho. But for some reason, it stung.

You forced a laugh, shrugging off the strange feeling in your chest. “Yeah, yeah. That’d be hilarious,” you muttered, quickly focusing back on the game.

Keeho didn’t seem to notice the slight shift in your tone. He simply stretched his arms behind his head, completely at ease. “Exactly. So yeah, no airport meet-ups for us. Gotta keep you hidden.”

You hummed in response, but your mind was elsewhere. Because for the first time, it wasn’t just about hiding you from fans. It was about hiding your feelings from yourself.

The evening passed in a blur of laughter, teasing, and playful competition.

After multiple rounds of Mario Kart battles, way too many accusations of cheating, and an excessive amount of dramatic groaning from Keeho whenever he lost, the two of you finally called it quits.

You stretched, feeling the exhaustion from the day start to settle in. “Alright, I’m heading to bed.”

Keeho let out a deep sigh and leaned back against the couch. “Actually…”

You turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Actually… what?”

“Can I just crash here tonight?” He gestured lazily around the room. “I’m too lazy to go anywhere else.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Of course, dumbass. You don’t even have to ask. Make yourself at home.”

Keeho grinned. “Knew I could count on you.”

With that, you turned toward your bedroom, already thinking about how nice it would feel to finally collapse into bed. But just as you reached the doorway, Keeho’s voice stopped you.

“Hey.”

You turned back around, finding him sitting up now, his expression softer than before.

“Thank you.”

You blinked, tilting your head slightly. “For what?”

Keeho hesitated for a moment, then gave you a small, genuine smile. “For everything.”

Your heart skipped. “Be more specific, dummy.”

He chuckled but then exhaled, his gaze turning more serious. “For being my best friend. And mostly… for treating me the same way you always did.”

You frowned slightly. “Why would I treat you any differently?”

Something in Keeho’s expression shifted. He glanced down for a second, as if choosing his words carefully.

“You know… once you become famous, people start treating you differently,” he said quietly. “Or worse, they use you for your fame to get something out of it. It’s hard to tell who’s really there for you and who just wants the advantages that come with knowing you.”

You stayed silent, letting him continue.

“But with you, it’s different,” he said, looking back up at you. “I know I can always be myself around you. I can rely on you without wondering if there’s a catch. So… thank you for that.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart beat just a little faster.

You gave him a soft smile. “Of course, Kyo.”

Keeho’s eyes flickered at the nickname, the corner of his lips twitching like he wanted to smile again.

“I’ll always be here whenever you need me,” you added.

Keeho’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he gave a small nod. “Good night, then.”

“Good night,” you said, offering him one last smile before finally heading into your room.

You shut the door behind you, but sleep didn’t come easily.

Instead, you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, Keeho’s words replaying in your mind.

You had always known he trusted you. You had always known your friendship was special. But hearing him say it like that, hearing the vulnerability in his voice, the way he relied on you so completely, it made your emotions feel even more complicated.

The boy you had been friends with since forever, the one who had been there through every stage of your life, the one who made you laugh without even trying, the one who had somehow become more attractive every time you saw him, was only a few meters away from you.

But somehow, it still felt like he was far out of your reach.

The room was dark, and the warmth of your blankets wrapped around you like a cocoon. You were lost in the depths of sleep when suddenly, a hand gripped your waist.

A soft breath ghosted against your skin as you shifted in bed, feeling an unfamiliar presence beside you. Your body tensed.

Your eyelids fluttered open, adjusting to the dim light filtering through the window. Keeho.

He was next to you.

Your heart skipped a beat as your mind scrambled to process what was happening. “Keeho? What are you-”

“Shhh.”

Keeho’s index finger gently pressed against your lips, silencing you before you could say anything else.

Your breath caught in your throat. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t your usual playful Keeho.

Before you could react, he leaned in.

And then - he kissed you.

Your eyes widened in shock at first, the feeling of his lips against yours sending a wave of disbelief through your body. This was real. This was happening.

But as the initial surprise faded, something inside you gave in. Something that had been buried for too long.

Your eyes fluttered shut, and without thinking, you melted into the kiss.

Keeho pulled you closer, his grip on your waist tightening as the kiss deepened. His warmth, his touch, everything about him felt so intoxicatingly familiar yet completely new at the same time.

You had no idea what this meant. Why was Keeho doing this? What did it mean for your friendship?

But in that moment, you didn’t care.

Until-

You woke up.

Your eyes snapped open, heart pounding. Staring up at the ceiling, you tried to breathe, to process, to make sense of what had just happened. Until it hit you.

It was just a dream.

Sitting up abruptly, you ran a hand through your hair, trying to steady yourself. Your lips tingled as if the sensation had been real, and without thinking, your fingers traced over them.

“What the hell was that?” you whispered to yourself.

As if to ground yourself, you glanced around the room. Everything was exactly as it had been when you went to bed. The blanket was still wrapped around you. The door to your bedroom was still closed.

Just then, the faint sound of running water reached your ears. You turned toward the door, realizing Keeho was still here. He must’ve woken up before you and was now taking a shower.

You exhaled sharply, pressing your hands against your face. How the hell were you supposed to look him in the eye after having such a wild dream?

You sat at the edge of your bed, rubbing your temples. Get a grip. It was just a dream. A very realistic, very intense dream, but still, just a dream.

Shaking off the lingering sensation of Keeho's lips on yours, you got up and made your way to the living room, hoping some fresh air would help clear your head.

The first thing you noticed were Keeho's clothes scattered across the sofa. His hoodie, his sweatpants, his socks, his boxers - all of them just thrown there like he had stripped on the spot.

Your brain was still half-asleep, so it took a second to register why they were there.

And then, before you could process it, you turned around and slammed straight into something solid. No. Someone.

Large hands instinctively wrapped around your arms to steady you, keeping you from stumbling back. The warmth of his skin against yours sent a shock through your body, and when you looked up, you froze.

Keeho was standing right in front of you.

Dripping wet.

His damp, dark hair clung to his forehead, strands falling into his deep brown eyes.

His bare chest was still glistening from the shower, water droplets running down the sharp lines of his toned torso.

And that's when you realized.

He was wearing nothing but a towel.

Keeho was basically naked.

A strangled noise left your throat as you jumped back, throwing your hands over your eyes like it would somehow erase what you just saw.

"Oh my god! Keeho!"

Keeho burst out laughing, completely unbothered. "What? Can't handle the sight in front of you?"

Your face burned. "Put on some clothes, you idiot!"

He smirked. "Why are you acting so weird? You've seen me shirtless countless times before."

Yeah. But this time was different.

This time, your mind was still stuck in that dream. This time, he wasn't just your best friend. This time, you couldn't ignore how attractive he was.

You kept your hands firmly over your eyes, refusing to let yourself look at him again.

"That was before you became a full-on gym rat!"

Keeho grinned. "Oh? So you're saying I look better now?"

You groaned. "Shut up and put some damn clothes on!"

Still chuckling, Keeho ruffled his damp hair and finally turned to grab his clothes from the couch.

Meanwhile, you stood there, refusing to open your eyes, trying to will your heart to stop racing.

After what felt like an eternity of keeping your eyes shut, you finally heard Keeho shuffling around behind you. A moment later, his voice rang out, still way too amused for your liking.

“Alright, alright. I’m dressed. You can relax now.”

Cautiously, you peeked through your fingers, just to be safe. Keeho stood in front of you, now fully clothed in his hoodie and sweatpants, hair still slightly damp but no longer dripping.

You exhaled in relief, pretending like your heart wasn’t still racing. Pretending like you weren’t replaying the image of him half-naked in your mind. Pretending like last night’s dream wasn’t messing with your head.

Keeho smirked, watching you carefully. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you said way too fast.

Keeho’s smirk deepened. “Are you sure? You seem kinda… tense.”

“I’m fine,” you said, waving him off. “Let’s just- let’s eat or something. I’m starving.”

“Uh-huh,” Keeho said, clearly not buying it, but thankfully, he didn’t push. Instead, he stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “Alright, food sounds good. What do you have?”

You made your way to the kitchen, glad for the distraction. “Not much. I need to go grocery shopping. But I think I have eggs, maybe some toast.”

Keeho gasped dramatically, cutting you off. “Excuse me? You invited an international K-pop sensation into your home and didn’t prepare a five-star meal for him?”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “First of all, you invited yourself. Second of all, you’re getting whatever I have, Mr. International K-pop Sensation.”

Keeho grinned. “Fair enough. I’ll make us something.”

“You can cook?” you asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“I lived alone for years. What do you think I ate? Air?”

“Honestly? Wouldn’t be surprised.”

Keeho rolled his eyes but started gathering ingredients anyway. Soon, the kitchen was filled with the sizzling sound of eggs frying in a pan and the familiar comfort of easy conversation. For a moment, everything felt normal again.

Until Keeho suddenly turned to you and asked, “Hey, are you seeing anyone?”

You nearly dropped your glass of water.

Your brain short-circuited for a second before you managed to choke out, “W-what?”

Keeho shrugged, flipping the eggs like he hadn’t just sent your entire nervous system into overdrive. “I dunno. I was just thinking… I’ve been gone for a while. Maybe you met someone.”

Why was he asking this? Why now?

Your heart was pounding, but you forced yourself to play it cool. “No. Not seeing anyone.”

Keeho smirked. “Interesting.”

You frowned. “Why is that interesting?”

Keeho gave you a pointed look. “Because you’re awesome. Anyone would be lucky to date you.”

For a second, you forgot how to breathe. You opened your mouth, but no words came out. What were you even supposed to say to that?

Keeho seemed completely unaware of the chaos he had just unleashed inside your brain. He just went back to cooking like he hadn’t just casually thrown you into an emotional crisis.

You took a deep breath, trying desperately to regain your composure. It was just Keeho being Keeho. Playful, teasing, completely unaware of the fact that you had been hopelessly falling for him.

“Well,” you said, forcing a smirk, “what about you? You seeing anyone?”

Keeho paused. It was subtle, but you caught it. The tiniest hesitation. The smallest flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. Then, just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

“Nah,” he said easily, plating the eggs like the question meant nothing. “Too busy for that.”

Something about his tone didn’t sit right with you. Too busy? Sure, Keeho was busy, but that never stopped him from making time for you. From calling you at 3AM after a long day. From flying home whenever he had a break, even if it was just for a few days. If he really wanted to be with someone, he’d find a way. Right?

Before you could overthink it, Keeho slid a plate in front of you and grinned. “Eat up, loser.”

You rolled your eyes, but your mind was still stuck on that tiny pause. That unreadable look. And for the first time, you wondered - was Keeho really not seeing anyone? Or was he hiding something?

The two of you were laying on the couch, watching some random movie, when Keeho’s phone buzzed. At first, you didn’t pay attention. But then, he ignored the call.

No glance at the screen. No “I’ll call them later.” He just reached over and flipped his phone over, screen-down. Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Who was that?” you asked.

Keeho stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “No one important.”

Another buzz. A text this time. And again - Keeho ignored it. Your curiosity piqued.

Now, normally, you weren’t the nosy type. Normally, you respected privacy. But something about the way Keeho was deliberately ignoring his phone had your stomach twisting with suspicion.

So when Keeho got up to grab a drink from the kitchen, leaving his phone unattended, you glanced at the screen. Just one quick look. One tiny peek. But what you saw made your breath catch.

Unknown Number: Hey… I miss you.

Your heart stopped.

What. The. Hell.

Before you could process it, Keeho returned, plopping back onto the couch like nothing had happened.

“You want anything?” he asked, sipping his drink.

But you barely heard him. Because your brain was now screaming with questions. Who the hell was that? Why were they saying they missed him? Why did Keeho act like it was nothing?

You opened your mouth, about to say something - confront him, ask him, anything - but Keeho suddenly threw an arm over the back of the couch, stretching out lazily. And then, as if sensing the tension in your body, he smirked.

“Why do you look like you’re plotting my murder?”

You stiffened. “I do not.”

“You do.”

You forced a laugh, shaking your head. “You’re imagining things.”

Keeho raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

He was completely unaware of what you had just seen. And maybe it was the paranoia creeping in. Maybe it was the exhaustion of constantly pushing your feelings down.

But suddenly, for the first time since he came home, you didn’t feel like you knew Keeho as well as you thought. And that thought terrified you.

The breaking point came later that night.

Keeho had gone to the bathroom, and you were curled up on the couch, pretending to scroll through your phone. But your thoughts were elsewhere.

Who was texting him?

Why didn’t he answer?

Was he hiding something from you?

And before you could stop yourself, you found yourself reaching for Keeho’s phone. It was sitting on the coffee table, completely unlocked. He trusted you. And you weren’t the type to snoop.

But something deep inside you, something desperate, something insecure, something you didn’t want to name, was itching for answers. So, before you could second-guess yourself, you grabbed his phone and opened his messages.

Your heart pounded as you scrolled, searching for the unknown number. And then - you found it.

Unknown Number: Hey… I miss you.

Unknown Number: Keeho? Are you ignoring me?

Unknown Number: I know things got messy, but can we please just talk?

Messy?

Your breath caught in your throat. This wasn’t just some friend. Something happened between Keeho and this person. And he hadn’t told you.

Your fingers hovered over the screen, temptation gnawing at you. Do you click the number? Do you look through their conversation? But before you could decide-

“What are you doing?”

Your whole body froze.

Slowly, dread creeping up your spine, you turned around. Keeho was standing there, dripping wet from the shower, a towel slung around his neck.

His expression? Not amused. Not confused. Just… disappointed.

You opened your mouth, scrambling for an excuse, a joke, anything. But Keeho’s voice came low, serious.

“I trusted you.”

Your stomach dropped. For the first time in your life, you had nothing to say. And for the first time in your life, Keeho wasn’t smiling at you. Your breath caught in your throat. The air between you and Keeho was thick with tension, heavier than it had ever been before.

“I-” Your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “Keeho, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

Keeho let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “Didn’t mean to what? Go through my phone?”

Your stomach twisted. “I wasn’t- I just-”

“You just what?” His tone wasn’t angry, but it wasn’t Keeho’s usual teasing either. It was calm. Controlled. But that was almost worse.

You felt the urge to explain, to tell him that you weren’t trying to snoop, that you had just seen the text and couldn’t get it out of your head. But how were you supposed to say that without making it sound even worse?

Keeho exhaled, running a hand through his damp hair. “You know, I don’t think you realize how messed up this is.”

Your chest tightened. “I know. I know it was wrong. But Keeho- why are you acting like I just betrayed you?”

Keeho scoffed. “Because you did.”

You flinched.

He sighed, gripping the back of his neck like he was trying to stay calm. “Do you have any idea how many people already invade my privacy? How many people already think they’re entitled to know every little detail about my life?” His voice grew tighter, more frustrated. “I never thought you’d be one of them.”

Guilt clawed at your chest. “That’s not what this was-”

“Then what was it?” Keeho pressed. “You don’t trust me?”

Your heart pounded. “Of course I trust you.”

“Yeah?” Keeho let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Because it sure doesn’t feel like it.”

Your fingers curled into fists. “Keeho, I saw the text. Someone said they missed you, and you just ignored it. What was I supposed to think?”

“You were supposed to ask me, not sneak around behind my back!”

That made you snap.

“Oh, like you would’ve just told me the truth?” The words left your mouth before you could stop them.

Keeho’s expression shifted, something unreadable flickering through his eyes.

The silence that followed was loud.

He let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “You know what? Maybe I should just go.”

Your heart dropped.

“Wait- what?”

Keeho grabbed his hoodie from the couch, not looking at you. “I think it’s best if I head home now.”

Panic flared in your chest. “Keeho, don’t do that. Can we just-”

“I don’t want to fight with you,” he said, finally looking at you. But his eyes weren’t filled with the usual warmth. They were tired. Guarded. Distant.

And that hurt more than anything.

Your throat felt tight. “So what? You’re just gonna leave?”

Keeho hesitated, like maybe, just maybe, he was reconsidering.

But then, he exhaled sharply and turned away. “Yeah.”

And just like that, he was gone.

The door shut behind him, the sound echoing through the apartment. You stood there, frozen, staring at the empty space he had just left behind. And for the first time since Keeho came home, you weren’t sure if he was coming back.

One day.

It had only been one day since Keeho left your apartment, but it felt like an eternity.

His absence clung to every corner of the space. The empty spot on the couch where he had been sitting, the unfinished game of Mario Kart on the Switch, the faint scent of his cologne still lingering in the air.

And worst of all? The silence.

Keeho hadn’t called. He hadn’t texted. Nothing.

Which meant all you had left was your own mind, replaying the fight over and over again, twisting it around in every possible way, wondering if you had just ruined the most important relationship in your life.

Maybe it was best to just let him go. Maybe you had messed up too badly this time.

But suddenly your phone buzzed.

Your heart jumped into your throat as you scrambled to grab it, nearly dropping it in your rush. And there it was. A message from Keeho.

Keeho: Can we talk?

For a moment, all you could do was stare at the screen, heartbeat pounding. Then, without hesitating, you typed back:

You: Yeah. Come over.

Keeho arrived later that evening.

The second you opened the door, you searched his face, trying to read him. But his expression was… blank. Not cold. Not angry. Just carefully unreadable. That alone made your stomach twist.

You stepped aside, letting him in. Keeho walked past you into the apartment, heading toward the couch like he had done a hundred times before. Only this time, it wasn’t the same.

You quickly grabbed two glasses of water from the kitchen before sitting beside him, but not too close. There was still a strange weight in the air, a careful distance between you. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was unbearable.

Until finally, you broke it. “Keeho, I am so sorry for-”

“Stop.” Keeho’s voice was firm, cutting you off immediately.

You looked at him, confused.

His jaw tensed slightly before he exhaled and shook his head. “There’s nothing for you to apologize for.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Keeho-”

“Seriously.” He glanced down at his hands, voice quieter now. “If anything… I should be the one apologizing.”

You blinked. “What?”

Keeho let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair before finally meeting your eyes.

“There’s something I have to tell you.”

Your breath hitched.

“I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

Your pulse spiked.

Suddenly, the room felt too small, too quiet. The air crackled with tension, thick with something unspoken, something Keeho had been holding back. And as you looked at him, as you saw the hesitation, the conflict in his eyes, you realized - whatever Keeho was about to say, it was going to change everything.

And the question wasn’t whether you wanted to hear it. It was whether you were ready.

Keeho remained silent at first, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. The air between you was thick, every second of silence dragging on painfully.

Your heart pounded as you whispered, “What is it, Keeho?”

He took a deep breath, as if gathering courage.

“When I asked you if you were seeing anyone…” Keeho started, hesitating before his eyes finally met yours. “I asked because… I am seeing someone.”

Your breath caught in your throat. A painful sting spread through your stomach, sharp and unexpected. Did Keeho just- Did he just confess that he has a girlfriend?

You forced yourself to stay still, composed, but the sudden weight in your chest made it hard to breathe.

Still, all you could manage to say was, “What- what do you mean?”

Keeho sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I thought that maybe if you were seeing someone, I wouldn’t have to feel so bad for not telling you about this earlier.”

He looked down, ashamed.

“But I was wrong… I feel guilty. I feel like I betrayed you because I was lying to you.”

Even though jealousy gnawed at your insides, you tried to pull yourself together.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and said, “You didn’t lie to me, Keeho. You just kept it a secret, and that’s totally reasonable. Not every single detail of your life is my business.”

Keeho’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse race. “But you’re my best friend… and there shouldn’t be anything that makes me feel the need to not tell you.”

You forced a fake, shaky. “It’s okay, Keeho.”

Keeho searched your face for something, maybe reassurance, maybe understanding, but his expression only tightened. “But it’s not what you think.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Keeho hesitated again, like he was searching for the right words. Then, his voice dropped lower. “I think I didn’t tell you because I was scared of how you would react to it. Of how it would change things between us.”

Your stomach twisted.

“What are you saying?” you murmured. “Keeho, if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Keeho shook his head.

“But I’m not happy.”

Your heart skipped.

“I tried- I really tried to open up to her,” Keeho admitted, voice strained. “But I failed. I didn’t want to hurt her, but…” His fingers clenched into fists. “I figured that there’s already someone else my heart belongs to.”

Your lips parted in shock.

Someone else.

What… What did he mean?

Was there another person, someone he hadn’t told you about? Your mind raced, trying to make sense of his words.

Your mouth felt dry as you whispered, “Who…?”

Keeho looked at you, his gaze unreadable.

And suddenly, everything felt like it was hanging on his next words.

Keeho’s eyes darted down to his hands, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie as he struggled to find the right words. His hesitation made your stomach twist. He was nervous. But why?

“I’m not sure how things will change after this,” Keeho admitted with a sigh.

Your nails dug into your thighs nervously. Your heart pounded against your ribs, fear creeping up your spine. You were scared of his answer. Scared of hearing something that would break you into pieces.

But when he finally spoke, his words shattered you in an entirely different way.

“It’s you.”

Your breath hitched. Your lips parted, but no words came out. Did you hear him right? You stared at Keeho, eyes wide in shock.

He gave you a small, nervous smile, but his fingers were clenched together like he was holding his breath, waiting, terrified of your reaction.

“Please say something,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Or else this is super awkward for me.”

Your mind was still spinning.

“Keeho… I- I don’t know what to say.”

Keeho let out a short, nervous laugh. “Just say something. Anything. Even if you’re gonna break my heart, I won’t be mad at you.”

You quickly shook your head. “No, Keeho. I just- I had no idea you were feeling this way.”

Keeho exhaled sharply, his lips curling into a self-deprecating smile. “Well, that’s because I never told you.”

You could feel the weight of his words hanging in the air. This wasn’t a joke. This wasn’t Keeho teasing you like he always did. This was real. Keeho was serious.

And you needed to say something - anything - to make him understand that you felt the same way. But before you could even form the words, Keeho rubbed the back of his neck, looking away.

“Well… this is embarrassing,” he muttered. “Maybe I should’ve just kept my mouth shut.”

“No!” The word burst out of you before you could stop it.

Without thinking, you reached out and placed a hand on his thigh, your grip firm, desperate. Keeho’s eyes widened, completely taken aback by your sudden reaction.

Your voice softened as you mumbled, “It’s not embarrassing.”

Keeho stared at you, his lips parting slightly, stunned. You took a deep breath, gathering your courage.

“Keeho, I…” You hesitated, then pushed through. “I’ve been feeling the same way.”

Keeho’s body tensed.

You could feel your face heating up, but you didn’t stop.

“I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t even know if I should tell you-” You swallowed hard. “Because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

Keeho blinked at you, his expression unreadable.

The silence was heavy, deafening.

Then, after what felt like forever, Keeho let out a breathless laugh. “Are you serious?”

You gave him a small, nervous nod.

Keeho exhaled, running a hand down his face. “Holy shit.”

You bit your lip. “Yeah. Holy shit.”

Keeho stared at you for a moment longer, like he was trying to process everything.

And then, suddenly, Keeho grinned.

A real, genuine, Keeho-style grin.

“You’re telling me we’ve both been idiots this whole time?”

A laugh escaped your lips, relieved, overwhelmed, completely breathless. “Yeah. I guess we have.”

Keeho shook his head in disbelief before grinning like an idiot. “I can’t believe you kept it a secret that you’re in love with me.”

You hissed, narrowing your eyes. “Who says I’m in love? It’s just a little, tiny crush.”

Keeho let out a deep chuckle, running a hand through his hair playfully. “Oh, come on. Stop lying. I know it’s hard not to fall in love with someone like me.”

You rolled your eyes. “I can’t even believe I like someone as cocky as you.”

Keeho raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that.”

Before you could react, Keeho lunged forward and started tickling you.

“K-Keeho!” you shrieked, laughing so hard you could barely breathe.

“Admit it!” Keeho said between teasing attacks.

“N-No! Stop!” you gasped, thrashing against him, but he didn’t let up.

You kicked, you squirmed, tears forming at the corners of your eyes from laughing so hard.

“Keeho, please!” you screamed.

But he didn’t stop. Instead, in the middle of his merciless assault, Keeho lost his balance and suddenly he slipped and fell on top of you.

The room went completely silent.

Your breath hitched as you froze beneath him. Keeho’s hands were on either side of your head, his body hovering over yours, his face only inches away. You could feel the warmth of his breath, the weight of his presence pressing against you.

Your stomach flipped.

Keeho had never been this close before.

You could see every detail - the way his dark eyes flickered with something unreadable, the way his lips were just slightly parted, the way his chest rose and fell a little faster than usual.

“Hey…” Keeho murmured.

Just one word.

Soft. Barely a whisper.

Your lips parted, breath catching in your throat. “What-”

But before you managed to finish your sentence, Keeho leaned in. And then, his lips intertwined with yours.

Your eyes widened in shock.

For a split second, your brain refused to believe this was real.

Was this happening?

Was Keeho really kissing you?

But you quickly realized that this time, it wasn’t a dream. This time, it was real. A million butterflies erupted in your stomach, your whole body tingling at the feeling of Keeho’s lips against yours.

Soft. Warm. Perfect.

And suddenly - you weren’t thinking anymore.

You let yourself melt into the kiss.

Your body relaxed, your hands gripping the fabric of his hoodie, pulling him in just the slightest bit closer.

Keeho responded immediately, tilting his head, deepened the kiss, one of his hands moving to gently cup your cheek. It was slow, sweet, teasing. Just like him.

Your heart felt like it was about to explode.

Every suppressed feeling, every stolen glance, every unspoken word between you - all of it was pouring into this moment.

When Keeho finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath shaky. For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, he let out a soft chuckle.

“You okay down there?” he teased, like he hadn’t just turned your entire world upside down.

“No, I am not okay.” You buried your face in your hands. “You can’t just kiss me out of nowhere and then act all casual about it!”

Keeho chuckled. “Would you rather I have given you a warning?”

You glared at him. “Yes!”

“Alright,” Keeho grinned. Then, he suddenly cupped your face with his hand, leaning in way too close again.

“Hey,” he whispered.

Your breath hitched. “W-What?”

“I’m gonna kiss you now.”

Your brain malfunctioned.

And then, before you could even process what was happening - Keeho kissed you again.

This time, it was shorter, but just as dizzying.

And when he pulled away, he was grinning even wider.

“There. Warning included.”

Your soul left your body.

“Keeho, I swear to God-!”

Keeho cackled, dodging the pillow you threw at him.

“Told you,” he murmured.

You blinked up at him, breathless. “Told me what?”

“That you were in love with me.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Shut up, Keeho.”

He just laughed, stealing another quick kiss before finally letting you breathe again.

And in that moment - you realized.

This wasn’t just a crush anymore.

It was so much more.

And it always had been.

The room was still charged with electricity from the kiss, the warmth of Keeho’s lips lingering on yours. Neither of you had moved. Neither of you had spoken. But the question hung in the air between you, heavy and impossible to ignore.

“So… what happens now?” you finally asked, your voice softer than you expected.

Keeho exhaled, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back against the couch, deep in thought.

“I guess that depends on us,” he murmured.

Your stomach twisted. “Us.” That word felt so foreign - so new.

Keeho looked over at you, studying your expression carefully. “You’re overthinking, aren’t you?”

You bit your lip. “It’s just… you’re leaving soon. You’re going back to Korea, back to your crazy schedule, back to a life where we barely see each other.”

Keeho was quiet for a moment before he shifted closer, reaching for your hand. His fingers curled around yours, warm and familiar.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said simply.

You let out a breath. “How can you be so sure?”

Keeho squeezed your hand gently. “Because it’s us.”

Your heart fluttered.

“Yeah, but long-distance relationships are hard. You’ll be busy, traveling, constantly surrounded by people. What if-”

Keeho cut you off. “What if we make it work?”

You blinked at him.

“What if we don’t let the distance change anything?” he continued, his voice steady. “I know it won’t be easy, but I don’t want to pretend this didn’t happen. I don’t want to go back to how things were before.”

Your chest tightened. “Neither do I.”

Keeho smiled, his thumb grazing over your knuckles. “Then we’ll find a way.”

You stared at him, searching for any hesitation, any doubt. But Keeho looked at you like this was the easiest decision in the world.

Like he had already chosen you.

You let out a shaky laugh. “I still can’t believe this is happening.”

Keeho smirked. “If you need another kiss to remind you, I’m happy to help.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t fade. Maybe this wouldn’t be easy. Maybe there were challenges ahead. But right now, sitting here with Keeho, his fingers laced with yours -

You were willing to try.

───── ♡ ─────

227 notes · View notes

emo-cosplayer · 3 months ago

Text

Ad Astra per Aspera

Prologue.

Pairing: Pirate!Ateez x Navigator!reader

Genre: pirate!au, fluff, angst, maybe smut

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: -

Notes: i have taken pieces from various sources but my favouritism towards one piece has started to show TT TT

Series Masterlist | Episode 1

In the beginning, there was only one land—the land of Zaitsev. It stretched across a vast expanse, bordered by mountains that kissed the sky, and oceans that cradled the edges of the world. Zaitsev was a land of abundance, where forests teemed with life, rivers flowed with crystal-clear water, and the soil was fertile enough to sustain the most exotic of crops. Under the rule of the Great King, the people of Zaitsev flourished, living in harmony despite their differences.

The people of Zaitsev were a diverse mosaic. Their faces bore the marks of countless ancestries, their features varied like the colors in a painter’s palette. Some had skin the color of deep earth, others the shade of frosty snow in the sunlight. Hair ranged from the darkest midnight to the brightest dawn, and eyes gleamed like precious stones—emerald, sapphire, amber, and onyx. Their languages were many, their traditions rich and varied, yet they were united under one purpose, one ruler, one land. This unity made the ropes that bound together the land of Zaitsev.

The Great King was a man of wisdom, wisdom that came with age and etched itself into his skin. Under his reign, Zaitsev knew peace and prosperity. Disputes were settled through verse, and the scales of justice held complete balance.

But even in the most peaceful of lands, there are forces that seek to disrupt the balance. That’s when came The Sever

The Sever was not an immediate rupture, but rather very gradual, almost unperceivable unravelling. It began as whispers—rumours of discontent among the people, murmurs of disillusionment with the monarchy. Some said that the Great King had become too old, too distant, that he no longer could give what the country demanded. Others claimed that certain regions were being neglected, their resources diverted to the capital while they suffered in silence. These whispers grew louder over time, but they were dismissed as mere gossip by most. After all, Zaitsev had always been one, always been strong. How could it ever fall apart?

But the seeds of division had been sown, and they began to take root in the hearts of the people. Regional identities, that once held together the nation’s fabric like vibrant threads, began to take on a new significance. People started to think of themselves not as citizens of Zaitsev, but as members of their own regions. The differences that had once been a source of pride now became points of contention. The land of Zaitsev had begun to fracture. Figuratively and literally. Natural disasters were quick to hit. Lakes and rivers became seas and oceans. Mountains grew higher and trenches became deeper.

The Great King, sensing the growing unrest, tried to quell the divisions by bringing the leaders of each region together. He sought to remind them of their shared history, their common bonds, and the strength that came from concord. But his efforts were in vain. The divisions had grown too deep, the grievances too bitter. The Sever was inevitable.

It began in the farthest reaches of the kingdom, in the regions now known as the Northern and Southern Aurora Archipelagos. The people there had long felt isolated, sitting on the very borders, almost ignored by the others. They were the first to break off, as pieces of land that slowly drifted away and formed a cluster, proclaiming that they would no longer be ruled by a distant king who did not understand their needs.

One by one, the other regions followed suit. Hell Volhard, with its rugged mountains and frozen lakes, was next, followed by the fertile plains of Rosenmund. Etard, with its lush forests, and Wolff, with its rolling hills, soon joined. Kischner, Hinsberg, and Levaer, all declared their independence. Aldol, the region closest to the capital, was the last to secede, but it did so with a heavy heart. It was the end of an era.

The land of Zaitsev was no more. What had once been one was now divided into ten—ten regions, each with its own ruler, its own government, its own people. The integration that had been the foundation of Zaitsev was shattered, replaced by a peace that held the fragility of glass.

The Great King, heartbroken by the dissolution of his kingdom, fell into a deep despair. He withdrew from public life, retreating to his palace where he spent his final days in solitude. When he died, there was no grand funeral, no mourning across the land. The regions were too divided, too consumed by their own struggles to care. The king’s death went almost unnoticed, a quiet end to a once-great ruler.

The throne passed to the king’s son, a young man untested and unprepared for the challenges he would face. Unlike his father, the new king lacked the wisdom and patience to navigate the complexities of a fractured kingdom. He was brash, impulsive, and driven by a desire for power. But his actions only served to deepen the furrows that already existed. His attempts to assert his authority were met with resistance from the other regions, who saw him as nothing more than a pretender to a throne that no longer existed.

Chaos reigned. The people looked instead to their regional leaders, the elders who had guided them through the turbulent times of The Sever. These elders, each respected in their own right, became the de facto rulers of their regions. They spoke of the old ways, of the time before The Sever, and sought to preserve what they could of Zaitsev’s legacy. But their visions for the future were as varied as the regions they represented, and there was little consensus on how to move forward.

Of the ten regions, only Aldol remained with a ruler who commanded true authority. The new king, desperate to regain control, focused his efforts on Aldol, using its military strength to assert his dominance. He knew that if he could control Aldol, he could control the rest of the regions. And so, he began to draw the smaller groups into his orbit, offering them protection in exchange for their loyalty. Treaties were signed, alliances were formed, and slowly, the new king began to rebuild his power base.

It was during this time that the Premier Aldolar Council was formed. Composed of the king, the elders from each region, and other influential leaders, the council was established to maintain a semblance of order in a world that seemed to be falling apart. It was a front, a show of negotiation and security. But beneath the surface, tensions simmered, and it was clear that the peace would not last forever.

As life resumed its new course, the people of Zaitsev tried to adapt to their changed circumstances. The memories of the old world refusing to fade entirely. But everything had changed, and there was no going back. The people did what they could to survive, clinging to the hope of a better future.

It was in this climate of uncertainty that a group of dissidents emerged. They called themselves the Guardians, and they were determined to restore the world to its former glory. The Guardians believed that the divisions between the regions were superficial, a product of human foibles.

The Guardians were not content to simply dream of a better world—they sought to create it. They believed that the key to advancement lay in the perfection of humanity itself. If they could eliminate the flaws that led to division—the human emotion. And so, they set out to develop a formula, one that would make humans flawless, unyielding to influence, and capable of creating an infallible society.

The formula was the culmination of years of research and experimentation. It was designed with the purpose of eliminating the weaknesses. Those who consumed the formula would be immune to all emotions that made a human weak. They would be the foundation of a new society, a utopia where Zaitsev was whole once more.

But the Guardians’ vision of utopia did not sit well with the Premier Aldolar Council. The council, already wary of any group that threatened the broken peace, saw the Guardians as a danger to the new order. The idea of creating “flawless” humans was too radical, too unpredictable. The council feared that the Guardians’ plan would lead to even greater conflict, and so they moved quickly to abolish the group. The Guardians were outlawed, their members hunted down, and their research seized by the king’s forces.

The formula, its creation, and its components were taken away from the Guardians. The council feared that the Guardians might resurface, but they kept this concern hidden from the public. To the outside world, the Guardians were a failed experiment, merely a comment in the story. But what the public did not know, and what the media could only wonder about, was that ten people had already consumed the formula.

Among them were the king himself, who had secretly taken the formula in a bid to gain the power he believed was his birthright, and the chief Guardian, who had taken the formula to ensure that the vision of the old world would live on. The remaining eight were subjects from each of the ten sectors—carefully selected individuals who had been chosen to test the formula. They were ordinary people by most accounts: farmers, artisans, scholars, and warriors. Yet each had shown potential, something that set them apart from the rest. After consuming the formula, these eight were set free, their identities kept secret, but not from each other, despite the distance and differences they kept contact in secret.

The decision to keep the formula's success buried was not made lightly. The king and the chief Guardian both understood the implications of revealing the existence of these enhanced individuals to the world. If the truth were known, it could ignite a firestorm of fear and ambition that would plunge the fractured land into further chaos. So, the truth was buried, and the ten who had taken the formula became shadows, their identities known only to a select few.

Despite their enhanced abilities, these individuals did not become the flawless beings the Guardians had envisioned. The formula had indeed bestowed upon them certain extraordinary traits, but it had not eradicated the human flaws.

Among the ten, the king began to notice changes within himself. He became more paranoid, selfish and often lost all reason. He had visions. It was as if his heart harboured all of the worst. He began to see enemies everywhere, even among his closest advisors. The power granted by the formula had come at a cost, and the king was slowly losing his grip on reality. He was forced into solitary, his kingdom depended on the council and the rare moments when he experienced clarity in his thoughts

The chief Guardian wasn’t affected. He didn’t achieve the raw power he had asked for, he wanted more of the formula for himself. He gathered the remaining Guardians who had survived the purge and went underground, forming a resistance against the new king. His mission was one, to get the formula back.

But there was one more who had taken the formula—the scientist who had created it. She was the first to test the formula on herself, driven not by the desire for perfection, but by her unrelenting thirst for knowledge and raw curiosity. She had been a member of the Guardians, though she never fully agreed with their vision. For her, the formula was a scientific marvel, a puzzle to be solved, and she pursued its creation with the same dedication she gave to all her work.

The scientist had not anticipated the impact the formula would have on her. Like the others, she gained extraordinary abilities, but hers were of a different nature. She found that she could perceive the world in ways that others could not, understanding complex systems and seeing connections that were invisible to everyone else. The world became a map only she could read. It was as if her mind had expanded, unlocking new dimensions of the unknown world. She realised that in the wrong hands, it could be catastrophic.

Recognizing the threat, the scientist chose to disappear, taking the original formula and all her research with her. She knew that as long as the formula existed, it would be sought after by those who would use it for their own gain. So, she went into hiding, leaving no trace of her whereabouts. The king, desperate to regain control and fully realising the potential of the formula, ordered an exhaustive search for her, but she was always one step ahead. To this day, she remains the only person who can recreate the formula, and the only one who truly understands its full potential.

With the scientist gone, both the king and the remnants of the Guardians have attempted to replicate the formula, but all have met with failure. Without the original formula and the scientist's expertise, they were working in the dark. The copies they produced were flawed, often with disastrous results. Some led to death or madness, others to physical mutations. The promise of perfection proved elusive, and the failures only fueled the desperation of those seeking the formula’s power.

Meanwhile, the ten who had taken the original formula began to drift apart, each following their own path. Some used their abilities to further their ambitions, becoming powerful leaders or influential figures within their sectors. Others chose a quieter life, hiding their abilities and trying to live as normally as possible. But the formula had changed them, and their lives could never be truly ordinary again. They were marked by their powers, and by the knowledge that they were different.

The king, ever more paranoid, began to suspect that the ten were plotting against him. He saw betrayal in every corner and began to turn on those who had once been his allies. His obsession with finding the scientist and reclaiming the original formula consumed him, leading him to neglect his duties as a ruler. Aldol, the one region still loyal to him, began to falter under the weight of his erratic leadership. The other sectors watched closely, waiting for the moment when they could strike.

As the king’s power waned, the Guardians grew stronger. They had learned from their mistakes, and under the chief Guardian’s leadership, they became a formidable force once more. Their goal remained the same: to reunite Zaitsev and create a flawless society. But their methods had changed. They no longer sought to create perfect humans through the formula; instead, they focused on winning the hearts and minds of the people. The Guardians became symbols of resistance, heroes to those who still believed in the old world. That was until their chief disappeared off the face of the earth.

In the midst of this growing tension, the scientist continued her solitary journey, watching from the shadows as the world she had inadvertently helped shape spiralled into chaos. She knew that eventually, she would be found—either by the king or the Guardians. But she was not ready to reveal herself, not until she was certain that her knowledge would not be misused. She had seen what the formula could do, and she knew that its power was too great to be wielded lightly.

The search for the scientist became a race against time. The king, driven by his fear of losing control, intensified his efforts, sending spies and soldiers across the land. The Guardians, ever resourceful, used their underground networks to track any leads on her whereabouts.

As the tensions between the sectors reached a boiling point, whispers of the formula’s true power began to spread among the people. The story of the ten who had taken it became the stuff of legend, fueling both hope and fear. Some saw the formula as the key to restoring Zaitsev, while others feared that it would bring about the end of the world as they knew it. The media, kept on a tight leash by the king’s regime, could only speculate, but the truth had a way of slipping through the cracks.

In this fractured world, the paths of the eight special beings, the king, the Guardians, and the scientist were destined to cross again. The formula, once thought to be the key to a better world, had instead become fuel for a growing fire. Its promise of perfection was a farce, a false shield, and its true potential was yet to be fully understood. As more people, thieves, high ranking nobles and military officers became aware of its existence the rat race for it became evident.

As the world skittered around the edge of another great upheaval, the paths of all those who had been touched by the formula were bound to converge.

Over a century has passed since the King, plagued with nightmares, ruled Aldol, the crown now sits on the head of his grand nephew, a man of an analytical mind but lacking compassion and sympathy. Guilds of the Guardians remain scattered throughout the continents but since the chief vanished, they have remained largely stagnant. The whereabouts of the scientist and her descendants still remain obscure, but since then have been mostly forgotten about.

The eight subjects have lived their lives and left behind traces of their abilities, passing them down genetically to one of their children and then their grandchildren. The ones that have now grown up and found each other through a chance of fate, and formed an odd band of pirates, each wielding a unique power. They feel an unrest in their bones and pain the earth has felt. They scour the seas, in search of the formula and answers, and to find a cure for their abilities that seem to be cursed by something deep beyond their current understanding.

And the world knows them as ATEEZ…..

Comment under series masterlist to be tagged

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS PURE FICTION AND NOT RELATED TO THE MEMBERS OF ATEEZ IN REAL LIFE PLEASE DO NOT TAKE IT SERIOUSLY

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emo-cosplayer · 3 months ago

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The 5 times the member tried to set you and Seob up + the one time it happened

Taglist: @sh0dor1

Navigation

The "Accidental" Café Date

Theo and Keeho had been hyping up a group café outing all week. You and Seob showed up at the agreed time, only to receive last-minute texts: Sorry, can’t make it! Something came up! Have fun though! Suspicious, but whatever.

“This always happens,” you sighed, stirring your drink.

Seob shook his head. “They have the worst timing. Bet Keeho just overslept.”

The two of you spent the next hour roasting your friends, completely missing the romantic setup. When Keeho peeked in and heard you both calling him unreliable, he groaned. “Never again.”

The Classic Movie Night Set-Up

Intak and Soul were in charge this time. They arranged a cozy movie night and insisted that everyone watch a romantic film together. But at the last second, Intak smirked and switched it to a horror movie instead.

Big mistake.

As the first jump scare hit, you grabbed Seob’s arm with a yelp. The only problem? He was just as terrified.

“Oh my god—NO!” Seob yelled, flailing as a ghost appeared on screen.

By the time Jiung came back with popcorn, he found you two tangled in a blanket, traumatized, while Intak tried not to laugh. “That… did not go as planned.”

The Cooking Disaster

Jiung thought cooking together would be foolproof. “Nothing brings people together like food,” he claimed.

Except Soul, the chaos magnet, was in the kitchen too. One misstep later, flour exploded everywhere, Seob dropped an egg on you, and the sugar mysteriously vanished.

Seob turned to you, sheepish. “Uh… you have flour on your nose.”

You flicked some at him in revenge.

By the time Keeho walked in, he found the kitchen in ruins and the two of you laughing hysterically. No romance—just a big, happy mess.

The Fake Emergency

Keeho texted you both urgently: Help! Locked out of the dorm. Bring the spare key!

Thinking you’d get a nice walk together, he waited inside, planning to let you bond on the way.

But instead of walking, you and Seob each grabbed electric scooters and sped over in record time.

“You could’ve just called the landlord,” Seob muttered, handing Keeho the key.

Keeho blinked. “You weren’t supposed to get here in two minutes.”

Plan: failed.

The "Stranded Together" Trick

Theo arranged for you and Seob to be "accidentally" left behind after a schedule, forcing you to take the bus home together.

It worked… except you both got so wrapped up in a discussion about childhood cartoons that neither of you realized you’d boarded the wrong bus.

“Wait, where are we?” Seob asked, frowning at the unfamiliar streets.

Your phone buzzed with a message from Jiung: Theo is an idiot. Call me when you figure out where you are.

The impromptu adventure turned out to be fun, but romance? Not yet.

The One Time It Actually Works

After multiple failures, Jiung finally decided: no schemes, no set-ups. Just a casual picnic.

Without the pressure, you and Seob naturally gravitated toward each other. You shared snacks, laughed at Intak’s terrible jokes, and as the sun set, Seob hesitantly reached for your hand.

When the others saw, they cheered so loudly that you both blushed.

Mission finally accomplished.

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emo-cosplayer · 3 months ago

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Masterlist; Dracula's Daughter

SYNOPSIS ➺ In a world where vampires and humans coexist, Dracula defies tradition by marrying a mortal — his human lover from long ago. From their union, you are born, but despite your father’s powerful bloodline, you arrive in this world as a human. Or so it seems. A prophecy reveals that one bite could awaken a strength to rival Dracula’s own. On your twentieth birthday, your father hosts a grand two-week event to find the perfect suitor who will shape the future of the vampire world.

Among the contenders are Sunghoon, Jay, and Jake — three powerful and captivating men chosen to fight for your hand. But with power, love, and destiny at stake, the question remains — who will you choose? And what will you become?

PAIRING ➺ human fem!reader X vampire!Sunghoon X vampire!Jay X vampire!Jake

GENRE ➺ Fluff; Angst; Suggestive content; Vampire Au; Best friends to lovers; childhood friends to lover; enemies to lovers; royal au; Gothic style;

WARNINGS ➺cursing, mentions of biting, blood, fighting, tension, tooth-rotting fluff, cursing; possessiveness;

DISCLAIMER ➺ This story is fiction, and it does not reflect real life in any way. This story is heavily inspired by the lads boys and usual romcom movies!

STATUS ➺ On Going, a new chapter every Saturday!

NAVIGATION;

— Intro

— Meet the Characters;

— Chapter 01;

— Chapter 02;

— Chapter 03;

— Chapter 04;

— Chapter 05;

Taglist: @grandlightcandy @seokseokjinkim @strxwbloody @enhasunghoonishot @contyynishimura @heewanrik @ranwonbin @leanderexists @lovelyyf @youngheejay @crimson-reaper576 @rikifever @mrsjjongstby @laurradoesloveu @babyboomysweetie @mintchocos-things @nxzz-skz @saphiranishimurashan @ikeupups @yangjungwonnie @xiiaobaoo @itsuen @laylasbunbunny @mellowgalaxystrawberry @firstclassjaylee @questionsdearreader @greeyjre @en-doll @riqomi @lovingvoidgoatee @mitmit01 @miuwonis @aureliaaaa555 @han-to-my-minho @heeweenie @vixensss @ro-diares @hoonvinx @immelissaaa @jiryunn @quilevyt @vrusha01 @kkamismom12 @skzenhalove @theothernads @moonpri @nicoleparadas @fightqueen @heesunghooney @starl0ver4 @jooniesbears-blog @riri-lvs-food @kolawnk @mitmit01 @dummyf @tender-is-the-moon @dksfml @tobiosbbyghorl @loveydoveyez @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @hhyvsstuff @moondooll @enchantedtomeetyou @desistay @filmofhybe

New Taglist: @elairah @s1rawb3rry @tender-is-the-moon @ch4c0nnenh4 @lonelylandofan @riribelle @beecakescafe @hollxe1 @in-somnias-world @shawnyle

If you wanna be added or removed from the taglist just comment below!

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emo-cosplayer · 3 months ago

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My favorite fanfic series rn! 💜🖤

♡ into the aurora | book one masterlist.

summary: you didn’t expect to run into choi san outside of the venue, especially when your phone was dead and you were stranded in a random city. a kind offer for a phone charger turns into so much more, and you end up falling into a relationship with all eight members of ateez.

pairings: ot8 x reader

genre: fluff, angst, romance, ateez ensemble x reader, polyamory, non-idol!reader, fem!reader, eventual smut

warnings: handled on a chapter by chapter basis, any cw/tw will be clearly identified. if any need to be added, please contact me directly and I will update accordingly!

current word count: 208.6K

✶ one ✶ two ✶ three ✶ four ✶ five ✶ six ✶ seven ✶ eight ✶ nine ✶ ten ✶ eleven ✶ twelve ✶ thirteen ✶ fourteen ✶ fifteen ✶ sixteen ✶ seventeen ✶ eighteen ✶ nineteen ✶ twenty ✶ twenty-one ✶ twenty-two ✶ twenty-three ✶ twenty-four ✶ twenty-five ✶ twenty-six ✶ twenty-seven ✶ twenty-eight ✶ twenty-nine ✶ thirty ✶ thirty-one ✶ thirty-two ✶ thirty-three ✶ thirty-four ✶thirty-five ✶

sequel coming in 2025~

if you prefer to read on AO3, you can find that here

my fic masterlist can be found here!

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emo-cosplayer · 3 months ago

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ℂ𝕣𝕒𝕫𝕪 𝔽𝕠𝕣𝕞 | 𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕚 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕣𝕖: smut, idol!Au, s2l, fragment of life

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 12,9k

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: Seven times you've been lucky, on the eighth Song Mingi from Ateez shows you a side of himself that his fans will probably never get to know.

𝕎𝔸ℝℕ𝕀ℕ𝔾: Pervert Idol! Mingi, Unprotected sex, stomach bulge, fingering, degrading, pet names, size kink, face fucking, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, squirting, pussy slapping, oral, overstimulation, somnophilia, multiple orgasms, сreampie, sexual audio recording, rough sex, praise kink and more.

𝔸/ℕ: Wrote this overnight, it's really crazy. Gosh, I am so excited to show you the handsome Mingi who has become a favourite for an overnight train ride poll. I hope it lives up to your expectations. This is one of the 4 pieces I've been working on. It brings us closer to a tender and sensual smut with Seonghwa (I'm still suffering from the idea).

I'll make a masterlist this weekend.

Comments, reblogs and questions are always welcome. I'm completely open to communication, so don't be shy bunnies. We have a safe space here.

Lots of love to you all. Have fun on your night train ride with Mingi.

dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

"Take care, darling; you never know what may happen. Especially in the night." Asa's voice was soft, but with a note of insistence.

"Asa, you don't have to worry so much. It's just a night train; I've done it a thousand times." You sigh tiredly, knowing it was pointless to argue with Asa, and yet, in a way, she was right. You never know what might happen at any given moment in your life.

"There's always a first time, Y/N. Take care, and be sure to text me when you get on the train."

"Sure, I will see you soon." You pull the sleeves of your shortened jumper tighter as you press the call disconnect button.

The night air is cool and fresh, dancing on your skin like a light breeze, crawling under the hem of your short skirt, tickling the soft, milky skin of your bare thighs. The sensation sends shivers down your spine, and you begin to regret your choice of clothing. It's too open and too revealing, both for the time of day and for the situation.

But it doesn't matter; the train is warm and cosy in its own way, and soon you'll be relaxing on the soft seats of the dark compartment under the peaceful rhythmic rocking, but most importantly, you'll be alone without the noise and bustle. Travelling to Tokyo is great, and you enjoy every second, but the crowds get tiring and the incessant noise starts to stress you out.

That is why an overnight train journey is a nice and relaxing change of pace.

It's a spontaneous trip to another city, just for a few days—a place quieter and more secluded than the never-sleeping Tokyo. Asa is waiting for you to finally join her, having travelled there the day before yesterday. Rumour has it that this is also the town where you're most likely to find the most Korean idols, who have come to relax in the luxurious hot springs.

They always come here to spend their long-awaited holidays without the constant camera surveillance and screaming fans. You didn't care if you met any of the celebrities there. Seeing a pretty face here and there was a nice bonus, but the main purpose of your trip was the hot springs and a few gourmet restaurants with high user ratings.

It's not that you were totally ignorant of idols; you were aware of many groups thanks to Asa and her crush on pretty boys, but you were a realist, and it was just stupid to have rosy dreams for a guy who had never seen you in his life, and if he had, he probably wouldn't remember you. That's why it didn't matter to you at all whether or not you met any of the pretty idols along the way.

You always thought night trains were the best way to travel. Travelling during the day is too hectic, too noisy, and too impractical. Instead of sitting in a stuffy metal box on wheels and wasting precious time, you could be doing something useful. There's always the chance of a night's rest, even if it's just for a few hours, and the next morning you'll be somewhere else, full of energy and good humour.

This was the seventh time you'd travelled by overnight train, and so far you'd considered yourself lucky. You were so grateful that you'd never had to share the confined space of your compartment with anyone else. The prospect of sleeping next to a stranger wasn't the most appealing one, and it would no doubt make you very nervous.

You cross your fingers in the hope that your luck will hold this time around. As you walk down the aisle of the train, you shift your gaze from your ticket to the small numbers on the tightly closed compartment doors. You try to find your seat. When you finally find it, you exhale with relief and push open the heavy sliding door. You are glad to be able to sit down and stretch your legs, taking off the most uncomfortable shoes in the world. It's first-class. The door opens silently and smoothly, allowing a thin strip of light from the narrow corridor into the secluded compartment, illuminating it with a bright yellow glow.

You've never thought about sharing your space with anyone else because you're so used to being alone. Except for a few passengers who seem to share your point of view, most people prefer to travel during the day, so the night trains are usually almost empty. Once your eyes get used to the changing light, you can't help but gasp at what you see.

"Oh!"

You're not alone. There's someone else in the semi-darkness of your compartment.

Someone from whom it seems impossible to take your eyes off, no matter how rude it might be of you to do so. There's a man sitting on the seat directly in front of you, with his legs spread wide open and his mobile phone held loosely in one hand. He is an incredibly attractive guy. You quickly look away, embarrassed that you're openly checking him out, as your eyes slide down his body. He's dressed in a black suit that hugs his thick thighs. God, this is embarrassing. His jacket is folded beside him, leaving him wearing a single black shirt and a few buttons undone on his chest, contrasting beautifully with his smooth golden skin.

For the second time that night, your eyes met his, and you gasped. You somehow know who those eyes belong to, and who doesn't? Two puddles of melted milk chocolate, the soft, sugary look of puppy dog eyes—Song Mingi, a gorgeous, cheeky rapper from Ateez. Oh, boy.

You swallow loudly at the realisation that your eyes aren't the only ones analysing the stranger in front of you.

"Good evening." You bow and lower your head as you realise that you've clearly been staring at the idol all this time. Suddenly, you feel so ashamed that you can't even imagine meeting his gaze again. In return, you get a small hum of approval from him and a polite nod of the head from him.

You finally decide to go inside and close the door behind you after a few seconds of awkwardly shuffling from foot to foot. The lights inside are rather dim, a bit of a nuisance despite the fact that they hardly illuminate your compartment at all, and you wonder if he would mind if you asked him to turn them off completely at some point. Eventually, it starts to make your sensitive eyes ache, but you don't want to make Mingi feel uncomfortable by asking for it.

The atmosphere was already awkward and strange, and you didn't want to make it worse. He must have decided to take the night train for the same reasons you did. And here you are, the two of you, strangers, although can you really call a guy the whole world knows a stranger? In the semi-darkness of a night compartment, without prying eyes or cameras.

The situation seemed to be stressful, and that's why you were so grateful that up until now you hadn't had to share your space with anyone else on overnight journeys. Even so, there was something strangely intoxicating and exhilarating about the whole thing.

Does it look like your luck has run out, or have you managed to grab it by the tail?

You take your bag off your shoulder and tiptoe up to put it on the luggage rack with your back to him. Unfortunately for you, you can't get to it. Right now you're cursing your short stature for looking utterly ridiculous in front of a good-looking guy, and not just any guy, but Song Mingi himself. You can feel the muscles in your legs tense up in pain as you try to stretch yourself up, and you have the feeling that the bag in your hands is getting heavier and heavier the more you try to put it on the shelf. It's so embarrassing that you let out a muffled, awkward laugh.

"I'll give you a hand with that." The unexpected touch of the palm of your hand against your lower back upsets your balance, and your body jerks.

Your head jumps up, goose bumps running up your arms and creeping down your back as you realise that Mingi is now standing next to you, too close to be considered decent. The scent of his woody, tart perfume fills the small space between you, and you long to bury your face in his broad, muscular chest and take a deep breath of him.

He easily takes the bag from you and sets it on top of the top compartment, the touch of his other hand still palpable—hot, confident, and somehow possessive—as it slides down, almost to the curve of your butt.

You look down and suddenly realise how far your skirt has been pulled up. It now exposes most of your milky thighs and barely covers your bottom. Trying to look as decent as possible, you pull down the hem of your skirt with a soft squeak to get your clothes back in place. Your cheeks are flushed with shame and embarrassment. Looking up again, you realise that Mingi is watching you intently, watching every move of yours.

"You're so tiny." He says this, tilting his head to one side and letting the corner of his soft, plump pink lips curve up in a smirk.

Your heart flutters at the thought, perhaps a little more than it should be doing. You would never have thought that you would feel a strange mixture of emotions—something between excitement and extreme embarrassment—over something so trivial, perhaps even offensive.

"Maybe you're the one that's too tall." You realise this and immediately feel sorry for yourself, desperately wanting to put your hand over your mouth. God, can't you just make yourself look even stupider in his eyes? You shouldn't have said that aloud.

In response to your words, Mingi hums and raises an eyebrow. There is a gleam of amusement in his beautiful brown eyes; your comment seems to amuse him. Your cheeks heat up from the blush that is spreading over them, but you're grateful for the playful reaction; it makes the situation a little less weird and awkward.

You really should sit back in your seat and shut up so you don't say too much, something along the lines of, "You look absolutely stunning in that suit; can I sit on your lap?".

Eventually, you turn your attention to the hand still on your hip, and the sight of his long fingers adorned with massive rings makes your knees tremble more than you'd like to admit.

When he pulls away, you find that the loss of his touch is making you feel as cold as ice. You quickly come to your senses and sit down on the opposite side of the idol, who follows your lead and settles down in his own seat.

You take out your phone and text Asa, as promised. God, you'll have so much to talk about when you meet. Awkwardly crumpling the hem of your skirt, you wait for the train to depart. For a long minute, there is silence in the compartment—an utterly awkward, embarrassing silence.

Every time you cast a quick glance towards Mingi, you notice that his eyes don't seem to leave you for a second. He presses the tip of his tongue lightly against the corner of his plump, beautiful lips, as if analysing your every move.

It makes you nervous to be in your own skin.

"I'm Mingi." Your ears perk up in an instant as soon as he starts to speak again.

When he says his name, his voice sounds so soft, soothing, and confident. You can't remember the last time you've been so attracted to another man's voice. It makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter, and maybe, just maybe, it makes you squeeze your thighs a little harder than you should.

This is messed up.

"I know." You answer quietly. This is a fucking embarrassment. You decide you've humiliated yourself enough in front of him, so after a moment, you add. "Y/N, nice to meet you."

"Ah, so you know, eh?" He smiles brightly, and you somehow melt. "And here I was thinking' we were just strangers to each other. That's not a problem for you, Y/N, is it?" The way he says your name takes your breath away from you. It's something in his nature—a hidden but imposing dominance, so deep with a quiet note of authority. There were darker layers lurking beneath that image of sweet charm.

You have no idea why he has such an effect on you, but it's safe to say the overwhelming feeling is not entirely unwelcome.

"No, no, it's fine." You wave your hands in an awkward manner. "It should have been my turn to ask if it was OK. At a time like this, I guess you didn't expect anyone else to be using the train." Your cheeks flushed, and you nervously bit your lower lip.

"How cute."

You bring your hand up to your face and press it against your hot cheeks, trying to cool them down a little. Cute! It's a real miracle that you manage to stop yourself from squealing enthusiastically.

"Are you going travelling, Y/N?" He tilts his head to the side in an interested way, like a curious puppy, and you can't help but smile in response to that.

"Yes, to the hot springs." Looking anywhere but at Mingi, you reply humbly.

"Ah, I see. Takayu Onsen?"

"Tamagawa Onsen, actually."

At your words, the idol nods understandingly, and a dazzling smile appears on his lips. God, can he get any more handsome?

"Of course it's Tamagawa. Somehow I can't imagine you anywhere else; this place is your kind of place. Then you're stuck with me. I'm going there too; the boys and I have to spend a few days there before the concerts." He says it in such an easy and casual way. As if you've known each other for a long time.

"Um, it's quite a long trip. Are you sure you'll be comfortable?" You ask Mingi, vaguely hoping that you'll be able to sneak away from him and find yourself comfortably alone again. For some reason, his presence makes you feel very uncomfortable and makes you tingle. There's something special about him, but you can't quite put your finger on it.

"It's fine. Really, don't worry." Mingi settled himself more comfortably in his seat and spread his long legs a little further apart, causing the tight fabric of his suit trousers to stretch and outline the contours of his gorgeous, muscular thighs. His whole posture seemed to say, "You're not getting rid of me that easily." "Actually, I'm the one who should be asking if your boyfriend is upset that you will spent the night with another man." There is something about the way he says it that makes you tense up inside, but you ignore it completely and answer quietly instead, crossing your legs shyly.

"I've no boyfriend." And without knowing it, you give him exactly the answer that Mingi wanted. "I'm just on a road trip with a friend." Shying away from making full eye contact with him, his gaze so intense and focused, your fingers play with the hem of your skirt as you speak.

When he speaks again, you can almost hear the smile in Mingi's deep voice.

"Then I hope you'll enjoy it fully."

Silence falls over you once more. You keep looking at your shoes, desperately wanting to take them off and curl up on the soft seat. But Mingi's presence prevents you from relaxing completely. As the train sets in motion, you give a slight jerk. Midnight, it's now. It will take about eight hours to get to Tamagawa, and you should arrive at the station in the morning.

You let your eyes slide down from your shoes to Mingi's legs in stealth. His thighs are so muscular and strong that he could probably squeeze you between them, and you wouldn't be able to move an inch, trapped as you were under his tall, strong body. You feel warm between your legs, and you bite your lower lip, hoping Mingi is too busy phoning to notice you're staring at his thighs. And you have to push away the thought of how nice it would be to ride one of those beautiful, thick thighs and rub your pussy against it.

"This is a beautiful pendant. It looks good on you." The sound of Mingi's voice makes you jerk, and you raise your eyes to him fearfully.

Instinctively, you press your fingers against the gleaming heart of crystal that sits on your chest. It's massive—heavy on your chest, glimmering cold, hard to miss.

"Thanks; it's my favourite too." The compliment takes you completely by surprise, but at the same time, it brings a slight, sweet pout to your lips.

Mingi can't help but think about what that pendant is going to look like between your naked tits while you're being scolded like there's no tomorrow. He can bet that it's going to be fucking amazing. His plump lips curl up in a smirk.

"Do you always wear it?" Contextual question: When you get fucked, do you take it off?

"Yes. It's my lucky charm." As if to warm it up, your fingers wrap around the large crystal, rubbing it a little. "It always brings me good luck."

"How appropriate." Mingi observes, chuckling grimly.

For an idol, Mingi seems inordinately interested in learning more about you, but you naively chalk it up to a trivial lack of social contact and a limited opportunity to see the world without the constant scrutiny of managers and the attention of cameras.

You're too enamoured with his sweet, playful personality, reminiscent of a big, soft puppy. You'll fancy yourself under his scrutiny and answer all his questions, even the ones that make you blink in confusion or blush hotly. Mingi is a real sweetheart, and you can totally agree with his fans: He's such a nice, nice guy. Little do you know about him...

He does it almost mechanically, moving his hands so you can't take your eyes off them, twirling the massive silver rings on his long phalanges, touching his plush, juicy lips with his fingertips, and noticing the beautiful gel on his nails. Your body reacts to his every move; your lower abdomen feels pleasantly tight, and you can feel a faint throbbing between your legs every time he smiles at you, making you squeeze your thighs together and squirm nervously in your seat.

"Sorry for asking so many questions. You know it's not always easy to talk to someone." He lowers his eyes shyly and bites his plump lip. You immediately try to put his concern at ease.

"I get it; being an idol must be hard, having to be in control all the time."

Damn, you were so right; you'd run away from him as soon as you opened the door to the compartment if you only knew what dirty, lustful thoughts he's having about you and how his sweet smile hides a passionate desire to push you into the padded seat and fuck you so hard you can't think or walk.

But Mingi was good at it. He could control his face and body very well, thanks to Seonghwa's great example. He had taught him only the best.

"You must be tired; if you want, we can turn off the light and you can go to bed." Mingi said, noticing that you were rubbing your eyes more and more, stumbling over your own words, and yawning all the time. "You can trust me; I'll take care of you, Y/N." The tone is so sweet, too sweet, to hide the true meaning of what he's saying: Sweetheart, I want to jerk off to your sleepy, pretty face as you relax in my presence—so seductive and vulnerable.

That deep, honeyed tone inevitably makes your thighs clench, but with it comes a flood of guilt as you feel your panties get wet, and dirty thoughts put you in such an uncomfortable position that you have to fidget awkwardly on the seat, praying by all that is holy that your embarrassing arousal goes unnoticed and you don't leave a wet spot on the seat.

"Are you sure?" You're terribly tired from the day. The offer is so tempting, and Mingi is so charming and respectful. A real gentleman.

Mingi smiles softly, but it is a smile that looks a little predatory at the edges as his big, hot palm comes down on your bare knee. It sends a shiver down the length of your skin.

"Sure, go to bed, doll."

You feel yourself blushing again, but you can't tell why—the heavy, hot touch of his hand against your skin or the caressing nickname. God, this guy is a threat. You give a slow nod and turn your gaze to the dimly lit wall sconce on the wall. Mingi follows your eyes and reaches up to turn it off, plunging the entire compartment into a pleasant darkness. The faint, diffused light of the moon through the window is the only source of light that allows you to see each other's faces. A smile of gratitude is on your face in response to his actions.

"Thanks, I had no idea how much my eyes were hurting."

"You're welcome, doll."

You try to ignore the way his voice seems to sink lower. It takes on such a velvety, dark tone that it makes you even wetter between your legs. You pull back. Mingi has been so sweet and polite to you all this time; you should be ashamed of these feelings.

As you lean back in the empty seat beside you and close your heavy eyelids, the touch of his hand fades. You feel a strange comfort in Mingi's company, despite your earlier apprehension at being so vulnerable in the company of a stranger. Despite being a world-famous star and just a damn gorgeous man, he really is so kind and attentive to you. You do not dare to doubt what he says. Mingi has promised to take care of you, and you are strangely comforted by the thought. In fact, he really is a very caring man. You begin to suspect that this is true for all of them.

Before you close your eyes again, you look at Mingi. His dark gaze is fixed on you, and there is something raw in the depths of those chocolate-coloured irises of his. The moonlight falling on him makes his chiselled face look sharper and sexier, and there is no longer the sweet smile and adorable puppy-dog expression on his handsome features. It makes you take a sharp breath before your fluttering eyelids stay closed, weighed down by sleep. Your whole body relaxes, and you let yourself drift off to sleep, lulled by the peaceful rocking of the train and the calm presence of Mingi.

Mingi just can't take his eyes off you. You look so tiny, so soft and juicy with your plump arse and the most delicious pair of tits he's ever seen. They're perfect to hold in his hands and his hands are just itching to squeeze them into his palms, feel their weight, pull on those pink nipples until you start wriggling and sobbing. Oh, how he wants to hear the sweet sounds you make as he fills you with his cock, or even better, as you moan out his name.

For tonight at least, he just wants to have you. Mingi isn't at all picky about where he wants to get laid; a night train isn't the worst option. He's been fucked in more uncomfortable places than this. But that wouldn't be very nice of him. Would it? He said he'd look after you while you slept so innocently in front of him in that seductive little skirt. He wonders if you're wearing lace or silk knickers. It's probably silk, because you look as if you're enjoying the light and soft touch of the silk fabric against your sweet pussy. You must also be very sensitive.

Y/N. He is absolutely mesmerised by you. Everything about you is so enticing. The way your round cheeks blush, the beautiful way you smile, and especially the way you squeeze your thighs together every time he turns to you. You are a little slut. Mingi is absolutely delighted with how he's making you feel. He makes you nervous. He wants nothing more than to get under your skin even more.

But if Mingi has learned anything by now, it's that despite your best efforts, you're not a very subtle person. In fact, you're easy to read. Your petite body gives you away all the time. Your teeth bite your plump lower lip until it's swollen and red. Your eyes never leave his hands as he deliberately plays with his rings, causing you to lose your train of thought. You're probably thinking about him using his fingers to stretch your tight hole or using his fingers to fuck your soft, wet mouth. Mingi's sure he'll have to spend enough time getting you to take three fingers in your cunt before lowering you on his cock, and maybe you'll even let him play with your virgin arse. Hell, he'll beg you if he must. Fuck his pride at the prospect of being the first to fuck your plump arse. He's going to have to make a video of himself fucking you so stupid and so deep. San is going to go mad when he sees your juicy arse blushing under the palms of his hands and and jiggling seductively every time he enters you up to your balls.

You are definitely something special.

That's what Mingi tells himself over and over and over again. He's just reaching out to you. Nothing more than that.

Just like he promised, he'll take care of you. You'll feel good, and getting his dick wet will be a nice bonus for him.

He takes another good look at your beautiful face as he leans forward in his seat. Your lips are wet, plump and parted, and he can't help but imagine how beautiful they would look stretched around his big cock. You're going to have to practise getting yourself to swallow his dick whole, you probably won't get more than a quarter of him the first time. The thought of it is the cause of the salivation in his mouth.

Your eyelashes are touching the top of your cheeks, your soft dark hair is beautifully curled up in ringlets, and Mingi wants to mess it up and pull it out. You look absolutely angelic. A real doll. Mingi has never seen an angel before. He can't be blamed for his desire to have a touch and to defile.

Idol or not, Mingi is just a man.

It all begins with a small movement of his fingers over the kneecap of his knee to the top of his thigh. He can feel how his touch raises the goose bumps on your skin. Mingi feels bolder and lowers his palm all the way down to your thigh, letting it rest gently on your body, and then gently reaches up to the inside of your thigh, making you shiver. At the sight, Mingi licks his lips. It would be easier if he came closer. Would it?

As he kneels down, he places his other hand on your leg, now touching both of your thighs. Your skirt rises with each touch of Mingi's eager hands, lifting the fabric higher and higher each time. He glances over your voluptuous body, his gaze lingering on the spot where your sweater has risen, exposing the soft skin of your stomach and the peeking lower half of your bra. Fuck. He can't quite make out what it is in the dark, but he knows it must be the creamy silk that covers your full breasts. That makes him dig his fingertips harder into your skin.

You move in your sleep, shifting until you're on your back, giving Mingy full access without even wanting it. It's as if you want to make it even easier for his dirty hands to touch your chaste, tantalised body. When he sees an opportunity, Mingy never says no. Carefully, he slides one hand under your skirt while the other continues to massage your thigh in a soothing way. Confirming his earlier thought, his fingers are impatient and run briefly over your panties. They're silk, and they're wet as hell. You're soaked through, and he's already decided that he's definitely taking your panties with him. He'll be sure to jerk off in them when he has a bit of free time later.

"Oh, dolly, you're so damn wet." Mingi moans hoarsely as his fingers slowly slide over the wet material, rubbing it. The furrowed brow quickly disappeared, and the doll's lips parted in a perfect 'o', a short sob escaping from them. "Precious little one."

Your legs twitch in an attempt to squeeze Mingi's forearm, but he quickly calms you, spreading your thighs with his free hand and smiling carnivorously at the soft squeal that escapes your lips as you feel long fingers play with your plump clit through your underwear. If the fans knew what their adored idol was doing, they'd be going crazy. But they probably already knew. Considering the number of female fans they've fucked over the years, the information has leaked out somewhere in the tight circle of their fandom.

Mingi decides he doesn't like the silk barrier. He slides his hand under the silk of your panties and touches the wet warmth of your cunt, making his trousers suddenly feel too tight around his crotch.

As if he'd just discovered a new toy that he wanted to touch and explore before playing with it, he let himself explore the wetness. You are soaking wet, and Mingi can feel that he is gradually losing all self-control and all control over himself. He wants to taste you; he wants to feel you on his tongue; he doesn't even mind rubbing his face against you like a dog. The pressure of his thumb against your throbbing clit finally seems to wake you up. You gasp and begin to open your sleepy eyes. You look around in confusion. Then you let out a startled cry as you noticed Mingi crouching beside you, one hand between your thighs.

"Shhhh." As your legs begin to convulse, Mingi quickly reassures you. "It's all right, doll; it's just me. You can go back to sleeping if you want to. I'll take care of the rest." He whispers it in a velvety, soothing voice, as if he were trying to lure a kitten into his arms.

You still seem to be very disoriented; your eyes are not quite open, and you are whimpering in despair and shame at finding yourself in a situation for which you were totally unprepared. Mingi kneels before you. Song Mingi is kneeling before you with his hand pressed against your pussy.

It is Mingi's wish that he could do away with all your worries and nerves. He knows he could, if only you would stop squeezing your legs so tightly around his hand.

"M-Mingi, what..." There's a sharp exhale from you at last, as if you're coming to terms with the situation. "What are you doing?"

The idol gives you a seductive smile.

"You looked like you needed help, doll. So needy and restless. Let me help you, huh? Let me take care of you, Y/N." Mingi leans down on your thigh to plant a wet, open-mouthed kiss on it. When he lifts his eyes up to you, they're bright and languorous, but with that adorable puppy-dog expression that's so well known to his fans.

"I'm going to take good care of you."

You resist, still stunned by the sight and situation you woke up from, and bring your hands to your chest, unconsciously wrapping your arms around the heart-shaped pendant for reassurance. Mingi allows her fingers to continue doing what they were doing before, slowly circling over your clit, causing you to catch your breath. Your small hand reaches out for Mingi's palm, which is still gripping your thigh tightly, the nails digging into his skin. "Y-you shouldn't do that. You...you can't act that way; what if?"You sob in a convulsive manner, your glassy eyes meeting Mingi's. Sexy, gorgeous, and lecherous Mingi, the sweet image of him completely shattered, towers over you even in this position. Despite your words, your body has its own opinion: your lower lip is caught between your teeth, and your breasts are rising and falling rapidly. The way your thighs are still trying to squeeze together and the way more and more moisture is dripping onto Mingi's fingers is a clear sign of approval for his actions to continue.

You're so easy to read. Mingi loves it. He's always liked the more responsive and sensitive type better. For him, what a pleasure it is to fuck them, dumb and docile.

"And why shouldn't I be, huh?" Mingi says as he intertwines his fingers with yours and leans forward to run his nose along your thigh, too close to your pussy. He takes a deep breath. Fuck, you smell delicious and his drool starts to flow. "Because I'm an idol? Is it because I have to be good and obedient? Or is it because you don't want me to, because it seems like that's all you ever think about? Have you had a dirty dream about me? You used to moan so much in your sleep, Y/N."

You hesitate, closing your slanted cat eyes and letting the feel of Mingi's touch envelop you, your lips pressed together to hold back a loud moan. He can already feel you giving in, even though you haven't answered him.

He's good at cajoling. Again, thank Seonghwa for that.

"We shouldn't..." You whine as one of Mingi's long fingers teases at your wet entrance, and the thought of that finger plunging into you makes you shudder.

"We can do what we want to do, or don't you want to do that? Don't you want me?" He purses his lips, pretending to offend. "You like me. Don't you? I'm your favourite boy, right?"

You nod, feeling more depressed by the second, unable to form a coherent thought. How could that have been the case? You must be dreaming. Dreaming that Mingi of Ateez is kneeling before you.

Oh my God!

"Use your words, doll. Say, "I want you." Speak my name." The idol continues to coax you, and you give in, much to the delight of the Mingi.

"I want you, Mingi." You do your best to keep your eyes on Mingi as you speak, but his gaze is too intense and too strong, and you feel terribly embarrassed. He looks almost predatorily.

Mingi grins fiercely and slowly licks his lips. His finger slides lightly into your wet cunt. In response to this, he hears an intermittent sigh of pleasure from you.

"What a good girl."

You sound so precious as he bends his finger inside you, feeling your velvety walls. Wetness drips down his massive silver rings to the base of his fingers. Mingi wants to record your sweet sounds and include them in the next track so everyone can hear how well he pleases you. He should do it, damned. Hongjoong will be burning with envy when he hears about you. The captain has a weakness for sweet little girls who moan and groan. Fucking pervert.

Mingi lets go of your hand to pick up his forgotten phone from the floor, still finger-fucking you. He quickly opens the audio recording application, hits the 'record' button, and drops the phone on the floor next to him, giving his full attention back to you.

You are so in need of his touch. You can't deny your desire for him. Your body speaks for itself.

"Come on, baby, moan for me. Let everyone hear what a dirty girl you are. Come on. What do you say we put some of your beautiful moans and groans on our new track? Mmm, you're going to hear it all over the place; every time you will remember how good it felt when I fucked your little, tight cunt."

"Oh God, that's... You can't say that." You whimper.

"Don't be embarrassed, gorgeous. Let's get you out of those pretty little knickers so you can sing even more sweetly for me." You nod impatiently, breathing heavily as Mingi helps you to lift your hips and pull your knickers off, quickly slipping them into his pocket. He was quite serious when he said that he wanted to take them with him.

Now that your pussy is fully exposed, Mingi takes the liberty of spreading your legs wide open and stares intently at the clear liquid that oozes out of your hole, causing you to whimper and cover your face in shame. He leans down to leave a hot scarlet and purple hickey on the inside of your thigh.

"Look at how wet you are, fuck." Mingi moans in a guttural voice as his fingers push your folds apart so that they are completely covered in your slick, glistening juices. "You've had a dirty dream, haven't you, baby?"

Your eyes are closed, and your long lashes are fluttering. Your plump lower lip is trapped between your front teeth. You're such a spectacle; oh, how he wants to fuck your brains out. In response to his question, you nod your head shyly.

"Y-yes."

Your embarrassment excites Mingi even more as he slaps your pussy, finally giving in to his perverted desires and feeling the moisture splash against his palm. You let out a shrill squeal, your hips shaking uncontrollably.

"Must have been something fucking satisfying, getting your little cunt that wet, huh?" He grins lecherously as he looks at you. You look tasty enough to make him want to eat you alive.

He should really thank the manager for getting him a ticket on that special train.

Your legs twitched, trying to close, but Mingi's hand stiffly stopped them before letting them close around his forearm. You're so overwhelmed by all the sensations, but you're not at all ready for them to stop.

"I... I don't remember. Maybe I was thinking of you. Or maybe someone else." Having heard from Asa about the jealous nature of the group, you say this deliberately. All of the members were very possessive of their fans and very aggressive towards them. Why should they look to anyone else when they are right here, ready to make all their fans' dreams come true?

Mingi bristled. Sinking his teeth into your thigh and forcing his finger into you, making his ring stick to the sensitive rim of your used hole. Fuck. The pain and the pleasure mix together and turn your thoughts into mush.

"With my fingers fucking you like this, don't you fucking dare say that." He growls, the deep sound of it vibrating against your skin. Mingi slides a second finger inside of you, the two of them gliding through the wetness with ease and a loud slurping sound. "You will think only of me all the time. There is no one who can be better than me, doll."

You throw your head back, your chest rising and falling in a quick motion. The velvety walls of your pussy clench around Mingi's fingers. The sound of your moaning rises as the idol runs his fingers along the plush and tantalising walls of your vagina. They seem to just suck him in. You're so tiny all over, and he wonders if you can take all his cock.

"It's only you, Mingi." The way you howl out his name is all the answer that Mingi needs to hear.

The idol can't resist the temptation to lean forward and put his face between your thighs. His lust takes over; the sight is too exciting. All he had to do was find out if you tasted as sweet as you looked. The reaction is immediate: his tongue is licking a flat line from your slit to your clit, which he is circling greedily in between his plump lips. Your soft thighs tremble, your breath gets stuck in your throat along with a long moan, and your little hands cling to his shoulders.

"Oh, oh, God!" You let out a gasp, a barely audible whimper, your nails digging into the hard flesh beneath your tight-fitting shirt. Mingi is hoping that you are going to scratch him to a bloody pulp. Hell, he's in need of it.

You drive him crazy with your cuteness. Your juices are flowing in abundance all over his tongue. It tastes amazing, just the way he imagined it would, and Mingi thinks that he could get drunk on you. Fuck, he'll be bragging about you for days to come, rubbing it in the faces of the members. What a sweet thing he's managed to get his hands on. He could probably sit there and do that for hours, even days, licking that pretty little cunt of yours until his jaw hurts and his whole face is wet. He may have oral fixation, but that's not something he's going to want to put on his profile.

He sucks furiously on your swollen clit as his fingers begin to penetrate your tight hole, the wet, squelching sounds drowning out the sound of a train rumbling down the tracks. You're just perfect—too perfect for Mingi to ignore and not fuck. You literally taste heaven, and your voice sounds like sin—hot moans of uncontrollable pleasure.

"I...will...ahhh...M-Mingi..." You whimper, pressing your hand to your own mouth, and Mingi passionately wants to stop you and tell you that there's no better sound for his ears than your moaning. But the rational part of his brain, which sounds strangely like Seonghwa, tells him that it's for the best and that it's wise not to attract the attention of outsiders. "Please!"

You beg, and it's beautiful, your words muffled by the small palm of your hand but still clearly audible to him. Your back arched as you pushed your hips forward, forcing Mingi's fingers to dig deeper into you. You squeeze them so hard that the idol can barely move them inside of you at all. You squeeze them so hard that Mingi's chest vibrates with a rather low purr, which only drives you more wildly and adds to the pleasure, finally taking you to an unexpected peak as you cum profusely on Mingi's waiting tongue and fingers. You are flowing everywhere, and Mingi is greedily drinking it all in, insatiable in his quest to bring you to yet another orgasm, to make you so silly and submissive in his hands. He will take it all and more from you.

Mingi is so hungry for you, and you are so juicy and ripe, perfect for eating.

The second orgasm makes your whole body shake, and the stimulation is almost painful. Your hips jerk in Mingi's tight grip as he digs his fingertips into the plush, creamy skin. He simply can't get enough of you. He marvels at how dishevelled you look, lifting his dark gaze. Your head is thrown back, your eyes are closed, your skirt is pulled up high over your hips, and your cropped sweater almost completely exposes your bra. But it is your sweet mouth that beckons him to you completely. Beautiful, plump lips, slick with saliva and bite marks. They have been opened to let out gorgeous moans of his name and heavy, puffed-up sighs. He will crawl up your body like a predator until his face, soaked with your juices, is hanging over you.

Mingi is a big man—tall, strong, and nicely pumped up—his stunning figure completely covering you and trapping you underneath him.

You gasp for breath, still in a hazy post-orgasmic stupor, your glazed eyes meeting Mingi's, and you whimper as big, rough hands slide down your sides. He easily encompasses your boobs with ease, squeezing them with a force that causes them to fall out from under your bra.

"What big, juicy tits you have. Mmm, you can't be a better doll." Your embarrassed squeal is swallowed whole as Mingi kisses you passionately. Your tongues meet in an exchange of saliva and heavy breathing. On his lips, you can taste your own slime. It's rough, but you like it that way.

He slides his hands under your bra and massages your breasts, pinching your nipples with his fingers in a teasing way that makes you moan loudly into his mouth.

"The most beautiful and seductive pair of tits, so soft and heavy in my hands, I could just fuck them, couldn't I? Would you like that doll?" He whispers as he bites down on your lips and sinks his teeth into the soft, tender flesh. To be honest, he'd like to tear your lips into a bloody mess, but that's probably for another time.

Right now, he wants to use you. He wants to finally get his cock inside you and fuck you into a stupor. As if you could read his mind, your trembling hands reach out for his crotch.

"You want my cock, darling?" He moves his hips gently, and you feel his huge, hard cock pressing against you through the fabric of his trousers.

"Yes, yes, I want your cock so badly, Mingy." You're not as shy as you used to be; your desires are overpowering your modesty. And you don't have to ask twice as Mingi leans back and quickly unbuckles his belt, and you reach out for it, drawn to his sensual lips.

You would never admit it, but his lips were driving you crazy—those gorgeous, plump lips—moist and inviting, making you want to suck on them like a leech and never let go. You wanted to feel them all over your body.

Mingi quickly unbuttoned his trousers. Your tiny hands grabbed his shirt collar, trying to pull him as close as possible, and you licked his neck with your soft tongue. He's never met anyone so desperate to be touched. The way you whimper into his neck, kiss him randomly, and smear saliva over his lips and chin drives him wild. You're definitely his favourite—the best girl he's ever fucked in recent times, if maybe ever. He should tell the members about you; he should let them hear your beautiful, needy moans with the endless repetition of his name; he'll shove your wet panties right in their faces, damn it.

With one firm hand, Mingi holds you by the waist while the other pulls his boxers down until they are low enough for him to pull out his thick, aching cock. Running his thumb over the swollen, wet head, he squeezes the heavy length into his palm. You whimper and look up at him with your eyes wide open as his fingers grab your chin and pull you away from his neck. So perfect you look—dishevelled, tits bulging from your bra, skirt crumpled, and gathered around your hips as you desperately grab his shirt, trying to pull him as close as possible.

Mingi's desire is to destroy you completely.

"On your knees, dolly."

You are so relentless in your desire to please the man who is in front of you. As you obediently lower yourself to the carpeted floor—rough enough for your delicate knees—Mingi's hands run through your hair. You're too mesmerised by the sight in front of you—a gorgeous man, a world-famous idol, by the way—stroking his big cock lazily, looking too amazing to remain indifferent.

"Do you want to try it?" You drool. The only answer you can give is an impatient moan that tells Mingi all he needs to know. You're so desperate; you've never wanted to take someone's cock in the mouth so much. It would probably be so hard on your tongue because Mingi looks so big.

You're not quite sure if you can take the whole thing or just half of it. You know it'll bulge out of your throat if you do. You're so focused on thinking about it that you only come when the hot head of Mingi's cock begins to circle your smooth, swollen lips. He lets out a deep, low moan and the sound is pure porn. You can bet your bottom dollar that Mingi can make an entire concert hall cum at once just by moaning into the microphone. Fuck, their concerts must be wild.

Your mouth falls open in impatience as you look up at him with your eyes glazed over.

"You are such a good girl." Mingi whispers, holding back a moan as your tongue sticks out to lick the drop of pre-cum that is leaking from the head of his cock. He's sure that you've only been made for sucking his cock.

It's so easy to lead you; you're docile, submissive, eager for pleasure, and desperate for the praise that comes with it. The further your mouth descends onto his cock, the bigger and brighter your eyes become, full of pleading as you look up at Mingy, watching how he reacts, wanting to know if you're doing well. Mingi knows that if he were to send your picture to the members right now, it would cause a universal heart attack. They're absolute wimps for obedient little girls that they can scold and use at will.

"Look at you." He takes a sharp breath and runs his thumbs over your pouting cheeks. You look wickedly adorable, and perhaps Mingi is tempted to shove his cock even deeper down your throat, so that you choke on it and begin to sob. "You bruised your knees just so you could suck my cock. How did I get to be so lucky?"

The stifled moan that you let out is accompanied by a thrust of your hips that makes you feel like you are starting to choke. You try your best to relax your jaw as much as possible, holding back the coughing that starts to bubble up in your throat and forcing yourself to calm down. You look at Mingi through the protruding tears and blink your eyes slowly, waiting for the idol to start to fuck you down your throat. He takes no more than a second to realise what you're proposing.

"Want me to fuck your mouth, baby?" Your strangled moan stops momentarily as Mingi moves his hips again, pushing further into the enveloping wet heat, throwing your head back as you accept his heavy, massive length without complaining. "Damn beautiful, such a pretty cock slut."

Your lips tingle around the suggestive girth, and your cheeks are warm from the praise and effort you've put into his pleasure. You look so dishevelled right now, saliva dripping from your chin down your neck and between your heavy tits falling out of your bra. Your knees are red from rubbing against the rough carpet, your eyes are wet and red from unshed tears, and a small puddle of your secretions is also collecting underneath you, dripping freely from your quivering cunt. You haven't even been fucked yet, and you probably look as fucked as you feel. Even though you have every hope that you will be soon.

When Mingi suddenly yanks you by the hair and pulls you away from his cock, you make a half-squeaky sound and look at him with a crying, hurt look on your face, as if your favourite toy has just been taken away from you. Mingi leans down and pulls you to him for a dirty kiss, his tongue thrusting into your mouth and licking it from the inside to the outside as he tastes himself.

It may be disgusting, but your moans are enthusiastic, and you enjoy every second of it.

"You're so beautiful, dolly. What am I going to do with you?" His words are breathed in through searing kisses, the lips sliding together at random, smearing saliva and mucus all over. Damn, this is unrealistically hot—all of his fantasies coming to life in a beautiful girl who just happens to be sharing a compartment with him on the night train. "Maybe I should have you with me for an introduction to the other members? How would you like it if I were to fuck that obliging mouth of yours off in front of the whole group?"

Enjoying his praise and such a tantalising prospect, you whimper again. Being their whore isn't such a bad option, to be honest; as long as you're fed and well fucked, it's enough to have fun.

"I can't seem to keep my hands off of you, sweetheart. You're literally a pollination." Mingi's deep, velvety whisper tickles your ears. He reaches out to take the palm of your hand and cradle it against his cock.

It's a heavy, hot length, resting perfectly in the palm of your hand, and you long to feel it inside of you. It's big, big enough to send you to heaven with every thrust, and the big head hits you right on the cervix with every thrust of those skilled hips. God bless his dancing skills, because, as you know, dancers can fuck like gods.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" You gasp as Mingi's big hand glides over yours, both of them sliding up and down his hard cock in a confident manner. "With your beautiful eyes and the beauty of your face, Perfect, sweet lips, perfect for the sucking of my cock." He bites down on the torn lower lip you have bitten and kissed and pulls it into his mouth, then pulls back to give you a chaste kiss on your swollen mouth. "All of this is just for me."

Leaning completely on Mingi in front of you, your weak legs have long since stopped supporting you. Your beautiful mouth is open a little, a small whimper escaping from the depths of your throat as you savour the praise that is pouring down upon you. It makes you feel so damn good.

"You are such a delicious girl." Mingi moans as he bites down hard on one of your lips. He turns you around and pushes you in front of him until you find yourself pressing your face first against the fogged-up window. You look out, eyes wide open. There is nothing on the road, just wide fields whizzing by in a fast, blurred image. But something about the thought of somehow seeing how Mingi is fucking you stupid in front of windows makes you wet. Your pussy clenches against nothing. You arch your back and your plump, soft arse, trying to rub against Mingi's cock.

His commanding hand pulls one of your buttocks back to reveal your wet cunt and virgin anal opening. Fuck, you look so delicious. He thinks about pushing his face into your pussy once more and licking you until the morning comes. Next time, he says to himself, shaking his head in the hope that the urge will go away. His hair is falling down over his eyes, giving him that same vicious look that makes their fans go crazy for them.

"I'm going to fuck you like this." Mingi whispers, clenching the lobe of your ear with his teeth. "You'll be a good girl, and you'll be quiet for me so that nobody else can hear how good and how deep I'm fucking you. Do you understand me?"

The rough, big palm slapping your mouth muffled the impatient moan you made as the head of Mingi's cock pushed your sticky folds apart from behind.

"What I told you, doll. If you want to feel me inside you, you need to hear it. I can tease you all night long and play with your lusty little pussy if you are naughty." His words are disapproving and you do a quick nod of understanding. You're going to be good for him. You know you can. You will do everything Mingi asks of you and fulfil his every wish.

Mingi continues to tease you, enjoying the stuttering moans that are muffled by his hand as his cock slides between your folds, rubbing against your clit but never penetrating you. The bulging head of his cock clings to the edge of your throbbing hole and you want to start begging for it. It's agonising, and your eyes fill with tears of frustration at how much you want to feel the thick, long Mingi's cock inside you.

"Have I upset you, doll?" Mingi cooed at the sound of your sobs. "You want my cock so badly. Don't you?" Confirming his words, you nodded mindlessly. "Baby, you know how much I love you; I can't upset my fans." One second you're empty, needy, and throbbing with anticipation, and the next Mingi's thick cock is shoved deep inside you, your oozing hole struggling to get used to his massive size.

A wheeze bursts from your lungs at the intensity of the thrust, your breasts pressed against the window. Your nipples are hardening from the cold of the glass and are becoming even more sensitive than they were before. It's so painful and so good that you're on the verge of tears.

"So perfect, if only you could see the way your beautiful cunt is taking my cock in. I thought you'd have to be stretched for that, but what a pleasant surprise; you don't need it." The sultry purr makes you roll your eyes. His voice is a damned aphrodisiac, making you dumber and wetter, your juices squirting around his cock with every sinful move he make of his hips. Mingi fucks like a god; you were right about him.

You whimper weakly as your nipples rub against the cold glass of the window. Rationality has left you completely. Drool flows freely into Mingi's palm, which is still clamped over your mouth. Your legs turn to jelly as Mingi holds you with a strong arm around your waist, sliding hard in and out of your wet cunt, causing your eyes to roll back in your head. Somewhere far away, your mind is foggy. All it can think about is how good you feel and how much you want this to never end. It's like you're addicted to a drug and you need more Mingi—more, more, and more.

The narrow, velvety walls of your vagina close in over Mingi's dick, pulling him inside and holding him in what feels like a soft vice. Mingi's low, deep moans, the slapping against skin, and the loud, rhythmic squelching echo around you. It's so damned loud, even when he's holding back, and you can't help imagining what it would sound like elsewhere. This must be in their dorm; the rooms are soundproof because he's a terribly loud, whining, moaning mess.Two long fingers slide into your mouth and onto your tongue. You gurgle around them, sucking hard, the cold of the rings burning you, and it's so erotic.

"The best for me." That's all Mingi has to say to you before his thrusts get faster and faster, becoming almost aggressive as he presses you up against the window, his muscular thighs slapping against your plump arse.

All you can do is take what you're given and lick his fingers deep into your mouth as his massive cock fucks the life out of you. You throb and whip your juices around him. As your orgasm hits you, you rest your head on Mingi's shoulder. You arch up and shake with your whole body. Mingi's cock is still thrusting into you. He is having a hard time moving because you are squeezing him so hard. He doesn't stop hitting you, he moves his hips in a calculated way, hitting that special spot that makes you want to see the stars. It's almost mocking. The intense stimulation is searing, almost maddening, as if you're stuck somewhere between heaven and hell.

"That's it, doll. You look so beautiful when you cum so hard. Maybe I should fuck you on stage before all the fans, so they can see what a pretty face you make when my cock is so deep inside you." Teeth sink into your shoulder, and you give a weak whimper. "Or maybe you want me to film it so that I can jerk off any time I feel like it? Tonight I'm going to watch you cum over and over and over again."

Mingi seems to really mean what he says, because it's pretty clear from the way he keeps moving inside of you that he won't be satisfied until he's gotten a few more out of you. His endurance is something rabbits would envy. Mingi fucks like an animal, but it's fucking splendidly.

You squeal in overexcitement and run your hands over the window in front of you, leaving a trail of fingerprints all over the glass. You moan loudly as Mingi comes out of you, your used-up, reddened hole shrinking in the emptiness as you instinctively try to close around the hot, massive length. He has literally broken all the men in your life. How the hell are you going to be able to have sex with anyone else after this?

You'll be in need of rehab for the rest of your life.

He pulls you by your waist like a real doll. You find yourself on the lap of a cheeky idol. Your hips are shaking, and you are trying to hold on to him, clutching at Mingi's broad, muscular shoulders with your hands. He stares at you with a lustful, wet gaze, his eyes gliding over every curve and every mark he's left on you. And Mingi isn't finished with you yet.

"Now let's plant you properly, baby." As he pushes you onto his cock, his hands grab your arse and spread your cheeks. The squelching sound is loud and sickening as you sink down onto him completely. Mingi presses his hand on your belly as the head of his cock protrudes from under the thin skin of yours. "That's right, you take me so well. Your cunt is the perfect place for the warmth of my cock to be. Don't you think so, dolly?" He's almost purring like a fucking cat, and you're not thinking anything; you're just mindlessly nodding along to everything he says. You moan longingly as he circles your hips, and you settle comfortably on his cock. You're so full that he presses against every sensitive spot inside you, making you gasp for air. With Mingi's help, you begin to rise and fall, slapping your arse against his muscular thighs, your mouth ajar, your eyelashes fluttering, and your chubby cheeks wet and hot. You're pure sin. Your legs are too weak to ride Mingi properly, but the idol doesn't care; he's doing fine on his own, guiding your hips as he pleases and driving his cock into you with powerful, deep thrusts.

As he hits you in all the right places, making your toes curl, you see stars behind your closed eyes. You sob openly, your slippery lips pressing against Mingi's neck in an attempt to muffle your moans. You whimper about how good it feels, how deep it goes, and how he never wants to stop. With each thrust, the round, wet head comes to rest against your cervix.

You shudder and squirm in his hands as Mingi presses his fingers against your swollen clit. You can feel it; you're so damn wet. You're flowing like a waterfall, all the way down the length of Mingi and probably all the way down to your balls, forming a puddle on the seat beneath you. You don't want this moment to end; you feel so full and satisfied.

He can collar you and drag you all over the world if he wants to, just so you can keep feeling that gorgeous cock inside you.

"Now! I'm going to cum now, Mingi!" You squeal, pressing your hand to your mouth and bouncing up and down in spite of the tension in your thighs, your tits jiggling with every move you make. Aydol leans forward and catches one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his hot, silky tongue around it as he licks it. Are all rappers that good with their tongues, or is it just something that Mingi does? So you come for the third time that night, your head thrown back and your muscles burning as you continue to be fucked mercilessly. You contract and throb relentlessly all over the thick length that has been pushed deep inside you.

It's a lot, so damn much, but Mingi is still insatiable. To be honest, you wonder where all this sexual appetite comes from with such a constant workload. He could probably go at it with you the whole night through, changing position after position until you pass out. Mingi isn't enough; he isn't full enough to be finished with you.

He turns you over on your back, and you slam your back into the uncomfortable seat. Mingi is still so hard; the head of his cock is a fierce shade of red; his balls are throbbing; one more orgasm from you, and maybe he'll finally let himself come and make a real mess of you. The prospect of flooding you with his cum would be heavenly for him; you would look so beautiful with thick white jets of cum flowing all over your face. It was definitely an unforgettable sight.

Your walls are on fire as Mingi's cock struggles to get back into the nice velvety warmth, and you shake your head underneath it, visibly shaking your whole body and letting out the most beautiful wet sobs.

"It's too much; I can't! God, Mingi, I can't." Mingi kisses you lovingly to calm you down, and you breathe heavily, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"That's OK, baby; you're OK. You can give me another one, right? I know you can, beautiful doll. Come on, make me cum."

"Just one more time." Your voice is barely a whisper.

"Yes, just one. And you can get some rest. I promise." It's something between a promise and an assurance; the words are little more than reassurance, but you're in agreement.

If you had another member with you, you can't even imagine what it would have been like. You wouldn't have survived. And you wonder how fans keep referring to the idols as cute prince charmers with big innocent eyes. Never again.

Mingi squeezes your plump breasts in her hands and bends her head down so that she can take one of your nipples in her mouth. You're too sensitive right now, and even this action makes your hips tremble slightly. Her tongue swirls around the hard bud until Mingi begins to suck tangibly. You tangle your fingers in the surprisingly soft hair, your breasts rising and falling rapidly as you slowly recover from the hypersensitivity of your last orgasm. Mingi's cock is still warm deep inside you.

His hips begin to move gently, in a slow, erotic rhythm, as his teeth graze your nipple, making you whimper. It is this kind of change that almost gives you whiplash. You wrap your legs around Mingi's slender waist and scratch his back with your nails; it hurts, but in a good way. Deep down, you always knew you were a bit of a masochist.

"Look, baby, you're doing so well. You look amazing." The deep, gentle movements of his hips hit the right spot in you. You jump, and you see white spots in front of your eyes. "You need this, don't you? You need to be fucked until you can't take it any more, you little slut."

You nod desperately. It's exactly what you've always needed. A fuck on the edge of your life is exactly what you need after a string of unsatisfying, disappointing partners, after work and endless errands, after the weariness of the day and the noise of the crowd. And it seems that Mingi does too.

You never expected to intentionally meet an idol, and you certainly didn't expect him to remember your face, let alone your name, but here you are with Mingi's cock from Ateez deep inside you, and to be honest, it's the best thing that's ever happened to you in your whole life.

You're so lucky.

Your eyes are closed, your mouth is open in a silent moan, and your breasts are shaking with every thrust. And just as Mingi expected, the crystal pendant looks amazing between your bare tits.

You are being fucked so well that you can't find the right words to describe it. The contrast between you and Mingi is striking: you're completely dishevelled, shattered in every sense of the word, shivering, your clothes half hanging off your body, while Mingi has only drops of sweat on his forehead with long strands of fringes clinging to them, his trousers still on his hips, unbuttoned just so his cock can slip out, his shirt sleeves rolled up, and his hair slightly dishevelled.

In a selfish desire to cum, you are pressed mercilessly into the seat, fucking the rest of your life out of you.

"Cum inside." You whisper, barely coherent. "Please, Mingi."

Mingi growls at this request, losing all self-control at the thought of him filling you with his cum, forcing you to keep it inside you so that all you can think about is him. Feeling him inside you with every step you take. He rubs your swollen clit hard with his thumb, making sure he squeezes the last orgasm out of you. His hips set a frantic, jagged rhythm as he enters your pussy that still flows around him, wet squelches and slaps echoing between you. It's the final orgasm that finally brings Mingi to his own release. He lets his head drop low as he bites the back of your neck to stifle a loud, prolonged moan, both of you lost in their own pleasure. Mingi's orgasm is so intense that you can feel his cum running down the sides of your cunt, filling you to the brim. The intensity causes him to go blind for a few seconds, and it takes him a while to come to.

This is new. Even for him.

Mingi finally pulls back to look at you. He coos softly as he notices how broken and completely fucked you look.

"That's my girl. You did great, doll." He whispers in a low voice and leaves soft kisses on your bitten skin. His lips are like soft, fluffy clouds—very soft and delicate.

Your vision is blurred and your mind is a mess, and you don't seem to be able to function properly anytime soon, but the only thing you're sure of is how content and satisfied you feel right now. You whimper pitifully as Mingi comes out of you, trying to squeeze your hole to keep the cum from leaking out. But it's inevitable; a small amount leaks out of you anyway in a thick, creamy mass.

"Let's get you cleaned up, doll, so you can get some rest afterwards."

Despite the sperm leaking out of you, your head tilts helplessly to the side as Mingi helps you put your clothes back on. He seems to be enjoying the sight, making no effort to wipe it off. Disgusting, yes. He doesn't give a fuck. Nobody ever said he was a nice boy.

You cringe at the sensation. But the knowledge that it's Mingi's cum gives you endless perverse pleasure. You're tired, too exhausted to want anything more than to sleep. You still have hours of travel ahead of you; you must rest before Asa meets you at the train station.

Mingi notices your condition. He has already straightened your clothes and picked up your mobile phone from the floor. The recording is safely stored in a private folder. It is protected by a complex, multi-digit password.

"Y/N, you can sleep now. I'll keep an eye on you." He laughs as he says that, because that's exactly what he said before he started fingering you. But this time, he really means what he says.

"Whatever you want to say." You reply with a smile and finally take off your shoes, which are uncomfortable as hell, and curl up into a ball. "I think, thank you, Mingi. You know, for the sex."

"Don't thank me; I'm kind of totally into you."

"Good night, then."

"Dream about me, Y/N."

By the time you wake up, the train has already arrived at Tamagawa Station. As you would expect, Mingi is nowhere in sight, but your duffel bag is on his seat opposite you. He's not a complete bastard, after all. You pack quickly and fly off the train, straight into Asa's warm embrace.

"Hey girl, you're finally here. God, you look tired and exhausted." If she only had a clue...

"Long night," you reply simply with a shrug of your shoulders.

"Well, let's go. The hot springs are waiting for us, and I hear there's a famous group staying at this resort right now. Maybe we'll meet some of the idols." Asa is terribly excited and is dragging you by the hand in the direction of her car.

You vaguely remember what Mingi had said about him and the boys coming here to relax before their concerts. But you don't even know if they stay here or not, and this is a big resort. What are the chances?

When you get into the car, the only thing you can think about is Mingi's dried semen on your thighs and where the hell your knickers have gone.

On the next day.

"This is it; I can't stand it any longer. How can you stand it??"Asa whined as she climbed out of the big hot tub with the bubbling hot water. She was all flushed, the pretty pink bathing suit clinging to her body like a second skin, until she changed into a fluffy white dressing gown.

"It's hot springs, Asa. That's the point.."You rest your head on the padded side and laugh at her pained expression. It's a beautiful resort, after all. "Go on. I'm going to be here for a while."

"Yes, don't get boiled alive; there's no one to save you. We're the last ones here tonight; you can sit here alone all night." You realise that Asa has already left, her voice coming from somewhere far away.

The hot water relaxes you, and you feel so good, warm, and comfortable. While enjoying your own moment, you close your eyes.

The next time you open your eyes, there will be a piece of fabric dangling in front of your face, or rather, is it a pair of panties? Cream-coloured silk with a delicate ruffle around the edge—it's definitely a pair of panties. It's your panties! Oh, shit. You turn sharply around and sail away from the edge to look into a face full of a seductive grin and the most gorgeous cat-like features.

"These are yours, aren't they?" The voice sticks to your skin like a kiss of love, so honeyed and sweet. Shocked by the situation, you nod your head stupidly, not knowing how to choose your words. "Oh, I finally found you. You know, Mingi has told us a lot about you, y/n." The man slips easily into the hot tub, unfastening his white dressing gown, revealing a chiselled, gorgeous body. For your taste, too close. He corners you unceremoniously, putting his hands on either side of your face, his wide shouders completely blocking you from seeing. "I'm San. But you already know that, don't you, baby?" He literally whispers the last word in your ear, sending a shiver down your entire body and hardening your nipples, even though the water is warm. "You know, we're resting here before the concerts start. It would be really nice to have a pretty kitty like you to keep us company."

Belatedly, especially when San's lips begin to trace a light path down your neck, you understand the meaning of his words.

"Us? I don't understand." You give him a slight push away from you, but he doesn't move an inch.

"To us, of course, you silly kitty - Ateez. You see, our leader is very interested in making a personal record of all your cute little sounds." He leans over to you and whispers in your ear in a conspiratorial manner. "We had a lot of fun listening to how you cum, kitty."

This is a big resort. You remind yourself. What a possibility, you say. You see a satisfied, anticipatory smile on Yunho's lips as he waves sweetly at you from the other side of the hot tub. He is such a sweet boy. Yeah sure, you absolutely believe it.

Looks like you got lucky. After all, what are the chances of getting to meet not just Mingi, but the whole of his group?

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