5starluvr

[5starluvr]

NORTHSIDE

pairing: jeongin x reader (fem)

summary: The frat house was too loud. The music too bassy. The beer too warm. You weren’t supposed to stay long. But then Jeongin looked at you like he saw past all of it. And for one night, maybe he did.

genre: college au, smut, angst , one-shot

wc: ~4.8k

warnings: graphic sexual content (oral, protected p-in-v, rough sex, dom!jeongin),party setting, alcohol, one-night stand dynamic,emotionally intense,themes of loneliness, casual sex, fleeting intimacy

The bass is a pulse.

Jeongin leans against the splintered railing of the frat house porch, beer bottle dangling from his fingers, condensation dripping down like sweat. Someone inside is yelling about flip cup. Someone else is crying in the backyard. The night is breathing heat and smoke and perfume and sour breath.

It’s the kind of party you don’t really want to be at, but you show up anyway. Senior year. Expectations.

His eyes are sharp, half-lidded, tracking movement. People pass like smears of color and noise, none of it sticking — until her.

She’s standing alone at the edge of the kitchen, plastic cup to her lips, red as blood. Her eyes sweep the room like she’s trying to memorize it all in case she never comes back. Tight black dress, one strap off her shoulder, hair half up, lip gloss smeared slightly at the corner. She looks too young for this crowd — and too self-aware to admit it.

She’s not looking at anyone.

So naturally, Jeongin looks at her.

He drifts toward the doorway like he’s being pulled. Or maybe pushed.

“Freshman?” he asks, not bothering to shout. If she hears him, because he knows she will.

She doesn’t look at him right away. Just sips. Then: “You say that like it’s an insult.”

Her voice is low. Not soft. Like she only gives it to people she wants to hear her.

He smirks, teeth flashing. “I didn’t say it was.”

“Then why ask?”

Jeongin tilts his head. “Because you’re standing like you don’t know whether to stay or run. And that’s a freshman thing.”

She finally turns to face him. Her eyes are steady. Grey or green — hard to tell under the shitty LED light strip flickering above them.

“I stayed.”

“You did.” He steps a little closer. “What’s your name?”

She hesitates, then gives it. “Y/N.”

He repeats it, quieter. Like a password.

———————-

She doesn’t know why she’s still here. The party is too loud. The house stinks of beer and cologne and sweat. Some guy with a backwards cap just tried to explain NFTs to her.

But now there’s this guy. Tall, sharp-jawed, brown hair tousled like he just woke up — or like he always looks like this. He doesn’t lean in too close. Doesn’t scan her legs. Doesn’t use that voice guys use when they think they’re being charming.

He just watches her like he’s curious. A little detached.

Which is worse. Or better.

She steps into his space first. Subtle. Maybe imperceptible. But he notices — his hand brushes hers by accident, or maybe not.

“You live here?” she asks.

“God, no.” A smile. “I have taste.”

She laughs — short, real.

He tips his beer toward her. “Come upstairs.”

It’s not a question.

She should say no. She should ask his name. She should pretend like she hasn’t already decided.

But she doesn’t.

She just follows.

————-

The door clicks shut behind them.

Someone’s room — no idea whose. The walls are lined with peeling posters and dirty laundry piles. A candle has been burned too low on the windowsill. Smells like wax and vanilla and boy.

She’s already sitting on the bed. Legs crossed, one hand tugging at the strap slipping off her shoulder. Her eyes are locked on him like a dare.

“Don’t act like you’re doing me a favor,” he says, voice rougher now.

“I’m not.”

Jeongin crosses the space and stops in front of her. She stays seated, looking up.

“Then what are you doing?” he asks.

She stands slowly. Her hand slides up his chest — not gentle, not sweet. She stops at his collar, grips it, tugs.

“Staying.”

That single word from her mouth presses something deep and primal inside him, and before either of them breathes again, her lips crash into his.

The kiss is fierce—teeth, tongue, heat. No soft prelude. No testing the waters. Her mouth tastes like spiced rum and want, and he groans into it, gripping her hips through the clingy fabric of her dress.

She’s already tugging his shirt up, her nails scraping his abs. He peels it off and tosses it. Her hands roam like she’s memorizing muscle—over his chest, shoulders, arms. He watches her while she works his belt loose, knuckles grazing his hard-on.

The zipper comes down and she smirks when she feels how hard he is already through his boxers.

“Jesus,” she mutters.

He’s already backing her toward the bed.

Her dress pools to the floor—no hesitation. No shame. She steps out in black lace and heels. The bra barely covers anything; the panties are already damp. She hooks her thumbs in them and starts to slide them down, slow, like she wants him to watch. He does. Every second.

Then she’s sitting on the bed, legs open just enough to tease.

He drops to his knees between them, gripping her thighs. She’s warm, already slick. He leans in, licks a stripe up her slit, and her head falls back with a gasp.

“Oh—fuck—”

He groans against her, tongue working slow at first, then faster. His hands pin her thighs wide, fingers digging in as he sucks her clit and flicks it with his tongue. She’s soaked, dripping onto his mouth, and when she grabs his hair and grinds forward, he lets her.

“Shit—don’t stop—right there—”

He doesn’t. His tongue circles, flattens, dips into her, and then he’s sucking her clit again while two fingers slide inside—wet and tight and so fucking hot.

She arches off the bed, moaning loud now. He curves his fingers just right, finds the spot, and—

She breaks.

Her thighs clamp around his head and her body jerks, cumming hard on his tongue with a strangled sound. He groans and keeps going, tongue softening now, kissing the insides of her thighs, slow licks to soothe her as she shivers.

She looks wrecked. Lip bitten, eyes glassy, chest rising and falling like she ran a mile.

“You’re still wearing too many clothes,” she pants.

He’s out of his jeans in seconds, condom in hand, tearing the foil with his teeth. She takes it from him and rolls it on slowly, fingers curling around him, stroking once—then again, tighter.

“You’re fucking big,” she murmurs.

“Can you take it?” His voice is gravel.

She just pulls him down by the neck and kisses him again—hot, open-mouthed, filthy.

Then she rolls onto her back, legs open wide, and nods once.

“Come fuck me, Jeongin.”

He pushes into her in one long, slow thrust. She moans loud, hips rising to meet him. Tight, wet, hot—she feels insane. He stills halfway, jaw clenched.

“Holy shit,” he growls.

“Don’t stop,” she hisses. “Fill me. All the way.”

He thrusts the rest of the way in and her nails rake down his back, pulling him deeper, harder.

They find rhythm fast—his hips slamming into hers, the slap of skin on skin loud in the room. She wraps her legs around his waist, pulls him in, takes every inch like she’s starving for it.

“Harder,” she gasps. “Faster—fuck, right there—”

He drives into her, holding her down by the hips as he pounds her, the bed creaking with every thrust. Her tits bounce with the movement and he ducks down, sucking one into his mouth, biting lightly until she cries out again.

He flips her over—hands on her waist, pulling her ass up. She looks back at him over her shoulder, flushed and panting.

“Please,” she whimpers.

He sinks into her from behind, deeper this time, and she chokes on a moan, hands clutching the sheets.

Her body takes everything he gives—every thrust, every slap of his hips, the sting of his palm on her ass when she clenches too hard.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groans. “You love this, don’t you?”

“Y-Yeah—god—don’t stop—”

He doesn’t. He holds her hair, thrusts harder, her pussy sucking him in like it doesn’t want to let go. She’s shaking again, and when he reaches around to rub her clit—

She breaks again.

Loud, filthy, clawing at the sheets as she cums hard, body convulsing. Her walls clamp around him and he barely holds on—one more thrust, and then he’s cumming too, deep, gasping her name as he pulses into the condom, body going rigid.

They stay like that for a long moment—bodies slick, breath ragged, tangled in the sheets.

Eventually, he pulls out, ties off the condom, drops it in the trash.

She’s already slipping her panties back on, pulling her dress over sticky skin, tucking her hair behind one ear. She doesn’t look at him right away.

Jeongin stays on the bed, sheets twisted around his waist. He watches her like he’s trying to memorize the shape of her spine.

“You don’t have to go,” he says, voice low.

She pauses at the mirror. Smooths her dress. Stares at her own reflection like she doesn’t recognize it.

“I wasn’t supposed to stay this long.”

He swallows. “Still. You could.”

She turns, finally facing him. Her lipstick’s long gone. Her eyes are clearer now — less drunk, more real.

“You’ll forget me tomorrow.”

“No, I won’t.”

She crosses the room slowly. Not toward the door — but toward him.

And then — she kisses him.

Soft, this time. Nothing like before. A slow press of lips, a breath shared, her fingers threading briefly through his hair.

When she pulls back, her eyes linger on his face like she wants to say something else. Something real.

But instead, she just whispers, “You were the only reason I didn’t leave sooner.”

Then she’s gone.

The door clicks shut behind her.

Jeongin lies back.

Worst thing?

The sheets still smell like her.

[5starluvr]

your “are we still friends” fic has been living in my head RENT FREE!!! ik in your a/n you said you hadn’t written smut and that english wasn’t your first language etc, but it was seriously AMAZING!!

patiently waiting for a part two👀

Omg thank you SO much!!! 🥹 You have no idea how much this means to me!! I was so nervous about posting that fic, especially with the smut part and English not being my first language, so hearing this honestly made my day.And haha the “living in my head rent free” comment made me smile so hard!!

[5starluvr]

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3

Paring:Han jisung,Lee Minho × Reader

Genre: slow-burn ,smut, angst,(one second of fluff)

a/n: get ready for a ride because this part is quite hot and confusing. What do you think the end is going to be like, will she have to choose after this disaster?

Warnings: Degrading & praise kink ,Dom/sub dynamic ,Sir kink , Threesome (m/m/f) ,Anal ,Double penetration ,Smoking ,Emotional manipulation ,Voyeurism ,Rough sex ,Power imbalance ,Obsession themes, Toxic relationship elements

Summary: You were just group partners. Just friends. Just fucking.

But Minho doesn’t do “just.” And Jisung doesn’t know when to stop loving people who hurt him.

Now you’re caught between a boy who wants to own you and a boy who wants to be owned—

—and neither of them plans on letting go.

The corridor outside the studio was empty.

Y/N had stayed late to return a book. Her feet echoed against the floor. Fluorescents buzzed overhead—too bright. Too sterile.

She didn't hear him at first. He was just there, suddenly.Leaning against the wall near the exit.

Minho.

Hands in his coat pockets. Backpack slung over one shoulder. His eyes fixed on her like he'd been waiting. Maybe he had.

"Hey," she said softly.

He didn't answer.

Just pushed off the wall and walked toward her, slow and deliberate.

She froze.

He stopped half a step too close.

"You didn't lock the door last night."

Y/N blinked. "What?"

"Jisung's door. When I walked in."

"You let anyone watch?"

She flushed. "You didn't knock."

“I don't knock," he said simply.

She tried to breathe around the heat rising in her chest. "If you have a problem—"

"I don't."

Silence.

Then:

"He doesn't know what you need."

Her stomach turned. "And you do?"

Minho's hand lifted—slow, almost hesitant. He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, fingers grazing her cheek.

"I know what you want."

She stood still. Breath shaky. Heart punching her ribs.

"You like being told what to do," he said quietly. "You like being seen. Not coddled. Used."

Her thighs pressed together involuntarily.

He leaned in—lips just shy of hers. Not touching. Not yet.

"You want both of us?"

"Then you follow my rules."

She swallowed hard. "What rules?"

"Mine."

And then he kissed her.

It wasn't sweet. It wasn't soft.

It was claiming.

His hand gripped her jaw. His mouth stole every excuse. It lasted five seconds. Ten. An eternity.

When he pulled away, she was breathless.

"Think about it," he murmured.

Then he walked away.

Didn't look back.

She didn't think.

Instead she texted him ten minutes later

"When?"

Minho 🍷:

Tonight. My room. No talking.

Bring him too.

Y/N stood outside Minho's door for a full five seconds before knocking.

Not out of nerves. Not really.

Out of the strange sense that once she stepped through that door, she wouldn't be the same walking back out.It opened before she could lift her hand again.

Minho.

His face was calm—expression unreadable. Just a flick of the eyes behind her.

"Jisung?"

She turned. Jisung was there, half a step behind, hoodie slung over his shoulder, hair still damp from a rushed shower.

He hesitated. "We're really doing this?"

Minho didn't answer. He stepped aside.

Y/N went in first.

⸻

His room smelled like cedar and mint and something more elusive—control, maybe. Discipline. No clutter. The lights were low, casting a warm haze over his bed, his mirror, the lines of his shoulders where they moved beneath his shirt.

He said nothing.

Just looked at her.

Then at Jisung.

Then back again.

"Strip."

Y/N's breath caught—but she obeyed.

Minho's voice didn't rise. It didn't have to.

She pulled her top off slowly. Her hands trembled only a little as she unhooked her bra. Jisung's breath hitched behind her, but he didn't move.

Skirt. Then panties.

Then she stood—bare, flushed, watching Minho watch her.

"You're going to lie back on the bed," he said. "Head near the edge. Legs apart."

Jisung shifted. "Minho—"

"Quiet."

Minho's tone didn't change, but the silence that followed was immediate. Dense.

Y/N moved.

The bed was cool against her back. Her thighs parted automatically. Her breathing slowed, chest rising in shallow waves.

Minho stepped closer.

"Don't touch her unless I tell you to," he said over his shoulder. "Don't talk to her. Don't even look at her unless I say."

Jisung was quiet for a second.

Then:

"...Okay."

Minho knelt at the foot of the bed.

His hands gripped her thighs and pulled her to the edge in one smooth motion—no hesitation. No warmth, either. Just purpose.

And then—his mouth.

He didn't start soft.

He devoured her.

Tongue working in tight, devastating circles, pressure perfect, rhythm devastating. His hands held her open, fingers pressing into her hips hard enough to anchor her in place.

Y/N cried out, legs twitching, but Minho only went deeper—flattening his tongue, sucking on her clit hard enough to make her arch.

"Don't come," he said against her. "Not yet."

She moaned in frustration, hips fighting the command. But she nodded.

"Yes, sir."

Behind her, Jisung made a noise. A choked little sound.

Minho looked up briefly.

"You can watch her come undone. But not yet."

He returned to her, slower now. Drawing it out.

Tasting her like she was something he was owed.

Minho pulled back slightly, lips glistening.

Y/N whimpered at the sudden absence.

Her hips bucked, instinctive, desperate for friction.

Minho's eyes snapped up.

"I said not yet."

She froze.

His palm landed flat on her inner thigh—not cruel, but sharp. Enough to make her jolt. Enough to remind her of her place.

Then he stood.

Looked over his shoulder at Jisung—who was standing stiff at the foot of the bed, trying not to look too closely, eyes already blown wide with hunger.

Minho's voice was quiet. Low. Dangerous.

"Get on the bed."

Jisung blinked. "What—?"

"Next to her. Keep your hands off her until I say."

Jisung climbed up slowly, every movement uncertain.

Y/N turned her head just slightly, their eyes meeting for a moment.

Jisung looked like he was about to say something.

But then Minho climbed onto the mattress too.

And everything shifted.

Minho knelt between her legs again—fully clothed, perfectly still—and ran his palm down her stomach, between her breasts, up to her throat.

His hand rested there.

Not choking.

Just...holding.

"Do you want him to touch you?" he asked.

Y/N whimpered, nodding. "Yes. Please."

"Where?"

She hesitated.

"Everywhere."

Minho tilted his head, looking at Jisung.

"Hands only," he said. "Let her feel how much you want her."

Jisung moved like he'd been waiting hours for permission.

His hands found her hips, her waist, her breasts. His mouth parted, but he didn't speak. He touched her like she was breakable—but his fingers trembled.

Minho moved to her other side, brushing her hair back.

"Tell him what you want."

Y/N moaned. "Touch me lower."

Jisung's hand slid between her thighs.

But it didn't stay gentle.

His fingers found her clit and circled, slick and eager, faster than Minho's tongue had allowed. She arched with a cry—and that was all it took.

Minho gripped her chin. "Look at me."

Her eyes snapped open.

"Do not come yet."

"I—I can't—" she gasped.

Minho nodded once.

Then turned to Jisung.

"Put your cock in her."

Jisung's breath hitched.

But he obeyed.

Jisung knelt between her legs, hands trembling as he lined himself up.

Y/N looked up at him, lips parted, body aching for it—every nerve in her body buzzing with withheld tension.

Minho sat back beside them, watching, eyes locked on where they touched.

"Slow," he said. "Let her feel it."

Jisung nodded once—then pushed in.

Y/N gasped. Her hands clutched the sheets. Jisung groaned above her, teeth clenched, head dropping forward as he sank in—inch by inch.

"F-fuck—she's so—tight—"

"Focus," Minho said. "Don't embarrass yourself."

Jisung huffed a breathless laugh—more reflex than humor—and bottomed out with a soft, broken sound.

Minho's hand found Y/N's thigh again.

"You okay?"

She nodded, barely.

"Good. Now tell him what to do."

Y/N turned her head, blinking up at Jisung.

"Move. Please—fuck me—"

Jisung obeyed. He started slow, rocking his hips in deep, uneven thrusts—messy, desperate, so full of want it almost made her cry.

Minho watched, silent at first. Then:

"That's all you've got?"

"You've been eyeing her for weeks, and that's how you fuck her?"

Jisung growled. "You wanna do it?"

Minho's mouth twitched. "I will."

He stood. Undid his pants. Let them fall.

And Y/N's breath hitched.

Because he was hard already—thick, flushed, and fucking beautiful. He climbed onto the bed beside her again and grabbed Jisung's chin.

"Pull out."

Jisung blinked, panting. "What?"

"I said pull out."

Reluctantly, Jisung obeyed—his cock dragging free with a wet, aching sound. Y/N whimpered at the loss.

Minho grabbed her hips, yanked her back into place, and aligned himself in one smooth motion.

"Now you watch."

And then—he pushed in.

It was deeper. Harder. Slower.

Every stroke felt deliberate. Possessive. Final.

Minho held her open, bottomed out, and didn't move—just breathed against her cheek and said, "You feel that?"

She whimpered. "Yes—sir—"

"That's what it's supposed to feel like."

And then he moved.

Y/N could barely move.

Her thighs were slick, trembling. Her lips swollen from kissing, from moaning, from begging. Her body had already come twice, maybe three times—she'd lost count.

But Minho wasn't done.

He gripped her hips, pulled her back toward him, and leaned close.

"On your hands and knees," he said. "Now."

She obeyed—arms shaking, face flushed, lips parted around heavy breaths.

Minho knelt behind her again, lined up his cock—still hard, unrelenting—and slid in with one brutal, perfect stroke.

Y/N cried out, her hands clutching the sheets like they might keep her grounded.

Then—

"Jisung."

The name was a command.

Jisung looked up from where he'd slumped against the wall—hair messy, pupils blown, his own cock already hardening again just from watching.

"Come here," Minho said. "Her mouth's empty."

Jisung blinked like he wasn't sure he could stand. But he did—staggered forward, falling to his knees in front of her.

She looked up, dazed, eyes glassy—and opened her mouth without a word.

Jisung whimpered.

"F-fuck—" he gasped. "You—she—Minho, I can't—"

"You can," Minho said, pounding into her now with slow, lethal rhythm. "And you will."

Jisung guided himself into her mouth, groaning as her lips closed around him. She moaned—full, used, eyes fluttering shut as both men took from her at once.

Minho's pace picked up.

His hands fisted in her hips, dragging her back onto his cock over and over. Her sounds were muffled by Jisung's length sliding deep into her throat.

Jisung's hands trembled as he held her hair.

"She's—fuck—she's too good—I can't—I can't—"

Minho's voice was calm. Cruel.

"You don't get to fall apart yet. Not until I'm done with her."

Y/N gagged around Jisung's cock, tears stinging her eyes. And still—she took it. All of it.

Because they asked.

Because Minho owned her now.

Y/N's throat fluttered around Jisung's cock as he moaned above her—desperate, trembling. She could barely breathe around the stretch of him, especially not with Minho driving into her from behind, every thrust knocking her forward, making her take more of Jisung with each sharp, brutal movement.

Minho grunted behind her, breath sharp, sweat running down his chest as his hips slammed into hers—controlled, punishing, final. Her body had no say anymore—it was his, and it knew it.

Jisung looked like he was unraveling.

His fingers tangled tighter in her hair as he watched himself disappear down her throat, her cheeks hollowing around him, her moans vibrating against the underside of his cock.

"Fuck—fuck—Minho—please—" His voice cracked. "I'm gonna—"

"Hold it," Minho snapped.

Jisung whimpered.

Minho's cock dragged hard against her walls as he pressed her face deeper into Jisung's lap, holding her there, claiming her completely.

Y/N's arms were shaking.

Her throat spasmed around Jisung as he choked out a sob, hips bucking forward once—

"I can't—I'm—fuck—I'm sorry—"

And then he broke.

Jisung came with a stuttering cry, his body seizing as he spilled down her throat—his whole weight collapsing forward as he fell apart, chest heaving, mouth open in shock.

Y/N gagged once, swallowed, and kept him in her mouth, letting him twitch against her tongue as his orgasm shuddered through him.

Minho didn't stop.

His thrusts grew deeper, heavier, crueler—slapping into her soaked heat with the sound of possession, not pleasure.

"You let him come first," Minho growled. "Now you'll suffer for it."

Y/N moaned, barely conscious. Her body had stopped keeping track of how many times it came, her muscles twitching helplessly with every motion.

Minho gripped her ass hard—pushed all the way in—and came with a low groan, deep, spilling inside her, staying there.

He held still.

One second.

Two.

Then he pulled out without a word.

Y/N collapsed forward—body shaking, lips still wrapped around Jisung's softening cock, too tired to move.

Jisung let go of her hair and crumpled beside her, burying his face in the sheets.

Minho stood.

Silent. Calm. Barely out of breath.

He wiped himself with a towel. Grabbed his shirt. And walked out without looking back.

He didn't need to.

He'd already taken everything.

The door clicked shut.

That was it.

No words. No "goodnight." Not even a look.

Just Minho's silhouette disappearing down the hall, and the finality of his absence sinking like ice into the room.

Y/N didn't move.

She was still face-down, hair stuck to her cheek, limbs sprawled in disarray across the mattress. Every inch of her ached—her thighs, her throat, the curve of her back. She could feel his cum leaking out of her, sticky and warm and cruelly present.

Jisung hadn't moved either.

He lay on his side next to her, eyes open, staring at nothing. One hand was still curled near his mouth, the other pressed against his chest like he wasn't sure if he was breathing right.

No one spoke.

Because what could you say?

It was Jisung who broke the silence.

"Do you feel weird?"

Y/N blinked slowly. "What?"

He cleared his throat. "I just... I don't know. I feel like I'm supposed to feel good. But I kind of just feel like a...used napkin."

Her throat tightened. "Yeah."

They lay in it for another beat—not just the silence, but the discomfort.

Y/N pulled the blanket over her chest without sitting up. "I didn't think he'd just...leave."

Jisung gave a breathless, humorless laugh. "I kind of did."

He turned to face her—eyes red, skin blotchy.

"Did you want that?" he asked. "All of it?"

She hesitated. "...I don't know."

Jisung nodded slowly, looking away. "Yeah. Me either."

⸻

They weren't touching.

They weren't looking at each other anymore, either.

Just two bodies, tangled in the same bed, but not sure if they'd been part of something intimate or something transactional.

Jisung spoke again.

"He's always like this, you know."

Y/N turned toward him.

"Like what?"

He looked up at the ceiling.

"He gives you exactly what you want. But only if it hurts."

[5starluvr]

Three lies deep

Part 1 > Part 2

Pairing: Hyunjin x Felix x Reader

Genre: Smut • fluff • slight angst

Warnings: 18+ / MDNI • Dom/sub dynamics • Praise & degradation kink • M/M & M/M/F content • Oral (f receiving) • Double penetration • Emotional vulnerability • Aftercare • Self-conscious sub • Gentle possessiveness • Kissing between all parties • Soft angst with resolution • jealousy

Summary:

You didn’t mean to get caught in their gravity.Felix was soft smiles and reckless touch. Hyunjin was silence, precision, and heat.You thought you were just filling the space between them—until you found yourself beneath them, between them, and finally… chosen by both.

Hyunjin didn't speak.

He didn't have to.

From the second his knees hit the floor, the room belonged to him. His gaze fixed on her—not asking, not pleading—just waiting. Like her consent was a given now. Like she'd already chosen him the second she didn't walk away.

"Spread your legs," he said quietly. "Wider."

Her hands gripped Felix's forearms behind her. He was holding her up, chest to her back, hard against her ass, breath hot in her ear. But he didn't move to take over. He just watched.

"Do what he says," Felix murmured, voice thick with need.

She obeyed.

Hyunjin's hands curled around her thighs, thumbs pressing bruises into soft skin. His mouth came forward—no teasing now. Just purpose.

She cried out the moment his tongue met her.

Felix groaned against her neck, biting lightly at her shoulder, letting one hand slip down to her breast, toying with her nipple in slow, perfect circles. But his body never pressed forward—he was waiting too.

Letting Hyunjin set the rhythm.

Hyunjin didn't lick like he was trying to please her.

He licked like he was trying to own her.

Every slow, deep stroke of his tongue was possessive, claiming her inch by inch. And when she whimpered, trembling against Felix's chest—

"Don't come yet," Hyunjin said flatly. "I didn't say you could."

Her whole body tensed.

Felix kissed her jaw, whispering, "You heard him,love. You want to be good, don't you?"

"Yes—fuck—yes—"

"Then hold it."

She nearly sobbed from the effort.

Hyunjin licked deeper, slower now, watching her fall apart. Her legs quaked. Her hands clutched blindly at Felix's arms.

Then suddenly—

Hyunjin pulled away.

She gasped, teetering.

"On the bed," he said, already standing.

Felix moved first, catching her waist as she stumbled. He guided her, but still deferred. Let Hyunjin circle behind them like a lion watching his prize.

Once she was laid back, Felix kissed her—finally—slow and full of heat, a sharp contrast to the control Hyunjin kept wielding in the background.

Then Hyunjin's voice came again.

"Felix."

Felix broke the kiss, lips wet, eyes hooded.

"Yes,hyung ?"

Hyunjin's mouth curved, almost a smirk—but darker.

"Get her ready for me."

Felix turned back to her without hesitation, crawling between her legs with a glint in his eye that said he loved being told what to do—especially when it ended like this.

Felix looked down at her like he was about to sin beautifully.

Then back up at Hyunjin—waiting.

Hyunjin didn't speak at first.

He reached for Felix's chin, fingers tilting it up.

"Don't tease her," he said. "She's already close. You break her, and you answer to me."

Felix smirked—but it was shaky around the edges. He liked this. Being watched. Being used. The power running through Hyunjin's voice bled into his own bloodstream.

"Got it ,hyung"

Then he turned his attention back to her.

His mouth moved over her inner thighs, slow, worshipful. One hand between her legs, fingers slipping through slick heat—two of them sliding in without resistance.

She arched up, already on edge.

Felix growled softly. "So fucking tight. You were made for this."

Behind him, Hyunjin moved. Quiet. Intentional.

He came around the side of the bed, and without warning, his hand tangled in Felix's hair.

Felix gasped, jerking slightly.

Hyunjin leaned down, lips just above his ear.

"Don't let her come before I tell you."

Felix's breath hitched. "I won't."

Hyunjin didn't speak.

He just kissed him.

It wasn't rough.

It wasn't soft, either.

It was claiming.

Felix turned into it immediately—submissive, open, mouth parting beneath Hyunjin's without hesitation. Their lips moved slowly, deeply, tongues brushing in that careful, dangerous way that felt like a wire tightening around their throats.

She watched, breathless, eyes wide.

Felix let out a soft, desperate sound into the kiss—like he'd been waiting years to feel it. And Hyunjin's hand never left his hair, keeping him in place, owning the kiss like he owned everything else in the room.

When they finally pulled apart, Felix was flushed, panting.

Hyunjin's thumb wiped a strand of spit from the corner of his mouth.

"Good boy," he said, voice low.

Felix shivered.

Then returned to her.

Two fingers became three.

She gasped again, trying to stay still, but her body was shaking.

Felix kissed her stomach, her thighs, her knee—anywhere but where she needed it most—until Hyunjin stepped behind him again.

His voice was right at Felix's neck.

"Now stretch her for me. You know where."

Felix stilled for a second.

Then reached for the lube.

Felix's fingers moved slow now—too slow.

Nastya writhed beneath him, her body thrumming with need, her voice barely more than broken moans. Three of his fingers moved in her ass with the practiced rhythm of someone trained to tease. She didn't even know when he'd gotten her this open.

"Please—please, I'm ready—"

Hyunjin's voice cut across hers.

"You don't get to decide that."

She whimpered. Her hands clutched the sheets. Felix kissed her hip, murmuring, "It's okay, baby. He'll give you what you want... when you've earned it."

Hyunjin moved beside them—shirt off now, muscles taut and carved in dim light. His cock was hard, tip an angry red, glistening where he'd already slicked himself up. He stood at the edge of the bed, watching her squirm beneath Felix, one hand gripping the base of his length like he was choosing patience for her sake.

Felix looked back at him, chest rising and falling.

"Do you want me under her?" he asked softly.

"No," Hyunjin said. "You'll hold her open for me."

Felix swallowed. He nodded once, crawling behind her, lifting her hips into place. His cock brushed her entrance—already lined up—but he didn't push in. Not yet.

"Go slow," Hyunjin ordered.

Felix guided himself inside her walls with a long, restrained groan. "Fuck—you're perfect—every time—"

She cried out, body jolting with the stretch, and Hyunjin moved in behind them, his eyes glued to where she took Felix—how her slickness coated his cock, how beautifully she pulsed around him.

"Hold her," Hyunjin said.

Felix did—both hands on her waist, steadying her, whispering in her ear, "Just breathe, baby. You're doing so good..."

Hyunjin slid a hand down, tracing her spine, her ass, then the tight ring of muscle he'd watched Felix prepare.

And then his cock pressed against it.

Not yet inside.

Just there.

Waiting.

"Please," she sobbed. "I need it—I need both of you—please, please—"

Hyunjin leaned forward, one hand fisting in her hair, forcing her head back.

"Beg like you mean it."

She choked on a moan.

"I want you to fuck me," she gasped. "I want you both. Please—please fill me—I'll be good—I'll be perfect—"

Hyunjin kissed her shoulder.

Then pushed in.

She screamed.

Felix groaned—loud, breathless—as her walls squeezed around him tighter, impossibly tighter. Her body shook, twitching, overwhelmed with pressure and fullness and stretch.

Hyunjin cursed under his breath, hips stilling halfway in.

"Fuck—she's so tight—"

Felix didn't speak. Just leaned forward and kissed her temple, anchoring her with soft shushing sounds, hands never leaving her hips.

Hyunjin slid in fully.

Buried to the hilt.

And for one long second, no one moved.

They were both inside her.

Deep. Full. Unrelenting.

And she was gone.

Breathe, baby," Felix whispered, voice ragged as he pressed kisses into her shoulder. "You're taking us so well."

She couldn't respond—not in words. Her throat barely worked. Her mouth stayed open, lips parted on a moan that came in shattered fragments. Both men were inside her now—Felix in her pussy, slow and worshipful, Hyunjin in her ass, deep and unforgiving. Every inch of her was claimed.

Hyunjin moved first.

A slow drag out.

Then he pushed back in—firm, deliberate—his rhythm setting the tempo. Felix followed. They found it together, like they'd done this before in dreams or another life: a perfect, brutal sync.

Their cocks slid in and out of her in alternating waves, stretching her, dragging friction over every trembling nerve.

"Fuck, look at you," Hyunjin growled, one hand gripping her waist hard enough to bruise. "Stuffed full and still begging."

Felix let out a breathy laugh against her neck. "She loves it. I can feel her clenching—she's trying to come already, aren't you, sweetheart?"

"Y-Yes—p-please—" Her voice was barely a whisper.

Hyunjin leaned forward, his chest flush with her back. His fingers reached under her—pressing to her clit, rubbing tight, ruthless circles.

"Then come."

Her whole body seized.

It hit her all at once—hot, sharp, endless. Her orgasm cracked through her like lightning, her scream muffled against the mattress as both men held her down and kept fucking her through it.

Felix kissed her temple, murmuring praises like prayer.

"So perfect."

"So tight."

"So fucking good—God—"

Hyunjin didn't stop. His thrusts grew rougher, the slap of skin on skin echoing through the room.

"You like being filled, don't you?" he hissed. "Like being used."

Felix's pace stuttered, hands gripping her thighs harder.

"Hyun—fuck—I'm close—"

Hyunjin didn't look at him. "Don't you dare come until I say."

Felix shivered.

"Yes,sir"

She whimpered beneath them, overstimulated and wrecked. Her walls fluttered wildly around Felix, making him curse under his breath. Hyunjin's rhythm only grew more vicious.

Then—

"Now."

Felix moaned—a real, broken sound—and came hard, spilling inside her as his body trembled, lips brushing her shoulder in messy, shaking gasps.

Hyunjin followed seconds later, slamming in deep with a guttural growl. He held himself there, fully buried, grip locked tight on her hips as he came—deep, hard, possessive.

They didn't move right away.

All three stayed frozen, breathing as one, tangled in sweat and sound and the kind of silence that only comes after ruin.

Felix was the first to speak.

Soft. Gentle. Almost unsure.

"You okay?"

Nastya nodded weakly.

Hyunjin pulled out slowly, carefully, brushing a hand down her back.

"You did good," he said, voice roughened from restraint. "So good."

Felix kissed the back of her neck. "We'll clean you up, okay?"

And as they laid her between them, pulling her into warm arms and still-thudding heartbeats, no one said the word for what this was.

But none of them wanted it to end.

They stayed tangled for a long time.

Felix's arms were the first thing she felt—warm, tight, wrapped around her back like a blanket that breathed. His chest rose and fell against hers in slow, soothing rhythm, his hand petting her hair while her pulse finally started to settle.

She nuzzled into his neck.

"You okay, baby?" he whispered, lips brushing her ear. "Still with me?"

She nodded. Barely.

Her voice was gone—used up in moans and sobs and gasps.

Hyunjin sat at the edge of the bed, still bare, still quiet. He was watching her. Not hungrily. Not coldly. Just...waiting. Like he wasn't done, but he was giving her the space to decide.

Felix shifted behind her, cradling her tighter.

"She's soft now," he said gently, to Hyunjin. "Floaty."

"Good," Hyunjin murmured.

He moved—down the bed. Lower. His hand ran over her calf. Then her thigh. Then her knee.

Her breath caught.

"You're not gonna—" Felix started.

"I am" Hyunjin said simply.

Nastya opened her mouth to protest, but her words melted into a breathless sound as Hyunjin lifted her leg over his shoulder and pushed her thighs apart.

"Hyun—" she whimpered, hips twitching.

Felix whispered in her ear. "It's okay. Let him."

"But—I—"

"Shh," he soothed. "You can take it. You want to, don't you?"

She shuddered in his arms. And then Hyunjin's tongue was on her again.

No teasing this time.

He licked into her like he needed it—like he'd held back too long. His lips sealed around her clit, sucking hard, dragging a high-pitched cry from her throat that Felix immediately caught with a kiss to her jaw.

Felix's hand came up, stroking her breast, fingers gently teasing a still-sensitive nipple. His cock twitched against her thigh, still softening, but his voice stayed steady.

"Good girl."

"Let go, sweetheart."

"You're doing so good."

"Look how he eats you."

Hyunjin groaned against her—low and deep. The vibration made her hips jerk.

"Fuck," she gasped. "Too much—"

Felix held her tighter. "You can take it."

Hyunjin's grip on her thighs tightened. His mouth didn't slow. He devoured her—messy, wet, all tongue and intent. Her slick coated his chin. His moans vibrated through her core. His rhythm—firm, precise—sent shocks through her already wrecked nerves.

Felix kissed her lips softly, whispering against them.

"You're gonna come again."

"Come for both of us."

"Be our good girl, yeah?"

And just like that—she broke.

Her orgasm hit like a wave slamming into a body already drowning.

She shook. Cried out. Clutched Felix's arms like they were the only thing anchoring her to the earth.

And Hyunjin—still between her legs, still licking her through it—didn't stop.

Not until she was twitching.

Not until she begged.

She could barely keep her eyes open.

Her body was boneless—wrung out, sweat-slicked, trembling faintly even as Felix held her, kissed her forehead, whispered soft things she could no longer follow. She was still shaking from Hyunjin's mouth, his hands, his voice.

But now—

they weren't touching her.

They were touching each other.

Hyunjin knelt between her legs still, lips swollen, face wet with her slick. His chest heaved. His gaze wasn't on her anymore.

It was on Felix.

Felix stared right back.

No smirk now. No mask.

Just want.

A kind of naked, quiet want that made Hyunjin hesitate for the first time that night.

"Come here," Felix whispered, voice hoarse.

Hyunjin's jaw flexed.

He stood slowly. Crawled up the bed. Felix didn't release her—he just shifted her to the side, keeping one arm around her while the other reached up, fingers brushing Hyunjin's cheek.

"You want this," Felix said. "You've always wanted it."

Hyunjin looked at him.

Then at his lips.

Then back.

"Say it," Felix breathed. "Touch me."

Hyunjin kissed him.

Not cautious. Not aggressive.

Just real.

The weight of years behind it.

Felix moaned against his mouth, fingers digging into his shoulders. Their bodies pressed together—bare skin to bare skin—heat meeting heat, mouths parting only to gasp, then reconnect.Her hand found Felix's side, weak but present, grounding herself against the sound of their breathing, the shift of bodies above her.

Felix broke the kiss first, panting.

"Let me be good for you."

Hyunjin didn't speak. He reached down, curling his hand around Felix's cock, still half-hard, still sensitive. Felix jerked, back arching, breath hitching.

"You're already good," Hyunjin murmured. "You just don't know when to stop talking."

Felix laughed once—choked.

"Then make me shut up."

Hyunjin kissed him again. Rougher now. Hand stroking him, steady, purposeful, while Felix gasped into his mouth.

"Fuck—Hyun—"

"Turn over," Hyunjin ordered.

Felix hesitated.

Then obeyed.

He layed down on his stomach, arms braced, breath shaky. His cock rubbed against the sheets with every movement. He groaned softly, burying his face in his arm. Hyunjin climbed over him, straddling his thighs.

She turned her head—barely able to move, but watching.

Hyunjin leaned down.

Bit Felix's shoulder.

Spat on his fingers.

And slid them slowly—deeply—between Felix's cheeks.

Felix whined, the sound raw and so needy it made her stomach flip again despite the ache between her thighs.

"Please, please—"

"You beg so pretty," Hyunjin growled, working him open slowly. "You take orders even better."

Felix was shaking now.

Opened. Ready. Wanting.

And her hand reached forward—just brushing Hyunjin's arm as he lined himself up behind Felix.

She whispered, voice frayed:

"Break him."

Hyunjin looked over his shoulder, eyes dark, lips parted.

And then—

He pushed in.

Hyunjin held still once he was buried inside Felix—deep, hips flush, breathing like he was afraid the wrong exhale would break the moment.

Felix was trembling beneath him.

Not from pain.

From the way it felt to be touched like this—not teased, not played with, but claimed. Like he'd given something real and had it taken with reverence, not violence.

He gasped into the pillow.

"Don't stop—don't—please—"

Hyunjin didn't.

He moved—slow, full, precise, each thrust dragging a low moan from Felix's throat, each one stealing more of his breath, his mind, his grip on anything but this.

She reached out from beside them, brushing Felix's hair back, whispering, "You're so good, Lixie . So beautiful like this."

Felix whimpered.

Hyunjin's voice, cracked and low, followed:

"You take me like you were made for it."

Felix's fingers curled in the sheets.

He was breaking. Open and bare.

And he wanted to be broken by Hyunjin.

It didn't last long.

It didn't need to.

The buildup had been days. Weeks. Years.

Hyunjin buried himself deep one final time, groaning—raw and ragged, hands gripping Felix's hips tight enough to bruise. He came hard, filling him, panting into Felix's skin, body folded over his back.

Felix was still trembling.

But not from need anymore.

From release.

When Hyunjin pulled out, it was careful.

Almost too careful.

Felix rolled onto his side with a groan, face flushed, eyes glassy. His cock twitched against his stomach—untouched, leaking.

She reached down, gently wrapping her fingers around him.

"Can I—?"

Felix nodded once.

She stroked him softly, slowly—barely a rhythm—just enough for him to feel her. For her to witness him.

Hyunjin slid down behind him, pulling both of them into his chest.

And Felix came. Quietly. Shaking. Moaning into Nastya's mouth as she kissed him.

His release spilled over her fingers.

Her lips. His stomach.

No rush. No shame.

Just belonging.

———-

They didn't speak for a long time.

The only sound was breathing.

Hyunjin's fingers traced lazy circles over Felix's hip.

Her head rested on his chest.

Felix's hand curled between them, seeking warmth—and finding it.

All three of them were quiet.

But no one looked away.

The air had shifted.

Not with tension now—just quiet. The kind that settles in when bodies are spent and emotions sneak back in through the cracks.

Felix laying warm against her back, his breath steady at her neck. Hyunjin stayed close on her other side, propped up on one elbow, eyes fixed on her with a focus she could feel even without looking.

But y/n didn't speak.

Not right away.

She pulled the blanket higher, tucking it around her chest even though her body still burned with shared heat. Her thighs were sore. Her lips swollen. Her neck marked. But none of that compared to the feeling gnawing in her chest.

She shifted slightly.

Then whispered, "Was I just a bridge?"

Felix stilled behind her. "...What?"

"I mean..." Her voice caught, breath shaky. "Between you two. Was I just the thing that made this easier for you to admit to each other?"

Neither of them said anything for a second. And the silence felt too loud.

"I'm not accusing," she said quickly, eyes fixed on a spot on the wall. "I just—I don't want to be the middle of something that doesn't need a middle."

Hyunjin sat up a little behind her, brushing a hand through her hair. "Darling , hey—look at me."

She hesitated.

Then turned her head.

Felix's expression was stripped bare. No grin. No soft jokes.

Just him.

"You weren't a bridge," he said. "You were the point."

Felix moved then too, his fingers slipping gently under her chin to tilt it toward him.

"We didn't use you to get to each other," he said. "We saw each other because of you."

Her throat tightened. "That sounds like the same thing."

Hyunjin shook his head. "It's not. You didn't fill a gap. You made space where there wasn't any before."

Felix nodded. "I wouldn't have let him touch me like that if you weren't here." He touched her chest, right over her heart. "You didn't just open him. You opened me, too."

She blinked fast, trying not to cry.

Hyunjin shifted closer, one hand moving to her thigh—gentle, grounding. "You saw us before we knew how to see each other. You felt it. You didn't run from it. That's not a third wheel. That's the center."

She inhaled sharply—then let it out in a long, shaky breath.

"I just... didn't want to wake up tomorrow and feel like the thing that made this beautiful was the same thing that made it temporary."

Felix kissed her shoulder. "It's not temporary."

Hyunjin kissed the other.

"You're not temporary."

And then, in the stillness that followed, Nastya let herself believe it.

She let her body relax—really relax—for the first time that night.

Felix pulled her back into his chest, arms wrapping around her tightly like he was afraid she might vanish. Hyunjin pressed closer from behind, lips brushing her spine in slow, lazy intervals.

No one rushed to fall asleep.

They just lay there, breathing in sync, hearts softer now, open in a way that left no space for pretending.

Not a triangle.

Not a bridge.

Just a choice.

All of them choosing each other.

[5starluvr]

Three lies deep

Part 1 > Part 2

Pairing: Hyunjin x Felix x Reader

Genre: Smut • fluff • slight angst

Summary:

You didn’t mean to get caught in their gravity.Felix was soft smiles and reckless touch. Hyunjin was silence, precision, and heat.You thought you were just filling the space between them—until you found yourself beneath them, between them, and finally… chosen by both.

Warnings: Warnings: 18+ / MDNI • Dom/sub dynamics • Praise & degradation kink • M/M & M/M/F content • Oral (f receiving) • Double penetration • Emotional vulnerability • Aftercare • Self-conscious sub • Gentle possessiveness • Kissing between all parties • Soft angst with resolution • jealousy

The door creaked open.

She never knocked. It wasn't out of rudeness—she just had a way of moving through the house like she already owned it. Like it had been built around her and everyone else was just visiting.

Hyunjin didn't look up. Pencil steady in his fingers, he shaded the edge of a collarbone in the sketchbook sprawled across his lap. The girl on the page wasn't anyone specific. Just a curve of a shoulder, a hint of hair tied back in tension. He'd been working on it for an hour and still hadn't decided if he hated it.

The floor creaked again. Bare feet, soft. She always walked barefoot, no matter how cold the marble tiles got at night.

"Do you have toothpaste?" she asked.

Not a greeting. Just the question, straight through the quiet.

Hyunjin exhaled through his nose, slowly. "In the bathroom cabinet."

"Yours is better than mine," she said, already walking in. "Mine tastes like fake mint and it's too spicy."

He finally looked up.

She was wearing a tank top—threadbare and low on one side, like it didn't fit quite right—and tiny pink shorts with white trim that clung too close to her hips. Her hair was in a loose braid down one side, a few strands around her cheek. Her skin looked too pretty against the dark fabric. Too soft.

Hyunjin looked back down at his sketchbook.

She stepped into the en suite bathroom. He heard the cabinet open, heard the soft rattle of things shifting inside. Then the sound of her brushing. Loud, on purpose.

He tried to focus on the sketch again, but it was ruined. His pencil pressed too hard into the paper, scratching the page. He flipped it closed.

She emerged a moment later, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"You hate when I come in here," she said, as if she was reminding him of the weather.

He didn't answer.

"You used to say something. Now you just get all quiet and murdery."

He leaned back in his chair, arms folding. "Why are you here, y/n?"

She tilted her head. "In Korea or in your room?"

"Start with my room."

She moved to the edge of his bed and sat down without asking. The mattress dipped slightly under her weight.

"Your room has better air-conditioning."

A lie. Her room was directly under the fan unit. She just liked saying things she knew he wouldn't challenge.

Hyunjin stared at her. Her legs were crossed, one bare foot swinging lazily. She didn't even look at him while she spoke—her eyes wandered across his desk, the half-finished drawings, the closed sketchbook.

She picked up a pencil, rolled it between her fingers.

"You have someone coming over today?" she asked.

He blinked. "No."

"Mmh. Shame." She smiled faintly. "I like watching you get awkward around people."

"I'm not awkward."

She looked directly at him now. "You are around me."

He didn't answer.

A long pause settled between them. The kind that made the cicadas outside seem louder, the ceiling fan heavier as it spun above.

"You know Felix wants to come over tomorrow, right?" she said.

Hyunjin's shoulders tensed. Just slightly. "Yeah."

She leaned back on her palms, stretching her spine. "He texted me."

Hyunjin's gaze sharpened.

"Why?" he asked.

She smiled again, small and infuriating. "He said he wants to see the house."

That wasn't what he meant and she knew it.

Hyunjin stood, suddenly, too quickly. The chair scraped the floor. He walked toward the door. "Get out."She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I'm not your entertainment," he muttered, reaching for the handle.

She stood too, in no rush. Walked past him, brushing too close. She smelled like coconut shampoo and something faintly like vanilla  —something he didn't recognize from the bathroom shelf.

At the door, she paused. Turned.

"You know," she said softly, "if you hate me so much, you shouldn't watch me all the time."

Then she left. Quiet as she came.

The door clicked shut behind her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three months ago.

A table at a glossy restaurant in Gangnam. All glass and gold accents. The kind of place you reserved weeks in advance unless you were his father, who just made a phone call.

Hyunjin hadn't known why they were meeting until the woman arrived—tall, elegant, fur-lined coat even though it wasn't cold enough for it. Her lipstick was red and perfect. She kissed his father on the cheek like they were old lovers.

They weren't.

She was his father's dentist. They'd met four months ago after a cracked molar and a cancelled meeting. She'd done the procedure herself— she was precise, unflinching, and just charming enough to make pain feel like conversation. His father had been taken with her before the anesthesia wore off.

Hyunjin didn't care. He was used to his father getting what he wanted.

But then she'd said, with a careful accent, "I'd like you to meet my daughter. She's just flown in."

And then she stepped around the corner.

Not nervous. Not smiling. Just... looking. A girl in a black dress and thick eyeliner, posture too confident for someone her age. One hand on the back of the chair, like she wasn't sure if she was going to sit or leave.She'd met his eyes for the first time and tilted her head—just slightly.

That was all.

No handshake. No polite Korean greeting. No wide-eyed step-sister cliché.

She just looked at him, then sat down.

They'd all eaten steak that night while the adults talked about logistics and joint assets and summer properties in Nice. Hyunjin barely touched his food.She drank red wine with practiced ease and didn't speak unless spoken to.

They got married two weeks later. A private ceremony. No guests.

She moved into the house one week after that. Her clothes took over the upstairs closet. Her perfume replaced the citrusy diffusers his father liked. Her laughter started echoing down the hall at night when she was on the phone with friends he didn't know.

And Hyunjin had no idea what to do with her.

She didn't try to befriend him. Didn't try to make him like her.

She just existed—boldly, quietly—like she had always belonged here. And worse, she noticed everything.

When he didn't answer.

When he looked too long.

When he looked away too fast.

She never asked him to talk. But she made it impossible to ignore her.

And now... she walked in and out of his room like the house was hers.

Maybe it was.

Maybe he was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door had been closed for fifteen minutes. Maybe twenty.

Hyunjin still hadn't moved.

He stood at the edge of the desk, sketchbook closed, pencil untouched. His eyes flicked toward the floor where she had walked, then toward the chair she had leaned against, the sheets she had wrinkled just by sitting there.

He wasn't supposed to care.

She was nothing. His father's new wife's daughter. An interloper. A guest who never left.

Except she wasn't a guest. She was here. Every day. In his hallway. In his kitchen. In his space.

In his head.

Hyunjin let out a breath and forced himself to move—step by step toward the window. The room was dim now. The sky outside had darkened to a bluish-grey, that electric color that came before real nightfall. A few garden lights flickered on.

Then he saw her.

Outside. Alone.

She was down by the pool, standing barefoot on the pale stone tiles. Her hair was down now, loose and falling down her back in a soft wave. She'd changed into one of those oversized linen shirts she stole from the laundry room—his father's, probably. Too big, the sleeves slipping past her wrists.

She wasn't swimming. Just walking along the edge, trailing her fingers across the surface of the water. She didn't know he was watching.

Or maybe she did.

She paused at the far side, turned toward the house—and tilted her face up slightly, toward his window. Not enough to be sure. Just enough to make his pulse spike. He should close the curtain.

He didn't.

Instead, he leaned closer. Just slightly. His forehead grazed the edge of the windowpane.

She sat down at the edge of the pool. Rolled up her sleeves. Dipped her legs in the water.

The shirt slid up her thighs.

Hyunjin's jaw clenched. He stepped back, abruptly, like the glass might accuse him.

It was wrong to look. She wasn't just a girl.

She was her.

And yet—he looked again.

She was smiling now, just barely, at something in her hand. Her phone screen lit her face in pale blue.

Texting.

Probably Felix.

Hyunjin swallowed hard.

He turned away, back to his desk. Sat down. Opened the sketchbook to a blank page.

The pencil hovered over the paper, waiting.

He started to draw. Not from imagination this time.A girl. Cross-legged. Hair down. Shirt slipping over one shoulder.Her face was turned slightly away. But he didn't need to see her eyes to know them.

He drew anyway.

Then the doorbell rang at 2:17 p.m.—five minutes earlier than expected.

Hyunjin was already halfway down the stairs, barefoot, grey sweatshirt clinging slightly from the heat. He didn't like the doorbell. It always sounded too sharp, too formal, like someone rich had designed it to remind you they were home.

Felix didn't wait. By the time Hyunjin opened the door, he was already grinning, shifting his weight on one sneakered foot, arms open like he lived there."Hyung" Felix said, dragging out the vowel. "You look like you've been in quarantine for three weeks."Hyunjin stepped back silently and let him in. "It's hot."

Felix kicked his shoes off and walked straight to the kitchen like he always did. "You don't have AC upstairs?"

"I do."

Felix paused, turned over his shoulder. "Then why do you look like a tortured poet right now?"

Hyunjin didn't answer. He followed.

The kitchen was clean, the way Hyunjin kept it. Light poured in from the windows, catching the thin streak of blonde in Felix's hair. He'd redyed it since last time—more contrast now. More trouble."Water?" Hyunjin asked, already opening the fridge.

"Something cold. Something evil. Do you still have those peach sodas?"

He handed one over without comment.

Felix cracked the can open and leaned against the counter, sipping loudly. "So. Where's your mysterious stepsister?"

Hyunjin froze for just a second. "Upstairs, I think."Ohhh," Felix said, eyebrows up. "She's real, then. I was starting to think you made her up."

Hyunjin gave him a look.

"What? You never post her. Never mention her. Never say anything except, 'she lives here now.' That's creepy. You made it sound like a ghost moved in."

"She's not a ghost," came a voice from behind them.

Felix turned.

There she stood at the edge of the hallway. Barefoot again. Same oversized linen shirt—maybe the same one from last night. Her hair was down, wet at the ends. She had a towel slung over one shoulder and no expression on her face.

Felix blinked. Then smiled wide. "You must be y/n."She tilted her head. "You must be loud."

Felix laughed. "Guilty."

She walked past them into the kitchen and opened the fridge without asking. Pulled out a bottle of chilled water. Drank half of it in one go.

Hyunjin watched Felix watching her.

Felix leaned slightly toward her, elbow on the counter. "You're taller than I thought."

"Flats," she said simply.

"Ah." He let his eyes drop to her feet. "Still. You're like... terrifyingly elegant."

Y/n raised an eyebrow. "Terrifying?"

"In a good way."

Hyunjin's jaw tensed.

She turned, looking straight at him. "Your friend flirts like he's being timed."

Hyunjin didn't respond. Felix grinned.

"I'm just efficient," Felix said. "Kinda like your sarcasm. You two really are related."

"We're not," y/n and Hyunjin said at the same time.

A beat of silence.

Felix blinked. "Right. Step. Got it."

She walked past them again, heading for the stairs.

"I'm changing," she called over her shoulder. "Don't wait."

Felix watched her go until she disappeared down the hall. Then turned back to Hyunjin with a slow grin.

"Hyung.."

Hyunjin opened another can of soda, not looking at him. "Don't."

Felix's grin widened. "Too late."

~~~~~~~~

The dining table wasn't meant for three people.

It seated ten—glass-topped, surrounded by velvet chairs that Hyunjin's father claimed were imported from Milan. It always felt like too much. Tonight it felt like a stage.

Y/n took her time coming down. She appeared just as Hyunjin and Felix finished setting plates—slow steps, silk robe loosely knotted, her hair brushed and still damp from her shower.

Felix looked up from the salad bowl and nearly dropped the tongs.

"Jesus."

"Too much?" She asked, glancing down at herself without concern.

It wasn't a dress. Just the robe, dark red, falling open at the collar and too short to be accidental. Hyunjin could see the hem of black shorts beneath it, barely.

Felix recovered with a grin. "Not enough, technically. But I'm not complaining."

"Mm. That's new," she said, sitting across from him. "Men usually start with fake modesty."

Felix smiled. "I'm Australian."

"As if that explains everything."

" It kind of does."

Hyunjin took the seat at the head of the table. He didn't speak.

They ate in half-silence—forks clicking, glasses clinking. The kind of silence full of things being thought but not said.

"So.." Felix said eventually, picking at his chicken. "What's it like living with this guy?"

He jerked a thumb at Hyunjin without looking.

Shs smiled faintly, chewing slowly. "Quiet."

Hyunjin's fork paused over his plate.

Felix snorted. "That sounds accurate."

"He doesn't like music," she continued, voice light. "Doesn't like clutter. Doesn't like when people move things."

"Are you describing a serial killer or your stepbrother?"

She turned to Felix. "What's the difference?"

Felix let out a laugh.Hyunjin didn't. He drank from his water glass and stared at the edge of his plate.

"I do like music," he said quietly.

"Oh?"  Y/n tilted her head. "Then why did you unplug my speaker from the bathroom?"

"Because it was two a.m.," he said sharply.

She raised her glass, unbothered. "I like to shower with soundtrack."Felix looked between them, eyebrows high. "This is the weirdest dinner I've ever had and I once ate goat brain in Morocco."

"You haven't seen anything yet," she said.

Her eyes didn't leave Hyunjin's.

There was a long pause. Something invisible passed between them—too quiet for words, too heavy to ignore.Felix leaned forward slightly. "Okay. I have to ask."

"No, you don't," Hyunjin said, voice low.

Felix ignored him. "You two have like... a thing, right?"She looked amused. "Define 'thing.'"

"I don't know. This... electricity. Like I walked into a soap opera where everyone's too hot and no one's saying what they mean."

Hyunjin stood abruptly. Picked up his plate. Walked it to the sink.

Felix whistled under his breath. "Wow. I was kidding."

Y/n sipped her wine. "Were you?"

Felix looked back at her. His grin had softened. "Maybe not."She looked at him a beat longer than necessary. Then stood too, gathering her own plate.

"Good food," she said simply. "I'm going outside."

And she disappeared into the hallway.

Felix watched her go, then turned back to Hyunjin at the sink.

"You're really not gonna say anything?"

Hyunjin didn't look at him.

Felix tilted his head. "You're staring at the knife block like it insulted you."

"Don't push it," Hyunjin muttered.

Felix just grinned.

"I don't have to," he said. "She's already pushing you hard enough."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door to the patio slid open with a whisper.

Hyunjin stepped out into the night air—thick and warm, clinging to his skin like breath. The cicadas had quieted, replaced by the occasional chirp of frogs and the gentle hum of the pool filter. The water glowed cerulean under the lights, making the tiles look like glass.

Nastya sat at the edge again, just like last night.

Only this time, her robe was gone.

She wore a black tank top, thin straps slipping off one shoulder, and those same shorts—legs bare, toes dipped into the water. Her phone sat abandoned beside her. Her hair glinting in the moonlight.

She didn't turn around when she heard him.

"I thought you were done watching," she said.

Hyunjin stayed where he was, just outside the door. "You're not making it easy."

She smiled without looking at him. "You think I do it on purpose?"

"Yes."

That made her laugh. A short, soft thing, like air slipping through teeth. "Maybe."

He stepped closer. Slowly. Stopped a few feet behind her.

"You think you're clever," he said.

"I am."

She finally turned, chin over her shoulder. Her expression unreadable. "You think you're in control."

Hyunjin's jaw tightened. "What do you want from me?"

She stood. Smoothly. Water dripped from her feet as she walked toward him, closing the distance. One step. Two.

"Want?" she repeated, voice low.

He could smell her—something sweet, like vanilla again . Her eyes searched his face, calm, unblinking.

"I don't want anything," she whispered. "But you do."

He didn't move. Couldn't.

"Tell me to stop," she said.

And just like that, the sliding door opened again.

Felix stepped out into the silence, holding a beer in one hand.

He stopped mid-step. Took in the scene.Her close to Hyunjin, Hyunjin frozen like a wire about to snap.

"Well," Felix said cheerfully. "Don't let me interrupt."

She didn't look away from Hyunjin. "Too late."

Felix raised his beer. "You two have zero subtlety, you know that?"

Neither of them answered.

Felix walked closer, slow, casual, completely in control. He stopped beside them, then glanced at Hyunjin. "You gonna lose it now or later?"

Hyunjin's voice came out quieter than expected. "Go inside."

Felix's eyes narrowed slightly. "No."

Hyunjin turned toward him. "This isn't your business."

"It is when you look like you're about to combust and she's standing there waiting for you to do it."

Y/n finally moved. Stepped away from Hyunjin—just slightly—and faced Felix.

"Funny," she said. "You're always around when things start getting interesting."

Felix tilted his head. "You think I'm not interesting on my own?"

She didn't answer. Just looked at him. Looked through him.

Felix smiled again—but this one was different. Lower. Tighter.

He stepped toward her, only a little, and said, "You think he's jealous of me, don't you?"

She blinked once. "Isn't he?"

Felix turned to Hyunjin. "Are you?"

Hyunjin's fists clenched at his sides.

No one spoke.

The night held still. The pool glowed. The air between all three of them thickened, like it might snap with one wrong move.

And then—

Hyunjin stepped forward.

He didn't say a word. Just reached out.

His hand brushed her wrist. Deliberate. Slow.

Her breath hitched.

Felix didn't speak either. But he was watching. Every second. Every shift.

Felix stepped closer—but slower this time.

There was no smirk. No easy laugh. Just a steady gaze, fixed between them.

His eyes flicked to where Hyunjin's hand still rested on her hip. His fingers had stopped moving, but they hadn't let go.

Y/n's breath hitched—not from fear, not from surprise. From the sheer weight of silence between all three of them. Every second stretched tight, pulling like a thread caught between teeth.

Felix's voice, when it came, was soft.

"You were never going to tell me, were you?"

Hyunjin didn't move. "There was nothing to tell."

Felix laughed, low, bitter. "You think I don't know what it looks like when you want something you're not supposed to?"

Hyunjin turned slightly toward him, jaw clenched. "This isn't about you."

"It's always about me," Felix said quietly. "You made sure of that."

The words hit harder than either of them expected.

She looked between them now, her expression unreadable—but her body tense. Still pinned by Hyunjin's presence, still aware of Felix's slow advance.

Felix stopped just in front of them, his gaze on Hyunjin.

"You've been avoiding me for weeks. Pulling away. Acting like everything's fine. And now I walk in and find you—" he gestured faintly toward her"—here, like this."

Hyunjin looked at him fully now. His face unreadable, but his voice was softer when he said, "I didn't plan this."

Felix's eyes narrowed. "But you didn't stop it."

Y/n leaned forward slightly. "Are you asking for an explanation or permission?"

They both looked at her.

She wasn't smiling now. Her voice was calm, but her hands had curled into the fabric of her shorts. She was bracing herself—against judgment, maybe. Or something worse: rejection.

Felix's breath came slow. Then, without speaking, he reached out.

One hand.

Not to her.

To Hyunjin.

His fingers brushed the edge of Hyunjin's wrist. The touch was featherlight. Not flirtatious. Not teasing.

Just real.

Hyunjin didn't flinch.

He looked down at the hand. Then up at Felix. Something shifted in his eyes—sharpness fading, replaced by something softer, something cracked.

For a second, no one moved.

And then Hyunjin whispered, "I don't know what I'm doing."

It wasn't an excuse.

It was a confession.

Felix's hand didn't move. "Neither do I."

Y/n exhaled, shakily. Like she'd been holding her breath all along.

Felix stepped closer—not intruding, just entering the space they'd been protecting so fiercely.

"Then maybe stop trying to do it right," he said. "And just feel it."

Hyunjin looked at him for a long time.

Then slowly—so slowly—he turned his hand in Felix's.

Their fingers touched. Interlocked.

She losed her eyes for half a second.

When she opened them, both of them were looking at her.

Waiting.

Not for permission.

For what came next.

She stepped back.

Just one quiet step. Bare feet against cool tile. She didn't speak. Didn't explain.

She saw it—knew it—the moment Hyunjin's gaze stopped looking past Felix and finally settled on him.

Everything in the air shifted.

They stood so close now, hands still loosely laced, breathing in sync but just offbeat enough to betray tension. The kind that had no name. The kind built from years of glances held too long and words never said right.

Felix didn't smile.

He didn't tease.

His voice was low, steady. "Is this what you've been trying not to say?"

Hyunjin didn't answer at first.

Then: "You always knew."

Felix nodded once. "Doesn't mean I understood."

His thumb brushed Hyunjin's. A simple gesture. But it felt like a key turning in a door they'd both pretended was never there.

"You hate when I look at her," Felix said.

Hyunjin's eyes flicked to the side, toward the pool, toward anything else—but Felix didn't let go.

"It's not just because she's her," Felix added.

Hyunjin's voice dropped to a whisper. "No."

Another silence.

Then Felix moved.

Just barely—his forehead rested against Hyunjin's, a touch so gentle it didn't even register as a kiss. Their breaths mingled. No rush. No fear.

Hyunjin's eyes fluttered closed.

He whispered, "I don't know how to want this and survive it."

Felix let out the faintest laugh—pained and sweet. "Then don't survive it. Just feel it."

And then their lips met.

Not messy. Not desperate.

Just real.

The first touch was a question. The second was an answer.

Hyunjin's hands gripped Felix's shirt—not to pull him closer, but to anchor himself. Like if he didn't hold on, something in him might fall away completely.

Felix deepened the kiss slowly, carefully. His other hand came up to cup the side of Hyunjin's neck. Not forceful. Just there. Like he'd always wanted to know what it felt like.

They broke apart with breathless silence, foreheads still pressed together.

Hyunjin's chest rose and fell too fast. Felix was still watching him, but softer now. He touched his thumb to the corner of Hyunjin's mouth, barely there.

"You're okay," he whispered.

Hyunjin opened his eyes.

Y/n stood a few feet away, watching them.

But she wasn't angry.

She looked...calm. Present. Like this was exactly what she'd expected.

Felix looked at her. Then back at Hyunjin.

Then he said, so quietly it almost disappeared, "So what now?"

No one moved at first.

Hyunjin and Felix stood forehead to forehead, breathless from a kiss that had taken years to happen in seconds. The poollight behind them painted their shadows long and strange.

And then she stepped forward.

Not hurried. Not loud. Like she belonged in the pause between them.

Hyunjin looked at her first.

There was no guilt in his eyes now—just something raw, open. Like he'd stopped trying to shove everything down and was waiting to see what she'd do with the truth.

She didn't speak.

She reached up and touched Felix's cheek.

He leaned into her palm, eyes fluttering closed for just a beat. Then opened again. Looked at her. Looked at Hyunjin.

None of them said anything.

She stepped in between them—not to separate, but to close the triangle. One hand on Hyunjin's chest. One still at Felix's jaw. She was touching them both now. Present between them. Holding the weight of everything unspoken.

"You both want everything," she said softly. "And you both try not to ask for it."

Felix smiled faintly. "Is that a problem?"

Her voice didn't change. "It's exhausting."

Hyunjin swallowed. "Then what are we doing?"

She looked up at him. Then at Felix. Then back.

Her hands didn't move. Her voice dropped, softer than the dark around them.

"We stop pretending," she said. "We take it—all of it. Together."

Hyunjin exhaled shakily. "What does that even mean?"

Felix answered this time. "It means we stop thinking. For once."

And somehow, that was enough.

She leaned forward, pressing her lips to Hyunjin's—different from before. Slower. Tender. She didn't push. She just... stayed. Her hand gripped his shirt lightly, like she knew exactly how fragile the moment was.

When she pulled back, Felix was there—close again, not waiting for permission anymore.

He kissed her too.

And she kissed him back.

They were careful. Almost reverent. Like touching something dangerous that could also be holy.

Then Hyunjin's hand slipped to Felix's back—steady, grounding. Felix turned, and their mouths met again, this time deeper, fuller, as if something had finally clicked open between them.

No one led. No one followed.

They moved like parts of one breath, one body, one question finally allowed to be asked without shame.

The poollight flickered once.

Inside, the house stood silent—rooms untouched, rules forgotten.

And outside, three hearts beat just slightly out of sync—tangled now, impossibly, into something none of them could ever take back.

[5starluvr]

I have risen from the dead and when I tell you I went through shit the past few months…

[5starluvr]

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3

Paring:Han jisung,Lee Minho × Reader

Genre: slow-burn ,smut, angst,(one second of fluff)

a/n: bare with me people, this is my first time actually writing smut so don’t expect too much. Also English isn't my first language so I apologize for any incorrect grammar

Warnings: Degrading & praise kink ,Dom/sub dynamic ,Sir kink , Threesome (m/m/f) ,Anal ,Double penetration ,Smoking ,Emotional manipulation ,Voyeurism ,Rough sex ,Power imbalance ,Obsession themes, Toxic relationship elements

Summary: You were just group partners. Just friends. Just fucking.

But Minho doesn’t do “just.” And Jisung doesn’t know when to stop loving people who hurt him.

Now you’re caught between a boy who wants to own you and a boy who wants to be owned—

—and neither of them plans on letting go.

Part 1 > part 2 > part 3 > part 4

Y/N could feel the air change when Professor Shin said the word “groups.”

The seminar room was warm with sun, bodies slouched in chairs, papers strewn like afterthoughts. “Art & Emotion: Cross-Disciplinary Expression” was supposed to be a laid-back elective, an escape from syllabi and exams. But now her name was being read aloud—slowly—attached to two others.

“Y/N… Lee Minho… Han Jisung. Group three.”

The room stirred. A low whistle from the back. Someone laughed softly.

Jisung turned around first. Two rows up, he was already smiling—messy hair, a hoodie two sizes too big, legs sprawled like he owned the floor. He gave her a lazy little wave and mouthed, “Lucky you.”

Y/N blinked.

And then, a second later, the figure at his right turned his head.

Minho didn’t smile.

He didn’t even blink.

His eyes found hers like they were tracing a target. Then he looked away. Back to the page. As if nothing had happened.

Professor Shin clapped his hands once.

“Your assignment is to collaboratively interpret an emotional state—movement, sound, language. It can be performance, installation, whatever you want. But it must be felt. Not explained.”

That word again: felt.

Y/N’s pen sat motionless on her page.

⸻

After class, the hallway was alive with the shuffle of people eager to escape. But not her. Her bag strap was caught on her chair leg, and by the time she wrestled free, most of the class had cleared out.

Except for two.

Jisung was perched on the desk like a cat, phone out, tapping something rhythmically with a pencil. “You’re Y/N, right?” he said. “Language major?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. I’m music. Minho’s…” He glanced over his shoulder.

Minho stood by the window, smoking even though the hallway sign said not to. “Dance,” he said without turning.

Y/N felt her throat tighten. His voice was low. Sharp.

Jisung grinned like he didn’t notice the tension—or maybe he lived in it. “Anyway, we should trade numbers. I’ll make a group chat.”

She handed him her phone.

He typed quickly, then flipped it to show her: Minho 🍷, Jisung 🎧, Y/N 📚.

She stared at the wine glass emoji.

“Why that?”

“Minho’s a little…intense,” he said, lowering his voice theatrically. “Red wine and judgment.”

Minho flicked his cigarette ash into a bottle cap without looking up

They stepped into the late afternoon together, golden light brushing against the stone walls. The wind lifted Y/N’s coat. She didn’t speak, too aware of the silence behind her—too aware of how Minho walked. Quiet. Too quiet for someone so solid.

“So,” Jisung said brightly. “Wanna meet this weekend? Studio’s open. We can brainstorm.”

Y/N nodded. “Sure. Saturday?”

“Perfect. You’ll love it. I make terrible coffee and excellent beats.”

Minho finally spoke.

“Don’t be late.”

Y/N turned toward him. His eyes were darker in daylight. Narrower. Still unreadable.

She opened her mouth to say something—anything—but he’d already turned, cutting through the crowd like water.

Jisung laughed softly. “Yeah…told you.”

“Told me what?”

“Wine and judgment.”

He winked.

——-

The studio smelled like cheap coffee, synthetic leather, and dust-covered speakers—lived in, not decorated. There was an ashtray balanced on a windowsill that didn’t open, and notebooks stacked in aggressive piles near a keyboard covered in stickers that said things like SAD BOY ENERGY and EAT THE RICH.

Y/N lingered by the door. “This is where you make magic?”

Jisung looked up from the couch, legs up, one earbud still dangling. “It’s where I make noise and call it art,” he said, grinning. “Come in. Seriously. It only looks like a crime scene.”

She stepped over a hoodie on the floor and dropped her bag. “You live here?”

“Minho would murder me. Nah, this is just mine. I use it when I don’t want to deal with…people.” His voice dropped slightly.

She raised a brow. “Minho’s not a people?”

Jisung chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “Minho’s a…category. You’ll figure it out.

He played her a beat—low, throbbing, layered with fragments of strings and something muffled like a heartbeat. It was imperfect. Messy. But intimate.

“I want something that sounds like wanting,” he said.

“Like you almost get what you want. Then it slips.”

“That’s what longing is, right?”

Y/N sat on the floor. Legs crossed. Thinking. “It sounds like you’re trying to breathe through someone else’s mouth.”

Jisung froze. Then smiled. “That’s disgusting and brilliant.”

He dropped down next to her, too close. But not unwelcome.

They spent hours playing with ideas. She wrote a few lines, then crossed them out. He freestyled dumb lyrics about loneliness and hot ramen. They laughed too much.

Somewhere around midnight, she noticed how close they were. How his knee brushed hers. How his voice had dropped, no longer teasing but curious.

“Why language?” he asked.

“Because I like how words break when they matter most.”

He stared at her, lips parted like he wanted to ask more. Then he just blurted:

“I think I’m gonna kiss you now.”

Y/N didn’t answer.

So he did.

It was fast. Greedy. The kiss wasn’t clean—it was desperate. Hands in hair, fingers slipping under her sweater. She pushed back once, gently. His eyes darkened.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered.

“I won’t,” she breathed.

And in the blink of an eye she was up on the mixing table before she realized it, legs spread, his hands tugging at her jeans like he’d done it a thousand times before. The room felt too small. His mouth was everywhere—neck, collarbone, between her thighs. His voice was a soft, hoarse growl.

“So fucking wet for me already?”

“You want to be good for me, don’t you?”

She moaned something close to yes, and that was all it took.

When he slid inside her, it wasn’t gentle—but it wasn’t cruel. It was needy.

He kept whispering praise—dirty, soft, relentless:

“Look at you.”

“Good girl.”

“Just like that.”

“Taking it so well.”

“You’re perfect—fuck—you’re fucking perfect for me.”

Y/N came fast, fingers tangled in his hoodie, mouth open against his neck.

Jisung followed, teeth clenched, body shuddering, holding her like he was afraid she’d vanish the second he let go.

They lay there, breathless. Her hair stuck to her cheek. His hands didn’t stop moving.

Finally, he said, “Just this once?”

She nodded.

“Just this once.”

⸻

Outside, across the street, a cigarette ember flared in the dark.

Minho watched her leave.

———

The rehearsal room echoed.

Hardwood floors, mirrored walls, and silence so thick it pressed in on Y/N’s ears. Minho stood in the center, barefoot, one earbud in, eyes closed. Every muscle was coiled. Like the stillness before a strike.

Jisung leaned against the wall, arms folded. “He does this every time. Five minutes of complete freeze-frame panic before he moves.”

Y/N didn’t reply. She was too busy watching.

Then the music began — low percussion, faint vocals, no lyrics. And Minho moved.

Not gracefully. Not gently. Sharply. Deliberately. Like he was cutting the air with every limb.

Y/N forgot to breathe.

Jisung nudged her. “You’re staring.”

“I’m watching.”

“Same thing,” he said, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Minho stopped. The silence returned like a slap.

He turned to them slowly, chest rising and falling.

“The beat’s too slow,” he said to Jisung. “Start again.”

“No please?”

Minho raised an eyebrow.

Jisung sighed and moved to the speaker, muttering, “Sir, yes, sir.”

The song restarted, slightly faster. Minho walked toward them this time, eyes focused entirely on Y/N.

“Get up.”

She did.

“Move with me.”

The next few minutes blurred. She tried to follow his steps, mirror his angles, but she was too stiff, too hesitant. He moved like heat; she moved like hesitation.

He stepped behind her, hand on her waist. “Don’t think,” he said. “Feel.”

His palm slid higher, across her ribcage — not sexual, not quite. But controlling. Definite.

“Loosen your hips. You’re locking up.”

“I’m trying—”

“Stop trying. Do it.”

She swallowed, cheeks flushing. His breath was close. She felt it on her neck. Jisung was watching them from the mirror, arms still crossed, jaw tight.

Minho’s hand dropped. He circled her, slow, eyes scanning like she was a blueprint. Then he stopped in front of her.

“You bite your lip when you’re frustrated.”

Y/N blinked.

“You’ve been doing it since I started dancing. You’re not subtle.”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Minho stepped back, brushing past her shoulder. “Class is over,” he said.

“But—” Jisung started.

“Next time,” Minho interrupted, “don’t be late.”

Y/N stood frozen in the silence he left behind.

Jisung came over, gave her a crooked smile. “So… how are you enjoying the Minho experience?”

“I don’t think I know what it is yet.”

Jisung slung an arm over her shoulder. “No one does. That’s the trap.”

——

Jisung’s room always felt too hot.

Not warm—hot. The kind of heat that clung to your skin and made it impossible to think. Clothes came off faster here. Words lost meaning.

Y/N wasn’t sure how they ended up horizontal again. One second, she was dropping by to “go over the group concept.” The next, she was beneath him, breath stuttering against his shoulder, moaning as he buried his mouth between her legs.

“Always this wet for me?” he asked, voice rough.

“You missed me, didn’t you?”

“Say it. Say you fucking missed me.”

“I—fuck, I—yes—”

He chuckled into her thigh. “Good girl.”

She didn’t mean to enjoy it this much. But Jisung was good at praise—too good. And when he pushed inside her, hand tight on her throat, teeth dragging over her lip, she forgot to care about anything but how he felt.

The headboard tapped the wall. Her legs trembled around his waist.

“So fucking tight.”

“You like being fucked like this, don’t you?”

“All pretty and obedient for me.”

Her nails dug into his back. His rhythm sped up. It was fast, hungry. Like he needed to fuck her just to prove he still could.

And then—

The door opened.

At first, she thought she imagined it.

Then: the soft click of it swinging shut. Footsteps. Slow.

Jisung froze.

Over her shoulder, across the room—Minho.

He didn’t look surprised.

He didn’t look away.

Y/N’s breath caught. She scrambled to pull a blanket over her chest, but Jisung didn’t move. Not at first.

Minho’s voice was calm. Cold.

“I came for my charger.”

He walked to the desk, unplugged it, and turned.

His eyes met hers.

No expression. No hint of what he thought. Just that flat, knowing stare.

Then he was gone.

Jisung sat back on his heels. “Fucking hell.”

Y/N clutched the blanket tighter. “He didn’t even knock.”

“Minho doesn’t knock,” Jisung muttered. “He knows what’s his.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Jisung ran a hand through his hair. Looked at her like he wanted to say something else. Instead, he kissed her shoulder and pulled her closer.

“It’s fine. Seriously. He doesn’t care.”

But his voice was too quiet.

And she wasn’t sure she believed it.

⸻

Later that night, her phone buzzed.

Minho 🍷:

Do you always let him finish first?

[5starluvr]

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, against the window, against the door, till my throat memorizes every vein. till the doctors think they changed my red blood cells white. till we create the next ocean. till they changes my dna to theirs. till my holes speak to them in morse code. till the doctors question how much liquid a body can hold. till all holes are leaking gushing and screaming. till my throat memorizes their exact shade

[5starluvr]

This actually almost made me kill my self . I love sappy minsung and their roles reversed

A place to call ours

Pairing: Minsung

Word Count: 5038

Summary: Finally in a dorm of their own Jisung worries if things will continue to go as well between Minho and him. Minho does nothing but prove him it will and Jisung tries to spend Minho just as much comfort whenever he needs it.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, comfort, Min pampers Jisung, mention of hate, smut tags: sub!min, softies

A/N: This fic is mostly a fluffy comfort fic. I will indicate the beginning of the smut part with the 18+ banner for everyone who prefers to keep it that way🖤🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Jisung's arms strained under the weight of the last box as he stepped into their new dorm. The sound of his footsteps on the tiled floor echoed faintly, the space still unfamiliar and empty. Minho, ahead of him, had just placed a box down on the desk by the window. He straightened up, brushing his hands together and taking a brief moment to glance around.

When Jisung didn’t move, Minho turned back, his brows furrowing slightly. "Jisung? You alright?"

Jisung stood frozen in the doorway, his gaze sweeping over the place that would soon be theirs. His chest rose and fell with a deep breath, the weight of the box in his arms seemingly forgotten. "This is it, huh?" he finally murmured, his voice carrying a mixture of wonder and unease.

Minho tilted his head, stepping toward him. He plucked the box from Jisung’s grip with ease and set it down near the others. His movements were calm and steady, a stark contrast to the turbulence Jisung felt inside. Minho’s hands then found Jisung’s, his touch gentle but grounding as he held them.

"Of course this is it," Minho said softly, his lips curving into the faintest of smiles. "It’s us. We’re gonna be fine."

Jisung’s eyes darted to the pile of boxes now scattered around the room, each one holding fragments of their lives. "But... what if we’re not? What if it’s harder than we thought? What if we-" He bit his lip, his voice cracking slightly. "What if we mess this up, Min?"

Minho blinked, his eyes softening. He squeezed Jisung’s hands gently before guiding him further into the room. "We won’t mess this up," he said firmly. "I promise you, Jisung. We’ll do just fine."

"But what if-" Jisung faltered again, his voice barely above a whisper now, "what if we can't manage without the other guys? What if-"

Minho let out a quiet chuckle, cutting him off. "We’ll still see them all the time, Jisungie. You know that." He let go of one of Jisung’s hands to cup his cheek instead, his thumb brushing softly along the curve of his jaw. "We’ll figure it out, just like we always do."

Jisung’s shoulders relaxed a fraction, but the crease in his brow remained. "What about... what about when we argue? Who am I supposed to run to if you’re mad at me?" The vulnerability in his voice made Minho’s heart ache, but he didn’t flinch or look away.

With his other hand, Minho gently cradled Jisung’s face, his touch as steady as his voice. "I’ll never go to bed angry with you," he said, his tone carrying a quiet conviction that left no room for doubt. "Not ever. I promise you, Jisung. I’ll take care of you. I’ll make sure you always feel loved and cherished, no matter what."

Jisung blinked rapidly, his eyes glistening. "You really mean that?"

"Of course I do." Minho’s hands dropped back to Jisung’s, threading their fingers together before giving a small tug. "Come here. Let me show you."

He led Jisung across the room to the corner where their shared bedroom awaited. It was small but cozy, the bed neatly made with the fresh linens Minho had insisted on. The sunlight streaming in through the window made the space feel warm, welcoming.

Minho paused at the doorway, turning to face Jisung. "I’ll make sure you get enough sleep," he said, his tone laced with fond determination. "Even if I have to drag you out of the studio at two in the morning. No more staying up all night and turning into a zombie, okay?"

Jisung laughed softly despite himself, the sound easing the tension in his chest. "Okay."

Minho smirked, tugging him along again. This time, they stopped in the small kitchen, where the boxes labeled *food* and *dishes* were stacked haphazardly in one corner. He gestured toward the space with a sweeping hand. "And here? I’ll cook for you. I’ll make sure you eat properly, not just instant ramen every other day. You’ll be healthy because I’ll make sure of it."

Jisung tilted his head, an amused grin tugging at his lips. "Is that a threat or a promise?"

"Both," Minho shot back with a playful glint in his eye. "Try me."

They moved again, this time to the bathroom, where Minho leaned casually against the doorframe. "And when you have rough days," he said, his voice softening, "I’ll cuddle you close, draw us a warm bath, and remind you that you’re safe with me. I’ll do everything I can to make sure you never feel alone."

The sincerity in his words struck a chord deep within Jisung. He swallowed hard, his throat tightening as emotions welled up inside him. A tear slipped free, and he quickly brushed it away, smiling up at Minho with watery eyes. "You’re making it really hard for me to argue with you, you know that?"

Minho reached out, his hand resting gently on Jisung’s shoulder before sliding up to cup his face once more. His thumb wiped away the lingering tear, his gaze unwavering. "Good," he said simply, his voice carrying a warmth that spread through Jisung like sunlight breaking through clouds.

Jisung sniffled, a small laugh escaping him. "But what am I supposed to do then? You’ve got all these plans to take care of me. What do I do?"

Minho’s smile widened, and he leaned in just a little closer, his eyes searching Jisung’s as if the answer was written there. "Just keep being you," he said, his voice a quiet murmur that wrapped around Jisung like a soft blanket. "That’s all I need. Because I love you, just the way you are."

Jisung’s laugh came easier this time, his chest feeling lighter as he reached up to cover Minho’s hands with his own. "You’re ridiculous, you know that?"

"Maybe," Minho admitted with a shrug, "but you love me anyway."

Jisung grinned, his cheeks flushed and his heart full. "Yeah, I guess I do."

Minho dropped his hands then, only to take Jisung’s in his own again. "Come on, love," he said, tugging him toward the boxes. "Let’s get this place unpacked. We’ve got a lot of memories to make here."

As they set to work, the room slowly began to transform around them. Books found their way onto shelves, photos were placed on desks and walls, and the once-empty space began to feel like home. And through it all, Jisung couldn’t stop smiling, the warmth of Minho’s promises still lingering in the air.

This was it, he realized. A new beginning. Their beginning. And for the first time, he felt truly ready for it.

Over the next three months, Minho began to notice subtle but significant changes in Jisung. It was in the little things-how Jisung woke up in the mornings, how he carried himself through the day, and how his laughter came easier, brighter.

Mornings used to be a battlefield. Jisung would cling to the covers, grumbling about getting up as Minho dragged him out of bed, sometimes with a playful flick to his forehead or a teasing remark. But now? Now Jisung stirred naturally, his arms seeking out Minho instead of the blanket. His face, still soft with sleep, lit up with a gentle smile as he nestled closer.

“Good morning,” Jisung murmured one morning, his voice raspy but warm.

Minho tilted his head to look at him, his lips curving into a fond smile. “Morning, beautiful. Sleep well?”

“Mmhm,” Jisung hummed, eyes still half-closed as he tucked his head against Minho’s chest. “Really well. You?”

“Better now,” Minho replied, his hand coming up to comb through Jisung’s messy hair. He couldn’t help but marvel at the change-how easily Jisung smiled now, how at ease he seemed. It wasn’t just the mornings either. It was in the way Jisung’s cheeks had grown fuller, the hollowness of late nights and skipped meals now replaced by a healthy glow. His eyes sparkled whenever Minho surprised him with a home-cooked meal, a look of pure delight lighting up his face.

“Min, you didn’t have to do this,” Jisung said one evening, staring wide-eyed at the steaming plate of japchae Minho placed before him.

“I wanted to,” Minho said simply, taking the seat across from him. “You’ve been working hard, and you deserve it.”

Jisung beamed, his grin wide enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes. “You’re the best.”

“I know,” Minho teased, though his heart swelled at the sight of Jisung eating with such gusto. Every bite seemed to bring a little more light into Jisung’s eyes, and Minho couldn’t help but feel a quiet pride in knowing he was part of that.

-

It was a typical afternoon when Jisung stepped into the practice room where Minho was dancing with Felix and Hyunjin. The music echoed off the walls, and the trio moved in perfect synchrony, their movements sharp yet fluid. Jisung lingered by the door for a moment, watching Minho with quiet admiration.

When the music stopped, and Minho turned to grab his water bottle, he noticed Jisung standing there. “Hey, Jisungie,” he called, waving him over. “What’s up?”

Jisung hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, his expression softer than usual. “Can we talk for a minute?”

The request was quiet, almost timid, and it immediately caught Minho’s attention. He shared a quick glance with Felix and Hyunjin before nodding. “Yeah, of course.”

They stepped out into the hallway, where the hum of the music faded into the background. Minho leaned against the wall, his eyes scanning Jisung’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Jisung fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I’m not feeling so great,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Channie said I should go home for the day.”

Minho straightened, his concern deepening. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“Just a stomachache,” Jisung said, finally looking up at him. “I think I just need some cuddles.”

Minho’s expression softened immediately, and he reached out to ruffle Jisung’s hair. “Alright. Let’s get you home.”

Back at their dorm, Minho wasted no time. He helped Jisung settle on the couch, tucking a blanket around him before heading to the kitchen. A quick scan of their pantry and fridge confirmed they had everything he needed to make chicken broth-a simple, soothing meal that would be easy on Jisung’s stomach.

As the broth simmered on the stove, Minho darted into the bathroom for a quick shower, not wanting to bring the sweat from practice into their quiet sanctuary. When he emerged, hair damp and dressed in fresh clothes, he carried a steaming bowl of broth to Jisung.

“Here we go,” Minho said, sitting beside him. “Eat up.”

Jisung blinked up at him, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You didn’t have to do all this, you know.”

“Of course I did,” Minho replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. He held out a spoonful of broth, waiting patiently until Jisung opened his mouth. “You’d do the same for me.”

They fell into a comfortable rhythm-Minho feeding Jisung small bites, his hand occasionally brushing against Jisung’s as he adjusted the blanket or reached for the bowl. The warmth of the broth seemed to ease some of the tension in Jisung’s frame, and by the time the bowl was empty, he looked a little more like himself.

“Feel better?” Minho asked, setting the bowl aside.

“Yeah,” Jisung murmured, leaning into Minho’s side. “Thanks, babe.”

Minho wrapped an arm around him, his hand settling against Jisung’s stomach. His palm was warm, grounding, as he began to hum softly-a familiar tune that lulled Jisung closer to sleep.

“You’re safe with me,” Minho whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of Jisung’s head. “Always.”

Jisung’s breathing slowed, his body relaxing completely as sleep claimed him. Minho stayed there, holding him close, his own heart full as he watched over the person he loved most in the world. It wasn’t just about making promises anymore-it was about keeping them, day by day, in every little moment that made their life together so much more than either of them could have imagined.

-

The noise of the practice room was usually a comforting buzz for Minho-a mix of music, chatter, and movement that made him feel alive. But today, it felt different. Every sound grated against his skin, every glance in his direction carried a weight he couldn't shake.

The hate comments had started a few days ago, spreading like wildfire across social media. Someone had taken an offhand comment he'd made during a livestream out of context, twisting it into something it wasn’t. The backlash was immediate and ruthless. Minho tried to ignore it at first-he’d dealt with hate before, after all-but this time, it dug deeper. The accusations swirled in his head, relentless and suffocating.

He tried to push through practice, but his movements felt clunky, his usual sharpness dulled by the storm inside him. Felix noticed first, nudging him gently during a break. “You okay, hyung?”

“I’m fine,” Minho replied quickly, too quickly, forcing a tight smile. Felix’s concern didn’t waver, but he let it go for the moment.

The teasing started during their next routine. Hyunjin, always quick with a joke, pointed out how Minho’s steps were slightly off. Normally, Minho would fire back with a playful jab of his own, but today he just nodded mutely, his jaw tight.

“Hey, Minho hyung, don’t tell me you’re losing your edge,” Seungmin joked, their tone light but cutting deeper than intended.

Minho didn’t respond, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, the walls of the practice room closing in. Jisung, who had been watching him closely, stepped in before anyone could say more.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Jisung said, his voice firm but not unkind. He walked over to Minho, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s call it a day, yeah?”

Minho wanted to protest, but the words wouldn’t come. He just nodded, letting Jisung lead him out of the room.

The drive home was quiet, the tension between them unspoken but heavy. Once they were inside, Jisung dropped his bag and immediately wrapped his arms around Minho, pulling him into a tight hug. Minho stiffened at first, but Jisung didn’t let go, his hands running soothingly up and down Minho’s back.

“It’s okay,” Jisung murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of Minho’s head. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Minho’s resolve cracked, and he buried his face in Jisung’s shoulder, his breath shaky. “I just… I don’t know what to do. They hate me.”

“They don’t,” Jisung said firmly, pulling back just enough to meet Minho’s eyes. “They don’t know you. Not the real you. And the people who do? We love you, Min.”

Minho blinked, his throat tight with emotion. He didn’t know how Jisung always seemed to know exactly what to say, but he was grateful for it.

“Come on,” Jisung said, his tone lighter now. “You sit down, and I’ll make us some dinner.”

Minho opened his mouth to protest-Jisung rarely cooked, and for good reason-but the younger man was already shooing him toward the couch. With a soft sigh, Minho did as he was told, sinking into the cushions and closing his eyes.

The smell of food soon filled the air, and Minho’s stomach rumbled despite the knot of anxiety still sitting there. Jisung emerged from the kitchen a short while later, carrying two plates. He set one down in front of Minho with a proud grin.

“Ta-da! Chef Jisung at your service.”

Minho chuckled softly, the sound weaker than usual but still genuine. “Thanks, Jisungie.”

He picked up his chopsticks and took a bite. The food was… salty. Very salty. Minho’s eyes watered slightly, but he forced a smile as he chewed, determined not to let Jisung see his reaction.

Jisung, however, caught on quickly. “Oh no,” he groaned, his face falling. “Is it bad? It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“It’s fine,” Minho said quickly, taking another bite to prove his point. “Really, it’s fine.”

Jisung pouted, his shoulders slumping. “I just wanted to do something nice for you…”

“You did,” Minho insisted, his voice softening. He reached across the table to squeeze Jisung’s hand. “You did, and that’s what matters. Thank you.” Jisung still looked unconvinced, so Minho added with a teasing grin, “Besides, I’ll eat every bite to honor your efforts.”

That earned a laugh from Jisung, and Minho felt a flicker of warmth amidst the cold weight in his chest.

After dinner, Jisung pulled Minho into the living room. He sat down on the couch and patted his lap. “Come here.”

“What are you doing?” Minho asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Just trust me,” Jisung said, his grin mischievous.

With a reluctant sigh, Minho climbed onto the couch, letting Jisung pull him into his lap. He leaned back against Jisung’s chest, his head resting on the younger man’s shoulder.

Jisung wrapped his arms around Minho, holding him close as he began to hum softly. Then, without warning, he launched into an improvised song, his voice light and playful.

“Minho, Minho, my perfect Minho,

You’re cooler than a flamingo!”

Minho couldn’t help it—he laughed. A real, full laugh that bubbled up from somewhere deep inside him.

Jisung grinned, encouraged by the sound. He kept going, his lyrics getting sillier and sillier.

“Oh Minho, you’re so divine,

Even when you say you’re fine,

But I know, deep down, you shine,

‘Cause you’re mine, mine, mine!”

Minho’s laughter shook his whole body now, and he buried his face in Jisung’s shoulder to muffle the sound. “You’re ridiculous,” he managed to say between giggles.

“And you love me for it,” Jisung shot back, his tone triumphant.

Minho pulled back just enough to look at him, his smile softening. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I do.”

Jisung pressed a kiss to his forehead, his hands gently cupping Minho’s face. “You’re going to be okay, Minho babe. I promise.”

-

Minho and Jisung stumbled through the door of their dorm, their laughter spilling into the quiet space like music. Their date night had been nothing short of perfect-a quiet dinner at their favorite little restaurant, a moonlit walk through the park, and Minho surprising Jisung with a bouquet of deep red roses, the kind that made Jisung’s cheeks flush as he buried his face in their soft petals.

“You didn’t have to get me these,” Jisung had said then, though the grin splitting his face betrayed just how much he loved them.

“I wanted to,” Minho had replied, simple and sincere. “You deserve beautiful things.”

Now, as Jisung placed the roses into a vase on their kitchen counter, his hands moved with a care that made Minho’s chest ache. He leaned against the doorway, watching Jisung arrange the flowers, his heart swelling at the sight of him so utterly content.

“Perfect,” Jisung said softly, stepping back to admire his work. He glanced over his shoulder, catching Minho’s gaze. “What?”

“Nothing,” Minho said, shaking his head with a small smile. “You’re just... really cute.”

Jisung rolled his eyes, though his grin didn’t waver. He turned to face Minho fully, his expression softening. “You always take care of me,” he said, stepping closer. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

Minho tilted his head, his brows lifting slightly. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” Jisung replied, his tone teasing but his eyes filled with affection. He took Minho’s hand and led him toward the bathroom, the warmth of his touch grounding Minho as they moved.

The bathroom was softly lit, the golden glow of the overhead light casting a cozy warmth over the space. Jisung turned on the tap, letting the water run to warm it up. He looked over at Minho, a playful yet tender smile tugging at his lips.

“Trust me?” he asked, his voice quiet.

“Always,” Minho replied without hesitation.

Jisung stepped closer, his hands finding the hem of Minho’s shirt. He tugged it upward slowly, his fingers brushing against Minho’s skin in a way that made him shiver. The shirt fell to the floor, and Jisung’s hands didn’t hesitate, roaming over Minho’s chest, his touch light but deliberate.

“You’re beautiful,” Jisung murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Minho’s shoulder.

Minho scoffed lightly, his cheeks tinged with pink. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love me for it,” Jisung shot back, his grin widening.

He moved with deliberate care, peeling away each layer of clothing as though unwrapping a precious gift. For every inch of skin he revealed, he left a kiss in its place-soft, lingering, reverent. Minho’s breath hitched as Jisung’s lips traced a path along his collarbone, down his chest, over the curve of his hip.

“Jisung,” Minho breathed, his voice trembling slightly.

“Shh,” Jisung whispered, his hands steady as they slid down Minho’s arms. “Just let me take care of you.”

Once Minho was fully undressed, Jisung guided him toward the bathtub, which was now filled with warm water. The soft scent of lavender filled the air, and Minho felt himself relax as Jisung helped him in, the warmth enveloping him like a comforting embrace.

Jisung knelt by the tub, his hands trailing through the water as he began to wash Minho with the same gentle care he’d shown while undressing him. His touch was unhurried, deliberate, his fingers tracing patterns over Minho’s skin as though committing every detail to memory.

Minho leaned back, his eyes fluttering shut as he let himself surrender to the moment. It wasn’t often that he allowed himself to be on the receiving end of such attention, but with Jisung, it felt natural-right.

When the bath was over, Jisung helped Minho out, wrapping him in a soft towel and drying him off with a tenderness that made Minho’s chest ache. He led Minho to their bedroom, the sheets freshly changed and inviting.

Jisung guided Minho onto the bed, his hands never leaving his skin as he climbed up beside him. He started at Minho’s forehead, pressing a kiss there before working his way down. His lips brushed over Minho’s cheeks, his jawline, his neck. Each kiss was a promise, a declaration, a reminder of how deeply he cared.

Minho writhed beneath him, the sensations overwhelming in the best way. His hands gripped the sheets, his breath coming in uneven gasps as Jisung continued his slow, thorough exploration.

“Jisung,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m here,” Jisung replied, his lips ghosting over Minho’s chest. “I’ve got you.”

Minho felt himself melt under Jisung’s touch, the weight of the world slipping away as he focused solely on the love pouring out of the younger man. It was a side of Jisung he didn’t often see-calm, confident, and utterly devoted-and it left Minho breathless.

The air between them shifted, soft and electric, as they lay tangled in each other’s arms. Jisung’s fingers brushed gently along Minho’s jaw, his gaze searching the older man’s face for any hint of hesitation. What he found instead was warmth, trust, and a vulnerability that made his heart ache.

“Min,” Jisung whispered, his voice trembling slightly, “I want to make you feel how much I love you.”

Minho’s breath caught, his eyes widening briefly before softening. “You already do,” he murmured, his hand coming up to cup Jisung’s face. His thumb traced the curve of Jisung’s cheek, and his lips quirked into a small smile. “Every day I spend with you, you do.”

The words were simple, yet they carried a weight that made Jisung’s chest tighten. He leaned in, pressing their foreheads together as his hand slid down to rest against Minho’s chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “If it’s too much, you tell me. Promise?”

“I promise,” Minho replied, his voice steady despite the flutter in his stomach.

Jisung smiled then, soft and reassuring, before leaning in to kiss Minho again. It was slow, deliberate, a deepening of everything they’d shared so far. His lips moved against Minho’s with a tenderness that left no room for doubt, no question about how deeply he cared.

Jisung’s hands moved with reverence, rediscovering the planes of Minho’s body as though seeing him for the first time. Each touch was unhurried, deliberate, and Minho found himself melting under the attention, his usual guardedness slipping away.

Jisung trailed kisses down Minho’s neck, his lips ghosting over his collarbone and chest. He paused to look up at Minho, his eyes dark with affection and something deeper. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, the sincerity in his voice making Minho’s cheeks flush.

Minho huffed a quiet laugh, his head falling back against the pillows as his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. His fingers gripped the soft fabric beneath him, the tension in his body a mixture of anticipation and a vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to feel. “I’m not sure I can handle this,” he admitted, his voice trembling with a rawness that surprised even himself.

Jisung, perched over him with a gentle smile tugging at his lips, brushed Minho’s hair back from his damp forehead. His touch was featherlight, his fingers trailing with a tenderness that sent shivers down Minho’s spine. “You can,” Jisung assured him softly, the quiet confidence in his tone steadying Minho in a way words alone couldn’t.

There was a flicker of mischief in Jisung’s eyes as his lips quirked into a grin, but his movements remained deliberate, every touch unhurried. He leaned down, pressing a series of kisses along Minho’s jawline, his breath warm and steady against the older man’s skin. His lips lingered, soft and purposeful, before traveling down to the hollow of Minho’s throat.

Minho’s breath hitched as Jisung kissed a spot just above his collarbone, his lips parting in a quiet gasp. “Hannie,” he murmured, his voice low and shaky.

“Shh,” Jisung whispered, his lips brushing against Minho’s skin as he spoke. “Just let me take care of you.”

The weight of those words settled over Minho, grounding him in the moment as Jisung’s hands continued their exploration. His fingers danced across Minho’s chest, his touch light but firm, tracing the curve of his ribs before settling at his waist. Each caress, each press of Jisung’s lips against his skin, felt like a silent vow—a promise that Minho was safe, loved, and cherished in ways that transcended words.

As the night deepened, the air between them grew heavier, filled with quiet gasps and the soft rustle of sheets. Jisung’s movements remained slow and intentional, his focus entirely on Minho. He paid attention to every reaction-the way Minho’s breath caught when his fingers brushed a sensitive spot, the way his hands tightened against Jisung’s shoulders when the sensations became overwhelming.

Minho’s head lolled to the side, his cheeks flushed and his lips parted as he tried to keep his composure. But Jisung, ever attuned to him, paused. He leaned up, resting his weight on his forearms as his gaze searched Minho’s face.

“Okay?” Jisung asked, his voice barely above a whisper, yet laced with concern.

Minho blinked up at him, his eyes shining with emotion. His hands slid up Jisung’s arms, his fingers curling gently around his biceps as he nodded. “More than okay,” he said, his voice thick with affection.

Jisung’s shoulders relaxed, and his lips curved into a soft smile. That reassurance, that trust, was all he needed. He leaned down, capturing Minho’s lips in another kiss, this one deeper, more passionate. The kiss was unhurried yet intense, their mouths moving together in perfect synchrony. Minho’s hands moved to Jisung’s back, his fingers splaying wide as he pulled him closer, needing to feel the warmth of him.

Their bodies moved together in a rhythm that felt both new and entirely natural, as if they’d been made for this moment. Every movement, every touch, was guided by a quiet understanding, a shared desire to express everything they felt for one another.

Minho’s breath came in uneven gasps as Jisung’s hands slid down his sides, his touch sending jolts of heat through his body. He arched beneath him, his head falling back against the pillows as Jisung hit his sweet spot, his movements steady and sure. “H-Hannie,” he moaned out, for once not worrying about anyone hearing them.

No one was about to interrupt them, no one would tell them to shut up for once, no one would come home early unannounced and have them stop in the middle of things. And something about the fact made Minho enjoy this even more.

“You're doing so well, my pretty baby,” Jisung moaned softly, littering the older's neck with fond kisses.

Minho's jaw dropped with another loud moan, fingers bruising Jisung's back with how tightly he was holding onto him. His toes curled, thighs shaking from the pleasure coursing through his body, eyes partly closed. “Right there, please~.”

Jisung kept up his rhythm, moaning sweetly. “Min, I'm close,” he warned him, never getting enough of the sight beneath him. As much as he loved it when their roles were reversed, there wasn't much that he found as beautiful as Minho falling apart beneath him.

Minho moaned something incoherent back, his orgasm crashing over him forcefully. His body shook beneath Jisung's, soft, relieved moans spilling from his lips freely as he tipped over the edge.

Jisung buried his face in his neck, crying out his name like a praise as he carried them through their high. Minho's head fell back weakly, soft pants leaving him, his body growing heavy.

When Jisung finally pulled back, his eyes met Minho’s, dark with affection and something deeper. “You’re perfect,” he said softly, his hand cupping Minho’s cheek. “You know that, right?”

Minho’s throat tightened, the words catching there for a moment before he could reply. “I don’t know about perfect,” he said, his voice thick, “but... I think I’m pretty lucky.”

Jisung grinned, leaning down to press one last kiss to Minho’s lips. “We both are.”

As they settled into each other’s arms, the room quiet except for the sound of their breathing, Minho felt a peace he hadn’t known he needed. In Jisung’s arms, he was home.

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"ever since you came into my life, you taught me all about unconditional love."

» synopsis: after watching you struggle for so long, your guardian angel falls for you, and ends up breaking celestial laws just to be in your presence. angel!felix x afab!reader

» a/n: i tried a different writing style for this story, it took me about three weeks to finish. this was kind of inspired by felix's unfair mv. the concept of him as an angel suits him so well. i'll put content warnings but please read at your own risk, there will be heavy heavy topics mentioned in this fic. - mostly proofread.

» cw: brief mentions of sexual assault, depression, suicide attempts, drug and alcohol abuse, blood, domestic abuse (physical, verbal, and emotional), minho is an asshole (sorry), very much a slowburn (felix is YEARNING.) hyunjin is also in this fic as an angel. smut cw: loss of virginity, slightly inexperienced felix, unprotected p in v, vanilla af tbh

» wc: 17k

» borders by: here

felix was there. he was always there, before you even realized it.

life hadn’t been easy for you—that much had been clear for as long as you could remember. your mother walked out of your life when you were only three, and not long after, your father succumbed to liver failure, leaving you orphaned and adrift in a world that seemed designed to crush you. without a family to hold you, to remind you that you mattered, you became just another number in the system, another child shuffled between homes like a piece of lost luggage.

your belongings were carried in a garbage bag, a cruel reminder that you were never meant to stay anywhere long enough to unpack. foster care was supposed to provide a sense of stability, but instead, it felt like a series of cold exchanges, your worth measured in paperwork and stipends.

things took a darker turn when you were placed with your first long-term foster family. at first, you thought the word "long-term" might bring relief—a chance to settle, to belong—but it quickly became a prison sentence. you realized, with bitter clarity, that "long-term" didn’t mean better; it just meant more time to endure. and endure, you did, wishing with every passing day that their home had been just another brief stop on the endless conveyor belt of placements.

the mother was controlling, piling chores onto you to the point where your schoolwork was neglected, causing you to nearly fail your first year of middle school. the father was lazy and critical, spending his evenings in a recliner with a beer in hand, quick to judge but offering no help around the house. unknown to the foster care system or the foster mother, he had a disturbing habit of sneaking into your room at night under the guise of wanting to "cuddle."

it wasn’t until he started trying to undress you that you realized this wasn’t something that was normal between fathers and daughters. 

but yet, you stayed silent. afraid of making them angry. you knew it wasn’t right, what he was doing to you, but they were giving you a home. something you had been wishing for for several years. you didn’t want to pass that up just because some gross dude lifted your nightgown for a measly 5 minutes 3 times a week. 

you stayed in that home for about 2 years until they got tired of you. finally, you were free from that prison.

however, the weight never stopped piling on top of you, the feelings never stopped rising. you didn’t realize it because you were too young, but remembering what that sick fuck did you was enough to leave you nauseous for a few days. you found yourself stuck in your head, constantly feeling his fingertips grazing your inner thigh, his mouth on yours, still smelling the faint odor of alcohol on his breath. 

you hated yourself for letting it slide. for letting him get away with it. you resented yourself for being so fucking afraid all the time. why didn’t you just speak up? why were you so fucking pathetic? the thoughts whirled in your head constantly. 

you had no idea that the flood of dark, tormenting thoughts in your mind was the reason felix came into your life. the first time he truly saved you was when you were just 14.

it was late at night, and you were alone in the bathroom you shared with three other foster girls, each of them sleeping in the room just outside. the door was locked, and your back was pressed against it, the cool wood digging into your skin as tears soaked your cheeks. your fingers trembled as they gripped the little pill bottle in your hand, eyes locked on it as your lip quivered, the weight of the moment almost unbearable. you didn’t know how much longer you could keep going.

everything in you was screaming to stop the noise inside your head, to stop the endless thoughts that tore at your mind. but there was one thing you couldn’t escape—your heart was still beating, and no matter how hard you wished for it to stop, it wouldn’t. so, with a quiet curse, you made up your mind. you were done.

the pills felt like stone as they hit your throat, each one a bitter reminder of everything that was falling apart. you gagged, struggled to swallow, but you forced them down, one after another. you locked yourself in that bathroom, barricading yourself from the world, and for what felt like an eternity, you sat there, on the edge of breaking, hoping for something—anything—to stop the pain.

only for a mere moment was the world quiet around you, the kiss of death just barely brushing your lips..

until something strange happened. it was like the very essence of life itself surged through your body, jolting you upright from where you had been slumped on the cold tile floor. the world spun out of control, and your body betrayed you in the most brutal way—it took everything you had to keep yourself upright as you lurched toward the tub. your stomach heaved violently, the contents of your body fighting against the poison you had just forced in.

sweat dripped down your face as you vomited, shaking uncontrollably, your body a hot mess of fear and desperation. it was a moment of raw panic as you realized, in the haze of your disorientation, that you were still alive. the wave of disappointment hit you like a freight train—how could you still be here? how could it not have worked? you wanted nothing more than to disappear in that moment, to fade into nothingness. 

but he was always there.

a couple of years passed, and you were adopted by a family who genuinely cared for you. they said they loved you, and you told yourself you loved them too—or at least, you thought you did. but you could never quite tell if your feelings for others were genuine or just surface-level mimicry. you heard their words of love, but you never felt it in the way people described—the flutter in your chest, the warmth in your stomach.

instead, there was only emptiness.

you had a family that cared, hot meals, a safe home. by all accounts, it should have been enough. so why wasn’t it? why did you feel a persistent ache for something more?

high school offered a temporary escape, at least for a while. you had a knack for finding trouble—running with the wrong crowd, skipping class to get high or spend hours making out with whichever guy you were dating at the time. in those moments, everything felt exhilarating. the thrill of breaking rules filled you with a rush, and being with them made you feel whole, even if only briefly.

but when you were alone, the emptiness crept back in.

in solitude, every thought became louder, every feeling sharper, relentless in their assault. the weight of it all was unbearable. whether you realized it or not, you were slowly self-destructing, losing the spark and vitality that once defined you as a child. this wasn’t the gradual "loss of innocence" that comes with growing up—it had been stolen from you. and instead of clinging to what little remained, you shoved it all away, forcing it into a dark, unrelenting void of pain and regret.

the second time felix saved you was when you were 16. 

it was a night that seemed like any other, until everything changed in an instant. you and your boyfriend had been at a party, the music loud and the laughter even louder, but the night took a turn the moment you got in the car. he had been drinking heavily. you tried to convince him to let someone else drive, but he insisted, too drunk to even form a coherent argument. you told yourself it would be fine—he was your boyfriend, and he promised he was fine to drive.

but it wasn’t fine.

the crash came so suddenly, you didn't even have time to brace yourself. the screech of tires, the sudden force of the impact—everything spun, and then there was silence.

when you opened your eyes again, the world was a blur, the harsh sound of sirens breaking through the ringing in your ears. your body was heavy, and the pain was overwhelming. you couldn’t move your arm, and it felt like you were sinking into the seat, your head throbbing with every heartbeat. you reached for it, fingers trembling, feeling blood dripping from your hairline. 

your trembling hand reached up instinctively, grasping at anything to try and level yourself while twisted in the vehicle, but it ended up brushing against something warm and wet—blood. it was everywhere. at first, you thought it was just yours, but then you looked to your side.

your boyfriend was there, slumped unnaturally in the driver’s seat. his head hung at an angle that made your stomach twist, and his chest didn’t rise. his face, once so familiar and full of life, was pale and lifeless. for a moment, the world stood still as your mind grappled with the impossible reality in front of you.

you called his name, your voice barely more than a croak, but there was no response. the quiet was suffocating. hot tears blurred your vision as panic overtook you. you reached for him, shaking him, begging him to wake up, but it was no use.

the realization hit you like a cold wave, and you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t process the weight of it. 

at that moment, the pain in your body was nothing compared to the weight in your chest. the boy you thought you’d share so many tomorrows with was gone, and you were left drowning in the wreckage of a life that would never be the same.

it was then that you felt it—the presence of someone, something, familiar but impossible to explain. there was a warmth, a sense of calm in the chaos. the sound of voices in the distance didn’t seem so muffled anymore. you could hear the paramedics, shouting instructions, but you felt... distant, almost like you were floating outside of your own body.

“stay with me,” someone was saying, but it wasn’t the paramedics.

“i’m here. you’re going to be okay,” a deep, yet soft male voice rang. the words weren’t loud, they weren’t even clear, but they were enough to settle you, just enough to make the panic simmer down into something manageable. you had no idea how it got there, but the voice was a tether.

you tried to respond, tried to speak, but your body wasn’t cooperating. the world seemed to shift and swirl again, and then you were in an ambulance, being rushed to the hospital.

the moments after the crash were a blur of bright hospital lights, sterile smells, and the constant beeping of machines around you. 

the doctor had placed you into a medically induced coma due to the amount of drugs and alcohol in your system, as well as your severe brain injury. it took some time for your family to arrive at the hospital, but felix stayed with you. he was by your side the whole time you lay there. 

later on, your eyelids fluttered open, your lashes brushing against the dryness of your skin, and it took a few moments for your eyes to adjust to the harsh white light above you. blinking slowly, you tried to clear the fog in your mind, forcing your surroundings into focus. 

beside your bed, there was a chair. empty. the sight of it hit you like a wave of loneliness. your mind raced. had someone been sitting there? had someone been waiting for you to wake up?

before you could let yourself fall into the quiet despair of it, something caught your eye—a flash of movement. at first, you weren’t sure if it was real or just a trick of your disoriented mind, but there it was again. a figure. a blonde figure dressed all in white, moving swiftly past the door and out of the room.

your heart skipped a beat, your breath catching in your throat. it happened so quickly, you didn’t even have time to process it fully. just a flicker of someone in white, someone you couldn’t place, and then they were gone, disappearing down the hallway like a phantom.

you tried to call out, tried to move, but your body refused to cooperate. you were too weak, too broken, too tethered to the machines that kept you alive. who had that been? was it someone you knew?

but before you could think any more about it, the pain returned, sharp and immediate, and all you could do was close your eyes, hoping for a moment of peace. even as your mind raced, as uncertainty flooded you, you couldn’t shake the thoughts, your mind wondering if what you saw was real or just a hallucination from your drugged-up state. 

felix spent countless hours studying you, observing the subtle ways you shifted in your sleep, the way your body would tense when you were about to face the next wave of agony. he wasn’t supposed to be so emotionally attached, not in the way he found himself. angels were meant to be impartial, neutral—protective, but not emotionally involved. and yet, as time went on, felix found himself more and more drawn to you, his gaze lingering longer than necessary, his thoughts turning to you even when he wasn’t near. it was a kind of fascination, but it was also something deeper, something he hadn’t experienced before.

it always pained felix to watch you struggle. it was his job, of course, as your guardian angel, but that didn’t necessarily mean he liked it. his role was simple, or so it was supposed to be—guide, protect, watch over you—but there were moments when it felt like a weight he could barely carry. watching you hurt, seeing the toll life had taken on you, it gnawed at him in ways he couldn’t quite explain. it wasn’t just about keeping you safe; it was about witnessing your inner turmoil, the pain you couldn’t escape, and knowing he could never truly take it away. he could intervene, sure, but only so much.

he became fond of you. at first, it was a quiet awareness—a soft sadness in his chest when he saw your tears, a feeling of helplessness when he couldn’t stop you from making the same painful decisions over and over again. but it grew. he watched how you pushed through your struggles, how you fought to keep living despite everything that weighed you down. there was a quiet strength in you, an undeniable resilience that made him both proud and heartsick.

sometimes, when you were at your lowest, felix would find himself feeling your pain. it wasn’t just an awareness, it was a visceral ache that seemed to pulse through him as if your suffering was his own. and that was strange. he wasn’t supposed to feel anything—least of all the sharp, gut-wrenching pain that you carried with you. angels were above human emotion; they were supposed to observe, not participate. but there it was. he would feel your despair, the weight of your grief, the crushing exhaustion in your heart as if it were his own.

he’d try to push it away, to block it out, but it lingered. it was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

after the accident, he had watched you slip into that coma, felt the void of your absence, and during the time you were unconscious, it was like a part of him had gone with you. the pain he felt as you fought to survive, the pull of your fragile life, had him teetering on the edge of something unfamiliar. he wasn’t supposed to care this much. he wasn’t supposed to let himself be moved by your suffering. but he was. and it terrified him.

felix could barely stand it. he was so close, so close to you, but always just out of reach. he couldn’t touch you, couldn’t make you understand that he was there. he had to stay hidden, an invisible force in the shadows. it was one of the many rules he was tasked to follow.

but he was there. and he was watching, as he always did. every time you moved, every time you cried out, his heart cracked just a little more. there were moments when he wished he could reach out, hold you, tell you it would be okay. but he couldn’t. his purpose was to guide you, not to console you the way a person could. and yet, he longed to.

it was strange. it was almost as if, in trying to save you from the darkness, he was losing himself in the process.

he was supposed to help you without complications. but oh boy, did it become complicated. 

“why do you seem down?” hyunjin asked felix, his shoes clacking against the marble floor of felix’s room. felix lay on his sofa, deep in thought. it took him a few seconds to finally answer. “she’s not doing well again,” he said lowly, the sound of sadness apparent in his tone. hyunjin walked over and sat next to him, letting out a soft sigh. “the same stuff?” he asked, referring to your depression. 

felix just hummed in response and nodded, laying his head back down as he stared off into space. “i can't do anything to help her.” he muttered eventually, disappointment in his tone. 

hyunjin studied felix quietly, his own expression a mixture of concern and confusion. angels weren’t supposed to form such deep attachments. they were guides, protectors—meant to observe and intervene only when absolutely necessary. but felix... felix was different.

"you care about her more than any angel i’ve ever seen care for their human," hyunjin said softly, his voice tinged with a cautious curiosity. "it’s not... wrong, exactly, but it’s not normal either."

felix didn’t respond right away. his gaze was distant, locked somewhere far beyond the room they were in. finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper."she’s been through so much, hyunjin. more than anyone should ever have to endure. and she keeps going, even when it feels like the world is crushing her. but it’s wearing her down. i can see it in her eyes, hear it in her thoughts."

hyunjin frowned, leaning back on the sofa. "you’ve saved her before. more than once. isn’t that enough? isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? intervene when necessary and then... let go?"

felix sat up abruptly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "let go? how can i let go when every time i turn my back, she’s falling deeper into the darkness? i can feel her pain, hyunjin. it’s like it’s… carved into my being."

hyunjin tilted his head, watching his friend carefully. "you’re more human than you think, felix," he said quietly, almost to himself.

felix’s head snapped toward him, his expression a mix of surprise and defiance. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

"it means," hyunjin continued calmly, "that maybe you care so deeply because you understand her in a way most angels don’t. you don’t just see her struggles—you feel them. that connection... it’s rare, felix. but it’s also dangerous."

felix looked away, his jaw tightening. he knew hyunjin was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. "i just want her to be happy," he said finally, his voice breaking slightly. "i don’t care if it’s dangerous or rare or whatever else you want to call it. i just can’t stand to see her like this."

hyunjin reached out, placing a hand on felix’s shoulder. "maybe it’s time to think about what she really needs. sometimes, saving someone doesn’t mean fixing everything for them. it means being there, quietly, in the background, until they find their own strength."

felix sighed, his shoulders slumping under the weight of hyunjin’s words. he didn’t know if he could do that—if he could stand by and watch you struggle, hoping you’d pull through on your own. he had been waiting several years for this, for you to come to, for you to get better. it didn’t seem achievable because of how much you were obviously hurting still. 

but deep down, he knew hyunjin had a point.

all he could do was stay close and hope his presence, even unseen, would make a difference.

a few more months passed, and felix found himself at his breaking point. watching you spiral further into despair was more than he could bear. he had always been bound by the sacred rules of his kind. yet, with every passing day, those rules felt like chains, holding him back from giving you the comfort and hope you so desperately needed.

he began to push the boundaries, leaving subtle signs of his presence. a faint warmth brushing your skin during your loneliest nights, the sudden scent of vanilla randomly wafting through your room–his signature scent.. or the soft flutter of a breeze indoors when no windows were open. felix hoped these tiny gestures would remind you that you weren’t alone, that someone was watching over you. sometimes you’d swear you’d wake up in the middle of the night, feeling eyes on you in your bedroom.

but he knew he was treading dangerous ground. revealing himself to the living, even indirectly, was a direct violation of celestial law. angels were forbidden from crossing into the mortal plane unless absolutely necessary—and certainly not for personal reasons. every time he bent the rules, felix felt the weight of disapproval from the higher realms, but he didn’t care.

all he cared about was you.

eventually, felix realized that his subtle gestures weren’t enough to ease your suffering. the flickers of warmth, the faint scents, and the soft breezes weren’t making the impact he hoped for. so, he made the decision to go further, breaking the rules more boldly than ever before.

what started as occasional visits to watch over you as you slept turned into a nightly ritual. every night, without fail, felix would enter your room, his presence unseen, and settle himself beside you on the bed. he would sit propped against the headboard, his fingers brushing gently through your hair in soothing strokes. this was the only time he saw you truly at peace—your expression free of the sadness that weighed you down during your waking hours. your mind was finally quiet, your face soft and serene, and seeing you like this brought felix a strange sense of solace.

he didn’t feel out of place lying beside you. on the contrary, it comforted him to know that, even if you couldn’t feel his presence, he was there for you during your most vulnerable moments. but simply being there wasn’t enough for him. he wanted you to know you weren’t alone, even if you didn’t understand the source.

so, he started leaving a single white rose in your apartment, always in a spot he knew you’d notice. the first time you found one, you panicked. your thoughts immediately jumped to the idea of a stalker. it would explain the strange sensation you sometimes felt while sleeping, as though someone was watching over you. but no one had a key to your apartment, and you were sure you hadn’t misplaced a spare. there were no signs of forced entry, no broken locks or jimmied windows. and living on the tenth floor of a building without a balcony made the idea of anyone sneaking in seem impossible.

yet, every wednesday, like clockwork, the roses appeared. each time you came home from work, you found one waiting for you—sometimes placed carefully on your pillow, other times resting on the kitchen counter where you always dropped your keys.

the mystery of the roses consumed your thoughts. you couldn’t shake the eerie feeling of being watched, but at the same time, something about the gesture felt... kind. even as the fear lingered, you couldn’t deny the strange comfort the flowers brought, like a small, silent promise that someone cared. 

you’d sit for hours, turning the possibilities over and over in your mind, desperate for an explanation. the only theory that felt remotely plausible was that it might be a deceased family member—perhaps your father—reaching out to you from beyond. maybe he was watching over you, leaving these gifts as a sign of his presence.

but even that felt like a stretch. you’d never been one to believe in the supernatural. ghosts, spirits, angels—it all seemed too far-fetched. yet, the roses told a different story. they appeared in your locked apartment without any logical explanation, and the sheer impossibility of it all began to chip away at your skepticism.

the more you thought about it, the more your disbelief wavered. you still couldn’t bring yourself to fully accept the idea of something otherworldly, but a small part of you began to wonder: what if there was more to this world than you’d always believed?

it wasn’t until a little later into your adulthood that felix fell for you. he fell for you in a way that was more than he ever thought possible, a deep, unshakable kind of love that bloomed quietly in the recesses of his heart. it wasn’t sudden—it was a slow, inevitable tide, creeping up on him as he spent day after day watching over you, silently observing the subtle shifts in your life, the quiet struggles you faced, and the moments of fleeting joy that seemed to light up your world in spite of it all.

the more he watched you, the more deeply he felt connected to you. he could see the way you smiled when you thought no one was looking, the way your eyes shimmered with a mix of hope and pain, and how you carried your burdens with such quiet strength. he admired your resilience, but it tore at him too. each time he saw you frown in frustration or collapse into exhaustion after a long day, it felt like a jagged piece of glass scraping against his soul. the desire to be close to you—to be there for you—burned inside him like wildfire, something so powerful and raw, he couldn’t contain it.

felix found himself drawn to you in a way he couldn’t explain. he watched you laugh with your friends, saw you comfort a stranger, witnessed the quiet moments when you thought no one cared. and in every one of those moments, his heart ached. it ached because he longed to be the one to make you smile, to ease the weight on your shoulders, to tell you that he understood in ways no one else could. he wanted to be the one who held you when the world felt too heavy, who whispered comforting words when you couldn’t find any of your own.

he wanted—no, needed—to talk to you. to introduce himself, to somehow, impossibly, let you know that he knew you better than anyone else ever could. he knew your scars, your fears, your dreams. he had watched you grow, silently and from a distance, always just out of reach. and every part of him screamed to speak, to tell you everything he had seen and felt as he quietly admired the person you had become. every thought he had about you, every observation, every small detail, every fleeting moment, was carved into his soul.

but as much as he wanted that, he knew he couldn’t. he wasn’t supposed to be here, to be seen by you. he was bound by laws that held him away, that kept him a silent observer, a watcher in the dark. his love for you—his desperate, consuming love for you—was forbidden. and yet, it consumed him more than anything else. he ached with the overwhelming need to be near you, to somehow make you feel what he felt, to break the invisible barrier that kept him at arm’s length.

felix would continue to visit at night, his form hidden in the shadows of your room, listening to your breathing, watching your peaceful face as you slept. he would run his fingers through your hair, wishing he could tell you everything. he would hold his breath, praying you would stir, that maybe, just maybe, you would feel him there, his presence lingering like a soft touch, a whispered promise. the thought that you might never know how deeply he loved you—it was unbearable.

felix wanted so badly to be noticed, to have you turn and see him. he wanted you to know, not just that he existed, but that he had been there all along, watching over you, loving you from afar. he wasn’t some fleeting presence, some passing moment. he was here. he had always been here. and all he wanted was for you to know that.

god, he loved you so fucking much. in a way that was all-consuming, in a way that made every moment of separation feel like a quiet ache in the deepest parts of him. he loved you in a way that was both impossible and undeniable. and it terrified him, because he knew he could never have you—not truly. he could only watch. and in doing so, he was bound by something even greater than the laws that kept him from you. he was bound by the love he could never express, the feelings he could never act upon.

and that was the cruelest part of it all—he loved you more than anything, but he could never truly have you.

felix leaned against the door of his home in the astral plane, his body feeling as though it was made of stone, weighed down by the crushing pressure of what had just transpired. his mind was a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts, still reeling from the conversation he had mere moments ago. the higher realms had caught on to his increasingly reckless behavior. he had always known there would be consequences, but hearing the words from the voices of the celestial council made the reality of it all hit him like a bolt of lightning.

a warning, they had said. a warning that if he continued this way—if he kept breaking laws, bending the rules, and daring to reveal himself to the mortal world—he would be cast out. disowned. stripped of everything he had ever known. his immortality would be taken from him, and the wings that had always been a part of him, the wings that had given him his identity, would be severed. he would be cast into the human world, forced to live among those he had been forbidden to touch, to exist as one of them—fragile, finite, and utterly alone.

felix’s chest tightened as the weight of their decree settled over him. he was horrified, and in the pit of his stomach, he felt a deep, aching sense of loss. the thought of being cast down, of losing the eternity that had once defined him, gnawed at him. he had existed for so long in the celestial realms, watching over worlds, knowing his place, and now that place felt as though it was slipping away from him, just as quickly as his heart had fallen for you.

he didn’t want to stop seeing you. he didn’t want to stop visiting you, to stop offering you the comfort he could give from the shadows. the mere thought of no longer being able to watch you, no longer being able to quietly support you from the distance he had grown to cherish, felt like an ache so deep, it was like his very soul had been torn in two.

but at the same time, felix was terrified. terrified of what it would mean if he allowed himself to follow this path, if he let his emotions run wild, if he dared to embrace this connection he had with you. to lose his place among the celestial beings, to lose the very essence of who he was, the very reason he existed—it was too much to bear.

he closed his eyes, gripping the edge of the door as though it might anchor him in the reality he so desperately wanted to hold onto. his heart raced, torn between two worlds—his love for you, and the celestial duty that had once defined his every action. the love he felt for you was dangerous, forbidden, but it was real. the kind of love that carved deep into his chest, raw and desperate, a love that made him question everything he had ever known about his purpose. but was it worth losing everything? was it worth abandoning the very thing that had given his life meaning—his immortality, his place among the divine?

felix didn’t know. he didn’t know if he could make that choice.

all he knew was that the fear of losing you—of being cast away, disowned—was as terrifying as the thought of losing himself.

felix found a small measure of peace when you started dating someone—a coworker named minho. though it pained him to see you with someone else, the thought of minho being there for you when felix couldn’t brought him some comfort. from what felix observed, minho was kind and attentive, and that was enough to keep felix at ease, even if it hurt to stay in the background.

still, felix couldn’t bring himself to leave entirely. he continued to watch over you, always vigilant, ensuring that minho treated you the way you deserved. 

but something shifted in your world, something that didn’t escape your notice. once minho entered your life, the roses stopped appearing in your apartment. at first, you didn’t think much of it, but as the weeks went by without a single flower, a strange pang of disappointment settled in your chest.

you hadn’t realized how much you’d grown attached to the mysterious gifts until they were gone. you had even gone out of your way to display them in a vase, replacing the wilted roses with fresh ones every week, as if honoring the unseen hand that left them. the absence felt odd, almost unsettling.

it didn’t take long for the thought to creep back into your mind: what if it really had been a stalker? but you dismissed it just as quickly as it came. there were no signs of forced entry, no evidence to support the idea. and besides, minho was with you now. if something truly dangerous were happening, surely he would have noticed too.

still, the timing nagged at you. the roses had stopped the moment minho came into your life. was it just a coincidence, or was there more to it? you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d lost something special—something silent and unseen, but deeply meaningful.

as your relationship with minho deepened, felix began to notice troubling changes in his behavior. at first, it was subtle—offhand remarks about the way you did things or minor criticisms disguised as jokes. but over time, those comments grew sharper, more frequent, and far harder to ignore. minho started nitpicking every little thing you did, blaming you for even the smallest mistakes, and turning minor missteps into significant issues.

it didn’t take long for felix to piece together the truth: minho was a narcissist, and worse, an abusive one. his behavior escalated rapidly. the once seemingly harmless complaints turned into outright yelling. he began getting in your face during arguments, his voice laced with venom, his demeanor intimidating. felix watched helplessly as minho’s anger grew darker, his threats becoming more pointed.

the shift terrified felix. there were moments when minho’s fury burned so hot that felix feared he might follow through on his threats. each time minho’s hand twitched or his voice reached a dangerous pitch, felix braced himself, sick with worry that this time, it wouldn’t stop at words.

countless nights, felix lingered nearby, his unseen presence heavy with fear and frustration. the thought of you being seriously hurt haunted him. despite his duty to remain in the background, every fiber of his being screamed to intervene, to shield you from the storm brewing in your own home. 

as your relationship with minho continued and his behavior spiraled further into toxicity, you began to notice something strange: the inexplicable occurrences in your apartment had returned. the faint, sweet scent of vanilla began lingering in the air once more, subtle yet unmistakable. it crept into your senses at odd times, reminding you of a feeling you hadn’t experienced in months.

even more unsettling was the distinct sensation of being watched while you slept—something you’d felt before but had long since faded when minho entered your life. it was subtle at first, a gentle prickling at the back of your neck or the softest shift in the room’s energy. unlike most people, who might have been terrified by the idea of an unseen presence in their home, you felt an odd sense of comfort.

this wasn’t the unease of being stalked or the fear of danger. it was familiar, almost nostalgic, as though the presence itself carried a quiet reassurance. it reminded you of nights when you used to feel a strange sort of peace in your solitude, a solace that had seemed to vanish when minho came into your life.

you came home late wednesday night to find minho sitting at the kitchen island, his posture rigid and his expression already clouded with annoyance and barely concealed anger. you sighed inwardly, bracing yourself for yet another confrontation and wondering what you could have possibly done this time to provoke his ire.

before you could speak, your eyes fell on the white rose lying on the counter in front of him. your breath hitched, and your heartbeat quickened as unease settled deep in your chest. you had a feeling you knew exactly where this was going, but you forced yourself to play dumb, hoping to defuse whatever storm was brewing.

“what’s that?” you asked cautiously, your gaze darting between the rose and minho’s piercing glare.

he let out a humorless chuckle and lifted his head to meet your eyes. “you’re asking me?” he said, his voice calm but laced with an edge that sent chills down your spine.

you swallowed hard, struggling to steady your hands as you fidgeted with your fingers. “i don’t know. i didn’t—”

“come on, y/n,” he interrupted, his tone dripping with condescension. “i’m not stupid. i didn’t give this to you, so who did?” his voice was eerily calm, but his expression betrayed his barely contained fury, which was far more unsettling than when he was openly yelling.

“i-i don’t know, i swear,” you stammered, your voice trembling as you searched his face for any sign of reason.

minho’s jaw tightened, and his fist slammed against the counter, the sharp sound making you flinch. he stood abruptly, towering over you as his eyes narrowed. “bullshit. you got it from a guy. who is he? do i know him?”

“no, minho! i haven’t talked to any guys today!” you cried, your voice rising in desperation as your body began to shake.

“you’re lying,” he hissed, his gaze unwavering and his presence suffocating. he reached for the rose, running his fingers along the delicate petals as though mocking its fragility.

“i’m not,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

minho studied you for a moment, the silence stretching into something unbearable. then, with a sudden burst of violence, he clenched the rose in his fist, ripping the petals from the stem and scattering them across the counter. “clean this shit up. i don’t want to see any more flowers around here,” he snarled before shoving past you and storming toward the hallway.

something inside you snapped. “no,” you said firmly, the word escaping your lips before you could stop yourself.

minho froze mid-step, turning slowly to face you with a mixture of shock and fury. “what did you just say?” he asked, his tone low and dangerous.

“i said no,” you repeated, your voice steady despite the fear twisting in your stomach. you stood your ground, glaring at him with a defiance you didn’t know you possessed.

his surprise faded quickly, replaced by a dark, menacing rage. in an instant, he closed the distance between you, raising his hand and striking you across the face. the sharp sound of the slap echoed through the room, and the sting of his palm seared into your cheek.

before you could even process the pain, a loud crash shattered the tense silence. both of you turned toward the counter, where shards of glass from the vase that once held your white roses lay scattered. the vase had shattered violently, though neither you nor minho had touched it, and you were both too far away for it to have been accidental.

minho stared at the broken glass, his face contorting in confusion and unease. for the first time, you saw a flicker of something unfamiliar in his eyes—fear. and for a brief moment, it felt like the air in the room had shifted, heavy with something unexplainable, something beyond either of your control. 

“get the fuck out,” you spat, your voice trembling with both rage and sorrow as you shoved minho away from you. your lip quivered, and your heart pounded in your chest. he stumbled backward, his usual composure shattered as he stammered, trying to piece together words to defend himself.

“out!” you screamed, your voice breaking as tears began streaming uncontrollably down your face. you clutched your stinging cheek with one hand, the pain of his slap mingling with the ache in your chest.

minho hesitated, his face flickering with disbelief and hesitation, but eventually, he relented. grumbling under his breath, he grabbed his things and left, the door closing behind him with a finality that echoed through your apartment.

the silence that followed was suffocating, oppressive in its stillness. you stood frozen for a moment, staring at the broken glass scattered across your kitchen floor. your legs gave out beneath you, and you plopped onto the cold tile, your back pressed against the refrigerator as a sob wracked through your body.

you cried harder than you had in months, your tears falling freely as every ounce of frustration, anger, and pain came pouring out. you were furious—with minho, with yourself, with the cycle you seemed unable to break. why had you let it get this far? why did you allow another man to mistreat you, just because you were terrified of being alone again?

the realization cut deeply, leaving you raw and exposed. you told yourself then and there that you were done. done with minho, done with letting people like him have power over you. and this time, you meant it.

true to your resolve, minho didn’t bother you again. after a week of silence, it was clear that he wasn’t coming back, and for that, you were relieved. but relief didn’t erase the damage he had done.

in the aftermath of the breakup, you found yourself slipping back into the darkness you thought you had left behind. nights were the hardest. some, you spent curled up in bed, crying until exhaustion finally claimed you. others, you lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling as the all-too-familiar numbness crept over you, settling into your chest like an unwelcome guest.

the emptiness was back, deeper and more consuming than ever. it felt like your heart was a hollow shell, incapable of feeling anything but the ache of its own vacancy. and as the days blurred into weeks, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was all you were destined for—cycles of pain, brief reprieves, and an ever-present void you could never seem to fill. 

one night, as you drifted off to sleep, your dream took an unusual turn. in the depths of slumber, you saw flashes of golden blonde hair and a face so captivating it felt almost otherworldly. he had plump, soft lips, a delicate button nose, and a constellation of freckles scattered across his skin. his presence was magnetic, his beauty striking yet gentle.

at first, the dream was fleeting—a quick glimpse of him before the scene shifted into the usual randomness of your subconscious. but as the nights went on, he began appearing more frequently. his visits weren’t long, just brief moments where you saw his face, a sense of comfort and calm washing over you before he would vanish again into the recesses of your mind.

though you never spoke to him, you could feel him there. his presence was undeniable, and oddly familiar, as though you knew him from somewhere. the more you dreamed of him, the more he felt like a guardian, someone watching over you from the shadows.

what you didn’t realize was that this wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. it was felix. after weeks of struggling to find ways to be closer to you without breaking the celestial rules, he decided to take a different approach.

he was hesitant at first, unsure if entering your dreams would be too bold, too much of a risk. but he couldn’t stay away. the idea of reaching you in this subtle, intangible way felt like the perfect compromise—a chance to be near you without disrupting the delicate balance of your reality.

so, he appeared to you in fragments, carefully choosing each moment. the dreams were his way of offering comfort, a gentle reminder of his presence, even if you couldn’t fully understand what it meant yet. to felix, it was enough to know he was there for you, even if only in the quiet hours of the night.

the dream started like many others—hazy and indistinct, with colors blending together in a soft, swirling mist. you were standing in a field bathed in moonlight, the grass cool beneath your bare feet. a gentle breeze carried the scent of vanilla, a fragrance that had lingered faintly in your waking hours.

and then, you saw him.

he emerged from the mist like a figure out of a painting, his golden hair glowing faintly in the silver light. his face, with its constellation of freckles and gentle, piercing eyes, was heartbreakingly beautiful. he stopped a few paces away, his gaze locked on yours. for a moment, neither of you spoke. the silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but charged with something unspoken—something familiar yet strange.

"who are you?" you asked finally, your voice trembling as if afraid to break the spell. his lips curled into a soft smile, and he tilted his head slightly. "you already know me," he said, his voice like a melody, soothing and warm. your brows knitted together, confusion flickering across your face. "i don’t think i do."

"you’ve felt me," he said gently, taking a cautious step closer. "in the quiet moments. when you’ve been at your lowest. i’ve been there." the realization hit you like a wave, a shiver running down your spine. "the roses..."

he nodded, his expression tender yet tinged with sadness. "i didn’t mean to frighten you. i only wanted you to know you weren’t alone."

"but why? why me?" you whispered, a lump forming in your throat.

his gaze softened further, and he crouched slightly to meet your eyes more closely. "because i care about you more than you’ll ever know. i’ve watched over you, protected you, even when you didn’t know i was there." 

your breath hitched, the weight of his words sinking in. "are you... an angel?"

felix hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod. "yes. and breaking every rule to talk to you like this."

"why now?"

"because i can’t bear to see you in pain anymore," he admitted, his voice cracking just slightly. "you’ve been through so much, and i... i couldn’t stay silent any longer."

tears welled in your eyes as you took a step closer, your hand reaching out instinctively. he didn’t pull away, but you hesitated, your fingers hovering just above his. "this doesn’t feel real," you murmured.

"but it is," he assured you, his voice firm yet gentle. "i’ll be here as long as you need me, whether you see me or not."

the dream began to blur around the edges, the mist creeping back in. "wait," you pleaded, your voice tinged with desperation. "will i see you again?"

felix smiled softly, his golden hair shimmering in the fading light. "always."

and then he was gone, leaving only his signature scent and the lingering warmth of his presence behind as you woke, tears still fresh on your cheeks. 

“you did what?” hyunjin asked felix, surprise evident on his expression. felix bit the inside of his cheek before he quietly repeated himself. “i.. visited her in her dream.” he mumbled. 

hyunjin stared at felix, his eyes wide as he leaned against the railing of their astral plane. the soft glow of their surroundings illuminated the disbelief on his face. "you visited her in her dream," he repeated slowly, as if trying to process the gravity of felix's words.

felix nodded, looking away. "i couldn’t just watch her suffer anymore. she needed to know she wasn’t alone."

hyunjin ran a hand through his dark hair, letting out a sharp exhale. "do you have any idea how reckless that was? visiting the living in their dreams might not be as bad as full manifestation, but it’s still breaking the rules."

felix’s gaze hardened, his usual softness replaced with a rare defiance. "i don’t care about the rules anymore, hyunjin. they don’t help her. she’s falling apart, and i can’t just stand by and do nothing."

hyunjin crossed his arms, his expression shifting from surprise to concern. "i get it, felix, i do. but you’ve been walking a thin line for a while now. leaving roses, lingering in her presence... do you really think the higher-ups won’t notice?"

felix clenched his fists at his sides. "let them notice. let them punish me if they want. but i won’t regret it. not for her."

hyunjin softened at felix's conviction, his features losing their edge. "you really care about her, don’t you?"

felix’s eyes glistened as he nodded. "more than anything. she’s been through so much, hyunjin. no one deserves that kind of pain. if i can be the one thing that brings her some comfort, i’ll take any punishment that comes my way."

hyunjin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "you’re not going to stop, are you?"

"no," felix said firmly, his voice steady despite the weight of his words.

there was a moment of silence as hyunjin studied his friend, his lips pressed into a thin line. finally, he relented with a small shake of his head. "alright. if you’re going to keep doing this, at least let me help you cover your tracks. if they find out what you’re doing, it won’t just be a slap on the wrist, felix. it’ll be exile—or worse."

felix’s eyes widened in surprise, gratitude quickly replacing the shock. "hyunjin, you don’t have to—"

"i know i don’t have to," hyunjin interrupted, his tone sharp. "but you’re my friend, and i’m not about to let you face this alone."

felix smiled faintly, the weight on his shoulders feeling just a little lighter. "thank you."

hyunjin sighed again, this time with a hint of exasperation. "don’t thank me yet. i’m not sure what kind of mess we’re getting into, but i have a feeling it’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better."

felix’s smile didn’t waver. "it’ll be worth it."

hyunjin shook his head with a wry smile, muttering under his breath. "you’re hopeless."

but despite his grumbling, he didn’t leave felix’s side. if felix was going to fight for you, hyunjin would make sure he didn’t do it alone.

the dreams for the next few nights unfolded as they always had—flickers of unspoken moments and hazy images that faded like sand slipping through your fingers. but this night was different.

the air around you shifted as the dream took form. you were no longer in a familiar place but somewhere entirely foreign and breathtaking. marble floors stretched endlessly beneath your bare feet, their white, polished surface reflecting soft, golden light from above. the room seemed to glow, not harshly, but with a serene brightness that made you feel weightless.

and then there was the scent—vanilla, rich and warm, filling the air like an embrace. it washed over you, soothing every frayed nerve and quieting the lingering chaos in your mind.

before you could fully process the setting, he appeared.

felix stepped out of the light as though it had created him, his form entirely whole this time. his white tunic draped elegantly over his lean frame, the fabric flowing as if it were alive. his blonde hair, wavy and radiant, seemed to catch the ambient glow, each strand moving with an ethereal lightness. but it was his face—those delicate features, framed by a constellation of freckles, and eyes that held galaxies—that truly caught your breath.

you couldn’t look away.

the space between you and felix was vast, yet he began to close the distance, his steps slow and deliberate, as though each one was meant to reassure you. his gaze, warm and unwavering, never left yours.

your heart pounded in your chest, each beat a mix of confusion, awe, and an unexplainable comfort. "you’re back," you whispered, your voice trembling but filled with a strange relief.

felix’s lips curved into a gentle smile, and as he stopped a few feet away, his presence felt like the missing piece of a puzzle you hadn’t realized you were trying to solve.

"i promised i would be," he said softly, his voice carrying the same calming warmth as the vanilla in the air.

the marble beneath your feet felt cool, grounding you as you tried to steady your breathing. "where are we? what is this place?"

felix glanced around, his expression serene yet thoughtful. "a reflection of the in-between. it’s not quite your world, not quite mine."

you frowned slightly, tilting your head. "why are we here?"

his gaze softened further, and he took another cautious step toward you, his hands loosely clasped in front of him. "because. i needed to see you again."

your breath hitched, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through the dreamlike quality of the moment. "this feels... so real," you murmured, reaching out instinctively, though you stopped short of touching him.

"it is," felix replied, his voice a quiet assurance. "as real as it can be."

you hesitated for a moment, staring at his outstretched hand. it was so close, yet it felt like reaching for something impossibly distant. your heart raced as you extended your trembling hand toward him once more.

“can i... touch you?” you asked again, your voice quieter this time, as if afraid he might vanish if you spoke too loudly.

felix’s expression softened further, his lips curving into a smile so warm it felt like sunlight breaking through a storm. “you can,” he said, his voice gentle, almost reverent.

you reached out, and when your fingers met his, a jolt of warmth spread through you like ripples in still water. his skin wasn’t just soft—it was otherworldly, as if every molecule hummed with energy, radiating life and something deeper, something unnameable.

you gasped softly at the sensation, your fingertips brushing along the back of his hand. “it’s like… you’re made of light,” you murmured, your voice filled with awe.

felix chuckled softly, the sound low and soothing. “in a way, i suppose i am,” he replied, his thumb lightly brushing against your knuckles. “but what matters is that i’m here. with you.”

the weight of his words hit you, and your breath caught in your throat. you looked up at him, your eyes searching his for answers. “why are you doing this?”

his expression became more serious, though his touch remained tender. “because you deserve to feel loved, to feel cared for. you’ve been carrying so much for so long, and i couldn’t stand to see you bear it alone.”

your lips quivered, and tears began to well in your eyes. you fought them back, but the sheer kindness in his words made it impossible. “i don’t understand,” you whispered, shaking your head slightly. “why me? i’m nobody special.”

felix’s dark eyes softened even further, and he took a small step closer, his presence as overwhelming as it was comforting. “you are special,” he said firmly, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “you’ve survived so much, endured what most wouldn’t. you have a strength you don’t even realize.”

the tears spilled over then, and he reached out to gently brush them away, his touch featherlight. “you don’t have to do it alone anymore,” he said, his voice a vow. “i’m here. for as long as you’ll let me be.”

you stared at him, your heart swelling with emotions you hadn’t felt in years. gratitude. hope. maybe even something more.

but before you could speak, the dream began to shift, the bright marble surroundings fading into soft mist. you panicked, reaching for him as the world around you dissolved.

“felix, wait—don’t go!” you cried, desperation in your voice.

he cupped your face in his hands, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made the fading dream still for a moment. “i’m never far,” he promised, his voice steady and unshakable. “call for me, and i’ll come.”

and then he was gone.  you woke up clutching your hand to your chest, as if trying to hold onto the feeling of him for just a little longer.

the memory of his words and his touch stayed with you, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like maybe—just maybe—things could get better.

you found yourself spending more and more time with felix in your dreams, sharing conversations that ranged from the mundane to the profound. each night felt like peeling back another layer of his essence, and the bond between you deepened in ways you never imagined possible. he spoke to you with a sincerity that left you feeling safe and cherished, sharing stories of his watchful presence over the years, recounting moments when he had intervened in unseen ways to keep you safe. the weight of knowing just how much he had done for you was both humbling and overwhelming.

the concept of a guardian angel was still difficult for you to wrap your mind around—an ethereal being solely dedicated to protecting you. but even harder to believe was the fact that felix was yours. all yours.

felix never outright told you how much he cared for you, though you began to sense it in the way his gaze lingered, in the warmth of his words, and in the gentle way he reached out to comfort you. he held himself back, aware of your past pain, and was careful to move at a pace that respected your healing. he wanted to be patient, to give you all the time you needed, even as his feelings for you grew with each passing moment.

what he didn’t know was that you were falling for him just as quickly. the connection between you felt as natural as breathing, as though the universe itself had woven your fates together. the once-dreamlike visits began to feel more vivid and tangible, as if the line between the dream world and reality was slowly blurring.

by the time a month had passed, seeing him each night had become as natural as the sun setting. you found yourself eagerly anticipating the moment you would drift off to sleep, knowing he would be there waiting for you, his presence offering you a kind of solace you hadn’t felt in years. it was no longer just a dream; it was a sanctuary. a place where you could be yourself, free from judgment, and bask in the warmth of someone who truly cared.

of course, it didn’t last. how could it? luck had never been on your side, and this fleeting comfort seemed no different. without warning, felix was gone. the dreams you once eagerly anticipated were now nothing but empty darkness, leaving you tossing and turning in your bed, haunted by the void his absence created. you replayed your last conversation over and over in your mind, searching for any clue, any indication of what might have gone wrong. everything had seemed so normal—he was attentive, warm, and genuinely happy to be with you. there was no sign that anything was amiss.

the silence left you with nothing but questions. had you said something to offend him? had he grown tired of you? the thought gnawed at you, stirring feelings of abandonment and self-doubt. yet, what you didn’t know—what you couldn’t know—was that felix hadn’t chosen to leave. felix had gotten into trouble. big trouble.

far away from the sanctuary of your dreams, felix stood before the higher celestial realms, his head bowed in silent shame. the luminous expanse was unlike anything mortal eyes could comprehend—a vast court of blinding light, with entities of immeasurable power seated upon towering thrones of radiant energy. their voices were neither spoken nor heard but resonated directly within his being, each word a vibration that seemed to shake the very fabric of his existence.

“you have broken our most sacred laws, felix,” the central figure intoned, its voice a perfect balance of wrath and sorrow. “angels are not to reveal themselves to the living. and yet, you have not only shown yourself—you have formed a connection.”

felix clenched his fists at his sides, his golden head still lowered. “i couldn’t stand by and watch her suffer anymore,” he admitted, his voice steady despite the gravity of his situation. “she needed me. she needed someone.”

the entity’s light flared brighter, casting long shadows that seemed to pull at felix’s very essence. “your intentions may have been pure, but your actions were reckless. you risked exposing our realm to the mortal plane and disrupted the natural order.”

another voice, colder and sharper, chimed in. “you allowed emotion to cloud your duty. this is not love; it is folly. and now, you must face the consequences of your defiance.”

felix finally lifted his head, his freckled face set with quiet determination. “if loving her is a crime, then i will accept whatever punishment you deem necessary. but i don’t regret what i’ve done. she was alone in a way no one should ever have to be.”

the celestial beings exchanged glances, their forms shifting and flickering with the intensity of their deliberation. finally, the central figure spoke again, its tone heavy with finality. “felix, you are hereby stripped of your ability to interact with her. you will be confined to the astral plane, unable to enter her dreams or manifest in her presence. should you attempt to defy this order, the consequences will be irrevocable.”

the words struck him like a physical blow, and felix staggered, his heart aching with the weight of his punishment. to be kept away from you, to be forced to watch your pain from a distance without being able to comfort you—yet again–it was torment.

but there was nothing he could do. with a final flash of light, the court dissolved, and felix was left alone in the vast, endless expanse of the astral plane, his physical connection to you severed.

back in your world, you sat on your bed, staring at the clock as tears streamed down your face. the weight of his absence was unbearable, a silent ache that pressed against your chest. you whispered his name into the dark, hoping against hope that he could hear you, not knowing that he was out there, whispering your name too.

felix could still watch over you, still fulfill his celestial duties to keep you safe, but it wasn’t the same. something had shifted—an invisible barrier now confined him to the most basic of his responsibilities. no longer could he visit your dreams or stand by your side as you slept, even if you couldn’t see him. it tore at him. every part of him yearned to return, to let you know he was still there, to reassure you in the way only he could.

he could feel the ache of your unanswered questions, the way you were consumed by his sudden absence. you were falling deeper into a loneliness that clawed at your soul, a loneliness that made his punishment feel like a knife twisting in his chest. he knew you were hurting in ways you hadn’t felt in a long time, and the knowledge that he was the cause—however unintended—made it all the more unbearable.

winter came, and with it, you began to fade. the heavy, suffocating emptiness seeped back into your life, wrapping itself around you like a cold, unrelenting fog. your appetite vanished, and the simplest tasks became insurmountable. you stopped answering texts, ignoring calls from friends you hadn’t spoken to in weeks—some in months. but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

nothing mattered anymore because nothing could fill the void felix had left. you tried, briefly, to shake the feeling, but no one could make you feel the way he did. felix had ruined you for anyone else, his presence so uniquely comforting and irreplaceable that his absence felt like a gaping wound.

felix watched helplessly, his golden light dimmer than it had ever been. he saw the way your energy drained, the light in your eyes fading. he knew he was the one thing that could pull you out of this darkness, and yet, he was forbidden from reaching you. he spent countless moments wrestling with his own helplessness, the longing to be with you tearing him apart.

in the nights that followed, as you lay in your bed staring at the ceiling with tear-streaked cheeks, he whispered your name softly into the void, desperate for you to hear, even if he knew it was impossible. all he could do was hope.

the dark feelings were relentless, clawing at the edges of your mind, whispering venomous lies that you couldn’t escape. for months, they lingered, festering in the absence of light. no friends, no family, no felix—just you and the unyielding barrage of your thoughts. you had tried to fight it, to push forward, but the weight of it all was suffocating.

one cold winter night, as the world outside lay silent under a blanket of snow, you sat at the edge of your bed, staring at the empty room around you. the loneliness felt louder than any noise could. enough was enough, you thought. the hollow ache in your chest felt unbearable, and you saw no way out.

you grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, your hands trembling as you began to write. words spilled out, raw and unfiltered—apologies to those you thought might care, explanations for your decision, and an overwhelming sense of defeat. the letter wasn’t long; it didn’t need to be. when you finished, you folded it neatly and placed it on your nightstand.

the pills sat in the cabinet for months, untouched but always there. you retrieved them now, your breath shaky as you poured them into your palm. one by one, they gleamed under the dim light of your bedside lamp, little capsules of finality. you clutched them tightly, tears slipping down your face, mingling with the numbness that had overtaken you.

but just as you raised your hand, the room shifted. the light flickered, a sudden gust of vanilla-scented air brushing against your skin. it was so sudden and so familiar that your hand froze. the bottle slipped from your grasp, clattering to the floor, pills scattering across the wooden boards.

and then you saw him.

felix stood before you, his form shimmering like an ethereal beacon against the darkness. his golden hair glowed faintly, his freckled face etched with desperation and anguish. he looked at you, and for a moment, you could see the pain in his eyes—a reflection of your own.

“don’t,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “please don’t.”

your breath hitched as you stared at him, unsure if he was real or just another cruel trick of your mind. “you… you left me,” you choked out, tears streaming freely now. “i thought you were gone forever.”

“i didn’t want to go,” felix said, stepping closer, his presence radiating warmth. “they made me. but i couldn’t stay away anymore. i  can’t lose you.”

you felt his hands, warm and soft, cupping your trembling ones. the faint buzz of energy that accompanied his touch was a reminder of the bond you shared. “i’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice filled with guilt. “i failed you.”

“no,” you whispered, shaking your head. “you didn’t. i just… i can’t do this anymore, felix. i can’t keep feeling like this.”

“you’re not alone,” he said firmly, his golden eyes locking onto yours. “you never were, and you never will be. i’ll fight for you, even if it costs me everything. but you have to promise me something.”

“what?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

“promise me you’ll hold on,” he said, his hands tightening slightly around yours. “even when it’s hard, even when it feels impossible. i’ll be here. i’ll always find a way to be here.” 

the intensity of his words wrapped around you like a lifeline. for the first time in months, a glimmer of hope pierced through the suffocating darkness. you nodded, tears spilling as you whispered, “i promise.” felix pulled you into his arms, his embrace warm and grounding. for a moment, time stood still, and the only thing that mattered was that he was here.

felix’s comfort only lasted a fleeting moment. his golden eyes, filled with relief as he cradled your face, suddenly clouded with pain. his expression twisted, and with a sharp intake of breath, he dropped to his knees beside your bed. his hands clutched at his chest as if trying to hold something unseen together, his gasps turning into strangled cries.

"felix?" you called out, panic lacing your voice as you knelt beside him, your hand pressing firmly against his trembling shoulder. the warmth of his skin beneath your touch felt fleeting, fragile, like it was slipping away. "what’s happening? tell me!"

he tried to speak, his lips parting, but no words came. instead, he groaned, his body convulsing slightly as though an unbearable weight pressed down on him. his anguish was palpable, his gasps ragged and labored, his entire form shuddering under some invisible force.

then, a sound—a haunting, visceral snap—echoed in the air, like the ripping of fabric mixed with the grotesque crunch of bone. felix’s head shot back, and he let out a heart-wrenching wail that cut through the room like a blade. his back arched unnaturally, his hands clawing at the air as if trying to grasp something that was no longer there.

you froze, horrified, as the source of his agony became clear. through the thin white cloth of his shirt, you saw it—two jagged, open wounds on his back, seeping blood that shouldn’t have existed. the fabric clung to the injuries, staining crimson as the bleeding continued.

"felix, what’s happening?!" you cried, your voice trembling as your heart raced wildly in your chest. you tried to steady him, your hands gripping his shoulders, but he flinched, his body recoiling from the touch like it burned.

he groaned again, his voice hoarse and broken. his glowing, ethereal presence dimmed before your eyes, his radiant skin now pallid and sallow. the faint hum of electricity you always felt when you touched him—gone. even the scent of vanilla, so comforting and familiar, seemed to fade, replaced by the metallic tang of blood.

his breathing was ragged, shallow, and his entire form quivered with agony. "no... no..." he muttered weakly, his voice barely a whisper.

"felix," you choked out, your tears blurring your vision. you pressed your hands to his face, your touch desperate. "please, what’s happening to you? tell me what to do!"

he looked at you then, his eyes swimming with sorrow and pain so profound it felt as if it might shatter you. his voice was barely audible, cracked and broken as he rasped, "they’ve... taken it... everything. my wings... my grace..."

your breath hitched, your mind reeling as the realization dawned on you. felix wasn’t just in pain—he had been exiled. stripped of his celestial essence, cast down to a mortal existence for breaking the sacred laws he once upheld.

tears streamed down your face as you tried to support his trembling body, your heart breaking at the sight of him so vulnerable, so human. "you’re bleeding," you whispered, your voice trembling as you pressed your hands against his back in a futile attempt to stem the flow.

"it doesn’t matter," he said, his words slurred with exhaustion. "i... i couldn’t stay away. i knew this would happen, but i couldn’t leave you... not like that."

the weight of his sacrifice hit you like a tidal wave, and you sobbed openly, clutching him tightly as he collapsed against you. felix’s breaths were shallow, his body heavy and weak as he leaned into your embrace.

"you shouldn’t have done this," you murmured, your voice cracking with guilt and despair.

"i had to," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "i love you.." 

felix’s whispered confession hung in the air like a fragile thread, his words trembling with vulnerability. his golden eyes, dulled by exhaustion, searched yours for a reaction. the weight of his love—of everything he had given up—pressed against your chest, making it hard to breathe.

"i love you," he repeated, stronger this time, as if saying it louder could convince you of its truth. his hand, trembling but resolute, reached up to touch your cheek, his thumb brushing away your tears. "i’ve loved you for so long... even before you knew i existed. watching over you, seeing your pain, your strength... i couldn’t stand to just watch anymore. i couldn’t lose you."

tears streamed down your face as you cupped his face, his skin warm beneath your palms but lacking the celestial glow you’d once marveled at. "felix," you choked out, your voice thick with emotion. "you gave up everything for me. how could i ever be worth that?"

his lips curled into a faint, pained smile. "you’ve always been worth it. you’re worth every punishment, every scar, every moment of this mortal life. i would do it all over again just to see you safe, just to be with you."

you shook your head, overwhelmed by the intensity of his words. "i don’t deserve this. i don’t deserve you."

"yes, you do," he countered, his voice steady despite the exhaustion weighing him down. "you deserve to be loved, truly loved, in a way that heals instead of hurts. and if i’m the one who can give that to you, then i’ll bear whatever it takes."

his words cracked something open inside you—a dam you’d been holding back for so long. the love you felt for him, so deep and consuming, poured out all at once. "felix, i love you too," you confessed, your voice trembling. "i’ve been so scared to admit it, even to myself, but i do. i love you more than i’ve ever loved anyone."

felix’s eyes widened, glistening with tears of his own, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift. his arms, though weak, wrapped around you tightly, pulling you into a desperate embrace. "you don’t know how much it means to hear you say that," he murmured against your hair.

you clung to him, your heart aching with both love and fear. "but what happens now? you’ve already lost so much because of me."

felix pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression resolute despite the pain etched into his features. "we’ll figure it out together," he promised. "no matter what comes next, i’m not leaving your side. not now, not ever."

his words were a lifeline, a tether to hope in the storm of uncertainty surrounding you. 

as felix’s promise lingered in the air, his golden eyes searched yours with such intensity that it felt as though time had momentarily stopped. despite the anguish and exhaustion etched into his features, there was an undeniable pull between the two of you—something raw, something unspoken.

your fingers instinctively moved to his face, brushing back the damp strands of hair that clung to his forehead. he leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as if savoring the simple intimacy of it.

"felix," you whispered, your voice barely audible, "you're all i have."

his gaze snapped back to yours, filled with equal parts tenderness and desperation. "and you're everything i’ve ever wanted."

before you could reply, felix closed the distance between you. his lips met yours in a kiss so gentle it felt like it could break with the wrong move. there was no hesitation, no uncertainty—just the unyielding truth of your shared emotions spilling into each other.

his kiss deepened as his trembling hands cupped your face, pulling you closer, as though he feared you might slip away if he let go. you felt the warmth of him, even in his weakened state, and the love he poured into that single moment overwhelmed you.

your hands gripped the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself to him as the kiss turned more urgent. the pain, the fear, the heartbreak—they all melted away, leaving only the two of you and the fire igniting between you.

felix broke the kiss briefly, resting his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged. "i can’t lose you," he murmured, his voice trembling with raw emotion. "not again. never again."

"you won’t," you promised, your voice steady despite the tears still streaming down your face. "i’m here. i’m not going anywhere."

as if reassured by your words, felix pulled you closer, his lips finding yours again with renewed fervor. his kisses were desperate yet tender, an unspoken apology for the pain you’d endured and a silent vow to never let you feel that way again.

something inside felix had snapped. whatever holy laws that prevented him from feeling this primal, sinful desire for you, they were long gone. something about kissing your lips, tasting you, drinking you in.. drove him into high gear. his hands were never ending in their exploration of your skin, roaming your body under your clothes. soft hums of appreciation left his lips as they danced hungrily against yours. 

his love and affections for you were obvious.. but this instantly grew beyond an emotional depth, and he wanted to claim you. in this instant, it was more than wanting to care for you emotionally. he longed to satisfy your every desire, offering you the most exquisite sensations a human could experience. he wanted to give you even the slightest taste of heaven, even if he was no longer an angel. 

his injuries and newfound pain were at the back of his mind–his main focus was you. finally, it was you. 

your hands slid up his arms, feeling the tension in his muscles as he held onto you like you were his lifeline. his body was warm, his presence grounding, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the crushing weight of your loneliness lifted.

the heat between you grew, felix’s touch becoming bolder as he brushed his hands down your sides, hesitant yet yearning. you felt his fingers tremble slightly, a reminder of his fragile state, but he didn’t pull away. instead, he held you tighter, pressing kisses along your jawline and down to the curve of your neck.

"felix," you whispered, your voice catching as his lips lingered on your skin.

he paused, his breath warm against your collarbone as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. his eyes were filled with love, devotion, and a vulnerability that took your breath away. "tell me if this is too much," he said softly, his voice hoarse but steady.

"it’s not," you replied, your own voice trembling. "but.. your back. you’re hurt."

felix’s lips quirked into a faint smile, his golden eyes softening even as his hands remained firmly on your waist. “don’t worry about me,” he murmured, his voice low and reassuring. “this… what i’m feeling right now, being here with you… it’s worth any pain. i’m fine.”

you searched his face, uncertain, your fingertips brushing over his cheek. the warmth of his skin, the sincerity in his gaze, soothed your lingering doubts. “but felix—”

“i want this,” he interrupted gently, his voice carrying a rare firmness. his hands slid up your sides, steady despite their earlier trembling, until they rested just below your ribs. “i want you. i’ve wanted you for so long, and now that i have you here, i’m not going to let anything take me away from you again.”

your heart clenched at the conviction in his words. the love in his gaze was overpowering, a force you couldn’t fight against even if you wanted to. “you’re sure?” you asked softly, needing his confirmation, your fingers brushing through his disheveled hair.

he exhaled shakily, leaning his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with your own. “i’m more sure of this than i’ve been of anything in my existence. i’ve spent so long watching over you, loving you from afar. i don’t want to hold back anymore.”

felix tilted your chin gently, capturing your lips in a kiss that felt different from before. it wasn’t just hungry or desperate—it was tender, deliberate, filled with a quiet intensity that made your knees weak. his hands moved down, gripping your hips and pulling you closer, as though he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between you.

his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a warm, tingling trail that made your breath hitch. he paused again, his voice barely above a whisper. “tell me if you need me to stop,” he said, his fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt.

you shook your head, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions swirling within you. “i don’t want you to stop, felix. i want you.”

at your words, felix released a shaky breath, his lips curling into a soft, relieved smile that sent a shiver down your spine. slowly, with a tenderness that belied the intensity of the moment, he grasped the hem of your shirt and began to lift it. the fabric slid over your skin with ease, leaving your stomach exposed to the cool air, and you felt your heart pounding like a drum in your chest.

you raised your arms, allowing him to remove the shirt entirely. the loss of its warmth left goosebumps in its wake, your skin tingling from the sudden exposure. felix’s gaze dropped, and you swore you saw his pupils dilate, his golden eyes darkening with something primal, something raw. his breath hitched as his gaze lingered on your bare skin, your braless chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. the chill of the room had already peaked your nipples, and the sight seemed to unravel him further.

a low, guttural sound escaped him, almost like a growl, as he leaned in. his lips brushed against the center of your chest, pressing soft, reverent kisses that made your breath catch. each touch was deliberate, tender, and filled with a worshipful intensity that made your mind spin.

his lips moved slowly, leaving warm trails across your skin as he kissed the delicate curve of one breast, then the other, lingering as though savoring every moment. the sensation sent jolts of heat coursing through your body, your chest heaving under his touch. felix took his time, his lips and hands mapping the contours of your body with a devotion that left you trembling.

your thoughts were a hazy blur, consumed by the realization of how intimate this moment was. felix—the celestial being who had once been tasked with shielding you from harm, who had watched over you like a guardian star—was now here, touching you in ways that felt both sinful and sacred. 

his hands, his lips, his every movement felt as though they belonged there, as if this connection between you was meant to be all along. the contrast of what he once was and who he was now only deepened the intensity of the moment. 

“i want to see more of you,” felix murmured, his voice low and thick with longing. his hand cupped the underside of your breast, his touch reverent, almost trembling. you met his gaze, your heart fluttering at the vulnerability in his eyes, and nodded slowly, offering him a soft smile.

standing, you reached for the knot on your pajama pants, untying it with shaky hands. felix’s eyes never left you, his gaze intense, watching every movement as if memorizing it. meanwhile, he began unbuttoning his pristine white shirt, the fabric catching slightly against his trembling fingers.

when the shirt finally slipped from his shoulders, you caught your breath. his honey-toned skin glowed faintly under the dim light, a stark contrast to the jagged wounds on his back and the fading bruises across his neck. he winced, a hiss escaping his lips as the shirt grazed the sensitive injuries, but the pain seemed to dissipate the moment his eyes landed on you.

you’d reclined on the bed, your pajama pants now discarded, leaving you in only your underwear. the soft light kissed your skin, highlighting every curve, and felix froze, his heart racing so wildly he thought it might burst.

he moved closer, his hands steady despite the overwhelming emotions coursing through him. leaning down, he pressed a kiss to each of your bent knees, his lips warm and tender against your skin. his hands trailed down your thighs, his fingertips grazing your soft flesh with a featherlight touch, as if afraid he might break you.

“felix?” you spoke, your voice shy and a little hoarse from the intensity of the moment.

“yes, my love?” he murmured, his tone soothing and steady, even as his lips brushed the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“how do you…” you hesitated, your cheeks burning as your voice dropped lower, “know what to do? i thought angels couldn’t—”

felix chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring. his hands continued their slow, adoring exploration of your skin, his lips hovering just above your thigh. “you’re right,” he said, his voice rich with affection. “angels don’t… but i’ve watched humans for centuries. seen their moments of love, of passion. i may not have experienced it before, but the thought of touching you, of being with you like this…” he paused, lifting his gaze to yours, his golden eyes filled with unwavering devotion. “it’s instinctual. it’s like i was made to know how to love you.”

his words sent a shiver through you, your chest tightening at the raw honesty in his voice. “felix…” you whispered, your hands reaching to cradle his face, your thumb brushing his cheek.

he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly before he pressed a kiss to your palm. “if i’m clumsy or unsure,” he continued, his voice soft, “just tell me. guide me. all i want is to make you feel cherished, loved... whole.”

your heart swelled at his words, and you nodded, sitting up a bit to press your lips to his. “you’re doing everything right,” you assured him, your voice trembling with both nervousness and excitement.

felix’s lips curved into a soft smile against yours before he deepened the kiss, his touch growing more confident as his hands slid back to your thighs. his movements were reverent, as though worshiping every curve of your body. slowly, he shifted above you, breaking the kiss for a moment to meet your eyes, his gaze filled with both tenderness and longing.

one hand slipped down between your legs, his fingers brushing over your mound through the thin fabric of your panties. his golden eyes flickered down to watch his hand, but they quickly returned to your face, searching for your reaction. he pressed down with a little more pressure, the motion drawing a soft gasp from your lips. the sound sent a thrill through him, and a subtle smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.

felix’s movements became more deliberate, his fingers creating a gentle rhythm as they teased you through the fabric. your hips instinctively rose to meet his touch, grinding against his hand as he followed your lead. the warmth of his palm, the delicate friction, sent sparks of pleasure racing through you.

“can i feel you... underneath?” he asked softly, his voice tinged with a mix of nervousness and desire. a faint blush dusted his cheeks, a charming reminder of his inexperience.

you reached up, threading your fingers through his tousled hair, offering him a reassuring smile. “yes, that’s okay,” you whispered.

he nodded, his lips brushing yours in a tender kiss before his hand slipped beneath the fabric of your underwear. both of your breaths hitched simultaneously as his fingers met your slick heat. the intimacy of the moment made your cheeks flush with warmth, your body responding instinctively to his touch.

felix’s fingers explored you slowly, his movements careful but curious, as though memorizing every contour of your most sensitive place. when he brushed his middle finger against your clit, a moan escaped your lips, your hips jerking slightly in response. the sound sent a jolt through him, his arousal growing, the evidence of his desire pressing against the confines of his pants.

he began to circle your clit, experimenting with pressure and rhythm, his focus entirely on your reactions. every gasp, moan, and shudder guided him, and the connection between you deepened with each passing moment. your breaths became ragged, your body arching into his touch as he expertly worked you closer to the edge.

“felix, i’m gonna... oh my g-god!” you stammered, your voice breaking as waves of pleasure built within you.

he leaned down, pressing kisses to your jaw and neck, his voice low and soothing. “it’s okay, love. let go for me,” he murmured, his words like a lifeline pulling you into bliss.

your orgasm hit with devastating intensity, your body trembling as waves of ecstasy washed over you. your legs shook uncontrollably, your nails digging into his forearm as you cried out, your voice cracking with the force of your release. felix watched you with awe, his heart swelling with pride as he took in the sight of you—your back arching off the bed, your mouth falling open in a silent scream, your entire form glowing with pleasure.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his chest tightening at the sight of you undone beneath him. the sheer intensity of your release and the knowledge that he had brought you to this point sent a surge of arousal through him, his own need nearly overwhelming.

as you descended from the peak of your bliss, your chest heaving with each breath, felix leaned in to press a delicate kiss to your temple. his touch was gentle, almost reverent, as his fingers softly brushed a strand of hair from your flushed face. “are you okay, my love?” he asked, his voice low and tender, full of concern.

you nodded, your lips curling into a shy, dazed smile. “mhm… that was… really good,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

a soft chuckle escaped felix’s lips as he carefully withdrew his hand from your panties, his golden gaze dropping to the slick coating his fingers. without hesitation, he brought the digits to his mouth, his lips parting as he sucked them clean with an experimental slowness. his eyes fluttered shut briefly, and when they reopened, they glimmered with darkened desire.

“you taste divine, y/n,” he murmured, his voice rich with admiration and unrestrained hunger.

your cheeks flamed at the sight of him savoring you, but your attention shifted to the noticeable bulge straining against his pants. the sight sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in your stomach, and when your gaze returned to his face, you found him already watching you. his eyes were soft yet filled with a pleading sort of anticipation, his vulnerability laid bare.

“can i…?” you asked cautiously, your hand lightly pressing against the outline of his arousal.

felix’s breath hitched at your touch, his expression briefly contorting, not in discomfort but in a momentary overwhelm at the unfamiliar sensation. “y-yes,” he stammered, his voice shaky. “but… be gentle, please?”

“of course,” you assured him, offering a comforting smile as you carefully guided him to lie back. “just relax. don’t worry about the sheets.”

he followed your guidance, grunting softly as he adjusted his position. though the movement aggravated his healing wounds, felix bit back any complaints, his focus entirely on you. how could he not, when you knelt before him, bare and beautiful, your hands already working to free him from his remaining clothes?

as you tugged his pants down, his erection sprang free, slapping against his toned stomach. you couldn’t help but admire him—his length was flushed a deep pink, the prominent head peeking shyly beneath the extra skin. he was perfect, and undeniably human in this moment.

you leaned down, pressing soft, deliberate kisses along the base of his shaft, your lips trailing up the warm skin. felix’s breathing grew uneven, his golden eyes flickering down to watch you, though he struggled to hold your gaze. his cheeks were painted with a faint blush, his flustered expression only adding to his allure.

“you’re so beautiful,” you whispered against his skin, your voice filled with awe.

felix’s lips parted as if to respond, but the words seemed to catch in his throat, replaced by a soft groan as you kissed the underside of his length. your touch was gentle, tender, as though you understood how new and overwhelming this was for him.

“does this feel okay?” you asked softly, your eyes seeking his for reassurance.

felix nodded quickly, his voice catching as he replied, “yes… it feels incredible.”

encouraged by his soft groans and whispered praises, you continued your delicate exploration, your lips and hands moving with care and devotion. felix’s chest rose and fell in a rhythm that matched the tremors of his breath, his hands clutching the sheets tightly as if anchoring himself to reality.

when your lips wrapped around his length, his entire body jerked slightly in response, a low groan escaping his parted lips. the sound was raw, unrestrained, and it sent a surge of confidence through you. you moved slowly, your mouth warm and wet as you took him deeper, your tongue teasing the sensitive head with deliberate flicks and swirls. with each motion, you made sure to pull the skin back gently, exposing the most sensitive part of him to your ministrations.

“god, y/n… that’s—” his voice cracked, his words dissolving into a panting moan. his abs flexed involuntarily under your touch, and his head fell back onto the pillow, golden hair splayed like a halo. his hands left the sheets to tangle in your hair, his fingers trembling as they brushed against your scalp, though he didn’t pull or guide—he simply held on as if the pleasure was too much to bear alone.

your pace remained steady, your tongue working magic against him as you hollowed your cheeks to increase the intensity. felix’s reactions were mesmerizing—his breath hitched, his thighs quivered, and his lips parted to let out soft, helpless moans. you could feel his arousal building, his body tightening under your touch.

“a-ah… wait!” he suddenly cried out, his voice desperate as his hips tensed.

alarmed, you pulled off immediately, his length slipping from your lips with a wet pop. “felix? did i hurt you?” you asked, your voice laced with concern, your eyes searching his flushed face for any sign of discomfort.

he shook his head quickly, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. “n-no, love,” he managed, his voice shaky but reassuring. “you didn’t hurt me. i just… i was getting close, and i… i didn’t want it to end so soon.” his golden eyes, filled with vulnerability and desire, met yours, and he offered a soft, apologetic smile. “i want to feel more with you. all of you.”

his words sent a new wave of warmth through your body, and you leaned up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “it’s okay, felix,” you murmured against his mouth, your tone soothing. “we’ll go at your pace. i just want to make you feel good.”

felix’s breath hitched as he let out a shaky laugh, his hands cradling your face with a tenderness that seemed almost at odds with the raw desire in his eyes. his golden gaze searched yours as though looking for permission to continue. “you already make me feel incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “but… please, i need to feel you completely. let me… let me be inside you.”

the desperation in his plea made your heart skip a beat, his need evident in the way his length twitched against your skin. “are you sure?” you asked softly, your voice laced with caution and care.

“i’ve never been more sure of anything,” felix replied fervently, his hands trembling slightly as they traced down your sides. before you could say another word, he gently guided you onto your back, his movements deliberate but brimming with urgency.

he tugged at the fabric of your panties, slipping them down and casting them aside, his eyes never leaving yours. the sight of you bare beneath him seemed to stoke his desire even further, his lips crashing into yours with newfound hunger. his knees parted your thighs a little more, positioning himself between them as he kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring yours with a fervor that left you breathless.

your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. the anticipation was electric, your body taut with expectation. felix pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his hand guiding his aching length to your entrance. “if you need me to stop, just say the word, okay?” he whispered, his tone full of care despite the tension in his voice.

you nodded, biting your lip as your head sank into the pillow, bracing yourself for the moment you had both been yearning for. slowly, felix began to push inside you, his hips trembling as he sank into your warmth. the sensation overwhelmed him instantly—your tight heat surrounding him in a way that made his breath falter and a shudder rack his body.

a gasp escaped your lips as he slid all the way in with one smooth motion, the stretch both surprising and exhilarating. felix braced himself on his forearms, his face hovering just above yours. his eyes fluttered shut, and a whimper escaped his lips as he struggled to stay composed. “god… so tight…,” he muttered, his voice strained as he adjusted to the sensation.

for a moment, he stilled, giving you both a chance to adjust. his gaze returned to yours, full of concern and adoration. “are you okay?” he asked, his voice a whisper.

“y-yeah,” you managed, your voice breathy. “you can move.”

felix exhaled a deep breath and began to roll his hips, starting with a moderate pace. his movements were tentative at first, his eyes fixed on your expression to ensure you were comfortable. but as your gasps turned to soft moans, his confidence grew.

the friction was maddening, his steady rhythm sending waves of pleasure through both your bodies. each thrust drew a mix of grunts and whimpers from felix, his forehead resting against yours as he poured his entire being into every movement. “you feel… so good,” he groaned, his voice shaky with restraint.

your hands found purchase on his back, being cautious of his wounds. your fingers dug into the taut muscles as his pace began to quicken. the pressure was building, both of you lost in the connection that felt as much emotional as it was physical. “felix…” you moaned his name, your legs tightening around his waist as his hips snapped against yours with increasing fervor.

his breathing became erratic, his pace growing desperate as he chased his release. “y/n… i can’t…” he gasped, his body trembling with the effort to hold back.

“it’s okay,” you whispered, your voice tender and encouraging. “let go, felix.”

with a strangled cry, felix buried himself as deeply as he could, his entire body shuddering as his climax overtook him. his hips stilled, pressing tightly against yours as warmth filled you, his groans muffled against your neck as he clung to you like you were his lifeline.

for a long moment, the only sounds in the room were your mingled breaths, the quiet intimacy of the moment enveloping you both. felix finally lifted his head, his flushed face framed by his damp hair, and his eyes met yours with a look of pure devotion. “i love you,” he whispered, the words filled with awe.

your heart swelled, and you reached up to cradle his face. “i love you too, felix.”

as the two of you lay entwined in the quiet aftermath, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the warmth of his body against yours and the steady rhythm of his breathing. felix’s fingers lazily traced patterns on your skin, his touch grounding and tender. there was a newfound softness in his gaze as he looked at you, a vulnerability that mirrored your own. whatever boundaries had once kept him from you—divine laws, celestial duties, or his own insecurities—had crumbled completely, leaving behind a love that was raw, human, and boundless. in that moment, as you rested your head against his chest, lulled by the sound of his heartbeat, you both understood that this was where you belonged: together, in a love that defied heaven and earth.

[5starluvr]

— TASTE . a Lee Felix fiction [0.0]

past mistakes

<previous | masterlist | next>

———————

7 years ago

The air crackled with a nervous energy as yunjin held the planchette hovering just above the worn Ouija board. "You know this isn't a good idea," she whispered a shiver dancing down her spine. "Everyone knows you shouldn't play with these things."

Yunjin scoffed. "Come on, it's all a bunch of hooey. Ghosts aren't real." A flicker of doubt shadowed her face , but she wouldn't admit it, not in front of Y/N and Soojin .

"Yeah, Yunjin’a right," Soojin chimed in, a hint of unease betraying her words. "Let's just do it and get it over with." Still, none of them moved to place their fingers on the planchette.

Finally, Soojin, with a eagerness that mirrored the eldest, broke the silence. "Okay, okay, spooky time!" she declared, her voice a touch too high. With a hesitant touch, they each placed a finger on the planchette.

A thick silence settled as they all held their breath, eyes glued to the tiny heart-shaped pointer. "Are there any spirits present?" Yunjin whispered, her voice barely audible.

The planchette remained stubbornly still. Disappointment tinged with relief flickered across their faces. "Maybe it's broken," she whispered.

Suddenly, the room plunged into darkness. A collective scream ripped from their throats, sending the planchette skittering across the board. The silence that followed the scream was even more terrifying than the darkness itself. In the absence of light, their imaginations ran wild, conjuring phantoms in every corner.

[5starluvr]

— TASTE . (Masterlist). a Lee Felix fiction

Lee Felix x F!reader

Warnings. (to be updated)

Themes of supernatural,violence,cursing

Synopsis.

What she and her friends did years ago was Supposed to be a harmless Joke and merely to test their childly curiosity. None of them thought anything of it years later, except for her , she never stopped thinking of it.

Genre.

Angst,eventual smut,Demon!au

Chapters

[0.0] past mistakes

[5starluvr]

STOP I GOT SKZ TICKETS⁉️⁉️

[5starluvr]

Send to 10 other bloggers you think are wonderful. Keep this going to make someone smile.🖤🖤

Ahhh thank you so much🎀

[5starluvr]

Prime

Paring: Kim Seungmin x Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff

Warnings: Violence, blood, arguing, mentioned injuries

Wc: 7.5k

A/n:I’m sooo sorry for putting this series on hold.I’ve been really overwhelmed with life and I’m pretty much about to fail two of my courses BUT I’m finally done with all my exams so I’ll hopefully start posting again!

Spider Kids

The rain hammered against the penthouse window, blurring the glittering cityscape of Seoul. Inside, Seungmin, still clad in his battered Spiderman suit, winced as he peeled the clinging fabric from his damp skin. Fatigue gnawed at him, a familiar ache after a night of battling supervillains and rescuing civilians.Across the room, Y/N sat on the plush sofa, her face a mask of worry etched with the faint lines of past arguments. Her normally vibrant eyes were dull with unshed tears. Seungmin knew this look. It was the look that followed every close call, every late-night return.He joined her, the silence between them heavy. He reached for her hand, but she pulled away, her voice tight. "Seungmin, how long can we keep doing this?"Seungmin's heart sank. He knew this conversation was coming, but it never got any easier. "Y/N, we've talked about this. People need me.""And who needs you?" she countered, her voice rising. "Because all I see is a man who walks out the door every night, not knowing if he'll come back!"Seungmin winced. He hated seeing fear in her eyes, fear that was entirely his fault. "I know it's scary, but-""Scary?" she interrupted, her voice cracking. "Seungmin, I can't plan a future with you if I'm not even sure you'll have one! We were supposed to get married, start a family, remember?"The weight of her words settled on him, heavy and suffocating. He longed for that life, a normal life with her by his side. But the city, the people, they were his responsibility. He couldn't turn his back on them."I can't give that up, Y/N. This is who I am.""And who am I?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "Am I just the woman waiting by the window, praying you come home safe?"Seungmin felt a surge of helplessness. There were no easy answers. He wasn't just Seungmin, the man she loved. He was also Spiderman, the city's protector. He couldn't abandon either part of himself."There has to be a way," he pleaded, desperation creeping into his voice. "We can figure this out together."Y/N looked at him, a flicker of hope battling the weariness in her eyes. "Can we, Seungmin? Because right now, all I see is a future filled with fear, and I don't know if I can face that anymore.When do we get our turn at normal?"He felt a pang in his chest. Normal. It was a word that felt increasingly distant, a forgotten dream in the face of his duty as Spider-Man. He reached out, his hand hovering over hers, but she pulled away, a silent rejection."There's no normal for us, is there?" she whispered, a tear tracing a glistening path down her cheek. The vulnerability in her voice cracked the dam within him. He pulled off his mask, the familiar weight a heavy burden tonight."There has to be a way," he pleaded, his voice rough with emotion. "We can figure this out. Together.I promise"Y/N looked at him, her eyes searching his.Defeat gnawed at Seungmin's insides. He knew a solution wouldn't magically appear overnight, but the weight of her words pressed down on him. "Look," he started, his voice thick with emotion, "This is a lot to unpack. Let's just go to bed and think about it tomorrow, yeah?"Y/N nodded, her eyes clouded with a mixture of exhaustion and unshed tears. They climbed into bed, the silence deafening. Seungmin could feel the distance growing between them, a physical manifestation of the emotional  chaos they seemed to be standing on opposite sides of.He layed on his back, staring at the rain-streaked window, his mind a whirlwind. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a soft voice broke the silence."Seungmin," Y/N mumbled, her voice barely a whisper. He turned his head slightly, just enough to see the outline of her form in the dim light. "You know I didn't mean what I said with bad intentions, right?"Seungmin's heart ached. He knew. He knew her frustration stemmed from love, a fear of losing him.  "I know," he replied, his voice equally soft. He reached out a hand, hesitating for a moment before gently placing it on the space between them.

The touch seemed to bridge the invisible gap.  Y/N spoke again, her voice laced with a hint of desperation, "I just… I want a life with you, Seungmin. A normal life, where we can plan for the future without this constant fear hanging over us."He understood. The fear was a constant companion, a shadow that loomed over their every happy moment. Scooting closer, he took her hand in his, the warmth spreading through him. "I want that too, Y/N. More than anything."He pulled her gently towards him, his arms wrapping around her familiar form. The rain continued its relentless assault outside, but here, in the sanctuary of their bed, a fragile hope flickered."Maybe," Y/N murmured, snuggling closer, "maybe there's a way to have both. Maybe there's a way you can be Spider-Man and we can still have some semblance of normal."Seungmin squeezed her tighter. He didn't have all the answers, but the sound of her voice, and the warmth of her body, filled him with a renewed sense of determination.  "Together," he echoed, his voice firm.The next day the city lights bled a pale orange into the pre-dawn sky as Seungmin swung through the through the city, his heart heavy despite the cool air. He landed silently on the rooftop of the discreet skyscraper that housed the Sect Hero base.Inside, the usual morning bustle was fading as  he found three of his teammates around a holographic strategy table, coffee mugs clutched in their hands.Chan was frowning at a projected map while Minho was cleaning his weapon with meticulous care and Han leaning back in his chair, eyes glued to a glowing tablet."Rough night, Spidey?" Han greeted, his voice laced with a knowing smirk.Seungmin sighed, pulling off his mask and running a hand through his already messy hair. "You could say that." He slumped into a nearby chair, recounting the argument with Y/N the night before.Chan listened intently, while his brow furrowed further. Finally, he spoke, "This is serious, Seungmin. Maybe it's time to consider expanding the team. Someone who can cover for you when things get hot."Seungminsoffed. "No. This is my city. I won't be replaced."  His voice held a defensive edge that surprised even himself.Minho, ever direct, snorted. "Being replaced isn't the point, Spider-stuff. It's about having a safety net. We can't have you constantly burning the candle at both ends." His gruff voice softened slightly. "You gotta think about Y/N too, right?"Seungmin knew they were right. But the thought of another ‘Spiderman’ taking care of his city, his responsibility and taking his place, felt like a betrayal. "There's gotta be another way," he muttered, his voice laced with frustration.Han places a hand on his shoulder. "Look, Seungmin, Spiderman," he said, his tone serious, "We get it. You're Spider-Man. You feel this intense responsibility. But you can't be a hero if you're constantly sacrificing your personal life. Maybe it's time to get creative?."Seungmin stared at them, their concerned faces reflected in the holographic map. He knew they were right. He just had to figure out what "creative" meant in this situation"Creative, huh?" Seungmin mumbled, rubbing his temples.  "Any brilliant ideas bouncing around those genius brains of yours, Einstein?" he challenged Han, a hint of teasing returning to his voice despite the weight of the situation.Han snorted. "Actually, yeah. You ever heard of the Hero Academy program? City's been running it for a few years now. Trains rookies with basic hero skills, teaches them the ropes. Maybe one of them could be your..." he air-quoted, "...wingman."Seungmin scoffed. "A rookie? Seriously? How much help would that be against, say, the joker or something?" The very thought of some inexperienced trainee fumbling around during a major villain attack sent a shiver down his spine.Minho chimed in with a raised eyebrow. "Look, Spidey, even a rookie could handle the smaller stuff, the muggings, the petty thefts. Frees you up for the bigger threats.Don't be an idiot, Spider-stuff.”

Han sighed “plus we're not suggesting you throw some newbie against the Demolition Duo. But a rookie could actually help you in the long run dude."Seungmin crossed his arms, a stubborn crease forming between his brows. "Look, I appreciate the concern, guys, I do. But this is my city. I know these streets, these villains, better than anyone. It doesn't feel right letting someone else take over, even for a little bit."Chan chimed in, his voice calm and soothing. "We understand, Seungmin. But maybe there's a middle ground here. Maybe a trainee program within the sect itself? Someone you can mentor and train.”Alright, alright," he conceded, dragging a hand through his hair. "Fine. I'll look into it. But," he added, a glint in his eye, "don't think this means you get out of any training sessions, Einstein."Han playfully swatted his arm. "Hey, I do my part. Besides, who else keeps your fancy web-shooters calibrated?"though their playful banter was cut short by a sudden blare of the alarm system. A holographic map flickered to life, displaying a pulsating red dot over the location of the attack. "Looks like The Magpie's back at it," Chan announced, his voice grim. Seungmin rose, his mask already halfway on panic rising in his chest. "I'll handle it."Minho grunted. "You sure, Spidey? Looks like a big operation. Maybe you should take someone with you, especially considering…" He trailed off, a knowing look in his eyes. Seungmin's gut clenched.He hesitated for a beat, the memory of Y/N's worried face flashing in his mind. The urge to confide in them, to explain the situation, warred with the need to be strong, to prove he could handle things."Nah," he said, forcing a smile. "I-I’ve got this don’t worry”He knew it wasn't the wisest decision.  But right now, the thrill of the chase, the familiar adrenaline rush of being Spider-Man, felt strangely comforting. With a quick nod, he shot out the window, disappearing into the pre-dawn sky. His teammates watched him go, a mix of concern and understanding etched on their faces. They knew Seungmin was stubborn, but they also knew him better than anyone.  They knew the city was his responsibility, his burden to bear. And they knew, deep down, that tonight, that burden felt heavier than ever.The city blurred beneath him as Seungmin swung through the air, a knot of dread tightening in his gut with each passing second. The memory of the pulsating red dot on the holographic map mocked him, leading him straight towards his own apartment building in the heart of the financial district. It was The Joker , alright, but the location of the attack sent a fresh wave of panic crashing over him.He wasn't just worried about stopping the villain anymore. Fear, sharp and cold, gnawed at him. Was Y/N home? Had she woken up to the commotion? Was she safe?  Images of her worried face, her tear-filled eyes from the night before, flashed before his eyes. The guilt of leaving her alone, of not being there, threatened to consume him.He pushed the panic down, focusing on the task at hand. He had to get to her. He had to secure the building before The Magpie could get to any valuables – and most importantly, before he could get to Y/N. Was Y/N home? Had she heard the commotion? The thought of her witnessing a villain attack, let alone being caught in the crossfire, sent a jolt of terror through him.He pushed himself harder, the familiar cityscape morphing into a blur of concern. He could almost hear Y/N's voice, laced with fear, echoing in his head. His guilt gnawed at him. Maybe he shouldn't have brushed off Minho's suggestion of backup. Maybe having someone by his side wouldn't be such a bad idea after all. Especially tonight, when his focus was fractured, his heart a tangled mess.The tension crackled in the air as thick as the morning fog clinging to the city. Seungmin landed with a silent crouch on the fire escape overlooking his apartment building. Every muscle in his body tensed, straining to pick up any sound of a struggle, any sign of The Magpie's thievery.

Silence. An unnatural silence that prickled his nerves. He crept closer, his spider-sense tingling with a strange unease – it wasn't the high-pitched screech that usually warned of The Magpie's nimble fingers. He peeked around the corner, his heart leaping into his throat.There, perched precariously on the ledge of Y/N's open window, was a figure that sent a jolt of confusion straight through him. It wasn't The Magpie's sleek black and white. Instead, a flash of purple fabric caught his eye. A sickeningly wide, painted grin stretched across the face of the figure fiddling with a crowbar – The Joker.Seungmin's breath hitched. The Joker at his apartment building? This wasn't part of the plan. Panic clawed at his throat. Had he gotten the wrong intel? Was Y/N even home? He had to get to her, now.The image of Y/N's worried face from the night before flashed in his mind. The guilt of leaving her alone, facing a villain like The Joker, was a weight he couldn't bear. He pushed the panic down, focusing on the task at hand. He had to secure the building, get The Joker out of there, before he could get anywhere near Y/N.A surge of anger, hotter than any he'd felt facing The Magpie, coursed through him. The Joker was unpredictable, a walking, laughing nightmare.  This wasn't just about stopping a criminal anymore, it was about protecting his city, protecting Y/N.He was about to launch himself into action, a battle cry forming on his lips, when a soft sound stopped him cold. A voice, muffled but unmistakably the Joker, drifted from inside the apartment. He was singing?.  It didn't make sense.  The off-key singing abruptly cut out, replaced by a terrified gasp. Seungmin's heart hammered against his ribs. Y/N! He lunged for the window, his spider-sense screaming a warning he barely registered.A chilling chuckle drifted out, followed by the Joker's voice, dripping with amusement. "Well, well, well, looks like the little songbird decided to join the party!"Seungmin froze mid-leap. Through the window, he saw Y/N pressed against the far wall, her face pale with terror. The Joker, a manic grin plastered on his face, held a wickedly glinting switchblade to her throat. Strapped to the back of her chair, a bomb – a crude mess of wires and a blinking red light – sent a jolt of pure dread through him."Seems like Spidey wasn't the only party crasher, sweetheart," the Joker taunted, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "But fear not, this little device strapped to her lovely chair? It's rather…sensitive. One wrong move, one little gasp for air from you, and well…" he trailed off, gesturing dramatically to the window with the switchblade. "This whole building goes up in a glorious fireworks display!.Seungmin landed back on the fire escape, his mind racing. He couldn't move recklessly. One wrong step could spell disaster. "Joker," he said, his voice strained but firm. "Let her go. This isn't about her."The Joker tilted his head, chuckling softly. "Oh, but Spidey, that's where you're wrong. This little game? It's all about you! See, this building? It's crawling with my little surprises, just like this lovely lady's chair. One wrong move from you, and boom! Instant confetti shower for the whole neighborhood!"Seungmin's breath hitched. The entire building? Panic threatened to consume him, but he forced it down. He couldn't let the Joker see his fear. He had to play this smart. "What do you want, Joker?"

The Joker's grin widened. "Ah, the age-old question! Now, where's the fun in just telling you? Let's just say, Spidey, this little game is going to test your webslinging skills to the absolute limit!" The Joker's laughter echoed through the night, a horrifying counterpoint to Y/N's whimpers. Seungmin gritted his teeth. He was trapped. The city, Y/N, it all hung in the balance. He had to find a way out of this, a way to disarm the bombs, a way to save everyone , to save her . But how? He looked at Y/N, her terrified eyes pleading with him. He wouldn't let her down. He wouldn't let the Joker win. "Stay here," he mouthed ,despite the tremor in his hand. He knew fear could cloud judgment, and he needed her clearheaded. "I'll get you out of this."Y/N gripped her chair, her voice barely a whisper.  "Be careful, Seungmin." Then, with a burst of speed fueled by adrenaline, he shot a web at the ceiling and launched himself through the broken window, back out into the morning ky.The city lights bled a pale orange over the rooftops, casting long shadows that danced with the rising smoke from the flour explosion.  Seungmin's spider-sense thrummed a frantic warning, guiding him towards the source of the Joker's distorted voice – the building's central air conditioning unit, a metal Container perched precariously on the roof.As Seungmin neared, a chilling cackle erupted from the vent shaft.  "There you are, Spidey!  Come to join the party?"  The Joker, a grotesque figure dusted white from head to toe, emerged from the vent, a manic glint in his eyes.  In his hand, he clutched a remote detonator, a cruel smile plastered on his face.Seungmin landed with a crouch, his eyes narrowed.  Panic threatened to engulf him, a chilling image of Y/N strapped to the chair flashing in his mind.  He had to act fast, but recklessness wouldn't save the day.  He needed a plan."Let's cut to the chase, Joker," Seungmin said, his voice laced with a steely calm that surprised even himself.  He needed to appear in control, to throw the Joker off his game."Oh, Spidey, so impatient!" The Joker taunted, waving the detonator playfully.  "Let's just say, they're scattered like confetti throughout this lovely building.  One press of this button, and boom! Instant city-wide confetti shower!"

Seungmin knew the Joker thrived on chaos.  He had to take control of the situation.  "Why are you doing this?"  Seungmin demanded, hoping to distract him, to buy himself some time to formulate a plan.

The Joker tilted his head, a chilling seriousness replacing his usual theatricality. "Because, Spidey, sometimes the world needs a good reminder of how fragile it all is. A little chaos to wake the people!"

Seungmin gritted his teeth.  He couldn't reason with the Joker.  He needed to act.  But how?  His eyes darted across the rooftop, searching for anything that might give him an advantage.  A discarded metal pipe glinted in the faint light.  An idea sparked.

With a flick of his wrist, he launched a web at the detonator.  The Joker reacted with lightning speed, swatting the web away with a manic laugh.  This was it. This was his chance.

The fight that ensued was a whirlwind of movement, a deadly ballet high above the sleeping city.  The Joker, despite his age and seemingly flimsy physique, was surprisingly agile.  He dodged Seungmin's web attacks with ease, lunging at him with surprising ferocity.  His long, purple coat flapped wildly.

Seungmin used his spider-sense to his advantage, anticipating the Joker's every move.  He dodged a wild kick, using the momentum to propel himself past the Joker.  He grabbed the discarded metal pipe as he flew by, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

The Joker spun around, a twisted grin on his face.  But before he could react, Seungmin launched himself back at him, wielding the pipe like a bat.  The Joker, caught off guard, barely managed to block the blow with his arm.  The metal clanged, sending a jolt of pain up Seungmin's arm, but he ignored it.

This wasn't just about neutralizing the bombs anymore. It was about revenge for the terror the Joker inflicted on Y/N, for the city he threatened to tear apart.  Each blow of the pipe was fueled by a righteous fury.

The Joker, surprised by the ferocity of Seungmin's attack, stumbled back.  He recovered quickly though, a manic glint returning to his eyes.  With a shrill laugh, he lunged at Seungmin, grappling for the pipe.  They both went tumbling to the ground, A tangle of limbs and grunts, they rolled across the rooftop gravel. Seungmin landed with a harsh thud, the metal pipe clattering away from his grasp. A searing pain lanced through his ankle – a misstep on the uneven surface.  The Joker, fueled by his own twisted sense of amusement, straddled Seungmin's chest, his cackle echoing in the night sky.

"Looks like the spider got caught in his own web, Spidey!" he shrieked, raising a gloved fist.

Seungmin gritted his teeth, the city lights blurring at the edges of his vision. He couldn't give up. Not with Y/N still in danger, not with the fate of the city hanging in the balance.  He focused, pushing past the throbbing pain in his ankle.  With a surge of adrenaline, he bucked his hips, sending the Joker tumbling backwards.

Scrambling to his feet, Seungmin ignored the white-hot stab of pain with every step. He had to disarm the Joker, disarm the bombs.  His spider-sense thrummed with a renewed urgency, guiding him towards the discarded detonator lying precariously close to the edge of the rooftop.

The Joker, regaining his footing, let out a frustrated yell.  He lunged at Seungmin, a switchblade glinting in his hand.  Seungmin barely dodged the swipe, the blade whistling past his ear.  He couldn't afford to get into a close-quarters fight with a weapon like that.  He needed to use his agility to his advantage.

He launched himself into a series of web-slinging maneuvers, zipping across the rooftop, the Joker hot on his heels.  The night air whipped past Seungmin's face as he dodged the Joker's lunges and wild throws of the switchblade.  His injured ankle screamed in protest with every jump and turn, but he pushed on, fueled by a desperate hope.

Suddenly, an idea sparked in his mind.  He shot a web at a nearby water tower, propelling himself upwards.  The Joker skidded to a halt at the edge of the rooftop, his face contorted in rage.  Seungmin hung precariously from the web, dangling just out of reach.

"Come on down, Spidey!" The Joker taunted, his voice echoing across the rooftop. "Let's finish this!"

Seungmin gritted his teeth.  This was it.  He closed his eyes, focusing his spider-sense.  He felt a faint vibration in the air currents, a subtle shift in pressure.  The air vent!  The Joker must have used it to access the rooftop.

With a renewed surge of determination, Seungmin launched himself back towards the building, aiming for the vent cover.  He landed with a thud on the metal grating, the stale air of the ventilation system rushing over him.  He ignored the sting of scraped skin and pushed open the cover, squeezing himself through the narrow opening.

The Joker's surprised yell echoed from above.  Seungmin tumbled down the ventilation shaft, the metal scraping against his already battered body.  He landed hard on the floor of the control room, coughing and gasping for breath.

He looked around, his eyes adjusting to the dim light.  There, in the center of the room, stood a complex web of wires and blinking lights – the central control panel for the building's air conditioning system.  And nestled amongst the wires, a red button – the activation switch for the bombs.

Seungmin knew he had to act fast.  He ignored the throbbing pain in his ankle and scrambled towards the control panel.  But before he could reach it, a chilling laugh filled the room.

The Joker, having squeezed through the vent opening, stood behind him, a twisted grin plastered on his face.  The switchblade glinted menacingly in his hand.  "Well, well, Spidey," he drawled. "Looks like the party's come to you.

The Joker's cackle filled the cramped machinery room, echoing off the metal walls. Seungmin's heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He had almost reached the control panel, almost disarmed the bombs. But the Joker, with his manic agility, had outsmarted him again.

"Game over, Spidey!" The Joker shrieked, raising the switchblade high. But instead of lunging at Seungmin, he darted towards the control panel. In a flash of green light, the Joker slammed his gloved hand down on the red button – the activator .

Seungmin's blood ran cold. He had failed. The neighborhood , Y/N… they were all doomed. Despair threatened to engulf him, but a flicker of defiance sparked in his eyes. He wouldn't give up. Not yet.

With a surge of adrenaline that ignored the throbbing pain in his ankle, Seungmin lunged at the Joker. He tackled him to the ground, a desperate gamble to buy some precious seconds. They grappled amongst the wires and flickering lights, a chaotic struggle fueled by fear and determination.

"You'll never win, Spider-man!" the Joker shrieked, his voice distorted with rage. But Seungmin, fueled by the image of Y/N's terrified face, wouldn't be deterred. He fought with a ferocity he didn't know he possessed, momentarily pinning the Joker down.

"Get out of here!" he yelled, his voice hoarse. Y/N. He had to get Y/N out of here. He knew the explosion wouldn't be immediate, maybe a few seconds, maybe a minute. Enough time… perhaps.

The Joker, momentarily stunned, stared at him with wide, manic eyes. In that brief moment of hesitation, Seungmin saw his chance. He shoved the Joker off him, scrambling to his feet. Ignoring the searing pain in his ankle, he sprinted towards the ventilation shaft, forcing himself through the narrow opening.

Back on the rooftop, the pre-dawn light painted the sky in hues of orange and pink. He pushed through the pain, his lungs burning, his vision blurring. He had to get to Y/N. Now.

He burst through the broken window, coughing and gasping for breath. He found Y/N still tied to the chair, her face pale with fear.

"Y/N!" he rasped, stumbling towards her. "There's no time! The bombs… they're set to go off. You have to run! Don't look back!"

Before she could even speak, he used his remaining strength to whip out a web and slice through the ropes binding her. With a final look, etched with a mixture of love and fear, he pushed her towards the broken window.

"Go!" he screamed, his voice hoarse. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he blinked them back. He wouldn't let her see him afraid.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then with a tearful nod, she scrambled through the window and disappeared into the pre-dawn sky. A choked sob escaped her lips, but she ran, not daring to look back.

Seungmin watched her go, a wave of despair washing over him. He had failed. He hadn't been able to save the city, hadn't been able to save himself. He closed his eyes, bracing for the inevitable.

But just then, a powerful shove sent him sprawling across the roof. The Joker, a manic grin plastered on his face, stood above him.

"Seems like playtime's over, Spidey," the Joker taunted, his voice laced with a chilling glee. "Let's see how you do in the grand finale!"

The world seemed to slow down for Seungmin. The city lights shimmered below, a distorted reflection of the chaos swirling within him. Despair threatened to consume him, the weight of his failure crushing him. He was injured, alone, facing a madman with a detonator that could tear the city apart.

Yet, a spark flickered deep within him, a defiance fueled by the memory of Y/N's tearful face as she ran. He couldn't give up. Not yet. Not while there was even a sliver of hope.

Seungmin forced his eyes open, meeting the Joker's manic stare. A plan, desperate and risky, began to form in his mind.  "You think you've won, Joker?" he rasped, his voice laced with a bravado he didn't quite feel. "Look closer."

He gestured weakly towards the sky, where the faintest light of dawn was beginning to peek over the horizon.  "The sun's rising, Joker. You hate the light, don't you? It exposes the flaws in your little game."

The Joker's eyes narrowed. He hated being outsmarted, hated anything that disrupted his carefully crafted chaos.  Seungmin pressed on, his voice gaining a hint of strength.

"Maybe," he continued, "the bombs are just a distraction. Maybe the real game is proving you're not afraid of the light. Prove it, Joker. Press the button again. Show everyone you're not a coward hiding in the shadows.Cut the time."

A flicker of uncertainty crossed the Joker's face, a chink in his usual manic facade. Seungmin knew he was gambling, pushing the Joker's fragile ego to the limit.  But it was their only chance.

As the silence stretched, the tension crackled in the air.  The Joker's hand hovered over the button , his face a mask of conflicting emotions.  Was he considering it?  Seungmin held his breath, his injured body screaming in protest.

Suddenly, the Joker threw back his head and let out a loud, barking laugh.  "Oh, Spidey," he cackled, the sound echoing across the rooftop. "You are a cunning little spider! Always trying to play mind games. But you underestimate me!"

He raised the detonator high, a cruel glint in his eyes. "Perhaps the light bothers me," he hissed, "but the thought of all those screaming people… oh, the beautiful symphony of chaos!"

The Joker shrieked in excitement , his eyes burning with amusement . His grip tightened on the controller , his manic grin replaced by a snarl.  Seungmin knew he wouldn't hesitate to press the button now.

With a surge of adrenaline fueled by a desperate hope, Seungmin launched himself forward.  He ignored the searing pain in his ankle, his only focus on the Joker and the detonator clutched in his hand.

He tackled the Joker with a cry, sending them both sprawling across the rooftop agap. The controller flew from the Joker's grasp, clattering across the gravel.  Seungmin lunged for it, his fingers brushing against the smooth plastic.

Just then, a powerful kick landed on his injured ankle, sending him whimpering in pain.  The world tilted on its axis.  A sickening crack echoed in the night air as his wrist bent at an unnatural angle.  Agony lanced through him, momentarily stealing his breath.

The Joker, fueled by rage, scrabbled towards the object .  Seungmin reached out with a web strand, the last reserves of his strength leaving him. But it was too late.  The Joker snatched the detonator, a malevolent glee twisting his features.

With a maniacal laugh, he slammed his thumb down on the red button.  A harsh digital voice echoed through the night air.  "Explosion sequence initiated.Time cut in  half. Two minutes and thirty seconds remaining."

The Joker's laughter died in his throat, replaced by a look of sudden terror.  He hadn't meant to activate it so soon!  Panic flickered in his eyes for a brief moment before a twisted grin returned.

"Oops," he cackled, a hint of hysteria in his voice.  "Looks like playtime's over for everyone!"  He turned on his heel and darted towards the edge of the rooftop.

Before anyone could react, the Joker launched himself into the air, a purple He turned on his heel and darted towards the edge of the rooftop.

Before anyone could react, the Joker launched himself into the air, a purple

parachute blowing out behind him like a monstrous cape.  Seungmin watched, a mixture of pain and horror gripping him, as the Joker drifted away, a chilling echo of his laughter trailing behind.

The Joker's manic laughter echoed in Seungmin's ears even after he disappeared into the night sky. A digital voice, cold and unforgiving, filled the air: "One minute and fifty seconds remaining."  His ankle throbbed like a trapped bird, and a shard of bone jutted out from his wrist at an unnatural angle.

Y/N… where was Y/N?  Panic threatened to consume him, but he forced it down.  There was no time for fear.

Scrambling to his knees, the world tilted sickeningly.  Ignorance was no longer an option. He had to disarm the bombs. The control panel… it had to be in the ventilation shaft.  He forced himself to his feet, a wave of dizziness washing over him.

But with each agonizing step, a terrible truth settled in his gut.  He wouldn't make it.  The pain, the distance… it was all too much.  He was a broken machine, and the clock was ticking too fast.

Despair threatened to overwhelm him, but a primal instinct for survival flared within him. He couldn't save the city, but maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for him.  His eyes darted towards the open window behind him, the jagged edges a stark contrast to the blinding light above.

The digital voice chimed again, a cruel reminder of his dwindling time: "One minute and fifteen seconds remaining."  His breath hitched.  He wouldn't disarm the bombs.  He couldn't be a hero this time.  But he could try to live.

With a surge of adrenaline fueled by a sliver of hope, Seungmin lunged towards the window.  The broken glass tore at his clothes and flesh, a fleeting pain compared to the agony already coursing through him.  He launched himself through the opening, the wind whipping past him, a chilling song of finality.

He barely registered the screams from bellow , the blinding flash of light that engulfed the building, or the earth-shattering roar of the explosion.  The world became a blur of colors and pain, a cacophony of sounds fading into a distant echo.

Then, blessed darkness.

Seungmin blacked out before he could even feel the impact. He was a broken man falling and had no control anymore.

——-

The harsh fluorescent light felt like a blowtorch to Seungmin's eyelids. A dull throb pulsed in his head, a metronome keeping time with the sterile beeps of nearby machinery. The sterile scent of disinfectant stung his nose, a stark contrast to the acrid tang of smoke that clung to his memory.

He cracked open an eye, wincing at the sudden intrusion of light. His vision swam, the white ceiling a dizzying expanse. Slowly, the room came into focus. Sterile white walls, a heart monitor with its jagged green line, a vase holding a single, wilting carnation. He was in a hospital room.

Memories flooded back in a sickening rush. The building, the glint of chrome seconds before the world went red, the heart-stopping noise , the jarring impact… then nothing.

His throat felt like sandpaper. He croaked out a weak, "Hello?"

A strangled sob cut through the sterile silence. Y/N sat beside the bed, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent tears. Seungmin's heart lurched. He turned his head, panic clawing at his throat.

"Y/N?" Her name came out raspier than intended, but it was enough to draw her gaze up. Her eyes, red-rimmed and glassy with unshed tears, met his.

A choked cry escaped her lips as she threw her arms around him, burying her face in his hospital gown. The scent of her shampoo, a familiar comfort, filled his senses. The world faded away, leaving only the frantic beat of his heart and the tremors wracking her body.

"Seungmin," she choked out, her voice thick with tears. "I… I saw the news. They said the explosion...and I saw the fire…" Her voice broke, replaced by another sob that tore through him. "And then they mentioned Spider-Man. Seungmin, I thought… I thought I lost you."

He winced, the memory of the near-death experience sending a fresh jolt of pain through him. He held her close, whispering reassurances into her hair. "Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm here. I'm alright."

She pulled back slightly, tears glistening on her cheeks. "But you could have… You could have died, Seungmin." Her voice rose, laced with a raw desperation. "What would I have done without you?"

He cupped her face with his uninjured hand, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. "I know," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. "But I couldn't just stand there. People were in danger…you were in danger."

Y/N's eyes searched his, a mix of worry and a simmering anger swirling within them. "I know you," she said softly. "You're a hero. But you're also my hero, Seungmin. And the thought of losing you…"

Her voice trailed off, a single tear rolling down her cheek. He leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, the vulnerability in his eyes echoing the fear in hers. "I promise, I'll always try to come back to you."

She took a shaky breath, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Just… promise to be careful, okay? For me? Don't you dare scare me like that ever again." There was a desperate plea in her voice, a fear that transcended just the potential loss of a hero.

He squeezed her hand, a silent promise hanging between them. The world outside the sterile walls might be filled with danger, but for now, in the quiet sanctuary of the hospital room, they had each other. And that, for Seungmin, was all that mattered. Yet, a nagging guilt gnawed at him. "Y/N," he started, his voice barely a whisper.

"Shh," she hushed him, nuzzling closer. "Just rest. You need to get better."

But he couldn't let it go. "I need to tell you something," he confessed, his voice thick with guilt. "About… about me,the Spider-Man thing."

"So,uhm…" Seungmin began, his voice still a little raspy. He squeezed Y/N's hand, finding comfort in her warmth.  "Remember how we were talking about Spider-Man and how scared you were?"

Y/N sniffled, wiping away a lingering tear. "How could I forget?" she admitted, her voice thick with emotion.

"They suggested I… train someone," he explained, his voice hesitant.  "An apprentice, someone who could learn the ropes and help out with the smaller stuff, the muggings, the petty thefts. Freeing me up for the bigger threats and eventually maybe…take over?."

Y/N listened intently, her brow furrowed in thought.  "That could be good," she admitted.  "You can't be everywhere at once, Seungmin. And maybe having some backup would ease your mind a little."

He reached out, taking her hand in his.  "It's not just about my mind," he confessed.  "It's about being there for you too. I don't want to put you through this constant worry every time there's trouble."

Y/N squeezed his hand back, her gaze filled with understanding and unwavering support.  "I understand," she said softly.

Seungmin squeezed her hand, a silent vow echoing in his heart. He was Spider-Man, the protector of the city. But he was also Seungmin, and Y/N was his rock. Together, they would find a way to balance his heroic duties with the life they shared.

"Finding an apprentice won't be easy, though," he mused, a thoughtful crease forming on his forehead. "There's a lot at stake. They need to be trustworthy, brave, and quick on their feet."

Y/N tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Well, you wouldn't need to look very far to find someone brave, would you?" she teased, nudging him playfully.

Seungmin chuckled, his heart swelling with warmth. "Maybe not," he conceded. "But there's more to it than that. They need to be able to keep a secret, understand the risks involved, and be willing to put themselves out there for people they don't even know."

"Sounds like tall toddler ," Y/N admitted. "But you know your team better than anyone. They wouldn't have suggested it if they didn't think it was possible."

Seungmin nodded, a newfound determination burning in his eyes. "They're right," he said, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice. "Maybe this is the answer I've been looking for. A way to be Spider-Man and still be there for you."

A curious glint sparked in Y/N's eyes. "So, where exactly do you find these… apprentices?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of amusement.

Seungmin chuckled. "Actually," he began, "the city runs a program called the Hero Academy. It's for aspiring heroes, people with potential who want to learn the ropes, develop their skills, and maybe even one day join the ranks of the city's protectors."

Y/N's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "A Hero Academy? That sounds… official. I always thought heroes were more like, lone wolves, you know, brooding on rooftops."

Seungmin laughed. "There's definitely some brooding involved," he admitted with a playful wink. "But there's also a lot of training, teamwork, and strategy. The Academy would be a great place to find someone who's already dedicated to the cause, someone who understands the responsibility that comes with being a hero."

Y/N pondered this for a moment, a thoughtful expression on her face. "So, you'd be training someone who already has a basic understanding of heroics? That could be good. Less time spent teaching them the difference between a fire escape and a villain's lair, more time focusing on the real threats."

"Exactly," Seungmin said, relief washing over him. Not only did Y/N seem okay with the idea of an apprentice, but she also understood the logic behind it.

"So, what's next, Spidey-teacher?" Y/N asked, a playful smile dancing on her lips.

Seungmin grinned. "Next, I guess, is a little visit to the Academy. Maybe they have some promising rookies who wouldn't mind learning from the best." He winked, earning a playful swat on the arm from Y/n."And you know I’ve been at it for a while,plus being a hero is amazing, but…" Seungmin trailed off, squeezing her hand gently. "Sometimes, a guy just wants a normal life. You know, the kind with… events like this, when you and I have to worry about our future…."

A soft smile tugged at her lips.Y/n understood. The adrenaline rush, the constant danger, it wasn't something most people could handle forever.

"Are you saying...?" she prompted voice barely a whisper.Seungmin met Y/n’s gaze, his eyes filled with a warmth that sent a shiver down her spine. "I'm saying, maybe after a few more years, when things have settled down a bit… maybe it'll be time for me to hang up the webs."

Her breath hitched. "For good?"

"Well," he continued, a playful glint in his eyes, "there's always the chance a supervillain decides to crash our retirement party, but…" his voice softened again, "mostly for good. I want a life with you, Y/N. A real life, where we can build something together, a family…"

The unspoken question hung in the air.Y/n’s heart hammered against her ribs, a joyous counterpoint to the city's soft hum below. Leaning forward, she closed the distance between them, whispering the answer he longed to hear, "Yes, Seungmin. I want that too."

Seungmin closed the remaining gap, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was both hesitant and full of yearning. It was a soft exploration, a taste of what was to come. The taste of coffee and something deeper, a connection that transcended their years of friendship.

As the kiss deepened, a spark ignited, sending a jolt of electricity through both. It was a kiss filled with the unspoken words of love, relief, and a future brimming with possibilities.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers . His eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, held a universe of emotions. "I love you, Y/N," he breathed softly.

Taglist: @juskz @blackhairandbangs @sxnset-angel @emossssss @hanjsquokka @feelikecinderella @starlostastronaut @kpopsstuffs @lixxpix @jinnie-ret @bangchans-angel @puppyminnnie @michelle4eve @kpopsstuffs @skzswife @saiko-skz @quailbagutte @briqnne @ilychee08 @dollce-exe

[5starluvr]

My beloved cutie mooties🥺🖤

(edited 12.05.24)

🖤@atinyniki🖤

Niki, my beautiful sunshine, I'm so grateful to have you through thick and thin. I'm still convinced you're cute and idc whether you accept that or not. I love talking to you and you're one of the kindest people I know (unless you yell at me you meanie...joking obviously, chill guys😂🖤) I'll always be there for you...also pls stop spending so much money on me cutie😭 Keep shining sunny bunny...love you, pretty girl🖤

🖤@zehina🖤

my beloved (not so silent anymore) bestie, i love our shared European confusion and confusing the others together in return. you're such a cute little kitty and we all know u love being called cute so...you're very cute, deal with it🤭I love our shared stupidity whenever we talk about the boys and seriously, every time you send me your part for the rambles I'd drop to my knees and pay for it bc holy shit. I'll always be there if you need me, keep fighting lovey. love you unnie🖤

🖤@galaxycatdrawz🖤

azzy, I'm so proud of slowly pulling you a little from the shadows you were hiding in😂 also...idk how I managed to do so, but I'm still laughing about achieving most of your tumblr milestones😭 i love sharing requests with you, working out ideas or simply do as you said and write what my brain couldn't figure out. thank you for always being there for me and sharing your brilliant brain with me, co-writer🤭 also it's such a bummer we live so far away bc after what we talked about so far I know you'd be the best cuddle buddy🥺 love you azzy my cutest little thing🖤

🖤@jinnie-ret 🖤

jinnie my dear, even though we haven't talked that much so far, I always love it when we get the chance🤭 can't wait to get to know you better as well and I'm already so excited for that fic👀looveeee your writing sm🖤

🖤@sona1800🖤

you're my newest mootie and I love you so much already it's ridiculous (niki can confirm that🥹) you're always so sweet and you literally outshine every fic with your loving reblogs and comments (I'm just too speechless to answer properly, I really love them🥺) so yeah, that's why you got the tag "the cutest" 🤭🖤

🖤@silverstarburst🖤

Ash. my dear, we don't have that much time to talk usually because you're either working or I'm asleep (a rarity but still). Nevertheless, you have a special place in my heart by now and I'm thankful for your presence in my life. I know who to text if I need someone to kick ass. Your reblogs make me smile like some idiot every time, thank you so much for appreciating my lil dummy ideas so much. love you mama wolf🖤

🖤@slutforchanlix🖤

Miu, babyy, I've made you cry way too often with stuff like this—my bad. I know it's not always easy, but you're one of the kindest people I know, and I love that I have someone with whom I can talk in my native language for once. You're a sweetheart and thank you for always being there for me. I still plan to meet you one day hehe. Long story short, you're amazing, don't let anyone else try to make you believe anything less than that. Bin immer für dich da🖤

🖤@michelle4eve🖤

heyy mimi, we haven't talked much so far...sometimes accidentally when you mistook my icon for niki's I hope that's easier now😂😉 you seem like such a kind soul and I hope we'll get closer over time (no rush dear!) I'm happy over each of your reblogs, especially after you told us you're too shy to do so sometimes. I really appreciate it, you cutie🖤

🖤@chrizzztopherbang🖤

I always loved seeing you pop up in my notifications with your sweet comments. I already think you're a sweetheart, I know we haven't talked that much yet. Still, I loved prereading your fics and getting a glimpse into your genius brain. Don't give up writing as long as you have fun with it, because you're truly amazing at it🖤

🖤@wolfyychan🖤

You've been around on my prior blog already and still my stupid brain didn't realize you've changed usernames for so long😭😂 I always look forward to your excited comments and reblogs, they're truly a boost of motiviation ngl. Hope to have you around for a long time🤭🖤

🖤@james-is-here🖤

Your excitement for that Minchan series made me think about writing bonus chapters for the first time in months. I really love seeing how you get so invested in some of the stories, which makes me want to do better hehe. Also...omg...I'm still thinking about that one fic you wrote a while ago🫠 I'm excited to see what's next and hope we'll get the chance to maybe talk some more🖤

🖤@queer-possum🖤

Without giving away too much, your brain is amazing. I love your requests so much and you're always so kind when I get back to you to make sure I get everything right. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to write about certain topics and stuff I haven't so far🖤

🖤@chanandminhoenthusiast🖤

love, love, loveee your blog (for obvious inspirational reasons😉) you seemed like a very sweet soul whenever we talked before and I'll always be there if you need someone to talk, even about the most random bullshit😂🖤

🖤@palindrome969🖤

You're such a lovely person, I can't even put it into words properly. Your writing is beautiful and I'm still in love with that stargazing fic with Channie😭 always love talking to you and seeing your comments🖤

🖤@5starluvr🖤

I've told you so before, I wanna kiss your brain so bad sometimes. The stuff you come up with for me to write is brilliant. I can't wait to finish more of your requests and share ideas as soon as possible! Love you hehe🖤

🖤@mellhwang🖤

Heyy sweetie, I love seeing you in my notes and I swear I'll get that Minchan x Hyunjin thing done for you!! Thank you for all the love, dear🖤

🖤@lost-in-avoidance🖤

The amount of times I made you choke back tears at work is...concerning and I'm so sorry, I don't do it on purpose, I swear😭😂 your reblogs are always so genuine and make me feel like I did exactly what I wanted to with the fic in question. I appreciate your words so much, thank you!

[5starluvr]

Sweet mornings

Paring:Hwang hyunjin x Reader

Genre: fluff,fluff and more fluff

A/n:A post to remind everyone that I exist😪

You crack eggs into a sizzling pan, the familiar rhythm of the morning a comforting constant. Sunlight streams through the kitchen window, painting golden stripes across the countertop as the scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the air. Humming along to the quiet melody playing from your phone, you're lost in the routine when suddenly, strong arms wrap around your waist.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Hyunjin murmurs behind you, his voice a low rumble tickling your ear. He nuzzles his cheek against your shoulder, his scent of mint shampoo and laundry detergent a welcome contrast to the frying bacon.

You yelp, startled, but a smile tugs at your lips despite the initial scare. "Hyunjin! Don't sneak up on me like that," you swat him playfully. "Almost gave me a heart attack."

"But how else am I supposed to get my morning cuddle?" he whines, exaggerating a pout.

You roll your eyes playfully. "Fine, fine. Your cuddle privileges are reinstated."

He tightens his hold, pressing a light kiss to your exposed shoulder. "Mmm, breakfast smells amazing. What are you making, Chef Y/N?"

"Just your usual," you reply, expertly flipping the bacon with a spatula. "Scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. You know, the survival essentials."

Hyunjin chuckles. "Survival essentials, huh? That toast better not resemble charcoal again." He playfully pokes a finger at your back, earning a light swat with the spatula.

"Hey! I've improved!" you protest, your cheeks warm with laughter. "Besides, who cares if it's a little burnt when you have this amazing breakfast chef right here?"

Hyunjin spins you around in his arms, trapping you between him and the counter. He leans down, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Alright, Chef. How about I sweeten the deal for some extra crispy toast?"

Your heart hammers in your chest. "Oh yeah? And how exactly do you propose to do that?"

Hyunjin's lips curve into a sly grin. "Just one taste," he whispers, leaning impossibly close.

Before you can respond, he captures your lips in a soft kiss, the taste of coffee and sleep lingering between you. He pulls away, his eyes locked with yours. "Deal?"