staytinyarmy

[staytinyarmy]

Dolly VIII

~ part 8 of the Dolly series

pairing: chan x afab!reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff, sci-fi

synopsis: running from the past brought you right back to the beginning.

wc: 10.2k

warnings: paranoia, nightmares, struggles with being infertile, mentions of blood, violence and death, unprotected sex

a/n: this is what y/n's dog looks like

~ divider by @bunnysrph

You were tossing and turning in your bed as the scenes unfolded in your tortured mind. It was the same thing over and over again. The white walls, the tall ceilings, the lab coats, the whirring sounds, the dead emotionless eyes, the clacking of nails against keyboards, the big water tanks with silhouettes of something floating inside them.

Sweat covered your entire body as you struggled to remember just what the hell this place from your dreams was. You were standing there in the long corridor that seemed to shrink and elongate the longer you stared at the heavy door at the end of it. You were wearing a lab coat and gloves and your shoes squeaked against the perfectly clean and scrubbed floor. Your footsteps were slow and heavy, like you were struggling against some force as you walked, appearing to be in slow motion.

Then you heard it.

A scream, rippling through your body and making the hairs at the back of your neck stand as it echoed in the empty corridor. You realized then that it was you screaming, right before your hand touched the door handle.

Your eyes snapped open and you sat up abruptly, your breathing ragged as little beads of sweat rolled down your face. Your hands clutched at the cover around you, holding it in a death grip as you tried to anchor yourself and take note of your surroundings. As if on cue, your dog Asher appeared by your side, his big paws pressed on the mattress as he let out a few inquisitive whines, his head tilting left and right. You let out a little chuckle as your breath evened out and you started petting Asher.

"It's okay, it was just a nightmare." you said and cuddled your dog as he nudged his head against you.

You've had Asher since he was just a small baby and being a bullmastiff he grew into a very big and heavy dog, perfect for someone like you, someone who was living alone and surrounded by the forest. You felt uneasy being alone there but you didn't trust any humans so a protective dog was something you needed by your side.

A sweet and loyal friend like Asher whose entire world is you.

You gave him a few more loving pets before you stood up and went to your bathroom to splash some cold water on your face. The nightmares plagued you for years and the worst thing was that you had no idea if they were real or not. There was an entire chunk of your memory missing, a good three years of your life gone like they never existed. You could only remember bits and pieces but not the entire story. It was as if someone wiped your memory off, like they didn't want you to know something. All you knew was the fear and the anxiety that grew inside you after losing your memory.

You couldn't stand being around people, it made you feel crazy. It was as if they were out to get you, someone, someone was following every move you made, listening in on what you said, what you did. You couldn't trust anyone, not even your loved ones so you left it all and disappeared from their lives without any trace.

You only had a few people who knew your phone number, and that was your mother, your sister and one friend you still somewhat trusted. You rarely talked to them anyways, focusing instead on your dog and your house. It was an old little cabin in the woods and in the last three years you've been here, you worked on it every day, repairing it and tending to your garden, growing your own vegetables and fruit. Even though you couldn't remember those three years missing from your life, you remembered the time before. You knew you were tech-savvy and that you worked for some pretty big companies.

But none of that could ever explain the huge amount of cash in your bank account. You had no idea where the money came from but it was enough for you to live a comfortable life and not have to work ever again. Still, you weren't a big spender, you enjoyed the simple life.

Taking walks with Asher, swimming in the lake, working around the house. Those were your simple pleasures. Yes, sometimes you'd mourn the life you had before. The relationship you had, the man by your side who promised to love you until he found out that you were 'broken' as he said during a heated argument, the venomous words leaving his lips and shooting you straight into the wound that hurt the most, the fact that you couldn't have children, something you yearned for your entire life. The moment your doctor gave you those news, you felt like your entire world came crashing down. And when the man you wanted to spend your entire life with pushed you even further down with his words and the pity in his eyes, like you were less of a woman, it was the last straw.

The last straw after struggling to remember where your nightmares were coming from, why you had this growing paranoia inside you that made you alert of every little sound and every stranger who looked at you for too long, why were you punished with something you wanted so badly being taken away from you.

You left without looking back.

Years later and here you were. Enjoying your peaceful life, the nightmares were plaguing you less and less as time went by. You wrote them all down in a little diary, hoping that maybe one day you'd be able to remember what was ripped away from you. Some days you thought it was better that you didn't remember anything, maybe it was something so horrible that you were better off not knowing what it was. Of course, being a technology lover you had to have a computer, but you were careful about any public accounts you had, changing your name and hiding your location. You didn't want anyone to find out where you lived but you still wanted to be aware of what was happening around you.

"You wanna go for a walk?" you asked Asher as soon as you got dressed, putting on a tracksuit for comfort and easy movement. Your dog perked up immediately, barking happily as he jogged towards you and started pushing you lightly with his head. A series of chuckles left your lips and you grabbed your little bag with a water bottle and snacks for Asher along with a banana that would serve as your breakfast for now.

It was a nice chilly morning, the sun rays were peeking through the trees as you locked up your house and started walking on the familiar path you always took with Asher. He was happily walking along, sniffing around and enjoying the fresh air with you. The sounds of the forest filled up your soul, the birds singing in the trees, the breeze rustling through the leaves, the distant waterfall. It was all so peaceful and you wouldn't trade it for anything.

But, the uneasy feeling you had during your nightmare hasn't left you ever since you woke up. What was behind the door? What was the significance of the number eight? It was written on the door with black ink bleeding down the metal and seeping onto the floor.

There was eight of them.

~

Again. The nightmare was happening again. It was the same long white corridor, the same heavy door at the end of it, the same number eight painted in black ink. Your footsteps were heavy as you struggled to reach the door, to turn the doorknob. A metallic smell filled up your nostrils the closer you got to it and you realized it wasn't black ink sliding down the door, it was dark red blood. With a gasp you gripped the doorknob and swung open the door.

Loud barks brought you back to reality. It took you a moment to realize you were on the ground in the forest, your nails digging into the earth beneath you as you stared up at the trees, seeing Asher hovering over you and barking, nudging you with his head.

"Did I faint?" you questioned out loud, immediately clutching onto your dog who seemed happy and relieved to see you awake even though he was still barking confusedly. "I'm okay, Asher."

As soon as you returned home, you dialed your mother's number.

"Hello?" her familiar voice rang from the other side of the receiver.

"Mom?" your voice came out shaky.

"Y/n?! Oh my god, Y/n!" your mom almost cried out in happiness. "Where are you? Are you coming back home?"

"N-no, I-I can't come back. I can never come back. I just... I just called because the nightmares are getting worse. I thought it was getting better but-"

"That's why you have to come back home and get the help you need. Please, let me be there for you. We'll find someone you can talk to." your mom begged and you could hear the sniffles. She was crying.

"I'm sorry, but I can't. They'll find me." you whispered, looking over at Asher who was finishing his meal. "I have Asher here, I'm not alone."

"I know you love your dog but-"

"I have to hang up now. The call can't be longer than a minute and we are going over that frame of time now. I'm sorry, I love you mom." you said quickly before hanging up. You clutched the phone in your hand and stared at it as your breathing got faster. You needed to write everything down in your diary.

You remembered your friend who you haven't heard from in a long time. She always mentioned some company called BIMT to you but the name meant nothing, you tried and tried but you couldn't remember. Not that and especially not someone named Helena who was apparently the person who opened up the institute. Your heart sped up as you started turning the pages of your diary.

You were always afraid of finding out the truth but something was telling you that it was time for you to make some effort to remember more.

You sat in front of your computer a few days later, hands clutching at the end of the table to stop them from shaking. The nightmares were becoming too much again and on top of the fear they kept feeding inside you, Asher was barking at a particular tree in the forest every time you took the same path for a walk.

It was making your paranoia rise so you started taking a different route. Asher didn't bark at any empty spaces there but you still couldn't shake off the dark feeling following you everywhere. Your hands hovered over the keyboard, it was time to see what this so called Helena looked like.

You typed her name into the search bar and immediately upon seeing her picture come up something twisted in your stomach, gnawed at your insides and made you want to vomit. Disgust filled you up and you quickly exited the page. Did you know her? You must've, judging by the strong reaction your body had upon seeing her. You wished you could remember more, know what happened to you.

You had asked your loved ones and all they knew was that you were working on some secret project at BIMT and that one day you came home completely disoriented, not even remembering your own name, as if you were in some sort of trance. You spent ten days in the hospital stuttering and speaking nonsense about some dolls and about a dead body you apparently saw. They had no idea what the hell you were talking about or what you were doing at the institute, no one knew what went on in there since it wasn't made public.

It left you feeling so frustrated.

You went about your day, trying to shake off the weird feeling of being watched. You managed to get rid of it once you moved out of the city but lately it started coming back. As if half asleep you went through the motions of your usual day; walk with Asher, cooking, cleaning, working around the house, the garden, taking a relaxing bath. And before you knew it night had fallen over the forest, the darkness enveloping the trees and whatever lurked behind them.

You cuddled up in your bed, feeling content under the blankets and with Asher sleeping on the floor next to your bed on his blanket. You knew you were not safe in your dreams though and you dreaded falling asleep. You tried relaxing as much as you could, starting with that bath you took, to now having a little night light and some soothing incense burning in your room. You hoped you'd have calm dreams or rather that you won't dream about anything tonight.

But you were wrong.

Once again, you were in your lab coat walking slowly through the white corridor towards the big metal door. The number eight was still bleeding slowly towards the floor and suddenly you were standing in front of the door with your hand on the doorknob. Something inside you screamed to turn around and leave but you turned the knob and swung open the door. The scream that left your lips echoed all around you. Helena was laying on the floor in an unnatural position, her skin looked bluish and her eyes have almost completely lost their spark.

"Helena!" you screamed and ran towards her, your hands hovering over her body as you had no idea if you should touch her or not.

"Please, keep them safe. Don't let anything happen to them." she grabbed your hand weakly, giving you the key you always saw her wear around her neck. "Give this to Chan when you can. He'll know what it's for." she spoke between breaths and then her hand dropped as you clutched onto the key.

"Hey, grab her!" you heard voices yelling and footsteps running down the corridor and you snapped your head towards them to see a few androids coming towards you with their hands reached out to grab you. You stood up and tried your best to fight them or dodge but they grabbed you and one of them held a huge injection in his hand, lifting it up. You felt a sting in your neck and then there was nothing around you but a black void.

In the darkness, you saw him, your ex looking at you with pity in his eyes. Mocking you, pointing at you, the loud sound of cackling coming out of his mouth, echoing around you and making it seem like there were more and more people surrounding you and laughing at you.

"Stop it! Please, stop it!" you screamed, covering your ears with your palms and shutting your eyes tightly as you begged for the laughter to stop.

You woke up abruptly to the sound of the phone ringing and Asher barking at the device as you breathed hard, your body heated with a thin sheen of sweat over your skin. You stood up quickly and ran to the phone, your hand trembling as you picked it up.

"H-hello?" you shivered at the sudden coldness enveloping your body after you left your heated bed.

"Y/n!" a chirpy voice sounded from the other side and you sighed in relief, it was just your friend.

"Oh, hey." you cleared your throat and opened up your fridge to find a cold water bottle.

"Are you sitting down? Cause you won't believe what I have to tell you." she started and you rolled your eyes, thinking it was some drama she found out by hacking someone's account. You took a big swig of water and sat down as Asher came towards you, letting out a few barks.

"I'm sitting down, what is it?" you inhaled slowly and looked up at the clock, it was a little later than you usually wake up and Asher was probably ready for his walk.

"I know you worked at BIMT and I know you don't remember it but they just recently launched a line of eight sex dolls and well I got one. Long story short, he is sort of alive. And I suspect all the others are too, I hacked into his code and Y/n, it's something that I've never seen before. This code, it's alive. It changes with activity when the doll talks and thinks. It's like the code has a mind of its own and the dolls have conscience, they're not just robots, they feel, dream, think and wish. I don't know who else to ask for help except you, maybe you'd even remember something or know how they were made and why. And what happened to Helena, who is in charge now... Please. The first doll made was Chan, I think you should get him."

As she talked, you felt your body trembling and your ears ringing with the anxiety rising inside you. It was like your dreams, there were eight of them, Helena was there and she spoke about someone named 'Chan'.

It was all too much.

"So, can you take Chan? I think we might have a chance of helping the dolls if you do. Since Jisung was 'sleeping' and supposed to just be used as a sex doll, then the other dolls might be struggling too. I don't think it's right. Maybe they're not completely human... but their heart is beating. They hurt, they feel. They think. They don't deserve to be mistreated."

You thought for a moment and despite all the nervousness shaking you up, something nagged at you to say yes. You felt like you needed to help them, like you held the key to discovering just what was happening in the mysterious institute.

"Fine. I'll help them. I will take Chan." you paused. "What do you hope to achieve once I get him?"

"I'm working on a plan. I'll let you know." your friend said and you exhaled.

It was a lot to process and you knew you'd have to face your past and your fears if you wanted to help these dolls. Asher barked loudly, jumping up and almost knocking you from the bar chair you were sitting on. You let out a chuckle, giving him a few pats.

"We're going for a walk now, don't worry."

As soon as you stepped out of the cabin, taking in the greenery around you and inhaling the fresh air, your mind started to calm down. You took the new route you've been walking on recently, leading to a nice clearing where you could play with Asher. For a moment there you forgot about Helena, BIMT and the dolls and your soul was at peace.

But as soon as you got home and gave Asher some food, you sat down at your computer and opened up the site with the dolls. Upon seeing them, something fluttered in your chest. Especially looking at the Chan and Minho doll. They seemed to stand out to you, their faces seemed the most familiar. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you could see what the Chan doll looked like while smiling. A shiver ran down your spine as you hovered your mouse over his picture. You were really doing this.

A week later, you climbed in your truck with Asher on the passenger seat as you went to pick up the package. You had it delivered at the nearest post office which was a twenty minute drive. You didn't want to order the doll directly to your house, it was too risky. Driving there was soothing, the nature around you and the empty road made you feel like you were the only person there, as if it all belonged just to you. Asher was also happy to be on the passenger seat, his head stuck out the window as he enjoyed the wind.

The package was very large as you expected and the worker helped you get it in the back of your truck. The drive back home was fast.

Somehow, you managed to get the big box in your living room with Asher's 'help' aka him running around your legs, barking at the box and sniffing it and almost making you drop it on your feet twice.

"Asher!" you chuckled in frustration, playfully petting his head before you looked down at the box. Your chest felt tight suddenly and you tried to calm down your breathing as you placed your hand on your heart and started taking deep breaths in.

"Let's do this." you nodded, determined to start facing your past.

After opening up the box and removing the bubble wrap, you came face to face with the doll called Chan. His face, it was familiar and it brought up fuzzy memories and feelings that you couldn't quite put your finger on. You stared at him for a moment before picking up the paper in the box.

Hello,

My name is Chan and I am your protective doll.

I love creating music, working out, spending time in the nature or at the beach. I mostly wear black clothes, making me look like some sort of bodyguard. But don't be intimidated, I'm gentle on the inside.

I am used to taking care of others, so every now and then I need someone to lean on and take care of me as I tend to forget myself.

I hope you'll be the one for me and that you'll come to love me as much as I love you!

It was freaky, the way the doll 'spoke' inside the letter like it was alive. You swallowed as you stared at it, Asher scaring you with his sudden barking. He seemed to be excited, his tail wagging as he jumped around the box and barked at Chan.

"You like him, don't you?" you asked Asher and he kept on barking as if to answer your question. "Alright, I trust your canine wisdom." you laughed and kneeled down to keep unwrapping the bubble wrap. You noticed another paper sticking from the pocket of Chan's jacket so you picked it up.

Hey there, my peach!

I dressed a little nicer for our first date.

I'm looking forward to spending time with you, I hope you are excited too.

"Peach?" you chuckled and shook your head with a slight smile.

You had no idea what to make of all this, you wished you could remember more and know just how you were a part of this and why did Chan dolly seem so familiar to you?

You knew your friend would call you with the plan she had come up with and in the meantime you didn't want to mess with the doll too much, your paranoia made you overly cautious. Thoughts swirled in your mind; what if this was some kind of set up? What if the doll comes to life during the night and hurts you? What if they put a tracking device inside the doll and now they'll find you? The androids from your dream, they were working for someone very powerful, that's what you knew. And someone with so much power could do all sorts of things... But then again, your memory was wiped somehow and the huge amount of cash in your bank account almost seemed like an apology.

You shook your head and decided to put Chan in the guest room. You were too afraid and confused, filled with so many emotions that were swirling inside your gut, rising up and almost making you throw up. You needed to get your mind off of things so you laid Chan dolly in bed with Asher following behind you and sniffing the doll curiously.

"Let's go." you said to Asher and shooed him out of the room before glancing at Chan one more time. With a sigh you closed and locked the door, too afraid to be too close to the suspicious doll. If only you could remember your relationship with it, maybe you'd be more at ease. Right now, you only had more questions in your mind.

You decided to go about your day, working in your garden and around the house, keeping your mind occupied and away from all the anxieties that were swarming in your brain. Hours passed and you were finally in bed, too exhausted to even keep your eyes open. You remembered that Chan dolly was in the next room suddenly and for some reason a feeling of comfort washed over you. You knew him. You were becoming more and more sure about that.

~

Chan sat across from you in a chair with some kind of machine hooked up to the back of his neck, the cables leading to your computer as you typed. He watched you quietly with a hint of curiosity in his eyes while you worked. There was a steady beeping sound filling up the room together with the sound of your fingers hitting the keys on the keyboard. You looked up at him and he gave you a small smile.

"Has the buzzing subsided?" you asked.

"Yes, it's almost gone." he answered.

"Helena will be glad to hear that." you nodded and typed in a few more parameters before Chan spoke up again.

"Is it true that our mother is sick?" the question made you stop in your tracks. You slowly lifted your head from the screen and looked at the confused expression on the doll's face.

"Yes, sadly it is true." you answered, watching as he tilted his head left and right while processing what you said.

"Will she be okay?" he asked, his eyes big and innocent. You sighed, there was still so much to do, so much to add to the code, to feed to the algorithm. He needed to expand, the artificial cell growth needed to be accelerated for everything to work as it was supposed to and mostly for the vision Helena had. It was one hell of a task and you were a part of it, the brilliant team she put together.

"We don't know yet." you answered truthfully.

"Who is doctor Park?" Chan asked suddenly, making you jolt a little.

"How did you hear about all this?" you asked him, leaning back in your chair.

"O-on accident." the doll seemed to become nervous. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I was walking by Mother's office and I heard her talking on the phone, saying how she is sick and that there is a doctor Park trying to take away her project, make it into something different."

"Shit." you cursed quietly.

"Did I do something wrong?" Chan asked, the doll showing fear and anxiety on his face. You looked back at the screen of your computer, noticing how beautifully the code was developing and changing on its own. It truly seemed like some kind of magic.

"No, no, you didn't do anything wrong. Everything is okay, Channie." you reassured him with a kind smile which he returned, his brows smoothing immediately.

"I like that nickname." he said thoughtfully.

"Yeah?" you let out a chuckle, the doll expressing something like that was new which meant that everything was developing just as it was supposed to. Now, if only you could help Helena somehow, know that she'll be okay and keep away doctor Park, then everything would be perfect. And the dolls would be ready to be introduced to the world soon, make a life for themselves along with humans.

~

Your eyes snapped open and you blinked a few times, realizing that the sun was rising, the first rays peeking through your window. You sat up in confusion. That wasn't a dream, it was a memory.

You were indeed working at BIMT alongside Helena, helping her out with the dolls. You knew Chan and he knew you. But you still had no idea about the rest of the details like how they were made, what was their purpose and what was your specialty. You couldn't remember what role you played exactly but it must've been something important. You stood up quickly, Asher joining you, already excited for his walk. But before that, you had to check on Chan.

Your hand shook above the handle of the door, the images of the bloody door in the lab from your nightmares flashing in your mind. You shook it off and opened the door. Chan was in the same position you left him and you stood on the doorway for a moment before tentatively approaching the bed.

"Hello. I don't know if you can hear me and I feel more crazy talking to you than I already did before. But I'm gonna help you. I'm not exactly sure how but I know that everything will be okay." you tried to talk to the doll and calm yourself at the same time. Chan didn't move or say anything so you sighed and left the room.

You were still waiting for your friend to tell you what her plan was.

It's been exactly 22 days since you got Chan and there was no changes in his state, he seemed to be completely frozen in space and time. You put him in your living room for a while which proved to be a mistake since Asher wanted to jump on top of the doll and play with him constantly. He couldn't understand why something human-looking ignored him and didn't pet him or play with him. You laughed at your dog's cuteness even though you were nervous that he'd accidentally break Chan. So you put him back in the guest room where he spent those days since you got him.

Your memories were coming back in snippets and you were sure that this doctor Park that kept being talked about in your dreams was an evil person and that the androids who worked for him, the ones that injected you with something when you found Helena's body may be following you or listening in on your phone conversations.

But there was no other way to communicate with your friend. And she had finally called you with her plan. Most of the dolls were already sold out, it was a craze. She wanted you to wake Chan up first like she woke her Jisung dolly up on the computer for her plan to work.

And for some reason you were too afraid to do that.

She called you again two weeks later, when you were losing your mind with torturous nightmares and jumbled memories that you couldn't place in order or even understand what half of them meant. You were losing grip on reality, you had no idea which dream was just that and which one was a memory that actually happened to you.

Your paranoia grew and you needed help.

"Hey there, friend! How's everything going with your dolly? Did you wake him up yet?" your friend asked after calling you.

"Not yet. I'm scared to." you answered, looking out the window.

"Just do as I did. He'll wake up just like Jisung did. And speaking of Jisung, he really wants to see Chan."

Your breath got caught in your throat. People coming here, finding out your address, knowing where you lived...

"I- I don't know about that. What if you get followed here?" you panicked as all sorts of thoughts started swirling in your mind. "I don't want them to find me."

"Who is 'them'?" she asked but you couldn't even explain it all to yourself.

"I can't say. They may be listening, may know Channie is here. I can't risk it anymore, I can't!"

"Please, just calm down! We need to help the dolls, and no one can do it but us, do you understand that? I know that you're scared but trust me, okay?" you heard the desperation in her voice and you knew there was no one else who could help her and the dolls but you.

You sighed and turned around, nervously picking at your clothes.

"Alright. But if something happens-"

"Nothing will happen. Well, nothing bad. I promise."

You weren't very reassured but you knew there was no other choice.

It was time to wake Chan up.

~

You were sitting in front of your computer, one end of the cable already hooked into it as your shaky hand held the other end. You hesitated as you stared at the usb opening on the back of Chan's neck. There was no more time to waste, you had to do this now.

You hooked him up finally, opening up your terminal and typing. Your friend told you exactly what to do to open the code and when you finally had it in front of you, it seemed familiar. You gasped as you looked at the lines of code, it was as if you knew them in your heart. The code was beautiful, so intricate and different than any other program you worked on. You found the factory reset loop and looked at Chan one more time before clicking it.

You waited for a few moments as nothing was happening and the only sounds you could hear was your heart beating in your ears and Asher's little sigh as he dozed off on the carpet. Suddenly, the doll's cheeks reddened and his eyes watered as he gasped for air. You jolted and Asher lifted his head immediately, barking at the doll.

Your eyes widened while you watched it all unfold as he started breathing, coughing, his skin becoming flushed. Chan looked confused and scared for a moment before his eyes landed on you and they mirrored your expression, widening as he stared at you.

"Y/n?" his voice was hoarse.

"C-Channie?" you gasped, you couldn't believe that he remembered you.

Asher was already all over Chan, sniffing him and barking at him, his tail wagging happily. Chan smiled at your dog despite the craziness of the situation and his total confusion. You grabbed a water bottle and gave it to Chan.

He was really alive and you were in complete and utter shock.

"You remember me?" you asked as you fidgeted with your fingers. You had no idea what your relationship with him was other than the little snippets where you saw yourself working on his code, still never being able to see clearly just what you were typing.

"I remember everything." he said and you gasped again.

"E-everything?" you stuttered as you kept staring at him. Chan started petting Asher who was now sitting by his side, trusting him completely, it made you feel at ease.

"Don't you? You don't remember me?" he asked.

"Only bits and pieces. I think my memory was wiped. Helena-"

"I know, they killed her. Well he ordered it, doctor Park. And his little androids did all the dirty work."

"Please, help me remember. I have no idea what I was doing exactly at BIMT." you pleaded, feeling like you were on the precipice of something big.

"You were working on the development of the code, specifically you were specializing in our mental state and sometimes about physical problems we'd feel like buzzing in our ears or itching. We used to come to your office to talk to you and you'd give us tests and then check at the development of the code. You spent a lot of time with me and Minho, we were your main patients so to speak."

"So I was like a counselor or psychologist? But I don't remember ever taking any courses in that... I just know I am good with technology, I know I went to college as a developer. I can't remember much else about my education. And then I remember being with my ex and working for a few different companies. Lately, I remembered working at BIMT and talking to you mostly, but I have no idea what happened overall since I started working there until I stopped. It's frustrating."

Chan nodded as he listened to you speak.

"I would be frustrated if my memory was wiped too. But it wasn't, not like the other dolls' memory was. Because Helena gave me something that would help me remember, she knew what doctor Park's intentions were. She couldn't stop him because she was too weak and sick and we didn't know who to ask for help. Doctor Park scared most of the team somehow, I have no idea what he threatened them with but you were one of the ones that stayed the longest. Though I guess that Park did a lousy job of wiping memory if you are starting to remember things." Chan explained.

"That he did." you let out a chuckle of disbelief, your head was swimming with so many questions. "What did Helena give you to remember?"

"She gave me a usb stick with some code and I used it to protect my memory."

"Were we close? You and me, I mean." you asked after a pause.

"Yes, you were always like a friend to me. You treated us like... Like we were human. You took into consideration our thoughts and feelings. You and Helena were the only people we really felt safe with. I mean, the rest of the team was okay too but they treated us as if we were products." Chan leaned back in the chair as Asher settled down next to him, continuing his nap that was interrupted earlier.

"Wait, so how did this happen? All of you 'sleeping', becoming sex dolls?" Chan blushed slightly at that.

"It was doctor Park. I don't know which modifications he did to our code but we were all unable to move after some time, after Helena died and all the old team was gone, only the androids were left and they worked on us. I just hope my brothers don't remember that part." Chan trailed off, looking at the ground. "Do you know where they are?" he looked up at you.

"I know only where Jisung is. My friend has him, actually she is the one who asked me to get you and help you out. She has a plan on how to help all the dolls break free. We just need a way to contact the other doll owners."

You explained to Chan what the plan was and he listened intently, sitting silent for a few moments before he spoke up.

"I have an idea."

"What is it?" you tilted your head at him.

"We gather everyone in one place. That would be the easiest, wouldn't it?" Chan asked and you nodded.

"Yes, but how would we do that?"

"Simple, we add something alarming into my code, like a mistake and it'll get the attention of BIMT and they'll come get all the dolls. Let them know I'm awake, that we all are even if some of them aren't awake yet."

"Can it hurt you?" you asked and Chan smiled a little.

"No, it will just be like a warning to the institute, I think it's safe to do this."

"Let me call my friend and discuss with her." you said and he agreed.

It was one hell of a long phone call, you forgot about the fact that someone might be listening in as you put her on speaker so Jisung could hear Chan's voice, the poor guy broke down and started crying after talking to Chan, making you feel even more determined to help the dolls break free.

The plan was set and you were ready to make BIMT and doctor Park pay.

The fresh breeze drifted through the leaves and grass, bringing the sweet smell of flowers towards you and enveloping you in a kind of calm state of being. You watched as Chan ran around the field with Asher, throwing him a stick they'd found and Asher running back to bring it to him.

It's been a week since you woke him up and despite all the fears and doubts that tormented you, having him near you and sharing your private sanctuary with him felt natural, as if he's been there forever. You felt safe and protected, Asher loved him and you had someone else to talk to except yourself and your dog. Chan turned to look at you as if he knew that you were thinking about him and gave you that blinding smile that made your heart flutter.

Come evening, Chan and you were sitting down on the couch with Asher by your feet and once again you grabbed your journal and opened it up. For the last few days, Chan has been helping you remember, at least the things he participated in or knew were true. You could then eliminate dreams and expand on the memories, especially if he was there to witness them first hand.

"Hey, what about the key that Helena gave me? In my dream, she gave me that key she always wore on a necklace around her neck and said to give it to you, that you'd know what it was for." you asked Chan.

"She gave you the key?" Chan smiled, looking excited suddenly.

"She did. It's in my nightstand."

"Y/n, that's amazing! The key is for the safe in her mansion. There's money in there, her will, all the documents and papers containing information about us, how we were built from the very beginning to the last code. The instructions on how to build dolls that look and act human is inside that safe and you are holding the key." Chan said as he grabbed your hands excitedly.

Your body warmed up, both from the news and from the contact.

"Everything we need to know is in there? Which means, whoever gets the papers can make more dolls like the eight of you?"

"Yes and just imagine what could happen if it fell into wrong hands." Chan said and looked down at your hands in his, thumbs gently caressing your skin and soothing you even though your heart was fluttering. "We need to find Helena's mansion."

"You don't know where it is?"

"No, some information was scattered among us so they can't find everything out or it would be harder for them to do so. I believe that Jeongin is the one who knows locations." Chan said, still holding onto your hands and you were getting incredibly hot. It's been a long time since you had physical contact with another human being, someone who could hold you and soothe you like he could.

"Making him sound like GPS." you chuckled and Chan let out a laugh before his eyes landed on yours and he tilted his head.

"I'm so glad we found each other again." he said and you swallowed, feeling a little shiver running up your spine.

"Channie... Just how close were we?" you asked cautiously. The fluttering in your chest and stomach increased as your heart sped up and you watched his cheeks heating up.

"Honestly? Very close, I- I kissed you once. Which was very wrong because you were taken but you were so upset that day. You just found out the heartbreaking news that you couldn't, you know." he trailed off as you stared at him confusedly so he continued. "That you couldn't have kids and you got into this huge argument with your ex and started crying while explaining everything to me. And I just couldn't stand to see you so upset so I confessed my feelings and kissed you." Chan said, biting on his lip nervously as he tried to read your expression.

"Back up just a second. I told you about not being able to have kids while I was working at BIMT?"

"Yeah, you found it out not too long before all the shit went down."

"But I thought I found that out after BIMT. Because I remember when I woke up in the hospital and had no idea what happened to me since I worked my last job before that to the moment I opened my eyes. And my ex was there, and we were together for another year or so. And during that time I found out I couldn't have kids." you talked confusedly, trying to connect the dots.

"Wait, what if he had something to do with it?" Chan gasped.

"With what? Me not being able to have children?"

"No, your loss of memory."

You sat there thinking for a moment. If only the two of you knew about your problem while you were still at BIMT and then your memory was wiped before you found out again that you can't have kids...

"That bastard made me go through this horrible shit twice!" you stood up abruptly, anger rising up inside you. "He knew and he was somehow involved and the fucking asshole made me hear the most terrible news twice, take the same hit twice. Fuck!" you kicked the coffee table angrily and Asher barked, confused at your sudden outburst.

"Hey, hey." Chan stood up and wrapped his arms around you. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's not your fault. I should've known, I should've been more careful."

"You can't really blame yourself either, this is obviously something bigger than us. Someone orchestrated all of this and that someone is probably doctor Park. He was after us since the beginning, after Helena's money and legacy. We need to bring him down, find some dirt on him and expose him." Chan talked as he caressed your back in soothing circles.

"Let's work on that code then."

~

In the evening after you bid good night to Chan, you were left alone with your thoughts. Asher slept by your bed as always, watchful of you, giving you the physical sense of security you needed. But your mind was a bad place, everything was starting to connect. All your memories were coming back more detailed and intense, your work with the dolls, how you took care of them, how it felt as if they were your friends, how much effort you put into it all alongside Helena and the rest of the team. How your ex was very secretive and had weird phone calls and would disappear during the weirdest hours, always coming up with some sort of work excuse. Your blood boiled with anger as you felt that you were used like a puppet for whatever grand scheme was happening behind the scenes.

It was infuriating, feeling like your hands were tied back then and how you couldn't stop or change what happened. But, there was still time, the last hope hasn't died yet. You sighed as you tossed and turned in your bed, you needed comfort. You needed Chan.

You remembered spending time with him too, how sweet he was and how fond he seemed of you. Not only did you help him out, but he helped you out too, he was someone you could talk to about anything. You knew it was probably crossing the work relationship between the two of you but you couldn't care less. Chan made you feel good, he made you feel seen and heard.

So you remembered that day you cried to him and the way he kissed you like you were everything to him. A wave of warmness travelled through your entire body and you stood up, leaving Asher in your room as you went to the guest room and knocked gently on the door.

Chan wasn't sleeping either, his mind was also reeling with everything that was happening and his worry for the rest of the dolls grew. He just hopped they were all protected and in the hands of good people who would come to love them and take care of them. He hoped to see them once again, all together like they were once before in Helena's mansion.

"Come in." he said quietly and you walked in, closing the door behind you. "Can't sleep?" Chan added and you shook your head.

"I just keep thinking about everything. All my memories are coming back to me and now I can see more clearly than ever that I was just used for Park's plan." you sighed, sitting down on the bed.

Chan didn't hesitate pulling you into his embrace. You froze for a moment, all the years of isolation and swearing to yourself that you'll never let anyone close were making you want to run away but the warmth of his body and the need for someone to comfort you overtook the anxiety and you let yourself melt into him.

"I keep thinking about everything too. Especially my friends, I'm worried that someone who bought them might be treating them badly. I just hope they're okay." Chan said, a worried expression on his face.

"At least we know that Jisung is okay. And I'm sure whoever bought the other dolls is treating them well. I don't think someone would spend so much money just to throw it away."

"I guess but you never know with people. I just want us to be reunited again."

"Then we will do everything to make that happen." you said and wrapped your arms around Chan's waist. You pressed your head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat.

"Stay here tonight." Chan whispered into your hair and you squeezed him tighter.

The feelings you had for him before were coming back to you, even if it was forbidden or wrong back then, you couldn't help what you felt in your heart. You wanted him.

You looked up at him and desire grew inside you as his eyes roamed all over your face like he was trying to take in every single detail that makes you up. You sat up and grabbed his face, crashing your lips into his without any hesitation. Chan's eyes widened for a moment before he recovered and gripped your waist, kissing you equally as passionately.

Everything disappeared except the two of you, your hands roamed on each other's skin, tugging at the clothes, tongues explored each other's mouths and your hearts started racing fast in unison.

Your hands roamed under his shirt, touching the taut muscles as his hands gripped at your bare thighs, pulling you closer and making you grind against him. You groaned into his mouth, feeling his hot bulge pressed against your own heat and you couldn't help grinding harder against him, jolts of electricity running through your body. It's been so long since you felt wanted and you already couldn't get enough of him.

Chan's hands slid under your shirt, caressing the soft skin on your back and sides as he slowly made his way to your breasts. Your breath hitched when he grabbed them and started massaging them, his thumbs running over your sensitive nipples as his tongue explored your mouth.

You gripped the hem of his shirt and Chan broke off the kiss so you could take his shirt off. Your eyes roamed all over his figure, the wave of warmth inside you growing even hotter. He smirked a little and you gripped at your shirt, taking it off too. He grabbed at your body and swiftly turned you over so you were under him. A gasp escaped your lips as he manhandled you easily, hovering over you.

"I've wanted you for so long, Y/n. You're the only person who made me feel this way ever since I first saw you." he spoke and you shivered, gripping at his shoulders and pulling him down closer to you.

"Please Chan, I need you."

Hearing you say that made his entire being flutter, all he wanted in that moment was to feel you completely, to make you his. His lips travelled down your neck to your chest, paying special attention to your sensitive nipples as he slowly slid your shorts and underwear down, leaving you completely bare and vulnerable.

You spread your legs almost automatically, you needed him more than anything, you needed that connection you've been missing for a while. Chan took off his sweatpants and boxers and you whimpered as you looked at his cock, hanging hard between his legs, dripping and throbbing for you.

"It's been a while..." you trailed off and Chan nodded understandingly, his fingers pressing against your clit and moving in circles. You moaned, feeling yourself getting more wet and shivering as he played with the most sensitive part of you, his fingers sliding down to gather your wetness ocassionally before going back to your clit. His lips were everywhere, worshipping your skin and making you melt into the bed. He slowly pushed two of his fingers inside you as you gripped at his arms, feeling him opening you up and preparing you to take him.

You lost yourself completely in that moment as he brought you to your high quickly after finding that special spot inside you. You were already overwhelmed but you needed more and Chan was getting impatient, he wanted you more than anything.

When he finally started pushing his length inside of you, your entire body felt as if it was on fire and you held onto him as he groaned into your ear and gripped your hips tightly.

"So tight." Chan groaned as he filled you up and you clenched around him, your insides fluttering at the feeling. He paused for a moment, letting you adjust as his hands slid up and down your waist. You wrapped your arms around him and arched into him, needing him even closer. He slowly started to move and your legs wrapped around him, pushing him in deeper.

"I dreamt about you for so long." Chan groaned.

"Yeah?" your brain wasn't even registering completely what he was saying, your senses were focusing on the way his length dragged against your velvety walls.

"The thought of you kept me going in that place. Wishing I'd see you again one day." Chan confessed as he gripped your hips, moving languidly inside you, making you feel every inch of him filling you up.

"I'm sorry I forgot you." your nails dug into his upper back and you let out a moan as the tip of his cock pressed into your sweet spot.

"I'll make sure you never forget again." Chan whispered into your ear before thrusting harder into you and your legs trembled as you held onto him, your eyes rolling back. You completely melted into the feeling of him while he rocked your entire body as you clawed at him. You desperately needed something to hold on to and your nails were dragging up and down his back, leaving red angry marks but Chan loved it. He gripped your hips, getting completely lost in you as you clenched around him and let go while he fucked you through your high and chased his own.

All the pent up feelings got released when Chan exploded inside of you, filling you up and you whimpered at the feeling and the bliss that settled inside you. Both of you were taking a moment to come down to Earth when loud barking from the other side of the door scared you.

"Oh, Asher." you chuckled and Chan let out a snort.

"He'll need to wait for a moment." he added, getting up and making his way to the adjacent bathroom. After both of you cleaned up and got dressed you let Asher in. Your dog barked as if you had abandoned him and betrayed him and only calmed down after both of you gave him pats and called him a silly little pup, even though he was far from little.

He slept next to the bed like always and you slept in Chan's arms, blissful and loved.

The next few days were tough, you and Chan worked on the error code that would draw the attention of BIMT, consulting with your friend and Jisung at the same time.

The day you wrote and perfected the code, you knew that in the moment you activate it, everything will go into motion.

"Let's have a day just for us, forget about all of this." you told Chan, the fear and uncertainty gnawing at your stomach. You had no idea how everything would turn out even after you had planned out everything carefully. You didn't want to be separated from Chan ever again and he felt the same.

"Let's go see the waterfall." he nodded with a smile. You had promised him ever since he woke up that you'll take him there, together with Asher. So, the two of you got ready for the hike as it was a little far and Asher was excited as soon as he heard the word 'walk' come out of your mouth.

The nature around you was exactly what you needed, the fresh air and the song of the birds as you walked alongside Chan, Asher running in front of you and sniffing around. It was a perfectly spent morning, making you forget for a moment about all the shit that went down and was still bound to happen.

As you got to the waterfall, you took a few photographs with your camera, focusing on how beautiful Chan looked when he was happy and simply existing, noticing how soft his eyes would become as soon as they landed on yours.

"Do you think everything will go over well?" you asked as you stared at the mighty waterfall, the water splashing down loudly. Chan wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly.

"It has to. My brothers will be saved, BIMT will go down and nothing will ever separate us again." he spoke into your ear gently before kissing your cheek.

You hoped he was right even if it sounded too good to be true.

So you savored the moment, his embrace, Asher running around with his stick and the beautiful waterfall in front of you, just in case it would be the last memory you'd have to hold on to.

~

It was happening. BIMT had been warned about an error and the site closed after leaving notifications about the dolls being discontinued indefinitely. You were waiting for your friend's call, expecting your phone to ring any moment, but what you didn't expect was a knock on the door.

Your mind swam with possibilities, going to the darkest places immediately, thinking they had found you and were here to grab Chan and take him away from you forever. Asher barked at the door threateningly as Chan stood beside you.

"Does anyone else have your address?" he asked.

You thought back to the time you were leaving the city. The only person you trusted the most was your niece. You weren't that much older than her, only a decade since your half-sister was much older than you and had her daughter young. You weren't really on speaking terms with her and were much closer to your niece who was more of a sister to you than your own. You remembered giving her the address to the cabin in case of any emergencies. You looked at Chan and swallowed.

"My niece, it could be my niece but it means that something bad happened." you shivered and the knock came again.

"Let's just open the door." Chan tried to reassure you.

Your hand gripped the handle as Chan stood beside you protectively, Asher on your other side. But when you opened the door, you weren't expecting three figures standing there, all three of them familiar to you.

"Hi, auntie!" your niece chuckled and you stared at her and the two men beside her completely flabbergasted.

"Hyunjin? Seungmin?" Chan gasped in disbelief to which they reacted in shock too.

"Chan? What are you doing here, bro?" Hyunjin laughed, tears of happiness and disbelief brimming in his eyes as Seungmin muttered a silent 'what the fuck?'

"Wait, you're a dolly too!" your niece gasped and you were pinching yourself just to see if this was a dream or not.

"You're just in time. This is insane. Come on in." Chan said with his eyes still wide, rubbing your arm to bring you back into the present.

The phone rang and you jolted, quickly grabbing it and answering it, it was your friend as you expected.

"Did they come get him?" you asked quickly, motioning for everyone to settle down as Asher jumped around them and sniffed them.

"Yes. I did as we planned. Is Chan ready?" she asnwered.

"Oh, he is ready. You should get here as soon as possible."

"Fuck yes!" your friend laughed and you shook your head.

"Uhm, but..." you trailed off and stopped pacing, looking at everyone in the living room, chattering and hugging each other.

"Yes?"

"We have company." you said.

"What company?"

"Someone who can help us a lot." you smiled and she chuckled and gasped the entire time while you explained what just happened.

You just hopped that your plan would work and that doctor Park would pay for all the shit he has caused. But most of all you wanted Chan and the rest of the dolls to be reunited.

It was time for action.

@moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @moon-ttokki-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @schniti-is-in-the-house @hwangjoanna @sona1800 @channiesrightasscheek @justwonder113 @yvettemint @inaribu00 @httpdwaekki @possum-playground @ria-april @yn-x-them @mariahxrrera @0omillo0 @halfwinterhalfuniverse @cooldeermagazine @delulkpopstan143 @todorokiskitten @compersian @azxulskz @stayp1eceposts @minniesverse @skzdreamer13 @0325ale @j-ji-jia @shannthewriter @mhluvie @my-neurodivergent-world @hyyunjinnn @spookybuttsstuff-blog @pancake-freckle @felixsbrowniesarmystayengene @minhooofr

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[staytinyarmy]

𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐲 ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

(𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞)

— in which, like stated, he calls you clingy

(i do not think they’d act like this, i just needed the angst lmao. also there will be a part two hehe)

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

@velvetmoonlght

[staytinyarmy]

my gamer boyfriend

[staytinyarmy]

The Boy Next Door │ 7

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader (featuring all of skz except seungmin)

warnings: swearing, suggestive dialogue, angst, crack, fluff... think that's it?

word count: 2.7k

synopsis: chris returns to seoul and is coming to reality with how difficult being with you physically might be. prepping for the second part of the tour, he comes up with some new ideas and you surprise him with some news of your own.

note: sorry it took me a while to get this one out - was trying to figure out how to move forward. i have tons of thoughts for things further down the road, but hopefully you enjoy this one in the meantime. thx for reading :)

Masterlist

The overnight flight back to Seoul from Australia was grueling, over 13 hours of travel time door to door.  Chris had gotten used to the non-stop flight from Sydney years ago, but now with the extra hour plus flight from Melbourne at the beginning of his trip, he was starting to come to terms with the reality of their unfortunate logistical situation.

The idea of a quick, turn-around jaunt over for the weekend would be hard to manage once, let alone on a frequent basis.  Being in the middle of the tour, literally across the globe from where you were, would make it even that much more difficult.  

The only benefit Chris could come up with from the long flight home was that it gave him time to write.  Despite the luxe seating in business class and the capabilities of reclining his seat to sleep, his brain was working on overdrive.

Once his flight landed at Incheon shortly after 9am the next morning, Chris asked his driver to take him directly to the studio.  At this point, he was running purely on adrenaline and hadn’t slept since leaving your apartment almost 24 hours before.

Dropping his carry-on in the corner of the room, he fell back into one of the overstuffed chairs at the producer’s table with a heavy sigh.  Glancing to the clock on the wall out of the corner of his eye, he calculated he had about two hours before his bandmates would show up and any hope of focusing would be out the window.

Those two hours went by in the blink of an eye before Changbin and Han burst through the door, arguing over whether the receptionist's name in the front was named Ji-yoo or Ji-goo.  

“Han, seriously, who would name their child intellect and?  That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard… her name is absolutely Ji-yoo, you moron,” Changbin chided, looking at his phone as he stumbled into the space.  

Han groaned, tired of arguing with his friend but glancing over to the table he saw Chris passed out.  “Hyung,” he said quietly, grabbing Changbin by the sleeve of his shirt, giving it a soft tug before he pointed over to their leader.

Slumped over the desk, with his cheek to the notepad below him, his lips parted just slightly and the tiniest bit of drool slipping out his mouth, Chris was out. 

A few other voices became audible from the hall as I.N. and Hyunjin came in shortly after and Changbin turned to them quickly, lifting his finger to his lips to quiet them down.  

The four of them stood there by the door, looking between each other and Chris, trying to decide what to do.  His sleeping problems were widely known, and the fact that he was actually asleep right now was shocking.  

I.N. was the first to whisper, “...should we wake him up?”

Hyunjin tilted his head to the side, studying Chris.  “He looks so angelic.”

Han was next, nodding to Hyunjin’s statement.  “Like a sweet baby…”

Moments later, Lee-Know walked in and silently observed the four younger members standing frozen in the doorway.  Lifting an eyebrow, he moved to peer over their shoulders to see Chris passed out.

“HYUNG!!!”  He said loudly, gently pushing his way through the others to go over to the couch and flopped down.

Chris’ head popped up immediately, the paper momentarily sticking to his cheek as he blinked his eyes open and looked around.  “What?  What’s going on?” 

Hyunjin followed Minho to the couch and sat down on the other end, glancing over to him before speaking.  “Really?  Was that necessary?”

Lee Know merely shrugged his shoulders.  “If we have to be here to work, so does he.”  

Several hours later, the eight members slowly made their way out of the recording studio and headed back to their respective apartments.  With his carry-on bag shrugged over his shoulder, his feet shuffling below him, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and began drafting a message to you.

“Channie-hyung?”  Felix said softly, pulling Chris’ attention over to him.  “Everything ok?  You seemed off today.”

“Huh?  Oh… just tired.  I took a red-eye from Sydney last night and haven’t slept yet.  Except for on the table up there,” he pointed to the building behind him as they continued walking.  Straightening his posture, he winced, his back now sore from being bent over in the chair for an extended amount of time.

Felix winced sympathetically, gritting his teeth at the pained expression on his hyung’s face.  “Are you sure that’s all?  You didn’t really say much all day.”

Quietly, Chan shifted his eyes over to Felix’s, looking at the sincerity in his friend’s eyes and sighed heavily.  “Just… just a lot on my mind.”  Slowing down his steps, he let the other 6 members go on ahead while Felix hung back with him.

“Promise you won’t say anything to the others?”  Chris said, slowing to a stop on the sidewalk with Felix.  “Of course, promise.”  Felix confirmed, turning to face him.

“Do you remember my noona that came to one of the shows in Tokyo a few weeks ago?  Was there with her little sister?”  Chris asked, nervous to admit any of this out loud but he was dying to have someone to talk to about this.

“I think so… your old babysitter, right?”  The younger man inquired.

“Yeah, Y/n.”  Chris paused, raising a hand to rake his fingers through his messy curls. “I went to visit her in Melbourne before I came home.  I.. I’m not sure what’s going on, but, I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Pinching his eyebrows together in question, Felix spoke softly. “What do you mean visited her?”  

“I mean… I surprised her at her apartment and stayed with her on Saturday night.”  Chris said quietly, looking down to the sidewalk below before looking back to Felix’s face.

“Wait.”  Felix blinked, trying to put two and two together.  “Wait, isn’t she like… way older?  I mean,” he cleared his throat, “not that that’s a bad thing.”

“Yeah,” Chris sighed, looking around idly.  “She’s 8 years older, and she seems to think I should have a problem with it.”

“...Do you?”  The blonde asked quietly.

“No!”  Chris replied, probably a little louder than necessary.  “No, not at all.  She’s perfect,” he blushed as he spoke, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.  “I just don’t know what I’m doing and it’s driving me insane.”

Felix took a few moments before responding, trying to find the correct words.  “I’m not sure there is much you can do… she lives in Melbourne right?”  Chris just nodded his head, lifting his eyes to meet his again.

Sighing, Felix continued.  “Only you can do what you think is best, but I’d be careful.  It sounds like it could get really messy…”

Chris let the bag from his shoulder fall down his arm, catching it in his hand in defeat and exhaustion.  “Yeah.  That’s what Y/N said too…” he trailed off, looking down the road in thought.

A beat later, he laughed dryly.  “I actually started writing a song about her on the flight back.”

Felix nodded, listening to his friend.  “Go get some real sleep, see how you feel in the morning.”  

“Yeah,” Chris sighed, shifting his bag to his other shoulder.  “Thanks for letting me talk this out,” he said, smiling weakly at the younger member.

“Anytime,” Felix replied, his typical bright smile gracing his delicate features as he guided the two of them back down the street towards the apartments.

Chris did not, in fact, get much more sleep that night either.

Early the next morning, Chris sat down at his desk in his bedroom, pulled his laptop out of his bag and started playing with one of his editing tools, testing new sounds and rhythms.  Getting lost in the zone, he didn’t initially hear his cell phone buzzing beside him.  On the reminder vibration 2 minutes later, it finally caught his attention.

Shifting his eyes to the screen, he couldn’t stop the smile spreading over his lips.

You:  Good morning.  🙂 You:  Just checking to make sure you landed safe yesterday? Chris:  morning!  I did, I’m so sorry I forgot to call you Chris:  I went straight to the studio and got busy You:  No, totally ok.  Was just a little worried. Chris:  aww, you were worried about me? You:  …no. Chris:  awwww Chris:  you miss me already You:  I definitely didn’t say that Chris:  i miss you too You:  Good.

Chris leaned back in his chair, smiling like a lovesick puppy, eyes glued to the small screen.  He knew how guarded you were, and the fact that he could see you being less cautious with him gave him a little more hope.

You:  Are you getting enough sleep? Chris:  that word sounds familiar You:  Don’t make me come over there and put you to bed, young man. Chris:  that’s an option?? You:  Yeah that line never worked on you before either. Chris:  definitely wouldn’t now.  I’m warning you, don’t threaten me with a good time because I will take advantage of it. You:  Like you took advantage of me last weekend? Chris:  as I remember it correctly, you loved every second of it.  AND asked for more. You:  Hearsay. Chris:  you were the one who said you needed no break

Chris paused, thoughts forming.  Reaching into his bag again, he grabbed his notebook and pen, and jotted down a few lines.

You:  Ok Romeo, as fun as this is going down memory lane lol I have to get to work and I’m sure you do too. Chris:  unfortunately.  Can i call you tonight? You:  I’d be disappointed if you didn’t. Chris:  have a beautiful day, sweetheart You:  You too, Channie  😘

Dropping his phone back on the desk beside his laptop, grinning to himself, Chris got back to work with a renewed sense of urgency, and purpose.

A week had come and gone since Chris returned to Seoul.  The boys had spent the majority of the week working on a new arrangement for “Red Lights”, allowing each of them to have a small solo for the tour.  The responses to the duet with Hyunjin had received such a good response during the first leg of the tour that they discussed switching it up a little bit.

With the tight schedule of only having a week to perfect it before they headed to Seattle for the second part of their tour, their choreographer had put them through an intensive three day boot camp focusing solely on the newly adapted routine.  To make matters worse, they decided to throw props into the choreo which automatically made everything more difficult.

By the end of day three, the boys were wiped and were left with only one full day to themselves before their flight to North America the day after.  While the majority of the group went out for food after rehearsal, Chris went back to the apartment, anxious for his nightly phone call with you.

Less than ten minutes after he’d gotten home, he’d stripped his sweaty practice clothes, taken a quick shower, grabbed a cup of noodles from the kitchen and was back in his room.  Shoveling a forkfull of ramen into his mouth, he pressed your contact information and let his phone ring through to FaceTime call.

A few seconds later, your face popped up on the screen.  “Hey ther– wow.  That’s.  That’s quite the mouthful there,” you said with a laugh, watching Chris’ cheeks puff out, full of noodles.

He began trying to chew faster and laughed to himself, trying to get through the bite as quickly as he could.  “‘M sorry,” he mumbled with his mouth full.  Finally swallowing, he put the noodles down and wiped his mouth with a napkin.  “Sorry!  I didn’t expect you to answer so fast!”

You laughed.  “No no, g’head, finish stuffing your face.”

“No no, I’m good.  I’m good.  How was your day?”  He asked, smiling into the camera.

“It… it was good,” you started, nodding and shifting your eyes a little bit to the side in thought. Changing the subject quickly though, you returned the question.  “How about you?  Did the choreographer kill you guys again today?”

With a heavy sigh, Chris leaned back in his desk chair.  “Yes.  I think the guys are pretty pissed at me for suggesting we add in the new arrangement but once we’re on stage I think they’ll like the crowd response.”

“I’m sure,” you giggled a little.  “I mean, I know how you all absolutely hate having thousands of girls screaming for you.”

Sitting up straight again, he leaned into the camera and wiggled his eyebrows.  “Only one girl I’m interested in having scream for me.”

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, grabbing a couch cushion to hide your face behind, trying not to laugh.

“Move that pillow!!!  I don’t get to see you enough so don’t you dare hide that beautiful face from me!”  Chris said enthusiastically, laughing in his faux-begging/demanding way.

“Okay okay,” you laughed, bringing the pillow back down, red in the face and unable to look into the camera still.

 “Ahhhh…” Chris smiled charmingly, “there’s my pretty girl.”

“Aaaanyywaaayyy…” you said, trying to change the subject.  “What time is your flight tomorrow?”

“Early the following morning actually.  We have the day off tomorrow thankfully.  I don’t think I’ve done laundry in like, weeks.”  He said into the camera, grimacing.  

“Ew, dirty boy!”

He groaned playfully, “Baby”, he whined.  “You’re making it too easy for me to flirt with you if you keep saying shit like that!”

“Sorry, sorry!”  You smirked, then your face lit up as you remembered.  “Oh!  Remind me the dates that you’re going to be in New York?”

Chris shifted his eyes to his laptop, clicking through a few things and pulling up his calendar to rattle the dates off to you.

“Well…” you said, watching him grab his cup of noodles again to take another mouthful.  “I had a meeting with my boss earlier today and it looks like he’s sending me to a conference in a few weeks.”

“Oh?  Where?”  He asked, cheeks puffed out with ramen again.

“New York.  Conveniently the same time you guys will be there.”

Nearly choking on his food, he put it back down and his eyes widened, looking right into the camera as he tried to finish chewing and swallowing quickly.  “Really??  We get there on a Wednesday I think?  Staying through til Sunday?”

Smiling brightly at his enthusiasm, you nodded.  “The conference starts Tuesday and ends Friday, but I want to extend my trip through the weekend so I can stay for your shows.”

“Yes!!!!”  He said loudly, holding onto the arm rests of his office chair and rocking himself back and forth excitedly.  “Oh my god, that’s the best news I’ve heard all week!”

“Calm down there, don’t hurt yourself!”  You said, laughing at his zealous reaction.  

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Lady!  I was afraid it would be months before I’d get to see you again.”

“Well,” your smile softened, tucking your knees to your chest as you watched him.  “I’m glad you’re so happy.”

Just then, Chris’ attention was taken by a loud clanging noise coming from the living room, and a muffled SHIBAL.  Dropping his head exaggeratedly, he groaned and looked back to you in the camera.  “I think the children are back and someone either just broke something or themselves…”

You couldn’t help but laugh.  “Better go check on them.”

From outside Chris’ room he heard stifled voices, a long pause, and then a desperate HYYUUUUUNNGGGGGG.  “Why meee?”  Chris said, squinting his eyes shut in faux pain to you.  With a heavy sigh, he looked back at the camera.  “Yeah.  Text me before you go to sleep?”

With a smirk, you nodded once.  “Promise.  Good luck, Handsome.”

“Thanks Sweetheart,” he said, winking at you before ending the call.

As soon as the two of you disconnected, Chris sat there for a few moments, chewing his lower lip.  Finally, he swiped his screen awake again and sent off a new text to his manager before going to handle the kids in the living room.

Chris:  Ji-han, sorry it’s so late.  Can you schedule a last minute meeting with the tour's sound engineer for tomorrow please?  I want to update the set list. Chris: I have a new song I want to debut.

tag list: @angel-writes-skz-here @idkimobsessed @queenofdumbfuckery @mfcherry @downingmorphine @pixie-felix @d3kstar @lveegsoi @ebnabi @nebugalaxy @babystay724 @mmarusa @imagine-all-the-imagines @erisuna @beabidoobee @hanniesbubuwife @bbykaixx @riri53 @jinniesgirl @alx-wyjsr

let me know if you'd like to be added!

Masterlist

[staytinyarmy]

Take You Down

WC: 1738

Synopsis: Hyunjin doesn't think anyone knows about your relationship. Enter Felix. Literally.

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (you know better), dirty talk, desperation, very slight exhibitionism, very slight voyeurism, softdom!hyunjin, switch!felix? (maybe), sub!reader, reader is out of it for like half of the fic, jerking off, reader didn't explicitly consent to Felix watching but she's all for it, I think I got it all?

A/N: This was a request from a reader, soooo thank you! There was supposed to be some plot to this. That went out of the window when I started writing the smut. Im disappointed in myself, smh. Thanks to my beta @midnighthazee who continues to put up with my continuous smut writing. Enjoy!!

Y/n was excited when Hyunjin told her that the members were gonna be out for the day — everyone having schedules and being too busy to even think about being at home. Except for Hyunjin. 

He had just gotten back from a promotion video shoot for a skincare company. He had two days off before going back to his regular schedules, leaving him time to spend with y/n.

Hyunjin Do you wanna come over? The members are at schedules all day. I miss you…

Y/n had almost jumped for joy at that text. She hadn’t seen Hyunjin for a month now, starting to feel the distance drag on her. 

Y/n Of course! I’ll be over in like 30 I’ve been waiting to see you for weeks now :((

Hyunjin told her how much he missed her, and that he would cook her a nice big meal when she came over. They planned on watching a movie and cuddling until y/n inevitably had to leave before the members got back. 

He felt bad about keeping their relationship in the dark, but he feared that other people would make it seem like he wasn’t able to do his job if he was in a relationship. That’s how they always act, and he wanted to save y/n from the backlash they would receive — even from management. 

Y/n didn’t care, she wanted the whole world to know. The backlash didn’t matter, and if his managers wanted to scold them then they could scold them. It wasn’t going to keep y/n from being in his life either way. 

— — — —

When y/n had arrived at his dorm, she knocked softly and he opened the door eagerly. Hyunjin immediately took her into his arms and squeezed her so much she couldn’t breathe. 

“I missed you so much, baby.” He said, smiling brightly at her and taking her face in his hands. 

“I missed you too, so much.” She replied. She closed the distance between them and their lips met. 

It had been a month since they’d last seen each other, but now, finally alone, they couldn’t get enough of each other. 

Y/n moaned into the kiss, her fingers making their way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer and pressing herself against him. Hyunjin was just as desperate, his hands roaming her body possessively as he guided her towards his bedroom. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve thought about you these past few weeks,” Hyunjin groaned against her lips, nipping at the bottom one. “Fantasized about having you in my bed again.” 

Y/n whimpered, arching into his touch. “Me too,” she breathed. “I need you so badly.”

They stumbled over to the bed, already tugging at each other's clothes. Y/n yanked Hyunjin’s shirt over his head trailing her fingers down his abs before untying the string on his sweatpants. 

Hyunjin groaned as he pushed her shirt up and off, cupping her breasts in his hands and squeezing them, rolling her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. “Fuck, I’ve missed these,” he rumbled, dipping his head to suck one into his mouth. 

Y/n cried out, her head falling back as pleasure raced through her. She kicked off her jeans leaving her bare except for her underwear. Hyunjin made quick work of that too, tossing it aside and exposing her fully to his hungry gaze. 

“Gonna worship every inch of you,” he promised, his voice roush with desire. “Remind you who you belong to.”

Y/n shivered at his words, the primal possessiveness in his tone making her pussy clench with need. “I’m yours,” she gasped. “Only yours.” 

Hyunjin smiled dangerously. He loved hearing those words from her. He pushed her back onto the bed, settling between her thighs and rubbing his hard cock against her dripping cunt. 

“Fuck you’re so wet for me,” he groaned, reaching down to stroke himself. “Gonna fill you up so good, hm?” 

Y/n spread her legs wider, mind only focused on him and his words. His voice had a strong effect on her, and she could’ve sworn he was born a siren. 

She keened as he pushed into her slowly, his thick cock stretching her open and hitting all the right spots. He was so big it was hard not to. 

“Ah, fuck, yes,” Hyunjin hissed, starting to move faster after pulling out and pushing in once. “Take it all, baby.” 

He reached up and took her hands into his, interlacing their fingers and squeezing. Y/n could only moan in response, wrapping her legs around his hips as he pounded into her. The bed creaked beneath them, the headboard slamming against the wall with every thrust. 

They moved together like they were made for each other, and they were. Hyunjin fucked her so well, sending shockwaves of pleasure up her spine with every pass. Y/n arched her back, urging him on as she chased her release. 

They were so in their little world of pleasure, they didn’t hear the front door shut loudly, the automatic lock clicking into place. They were so lost in each other that they didn’t hear the bedroom door open, Felix letting out a gasp as he saw the scene in front of him. 

Hyunjin noticed him when he gasped, not stopping his thrusts, and only looking in his direction to confirm his thoughts before turning back to his girl, thrusts turning rougher. 

Y/n made eye contact with Felix, unconsciously clenching around Hyunjin. He groaned and moved one of his hands from hers to wrap around her throat. 

“You see him over there, baby? See how desperate he looks just from seeing us?” Hyunjin whispered in her ear. Y/n let out a moan at the sight of him. 

“Looks like we’ve been made.” He said, an amused tone to his voice and a small smirk on his face. 

Felix finally came back to himself after what felt like an hour of staring at the unbelievably arousing sight in front of him. “I–I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you had company!” He rushed out, sounding stressed. 

All y/n could do was moan and lay there and take what Hyunjin was giving her. She was barely able to acknowledge the fact that he was saying anything, Hyunjin’s thrust feeling too good. 

“We were just getting started,” Hyunjin said, that addictive siren-like tone in his voice again. “Are you just gonna stand there? Grab a seat, hm?” 

Felix’s brain glitched.

He stuttered out a response, feeling hot all over. He walked over to the gaming chair in the corner of the room, sitting down and facing the scene in front of him. His dick was so hard in his jeans it hurt. 

Hyunjin turned his focus back to y/n, pounding into her at a ravenous pace. She was gonna cum soon. She could feel it building up and Felix’s presence wasn’t helping. 

Hyunjin could feel her squeeze around him. “So tight,” he groaned, extra loud for Felix. “Gonna cum, sweetheart?” He asked, knowing she wouldn’t answer. She was barely present. 

Felix had taken off his jeans and pulled his cock out of his underwear. He was so hard and red and leaky. He had never been this turned on in his life. Hyunjin kept showering y/n in his dirty words and Felix was so embarrassingly close to cumming all over himself. 

It was made worse when Hyunjin looked his way, gripping y/n’s jaw and turning her head to face Felix. “Doesn’t she look so fucked out, Lix-ah?” 

Felix groaned loudly, taking in the pleasured look on her face and stroking his cock faster. Hyunjin smirked and brought his hand down to her throat, restricting her airflow. 

It took three more thrusts for y/n to squeeze around him harshly, moaning so loud throughout her orgasm that Hyunjin would have been afraid the neighbors would hear if he didn’t feel so good right now. 

He let out a loud groan at the tight feeling of her squeezing around his cock. Felix couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He squeezed his eyes shut and moaned loudly, pitch rising as he came all over himself. He was twitching, stroking himself through his orgasm and letting out soft little moans. 

Hyunjin came next at the sight of Felix cumming and the feeling of y/n squeezing around him. He moaned loudly, the sound tapering off into a groan as he filled her up, pumping into her and working himself through his orgasm. 

Y/n was so out of it, she didn’t even realize he pulled out, subconsciously clenching to keep his cum inside of her. 

“That’s a good girl,” Hyunjin said softly in her ear. 

Felix bit his lip nervously, waiting for Hyunjin to kick him out after he just walked in on them and jerked off to the sight of them. 

He didn’t though. He picked y/n up off of the bed and just as he reached the doorway of the bedroom, he turned back and jerked his head toward the hallway. “Come on,” 

Felix immediately got up and followed him out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. He sat on the toilet as Hyunjin sat y/n down on the counter and started a bath for them. 

“How long have you known,” Hyunjin asked, squirting the bubble solution from the bottle into the water. 

“Maybe two months?” Felix said. 

Hyunjin nodded in understanding. “Do the others know?” 

“Not that I know of,” he responded, glancing over at y/n. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” 

“It’s okay, you were gonna figure it out sooner or later. My main problem is our management. They can be real assholes.” Hyunjin gritted out, walking over to y/n and lifting her off of the sink and into the bathtub. “Get in, Lix.” 

Felix stood and climbed into the tub, sitting opposite of y/n while Hyunjin sat behind her. “I won’t tell them. It’s not my business anyways.”

Hyunjin smiled at that, feeling his love for his band mate increase as he started to wash y/n off. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to tell the rest of the group. They would all be supportive, and would back him when he inevitably told his managers. 

Little did he know, they already knew. Felix had been the last to find out. 

[staytinyarmy]

can we get a story with jungkook or yoongi or any of the members, with them saying, "you're such a handful." and then we say, "good thing you have two hands."

that concept could literally mean anything...and since im a yandere account...god damnit im in!

a man's world

you've been living in a man's world so long that you forgotten what it was like to just be a woman living in it.

word count: 10.172

warning: smut, character deaths, oral sex, fingering, dry humping, kissing, blood, torturing lolz, a bit yandere tendencies not too too much, but like yoongi's obsessed with the mc so, nipple sucking/pinching, impregnation kink, squirting, orgasm, unprotected sex, praising, ass-slapping, cowgirl position, overstimulation, creampie,

Though you can’t hear it, you can feel the way your heels click against the floor. The music is blaring loudly inside the club and it causes you to snarl. It was too humid, smelt of cheap perfume, alcohol and sex. You were too high end to be caught in a club like this, you think. You notice it by the way your eyes meet countless men who don’t know who you are, their eyes roaming your body as if they had a chance.

“You can’t go back there.”

There’s a hand on your bicep that stops you and almost instantly you yank it away. You hold your purse closer to you, your head whipping around to find a tall man staring down at you. His eyes are dark and he’s glaring.

“Back there,” the man juts his head towards the long hallway in the back of the crowded club. “is for employee’s only.”

“I’m well aware.” you snap back. “Where’s your boss?”

The man’s eyes narrow. “Not in.”

“Bullshit.” you snicker. You were growing irritated by the second. You didn’t have time to sit and chit chat with the less than.

You spin on your heels and venture down the hallway, the man hot on your trail. You are well familiar with this club and know down the hall to the right is where you’d find exactly who you were looking for. Your hand wraps around the knob and you slam it open. Just as you walk in, the man grasps you by your arm once more and yanks you back.

Yoongi watches as your free arm reaches back and punches Haru right between the eyes. The man, tall and bulky, stumbles back in shock. His lip twitches as he watches you continue to hit the tall man who is far too stunned to initially speak. He’s seated at his desk, cigarette between his fingers. Your scream, mixed with the music coming from down the hall, is echoing off of his walls.

“You stupid bitch-”

Though you were well-trained since a child alongside the very man you come to see - and more - you still had a bit of a disadvantage. You were told that men were naturally stronger than women and by the look in Haru’s eyes, he was done being nice with you. His fist tightens and before he has the chance to do anything, there’s a gunshot that rings through the air.

Haru gasps, a stinging in his shoulder. He falls back against the door, his hand clenching the gunshot wound that’s now oozing blood. You stand a bit straighter, rolling your eyes.

Yoongi’s right hand has his gun pointed in the air when you turn to meet his gaze. His cigarette hangs lazily from his lips, dark eyes meeting yours.

Footsteps gather in the hallway as Haru begins to sob. Soon, familiar faces crowd the room.

“What the fuck?”

Jungkook looks between you and Yoongi and immediately he has a clue.

“I thought we had rules?”

Jimin’s arms are crossed as he steps into the room. Haru is bleeding out and he couldn’t care less.

“Y/N.” Jimin nods his head towards you. “What a pleasure.”

“Can we get someone to get him out of here?”  Jin sounds disgusted. “He’s bleeding all over the floor and I don’t like the smell of iron.”

Yoongi drops his gun onto the table and proceeds to take his seat at the desk. 

“Ah, isn’t it the infamous Y/N.” Taehyung leans against the open door. “What is it this time, hyung? Did Haru try to get with her?” he snickers. His eyes look down the hall. “Take him somewhere, please. He’s annoying me with all that whimpering he’s doing.”

Yoongi exhales the smoke from his nose, eyes darting around the room.

“He was going to hit her.” Yoongi answers coolly.

Jungkook furrows his brows, but he remains quiet. You were a woman, sure, but he’s watched you take down men bigger than Haru before. You weren’t the primadonna Yoongi treats you at times.

 “Y/N, what can I help you with?” Yoongi questions, his attention turning to you. “Drink?”

“I suppose I’ll take my leave.” Jimin announces. Whatever you wanted - especially if you came to Yoongi solely and not all of them - meant that it wasn’ for his ears. “I have inventory to take care of.”

The room is silent once more as Jin was the last to leave, closing the door behind him. Yoongi awaits your response, pouring you a glass of whisky to match his own. He motions for you to sit in the seat across from him, his cigarette smoke dancing in the air.

You drop your purse on the desk, uncaring if a few items drop due to the weight of it. Your eyes are hard and glaring and with that, excitement runs through Yoongi’s body.

“My men,” you begin, voice cold and laced with venom. “are dead.”

Yoongi picks up the glass and places it against his lips. He takes a sip, eyes watching you. “And you’re telling me…because?” he murmurs a response before taking a sip.

Instantly, your hand slaps the glass out of Yoongi’s palm. It crashes against a nearby wall, sending liquid flying everywhere.

“My men are dead and I know you motherfuckers-”

Yoongi stands, his chair scraping against the floor. His face comes closer to yours, so close that you can smell the liquor already on his breath. 

“Bangtan didn’t kill your men, Y/N.” Yoongi hisses.

“Bull. Shit.” your teeth grits.

You were only 21 when you inherited this empire from your father - much to your dismay and possibly that of those working for him. You weren’t a man, you always heard. This was a man’s world you were in - the drugs, the trafficking, the murder. A woman didn’t belong in it, and yet it all belonged to you now. 

Your father didn’t have any more children after you. You often thought about how easier your life would be if you were a boy growing up. You didn’t have time to think about what the other girls did growing up - the birthday parties with friends, sleepovers. You didn’t attend a school so those homecomings or prom you’d see on T.V. weren’t for you. The birthday party you begged your father to give you were littering with the same gang members, murderers and drug traffickers you grew up alongside.

Now here you stand, years later. A shell of your former self. You contemplate if you lack the natural empathy and softness you witness other women have. As a child, you told yourself by this age, you’d be married with kids - not leading a syndicate. Marriage and children appeared to be out of the question as you couldn’t stand a man for longer than 3 minutes - the misogyny, the audacity and overall incompetence.

“Bangtan and Deathrow,” you roll your eyes; partly because you hated the family names chosen by people who were dead now. “for years now we have been rivals. However,” Yoongi’s pink tongue coats his lips. “we have never harmed you or your men.”

You inhale deeply. You stretch the kink in your neck before responding. “Deathrow and Bangtan are the only families that run anything around here.” you grit. “And I have a dozen dead bodies and no one to account for them.”

Yoongi’s eyes glances down to your own lips. He’s fascinated that even when you surround yourself with such heinous activities, you haven’t given yourself up. The heels, the light makeup, and not a single hair out of place. 

Yoongi was also a bit drunk and he shouldn’t be growing hard right now - especially not when you’re glaring daggers at him. 

“You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.” Yoongi’s voice softens a bit.

Your eyes glance away.

Things were complicated when it came to you and Yoongi - or the rest of them. While Yoongi had 6 other people to rely on with equal responsibility, you only had yourself. You couldn’t afford to have a day off when you had everything your own family has worked hard for on the line. The people who worked under you had their own mouths to feed and juggling it all was far too much for one person to handle.

The feud between Deathrow and Bangtan was once a partnership. You grew up alongside Yoongi and the rest of them. Jungkook is just a couple years younger than you. You recall the way you would wrestle with him in your youth. It was Hoseok who showed you how to shoot a gun for the first time and you trained alongside him instead of you both attending middle school. 

The rivalry began with an unknown traitor that divided both sides and though you remained cordial with the boys, now men, you grew up alongside, it was evident where your loyalty and theirs must lie.

“You got my birthday gift.” Yoongi states. His eyes almost didn’t catch it, but you’re wearing the necklace around your neck. The diamond-studded chair with an oval-cut gemstone; your birthstone. It was a gift he had sent to you on your birthday and though he had not expected you to say anything in return, he had hoped you kept it.

Your body warms at the realization that you hadn’t taken off the necklace prior to coming. You swallow a bit, your throat aching.

Yoongi rounds the corner of his desk warily. He would never hurt you and he doubts you would either, but he doesn’t know where your mind is now and he doesn’t want to set you off.

“There’s been a little trouble around here, as well.” Yoongi murmurs. His hand touches your arm, slightly bringing you closer to him. “A few of our own men have died. It seems we may have a bit of competition.”

The scar on Yoongi’s right eye is the constant reminder of the history you and he shared. Without thinking of your actions, your hands lift to touch Yoongi’s cheek. Your fingers slide across the long, red scar, the memories of that time flooding back to you. The way Yoongi’s lips pressed against your warm skin, his large hands sliding up your sides. Those same lips kissing down your chest, to your stomach and right between your legs. His tongue flickers between your folds, his fingers diving right into you and pumping in a way that only he knows how.

Then, the memories come crashing down. Your bedroom door crashes open and you’re forced to cover your naked body. Your father doesn’t bother to look down at you and instead focuses his entire attention to Yoongi, men surrounding your bedroom and making their way towards Yoongi.

“What do you want me to do?” Yoongi asks. His larger hand places itself over your hand. It causes you to come back to reality - the present. 

You blink, removing your hand from his face. Yoongi doesn’t like it; he feels a breeze run through him. 

“I want you to find out who killed my men.” you say, voice hardening. “And take them out.”

Yoongi furrows his brows, a smirk forming onto his lips. He tilts his head at you. You were so cute when you demanded bloodshed. 

“You’re too beautiful to be running a syndicate, Y/N.” Yoongi tells you. He has the urge to hold you like he used to, but he holds himself back. “You deserve to be doted on.”

“Stop fucking playing with me, Yoongi.” you hiss, eyes darkening. “I have product to move and the men that were supposed to do that are being buried. I have to make arrangements for their families. My fucking product-”

“Is it stolen? Ours, as well.” Yoongi quips. 

“-and I don’t have time for you to be fucking flirting with me!”

Yoongi cracks a smile and instantly, your hands crash against his chest.You shove him as hard as you could.

“Yoongi-”

“Your issue isn’t with me, Y/N.” Yoongi embraces you, unphased by your outburst. “You and I have a common enemy.”

Yoongi’s cologne is citrusy and musk and instantly you calm down. You want to melt in his arms and have your worries go away, but you cannot.

“Why won’t you let me help you?” Yoongi questions.

“I came here for your help.” you whisper - and he has to know how difficult it was for you to do this. 

“I know. That isn’t what I meant.” Yoongi holds you closer. He doesn’t want to let you go - not like he was forced to. His eyes peer into yours. “You’re stressed and you’re doing it all alone. Let me help you.” he murmurs. “Let us help you.”

Yoongi’s nose is tickling yours and his lips are only a breath away. You’ve once again found yourself in this predicament; right in his arms. You inhale his scent once more and then sigh.

“I missed you.” Yoongi speaks.

“I didn’t come here for that.”

“I know.” Yoongi grins. “You come to use me like you always do.”

You’re silent, eyes unblinking as you look at Yoongi.

“That’s what you do. You come in here and demand something because you know I’ll do whatever you ask.” Yoongi continues. His arms tighten around your embrace. 

“So…I’m a user?” you snort with a roll of your eyes.

“No.” Yoongi shakes his head. “I’m a man and I’m supposed to be a provider.”

You’re quiet.

“And I’ll keep providing for you, Y/N…all you have to do is let me.”

Yoongi’s lips are soft and you instantly melt against them. You’re unsure how much you truly missed him until you finally had him in your hands. The years you’ve gone by keeping him at a distance has led him to this very moment now.

Yoongi doesn’t care about anything on his desk anymore. He gladly hoists you up onto the desk and forces your legs apart, your skirt rising up. His tongue dances around with yours, large hands cupping your hips to assure you remain close. 

It takes Yoongi forever to remove his lips from yours, but when he does it only trails down the side of your face to your jaw, then chin. Your breathing increases as he reaches your neck. His warm tongue circles the nape of your neck, a low groan coming from his throat.

“Y/N…”

Your breathing hitches at the sound of your name coming from Yoongi’s lips - so deep and vulnerable, yet dripping with years full of lust.

“What do you want from me, Yoon?”

Yoon, you haven’t called him that in years. 

“You know what I want.” Did you?

Your legs tighten around Yoongi’s waist, bringing him closer. You can feel him melt in your embrace. As much as you try to hide it, there isn’t a point in lying to yourself in saying that you didn’t want Yoongi, either. You missed his hands on you; touching you in ways only he knew how to.

“I’ll give you what you want,” you sigh, your hands on his shoulders squeezing. You can feel Yoongi’s bulge right at your core. You roll your hips just to tease him. “find out who’s behind our missing product.”

Yoongi inhales deeply for a moment, eyes squeezed shut. He was going to do what you asked of him, regardless if he was involved or not. It’s what he always did for you, no matter the rivalry between both families. “You’re such a handful.” Yoongi exhales, yet he wouldn’t have you any other way.

“Good thing you have two hands.”

With the same two hands, Yoongi had worked overtime. It took a week for him to find out just who was behind it, but there wasn’t a time limit. In the meantime, he had allowed you to borrow some of his men to move your product - an action that would’ve been frowned upon if he wasn’t who he was in the family.

Jin watches amused with how ruthless Yoongi could be when it comes to you. The man, often lazy and would rather sit behind the scenes and direct others to do his work, was now getting his own hands dirty. That’s what Hoseok and Jungkook were for, yet he joins the younger men just because you asked him to.

“To think it’s been…” Jimin does the math in his head. “...what? Six years?” he asks Jin. He assembles the stolen drugs into duffle bags. 

“Just about.” Jin responds, the screaming of the tortured man nothing but background noise.

Six years since Yoongi and you were…anything. It was evident that Yoongi had set his sight on you since youth; silently, of course. He lingered around you for too long for anyone to not get the hint. It only increased as you grew older and grew into your own feminine figure that Yoongi found himself having to show others that he was serious about courting you. 

That meant shooting someone right in the leg - but other’s got the point. The downfall of Bangtan and Deathrow only meant the downfall of you and Yoongi’s relationship; he grew grumpier, more silent and care little about anything unless it directly involved you.

“We need to get information from him, hyung,” Jungkook sighs, watching the way Yoongi appears to leave the man's head underneath the running water far too long. “not just torture him.”

“He’s probably intimidated since it’s three of us.” Hoseok calls, leaning against the wall. 

“Probably.” Yoongi calls. He shuts off the water and turns his sights to Jungkook and Hoseok. “Get the rest of the drugs and weapons and load them in the truck.”

Hoseok knits his brows. “But-”

“Fine.” Jungkook shrugs, locking eyes with Hoseok. There wasn’t a point in arguing with Yoongi now. He know just as well as the rest of them that he was going to stop; his adoration for you far exceeded his own sanity.

Once alone, Yoongi shoves the man back into the seat. He grabs his pocket knife and undoes the robe around one wrist. He then slams it against the table. “Okay,” Yoongi murmurs, dark eyes locking in with terrified ones. “I want all the names that were in charge of the job.”

The man shakes his head. “Please-”

“It wasn’t a choice.” Yoongi snickers. “You…upset someone I care about.” the cold metal of the plastic knife presses against the man's cheek. “And I’m going to right this wrong, okay? Now right before one of them died, they said it was around five of them.”

Yoongi removes the knife from the terrified man’s cheek and proceeds to place it against the man’s thumb. “You have five fingers. Let’s count down the names, shall we?”

“P-Please, I don’t know-”

A blood curdling scream echoes off of the walls. Blood shoots out from the man's thumb, painting the wooden table crimson.

“Name’s.” Yoongi deadpans. He’s already making his way towards the index.

“Wu-”

Index finger is the next to go - only because he was sick of playing games. 

“Shinra!” the man suddenly belts, the veins on his neck pulsing at losing another finger.

Yoongi is covered in blood by the time he’s done, but he’s satisfied. He would never consider himself blood thirsty. He hated getting dirty. Jungkook and Hoseok were always on this type of job - but if it was something you’d ask him to do (and you had) he had no issues. 

“There has to be another way, hyung.” Jungkook says as Yoongi emerges, soaked in blood. “Flowers or something. You’re covered in blood.”

“Y/N isn’t exactly a normal woman, now is she?” Jin calls from outside. He slams the trunk close. “Though I don’t think she called for so much blood shed.”

Of course, however, Yoongi wasn’t going to listen. He was told to handle the problem and the only way he knew how was bloodshed. 

“Who’s coming with me?” Yoongi questions.

“Now?” Jungkook lifts his brows. “You don’t want to change first?”

“No.” Yoongi deadpans, his eyes narrowing. He glances around to the faces of his brothers. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Have you asked for anything in return of Y/N yet?” Jin asks. “Don’t you think you need a little…more?” Yoongi swallows. He shrugs his shoulders.

“There can’t be any rivalry, anymore. Not on Bangtans end, right?” Jimin shrugs his shoulders. “Why not join forces again? It would save all of us a headache.”

“And Y/N could relax, as well. She’ll have our help and won't have to lead alone.”

The quiet part doesn’t need to be said aloud, Jin thinks. Having you closer meant that Yoongi would be more at ease. 

“I have plans.” Yoongi answers. “You know I cannot go to Y/N empty handed. I have to do what she asks first.”

“Of course.” Jimin shrugs one shoulder. “Do you need any more help, hyung?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “I’ll deal with the rest alone. We should get whatever product we have back to the warehouse.”

“I agree.” Hoseok nods. “Bangtan and Death Row nearly lost millions in profit because of…what do they call themselves?”

“Who cares?” Yoongi snorted - because after today, there wouldn’t be any of them standing to utter their name.

Yoongi’s seats are leather and of course the blood would surely stain them, but he doesn’t care. He could get another car if it came down to it. He was on a mission; a hunt. He wouldn’t go back to you empty handed like he promised and he has five names on the list who he had to deal with prior to returning to you.

You know of Yoongi’s presence immediately. You hadn’t talked to him much in the week that it took for him to handle the problem. Your driveway is long and it allows you enough time to walk down the staircase and meet him at the door after you buzz him in.

From the large, oval-shaped window you can see Yoongi get out of the SUV, door slamming behind him. He appears relaxed, glasses over his eyes. There’s a breeze in the air that causes his dark tresses to dance in it. It’s nearly an hour before sunset and Yoongi’s skin glows beneath the orangey tint that makes your heart leap.

Your eyes tear away as he begins to gather something from his passenger seat. Your eyes turn to the large mirror in your foyer and ponder if what you were wearing was appropriate. This was Yoongi, after all, and though it’s been years, he’s seen it all already. That, and you weren’t exactly expecting him tonight so the nightgown shouldn’t appear as trying too hard.

You meet Yoongi at the door, opening it just wide enough for you to see him and vice versa. 

“Y/N.”

“Yoongi.” you respond. “You could’ve had me meet you at the warehouse.”

Yoongi knows you aren’t upset with his presence here. Your eyes glance down to his hands, now noticing his left is holding a small, leather bag and his right a bouquet of flowers.

Glancing back up at Yoongi, you furrow your brows.

“Can I come in?” Yoongi asks, voice cool and relaxed. 

You open the door wider and Yoongi takes his invitation. As the door closes behind him, Yoongi turns to face you. Your nightgown is black and silk and he notices it hugs your curves perfectly, but he didn’t come here to dwell. 

“Why are you holding flowers?”

Yoongi holds out the bouquet for you, his own eyes matching the stoicness of your own. 

Your hands are trembling when you grasp them, an embarrassed jolt flowing through your body. You avoid his gaze.

“I handled our problem.” Yoongi speaks first. He lifts the small, leather bag and holds it with both hands. He slowly opens it - as if to build tension and anticipation. “And they are no longer a threat.”

Yoongi doesn’t care for these men, but you were an empathetic person. He knows you’d want to know more about these men, and what better way than to find out who they truly were than by checking their fingerprints?

Severed thumbs sit inside the small bag right on top of ice. You could laugh right now at how cheesy Yoongi can be at times. Slowly, he closes the bag and tilts his head.

“They’re a small organization that holds no real power.” Yoongi goes on. 

“Are they dead or just missing fingers?”

You’re positive you know the answer. Yoongi wasn’t one to allow anyone to walk free - especially if it concerned you.

“Dead.” Yoongi shrugs. There’s a small table in the foyer that Yoongi places the bag on. His eyes meet yours and a smile appears on his lips. “You’re still wearing the necklace.”

Your palms squeeze the bouquet. Licking your lips, you shrug. “It was a gift, was it not?” 

You turn on your heels, making your way the opposite way and towards the kitchen. Yoongi follows you, allowing his eyes to wander your body freely as now it was just you and him.

You had a vase around here somewhere so you can put these flowers in. 

“I suppose I owe you.” you say over the running water. You can feel Yoongi’s eyes on you right now and there’s a bit of excitement that runs through you.

“Do you?”

You turn the water off and turn around, vase in hand. You go towards the island and begin to place the bouquet of flowers, one by one inside the vase. Yoongi notices a small grin on your lips as you assemble them to your liking. 

“You still like sunflowers.” Yoongi notes. “I’m glad that hasn’t changed.”

Yoongi recalls the time you said that you didn’t prefer roses as they were often clique. Yet, you also never received flowers before as you weren’t in the lifestyle to receive them from anyone - not unless it was on a gravestone. But you stated that if anything, you’d prefer sunflowers.

Your hands slide off of the bouquet and you face him. Yoongi is watching you watch him. “I haven’t thanked you.” you murmur softly. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to.”

You step closer, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He must’ve showered right before coming here as he smells entirely too clean; not a complaint in the slightest. 

“Of course I do.” you murmur. “You helped me with my problem.”

“You knew I would. That’s why you came to me.”

You don’t need to respond as he was correct. You always knew Yoongi would do what you ask - which made going to him easier for you. It was a guarantee that he would get it done with no questions asked; everytime.

“How long can you stay?” you question, eyes blinking up at him. Your fingers dance on the back of his neck softly.

“However long you’d have me.” Yoongi hums, his nose touching yours. ”What are you trying to give me?”

You swallow, lifting so your lips were ghosting his. “Whatever you want.” you murmur.

“Whatever?”

You nod your head, eyes slowly closing. You’re expecting his lips to meet yours in the same passionate kiss you and he shared a week prior. Instead, Yoongi pushes himself away from you, his warmth immediately gone.

Slowly, your eyes open to find Yoongi going through his pant pockets. “Yoon-”

Your mouth immediately shuts when Yoongi’s fingers take out a small, square box. He opens it, the diamond ring shining back at you. It’s oval cut with surrounding smaller rings around the base. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” you hiss as Yoongi begins to lower to his knee. “Get up.”

“What?” Yoongi furrows a brow. “Why? Isn’t this what girls typically want?”

Your eyes widen and you stare at Yoongi as if he’s insane. He had to be.

“You thought I wanted you to get on your fucking knees with a ring?!”

Yoongi blinks. 

You jerk your neck, waiting for a response.

“Y/N,” Yoongi coughs, cheeks dusting red. “will you-”

“No!” you hiss, your hands forming fists and body heating up. You yank Yoongi’s shoulders and force him onto his feet. “What-”

“I was trying to be romantic.” Yoongi snaps the ring box close and sighs. “Jin told me-”

“Your first mistake was listening to Jin.” you grumble with rolled eyes.

“My first mistake was assuming you’d listen to me.” Yoongi retorts. “I don’t want to just fuck you as payment, Y/N. You aren’t some whore.”

You were growing nervous underneath Yoongi’s gaze. 

“I want Bangtan and Death Row to be allies again.” Yoongi continues. “I want us,” he waves his hands between the two of you. “to be…more.”

“There is no us.” 

Yoongi doesn’t blink when the words leave your mouth, but he visibly stiffens. 

“There can’t be.”

“Why not?” Yoongi protests. “Am I not good enough for you? I’m only good when you want to use me?”

You’re taken aback by the venom in Yoongi’s voice. He never spoke to you in such a tone.

“Do you not know how many men I’ve killed for you?” Yoongi hisses. “I drop whatever I’m doing to come to your beck and call and you’re going to tell me that there isn’t anything between us? That there can’t be?”

You’re unsure how to respond, but Yoongi is already stepping closer. His presence, until now, has never been threatening to you. His eyes are wide and angered and they’re directed towards you.

“It’s not you-”

“If you say it’s not you, it’s me,” Yoongi chuckles bitterly. “I might just scream.”

“It is me, Yoon.” you hiss. “I…you want me to be a fucking housewife. I don’t even know how to cook-”

“I do.” Yoongi shrugs. “Do you think I don’t have enough money for a private chef?” he scoffs.

You bite the inside of your lip.

“I…I don’t even clean-”

“Isn’t that what’s the maid for?” Yoongi shrugs his shoulders again. He wasn’t going to allow you to excuse yourself from anything you’d say.

“I-”

“I don’t care what you can or cannot do, Y/N.” Yoongi interrupts. “Have I not proved myself worthy to you for years now?”

“It’s not about…” you trail off, closing your eyes and letting out a soft sigh. “...you know it isn’t about that.”

“Then please enlighten me, Y/N.” Yoongi’s frustration was seeping through. He felt as though his head was going to explode. “You know how I feel about you. You know I love you.”

Your eyes flutter open to look at Yoongi’s. His stoic eyes stare right back at you. 

“You know I love you.” Yoongi repeats, voice softening. “So why won’t you allow me to take care of you? You don’t even want to do all of this.”

Yoongi knows you like the back of his hand. He understands that you were brought into this life to one day take over an entire syndicate, even if it wasn’t something you wanted. Your father’s death came entirely too sudden and overnight, you had to grow up and handle it all. But he knows the real you.

“You think jumping straight to marriage is what I want?” you couldn’t help but snicker. 

Yoongi straightens his shoulders. “Probably not.” he admits, shrugging a bit. “You told me that you wanted to be married before.”

“When I was a dumb teenager?” your lip twitches. “I-”

“You told me you wanted to go on a date and experience a normal life. Outside of this.” Yoongi interrupts. “So let’s do it.”

“Do what?” You blink.

“Go…on a date?” Yoongi clears his throat. There’s a tint of redness forming onto his cheeks. 

“You’ve never asked a girl on a date before, have you?” you scoff, but you’d be lying if you said your own cheeks weren’t warm. 

“And you’ve never been asked on a date.” Yoongi retorts, a grin forming onto his lips. “So we’re one of the same.”

For a moment, you and Yoongi are silent as the two of you stare at one another. Your body is warm, your heart fluttering stupidly like it had when you were a teenager whenever Yoongi was around. It involved sneaking around a lot to assure your father never caught on to what you were doing.

You bite your lip, taking a deep breath. What could go wrong?

“I guess…a date wouldn’t hurt.” you murmur.

“Good.” Yoongi couldn’t help the smile that forms onto his lips. “How about now?”

“Now?” your eyebrows lift. That didn’t give you enough time to procrastinate in your closet if Yoongi was already here waiting for you.

“What could go wrong?”

Turns out, a lot could go wrong on a date.

For normal people, a lot could’ve been the restaurant being booked for hours. Or traffic. Maybe even cancelling on the other person.

However, you and Yoongi weren’t normal people. A normal dinner date turned into an ambush entirely, bullets flying past the two of you in such rapid speed that it took a second too long for Yoongi to even be prepared for it. 

“It’s just my shoulder.” Yoongi grunts, a hand against his bleeding wound. He was breathing heavily, his right hand - the same side he was just shot in - currently holds the gun. 

“I fucking hate you.” you seeth at Yoongi, a look of pure panic on your face. Your own heart was beating rapidly and tears brimmed your eyes. “I told you I should have brought my gun you idiot-”

Another shot rings out, this time from Yoongi. You’re unsure how he’s managing to still fire from behind the car while bleeding out.

It was Yoongi’s idea for you to not bring your own protection for once. He stated that you wouldn’t need it - an attempt to slowly wean you off of your mafiosa lifestyle that you were born into. Now you were regretting believing his words - not because you never felt safe around Yoongi, but it was also about helping Yoongi when he was in need.

“Give me the gun.” you demand, wiping your pathetic tears away. Why were you on the verge of crying when you were you? 

Yoongi glances at you, frown deepening.

“Y/N-”

“I wasn’t asking.” you hiss. Yoongi had managed to take down two men, but there were still two left sending out shots - and you were beyond pissed.

Yoongi hands you his gun with a stoic expression. You had sense called your own men for backup and knowing Bangtan, they weren’t far behind. You are unaware if the men that ambushed you had more on the way and quite frankly, you didn’t want to stay to find out.

You’re crouching around the car, gun in your hands. Your eyes zone in on one man behind another car, his eyes set on where Yoongi is behind his car, waiting for another shot to give out.

You scoff, raising your gun and closing one eye before shooting. The bullet shoots right through his head, blood splattering as his body falls limp.

“You assholes ruined my fucking date!” you hiss angrily, aiming the gun at the other shooter, hitting him right in the shoulder. As his gun drops, you rise to your feet and begin to storm towards him.

Yoongi wouldn’t consider himself a completely dominant man. He was alright with having a woman by his side as an equal -  a woman like you. You knew how to lead just as much as he did. His eyes watch the way your heels click against the concrete as you storm towards the huffing, bleeding man. Your eyes are glaring directly at him, hand pointing the gun right into his face.

“Please-”

Yoongi jerks when the gun slams against the man's face and he’s sent flying against the concrete. His breathing increased - this wasn’t the time. His pants grow tight as he watches you continue to slam your gun against his face. He licks his lips at how amazing your legs looked from here - how your dress makes your ass appear even greater.

Yoongi exhales, getting up from leaning against his car and making his way towards you. His shoulder is throbbing and he was bleeding at an alarming pace but it was nothing he’s never felt before.

“Who,” SLAM. “the fuck” SLAM. “are you” SLAM. SLAM. “working for!”

Blood shoots from the man's mouth and Yoongi is close enough to wrap a hand onto your waist.

“If you keep beating him he won’t be able to talk.” Yoongi murmurs, but he admits you look entirely beautiful when you are aggressively upset. “Hoseok can’t be far. Him and Jungkook would get the information out of him.”

“Fuck.” you hiss one last time before slamming the gun against the man's already bloodied and bruised face. “We gotta stop the bleeding-”

“I’m fine.” Yoongi shakes his head with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“You’re obviously not fine, Yoongi.” you deadpan, turning to him. “I can see the blood dripping from your shoulder. Do I look like an idiot?”

Yoongi’s lip twitches and he holds back a laugh. He doesn’t want to appear as if he was taking you for a joke - he wasn’t. 

Tires squeal to a stop and Yoongi turns his head to the sound of it. Just as Hoseok and Jungkook arrive, so do a few of your own men. 

“What do we have here?” Hoseok asks, slamming his car door open and his eyes roam around the bloodied scene. 

“Looks like we have a bigger problem than stolen product.” Jungkook answers. He’s holding rope in his hands. 

“Miss.”

One of your men come besides you, his eyes examining you. ‘“Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” you murmur. Jungkook was wrapping the man - who’s in and out of consciousness, with the rope. “Clean this mess up.” you say, putting Yoongi’s gun back on safety. “And figure out who these motherfuckers are. Immediately.”

“Yes.” 

Yoongi swallows, his eyes roaming to the way your hips sway as you walk towards his car and open the backseat. You’re ripping apart your own cardigan for him to wrap his shoulder for the time being.

Yoongi watches you as you walk back towards him, taking the ripped cloth towards his shoulder. He’s silent, but he’s upset that the date has been ruined. For the first time, you and he had the chance to be normal for a few hours - and it was ruined by reality. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Your eyes glance up at Yoongi as you tighten the cloth underneath his arm pit. He was lucky that the bullet didn’t penetrate through.

“Why are you apologizing for being shot?” you murmur. Hoseok and Jungkook had speeded down the road and your men were in the middle of cleaning the mess. 

“I wanted for us to go on a date.” Yoongi snickers. “And be normal for once in our lives.”

“It isn’t your fault that we’ve made enemies.” you pat his shoulder gently, your lips forming a small grin. “It comes with the job.”

Yoongi’s tongue coats his lips, feline-like eyes watching you still. “You’re very beautiful, Y/N.” he says, tone deep. “Especially when you’re angry.”

You roll your eyes. “Pull yourself together, Yoongi.” you say. “You’re the only man that gets horny after being shot.”

“Ignore the fact that a bullet grazed me.” Yoongi says. He begins to follow you back to his car. “And concentrate on the fact that I can appreciate the way you handle a gun and beat up men.”

Yoongi rounds the corner to plop down into the driver seat. He notices your eyes on him. You want to speak up and offer to drive, but you don’t - you know he’s going to deny it.

Within a half an hour, you and Yoongi are back in your home. You have him seated on your couch while you tend to his wound. Hospitals were always out of the question which is why there were paid medics on hand. Yoongi, however, refused to see anyone. Instead, he’s chugging a bottle of whiskey as you dab a rag soaked in alcohol onto his wound to disinfect it.

“You’ve gotten yourself drunk in under an hour.” you deadpan with a shake of your head.

Yoongi, eyes glossy, tilts his head. 

“I wished you would’ve gotten yourself checked out-”

“Y/N,” Yoongi interrupts you. He takes another swig of whiskey, the burning sensation dying down. “will you marry me?”

You dropped the rag onto the couch beside him and sigh. “You’re on that again.”

“I’m not taking no for an answer.” Yoongi grumbles, his eyes squinting at you.

“You’re going to force me into marriage?” You’re amused now. Drunk Yoongi was always funny. His shoulders would relax and he’d let loose more than he was when he was sober.

“Of course not!” Yoongi gasps, then hums. “...I would just keep asking until you said yes.”

Your fingers tap lightly against his shoulder as you smile his way. It causes Yoongi’s heart to jump and he takes another swig of whiskey in an attempt to hide his red cheeks.

“Yoongi…?” you murmur, your fingertips stopping at Yoongi’s neck. He’s warm, and when he feels your fingers against his bare skin, the hair on his body rises. 

“Y-Yes?”

Yoongi wants to shoot himself in his good shoulder for stuttering like he was a school boy.

Your fingers dance up the side of his cheek to touch the scar. It’s embedded into his skin, smooth to the touch. “It seems like everytime you’re with me, you get hurt.” 

Yoongi craves your touch. He settles his cheek against your palm, glossy eyes watching you.

“Who says I’m hurt?” Yoongi responds. 

Your fingers trail along his scar and he recalls the day it happened - the way your father had slashed his eye as a mere warning. He recalls the way he screamed as blood trailed down his face, but even then he didn’t care about the pain that caused the half of his face to throb. He hears your cries and pleads for your father to leave him alone.

“If it means being with you, I take whatever.” Yoongi shrugs.

Your thumb traces Yoongi’s lips now, not realizing just how close you and he are. You missed being this close with him. It reminds you of when you were younger when life was a bit easier.

“What are you scared of exactly?” Yoongi speaks. He softly nuzzles himself closer to you. If he was sober, he would’ve felt a bit of pain coming from his shoulder. “Do you think I cannot protect you? I’ll die-”

“Yoongi, please shut up.” you press your thumb against his lips to silence him. You let out a soft giggle. “Everytime you get drunk, you go into a drunken speech of passion.”

Yoongi makes a sound with his throat. 

You sit a bit straighter before going to sit into his lap. Your dress rises up a bit and instantly, Yoongi’s hands place themselves onto your thighs. He rubs his hands against your soft thighs, a low moan coming from his lips. 

“We can talk about marriage later.” you say. Your nose rubs against his. “For now, let me thank you.”

Yoongi’s cock is dangerously hard against your clothed pussy. His breathing increases when your lips kiss the corner of his lips, teasing him. 

“I know I can be a handful.” you murmur against his skin, your hips rolling. 

Your lips press against his softly, but Yoongi is determined to taste you entirely. He deepens it, his nails digging into your hips to keep you perfectly in place. Your lips are so soft and sweet, your gloss tasting like mangos. Your perfumed aroma captivates him entirely and he doesn’t want you to move away from him.

Yoongi’s lips are covered in your gloss when your lips remove to breathe. His lips press against your chin to your jaw. 

“It’s okay.” Yoongi kisses along your neck now. “It’s good I have two hands, right?”

The kissing grows heavy. Your hands rub along his chest while his hands roam up and down your sides. Your hips continue to jerk needily to feel more of him.

Yoongi is grateful for the alcohol running through his system so that he could appreciate you fully without feeling any pain. His cock is already painfully erect and waiting to be let free to feel you - but he’ll wait for the right time. His tongue pokes out to run along the smooth skin of your neck, dipping lower and lower.

“I’ve wanted to take this dress off of you since you put it on.” Yoongi says, muffled against your skin. His tongue runs along your collarbone and goes down to your breast. 

“You could’ve had me naked hours ago.” you retort, head rolling back when you feel Yoongi’s warm tongue reach your breast. “But you wanted to waste time on a date.”

“It wasn’t a waste of time.” Yoongi retorts. His hands roam upwards to touch the straps of your dress and begin to pull them down. “I want to take you on many dates and show you off. Show everyone who you belong to.”

Yoongi was a possessive person and even without stating it aloud, he has claimed you as his countless times. When the straps fall down, his breath hitches at the sight of your bare breast. Your nipples are erect and both of his large hands grasp them entirely.

“I’m yours?” you scoff, yet you continue to roll your hips. Your right hand places itself above Yoongi’s. “I didn’t agree to marry you.” “You don’t have to.” Yoongi responds quickly. “You can keep denying me, but I’ll never allow another man to have you.”

Yoongi’s tongue wraps onto your erect nipple, rolling it against his tongue. He suckles needily, wishing he could do this forever - be in this blissful scenario where it was just you and him and no one else to interrupt it. Or shoot at him.

“I’ve killed for you already.” Yoongi says when he allows your nipple to pop from his mouth. “If I can’t have you, no one can.”

You bite your lip. That obviously is a red flag in itself. Yoongi had threatened countless men - a part of Bangtan and Deathrow - and had killed for you, both requested or not. If you were a normal girl living a normal life, it would frighten you how obsessive he could be.

But you established that you weren’t normal and neither is he. You were both born into this world of murder, drugs, sex and trafficking - so it excites you that Yoongi doesn’t go down without a fight.

“You can be happy with me.” Yoongi wraps your other nipple into his mouth. He pinches your free nipple between his index and thumb. Your hand roams his dark tresses, keeping him close against your chest. Your pussy is throbbing, Yoongi’s own hips meeting you halfway as you’re grinding.

“I can give you the wedding you wanted. I can give you the babies you’ve talked about.”

Yoongi’s hands wrap around to unzip your dress. He then proceeds to slide it down your bare back, shuddering at your naked skin. 

“You’d look so pretty pregnant, Y/N. It’ll be hard to get you to stay at home and not pistol whip anyone,” Yoongi jokes, tugging your dress down. “but it can be done.”

You roll your eyes, but Yoongi’s words cause that familiar throb between your legs.

“You think about getting me pregnant a lot?” you raise a brow.

“Of course I do. Don’t ask me dumb questions.”

Yoongi forces you up to remove your dress. It falls onto the ground by your feet. Your panties are basic cotton grey and it’s easily able to see the wetness right between your legs.

“You’re already so wet, Y/N. Your pussy wants to feel me.”

Yoongi’s cocky, his fingers cupping your pussy entirely to feel just how wet you are. He licks his lips, groaning. “You want to be bred, Y/N. You’re just stubborn.”

Yoongi begins to tug at your panties hastily. His mouth salivates. He hasn’t tasted you in years and being a patient man has done nothing but make him insatiable.

“You want to get me pregnant so bad, Yoongi. You’re a bit too obsessed.”

“You know that, right? Is that why you constantly tease me?” Yoongi dips his fingers between your wet folds. He shakes his head at just how sopping wet you were. “You roll your hips, talk to me a certain way.”

“I talk to you like a dog.” you deadpan, a soft moan releasing immediately after.

“And that’s what I love about you.” Yoongi brings his fingers into his mouth and grunts.

Yoongi pushes you onto the couch and falls onto his knees. He had to taste you.

You yelp when your legs are forced apart and Yoongi immediately begins to devour you. He’s completely starved, having missed your touch and taste for years. He doesn’t care about being quiet - you and he were alone. He suckles and smacks his lips against your wet pussy without a care in the world.

You’re squealing loudly as Yoongi’s head bobs back and forth. Your hand grips his hair, eyes watching as he devours you. His right hand forces your thigh down forcefully. You’re unsure how long you wanted Yoongi between your legs - more ways than one - and having him here now is entirely liberating. 

“That feels so good, Yoon.” you whimper, your pussy clenching around nothing. You wished it was stuffed with his cock and he bred you just like he said he wanted to.

Yoongi knows it does. He recalls the times he would eat you out without expecting anything in return - just because he loved the way you tasted and how hard you’d cum from his tongue alone.

Yoongi places two fingers into his mouth for a moment before inching them closer to your hole. His tongue then twirls onto your clit, eyes flickering up to watch your reaction. Your mouth opens in a gasp, back arching a bit. 

Your pussy immediately squeezes around his fingers and he begins to pump. His tongue continues to twirl onto your clit for added pleasure, determined in letting you cum. 

Your hands grip your breast and your eyes are fluttering close. Your hips grind a bit, thighs shaking. 

“Y-Yoon…!”

Yoongi chuckle, lifting from your clit. His lips and chin are coated in your arousal. “Yeah, baby?” he asks, tone sultry. “Does it feel good?”

You nod your head, swallowing. 

“Your fingers feel so good.”

Yoongi continues to pump, feline eyes watching your every move. The way you’re gasping every few moments. Your eyes fluttering open and close, your thighs quivering and shaking.

“You’re going to cum already, aren’t you?” Yoongi chuckles a bit, biting his lip. “You’ve been bottling everything up for so long that it only takes you about 5 minutes to cum all over my fingers.”

Fuck Yoongi and the way he was right about you. You had consumed most of your time running Deathrow that you hadn’t allowed yourself any true release. Your fingers could only do so much, and your vibrator could only stay charged for so long. It wasn’t the same as having a man fuck his fingers into you so vigorously -  as if he’s getting direct pleasure from it.

“That’s right, baby.” Yoongi marvels at the way your juices coat his palm that he adds another finger. You’re wet, pussy making sloppy squelching sounds. “Cum all over my fingers, Y/N. You’re finally being such a good girl.”

Who knew you had a praise kink?

You let go just as Yoongi intends. You weren’t expecting the pressure from deep within you to be released all over him, shooting out the clear liquid all over him and the floor.

Yoongi chuckles, releasing his fingers from your throbbing pussy. “You made such a mess. I knew you would.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, your chest rising and falling.

“I want to ride you.”

Yoongi’s eyes shoot up at your sudden change of tone. “Oh?”

You nod. You weren’t a rider - you never enjoyed it. Yoong did, however, enjoyed taking the lead. This time you wanted to have a bit of control. You needed to hear him moaning for you; because of something you were doing for him.

Before Yoongi can say anything else - not like he was going to deny you anyways - your hands grasp onto his shirt. You bring him closer to you so you can wrap your legs around his waist and flip him onto his own back.

Yoongi is amused by how easily you handle him. Dare he even say attracted by your sudden actions. You hover above him so you can undo his pants and slide them down to reveal his covered cock. It’s twitching angrily, ready to be set free and taken advantage of by you.

“Your cock is still pretty.” you state when you tug his briefs down. His cock springs out, oozing pre-cum from a pink tip you want to wrap your mouth around. But that’ll wait for another time. You don’t allow Yoongi the time to react before you grab it with your soft, yet firm hand. You center yourself.

“Fuck, hold-”

Yoongi grunts when you sit on him completely. His legs shake a bit at feeling you bare wet pussy squeezing him.

“Oh..shiiit.” Yoongi hisses out. He swallows thickly, his eyes fluttering a bit.

You smirk. Yoongi was a simple man indeed.  You’d have to show him what you’d learned over the years - mainly though porn as the thought of being with another man repulsed you. You were a certified man hater unless it was Yoongi; the man that wasn’t officially your man, but still is in theory.

Your feet planted itself onto either side of him and your arms wrapped around his neck. Your hips rise and fall in rhythm, his cock hitting your sweet spot with each bounce.

Yoongi’s large hands immediately fall onto your ass, squeezing them into his palms. He doesn’t care how needy he sounds with his whimpers and moans - he wasn’t embarrassed to show you how good you were.  He’s happy that he has the chance to feel you again - the tightness of your pussy, the flesh of your ass. Your breast bounces in his face and the sight is entirely heavenly that if he were to die right now, he would be content.

Content until Yoongi thinks that with him gone, you’d be vulnerable in the world and he immediately takes it back.

“You’re fucking yourself so good, baby.” Yoongi couldn’t help but to slap your ass and then immediately squeeze the flesh as you continued to bounce on his cock. His lips connect to the flesh of your breast, kissing along them as he curses to himself.

“Your cock feels so good, Yoongi.” you moan in his ear. You’re surprised by your own stamina - but having his cock in you after years of denying him for whatever pathetic reason was possibly why. Your pussy clenches and unclenches with each pounce, your clit rubbing against his skin for added friction.

“Yeah?” Yoongi’s teeth grazes your right nipple. “Your tits are so amazing.” he says, finding that your bouncing breast in his face was pure bliss. “I’ve waited so long to feel your pussy around me. You kept teasing me over and over again.”

Another slap onto your ass has you squealing - and clenching. Yoongi does it again to feel your pussy squeeze his cock again; and again and again until you can feel the flesh throbbing.

Yoongi’s hands squeeze your ass to keep you in place, his mouth wrapping onto your nipple. He begins to thrust upwards, pounding into you with such greed. Your skin slapping against his echoes off the high ceilings, your high-pitched squeals added onto that for added flavor.

Yoongi’s eyes flutter upwards, feeling entirely too blissful. His thrusts are powerful - so much so that he needed to feel you deeper. 

Yoongi flips you onto your back, slamming you against the leather couch without much warning. He forces your legs apart so he can see just how wet you were for him, dripping all over his cock.

“Look at that.” Yoongi chuckles, continuing his brutal pace. 

It’s disrespectful, even, the way Yoongi fucks you. But neither of you care. He plunges his cock so deep into you that you can swear you feel him in your stomach, and even then you’re only begging him for more. 

Drunk Yoongi was a different Yoongi, at times  - but he was the same man that craved you entirely. His hands - a part of him that you always admired for how large, veiny and beautiful they were, clasp onto your shoulders. His dark eyes stare right into you, pounding his cock in and out of you.

“You’re so d-deep.”  you gasp, your toes curling when he hits that same sweet spot that only he could ever reach.

“I gotta be deep if I’m going to get you pregnant.”

Why was that so tempting?

Damn Yoongi and his dirty talk - along with his fucked out expression and deep, husky voice. How could you not want to be bred by him when he looked this good? The scar just added onto his attractiveness.

“I-I’d like that.”

Yoongi groans. “Yeah?” his eyebrows knit. “You want my baby but won’t marry me?”

Yoongi’s hands squeeze your shoulders tighter. Your back arches a bit at the added touch.

“Want my fingers. My tongue. My cock.” One hand lifts from your shoulders to your face, his thumb tracing your lips. “My babies…but won’t give me the satisfaction of marriage.”

You whimper at the familiar bubbling in your stomach.

“Stop-”

Yoongi pushes himself away from you. He’s standing, pulling your body with him so that your lower half is fully in his embrace. He drills into you at the same alarming pace and you’re only forced to watch helplessly moaning.

“Yoon-g-gi!”

Yoongi wasn’t going to spare you - not when you felt so good. Not when you were making such sweet noises.

“Marry me, Y/N.” Yoongi demands, a thumb placing onto your throbbing clit and twirling vigorously. “Whatever you want, you got it. Do I need to kill ten more men for you?”

Your hands squeeze onto nothing. You don’t recall Yoongi being this much of a aggressive fucker but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love every moment of it.

“Yoon-”

“Yes or no, baby? Don’t you want those babies we talked about?”

You did - damn Yoongi for making you want babies you hadn’t thought about in years.

“They’ll be so cute. I want a little girl just like you to spoil.” Yoongi’s thumb continues to tier; harshly onto your clit. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, a loud groan coming from your throat.

“I’m gonna cum,” you gasp out, wanting to squirm away from his possessive embrace.

“Are you going to marry me or not?” Yoongi grumbles, replacing his thumb with four fingers. You were milking his cock so well, arousal dripping from your pussy to your thighs and around his cock. He wished he had a camera to capture such a beautiful moment.

“Yes!” 

You were cumming, but Yoongi didn’t care about that right now. You had finally agreed to marry him - and maybe it was the orgasm talking, but he took it serious enough to continue twirling your clit until you’re leaking all over the place. And even then, he continues fucking into your pussy greedily until he’s cumming in you, shooting you with warm ropes of cum.

You’re exhausted at the end of it all - an hour and a half and three orgasms later. Your pussy is leaking cum from Yoongi, who’s insatiable but satiated at the moment. The fucking went from the livingroom, to your bedroom. Your eyelids are heavy and all you wanted to do was sleep.

“Yoongi?”

It was ten minutes later when you spoke to the man. He’s wide away, seemingly coming down from his drunken state.

“Hm?” Yoongi says, cigarette hanging from his lips. 

“We should probably talk.”

Your eyes are still closed and your voice is full of sleep.

“Maybe after you’ve rested-”

“Give me the ring.”

Yoongi is silent as he inhales the smoke, the familiar burning sensation hits his throat.

“I’m not going to ask you again.” you say, eyes still closed.

Yoongi does as you say. He had the ring tucked in his jacket pocket just downstairs and when he retrieved it, you held out your hand for him to put it on. Your eyes finally open to inspect the ring and how it looks on your finger.

Yoongi doesn’t speak, and neither do you. It was like that at times with the two of you. Instead of saying anything, you glance at him hovering above you and tuck your hand underneath your face and close your eyes.

What’s understood doesn’t need to be said, but Yoongi can feel the way his heart jolts at the silent agreement.

@sweetempathprunetree @darkuni63 @investedreader @chimmy-licious @minshookie29

[staytinyarmy]

Hi! How are you doing? I hope you're doing fine! ✨️💜

I've read all your headcanons so I was hoping if you could accept my request. ✨️

They have been dating reader in secret but their relationship gets leaked (You decide how for each member) and it could be angst?

Thanks you for taking time on reading my ask and hopefully writing my request 💜

Have a nice day! ✨️

💌 Reply:

Hi there! 💜 Thanks so much for your kind message and for loving the headcanons! Absolutely adore this angsty request... I appreciate you sending this in, and hope you have the loveliest day too! ✨ - also I'm sorry for the late reply, but I hope its what you wanted and imagined 💜

-c-

BTS (OT7) x Reader Secret Relationship Leaked 

NAMJOON

-“Not all rainbows need an audience.”-

HOW IT LEAKED

starts with a demo track

Namjoon had been working on a solo project

= raw, unfiltered piece titled “Monochrome Rain” 

inspired by the quiet mornings he spent with you

= the way you’d trace constellations on his back while he scribbled lyrics

= the way your laughter harmonized with his piano’s minor keys

he accidentally uploads an unedited version to SoundCloud, in a sleep-deprived haze

track includes a voicemail snippet of you whispering:

“Come to bed, Joon-ah. The stars can wait.”

fans dissect it within minutes

metadata reveals the recording date

= a night BTS was supposedly in Tokyo

ARMYs cross-reference his old VLives

finding the exact moment he’d glanced offscreen, smile softening as if someone had called his name

hashtags trend: #NamsSecret, #WhoIsShe

by dawn, Dispatch has your name

HIS PUBLIC REACTION

Stage Persona

at press conference for the new album, he’s asked about the leak

adjusts his glasses

CEO-like mask sliding into place

“Music is a diary. Some pages are meant to be read aloud; others… are written in ink that fades.” 

room erupts in chatter

he doesn’t flinch

Weverse

posts a photo of a stormy sky

captioned:

“Not all rainbows need an audience.” 

ARMYs debate if it’s a metaphor or a confession

Damage Control

lets Big Hit release a vague statement about “private matters."

insists on no lies

“I won’t call her a ‘friend.’ She’s… more.”

HIS PRIVATE REACTION

he’s in his studio

staring at the chaos of papers and half-empty coffee cups

when you walk in, he doesn’t turn around

“They’ll dissect you."

voice hollow

“Your childhood photos, your family, the way you pronounce ‘bibliophile’… They’ll say you’re why the album’s delayed.”

you reach for him

he pulls away

pacing like a caged animal

“I knew this would happen. I’m… I’m not safe. I’m a curse.” 

his voice cracks on the last word

suddenly he’s 19 again - rookie leader who apologized for existing (too loudly)

Breaking Point

at 4 a.m.

drags you to Namsan Tower

city lights blurring through his unshed tears

“I wanted to protect you."

rasps, gripping the railing until his knuckles bleach

“But I’m just… a man who loves too loudly in a world that demands whispers.”

you kiss his trembling hands

he collapses into you

he's muttering into your hair like a prayer

AFTERMATH

Professional Life

Album

releases “Monochrome Rain” as the title track

rewrites the bridge

new lyrics gut you: 

“Love, a language too heavy for my tongue / I bite the words, let them bruise my lungs.”

Interviews

when asked about the “mystery muse” he smirks

“Art thrives in shadows. But if you listen closely… she’s in every breath.”

Personal Life

New Rules

no more lazy Sundays at Han River

instead, he rents a secluded cabin under a fake name

“Kim Namjoon? Never heard of him”

buys a vintage typewriter to write you letters

unsigned

Guilt

starts therapy

scribbles in his journal

“How do I love her without devouring her?”

Quiet Rebellion

wears your scarf to the Grammy’s

tucked under his suit

lets it slip during his red-carpet twirl

quotes your favorite poet in his acceptance speech

LITTLE THINGS ONLY YOU SEE

Nightmares

wakes up gasping

clutching your wrist

“I dreamt they… they took you.” 

lets you hum “Moonchild” 

until his heartbeat steadies

Playlist

makes you a mixtape titled “For When the World Feels Heavy” 

filled with Mitski and Epik High

hides a voicemail at the end: 

“I’d burn it all down for you. Just say the word.”

Ritual

every anniversary, he plants a tree in your name

“Roots are the original secrets, they grow deeper when no one’s watching.”

JIN

-“My only partner is this mic! And Jungkook’s credit card.” -

HOW IT LEAKED

a stray sticker on his water bottle during a Weverse Live

a tiny cartoon heart you doodled as a joke

fans zoom in

reverse-image search it

trace it to your Instagram story from months ago

within hours, screenshots of your matching couple bracelets (yours engraved with “Worldwide Your Handsome”) flood forums

Dispatch digs deeper

= a blurred photo of Jin leaving your apartment at dawn, a bouquet of peonies in hand (your favorite, bought after a petty fight)

headline reads: “BTS’s Jin: Secret Romance with Non-Celebrity Partner Exposed!”

HIS PUBLIC REACTION

Deflection with Humor

at a fan meeting, a fan shouts:

“Oppa, are you dating?!” 

Jin smirks

flexing

“Why? Are you proposing? Don’t make Worldwide Handsome choose!” 

crowd laughs

his grip tightens on the mic

VLive/Weverse Damage Control

hosts a mukbang

casually showing his bare wrists

“Bracelets? Too flashy! I’m a simple man... just give me kimchi and WiFi.” 

fans notice his pinky ring

= yours, borrowed and never returned

he waves it off

“Family heirloom. My grandma’s ghost will haunt you if you ask again!”

Company Statement

BigHit issues a vague denial

Jin insists on adding more

“Please respect my personal life. I’m still the same guy who forgets to water his plants!”

HIS PRIVATE REACTION

Night of the Leak

cancels your dinner date

citing “group stuff"

you find him at 1 a.m. in the kitchen

stress-baking songpyeon with twice the usual sugar. 

"It’s okay...” (you)

slams the rolling pin down

“It’s not.” 

his voice cracks

“They’re calling you a gold-digger. A distraction. I should’ve… I should’ve been smarter.”

Breaking Point

avoids you for three days

throwing himself into rehearsals

on the fourth night, he shows up at your door

hair messy

holding a Budae-jjigae pot

“I couldn’t sleep...”

mumbles

“Kept thinking… what if they hurt you? What if I’m not enough to protect you?” 

you hug him

he clings like you’re the last life raft on the Titanic

AFTERMATH

Professional Life

Fan Interactions

starts ending lives with:

“Love yourself! And… maybe don’t stalk your bias’s water bottles?” 

ARMYs laugh

tho the subtext stings

Variety Shows

hosts tease him about dating?

he leans into the joke

“My only partner is this mic! And Jungkook’s credit card.” 

later texts you: 

“Miss you. Will make it up to you with jajangmyeon.”

Personal Life

New Rules

no more public dates

rents a private karaoke room weekly

dedicating “Epiphany” to you off-key

“You’re my real audience" 

he grins, cheeks flushed with soju and sincerity

Guilty Pleasures

sneaks your photo into his selcas

hidden in phone case reflections

“Inside joke, with myself. Because I’m hilarious.”

Quiet Rebellion

Gaming Nights

livestreams under a fake account (“EatJin_SecretSnack”)

teaming up with you

“Noob_Queen? Just… a fan. A very talented fan.”

Food Wars

brings you to his favourite’ restaurants, introducing you as “my taste-tester”

chef friends side-eye him

"Seokjin-ah, why is she wearing your jacket?” 

he chokes on kimchi

LITTLE THINGS ONLY YOU SEE

Notes

slips handwritten jokes into your bag

“Why did the scarecrow win an award? Because he was out-standing in his field… just like you.” 

signed: “Your (secret) Worldwide Handsome.”

Protectiveness

buys you a panic button disguised as a keychain

“For my peace of mind. And don’t lose it... it’s Gucci!” 

Vulnerability

falls asleep on your lap after concerts

murmuring

“Jin tired. Just… let me stay here, okay?”

YOONGI

-“My music speaks for itself. If you’re looking for gossip, you’re in the wrong room.”-

HOW IT LEAKED

a producer’s slipup

Yoongi had been collaborating on a track for an indie artist

during a late-night studio session, he’d left his phone unlocked

voice memo plays accidentally over the speakers

= your voice, soft and sleep-heavy, murmuring

“Yoongi-ya, come to bed. You’ve been at it for hours.” 

other producer, thinks it’s part of the song

includes the clip as an “authentic, intimate vibe.”

track drops

fans dissect it instantly

within hours, the audio snippet is isolated

looped, and compared to your voice from an old YouTube video where you reviewed his mixtape

hashtags like #WhoIsSUGAsMuse and #AgustDGF trend

Dispatch digs up a grainy photo of you two from a year ago

= Yoongi’s hand brushing yours under a café table

his face unreadable

his thumb tracing your knuckles

HIS PUBLIC REACTION

Cold Silence

ignores all questions

at a press conference, when asked about the “mystery woman,” he stares the reporter down

“My music speaks for itself. If you’re looking for gossip, you’re in the wrong room.”

Defiance

releases a remix of the track a week later

your voice amplified and distorted into a haunting echo

title? “No Comment.”

ARMY’s Clues

notices he starts wearing a black ring on his right hand

a subtle symbol

fans debate if it’s a coincidence or a middle finger to speculation

HIS PRIVATE REACTION

he’s in his studio

jaw clenched

deleting hundreds of hate comments aimed at you

when you walk in, he doesn’t look up

“You should leave."

mutters, voice gravelly

“I’ll call you a cab. Don’t… don’t come here for a while.”

you freeze

“Yoongi, we knew this could...”

he snaps

slamming his fist on the desk

“I told you I’d ruin it. I’m not... I’m not built for this.” 

his anger cracks

revealing the fear beneath

“They’ll eat you alive. And I’ll just… sit here. Useless.”

Breaking Point

disappears for two days

you find him in Daegu

in the tiny studio he built in his parents’ garage

walls are covered in scribbled lyrics

half of them about you

he’s asleep at his desk

head pillowed on a notebook open to a page titled “Ways to Disappear.”

when he wakes, he doesn’t apologize

just hands you a cup of instant coffee 

“I’m not good at this. But I’m not letting go.”

AFTERMATH

Professional Life

Music

writes a diss track aimed at the producer who leaked the clip

“You want a story? Here’s one about betrayal and bitch-made moves.” 

buried in the second verse is a line only you understand fully

“Her voice is my compass... you just noise.”

Interviews

when probed about “romance” he deadpans

“I’m married to my work. But my work has trust issues.”

Personal Life

New Rules

no more midnight walks

installs blackout curtains and soundproofing in ALL rooms

“Our world starts here” 

nodding to the tiny couch where you now sleep most nights

Guilt

starts donating anonymously to anti-paparazzi charities

when you ask why, he grumbles

“Tax write-offs.”

Quiet Rebellion

learns ASL to communicate with you during events

“Love you” 

signs it under the table at the MAMAs

eyes locked on the stage like he’s bored

writes your name in tiny Hangul letters inside his Grammy trophy

“So they’ll never know who I’m thanking.”

LITTLE THINGS ONLY YOU SEE

Nightmares

wakes up in a cold sweat

clutching the collar of your shirt

“Dreamt they… found you. Took you.” 

lets you play his own “First Love” on the piano until he stops shaking

Playlist

makes you a mixtape titled “For the Bad Days” 

filled with angry rap and a single hidden track

= a lullaby he hummed into his phone at 4 a.m.

Ritual

every month, he buys a new plant for your apartment

“They’re quieter than people."

names them after lyrics he’ll never release

J-HOPE

-“Love… is the reason I dance.”-

HOW IT LEAKED

a moment of unguarded tenderness

happens during a live dance practice stream

Hobi pauses to adjust the camera angle

“Gotta make sure they don’t see...” 

before cutting himself off

but the mic picks up your voice offscreen

teasing

“Hobi-ya, your shirt’s inside out… again.”

clip goes viral

dissected for its intimacy

= the way his shoulders relax at your voice, the fond exasperation in your tone

fans stitch it with old content

= you wearing his hoodie in a 2018 Vlog, him slipping you a candy during a concert rehearsal.

by midnight, #Hope’sSecret trends globally

HIS PUBLIC REACTION

Mask

at the next fansign, he cranks his sunshine dial to 200%

laughs off questions

“You know I’m married to dance, right?” 

his smile strains at the edges

posts a mirror selfie captioned “Alone but not lonely 💜”

a lie so glaring it aches

Damage Control

volunteers for extra schedules

flooding social media with dance covers

ARMYs praise his “relentless positivity”

you see the desperation beneath it

- he’s trying to outrun the storm-

Interview That Breaks Him

reporter asks him:

“Is love a distraction from your art?” 

Hobi’s smile falters

“Love… is the reason I dance.”

clip trends again with edits of him glancing offstage (as if searching for someone)

HIS PRIVATE REACTION

cancels your anniversary dinner

you find him in the practice room

shirt drenched

dancing to “Blue Side” on repeat

when you call his name, he whirls around

eyes wild

“Why did I... Why did I let myself need you?” 

his voice cracks

“I’m supposed to be… strong.”

Breaking Point

avoids you for days

then shows up at your door at 3 a.m.

trembling

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I keep... I keep ruining things.”

collapses into your arms

repeating “I’m sorry” like a mantra

= as if guilt could be scrubbed clean by confession

Fear

confesses in whispers

“When I was a trainee, they told me joy was my only currency. What if… what if they decide I’m bankrupt?”

AFTERMATH

Professional Life:

The Choreography: Creates a solo piece titled “Eclipse.” It’s all sharp angles and abrupt silences, his body folding inward like a flower denied light. Fans call it his “most raw work yet.” Only you know it’s about the nights he cried in your lap.

The Lie: Refers to you as his “cousin” in interviews. Laughs too loud, adds, “We’re super close!” The first time he says it, he vomits afterward.

Personal Life:

New Rules: No more public dates. Instead, he rents a secluded dance studio under a fake name. Teaches you choreography at 2 a.m., his hands lingering on your waist like a secret.

Guilt: Buys you endless gifts—designer bags, rare vinyls, a necklace with a hidden sun pendant. “You deserve everything,” he says, as if materialism could offset the loneliness.

The Quiet Rebellion:

Wears mismatched socks to rehearsals—your inside joke. When teased, he grins. “Fashion is chaos, right?”

Slips your initials into his next album credits under “Special Thanks to My Sunrise.” ARMYs assume it’s a metaphor.

LITTLE THINGS ONLY YOU SEE

The Ritual: Every morning, he texts you a sunrise photo. No words—just light. On bad days, he sends two.

The Playlist: Creates a secret SoundCloud titled “For Her.” Filled with jazz covers of BTS songs, slowed down and soulful. The bio reads: “Love is a dance no one else hears.”

The Tattoo: Gets a tiny sun behind his ear. “So even when I’m performing… you’re with me.”

JIMIN

-“If I had someone… I’d want to protect them. Even from me.”-

HOW IT LEAKED

a humid night in Seoul

Jimin’s live stream starts innocently enough

cozy, post-concert wind-down where he’s draped in a oversized sweater

hair damp from the shower

answering fan questions with sleepy charm

exhaustion makes him reckless

when a comment asks: “What’s your ideal date? 💜” 

he smiles absently

gaze drifting offscreen to where you’re curled on the couch

“Hmm… Rainy mornings. Someone who steals my hoodies. And… dancing in the kitchen at 2 a.m.” 

his voice softens

a secret slipping through

“Especially if they’re terrible at it.”

you laugh, unaware the mic catches it

a bright, familiar sound that ARMYs recognize from a cameo months ago

clip goes viral within hours

“WHO IS SHE?” 

next morning, a blurry paparazzi photo of Jimin’s hand brushing yours under a café table floods forums

your linked pinkies labeled: “Proof.”

HIS PUBLIC REACTION

Mask

next fan sign, he’s all dimples and sparkles

laughing off questions

“Dancing in the kitchen? I was just… describing a drama plot!”

tho his smile doesn’t crinkle his eyes

he signs an album with “Love is patient” 

Social Media

posts a mirror selfie half shirtless

captioned: “Focus on the gains, not the rumors 💪🔥.” 

comments explode with “He’s deflecting!!” and “Protect him!!”

Stage Persona

at concert, he performs “Filter” with razor-sharp precision

hips snapping like he’s punishing the world for looking too close

during the ment, he whispers:

“Love… is a mirror. Sometimes it’s kinder to look away.”

HIS PRIVATE REACTION

cancels your date

citing “schedule conflicts”

then shows up at your door at 3 a.m.

eyes red-rimmed and hair tangled

“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry...” 

he chokes

collapsing into your arms

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to… ”

fists his hands in your shirt

voice breaking

“They’ll hate you. They’ll say I’m yours and... and that’s dangerous.”

Guilt

avoids touchfor days

flinching when you reach for him

practices until his feet bleed

screaming at mirrors

“Control it. Control.”

when you bandage his blisters, he sobs

“Why won’t you leave? I’m ruining you.”

Turning Point

you find him in the studio

slumped over the piano

playing a mangled version of “Promise” 

he freezes when you enter

“I rewrote this for you” 

he whispers

“But now it’s… a cage.” 

you sit beside him

pressing a melody into the keys

= your song

the one he hummed while making breakfast

he crumbles

“I’m scared...” 

admits it, forehead against yours

“But I’m more scared of losing us.”

AFTERMATH

Professional Life

Comeback

releases a new solo track - “Veil” 

with lyrics about “hands that fit too perfectly to hide” 

dances with a blindfold during the choreo

fingers brushing empty air where you’d stand

Interviews

when asked about dating, he tilts his head, coy

“If I had someone… I’d want to protect them. Even from me.”

Personal Life

New Rules

no more public cafes

instead, he rents out entire movie theaters under fake names (“Mr. Park and… Mrs. Pancakes?”)

learns to cook your favorite dishes so you never have to risk takeout

Quiet Defiance

starts wearing your ring on a chain under his stage outfits

lets it slip during a jacket adjustment

smirk daring the cameras to notice

Healing

therapy

journals: “Love isn’t a sin. Fear is.”

takes you to Busan

introduces you to his parents as “my peace” 

his mom cries

his dad hugs you, asing how you like your coffee 

“You better deserve him” 

but slips you extra cake

LITTLE THINGS ONLY YOU SEE

Nightmares

wakes up gasping

clutching your wrist

“I dreamt they… they took you.” 

lets you hum “Serendipity” until his heartbeat steadies

Playlist

makes you a mixtape titled “For When the World Feels Heavy” 

filled with H.E.R. and old Bolero covers

hides a voicemail at the end

“I’d burn it all down for you. Just say the word.”

Ritual

every month, he lights a candle and deletes one hate comment aloud

“Your words don’t own us.”

TAEHYUNG

-“I wanted the world to see you like I do… but not like this.”-

HOW IT LEAKED

a photograph on his private blog

one he never meant to share

Taehyung had been curating a series titled “Light in the Cracks”

= glimpses of his world through fractured mirrors and sunlit dust

one image stands out

= a shadowy silhouette of you dancing in an empty studio

backlit by golden hour

your figure blurred but unmistakable to anyone who knows you

caption reads: “My favorite kind of magic: the unseen.”

fans zoom in

your necklace is a tiny moonstone pendant he gifted you on your first anniversary

matches the one in his latest live

ARMYs stitch timelines

tracing your shared glances at concerts

the way he’d hum “Sweet Night” when you entered a room

by midnight, your Instagram is flooded with comments

“Is this V’s muse?”

HIS PUBLIC REACTION

Artist’s Gambit

doesn’t delete the photo

he posts a follow-up

= a close-up of wilting roses

captioned:  “Beauty is fragile. Handle with care.” 

fans dissect it as a plea for privacy

Press Play

at a movie premiere, reporters ambush him

“Is love your new inspiration?” 

he smirks

adjusting his beret

“Love is always my inspiration. Next question.”

Social Media Silence

archives all personal posts except the roses

changes his bio to “Guardian of galaxies.”

HIS PRIVATE REACTION

he is in his darkroom

red light casting shadows as he develops film

when you find him, his hands are stained with chemicals

trembling

“I’m sorry...” 

whispers, voice raw

“I wanted the world to see you like I do… but not like this.”

shows you a contact sheet of stolen moments

= your laugh caught mid-frame, your hand curled around his wrist, a tear he kissed away

“These were just for us, now they’re… theirs.”

Breaking Point

3 a.m.

he drives you to Daegu

speeding through backroads until you reach his gradparents old farm

sits you under a persimmon tree where he wrote his first song

“Hyung once told me love is a secret you plant."

murmurs

dirt under his nails as he digs a hole

buries a film canister of your photos

“Let’s grow it here. Where no one can dig it up.”

AFTERMATH

Professional Life

Artistic Rebellion

next photography exhibit features distorted self-portraits

= mirrors shattered and rearranged

he centerpiece?

= a single rose encased in glass

titled “Unreachable.” 

critics call it “melancholic genius.”

ARMYs know better

Music Clues

releases a jazz cover of “Someone Like You” 

with modified lyrics

“Don’t forget me, I beg… but forget the world.”

Personal Life

New Rituals

learns calligraphy to write you letters in Daegu satoori

sealed with wax stamps

signs them in red ink

Guilt & Protection

hires a bodyguard for you

then fires them when you protest

“Fine. Then I’ll protect you myself.” 

starts taking Krav Maga

“For art."

Defiant Love

wears a silver ring on his thumb

your initials etched inside

lets it “accidentally” face the camera during a fansign

quotes Pablo Neruda in a Weverse reply

“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.”

LITTLE THINGS ONLY YOU SEE

Midnight Piano

plays “Winter Bear” on loop when he’s anxious

fingers stumbling until you sit beside him

 “You’re my melody...”

mumbles

resting his head on your shoulder

Sketchbook

fills pages with your eyes

...“the left one’s brighter when you lie”

hides it under his bed

lets you find it with a sticky note

“For your eyes only.”

Code

develops a tap system for crowded events

three squeezes = “I love you” 

two = “Let’s run” 

uses both excessively

JUNGKOOK

-“You said… you wanted normal. And I… I couldn’t even give you that.”-

HOW IT LEAKED

happens during a live

Jungkook, half-shirtless and sweaty post-workout

rambles about his gym routine

you call out from the kitchen

“Kookie, did you eat the last mandu?!” 

he freezes mid-flex

eyes widening like a deer in headlights

live cuts off abruptly

but not before 2 million ARMYs hear his panicked: “Uh… no?” and your laughter

fans dissect the clip frame by frame

someone enhances the background noise

isolating your voice from a BTS fanmeet Q&A three years prior

by midnight, your Instagram is flooded with side-by-side comparisons of your hands

visible in an old VLOG and the “mystery girl” in his live

HIS PUBLIC REACTION

Silence

Jungkook ghosts social media for 72 hours

unprecedented for the man who once posted 10 gym selfies just a few days before

Deflection

returns with a thirst trap video captioned “Focus on your gains, not my snacks.” 

comments are disabled

Protective Fury

when a paparazzi shoves a mic in your face, he snarls

“Touch her again and I’ll end you” 

voice so low it trends as “Demon Jungkook.”

HIS PRIVATE REACTION

Immediate Aftermath

he’s a mess

you find him in the gym at 3 a.m.

punching a bag until his knuckles split

“I ruined it.”

chokes, sweat and tears mixing on his face

“You said… you wanted normal. And I… I couldn’t even give you that.”

Breaking Point

that night, he crawls into your bed

shaking

“I’ll quit."

whispers

“Fuck the fame. Let’s move to Jeju. I’ll fish. You’ll… sell seaweed. We’ll be nobodies.” 

you laugh

he’s dead serious.

Guilt & Growt

buys burner phones

creates coded playlists (“Strawberry Milk” = I miss you; "Banana Milk" = I love you)

forces himself to watch the leaked clip 100 times

“To remember how stupid I was.”

AFTERMATH

Professional Life

Music

releases a solo track

“Seven (Silent Nights)” 

lyrics about “loving in the dark, counting heartbeats instead of stars.” 

ARMYs sob

you know it’s about the nights he held you

terrified of dawn

Interviews

when asked about “dating rumors” he just smirks

“I date my dumbbells. They’re very loyal.”

his knee presses against yours under the table later

Personal Life

New Rules

learns to cook mandu from scratch and YouTube tutorials

leaves them on your pillow with Post-its

“Proof I’m learning.”

Symbolic Gestures

gets a tattoo of your initials under his ribcage

“So even if they take everything, you’re here.”

LITTLE THINGS ONLY YOU SEE

Nightmares

wakes up clawing at his chest

convinced your initials vanished

makes you trace them with your finger

until his breathing steadies

Chaos

drags you to Namsan Tower at 4 a.m.

both of you in disguises

“We’re tourists! From… Canada!”

Softness

whispers “I’m sorry” into your skin every time he kisses you

= a mantra, a prayer, a promise

[staytinyarmy]

𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊!—𝘑𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Stray Kids headcanon

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Pussy!drunk Jeongin says fuck water and oxygen. Your cunt is his basic need for survival.

Pussy!drunk Jeongin who needs to have his face buried between your legs at least once a day to get through the rest of the twenty four hours.

Pussy!drunk Jeongin who shows you how a real man gives you head. He thinks kissing the clit before starting is considered respectful, seeing that your cunt is gonna end up wet, swollen, sticky and dripping with arousal in the next few seconds.

Pussy!drunk Jeongin doesn't just eat you out. Nooo. He worships you.

Holds your thighs firmly with his slender fingers, the fingertips digging into your soft skin when he leans in to your core that's clenching around nothing. Licks a long, languid stripe up your folds, parts them to look at your core that's so fucking tight, God damn, he might need an exorcism because he gets possessed at the sight.

Messy! Messy! Messy! The said gentlemen, Pussy!drunk Jeongin is the messiest fucking person you've met. The man doesn't give himself to breathe, pulling one orgasm out of another, drool leaking out of the corners of his mouth, chin and lips slick with your juices, thrusting his tongue deep inside that tugging his hair to stay hold feels useless.

Shamelessly groans and whines when feasting, making the most absurd, squelching noises slip out from down there that if anyone hears you, it's no surprise at this point. (He lowkey wants someone to hear how good he's making you feel).

Says the nastiest shit you've heard him say, you wonder if he's the same guy from when you first met. "So tight,"—slurp—suck— "S'good you taste,"—suck— "So fucking good mgh."

What's alcohol? He's intoxicated within seconds with the scent and taste of you alone.

But definitely talks you through it, saying how your pussy is made for him, how much he loves it when you close your legs around his head, watching your glassy eyes, chest rising and falling, body going boneless and limp.

Pussy!drunk Jeongin doesn't care what time it is. Every hour is a good hour to eat pussy. That's his policy. (With consent obviously).

Bent over the kitchen counter with your legs open, thighs spread wide on the mattress or skirt lifted up, panties shoved to the side while you both are hiding in a corner of somewhere semi public, trying not to get caught.

Doesn't give you time to breathe or recover, I mean—he's on a mission to see how many times can he make you lose your mind by letting his mouth do its wonders.

Pussy!drunk Jeongin who wakes you up every morning with his head in your cunt. He waits patiently for you to stir awake because he wants to make you feel the slow precise strokes of his tongue. Circling the glossy clit with the tip, then down the slit before taking the bud back into his mouth.

You arch your back, a small whimper escaping your lips, you're just waking up but your toes are already curling and your breaths becoming rapid. You buck your hips up, eyes hooded, mouth parted but he is only being so slow, dragging out the morning by serving himself breakfast in your sweetest bundle of nerves.

Pussy!drunk Jeongin who flies to the moon (figuratively) when you offer to sit on his face. He feels like it was some revelation that was sent for him, who's shirt is lost in a blink of an eye and is lying comfortably on the bed, head on the pillows, ready to get suffocated between your thighs.

His nose nudges your throbbing clit with every lick of his tongue while you're grinding on his mouth, fingertips digging into the curves of your ass and you're shaking above him. His throat flexes as he swallows every last drop and milks out for more, doesn't give a shit that you're overstimulated or when say you can't anymore.

He will make you cum as many times as he wants and you do every single time. Has made himself spill his load in his pants or on the bed just by stuffing his face up your cunt.

Fucks his fist so hard and fast or ruts into the mattress while he has you folded, breathing in your musky scent and soaking down with your releases.

His poor cock wants to be shoved into your hole, it gets the chance but only after he has coaxed enough orgasms out of you with his tongue.

Oh, and speaking of overstimulation—that is Pussy!drunk Jeongin's favourite thing in the world. How cruel this guy is, abusing your cunt to beyond the limit, you're whimpering, sobbing, screaming his name and that's music to his ears.

"M'so sensitive Innie—please—," you beg, tears leaking from your eyes, face flushed hot pink and he just groans into your flesh. "One more baby, one more please, please f'me baby?" And then he begs, not leaving your sloppy core alone at all.

Breaks you into shards only to put you back together over and over.

Stuffs his long digits in your gummy walls while his lips are wrapped on the swollen bud, making you squirt again and again and again. Scissors them just right, curling just enough to hit the sweet spot and you're shooting clear streams, soaking his hand, his face and the sheets beneath you. He thinks it's so fucking sexy to see you rip apart like that just for him.

Leaves you raw, core pulsing, body trembling once he's finally done. Watches his spit mixed with your slick slide down your drenched core, mentally noting in his brain he's going to do the same thing again tomorrow.

It's a cycle that never stops.

Pussy!drunk Jeongin eats you out for your pleasure—sure—but it's just the guy gets so euphoric knowing that your pretty pussy is all and only for him.

It's not really his fault that you taste so good is it? Says everytime you scold him for being late for work or when he refuses to let you go.

Actions come with consequences, so while you're all swollen and sore, Pussy!drunk Jeongin's jaw is stiff and aching for two days or three from how merciless he was on your poor cunt.

Good luck to him for his next recording session.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Enjoyed this headcanon? Consider checking my masterlist for more. Requests? Check 𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 (& 𝚁𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜)

Taglist: @velvetmoonlght @de-uns-tempos-pra-ca @greyyeti

If you want to be added to the taglist, drop a comment <3 (If I missed someone please lmk)

Thank you for reading!

xx,

Ivyy

[staytinyarmy]

between the lines 2

lee minho x f!reader

synopsis: after a quiet and amicable separation, you and minho learn to navigate the subtle emotional terrain of co-parenting, discovering that the bonds between you aren’t entirely severed. when a new relationship enters the picture, old emotions come into play, forcing you to reassess what it means to truly move on.

warnings: angst, slow burn, emotional tension, jealousy, unresolved feelings, mild alcohol use.

wc: 10,056

[between the lines part 1]

Minho was stressed, more than he cared to admit, even to himself. It was the kind of stress that lingered in your bones, in the tight clench of your jaw and the ever-present weight pressing against your temples. He sat at his desk, eyes trained on the screen in front of him, but not really seeing anything. The same sentence of his report had been rewritten four times now. It wasn’t the numbers or the deadlines that had his mind in a chokehold.

It was you.

You, smiling down at your phone these days, blushing when you picked Hana up from him, trying to hide it but not quite succeeding. You, brushing him off gently when he tried to ask about what or who was making you light up like that. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. You were seeing someone. Dating.

He wasn’t stupid.

Still, it looped in his head like static he couldn’t tune out.

What was he like?

Had he met Hana already?

Would you let him meet her before you let Minho even try to be part of your life again?

The idea made Minho feel sick to his stomach. He wasn’t entitled to you anymore, he knew that, but the thought of someone stepping in, stepping closer to your world and his daughter, his daughter, lit something sharp in his chest.

He was pulled from his spiraling thoughts by the familiar, grating voice of Jisung. The guy had a talent for saying too much with too much volume and not enough awareness. He stood a few feet away from Minho’s desk, leaning casually against the low partition wall, talking to Chan and Changbin, both of whom were laughing, albeit less enthusiastically than usual.

Minho barely spared them a glance at first. He rarely did. He hadn’t spoken more than five full sentences to Jisung since he started working there two months ago. There was no real reason for it, aside from the one minor disagreement they'd had early on, something about meeting deadlines or overlapping responsibilities that didn’t really matter anymore. But from that moment on, Minho kept his distance.

Jisung was... loud. Overly friendly. Always talking about things Minho had no interest in, especially when it came to his love life, which he brought up constantly. Minho didn’t like him, but he didn’t exactly dislike him either. Jisung was just there. Annoying.

"She’s gorgeous, man," Jisung was saying, arms crossed over his chest as he grinned. “A total MILF. Super sweet, down to earth. Has a daughter, cutest little kid, name’s Hana, I think?”

Minho froze.

He didn’t even blink.

His blood turned ice cold in his veins. He looked up slowly, the sound around him warping like it had been sucked into a vacuum. He stared at Jisung, expression unreadable, but his grip on the edge of the desk tightened.

He heard it. Hana.

Chan and Changbin did, too.

He could see it, how their heads turned slightly toward him at the same time, quiet recognition dawning behind their eyes. They’d met you before, briefly, back when things with you and Minho were still intact. They knew your name. They knew Hana. They knew, and now they were looking between Jisung and Minho like they were connecting the wires.

Minho didn’t wait for the pieces to fall completely.

He stood up.

“Stop,” Chan said lowly to Jisung, trying to steer the conversation away.

But it was too late.

Jisung just laughed. “What?”

Minho took a step forward, and Jisung’s gaze shifted to him, curious and oblivious.

“Who’s the mom?” Minho asked, voice calm but sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.

Jisung raised a brow. “Why? You interested too?” he said with a smirk, not understanding yet.

Chan and Changbin looked increasingly uncomfortable, but neither of them interrupted. They knew what was about to happen.

Minho’s tone was like ice. “What’s her name?”

Jisung, cocky as ever, shrugged like it didn’t matter. “Y/N. Met her a few weeks ago.”

Minho’s jaw ticked. “That’s my daughter.”

Jisung blinked, caught off guard, the smirk faltering for just a second before it twisted back into place.

“Wait, what?”

“That’s my ex,” Minho clarified, eyes narrowing. “You’ve been bragging about your hot single mom date all morning without realizing you're talking about my family.”

A beat of silence passed. Chan muttered something under his breath, while Changbin shifted in place, clearly wanting to be anywhere else. But Jisung, he didn’t back down.

“Okay,” Jisung said slowly, then folded his arms. “But how was I supposed to know that? You don’t talk to anyone. Especially not me.”

Minho stepped closer, his voice still low but unmistakably tense. “I don’t talk about my personal life at work. And especially not to you.”

“Oh, well, excuse me for not reading your mind,” Jisung said, raising his hands in mock defense. “Look, Minho, I didn’t know. It’s not like you warned me. And anyway, you guys are separated, aren’t you? Why do you care if she’s moving on?”

That did it.

Minho’s fists clenched at his sides, but he didn’t lash out. He just stared at Jisung, the weight of a thousand things he wanted to say pressing against his chest.

He didn’t answer at first, because the truth was too complicated. Why did he care? Why didn’t he say anything?

Because he still loved you. Because he hadn’t let go, not really. Because every time he handed Hana back to you, it felt like another reminder of the life that slipped through his fingers. Because he didn’t want anyone else stepping in, not before he figured out how to fix what he broke.

Minho exhaled slowly. “Just watch what you say,” he said tightly. “And stay away from my daughter.”

Jisung didn’t reply. For once, he was quiet.

And Minho left it at that, turning on his heel and walking out of the room before he said something he couldn’t take back.

But inside, he was burning.

You weren’t just moving on.

You were moving on with him.

And now Minho couldn’t unsee it. Couldn’t unfeel it.

And something deep in his chest told him, this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Minho didn’t tell you what happened.

He told himself it was better that way, that it would only complicate things if he did. Maybe you’d think he was overstepping. Maybe you’d accuse him of still trying to control something that wasn’t his anymore. And honestly, maybe you’d be right.

You were separated. You had every right to see whoever you wanted. He knew that. He reminded himself of it every day.

But that didn’t stop him from confronting Jisung.

And it sure as hell didn’t stop the sick twist in his gut every time he thought about you with him, laughing, smiling, your eyes soft the way they used to be with him.

So he kept it to himself.

He didn’t mention the moment in the office, or how his blood had gone cold when Jisung had said your name so casually, so publicly, like it was just another notch on his belt. He didn’t tell you that he stood toe-to-toe with him, tense and seconds from saying too much. He didn’t tell you that the only reason he hadn’t said more was because he was afraid of what you’d think.

Because at the end of the day, you weren’t his. Not anymore.

He had no right to tell you who to see.

Still, he couldn’t help the cold front that built up around him as the weekend approached. The one he tried, tried, not to bring to your doorstep.

But he failed.

When he showed up at your place that Friday afternoon, the air was already heavy with something he couldn’t name. He knocked softly and waited, adjusting Hana’s backpack over his shoulder. He heard the shuffle of your footsteps, the door creaking open slowly.

You looked… beautiful.

You always did, but this was different. Your hair was softly curled, makeup light but radiant. You wore something casual but intentional, like you wanted to feel comfortable and confident.

Like you were going somewhere.

Minho’s jaw tensed, just slightly. He forced his expression to stay neutral, pretending he didn’t feel that sting in his chest.

“Hey,” you said with a small smile, holding the door open.

“Hey,” he replied, curt but not unkind. His eyes flicked over you once, a flash of recognition passing through them before he looked away.

“She’s just grabbing her stuffed bunny,” you explained, stepping aside to let him in.

He nodded, still not quite looking at you.

There was a beat of awkward silence before you added, “You okay?”

“Fine,” he said quickly, a little too quickly. His voice had an edge to it, sharp, but quiet. Like he didn’t mean to sound irritated, but it slipped through anyway.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Okay…”

He shifted his weight, folding his arms. His eyes went to the hallway where Hana’s room was, then back to you.

“Got plans tonight?” he asked, and even though the question was simple, it was loaded.

You hesitated. “Uh, yeah… a dinner.”

“With him?”

You furrowed your brows, confused. “What?”

“Nothing,” Minho said quickly, shaking his head. “Forget it.”

But the tension was already there, heavy and tangible. The way he looked at you wasn’t angry, but it wasn’t warm either. He wasn’t his usual composed self, he was guarded, clipped.

You tilted your head. “Minho, what’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on,” he said, but his voice was low, and he wasn’t meeting your eyes.

You stared at him for a long moment, the silence stretching.

He knew you were trying to read him. You always could. It was part of what made being around you so hard now because you saw too much, even when he didn’t want you to.

Before you could press again, Hana came bounding into the room, bunny in hand, her little backpack bouncing behind her.

“I got it!” she said proudly.

Minho softened at the sight of her and crouched down, opening his arms as she ran into them.

“Hey, bug,” he said quietly, kissing the side of her head.

Whatever you were about to say faded into the background as he picked her up. You followed him to the door, your arms crossed lightly, brows still drawn together.

He paused before stepping outside, glancing at you once more. His eyes flickered to your lips, then away again, guilt laced in the corners of his expression.

“Have fun,” you said softly, but he caught the hesitation in your voice.

“Yeah,” he murmured, adjusting Hana’s weight in his arms. “You too.”

And then he left.

You closed the door behind him, standing in the quiet for a moment, staring at the handle.

You didn’t know what was going on with Minho, but something had changed. You could feel it.

And he… he was already kicking himself before he even got to the car. For letting it show. For acting cold. For caring too much.

But mostly, for not telling you the truth.

Because deep down, he knew this was only going to get harder.

-

The phone rang just as you were pulling a warm pile of laundry from the dryer, the scent of fabric softener filling the air. You tucked the phone between your shoulder and cheek, balancing a fitted sheet in your arms as you swiped to answer.

“Hello?”

“You’re not ghosting me already, are you?”

Jisung’s voice came through light and teasing, and despite yourself, you smiled, one of those small, involuntary smiles that tugged at your mouth before your brain caught up.

You laughed, adjusting the phone. “What? No! I was just… buried under a mountain of laundry.”

“Laundry. Mmm. Classic ghosting excuse.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “I swear I’m not.”

“I’m just messing with you,” he said, voice warm and reassuring. “But, for the record, you do owe me a date.”

You sat down on the edge of the couch, letting the warm laundry spill across your lap. “You’re right. I do.”

There was a small pause, not awkward, just easy. Like a breath taken between lines in a good conversation.

“I’ve got some time tonight,” you offered, hesitant but hopeful. “Hana’s with her dad for the weekend.”

Jisung didn’t hesitate. “Perfect. I’ll text you the details?”

“Okay,” you said softly, suddenly aware of the way your stomach fluttered. “I’ll see you later.”

“Can’t wait.”

When the call ended, you stared at your phone for a second, a small grin curling at your lips. Your pulse had picked up without warning, that familiar giddy feeling you hadn’t let yourself feel in a long time taking root just beneath your skin.

You dropped the phone on the couch and stood abruptly, brushing off the leftover warmth of laundry as if it were slowing you down. You had things to do. Like everything. You still had to finish folding, pick up Hana from preschool, and somehow figure out what to wear. The last one felt the most daunting.

You moved faster now, folding with a renewed sense of purpose, your mind already wandering through the different pieces in your closet. Too casual? Too much? Something that said you cared but not that you’d tried too hard?

-

By the time the sun had begun its slow descent toward the horizon, you were in front of your mirror with a few carefully selected options draped across your bed. Hana was sitting on the floor behind you, cross-legged and content, holding her stuffed bunny and occasionally twirling her fingers through its ears.

You turned to her, holding up a dress in one hand and a blouse-and-jeans combo in the other. “Okay, little critic. What do you think? This one,”—you shook the dress gently—“or this one?”

She blinked, considering seriously, the way only a child could. “The blue one,” she said after a moment. “You look like a princess.”

You smiled down at her. “You think so?”

She nodded, then leaned forward to whisper something to her bunny, probably some secret only the two of them understood.

You looked at yourself in the mirror again, holding the dress up against your frame. Your reflection met your gaze, and for a second, you barely recognized yourself. Not because you looked different, necessarily. But because you felt different.

It had been a long time since you’d felt this kind of anticipation. The good kind. Not dread, not worry, not guilt. Just hope, sharp and tentative and thrilling.

You glanced down at Hana, your chest swelling with something tender. This wasn’t just about getting ready for a date. It was about letting yourself believe in the possibility of something new. Of maybe even if only just maybe, something good again.

And that night, for the first time in a long time, you let yourself lean into it.

You were still smiling when you closed the door behind Minho and Hana. Hana had given you one last sleepy hug before waving from the backseat of her dad’s car, her little hand smudged against the window as they drove away. It was always a little bittersweet when she left quiet, still, but tonight, the quiet buzzed differently. There was anticipation in the air, and your stomach flipped when your phone lit up with a text from

Jisung: On my way. Hope you're ready to be impressed.

And suddenly, that’s when the nerves kicked in.

Not when you picked your outfit.
Not while brushing your hair.
Not even while applying mascara with a trembling hand.

It was in that fleeting moment, between Hana’s goodbye and Jisung pulling up, when the full weight of it hit you. This was your first real date in a long time. Since before the weight of motherhood, since before your life changed completely, since before love started to feel like a puzzle you couldn’t quite solve.

Your heart fluttered as headlights cut across the street. You peeked out the window and saw him, leaning casually against the side of his car, hands in his pockets, that same easy smile on his face. You opened the door, stepped out, and tried to still your heart.

“You clean up nice,” he said, eyes scanning you in a way that felt admiring but never invasive. “Should I be nervous?”

You gave a half-laugh, shaking your head. “No. I should be.”

“Well, don’t be. I brought emergency gummy bears. For stress relief.”

You laughed more earnestly at that, already loosening up as you got into the car.

The drive was easy. Jisung filled the silence with a playful commentary about the playlist he’d curated just for the ride, mostly early 2000s pop hits and lo-fi beats, complete with a dramatic reenactment of a Backstreet Boys bridge. It was impossible not to relax around him. He had a way of making you feel like you'd known him for years.

Dinner was warm, low-lit, cozy, one of those local places that wasn’t quite fancy but knew exactly what it was doing. The kind of place where the bread was fresh and the waiter seemed to know Jisung by name.

Conversation flowed like water. He told you about his new job, how he was still figuring things out, but liked the pace, liked the team, even if he rolled his eyes at “some of the guys.”

You found yourself laughing more than you expected, your face warming as he leaned in every time you spoke, his eyes attentive, focused. When you talked about Hana, his interest didn’t waver, not once. He asked questions. Real questions. What she liked. What she was afraid of. How motherhood changed you. You could see that he was trying to understand your world, not just admire it from the outside.

You told him about your work, your side hobbies, the podcasts you listen to when cleaning the kitchen. He joked about starting a podcast of his own and had you snorting into your drink by the time dessert came. You felt seen. Not just noticed, seen.

And then, somewhere between the last bite of shared cake and the server clearing your table, the conversation slowed. Not in a bad way, but in that natural shift that happens when the lighthearted curiosity gives way to something deeper.

He looked at you a little more seriously. “Can I ask something personal?”

You met his gaze, something in your chest tightening, but you nodded.

He hesitated. “Why did you and… Hana’s dad… separate?”

The air between you quieted, but not awkwardly. Just… carefully.

You took a breath, folding your hands on the table. “It’s a long story,” you began slowly. “But the short version is… we stopped growing together. Somewhere along the way, we started growing apart.”

You didn’t want to bad-mouth Minho. That wasn’t who you were, and it wasn’t what Hana deserved. But you also wanted to be honest. You explained how things shifted after Hana was born, how the weight of new responsibilities created distance that never fully closed. How resentment slowly replaced understanding. How love, no matter how deep it once was, sometimes isn’t enough when two people stop seeing each other clearly.

Jisung didn’t interrupt. He didn’t try to fix it or offer cliché advice. He just listened, gently nodding, thumb brushing his glass absentmindedly.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, “that must’ve been hard.”

You smiled faintly, appreciative. “It was. But… it also gave me the strongest part of my life. So, I can’t regret it.”

Jisung leaned forward slightly, a half-smile on his lips. “You know… you’re kind of incredible.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“I mean it. You’re raising a whole human, showing up for her every day, and you still have time to be this cool? Most people burn out just trying to keep their plants alive.”

You laughed again, this time with a blush creeping up your neck. The compliment felt good. Earnest. He didn’t look at you like a project. He looked at you like a person he wanted to know, not someone he needed to fix.

By the time he drove you home, you weren’t nervous anymore. You were grounded. Calm. Hopeful in a way that wasn’t naive.

He walked you to your door. And though there was no kiss, not yet there was something in the way he smiled as you said goodnight. Something that said this wasn’t the end of a nice evening.

It was the beginning of something that, maybe, just maybe, could matter.

-

You had just finished patting your skin dry after wiping off the last traces of makeup. Your face felt lighter, the way it always did after a night out, but your chest was still full, still warm from the laughter, the softness, and the unexpected comfort of the evening you’d just shared with Jisung. You hadn’t realized how much you missed feeling… wanted. Seen.

You were still riding that quiet high when your phone buzzed on the bathroom counter.

Minho.

Your heart dropped. He never called. Not unless it was important. Not unless something was wrong. And now, at 11:30 at night, your mind went straight to Hana.

You snatched the phone up without hesitation.

“Minho?” Your voice was already taut with worry. “What’s wrong? Is Hana okay?”

There was a pause, one beat too long, and then, when he spoke, it wasn’t his usual composed tone. His words dragged, his voice low and slurred.

“What’re you… doin’ right now?”

You blinked, stunned. “What?”

There was another heavy pause. You could hear the faint, uneven sound of his breathing on the other end.

“You okay?” you asked, this time with a little more edge. “Is Hana okay?”

“She’s asleep,” he mumbled.

The knot in your stomach tightened. “Minho… are you drunk?”

He was silent for a moment, and then you heard a soft scoff. “Just had… a few drinks.”

You sat down on the edge of your bed, your pulse hammering. “Where is Hana right now?”

“I said—she’s sleeping,” he repeated, slurring slightly again. “She’s fine. I’m not a shitty dad.”

“I didn’t say you were,” you replied, carefully but firmly. “But if you’ve been drinking, I need to know where she is. Is she in bed? Safe?”

“Yes,” he snapped, more annoyed now, like you were being irrational. “She’s fine. She’s out like a light. I would never drink like that if she was awake. I’m not… stupid.”

You let out a breath, half-relieved, half still panicked. “Okay. Okay, good.” But your voice remained tight. “Then why are you calling me, Minho?”

There was silence again before he muttered, “Did your date go well?”

You froze. Your mouth opened, but no words came out at first.

“What?”

“Your date,” he said, bitterly. “With… whoever he is. Your new boyfriend.”

You stood up, pacing now, your hand gripping the phone tighter. “Minho, it’s late. You’re drunk. You need to get some water and go to bed.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“I don’t need to.”

“Why?” he asked, his tone wobbling between mocking and hurt. “You don’t tell me anything anymore. You used to. Now it’s all… secrets. You don’t even care that I still—”

“Minho,” you interrupted, your voice suddenly sharp. “Where is this coming from?”

“Why’d you stop loving me?”

The words hit like a slap. You were stunned into silence.

“Was it really that easy?” he went on, voice cracking just barely, like he was trying to hide it under the slurring. “To just… move on? Meet someone new and pretend like it didn’t mean anything?”

“Minho,” you breathed, jaw tightening. “You can’t do this. Not like this. You don’t get to call me in the middle of the night, drunk, and ask me why I moved on—especially when you’re the one who gave up first.”

He scoffed again, and it sounded bitter. Childish. “I didn’t give up.”

You swallowed down the heat rising in your throat. “Don’t rewrite the past just because it hurts now.”

There was a long, empty silence. Neither of you spoke.

Then you asked, slowly, carefully, “Do I need to come pick up Hana?”

“No,” he snapped, but there was something broken in it. “I’m not some fuck-up. She’s safe. I just…”

He trailed off. The silence stretched between you again. Heavy.

You softened just a little, despite everything. “Minho… this isn’t fair. To you, to me, to her. We separated for a reason.”

“I know,” he said quietly, almost a whisper. “I know we did.”

And then he added, even softer, “I just didn’t know it would feel like this.”

You closed your eyes, your heart aching in a way that surprised you. Because despite the resentment, the frustration, the endless late-night fights and miscommunication that had worn you both thin, there was still history. Still grief.

Still something.

But that didn’t mean it could be what it was. And it didn’t mean it should.

“You need to get some sleep,” you said gently. “We can talk later. When you’re sober.”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t argue either. You heard the soft click of the line disconnecting.

And when you set your phone down, you stared at it for a long time, your reflection blurred in the dark screen, wondering how something so far gone could still pull at your heart in the quiet.

The silence that followed Minho’s call lingered long after the line went dead.

You sat on the edge of your bed, staring blankly at your phone, unable to move. You couldn’t tell if you were angry, worried, or just sad, maybe all three. The echoes of his slurred voice still buzzed in your ears: Why did you stop loving me? Was it really that easy?

It wasn’t. And he knew that. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he’d spent so long pretending it didn’t hurt that he finally couldn’t anymore.

You stood up and paced, debating whether you should text him to make sure he actually went to bed. Or whether you should let him sit in the feelings he’d tried to drown in whiskey.

Instead, you walked to Hana’s room, her room at your place and sat on the edge of her empty bed. You looked at her stuffed bunny, her favorite blanket folded neatly at the end of the mattress, the faint pink glow of her nightlight still on even though she wasn’t there tonight. You hated that even her absence was so loud.

It wasn’t until almost an hour later, just past midnight, that your phone buzzed again, this time, a message from Jisung.

“Hey, I had a really great time tonight. You looked beautiful, by the way. Hope you got home safe. Sweet dreams :)”

Your heart clenched in a completely different way. Warmth spread through your chest, soft and careful.

You stared at his message, thumb hovering over your keyboard for a few seconds before replying.

“I did. Thank you, Jisung. I really enjoyed tonight too.”

You hesitated, then added:

“Sorry if I seemed a little off after I got home. Something personal came up. I’ll tell you about it soon, I promise.”

He replied almost instantly.

“No pressure. I’m just happy I got to spend time with you.”

That simple sentence wrapped itself around your heart. Reassuring. Understanding. No expectations. And yet, it made you realize how much you’d been bracing for disappointment, how unfamiliar it felt to be seen and respected.

You let the phone rest on your nightstand and finally crawled into bed, pulling the covers up, staring at the ceiling in the dark.

Two men, two completely different versions of your past and future, had crossed lines tonight in ways you hadn’t expected.

Minho had said things you’d never thought he’d say. He cracked open something that had long been closed between you.

And Jisung… Jisung gave you something you hadn’t had in a long time, hope.

You didn't sleep easily that night.

Too much was shifting. And something told you this wasn’t the end of the unraveling.

It was only the beginning.

The morning came far too quickly.

The kind of restless, fragmented sleep that left your bones feeling heavier than when you laid down. You’d turned over Minho’s call in your head all night his voice, thick with liquor and something lonelier than you’d heard in months. The things he said, the questions he asked, the grief you both thought you’d buried, it all sat with you like fog behind your ribs.

You shuffled into the kitchen in your slippers, hoodie hanging loose off one shoulder, eyes still half-closed. Your hand had just reached for your favorite mug, chipped on one side, the one you always used on rough mornings, when your phone lit up on the counter, vibrating with a call.

Jisung.

You blinked, surprised. You hadn’t expected to hear from him this early, not after last night. Part of you worried he might sense something was off, might retreat.

But instead, when you picked up and croaked out a soft, “Hello?”—he sounded like sunshine.

“Hey,” he said, his voice warm, maybe a little sleepy himself. “Sorry if I woke you. Did you sleep okay?”

You paused, considering how to answer. “Not really,” you admitted softly. You weren’t ready to talk about it yet, not when you were still sorting through the mess in your own mind.

Jisung seemed to hear it in your voice. He didn’t press. “That’s okay,” he said gently. “We don’t have to talk about it. But, uh… that’s not why I called.”

You raised your eyebrows, curious now.

“I was just thinking,” he continued, “I could really use some pancakes. Or waffles. Or anything with way too much syrup. And I figured, what better way to get through a groggy morning than with company? So… wanna get breakfast with me?”

Your lips curved into a tired smile, despite everything. “You trying to bribe me with food?”

“Absolutely,” he said without hesitation. “You need caffeine. I need sugar. It’s fate.”

You laughed, the sound surprising even yourself with how good it felt to laugh again after a heavy night. “Okay. Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Perfect,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “But don’t get all dressed up on me. I’m literally still in my sweats. You show up looking like a magazine cover and I’ll have to fake a twisted ankle to save face.”

You snorted. “You mean I can’t wear the gown and heels I had picked out?”

“Only if it’s a breakfast gala.”

You shook your head, grin lingering as you leaned against the counter. “Sweats it is.”

“Good,” he said. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

After you hung up, you stood there for a moment, the quiet humming around you. There was still a knot in your chest from last night, Minho’s words, his tone, but there was also a thread of something lighter now. Something new.

You didn’t know what it was going to become with Jisung. But you knew, for now, this moment, his voice, the offer of pancakes and a little normalcy was exactly what you needed.

You slipped into your softest hoodie and leggings, quickly brushed your hair back into a messy bun, and for the first time in a while, didn’t bother with makeup.

You didn’t need to. Not with Jisung.

-

True to his word, Jisung pulled up in front of your place not even twenty minutes later, hoodie sleeves pushed up his forearms, hair still a little tousled, and that same bright grin painted across his face. When you climbed into the passenger seat, you were immediately greeted by the faint sound of music playing low from the speakers, some upbeat indie-pop song that matched his energy all too well.

“You look cozy,” he commented, giving you a once-over with a dramatic nod of approval. “I appreciate the commitment to the comfy clothes pact.”

You laughed as you buckled your seatbelt. “I take breakfast attire very seriously.”

The ride was short, filled with light conversation and lazy jokes that softened the jagged edges of the night before. You felt it, the calm, the ease that Jisung naturally brought with him like it lived in his skin. It wasn’t just that he was funny or sweet, it was that you didn’t feel like you had to be anyone else when you were around him.

He took you to a small, tucked-away café just outside your usual routes, somewhere you never would’ve stumbled on alone. It had worn brick walls and hanging plants in every corner, the smell of syrup and espresso greeting you the second you stepped inside.

“This place is everything,” Jisung said proudly, holding the door open for you. “Like, I would die for the banana pancakes here. They’re life-changing. So I’m just gonna go ahead and order for you unless you stop me.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Bold move.”

“I stand by it. You won’t regret it.”

You didn’t.

The pancakes came stacked high, drizzled with caramelized bananas and whipped cream, and he even insisted you try it “the Jisung way” with a little bit of everything on the fork, “precision pancake architecture,” as he called it. You couldn’t stop laughing at how seriously he took his breakfast techniques, and even more at how right he was. It was insanely good.

Over coffee and second helpings, conversation spilled out easily, about your favorite comfort movies, the worst jobs you’d ever had, music that got you through heartbreak. He talked more about his transition into his new job, how the office still felt a little sterile but he was trying to find his place in it. At some point, his gaze softened, and he leaned his elbow against the table.

“So,” he said, casually enough but with intention, “you wanna do something tomorrow too? Maybe a proper dinner or—if you’re free, obviously.”

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want to. The answer was yes, so easily, so much, but…

“I have Hana back tomorrow,” you said gently, offering him an apologetic smile. “So I can’t. Not yet.”

Jisung nodded without missing a beat. “Got it. I just—yeah. I like seeing you. No pressure.”

And that was the thing. He didn’t sulk or guilt you or make you feel like you had to explain more than that. He just understood. And you couldn’t help but admire that, how naturally he fit into this new chapter you were barely stepping into.

As you both finished your coffee, lingering in the lazy haze of a good morning and better company, you found yourself hoping that somehow, this wouldn’t get complicated.

But deep down, you already knew it might.

When Minho pulled up to your place the next evening to drop Hana off, the tension between you was quiet but undeniable. You could feel it the second he stepped onto your porch, the way his eyes didn’t meet yours right away, the stiffness in his posture, how his hand lingered just a little longer than necessary on Hana’s backpack strap before letting it go. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept well like maybe the regret of last night had gnawed at him the same way it had lingered in the back of your mind.

Still, he greeted you softly, almost cautiously. “She had a good time,” he said, clearing his throat. “We went to the park yesterday. She talked about you the whole time.”

You smiled, crouching to Hana’s level to greet her with open arms. “Did you have fun with Daddy?” you asked, brushing back a piece of hair from her cheek as she nodded, immediately launching into a small, excited ramble about slides and juice boxes and how Daddy let her stay up a little past bedtime to watch a movie.

Minho stood back during the exchange, watching silently. When your eyes flicked up toward him, you tried to keep your tone neutral gentle, even as you asked, “She ate okay? Got enough sleep?”

He nodded. “Yeah. She was good. Always is.”

You gave a soft, “Thanks,” and you meant it, even though there was still an awkwardness between you both, an invisible thread that felt frayed and pulled thin. He hadn’t brought up the late-night call. Neither did you. It felt too raw, too fresh, and you weren’t even sure what there was to say about it that wouldn’t open a door neither of you were ready to walk through.

But just as he turned to go, calling over his shoulder, “Alright, I’ll see you next week—” you stopped him.

“Wait, Hana—come say goodbye to Daddy,” you said, nudging her gently.

She ran after him, her tiny arms wrapping around his legs, her voice muffled in his coat as she said, “Bye, Daddy.”

Minho bent down, holding her tightly, resting his chin on her shoulder. You stood at the door, watching the quiet moment between them. It was only when he started to pull back that you heard him whisper something to her, something you didn’t quite catch.

Hana turned to you, her little brows scrunched in confusion as she relayed the message.

“Daddy says… can we all go do something together? Like a family?”

Your breath hitched a little in your chest. You looked from her to Minho, whose gaze finally met yours for the first time that evening. He didn’t say anything, just stood there, waiting, searching your expression for any clue of how you might respond.

And for a second, time held its breath.

It wasn’t the question that startled you, not really. It was the timing of it. After everything, after the emotional hangover of his drunken confession, after the soft start you were building with Jisung, after the months you’d spent learning to untangle yourself from the life you thought you’d have with Minho, now he wanted to act like a family?

You couldn’t read his face clearly. Was this guilt? Regret? Hope?

You didn’t know how to answer, not yet. So instead, you smiled down at Hana and said gently, “Maybe. We’ll talk about it, okay?”

Minho’s jaw tensed slightly. He gave a short nod and murmured, “Okay. Night.”

And then he was gone.

The door closed, but the words hung in the air, lingering like smoke from a fire you thought you’d put out.

Minho arrived at work the next morning wearing exhaustion like a second skin. He hadn’t slept well, again. The night before had been too full of unspoken words, too full of the image of Hana’s tiny voice asking that question on his behalf: Can we all go do something together? Like a family.

He hated that he’d put it on her to ask.

He hated even more that he had to ask at all.

Minho didn’t regret calling you the other night, not exactly, but the way he had done it? The slurred words, the pathetic desperation leaking through every syllable, the fact that he let his emotions get the best of him while Hana slept just a room away? That sat like a rock in his gut.

And now, walking into the breakroom with his head low, coffee mug in hand, all he wanted was a quiet morning. Maybe a distraction. Maybe to survive the day without thinking about you with someone else.

But fate had other plans.

Jisung’s voice was already carrying from down the hall. Loud. Carefree. Typical. And Minho had almost learned to tune him out entirely over the past couple months, his annoying jokes, his cocky little laughs, the way he talked like he owned the room when he’d barely been in the company for two months.

Minho was halfway to the coffee machine when he caught your name.

He froze.

He didn’t mean to listen, but he did.

“—and I’m telling you, she’s so fine. I don’t know what kind of idiot let that one go, but damn—bless his mistake, right?” Jisung said with a laugh, leaning against the counter, arms crossed like he was recounting a win to a scoreboard.

Chan gave a short laugh nervous, unsure. “Y/N, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jisung said, clearly proud of himself. “Single mom, absolute knockout. We went out again yesterday morning, best time I’ve had in months. She’s, like, real, you know? Mature. Cool as hell. It’s kinda hot, actually—how she talks about her kid. Most girls I’ve dated? Not like that.”

Changbin shifted uncomfortably where he stood by the fridge.

Minho stayed hidden, just around the corner. His fists clenched slowly.

Jisung confirmed casually, oblivious. “Total sweetheart. Bit shy at first but—God, when she laughs? Man, I might mess around and catch real feelings.”

Minho could feel the blood drain from his face.

He didn’t need to hear more. But Jisung kept talking.

“She even asked her daughter what outfit to wear for our first date,” he added, chuckling. “That’s so cute, right? Like—ugh, I don’t know. That little family vibe? I could get used to that.”

Minho didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until his lungs started to ache.

Family. That word. That fantasy. His fantasy.

Not Jisung’s.

It felt like a line had been crossed. Not just because Jisung was dating his ex, but because he knew who she was now. And he was still talking about her like that, in front of everyone. Like Minho wasn’t three doors away, listening to every word like someone twisting a knife deeper into his side.

And he could’ve walked in there. He could’ve said something, told Jisung to shut up, to show some respect, to keep your name out of his damn mouth. He could’ve laid out the timeline, the history, the fact that Jisung barely knew you and had no idea what he was talking about.

But he didn’t.

Because the memory of the first confrontation, the way he’d already broken the boundary once, was still fresh in his mind. He was already terrified that if you found out about that, you’d be angry. That he’d come off bitter. Possessive. Jealous.

Which, he was.

But not in the way people thought. He didn’t want to control you. He didn’t even blame you for moving on. He just hated that he wasn’t the one you were smiling for anymore. That someone else, that guy, was getting pieces of your life he used to hold in his hands every single day.

He couldn’t stomach it.

So he did the only thing he could do without starting a war.

He stormed out.

His coffee forgotten, his chest tight, his jaw clenched so hard it ached. He needed air. Space. Anything that wasn’t the echo of Jisung’s laugh or the sound of your name being passed around like a story that didn’t belong to him anymore.

And for the rest of the day, Minho didn’t say a word to anyone.

Because he knew if he opened his mouth, even once, he might not be able to stop.

-

Minho didn’t go back into the breakroom that day.

Instead, he holed himself up in his office space, pretending to go over spreadsheets he’d already finished. Every now and then, he’d hear laughter from the hallway, Jisung’s laugh and it would set his jaw again, make his pen twitch in his hand like he needed to break something.

He hated how easily Jisung talked about you. Hated that he didn’t even know you well enough to deserve those stories. Hated how casually he tossed around Hana’s name like it was part of some cute personality trait of yours.

That wasn’t just some “single mom” he was bragging about.

That was you.

The woman Minho still woke up thinking about.

The mother of his daughter.

The only person who had ever really known him, flaws and all and still, at one point, loved him.

And yeah, maybe he lost that love. Maybe he broke things. Maybe there were parts of your story you’d never be able to forgive him for. But no matter how much time passed, he hadn’t stopped caring. He hadn’t stopped wanting even if he no longer had a right to.

By the end of the day, his phone buzzed with a message from you.

“Hana said she wants to show you the drawing she made. She’s been carrying it around all day. You’ll see it tomorrow.”

It was simple, light. But it made his chest ache.

He stared at the message for a long time, thumb hovering over the keyboard, typing out a dozen replies and deleting them each time. He didn’t want to come off too emotional, didn’t want to seem like he was still reeling from hearing your name in someone else’s mouth all day. He also didn’t want to let on that he'd been thinking about you nonstop since the second Jisung spoke.

Instead, he replied:

“Can’t wait to see it. Tell her I miss her.”

But what he really meant was:

I miss you.

That night, he went home to an empty apartment that felt colder than usual. He walked past Hana’s room, the one she only stayed in every other weekend and sat on the edge of the bed like he always did when he felt lost.

He wondered if you’d smiled with Jisung the way you used to with him.

He wondered if you laughed. If you leaned across the table in that way you always did when you were listening intently. If you told Jisung about the little things that made you happy, late night snacks, old cartoons, the playlist you made for long drives with Hana.

And worst of all, he wondered if Jisung made you feel seen in a way Minho used to but hadn’t for a long time.

The questions haunted him, spinning through his head as he stared at the ceiling, the apartment too quiet, the silence echoing with everything he couldn’t say.

He knew he couldn’t ask you about it.

He knew he had no right to.

But still, when his phone lit up again later that night with a photo of Hana proudly holding up her drawing, smiling from ear to ear, Minho stared at your name on the message thread and typed without thinking:

“Thanks for sending that. She looks happy.”

And after a long pause, another message followed.

“You do too.”

He didn’t hit send.

He just let it sit there. A confession in limbo. A truth he wasn’t brave enough to say out loud.

Not yet.

You hadn’t stopped thinking about it. Not since the moment Hana turned to you with that soft little voice, repeating Minho’s words—“Daddy said maybe we can go somewhere all together. Like a family.”

It echoed in your head in the quietest moments: when you were folding her laundry and came across her favorite shirt, when you tucked her in and she asked if Daddy could come read too, when you stared at the empty space on the couch after she’d gone to bed. The truth was, your mind wouldn’t let it go. You couldn’t tell if it was nostalgia or guilt or just the ache of something that once was and maybe never healed right.

You started to wonder how much Hana understood. She was only four, bright, sweet, and deeply observant in ways only children could be. But she was also still small. Small enough that the memories of the three of you doing things together, really together were probably starting to fade. Back when her little legs barely reached the edge of the stroller and her words came out in half-sentences. Back when family meant holding both your hands at once, one in each tiny palm.

Now things were different. The rhythm of your lives moved around drop-offs, pickups, brief handoffs at the front door, short conversations about snacks or bedtimes or fevers. She knew Daddy came on the weekends, that she packed her little bag and stayed with him, and then came back. She knew you kissed her goodnight every other Sunday. But together? That didn’t exist anymore. Not in the way it used to.

You thought about it every time she asked why you couldn’t come to the movies with Daddy. Why Daddy couldn’t come with you to the aquarium trip she got as a class reward. You had explanations. Simple ones. Polite ones. But you weren’t sure if she understood. And it hit you: maybe you didn’t either, not fully. Not without that ache still sitting in your chest.

So one night, after you’d tucked her in and turned off her lamp, you came back. Quietly, you sat beside her bed, brushing her hair gently off her forehead. She blinked up at you sleepily.

“Hana,” you whispered, voice soft, “can I ask you something?”

She nodded, yawning.

“Do you remember when Mommy and Daddy used to go places with you? Together?” You waited, uncertain. “Like the zoo? Or the beach? Or the park with the big swing set?”

She blinked slowly, then nodded again. “Mmhm. You holded my hand. Daddy too.”

That made your chest squeeze. “Would you… would you like to do that again? All of us? Just sometimes.”

Her little smile was sleepy but sure. “Yeah. I like it.”

You kissed her forehead and tried not to let it show on your face. Because you liked it too. Or at least, part of you missed it so deeply it hurt.

But another part of you, another very real, very present part was also thinking of Jisung. About how easy it felt with him. About how he looked at you like you were the only thing in the room. About how he actually asked about your day and listened. You liked him. You liked how you felt with him. And you were just beginning to open yourself up to the idea of something real again, something new.

So now, you were caught between a memory and a possibility. Between a little girl’s innocent wish and your own heart trying to mend in two directions. And in the silence of that night, after Hana had fallen back asleep and the house was still, you sat on the couch and asked yourself the question you didn’t want to answer:

What if being a family again wasn’t what you really needed, but just what you missed?

And even harder:

What if you could never have both?

-

After quietly slipping out of Hana’s room, you closed the door behind you with a soft click, careful not to wake her again. The hallway was dim and still, the only sound the faint hum of the refrigerator down the hall and the tick of the old clock in the kitchen. You stood there for a moment, hand still resting on the doorknob, exhaling a deep, quiet sigh that seemed to carry all the confusion, guilt, and ache you’d been holding in all evening.

Your feet moved before your mind did, carrying you down the hallway and into your bedroom. The light from your bedside lamp cast a soft golden hue across the room, warm and calm, but it didn’t match the storm of emotions turning over inside you. You sat on the edge of your bed, fingers tangled in the hem of your shirt as your thoughts circled around themselves.

Everything felt tangled, Minho’s words, Hana’s sleepy nod, your own longing, your fear, your past, and the soft, budding possibility of something new with Jisung.

You reached for your phone, if only to distract yourself for a moment. But before you could open anything, the screen lit up.

Jisung: Hey. I hope your day was good. I was thinking about you.

Your heart gave a little jump.

Jisung: Would love to see you again soon. Maybe something low-key? Doesn’t have to be anything fancy. Just you and me.

You stared at the message for a long time. As if somehow he knew. As if he could feel that little part of you that was pulling away, not out of lack of interest, but out of pure emotional uncertainty. As if he was reaching out to gently pull you back toward him.

It was such a simple message, and yet… it made your chest tighten. He wasn’t demanding. He wasn’t expecting anything from you. He was just there. Steady, warm, willing. Offering something simple in the face of all your complicated.

You typed, paused, deleted, then typed again.

You: I’d really like that. I’ve just been in my head a lot lately. But I’d love to see you.

His response was nearly instant.

Jisung: That’s okay. I don’t need you to be anything but you. I’ll be here when you’re ready. Even if it’s just for a walk or a coffee.

That, that was what made you blink fast to keep the tears from rising. Because you weren’t used to someone being patient. You weren’t used to someone who didn’t push or question or pressure. And in that moment, it didn’t make your confusion worse, it softened it.

You looked at your screen again, at his words, at the gentle kindness wrapped in them.

Then you leaned back on your bed, phone resting on your chest, and whispered aloud to the quiet room:

“I wish this was easier.”

Because you weren’t just choosing between two people. You were choosing between the past and the future. Between a dream that once was, and something real that might still be. And no one had taught you how to let go without hurting. Or how to hold on without looking back.

Minho knew it was risky. He could already hear the words in his head, you're delusional, why would you think I'd want to talk about that? He knew how it might go, how you'd probably brush him off, tell him that anniversaries were no longer anything to get worked up about. After all, it had been years since you two had celebrated like you used to.

But today felt different. Today, for some reason, the weight of the date was heavier. It had been seven years, seven years. He’d woken up that morning thinking about how it used to be. How, on your anniversary, he'd sneak into the kitchen while you were still asleep, making your favorite breakfast and writing you a small note, leaving it next to your coffee mug with a kiss to remind you that today was about you. And then, there was the way he would kiss you awake, messy and full of love, just to remind you that you mattered, more than anything else in the world.

He could still see it so clearly in his mind, the moment four years ago when you told him you were pregnant with Hana. The way you laughed and cried at the same time, your eyes wide with excitement and fear, and how Minho had sworn that moment felt like his heart had just doubled in size. That was the moment he promised himself he’d always put you first. And even now, as much as things had changed, as complicated as everything had become, a part of him couldn't let go of that promise.

So, against his better judgment, he grabbed a bouquet of flowers. Big, colorful roses, just like the ones you used to love. And a single smaller rose for Hana, because he knew that the little girl, even at her age, was his connection to the only family he’d ever wanted. Today wasn’t about trying to win you back, he told himself. It was just about remembering. About showing you that, despite everything, he still remembered.

He dressed a little nicer than usual, nothing too formal, but just enough to show he was trying. He didn’t need an excuse to stop by; he wasn’t dropping off Hana or picking her up. It was just... he needed to see you. He wanted to see you.

Minho stood in front of your door, his heart pounding in his chest, staring at the wooden surface as if it held all the answers. His hand tightened around the bouquet and the single rose as he raised his fist, about to knock.

Before he could do anything, though, the door swung open.

And there you were, standing in the doorway. But you weren’t alone. Jisung was there too, just a few steps behind you, leaning casually against the frame with a cocky smirk on his face. Minho’s heart dropped into his stomach. He hadn’t been expecting this. He should’ve known, but a part of him hoped that maybe today, just maybe you would’ve been on your own.

For a moment, Minho froze, his breath catching in his throat. Jisung, as if sensing the tension, smirked wider, and before Minho could process anything, Jisung gave a lazy wave, his voice light and casual as he said, “I’ll catch you later, Babe.” And just like that, he turned and walked away, his steps echoing down the hall.

Minho couldn’t help but watch him go, his grip on the flowers tightening until the stems almost cracked. He hadn’t meant to feel the sting of jealousy, he knew you had every right to move on, but it didn’t change how much it hurt. It stung more than it should’ve. The image of Jisung leaving your apartment, of him laughing, casually walking away with the confidence that only comes with knowing he was the one you were spending time with, it cut deeper than Minho had expected.

He turned back to you, trying to mask the frustration that was rising in his chest. His voice came out hoarse, tighter than he intended. “What’s going on? What’s he doing here?”

You looked taken aback by his sudden confrontation, your eyes flashing with a mix of surprise and something else he couldn’t quite read. You glanced at the flowers in his hands and then back at him before finally speaking. “Minho... what are you doing here?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat, as if he was uncertain of what exactly he wanted to say. Instead, his hand tightened around the bouquet, his fingers trembling slightly. He could feel the weight of the moment press down on him. The words he was about to ask felt both necessary and foolish, but they spilled out anyway.

“Where’s Hana?” His voice was quiet, too quiet. His eyes flickered to the space behind you, searching for any sign of her, any sign that this wasn’t some weird coincidence. That maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t interrupted something important. Something new.

You sighed, almost looking apologetic as you replied, “She’s at school, Minho.”

The tension didn’t ease, though. Instead, it hung there, thick and heavy in the air. He still couldn’t shake the picture of Jisung leaving. Of him being so comfortable around you. Minho didn’t know what he’d expected when he came here, but it sure as hell wasn’t this.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Minho muttered, still holding the flowers in front of him like some kind of shield. He couldn’t tell if it was because he wanted to protect himself from the situation, or if it was just an excuse to avoid looking directly at you. To avoid seeing your reaction.

You stood there, watching him, waiting for him to say something more, something that made sense, but Minho only shifted uncomfortably on the doorstep. The small moment stretched between you two like an ocean.

“I just… I thought it might be nice, you know? To see you. To give you these. It’s… it’s our anniversary.” His words sounded hollow in the space between you, like he had somehow forgotten how to speak.

When he said that last part, your eyes softened, just a little. He could see that flicker of recognition pass across your face. But it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

You didn’t say anything at first, the silence lingering uncomfortably in the air. And then, finally, you spoke, though your voice was quieter than before. “Minho, I—”

Before you could finish, the words of what you really wanted to say caught in your throat. You didn’t know how to deal with this tension, with him standing there like this, holding onto the past that neither of you could go back to.

Minho didn’t know how to let go of it either.

//

masterlist.

❌proofread

[official taglist: @alisonyus @lenfilms @captainchrisstan @anastasiiiiaaaaa @emilyywhyy lmk if you’d like to be added/removed! ..]

[BTL taglist: @christasmind @ready2readnwrite @tsunderelino]

[staytinyarmy]

omgg hii 🐰🩵 can you please make one with Minho using prompts 19, 4, and 5? it would be highly appreciated, thank you!

Thank you so much for sending in this prompt request, angel! I absolutely loved writing this one—Minho + fake dating + a little jealousy? Yes, please ♡

૮₍´˶• . • ⑅ ₎ა

“Just act normal,” you mutter under your breath, looping your arm through Minho’s as you walk into the party.

He snorts. “You? Normal? Good luck with that.”

You elbow him. “You’re the one who agreed to this fake dating thing, remember?”

“Because you begged,” he says, smirking. “All clingy and desperate.”

You give him a sugar-sweet smile. “I said you’d get free drinks and an excuse to not talk to anyone.”

“Same thing.”

You roll your eyes as you both step into the packed living room. The plan was simple: fake date each other for a few events so you could get your friends off your back, and Minho could avoid the girl who kept trying to “accidentally” sit on his lap during game night.

Easy.

Until it wasn’t.

Because now you’re here, and someone is flirting with you, and Minho is watching from across the room with a stare so cold it could snap steel.

You excuse yourself quickly, walking straight over to him.

“Everything okay?” you ask casually.

“Peachy,” he says, biting into a chip like it wronged him.

You raise an eyebrow. “You look like you want to fight someone.”

“Just enjoying the view,” he replies, then glances down at your arm. “Though apparently anyone can enjoy it now.”

You blink. “Wait—are you actually mad?”

Minho shrugs, looking away. “Why would I be?”

You pause. “Excuse me?”

He turns back to you slowly, eyes darker now. “You heard me.”

“Minho,” you say, laughing nervously. “It’s fake. We’re fake.”

He steps closer, tone dipping somewhere between smug and serious. “You keep saying it’s fake, but then you act like I belong to you.”

Your heart lurches. “I do not.”

Minho arches a brow. “No? Because earlier, when that guy was talking to you, you looked at me like you expected me to do something about it.”

You frown. “Because you looked like you were going to murder him with a napkin.”

He leans in, close enough that your breath catches. “You didn’t stop me though. Kind of looked like you wanted me to lose it. Like you wanted your boyfriend to put someone in their place.”

Your heart skips. “Boyfriend?”

His voice is low, deliberate. “Yeah. You’re mine.”

Silence.

Then you murmur, barely above a whisper, “Did you just call me yours?”

You suck in a breath.

“I—no. You—”

“You didn’t deny it,” he says, and his lips twitch like he’s already won.

“You didn’t either,” you shoot back, trying to sound smug but failing miserably because your voice wobbles.

He tilts his head, studying you. “So what now?”

You swallow. “I don’t know.”

He smirks. “Wanna find out?”

And just like that, fake becomes real—with a kiss you never saw coming, and a look in his eyes that says maybe it was never fake at all.

You should’ve pulled away. You didn’t.

And now his lips are still ghosting over yours. His hand lingers at your waist. Your fingers are knotted in his hoodie like you forgot how to let go.

“I think that counts as breaking the fake dating contract,” you mumble, dazed.

“Cool. Sue me,” Minho says, not moving an inch.

You finally blink up at him. “So, what does this mean?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re the one who kissed me.”

“You kissed me back.”

“You started it.”

“You didn’t stop it.”

“I didn’t want to.”

That shuts you up.

Minho’s eyes soften, just barely. “Look, if you’re freaking out, just say it. But don’t pretend this didn’t mean anything.”

You’re still grasping at words when his voice drops.

“I don’t want to fake it anymore.”

Silence. Then—

“Oh my god,” you groan, covering your face. “Why did you have to make it serious?”

Minho shrugs. “Because you’re annoying and hot and now I want to kiss you all the time. Happy?”

You peek through your fingers. “Kind of.”

He grins. “So you do like me.”

“I tolerate you. Barely.”

“Mmhm. Say it again, but this time without the smile.”

You smack his arm.

He catches your hand—and this time, he doesn’t let go.

It’s only been a few days since you and Minho stopped pretending—and somehow, that made everything worse.

Not in the bad way. In the hyper-aware, flustered every five seconds way.

You’d thought the fake dating version of Minho was intense. But the real one? The one who whispered things at your neck when no one was looking, who gripped your waist like someone might steal you if he didn’t?

He was lethal.

So when another guy from class leans a little too close to you at a campus event, Minho’s at your side in less than five seconds.

“Hey,” the guy says, glancing at Minho, then back at you. “Didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

You open your mouth, but Minho speaks first.

“She is.”

His voice is calm. Flat. Deadly.

The guy blinks. “Right. Cool. My bad.”

He backs off.

Minho doesn’t move. He’s still looking at you like the guy had tried to touch you.

You raise an eyebrow. “Possessive much?”

He shrugs. “Didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

You snort. “He was asking if I wanted a cookie.”

“He was asking if he could be your cookie.”

You laugh, then lean in. “You jealous?”

He doesn’t even hesitate. “Yeah.”

You blink. “Seriously?”

“Dead serious.”

You’re still reeling when he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you against him.

Then he murmurs against your temple, “Next time, I’m kissing you first. Just so there’s no confusion.”

Your pulse spikes.

You try to sound unimpressed. “So dramatic.”

Minho smirks. “And you love it.”

[staytinyarmy]

Used (drabble)

pairing: felix x afab!reader, implied ot8 x reader

genre: filthy smut

wc: 723

warnings: cockwarming, unprotected sex, partner sharing, degradation, praise, LOTS of dirty talk, creampie, breeding kink, reader is called slut

a/n: i'm in a lil writing slump so this is an attempt at getting out of it, enjoy (i guess😭)💕

You were currently lying under your best friend Felix, your legs wrapped around him and his cock buried deep inside your heat. It wasn't the first time he needed the closeness and the comfort and you were happy to be of service, letting him seek your warmth.

You were scrolling on your phone as he almost fell asleep on top of you but then you shifted just a little, making him groan into your neck.

"Y/n." he whined before lifting up and looking at you. You tossed your phone aside and gave him a smirk.

"Spread your legs." his voice was dark and a shiver ran up your spine, doing as you were told.

Felix started to move slowly, fucking your stretched wet pussy, his eyes rolling back at the feeling as he grunted.

You gasped, letting out a string of moans as you clutched onto him.

"Did you cockwarm the other guys like this, hm?" he asked, dragging his cock through your walls.

"Mm, yeah." you whimpered when his tip hit your spot.

"Tell me how you did it." Felix wrapped one hand around your neck, his other squeezing on your breast.

"I- I cockwarmed Hyunjin while he was painting." you started.

"Yeah? Did you let him fuck you?" Felix pinched your nipple, making you whine as he still fucked into you with languid movement.

"Yes. He bended me over his table and fucked me hard." you bit on your lip, your pussy clenching around Felix's length.

"Who else?" he smirked, pulling his cock almost completely out before rocking back into you harder, making you moan.

"C-Chan." you whimpered. "In the studio."

"Mhm." he squeezed your neck a little and you gasped, lifting your middle up to meet his thrusts.

"Did he fuck you good after that?"

"He fucked me so good." you whimpered as Felix gripped your thighs, pushing your knees up to your shoulders.

"And Changbin?"

"I cockwarmed him with my mouth." you confessed and Felix twitched inside you, the image of you kneeling with your mouth stuffed full of Changbin's cock made him weak.

"I bet you liked your little mouth stretched around him, hm?" Felix gripped the flesh on the back of your thighs as he fucked you a little harder, your pussy so warm and wet around him.

"I loved it." you whined, nails digging into the mattress under you.

"What about last night? I heard you and Seungmin." Felix smirked, increasing his speed and making you even more wet, the squelching sounds of your pussy filling up the room.

"He fucked me from behind. I even let him put it in my ass." you whimpered at the memory.

"Damn, you really are just a little slut, aren't you?" Felix groaned, rocking his hips into yours and making you moan as you clenched hard around him.

"I am." you confirmed, biting on your lip.

"Tell me more." Felix demanded, fucking you harder and making your head spin.

"I fucked Jeongin this morning."

"Yeah? Did you ride him like a good girl?"

"I did." you whimpered, so close to release.

"You wanna cum, slut?" Felix grinned, his fingertips grazing your sensitive clit.

"Y-yes, please!" you moaned.

"Cum around me." he ordered, flicking your clit as he kept fucking into you hard.

"Ah, Felix!" you fell apart, exploding around him as he kept fucking you through your high and chasing his own.

"You want my cum, slut?" he panted and you gasped, gripping onto his arms.

"P-please!"

"Fuck, I know you love to be stuffed by all eight of us. Want us to breed this greedy little pussy?" Felix grunted, fucking you so hard that you came around him once again.

"Yes I do!" you cried out and he exploded, ropes od warm cum filling you up.

"Minho told me to stretch you good for him today." Felix breathed hard before pulling out.

"Mm." you whimpered at the emptiness but that was soon replaced by four of his fingers pushing inside your fucked out pussy.

"So, I'm not done with you yet. You're gonna take it like a good slut until Minho comes to fuck you." he smirked at your teary eyes as he continued fucking you hard with his fingers.

You whined, spreading your legs more, happy to be used by all eight of your best friends.

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @moon-ttokki-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @schniti-is-in-the-house @hwangjoanna @sona1800 @channiesrightasscheek @justwonder113 @yvettemint @inaribu00 @httpdwaekki @possum-playground @ria-april @yn-x-them @mariahxrrera @0omillo0 @halfwinterhalfuniverse @cooldeermagazine @delulkpopstan143 @todorokiskitten @compersian @azxulskz @stayp1eceposts @minniesverse @skzdreamer13 @0325ale @j-ji-jia @shannthewriter @mhluvie @my-neurodivergent-world @hyyunjinnn @spookybuttsstuff-blog

[staytinyarmy]

Raw, Next Question-

₊˚⊹ᰔ Pairing; bf!maknae line x fem!reader

₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ Summary; fake texts where you attempt to do a trend after looking at sexy photos of your bf

₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ Warnings; cursing, talk of sex, it’s kinda nsfw?, these are a bit more suggestive than hyung line-

hyung line

Han;

Felix;

Seungmin;

I.N;

[staytinyarmy]

A Business Affair (Lee Minho)

Synopsis. You can't help but tease your boss, even when you're married... and so is he. There's something so addictive about the way he looks at you like he owns you, like vows mean nothing behind closed doors. It's wrong and filthy-but that only makes you want him even more. Pairing: CEO!Lee Minho x Secretary!reader Warnings: MINORS DNI. NSFW, explicit sex, Dom!Minho x sub!f!reader, cursing, unprotected sex (you know what I'm going to say here...), teasing, dirty talk, degradation kink, fingering, oral (f ), creampie, overstimulation, mention of jealousy, themes of infidelity (Minho and reader are both married). A/N: Y'all, I am almost done with my exams!!! I'm going to start working on requests next week and this has been in my drafts for forever, so hopefully this will tide you over until then :) Requests Masterlist

The bed was cold when you reached for him.

Empty.

You blinked awake to the soft hush of rain against the windows. The clock on your nightstand blinked 6:17 AM. He was already gone.

Your fingers brushed over the cooling sheets on his side, the faint indent where his body had been only hours ago. He hadn’t kissed you goodbye. No note. No whispered “I’ll see you tonight after work.” Only the lingering ache between your thighs from last night’s slow, punishing love and a bruise blooming on your hip in the shape of his hand.

Typical of him. Wake up. Fuck you senseless. Disappear before sunrise.

You rose from bed, your robe slinking over bare skin, and moved to the bathroom. Your reflection in the mirror looked kissed raw — lips swollen, a faint shadow of stubble burn along your jawline, eyes heavy with the kind of sleep that comes only after being thoroughly ruined.

You turned your head to look at the mark beneath your collarbone — a deep, angry red. Possessive.

Your hand grazed your silver wedding ring.

You chuckled darkly. Fucking bastard.

~~~~

You arrived at the office with a plan.

Your pencil skirt was high, the slit just a little too deep. Your blouse was sheer under your coat, and your lacy black bra peeked through if someone looked hard enough. And you wanted him to look. You needed him to look.

Let the whole building talk. Let them whisper that Mr. Lee's secretary was having an affair with her married boss. That she was betraying her husband with a man far too powerful, far too dangerous, and far too good in bed to resist.

You swiped into the private executive floor and took a breath.

His office door was open.

You walked in without knocking.

“Good morning,” you said softly, placing his coffee on the edge of the desk.

Minho didn’t look up immediately. “You’re late,” he muttered, eyes locked on his monitor.

“I didn’t sleep well.”

“Busy night?”

You smirked. “You could say that.”

Minho’s eyes finally flicked upward.

The moment he saw you, the temperature in the room changed.

His gaze dropped to your blouse, lingered on your chest, then traveled lower — slow, deliberate. “Did he keep you up?” he asked, voice cool and sharp. “Your husband?”

You stepped closer, your smile a quiet challenge. “He’s been… inattentive lately. Neglectful.”

Minho didn’t reply. Instead, his gaze flicked to your wedding band, and then slowly, almost deliberately, he slid his own cuff back to reveal his own wedding ring, the silver gleaming in the soft light.

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze. “How’s your wife doing?”

Minho’s expression darkened, just a fraction, but his eyes remained locked on yours. His lips curled into a tight smile. “She’s fine. Busy.” His voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it, as if he were guarding something.

You arched a brow, stepping even closer. “Busy, huh? Funny how we both seem so... neglected.”

He didn’t respond immediately. The air between you thickened, a palpable tension building.

“So you’re acting out?” he asked, voice low and almost teasing.

You leaned over the desk just enough for your breasts to brush the surface, your gaze fixed on him. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like the attention my boss gives me.”

“So what are you looking for, sweetheart?” he murmured. “Discipline? Validation? Or just a better fuck?”

You tilted your head. “Does it matter?”

His grip tightened.

“No. Because I’ll give you all of it.”

~~~~

He shoved you against the wall without warning. His mouth was on yours before you could gasp — claiming, devouring, punishing. His hands roamed over your waist, your ass, your thighs, gripping like he was memorizing the feel of you.

“You came in here dressed like that,” he growled, teeth scraping your neck, “knowing exactly what I’d do to you.”

You whimpered as he hiked your skirt up to your hips. “Wanted your attention.”

“You have it.”

He dropped to his knees, hooking your panties down so fast they nearly tore.

“Been thinking about this pussy all fucking morning,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your thigh. “Your husband doesn’t take care of it, does he?”

“No,” you breathed. “He doesn’t.”

Minho licked a slow stripe up your folds. “Then let me.”

His tongue was relentless — flicking over your clit, dipping inside you, groaning when you trembled against the wall. He gripped your thighs tightly, not letting you move. You cried out as he sucked your clit into his mouth, your legs shaking.

“You taste like mine,” he whispered, eyes locked on yours. “Like a dirty little wife who’s been cheating all week.”

Your nails scratched the wall. “I am… fuck— I’m cheating on him.”

“Say it louder.”

“I’m cheating on my husband,” you cried. “With my boss.”

Minho growled against your pussy, tongue working faster until your orgasm hit like lightning — sudden and blinding. Your body went slack, but he didn’t stop. He dragged another out of you, and then another, until you were begging.

“Please… Minho—”

He stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “On the desk.”

You stumbled forward and leaned over, breasts pressing into the cool wood.

He undid his belt, pants already straining. “Fucking skirt’s been driving me insane,” he muttered. “Do you know how many men looked at you today?”

You looked over your shoulder, dazed and needy. “Did it make you jealous?”

“I wanted to break every one of their fingers.”

He entered you in one deep, brutal thrust.

You moaned his name, nails dragging across the desk, hips arching back.

“God, this pussy was made for me,” he groaned, thrusting harder. “Your husband can’t fuck you like this. He doesn’t know how to ruin you.”

“No one fucks me like you,” you gasped. “No one—”

He slapped your ass. “Louder.”

“No one!” you cried.

The sound of skin slapping echoed through the office. He gripped your hair, pulling your head back as he fucked into you ruthlessly. Your body jolted with each thrust, your moans echoing into the glass, the city skyline watching.

“Gonna fill you up,” he growled into your ear. “Let you go home dripping with another man’s cum.”

“Do it,” you sobbed. “Make me his whore.”

His thrusts grew deeper, rougher, angling just right. Your fingers clawed at the desk as the pressure inside you snapped, your whole body locking up as your orgasm tore through you with a cry.

Minho cursed, hips jerking as he followed you over the edge, groaning low and feral as he emptied himself inside you, grinding his hips through the aftershocks. He held you close, your bodies trembling in sync, your breaths ragged and uneven.

You stayed like that for a beat—breathing, trembling, wrecked.

Then slowly, he pulled out, helping you steady yourself on shaking legs. He gently tugged your dress back down, smoothing the fabric with careful fingers. You adjusted your hair in the reflection of the nearby window, flushed and raw.

Minho tucked himself back into his trousers, then looked over at you with that crooked, devastating smile.

“Wanna grab brunch?” he asked casually, like he hadn’t just ruined you on his desk.

You gave a breathless little laugh. “After that? You’re insatiable.”

He stepped closer, brushing his thumb over your cheek before lifting your hand to his lips. He kissed the silver band on your finger.

“Well,” he murmured, “I do have a reputation to uphold, my love.”

You smiled despite yourself, amazed at the way he could be both filthy and soft in the same breath.

He grinned and wrapped his arm around your waist, kissing the top of your head softly “Can’t have people thinking I don’t take care of my wife, Mrs. Lee.”

***My works are not allowed for translation or reposting as your own without my permission***

Tags: @jehhskz @true-queen-of-mischief @necrozica ***Taglist is open.***

[staytinyarmy]

Mother's Day

Dad! Bang Chan x AFAB! Reader Synopsis: Chan makes sure Mother's Day is great! Warnings: SMUT, unprotected p in v, creampie, fingering, oral (both receiving), pet names, bit of a breeding kink, tooth rotting fluff. A/N: Mother's Day is not my favorite holiday, however I did enjoy writing this. Thinking of all those who struggle on days like today. You aren't alone! Comment if you'd like to be apart of my taglist. Sweet nonnie, i hope this is what you wanted! Requests are OPEN- just bare with me.

Chan woke up early in the morning, making sure Hwan didn’t wake you, he got him to help him in the kitchen for a sweet breakfast in bed, pancakes, orange juice, and bacon. Chan smiles as your son places the fruit on the pancakes making a smiley face of chocolate chips and strawberries Hwan cut himself with his little kid friendly strawberry cutter.

“Do you think she wants whip cream?” Chan asks and your sons eyes light up.

“Yeah!” He shouts and your son smiles reaching for the can. Chan helps him make a nose for your pancakes. Then tips up the can filling his mouth with some. Hwan opens his automatically and Chan smirks with a playful eyeroll as he puts some of the whip cream into his son’s mouth.

“Mmmm, yummy!” He says with a mouthful making Chan laugh.

“Let’s go see if she’s up!” Hwan hops down running down to your room.

Chan grabs the tray, and the homemade card Hwan had made the night before, and follows after him.

You’re sound asleep when you feel a tiny weight bounce onto the bed.

“Eomma!” He shouts, “Happy Mother’s Day!” he squeals and jumps on top of you. You groan lightly as you get acclimated to the room. You smile at your sweet boy just before seeing Chan walk in, a sheepish smile on his face and a tray full of food.

“What’s this?” you ask eyeing your son.

“Breakfast!” Hwan cheers.

“Look, I even cut the strawberries all by myself!” Hwan’s smile is proud and you hug him to your side.

“You did excellent! I’m so proud of you!”

Chan sets the food down in front of you, and you look up at him longingly.

“To the best Eomma in the world. I love you- Hwan” You note the drawing of your little family on the front of the card and you can’t control the wide smile on your face.

“Thank you,” you pull your son to your side and kiss the top of his head. He smiles, a light blush painting his cheeks. Chan smiles as the two of you.

“Happy Mother’s Day, baby,” he kisses your lips quickly before he’s tries to shoo himself and Hwan out.

“I wanna stay,” he pouts.

“That’s fine, baby. You and Daddy can both stay.” Chan bites a back smile. Calling him daddy was definitely something you knew you could do to tease him. He comes over sitting beside you, your son nestled between the two you.

“Can we watch Bluey?” Your son asks and you hand him the remote.

“Buddy, we watch Bluey all the time, what about one of Eomma’s shows?” You smirk waving your hand.

“I don’t mind Bluey.” You say. The smile on your son’s face is brighter than the sun.

-

The rest of the day Chan makes sure you’re pampered. Promptly after breakfast he takes the dishes and washes them, before coming back to inform you he booked you a nail appointment at your favorite salon- manicure and pedicure.

“You know how to spoil a girl,” you tease as you kiss him goodbye.

“I wanna go too,” Hwan starts to pout and you kiss his forehead.

“Baby I’ll be back soon, besides, there’s nothing for you to do there but sit and be bored.” You smile down at him despite the sadden look on his face.

“What if I let you help me with a special surprise for Eomma?” Chan asks and this gets his attention quickly.

“OK!” he runs back to his dad, letting you leave peacefully.

“Christopher Bahng what do you have planned?” You smirk before he just smiles at you.

“You’ll see.”

-

Coming home from the nail place, and the delicious lunch Chan practically paid for, you come to a clean house.

You gasp, the sight completely unexpected. Laundry done and folded, dishes clean and put away, the floor clean, clutter and trash free.

Spotless.

“Chan, this place looks amazing,” you put your hand to your chest as he walks out of the bedroom.

“Thank you,” he smiles at you.

“I have another surprise for you.” He smiles.

“Where’s Hwan?”

“Napping,” he chuckles, “Running the vacuum tuckered him out.” He informs you. You can feel the nervous excited anticipation fill your veins.

“Come on, he pulls you to the bedroom, opening the door for you to see a familiar dress. You gasp, it’s the one you mentioned two months ago in passing while out shopping together.

“Chris, you- you remembered?” You turn to him, a knowing smile on his face.

“Of course I did. I couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful it would look on you.” He says before kissing your shoulder.

“And you’re wearing it tonight.” He smiles.

“Tonight?” He nods, wordless.

-

You and Chan are in the bedroom getting dressed, your little boy Hwan sitting on the bed watching Bluey. You cast a glance to Chan in the mirror of your vanity only to find him already staring-smirking- at you. You blush under his gaze, heartrate slowly accelerating. The dress fit like a glove, and Chan couldn’t take his eyes off you. You’re even more beautiful in it than he could have imagined.

“What time are you going to be home?” He asks.

“Late, so make sure you listen to grandma and grandpa, ok?”

“Meaning he’ll be up when we get home and hyped up on sugar,” Chan smirks and you give him a half smile.

“It’ll be fine.” You whisper to him.

There’s a knock at your door, and Chan answers it as you finish your make up.

“Halmeoni!” He squeals when he hear’s Chan’s mother in the kitchen. His little legs carry him out of the room as fast as they can. You chuckle as you finish the blush on your cheeks before closing the compact and standing up. You look over your outfit one last time before sighing and nodding once to yourself.

“You ready to,” Chan stops as he see’s the reflection of you in the mirror.

“On second thought,” he charms as he puts his arms around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder, “Let’s cancel dinner,” he says lowly with a kiss to the side of your neck, “And go straight to desert. All tastey,” he hums, “and sweet,” another kiss just below your ear, “and wet.” His lips brush your ear and you shiver a slight blush appearing under your make up clad face.

“No, we are not skipping dinner,” you chuckle as you rest in his arms. His arms are what eternity must feel like, strong, safe, and exactly where you’re meant to be.

-

The two of you say goodbye to Hwan and arrive at the restaurant, the place feeling warm and intimate.

Chan had requested a private booth for the two of you in the corner of the building.

“This is so beautiful,” you smile as you notice the bouquet of red roses on the table. You smile at him and kiss his cheek before smelling the beautiful flowers.

“Baby, thank you,” you smile as your heart swells in your chest.

“Only the best for my girl,” he smiles as he watches you dote over the flowers, the petals smooth as silk against your fingertips.

Both of you order, Chan sparing no expense. Your favorite meal, fancy champagne, even a live violinist playing soft music for you in the corner.

“Happy Mother’s Day,” He smiles as he takes your hand. You couldn’t be happier. The dinner is perfect, something out of a fairytale.

-

“So, change of plans,” Chan says as he opens the car door for you.

“Hmm?” You answer, a quirked brow prominently displayed on your face.

“Hwan’s staying the night at my parent’s place.” You smirk at him and nod your head.

“So, you know what that means?” You smile at him and he turns his face slightly with his brow raised.

“We get to be in bed by 10!” You sigh in relief as Chan smiles, a small laugh escaping him.

-

Pulling up to the house, your breath hitches, the sidewalk is lined with candles and flowers, all the way up the steps to the front door.

You look over to your man who’s doing everything he can to act casual.

“Christopher,” you say barely above a whisper but he doesn’t pay you any attention- not yet.

He opens your car door taking your hand, kissing the back of it making eye contact as he does, and leads you inside. He puts your roses on the counter while you take in the sight before you; candles light the living room just enough to see, the faint golden glow romantic and sweet, and he leads you to the bedroom. Entering the room, candles are littered throughout it, rose petals on the floor, the bed made, but ready to be destroyed. You gasp as the intimate atmosphere causes goosebumps to be pulled onto your skin.

“Better than an early bedtime, right?” Chan whispers in your ear and you instinctively lean into his touch, his arms coming around your waist, lips attaching to your neck in soft, sensual kisses.

“Come on, there’s more,” he smirks as he places one final kiss below your ear. He unzips your dress slowly and you let it fall to the floor. He grabs you a blanket and has you lay on the bed on your stomach.

He grabs the oils, ridding himself of his shirt, and changing his pants so he doesn’t ruin his nice ones. You feel the mattress dip beneath you.

“Happy Mother’s Day to me,” you mumble, staring at his defined chest and abs. He chuckles squirting some of the oil into his hands.

“Lay back and relax, baby girl. I’ve got you.” He smiles as you lay your head down on your arms. His hands start to massage your back, slowly applying pressure first to your neck, then down your shoulders. Soft moans and gasps escaping you. His thumbs applying the right pressure to your shoulders.

“Mmm, feels good,” you encourage as he moves down your thighs. The amount of non-sexual pleasure causes heat to pool between your legs; a slight tinge of embarrassment hits you as you realize you’re getting off to this. You hide your face to hide the blush as you feel Chan start to massage your feet, your moans unable to be stopped.

Chan bites his lip, the noises are turning him on more than he expected, but tonight was about you, what you wanted to happen and if sex wasn’t apart of the deal, he would be ok with that. But if it was, he’d be elated all the same.

He notices your body arch into his touch as he comes back up, massaging in the back of your thighs again and he smirks, testing the waters, he dips his hand dangerously close to bare core. The tiniest whimper escapes you as his fingers brush your folds and your ass lifts slightly up into the air, causing the blanket to slide down onto your back some, exposing you to him. Chan takes a deep breath, his pants becoming tighter by the minute.

His hands move away from your core, massaging your back once more, his hands dipping down to your sides, briefly ghosting over the side of your breast.

“Chan,” you whine quietly.

“Yes, my love?” His voice drips with a cockiness you’re all too familiar with. All you do is whimper in response.

“Use your words, dear, I don’t know what a whimper means,” he mocks.

He knows.

All too well.

Your hips lift off the bed again. He looks down at you.

“Touch,” you breathe out, your mind already trying to go.

“All ready losing it and I haven’t even touched you properly.” He chuckles to himself. All you can do is slide your ass up into the air more, creating a beautiful arch, one that Chan quietly releases a groan at. He wipes his hands of the oil, coming up behind you, your folds already wet.

“Please,” you whine as you feel his hands go to either of your thighs. His fingers spread you open, his tongue teases you at first, tasting your arousal and he moans at the salty sweet taste.

“So good,” he whispers to himself before diving in, tongue circling your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your eyes flutter closed as your mouth drops open, a moan leaving your throat.

“Fuck,” you whisper as your rest your forehead against the mattress. His tongue circles and flicks, pleasure building in your body with every little bit of stimulation. He sticks his tongue into your entrance, and you push back onto his face as you pant.

“Chris, I’m- oh fuck,” you gasp as he goes back to your growing clit, replacing his tongue with his finger. Your walls clench around his finger, squelching already audible from how wet you are. Normally you would hate hearing it, but tonight, you’re so relaxed and pleased you don’t have it in you to care.

“Fuck, keep doing that,” you squeeze your eyes tighter as he curls his finger down, directly stimulating your sweet spot as his tongue continues mercilessly circling your clit.

He can feel how close you are, how your cunt keeps sucking his fingers in and how you’re trying desperately to rock your hips against him. His tongue moves hard and fast, adding a second finger to your tight pussy as he hits it harder, sending shockwaves through your body as your orgasm builds more and more.

“Fuck, Chris I’m gonna cum,” you whimper as your muscles are locking up, heart rate speeds up and your breathing becomes desperate pants.

“Come on, cum for me baby. Let me taste you,” he tells you. That’s all it takes, your walls clamp down around his fingers, your face twists in pleasure as your body shakes and toes curl; your orgasm wrecking you.

Chris moans against you as he cleans you up, tasting your juices on his tongue.

“So fucking good for me,” he praises as he places kisses on your lower back, kneading your ass just a little. He allows you a second to come back to earth before helping you roll over.

“More,” you grab at him, pulling him down so your lips finally meet in a hot, messy- slightly salty- kiss. Teeth knocking ever so slightly, tongues gliding against one another, both of you tasting the other and exploring your mouths. For a brief moment you go back to when you were younger, a memory of a similar make out session happening on his couch, one that was interrupted by his parents coming home. You smile against his mouth at the flashback. Two young innocent kids, little did you know the future that laid before you.

“That good huh?” he pants against your lips. You moan in response, hands going from his neck to his broad shoulders, down his chest.

“Lay back,” you whisper to him and he obliges. You watch him lay down, his eyes are on your chest, your breasts bouncing ever so slightly as you position yourself, chest to chest. You kiss him once, before moving down to his jawline, a hand running up and down his taut stomach, soft moans escaping you as the passion in you continues to burn bright.

“Fuck I want you so bad,” you whisper into his ear.

“Wanna taste you, feel you, own you.”

This earns a straight up whimper from him as his hips lift into the air at your words.

“I’m yours, baby.” He breathes out, eyes closed and head slightly turned giving you better access to neck. His hand finds its way into your hair, cradling it your head.

You kiss down his chest, your freshly manicured hands touching his sensitive nipples, making him shudder before you gently lap at each one, his head tipping in back in pleasure. You glance down at his crotch, noticing a damp spot where the head of his cock should be. You softly groan at the sight, but decide to take your time, worshiping his body. You leave open mouthed kisses down his stomach, taking your time, tracing a few of his muscles with your tongue on your way down.

The feeling of your wet tongue on his skin makes him gasp, goosebumps popping up on his skin. He grinds his hips against the air, desperate for friction.

“M on fire,” he whimpers out as you place kisses along his happy trail, just above his waist band. Your index finger playfully runs up the bulge in his pants, and he hisses at the contact, a slight twitch being seen underneath the clothing. You grin as you place one last kiss to his pelvis before sliding his pants off, his cock springing free.

“Oh god,” you whisper as you see how hard he is. You squeeze your thighs together, the feeling of his cock like a ghost in your hole. You tease his slit, earning a groan from him, smearing the precum over his shaft as his head tips back, a growl coming from his throat.

“Fuck, please, I want your mouth,” he pants. You take a moment to really drink in the image, his body is putty in your hands, yours to use and play with, his eyes are screwed shut, mouth hanging open, muscles tense under your touch.

You wrap your lips around him, Chan having to do everything he can to not buck his hips up into you. He watches you slowly sink down, then back up, sucking his cock like it’s going out of style.

“Ah,” he gasps, panting, hand finding its way to the back of your head, not to push or even guide, but to ground himself. To keep him from losing all control right now. The way your cheeks hollow out feel like heaven, the way his cock almost touches the back of your throat is euphoric, and you can feel how the twitches inside your mouth.

“Baby- ah fuck - baby, s-stop.” He pleads breathlessly. You oblige immediately, looking up at him to see if he’s ok.

“Did I do something wrong?”

He laughs breathlessly and pulls you up to him, flipping you on your back.

“No, you’re perfect, jus wanna be inside you when I cum. Fill you up all nice and pretty.” He murmurs, practically babbling at his point with how bad he wants to please and fill you. He lines himself up at your entrance.

“Could make you a mommy again, yeah? See you filled up with me, all swollen and beautiful,” he moans at the thought.

“Shh, Chris, Chris,” he’s so far gone when he looks at you, you can see the way he snaps back.

“’m sorry,” he mumbles before kissing your lips as he slides in. You gasp, the motion unexpected, and he takes his time to explore your mouth once more.

“Fuck,” you choke out. He stays still for a moment, bracing himself on one hand besides your head, the other stroking your cheek.

“What do you think though, about having another someday?” You look up at him, his eyes communicating he isn’t kidding.

“Someday, yeah.” Your hand cups his cheek, his brown eyes sparkle ever so slightly against the candle light. He dips his head down, capturing your lips as he slowly rocks his hips into yours; both of you moaning at how good it feels to be connected as one.

“Fuck, go faster,” you plead as your lips separate, but your foreheads stay together, both covered in a thin layer of sweat.

“Ah, fuck,” he moans, dropping his head to your shoulder, placing kisses and a few love bites every now and again. Your chests are pressed together, bodies rocking together at the movement of his hips. Your legs wrap around his torso, heels slightly digging into his back.

“I love you,” he whispers in your ear. You’re holding onto his shoulder’s, nails beginning to bite into the flesh underneath.

“Ah,” he hisses at the sting.

“Sorry,” you whimper and he shakes his head bringing his face back to yours.

“No, no feels good,” he screws his eyes shut as he feels it again, a low growl leaving him.

“I love you too,” you whisper and he brings his forehead back down to yours again.

His thrusts are sloppier now; he brings a hand down between you and furiously rubs circles on your clit.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, keep going, keep going, keep -oh shit,” your body starts to tense, nails scratching at his back, leaving behind thin red lines.

“Come on baby, cum for me. Make a mess on my cock,” he pants. That sends you over the edge, a loud cry echoes in the room as your body locks up, Chan fucking you through it, helping you ride the wave of your toe-curling orgasm. Chan’s hits as the after shocks hit you, his face buried in your neck as he cries out, sloppily pumping into you as you feel it warmth between your legs.

“Oh fuck,” he whimpers as he stills, his orgasm just as intense and heavy. His heart thuds against his chest as he takes a moment to come back to reality, the aftershocks wearing off. He places a single longing kiss to your lips before slowly pulling out and laying down beside you. You look at each other, you share pink dusted cheeks, sweaty bodies and you’re totally fucked out.

“You are the most amazing woman,” he breathes as he looks at you like you’re the only woman in the world. You smile and lean over kissing his forehead. He grabs a wash cloth, dampens it with warm water and starts to clean you up, murmuring apologies as the cloth swipes across your sensitive center as gasps along with hip jerks flow from you.

The two of you crawl under the covers, snuggling each other, limbs tangled.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, the sound of the now apparent rain beating against the window for background noise.

“For what?” He mumbles.

“For an amazing day, for being an amazing dad and just everything you do for us,” You look up at him nostalgically, thankfully, and smile. He cups your cheek with his left hand.

“I’d do anything for you, y/n.” he whispers before placing a kiss on your forehead. Chan watches as you slowly fall asleep, quietly getting up blowing out each candle, saving the clean up for the morning before you have to go pick up your son.

Tags: @breakmeoff @thelovelybireader

Please do not repost my work

Love notes, comments and requests are appreciated!

[staytinyarmy]

between the lines.

lee minho x fem!reader

synopsis: after a quiet and amicable separation, you and minho learn to navigate the subtle emotional terrain of co-parenting, discovering that the bonds between you aren’t entirely severed. when a new relationship enters the picture, old emotions come into play, forcing you to reassess what it means to truly move on.

warnings: angst, slow burn, emotional tension, jealousy.

wc: 5631

The first time you considered the possibility that you and Minho might not last forever, Hana was two and a half, screaming on the floor of the grocery store aisle because you wouldn’t let her open a bag of marshmallows. She’d skipped her nap. Your back hurt. You hadn’t eaten since morning.

And Minho was standing a few feet away, silent, tired, rubbing his temple in the way he always did when he was overwhelmed but didn’t want to show it.

You remember thinking: We are both so lonely, and we’re standing right next to each other.

It wasn’t a sudden epiphany. It didn’t make you pack your things or call a lawyer. But it planted something. A quiet awareness that hadn’t been there before. A realization that being in the same place didn’t always mean being together. That surviving parenthood wasn’t the same as growing closer. That love, real, sustaining love might not be enough on its own when the everyday grind had worn both of you thin.

You made it another six months.

And then came the conversation. The one that changed everything, though neither of you raised your voices. It happened on a rainy Thursday night, with Hana finally asleep in her little bed, her stuffed rabbit tucked under her arm, her breathing slow and peaceful in a way that made your chest ache.

You and Minho sat across from each other at the kitchen table, the air heavy between you.

You were the one to speak first.
“I think we need to talk.”

That alone was enough to make his posture shift, like he already knew what was coming.

“It’s not working, is it?” you asked. Not accusing. Just asking. Hoping that if you said it softly enough, it would hurt less.

Minho didn’t answer at first. He just looked down at his hands, which were resting on the table tensed, still. Then he nodded, just once.

“I’ve been trying to figure out when it stopped feeling like a marriage,” he admitted quietly. “I think I just kept hoping it would come back.”

You swallowed around the lump rising in your throat. “I don’t think it’s coming back.”

Silence again. But not an angry one. More like the pause between waves, where everything is held in suspension.

You looked at him, at the man who had held your hand through labor, who had taken turns feeding Hana in the middle of the night, who had sat next to you at every pediatrician appointment and knew the exact way she liked her pancakes cut.

You loved him. You would always love him.

But you weren’t in love anymore.

You weren’t sure when it had changed. Maybe it was the night she wouldn’t stop crying and you both sat on opposite ends of the couch, too exhausted to even speak. Maybe it was the way your conversations became about diapers, sleep schedules, school everything except each other.

Or maybe it was just that neither of you had the energy to keep reaching across a growing distance.

“I don’t want Hana to grow up thinking this is what love looks like,” you said finally.

Minho’s throat worked as he nodded again. His voice cracked a little. “Me neither.”

That was the thing, he wasn’t cruel. You weren’t unhappy because of anything he had done. It wasn’t betrayal or bitterness. It was the slow erosion of connection, the way life and parenting and exhaustion had worn down the parts of your relationship that had once made you feel like you belonged to each other.

You were roommates. Teammates. Co-parents.

But not partners. Not anymore.

You sat in the kitchen for a long time, talking through tears and through silence. Talking about Hana. About how she would always come first. About shared custody. About what it would mean to not come home to the same place, not make coffee in the same kitchen, not tuck her in side by side every night.

There was grief in every word, but also strange relief.

There was no fight. No slammed doors. No accusations.

Just two people who had loved, and tried, and grown apart without meaning to.

That night, Minho slept on the couch.

Not because you asked him to, but because it felt right. The beginning of the transition. The first step into what would become your new life.

The next morning, you made Hana’s breakfast together. Waffles, fruit, a little too much syrup. She didn’t notice anything had changed. She sat between you, babbling about a butterfly she’d seen at school, kicking her feet against the legs of the chair.

Minho smiled at her, reached to wipe a bit of syrup from her cheek.

And your heart broke a little, not because you were losing him, but because you knew you never fully had him, not in the way you thought.

And now, there was no going back.

But the strange, unexpected truth was this: you didn’t hate each other. There was no war between you. Just the quiet, gentle undoing of something that had been holding together for too long out of fear and habit.

You were going to do this. You were going to split your lives in two. And somehow, you’d stay whole, for Hana.

Even if it meant breaking your heart just a little, every day.

The first few weeks after Minho moved out were quiet. Too quiet.

Not in the way that brought peace, but in the way that pressed in around your ribs, reminding you of what was missing. Of the space that had opened up on the couch where he used to sit. Of the way his toothbrush was no longer beside yours. Of how bedtime with Hana was now something you did alone, one pair of hands where there used to be two.

She asked for him a lot in the beginning.

“Where’s Appa?”

“Why isn’t he here tonight?”

“Can he come for breakfast?”

You never lied. You just softened the truth.

“He’s at his house tonight, sweetheart.”

“He’ll come pick you up tomorrow.”

“He always loves you, no matter where he is.”

You kept your voice steady even when your chest ached. Because this, this was your choice. And Minho’s. And you had promised each other that no matter how hard it got, Hana would come first. Always.

The first custody exchange was awkward.

You packed her overnight bag with too much three outfits, her favorite books, two stuffed animals, backup pajamas, her dinosaur toothbrush. You labeled everything. Left a note for Minho: She didn’t nap today. Give her a snack before bed or she’ll wake up early. Extra socks in the front pocket.

He showed up exactly on time, looking like he hadn’t slept much. He hovered in the doorway, hands in his pockets, eyes drifting over the apartment like it was both familiar and foreign now.

Hana ran into his arms, squealing with delight.

Minho’s eyes met yours over her head, and for a moment, there was something unbearably fragile in his expression. Something that looked like guilt, or grief, or just quiet devastation.

“I’ve got her,” he said gently. “I’ll bring her back Sunday night.”

You nodded, smiling even though your throat was tight. “She’s excited. Don’t let her trick you into giving her two desserts.”

“I make no promises,” he said with a small laugh, and for a second, just a second, it felt like old times.

But then they were gone, and you were standing in the doorway alone.

The silence afterward was staggering. You wandered through the apartment as if it belonged to someone else. Cleaned dishes that weren’t dirty. Reorganized a drawer. Ate dinner standing at the counter. Told yourself this was just the beginning. That it would get easier.

And, in some ways, it did.

You and Minho started texting more. At first, it was just about logistics, drop-offs, schedules, what size shoes Hana had suddenly jumped to.

But then it morphed into something else. Little moments.

Minho:
She drew a rocket ship today. Said she’s going to the moon and taking you with her.

You:
Only if she packs snacks. She gets hangry.

Minho:
She’s yours then.

You:
Coward.

There were jokes again. Shared photos. Voice memos of Hana singing off-key in the car. Slowly, the tension faded, replaced with something steadier, something you could almost call a friendship.

Not romantic. Not really.

But intimate, in the way that only two people who love the same child with their whole hearts could be.

You found your rhythm.

Exchanging her favorite snacks. Making sure she had her favorite sleep toy. Texting each other at the exact same time when she got sick with a cold and neither of you wanted to leave her alone.

You didn’t expect how often Minho would still feel like a constant in your life. Even without the title. Even without the home.

Birthdays became the strangest kind of sacred ground.

The first one post-separation, you debated whether to have separate celebrations. But the idea felt wrong.

So you hosted together. Rented a room at a small play café. Brought cupcakes and balloons. Watched Hana run wild in a princess costume that was already unraveling at the seams.

You were worried it would be awkward. But it wasn’t.

Minho handed you tape when the banner fell down. You took turns cutting cake. You didn’t need to explain anything to anyone because it worked.

At the end of the party, Hana opened her arms wide and declared, “This is the best day ever!”

You and Minho both laughed, both crouched down to hug her, both looked at each other over her head.

It hit you then: this was still a family.

Not broken. Not perfect. But real.

Sometimes, people asked.

“So… are you and Minho ever getting back together?”

You always shook your head.
“No. We’re better this way.”

And mostly, you believed that.

You liked the ease. The clarity. You liked being able to make decisions for yourself again. To not feel like you were trying to force something to fit that no longer did.

You weren’t waiting for him.

And as far as you could tell, he wasn’t waiting for you either.

That was the deal.

And yet, there were moments.

Small ones.

Like the time Hana fell asleep on the couch between you, her little hands curled into both of yours, and Minho looked at you with a softness that made your breath hitch. Or the time he fixed the heater in your apartment without asking, just because he knew you were tired and it was cold.

Those moments lived in the corners of your mind, quiet and persistent. You never said anything. Neither did he.

You had made peace with what you were.

Two parallel lines.

Running side by side.

Never crossing again.

Or so you thought.

It happened on a Wednesday. One of those in-between days when nothing significant is supposed to happen, no birthdays, no big milestones, just a quick stop for coffee before school pickup.

You weren’t expecting anything. Certainly not him.

The café was almost empty, the way it always was in that strange lull between lunch and evening, when people drifted in with laptops or last-minute meetings. You were just trying to stay awake. Hana had been up half the night with a fever that had finally broken at dawn, and the weight of your exhaustion clung to your limbs like something physical.

You stood there, half-dazed, reading the menu even though you already knew what you wanted. You were still in your softest hoodie, the one with a faint juice stain on the sleeve you hadn’t had time to scrub out, your hair shoved into a clip, makeup forgotten.

That’s when he spoke.

“You’re either having a really good day or a really bad one,” he said, with a friendly, lopsided smile and a cup already in his hand.

You looked up, blinking. He was a little older than you, mid-thirties, maybe. Clean lines, warm eyes. Kind-looking, though you’d learned not to trust that right away.

You huffed a breath that was halfway to a laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only because I’ve had both kinds,” he said. “And I usually end up here either way.”

You offered a tired smile. “Then I guess we’re both regulars in the land of mediocre Wednesdays.”

He laughed at that. Not too loud. Just enough to make something ease inside you.

You placed your order. He didn’t push, didn’t linger too long. But when your drinks were ready, and he reached for a napkin, he glanced at you again. Hesitated.

Then he said, “I’m Jisung.”

You hesitated too. There was something in the way he said it, open, but not expectant.

So you told him your name.

You ended up sitting for a few minutes. Fifteen, maybe twenty. Talking about nothing at all favorite books, your mutual disdain for the newer version of the transit app, how the weather kept teasing spring and then snapping back to winter.

And then, just as you were getting ready to go, he said it.

“I know this is forward. But I’d really like to see you again. Would you be okay giving me your number?”

Your first instinct was to say no.

Not because he wasn’t kind. Not because you weren’t interested.

But because he didn’t know.

Didn’t know that your days were split between pickup times and pediatrician appointments, bedtime routines and shared custody schedules. Didn’t know that you carried a small pink backpack in your trunk at all times. That your heart had been broken, not just by Minho, but by the slow understanding that you weren’t the person you used to be.

You weren’t single. Not in the way most people meant it.

You had a daughter.

So you said it, simply. Carefully.

“I should tell you… I have a three-year-old. Her name’s Hana. She’s my whole world.”

There was a pause.

You watched his face closely, the way people do when they’re waiting for someone to flinch.

But Jisung didn’t.

He nodded, once, slowly. “Thank you for telling me.”

And then, “That’s not a dealbreaker. Not even close.”

You stared at him, unsure what to say. Most people tried to hide their discomfort behind politeness. But he just sipped his coffee like it was nothing.

“You’re not surprised?” you asked finally.

He smiled again, softer this time. “I have a niece. She’s four. My sister raised her on her own for the first couple years. So… I know it’s not easy. I also know it doesn’t mean you stopped being a person outside of being a parent.”

That..that was what got you.

The way he said it. Like you were still allowed to be.

You handed him your number before you could second-guess it.

And when you walked out into the late afternoon wind, you didn’t feel giddy. You didn’t feel swept off your feet.

But you felt something else.

Like maybe, just maybe, there was a space in your life for something new. Not a replacement. Not a fairytale.

Just something small and honest and real.

You didn’t tell Hana, not yet. There was no reason to. You were cautious now, and rightfully so. The last thing you wanted was to start something that would unravel too quickly.

But when Jisung texted you later that night, it made you smile.

Hope your Wednesday ended better than it started.
Next coffee’s on me.

And you found yourself typing back before you even realized it.

Only if you’re ready to hear more about unicorn Band-Aids and toddler opinions on cheese.

He replied almost instantly.

Try me.

You didn’t know what this was going to become.

You only knew this: he hadn’t run.

And that, in itself, felt like the beginning of something worth noticing.

-

You didn’t expect how quickly it would happen with Jisung.

Not love. Not even something as weighty as hope.

Just… lightness. The kind you hadn’t felt in a long time. The kind that came from being seen as someone other than a mother, other than a tired co-parent, other than a woman halfway rebuilt from the ground up.

It started with texting.

Short at first. Polite. Careful.

But then it grew.

Jisung was funny. Thoughtful in ways you hadn’t realized you’d missed, remembering small things you'd said in passing, asking follow-up questions that showed he was really listening, sending you photos of his niece’s drawings captioned, “Future gallery opening. No big deal.”

You told him about your favorite childhood movie and he watched it that same night, texting you commentary like a live broadcast. You mentioned a place you always meant to try for takeout, and he offered to bring it to the park one day, with enough snacks for Hana if she came along.

You hadn’t said yes yet. But you didn’t say no either.

There was a night, three days after that first coffee, when he said something so unexpected it caught you mid-laugh.

You don’t have to split yourself in two to be worth knowing, you know that, right?

You stared at the screen longer than you meant to. You didn’t respond right away. You didn’t know how to.

But later that night, as you lay in bed alone, peaceful, not lonely for once, you realized it had been a long time since anyone made you feel whole without asking you to prove you deserved it.

And it showed. Apparently.

Minho noticed.

Not all at once. Not in any obvious way. But subtly, in the way someone who used to know you better than anyone always notices the small shifts first.

It was the way you answered the door when he arrived for the next pickup. Hair loose, smile soft, phone still in your hand from a message you hadn’t finished reading.

The way your laugh slipped out easier, fuller, like it hadn’t had to squeeze itself through exhaustion first.

The way you stood a little taller, like you weren’t carrying quite so much anymore.

Minho didn’t say anything at first.

He watched quietly as Hana launched herself into his arms, chattering about snacks and sidewalk chalk and how she saw a squirrel that “definitely waved at her” from the tree outside.

You knelt beside her to zip up her backpack, brushing hair from her face, your phone buzzing once in your pocket. And you smiled.

Not at Minho.

At the message you hadn’t even read yet.

That’s when he felt it. A strange, quiet pinch. Not jealousy, he wouldn’t call it that. Not exactly. He had no claim. You’d made your peace. He had, too. Mostly.

But there was something else. A realization, sharp and unwelcome: someone else was making you smile like that.

Someone new.

So as you handed Hana her favorite stuffed animal and stood to walk them to the door, Minho glanced sideways at you and said, casually, “You’ve seemed… lighter lately.”

You blinked. “Yeah?”

He shrugged, one arm around Hana, the other tucking her blanket tighter beneath his elbow. “I don’t know. Just… seems like a good week.”

You tried not to react. But he saw it anyway, the flicker of something in your eyes. Maybe surprise. Maybe guilt. You weren’t sure why it felt that way.

“Been keeping busy,” you said lightly, brushing it off. “Work stuff. Mom stuff.”

He nodded, like he believed you. Like he wanted to believe you.

But then he added, almost offhand, “Someone making you smile like that must be doing a pretty good job.”

You froze for half a second too long.

Then gave a quiet laugh, not meeting his eyes. “It’s nothing.”

Minho didn’t press. He never had been the type to dig where he wasn’t welcome.

But the silence that followed carried something unspoken.

Because it wasn’t nothing. He knew that.

And maybe that was what unsettled him the most.

Not that you were moving on.

But that you were really moving on. And that he wasn’t sure when, exactly, he’d stopped being a part of your inner world, the one that lit you up from the inside out, even when you didn’t notice it yourself.

He stood there for a moment longer than necessary. Then said, “I’ll text if she asks for the green blanket. I think it’s still in your laundry basket.”

You nodded. “I will.”

He turned toward the door, Hana bouncing in his arms, and as he walked out, you felt the familiar ache rise in your chest.

But it was different now. Not grief. Not loss.

Just the echo of something that used to be yours.

And maybe, just maybe the shape of what was coming next.

It had been years, actual, measurable years since you’d dressed up like this.

Not for a work function, not for a rushed dinner where you had to check your watch every ten minutes to make sure you got home before the sitter left, not for a birthday party where you'd spend most of the time cutting fruit and wiping sticky fingers.

But for you.

For something that felt new.

For someone who looked at you like you were still a whole person, not just a parent navigating the aftermath of a quiet ending.

You stood in front of the mirror, smoothing the fabric of your dress with palms that felt a little too warm. Your hair was curled soft, loose, deliberate. The kind of effort you hadn’t made in so long you’d forgotten how it felt to do it without a reason tied to someone else’s needs.

You had makeup on.

Not the rushed concealer and mascara you slapped on in the five minutes between school drop-off and morning meetings, but the kind you actually sat down to apply. Lipstick. A little blush. You almost didn’t recognize your own reflection. Not in a bad way. Just in the way that made you realize how long it had been since you’d prioritized seeing yourself like this.

And your heart beat just a little faster than usual, because Jisung was waiting. A real dinner. An actual date. Your first since everything.

You had texted him earlier, half excited, half nervous “I might forget how to flirt. Fair warning.”

He’d replied, “That’s okay. I’ve got enough awkward charm for both of us.”

And then, as if summoned by your anticipation, there was a knock at the door.

Except… you hadn’t heard your phone buzz.

You walked over, heels clicking softly on the floor, a final glance in the mirror before you opened it.

And then everything paused.

There, standing in the hallway, was Minho.

Not Jisung.

Minho, wearing his work jacket, looking slightly winded, as if he’d come up the stairs too fast. In his arms, curled against his chest, was Hana. Asleep. Cheek pressed to his shoulder, mouth slightly open, hair mussed from what must’ve been a long day.

You blinked, confused, your hand still on the doorframe.

Minho blinked back. And then he stared.

His eyes moved over your face, your dress, your hair. His expression froze somewhere between surprise and something harder to name.

“You’re…” he started, then stopped.

You were equally stunned.

“What’s going on?” you asked, voice soft as you glanced down at Hana, trying not to raise it too much.

“I—I had to come early,” he said quickly, adjusting his grip on her. “I got called into work. Last-minute shift. I—I texted you, but maybe you didn’t see—”

You swallowed, brain trying to catch up. “No, it’s okay. I just didn’t check my phone.”

Minho nodded. But he was still staring.

And for a moment, neither of you said anything.

Because he’d seen you in pajamas. In nursing bras. In sweats stained with juice and grief. He had seen you in all your rawest forms tired, stretched thin, unfiltered.

But this?

This version of you, lipstick soft and subtle, eyes bright, dress fitting in that way that made it clear you’d chosen it not just for practicality but for feeling, this was not one he’d seen in a long, long time.

And it startled him.

“I’ll… take her,” you said gently, reaching out.

He hesitated just a second longer, as if anchoring himself in the weight of her before letting go.

“She’s out cold,” he murmured. “Didn’t even make it through the drive.”

You nodded, carefully transferring Hana to your shoulder. Her small body nestled against you without resistance. You ran your hand down her back in soothing circles.

Minho didn’t leave.

He stood in the doorway, watching you rock her, his hands now empty.

“You look…” he started again, then cleared his throat. “Nice. I mean—you look nice.”

You gave a half-smile, focusing on keeping Hana settled.

He shifted his weight. “Were you… going somewhere?”

Your heart pinched, not because you owed him anything, but because there was something in his voice. A softness, yes. But also a quiet pull, something unspoken that hovered just behind the words.

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t want to lie. But you didn’t want to explain either.

Minho’s gaze didn’t waver. And in the silence, he figured it out.

The realization didn’t fall like a hammer. It arrived like a tug. Gentle. Persistent. Sharp in its precision.

“You were meeting someone,” he said quietly.

Still no answer.

Your silence was the confirmation.

He looked down. Exhaled. A short, barely-there breath, as if he’d braced for it and still felt it anyway.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said finally. “I really did try to give you a heads-up.”

“I know,” you said softly. “It’s okay. She comes first.”

He nodded. “Yeah. She does.”

But neither of you said what you were both thinking:

That even now, even with everything changed, there were still parts of each other that lingered. Quiet shadows in the corners of new lives.

He turned to go. Paused at the stairs.

“I’ll be done around noon Sunday,” he said without looking back. “I can come pick her up then.”

“Okay.”

And then he was gone.

You watched the door close.

You stood there for a moment, still holding Hana, feeling her soft breaths against your neck. Then you carefully laid her in her bed, brushing a curl from her face. She stirred slightly, but didn’t wake.

You checked your phone. One missed text.

Jisung:

I’m already here, no rush. Take your time.

Your throat tightened.

You called.

He picked up on the second ring, cheerful. “Hey, did you get lost?”

And then he heard the apology in your voice before you said a word.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered. “I can’t make it. Something came up with my daughter and I—”

“Hey, hey,” he said gently, cutting you off. “It’s okay. Really.”

“No, I feel awful. You came all this way—”

“And I got to see the sunset and listen to my favorite playlist. Not a waste.”

You laughed, small and tired. “I was really looking forward to tonight.”

“So was I,” he admitted. “But I’ve got time. We’ll try again. No pressure.”

You hung up a few minutes later, reassured by the ease in his voice, the lack of disappointment, the way he didn’t make you feel like a burden.

You walked back to the living room, heels still on, makeup still perfect.

But the night was quiet again.

And despite everything, despite Jisung’s warmth, despite the newness that had started to take root, your thoughts kept drifting back to the man who had stood at your door, holding the child you both loved more than anything, looking at you like he’d never quite seen you before.

You poured yourself a glass of wine. Sat down on the couch. Closed your eyes.

And breathed.

Because the line between what was and what could be had never felt thinner.

-

The apartment was quiet again the next morning.

Hana woke up early, too early for a Saturday, but you didn’t mind. You made pancakes, her favorite, cutting them into little stars with the cookie cutters she insisted on using lately. You let her pour too much syrup, ignored the sticky fingers on the table, and braided her hair while she babbled about a dream she had.

You didn’t tell her about last night. She didn’t need to know you had to cancel plans. That you’d stood in the hallway watching the space where Minho had been, heart doing something you didn’t know how to name. She didn’t need to know how long it took you to take your makeup off, or how the curls in your hair stayed long after you fell asleep on the couch, still dressed.

You let it all go, for her.

That afternoon, after cartoons and crafts and one very glitter-heavy art project, you took her to the park. It was a habit now fresh air, a safe routine, a way to let her run out her energy before the inevitable bedtime protest.

She was climbing the jungle gym when you saw him.

Minho.

You almost didn’t recognize him at first, hood pulled up, headphones around his neck, looking a little rumpled in a way that said he’d just finished a shift and hadn’t meant to be seen. But he spotted you instantly.

You weren’t expecting him until the next day.

Still, he walked toward you, hands in his pockets, something hesitant in his expression.

“Hey,” he said.

You smiled, surprised but not unwelcome. “Hey. Thought you were working until tomorrow.”

“I got off early. Thought I’d come by and see if you two were around.”

You glanced toward Hana, who had now spotted her dad and was waving with both arms, squealing his name. Minho grinned and waved back, already stepping forward to meet her.

They played for a while, the two of them slipping into their easy rhythm, him chasing her in slow motion, letting her tackle him dramatically onto the grass, her laughter echoing.

You sat on the bench and watched, something warm and complicated curling in your chest.

When she finally wore herself out and asked for juice, Minho offered to go grab some from the little market across the street. She nodded sleepily, curling against your side, and he jogged off.

He came back with two juice boxes.

And a bottle of iced tea, for you.

He handed it to you casually, like it didn’t mean anything. Like he hadn’t memorized your favorites, even now.

“Thanks,” you said.

He shrugged. “Figured you’d want something cold.”

The sun was starting to dip, casting the park in long shadows. Hana was drawing in the dirt with a stick now, humming to herself.

Minho sat beside you on the bench, a comfortable silence settling.

And then, after a few minutes, he asked it.

“You were going on a date, weren’t you?”

You looked down at the bottle in your hands. Twisted the cap. “Yeah.”

He nodded slowly. “Is it serious?”

“No,” you said. “Not yet. Just… new.”

Minho stared out at the playground. “Is he good to you?”

The question caught you off guard, not just that he asked, but how quietly he did. Not possessive. Not jealous. Just… careful.

You turned toward him. “Yeah. He’s kind.”

Minho nodded again. “That’s good. That’s… good.”

You both sat there, the air heavier now.

And then he said, “You looked beautiful last night.”

You froze.

He didn’t look at you when he said it. Just kept watching Hana, his expression unreadable.

“I know I shouldn’t say that,” he added, voice low. “But it’s true.”

You didn’t know what to do with the ache that bloomed in your chest at his words. The softness. The honesty.

“I didn’t expect to feel anything,” he said after a beat. “But I saw you, and it just—hit me.”

You swallowed. “Minho…”

He finally turned to you then, and something in his eyes cracked open. Something vulnerable. Something you hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Do you ever wonder,” he asked, “if we gave up too soon?”

The question lingered between you like fog, thick, slow, impossible to ignore.

You looked at him. Really looked.

At the man who had once been your everything.

At the man who still showed up. Still knew your drink. Still remembered how to hold your daughter like she was the most precious thing in the world.

And you wanted to say: Yes. I wonder all the time.

But instead, you said: “I think we gave what we had. And then we gave some more. And maybe we ran out of things to give.”

He nodded, but the pain in his eyes didn’t go away.

“I miss her,” he said. “Even when I just saw her yesterday.”

And you knew he didn’t just mean Hana.

You nodded. “I miss us sometimes, too.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. “I think maybe that’s what’s hardest. Missing something that still kind of exists… just not the way it used to.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t.

Because you were terrified of saying the wrong thing.

Of opening a door you weren’t sure you had the strength to close again.

Hana came running over then, breaking the tension. “I’m tired,” she whined, arms outstretched.

You stood up, lifting her into your arms. She nestled her head into your shoulder immediately.

Minho stood too.

You walked to the parking lot together, silence wrapping around you like a shared memory.

When you reached your car, you opened the door and placed Hana gently in her seat, buckling her in as she blinked sleepily.

Minho watched.

And just before you got in the driver’s seat, he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded.

But you didn’t look back as you drove away.

Because you didn’t want him to see the tears you weren’t sure how to explain.

//

masterlist.

❌proofread

[official taglist: @alisonyus @lenfilms ..]

[staytinyarmy]

ink worthy ✩ c.bc

pairing: bang chan x gn!reader || word count: 0.4k genre: fluff, established relationship || warnings: not much, slightly suggestive, mentions of tattoos, lmk if i missed anything synopsis: chan's always wanted a tattoo. so when he finally gets one, he knows it has to be something meaningful. note: DEEPLY SORRY FOR THE DELAY. back on my bs. hope you guys enjoy this bc i went thru the 5 stages of grief by the time i finished it and it's only 400 words so that pretty much sums up how i feel atm- ANYWAYS LOVE YOU ALL, as always my ask box is open req: @mhluvie

The black lines seem to be staring back at you, almost offensive at this point. They gleam softly under the dim light of the living room, rippling as Chan gulps. 

The ‘CB97’ sits delicately on his milky skin, just above his left pectoral. Your fingers itch to trace the dark ink, but you can tell it’s fresh from the way his skin glows an angry red. 

You settle for thumbing at skin around it, nails gently scratching against his skin. You feel Chan swallow under your fingers, hesitating. He’s looking at you, cautiously, carefully, calculating your next move. 

‘Holy shit, baby. I can’t believe you did it…’ Your fingers trail upto jaw, thumb swiping under his cheek. ‘It looks magnificent.’ He melts into your touch, smiling. 

‘I’m glad you like it.’ He pulls you close, halfway onto his lap now. ‘I have something else to show you.’ He tugs at the sleeve on his left hand, revealing another tattoo.

Right there, sitting on the vein that flowed from his heart, giving him life, tucked in crisp text, was your initials and his, sitting beside your anniversary. 

Chan wraps his arms tighter around you, pulling you close. Your eyes mist over, heart racing at the sight. 

You turn to him, and you smile, teary eyed. ‘You didn’t…’ He just smiles back with all the love in the world, eyes shining with affection. 

‘I wanted to.’

You kiss him, pouring every ounce of love into the action, for no words could ever convey how much you truly felt. 

You begin to kiss down his jaw, slowly but surely, inching your way towards his collarbone. You take your time, pressing each kiss firmly into his skin. 

As you reach his collarbone, you let your teeth graze his skin, pink blooming across his plush skim. You can feel his heart pick up pace underneath your plump lips, a giggle escaping as the pink grows deeper. 

Your cheeks rests comfortably next to the tattoo, eyes taking in every line. Chan’s fingers find their way to your hair, gently carding through it. His head rests atop yours, and you feel his lips press a chaste kiss to your forehead. 

‘Do you really like it?’ He asks once more. 

‘More than you could ever know.’ You kissed him again, reassuring, the love overflowing.

Something about seeing your initials on his skin made you feel more loved than ever, and you would be damned if you didn’t show how much you appreciated it. 

©️ yangkitties 2025 do not copy, plagiarise, or repost

[staytinyarmy]

Memories Immortalised

Seo Changbin x Fem!Reader (w/ Platonic!Hwang Hyunjin)

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: none, pure fluff.

Summary: Y/N and Changbin relax on the couch watching a movie. Unsurprisingly they both fall asleep rather quickly. When Hyunjin comes home and sees his roommate and his girlfriend asleep, he can’t help but capture the image in his sketchbook.

Requested: yes

Stray Kids Masterlist

The only sound filling the room was the quiet sound of the television. A film was playing, yet the two inhabiting the room paid no attention to it as their main focus was on one another. Hushed whispers were exchanged, followed by a quiet, breathless laugh. Nights like these were few and far between, yet were the most anticipated. 

The moment Changbin laid flat on the sofa, Y/N smiled down at him as his hands reached out for her. Despite the playful roll of her eyes, Y/N allowed herself to be pulled down atop his chest. 

“You’re too clingy,” Y/N whispered, lips ghosting over his lips. 

“You wouldn’t want me any other way,” Changbin replied as he shuffled below her so the two of them could lay down comfortably. 

“Unfortunately, you’re right,” Y/N replied, resting her head in the crook of Changbin’s neck. 

He scoffed in response. “Unfortunately? You love when I’m like this.”

“I do,” Y/N replied, not bothering with a witty response anymore. “I wish it could happen more often.”

As Y/N typically worked most nights and Changbin sometimes needed to spend his whole night in the studio, nights like these were not a common occurrence. It had only just turned midnight and the couple’s original plan of staying up to savour the night they could finally spend together was down the drain as they both fully relaxed on the couch– too tired to move. 

“Are you watching the movie?” Y/N asked, her voice gradually becoming more tired. 

“No,” Chnagbin muttered. “I was too focused on something else.”

“Next time focus on the movie,” Y/N said, lifting her head from the crook of his neck. “I paid for it.”

“You didn’t pay attention to it either,” Changbin defended. 

Y/N hummed. “Then we’ll just stay here all day tomorrow and watch it.”

Chnagbin’s lips flicked up in a smile. “I like the sound of that.”

Leaning forward, Y/N pressed her lips against Changbin’s and her body seemed to relax even more– if it were even possible. As their lips danced together, Y/N placed her hand flat on his chest, feeling his heartbeat increase, which made her smile into the kiss. If Y/N could freeze time and stay on the sofa forever with Changbin, she would. 

Changbin pulled away first, his hand trailing up her back to softly tuck her hair behind her ear. The image unfolding was one of beauty and comfort– yet was broken by Y/N yawning directly in Changbin’s face. 

“Am I boring you?” Changbin questioned as Y/N settled her head on his chest. 

“No,” Y/N muttered as her head nuzzled in the crook of his neck. “And I would have happily let that continue all night if I wasn’t so tired.”

As Changbin opened his mouth to reply, he was cut off by a yawn of his own, Y/N huffed a laugh before pressing a kiss to his neck. 

“Should we go to your room?” Y/N questioned, although she made no effort to move as she closed her eyes. 

“Yeah,” Changbin replied as one of his hands settled on her waist while the other laid on the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. “Hyunjin might be back soon.” Yet like Y/N, he made no effort to move.

It wasn’t long before the two of them were fast asleep, the credits of the film rolling not long after. 

***

Hyunjin stepped inside the apartment a little after midnight. As requested by Changbin, he had vacated the apartment so Changbin could have some alone time with Y/N. By now he was sure they would be back in Changbin’s room so Hyunjin finally decided to return home from where he had been taking shelter at Chan and Jeongin’s apartment. 

Letting out a yawn, Hyunjin shuffled through the apartment into the living room and he froze upon seeing the sleeping couple on the sofa. The credits were rolling on the television as soft breaths filled the room. 

Despite Hyunjin walking in upon something private, he couldn’t help but smile at the sight. The soft glow of the television cast on the couple’s sleeping faces. When Changbin had first told Hyunjin that he was talking to Y/N, he was surprised. After all, he was friends with Y/N first and was offended that she didn’t tell him before Changbin. Hyunjin had met her while he was shopping for new art supplies, and she had served him back when she worked for an art supply store. When he came back a week later for a new sketchbook, she had questioned if he had made anything, and their friendship had blossomed from there. 

When Hyunjin had invited her to the dorm to see some of his paintings, Changbin was the one to answer the door for her, and Hyunjin had caught them in a deep conversation while he was waiting for her message saying she had arrived. It wasn’t long before Changbin had told him that he had asked her on a date. 

Quietly, Hyunjin entered his bedroom and took a sketchbook and a couple of pencils before returning to the living room. The music from the credits was still playing quietly in the background, and it was enough light for him to see his sketchbook. He was always prone to creating artwork of people in love, and two of his favourite people were the target of his inspiration this time. 

It didn’t take him long to sketch the couple at all, and by the time the credits finished and was nearly finished by the time the television switched from the credits to the Netflix home screen. The moment he finished, he smiled proudly before tearing it from the sketchbook and placing it on the coffee table. 

The sleeping couple hadn’t moved the entire time, not even as Hyunjin unfolded a blanket and draped it over both of them before retreating to his room– a satisfied feeling rising within him. 

***

Y/N was the one to awake first, Changbin still in a deep sleep. She couldn’t understand how. The couch wasn’t exactly the comfiest place to sleep for the entire night, especially with two people sleeping side by side. 

Changbin’s arms were still wrapped tightly around her in a vice grip as if subconsciously making sure she wouldn’t slip from the couch to the floor in the middle of the night. The grip only became tighter as she tried to pull away. Y/N tried once more, trying her best not to wake him, but her attempts were futile. 

“Where are you going?” Changbin muttered, his voice sleepy. 

“Bathroom,” Y/N replied as she felt his grip slacken the slightest amount, she let out a breathy laugh. “I’m coming back, you don’t need to keep me hostage.”

Changbin scoffed before allowing Y/N to get up from the couch and stretch. Y/N let out a pleased groan at the feeling of being able to scratch out her body before shuffling to the bathroom, still half asleep. She tried not to take too long, preferring to be back cuddling on the couch with Changbin. 

When she made her way back to the living room, she was surprised to find him sitting up, staring at a piece of paper. “What’s that?” Y/N asked as she flopped down beside him. 

Changbin offered her the piece of paper, and a smile immediately appeared on her face. “Hyunjin drew this?”

“I don’t know when,” Changbin said as he smiled down at the piece of paper. “I didn’t hear him.”

“That’s because he knows when to be quiet,” Y/N teased with a kiss to his cheek. 

Changbin didn’t respond as he continued to examine the drawing. There was an unreadable emotion on his face as he looked at their figures sketched on the piece of paper. It was hard to tell what he was thinking so early in the morning. 

Y/N wrapped her arm around his, squeezing his bicep softly. “What are you thinking about?”

Changbin shrugged. “I don’t know.” Changbin took the drawing from Y/N once more, and his lips twitched again upon seeing it. “I like knowing that other people can see that I love you. And knowing Hyunjinnie likes to paint people who are in love…” Changbin trailed off, but Y/N knew exactly what he was trying to say. 

“Everyone already knows that you are in love with me,” Y/N said, brushing some of his hair away from his eyes. “And they know that I’m in love with you too, evident from how much I am clinging to your hoodie in that drawing.”

Changbin huffed a laugh before wrapping an arm around Y/N to pull her into his side, her head positioning itself on his chest. 

Y/N knew exactly what Changbin was saying. It was easy to take a photograph of the two of them sleeping; the rest of the members had done that on several occasions when they had caught the two of them. But seeing their love immortalised in a drawing was a completely different feeling. It was something more precious– more meaningful. It proved to both of them that their love was something worth capturing in art. It was something that was art itself. 

“Do you think Hyunjin will draw another one if I ask?” Y/N questioned as Chandbin pressed a lingering kiss to her head. 

Unbeknownst to the couple relaxing on the sofa, Hyunjin caught the tail end of their conversation, a soft smile on his face. He trailed back to his bedroom to allow the couple some more alone time– and to prepare another small sketch for them.