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munson-blurbs · 5 months

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Summary: Your lab partner, Eddie Munson, might be the most irritating person in your life. But when he unexpectedly comes to your rescue at a party, his chivalry is too hard to resist.

A collaboration with the absurdly talented @corroded-hellfire 🥰

WC: 3.8k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), fem!Reader, enemies-to-lovers, drinking, Billy Hargrove being a douche, fighting, blood, praise, fingering, accidental voyeurism if you squint, unprotected p in v, fluff because Red & I are some corny motherfuckers

Thank you @blueywrites for your idea that upped the spice 🌶️🌶️ Divider credit to @saradika

“Okay, so we need to mix the magnesium with hydrochloric acid,” you start, carefully measuring each substance and pouring them into a test tube, “and then we light the splint and see if it creates a squeaking noise.”

“Right,” Eddie says, not bothering to hide his disinterest. “And, uh, why are we doing this, exactly?”

You clench your jaw and exhale through your nose. Eddie getting under your skin is bad enough, but if he knew how much he annoyed you, he’d likely double down.

“We’re testing for the presence of oxygen,” you say with as much patience as you can muster. “And you need to wear safety goggles.”

He rolls his eyes and mimics you in a high-pitched and highly unflattering tone. “You need to wear safety goggles.”

He reaches for the matches, but you pull them away before he can grab them.

“I’m serious.”

Eddie scoffs. “Please. We’re not even blowing shit up. Besides, I have a gig tonight, and I’m not getting on stage with goggle marks on my face.”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll be the difference between your shitty band getting a record deal or not.”

“Whatever.” But he begrudgingly snaps on the protective gear, and you hand over the matchbox and the splint.

“So just li—seriously?” You watch, dumbfounded, as Eddie strikes a match and uses it to light the cigarette perched between his lips. Where had he kept it this whole time?

“What?” He asks with a smirk. “There’s, like, a million of these left. I’ll use the next one for the experiment thingy.”

He doesn’t get that far; Ms. O’Donnell marches over and yanks out the cigarette, snuffs it in the tray, and orders him to the principal’s office.

Leaving you to complete your work alone. Again.

Last week, it was because he’d kicked his feet up on the table and took a swig of Mountain Dew from a beaker. The week before, he’d blown up a rubber glove like a balloon and popped it right in Jason Carver’s ear, causing him to shatter a test tube on the ground.

You often felt more like a babysitter than a lab partner.

What you needed was a night out, so the party Steve Harrington was throwing tonight could not come any sooner. It wasn’t your usual scene, but all of your friends were going, and it certainly beat raiding your parents’ liquor cabinet alone.

Music blasts from an overpriced stereo system as you pull up to Steve’s house. Barely audible over the reverberating bass is the sound of drunken cheering as someone does a kegstand. You sigh, plaster a smile on your face, and make a beeline for the punch bowl.

Heather Holloway ladles jungle juice into an already pink-stained cup; you’re grateful for at least one kind face in a sea of Hawkins High students and recent graduates.

“Heather, hi!” You smile at her, plucking a new cup from the stack and filling it nearly to the brim. “How’s college?”

Heather takes a sip, wrinkling her nose at the vodka’s pungency. “Way better than high school,” she says with a laugh. “I’m taking an intro to biochem, and my lab partner actually shows up.”

You raise your glass in a mock toast. “Maybe you could take mine. He’s more trouble than he’s worth.”

She laughs. “Can’t be worse than when I was stuck with The Freak last year. He never showed up to class.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. And Ginny Anderson was his lab partner during his first senior year, and he pulled the same shit.”

Lucky them, you think wryly. Guess he decided to be a star student for his third go-around.

Frat boy-style cheering echoes from behind you and when you spin around you see Billy Hargrove strutting through the crowd, towards the kitchen. He throws a wink to a few girls and slaps five to one of the guys on the basketball team. If he’s coming into the kitchen, it’s the last place you want to be.

The living room is smoky and loud, but it beats getting stuck next to the booze with a jackass like Hargrove. Every thump of the bass has the little sips of alcohol you’ve taken sloshing around in your stomach. It’s hard to tell where you’re going or even what direction you’re going with so many people, so you just keep wading through groups until finally you come upon some space to breathe.

Unfortunately, this space brings you right back to where you began: in front of the kitchen. Just in time for Billy to sidle up next to you, the scent of whiskey and tangy cologne wafting off of him in waves.

“Where have you been all my life?” he asks, as if it’s supposed to be charming instead of nausea-inducing.

“Was better a second ago,” you mumble, not caring if he hears you or not. But when you move to step away from the blonde, the smarmy look slips from his too-pretty face and is replaced with a mask of set determination.

Strong fingers curl around your wrist, just tight enough to cause the barest amount of pain. The audacity and possessiveness are what piss you off the most, though.

A gentle tug of your arm does nothing to free it from his grip, so you try a little harder. Still nothing.

“Let go,” you seethe. The words are biting, but you’re a chihuahua up against a doberman.

Somehow, above your pulse pounding in your ears and the music thumping throughout the large house, you hear the distinct clang of a metal lunchbox snap shut and heavy boots on polished wood floors headed in your direction.

You sense Eddie over your shoulder before he appears in your peripheral vision. A moment hangs in the air where he and Billy stare at one another, and you watch them both, unsure of what is about to happen.

Eddie steels his jaw, unmoving. “Let her go,” he says, a slight rasp in his tone.

The jock remains unfazed, unthreatened. “Shouldn’t you be worshiping Satan’s asshole, Freak?”

“Shouldn’t you be worshiping Tommy’s? Or does he only worship yours?”

A cacophony of laughter stirs up an anger inside of Billy. He grabs Eddie by the jacket collar and slams him against the counter. “If you don’t fuck off in the next three seconds, I’ll kick you ass so hard that your uncle won’t even be able to identify your body.”

Eddie smirks. “One…two—”

Billy’s fist crashes into Eddie’s cheek with a sickening crack. Eddie returns with a punch to Billy’s abdomen, but not before his face sustains a few more hits.

Shock loosens its grasp on you and you call out for help, knowing it’s no use getting in the middle of their brawl. Someone—Tommy H, maybe—is chanting “fight!” and it takes all of your willpower not to clock him yourself.

Billy finally lets up when Eddie falls to the floor, clutching his stomach in agony. “Maybe next time, you’ll mind your fucking business,” he spits through his split lip—one of the few punches Eddie managed to land.

His smarminess is enough to provoke a reflexive response in you. As he gloats, you deliver a swift kick square to his crotch. A choked whine slips from Billy’s parted lips as he doubles over. You snort a laugh to yourself thinking about how the dumbbell is probably going to spin this story so he doesn’t seem like any less than the King of Hawkins High in front of his fellow party-goers. He’ll never be able to take away your satisfaction at using a pair of your nicest shoes to crush Billy’s balls though.

Eddie is still on the ground, wiping blood that’s trickled out of his right nostril onto the back of his sleeve. Turning your back to Billy, you bend down and offer your hand to Eddie. He accepts it with a weak smile and you help him to his feet.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Eddie says with a shrug and a sad smile that knots your stomach. He’s been hurt worse than this?

Unable to follow that train of thought, you reach out and slip your hand into Eddie’s. You give a small tug and he readily follows you down the hall of the Harrington home, the thumping beat of the bass becoming softer the further you walk.

In the back corner of the house you manage to find a bathroom that’s not occupied by someone puking the mixture of alcohol they’ve consumed or a couple hooking up, going at it like wild animals. This one looks like it’s been hardly touched all night and you click the lock into place once you and Eddie are inside.

Eddie takes a seat on the closed toilet lid, his calloused fingers coming up to gently touch the gash right across his chin. He winces at the tenderness of the wound while you crouch down and look in the cabinets underneath the sink for a first aid kit.

“Ah, here we are,” you announce as you pull out the small white box with the red cross on it. On your knees, you shuffle over towards Eddie and slide the kit along with you. “It’s not so bad,” you tell Eddie as you dab some rubbing alcohol on a small swath of gauze. “The face just bleeds more because—”

“Because the blood vessels in the face are so close to the skin,” Eddie finishes for you.

“Wow,” you say, raising your eyebrows at him. “I’m impressed.”

“We are in the same science class, you know,” Eddie teases with a playful smirk. It quickly turns to a grimace though as you begin to dab at his wounds.

“I thought I recognized you from the seat next to mine,” you joke back. There’s silence for a few moments while you clean off all the excess blood and bandage up the open cuts. “Why are you suddenly interested in science this year? I mean, I was talking to Heather before and she said you never showed up when you were her lab partner. So, what? Renewed attempt to graduate?”

“Uh,” Eddie says with an awkward chuckle. He avoids your eyes and rubs his hand along the back of his neck. “Something like that.”

“Got the hots for O’Donnell?”

He belly laughs at that thought, grimacing at the pain it causes. “Fuck, no!” He shakes his head. “She looks like a walrus and a naked mole rat had some sort of freaky baby.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Ew.”

“You were the one who suggested I’m into her,” Eddie rebutted, and fairly so.

“I didn’t make you compare her to a—”

A loud crash stops you mid-sentence, followed by someone drunkenly lamenting, “not the punch!”

“We’re probably safer hiding out in here for a bit,” Eddie says softly, “unless you want to volunteer to clean up whatever mess they made.”

“I think cleaning up your mess is more than enough for tonight.” To punctuate your point, you swipe a clean piece of gauze over a small cut you’d previously missed. “Besides, I wanna know what’s suddenly got you showing up to class.”

Eddie’s eyes roam your body far more conspicuously than he’d like, but the attention fills you with a newfound warmth. “You.” He snorts out a little laugh, startling you slightly. “Fuck, I’m drunker than I thought.”

“W-Wait.” You fight off the embarrassment that accompanies your stuttered words. “I’m the reason …?”

He noticed your reaction, mistaking disbelief for discomfort. “Does that make things…does that make you feel weird?” Nerves marr whatever joking tone he was trying to convey.

All you can do is shake your head. “No. It makes things…good.” Good insufficiently describes your reaction, though part of you waits for the other shoe to drop. It’s a prank, his way of getting back at you for—

A hooked finger in the belt loop of your jeans snags your attention, Eddie gently tugging you closer to him. “And now?”

“Still good. Better, actually.” Resting one hand on his sore chest, you lean in and add, “will it hurt if I kiss you?”

“Don’t care.”

Despite him not caring, you certainly care if you’re going to hurt him or not. Your mouth moves slowly towards his, lips just barely brushing against each other as your breaths co-mingle. It’s not enough for Eddie though, and he presses his lips against yours with more force, stealing the air from your lungs as your body melts against his. The back bathroom at the Harrington household is not something you would’ve considered romantic before, but right now it’s the only place you want to be. Tucked away in the corner with Eddie, trading explorative kisses as your hands roam each other's bodies.

Your body buzzes when Eddie’s tongue sweeps against yours, heat immediately pooling between your legs.

Instinctively, gingerly, you press your torso to his, one trembling finger hooking into his belt loop. A moan escapes you, soft but saturated with need. Eddie clocks it immediately.

“Mhm.” His smile threatens to break the kiss. “That’s it.”

You feel the button of your jeans unfasten, the sound of unzipping music to your ears. His hand slips between the denim and the newly exposed lace of your panties, grin widening when it reaches the damp patch.

Eddie’s hardness strains against the confines of his own pants, and you rush to relieve that ache. His exhale when you touch him—over his boxers, but not as gently as he touches you—makes you even wetter.

“Gotta have you.” He toys with your waistband but doesn’t explore further until he hears your ‘yes,’ pathetic and whimpering but consent nonetheless. “Good girl,” he growls, sending a shiver coursing through you.

The pads of his fingertips find your clit without struggle, rubbing precise circles over it that have you groaning his name. “Every time you say my name from now on,” he murmurs, “I’m gonna think about this.”

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.” It’s part taunt and part truth; only his name is on your mind. Your back arches against the sink, porcelain digging into your skin, but you barely notice.

One strong hand reaches for the strap of your tank top, pulling it down so harshly that the fabric tears. He mutters a soft swear, tugs the rest of the shirt down until your bra is completely visible.

“Fuckin’ perfect.” Eddie kisses your chest, groaning when the sensation of his lips causes you to squeeze his throbbing cock. “Careful, or I’ll—”

He’s interrupted by the door swinging wide open, Billy and Heather wrapped around each other in drunken lust. Billy’s eyes widen, their blueness dulled from the liquor, when he sees that the bathroom is currently occupied—and by whom.

The intrusion startles you as well, but you’re much quicker at recovering than the inebriated asshole gaping at you from the doorway.

“Get the fuck out!” you hiss.

Heather turns her head to look in your direction, as if she hadn't been aware there was anyone else in the bathroom until you’d spoken up. It’s clear she’s had quite a few more drinks since you’d seen her in the kitchen.

Whether it’s the alcohol, the shock, or his own stupidity, Billy doesn’t make a move towards leaving, let alone tug Heather along with him. The blonde shakes a few curls out of his eyes, causing Heather to reach up and twirl one around her finger.

“Jesus Christ, is this douche even capable of hearing a woman if she isn’t moaning his name?” Eddie mutters to you before rounding on the drunken pair and raising his voice. “The lady said out. Now.”

Something finally snaps Billy out of his dazed state and he curls his lip, giving the two of you a half-hearted sneer. He pulls Heather out of the doorway so quickly that it looks like she gets whiplash as he slams the door closed behind them.

Eddie leans over and locks the door, giving the knob a twist for good measure. “Do me a favor, honey?” His voice is a ribbon of silk down your spine. “Turn around so you’re facing the mirror.”

You do as he says, hands planted on the sink ledge. Your shirt is torn, make-up smudged, and you’re out of breath from the impromptu make out session. Ducking your head, you’re determined to avoid your reflection until tobacco-scented words tickle your ear from behind.

“Be a good girl and look at yourself while I fuck you.” Eddie moves your thong over, exposing your pussy, and exhales with a tremble. His middle finger glides over your folds before pushing into you slowly. “You got wetter when I called you a good girl, didn’t you?”

“Mhm,” you manage, stifling a moan as his ring finger joins his middle.

A teasing pout graces Eddie’s lips. “Such a good girl. And only for me.”

“Only for you,” you echo.

He taps the head of his cock on your bare ass, leaving drops of pre-cum in his wake. “Gotta be inside you,” he growls. “Gotta fuckin’ feel what a good girl you are.”

The sensation of his cock dragging down along your folds mixed with him knowing just what to say to get you squirming has you dropping your head forward with a soft whimper. A strong, calloused hand quickly finds its way up to your throat though, and presses with just enough pressure to remind you that you’re supposed to be looking at yourself in the mirror.

When you lift your head, you’re greeted by the sight of a smirking Eddie behind you in the mirror.

“Atta girl,” he praises.

At a torturously slow pace, Eddie begins to push inside of you. A guttural groan slips past your gritted teeth as he stretches your walls, the pleasure causing you to curl your toes inside your shoes.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes out before pulling his hips back. “Pussy’s even tighter than I imagined.”

The mental image of Eddie laying in bed with his hand wrapped around his cock, thinking of you is enough to make your knees weak. They can’t buckle too much; Eddie has one hand gripping you tight and the other trailing down to your clit. Each deliberate circle is punctuated by a thrust, pleasure from every angle.

He kisses your shoulder blade, groaning when you tighten around him. “Look at yourself,” he growls his reminder. “Look how beautiful you are, all fucked out like this.”

You catch another glimpse; this time, you see Eddie’s lust-filled expression along with your own. He’s even further gone than you are, so focused on burying himself within you to care about the sweat matting his bangs to his forehead or the way his teeth dig into his lower lip.

“Say it.” His voice is half-commanding, half-pleading.

“S-Say what?” Each word is a struggle, your orgasm building to a peak you’d never before reached.

“That you’re beautiful.” He tugs you even closer to him, and there’s no mistaking his dominance for anything else. “So—goddamn—beautiful.”

You follow his order without a second thought. “I’m b-beautiful, all fucked out like th-this.”

Eddie’s hips snap against the plush of your ass at a frenetic pace. “That’s it; that’s my good girl.” Not a good girl, you note. His good girl.

One hand atop his, desperate for as much contact as possible, you moan: “your good girl.”

“Oh, fuck.” Everything is you—you and him together, and it drives him to the edge. “You…you gotta…’m so close,” he rambles.

“Me, too.” Panting breaths mingle with his groans, your walls tightening around him as you come. It’s so much, so intense, and tears cloud your vision resulting from the overwhelming bliss. “Eddie, oh, Eddie.”

He spills into you with a cry of your name. “H-ohmygod, holy fuckin’ shit.” His thrusts don’t stop until every last drop of his cum is inside you.

Eddie’s chest presses against your back, but he’s careful not to put all his weight on you. The feeling of him so solid and warm behind lulls you from pure ecstasy to warm contentment, not wanting to move out from beneath him.

A few silent moments pass before Eddie pulls out of you, both of you disappointed by the loss of contact. But Eddie’s hands refuse to let you go entirely, gently running over your hips and up your sides. The touch is featherlight and sends a comforting tingle throughout your limbs.

“You with me?” Eddie’s worn-out voice asks you.

“Mhmm,” you hum in acknowledgment. “Don’t wanna move.”

Eddie gives a husky chuckle in reply before he stands up, reluctantly taking a step away from you. Your own muscles whine in protest as you stand straight, the tell-tale signs of a good fucking already settling in.

The two of you begin to clean up, each slipping back into articles of clothing along the way. One question prickles the back of your mind in the quiet room and you know your brain won’t be able to rest until it has an answer.

“Uh, Eddie?” you ask once you’ve cleaned up your smeared lipstick.

“Yeah?”

“Are you still going to come to class? Or, you know, now that you’ve had me you won’t have a reason to anymore?” You try to hide the insecurity in your tone but there was no mistaking the slight edge your words had.

Eddie pauses mid-buckling his belt and gives you a frown.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says and the nickname alone already has your engine revving for a round two. “I wouldn’t sit through O’Donnell’s class for someone I only wanted to fuck. If I’m gonna listen to that hag drone on and on then there’s a damn good reason I’m sitting my ass in that classroom.” With a sigh, Eddie steps closer to you and after a moment’s hesitation, cups your face in his hands. “Can I take you out? Do things, ya know, the right way?”

A little trill of a giggle bursts out of you, which makes Eddie frown. But you’re quick to let him in on what you found amusing.

“You mean having sex in a bathroom at Steve Harrington’s house isn’t the typical way romances start?”

A grin slowly slides across Eddie’s mouth and you swear it’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. All you want to do is keep that smile on his handsome face as much as you possibly can.

“A romance, huh?” He clicks his tongue. “If I’d known that’s what this was, I would’ve at least fucked you in a guest room.”

You let your fingers brush over the fly of his jeans, feeling a gentle twitch from behind the zipper. “How about for round two?”

Eddie holds your face in his hands as he kisses you deeply, only breaking it to smile and murmur:

“You read my mind, Beautiful.”

#eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut

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sanakiras · 9 months

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BLOOM FOR ME

PAIRING — finance major!mingyu x law major!reader

WORD COUNT — 18.1k

SYNOPSIS — even though you and mingyu share the same friends, there’s a clear distance between you. when you make a drunken mistake, he suddenly becomes increasingly aware of your lack of a relationship with him, and he takes on the challenge of changing it — not expecting to fall for the ice princess who turns out to be less cold than he thought.

TAGS — college au, slice of life, strangers to fwb to lovers, angst, fem!reader, slowburn-ish, rollercoaster of somewhat unrealistic events, minor use of the fake dating trope, not proofread, explicit sexual content, inexpressive!reader, fear of intimacy, once again a fic that seemed better in my head than the finished product but idc!

♪ — pearly drops - bloom for me,, kid cudi - kitchen,, the fugees & ms lauryn hill - killing me softly with his song

NOTE — sooo this fic is pure self-indulgence because i wrote mc as a character very similar to myself! some of these scenes are based on my own experiences :D my personality type is intj which i incorporated a lot here, do with that what you will x

you and kim mingyu just don't work.

to be honest, you don’t think you’ve ever met anyone who didn’t like him or get along with him. most people on campus either wanna be him or be with him — which makes sense, ‘cause he seems to have it all. he’s smart, talented, and awfully good-looking.

and in hindsight, you have no clue as to how or why you landed in his little clique a few months ago, which is composed of a bunch of guys who appear to have very little in common.

all you remember is how joshua, a pre-med student with a soft voice and a passion for playing guitar, introduced himself to you as you were both assigned to help out with student orientation week at the start of the new academic year, and the rest became history.

you’re not sure how he managed to wiggle his way into your personal life, or why he seems so goddamn keen to be there for that matter. the same goes for his friends — chan, seungcheol, soonyoung, minghao, seokmin and mingyu. you’re closest to joshua and seokmin, though you get along well with most of the group.

soonyoung is pursuing performing arts, and he’s loud — extremely loud. you like his sense of humor though. chan does theatre and has mentioned he wants to have his own dance studio later in life. seokmin also does theatre and is arguably the biggest ray of sunshine you’ve ever met. cheol is a business administration major, a great debater, has quite the fire in him, and he looks great in a suit. minghao is more reserved — a psychology major. very sweet and polite, likes to meditate and is surprisingly good at martial arts as well.

and then there’s mingyu.

he studies finance, though he’s considerably less obnoxious than most of the students who pursue said degree. from what you’ve gathered, he has quite the range of talents, which, in all fairness, is pretty impressive.

the guy might as well be the complete opposite of you. he’s popular, loud, outgoing, smiles a lot, known to have a real heart of gold. an entertainer.

you find yourself at the other end of the spectrum. much more on the quiet side, usually only speaking up if you deem it necessary with a sarcastic quip, more often skipping social gatherings than actually attending them.

yet in spite of your closed-off nature, the majority of people closest to you are extroverted, always trying to pull you with them in their adventures, though remaining respectful and understanding when you don’t come with — because that’s just the way you are.

perhaps that’s the sole reason why your relationship with mingyu can easily be described in a single word.

non-existent.

neither of you have anything against each other — it’s just that, out of the group, you seem to have the least of a connection with him. you certainly never do anything together or talk to one another when you’re not with the rest of the guys, and even during the moments you are, saying you’ve had a proper conversation with him would be an overstatement.

for the most part, aside from saying one-worded greetings and goodbyes, you pretty much just disregard the other’s existence.

or, well — that used to be the case.

because there’s this dirty secret the friend group doesn’t know about — and that’s that you and mingyu slept together.

it happened only a few weeks ago. it was supposed to be a simple, fun night dancing and letting loose at soonyoung’s party, which he hosted right after midterms were over. everyone got drunk, including you — way more drunk than usual, it was terrible — and the only thing you remember is waking up in a room you’d never seen before, a bed that definitely didn’t feel like the one you wake up in every morning, your clothes discarded on the floor, and his warm body next to yours.

had you been even the slightest bit sober back then, you absolutely wouldn’t have gotten into bed with him.

it’s not that you don’t find him attractive. on the contrary. he’s sex on a stick, with his strong arms, small waist, sharp jawline and beautiful tan skin — it’s no surprise he’s done several modeling jobs for some extra cash.

but despite all of that, casual hook-ups with people in your circle are not your thing. they’re not his either.

neither of you remember much of that night. you two are rarely ever alone together, so it’s practically been impossible to talk to you about it, and you’ve never been close enough with one another to even text or meet up.

after the incident, you just continued living your life like everything was the same as before. honestly, for the most part, it was.

but mingyu likes to take risks in life. that, and being open about his feelings is just who he is. so he wants to talk to you, privately.

when he finally does manage to catch you alone, which happens to be right after you’ve walked out of your criminal law class, you’re not exactly welcoming to him.

“what are you doing at the other side of campus?” is all you greet him with.

“i’m good, thank you for asking.” he jokes in an attempt to make things more light-hearted, but you don’t pull a single muscle, face remaining the exact same, so he swallows and clutches the strap of his shoulder bag a little tighter. “i, uh... i felt like we should talk about what happened the other night. soonyoung’s party.”

“what’s there to talk about?”

“what we did. together.”

“we fucked. so what?”

oh. that’s a much more blunt response than he expected, even if he is used to those kind of remarks from you.

“well—” he cuts himself off, really cursing himself for not properly thinking of what to say to you before showing up outside of your lecture hall all of a sudden, “don’t you think it’s something we gotta discuss?”

“you want a professional analysis about how much i enjoyed it or something?” you ask with a furrowed brow. “not that i’d be able to give you one, considering it was all just a blur.”

“yeah, i can’t exactly remember much of it either. look, i... i don’t usually hook up with people i’m friends with—”

“except we’re not friends. i don’t think you’ve ever said as much to me as you have in this conversation.”

even though it’s true, it does feel like a slap across the face for a reason he can’t pinpoint. he’s aware you can be blunt sometimes, but this is more than people usually get out of you.

“fine. we’re just acquaintances. but we do share the same friends.” he says after a moment of awkward silence, his tone sounding a little colder than before, subconsciously trying to compensate for your unwelcoming attitude. “doesn’t that matter to you?”

sucking at the inside of your cheek, you sigh. “did your roommate notice me?”

his roommate being jeon wonwoo, the cute computer science major who likes to spend his free time working out and playing video games, always walking around campus with headphones stuck in his ears and a pair of glasses up on his nose. he and mingyu are both on the football team, you’re pretty sure.

“no. he didn’t see a thing. not as far as i know, anyway.”

“good. so that means we can both just pretend it never happened, yeah?” the smile you put on your face is so painfully fake that it makes him clench his jaw.

“yeah.” he mumbles bitterly, and you move away from him, going down the stairs, and mingyu rests his head against the wall, huffing in annoyance and embarrassment.

to be completely honest, he’s not sure why the whole ordeal bothers him so much. what you said was all true, even if you could’ve worded it differently.

many, many questions pop up in his mind. do you have something against him? do you not like him? if that’s the case, why? has he ever said something that caused you to get a bad impression of him? what do his friends have that he doesn’t, aside from considerably shorter legs?

he’s not sure what it is about you he finds so weirdly intriguing, but whatever it is, he’s discovered a fresh determination in him to find out.

mingyu is unsure of how to handle the situation with you. every time you look at him, all he sees is utter disinterest, though there’s very little he can make out of your facial expressions in the first place.

he finds himself seated at a table in the library with minghao, seungcheol and chan, pondering over the exam he’s got coming up at the end of the week, said thoughts coming to a halt once he spots you at the other side of the hall.

his gaze involuntarily follows you as you appear to be scanning a few bookshelves.

if he’s being honest, he’d already noticed you before the drunk-sex incident. he always thought you were pretty, and based on your your vocabulary and the way you spoke, he figured you were intelligent as well, so he silently admired you from afar.

and now, those feelings have only increased.

his eyes linger on your figure. it’s such a fucking shame he doesn’t remember his hands on your skin, the touch of your lips — he could actually cry just imagining it.

then he feels he’s getting too far in the sexual innuendos in his head, so he tells himself to stop right the hell now before his excitement starts to show in his pants.

god, he’s never like this. why is it irking him so much?

it’s chan — the youngest of the group — who grabs your attention, beckoning for you to come over to the table.

when you move to sit down on the empty chair between him and seungcheol, they begin to talk about how the shitty assignments they’re working on are so not worth their time, how one of cheol’s professors didn’t bother showing up for his lecture yesterday morning, and minghao mentions something about a new group project of his—

—and the whole fucking time, you feel mingyu’s gaze burning on you.

it both confuses and intrigues you. what the hell does he want now?

then when two of the boys get into a discussion, you stare right back at him, almost as if to tell him you’re aware of him watching you and you’re watching him as well, and a very thick yet silent tension rises between you.

he swears he catches the smallest glimpse of amusement in your features before you get up and tell them you’ve got to go to your lecture.

cheol raises his thick brow at his friend. “you’re uncharacteristically quiet.”

mingyu shrugs as he watches you walk out of the hall. “yeah, sorry. been a little preoccupied.”

“i can tell, ‘cause aren’t you supposed to be starting football practice right now?”

that snaps him out of it. he checks the silver watch sitting on his wrist, cursing to himself before grabbing his things and hastily throwing them into his bag before sprinting to his dorm.

the following day, as he’s working on his assignment, he decides to take out his phone, typing your username into the search bar on instagram.

your social media profile is as mysterious as you are. zero posts, some pretty aesthetic pictures found in your highlights as well as one or two with you on it, though blurry or with your face partially hidden.

it’s usually much easier for him to get close to people, yet with this, with you — it feels like the way is blocked, and he doesn’t know where to start.

tapping his finger on the table, he tells himself to make some kind of conversation with you the next time he sees you.

which is several days later, when the friend group is meeting up at a restaurant for dinner and drinks.

by the time he arrives — later than planned due to a study session running behind — everyone is already seated, including you. he’d hoped to secure a spot next to you for once, but you’re seated between joshua and seungcheol instead. the only vacant spot is at the other side of the table.

well, shit.

the worst thing is that you don’t seem to spare him a single glance. every time he looks your way, you’re either zoned out or intently listening to the boys around you as they tell their stories, with you throwing in a sarcastic little quip every now and then, making them laugh.

what he doesn’t notice is that you do look at him — he’d be surprised by the amount of times your eyes wander back to him, subtly observing him from a distance when he rambles about something his professor did during class or what went down during football practice.

he’s so handsome that it almost gets annoying to look at him.

it’s an hour before midnight when you decide to get going — you have an unnecessarily early class tomorrow and still gotta get back to your dorm. so you grab your coat and bag, announcing you’re leaving, after which they say they don’t like the idea of you going back on your own, but you refute it and tell them you’ll be fine like always.

“i can take you. i just remembered i gotta catch up with some things anyways before class tomorrow.”

mingyu’s sudden statement makes you blink at him a few times.

it’s not that he’s never offered to take you home before, ever the gentleman, but the situation always ends up with you either going home on your own with them keeping an eye on your location or one of the other guys taking you back, so his sudden eagerness to escort you to your dorm catches you by surprise.

it’s mainly joshua and minghao who catch onto your slight change in demeanor, but their puzzled looks are gone as soon as they came. they’ve had quite a few drinks, after all, and you’re pretty sure soonyoung is so drunk he’s on the verge of tears at the other side of the table, distracting them.

both you and mingyu say your goodbyes to the rest of the group before exiting the restaurant, embracing the fresh air outside.

it’s early october, your favorite time of year. you’re fond of the cloudy skies, the temperature right between warm and cold, and the leaves changing colors.

mingyu walks next to you on the sidewalk, his hands shoved into the pockets of his dark denim jacket.

“i’m sorry for being rude the other day,” you speak up, breaking the silence, “i have a habit of being too straightforward for my own good.”

oh.

he didn’t expect this from you, but it’s a pleasant surprise, even if you’re not looking him in the eye at all.

so he shrugs. “it’s okay. looking back, i didn’t really know where i wanted the conversation to go, anyways.”

“i assumed you were just gonna ask me to keep it between us.”

“i didn’t even think about that, to be honest. i just don’t do stuff like that with friends, so... i guess i was just curious about your thoughts or something.”

you bare your teeth in a bitter smile, still refraining from looking in his direction when he’s clearly looking at your face. “you called me your friend again.”

the comment doesn’t sit right with him. “do you mind me asking why that bothers you?”

“it bothers me ‘cause it’s not the truth.”

god, you certainly do not sugarcoat things.

“do you... is there anything i did to make you dislike me?”

mingyu watches the way you clench your jaw at his question. it intrigues him. “i never said i disliked you, mingyu. i’m just picky about who i consider close to me and i don’t want anyone to get the wrong impression. sharing friends doesn’t make us friends.”

“not even a little bit?”

you chuckle again. he wonders what he’d have to do to elicit a real, genuine laugh from you. “name one of my hobbies. something i like to do in my spare time. the basics don’t count.”

he eagerly starts his sentence. “well, you like to... y’know... hang out with us.”

“i said no basics.”

“okay. fine. you got me. but, to be fair, you also gotta admit you don’t exactly share much.”

“you know who i do share things with? my friends.” you tease him, after which he laughs. you like the sound of his laugh.

“you’re evil.”

“thank you.”

he turns around, walking backwards in front of you so he can face you, finally getting the eye contact he’s been waiting to get. “i wanna be friends.”

“congratulations.”

“oh, c’mon. work with me here.”

“i would if it wasn’t so much fun to see you acting like this.”

mingyu feels a certain excitement rushing through his body when he sees how you look at him. “let’s get to know each other better. how about twenty questions?”

“oh, you mean like a conversation?”

he chooses to ignore your sarcasm for now. “i’ll go first. what’s a hobby of yours?”

“such depth,” you snicker, “i like to ice skate.”

“really? that’s cool.” he smiles, tilting his head. “okay. you gotta ask me a question now.”

“which of your friends is closest to you?”

yeah, he should’ve seen something like that coming. of course you wouldn’t go for small talk.

he ponders over the question before giving his answer. “minghao.”

“hm. interesting.” you just hum, clearly having no intention of explaining it, so you gesture for him to come up with another question.

“do you think you’ll ever be close with me?”

“no.”

“why?”

“not your turn.” you tell him, simultaneously trying to find out how far you can take this. “how many girls have you slept with?”

“four. why do you think we won’t ever be close friends?”

“because we’re too different. you can’t stand the fact that i give nothing away, i can sense it a mile from here.”

“it’s not that.”

“what is it then?”

“i’m… i don’t know, a people person. i want to get along with everyone, want everyone i like to like me. maybe that’s selfish, but… yeah. i like you and i wanna be your friend. it bothers me that you don’t.” he feels the words suddenly tumbling out of his mouth are taking the conversation elsewhere, so he tries his best to not come across as too intense. “i’m sorry for pestering you about it, i’ll just... walk you to your dorm and leave you be.”

he wants to increase the distance between you, but you don’t let him. your hand moves to his upper arm, touching him, but it’s gone before he can even look at it.

physical touch has never been one of your strong points, despite craving it at the same time. “i’m gonna say it one more time and that’s it — i don’t dislike you. maybe… i don’t know, maybe we could have a strong friendship, who knows. if you wanna prove me wrong, be my guest. i won’t stop you.”

“okay. anything i should know?”

you pout your lips as you think of things to mention. “i’m not a huge fan of texting. i prefer calling or meeting up in person. i’m more of a listener than a talker. i’m also a bit of a control freak so i’m not big on surprises. that’s all you’re getting for now.”

he thinks over your words and smiles. “i can work with that.”

not much later, you arrive at the university campus, and you use your card to enter your building, walking out front.

mingyu clearly feels it’s mandatory to follow you all the way to your door.

once you’ve arrived at your dorm, you lean against the doorpost. “thanks for taking me home.”

“you’re welcome. see you tomorrow.” he says. normally he’d give his friends something like a hug when saying goodbye like this, but he has a gut feeling you’re not very fond of physical contact with people who aren’t close to you, so he lets that go for now.

“bye.” the playful smile is audible in your voice before you close your door, and mingyu leaves your building with a sickeningly nice feeling in his stomach.

and he remains on your mind, especially once you watch him walk towards his own dorm from behind the window, unaware of your gaze.

it makes you scoff to yourself. you’ll give it to him — he’s sparked your interest.

“hey. mingyu.”

he’s roughly pulled from observing you in his secure spot in the university library by jeonghan, his partner for a project he’s working on. “what?”

“what’s going on? you’re awfully distracted.”

“it’s—nothing.” he responds, voice an octave higher. maybe he should quit this habit of looking at you every time he comes here.

“has anyone ever told you you’re a shitty liar?”

“many times, actually.”

“good. ‘cause you are.”

jeonghan is shorter than he is, with more of a lanky physique and slightly longer hair. he’s also the most annoying little shit mingyu knows — despite the guy being older than him — because he somehow. knows. everything. all the time. he knows things about mingyu before he knows them himself. if anything, it’s a talent.

“so who’s the girl?” jeonghan then asks in a more hushed tone, using his pencil to point at the girl in question.

mingyu looks in your direction again, taking notice of how nice you look today, and he just gives in to his friend, not even bothering to try and act stupid. “friend of a friend.”

“what does she do?”

“law.”

“she nice?”

“to a specific group of people, yeah.”

“oh, she’s a little mean to you, huh?”

“not mean. just distant. very distant.”

“that’s new.”

“what is?”

“you going for girls like that. it’s refreshing.”

“yeah, well—she doesn’t go for guys like me.”

“what do you mean?”

“i’m pretty sure she doesn’t like me at all. she’s wildly unimpressed by my presence, anyway.”

“how do you know?”

mingyu sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “she’s very close with joshua and seokmin, likes the rest of the guys too, but me… i don’t know. we’ve been in the same friend group for a year, and it’s like i’m the only one she doesn’t feel comfortable with. bothers me.”

“you’ve known her for a whole year and it’s only bothering you now?” jeonghan senses there’s more going on. “what led up to this? got into an argument?”

the younger of the two scoffs. “not at all. the contrary, actually.”

jeonghan jokingly throws in the first thing he can think of. “what, did you accidentally kiss her when you were drunk or something?”

“not entirely. we were both drunk, for starters.” mingyu comments, the next sentence muttered much more quietly. “and we had sex.”

a scoff of surprise leaves jeonghan’s mouth. “you slept together? when?”

“soonyoung’s party.”

“that was weeks ago. haven’t you talked about it? at all?” he asks, clearly invested in the story now.

“i brought it up, she brushed it off and said it meant nothing. told her i wanted to be friends with her a couple days later, but she said she doesn’t think we’ll ever be good friends ‘cause we’re too different, and it’s fucking killing me for some reason. she still said she was… open to friendship though.”

“ah, you like her.”

“yeah, obviously. problem is that she hates me.”

“no, i mean, you like her. you don’t just want to be her friend.”

mingyu is somewhat taken aback by his words. “i don’t have a crush.”

“don’t fool yourself. you’d never get this worked up over someone not wanting to be friends with you — you’re worked up because you wanna get to know her better and she doesn’t seem like she wants to get to know you at all.”

“i can’t be in love with someone i hardly know.”

“debatable. you still have a crush on her.”

“fine. whatever. say that were the case — purely hypothetical of course — what should i do to get her attention?”

jeonghan has that knowing smile on his face, the one that makes him look like he’s up to no good. “you gotta get a little selfish.”

“could you be a little less vague for once in your life?”

“create a circumstance where she spends time with you without it being planned.” he shrugs, as if that answers it. “something like getting stuck in an elevator for a few hours. you know what i mean.”

“well, unless you were planning on hijacking the elevator somehow, i don’t think i have all that many options.”

right there and then, the two recognize another student from their statistics class sitting a few tables further. she’s giggling to her friends about something, hesitantly looking their way, pointing at them.

“speaking of crushes, she’s got one on you.” jeonghan mentions, raising his brow.

it doesn’t interest mingyu all that much. “yeah, she asked me out a while back. i told her i was busy. didn’t have the heart to flat-out reject her. in hindsight, maybe i should’ve, ‘cause she acts like that every time i see her around.”

jeonghan can’t help but take advantage of the opportunity currently presenting itself like a fucking birthday cake. “are you thinking what i’m thinking?”

“probably not, since i have no idea what you’re getting at.”

he leans a bit closer to his taller friend, speaking in a more hushed tone this time. “you could reject her — subtly.”

mingyu frowns at that. “how?”

and jeonghan smirks a little to himself before he’s about to tell him his plan. “you’ve heard of fake dating before, right?”

the following day, you find yourself in the library of the law faculty, reviewing the slides of the lecture you didn’t feel like attending this morning.

someone drops their bag ever-so-subtly on the table at the empty spot next to you, and when you look up from your notes, you recognize your dearest acquaintance.

you huff, removing one of your earbuds to engage in the conversation you didn’t ask for. “what do you want?”

“you have got to stop saying that when you see me.”

“no, i like it this way.”

“of course you do.” mingyu merely scoffs at your words, sitting down next to you. “you look busy.”

“gee. it’s almost as if i am busy.”

“what’re you working on?”

“undoubtedly nothing you have any knowledge of.”

he rolls his eyes when you grin at him, clearly ready to dodge his questions with more of your sarcastic comments.

“are you always this much on edge?”

“mhm. i hope you are too — otherwise you’re taking up too much space.”

the comment has him frowning at first, and then he gets it, making him let out a vaguely impressed scoff. “you’re cute.”

“not exactly the word i would use.”

“really?” he says, taking the cap off his water bottle, “i think it suits you.”

you squint your eyes at him, finally taking the bait. “what do you want? seriously.”

he shifts in his seat, clearly happy you’re finally going along with him here. “you know the senior gala on thursday, right?”

“yeah. i’m not attending.”

“okay. here’s the thing — i kind of have this girl in one of my classes who won’t stop bothering me about going out on a date with her and stuff.”

“gosh, poor you.”

“i’m serious. it sucks.”

“what does this have to do with you bothering me?”

“well, i figured if she finally saw me with someone else, she’d back off.” he explains, leaning a bit closer to you. “meaning i need a plus-one who’s willing to play my girlfriend for the night.”

“so?”

“so, i’d like you to be my plus-one.” he grins.

“why?”

“why not?”

“you’re saying you wanna pretend to be dating?” you ask, and when he nods, you shake your head. “no one’s gonna believe that.”

“yeah, they will. it’s perfect. same friend group, completely different majors so she probably doesn’t know you — c’mon, consider it.”

he’s surprisingly convincing, as if he already knows how to crack your demeanor. you remain stubborn, though. “out of all the girls you’ve got in your contacts, you’re asking me?”

“you’ve made it clear we’re only acquaintances — i wanna change that. become friends. just like i told you.”

you finally lock eyes with him again, taking your pen away from the paper, refusing to back down once you notice how close he is. “i don’t know what you’re expecting, but you’d get nothing out of a friendship with me.”

he keeps his eyes on yours. “i’ll be the judge of that.”

when you roll your eyes at him, he can tell you’re considering it. “when does it start?”

“ten.”

“dress code?”

“go for a cocktail dress.”

twisting your lips, you push your tongue against the inside of your cheek, and even you are a little weak for those big, brown eyes of his. and you said you’d give him a chance, after all. “fine.”

“great!” he nearly jumps in excitement. “text me when you’re ready and i’ll come and pick you up.”

“yeah, yeah. now go. i got shit to do.”

and once you’ve watched him cheerfully skip out of your sight, the tiniest smile rises to your face, after which you chuckle to yourself.

mere days later, on thursday, mingyu finds himself at your doorstep. it’s not like him to feel nervous — so why the hell is he this time?

you open the door hastily. “hey. you can come on in, i’m all ready except for the pair of earrings i can’t seem to find.”

he watches as you search through small drawers in the cupboard by the wall. maybe he should be glad you’ve got your back faced to him, because he’s subconsciously staring at you, checking you out.

the velvet red one-shoulder dress hugs your features just right, and he’s stunned in his place before you notice he still hasn’t closed the door behind him. “mingyu. the door.”

“uh—yeah. sorry.” he stumbles, stepping inside, doing as he’s told before his eyes wander around your room. “don’t you have a roommate?”

“i used to have one, in my first year. got a single room after.”

“must get quiet after a while.”

“i like it that way.”

your words remind you of his roommate, wonwoo. he figures you’re someone who prefers solitude after a day of being around others, which he keeps in mind.

once you’ve found your earrings, you’re putting them in, and you notice him stepping closer to you. he actually looks criminally good in the black suit he’s wearing, his half-long hair sitting just right. the fucker might as well be a real-life prince charming.

you’re glad you went with smokey eyes. your look compliments his.

as you subtly watch him in the mirror, he comes to stand behind you, holding out the modest bouquet of red roses he’s been holding behind his back. “these are for you. i appreciate that you wanted to come with me tonight.”

the gesture makes your eyes soften. “thank you. oh, they smell nice.”

mingyu feels a little giddy inside when you give him a little smile before putting the flowers in a vase with water. it might be the first time he’s seen you give one that is genuine.

the gala is taking place at a fancy hotel close to university. the walk there only takes a few minutes. once you're nearing the entrance to the party, dimly lit chandeliers catching your eye, he gently puts his hand on your back, just underneath your shoulder blades. you raise a brow, looking over at him, and he shrugs. “i’m your fake boyfriend for the night, remember?”

which has you chortling for a second. “that’s not where to put your hands if you wanna make this believable.”

before he can change the position of his hand, you’re already doing it for him, pushing his hand lower with yours, watching the way his face drops when you allow him to go lower than your hips, breath hitching in his throat.

“that’s better. you can hold me and kiss me on the cheek if you have to. not too much, it’s not the right time and place for it anyways.”

“noted.”

once you’ve arrived inside and given your coats away, you notice most people here are strangers to you, anxiety kicking in, internally wishing you’d consumed some alcohol before coming.

and your companion takes notice of this from the way you’re suddenly squeezing his hand, which you’re undoubtedly not doing on purpose.

“you okay?”

“sure, i’m fine.” you faintly smile back at him.

he’s honestly considering saying fuck it, ready to ask you to just get out of here with him and go anywhere else instead — that is until one of your friends comes up to you.

“am i imagining things—”

“we’re fake dating, josh.” you answer him, increasing the distance between you and mingyu as if to emphasize your point. “his idea, not mine.”

joshua appears all kinds of confused. “okay. um… just—why?”

mingyu presses his lips together. what he said about the girl bothering him was all true. could he handle it on his own? probably. is fake dating slightly unnecessary and a little dramatic of a solution? undoubtedly.

but he just wanted you as his plus-one so bad. he saw it as an opportunity he couldn’t miss out on.

what can he say? jeonghan is weirdly persuasive.

“there’s this classmate of mine who won’t get off my back about dating, so i figured she’d quit if i showed up with a girlfriend. girlfriend being her.”

in spite of the explanation, joshua still looks at the two of you with a frown. “right.”

“i’m gonna go get us a drink. be right back.” mingyu says, almost regretting doing so when he realizes he has to take his hand off your back.

you watch him walk off to the bar, suddenly hearing your best friend chuckle softly next to you. “can’t believe i never considered you two before.”

“what are you talking about?”

“you and him. you’d be a nice match.”

“what, me and mingyu? we’d be a disaster.”

“why?”

“we’re too different, josh. and don’t even try to give me that opposites attract crap.”

his soft facial features melt into a smile that gives off the impression he knows something you don’t. “i think you’d be surprised. that’s all.”

whatever the fuck that means.

your fake boyfriend returns not much later with a drink for the two of you. despite your clear disagreement with joshua’s words, you just can’t help but think about what he said, especially when mingyu’s arm remains looped around your waist for quite a while as the three of you discuss the whereabouts of your friends.

the worst thing is that you don’t even mind him touching you. you’ve always been picky when it comes to the people who are allowed to as much as stand close to you, and mingyu was not one of those people until you grabbed his wrist after he took you home from dinner, which was only last week.

and that’s not the only thing you’re becoming increasingly aware of.

mingyu’s popularity is a bigger thing than you thought. either that, or half the people here are from his faculty. which is highly unlikely.

being as observant as you are, you’ve noticed several girls as well as guys pointing your way, making you feel uneasy.

so your hold on him tightens as you stare back at them, as if to silently tell them to fuck off and focus on someone other than your fake boyfriend.

you’re not actually jealous. no, that’d be ridiculous. you can’t be jealous of others wanting something you don’t even have in the first place.

chan and seokmin arrive half an hour later, having pretty much the same reaction to the situation as shua. but they play along.

though not without noticing how comfortable the two of you are together.

after several hours of drinking, dancing and socializing, you feel in need of a break. “hey, i’m just gonna get some fresh air outside, okay?”

mingyu’s lashes flutter as he nods. “would you mind if i came with?”

you gesture that you’re okay with it, so he takes your hand to guide you through the mass of people without losing you, the littlest of touches sparking an indescribable feeling in your stomach.

the air feels much colder now that you’ve been inside the warm hotel for several hours. you sigh, leaning back against the brick wall behind you, the surface feeling slightly uncomfortable on your one uncovered shoulderblade.

mingyu takes fake dating very seriously, as it seems. he’s practically been unable to keep his hands off you, and you’re going to indulge in it for however long it lasts.

as you’re standing outside together, you notice he’s loosened up more around you, not hesitant to get close either. he’s certainly not afraid to put his hand on your thigh, and you make zero effort to push him away.

his lips ghost by the skin of your neck, alcohol clouding his thoughts. “it’s nice to have you here. i wasn’t all that excited about going at first.”

“yeah, yeah. i made your night ten times better.”

he snickers. “you hear that often?”

“every now and then. don’t sound so surprised.”

“it doesn’t surprise me. i was just hoping i was special compared to the others.”

“doesn’t everyone?”

“you’re a little cryptic, anyone ever told you that?”

“maybe.” you respond, chuckling, allowing his lips to touch your bare skin.

mingyu bites his lower lip, not afraid to look you in the eye to match your playful gaze with a similar one. “do you not remember a single thing from the night of soonyoung’s party?”

he almost smacks himself for asking the question, seeing your expression falter a little. “no. neither do you, as you’ve told me.”

“no, i don’t,” he says firmly, mentally trying to slap himself for consuming so much alcohol that it makes him say things he usually wouldn’t, “but i kinda wish i did.”

“why?”

when he remains quiet, still trying to figure out the best way to respond, you gently take a hold of his chin to lift it up, making sure he keeps his eyes on yours. playing with him is fun.

“i...” he tries to utter the words, but god, he might as well be hypnotized.

before he can give his answer, seokmin loudly stumbles out of the building, catching your attention. he’s clearly had a bit too much to drink, his boisterous laughter echoing through the courtyard. seungcheol follows closely behind, a hand on his shoulder.

whatever moment you and mingyu were having is gone in an instant. cheol spots you, keeping his friend somewhat upright in the process.

“i’m gonna go take him home, couldn’t find the other guys. i think soonyoung might be next, though.” he says, doing his best to keep seokmin upright in the process.

so mingyu nods. “okay. i’ll go check.”

they say their goodbyes, after which he proceeds to looks at you again. you let your head rest against the wall again. “you go ahead. i’ll meet you back inside in a few.”

he silently agrees, returning to the people inside. you appreciate the silence, mentally drowning out the sound of people talking and cars driving into the background.

it’s then that some girl you’ve never seen before walks up to you. “hey. you’re mingyu’s new girlfriend, right?”

the crease between your brows becomes apparent. “have we met?”

“no, no. i’m in the same faculty as him. i was just curious. didn’t know he was dating anyone.”

she’s clearly had a bit to drink, though not enough for her speech to be incoherent. you’re not sure what to give her other than an awkward smile that looks anything but genuine.

but either she’s too far gone to catch the hint or she simply doesn’t want to. “was kinda surprised to see him end up with a girl like you.”

and since she’s probably not gonna remember this conversation tomorrow, you decide to engage in it for once. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i don’t know, ‘s just... you seem a little distant. just different. he’s never really gone for someone like you. no offense or anything.”

you keep your composure despite a certain emotion brewing hot inside you, whatever the hell it may be. the sheer audacity of some people to stick their nose in business that’s not their own. “gee. hard to fathom i landed a guy like that, huh?”

the sarcasm dripping from your tongue finally seems to get it through to her that her opinion is anything but wanted, so she mumbles something about going back inside, after which you lean back against the wall, closing your eyes for a moment.

worst thing is that she’s probably right.

you and mingyu just don’t work.

and you don’t even have feelings for the guy, so why does it bother you?

the whole thing upsets you enough for you to go back inside, rushing to find him to tell him that you don’t feel like staying.

when you return to him, he’s so used to his role that his hand finds your waist and his lips touch your cheek, but you smoothly back away this time. “i’m gonna go back to my dorm. you guys have fun.”

even over the noisy music and chatter in the background, he notices the change in your tone and behavior, which gives him the hint that something has upset you. “why? is everything okay?”

“i’m fine.”

“i’ll take you back.”

“i’d appreciate it if you didn’t.” you tell him, sounding harsher than intended. again. god, you keep messing up. you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose for a moment. “i’m sorry.”

mingyu is still processing your words as you’re leaving him behind.

then when you’re walking towards the exit, a girl accidentally bumps into you, spilling her drink over your dress.

goddamn. you wonder what the fuck you did to the universe for it to give you a night as shitty as this.

she begins to profusely apologize, very obviously sincere, but you just curtly tell her it’s fine, annoyance rising.

mingyu notices the situation from afar, deciding to go after you when he sees you walk to the bathroom instead of the exit.

the bathroom is awfully fancy, but it seems only fair for a hotel like this. clenching your jaw, you grumble while getting some paper towels, hiking the dress just a bit upwards.

god, you’re never agreeing to do that fake dating shit ever again. what a joke.

you huff as you keep trying to get the now barely visible stain out of your dress. you’re rubbing over the fabric on your thigh when someone walks in.

of course it’s him.

“any luck getting it out?” he asks, and you clench your jaw, throwing the wet paper towels into the trashcan beside the sink. your hands hold onto the cold surface, knuckles growing white as you focus on them instead of him.

“why am i here?”

“what do you mean?”

you turn your gaze to him, abandoning your quest of getting the stain out of your dress, annoyed that he’s acting like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “why did you invite me here? out of everyone you could’ve gone with, why did you wanna go with me?”

“are you angry at me?”

“answer the question.”

“i just…” he trails off, trying to think of the right words. “i just figured it was a way to become friends.”

you’re actually going to lose your shit if he as much as utters the word ‘friend’ to you one more time. “oh, jesus. cut the bullshit. why do you wanna be friends with me so badly?”

“i don’t know, because… because it occurred to me — y’know, after the party, after what we did — that we have little to no relationship and i wanted to change that.”

“oh, right. you just had to sleep with me before thinking of that.”

“no, i didn’t. i just haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night, and i—”

what the hell is he even supposed to say? he’s not even sure what exactly it is he wants from you. sure, he wants to be friends — but god, he spends so much time wishing he remembered what it was like to touch you that night, what you looked like underneath your pretty little dress, what you sounded like.

you’re quiet for a second before your whole demeanor changes, agitation shifting to intrigue. “so that’s what this is about.”

“well—what?”

“if you wanted to fuck, you should’ve just said that. instead of dragging me to this shit.”

“i—” he suddenly feels suffocated by the small size of the room and your body getting closer to his, backing him up against the door. “that’s not why i—”

“does it matter?” you ask, and he tries to hide his ragged breathing now that you’ve pressed your front against him, clenching his jaw.

it doesn’t help that you’re watching him like a hawk.

“not to repeat myself all the time, but i—i normally don’t do this with friends. i don’t want you to have the wrong idea of me.” he exclaims, cursing himself for looking down at the way your red dress is accentuating your curves so well.

so you begin to unbutton his shirt, and he breathes heavily because of it. “well, i guess you’re in luck. ‘cause we’re not friends.”

he’s about to tell you that he genuinely wants to be when you finally kiss him. it’s fast and intense and hungry.

whatever he expected, it wasn’t this — but he can’t find it in him to not give in.

his hand moves to the back of your head, pulling you closer, then proceeding to help you with unbuttoning his shirt, all without breaking the kiss.

mingyu shivers when your cold hands finally touch his bare chest, the faintest hint of your sharp nails nearly making him beg for you to dig them into his skin until he bleeds.

there’s a shift in control when his feet no longer feel locked in with the tiled floor, his hands trailing up your legs, fingers gripping the skin of your thighs. he lifts you up, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist, only to have him pushing you up against the door, pressing his body against yours.

you’re rubbing your front against him, taking notice of the hard bulge in his pants, nearly crying out from his sheer size.

holy shit. no wonder you were sore after you slept with him — he’s fucking huge.

“gyu,” you break the kiss, “can i suck you off?”

the way you breathily call him by his nickname for the first time is nearly enough for him to bust in his pants. “wanna taste you instead. please?”

with your back resting against the surface behind you, you watch him as he sinks to his knees, kissing the inside of your legs, goosebumps erupting on your skin.

“are you sure?”

“yeah. please let me.”

“okay. just make it quick.”

in hindsight, maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say.

because he’s diving in faster than you can comprehend, lace panties pulled down in less than a second, making you gasp in surprise. your fingers grab onto a few strands of his hair, accidentally tugging on them, only to have him moaning in response, which is most likely the best thing you’ve ever heard.

your teeth sink into your lower lip as a way to suppress your moans, only deeps hums and groans escaping you, much to mingyu’s annoyance, because he wants to hear you.

his fingers slide into your dripping wetness, your muscles tightening up from the sudden intrusion. he looks up at you while kissing the inside of your leg, a sight that’s so fucking hot that you have to tell yourself not to get lost in it.

another surge of adrenaline rushes through you when he spreads your legs even wider, causing you to let out a broken moan, much to his satisfaction.

“you can pull on my hair. i like that.” he breathes out with a genuine smile and lust-blown eyes, refusing to wait for your reaction and getting right back to what he was doing.

it doesn’t take him long before he’s got you squirming above him. tugging his hair really does get him going, but you’re nearly at your limit, feeling the familiar feeling building up in your lower belly.

“gyu—fuck, ‘s too much, too much—” you try to push his wrist away and make him look up at you again.

you swear you might lose it when you see he’s actually pouting over the fact that you’re pulling him away from something he clearly enjoys doing.

“but, baby, i wanna make you cum.”

the pet name turns you on even more. “you can. i just want you inside of me, right now.”

he’s rising to his feet, towering over you with his tall frame as you push him back against the door, kissing his jaw, neck and collarbone while undoing the buttons of his white shirt.

mingyu is surprisingly vocal, which you thoroughly enjoy. his lips find yours again, relishing in the remaining taste of you on his tongue.

“god—want me to fuck you?”

pulling your dress over your head, you’re left in your matching set of lingerie that you just so conveniently put on tonight. “are you seriously asking me that right now?”

“fine. bend over the sink, then.”

the difference in his tone and words makes you shiver with excitement. once you do as he says, a new shot of adrenaline courses through your body — because you completely forgot about the mirror that’s now right in front of you.

so you’re able to watch him push his pants down, positioning himself behind you. his big hands are warm on your skin, the silver ring on his finger making you shiver.

his shirt is half unbuttoned, his hair a mess, trousers down to his ankles — but none of that matters now that he’s got you bent over in front of him, fingers trembling in excitement as he takes the condom from his pocket to slip it on.

all he can do is hiss and groan when he feels your heat wrap around him so nicely as he pushes into you. “you’re so tight, jesus—”

you huff. “not my fault you’re so big.”

it makes him laugh and simultaneously turns him on. “you’re all bite, even when i’m trying to fuck you.”

“don’t act like you don’t like it.”

he then finally bottoms out, both of you moaning, and he chuckles. “never said i didn’t.”

god, he’s so fucking attractive. he bites his lower lip as he throws his head back, his strokes slow but hard.

his girth feels so good inside you — and his touches are electric on your skin. his hands go from your ass to your hips, your stomach, everywhere.

and he’s certainly not afraid to get loud. especially when he feels you’re pushing your hips back against his. he’s convinced this is what heaven feels like.

“gyu, a little harder, please.” you plead, slightly beginning to struggle with holding yourself up by the edge of the sink.

“how hard d’you want it?”

“as hard as you want. i can take it.”

he gestures for you to turn over, lifting you up and pushing you up against the wall, burying himself inside you again before you can even comprehend it.

his fingers feel almost painful on your thighs with the way he’s digging into your skin. he’s sucking and biting right above your collarbone, leaving some pretty marks that will definitely be visible tomorrow.

you push his jaw upward so you can kiss him, and he sighs into it, tilting his head to get better access.

it’s like he’s trying to match his thrusts with your heartbeat at this point. pressure builds in your stomach when you whine his name. “oh my god—gyu—”

“i love it when you call me that,” he breathes out, so into it that he’s confessing everything on his mind, “you don’t know how much i’ve thought about this — been fantasizing about this for ages.”

you hold onto his shoulder blades, nails digging into them. “then you better make it worth my while.”

“such a brat.” he teases, a moan slipping out right after when you use your legs wrapped around his waist to push him deeper into you.

mingyu’s stamina is admirable — but he’s a simple man. you’re so hot and you just feel so good around him, and he knows he’s getting close to his release already.

you notice his pace becoming slightly uneven, his breaths erratic, a layer of cold sweat forming on his back.

he’s doing his best to hold out for you, to make you hit your peak first, but you actually need to see him come undone first.

“are you gonna cum, gyu?”

you have to refrain from biting your lip when he’s stuttering out a response. “n—no, not yet—”

“i want you to.”

“jesus, don’t say that—”

oh, he’s cute. he’s responding so well to your words, so you indulge in it a little bit more.

“wanna fuck me again later? without a condom? you can cum inside me. i’ll let you do anything you want.” you tease — your words being the complete truth, because if he’d want to fuck you again, you’d sure as shit let him.

his brows scrunch upwards while he lets out another whine. “anything?”

“mhm,” you nod, “anything.”

his fantasies about you, the way you’re looking at him, the things you’re saying, the way you suddenly clench around him — it’s all too much. his release spills into the condom, his muscles flexing from the sudden rush of adrenaline shooting through him.

it’s enough to make your legs tremble, and you reach the climax you’ve been aching for.

he’s still coming down from his high, face buried in the crook of your neck when he hears you chuckle. “so much for being friends, huh?”

he then smiles as well. “are we close enough for you to consider me as your friend now?”

“you’re quite literally inside me.”

“knowing you, that doesn’t really have to change anything.”

“oh, is that so?” you retort at his cheekiness. “sure. you’ve made it to friend level 1. congrats.”

“great. level 2 is next, then.”

“god, forget i said anything.”

“no going back now. you’re stuck with me.”

something’s very clearly changed between you since that night. mingyu has, in a certain way, changed your relationship.

because you’ve successfully upgraded from strangers to fuck buddies.

and truth be told, he wants to rip his fucking hair out.

the sex is great. there’s something thrilling and exciting about your secret relationship, both of you skipping lectures and sneaking away after classes with no one around you having a single clue.

and yet he’s come to the conclusion that this isn’t what he wants.

he wants you. all of you, completely. but every time he tries to get even remotely close to you, you somehow manage to dodge it and change the topic.

it bothers him. but he’s scared to just put all his feelings on a platter — because he doesn’t want to lose whatever he has with you.

something he’s also discovered is how utterly weak he is for even the slightest bit of your attention, the smallest of touches.

so when he’s typing away at his laptop in the study hall, noticing the screen of his phone light up as a message from you comes in, he can’t bring himself to ignore it.

20:23: you look cute when you’re focused

the message makes him frown, and he looks around, trying to figure out where you are, since you’ve clearly got your eyes on him.

so he texts back.

20:24: i always look cute ;)

tapping his fingers on the table, he waits for your response. the three buttons that indicate you’re typing suddenly go away, and he pouts, only to then be greeted by your voice close to his ear. “bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?”

“fuckin’—” it almost makes him jump and screech out of shock. “christ, don’t sneak up on me like that.”

you chuckle at his high-pitched reaction. “bad conscience?”

“no. you’re just scary.”

“thank you.” you grin with pride, moving to sit on the table, right beside his laptop. “you busy?”

“just going over some older lecture notes to prep for an exam.”

“wanna come over to my dorm?”

“fourth time this week. what’s gotten into you? well, aside from me, obviously.”

“hilarious. really.” you remark, watching him laugh at his own joke, unable to help the smile rising to your cheeks. “what can i say? it’s a great stress reliever.”

“i know. give me a sec and i’ll pack my things.”

as he closes up his laptop and textbooks, you look around the other tables — which are mostly empty, except for the one by the window, which is where you notice a girl shooting you a bit of a weird look once you make eye contact with her.

“mingyu.”

“hm?”

“the chick by the window with the shitty earrings. you know her?”

he subtly looks into the direction of said window, recognizing the girl from his advanced statistics class. “yeah, i have a class with her. can’t really remember her name though. why?”

“she likes you.”

“oh.” he just shrugs, continuing to zip up his bag, standing up from his seat. “i didn’t notice.”

“sure.” you chuckle sarcastically.

that makes him raise a brow. he feigns shock, causing you to look at him.

“what?”

“you’re jealous.”

“excuse me?” you monotonously ask, brows furrowing in disdain.

“it’s actually kinda hot.”

“oh, please. i have nothing to be jealous of.”

“and yet you are.”

“either you shut your ass up or i’ll find someone else to relieve my stress, kim.”

he laughs and you roll your eyes. then he slings his bag over his shoulder, his hands in his pockets as he follows you out of the study hall.

as soon as you’ve entered your dorm room, he’s got you pressed against the wall, nipping at your skin. he makes you feel sickeningly good, putting your former boyfriends to shame — you’re certainly not complaining.

once he’s done with you and you’re completely worn out, you lay with your head on his chest, his fingers softly stroking your naked back.

you seem more on edge than usual today. less playful. tired, even. his voice sounds hesitant when he speaks up. “is everything okay? you look stressed.”

“i’m fine.”

he figures you either don’t want to open up or you simply don’t feel comfortable doing so with him, so he chooses not to pry, opting to let you know he’s there for you. “okay. well, if you need anything, someone to talk to, you can always come to me.”

you frown a little. refusing to act impulsively, you swallow your words, not saying a thing.

mingyu takes your silence as his cue to leave you be. a feeling of unease creeps into his body, and the room suddenly feels smaller than before.

so he gently moves away from you, sitting up to put his clothes back on. “i should probably go. wonwoo will be pissed off if i don’t have the kitchen cleaned up once he gets back.”

he’s buttoning his jeans when you speak up behind him, admitting your reasons for feeling more stressed than usual. “i’ve got two exams next week. they’re extremely important, i have to pass them, i just… i can’t focus for some reason.”

when he turns around, you’re not facing him. he leans against the tabletop, looking at you. “anything in particular that’s bothering you?”

“i don’t know. it’s just…” you shrug your shoulders a little, unsure of how to explain it, “i guess i haven’t been feeling great in my own skin lately, even though i don’t actually have a reason for it.”

“maybe i can help you study. could work as a nice motivator.”

“gyu—” you chuckle a little to reject him politely, but he sees it coming at this point, persisting.

“why don’t we just try it? if you don’t feel like doing it again, then, fine. we can always just restrict our activities to solely physical stuff again.”

“do you even have the time to help me?”

he’s smiling, able to tell you’re thinking about it. “are you kidding? i can do anything.”

“always so humble.”

“yeah, that’s why you like me so much.” he laughs. “that’s why i’m your friend.”

“whatever makes you sleep at night.”

mingyu wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to help you, nor when he mentioned he wanted you two to be closer.

he’s putting in effort to make you like him, that’s for sure. buying you coffees and snacks, offering to study with you whenever you mention difficult topics you have to cram for exams — he’s certainly establishing his presence in your daily life.

and you hate how easily you get used to it.

for whatever reason, you haven’t had sex since that day either. you’re pretty sure he wants to prove that he likes you for you and not just your body.

which is sweet. but you also have needs, and they’re worse now, knowing he can fulfill them extremely well, as he’s proved many times at this point.

so you text him to ask if he wants to come over later.

as he’s seated at a picnic table on the campus square, he notices your text, grabbing his phone to respond to you.

“your girlfriend texting you again?”

mingyu looks up at joshua, who’s sitting across from him with a pen in hand. he shakes his head. “not my girlfriend.”

“she might as well be.”

“she doesn’t like me enough to be.”

shua wouldn’t call himself nosy, but he’s determined to get a better idea of what exactly is going on between you. “what’s up with you and her?”

“it’s complicated.” his friend responds, eyes narrowing from the rays of sunlight. “i’m not even sure, honestly.”

joshua has this ability to pry people’s hearts open and let their feelings pour out without breaking a sweat — how easily he does it should be studied.

“are you friends with benefits or something? situationship?”

ironically, those words are the complete opposite of what you and him are. mingyu huffs out of frustration, voicing his thoughts. “she doesn’t like it when i call her my friend, she appears to have an exceedingly low daily quota of emotions, i’m busting my ass off to get my own assignments done and spend as much time with her as i can and i’m pretty sure she doesn’t even like me. at all. worst part being that i like her, shua. i like her.”

“have you told her you like her?”

“sort of. in a friendly way. she just glared at me.”

joshua finds mingyu’s inner torment a little amusing, but he feels for him. “maybe she’ll warm up to you. give it a while, she’s a tough nut to crack.”

“is she open with you?”

“sort of. i don’t think there’s a single soul out there she’s completely open with.” he sucks on the inside of his cheek for a second. “she has mentioned in the past that she’s actually very sensitive but just doesn’t, like, really express it. and you gotta keep in mind that people show love and affection differently. give it time.”

mingyu takes a breath as he thinks over the words.

give it time.

which he does. he notices you’re gradually getting closer to him over the course of time, still not showing too much — but it feels different. you choose to sit with him more often than not when you meet up with the other guys, you’re spending a lot of time with him, and you’re showing initiative to make time for him. every time he lands in your bed, it feels more intimate than ever.

you’re starting to make him feel like he matters to you. his crush on you is getting out of hand to the point he needs to stop himself from gazing at you every time you look him in the eye.

just like right now. you’re smiling at him over something he can’t remember — it’s a genuine smile, he cherishes those every time you flash him one as they’re rare — and you just look so pretty.

a text message from one of the guys on the football team pulls him out of it. which sparks an idea in him.

“hey, i have a football game coming up this saturday. do you wanna come? you could finally see me in action.” he asks. when he notices the puzzled look on your face, he tilts his head. “oh, come on. friendship works both ways, you know that, right? team effort and all that jazz.”

his wording makes you chuckle. “fine. i’ll be there.”

“you won’t regret it. our team is great.”

“really? then you better prove it. can’t be cheering for the losing team.”

with a raised brow, he points at you. “wanna bet?”

“what do you have in mind?”

he considers his options for a moment. “if my team wins, i get to choose what we do in bed next time. as long as you’re into it too, obviously. if the opposite team wins, you get to choose.”

now that’s an offer you’re certainly not gonna reject. taking on the challenge, you nod. “alright. deal.”

he shakes your hand ever so professionally, gathering his books since he needs to get to class. “oh, and, just so you know — my team’s won regional championships for the past two years in a row. i’m just saying.”

you tilt your head. he winks at you before walking away from the table, and you smile to yourself.

damn that asshole for making you like him this much.

saturday arrives, and you find yourself walking by the green football fields, surprised by the amount of people who showed up.

mingyu mentioned he was heading here earlier so you just told him you’d be there, sitting with the crowd.

it seems like it’s going to be a cold-weather match today. it’s already dark out, and the rain just started coming down from the sky. you’re glad the bleachers come with shade canopies so at least you won’t be soaked by the time the game is over.

your eyes are fixed on mingyu’s back as he stands by the sidelines with the rest of his team, enthusiastically discussing what’s most likely gonna be their strategy for the game.

then he turns around, still very engaged in the conversation, the wet strands of his hair framing his facial features. gosh, he’s incredibly handsome.

before running out onto the field, he looks back at the bleachers, scanning the masses before his eyes lock with yours.

he ever so dramatically makes a little heart with his fingers, teasingly motioning it towards you, and you put your middle finger up, making him laugh.

mingyu’s a real sweetheart, you have to admit. he’s growing on you.

watching the game is more fun than you anticipated. despite not being into football all that much, it’s great to watch the boys work together as well as they do.

you’re certainly not complaining when mingyu throws his vest on the bench halfway through the match, leaving him in a black compression shirt, emphasizing his strong figure.

shit. maybe you should watch him play more often.

it’s his team that seems to be on the winning side tonight — until the opposing team scores ten minutes before the end. both teams have the same score now, which is bad. ending with a draw would suck.

you’re now completely sucked into the game like the rest of the audience, desperate for mingyu’s team to score another goal.

the universe must be on their side today, because they do. three minutes left on the clock and none other than jeon wonwoo himself is able to kick the ball into the net, escaping the hands of the keeper.

it’s all yells of happiness on the field.

the referee blows his whistle to call the end of the game. everyone at your side of the bleachers stands up from their seats, yourself included, to cheer and clap for the boys, happy that they won the game.

you watch them congratulate eachother, some of their friends walking onto the field to do the same.

following the masses, you also leave your seat in the bleachers, walking down the stairs.

mingyu notices you coming his way and runs over to you, surprising you by lifting you up, giving you arguably the best hug you’ve ever had in your whole damn life. he holds onto you so tightly, his big arms and tall frame caging you in — in the best way possible.

when he gently puts you back down, his one hand briefly finds your cheek, which catches you off guard, but you don’t shy away from it.

he’s so tempted to just say fuck it and kiss you right now. you look so pretty, and your eyes — your eyes. he could stare into them forever and love every second of it.

but there’s too much at stake to get impulsive. “thanks for coming.”

“you’re welcome.” you blankly respond, making him smile a little.

“how did i do? good enough for your standards?”

you shrug at him, taking a brief look at his teammates celebrating in the distance behind him. “i was mostly focused on wonwoo, actually, but you were doing a good job too.”

he rolls his eyes before making a sarcastic comment. “you’re hilarious.”

“something i’m very aware of.”

he fake smiles at you, and you reciprocate the gesture, patting him on the shoulder.

“wanna go catch a drink with me?”

“don’t you wanna celebrate with the rest of the team?”

“not tonight.” he shakes his head. “i just gotta go get my bag. come with me?”

he intertwines his fingers with yours and you hardly notice it. which is bizarre if you consider how you had no relationship with him to begin with several months ago. “okay, yeah.”

you head to the men’s locker room with him, which is dark and empty. all the other guys are still out on the field, as you noticed when you were walking over here.

“the lights haven’t been working since yesterday, so watch your step.” mingyu tells you. the rays of moonlight coming through the high windows are enough to at least light up the room enough for you to see where you’re going.

you suddenly get an idea. “do you think the guys are gonna be out there for long?”

“they usually do. ten minutes, give or take.” he answers absentmindedly while taking his black duffel bag out of the locker with his name on it.

once he turns around, you push him back against the locker, taking him by the surprise, your finger pulling at the elastic waistband of his pants and boxers.

“i give credit where it’s due, you know.”

oh. oh. he only then understands what you’re getting at.

you always manage to make him a little nervous somehow — he lives for it. “in public? here? we could go back to your—oh, shit—”

you make him stutter the moment your hand moves underneath his clothes to take a hold of his dick. “but you’re already hard, gyu.”

christ. you’ve got some nerve, putting up that soft and sweet voice as if you’re not fucking responsible for getting him hard in the first place.

he doesn’t protest when you sink to your knees in front of him, pulling his boxers down his thick thighs, his cock springing free.

you grin a little to yourself before taking him in your mouth. he’s so hot like this, all hard and panting and begging.

“h—holy shit, that feels good.” he gasps, the warm sensation of your mouth making him go dizzy.

his hand moves to the back of your head. you take him as much as you can, using your hands for the part you can’t take. he slowly becomes a mess, his head resting against the locker.

you look up at him when he’s shamelessly moaning at the feeling of your tongue swirling around him, his hands subconsciously pushing your head just a little bit forward, making you take just that little bit more of his cock.

arousal begins to pool between your legs, and you suddenly curse yourself for choosing to wear jeans instead of a skirt tonight.

“fuck, fuck, baby—”

you release him with a pop, a mix of spit and his arousal coating your lips. “wanna taste everything. can’t make a mess here.”

it’s such a shame he’s still wearing his clothes. his stomach caves in so nicely whenever you’re sucking him off — like he can’t catch his breath. it’s the best thing you’ve ever seen.

his legs are trembling, and he’s embarrasingly close to his release already. “you don’t—ah—have to do this here if you don’t want to—”

“‘m not leaving ‘til you cum down my throat, gyu. you can do that, though, right?”

he nods, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, his voice all soft and submissive. he can’t help it. “yeah, yeah, i’ll do whatever you want, baby.”

“good boy.” you tell him, entirely unaware of the effect it has on him.

the moment you hollow your cheeks, it’s over for him. the salty taste of his release sits in your mouth before you swallow it, and his chest heaves while he pulls himself together.

both your eyes widen when you suddenly hear the voices outside getting closer, and mingyu knows it’s time to get the fuck out of here. he quickly pulls his pants back up, his bag in his one hand and your hand in the other as he drags you with him to take the back exit before anyone can notice either of you.

you both take a breather outside as you lean against the wall of the building before you burst into laughter together. he feels on top of fucking cloud nine, if he’s being truthful.

“you’re insane.” he laughs, looking to the side to find you laughing and blushing at the same time. “you’re blushing? after doing that? wow. who are you and what have you done with my friend?”

“you’re getting special treatment, you know. i don’t suck off my other friends.” you tease, shrugging your shoulders.

maybe he should consider pursuing a theatre career with the way he dramatically puts his hand over his heart. “does this mean i made it to friend level 2?”

“you did. now you’ve been downgraded back to level 1, though. what’re you gonna do about it?”

he plays along with you. “well, shit. can’t have that. we can go get a burger with fries at that place near campus. my treat?”

“sounds good.” the words have left your mouth and that big smile is right on his face again. you playfully push his shoulder, cheeks hurting from the smile on yours.

he’s getting closer to you than you anticipated, and that’s not a good thing, but for now, you tell yourself it’ll be fine. how much closer could he possibly get?

another month passes by when, for the first time in a while, mingyu doesn’t drop by your dorm. he doesn’t text, doesn’t call — and you find yourself worried about him.

it’s been nothing but complete radio silence from his end, which isn’t a good sign.

you’ve already left him several voicemails when chan lets you know he’s been having a terrible fever for the past two days. it leaves you with the urge to go and check up on him, so once you’ve had all your classes for the day, you find yourself knocking on his door.

it takes a moment for him to answer it, wonwoo seemingly not present in the dorm.

when mingyu opens the door, surprise is painted across his face, the heavy bags under his eyes making him seem awfully tired. shit, you hope you didn’t wake him. he’s wearing a plain white shirt with thin black pyjama pants, his hair an utter mess.

the surprise on his face is gone once you open your mouth. “you look like shit.”

he snorts at your words. “would you say that to me if i were on my deathbed, too?”

“absolutely.”

he smiles at your attitude, finding it strangely refreshing. “wanna come in? i promise i’ll stay at a distance so you won’t get it.”

you didn’t think he was going to invite you in, but you accept the offer nonetheless. “i was wondering why you didn’t call. then chan told me you were sick.”

he shuts the door behind you. “yeah, i’ve been sleeping, mostly. watched some netflix too but it quickly gives headaches. i’m sorry for not letting you know — didn’t think you were worried.”

you pause for a moment. “well. you thought wrong. friends worry, don’t they?”

the words make him smile. he didn’t think you cared all that much about him for some reason — this changes that. “fair. what’s in the bowl?”

he’s referring to the black bowl covered in foil you have clutched between your arms. you shrug. “soup. i don’t know if you already had some, but it worked wonders for me when i was sick a while back, so… yeah. i figured you could use it.”

his face lights up when he realizes you went out your way to make this for him. with gratitude, he accepts the bowl. “thank you, i appreciate it. looks really good. you can sit by my desk if you want to, by the way.”

as he’s walking across the room, you notice the mishap in his steps, like he’s about to lose his balance. “are you okay?”

“yeah, ‘s just—i’m a little dizzy.”

your hands find his shoulders — a touch that feels heavy compared to the usual skin-to-skin contact you share with him — to put him down on his bed. “don’t force it. if you’re about to faint, you might as well be lying down.”

his lids hang low, eyes nearly closed when you pull the covers over his body. you touch his cheeks and forehead with the back of your hand to get an indication of his temperature.

as soon as you’re about to tell him he probably has a light fever, it seems he’s already half asleep. you pull the covers up to his chest to ensure he’s comfortable.

you gaze at him for a moment as he snores softly, biting your lip as you curse yourself for giving him a treatment he doesn’t deserve.

maybe mingyu likes to think he doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, but that’s far from the truth. even you have noticed he’s been looking at you a certain way recently, and that’s saying something.

one look at him and you’re already feeling like a big softie. it’s ridiculous.

you’re scared of what you feel for him, but as long as you can keep your relationship like this, it’ll be fine.

now that he’s asleep, you wander around his room. you know wonwoo must be at football practice, since mingyu is normally there with him at this time of the week.

you usually take him to your dorm, so you’re not in his all that often. your eyes rake across the framed pictures of his friends, family, loved ones, memories he’s made.

they stop, though, when recognizing yourself in one of the pictures. he promised you he’d frame one up as a way of ‘solidifying your friendship’ as he so politely put it.

still, you didn’t think he’d actually do it.

smiling to yourself, you proceed to notice his laptop screen is still on. he must’ve been working on something when you knocked on his door.

out of curiosity, you check the screen, figuring he was working on the essay he’s been postponing for two weeks because he had difficulty getting started.

you take a look at the assignment and decide you’re gonna try to do it for him. luckily, the necessary paragraphs that ought to be studied beforehand and referenced in the essay itself came with the mail, so that makes everything a lot easier.

when mingyu wakes up hours later, he finds himself alone in his room. you’re gone, though he notices the glass of water on his nightstand has been refilled, his laptop is flipped open, and there’s a sticky note attached to it.

slowly, he rubs his eyes and moves toward the desk to grab the laptop before sitting back against the pillows.

you must’ve written something on the note, he figures.

‘hopefully the essay is up to the standards of your class. i did it in a separate document so you can just get rid of the whole thing if it’s not what you want it to be. let me know if you need anything else. x’

he frowns, turning the device on to see what you worked on — and the screen lights up, only for him to realize you wrote the essay due for tomorrow. and with a few of his own additions here and there, it’s good enough to submit, which is impressive for someone who’s not actually taking the class.

and right now, all he can do is smile at his screen like an idiot.

you’re at the university skating rink when you hear someone calling your name from the bleachers.

looking up with a frown, you suddenly notice a tall man sprinting your way, so you skate towards him. “mingyu, what the hell are you doing here?”

“i got 87/100 for the essay. for the one class i always hate. you’re a genius.” he exclaims, absolutely beaming at you.

you suddenly remember doing the essay for him, snorting at his reaction. “so i’ve heard. good to see you’re doing better.”

“is there anything i can do in return?”

“don’t worry. i like writing essays. besides, you already helped me out plenty of times. it was the least i could do.”

the words coming out of your mouth hardly match your facial expression, but he finds he’s gotten used to it now. he understands you better than ever before. “you know how you said i’d get nothing out of a friendship with you?” he recalls, biting his lip for a moment, “you were wrong.”

a mere chuckle escapes you. “right. you get top-notch essays and bowls of chicken soup.”

your comment was sarcastic, but he remains serious. “you’re wonderful, you know that?”

it’s not often people use a word like that to describe you. it feels weird hearing it, but your attitude remains the same. “am i?”

“yeah, you are,” he nods, pushing out more compliments, “and i’m glad to have you in my life.”

the playful expression on your face falters — like a glitch occurring in your system. mingyu is starting to break through your hard exterior remarkably easily, and that’s beginning to scare you a little.

he leaves without saying another word, but the look on his face is enough to tell that he’s feeling the tension too. whatever relationship you have is becoming more intimate by day, most definitely passing the friendship it was supposed to be, and to you, that is very alarming.

and you suddenly refuse to let it go any further.

whenever he texts you, you either tell him you don’t have the time to come over or nothing at all. you avoid him like the plague, ensure not to go to social gatherings if he’s going be there and stay well away from all the places you and him studied together. it hurts, because you do miss him, yet you manage to keep it up.

but you can only do so much. unfortunately, mingyu is smarter than you hoped.

after two weeks of you avoiding him, he decides he’s had enough.

when you’re almost about to leave the dorm for your lecture, you hear someone knocking on your door. you open it to find him standing there, and he walks right by you, not bothering to ask whether he can come in.

“why have you been avoiding me?”

“i gotta leave for my lecture, i don’t have time for this.”

“so make the time.” he says sternly, jaw clenched. “answer the question.”

“i haven’t been avoiding you.”

“sure. so it’s a coincidence you suddenly stopped talking to me?”

you huff in frustration and close the door, leaning with your back against it. “no, it isn’t.”

he raises his hands in defeat. “so, why?”

“it’s been fun. i don’t know. but you’ve proved what you wanted to prove, so… good for you. we can both move on now.” you shrug, hardly sounding convinced of your own words.

“you’re lying.” he breathes out, scoffing to himself. he’s baffled that you think he’d consider it believable at all. “four months ago, i would’ve bought that. but not now.”

“believe what you wanna believe. i don’t really care.” you give him the cold shoulder, attempting to open the door so you can leave, but he immediately shuts it to stop you from doing so.

“don’t bullshit me. you care. i don’t know why the fuck you’re so hellbent on not admitting that, but it’s the truth.”

he’s beginning to get on your nerves. “what fucking answers are you even here for? since you claim to know everything that’s going on inside my head already.”

it’s then that he starts to show how genuinely upset he is at you pushing him away. “what makes me so different from the other guys? joshua, seokmin, chan—all of them. why is it so easy for you to be close with them but not with me?”

“because you keep trying to get closer to me! from day one, you’ve been saying you wanna be friends with me like the rest of them, but your actions don’t line up with that.”

“so what? i like you and i’m pretty damn sure you like me too.” his voice is softer, face closer to yours, those brown eyes of his working their way straight to your heart. “what are you so afraid of?”

either you’re imagining things or he’s leaning in to kiss you. his lips are so close before you feel them on yours, a sensation you missed like nothing else.

your fingers touch the back of his neck. it’s hard not to get lost in the feeling of his mouth on yours, the smell of his cologne making it even harder.

kissing mingyu is the closest you’ll ever get to heaven, but right now, all it’s making you feel is guilt and shame.

so you pull yourself away from him, breaking the kiss, hands feeling heavy on his chest. “close the door on your way out.” you whisper, leaving him alone in your dorm.

he stands perplexed in his place for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose, processing what just happened.

“fuck.”

it’s been a week, and he hasn’t called nor texted you since that conversation. you assume that he’s decided to move on.

which is understandable. if you were him, you’d be done with it too.

it feels strange to be going about your day without him dropping by or talking to you. like he left a void you’re unable to fill. and it hurts — you miss him.

you’re having lunch with seokmin and minghao in the cafeteria when he’s suddenly standing in front of you by the table. “i just got a call from the gallery manager — we’ve got it to ourselves this friday evening!”

minghao smiles widely, the sweet sound of his excited laughter intriguing the rest of you. he turns his head to explain. “me and mingyu have been trying to rent the gallery so we could finally be able to put our work on display. apparently, it was just confirmed we managed to pull it off.”

hao is a passionate painter — mingyu a photographer. their love for art is one of the things that binds them together, and they’ve mentioned wanting to have their own exhibit for a few months now. despite the things that have happened, you’re happy for them.

“that’s great! we can come, right?” seokmin asks, already grabbing his phone to put it in his agenda.

“yeah, you guys better.” minghao answers, his gaze shifting to you. “you have to come too. you’re free, right?”

he’s aware of things between you and mingyu being tense right now — though he doesn’t know why — but he still thinks it’d be good for you and him to see each other.

your eyes meet mingyu’s for the first time since your last conversation a week ago, and hao follows your actions, looking at him as well.

mingyu subtly looks away, hoping his friend didn't catch him staring at you. before he can utter the words he wants to say, you tilt your head, already speaking up. “sure. i'll be there.”

he unintentionally gives you a puzzled look, and you pop a piece of gum in your mouth, looking at your wrist as if there’s a watch there.

there isn’t. “won’t you look at the time. i’ll see you guys later.”

they briefly say bye to you, very much used to the way you dismiss yourself, and mingyu watches the interaction as if it’s the first time witnessing it — as if he hasn’t known you to be like this for several months.

he watches you walk out of the cafeteria, confronted by his two friends staring at him. “what?”

“you’re deep in it.” minghao remarks. “when are you guys finally gonna admit that you wanna be together?”

“it’s not that easy.”

seokmin frowns, connecting the dots before gasping. “wait. you and her are a thing? since when? why didn’t anyone tell me this?”

the other two just deadpan a stare at him.

on friday night, you attend the art exhibit. you know he’s been working hard on the collection, and you certainly figured you were gonna be confronted with mingyu as well, but this is one gathering you couldn’t afford to miss. so you choose to try and forget the drama for one night.

you’re wearing a little black dress with lacy tights and sleek ankle boots, an outfit you feel nice in.

the gallery is buzzing with friends of the artists as well as people who frequent the place whenever a new exhibit is up. perhaps some pieces will be sold tonight.

as you’re passing some of mingyu’s framed photos, you hear his familiar voice behind you.

“i was surprised when you agreed to come.”

when you turn your head, he’s standing there with his hands in the pockets of his fitted black pants, the deep cut of his white blouse exposing just a bit more of his upper chest than usual, a silver chain sitting all pretty on his neck and collarbones.

personally, you find it’s relatively rare to find men with good taste in fashion, but he’s definitely got it. he looks good. really good.

biting your lip, you give him nothing but a cool response. “came to see if you were any good.”

“and? what’s your judgement?”

“haven’t made up my mind yet.” your tone turns into a more teasing one, seeing as he appears considerably less hostile than you. “does my judgement really matter that much, though?”

he nods so quickly, almost as if he were hypnotized by you. “more than you know.”

him showing you affection actually makes your heart shatter. he’s so genuine in it too — and you just don’t know what to do with all that love he so easily gives you.

people pass you left and right, completely unaware of the heavy feeling currently bubbling inside your chest. you’re crumbling under his gaze and he fucking feels it.

and this situation is precisely the one thing you were so afraid of. you know he knows how to poke into your heart, he knows when you’re lying to him, he knows when you’re upset or hurt — and the idea that there’s someone out there who can see all of that just by looking at you utterly terrifies you.

in moments like these, your expression doesn’t gradually change. it falls hard and quick, sometimes very visibly, just like right now. the blank stare is gone, your lips parting, eyes blinking erratically — it’s like you received a slap to the face.

“your photography is beautiful, mingyu. you’re talented, but you didn’t need me to tell you that.” your voice breaks in the middle of your sentence and you leave him behind, heading into the ladies’ room, hoping he won’t follow you.

you exhale when he doesn’t.

knowing it’s way too early to leave, you pull yourself together, and once you get out of the bathroom, you make it your mission to avoid him for the rest of the night. if that means talking to god knows how many new people, so be it.

minghao’s paintings are beautiful. you’re in awe of his talent as you walk past his artworks, admiring each of them.

as the evening nears its end, the artist himself comes up to you with that gentle smile he often wears. “so, what do you think? do i have potential?”

“are you kidding? you’ve got more than just potential. these are gorgeous. you should be proud of them.”

he thanks you, his hands sitting in the pockets of his trousers. “what’d you do to mingyu?”

you cross your arms over your chest. “why’re you assuming i did something?”

“because he’s been looking like a kicked puppy for the past few weeks. and i heard you and him suddenly stopped hanging out, so...”

taking a deep breath, you shake your head to yourself. “honestly, i’m not even sure what happened between us. it came out of nowhere.”

minghao keeps his eyes on you even when you look away. “he came out of nowhere and you started liking him.”

the comment makes your eyes widen, but you don’t bother hiding the truth from him. he might be the most trustworthy guy you know. “yeah. so i pushed him away.”

he’s aware of your fear of letting people in beyond a certain extent. “what did he do?”

you could cry, honestly. your face is blank — your voice trembles. “he said he was happy to have me in his life. god, i’m so fucking insecure.”

hao softly rubs over your shoulder blade for a second, a gesture you appreciate. he shrugs. “you’re not obligated to do something you don’t wanna do. but talking about it is better than leaving it unsaid. gyu’s a good guy. he’ll understand it, but only if you give him the chance to.”

with that sentiment, he leaves you be, and you rub your arms, staring at the painting that’s currently in front of you, only to realize it’s about two lovers.

there’s a thin line between laughing and crying. you feel like you’re somewhere in the middle right now.

“christ, i need a fucking drink.” you mutter to yourself, running a hand through your hair.

“mind if i join you?”

of course. why are you even surprised?

without looking him in the eye, you respond to his question with one of your own. “sure you want my company?”

“beats going drinking alone.” mingyu shrugs next to you.

you let out a sarcastic chuckle at that. “whatever you say.”

luckily for you, the nearest bar is around the block. the walk there is quiet. you’re not sure what to say to him, and you feel him subtly looking your way.

he holds the door open for you to go in first. the place is not all that crowded yet, only a few tables occupied, probably because it’s still relatively early in the evening.

since no one else is seated by the bar top, you choose to head to one of the high stools there, ordering two shots of vodka before even sitting down.

the bartender puts two shot glasses in front of you and pours the liquid in both until they’re completely filled. mingyu looks at you as he picks up the small glass, and you just lightly tilt your head as a toast.

his facial expression is as bitter as the alcohol burning in his throat. he hates the way you look at him — like you don’t give a fuck about him.

you look down at your glass. you still haven’t exchanged a single word since leaving the gallery. what the hell are you even supposed to say? you didn’t want to be here with him in the first place.

liar. the little voice in your head creeps in.

the silence feels as painful as trailing your nails down a chalkboard. surprisingly, it’s you who ends up speaking first.

“if you’re trying to make the situation more awkward, you’re succeeding.”

“i’m just trying to find the words. don’t know where to start.”

your voice is hostile and sharp as a blade. “then don’t.”

of course you’re aware you’re being mean. but it’s to serve a purpose. every time you show this side of you, people always leave. better sooner than later, right?

mingyu, instead of feeling insulted by your attitude, looks at you as if he’s deciphering a puzzle. “i will. because i care.”

that makes you remain quiet. you just scoff instead, not knowing what to say next. he shifts in his seat to be able to look at him better — you do the exact opposite, turning your face away from him.

“can i ask you something?”

you don’t actually respond, save for the blank stare you give him. which he takes as a yes.

“you not showing much… is it a front you put up or something you just do?”

an interesting question — one you actually have to think about. “the latter. having a resting bitch face doesn’t really help my case, i guess. but i also enjoy keeping people in the dark a bit. can’t have everyone showing everything.”

“why not?”

blinking at him for a moment, you gently smile at him. it’s not a genuine one. “do you wanna know why you feel at a disadvantage right now?”

“because your alcohol tolerance is better than mine?”

“because you can’t tell what i’m thinking.”

he then puts his chin up to look at you better. you tilt your head a little, as if you were following his gaze, and he feels like he’s on the right track here.

“maybe i kinda like that disadvantage.” he suggests, but you shake your head knowingly.

“no, you don’t.”

“how would you know?”

you suck at the inside of your cheek for a moment, taking a breath. “my mom once said to me that it bothered her she couldn’t tell what i was thinking.” you pout your lips as if you’re thinking about it. “i told her i liked that. being an open book is my worst nightmare.”

“why?”

“putting your thoughts and feelings on display make you vulnerable. being vulnerable makes you weak.”

“so you think it’s better to isolate your feelings completely — discuss them with no one? ever?”

“unless it’s necessary, yes. besides, feelings aren’t black and white. do you know how difficult it is to convey them through words, let alone getting the person at the other end of the line to actually understand them?”

mingyu looks—no, gazes at you. “how will you know if you don’t try?”

“how do you know i haven’t? you think you’re the first person who’s tried to get close to me like this?” you ask, tilting your head. “speaking of which, i’ve been having a real hard time trying to figure out what it is you want from me. i’m not buying the whole ‘i-just-wanna-be-friends’ façade. never did. i thought it was the sex, but i initiated it more often than you did.”

“it wasn’t for the sex.” he shrugs his shoulders. “i like you.”

“so you’ve mentioned. since when?”

“since… always.”

“we never even talked before soonyoung’s party.”

“no, but i liked you.”

“bullshit.” you fire back at him, scoffing sarcastically. “i’m hardly likeable — nothing i’m insecure about. just a plain fact.”

“and yet i like you a lot. must be shocking.” he jests, the vaguest hint of a rising smirk on his face. “do you like me?”

“i can’t stand you,” you reach out to push his chin upwards so he looks up at you, only realizing how physically comfortable you’ve become with him after doing so, “but at least you’ve got a pretty face to make up for it.”

it’s unbelievable, mingyu thinks to himself. the way you keep teasing him, keep being a little mean to him, and he just eats it all up.

every moment he spends with you has him wondering what on earth it is about you that draws him in so much.

but, fuck, he just can’t get enough.

another shot is poured into your glasses, which you take between your thumb and index finger, nodding at him so he’ll take his.

the liquid burns in his throat, making him feel hot, and you get awfully turned on when you notice the way he wipes off the drops that accidentally ran down his chin.

“i think i’ve got you all figured out.”

his bold statement and matching attitude has you raising your shoulders. “oh yeah? go on. try me, i’m curious.”

the words tumble from his lips as if they’re part of a monologue he’s been rehearsing for weeks. “you feel so much, express so little. i bet it must be hard to keep up with your own mind sometimes. i think you often feel judged and misunderstood because of your attitude, but you don’t mind that much, since you prefer a smaller circle anyways. you simply don’t like wearing your heart on your sleeve, but it’d be a big mistake to think you don’t have one — and honestly, i’d do anything to be close to it.”

it’s not often you’re speechless.

he describes you almost perfectly, and your body language subconsciously changes, confident and playful demeanor gone — the cold and distant side of your personality coming out again.

“good job,” you tell him softly, moving to grab a few bucks from your wallet to pay for the drinks, “i guess i should say congratulations. you know what makes me tick. that means we’re done here, right?”

he finally spots the shift in your behavior. “wait—”

“have a good night, gyu.”

you curse yourself for accidentally using the nickname as you walk out of the bar, putting your coat on, feeling raindrops on your hair and skin once you get outside.

as you’re trying to make yourself remember where the nearest metro stop is, you hear him utter your name behind you. “what did i do? was it something i said?”

letting impulsivity get to you for once, you scoff, muttering a response. “it was everything you said.”

“why?” he asks, the tension running thicker. “why won’t you just let me in, for once? just this time?”

you hate how desperate he sounds — you hate how much it’s tugging at your heartstrings.

“why do you even want me to?”

“‘cause i like you.”

“no, you don’t. you just like whatever chase this is, just a little fun to keep things interesting for you.”

“has it ever crossed your mind that maybe i like you for you?”

“i’ve given you no reason to like me.”

“what, you think that no one out there will like you unless you act differently?”

his words feel like a growing tear in your heart. your self-esteem is so ridiculously low that it makes you believe no one would love you if you were to be unapologetically yourself — and hearing someone say it out loud hurts.

mingyu watches as the emotion flashes through your eyes, one of the few glimpses of what you feel underneath that cold exterior.

“it’s not true,” he says before you attempt to answer, “because you… being around you makes me happy. when i’m not with you, i think of when i’ll see you next. you matter to me.”

you’re not sure what’s worse — the fact that you reciprocate his feelings or the words that are coming out of your mouth.

“you’d do best to try and get rid of that feeling.”

but he knows there’s more lingering behind your words. “tell me you don’t feel the same way.”

“what i feel means nothing.” you state, voice laced with hurt, though not from his words. “let it go.”

“why don’t you wanna try?”

“because it’d be a disaster. for both of us.”

“c’mon,” he pleads, gently touching your fingers, “please don’t push me away.”

“god—i have my reasons, mingyu.”

“then explain them to me!”

“i can’t give you what you want!” you cry out, needing him to understand you. “someone like you just doesn’t work with someone like me. it might sound stupid, but it’s the truth. i wouldn’t tell you i love you, i’m fucking—bitter and cynical, if not misanthropic, i like my own peace and quiet, i fucking hate talking about what i feel — and you are the complete opposite. i’d make you miserable. you’d grow to hate me.”

“no, i wouldn’t.”

“you would. you... i do like you. i don’t know what the hell you did, like—it’s bizarre how much i’ve grown to like you. but at the end of the day, we’d never work, because i cannot give you the love that you deserve. i know you. you want someone spontaneous, easygoing, sociable — those are all traits that i don’t have. i wish i did, but that’s just how i’m engineered. we wouldn’t work.”

“how do you even know that?”

“i’ve had two boyfriends before this. both broke things off with me ‘cause i didn't show love the way they were used to, and even when they called it quits, i didn’t show a thing. because i don’t do that. no matter how often i say it, no one ever appears to understand what they’re getting themselves into when they get close to me, so i’m telling you now. this? you and me?” you ask, finger pointing between the two of you. “we’d be idiots to try.”

“fine. then consider me an idiot.” he breathes out, just barely registering how close he’s standing to you. “i’m willing to try. please.”

the crease between your brows is the sign of your inner conflict. “i’m sick of getting hurt. sick of people making me feel like my feelings aren’t valid solely because i don’t like expressing them.”

“i’m not gonna hurt you. we can take things slow.”

“gyu—” you plead, almost like you’re begging him to stop tearing your walls down despite knowing he won’t.

and perhaps the other part of you does want to let him in. it’s so scary, so tempting.

“i don’t wanna lose you.”

he adores you so much — it’s ridiculous. “you won’t lose me. please…” he touches your fingers so gently, getting closer to you as you barely make an effort to push him away, “please let me in.”

his heartbeat rises when you look him in the eye — he wonders how the hell a person so strong can look so afraid. but he’s determined to show that you have no reason to be anymore.

it’s raining even harder now. instead of backing you up against the wall, he takes a few steps away from you as if he’s leaving, only for him to turn around and gesture for you to come with him.

mingyu’s smile shines even in the heavy downpour — a bright light that balances out your dull one.

he extends his hand, and you finally get over the edge of your fear, finally able to take control of your own body and slide your hand in his.

you and kim mingyu shouldn’t work — perhaps that’s exactly the reason why you do.

thank you for reading. let me know if you enjoyed it x

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

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fillinforlater · 8 months

Text

On her jeans (Part 1 of 3)

Male Reader x Kim Minji

Length: 3128 words

Tags: backstory, sex as payment, degradation, all things blowjob: face fuck, deep throat, gagging, chocking, throat bulging, rough face sex, training, passive hand job, master/daddy kink, desperate_trainee!Minji

TW: Minji is selling herself here kinda (oh no)

Credit: @sooyadelicacies for co-writing this crazy series with me. Mad lad!

-Part 1- -Part 2- -Part 3-

(A/N: Hey you! I know you're reading this. Get ready for your favorite girls to get defiled one-by-one. Goon or go (or something like that, sounded cooler in my head). For everyone else, have fun!)

"Huh? Minji? What are you doing here?"

Kazuha asks, surprised to see the still-trainee on this floor of the HYBE building, knocking on an unoccupied training room that she has nothing to do with usually.

"I-I came here to ask you about something,” the younger stutters. “I heard you were personally selected for LE SSERAFIM—and that there is some backer for your success. Even th-the group's scandal went away without a hitch.

“Who is helping you, who is he?"

"What are you talking about?" Kazuha responds, face in scrunches.

"I know that you know, Unnie," Minji says and catches the door before Kazuha can close it again. "I need answers, please. I-I've seen their plans, this is going to blow up, we'll be a failure, HYBE's loving stock.

"I can't fail this."

Kazuha looks at the determined young girl, her face loosening up a bit, turning from trying to defend her future spot at your side from a new rival to worrying for Minji. She curls her finger and Minji enters the otherwise empty training room.

"You have some dangerous knowledge," the Japanese woman then says. "Asking for this—I think you have no idea what you might get into."

"Doesn’t everyone say this about the industry?" Minji responds with wit and looks at Kazuha's sweaty body in the mirror. "Everyone always shares their doubts, from the moment you start. And now we are here, ready to debut. I know I have talent, but will it be enough?"

"You really want this, Minji?"

"Yes, Unnie, more than anything."

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen. Why do you—"

"I'll give you his number." Kazuha sighs deeply, but nonetheless, her words have Minji in a delighted dance. "I'll tell him that you are good, so be good, be honest to him. I'm doing you a favor here."

"Thank you so much, Unnie!"

"But be careful: he is greedy, he wants more than you can imagine, so be ready to give him everything. And also—"

Kazuha pinches Minji's chin, tilts it towards her piercing eyes and whispers in the most kind yet threatening voice:

"Never try to get between him and me."

"Oh my—your concept, these plans. They are fucking terrible. It's going to take a lot to salvage this, even you seem to know that, Minji." There is no need for you to hold back. If you think a plan is bad, you better tell someone before they fail. You’ve seen your fair share of bad plans, but not by HYBE and not to this extreme.

"I-I know. I tried to tell them, but the managers just shut me down.” Minji puts her arms back on her thighs. They were just dramatically cast into the air to get her point across, but the young girl saw your unimpressed gaze and quickly got professional again. “They are running us straight into a brick wall."

"I've seen many examples like this. A lot of companies think they can do no wrong, especially when a lot of time has passed since their latest failure."

You give Minji her tablet back and rest your chin on one hand, the other tapping the giant desk before you. You are deep in thought, at least Minji should believe that. Instead you are looking into her eyes, mariana trenches of passion, hopefulness, determination. Minji has a pretty face, leadership qualities, all the skills of a superstar but most importantly, she has some thick lips that will be perfect for cock sucking.

Okay, you are getting ahead of yourselves. The other big thing she has is the willingness to trade everything for her dream, for hope, maybe for fame too. She will give her dignity for glory—and you will make her do it right fucking now.

"This is a difficult case," you say slowly, watching her expression shift a bit, not yet gloomy but getting there. "Luckily, I and HYBE still have the time and resources to make your debut a success. People will talk about it for a long time. I can even guarantee you a music show win from the get go."

"Really? Oh my God, thank you so much, sir. You are way too kind." Minji jumps from her seat and takes a deep, formal bow. "I hope I can lay all of this in your hand?"

"You sure can, Minji, but you know this comes with a price, a hefty one at that. This cannot be solved with two phone calls and some convincing. Hell, I barely have any time." You stand up from your chair and look at the young woman, upper body still tilted but her huge eyes fixed on you, now you’re in front of her. You still dwarf her and she only now knows that she is completely outmatched and will pay up.

"I-I will give you everything, as soon as I can," she stutters. "I only need some time and, and—"

"But I need it now, Minji. Right fucking now.

"Get on your knees."

"Sir?" Minji asks, shocked. "On my knees? Do-do you want me to beg?"

You snort. “I thought you were smarter. What did Zuha tell you exactly?”

“H-how did you know—?”

“Minji, what you're asking for requires a complete 180. Your entire concept will have to be changed. From what I’ve heard, you need some new songs too. I have someone in mind who can spearhead your group but she's a wildcard, batshit insane really, but the right kind of crazy needed for something like this. But all of this will take a lot of fucking effort, time and money. And I need you to prove your worth, now."

Push down on Minji's shoulders until she winces and sinks to the floor. Black tiles, hard, cold and somewhat reflective. You know that for a moment all of them hesitate when seeing the rough outline of their head mirrored back to them. Are they really going to do it? Is this what they have to sell? Is it worth it?

Those that stayed are now superstars and because Minji somehow knew about it and had the guts to look for you, there is not a single doubt in you that she will devote herself to you.

"I can make your dreams come true," you proclaim calmly, yet your words put Minji under unbearable pressure. "Fame, money, success are all guaranteed, out of question, beyond that everything is possible. When you just stay there, on your knees and open your pretty mouth—"

A zip and your semi-hard cock is released, to the absolute shock of Minji, whose mental image of her face is replaced by the first phallus she has ever seen before her eyes.

"—I'll fulfill your desires."

Minji looks up at you and gulps. She thought the auditions and training evaluations were the final tests respectively, but now her entire career comes down to this one huge cock right in front of her. She curses the producers, the managers, those idiots at Ador—their mistakes have to be redeemed by her sucking dick and lowering to the level of a desperate whore.

Minji has no option. Idols are born from hardship and this is just another step, she believes. So her lips part a little, and when she locks eyes with you, they part a lot more. With a satisfied groan, you shove your cock deep into her throat.

"From now on, you'll call me Master. Later will be Daddy, but not until you've proven worthy. Your next few weeks will be rough, new people, new songs, new choreos." The first tears form in Minji's gorgeous eyes as gags bounce through your office. "I don't care how tired or sweaty you are, when I call you, you come to me right after practice, no excuses. You will obey every fucking wish, especially because I have so much work with you."

You drag your balls over her chin, let your cock rest at the top of her mouth and open it wide. Minji is clumsy with her teeth and with the way she tries to dodge your thrust, be it intentionally or out of fear. This is of course vastly inferior compared to a blowjob from all those second and third gen stars you've made big after giving them your big cock.

The only redeeming, already great quality, are her lips. Natural, not a talent or skill. She'd be a lot better just not moving, not thinking, a fleshlight, but how should such a young woman know?

"I assume you're smart enough to understand all this," you tell her expectantly and pull out. Minji leans forward and coughs up her saliva on your floor. You grab her hair and pull it back, get ready to spit at her, but she has wit.

"Ye-yes, Master. Excuse my incompetence, I—you're so big."

"No crying? No regrets? Well, that's more impressive than your blowjob skills. How about you clean up your incompetence?"

You take a step back and pull her face down, down by the hair, onto the tiles where her spurts of saliva lay. Minji hisses out in pain, you know she stares down angrily, shocked at how rude you are to her. She grits her teeth—

"Yes, Master, sorry, Master."

—and begins to lick the floor, slowly and only with the tip of her small tongue.

You are mildly impressed that she adjusted to her situation rather quickly. It is the sign of a prodigy in bloom.

"I am curious, baby girl. I was informed you didn't really set out to become an idol. So why put yourself through all of this?" You muse and question her. Minji's eyes widened a little, finally shifting from their bristling anger. "Oh, I know everything about you, Kim Minji. It is my job to know and then some. So tell me: what is your ambition? What is your desire?"

"Who doesn't dream of being famous?" Minji says, determination in her eyes which she has pointed at you like sharp, pointy arrows. "I want to be a star, the idol that all my classmates, parents, grown-ups have never seen in me. I want to show them how wrong they were."

"Too bad that even after joining the great and successful HYBE, you are about to be their first blunder," you taunt her and slap her forehead with your cock. "Good thing you're ready to suck cock for some adjustments of their mistakes."

Minji puckers her lips and a bit carelessly gets your cock back onto them, spreading small licks on your cockhead. "This is nothing, I know hardship."

"Oh,

"You call this nothing?"

You tsk and slap her face with your cock.

"You know hardship? Do tell, Minji..." You grip her head and begin to plunge into her mouth. "Hardship? We haven't even started yet. I'm not even at full size, stupid girl!"

You see her eyes widening as tears begin to form with your rough treatment. Thinking back to Minji's words, you read her well. People doubted her—you could too. She wasn't so different from the others you've trained. All they needed was education to rely on you, devotion to you and love for you and only you.

"Make sure to keep your fucking teeth off of it," you growl while your fingers search for new ways to pull at her hair, to push her away and then slam her back down on your cock which is finally hardening at the arousal her fearful face brings. The inside of Minji's mouth grows wetter, sloppier, warmer, until suddenly—

The annoyance of her teeth returns and it stings. To start with blowjobs has both been a disaster for your pleasure but intense fuel to introduce Minji to the harsh reality that is you; you and the success that you bring. Everything she has ever wanted, you can bring her, and so she fights trough the tears and accepts that you press her flat on the floor and fuck down into her mouth like it's a pussy.

"Open wide, open wide," you repeatedly command, a hand on Minji's jaw to help her make this command come true. "You useless slut, don't waste your lips on such pathetic blowjobs. Fucking hell, when I'm done with you, you better deepthroat like a mid porn star.

"Fucking waste of my time, you stupid stupid girl. This is the standard HYBE is accepting now? Fuck, maybe we can't even blame the company for your group's future failure—it will all just be on you. If you don't fucking step it up, this is the last time you will ever contact me."

Gaze still intensely focused on her, you pull out your cell phone and unlock it. You don’t really use it for much, except for phone calls, but this alone makes this device insanely valuable. You however don’t need to make a phone call now. You only need to show Minji one thing: your contact list.

She can see you scrolling past the names of tons of people, all in the industry. Well known producers, managers, executives, staff members, but most importantly, all highlighted by a colorful array of yellow, orange, red and pink:

The full names of hundreds of female idols. Minji scans through the list, recognizing one Unnie after the other, from nugu second gen groups to absolute super stars.

You pull out of Minji's mouth, give her time to cough up all leftover spit and wipe her tears away. Ultimately, you help her up from the cold hard floor, the only thing still laying on the floor is her pride.

"Do you get it now?" you ask and look at her, eyebrows raised with the highest of expectations.

"Yes, Master."

"Then you know what you have to do."

"De-deepthroat like a p-porn star."

"Can you do that?"

Minji hesitates, something you cannot stand for the love of everything. You grab her hips and throw her on your desk, spin her until her head is hanging off of the table. With no further warning, because she does not deserve those anymore, you press your cock on her lips and fill more than her mouth. Minji's throat starts to visibly bulge from the massive width of your cock.

Of course she is gagging, kicking her feet but that isn't even a flight response. There is no need for you to pin her down. She wants to stay, wants to become a good slut, a stupid girl that can suck your entire cock. Sadly, her newfound eagerness isn't rewarded with success. She needs training and stretching and so you stretch Minji's throat with lazy thrust and train her nose to accept your balls on them.

"You're so silly, but finally, we have some effort, Minji," you growl and reach into the top of her shirt. "We can work from here."

You fondle her breasts, run your hands down her soft stomach.

"Good, I can definitely work with this. You remind me of—"

But you pause, not wanting to divulge any advantages for her to pick up on. She looks like an absolute fuck doll as her head continues hang off the table. Even upside down, it was pretty when stuffed with your cock, your balls now touching her lips with each plunge.

"Minji, it's not enough to deepthroat like a porn star. You'll learn to deepthroat like one of my perfect sluts, whores. Porn star is a start, but it will soon be an insult to you.”

She had no idea that her consideration as a future perfect whore meant you already took a liking to her. As of now, all she knew—no, all she could think of—was your cock and that she needed to keep her teeth off of it. It needed to fuck her throat if she wanted any chance at a great career.

And so Minji takes it, acts like a whore who willingly gets gag induced drool over her face, then fat, filled balls on her nose and accepts the greedy hands all over her midriff. Minji always thought that she needs this tight, perfect form for the approvement of the public—now it's you who decides if her body is acceptable and ripe for a fucking.

Your seal of approval is the frantic way you tear open her shirt, then her bra and start to knead her breasts, while her tongue movements become actually enjoyable. You thrust harder, making Minji's face pale as she struggles to get air. She looks gorgeous like that, so you slap her tummy and before the choking is too hard, you back off and pull your pants up.

"That's it for today," you say as Minji still gasps for air. "From now on, you'll be here everyday after practice."

Short silence, disbelief in her eyes. "H-huh—yes, Master."

"The door will be open. Walk in and lay down on the table, just like this. You will wait until I return or have time for you. It doesn't matter what happens, you will lay there until I am finished with you."

"Yes, Master."

"A lot will change." You rub sweat and spit off her temple with a gentle hand and look at her glassy eyes. "You might not get any sleep at all. Now you will learn true adversity.

"Okay, fuck it. You don't deserve this, but I don't care."

Pull your pants back down and lower your balls onto Minji's mouth. This time, there is no hesitation, and she opens her fuckable lips wide. Her tongue starts to twirl around your sac while you begin to jerk yourself off. When Minji finally starts to suck, you feel a satisfying conclusion to this messy meeting arriving. But—

"Why would I do it myself? Get your hand here!"

You find one of Minji's hands and start to spit on each finger. Like a waterfall, it runs down until you deem it lubricated enough. Then you put them around your manhood and begin to thrust. It's a lot colder than a pussy, but Minji seems to instinctively know how to tighten the gap, the grip, her hand-pussy suddenly becomes worth cumming in.

Take a final breath and climax, each pump sending long streaks of pearly white on Minji's body. You cover her in seed until one long line, from her navel to her throat, forms and you admire how carefully she worships your balls. Wipe your cockhead clean on her hand and make a mental note to have this soft palm be a useful masturbation aid for another time.

"Who would've thought that you're already in love with my balls?" You almost crack a smile through your stone cold facade. "A good sign that you're already a whore."

"M-Master, I..."

"Shut the fuck up.

"Tomorrow, after practice. No underwear, no questions, no one is allowed to know."

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader insert #male reader smut #newjeans smut #newjeans minji smut #minji smut #kim minji smut

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jeonstudios · 2 months

Text

dextrocardia | 14

Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.

"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."

"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.

Spouses.

pairing: cop!jk x f detective!reader

genre: undercover cops, fake marriage, e2l au, angst, fluff, (smut?)

word count: 9.7k

warnings: a LOT of bodyshaming and fathobia and sexism

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 14/?

“I hope you know that I appreciate all the things you’ve been telling me. I know it can’t be easy, all the things you’ve gone through. So I appreciate it, even if I unfortunately…”

“Don’t have much to say?” you smile at him as you turn to close his bedroom door behind you.

“Yeah. It’s a lot different than when I’m talking to someone who maybe just got out of a… situation because, while that’s always hard, you just have to listen and assure them they did the right thing, going to the cops and that we’ll guide them through the rest and hopefully help them get justice. That it wasn’t their fault, you know? But you know all that already, and I’m not much help; in fact, I was a big part of your problem and going to the police probably made it worse in your case because we let you down instead of helping you.”

It’s sad, the way he says it, reaching for the collar of his t-shirt at the back of his neck. He pulls it over his head before he suddenly stops, the shirt stuck across his lowered arms. You meet his deer-in-the-headlights eyes and see how it dawns on him that despite explaining earlier that he wants to keep his shirt on–at least with you in the house?–he hasn’t actually been committing to that promise. You wonder if it had anything to do with his scars, if he wanted to spare you from seeing them or just not risk you being uncomfortable.

“It’s fine, take it off,” you comment casually, “but do know that I might warm my cold feet against your skin.”

He grins, finally removing the shirt entirely and throwing it onto the chair in the corner. “Feel free.”

Flicking the lights off, Jeongguk joins you in the dark, getting under the duvet and getting comfortable.

It’s silent for a while, and you’re halfway between sleep and consciousness when Jeongguk says something you definitely weren’t expecting.

“Are you still scared of me?”

You roll over to face him, even though the room is almost pitch black.

“Do you want me to be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I think that I will always be aware… of what you can do. Even right now, if you in this moment decided to hurt me, there would be nothing I could do about it. I can spend my days in the gym but odds are a vast majority of men could overpower me anyway. If I were to trust my gut, it would say that you’re a… good guy, but I know that most women murdered by a man they knew or even their male partners didn’t fall for someone openly abusive. They’re sweet at the start, and then they change. Hoseong was like that too; kind until he wasn’t. I know you know that because he fooled you too.

“When it comes to you, I think the only reason I’m here with you is because of what you did that night. I would’ve found any reason to believe that you were still playing a game of making me trust you, just waiting for the right moment to strike, if I hadn’t seen you fight them. No matter how talented of an actor you are, they were prepared to kill you, and you… were prepared to die.

“And this…” you move your hand under the sheets, tentatively finding his chest and the scar. “I don’t like looking at it, and it feels like it’s my fault your mom almost lost her son, but it’s also… almost a relief. I don’t have to second-guess if you really want to help me or if it’s just a long con to… finish something. But like I said… just because you haven’t tried to kill me yet doesn’t statistically mean you won’t. I don’t think you will, but then again, there are a lot of dead women who probably wouldn’t have imagined their murderer being someone they knew.”

Jeongguk places his hand over yours on his chest. “For what it’s worth, I could never hurt you. I know I did; that I hurt you emotionally and scared you, but not even when I thought you were the most selfish person on the planet would I have physically hurt you.”

“I will let the fact that I came to live with you speak for how I feel about you, or at least want to feel about you. Also the fact that I’m sleeping in your bed with you.”

“That you find me entirely irresistible, dying to be close to me at all times?”

You roll your eyes, however, blood rushes to your cheeks. “Yeah. Absolutely.”

“Good that we’re on the same page then, cause I’m kinda stuck on the fact that you kissed me.”

Inevitably, your cheeks warm up further, but it’s okay since it’s dark anyway.

“I did. It was a good kiss.”

“Yeah. I totally wouldn’t hate it if you did it again. In fact, I am open to kisses anytime, just as I am hand-holding.”

“You’re sure? Even from me?”

You hate that you have to ask, but… you do.

“Absolutely.”

You consider it for a moment, but eventually decide to trust his words, at least tonight. Empowered by the dark, you move your hand from his chest. It travels over his warm neck before it reaches his jaw. Your heart beats so hard you’re almost convinced he can hear it, but you ignore it and move closer. Despite the dark, you see his face and how he’s smiling, patiently waiting. It’s both a blessing and a hellish curse how handsome he is; he truly takes your breath away.

Using your hand, you move your hair away, and you lean down to connect your lips. His are so soft, and he kisses you back so sweetly, letting you set the pace. You move your mouth against his, pulling back an inch just to do it again. Jeongguk lets his hand hold your waist, and even though kissing him is… a dream, you’re reminded that there’s a limit you’re not comfortable crossing.

So you pull back, but you still let him hold your waist.

“There.”

You fall asleep quicker than the nights before. A few hours later–and a few hours before morning–you blink your eyes open, finding yourself entangled with him. You’ve got your arm thrown over his middle, your cheek resting on his naked chest, right below his chin, and one of your legs lies between his.

For a while, you listen to his breaths, thinking about what it is that you’re doing. He’s so warm, and he feels so… safe, but there’s still a certain thought in your head.

When you wake up the next time, you’re once again alone in Jeongguk’s bed, and the first thought crossing your mind is how unnecessary boarding up your window really was when you’re practically almost always sleeping in his bed these days. Also, does he count on being able to hear a potential intruder trying to break in through his window? Because there is one, and it’s definitely not boarded up.

Your curiosity grows when you hear Jeongguk move throughout the house, and the sound of a…. what is that?

Rolling out of his bed, you yawn as you open the bedroom door to almost run head first into a stressed-looking Jeongguk. The sound you heard you identify as the now turned off blow dryer, something you’ve borrowed yourself but never seen him use. Looking up, you realize that, yeah, his hair is still wet from a shower and blow drying it means that he either doesn’t want to wait for it to air dry or he can’t.

“You’re going to the station?” you ask, noticing that he is actually indeed wearing his dark blue, almost black uniform.

“Yeah, uh, multiple trafficking victims on their way. Want to be there before they arrive.”

A very specific feeling moves through your chest; an uncomfortable sadness that someone has most likely been through hell, but there’s a warmth there too, for Jeongguk.

“What are you looking for?”

He looks around, patting his pockets, “Uhm, I have my phone, wallet, house keys. I need the… bike key and the helmet. The helmet is probably in the garage, but I’m not sure where the key is.”

You blink, trying to remember what jacket he was wearing the last time you recall him using the bike. The leather one, right? You step up to the coat rack, looking through the jackets until you find it. Swiftly, you search the pockets until…

“Found it. Do I put it in your uniform jacket?”

“Oh, thank you. Yes, please,” he says over the sound of the blow dryer that he grabs once more.

You watch him dry his hair, incessantly running his fingers through it to speed up the process. A few minutes later, he turns the machine off and runs his fingers through the black hair one last time, “It’ll have to do.”

Then, he’s gathering his stuff, taking the jacket from your hands and heading toward the door leading to the garage as he throws it on. “Not sure when I’ll be back, it might take a while cause I don’t know how many they are or what they’ve been through, but I can update you?”

“Jeongguk?”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Come here for a second.”

Confused, he takes the four steps until he’s in front of you looking down curiously but a little stressed at you.

You smile at him, at how pretty and caring he is. “Be careful.”

He grins, a little surprised. “I always am. But it’s mostly just letting them talk and writing it all down, and–”

“I meant on the road. With the bike. I know you can handle the case.”

“Oh. Will do.”

For a millisecond, he looks at you, his bottom lip bitten. Then he’s pulling you closer by your waist, pecking your lips sweetly.

“I’ll see you later.”

With warm cheeks, you watch him enter the garage, thinking of his kind, brown eyes. You don’t know what to feel.

When Jeongguk returns, he’s angry. He doesn’t say much except frustratingly relaying that apparently, one of the women had called the police about a creepy neighbor appearing to watch her house six months ago. The two officers sent did absolutely nothing at all. Couldn’t offer any protection, didn’t talk to the neighbor, couldn’t even give the woman any advice, just left. Two weeks later, the neighbor takes her. You understand Jeongguk’s frustration toward the system, but when he’s spent two hours in the gym without any kind of break, you decide to check up on him.

You hear the brutal beating of the punching bag long before you spot him.

“How are you doing? You’ve been in here a while…”

Jeongguk stops and looks at you from behind the sand-filled bag, breathing heavily. He’s shirtless, and there’s sweat covering his skin and wetting his hair.

“I’m alright.”

But you can tell that he’s frustrated by the turmoil in his eyes. Although it’s hot to see him work out, you don’t like seeing him like this. It has an uncomfortable feeling growing in your stomach.

“You’re doing what you can.”

“Yet there’s always more to do. It never ends, and it’s never enough.”

He’s definitely right about that, but does it help to be so worked up about it? Or are you the weird one, more likely to go apathetic when reminded of the injustices of the world these days?

“But you did your part today, and I know you made an impact in their lives.”

He looks disappointedly at the sandbag, as if your words didn’t affect him at all.

“Hey,” you call softly. He looks at you.

“If it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.”

‘Right now’ as in alive.

“But I–”

“If you never transferred, they would’ve gotten me at this point.”

“Bare minimum,” is all he mumbles.

“It meant a lot to me. Everything, actually. And I’m really grateful.”

At that, he finally smiles a little, and you find yourself dangerously lost in his eyes again.

Thirty minutes later, at nine p.m., the power goes out. You stop what you’re doing, your hand, holding the kettle frozen in mid air over the mug. Even the very, very low humming of the fridge and freezer stops. You put the kettle down, glad that you probably managed to fill your mug with enough tea water.

Where is your roommate? Last you heard, he was about to take a shower.

“Jeongguk?” you call, but the moment you peek out into the hallway, you run straight into him, still wet from the shower and with a towel around his hips, you think.

“What happened?” he asks, his hands steadying your elbows.

“Uh? I don’t know? I was pouring tea and the lights and everything went out.”

“Oh? So that means it wasn’t our doing. I’ll check if there’s a blown fuse; you never know.”

“Okay,” you pat the pockets of your sweatpants, “Here’s my phone if you want a flashlight.”

“Thanks,” he nods, grabbing it from your hand.

He taps the screen to turn the flashlight function on, the light pointed down immediately illuminating every little crevice in his abs and the glints of water still on his skin. The white towel hangs low, exposing a bit of a happy trail.

You look away, and Jeongguk, seemingly none the wiser, turns around to find the fuse box somewhere other than in the kitchen, guided by your phone.

Sighing to yourself the moment you’re alone again, you go back to your tea, removing the bag from the mug. Opening the fridge, you’re once again reminded of how dependent on electricity you are when the open door doesn’t trigger the built in light. Still, you find the milk, and you manage to pour a little bit into the mug and put the container back in the still chilly fridge.

By the time you finish stirring the tea spoon around, you hear Jeongguk’s steps approaching you, and you see the ray of light illuminate the floor in front of him.

“No blown fuses. I’m gonna see if there’s anything on the provider’s site or else I’ll give them a call.”

“Are you gonna get dressed as well, or?” you joke, watching him smile cheekily.

“Yeah. I was just barely done washing my hair when the light went out.”

“I can see that; you’re dripping all over the floor.”

“Sorry,” he says and shakes his head like a dog, launching drops of water at your clothes and face.

“Jeongguk!”

Laughing, he leaves the kitchen and steps out into the dark.

“What if I slip and fall?” you call after him, wiping the drops from your face before returning to your mug to take a test sip. It tastes good, but you’ll definitely try to remember to buy honey next time you go grocery shopping because you’re a sucker for a little sweetness.

Half a minute later, you hear footsteps approaching, and when you turn around from the sink, Jeongguk is drying the floor with the towel he was just using, now wearing what looks like a pair of sweatpants of his own. He doesn’t say anything, just makes sure the floor is dry and then he leaves again, much to your amusement. Like you said; you’re a sucker for sweetness.

While he’s gone, you use your phone’s flashlight to pour the rest of the water into another mug in case Jeongguk wants some tea too. Then you venture carefully into the living room, trying not to spill the hot contents. It goes without accidents, and so you set the mug down onto the coffee table before reaching for the remote. Which doesn’t work.

“Fuck, no TV,” you mutter to yourself. And you’ve used your laptop without the charger all day. Even more fuck.

“Jeongguk, is your laptop charged?” you call out, praying to the gods.

“Uh, yeah,” he appears behind you, having matched a black hoodie to his gray sweatpants.

He’s holding something in his arms, a lot of smaller things. Candles, you realize when he leans down to gently dump them onto the table. From his pocket he then produces a lighter.

“You wanna watch something?” he asks, lighting the candles one by one, the coziness factor doubling with every flame added.

“I was gonna watch this documentary, but my laptop isn’t charged,” you pout. “Oh, and also, the Wifi won’t work.”

Jeongguk chuckles. “Mine should be fully charged. And we can use my mobile data.”

Wow, way to flex.

“Great. I made tea, do you want some?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

While he goes to grab his laptop, you return to the kitchen to fix his mug of tea as well, returning as he’s setting everything up, the screen illuminating his face where he sits on the couch. The flickering candles are doing their best too, casting a more yellowy glow across the room.

“Thanks,” he says once more when you place the mug in front of him. “Here.”

You accept the laptop, navigating to the specific streaming site and the documentary released just last week about the development of the space shuttles. Due to the size difference between Jeongguk’s TV and that of his laptop, you take your seat closer to him than usual.

Jeongguk sips his tea, but the moment he’s put the mug back safely on the table and is leaning back against the couch and watching the screen, he slowly lets his hand find yours.

In turn, you find yourself moving closer, leaning your head against his shoulder. He smells nice, and he feels nice. And it’s suddenly like someone started some kind of wordless game. You don’t say anything, but there’s also a kind of tension that builds, no less in your body.

Perhaps also feeling the… electricity building, Jeongguk makes his next move, this time slowly lifting his arm to put around you, making you lean against his chest instead. The action has his hoodie riding up just a little, exposing a sliver of his stomach.

When it’s your turn again–and you feel your shared anticipation grow–you try to psych yourself up. He likes you, he likes you.

So, you place your hand on the exposed section of skin, caressing it carefully with your thumb.

Besides the documentary, it’s quiet, although you’re almost positive Jeongguk can hear your heart beat erratically; it’s definitely beating loudly in your ears. For his next turn, Jeongguk somehow both swiftly and slowly pulls you onto his lap, and before you know it, you’re straddling him, staring down at his smiling face.

The narrator speaks in the background, but you can only focus on Jeongguk and how your heart might soon beat its way out of your chest.

You could kiss him. You could.

He looks at you like he’s hoping for it but not expecting it, and you pray to God he actually does want you to. Because you want to kiss him so badly.

He’s got his gentle hands on your thighs, and you place yours softly on his face, holding his jaw and rubbing your thumbs slowly over his cheeks. Until you move one thumb and press it even softer against his lips.

This man is too good to be true, he has to be. As you let your eyes admire him, you think about the fact that, even if you disregard how he literally took a sword to the heart for you, he’s done more for you in the short period of time you’ve known him than any other man in your life.

So you move your finger from his mouth, nervously switching it out for your lips. You can’t even describe how much you like kissing him. When it’s sweet and innocent and just lips and a wordless confession of ‘I like you,’ or when you use a little tongue, and he chooses to follow your lead, kissing you back with the same growing heat. But there’s still something bothering you that you can’t ignore.

In the midst, you pull back an inch, eyes glued to his lips to avoid his eyes. “I like kissing you, but… “

“But what?” he wonders, his hands drawing innocent shapes on your thighs. Your heart pumps even harder as you choose your next words.

“I’m not really your type.”

He smiles, looking carefree, “You are. I think you’re a sweet girl.”

Jeongguk kisses you again, and you try not to think about it, but even with his lips against yours, it’s hard. A sweet girl. Letting one of your hands fall from his face, you grab the collar of his hoodie, clumsily placing your hand inside it to touch his chest, feeling for the scar.

Taking it as you wanting it off, he pulls away to yank the hoodie over his head, and it ends up somewhere toward the end of the couch. Even without it, his bare skin is just as warm under your hands, but before you know it, you’re on your back on the couch, and he’s above you. He’s very sweet, and in this moment–with your hands splayed across his back and the scar there–you know he won’t hurt you.

A sweet girl.

Right?

A sweet girl. You hear the voices and feel the anxiety and fear return to fill you. You go with the flow, unsure of what to think or do. Jeongguk helps you out of your shirt and then your bra, and you watch him sit back to throw them onto the floor somewhere.

But the moment he returns his attention to you underneath him, he stops. Because you’re covering your naked chest with your hands like your life depends on it, eyes teary and absolutely and helplessly begging him to look anywhere but at you.

He still does, and you can tell he’s surprised, his wide eyes taking in the situation from above you.

So you plead quietly, “Please don’t look at me.”

It takes half a second, and he’s immediately closing his eyes, turning to feel around for something behind him. Your shirt probably lies somewhere farther away on the floor, and so his black hoodie is what he ends up grabbing, handing it to you still with his eyes closed.

And he of course moves off of you, the only sounds in the room being the documentary, the slight rustling as you’re putting the hoodie on, and your quiet breaths.

When he assumes you’re dressed, he opens his eyes, heart visibly breaking when he sees how absolutely shaken to the core you look, hugging your body and sitting up. You turn your eyes to the documentary on the screen even though both of you know you haven’t been watching it.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” he starts to explain, sounding genuinely apologetic.

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, wanting desperately not to make a big deal out of it. If you could just will your hands to stop shaking.

“No, I–”

“Jeongguk, please. I’m fine, okay. I’m not… I’m not ready, but… Can we not talk about it, please?”

Reluctantly, you meet his eyes and see the somber worry in them as he watches you from where he’s sitting, still shirtless.

“Okay. If there’s anything I can do…”

You smile tentatively at him, desperate to move on from the subject, “Watch the rest of the documentary with me?”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeat, “I’ll, uh, go and change so you can get your hoodie back.”

“No, no, it’s alright. Keep it,” he’s quick to rise to his feet, already on his way somewhere–presumably his bedroom.

The forty seconds he’s gone you use to calm your breathing and stabilize your voice. It wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t going too fast or not listening to you. He listened to what you gave him; you, yourself only figured out where exactly the line was drawn when it was basically already crossed.

He’s wearing a black t-shirt when he returns, taking a seat next to you and focusing his eyes on the screen, probably more so for your sake than his. “I hope you know that you can tell me anything. And I have no certain expectations you have to fulfill or so.”

You already know that he’s not asking sex for rent, if that’s what he’s wondering. But regarding his first statement… there are definitely things you don’t want to talk to him about.

“Yeah,” you answer regardless.

When the credits roll only a few minutes later, you know that you have two options. If you sleep in your own bed like you ideally want to, you risk there being an awkwardness tomorrow and that you definitely don’t want. Or you sleep in his bed with him like you have the last few days, and sure, it might be a little awkward, but he probably realizes you’re not up for cuddling, and it’ll be easier tomorrow.

“Oh. Finally,” Jeongguk exclaims when the ceiling light flickers on, signaling the return of the electricity. “I was starting to worry about all the food in the freezer.”

Subsequently, he leans over the coffee table, blowing out the small candles one after the other. It’s late anyway.

“So, uh…” he rises from the couch, “I’ll keep my door open, but I’m not offended if you choose to sleep in your bedroom.”

“Okay,” you nod at him, watching as he leaves to brush his teeth and get ready for bed.

You stand up too, but no matter how much you want to crawl into bed next to him and have him hold you the entire night, you get ready for bed, and you lie down in your own room. You’re still wearing his hoodie because it smells like him, and it ironically brings you comfort. Still, you lie there in the dark, and you think about his face, and his eyes, and his body. His voice, even, and how he might actually be a good guy. Maybe even everything you want, even if it doesn't matter. And you curl up, a few tears running silently down your cheeks. Because Jeon Jeongguk is so very far out of your league, it’s not even funny.

After waking up, you trudge toward the kitchen, still feeling half asleep. After everything that happened yesterday, you still managed to sleep pretty well, most likely because you were exhausted and sleeping alone.

“Morning.”

You stop, hands mid eye-rub.

“I… thought you’d be at the station?” you say, redirecting your focus to taming your hair. Jeongguk is sitting at the kitchen table, donning a white t-shirt and black, what looks to be cotton, shorts.

“No, I’ll use today to go over some of the potential leads you helped find. Can do that from here.”

He takes a bite of a cupcake, and you catch his eyes linger a second on your body and how a small smile pulls on his lips before he looks into his phone in front of him. Glancing down, you realize that since you didn’t expect him to be home, you didn’t change out of his hoodie so what he saw waddle into the room was you, swallowed by his hoodie, sweater paws rubbing your eyes.

“It, uh, smells good,” you mumble quietly, realizing way too late that it’s not that great of a defense. “But I’ll wash it and you can have it back.”

It smells good because he smells good.

He waves his hand, still looking almost… fond. “It’s okay, keep it as long as you’d like. I have a ton of them.”

“Okay, uh, thank you.”

“No problem.”

At least the awkwardness was for another reason.

You decide to do a bit of laundry, although skipping the black hoodie and hiding it away under your duvet for a little while longer. Doing the laundry, vacuuming most of the house, and emptying the dishwasher takes you almost an hour, and then you find yourself outside Jeongguk’s office, knocking on the open door and peeking inside.

“Making any progress?”

He lifts his head from the laptop screen and swivels around in his chair to face you, a pen in his hand.

“No,” he sighs, “I’m looking into the girlfriend angle and so far, we’ve put detectives on a recent ex of Seunghwa’s and on two of Ryung’s flings, but it hasn’t resulted in anything. Regarding Hoseong… I’m not sure I ever actually heard him mention anyone by name, at least not any name that I can seem to match to anyone.”

“What about… I remember him talking about this Jimin?”

“Who’s that? I think we’ve covered most of his friends?”

You search your memory, but it’s hard to remember details. It’s been years since the conversations you try to recall, and as far as you remember, he only mentioned her in passing. “It was a woman, and I think they were more than friends. Or at least she wanted to be.”

“I didn’t even think of that; I only know male Jimins. Tell me more,” he urges, and you can tell he’s trying to recall if there was ever a mention of a Jimin.

“Well, I heard him complain about her a few times; said she was clingy and honestly a little obsessed with him. He made it sound like he didn’t care for her that much. In retrospect–besides being a very red flag–it sounds like something he could’ve said about me when I liked him.”

“Someone who maybe is mostly just a regular woman and would still maybe help them if they’re desperate enough to ask. Or him, at least.”

“Yeah.”

For a few hours, you and Jeongguk work together in his office, and you nearly forget about yesterday’s mishap, trying to find more info on this ‘Jimin.’ Until you find yourself nearly chest to chest with him after turning around too quickly and not expecting him so close. Instead of meeting your eyes sweetly and slowly lowering his head to kiss you like he probably would’ve even yesterday, he smiles and… backs up a few steps.

“Hey, should we take a break? Have a late lunch?” Jeongguk stretches his arms out in front of him.

You continue noting down some last names from your phone onto a paper, using the chair Jeongguk wheeled into his office specifically for you as a table while sitting on the floor. “Uh, you go ahead. I had a late breakfast.”

He stands up. “Oh. I didn’t notice.”

“Mhm, you were already in here.”

“I can wait then, and we can eat together.”

“It’s alright; go ahead.”

He mumbles something you don’t quite catch, but he does leave you to your notes and disappears from the office.

For the rest of the day, it’s just as if you’ve taken two or even three steps back. You don’t… touch a lot, and you definitely don’t kiss. A part of you misses it, but another part is relieved that he’s giving you space. He’s still very, very sweet, of course. You didn’t expect anything else.

Like when you open a cupboard, gaze set on a specific mug of his you’ve taken a liking to thanks to the very big ear that prevents the hot tea from burning your hand even through the ceramic. Compared to your male roommate, you’re lacking a little more in the vertical department and for some reason, whoever emptied the dishwasher placed the mug on the top shelf.

You look at it for three seconds, debating on whether you should grab a kitchen chair and climb or simply admit defeat and choose the next best mug. You’re about to go for the latter option when your hero swoops in, wordlessly and casually picking it down for you, a mug of his own raised to his mouth.

“Thank you,” you take the offering from his hand, a smile growing on your lips.

“You’re welcome.”

Or how he’ll still open whatever door you run into for you, to the point that it wouldn’t surprise you if he tried to open the automatic doors and hold them open with his hands when he takes you grocery shopping.

And sometimes, you do touch. Whenever he’s quick enough to exit the driver’s seat and open the passenger door for you, he holds his hand out for you, and when you take it, he helps you out as if you can’t step out of the car on your own.

When you watch a movie, you don’t sit glued to each other, but he’s not scared to gently pull your feet–which you’ve complained all day of being tired–onto his lap to briefly massage them for you. He smiles at you, all crinkle-cornered sparkly-eyed and dimpled. On two short occasions, he holds your hand carefully, something you don’t object to because it feels nice, it really does.

But despite all these things, you still sleep in your bedroom. You don’t lock the door, but you do sleep alone.

Three days after the incident during the power outage, you’ve worked a long day in Jeongguk’s office. Alone, because he had to leave for the station at nine a.m.. You’ve had a lot of time to think, not only today but ever since what happened–and before that honestly–and it’s become very clear that you need to make a decision. Maybe you should simply gather your courage, give it a shot, and tell him how you feel about him, no matter what happens after?

Despite feeling somewhat determined and having some kind of honestly not very thought out plan, you’re anxious, wandering around the house as you wait for him to return.

An hour before he comes home, you find yourself in front of the washing machine, throwing the black hoodie into it finally. With the machine on, you head into the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of wine. It helps a little, and the remaining nerves that still reside in your chest, you decide to just try to ignore.

The sound of his bike is what notifies you of his return, and you leave the kitchen to meet him in the garage, watching as he swings his leg over the bike and takes the black helmet off, holding it under his arm.

“Hey,” he greets when he sees you waiting, a genuine smile on his face. “How was your day?”

“Uh… good. Narrowed down the Jimins a bit, I think.”

“That’s great,” he grins, his elatedness infecting you too, causing you to smile a little hesitantly despite the nerves devouring you. “Have you eaten yet? I know it’s kinda late but if not; I could cook something?”

He puts the helmet on one of the shelves that line one of the walls, and then he comes to stand before you.

You keep your eyes on the jacket with the police emblem on it before you peer up at him. A little hesitantly, you reach for the zipper of his jacket, fiddling a little with it.

“I, uh… actually have something else I want to do. Something I’d like to try… If you’re up for it…”

Tentatively, you reach your hand out, fingers pulling down the zipper of his jacket. He watches you curiously, doing nothing to stop you.

“What is it? That you want to do?” he asks, his warm voice definitely sounding curious but not overly so.

You swallow, deciding to just go for it and slowly placing your arms around his neck, “Well… Do you have any… handcuffs?”

He tilts his head, holding your waist while looking at you, searching. “For me? I do, but we don’t have to do anything; you know that, right?”

“Yeah, but if I really want to? Or maybe you…” you realize that he might just not want to. Like, at all. Oh, how embarrassing.

Seemingly noticing the way you take a step back, lowering your arms from around his neck, he stops you, his hands keeping them there.

“No, no. I’m always willing to let you do whatever you’re comfortable with. I don’t mind.”

His encouragement has a more genuine smile pulling on your mouth.

“Meet me in your bedroom then?” you ask, “And bring the cuffs.”

Not waiting for a confirmation, you drop your hands from his neck, and you turn around to head inside the house. Your heart is pounding, going absolutely haywire while you wait for him on the edge of his bed. Maybe you should’ve worn something else? Something other than just a pair of mom jeans and a blue sweater, but it’s too late now, you guess.

He shows up only a minute later, eyes curiously observing the heavy chair you’ve moved from the corner and into the middle of his room. The first thing he does is unbutton the dark blue shirt of his uniform, sliding it down his arms and throwing it onto the bed. You look at his chest and his arms and his stomach, and you see how he notices. This… humble confidence looks so good on him, and it’s so insanely different from how he acted during the mission. You’ve never seen anyone so attractive.

The next thing he does is approach you where you’re sitting, offering you his hand all while smiling sweetly… but still a little cheekily.

Placing your hand in his, you’re pulled up to your feet, basically chest to chest with him. There’s heat in his gaze, but it’s not scalding; it’s just warm.

You give in.

“Kiss me?”

He searches your eyes for hidden answers, but you really do want him to kiss you, and so he does. He places one hand on your lower back, moving your body with him as he steps back and sits down on the chair. Ending up sitting across one of his thighs, you open your eyes when he pulls away just enough to speak.

“I don’t mind you doing… whatever you want to do, if that’s just sitting on my lap or… exploring me. I’m all for it. Do what you want to do. But,” he says, emphasis on that last word. “Only do what you actually want to.”

You nod, and he reaches down to pull something out of his pocket. The handcuffs. You take them from him, pocketing the small key.

“By the way, how did you get out of the cuffs at the house?” you ask, weighing the metal in your hand.

“I went and got another key before. So I threw you one key and kept the other.”

You feel your forehead crease as you think about what that means. You were only able to relax when you thought he couldn’t hurt you, but he… could? At any point, he could’ve simply unlocked the cuffs himself?

“I didn’t keep a key because I had ulterior motives or anything. I was just worried you might hurt yourself or pass out for real, like, stop breathing and everything, so I needed a way to get to you if that were to happen.”

“I didn’t even think about that,” you admit quietly. It’s true; the fact that you had multiple pairs of handcuffs with you to the house, and they all use the same universal key entirely slipped your mind. “But of course. How stupid of me.”

“It wasn’t stupid. You were under a lot of stress, and I used that to my advantage, hoping you wouldn’t think about it.”

Standing up, you round the chair to kneel behind it. Without having to be asked, Jeongguk puts his hands back and waits for you to cuff them together.

“So I’m tightening these extra hard and making sure I have all keys,” you joke, still fastening them tight enough for him not to be able to slip them off.

“If that’s what you need to feel comfortable. But I hope you know that I’ll always listen to you.”

You nod, maybe more so to yourself when you stand in front of him again. He looks up at you where he sits, shirtless and looking gorgeous and absolutely mouthwatering.

You bite your lip briefly. “Can I… kiss you?”

“Whatever you want,” he grins, a smile that widens when you sit down on one of his thighs again.

“Okay. Close your eyes?”

Without a word, he obeys your request, and you feel yourself get almost hypnotized, looking at him. You’ve truly never seen anyone so stunning, even to the point that you could sit and gaze at him for hours. The best of mankind but still very much a man. You remember how you used to hate him, thinking God wasted this incredible beauty on someone so ugly, but although you’re not entirely sure how you feel about him, you know you don’t hate him.

Carefully, you trace your fingers along his sharp jaw, and despite his eyelashes fluttering, he doesn’t open his eyes. Unable to help yourself and because you truly don’t think he minds, you allow your gaze to drop. His neck is relatively thick, and the veins are only slightly visible compared to when he’s physically active. Your eyes then land on his collarbones. Then his wide, muscular shoulders and pecs. Then the scar, before traveling across his abs.

“You’re so pretty,” you state quietly, looking up at his face just in time to watch him smirk.

“Pretty is for girls; I’m a man.”

You can’t quite explain the emotional wave that hits you as you come to terms with what you have to do–the decision he’s made for you–but you know that you have to hide it, can’t make a sound of hurt in the silent room. Pressing your lips together, you look around the bedroom before you rise from his thigh.

“What are you doing?” Jeongguk asks, still smiling and oblivious, his eyes closed.

Already at the window, you untie the white curtain’s tieback and hold it up. “What about this?”

He opens his eyes and looks at the white piece of fabric in your hand, but doesn’t appear too skeptical. “For what purpose?”

“Blindfold.”

Trying to keep a positive and somewhat fear free mindset, it still hurts when you see how he immediately connects the blindfold to how you shielded your chest from his eyes. There’s pain and there’s guilt swimming in his dark eyes.

“You can, but please don’t do anything you don’t want to.”

“I won’t,” you promise.

“Okay then.”

With his permission, you place the folded sash over his eyes and tie it in the back, careful not to trap any hairs. When you’re done, you take another second to look at him. There is something so irresistible about him, something that has your heart yearning and your body pulled in. He’s so warm, both body and presence. You bite your lip, using your hand to trace his cheek softly while thinking about how he’s so conflicting. What if you want to stay here forever? Curl up like this where he can’t touch you, and lean your head against his neck where he can’t see you?

Like the time when you kissed three days ago, you touch your thumb to his soft lips, and you let the smile and the mask you’ve been wearing fall. Quietly, you stand up, and you take a step back.

“I thought you were going to kiss me?” Jeongguk jokes lightly.

You don’t know what to say, stuck in your footing to the floor and how he can’t see you. It’s like a weight has dropped from your shoulders, but your heart still feels heavy.

“I’m sorry.”

Not picking up the real meaning behind your words, Jeongguk tilts his head. “Okay. It’s alright. Why don’t you uncuff me and we can maybe order dinner instead?”

“I’m leaving tonight.”

“Wait… what?” he straightens up, struggling to process your words, “Why?”

But you go silent again, unsure of exactly how you’ll ever be able to tell him everything. He calls your name, sounding stressed, and you hear how he tugs on the cuffs.

“You scare me.”

He stops, and you can tell by the way he seems to almost be holding his breath that it wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear.

“I… I understand that you’ve been through a lot, but I’m never going to hurt you.”

You keep your eyes on him, feeling like he, himself most likely believes what he’s saying. But it’s not that easy.

“I know… that all in all, you’re a good man. You want to help me and others, and I know you said that not even when you thought I was the most selfish person in the world would you be able to hurt me physically. But you had no problem hurting me in other ways.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry for what I did. I’ve apologized for that, and I’ll keep doing it.”

“I don’t know how to read you,” you add, disregarding what he said because he has apologized, but not in the way that you needed. Not in a way that really matters to you. If this man hasn’t had you broken in a thousand pieces and still insisted on stepping on the remains.

So you keep going. “You look sweet–you’ve been sweet, but you look just like him. Hoseong was sweet too, until he wasn’t. And you… you have this desire to hurt, you want to inflict pain on those who wrong you or who you think have done you wrong. What happens if you think I’ve done something you don’t agree with?”

“I’m not jumping to conclusions without talking to you, I’m not making the same mistake again–”

“What if I actually do something you don’t like?”

For a few seconds, he goes quiet. “I’m not going to hurt you ever again, I promise.”

You fiddle with your hands, glancing down at them. “Are you sure? It was so easy for you, using all my weaknesses against me and breaking me down without ever asking me for my side of the story. And it scares me how you, during the mission, showed just how easy it was for you to one moment act like you could stand me–looking just as sweet as you do now–then angrily tear me down the next.”

It hurts in your whole body but the worst pain originates from your chest. You feel small, insignificant, but also like you take up too much room.

“I know that you probably don’t want to hurt me physically, and that you’re a better man than most, and at first when we came back, it wasn’t too difficult to ignore what you…. think of me, but now…? I kissed you, and you kissed me back, and it just… everything is coming back. I’ve been trying to tell myself that you wouldn’t hurt me at all anymore and that maybe you even like me like I like you, but I know that you don’t. Which in turn makes it hard to know why you’re doing all of this. I think maybe you feel guilty or want to be nice? Give me a chance even though I’m not your… type. But I… I like you. I really, really like you.”

It’s easier to admit than you originally thought, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. “I want to look at you every second of the day and my hands absolutely yearn to touch you all over. But I don’t want you to touch me. I don’t want you to look at me. I don’t want to be perceived at all. I know that if I stay here and show myself to you, you will not like what you see. You will be disappointed.”

Jeongguk shakes his head, not straining against the cuffs anymore but taking on a calmer approach. “It’s not true. I really do like you, and I think you’re really pretty. Please, I apologized for the things I said, and I’ll do it again. I’m really sorry; I just said those things because I wanted to hurt you. “

“You did. You hurt me, and I’m hurt. You apologized for wanting to hurt me, but you’ve never impli–actually, It doesn’t matter. I know what I look like, it’s kinda hard to forget when you’re constantly reminded. You and your friends came for every single flaw of mine, Jeongguk. “

“I only continued because you never seemed fazed by it.”

“‘I never seemed–’”, you stop to chuckle in disbelief. Your eyes are tearing up as you recall the moments you’re about to remind him of.

“Are you saying that you never noticed that I stopped eating lunch at the cafeteria after what you did? Hoseong said that maybe someone would actually like me if I ‘ate less,’ and you laughed like it was the funniest thing you’d ever heard. That was the day after you walked past me in the cafeteria, saying ‘leave some for the rest of us, why don’t you?’ Jihyo brought cookies for her birthday two weeks later, and you suggested–in front of everyone–that maybe I should do something else with my mouth besides eat. I criticized the fact that no male officer wanted to work on ‘low-rewarding’ cases like my trafficking case, and you… Do you remember what you said?”

Your eyes are already blurry with silent tears, and you feel the humiliation drown you. There’s no way to go, nowhere to hide. People like Jeongguk are watching, inspecting and observing every little part of you. Your bottom lip trembles.

Jeongguk is silent. If he could see, he’d be looking at your feet. You were right to blindfold him because you would’ve never been able to speak so earnestly had you not. Although you like him, and he’s been so kind and sweet to you, you’re back to feeling like nothing in his eyes.

“‘It’s not about the case; it’s about you. You couldn’t pay me to even look at you. In fact, I bet not even the traffickers would take you, otherwise we would’ve definitely traded you.’”

The pain radiates from your chest, leaving no cell of your body unaffected at the implications. You are so ugly and disgusting to him that if he had the chance, he would’ve sacrificed you to a fate no one should ever have to face.

He doesn’t give you a reaction now either; he just sits there with his head lowered. But this is your one chance to tell him how you really feel. You take a big, shaky breath.

“I was doing okay before all of this. Sure, I’ve always known that I have a lot of flaws, but I was doing okay. But you’ve said over and over again that I disgust you, my body makes you want to hurl, you wouldn’t fuck me if your life depended on it, etcetera. It takes its toll. Eating around men gives me anxiety, even if I try to hide it. I cover up my… shoulders as much as I can because I can hear you describe them as ‘manly,’ and how every man within earshot chuckles.

“I wear thick bras and tops, especially around you, because you made it a habit to comment on my breasts and how unfortunately shaped and sized they are. I remember how you asked me how on earth I ever expected Hoseong to like me when I had the ‘saggiest tits in the district.’ And I remember the field day you had when you found out they’re a bit uneven, finding a way to lower your rating of me from a 0.5 out of 10 to a 0.1. Then you asked the other men for their opinion and rating. Or how you’ve so kindly informed me that I didn’t have the tits for that pretty, blue dress and that it looked awful on me. Are you saying that you didn’t notice that whatever you’ve commented on, I’ve never worn again? Not even anything similar?

“I don’t wear tighter pants without a longer shirt to cover my ‘misshapen,’ ‘unfeminine’ hips and the ‘weird dips’ you’ve laughed at, and whenever work dress codes require me to, I’ve avoided you and other men the best I could.

“I wore a skirt to work once, and when I ran into you before changing into my uniform, you said that skirts are for pretty girls and that no one wanted to see my… cellulite. You took every chance to remind me that I have myself to blame for being undesirable, and that men weren’t the problem, I am, and ‘how wasn’t I ashamed for thinking someone like Hoseong could ever like me?’

"Believe me, I was ashamed. I am ashamed. Do you think I never considered just… drinking the poisoned coffee? Or just starting the car even though I knew the brakes wouldn’t work? If there was a way to get rid of one’s body, believe me, I would’ve. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t know what he did to me at the time because how I looked never changed. But looking like you do, I get that you don’t understand how it is to walk around, filled with shame for existing in such an unfortunate body, but I can tell that you want to be better. Maybe you feel bad and want to give me a free trial of how it is to be with a Good Man. Or you want to do the ‘right thing’ so that your dad would be proud? I don’t know, but I can’t ignore the fact that I know how you really perceive me and how you are so far out of my league, it’s embarrassing to even stand here and say it.

"So while I appreciate everything you’ve done for me cause I’d be dead and gone without you, I can’t stay here. You want someone to hold hands with and to buy flowers for, but that’s not for people like me.”

Finally done, you wipe the tears that fall, and you shakily swallow the lump that’s formed in your throat.

“Take the blindfold off and uncuff me,” he begs, once again straining against the handcuffs. You know he isn’t getting out of them, and while he could stand up, the chair is too heavy for him to just pull along with him when he’s got the blindfold on and no sight. He knows, just as well as you, that there’s no use.

“No.”

“Then listen to me; none of that was true. You are so pretty, so breathtaking. I like you so much.”

“Forgive me for not believing you. If you really thought I was even remotely pretty, there have been countless opportunities for you to say so. Or even just a ‘hey, you know you’re not actually as revolting as I told you.’”

“I… I didn’t want to overwhelm you or have you doubt my intentions, but I’m telling you now that I’ve always thought you to be beautiful.”

You scoff sadly. “Yeah, now when the consequences of your actions have arrived,” you glance down at your feet, feeling so insignificant.

“Please don’t leave.”

“I’ve already packed my stuff.”

“Where are you going? You can’t go home; it isn’t safe there.”

Truly, at this moment, your safety doesn’t seem like your top priority. “I’ll be careful.”

“Can’t you stay with someone, at least?” he bargains, “Jihyo or Sana?”

Another tear falls, and your voice goes quiet. “I want to go home.”

You really do. You haven't been home in months, and you feel like a child sleeping over at a friend's, missing your mom so much it hurts and just wishing she'd come and pick you up.

“I know, but you just gotta hold out a little bit longer. Call Jihyo, please. Do you want me to watch your house twenty-four seven, cause I will.”

You consider his words, and if there’s anything you don’t want, it’s to have him so close again. “Fine. I’ll call her tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah…”

With nothing really left to say, you pull your phone out of your pocket, opening the Uber app.

“I’ll uncuff you in a few minutes, I’m just ordering an Uber.”

Luckily, a car is only three minutes away, and so with quick fingers you confirm it. You packed your stuff three hours ago in case this would be the outcome, something you’re very grateful for now. Maybe, maybe, if he had said something, you would’ve kissed him and decided to stay, hoping that he was being honest. But you know that you might be a sweet girl to him, but you're not a pretty girl.

A minute passes, and you sigh sadly. “Okay, I’m gonna open the handcuffs, but I’m begging you, Jeongguk, stay there until I’m gone, okay? Don’t remove the blindfold, please?”

It’s his turn to seemingly consider what you’re saying. What you did, agreeing to call Jihyo, was for him and respecting his wishes. So he has to respect yours. He can’t rip off the blindfold the moment you twist the key in the cuffs and try to persuade you to stay, no matter if he wants to.

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You decide to trust him, and with the key belonging to the cuffs, you round the chair where he’s sitting. Kneeling like before, you manage to unlock one of the cuffs in two seconds, and the metal clinks as it falls off his wrist. Instead of freeing his other wrist as well, you grasp his free hand and put the key into his palm, closing his fist around it.

Though you shouldn’t have expected him to be entirely quiet and still, because while he doesn’t make any move to rise from the chair or remove the blindfold, he does swiftly grab your hand, holding it firmly. Despite being blindfolded, it definitely feels like he’s staring straight at you behind him.

“Don’t believe anything any of us said, please. You really are so gorgeous, and not only that but you’re incredibly smart and hard-working. You’re amazing, and I will regret what I did to you for the rest of my life.”

But you hurt so much on the inside that you don’t say anything to that, you just pull your hand out of his grasp.

author's note: so.... anyway, uh... like, comment, and subscribe <333

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