jeonjungkookenthusiast1997

[jeonjungkookenthusiast1997]

My goodness why are these like biblically accurate 😂

Minho's "there you go. That wasn't so hard was it?" Was just too real, I can physically hear it, the little shit

Poor Hannie needs a lie down after that conversation which is just him to the letter he just loves us so much ❤️ the highlights for me were:

“We’re literally laying in bed together right now. I said I love you less than five minutes ago.” and “Go to bed, Y/n, I’m too tired for your nonsense.”

And of course how could I forget Seungmin's “a mess.” which made me actually laugh out loud for how just Seungmin it truly was.

I really enjoyed reading these and am so glad to have our lovely @hyunebunx back 🩷🩷

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ⏖ ''what are we?' with skz

⁺ 𖹭 . genre: fluff and a little angst and a lot of uncertainties

⁺ 𖹭 . a/n: in honor of 'i like it' , i think this is a very fitting first post lmao

𝜗୧ chan 𝜗୧ - “whatever you’d like us to be.”

He smiles, and you swear it lights up the whole room. Sweet, considerate Chan who never wanted to make you uncomfortable by rushing into things. The man you’ve been seeing for months now that didn’t put a label on your relationship just to give you space and time to sort out whatever else was going on in your life. The one who’s been there for you even if he didn’t have to, especially since you weren’t official, or anything at all.

The best man you could ever ask for.

That’s why, the next action feels like the most natural one.

Taking a deep breath, you return his smile and lean forward, resting your forehead on his. He stares deeply into your eyes, mesmerizing you with their beauty while his smile never falters.

“Then, would you do me the pleasure of being my boyfriend?”

Chan can’t help but chuckle, swiftly grabbing you by the waist to set you in his lap before pecking your lips. “It would be my honor, baby.”

𝜗୧ minho 𝜗୧ - “you tell me.”

Looks you dead in the eyes, with one eyebrow raised defiantly, the food he prepared and laid out nicely suddenly forgotten. This wasn’t the answer you were expecting. However, it’s such a Lee Minho one that you can’t even be surprised for more than a moment. Shuffling in your seat, you clear your throat before complying, all caution out the window.

“You’re my boyfriend. Only mine.”

Minho nods slowly just like a cat, his doe eyes never leaving yours as he continues to give you his undivided attention. “Alright. So then, what are we?”

You watch him, trying to understand what exactly he wants to hear right now. Your answer rests on the tip of your tongue yet, you hesitate, not knowing if he shares your feelings on the matter. He’s always been a complicated man, not giving anything away.

What if he doesn’t feel the same?”

You take a deep breath. “We are…lovers. A couple.”

This causes Minho’s smile to return, eyes twinkling again as he finally pushes a plate of food in your direction. “There you go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

𝜗୧ changbin 𝜗୧ - “whatever we are, I like it.”

Changbin shrugs, bringing you closer to his chest by the arm he wrapped around your shoulders. The movie on the tv serves as background noise as your feelings threaten to overwhelm you, ready to take you down a well-known path of overthinking. What does that even mean?

Does that mean that he likes you? Loves you? Dislikes you with every fibre of his being but is too comfortable to say it? Usually, you would appreciate Changbin’s laid-back nature but now, it only makes you feel worse.

Why do relationships have to be so complicated? With him by your side, you thought it would be all smooth sailing but it looks like that isn’t the case.

“Y/n?” He asks, tearing his eyes away from the screen. “Is everything okay?”

His concern seems real, but is it really? Or is it just an act meant to have you fall even deeper in love with him? At this point, you don’t even know.

Shaking your head, you hide your face in the crock of his neck, choosing to ignore your screaming mind in favour of basking in his affection just for a while longer.

“Yeah, things are great.”

𝜗୧ hyunjin 𝜗୧ - “is this your way of asking me to make it official?”

Ever the hopeless romantic, Hyunjin gives you the sweetest smile, the sight making your heart beat faster. Oh, what you wouldn’t give to make things official with Hwang Hyunjin. But, would he want that or is he just playing with you? Your concerns seem unreasonable since he isn’t that kind of person but you never know.

“And what if it is?”

The smile turns cocky, resembling a smirk more than anything. “So, you like me?”

You giggle to hide your growing embarrassment and nerves. “I mean, I’m sure you know the answer to that question.”

He fakes ignorance, looking at you with big, puppy eyes that still pull at your heartstrings. Hyunjin knows all the buttons he needs to push to get you wherever he wants.

“Nope. Do tell.”

Without missing a beat, you say exactly what’s on your mind, wanting to pay him back for all the teasing by short-circuiting his brain.

“I love you.”

𝜗୧ jisung 𝜗୧ - “Is that a rhetorical question? You genuinely want an answer?”

Poor baby has never been more flabbergasted in his entire life. What do you mean ‘what are we’?! This isn’t high school, and you aren’t kids, what are you even confused about? He’s always made himself as clear as possible when it came to your relationship.

“You’re my baby, the love of my life, what kind of question is that?”

You shrug, turning on your side to face him. “Be more specific, Sungie.”

His mouth falls open comically, and you do everything in your power to not burst out laughing at the sight.

“We’re literally laying in bed together right now. I said I love you less than five minutes ago.”

You move closer to rest your head on his sturdy chest. “Yeah, but what exactly ARE we?”

Jisung stares down at you without a word for a few moments, trying to understand if you’re fucking with him or not until he sees the beginning of a grin stretching across your face and scoffs, turning to face away from you.

“Go to bed, Y/n, I’m too tired for your nonsense.”

𝜗୧ felix 𝜗୧ - “what do you want us to be?”

You’re greeted by big, hopeful eyes as Felix turns to look at you like you’ve got all the answers he’s ever sought for. Like you’re a genie that is capable of granting his every selfish wish. For him, you kind of are since your relationship pretty much marches to the beat of your own drum, with him just tagging along for the ride.

Felix would like to change that though – would love to just take matters into his own hands for once and answer your question with full confidence. But, he can’t. So, he throws the ball in your court again, wanting to avoid getting hurt.

You don’t answer right away, instead letting your head fall on his shoulder as you take your time to think his question over.

“How about…we try being more than friends?”

His face lights up instantly, buzzing with happiness at your proposal. Beaming, he nods before gently grabbing the back of your head to connect your lips in an eager kiss.

𝜗୧ seungmin 𝜗୧ - “a mess.”

You’re expecting to see him smirking or even rolling his eyes at your question, however, once you turn around, none of those things happen. He’s just looking at you, face devoid of any emotion, and that’s when you realize that to him, this is serious. Seugmin isn’t playing around nor is he avoiding the subject – that is genuinely what he thinks on the matter. To him, whatever relationship you’ve developed, is a complete mess. If it’s a mess he enjoys or on the contrary, finds troublesome, is a question for another day.

“Well,” you begin, still taken aback by his blunt answer. “You’re my mess.”

This time, he does roll his eye, acting more annoyed than he actually is as you wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind and lean down to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Whose else would I be, dummy?” he shakes his head, voice uncharacteristically soft. Turning around in his seat, Seungmin moves to embrace you properly before burying his face in your soft hair.

𝜗୧ jeongin 𝜗୧ - “you know what we are. You just want to hear me say it.”

You nod, taking another sip from your drink before releasing his hand. “Alright. Then say it.”

When he sees you stop in the middle of the crossroad, he follows, visibly confused. His hand moves to grab yours again, however, you pull away, shaking your head.

“Answer me properly, Jeongin.”

His eyebrows furrow as he tries to wrap his head around what’s suddenly gotten into you. Did you really want to have a conversation as serious as this here, out in the open? What was happening?

“I – “ He feels his whole face warm up, voice cracking and not allowing any other words to slip out. Jeongin knows what he wants to say, he’s had a whole speech prepared for a while now. But, being put on the spot like that has him freezing up so, he ends up giving a totally different answer, one that breaks both of your hearts simultaneously.

“We’re…” He pauses, looking down, “just friends, of course.”

The look on your face hurts so much, he almost doubles down in pain as you turn your back to him and walk away from his life, presumably for good. He has really screwed up this time.

[jeonjungkookenthusiast1997]

ego season masterlist | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

rating: 18+

genre: hockeyplayer!jungkook, richgirlie!oc, college!au, fwb, brother's best friend

summary: your ex-high-school crush is now your fuck buddy. you just gotta make sure that your older brother taehyung, jungkook's best friend, doesn't catch you red-handed.

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ**✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

pt 01: ego season (m) 6.3k

pov: you make ur secret fuck buddy jealous.

pt 02: number 7 (m) 3k

pov: your jealous fuck buddy pounds you in his jersey.

pt 03: hush-hush (m) 1.5k

pov: you receive a dick pic from jungkook while you're out on a family dinner.

pt 04: too hot to handle (m) 5.3k [one year ago]

pov: it's a hot summer day, and naturally, your brother's best friend can't take his eyes off your scantily clad body.

pt 05: summer playlist (m) 4k

pov: jungkook dedicates a cute playlist to you and fucks you to it on the balcony.

pt 06: pierced (m)

pov: you get a belly button piercing and jungkook is obsessed.

pt 07:

pt 08:

[jeonjungkookenthusiast1997]

Lee know Masterlist

Navigation

My works will be female reader unless stated otherwise, this is just what I am most comfortable with sorry for any inconvenience caused by this 💙

I am a NSFW (18+) blog so minors please don't interact with my works. Don't translate, steal or edit my works.

(S)- Smut 🥵 (F)- Fluff ☺️ (A)- Angst 😞

The Price of Love and Loyalty

Mafia AU

Synopsis: Y/N is sent deep into enemy territory, by her older brother, to try and mend an age old feud between two Mafia organisations. Can she gain the trust of the Stray Kids? Can a hatred that long standing be fixed by a simple truce? All Y/N knows for sure is it's going to take a lot of patience to make this messy situation work out for the best.

[jeonjungkookenthusiast1997]

The Price of Love and Loyalty - Lee Minho x Reader

Summary: Y/N is sent deep into enemy territory, by her older brother, to try and mend an age old feud between two Mafia organisations. Can she gain the trust of the Stray Kids? Can a hatred that long standing be fixed by a simple truce? All Y/N knows for sure is it's going to take a lot of patience to make this messy situation work out for the best.

Do not repost or translate my work! My blog is 18+ so minors do not interact!

TW: gangs, mafia families, weapons and mentions of violence, some major hostility between everyone involved, mean Minho, mentions of BTS as a rival gang.

Word Count: 3K

"This is a bad idea Namjoon. A really fucking bad idea"

Y/N's words echo through her thoughts as she walks the streets of Seoul. 

Slender fingers pull at the sleeves of rather thin coat attempting to pull it closer to her shivering body as she roams the abandoned streets looking for a very particular building, it's been a long time since she'd been allowed to this part of town so she endeavours to soak it all in before she's no doubt banished back to her own territory… or worse. 

Her older brother Namjoon was the imposing, usually smart, leader of the Mafia she belonged to but she truly feared her beloved brother may have finally lost his mind if he thought sending his little sister into enemy territory is a good idea. 

Bangtan had lost a lot of good and loyal members recently in fights with their rivals Stray kids, so determined not to lose anyone else Namjoon decided a truce was the best course of action. 

That is why Y/N is currently trudging towards Stray Kids headquarters, her nervous eyes flitting between buildings that tower above her.

"Almost there" she whispers to herself in a bid to settle her nerves. 

She rounds the last corner to her destination with a weary smile and is about to walk the last stretch of pavement when a blow to the back of her head sends her body hurtling to the rocky floor, dark bleeds into her vision as she moans in pain before losing consciousness.

When Y/N finally wakes up her eyes are watering, barely adjusting to the harsh light when a dark chuckle sounds in her throbbing ears. She looks down as her head swirls with confusion and notices that she's tied to a chair with thick black ropes.

Groaning, she tries to lift her head to look at her assailant. A disparaging ‘tsk’ is sent her way as her eyes finally focus on the man in front of her.

“I would advise you not to move too much YN, you'll only make things worse for yourself” she recognises the voice as a pair of cruel brown eyes reveal themselves.

"Lee Minho" she grits her teeth as the words drip from her throat like venom.

A sinister smile stretches over his lips and reaches his cheeks as he glares at the woman left helpless before him looking her up and down before whispering in a dark tone ”you're in my territory now little one”

Y/N glares at Minho as she watches his movements carefully "you've got a shitty way of greeting people, you didn't need to knock me out. I would have come peacefully"

Minho scoffs as he moves closer to her "yeah yeah and I'm the king of England, why are you in my territory anyway?”

He's so close to her now that she can feel his warm breath fan over her face as he speaks. She hums to herself as she acknowledges his words.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" A smirk graces her features as she tugs on the ropes binding her hands behind her back "maybe I'm just here to get a glimpse at the great and powerful Lee Minho, is that a crime?"

The man's distaste for Y/N is palpable as his nose scrunches in disgust “Oh, not at all YN…” he coos sweetly at her, his words dripping with sarcasm “but your appearance here is still a little suspicious don't you think…”. Minho tilts his head to the side as he looks at her.

Y/N notes that, with his face so close, his eyes are a warmer shade of brown than she remembered with almost golden flecks scattered around the orbs making them shine beautifully and yet at the same time they appear so cold and cruel. She doesn't dwell on those distracting thoughts for long though as she tugs on the ropes again to no avail.

With an overly dramatic sigh her head tips backwards in an attempt to get away from his fiercely perceptive gaze.

"Fine, fine I'm here on behalf of my brother. He wants to talk to Chan. Figured he'd be shot on sight if he came here himself so here I am…yay" her eyes roll as she feigns enthusiasm.

Minho’s eyes glow darkly but surprisingly he does chuckle at her “ah, so you’re just Namjoon's little messenger? But why does he want to talk to Chan?”

Y/N’s eyes shift to look away from the man to a dark corner of the bleak room "I guess you could say that. Is that really any of your concern? I'm here to talk to Bang Chan, not you"

A low, almost animalistic, growl leaves his throat almost shocking her “anything involving Chan's safety is of concern to me, little girl”

Minho’s gruff voice echoes loudly in the small room “so, I advise you not to hide anything from me, otherwise you won’t be getting what you came for. Haven't you learnt not to mess with me Y/N?”

Minho moves his head away from her face as his fingers trace over a small wound, coated in dry blood.

Wanting to be as far away from Minho as she possibly can given her circumstances she tries to shift her body but can only pull so far away with her hands bound making her huff in annoyance.

"My brother wants to call a truce between our organisations" the room is silent for a moment before Minho finally speaks up.

“A truce?” he's clearly not very happy about the offer judging by the frown on his face “and why do you want a truce?” he smiles crookedly as he adds “our families work very differently. You, above anyone should know that for a fact”

Her ability to remain calm is slipping as she grits her teeth to stop the insults that threaten to leave her lips.

"Oh come on Minho we both know a truce would be beneficial to us all. We've both lost good people in the last few months, Jungkook has a hole in his leg currently because of a gun fight with your men!"

The brooding man smiles fondly at this fact "ah yes…poor pathetic Jungkook"

Something inside of her snaps at that "well I happen to know that your precious little Hannie is bundled up in bandages right now after a run in with Jimin" she smirks at the probing words knowing it's bound to get a reaction.

A fire blazes in Minho's eyes as he reaches out to grip her hair harshly between his fingers "the fuck did you just say?"

Y/N simply smiles at him as she remains silent, wide doe eyes blinking at him in fake innocence.

"Why would we want a truce after everything Namjoon has allowed his men to do?" Minho drops her hair from his hold as he turns his back on her, ready to leave her to rot in that disgusting room.

"I understand you don't trust us and I don't blame you. Hell if you came knocking on my door I'd have Yoongi knocking you on your ass in seconds"

She lets out a laugh as Minho's retreating form stiffens "that's another reason why I'm the one that's here"

At that Minho turns to face her with a look of actual interest in what she had to say "I need to see Bang Chan before I continue speaking, I don't want the message to be misinterpreted"

His eyes roll but he gives her his full attention again “you're right, I don’t trust you”

Minho’s body seems to tense but he isn't outright rejecting her words “but since you are here in the flesh clearly as a sign of goodwill, I will let you talk to Chan”

Minho steps away but she feels a chill run down her spine as he turns towards her “but I’ll be staying right here with you”

It's an understandable response really and she had been waiting for it, Minho is part of Bang Chan's inner circle and the head of his security detail so she doesn't fight him on this front.

"I expected that so please untie me so we can get this over and done with" she wiggles her arms to get his attention on her bound limbs.

Minho seems to think for a moment, weighing up his options before he mutters a gruff “No. You stay bound”

Minho uses one of his hands to grip her arm, lifting her body up into a standing position making her whine out in frustration.

He keeps his hold on her arm firm as he stands beside her “for our safety and yours…let’s go" without any more warning he begins pulling her out of the room and down a long corridor.

They pass a few locked doors and armed guards before stopping at a large and intricately decorated door.

"Are you ready?" Minho smirks as his hands come to knock on the door.

He gives the door a few sharp taps before opening the door to reveal the Bang Chan himself staring at them intently.

There's a few men huddled around him as they point to some papers that are scattered across the leaders desk, the hurried whispers stopping abruptly as Minho steps into the room stopping as the pair reach Chan.

“Hyung I have a surprise for you” Chan's eyes almost bulge out of his head as he clearly recognises Y/N.

Chan's eyes stay trained on Y/N for a few moments before they slide to her side to look at Minho "what the fuck is she doing here? Should I be expecting Namjoon to burst through my window any second now?"

He's clearly very annoyed and at that moment Y/N is glad it isn't being directed at her.

"Apparently she was sent here by Namjoon actually" Minho shrugs his shoulders dismissively.

"Oh really? What happened to her head then? And why is she tied up?"

At this Minho finally looks somewhat sheepish "okay that was me but she was intruding on our turf!"

"I didn't know she was here to deliver a message and I sure as shit didn't wait around to ask! I haven't untied her in case tries something" Minho turns his head pointedly to look in her direction as he finishes speaking.

Chan sighs deeply as he rubs his eyes "a message? What message?" Chan's eyes are planted firmly on Y/N again, much to her displeasure, as Minho nudges her.

"I have already told Minho this…" she glares at him as he smiles amused by her side

"but I'll say it again for the benefit of everyone in the room, I'm here because my brother wants a truce between Bangtan and Stray kids" she waits patiently as her words float through the air.

Chan’s gaze is laser focused on the nervous girl, he is silent for a moment before he finally speaks.

“A truce, huh...?"

"Why does Namjoon want a truce and why send his precious little sister into the lion's den? Any of us could have killed you on the spot, you’re lucky you escaped Minho with a simple cut”

Clearing her throat before speaking again she looks to the floor "Namjoon's sick of seeing his brothers hurt and murdered"

"That's why he wants a truce and as for your other questions, he sent me because he knows that above all else you respect women. He figured you'd at least let me explain myself"

She takes a breath as all the eyes in the room are focused on her

"that and well, there's too much bad blood between you and our members. At least I haven't killed any of your men" she finishes as her eyes scan the men standing beside Chan.

She recognises a few faces.

She notes that Felix and Changbin are at his side with Seungmin off in the corner watching her intently with dark cold eyes as he spins a butterfly knife between his fingers sending chills down her spine.

"He also sent me because I'm part of the deal he's offering"

"As a sign of good faith Namjoon is proposing that I stay here until you can be sure he won't attack your 'home' anymore" she closes her eyes for a moment as she tries to calm her rapidly beating heart.

The room is so silent after her speech that it's almost suffocating as she waits with bated breath for some sort of response.

Chan's face hardens, surprising her "he's offering to keep you here? Like you're some sort of prize for us to hang on the wall? What if we don't trust you enough to keep you here?"

Y/N goes to speak but is stopped as Chan stands up from his seat. He walks around the desk and towards her as sweat starts to build on her forehead.

"Are you even willing to stay here? Willing to follow my rules?" Y/N nods to Chan's questions.

"Namjoon has asked me to do this and I will do it to the best of my ability. I've also seen such horrible things, watched our members get hurt, had to watch Taehyung hold Jungkook down as he screams in pain so that I can make the blood running from his leg finally stop…".

Her vision becomes cloudy as she bites her lip as the tears drip down her cheeks "I want it to stop" she whispers as she looks down to the floor, not wanting the enemy to see her hurting even if she was trying to negotiate an alliance with them.

Bang Chan is silent as he looks at her for a moment, she can feel that Minho is looking at her too and the thought makes her wriggle against the rope wrapped around her hands.

“very well…I can see the loyalty you have for your family. I only hope we can trust you to show the same loyalty to us”

Chan turns his back on them as he walks back to his desk ignoring the surprised looks from the younger members "you can untie her now Min"

Minho nods as he pulls out a knife and cuts the rope. Her eyes drift to his own and she notices that his face is a little softer than it had initially as Chan sits down he watches Y/N wipe the tears from her face with a look of sadness.

"I take it your brother will be in touch to finalise the details?" She simply nods, not quite trusting her words.

"In that case, Minho, I'll be entrusting dear Y/N to you to watch over" Minho groans at the command but nods dutifully.

"Take her and get her step up in the room beside yours" Chan gives Y/N one last look before returning his attention to the papers on his desk, Minho takes a hold of her arm more carefully than before and tugs her out of the room.

It's oddly silent as they walk down the winding corridors which lead to his room, Minho finally speaks up after noticing the awkwardness of the situation.

"I suppose I should officially welcome you to the family..." Minho says while attempting to diffuse the tension.

He leads Y/N up a flight of stairs before finally reaching two doors "My room is the first on the left here if you need anything and this is your room" Minho opens the door and ushers Y/N into the room as he strolls in after her.

Y/N looks around the room while Minho fiddles with something off to the side; the room is relatively simple, she notes, it has a large floor to ceiling wardrobe, a comfy double bed. A full sized mirror and a lamp stowed beside a small bedside table.

Minho gives her a few moments to find her bearings before speaking "well it's late and I'm ready for this day to be fucking over"

His sigh makes her turn to look at his face, his eyes are bloodshot and has bags under them which makes her wince as he gives her a piece of paper which seems to hold his phone number on it.

"in case you need it… try not to though ‘kay?" she nods while watching him walk to the door, leaving the young woman to her new personal space.

"Chan will probably arrange for me or Bin to go get your shit from Bangtan so don't worry about all that"

Y/N eyes start to water a little at the mention of her old home making Minho panic as he moves towards the door "since I'll be watching over you for now, if you need anything just text me or knock on the wall… I guess”

He's about to leave when Y/N grabs his wrist making him turn back “thank you for you know… not killing me straight off the bat”

Minho snorts at her words as he nods “hmm you're lucky you’ve got a pretty face. Wouldn't want to mess it up too much” again he laughs at her when he notices her wide eyes.

“Night” he smiles ever so slightly as he turns and slips away into his own room leaving Y/N alone to take everything in.

Changing into some old shorts and a baggy top she found laid on top of her bedside table she flung herself onto the bed, it was comfy sure but it wasn't home.

As her thoughts turn to her brother and his own inner circle, each of the members in it becoming like family themselves, tears flow freely from her heavy eyes and her chest rises with her increasing sobs.

She doesn't even care anymore if the Stray Kids members can hear her, she's distraught about leaving them behind but she understood why Namjoon had done it and that made the pain in her heart burn a little less brightly.

She'd done this for them, to stop the bloodshed and pain that invaded their lives daily and if her living here was the only way to do that she would have to suck it up and deal with it. As she's about to go to sleep her phone, which she had almost forgotten about, buzzes to life with messages coming through fast.

Jeon Cena 💪🏼:

Y/N?

Are you okay?

Do I need to beat some bitches up?

Cause I swear I'll come down there and

fuck

them

up

😡

God of Destruction 💀:

Please tell me you got there safely? 💜

Kook calm down, I'm sure everything's fine

Jiminie Cricket 🦗:

Speak to us Y/NNN

If you don't answer I'll be forced to cut a bitch 🔪

J-Nope 🔆:

Has anyone heard from her yet?

Guessing not?

Motionless Min 😴:

No

Starting to worry now…

Jinnie Choos 💁🏼‍♂️:

Lil Tae Tae 🎤:

If she doesn't answer in the next 5 minutes I say we burn their building to the fucking ground

Jinnie Choos 💁🏼‍♂️:

Motionless Min 😴:

Wouldn't we risk killing Y/N doing that?

Seems counter intuitive? 🤷🏼‍♂️

God of Destruction 💀:

No one is doing anything until she gets in touch and that's final

Everybody got that?

Jeon Cena 💪🏼:

What if she doesn't get in touch?

We sit around and do nothing?

Strawberry Shortcake 🍰:

Guys!

I'm fine!

Please don't burn the building down 🙈

Just been given a room so it could be worse

Seems like I'm stuck with Lee Minho for the time being 😫

She can't help but laugh as fresh tears roll down her cheeks "fuck I'm going to miss these idiots"

Y/N wipes the tears from her eyes before quickly explaining to the guys exactly what had happened from Minho tying her up, which was met with many furious responses, to Chan agreeing to the truce.

It takes her a few hours but finally the exhaustion finally kicks in and her swollen eyes close as she begins to dream of her happy life back at Bangtan.

Once she felt she'd given a good enough update she bid them all good night and buried herself under the unfamiliar covers.

[jeonjungkookenthusiast1997]

I- have no words... This post was 🥵🥵 and that is all my brain can comprehend right now 🙈

imagine hannie who loves getting his ass played with so much that getting his dick touched feels foreign to him

just months and months of conditioning him, making it so that anal was the norm, and that his dick was just a cute accessory

watching how he fingers himself instead of jerking off, acting as if his dick has no use, that all of his source of pleasure comes from his prostate

and then one day riding him for the first time in forever, watching his mind go haywire as he experiences the “new” sensation—like the equivalent of him fucking his prostate for the first time.

he’s a man, he should be used to touching his own dick, but for some reason it felt foreign, like he was exploring a new part of himself.

teasing him, calling him a girl for wanting his hole to be fucked instead of his dick touched

how tortuous would it be to tie him up and play with just his dick to see his reactions? rubbing his oh so sensitive tip, leaking so much it looks like he had already orgasmed. jerking him off, letting him feel the tight squeeze of your hand and the slickness of the lube. blowing him, your soft lips wrapped around his shaft, the wet feel of your tongue rubbing against his poor weeping tip, and the feel of your throat tightening around him. and god forbid you ride him, going cross-eyed as he feels your wet, gummy walls swallow him.

the feeling is too strange. he’s begging for you to just please fuck his pretty hole again, a sensation he’s familiar with

shit, and if you touch his balls? fondling them in your hands, watching them tighten when he’s nearly about to orgasm. god they’re so sensitive. one smack would have him spilling all over himself. and if you were to put them in your mouth? he’s gone. eyes already rolling to the back of his head.

but he’s really gone when you decide to do both. fucking deep into his ass with his favorite strap and jerking him off with his favorite fleshlight. so much lube being used on him, so much attention, and so many orgasms.

SWEET CHRISTMAS THIS IS SO FUCKING HOT

[jeonjungkookenthusiast1997]

Loved this, they're so super cute together and the way he calls her "baby"? I die 😫💖

I really enjoyed reading so thank you for posting 😁

𝐚𝐜𝐞・h.h.

— volleyball superstar and your personal hell hwang hyunjin proposes a trade-off you can't refuse: his matchmaking services for a passing anthropology grade. the plan is foolproof in theory; in practice, it is something else entirely.

words・15.2k

pairing・volleyball player!hyunjin x tutor!reader (gn)

genres・college!au, sports!au, fake enemies to friends to lovers, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, slice of life, mutual pining, slow burn. hyunjin is a huge flirt. mc #DGAF. two polar opposites sharing one soul. a seungjin fic if u squint. loosely inspired by the manga/anime haikyuu!!

warnings・mentions of anxiety, fear of failure, heartbreak, loneliness, and self-image. course language and callous banter (as always) ft. suggestive flirting and one kms joke. some of the referenced players and coaches are real; this fic is not.

playlist・collision by stray kids・value by ado・waiting for us by stray kids・eternity by bang chan・dreaming by smallpools・fly high!! by burnout syndromes

a/n・writing this felt like returning to my roots tbh. i love volleyball and i love sports aus and i love, love hwang hyunjin. thank u to my sahar for bringing this fic to life with me, as always; i can no longer write for him without also writing for you. i hope u guys enjoy reading this as much as i adored writing it. happy late birthday, our jinnie, our hyunjin, our forever ace; you are so unbelievably loved ♡

“Not a word out of you,” you say, tossing your backpack onto the floor of the lecture hall with a heavy-handed flick. “I’m serious.”

Hyunjin glances up at you with a frown. “When did people stop saying good morning?”

Your lack of an immediate comeback tells him the situation is dire. He observes you for a moment, his mouth falling open, hanging still, then curving into a slow, serpentine smile.

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Please, angel.”

“No! Leave me alone.”

Hyunjin slumps back into his seat, thinking hard. The solution occurs to him with a poke of his tongue into his cheek. “Coffee on me for a week.”

At this, your hands stop rummaging in your bag. You cock your head, your interest piqued. Got you. 

When you finally humor him and turn around, you’re flinching like you’re in pain, eyes closed and breath held and all. He giggles and leans in for a closer look. Tendrils of your body spray reach him from here, floral and light like a tropical coastline. He could’ve counted your eyelashes if he wasn’t so flummoxed by the state of your forehead.

“What the hell did you do?”

“Tried to cut my own bangs,” you sigh. “It didn’t go very well and now I look like Rock Lee.”

Hyunjin lets out a forceful laugh. “You’ve seen Naruto?”

You open your eyes. Only then does Hyunjin remember how little distance he left between your faces, when he’s staring straight into them and all the strange, starry speckles they hold.

The air between you curdles like sour milk.

Things are awkward between you often, he’s realized recently. What’s more, he didn’t think he was capable of being awkward with anyone anymore until he met you. It was your ill-fated seat that he chose to sit next to on the first day of ANTH 111, your ill-fated lap onto which he chose to spill his Americano, and the rest was history (or, in this case, anthropology). His tongue ends up in sailor’s knots with every smart-aleck comment and pitiful laugh you’ve given him since. Maybe there’s more to it, maybe there isn’t—Hyunjin doesn’t think about it much. He doesn’t like thinking in general.

You pull away from each other in unison. You clear your throat, glancing elsewhere. 

“Of course I’ve seen Naruto,” you quip, and everything is normal again. “Why do you seem surprised?”

“Because you’re so scholarly.”

“I am not scholarly.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You go to a park to play chess with old people on weekends.”

“I need to get my steps in somehow.”

“You didn’t know what Urban Dictionary was until I told you to look up—”

“Ugh, I learned too much about you that day.”

“Your favorite social media platform is Quizlet,” he bursts, exasperated. “Quizlet.”

“It is not.” An introspective pause. “Is it?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Hyunjin throws his feet up on the chair below him, jabs in your direction with a bandaged finger. “There is no way you enjoy watching 2D men beat each other up in your free time. I don’t buy it.”

“Honestly, I thought you’d have more to say about my current appearance than my hobbies.”

He does, though. Matter of fact, he’s been curating a list since this conversation started: Vector from Despicable Me, Dora the Explorer’s hot older sibling, Spock. You face-planted into a lawnmower. You mistook a paper shredder for a hat. It goes on.

But then his head turns. Your eyes meet again. It’s hard to sustain an inner monologue and look at your face at the same time.

He reaches up, nudges a lock of your hair over a centimeter or so, and gives the patch of forehead a gentle flick.

“Watermelon,” he mumbles with a sickening smile.

You divert your attention to your lecture notes with a disappointed click of your tongue. “You’re getting soft.”

He spends the entire lecture daydreaming about tropical coastlines.

“I only get coffee from that one place on the east side of campus, by the way,” you say as you’re strolling out the building together, “and I get it a very specific way. Can you handle it?”

“Your faith gets me out of bed in the morning,” Hyunjin deadpans. “I’ll handle it, love. Text me your order.”

All of a sudden, you position your hands close to your stomach, the lapels of your jacket casting them in shadow. Your fingers begin to move in a sequence that he’d recognize anywhere.

“Body flicker jutsu,” you whisper, and then you’re scurrying off without another word—but you do glance back at him to gauge his response. Your smile is purely effulgent, your laugh but a faint sigh against the main quad’s busy thrum.

Hyunjin gapes at your retreating figure for so long that phosphenes start prancing around his field of view. Then he heads to the gym. His heart is pounding against his ribs like a battering ram.

“Hwang, I need you in my office.”

Hyunjin stops lacing up his shoes to see Coach Bang standing on the court’s sideline with a grim air about him. He glances at his captain, confused.

“Don’t look at me,” Minho says mid-stretch. “Godspeed.”

“Thanks, cap.” Useless.

Head volleyball coach Christopher Bang’s workspace reminds Hyunjin of a morgue. It’s all fluorescent lights and spotless white walls, the only decorative fixture a picture of his siblings, parents, and dog in front of the Sydney Opera House, framed and facing him atop his desk. Hyunjin once snuck the thing into the bathroom, an innocent plot to satiate his curiosity, and promptly discovered the man’s propensity for violence. He’s packing beneath those dry-cleaned polos, by the way.

Hyunjin closes the door and takes a seat. Bang taps a knuckle against the tempered glass of his monitor. “You can read, right?”

“Yes, coach,” he sighs. Everyone’s expectations for him are subterranean.

From: Jinyoung Park «asiansoul_jyp@snu.edu» To: Bang “Christopher” Chan «cb97@snu.edu» Subject: Not good See email from Hwang’s antopology professor below . He submitted the complete script of the Trolls movie instead of his final paper and now he’s failing the class . Not good . Sort out ASAP JP Sent from my iPad

Bang snatches up his mouse and scrolls, his ears turning scarlet. “Wrong email.”

“Yep.”

From: Kyeyoung Kim «kyeyoungkim@snu.edu» To: Jinyoung Park «asiansoul_jyp@snu.edu» Subject: Regarding Hwang Hyunjin To Director of Athletics Park, I am writing to inform you that, as of yesterday, Mr. Hwang Hyunjin has a D- (64.9%) in ANTH 111: Cultural Anthropology, due to his submission of the complete script of a kids’ movie instead of his final paper. It is disappointing to see Mr. Hwang trivialize and ridicule my class to such a degree. Please see to it that he reorganizes his priorities lest his Student-Athlete Participation Agreement do so for him. Regards, Kyeyoung Kim Professor of Anthropology

“That’s bullshit!”

“We’re in agreement there.” Bang folds his arms over his chest, throws his foot over his knee. “Do you know what your Student-Athlete Participation Agreement says, Hwang?”

“Does anyone?” Hyunjin scoffs. Bang whips out a form and brings it to eye level, the thing covered from top to bottom in microscopic Times New Roman.

“No way you just had that.”

“I had it delivered ten minutes ago,” Bang confesses, then clears his throat and begins to recite. “All student-athletes must complete the academic term with a C or higher in all courses, should they wish to continue their participation in athletics thereafter.”

Hyunjin stiffens. “What the fuck? I’ve never heard of—”

“If any Department of Athletics personnel,” Bang continues, raising his voice, “have reason to believe that a student-athlete will not be able to satisfy this requirement, they are encouraged to utilize resources such as academic advising or peer tutoring in guiding said student-athlete back onto the correct path.”

He shoves the piece of paper across his desk. “Read that name aloud for me.”

Hyunjin stares at the signature at the bottom of the page, scrawled so carelessly that most of it deviates away from its designated line. There is a rare hollowness in his chest that he recognizes as anxiety. With it comes a glimpse of a life without volleyball, the question of what little of him would remain.

“Hwang Hyunjin,” he says under his breath.

The office goes silent. Bang tucks the form back into his drawer. It closes with a gentle click.

Then comes the yelling.

“The Trolls movie, Hwang Hyunjin? Trolls?! Are you fucking with me right now?”

“It was a cultural reset! The pinnacle of modern media! How’s that for anthropology?”

“BAD!” Bang explodes, gesturing to the email emphatically. “VERY, VERY BAD!”

Hyunjin slumps over, dejected.

“You’ve never had trouble with school before.” He leans over his desk imposingly. “What the hell happened this semester? What changed?”

Nothing is the first answer that comes to mind, but Hyunjin’s pulse spikes like a lie detector. Upon the inside of his eyes replays a scene of a certain someone with watermelon bangs doing teleportation jutsu at him from a few yards away, wearing a smile made of some kind of space dust that astronomists haven’t discovered yet.

He grits his teeth, annoyed. This is what happens when he thinks.

“Beats me,” he lies. “Typical junior year stress, maybe.”

“Does any of it have to do with Piazza?” 

Hyunjin shudders.

It just might, actually.

Modesty has no place in the career he’s had: high school national champion turned ace hitter in both the South Korean U21 roster and regular rotation for Seoul National University, the best collegiate volleyball team in the country. His name has lived at the top of ranking lists and the center of gold medals since he turned old enough to qualify for them; the press believes him the instigant of South Korea’s imminent volleyball revolution. It’s a mouthful, he knows.

It was never a question that he would go professional; the question was who he should talk to and where he would go.

At the start of the school year, Bang, acting in place of the agent he was advised to find and never bothered to, gave him a list of people to reach out to. On the very top was none other than Roberto Piazza, the chairman and head coach of Allianz Milano, one of the most eminent club teams in the world—and current home to Hyunjin’s personal idol, outside hitter Ishikawa Yuki.

Hyunjin thought his poor coach had finally succumbed to his old age. The thought of stepping onto the same court as Ishikawa felt sacrilegious, let alone donning the red, white, and navy blue of Allianz Milano with him. But Bang slapped him on the back of the neck and reminded him that going professional was equal parts preparation and opportunity; he was never going to know the answers to questions he didn’t ask. Hyunjin was coerced to fire off an introductory email despite his reservations.

Piazza replied to his email within the week.

For the last five months, Hyunjin has been fighting with tooth and nail to manage his expectations. He scrolls past the team’s social media posts like they burn his eyes. He replies to Piazza’s emails right before working out with Changbin under the assumption that whatever the shredded libero does to him will eviscerate his brain. If his world is made of dreams, this is the one at its very core, imbued with destructive potential the second it became attainable.

But that’s the last five months. The last five weeks have been you kicking him in the shin because he’s laughing (or trying to make you laugh) and the professor is staring; you listening to him rant and rave about volleyball when he knows you couldn’t care less about the sport; you relaying the contents of your class readings like hot gossip, your eyes wild and hands flying around because you can’t contain your excitement. You, you, you.

He cards a hand through his air, regaining his focus. “You know how I feel about Piazza.”

“Expect the worst, hope for the best.” Bang’s chair skids backwards as he stands up. “I think it’s a good approach.”

Suddenly, he is directly in front of Hyunjin, low enough to meet his eyes. His hands rest upon his shoulders firmly.

“But hope is hungry, and it will consume you if you let it,” he says. “Do not let it, Hyunjin. I’m not asking.”

Even while being squeezed to a pulp and regarded with the cold intensity of a statue, Hyunjin can’t help but feel anchored, somehow, to the floor of this miserable office. Protected.

Bang lets go of him. “I’m not asking you to find a tutor by the end of the week, either.”

Hyunjin groans. “Yeah, yeah. I’m on it.”

A set of bandaged fingers appear in your periphery to place a paper cup onto your laptop. Accompanying the smell of fresh coffee is that of smoky rose, as decidedly douchey as ever.

“I thought you said your order was complicated.”

You look up from your phone to see Hyunjin plop into the adjacent seat. His long, caramel-colored hair is damp and unstyled in the aftermath of a morning shower, droplets of water pearling on the lapels of a navy blue windbreaker, layered over a white long sleeve. You recognize the outfit by now as game gear.

“Was it not?” You ask.

“It was an Americano, love. I walked up to the cashier and placed an order for an Americano.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you could handle that much.” He flips you off as you squint at the cup. “Someone wrote their number on the lid, by the way.”

“What? Really?”

“No.”

He shoves you hard enough for your upper body to drape over the opposite armrest. You’re still cackling by the time you’ve straightened up again.

“Why did you get this, anyway?” Hyunjin grumbles. “I thought you had a sweet tooth.”

“I do, but you don’t.”

Only then does the fool understand that you had no intention of charging him in coffee just for a haircut reveal. He takes back the coffee hesitantly.

“Thanks,” he says at last. “Nice of you.”

“I know, right? Hated it,” you respond, and he almost chokes on his first sip.

You almost choke on nothing when Kim Seungmin materializes in the aisle adjacent. He holds out a hand in Hyunjin’s direction. “Yo.”

Hyunjin dabs it up without putting down his Americano. “I fully forgot you were in this class.”

“Well, I’m due for my weekly appearance.” Seungmin slips into the seat directly below you, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hi,” you say, somehow managing to stumble over the single syllable the word has. You thank your lucky stars that you fixed your hair yesterday.

You like Kim Seungmin. Not just in the cutesy, crushy way, but in the “I relinquish my rights” way where you spend every waking moment cursing out whatever stroke of misfortune placed Hyunjin in the seat next to you instead of him. He’s funny, gorgeous, and talented—a vocal performance major with a student-athlete contract—and you think your infatuation is more than justified. Hyunjin thinks it’s hilarious.

You side-eye your blonde adversary, prepared to see one of three things: a suppressed laugh, a dramatic eye-roll, or a mature kissy face that usually results in the first option. You’re met with something far more worrisome.

He’s thinking.

That can’t be good.

Suddenly, his phone screen lights up with a text that temporarily wipes the conspiratorial gleam from his eye. Hyunjin scans it over and groans. “Can this guy do his fucking job?”

“He wouldn’t have to if you didn’t quit,” Seungmin answers. “I’ll never forget you, Manager Hwang.”

“Shut up.” You peer at Hyunjin, silently requesting an explanation. “Our captain is forcing us to help him look for a new team manager. We need one for playoffs because of some stupid U-League rule—Seung, why do you look morose?”

“I’m mourning.” Seungmin does look morose indeed. “Hyunjin committed larceny last year and our coach punished him by making him our team manager for the rest of the year. It was so funny.”

Hyunjin slides down his seat. “It was the worst experience of my life.”

Neither man seems inclined to elaborate on the larceny thing. You choose to digress. “Can I ask why?”

“He had to be responsible,” Seungmin whispers. “For other people.”

The top of Hyunjin’s head stops right next to your armrest. You reach over and pat his hair in faux sympathy. “Poor thing.”

“Hardass refused to do it again this year, so now we’re recruiting.” Seungmin props an elbow upon the back of his chair, looks at you contemplatively. “I don’t suppose you have four hours to spare every day.”

Hyunjin scoffs from below you. Loudly. “This one? Team manager?”

“I can see it.”

“I can see killing myself, maybe.”

The next time you reach for him is to smack his forehead. A crisp smack resounds around the barren lecture hall, and Hyunjin cusses into his seat cushion.

“Seems like a great candidate to me,” Seungmin muses, and the warm smile he gives you mirrors onto your face before you can think better of it. God, it’s pretty. You wonder how it would feel pressed against your own.

Hyunjin is now completely out of sight and halfway onto the floor. “I miss when you didn’t come to class, Seungmin.”

Eighty minutes later, you’ve just emerged from the classroom when Seungmin calls out to you. You come to such a sudden halt that Hyunjin almost trips over you, but you barely notice him stumble, utterly enraptured by the hand Seungmin brings to the strands of hair by your ear, the fingers that dust your cheek as they pluck a small piece of lint from out of the tresses.

“Sorry.” He flicks it away with a sheepish smile. “I couldn’t unsee it.”

You manage to thank him just before your whole body ceases to function. Hyunjin sidesteps the two of you, yawning.

Seungmin excuses himself not too long after you reach the main quad. You also turn to leave, sparing Hyunjin a curt farewell in the process. He hooks his pointer finger around the handle at the top of your backpack and lugs you backwards with infuriating ease.

“I didn’t like that at all.”

“I don’t care. I have something to tell you.”

“You have a kid, don’t you?”

“Hello—who do you think I am?”

“The one-night-stand’s poster child,” you reply. “The champion of the contraception industry.”

“Yeah, contraception industry. It’s right there in the name.”

You can’t argue with that.

“What do you have to tell me?”

A shadow of hesitation flits across Hyunjin’s face. Your smile falters. Is it possible that you’re about to have a serious conversation with him for the first time? Maybe you should’ve saved the secret son bit for another time.

“I’m failing anthro.”

So much for a serious conversation. 

“Come again?”

He repeats the mystifying statement.

“You’re joking.”

The look on his face says otherwise, though, and your eyebrows disappear into your hair.

“You’re failing anthro?”

“I just said that, yes.”

“You’re failing anthropology?”

“Mhm.”

“Just so we’re clear—you’re failing Introduction to Cultural Anthropology?”

“Yes. I’m glad you’re having fun.”

This is the best day of your life. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“Yeah, well, our professor has no media literacy,” he mutters.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Hyunjin clears his throat. “Anyways, I was thinking—”

“Wow! Congratulations. That’s a big—oomf—”

Hyunjin puts his entire hand over your face. Your mangled noises of protest go unacknowledged.

“I was thinking,” he continues, pushing your head around like a stick shift, “you and I can work out some kind of deal.”

You shove his wrist off you with a revolted groan. “I think I just ate some athletic tape.”

“Happens. You wanna hear the deal or not?”

“Does it involve ingesting more sports equipment?”

“Do you want it to?”

“Just tell me the deal, boy.”

“Alright.” He takes a deep breath. “If you help me pass this class—I’ll set you up with Seungmin.”

Your head performs a triple-axel on your neck. You are unable to respond for what feels like multiple hours. Finally: “I’m gonna need you to elaborate.”

“On which part?”

“All of them. Everything.”

Hyunjin sighs, then scans the courtyard. His gaze settles on the student union a little ways off. “Are you hungry?”

You pick up a sandwich and a smoothie in a state of nervous stupor. One would think it’s the prime minister you’re about to have lunch with and not an imbecilic left-side hitter eating from three different entrees at the same time.

He’s chosen a table a few yards away from a planter of flowering cherry blossom trees. You feel jealous eyes on the side of your face as you take a seat across from Hyunjin, but they don’t know that his telephone pole legs still bump against yours even with them drawn as close to your body as anatomically possible. Or that he’s drawing up a literal Ponzi scheme on your sandwich wrapper. You wager you’ve had better company.

“You like anthropology. I like listening to you talk about anthropology.” He traces over the wrapper’s left corner. “And I kinda want you to boss me around. That weird?”

“Yes, definitely,” you mumble around a mouthful of bread. “Please continue.”

“Conclusion one: you should be my tutor.” He taps in place as if applying a finishing touch, then swaps to the opposite side. “You also like my teammate, but he’s neck-deep in volleyball and music this semester, which makes him hard to get a hold of—for most people.”

“Let me guess. Not for you.”

“Ten points to Ravenclaw.” His British accent is nightmarish. “Seung and I live in the same building. We get dinner when we go back from practice together. Conclusion two: you should come with us.”

“To dinner or to practice?”

“To both. Which brings us to my third and final conclusion—”

He slams a fist onto the center of the wrapper.

“—you should manage our team.”

“I knew it!” You slam the table as well, your smoothie wobbling upon impact. “You’re trying to swindle me! You can’t pay for my labor with more labor. What do you take me for?”

“It’s not labor, dumbass! Ask our last manager! He didn’t do shit!”

“Yeah? Who was your last manager?”

“Me!”

Oh, right. “But you hated it!”

“I hate everything that isn’t playing volleyball. Try again.”

You fold your arms over your chest. “You said you’d kill yourself if I managed you.”

Hyunjin starts balling up your sandwich wrapper. “It’s true. I thought about you and my coach getting along and promptly got a rash. But it makes so much sense: you do whatever you want during practice, tutor me afterwards, and then you and Seung can eyefuck over ramen or something. My coach hops off my dick, you hop on Seung’s—”

“STOP!” A girl drops her receipt not too far away, startled by your outburst. “Stop right there. I get it. Stop.”

“It’s a good plan.” He slings the paper ball towards the nearest trash can. It drops into the hole without so much as a brush against the rim. “You know it is.”

You’re loath to admit that you do. “When did you even come up with all this?”

He flicks a thumb in the direction of your anthropology class.

“No fucking wonder you’re failing.”

“What is this, mock trial?”

The owner of this voice is the third man you’ve seen today donning that navy windbreaker, white long-sleeve combo. He has a face that reminds you of your neighbor’s cat from back home, sleek and sharp and only slightly sinister. There’s a dash of humor in his expression as he approaches your table like he’s enjoying the company of a court jester.

“Slamming tables like fuckin’ tariff lawyers,” the cat-man hums, lifting a hand in Hyunjin’s direction. “I could see it from all the way inside.”

“Captain!” Hyunjin crows, dabbing him up without missing a beat. They really do that like breathing. “Just the man I was hoping to see.”

“Really? I thought you’d be avoiding me like the rest of our homunculus team.”

“I would never.”

“You did. Yesterday. When you saw me and started running in the opposite direction.” He pauses for emphasis. “As fast as possible.”

“Well, that was yesterday. Today is a new day.” Hyunjin tosses you a proud glance. “And today, I bring you a new team manager.”

You stiffen. “I haven’t—”

“Is that so!” When the stranger smiles at you, you feel the same satisfaction you did every time the cat let you scratch her on the chin. “Music to my ears. What’s your name, cutie?”

You catch Hyunjin’s eye across the table; he nods enthusiastically as if saying go on, then. You briefly picture yourself strangling him with his own athletic tape. You then picture yourself hopping on Seungmin’s—

Rigidly, you throw a hand out to the cat-man, your face aflame.

“Y/N,” you grumble. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”

He shakes on it heartily. “Likewise. I’m Minho. Welcome to the team.”

“Yes, welcome to the team,” Hyunjin parrots, looking positively jolly. You gnash your teeth together so hard your jaw throbs.

He’s lucky that his proposal holds so much water. He’s lucky that you don’t plan to strangle him until after you try that eyefucking thing.

You do kick him under the table, though.

The team has five weeks to prepare for the Korean University League, the biggest college-level volleyball tournament in the country. You have five days to learn how the hell athletic tape works. You can’t tell which is the bigger endeavor.

“I’m going to cause him irreversible skeletal damage,” you tell Changbin.

The team’s libero is twice as kind as he is talented, a full-time sweetheart working part-time at the university’s sports medicine clinic. Only your first week on the job and you’ve already decided he’s the only person on Earth you would permit to usher you through the gym at 6:45 A.M., a roll of athletic tape pressed to your back like a pistol.

“You will not,” Changbin answers. “One, because this won’t involve his skeleton, and two, because I wouldn’t ask you to help if it did.”

“You’ve misunderstood me,” you return as the two of you stop in front of an examination room. “I want to cause him irreversible skeletal damage.”

“Oh.” He opens the door with a frown. “Oh dear.”

Inside, Hyunjin is sitting cross-legged on top of a taping table, fitted in a loose gray tee and athletic shorts. He watches in pessimistic silence as you enter the room and beeline straight towards the shelf on the right. You slip a thick binder into your hands and bury your nose inside it without so much as a greeting.

“I am going to get maimed,” Hyunjin tells Changbin.

“Have some faith, both of you,” Changbin replies sternly. You find the pages you’re looking for and begin poring over them like you’re cramming for an exam. “You’ll be fine, Jinnie. Y/N studied.”

“Studied?” He repeats. “For this?”

“I’m pretty sure Quizlets was made.”

“Three, to be exact," you interject, sticking out your hand. “Now tape me.”

Hyunjin mouths the words tape me in baffled silence. The latter obliges your request with a smile. “See? What could go wrong?”

The answer to that, actually, is a lot. Especially after Changbin gets called away to help stretch out a teammate named Felix who allegedly “sprained his ass,” leaving Hyunjin to you and your binder.

You detect no smoky rose in the air around him today, just the subtle smells of cedar and cypress—laundry detergent or shampoo, maybe. Figures he doesn’t wear that insufferable cologne to practice.

“Go easy on me, yeah?”

While Hyunjin’s tone is teasing, yours is downright somber.

“I can’t promise anything.”

With that, you turn your palms face-up in a silent request for his hand.

A few strands of hair fall into your face as you lean in for a better look. It’s the first time you’ve seen his fingers untaped; they’re pretty, long and slender and surprisingly manicured, but also battered in their delicacy, the veins running over the back of his hand and forearm prominent, his bottom knuckles discolored from the healing bruises they bear. His hard work is palpable upon the smooth skin as evidently as if tattooed.

Hyunjin says your name in close proximity. You respond with an absent hum.

“You’re not nervous, are you?”

“No. Maybe a little.” You let his hand fall free and go to rummage for supplies. “Fine, yes. Very.”

“But you made Quizlets. You’re prepared for anything.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” You realize only after spotting the gentle smile on his face that he’s making fun of you. “I hate you.”

“Actually,” he hums, “I think you care about me, love. That’s why you’re nervous.”

“Nonsense—I care about disappointing Changbin. That’s it.”

“And me. And hopping on Seungmin’s dick. All these things don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”

You try to tackle him. Hyunjin catches your hands a few inches away from his face, fingers closing around your wrists with obnoxious agility.

“Have you lost your mind?” You whisper-shout, your face on fire. “Don’t bring that up here. I’ll maim you for real.”

The laugh that explodes out of him throws his entire body backwards, turns his eyes to crescent moons and his mouth into a little rectangle. You hate that you don’t hate when that happens.

“My bad, my bad. It slipped out. I won’t—”

One incremental shift of Hyunjin’s body later, you find that you’re precariously, alarmingly close to one another.

So much so that you notice the mole beneath his left eye for the first time, that you're nearly cross-eyed looking at it. That the tip of your nose actually brushes against his before you pull away with a quiet intake of breath. 

Things are awkward between you often, you’ve realized recently. You’re both professional yappers, always quick to digress, quick to find a new topic to bicker about before the awkwardness marinates. But hours later you’ll look back on the interaction and still remember how the air shifted: like a layer of dust had been blown away and something untouched and unknown was discovered just underneath.

Since you’ve met him, Hyunjin has spent more time on your nerves than on your mind. You’re not exactly losing sleep over such a circumstantial acquaintance; you know that his presence in your life will end the way it began, naturally and anticlimactically and inside the ANTH 111 lecture hall. Still, it doesn’t go unnoticed when your heart and stomach launch into an elaborate gymnastics routine in the wake of something he says or does, just as they’re doing now.

Hyunjin glances into your right eye a moment, then your left. The mole just below his left eye disappears when he smiles, the expression soft, saccharine, and sincere. How anyone casually looks the way he does is beyond your abilities of comprehension.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

Your face continues to burn, now perhaps for different reasons. “What for?”

He lets go of your wrist, sweeps the lock of hair that keeps getting in your eyes behind the cuff of your ear.

“Caring about me.”

Then he flicks your forehead. You recoil with a quiet ow.

“Now stop stalling and tape me, dumbass.”

“Okay,” you mutter, rubbing the injury tenderly. “No need to get violent.”

It turns out the arduous taping procedure described in the instruction manual is for serious hand injuries. Hyunjin splints his fingers together for support, not rehabilitation, so it takes all of five minutes for him to talk you through his process. You finish taping both of his hands with nineteen minutes to spare. So maybe the Quizlets were overkill.

As you’re walking him down to practice, you take his hand and lift it to eye level, scanning your craftsmanship dubiously. “It’s not too tight, is it?”

“It’s perfect.” He swivels the hand around and grabs onto your entire face, the sensation by now eerily familiar. “Want another taste?”

You shove him down the stairs that remain. Unfortunately, there are only two. “You are truly grotesque.”

The gym has come to life since you arrived earlier this morning, now illuminated by shining ceiling lights in addition to the sun spilling through high, narrow windows. Most of the team has yet to step onto the court, still stretching or jogging along the sidelines: Minho and Coach Bang are talking strategy on the bench, the coach taking notes on a handheld whiteboard every now and then; Changbin is leaning over a recumbent Felix below the scoreboard, presumably trying to fix his ass.

The only one already with a ball in hand is Seungmin, setting to himself by the net. Once, twice, thrice straight up in the air, and then he glances in your direction and sends the fourth towards the left side of the court in a buoyant arc.

You only glean bits and pieces of the next few seconds. Hyunjin is at your side one moment, making a break for the net the next. His arms draw backwards in perfect synchrony. Feet hit the floor with laserlike intent. His entire body unravels like a fraying chrysalis as he rises to meet the ball, pounds it over the net and into the ground at an angle so clean that the sound of its landing resounds within your ribcage. It rebounds over the railing of the second floor and barely misses the doorway of the examination room you just emerged from.

Hyunjin drops lightly back onto his feet, following the ball’s tumultuous trajectory with proud eyes. A leftover breeze tosses a strand of hair over the bridge of your nose, and time starts moving again.

“Oi, this isn’t your backyard! Go pick that up!” Their coach booms, though his words lack their usual bitterness after what he just witnessed his ace hitter do.

Hyunjin swivels towards Seungmin first. “Crazy bitch. What the fuck was that?”

“Lower and faster. Further from the net too,” Seungmin returns. “How’d it feel?”

The grin on Hyunjin’s face reminds you of a wildfire, untamed and all-consuming and frightening in its fervor. “Like we just won everything.”

He tousles your hair as he jogs past you and back up the stairs to fetch the volleyball. Seungmin waves at you with one hand and palms another ball into his other. His face is warm and bare, his slim build flattered by his volleyball gear. You’ve witnessed few people so nice to look at and even fewer things as elegant as his setting form. But you are still thinking about Hyunjin—and you can’t move.

It is debilitating, watching somebody do the very thing they were destined for.

A little less than a week later, Hyunjin is approaching hour three of spewing hot garbage into a Word document when he decides to give up and call you. 

“Hello?” He immediately starts laughing. “Where the fuck are you?”

You poke the top of your head into the shot of your ceiling, gesturing to your headband. “My face is preoccupied at the moment.”

“Oh, you have to show me. Please.”

You flip your phone up for no more than half a second. A camera shutter goes off, followed by a shriek so loud that it peaks your mic.

“Motherfucker!”

He basically sprints to his camera roll. His prize: you with your face slathered in cleanser, hair pinned back by a Miffy headband, looking like the abominable snowman if he liked cute merchandise.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly. “I’ll treasure this forever.”

“You’ll be punished, Hwang.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

You brandish your middle finger at him in response. He props his phone up against his computer screen with a chuckle. 

“Aaanyways, I have a thesis statement to run by you.”

The first thing you did as Hyunjin’s tutor was help draft an email to Professor Kim, begging her to let him resubmit the two essays he royally botched. She replied with a lengthy quotation from her syllabus, specifically the section that talked about (and prohibited) resubmissions, but ended up making an exception for Hyunjin on account of the “truly piteous timbre” of his email. You fell out of your chair laughing when he read you her response.

“You should’ve opened with that,” you grumble.

“I tried! Someone distracted me.”

“Read it before I change my mind.”

You spend a few minutes at most on the thesis itself, advising him to avoid passive voice, answer the prompt, establish a refutable argument, the works. Then he asks you a question about the research topic itself, allusions to the afterlife in Ancient Egyptian artwork, and the tutoring session takes a turn into what feels like a podcast episode.

You talk about the God of Death, Anubis, and his connections to the underworld; the elaborate, lavish funerary rituals intended to ensure the souls of the dead traveled safely; the vibrant murals that flanked their final resting spots as pictorial requests for divine protection. And you talk about them all with such confidence, such eloquence, that it’s as if you’re leading him through a history museum rather than talking to your phone as you do your skincare. He could listen to you for hours. He does, actually.

Around 1 A.M., Hyunjin stops typing mid-sentence when you come into frame for the first time, collapsing into your bed with a sigh of relief. Your eyes are soft and sleepy as they blink at your screen, strands of damp hair clinging to your cheeks. He feels his heart physically shift inside his ribcage when your mouth stretches into a yawn. It is the same sensation as the time you shot him a smile over your shoulder and he couldn’t move for ten minutes.

With that, his attention span has run its course.

“Baby,” he interrupts gently. “Let’s stop here, okay? You seem tired.”

You open your mouth as if to protest, only to yawn again.

“I suppose I am,” you concede. “Will you keep working tonight?”

“I think so. I hit my stride.”

“Text me if you have questions, then. I’ll respond when I wake up.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Your lips curve into the smallest of smiles. It copies onto Hyunjin’s face incurably quickly. 

“I had my doubts about this tutoring thing, you know,” you murmur.

“Why is that?”

“Well, you told me this class was the closest thing to daily naptime you’d experienced since preschool.”

“It really is.”

“You also told me you would rather slam your tongue in a car door than read more than three sentences in one sitting.”

“I really would.”

“And you once referred to academia as ‘Virgin Village.’”

“Didn’t you come up with that?”

“No, hello? I live in that village.”

He grins. “I know. I just wanted to hear you admit it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Ah, don’t threaten me with a good—”

“What I’m trying to say,” you cut in, “is that I didn’t think you would take this seriously, but I’m happy to be proven wrong.”

Hyunjin leans back. “Well, turns out I might give a fuck about anthropology after all.”

“Really?”

“No.”

You pretend to punch him through the screen. It’s so cute that he forgets to think before he opens his mouth next.

“But I do give a fuck about you.”

There’s nothing crazy about the statement. You’re friends, sort of. You manage his team. It would be strange if he didn’t. But the seconds that follow are terrible, a silent prophecy of something disastrous, like a cloud of rubble before an avalanche, the standstill during a star’s final breath. And Hyunjin’s heartbeat is hounding against his ears like a performance of traditional taiko.

He says good night in a haste. The call ends. He stares at the wall of his bedroom in a muddled haze for who knows how long.

Then he opens his texts.

Hyunjin: We have team bonding tomorrow btw Hyunjin: Don’t forget Y/N: i forgot. Y/N: pick me up at 6:45? Hyunjin: 🫡

He picks you up at 7:53.

You approach his car with your fists balled and your eyebrows knitted together like a mean old curmudgeon and he’s walking too close to your lawn.

“His fault,” Hyunjin says before you start yelling.

Minho simpers at you through his open window. “Hey, you! So glad you could join us!”

You fix the man with a judgmental glare as you slide into the backseat. “Aren’t you the captain? Why are you this late?”

“Whoa, okay. I would’ve scheduled this for earlier if I knew right now was honesty hour.”

“You did schedule it for earlier,” you say. “You scheduled it for way earlier.”

“Yeah, well, you’re fired.”

“You can’t fire me, Minho.”

“I can too. Tell ‘em, Hwang.”

“I want nothing to do with this.”

When you step through the doors of the arcade, you’re met with a surge of sensory input that you haven’t experienced in years. The air hangs thick with the smells of greasy concessions; everywhere you look are flashing screens and neon signs, stuffed animals and fading posters; clamoring against your ears are the sounds of games being won or lost, of balls being pocketed or launched, and of a horde of fully grown men spectating a match of Dance Dance Revolution so passionately (and loudly) that they’ve scared everyone away from that side of the room. You recognize the current competitors as Changbin and Jeongin.

“I’ll go pay,” Hyunjin says. “How much time do we want?”

“Infinity,” Minho answers. Hyunjin doesn’t move. “Two hours.”

He flashes him a thumbs-up. “And you?”

“I’m okay, I think.”

“No you’re not,” the two men answer in perfect unison.

You glance between them warily. “I don’t mind watching, seriously. I don’t even know how most of these games work—”

“There’s Tetris,” Hyunjin cuts in.

You purchase an hour.

One would imagine the point of the evening is to break the SNU men’s volleyball team, not to bond them. You’ve never seen so many strained blood vessels in your life. Nor have you heard of half the insults they spew at each other as the night goes on. Felix has to pay a fee for lodging an air hockey puck in the side of the MarioKart machine. Changbin loses at skee-ball and has to down an XL slushie like it’s a shot. It’s a scary amount of boyishness expressed in scary ways.

But they’re happy. You’ve picked up on it when they’re on the court, noticed the raw elation they emanate just from playing together. Yet, their closeness has never been more evident to you than tonight. The men are either laughing or making someone else laugh, arms draped over each other at all times, equally happy to celebrate victories as they’re eager to punish losses. It dawns on you at some point that you’re glad to be here with them, grateful to be a part of something so special—especially because there’s Tetris.

“Have you ever considered going pro?” Hyunjin asks over your shoulder.

You waited until most of the team was distracted to slink off to your beloved machine. Hyunjin tagged along, undoubtedly with the intention of making fun of you, only to be rendered speechless by your mastery. He’s been watching in a state of stupor, forearms propped against the back of your chair.

You don’t respond for a while, too focused on a precarious patch to even blink, let alone partake in conversation.

“I already did,” you finally answer.

“Sorry, what? You played professional Tetris?”

“In middle school. Then I got bored and switched to backgammon.” You pause. “Then I got bored again and switched to chess.”

“How do you look like this with these hobbies?”

Your run ends a few minutes later with a somber sound effect. You turn around in your seat with an anguished groan. “I think I’m washed.”

He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind. “You just set a new record by three hundred thousand points.”

“It’s a small pond,” you say, and an idea occurs to you. “Do you wanna try?”

“I get the feeling I don’t have a choice.”

“Then you’re smarter than you look.”

“Well, you look—”

His eyes move between your shoes and your face, and then his voice is an inaudible mutter as he sinks into your seat. You think you hear something along the lines of unfair.

“What was that?”

“Ugly. I said you look ugly.” He cracks his knuckles. “Now let’s break some fuckin' blocks.” 

When Hyunjin learns that the pieces can be rotated (so six or seven attempts later), a man walks into the arcade. 

He has hair the color of dark chocolate, the face of a fairy prince—and he’s with someone. The two of them appear arm in arm, laughing at something he said. He looks at this person the way astronomers do to the sky.

Something shatters inside you like old porcelain.

Your hands loosen around the back of Hyunjin’s chair. You can’t watch. You can’t think. You can only feel a void of disappointment rip open, stretch over you like an elongating shadow.

“Seung!” That’s Jisung, you think. “You made it!”

“Yo, sorry we’re late.” That’s Seungmin. That is undoubtedly Seungmin. “Dinner took longer than I thought.”

“Min, are you sure I’m allowed to be here?” You don’t know who this voice belongs to and you’re not sure you want to. “I feel like I’m intruding—”

“Hwang,” you say suddenly. “I have to go.”

He turns around, confused. An unattended block falls into a terrible spot on the screen behind him. ”Already?”

“I forgot I had an important call to make.” You turn away, training your eyes on the patterned carpet. “Sorry. I’ll see you on Monday.”

You have touched Hyunjin’s hands many times. He’s asked you to tape his fingers every day since the first; he likes the way you cut off his circulation, says it helps him hit harder. But you never hold his hand so much as you examine it, the act stiff and unfeeling, cordoned within the professional pretense of athletic treatment. 

Now, Hyunjin catches your hand like a gardener repotting their favorite flower: delicately, careful of leaving its roots intact and petals untouched, but firmly, securely, so the flower continues to stand tall even when it’s been extracted from the soil, not even a speck of dirt slipping through the cracks between their fingers. That is the image you conjure when he slips his between yours, his metal rings cold where his fingertips are warm.

He says your name. There is a pinch of pain in the word, and you know that he knows.

“Do you want to be alone?”

You have never been asked such a thing—you have never asked to be asked such a thing—but, for some reason, the question brings tears to your eyes. 

“Yes, please,” you whisper, and you pull your hand away.

When you stalk past him, you hear Jisung notice you, call out to you, a note of worry in his question. You also count three pairs of eyes on your back: one concerned, the next confused, and the last you are wholly incapable of meeting. 

Unknown to you is the fourth pair fixed upon the top of the Tetris machine, where you’ve left your phone.

You emerge into the parking lot. The frigid air stills your mind for a fraction of a second, the last moment of mental quietude you will allow yourself that night.

Hyunjin’s right; the team manager doesn’t have to do much.

Coach Bang allows you to come to whichever practices and games you feel like, during which you might at most lug around a ballbag or fill someone’s waterbottle before holing up somewhere to do your own thing. But you like the people you work for too much to do so little for them, so you attend everything  your schedule allows. 

Last week, you could be found helping Minho put down the volleyball nets, your laughter echoing throughout the spacious gym as he complained to you about his biochemistry professor’s distinct “cabbage scent.” Or running to grab materials for Changbin as he treated his teammates’ injuries like you were assisting an orthodontist giving someone a root canal. The dinner invitations you extended to Seungmin were always turned down, but his teammates were more than happy to assist you and Hyunjin in your quest to establish the best kimbap joint in the area once and for all. You even had a heart-to-heart with Coach Bang during one of the team’s water breaks, in which you managed to get half a smile out of the guy; Hyunjin was convinced that was his way of asking you to elope. You’d spent more time in the gymnasium in those ten days than you had in the last ten years.

Then came the arcade.

Five days have come and gone. You haven’t attended practice since, but you still see Hyunjin every morning at anthropology. The two of you sit in uncharacteristic silence for most of the lectures. You’ve taken the best notes of your life. He doesn’t mention the previous weekend; he doesn’t mention much of anything. 

In person, that is.

That Friday afternoon, you’re reading on the terrace of the library when you receive a text. It’s from Hyunjin, a two-minute voice note. You hesitate for a moment, stick a pencil into the gutter of your textbook to save your place, and slip your earbuds in. You listen to it.

Then you listen to it again.

And again as you wrap up your study session and go home. Again as you cook yourself dinner and load the dishwasher. Again as you shrug on a jacket and pocket your keys, setting off on the familiar trek to the gym.

As for what you plan to do there on a Friday night, long after the team has finished practice, you haven’t the slightest clue. You continue to move regardless, fueled by the feeling that there is where you need to be.

Coach Bang is leaving the building just as you’re approaching it. He halts in his footsteps and raises his eyebrows when he notices you. The man has always been difficult to read, but his face is exceptionally opaque now. Maybe it’s the shadowy landscape; more likely it’s the uneasiness that began to mount within you once you noticed the lights in the gym were still on.

“It’s been a while,” he greets.

“Coach,” you return, lowering your head. “I want to apologize for—”

“Save it,” he says, not unkindly. “There’s nothing to apologize for, alright? The team is lucky to have you.”

You manage a grateful smile. “I’ll be back starting next week.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He starts to walk away, stops himself, and glances into the illuminated building. “I would give him some space, by the way.”

Your uneasiness morphs into anxiety as you watch his broad back retreat into the shadows. You remain outside the gym for a few minutes more, accompanied by the distant melodies of cricket chorales and the muffled squeaking of shoes against laminated hardwood, the harsh sounds of flesh meeting leather.

Briskly, you walk home, rummage around, and return to the gym ten minutes later with your textbook tucked beneath your arm. This time, you unlock and enter the building without a moment of hesitation. 

Hyunjin is positioned multiple yards behind the service line, rotating a volleyball in his hands. A high toss, two resounding steps, and a collision like the crack of a whip. The previous ball has barely landed in the furthest corner of the court when he’s picking up the next, retreating to the same spot to do it all again. His tank top is the color of charcoal over his sweaty skin, his hair auburn where it’s plastered to his neck. He’s alone.

You only catch sight of Hyunjin’s face when you descend the stairs. His expression is crystalline, hardened with concentration and fortified by courage, but fragile all at once, rendered delicate by fatigue and fear, spilling from his every seam and splintering off his person like a broken vase. You recognize it as clearly as if you were looking at a picture of yourself from the worst years of your life.

“I was told to give you space,” you call out, and Hyunjin drops the volleyball he’s holding.

His lips fall apart. Nothing comes out of them. The only sounds to follow are your footsteps as you make your way towards the bleachers, a vertical wall of plastic now that they’ve been retracted for the night. You fold your legs into a criss-cross as you take a seat at their base.

“Is this enough space?”

More silence. You gesture to the volleyball nervously.

“Don’t make me go further, please. I’m not ready to die.”

Finally, this earns you a smile. It’s not much, but it loosens the nervous coils in your heart, permits your lungs to contract once more, and it remains on his face as he swipes the ball back into his hands. You open your textbook.

The rest of the night elapses in turning pages and soaring volleyballs. You don’t care for minutes or hours; you give him all the time in the world, as he did you.

The only time you glance at the clock on the wall is around midnight, when Hyunjin hobbles to the middle of the court and collapses. You’re worried at first. Then he rolls onto his back and releases a guttural groan into his hands, and your held breath comes out a laugh. You set down your book and stand up.

There’s a lake of perspiration forming around him. You pay it no mind and flop onto the floor, your eyes instantly narrowing beneath the fluorescent lights. 

“How do you see under these things?”

“I don’t,” he returns. “I complained about it to Coach once.”

“And?”

“He made them brighter.”

“Sounds about right.”

He spends the next few minutes catching his breath, his chest rising and falling in your peripheral vision. You sift through your mind for phrases of consolation or gestures of support and come up empty. You wish you had Hyunjin’s way with words.

But you think about the way his smile reached his eyes as he thanked you for caring about him, the tenderness with which he caught your hand at the arcade, the I give a fuck about you he blurted before ending the study call. You think about the voice note. It’s not that Hyunjin has a way with words; it’s that he’s brave enough to break the silences that you can’t, like he perceives your anxiety for the aftermath, shouldering the responsibility so you won’t have to.

This cannot be his burden alone.

You inhale. “What’s on your mind?”

Hyunjin doesn’t answer right away. You give up on squinting and close your eyes; the lights are still bright enough to dance around the murky darkness.

“I don’t think I know how to put it into words.”

You nearly laugh; you know how that feels. “Don’t think, just talk. I’m here.”

The same advice you gave yourself seems to work on him as well.

“Do you remember Ishikawa Yuki?”

“Your role model?”

“He’s currently playing for a club team in Italy called Allianz Milano.” He blows out a deep breath. “I’ve been talking to their coach, Roberto Piazza, for the last six months.”

The gears in your head creak in their effort to process the implications of these words. “Holy shit, Hwang.”

“He emailed again, this morning. Said he was coming to the tournament later this month, he’s excited to see me play in person, whatever. And it hit me, finally, that this is all real. Like, this is actually happening to me. I spent all of today freaking out and asked Coach to let me stay back after practice. Usually, it wears out my brain if I tire my body, but it only half-worked today. I couldn’t wrap my head around anything. I still can’t.

“I am who I am because of that man, and now…I have a shot at playing with him. I keep asking myself why I’m not—not happier. I should be bouncing off the fucking walls, no? If I told my past self that this would be happening to him one day, he would—”

You open your eyes, confused by the sudden silence.

Hyunjin is sitting up next to you, staring intensely into the bleachers. You first notice the tip of his tongue prodding into his cheek, then his shuddering breath. He lifts a hand to his face, pressing against his eyes.

You stop thinking after that.

You sit up with him. When you settle your fingers around his wrist, he allows you to pull his hand back to his side. But he turns away as if trying to hide from you; he squeezes his eyes shut as if that would obstruct your view of his pain.

You reach to cradle his face, bringing him back to you. The cuff of your sleeves wipe at the saltwater on his cheeks, push the hair off his forehead with gentle sweeps. The two of you are close, close enough that your lips would meet the space between his eyes if you so much as lost your balance. His gaze traverses to your face, but you resolve not to meet it. You know you will traipse into uncharted territory the moment you do.

“Don’t fight it.” You trace over the hill of his cheek. “Healing becomes easier if you let yourself hurt. Trust me, Hyunjin.”

His first name should feel foreign on your tongue, yet you suspect the syllables have accompanied you all your life.

“You don’t have to continue if you can’t.”

“S’okay.” Hyunjin lifts your hand away from his face, presses a kiss to the base of your palm. “I want to.”

You feel yourself stumble ungracefully into the uncharted territory from before. Does he do the same?

“I used to play volleyball on this expanse of cracked blacktop, behind my primary school. It was pretty brutal on my feet—I blew through so many different pairs that my mom almost made me quit.” He smiles at the memory. “But every time I came close to quitting, I’d go home and rewatch the same USA vs. Poland match from the 2008 Summer Olympics I asked my dad to record, and I’d promise myself it would be me on some other kid’s screen someday.

“That kid would tell everyone who’d listen about how cool I am. That I’m a secret superhero. That I’m living proof humans can fly if they really, really try—just like I talked about the volleyball players I grew up watching on my TV.

“The other day, Coach told me that hope would consume me. I thought it was just some senile drivel at the time, but..I think I get what he means now. I would do anything and everything to make that kid proud—even if it meant losing myself.” He lowers his head, auburn strands falling into his eyes. “That’s what’s on my mind.”

Amidst the ensuing pause, a storm approaches. It does not come in the form of rain or snow, sleet or hail, no; it is a gathering of words unsaid and emotions unacknowledged, all emerging from the deepest chambers of your heart in synchrony. The same entities you used to scapegoat for all the times things were awkward between you and Hyunjin when you were the culprit all along. You and your blind cowardice.

The storm tears open the seam of your lips. You do not resist; it’s long overdue.

“Every time Changbin sees you, he turns into a smitten schoolgirl,” you say. “He is physically unable to contain how endearing he finds you. He told me so himself.”

Hyunjin looks at you with widened eyes. You think you can see your own reflection in them, and you are the spitting image of a lighter dropped into gasoline, unstoppable in your vehemence.

“Jeongin comes to you for advice before anyone else,” you continue, “even for things related to school—which I still find hard to believe, I’m not gonna lie. But you have his best interests in mind, and it shows in everything you do for him. Of course your opinion matters more than anything in the world.

“I know you think he can’t stand you, but you are the reason Coach Bang loves this job, why he loves this sport. It’s written all over his face every time he calls you something mean, every time he makes you run another lap, every time he looks at you. You’re like a son to him. Everyone sees it but you.”

“Then there’s me.” You pause to catch your breath. “When I think about what my life used to be, I remember a lot of things. I remember loneliness. Insecurity. I remember my books and my backgammon boards and the way I taught myself to disappear inside them so the world would never find me. I remember avoiding mirrors like a vampire because I didn’t like seeing my own reflection. I remember feeling like I had to put on someone else’s personality every time I left the house because nobody would want to know me for me. All I ever wanted was a place where I could be myself, love myself, without consequence. I have yet to find that place.

“But I found a person. Someone who wouldn’t know time and place if they kicked his dick into his body. Someone who thinks instant ramen is high in nutritional value because it comes with dried vegetables. Someone who sweats the same amount of rain the Sahara Desert receives yearly—your body is not normal, by the way.”

Hyunjin giggles; it is soft and short, a small, tearful huff into the quiet air that makes you feel like you’re flying.

“Don’t get me wrong,” you say. “Your sense of humor sucks and your taste in coffee is so boring and you are the one with no media literacy, not Professor Kim. But I love spending time with you. I love who I am when I’m around you. And none of that has to do with volleyball.”

The next time you blink, you discover that he’s not the only one with tears in his eyes. How long has that been going on?

“There’s so much about you to be proud of, Hyunjin.” You give him a watery smile. “That kid will be spoiled for choice.”

When Hyunjin pulls you into his arms, you fall into each other like going to bed after a long day. Your face burrows into the crook of his neck in your embarrassment; he is laughing and crying at the same time when he mumbles something into your shoulder: “I knew you cared about me.”

You are so happy for the comedic relief you could sob. It helps that you already are.

“How the fuck are you still sweaty?”

You think you like his cologne after all.

Six days later, Hyunjin opens the door of his apartment.

A fun-sized flurry of black and white barrages into the hallway outside and almost runs headfirst into the figure waiting there. You fall to your knees like you’ve just been gravely wounded, emitting an ear-piercing wail to match. All it takes is a few good head scratches for Kkami to stop yipping bloody murder and start whining for attention instead. 

Upon minute five of watching you and his dog cuddle in the hallway directly outside his home, Hyunjin sighs.

“Can you come inside, please? My RA will think I’m doing some freaky shit again.”

You side-eye him as you walk into his apartment, Kkami perched happily in your arms. “What, exactly, does freaky shit entail?”

He smirks as the door falls shut. “You want me to tell you or show you?”

You turn to Kkami, disgusted. “Your owner’s a bit of a pervert, my dear.”

Kkami licks you on the chin. Hyunjin’s eyes narrow to slits.

“Traitor.”

Naturally, Hyunjin’s parents chose the eve of his final anthropology exam—and the week before the tournament that will determine the trajectory of his career—to ask him to look after Kkami for a few days. He nearly canceled their plane tickets himself, but his impromptu roommate is currently ransacking your face with kisses on his couch, and he thinks your laugh complements his studio better than any decoration. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” He calls from the kitchen area.

You meander over, Kkami (still) perched happily in your arms. “What do you have?” 

“Alcohol.” He opens his fridge far enough so you can peer over his shoulder. “Americanos.”

He stops speaking.

“Is that all?”

“Yes. Wait—and apple juice.”

“You are about to be a professional athlete.”

“What the Italians don’t know won’t hurt them. You want apple juice, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”

“Maybe. Can you open it for me? My hands are full.”

Hyunjin does so with far less reluctance than he feigns. You thank him jubilantly, popping the straw into your mouth.

“Let’s get this over with.”

At 10:32 P.M., all is calm. You are sitting on the floor, your back against the side of his mattress. Hyunjin is where the universe intended: curled up in bed, both him and his laptop lying on their sides. You have studied eight out of ten units in only two and a half hours, and the night is still young. Kkami is but a fluffy, sleepy Oreo by your waist.

At 10:33 P.M., the Oreo begins to retch.

You startle a foot into the air. Hyunjin is out of bed and on his feet in the blink of an eye, the very image of a dog dad on duty. He grabs three different things off the kitchen counter with one hand and scoops up the long-haired chihuahua with the other, and then he’s kicking open the door.

Seungmin appears out of thin air carrying two heaping bags of groceries. Hyunjin nearly knocks him and a month’s worth of fresh produce down four flights of stairs.

“Hyun—Kkami?” Seungmin swivels. “Yo, what the fuck is—”

Hyunjin is already out the door.

A few minutes later, Hyunjin squats off to the side, pouring fresh water into a portable dog bowl. A little ways away, Kkami is throwing up ebulliently; a set of footsteps approaches.

“What is this thing?” Seungmin squats down next to Hyunjin, picking up the piece of patterned fabric lying on the grass. 

“Kkami gets sad after throwing up,” he sighs. “His blanket makes him feel better.”

Seungmin watches the chihuahua for a few moments, a soft flinch crimping his features. “He ate too fast again?”

Hyunjin rakes a hand through his hair. “I don’t get it. Nobody’s gonna take his food from him.”

Seungmin laughs. “I didn’t even know he was on campus.”

“I picked him up last night. My parents are traveling for work—they say hi, by the way.”

“I say hi back. I miss your mom’s cooking.”

“Me too,” Hyunjin says, smiling. “She would love to cook for you again—she’s always saying you’re too skinny.”

“She really is.”

A beat passes; it is then that Hyunjin has an epiphany.

Seungmin was the one who put a volleyball in his hands for the first time. Back then, Hyunjin was the lesser troublemaker between the two of them—a concept that neither of them can wrap their heads around to this day. Seungmin suggested they use the clotheslines in Hyunjin’s backyard as a makeshift net, despite Hyunjin’s dissuading; half of Hyunjin’s father’s wardrobe caught on fire, Seungmin had a black eye for a week, and nobody knows what happened to that volleyball. The two of them have been attached at the hip ever since.

It is a crazy thing, having your best friend as a teammate; a singular flick of the wrist or a point of his shoe and Seungmin will know exactly Hyunjin wants the ball down to the net’s fraying fibers; Hyunjin will be exactly where Seungmin needs him down to the flecks of paint on the volleyball court. Hyunjin has always been Seungmin’s hitter—Seungmin, always Hyunjin’s setter. Nothing will ever change between them so long as that remains the case.

At least, that’s what Hyunjin used to think.

Learning that Seungmin was in a relationship was as much a wake-up call for Hyunjin as it was for you. At first, he was just fucking pissed; how could Seungmin be so stupid as to turn down someone like you, especially when Hyunjin had shot his mouth off about his wingman services? More importantly, how long had his best friend of eighteen years been in love, and why was he the last to know? 

Only now, as they wait for his nine-year-old chihuahua to finish barfing, does Hyunjin realize that he can’t remember the last time he and Seungmin talked. Not “talked” as in a brief exchange inside the locker room or the lecture hall, about a new approach he wants to try or what Seungmin got on number four or if he wants a ride to practice—“talked” as in talked, about Hyunjin, about Seungmin, about the eighteen years they shared, about all the years yet to come.

Hyunjin sees his setter every day; he stopped looking for his friend a long time ago. 

“Yeonwoo, right?”

He senses surprise in Seungmin without having to look at him. But he also senses a smile, a subtle show that Seungmin recognizes what he’s trying to do—and forgives him.

“Yeonwoo,” Seungmin affirms. “We’re in the same songwriting intensive this semester.”

“Also a singer?”

He shakes his head. “Piano player. Performed at the Carnegie Hall in the United States at, like, seven years old. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so talented.”

“Wow, that’s—hi, old man. You done?”

Kkami walks over with his head hung low and tail between his legs, and Hyunjin hurries to drape the pup in his favorite blanket, pulling the bowl of water in front of him in tandem. Seungmin runs a hand over the top of Kkami’s head as he hydrates.

“You’ve suffered,” he tells him solemnly, and Hyunjin snorts.

“As I was saying—that’s crazy to hear, coming from the most talented person I know. You guys looked so good together.”

“Thanks. It’s weird. I’m happy.”

“You deserve it. You really do, Kim.” They exchange smiles, and Hyunjin gives Seungmin a playful nudge. “When are you introducing us?”

“The arcade wasn’t enough?”

“Don’t insult me.”

“Whenever you want, then.”

“Dinner with my mom, dinner with Yeonwoo,” Hyunjin recounts. “I’m holding you to it.”

“Bet.”

They shake on it. If Hyunjin wasn’t already reassured by Seungmin’s smile, he knows by his clasp around his hand that they’ll be okay.

“What about you?” Seungmin asks. “Are you together yet?”

Hyunjin knew this was coming. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” Seungmin strings his hands together, letting them dangle in the space between his knees. “Someone you have questions for that you’re too scared to ask. Someone who’s lived in your mind since the day you met. There’s someone like that, isn’t there?”

Hyunjin pokes his tongue into his cheek. 

Ever since that night on the gym floor, Hyunjin’s been having these dreams. By the time his alarm goes off in the morning, every detail of the dream has eluded him, leaving behind only a ghost of emotion, akin to the breeze that grazes your face moments after walking past another person.

But then he’ll get out of bed, and walk to that café on the east side of campus, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. There, he’ll order a vanilla latte with extra sweetener, then turn around to see you standing five feet away, holding an Americano and trying not to laugh. And he’ll just know, with everything in him, that you are where his head goes when he’s not keeping watch.

He still addresses you by the pet names you hate. He still finds any excuse to be close to you; he still pesters you like a child with a crush. But now, he calls you his baby like one wishes on a star; his eyes drift to your lips every time you’re within two feet of each other; he makes fun of your likes and dislikes only because he’s happy to know about them at all. Ever since that night on the gym floor.

It’s impossible for nothing and everything to change at once. Two people teetering on the precipice of something cannot withstand a gust of wind so powerful. He’s already hanging off the ledge, losing his grip; where are you?

Next to him, Seungmin lets out a soft laugh. “There is.”

Hyunjin doesn’t know what to say.

“It might’ve been me, at some point,” he hums, returning his hand to scratch the back of Kkami’s ears. “But it has always been you, Hyun.”

Four floors above them and inside Hyunjin’s place, you are pacing between his fridge and his bed, nervously awaiting his and Kkami’s return.

Something catches your eye, wide and flat and hung on the wall by his bathroom door. You approach it curiously, your lips pulling into a fond smile the moment you realize all that’s in front of you.

Many of the photographs are of Hyunjin: him in his preteens, dead asleep in bed while dressed head to toe in volleyball gear, braces visible because his mouth is open; an action shot taken at what must’ve been a U21 match, the South Korean flag stitched into the shoulder of his jersey; him with half a birthday cake in front of him and the rest smeared all over his face. There are headlines, too: Underdog team earns district’s first high school volleyball state title; Hwang Hyunjin proves himself worthy of “ace spiker” label at South Korea V. Croatia U19 match; Coach Bang “Christopher” Chan leads Seoul National University to second consecutive KUL championship. There’s one—Who is Hwang Hyunjin? Meet the twenty-year-old instigant of South Korea’s imminent volleyball revolution—beside which he’s written the singular word “mouthful.” You laugh; you agree.

But pinned to the corkboard is also a photograph of Minho, surrounded by stray cats in the alleyway outside a K-BBQ restaurant; his parents cradling Kkami in an apple costume; his high school volleyball team silhouetted against a pretty sunset. Him and Seungmin as kids, covered in grime and scrapes but beaming nonetheless; him and Seungmin at age nineteen, stadium lights on their backs, unadulterated elation on their faces as they charge towards each other, beaming still. Changbin piggybacking Felix through the hallways of the gym, neither of them wearing a shirt; Jisung offering Coach Bang a beer while the latter looks direly unamused (you make a mental note to ask about that one later); what looks like a Rock Lee cosplayer grimacing in the middle of your anthropology classroom.

You rush forward as if decreed by gravitational force. Not too far away is another picture of you, in which you boast a Miffy headband and a face full of foaming cleanser. Then another, your eyes narrowed like that of a sniper taking aim as you’re playing Tetris; you with so many volleyballs piled into your arms that you can’t see your own face; your cheeks squished by a bandaged hand after you lost a bet about pandas (they can swim); you clutching your stomach on the library floor, brought to hysterical tears by Professor Kim’s email. You, you, you.

You bring your pointer finger to this last image, tracing it over the curve of your own cheek. You see a dimple on your face you didn’t know you had. You realize it only comes out for him.

It has always been him.

The front door opens. A man with telephone poles for legs and a long-haired chihuahua in his arms appears behind it. You sense in him that something has changed since you last saw each other. The two of you lock eyes. 

It’s not awkward this time.

Multiple yards behind the service line, Hyunjin is rotating a volleyball in his hands. It feels solid and sentient, an extension of himself held in cotton-clad fingers. He knows how this story will end.

He moves his eyes to his best friend’s back. Four fingers flash back at him twice, signaling a high lob set to the left, the very play they’ve practiced tirelessly for the last five weeks. The breath Hyunjin blows out of his cheeks seems to crystallize in the air, almost solid in all its exhilaration. 

He bends low and throws high. His arms drop behind his body like a spread of feathered wings; his feet fall into place below him like a meteor shower, two consecutive strikes against the earth that fissure its mantle. The lights overhead are bright. His palm pulls taut when it slams into leather. He knows how this story will end.

The volleyball tears towards the ground. It trembles as if scared by all that it holds: the guarantee of a flawless denouement, the catalyst of a radiant future. Hyunjin’s heart is beating hard enough to crack his ribs when he lands back on the ground, when the volleyball lands in the furthest corner of the court. He’s not scared at all.

He balls his fingers into fists.

“JUST LIKE LAST YEAR, BACK TO BACK ON AN ACE—”

An arm seizes Hyunjin’s neck; another drags him onto the floor. His head thuds onto the hardwood with a sound he hears over the whole world detonating. His vision fills with the faces of the people he cares for most, some covered in tears and others rivaling the ceiling with their blinding smiles. He can’t feel most of his body; his sweat drips into his mouth. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.

“—DEFENDING THEIR TITLE FOR THE THIRD CONSECUTIVE YEAR—”

His eyes find Seungmin’s among the fray. Their hands clap together with such force that Hyunjin cusses at the impact. Seungmin’s gaze burns into his with a ferocity that Hyunjin plans to take to his grave. His setter. His best friend.

He says something inaudible, but Hyunjin reads the words off his lips, and his eyes fill with tears: we win everything.

“—YOUR NATIONAL CHAMPIONS: SEOUL NATIONAL UNIVERSITY!”

Hyunjin’s post-game interview is a lawless affair. He is allowed at most half an answer before a new teammate is barreling over with an animalistic screech or a new friend is screaming congratulations from out of frame.

The reporter is visibly agitated by her final question, unpursing her lips to ask: “Is there anyone you’d like to thank?”

Hyunjin exhales. “You want the short answer or the long—”

Changbin seizes him by the head. Hyunjin bursts into a peal of high-pitched laughter as the libero litters kisses all over his face, nearly crumpling to the floor in his attempt to escape.

“Love you,” he yells before hurrying off. 

“Love you too, Bin.”

Hyunjin turns a sheepish smile to the reporter.

“The short answer,” she deadpans.

He starts counting off his fingers. He thanks his family—his first and last teammates, his eternal anchors. His other family, his actual teammates, the best boys he’s ever known. His coach, who will let him call him Chris someday. His best friend and setter, Kim Seungmin, who set a clothesline on fire once and changed his life forever.

In the distance, a figure emerges from the locker rooms. There’s a navy blue SNU banner draped over your shoulders, two overflowing duffel bags in your hands. Jisung and Jeongin run over to take them from you, and the smile you give them is wide and flushed, a remnant of the elation you shared from afar. The three of you start walking out of the gym.

Hyunjin thanks you.

You didn’t ask for the position, he tells the reporter, but some idiot roped you into it, and they’re all so grateful that you decided to stick around. You know the team better than they know themselves—it’s hard to believe you’ve been with them for five weeks instead of five years.

What are you like? What aren’t you like, is the better question. You’re caring, smart, strong; you see so much goodness in the people around you, all while unaware that it is your warmth that brings it out of them. Flowers only bloom in the sun’s doting radius, and so did he.

You have the sort of soul that incurs the scorn of the stars. They are the only ones to deserve you, they'd argue; you’re wasting your potential among humans when you belong to the sky. They’re right.

Hyunjin pokes his tongue into his cheek, suddenly annoyed. “Why the fuck am I still talking to you?” 

“Pardon?” The reporter returns, but Hyunjin is already vaulting over the bleachers, making a mad dash for the exit. She gives her cameraman an affronted glare. He shrugs.

He explodes onto the concrete, looking around in a frantic haze. He finds the blue banner heading toward the team bus and flanked by his teammates with ease.

He calls out to you.

You glance backwards. Your smile is purely effulgent, your laugh but a faint sigh against the area’s busy thrum. His heart is pounding against his ribs like a battering ram again, but he’s used to this feeling by now. Jeongin and Jisung make themselves scarce.

You’re beautiful. God, you’re fucking beautiful. That was the first thought to enter his mind when he spilled an iced Americano on your lap all those months ago and you looked at him like he hailed from another planet. And it is the first thought to enter his mind now, when he runs up to you and cradles your face in his hands, his touch infinitely, impossibly gentle, and you look at him like he’s everything that has ever existed, everything that ever will. 

Tendrils of your body spray reach him from here, floral and light like a tropical coastline. He could’ve counted your eyelashes—if he didn’t have something far better to do.

“Tell me now if you don’t want me to do this,” he whispers.

A stupid smile crosses the face of the smartest person he knows. “My lips are sealed.”

Hyunjin kisses you. He kisses you until the banner around your shoulders is wrinkled under his touch, until your hands are tangled in his hair and aching his scalp, until the breaths you take are breaths you share, passed between your mouths like a puff of smoke before they’re colliding again.

He kisses you until he’s crying, again, until he’s no longer tasting your lips but your grin, and he kisses you only harder when those scornful stars start to dance before him, for you are his, not theirs, and he’s really won everything, now.

“Hwang, I need you in my office.”

Six months later, Hyunjin sees Coach Bang standing a few yards away with a grim air about him. He stops in his footsteps and glances at his captain, confused.

“I know nothing,” Seungmin says, walking away. “Good luck!”

“Thanks, cap.” Hyunjin swears he’s had this exact exchange before.

Head volleyball coach Christopher Bang’s workspace still reminds Hyunjin of a morgue. But there are two picture frames on his desk now: one of his family in front of the Sydney Opera House, the other of a band of boys clad in navy blue, draped over one another in exhausted bliss. The latter lends the room a much-needed sense of vitality. Too bad it still houses a rusty cyborg.

Hyunjin closes the door and takes a seat. Bang taps a knuckle against the tempered glass of his monitor. “Read.”

From: Nicola Daldello «ndaldello@pvm.com» To: Bang “Christopher” Chan «cb97@snu.edu» Subject: Re: Allianz Milano V. Pallavolo Perugia practice game Christopher, Allow me to apologize for my delayed response as I shared your request with Chairman Piazza. It is my great pleasure to inform you that we would love for Mr. Hwang Hyunjin to participate in our practice game versus Pallavolo Perugia. The match is scheduled for Monday, October 7th, 5-7 P.M. CET in the Giurati Sports Centre in Milan. Mr. Hwang will be playing for Allianz Milano as an outside hitter alongside Mr. Matey Kaziyski, Mr. Osniel Mergarejo, and Mr. Ishikawa Yuki. Please let me know of your availability to call regarding Mr. Hwang’s travel logistics. His transportation and lodging costs will be paid for by the club. I’m looking forward to speaking with you and welcoming Mr. Hwang to Italy once and for all. Yours, Nicola Daldello Assistant Coach, Allianz Milano

“I told you, some opportunities just present themselves,” Bang says, turning his monitor back around. “As for next steps, I need a holistic calendar view of your entire month of October, including social ev—Hwang, is that foam coming out of your mo—NOT ON MY CARPET! HWANG!”

In a park about a ten minute walk away, a small crowd of elderly people are scattered across a few stone tables, hunched over the fading chess boards painted into the granite surfaces. Mrs. Choi whisks away Mrs. Baek’s king with a triumphant yelp.

“I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! That opening is unbeatable!” She swivels towards you, shaking a fist threateningly. “You! Get over here. Your reign is over.”

You are sitting cross-legged in the shade of a broad magnolia tree, clearing out your storage. You tried to take a picture of a particularly rotund pigeon to send to Hyunjin earlier and couldn’t even do that. It was then you decided you couldn't live like this anymore.

“As excited as I am to beat you again, Mrs. Choi, I need ten more minutes,” you call back. 

She presents you with an unpleasant hand gesture. You turn your attention back to your phone, grinning. Two new notifications sit at the top of your lock screen.

Hyunjin: Omw now. Sorry had to talk to Chris Hyunjin: Same park? Y/N: yes Hyunjin: Who’s the opp today Y/N: mrs. choi Hyunjin: Not that bitch again Y/N: ?

He’ll be here in eight minutes.

You return to the task at hand. You’ve already cleared out your apps, your documents, and videos; all that’s left is the audio files. You conduct a quick mental review. Surely you’ll live without your downloaded music and accidental voice memos.

Instead of hitting the “delete” button, you extract a pair of tangled earphones from your jacket pocket.

You go back to your texts with Hyunjin, open the shared attachments tab, and scroll for a long time before you find the voice note he sent you seven months ago.

He finds you a sobbing mess.

“Hey, hey, whoa.” He’s on his knees in an instant, gathering your hands into his, a world of concern in the brown of his eyes. Your earbuds fall out and clatter onto the cement below. “Baby, what’s happening? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you say in a flustered haste. “Yes, I’m okay. I don’t—I don’t really know what’s happening.”

“Did that hag do this to you?” He asks this question so seriously. “I’ll beat up a senior citizen, I don’t give a fuck—”

“No!” You let out an ugly laugh through your tears. “No, no. Leave Mrs. Choi alone.”

“Then what is it? What’s wrong?”

Eventually, your vision clears enough for you to look at the man kneeling in front of you. His roots grow out longer every day, his hair by now nearly equal parts gold and black. A spot of sunlight infiltrates the magnolia leaves and lands on his left eye, turning it the hue of melted bronze.

Your fingers drift to the sides of his beautiful face as you lean in close; he smells like a combination of smoky rose and tropical coastlines.

“I’ll tell you later,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his hairline. 

He is dissatisfied with this, hooking a pointer finger beneath your chin, guiding your face back to his. He laves the saltwater from your lips, your tongue, and then you’re smiling again, barely able to remember why you cried in the first place.

You rest your foreheads together. “Have I told you that you look like a bumblebee these days?”

He smiles. “Does that make you my flower, then?”

“Because you’re irresistably drawn to me?”

“No, because I wanna put my pollen in—”

You shove him away. “You are grotesque.”

He returns in a flash. “You love me.”

You kiss him again. And again. And one more time for good measure, during which you mumble I do against his lips, and then you remember something.

“Why did Coach hold you back, by the way?” You pull away, tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “Are you in trouble again?”

“No, no. The opposite, actually.”

Your brow furrows. “The opposite? What—”

“In this lifetime, please,” Mrs. Choi hollers from the chess tables. You roll your eyes. Hyunjin smiles helplessly.

“Duty calls, my love.”

“Tell me your thing later too?”

“Of course.”

You dust yourself off and stand up, making your way to the battleground. But not before you whisper to Hyunjin, “now watch me beat up a senior citizen.”

He laughs with his whole body, his eyes the shape of crescent moons, his mouth a little rectangle.

“Hypocrite.”

Hyunjin: [1 Audio Message]

This is my seventh take and I’m not recording an eighth. What you get is what you get. I don’t care anymore.

I understand if you don’t wanna talk about what happened at the arcade. I wouldn’t, either. I just wanted to say that you don’t have to do this tutoring thing anymore. I won’t be able to fulfill my end of our deal, so…yeah, it wouldn’t be fair to you. You’ve already done so much for us. For me.

As for team manager, you’ll have to talk to Minho and Coach Bang if you wanna quit. Doesn’t sound like a fun conversation, I know—but if that’s what you decide, I’ll have your back. They don’t scare me. Well, they do. Sometimes.

You’ve been…distant, this week. I’ve known peace and quiet for the first time since we met, and I fucking hate it. I realized I couldn’t care less if you’re my tutor or my team manager or whatever—I just don’t want you to be a stranger. Maybe that’s selfish of me to say, but I’m tired of pretending the idea of losing you doesn’t terrify me. It does. It truly fucking does.

I’m gonna end this here, because I almost just stopped recording on accident and I would’ve committed first degree murder if I had to do this all over again. Sorry that this got so long, and…I’m sorry about everything. You deserve better.

Come back to me whenever you’re ready, okay? I’ll be waiting.

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・@automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten・@newhope8・@weedforthoughtz・@hyunverse

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

[jeonjungkookenthusiast1997]

✧*̥˚ Bang Chan's Masterlist *̥˚✧

❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist ❣ Key: 🔥 - Smut | 💕 - Fluff | 💔 - Angst

Dinner Break | 🔥💕 ✧ Chan is the type to get completely absorbed into his work when he's focused, and sometimes he needs a little reminder to take a break to ease his stress.

Three's a Party - College AU! Chris/Reader/Changbin | 🔥 ✧ After studying your ass off for the semester, why not reward yourself with a party and your two favorite guys?

Work from Home | 🔥 ✧ On nights like these, you were thankful Chris was able to take his work anywhere he wanted.

Open Heart | 💕💔 ✧ When you don't know what to say or do, when life starts living you, you can always rely on Chris to bring you back.

Walking in on Roommate! Chan, Pt. 2 | 🔥💕 ✧ Random hard thought of accidentally walking in on your roommate, Chris, while he's masturbating.

Hair Journey | 💕💔 ✧ If he had to choose one thing he adored the most about you, it was your hair.

G'Morning | 💕 ✧ A short blurb about waking up next to a sleep-dazed Chris.

Get Nasty | 🔥 ✧ A short blurb based on the song Nasty [Extended Version] by Russ

A Pun-y Thanksgiving | 💕 ✧ A random thought about Chan and terrible Thanksgiving puns.

Double Tap | 🔥💕 TBA ✧ Chris could never have enough of you; your smile, your laugh, your presence, but sometimes his needs could be... inconvenient.

Cameras and Sweatpants | 🔥 ✧ Photoshoots, the gift that keeps on giving, and you welcomed it with open arms - and mouth.

Insomniac's Cure | 💕 ✧ A short blurb about Chan and a bedtime routine of mine.

Attention Seeking | 🔥 ✧ Asked: just imagine... chan not giving you attention and suddenly goes out...

Confiscated | 🔥💕 ✧ He was going a little too crazy on the new Fans app, and you would swiftly reign that energy back in.

✧*̥˚ Nothing Yet *̥˚✧

Swim Practice | 🔥💕 ✧ Chris, your best friend who picks you up after late night swim practices. Chris, your best friend who might just have a thing for your legs.

Words I Don't Mean | 💕💔 ✧ He just wanted to lose himself in you, instead he lost himself in his own mind - but you were there to bring him back.

Curious Cat | 🔥 ✧ Perhaps being curious wasn't all that bad.

Pup! Chan + Seungmin; Steals your stuff vs tattle tale | 🔥 ✧ Asked: Which one of these Pups is stealing your shit vs whos snitching on the other.

❣ Masterlist banners from @/cafekitsune ❣ Star banner from @/saradika

[jeonjungkookenthusiast1997]

Hi does anyone know what happened to Deni (@cosmic-railwayxo-deactivated202)? Definitely wasn't expecting to see her account deactivated 😔 I hope she's okay and I'm thinking of her!

[jeonjungkookenthusiast1997]

How I feel begging people to interact with my fics

[jeonjungkookenthusiast1997]

He's so fucking pretty 😩

🐺🫧240204

[jeonjungkookenthusiast1997]

I get dirty thoughts about you - Han Jisung

Summary: Y/N has been spending the afternoon in the studio with 3racha, once she realises that both Bang Chan and Changbin have fallen asleep she sees an opportunity to help her boyfriend relieve some stress 😋

Content Warnings: slight voyerism (Chan and Changbin are asleep in the room), face fucking, rough oral sex (m.receiving), messy oral (m.receiving), porn with very minimal plot, established relationship, cursing, pet names, slightly sub Jisung.

Word Count: 2K (2,385)

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It was a warm and sunny afternoon in Seoul and 3racha were sitting in the recording studio working on the new Stray Kids album, the trio had even invited Han's girlfriend Y/N over to watch them since they were the only people there.

Han was sat at the desk with Y/N by his side working on some lyrics while Bang Chan and Changbin were asleep on the large sofa at the back of the room snoring softly and leaning against each other, Han had already taken a few sneaky photos to post onto bubble later for Stay making Y/N giggle as he smiled mischievously.

Once their laughter had settled down and they had relaxed back into their comfy chairs, they noticed the room had gotten so warm that they needed to take their jackets off which had revealed Han's bare arms to his partner's eyes. She watched as beads of sweat fell from his fringe almost like she was watching him move in slow motion. Y/N always enjoyed watching her boyfriend work, she appreciated the amount of dedication he gave to the craft, often spending hours in this very studio and it often made her heart flutter at the love she felt for him today though things were different. She was enjoying watching him the same way she always did, today however she was starting to sweat under her thin t-shirt and it had nothing to do with the weather. Everything he did set heat flowing to her core, the way he stretched his arms above his head flexing the newly built muscles, the way his tongue swept over his plump bottom lip in concentration and what really put the nail in the coffin was watching his shirt lift over his toned belly. Her thoughts were now plagued with imagines of Han with his eyes screwed shut in pleasure as she kissed down his body.

Deciding to set her plan in motion, she kept her face as neutral as she possibly could while her hand made its way onto his knee. Y/N looked up to see his reaction but he kept his eyes focused on the laptop, smiling to herself she ups the ante by slowly trailing her hand further up stopping and his midthigh and squeezing a little at this Han smiles but his gaze stays firmly on his lyrics. Y/N keeps her hand in place for a few minutes lulling her unexpecting boyfriend into a false sense of security before she sets into action again, she keeps a firm but soft hold on his thigh as she moves her hand further up until she reaches his crotch. She keeps her eyes trained on his screen but can see from her peripheral vision than Han has stopped working and is now looking at her, his head is tilted to the side slightly in a manner so cute it almost breaks her composure "jagi?" He asks quietly "hmm?" She hums as sweetly as she can muster, turning to look into his soft brown eyes ``what are you doing jagi?" Y/N pretends to think over his words but simply shrugs "I don't know, what am I doing Sungie?" Han's eyes move from her face to where her hand rests on his body in an almost accusatory manner, he finally shakes his head after a few tense moments and looks back at his work.

With his attention firmly back on the laptop she takes a quick peek over her shoulder at Chan and Changbin, as she had hoped they're still fast asleep which means she can continue with her devious little plan. Y/N leans close to Han and gives him a soft quick kiss on the cheek making her sweet man smile, next she moves down slightly to kiss his jaw and finally kisses down his neck as her hand starts to unzip his jeans. Han almost chokes on his own saliva as he realises what she's doing, his eyes shift from her to the older men sleeping behind them "we can't jagi, my hyungs are-" she cuts him off quickly with a kiss "sleeping, Chan and Bin are sleeping they'll never know" there's a sensual smile on her lips as she watches his face "if you really don't want to that's okay Sungie" she trails off as her hand rubs over the material of his boxers showing his growing member, a shiver crawls down his spine at her teasing touches making all rational thoughts leave his mind.

Y/N leaves small red marks across Han's neck as she sucks the delicate skin into her mouth, she tugs his underwear down just enough to let his cock spring up so she can wrap her small palm around the base of his cock causing small whimpers to leave his lips "you'll have to be quiet baby" she giggles moving her lips up to his own to swallow his sweet noises. Han can't think straight, not when his lips are occupied with Y/N's, he takes a deep breath starting to lean into her touch as she moves her hand up and down his throbbing length "Y/N..." He mutters out, struggling to keep himself focused "jagi, I can't... your hand feels so good..." He says again with a soft groan. Y/N can't help the satisfied smirk that graces her lips as a bead of white precum leaks of out his red tip, she uses her thumb to swipe it over the rest of the head "if you don't keep quiet baby, the boys will hear you" she gives him one last long kiss swiping her tongue over his lip before she backs up her chair giving her space to move, she pulls Han's chair back slightly too as she moves to fill the space sinking to her knees as she looks up at him as innocently as she can manage watching as his eyes widen.

Han gulps as his shocked eyes watch her movements "Y/N..." Han's voice cracks a little as he looks down at her, his hands grip the arm rests on his chair tightly while his cock twitches in anticipation

"b-baby, I... I don't think this is a good idea" he whispers as he looks back at his sleeping friends. She hums in understanding as she nods her head "of course baby we can stop if you want" she rubs soothing circles on his bare thighs as her tongue pokes out to places soft kitten licks against the head of his cock licking up the beads of precum that have smeared over the skin "tell me what you want Sungie" she pulls back slightly waiting for his answer.

Han bites his bottom lip, feeling a mixture of nervousness and anticipation course through him "you know what" he gives his elder friends one last look "fuck it, I want you to keep going. Want you to take me into your pretty mouth..." he manages to stutter out. Y/N squeezes his thighs again softly while looking into his eyes "you sure?" She asks wanting to make sure this is what he wants "yeah," Han breathes out, his heart pounding in his chest "I'm sure, need to feel your tongue on me" he almost groans out as one of his hands comes down to stroke her cheek gently, at his assurance she gives him a smile as she returns her attention to his throbbing cock. Y/N leans forward placing kisses down the length of his cock starting at the head and moving down to the base, as she moves back up she rubs her tongue against the veins that run along the underside of his length swirling her tongue around the pink head of his cock.

Han's back arches off the chair slightly and his hands grip the arm rests on the chair tightly as Y/N's tongue laps over his cock. A moan escapes from him and he tightens his hand into a fist in her hair "God Y/N…" Y/N makes a tutting sound as she looks at him with sharp eyes "put your hand over your mouth baby, those sounds are for me only" a soft whine leaves his slightly swollen lips "sorry jagi..." Han mumbles with a smile on his face, placing a hand over his mouth as he watches Y/N suck his cock head into her mouth, licking her tongue over his weeping slit before taking him deeper into her mouth. His hips jerk forward as she bobs her head up and down on his cock, moaning into his hand with his eyes scrunched shut.

Y/N moans quietly as his length fills her throat, she works him slowly inching more of his cock down her throat. She uses her tongue as much as she can, licking around his length as she bobs her head faster, Y/N places her hand at the base of his cock holding firmly as she twists her hand to stimulate the parts of him she hasn't taken into her mouth. Han's head rolls back as Y/N takes more and more of him into her mouth, his hips bucking forward pushing deeper into her throat. The hand covering his mouth squeezes his cheeks together as he tries to muffle his moans, eyes closed tightly in pleasure. Steadying her breathing as best she can as Y/N relaxes her throat, moving her head down as she takes his whole cock down her throat gagging as his cock head prods the back of her throat. Y/N builds up a steady pace as she bobs her head, she moves her hand to grip his thighs as she keeps herself in place.

Han's breathing quickens as Y/N works him over, his cock throbbing in her mouth. He grips onto her hair tighter, pulling her further down onto him. His hips jerk forward, grinding against her mouth as he feels himself getting closer to his peak. The hand holding onto the arm rest slides down to grip onto the seat of the chair, fingers curling into the fabric as he watches Y/N take him so deep into her throat. From the way his hips jerk upwards and from how he's almost biting down on his fist Y/N can tell he's close, she bobs her head in a faster rhythm taking him as deep as she can without choking herself.

She can feel her saliva pooling at the sides of her lips and dripping onto his thighs as they shake, she pushes her head forward causing her to gag making her throat constrict around his cock squeezing and encasing it in the warm wetness of her mouth. Han's eyes roll back into his head as he feels the intense sensation from Y/N's actions. He grunts through clenched teeth, his body tensing up "Y/N... so close..." He warns her in a hushed whisper, his voice strained and needy. Y/N hums letting the vibrations rumble along his cock, she can taste his precum leaking onto her tongue as he gets closer to cumming. Y/N grabs both of Han's hands and leads them to her hair encouraging him to fuck her throat "Y/N..." Han groans, his voice rough and full of desire. As Y/N guides his hands to her hair, he grasps onto the strands tightly, using his hold on her head to thrust his hips forward and deeper into her throat. Han quickens his pace as he feels his high approaching "jagi... jagi...I'm gonna cum" he whines as quietly as he can. As Han gives a last few shaky thrusts before cumming Y/N keeps her head firm at the base of his cock using her tongue as best she can to lick across his balls "Aghhh~ Y/N... I'm cumming!" Han whimpers, tucking his chin into his chest to muffle the sound, unable to hold back any longer as he cums. He grits his teeth and thrusts into her throat one last time before his hips jerk forward and he empties himself completely into her mouth.

Y/N looks straight into Han's eyes as she swallows every drop he gives her, sticking out her tongue to show him it's all gone then she begins using her tongue to gently clean up his spent dick licking up any stray drops. Han pants heavily, his eyes locked onto Y/N's as she swallows and cleans him up. A mix of pleasure and relief washes over him, leaving him weak-kneed but satisfied "fuck Y/N" he laughs softly as a moan tumbles from his lips as she cleans him up.

Moving quickly Y/N stands up as Han tucks his softened member into his boxers and zips up his jeans. Once he's decent he pulls her into his lap placing kisses all over her face and neck "God Y/N, you're amazing. I think you just sucked the stress out of my dick" Han giggles against her neck, his face flushed with the memory of what just happened, still breathless from the pleasure she had given him. He nuzzles his face into her neck as he whispers "I love you" he places a kiss on her forehead as she mumbles back a quick "I love you too Sungie" Han pulls Y/N into a heated kiss, he starts with her lips then moves to her neck nibbling on her earlobe as he whispers into her ear "I'm going to fuck you until you scream when we get home" Y/N's face flushes as she feels her panties sticking to her thighs, her own arousal high after making Han cum so hard. The quiet of the room is interrupted when Chan's phone starts to ring loudly making the two older men jump up suddenly "shit I need to take this' ' Chan mumbles as he leaves the room. Changbin rubs his eyes with his palms as he starts to wake up fully "you get much done quokka?" He questions making Han and Y/N's cheeks turn red "actually hyung we're heading home, have a good day" he answers quickly before he grabs Y/N's hand pulling her out of the studio leaving behind a very confused Changbin to finish up the work in the studio.

Lovely banners by: @/saradika 💙 @/cafekitsune 💙

[jeonjungkookenthusiast1997]

That clip haunts me in the best way, he looks SO fine 🥵

chan walked out of jyp building holding his crotch??? ELABORATE

I can't find the video.... 😭 Basically it's blonde Channie, and him and the boys left some building, Chan's at the very back, and all the other boys are bowing and greeting and he comes out COCKY as hell, sticking his tongue out and laughing and a HAND is on his CROTCH like that typical fuckboy cocky style of walking that makes me want to fucking eat him. If anyone has that link please send it to me so that I can reblog this with the link present.

[jeonjungkookenthusiast1997]

I'd happily let him keep me as a pet 🤭 I mean look at this man 🥵🥵

[jeonjungkookenthusiast1997]

Hi hi! I just wanted to send this in cause I wanted to say thank you for all of your lovely comments on my fics! I see them and read them all the time but I forget to reply to them all the time so yeah-

Thank you for reading and commenting, I appreciate your feedback and seeing your reactions, and I love seeing your username pop up in my notis 💖💖 I hope you have a good morning/night!

Hi! 😁 Seeing this made me smile so much 🫶🏻 I absolutely love your fics and have for a while now! In between work I'm steadily making my way through your masterlist so I apologise if I end up spamming your notifications 😂 I always try to leave at least a little sentence saying thanks, I know how important it is for motivation + we do get all your hard work for free. Sending you my love and I hope you have a lovely day 💖💖

[jeonjungkookenthusiast1997]

My goodness this was so wholesome ☺️ skz really would be the best pack ever especially to raise a child in, the thought alone makes my heart burst 🫶🏻 would love to see more from the pack in the future if inspiration strikes 😁 Thank you for your lovely writing 🩷

hey kacii boo 💞 i have a request if that’s okay?

hear me out ☝️

a/b/o OT8 skz x omega reader and reader finds out she is pregnant? the boys start noticing her acting different and she accidentally leaves a pregnancy test on the counter, causing the boys to see. When she gets home, the boys sit her down and talk to her about it ending in group cuddles from the boys 🫶🏻

I'm in love with this, truly! ❣ Word Count: 1.9k [I did not mean to type that much] ❣ Warnings: A/B/O Poly! SKZ x Omega! Reader, pregnancy, angst if you squint, mention of birth control, fluff, comfort ❣ Additional Tags: Mentions of Chris being an alpha, Felix, Jisung and Hyunjin being omegas as the only specific pack roles, no clear mated pairings within the pack but it's sort of Chris x Reader centered toward the end

It would begin with the most intuitive of the pack members noticing your extremely slight deviation from your usual routines - Felix.

He was a fellow omega, like Jisung and Hyunjin, but he was the most aware of everyone's trends and habits; which meant it was immediately apparent to him that something was wrong when you start doing small things like wearing pajama pants around the house as opposed to your favorite, work out pajama shorts.

Eventually, the small things he noticed began to grow into big things that the rest of his pack mates would catch onto, such as the way you turned away your favorite snacks when Changbin offered them, or the way you couldn't seem to stand the smell of Seungmin's shampoo though you spent countless nights washing his hair with the same product before. There was even one night where you snapped at Jeongin when he tried cuddling up to you when you least expected it, then immediately started crying because you felt bad.

Since that night you'd resorted to staying in the "guest room", which was simply a spare room for anyone who needed their own space for some time - which was highly disliked by each of your pack mates, but they wouldn't take away your decision.

One day, when you were out running a few errands, Minho was the brave soul who would venture into your temporary room to do a bathroom sweep to clean and take out any trash. What he didn't expect, however, was the waft of an overly sweet scent overwhelming his senses the second he opened the door - nor was he expecting to stumble across a plastic pregnancy test on the counter.

When you walked through the front door, reusable bags in hand, you were met with eight pairs of eyes staring at you, freezing you in place as you stared back with worried confusion.

"Um... Hi?"

The mix of scents usually eased you, but with the thick layer of anticipation and worry threaded throughout, you weren't sure what to expect.

"Kitten, can you come sit with us for a minute?" Minho offered softly as Changbin was the first to stand, walking over to take the bags from your hands and bring them to the kitchen for the time being.

Left with no other choice, you walked into the living room and sat in the empty space between Felix and Hyunjin; Jisung sliding onto the floor to rest against your leg while Jeongin and Seungmin settled against the opposite, before Changbin filled the space behind Hyunjin while Minho remained next to Felix.

Easing into the comfortable, impromptu cuddle puddle, you figured the impending discussion was going to be simple until Chris stood before the group - directly in front of you.

"Love... You know you can tell us anything, right?"

You bristled at his cautious tone, though the feeling of Hyunjin's hand grazing against your own eased your guard. "I know I can - what's this about?"

"You've been acting different lately, and at first we just thought it was because of a period, or a new symptom of your heat coming up, but then you started avoiding food and smells, and isolating yourself from us." Chris tried his best to keep his tone level, to keep the authority that swelled within him at a tolerable value, but his unwavering gaze showed all of his emotions. "Then Minho found this-" reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out the same device that had thrown you into a panicked fit, so much so that you had to leave the house for a sudden errand run, "-and it all started to make sense. Why didn't you tell us you were pregnant, love?"

A pang of shame shot through your heart like an arrow, and judging by the disheartened whines from the boys immediately around you, they already felt the shift within you.

"We aren't upset, Jagi," Jisung pouted up at you as he nudged your thigh with his nose, round eyes filled with love.

Hyunjin nodded against your shoulder, bringing your hand up to press a soft kiss to the back, "We're just worried about you, muse."

A shivering breath rattled through you as you blinked back hot tears, looking up at the eldest, the head alpha among your unlikely pack.

"C-Chris, I- I don't-" You sniffled, cursing the tremble in your voice, "I wasn't trying to keep it a secret, I swear - I knew something was different but I didn't want to assume anything until I took the test last night and-" Biting back a sob, you felt a soft touch against your cheek - Minho's hand wiping away a stray tear. "I just... I didn't know how to say it so I went out to clear my head and figure out the words to say to you - to everyone because I- I'm not sure who got me pregnant! I didn't even skip my birth control, for fucks sake!"

This wasn't planned - despite a few discussions here and there about the potential idea of introducing pups in the future, none of you had done the true mating bond to solidify who would be the one to directly grow the pack with you, and the stress of it all had pushed you to isolation without you even realizing until you'd moved yourself to the guest room.

"Bunny, please take a breath for us." Changbin pleaded, leaning over so you could have a clear view of his comforting gaze, "You know none of us would be any type of hurt over who's pup you're carrying, not when it's the miracle of you being the one bearing them. It doesn't matter who did it, we'll figure that out when the time comes, all that matters is you being healthy and cared for - no more isolating."

"Bin's right," Chris piped up once more, drawing all attention to him with ease, "all we want to do is make sure you're okay - no matter how sudden this is, I don't think any of us weren't aware of something like this potentially happening. None of this is anyone's fault, none of ours and none of yours, you hear me?"

Nodding softly, you smiled at the subtle sensation of Seungmin squeezing your calf in a hug of sorts while Jeongin nuzzled against your thigh.

Minho cleared his throat softly, leaning forward to take your free hand within his, "I... I didn't mean to intrude on your privacy, Kitten - I would never look through your things without you knowing, and I'm sorry for not going to you first."

You squeezed his hand, looking at him with warm, glimmering eyes, "It's okay, Min, I know you meant well - I'm not mad at you at all. Honestly, it would've only been a matter of time until someone clocked it was pregnancy, anyways."

"You do have a new smell, Pup." Seungmin muttered from the floor, Jeongin nodding alongside him.

"Felix thought you were falling out of the pack - Chan had to talk him off the ledge," Jisung laughed, earning a few chuckles from Changbin and Hyunjin at the recollection of the memory.

The blond whined, lips pursed into a pout, "I was worried we did something wrong! I'm sorry I'm the only one who thinks of these things!"

Cooing, you nudged the side of your head against his, "It's okay, Lixie, there's no way I'd ever think of leaving any of you, you guys are my home."

He hummed softly, and you could feel the cuddle puddle slowly begin to set in but there was one final thing missing before you could truly feel at ease with the situation.

Untangling yourself from the tangle of bodies and arms, you made your way toward the eldest who was watching the scene with warm eyes and a soft smile - something he'd taken a liking to doing when he thought he wasn't being watched.

Without a moment to spare, you wrapped your arms around his middle, melting into the familiar mahogany and coconut scent as his arms wrapped around you in kind, securing you in a natural protective hold.

"I'm sorry for worrying you, Channie." You murmured into his chest before leaning back to look at him, "And I'm sorry for not saying anything when I first felt off, I genuinely didn't think it could've been this."

"You don't have to apologize, baby, you were only doing what you felt was right at the time." Pausing for a moment, he studied your face slowly, "I know this whole conversation was a lot to throw at you so soon, but I just want to make sure... Are you okay with this? Do you want to have a baby right now?"

You nodded before he could even fully finish his second question, "I'm sure - I know I was scared on how to say it, but I never felt scared about not being able to take care of this baby, not when I have the world's most amazing pack to raise it in."

It was the truth, there wasn't a single doubt within you that made you believe that having a pup would be difficult in the pack - it was a possibility, a thought that had been floated around enough to start considering the full mating process, and now was the time to turn that thought into a processing reality.

A deep rumble vibrated through Chris's chest and he ducked his head in an attempt to hide away from the blush that had already consumed his ears, the sound making you melt against his body and draw the attention of the seven boys watching from their seats.

"Someone's happy to be a dad," Hyunjin teased with a grin, earning a scoff from Minho.

"Who says it's him?"

"I'm just saying it cause of his reaction! Technically we're all dads until she gets a scent tie, so why can't I place my bet now?"

Jisung groaned, "Placing bets on a baby is so inhumane... I bet it's Changbin's."

"What?! Why is my name in this now? What if it's Jeongin's?"

The youngest made a sound that could only be best described as confused shock as his head shot up to look at the man, "Listen, I'd be honored, but I can say for a fact it wasn't me! I'm too young to be a father!"

"That's not what you were saying when-"

Chris cleared his throat with a pointed look, "Okay, how about we not have this debate and go cuddle and think about dinner, yeah?"

With that, the mini crowd dispersed in a jumble of comments, heading down the hall toward his room since - in an ironic retrospect - that's where the biggest bed was put.

As the living room grew quieter, he looked at you with warm eyes, "I have a feeling it's mine."

You laughed in shock, hitting his chest lightly, "What happened to 'let's not have this debate', Mr. Bang?"

"It's not a debate! It's just a... speculation, a theory, if you will." He murmured softly, leaning down to press his lips to yours in a quick kiss. "Now come on, the last time that combination went into my room, they turned my bed into a wrestling ring and I just found a replacement for my lamp online."

Letting him lead you down the hall, a soft smile settled onto your lips as your free hand came to subconsciously rest over your stomach - the pride of the new life growing within you and the one changing before your eyes filling you with a new sense of optimism and anticipation.

[unedited]

[jeonjungkookenthusiast1997]

Again with the first part really enjoyed these, absolutely love that Han's started as a dare 😂 and Felix was just because he wanted to no financial burden to tend to, that's a valid reason too and so very Lixie 😂

Camboy!SKZ Headcanons | Maknae Line

❣ Summary: What it would be like if the SKZ boys were camboys? An idea brought on by @onmykneesforchanlix ❣ ❣ Warnings: Camboy AU, kink discussion [mommy kink, pet play, orgasm denial, begging, overstimulation, deception], sex toys ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Slight crack energy for Jisung, Felix is hinted at having an interest in a certain camboy. ❣ Hyung Line ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist ❣

Jisung

The people’s princess, quokkasungie, honestly started his account on a drunken dare. Yeah, really.

His very, very, first video on his account - that’s still there to this day - is a video from that same fateful night, a poorly recorded, slightly out of focus video of him jacking off with unabashed moans and desperate whimpers for a release.

Very unceremonious and unplanned, but for some reason it got views and he liked the attention - even if hearing himself as desperate as he was still makes him turn redder than a tomato.

As an upgrade to his procedure/setup, he invested in a webcam to add to his desktop computer, which provided his viewers a better view to his bedroom and bed - his personal stage.

His content is very much viewer interactive, his pleasure hinging on the messages sent in from the anonymous users as they guide him through the session; sometimes allowing him a straight through orgasm, while other times forcing him through orgasm denial after orgasm denial, getting drunk off of the needy whimpers and whines from his putty lips.

He owns a few toys, between 3 or 6, and the ones that make the most appearances in his lives are his pretty pink [viewer gifted] dildo, and matching cockring.

Is friends with leeknowswho and had one stream where he [Minho] was the one guiding him through his live session - it was one of Jisungs highest viewed lives to date and people still beg him to have another session with the mystery man.

Felix 

Introducing the content king who has everyone falling to their knees, the freckled fairy sunshinebokkie!

He started camboying because, well, he wanted to! There’s no grand story about his motivations for it, other than it was something he wanted to try for the sake of trying it, much like most of his other hobbies. At some point this side hustle sort of became more of his main job, while his main job became a part time gig.

Since he had previous experience in streaming/social media, doing this was basically a walk in the park, just with the added bonus of showing off his dick and hole to thousands of horny beggars. It’s empowering in its own special way.

His streams are diverse in content, ranging from streams simply for him to get off, streams where he showcases the “sponsor of the month” with the toys they’ve sent for him to try out, to themed scenarios his viewers voted for him to act out, and even streams where the viewers control how and when he could pleasure himself.

Speaking of toys, he has a collection that would make a pornstar blush; normal dildos, dragon dildos, silicon grinders, vibrators, buttplugs, nipple clamps, cockrings [vibrating and metal], a cock cage - he even has a goal for a fuck machine stream [per the request of his viewers].

His viewers always rave about wanting him to collaborate with other streamers and he always replies with the same flustered laugh and sparkling eyes, “I don’t even think it works like that, guys! You just want me to get fucked by someone, don’t you?”

They do, and they know he wants to, too - especially when he went on a horny ramble about a certain body building cammer before fucking himself into multiple orgasms and overstimulation.

But he can’t fold that easily - not yet at least.

Seungmin

Onto our textbook camboy, the guy who started camboying with the intent of making money off of his dick, minmong00.

Working a dead-end job making coffee from morning to afternoon wasn’t his ideal way of living, especially when he had bills to pay and hobbies to feed. He also knew that he was a generally attractive guy, at least, that’s what he garners from the longing stares he catches from time to time - so, why not use it to his advantage?

Starting an account wasn’t hard, nor was trying to decide what he wanted to market his content as - the hardest part was, surprisingly, trying to stick to his morals in not selling himself off too much to pander to the horny viewers.

Now, hear me out.

Camming automatically comes with a sense of selling some part of yourself for the pleasure of other people - he knew that, he understood that - but the way people genuinely begged him to make certain types of content with more than generous tips had him heavily reconsidering his limits.

Textbook camboy meant textbook camboy; he had the webcam setup, he only showed off part of his bedroom [only enough to get him fully in the webcam’s view without having to shift much], and he was on for the goal of reading a few messages, pandering to a few donations, busting a nut, and signing off.

Some days he didn’t even read comments, acting as if he weren’t even live as he got himself off, though he’d always make eye contact with the camera and moan about how good it felt.

Other times he would concede to viewer requests; he bought a vibrator, a small thing that looked like bunny ears [aptly called a rabbit, he’d discovered], he did boyfriend service [only once the donation goal was reached], he even ventured into mommy kink territory.

The thing requested of him the most - much to his chagrin - is pet play content, specifically him in a dog getup with puppy ears and a collar, and as much as he tried to portray aloofness to the suggestions, he can’t help the tingle of curiosity at the thought of leather wrapped around his neck.

Expanding his content couldn’t be too bad, right?

Jeongin

Last, but definitely not least, we have our dearest Jeongin, also known as yjinout.

His journey as a camboy sort of wrote itself, thanks to his sharp features yet youthful appearance he was often regarded as a newbie to the sex world; looking to use camming as a way to explore himself under the eager eye of many.

He’s diverse with his content to an extent, mostly trying out things he plans himself but he does take into account some recommendations from the chat when he feels like spicing things up.

Now… if innocence were a genre, he’d be the king of it - from the way he timidly smiles at the webcam, eyes turning into crescents, to the light touches he gives his leaking cock, almost as if he’s not sure when to start or where. 

Everything he does is with an air of unfamiliarity and the curiosity to look for more, and the reaction of when it turns out to be something he likes? Oh, the tips start rolling in.

However, Jeongin isn’t as innocent as his viewers like to view him as - far from it, actually. It’s deception, a game; letting them get off on the idea that he hasn’t had his name screamed to the heavens or even been the reason behind an orgasm that leaves you twitching for more.

He knows some viewers catch on, he can see their comments get drowned out by the influx of praise and “advice” on how to make himself feel good, and it only makes him harder, moan louder as he fucks the brand new fleshlight gifted to him.

Most of his toys are ones gifted from his account’s wishlist, and so far he’s the proud owner of nipple clamps, a fleshlight, and a cockring - it’s not much, but for a newbie such as himself, it’s a good place to start, yeah?

❣ I shit you not, this took me so long to do because I couldn't for the LIFE OF ME decide what trope fit each guy, but I think it turned out pretty well, if I do say so myself. ❣ ❣ Any type of feedback is appreciated! Whether it be a simple like, reblog, or keyboard smash and the most essay-like comment, feel free to share your thoughts. ❣

[jeonjungkookenthusiast1997]

Obsessed with the idea of camboy!skz, I mean they're all absolutely stunning as it is. I really enjoyed that you could feel the differences in their personalities as I read through them I think they were so well written 🫶🏻

Camboy!SKZ Headcanons | Hyung Line

❣ Summary: What it would be like if the SKZ boys were camboys? An idea brought on by @onmykneesforchanlix ❣ ❣ Warnings: Camboy AU, kink discussion [daddy kink], sex toys ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Slight crack energy, Chan is referred to as Chris, Changbin is a gym buff ❣ Maknae Line ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist ❣

Chris

His username would be something painfully simple, like cb97xx or xxWolfChanxx, he’s never escaping the early 2000’s username tropes, I’m sorry.

Started camming to save money for music tech, and he was gonna quit once he earned enough money but he slowly found himself getting hooked on the praise of thousands of unknown faces.

At first he didn’t show his face, keeping the content to shoulders and below, but one night he gets up to turn the stream off and they catch a glimpse of his lips and there’s a rapid fire of tips flooding in;

Would give anything to have those lips on me

What the fuck what the fuck??? Those lips?? So biteable??

Bubblegum pink, new favorite color

From then on, he kept his camera at an angle just high enough to keep his lips in frame.

Definitely finds himself pandering to the daddy kink side of the internet and ends up developing the kink for himself [this is a lie, he knows he’s had it since before the cam boy streams, but who really needs to know that?].

Loves when his fans comment on how good his hands look bc he doesn’t find them appealing himself, but if hundreds of people are begging him to choke them, how could he deny it?

Paints his nails by the recommendation of his subscribers each month, and it turns him on even more when he’s camming and jerking off with his freshly dried polish.

Wants to grow his community and isn’t shy about collaborations with other creators because baby boy is just a social butterfly - no matter if they’re clothed or naked in front of thousands.

Ultimately treats his lives like a genuine livestream, even if his dick is leaking precum in his fist.

Minho

First off; username is leeknowswho, convince me otherwise - man did not care about his username in the slightest

Only made an account to support his other streaming friend, quokkasungie

But when he saw the money he was raking in, he decided to throw his hat into the ring because “Getting off in front of a camera? How hard can it be?”

Spoiler alert - very.

Extremely, when you don’t even use a webcam.

The first few streams were experimental, a black screen with the subtle sound of him jerking off and breathing into the mic - that is, until he read out a chat asking for a description.

“What? So needy you can’t imagine it for yourself?”

Apparently the chatter liked that, and so did a grand number of people after that on his next stream.

Thus, the leeknowswho degradation corner was born, and it’s been a hit for two years and growing.

Constantly teases his viewers, toying with them that maybe one day he’ll turn on his camera, and even going as far as setting a donation goal for him to do so - but the limit is never reached since he often takes part of the money to donate to charities.

“You’d rather see my dick than an organization help get stray kittens off the streets? Yet I’m the fucked up one?”

Sometimes he goes live and doesn’t even jerk off, just doing an asmr stream teasing and degrading and toying with his fans, getting a kick out of the ones actively using his voice to get themselves off.

He’s a menace but the people love him.

Changbin

BinnieDwekki or Dwekkisgym, I really can’t decide but he definitely gives off cute username vibes.

Genuinely wanted to use the platform as a way to document his growth from working out, but of course using a camboy website probably wasn’t the way to go about it.

Has a whole room for his setup - though in reality it’s just his in-home workout room, but who really needs to know the truth - and takes pride in showing off his whole body.

He worked hard for those muscles, why wouldn’t he want to flex in every angle?!

Blushes at the chat messages where people say they want him to choke him with his biceps, or squeeze their head between his thighs until they pop like a watermelon.

Blushes even more at the chats praising his physique and wondering how someone with such a cute face could have such a killer body.

The first time he pulled his dick out on stream was when he was showcasing some of the workouts he does on the daily; the adrenaline and built up energy from his preworkout giving the chat a glorious reveal of the thick outline in his compression shorts.

Fuck choking me with your arms, choke me out on your cock

There wasn’t much left to the imagination, and with the addition of that chat message he figured that maybe taking care of the problem on stream wouldn’t be a bad idea.

And boy, was it the best decision he’d ever made.

If his fans weren’t on board for the strained grunts and breathless groans from him working out on camera, then they definitely were for the dick that looked just as beefy as he was.

His version of being a camboy is probably the most wholesome out there, ranging from motivational talks and advice moments [while shirtless, of course] to being stark naked and jacking off after a live workout session.

Hyunjin

Another one who signed up with intent - and hear me out.

He wanted to use the money to help get him into art school, but after seeing his first major check after the span of a few months, he figured he could get on well without it.

Username is princehhj, he knows how to pander to his features which helped him grow a fanbase like it was nothing.

Has been camboying the longest out of the hyung line.

He also has a set for his streams, but it’s just a corner of his art studio where he has a cozy little couch where he can stretch out on [in more ways than one].

His streams usually involve toys of various types; silicon grinders, fleshlights, buttplugs, dildos - his collection isn’t one to joke about, only using his hand got boring after the first week of streaming.

Most of the time he doesn’t even have to be doing anything explicit, simply sitting there with his pretty black hair tied back into a ponytail, a bottle of lube and a toy or two sitting right beside him is enough for the donations to come rolling in.

His favorite toy to use is his tenga egg - the stretchy plastic egg fits perfectly in his palm and doesn’t take too much concentration to use, which makes it easier for him to read his chat and reply as if he’s not touching himself.

Aside from the toys, however, he may also have one or two sets of lingerie that he brings out on milestone streams as a treat to the scream [and himself]. Nothing too wild, just your simple lace panty set and garters, and the chat goes wild for it.

Can you truly blame them though? He’s the prettiest prince out there.

❣ Any type of feedback is appreciated! Whether it be a simple like, reblog, or keyboard smash and the most essay-like comment, feel free to share your thoughts. ❣