#i just wish we can make it past the whole does the romance genre have critical value or any value? debate

[dabookgoblin]

[hihello-pinky]

Sight (3)

Suna Rintarou x F! Reader

Sometimes, it takes losing someone to finally see them. He wished he knew this before, but Rintarou had to learn this the hard way.

WARNINGS: mentions of abortion, mentions of suicide, smut (fingering, oral [f receiving], lack of protection, rough sex, creampie) please let me know if I missed any!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. This in no way represents my views of the original anime/manga characters.

WC: 6.3k Genre: Angst, Romance, Hurt/Comfort Other Tags: Forced Marriage, Developing Relationship, Denial of Feelings, Emotionally Repressed, References to Illness, Angst with a Happy Ending, + more to be added.

Here’s the long-awaited part 3!. Thank you all for waiting and for the love and support!!! Kindly reblog and comment if you liked it! ALSO, I’m not sure how many parts are left.

part one part two part three part ?????

leave me love?

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

“I don’t know what game you’re playing with you agreeing to my parents’ crazy demands but just so we’re clear, there’s only one ending to this fucking marriage: divorce.”

Suna watched as you squirmed in your wedding dress. The two of you had just arrived at the new house, and he already hated it. First, he hated how he had just been forced into marrying a girl he barely knew. Second, he hated how you’re acting as if you’re the victim of the whole ordeal when this wouldn’t have happened in the first place if you just agreed to get an abortion.

And lastly, he despised how you looked so damn beautiful in that wedding dress.

The fidgety and nervous girl during his wedding night is nowhere to be seen as you’re standing in that very same room, your eyes looking straightly at him and your voice firm as you repeat, “I want to file for divorce.”

“I heard you the first time,” he responds as he clicks his tongue. “But I won’t do it.” He’s trying to be careful, unsure of where you’re actually getting at. A few nights ago, you just confessed about being in love with him and now you want to divorce?

A small laughter leaves your lips, regaining his attention. “Rin,” you call his name and as usual, hearing that one syllable from you stirs something inside him. “You don’t have to worry about anything. We’ll talk to your mom and dad, and I’ve already spoken with the family lawyer. We can always co-parent.”

“No.” Maybe if he’s not busy getting annoyed about your mind game, he’d have noticed how your eyes are squinting, how your fingertips are slowly rubbing against your temple. “There will be no divorce unless you explain to me everything about this sudden shit you’re pulling.”

“Rintarou, -”

“I’m so damn tired, Y/N!” What surprises Suna is not his sudden outburst. It’s the quick realization that for the first time in five years, he’s addressing you by your name. “Are you playing with me? You confess, you make me feel guilty, you make me want to apologize, but now you want to divorce!”

You shake your head, hoping that the action will also help in easing your headache. “Why are you reacting like this, Rin? Isn’t this something that you’ve wanted since day one?”

It’s the same question he has for himself. Sure, he entered the room ready to apologize for the past years and maybe try for any way to salvage the relationship you both have, but here you were, offering him the easy way out and yet he doesn’t want to accept it.

Instead of answering you, he takes a deep breath to calm himself down. “Listen, I don’t know what shit you’re pulling but I’m serious when I say I’m not signing any papers unless you talk to me and explain what the hell’s going on.”

“Rin, I’m tired,” you say as you sit on the bed dejectedly. “I’m so, so tired.” Your voice breaks at the last word as you bring your knees to your chest, hugging it before beginning to sob. This isn’t the first time that he’s witnessing you cry but the way the sobs come out of you as if they physically hurt and how your body is shaking... it’s a sight that he does not want to see.

Other times he would have chosen to leave you alone and his mind is currently shouting at him to go back towards the door and leave the room but his body is doing the exact opposite – his feet bringing him closer to you. The next thing he knows, he’s crouching down in front of you at the bed, hands hovering over you but not touching. “What is it?”

As soon as the question leaves him, he feels silly. How were you supposed to answer him when the sobs wracking out of your body barely stop? Suna rakes a hand through his hair, unsure of what to do. He looks up at the ceiling in frustration. “Fuck, Y/N, tell me what’s the matter. Why the hell are you asking for a divorce out of the blue? Is this because of what happened a few nights ago?”

“I’m scared.” Your small voice surprises him. “I’m scared, Rintarou.”

He diverts his eyes back on you but your face is still buried behind your knees. “Look at me.”

He watches as you slowly acquiesce and the broken look on your face tugs at his heart. Your eyes resemble shattered glass and it’s as if all the broken shards are piercing through his chest at the moment. “I’m scared.” A hiccup. “I’m so damn scared.”

Suna shakes his head as he gazes at you, seemingly unable to break the eye contact despite the feelings it’s currently bringing him. “I don’t understand.”

Tears well in your eyes again as you begin to explain with a shaky breath. “I went to the hospital a few days ago to get checked about my recurring headaches and blackouts. I received the test results yesterday and they don’t look good. I’m so scared, Rintarou.”

Every word that escapes from your mouth makes his heart feel heavy. “Then why are you asking for divorce?”

You’re silent for a while as you break eye contact and he can tell that you’re carefully deliberating your words. The suspense is making him feel uneasy but he also knows he can’t force and rush you. “I’ve always known there’s a possibility that it would happen to me too. But then, Doctor Hirai said that its progression is mainly stress-induced. I need to be in an environment which will be better for my mental and subsequently, my physical health. More importantly, I’m scared that what I will go through will hurt the children in the long run.”

“So, you prefer that you’d suffer alone?” He asks without thinking.

At that, you turn to face him again and smile sadly. “I’d still suffer alone even if we remain married, right? At least once we separate, I’ll be in a much healthier environment. We won’t have to pretend in front of the children anymore. You’ll have your freedom and I’ll have my peace.”

Suna can feel himself frowning, knowing how there’s truth in what you just said. He sighs deeply before speaking, choosing his words carefully. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, his attempt frustrating him. In the end, he settles for three words instead. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

--- *** ---

Hearing those words from your husband makes your heart clench. You bite your trembling lower lip and close your eyes, finally letting the tears fall once again. You hated this. You hate having Rintarou see you cry.

What happens next surprises you. You feel gentle fingers wiping away your tears, the touch soft and delicate. You crack your eyes open and convince yourself you must be dreaming.

“I know this is long overdue and it can’t undo all the things I’ve put you through in the last few years, but I’m really, really sorry. For being a horrible person, for being a terrible husband, for being a bad dad... I’m sorry for what I did a few nights ago.”

You hear the unspoken truth from his last sentence: I’m sorry I can’t reciprocate your feelings. Instead of dwelling on it too much, you try to wipe your tears. “You weren’t much of a bad father,” you say and see how his eyes slightly widen in surprise. “For what it’s worth, I appreciate how you’re trying to be a good dad to the kids.”

A frown makes its way to your husband’s handsome features before he scoffs bitterly. It makes your heart clench. “Why do you have to be so kind?” He asks quietly and then looks at your face as if searching for something. “I’ve been such a horrible person to you and here you are, telling me that I wasn’t a bad father to our children.”

Your heart softens a bit at his words as new tears start to pool in your eyes. “I’m just speaking the truth, Rin.” He’s still studying your face and you look at his in return. This is the first time you’re both staring at each other like this again; the last being those five months that you two were on good terms. “It gives me comfort, knowing that you’ll continue to be a good dad to Risa and Ryuu once we separate.”

At that, the frown that has dissolved from his face returns, and in a much stronger note. “I still don’t think having a divorce is necessary. It will not do much and that word may even bring trauma to the kids.” It’s amazing how quickly you’re able to understand where Rin was coming from. And almost immediately, you’re brought back to that day.

You watched as Rin was almost done watering the newly-planted seedlings in the backyard. A week prior, you had shyly asked him if it’s okay to have a small garden and without much thought, he agreed. You wanted to do the task yourself but he had insisted he do it instead, saying something along the lines of Jiri scolding him if she ever finds out he let a pregnant woman do a laborious task.

So, there you sat on one of the newly-bought reclining chairs, watching as Rin worked. It’s been a few weeks since the both of you started to be on good terms and the more you got to know him, the more it became harder for you to ignore how handsome your husband truly was. Especially at that moment, with him wearing loose sweats and a thin plain white shirt, arms flexing as he held the watering host.

After more minutes of trying to distract yourself from staring at Rintarou, he turned the water system off and went to join you, taking the vacant recliner beside you. “It’s crazy how my parents didn’t even think of having some work done on the backyard, considering all the efforts that were made in the house’s interior.”

You looked at the backyard and imagined how it would look like once your garden blooms. “Maybe they wanted to at least give you the chance to decorate it as you want?”

He let out a dry laugh and then straightened on his seat. “Then, I want to have a small playground there.” You trailed where his finger was pointing and saw that he was referring to a corner of the yard.

“A playground?” you asked, surprised that he would even suggest one. You both had been careful with the topic about your children and what would happen after they were born, and this was the first time that he was bringing up something related to it.

“Just a slide and a swing set would do, to be honest.” His eyes were still trained on that same spot, as if he’s already picturing the item he’s planning to place there. You hummed in response, savoring the peaceful silence that was beginning to take over.

Rintarou was the one to break it. “Who in your family is a twin?”

You blinked at him in surprise. “Oh, um, my dad.”

He nodded, taking in the information. “And you have siblings?”

“Yes,” you answered softly. “Two step sisters. I’m the middle child.” He turned to you and as expected, there was question in his eyes already. “My mother died shortly after I was born. When I was around ten years old, my dad re-married.” You looked at the corner that Rintarou had pinpointed for the playground. “She was a lovely lady, my step-mom. I just wish my father had met her earlier. It would have been nice to grow up with both parents around.”

The scoff that left Rin’s mouth surprised you. It was your turn to look at him with curiosity. His jaw clenched a little before he spoke. “My parents were mostly absent while I was growing up. I’m an only child and since my parents both settled on a city away from their hometowns, I never got to develop a relationship with my other relatives and children in playgrounds never seemed fond of me.

“You know what the best part is?” He spat the word “best” and it almost made you flinch. “The times they would spend with me would always end up with them threatening each other to just divorce and I would just be there, having a front-row seat in watching their fights.”

He was silent after that as you stared at him. You couldn’t imagine the parents that Rintarou was referring to was the same sweet couple who apologized to you on behalf of their son during the first time you met. But then again, you knew part of the reason they forced the marriage was because they wanted to punish him. You picked your words carefully. “I couldn’t imagine how difficult that was for you. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Rin only shrugged. “Don’t worry. I got accustomed to it quickly. Whenever they would fight, I just had to show them some achievement from school and they’d be all happy and proud and forget that they were just about to rip each other’s heads off a few seconds before. It was an effective study tool, I guess.”

You frowned at his sarcasm, picturing a young Rintarou working hard on his studies, hoping to appease his fighting parents.  

You close your eyes as you try to compose yourself. No matter how long it has been, no matter how many times you remember that afternoon, the memory still hurts you. “Rin, I understand your sentiments and I don’t want to invalidate your feelings and experience. But you should know that it’s not the same situation. Weren’t you the one who told me that our marriage is supposed to end in divorce?”

He sighs frustratedly. “You know damn well that that was anger-driven. It’s not the same now. I care for the kids and I don’t want them to get hurt. I don’t want them to have the same relationship I have with my parents.”

You truly do understand your husband and you know he has his reasons. But so do you. And between the two of you, it’s a fact that you’re the one who cares more about your children. So, with a deep breath, you share the part of your explanation that you omitted earlier. “Rin, I’m about to lose my sight.”

--- *** ---

“I don’t understand, aren’t pregnant women only supposed to have cravings for food?” Suna asked as soon as the traffic light turned red. It was eight minutes past ten in the evening and you had just left the mall after completing a buzzer-beater shopping for an item that you swore won’t allow you go to sleep if it weren’t in your hands.

The item in question being a copy of your favorite author’s latest book which you had asked him to pick up for you earlier that day. He had been busy at work and asked Yuto to buy the book instead. When he handed you the package once he got home, the delighted expression he expected on your face was nowhere to be seen and in its place was an irritated look. “This isn’t the correct edition; it’s the first one. What I want is the most recent release – the 10th anniversary edition with a special chapter!”

He was glad his years of playing volleyball in high school gave him good reflexes or else he wouldn’t have caught the book you threw to his face. “Okay, okay, I’ll ask for an exchange tomorrow.”

You had looked at him as if he had grown two heads. “Tomorrow? I won’t be able to sleep at all if I don’t get to read it tonight!”

He inwardly cringed at the sound of your loud voice. You were already in your sixth month of pregnancy and contrary to what Jiri had told him, your mood swings were still a menace to deal with. So, he checked his watch and with a heavy sigh, announced that he would make a quick trip to the bookstore. When you insisted to tag along to make sure he gets the correct edition, he didn’t put up a fight.

“It’s not like you can eat a book,” he mumbles irritably again, looking at the still-red traffic light. “And that saleslady was a bitch.”

Beside him, you just let out a hum as you sniffed the pages of your precious book. “You’re lucky the smell of new books is one of my favorite scents in the world. I’m feeling too happy to entertain your negative ramblings. God, I can’t wait to get under my comforter and begin reading this.”

You continued on with humming a soft melody. Rintarou sneaked a glance at you before the lights turned green. You had returned the book to the paper bag and the image of you hugging it to your chest as you looked out the window was enough to make him smile, something that he had been doing a lot since the two of you began spending a lot of time together.

When you arrived home, he quickly jumped in the shower as he assumed that you changed into night clothes and got under the comfort of what used to be his bed alone. The king-sized bed had become a place for two, ever since you had moved into the room some weeks prior. It didn’t even take him long to shower but by the time he joined you, you were already asleep, barely even able to get the book out of the paper bag.

After a quiet laugh, he carefully plucked it from your hands, placing it on the bedside table. He never enjoyed reading and couldn’t find the appeal in doing so; he’d much rather watch shows or play video games. However, when the two of you got to talking about things you enjoyed, you were so passionate about your love for books. It was your step-mom who had introduced you to it, you said, and it was a special bond between the two of you as your sisters weren’t readers.

Suna’s eyes softened as he recalled what else you had shared to him.

It was your step-mom who read books to your father all day and all night after he went totally blind. Then, it was subsequently you who read him books after she took her own life.

“That can’t be.” Suna is pretty sure that he misheard you. He shakes his head in disbelief. “Maybe you need to get a second opinion.”

He’s quick to hate the look of defeat in your eyes. “I’m sure the results will be the same. I don’t want to get my hopes up only for them to be shortly crushed after. Please don’t make this harder for me anymore.”

When he replies to you, he hopes the frustration can’t be heard in his voice. “Okay, I won’t force you if you don’t want to. But, let me be there for you.” You give him a wide-eyed look, expression full of surprise. “I meant it when I said I’m sorry to you. I want to...” He sighs heavily, wanting to break eye contact but he steels himself to hold it. “I want to try. To actually try for this marriage to work. I know it may be too late and I’ve been such a dick and an asshole to you. And honestly, there are still a lot of things I need to process but let’s not make these big decisions abruptly, okay? I don’t want you nor the kids to suffer a lot.”

Suna figures this must be the most honest he’s been with you since the children were born. He just hopes you’ll give him a chance. However, he won’t even blame you if you decide not to trust his words.

You’re the one who breaks eye contact and don’t respond to him for a second, a minute... and when the silence lingers on, he carefully calls for you. “Y/N?”

He watches you close your eyes, as if preparing yourself for what to say next. When you open them, they’re welling up with tears but you give him a small smile that tugs at his heart. “For what it’s worth,” you say, “Doctor Hirai said that there’s a possibility that it can only be a temporary blindness since it got detected early.”

Suna doesn’t even hold back the sigh of relief that he lets out. He holds your hands and stands up from his position in front of you. You follow suit, making the two of you face each other. He’s so much taller than you that you have to crane your neck up while he looks down at you. There’s a barely noticeable smile on his lips. “We’ll get through this, Y/N.”

--- *** ---

“Hey, Y/N, you didn’t come here the past few weeks.” Hajime greets you as he arrives at where the parents sit in the playground. You both watch as Kenta joins Risa in the sandbox, her face brightening in joy.

“I think my daughter has a crush on your son,” you comment before turning to him. “Nice to see you, Hajime. I was, ah, quite busy in the last weeks.”

He hums in response and looks at all the kids playing. “Is Ryuu not feeling well today? I don’t see him around.”

Before you can respond, your son makes an appearance, and you notice a happy look on his face. This prompts you to look at the person who’s holding his hand only to find that Rintarou is already looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Oh,” Hajime says as he stands up from where he’s sitting beside you. “Rintarou, right? Risa and Ryuu’s father?”

Rin breaks eye contact with you as he looks at Hajime’s outstretched hand. He shakes it quickly. “Yeah, also Y/N’s husband.”

The awkward moment is shattered when Ryuu groans. “Dad! You’re squeezing my hand tightly!” Rin must have loosened his hold for your son pulls his hand away before looking at you. “Can I play now, Mommy?”

You’re about to nod when you notice something on the corner of his lips. You fight a smile and put on your ‘inquisitive mom’ look. “Why did it take you long to come here, Ryuu?”

His eyes, which looks so similar to his father’s, widen and he bites his lip, quickly shooting a look at Rin who you can tell is trying not to smirk.

“Ryuu?” You ask again.

He pouts and breaks. “We saw an ice cream man on the way from the restroom and Dad bought me a cone.” He bites his bottom lip to stop it from trembling. “I’m sorry.”

You inwardly sigh before leaving the bench to crouch down and match your son’s height. “Isn’t ice cream time after we leave here? What would Risa feel when she finds out you ate ice cream without her?” Ryuu only gives you a guilty look and sensing that he’s about to cry, you ruffle his black hair and kiss his forehead. “Don’t do it again, okay? Now, go and play.”

He nods and mumbles a quick promise before he goes to play with some kids in the rows of see-saws. Once you see him off, you return to sit on the park bench. You see Hajime talking to the other parents a few meters away, not even noticing him leaving.

“He quickly excused himself the moment you bent down to talk to Ryuu,” Rin explains as he takes the place where Hajime had been seating. You’re surprised he even offers an explanation, remembering the venom in his voice the last time the two of you had been talking about your friend.

“I see.” You watch the children play. Ever since that talk in the bedroom three weeks ago, things have been slowly changing between you and your husband. So far, he has kept true to his words and you can see that he’s trying to make things work between you two. And part of it is that he wants to be more involved with your children. The twins had been excited this morning when they found out that their dad is tagging along to the playground.

“I saw Ryuu look longingly at the ice cream vendor but he told me he’s not supposed to get ice cream yet. I bought him a cone anyway and told him to tell you that the line in the restrooms was long.”

You swiftly turn to look at your husband incredulously. “Did you just tell my son to lie?”

He smirks and shrugs. “Don’t worry, it seems like he’s brought up well. He can’t lie at all.”

Still, the scandalized look on your face doesn’t go away. “Rintarou!”

The smirk doesn’t leave his face and does something that surprises you. He laughs. Not the condescending or hateful way he had laughed at you in the past five years, but a genuine laughter. Before you know it, his fingers are softly straightening the lines on your face. “Stop worrying too much, Y/N. The kids will be fine.”

--- *** ---

[ left the hospital already but dropping by osamu’s for some onigiri ]

[ ok. tell me when you’re home ]

[ okay ]

[ actually, don’t. i’ll just pick u up otw home. stay there for a while? ]

[ um, ok ]

[ cool ]

[ also, tell samu to stop being a fucking prick & resume talking to atsumu. i’m not their messenger for fuck’s sake ]

A small giggle leaves your mouth as you read Rintarou’s last message. Osamu looks at you curiously after he bids goodbye to a customer. “Usual order?”

You nod at him. “But can you prepare them for later? Quick change of plans, I’ll have some food for here first.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Waiting for someone?”

You shake your phone at him. “Rin says he’s picking me up.”

The way his eyes widen almost makes you laugh. “Really?” You know he must be confused, after all, you were just here a few weeks ago, looking as stressed as ever because of your husband.

“Yeah,” you suddenly feel like blushing so you look down at your phone instead. “He also says you should talk to Atsumu again because he’s getting tired of being your messenger.”

Osamu then laughs. “I bet you just censored all the curse words in his message.” The way you suppress a smile is telling enough. “I see you two are on some kind of truce? What happened?”

You contemplate for a while. Sacha is the only one you have confided to about the happenings of the past few weeks. But then again, Osamu has been nothing but nice to you and you figured it wouldn’t be a problem if you tell him about Rintarou’s resolve. “Well... Rin said he wants to try to make our relationship work.”

The gray-haired man is quiet for a while. “Did he now?”

“Yeah... Do you think it’s a bad idea, Osamu?”

The man shrugs. “Not at all. I mean, you look a lot better than you did the last time you were here.” His statement makes you smile. “So, I take it things have been different since then?”

You nod. “Yesterday, he tagged along to the kids’ weekly trip to the playground then after that, he took us to lunch in the mall and then went shopping the whole afternoon. Risa and Ryuu were so happy.”

Osamu almost drops the glass he’s been wiping and he sends you a strange look. “Today is Tuesday, no? So that makes yesterday a Monday?”

“Uh huh. Why?”

“And you’re saying Rin spent the day with you and the kids?”

You nod, not knowing where he’s getting at. You look at him quizzically and can tell that he’s trying hard to suppress a smirk. “What’s the matter, Osamu?”

Finally, the man lets out an amused chuckle. “Nothing,” he says as he begins preparing your food. “It’s just that if there’s one thing that Rintarou Suna is constant about ever since he started working, it’s that he never takes a day-off on a Monday.”

--- *** ---

Suna tells himself he’s not keeping track but it’s the fourth Friday in a row that he’s spending home. Usually, he’ll be out in some bar to drink and maybe look for a woman to bring to a close by hotel or to a bathroom, if he couldn’t wait. But ever since he has decided that he wants to try to work things out with you, he’s been skipping the routine.

He goes to your bedroom and sees it empty; you’re probably in the kids’ room. He takes that time to jump into the shower. Suna is a man with needs and missing his week’s end routine means one thing: he’s horny. Many times, he has been tempted to go back to his old way and ring someone for a booty-call. You didn’t need to find out and if you did, surely you would understand, right? Old habits die hard, after all. Whenever the temptation comes, he shakes his head and pushes the thought away, knowing that it’s a terrible idea to pursue.

So, he’s left with doing something that he never thought he would do again – getting himself off in the bathroom with his hands, like a pathetic lonely teenager.

Suna’s not sure how long it takes him in the shower. He’s afraid that his hand might not work for him anymore next time. It’s not helping that he’s spending more time with you, the girl that he has always found attractive, even during the times he hated you.

When he exits the shower, he finds you in bed already, leaning against the headboard as the blanket covers the lower half of your body. You’re wearing a silk set of pajamas and the strap of your top is sliding down on your shoulder. He gulps. He has taken you before, but why is he suddenly nervous?

“Are you okay?” Your voice breaks him out of his inner thoughts. You must have felt him staring at you because your eyes are still trained on your book as you ask him the question.

“Yeah...” He moves to the closet to grab a shirt and pair of shorts. He quickly changes into them and once he pulls the shirt over his head, his eyes meet yours looking at him.

A faint blush colors your cheeks as you return your gaze to your book. He finds himself smirking and decides to call you out. “You know, it’s completely normal for a wife to watch her husband changing.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He doesn’t speak until he’s on the bed beside you, getting a whiff of your sweet scent. He leans closer and tries to peek at your book. “What are you reading?”

He knows his closeness unsettles you for you quickly shut your book close. You turn to him instead and bites your lower lips as soon as you realize that there’s barely any distance between your faces. “Can you move, please?”

“Why? Am I making you uncomfortable?”

You squirm and Suna has to admit that he’s having too much fun with this. Sure, the past few weeks you’ve been spending a lot together has been good, but this is something different. There’s something about making you so flustered that makes him feel things he does not want to acknowledge yet. “I’ll take your silence as a yes, then.”

He’s about to move back, afraid that he might not be able to stop himself if he continues to tease you any longer, but before he can do so, you softly tug at his shirt. You’re not looking at him, your face turned away from him, but not enough to hide the redness on your face. “Hmm?”

“Rin,” the soft way you say his name almost makes him groan. “C-Can we...”

Fuck. Is this happening? “Yes, Y/N? Can we what?”

If it’s possible, your face reddens even more. “You know what I want to say.”

He chuckles and despite knowing he shouldn’t be taking too much pleasure from this, he does not relent. “I’m not actually sure. I need you to tell me exactly what you want, wife.”

You whimper at the word and finally say with a barely audible voice, “I want you, Rin.”

This time, Suna lets himself groan out loud as he tips your chin up so that you’re meeting eye to eye. “Are you sure, Y/N? I haven’t been with anyone since that day I shared my resolve to you. I’m not sure if I can be gentle at all.”

You nod quickly before speaking, your voice laced with desire. “Just take me, please, Rin.”

That’s all he needs to hear before he’s sucking marks on your neck, his hands quickly removing the covers from you. He ignores the thud of what he assumes to be your book hitting the floor. You’re just as eager as you tug at his shirt. He groans and removes the piece of clothing with the same urgency as you’re undressing yourself.

He maneuvers you so you’re lying completely on your back with him hovering over you, his lips busy alternating between your breasts. A sweet moan leaves your lips as his hand finds your damp center. He makes you come with his fingers alone before his lips are trailing down your body. The moment his tongue enters your pussy, you pull at his hair and the slight sting makes him growl.

“Please, Rin...” he feels you trying to close your legs and he slaps your thigh to keep you from moving. It seems to work as you stop and just continue to pull at his hair. It doesn’t take you long before an orgasm consumes you again and he laps at your release.

Suna pulls back and he watches you try to steady your breathing as he pumps his already hard cock. “Ready?”

The needy look you send him makes him groan. “Yes. Please, Rin. I need you.”

He growls out your name before sheathing himself inside you. “Fuck, your pussy is so fucking tight.” He doesn’t start off slow, his thrusts already intense but it seems like you don’t mind it either as you’re continuously letting out your sweet and addictive moans. Your hands clench on the sheet and he takes them, placing them on his back. He groans at the feeling of your fingers scratching and he finds that he does not mind getting marked by you anymore.

Suna busies his lips on your neck and collarbone as his thrusts become harder and faster, sounds of your skin slapping together echoing in your room. “Feels so fucking good,” he pants against your ear, making you clench around him tighter. He gets ahold of your legs and press them against your chest before his hips move with powerful thrusts against you. You’re moaning endlessly now, but not loud enough to cover the creaking sound of the bed and the headboard meeting the wall.

Sensing that you’re nearing your release, Rintarou sneaks his hand in between your legs and plays with your clit, giving it the last push before you’re moaning out his name and coming around him. It doesn’t take him long to follow after you, his hips stilling as he comes inside you.

You’re both panting and it takes Suna a few moments to compose himself before he’s pulling out, the both of you letting out hisses at the sensitivity. He covers his eyes, chest still heaving, as he says, “Fuck. I really needed that.”

--- *** ---

You can’t help but giggle at Rin’s statement. You weren’t a very sexual person but you knew it must have been hard for him, especially since he told you he hasn’t been with anyone during the past few weeks. You’re still both panting and you half-dreaded for him to leave you alone like he usually does in the past after sex.

However, much like he’s been surprising you with his actions in the past weeks, his hand reaches for his shirt and wipes you down. He’s sitting upright on the bed and you feel his eyes on your still naked body. You see him bite his lip as he watches you, the desire still evident on his face. The way he’s looking at you gives you the confidence to reach down and stroke his half-hard cock. And with an innocent smile that you know he’ll be able to see through, you ask, “One more?”

As it turns out, Rin’s stamina and your neediness leads to two more. You now lay on the bed, already cleaned up and changed, your eyes closed. You know that you’re breathing is soft and Rin must have mistaken it for you already asleep for you feel him carefully leave the bed.

You discreetly watch as he opens the bedside table’s drawer and takes out his cigarette pack and lighter. The soft steps of his bare foot are barely heard as he makes his way to the terrace. As soon as the door slides shut beside him, you close your eyes.

Baby steps, you tell yourself. At least he waited until you fell asleep. And even though he still didn’t kiss your lips tonight, the fact that he gave you aftercare was enough. You know there are a lot of things that Rin has to work on and he had told you himself that it may take a long time before he can be someone that he himself can be proud of. “Baby steps,” you whisper to yourself again.

Unbeknownst to you, it’s the exact same words that the man outside tells himself as he lights up what he decides to be his last stick of cigarette ever.

TO BE CONTINUED.

taglist:  @warrior-of-justice @alisa--things @wolffmaiden @kurookinnie @simp-nerd-16  @alex-is-100 @k4g3hika @harukaaaaa172993 @themoonreflectsthesun  @lvjycrow @cantbedenied @sweetlikerockcandy @sirimiripetrichor @yamiakari-chi  @noideawhothatis @nervouscoffeetaco @lovemyfamily4ever-blog nervouscoffeetaco  kamukayakmonyet  yuqixidle ieathairs  cantbedenied  gariben  beomeomgyu  esmeisdrunk-blog  123j456l  iluv-ace  semitje @justablogforreblogs

[margotw10bis]

Crashing On Crush. JJK 3 [m]

crush!Jungkook x reader

Genre: smut; series; romance; angst

Words: 4.4k

Synopsis: What happens when your first encounter with your crush is Jungkook seeing your ass?

Warnings: sexual tension; alcohol consumption; make out in public; oral sex (f. receiving); handjob

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God must have heard your silenced prayers because a cup of coffee is floating in front of your face. You look up and meet Namjoon's soft brown eyes. You take the life-saving beverage and appreciate the delicious taste.

"Oh God, you don't know how much I needed it! Thank you Namjoon"

"No offense but you did look like you needed it" he jokes

You sigh, knowing that he's probably right. It's been eight days since you and Jungkook kissed. Eight fucking days and you haven't heard from him. No text, no call. Nothing. If work - which is so interesting and gratifying - keeps your mind busy at day, alone in your apartment at night you have no distraction. You just think over and over again, replaying the night in your head to spot what you've missed and could explain why he hasn't contacted you. So, yeah, you haven't slept very well the past week.

"Uhm, Y/N" Namjoon seems embarrassed, he clears his throat to pull himself together. "I was thinking, uhm, if you are free tonight, we could have dinner"

His red cheeks are so cute, your heart melts. Namjoon has been nothing but kind and sweet towards you. And it's not the first time you think 'I wish he were my crush, so I wouldn't be stressed about radio-silence Jungkook'. But you know damn well that your mind and your heart are full of a man with lip piercing and tattooed arm... However, you can't wait forever for Jungkook to pay attention to you - or can you?

This dinner will be a great opportunity to think about something else and to get to know Namjoon better.

"Sure!"

The blond man sighs in relief, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Great, uhm, let's meet after your shift at the entrance door"

You nod and watch him leave, not without almost hitting a large plant pot which makes you laugh. Cute.

At seven pm, you exit the gallery to wait for Namjoon in front of the building. However, you certainly didn't think you would meet this person. You halt your movement by astonishment. Jungkook is here. Right in front of you. And you have mixed feelings about that. Obviously, you are very happy to see him because, in fact, you missed him. But you are also angry with him for being quiet during a whole week... You have no idea what he is doing here. Well, you know he is probably here to talk to you but to say what? That he doesn't want to see you again? That he wants to kiss you again? So you stay silent, waiting for him to speak. And he does:

"Hi, Y/N"

"Hi"

You wait but he doesn't say anything.

"What are you doing here?" You ask after few seconds of unbearable stillness that is the exact opposite of your harsh heartbeats.

"I wanted to invite you to dinner"

What the fuck? You can't help a disdained laugh. You have been waiting eight fucking days and he just shows up at your work like nothing happened! You are so mad right now but why does you heart soften at the thought he wants to spend some time with you?

"I already have something set up for tonight" Your voice is harsher than you want and you kind of feel bad when you see the disappointment in Jungkook's eyes.

He bits his bottom lip and this simple act reminds you of how good his lips feels... You shake your head to not think about it.

"I wanted to call you but I didn't have time" Jungkook says lowly

"Yeah, sure" You reply, annoyed

"Actually, I spent the week at my parents for my grandpa's funeral" His voice is not filled with reproach but with a will of explanation.

You gaps and immediately feel horrible to have treated him so coldly. Your eyes soften and you put a hand on his shoulder to confort him.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry Jungkook, I didn't know. Are you okay?"

"He has been sick for a while so we were prepared, but it was hard for my mum. I'm sorry, I should have at least sent you a text"

You can see in his doe eyes and hear in his voice the guilt. You shake your head.

"No, you don't have to apologize, I totally understand. You needed to focus on your family. Please don't feel bad"

You want to hug him so bad when you see the sadness on his face. You don't really know what to say or what to do to erase his pain but when Jungkook looks into your eyes, he knows how you wish to console him and his heavy heart feels lighter. So many words are running through his mind, so many things he would like to say to you. Like the fact that he has been thinking about you the past few days, that he has wished you were there with him to hug him, that he has been fucking missing you each fucking minute.

You open your mouth to say something but you are cut off by Namjoon joining you.

"Are you ready to go?" He asks you cheerfully

You are aware of the sudden tension between the two men. Jungkook's jaw clenches and his eyes narrow. 'Him again', he thinks. He wonders if the guy is now your boyfriend, if he has kissed you while he was gone, which makes him regret even more to not have contacted you. Now he is pissed off because at first, he thought that you having plans was a lie to not see him but it's way worse that you actually have plans. With another man. A man you have seen all week.

"I-Namjoon and I are going to eat" you start, embarrassed, blushing hard before turning towards your colleague "if it's okay with you, Jungkook could join us?" You try

Well, that was not what Namjoon had in mind. But what could he say now? No? He cannot refuse so he swallows the sword in his throat and he answers a not-so-conceiving 'sure'. And the three of you head to the Korean barbecue restaurant.

———

Saying that there is tension in the air is an understatement. The meat grilling is quite the only sound coming from your table. Seeing the two men side by side, you realize they couldn't be more different. Namjoon, wearing a white shirt and light grey slacks, is a very sweet boy, and very cute with his dimples. His glasses makes him look smarter - even though he is the smartest person you've ever met - and professional. Definitely the type every parents would love to have as son-in-law. On the other hand, Jungkook is the opposite, the perfect example of what a 'bad boy look' is. He is not a bad boy in fact because you can see the kindness in his so pretty eyes but he is surely intimidating. He always wears dark and baggy cloths. His piercing and his tattoos enhance his B boy vibes, but they also make him so fucking hot.

Jungkook and Namjoon haven't talked and you feel ill at ease, waddling on your seat. You clear your throat to save the night:

"Let's cheer"

You smile and pull up your glass in the most cheerful way possible, hoping that it will give rise to a better mood. But it doesn't. The two men click their glass but they still don't speak. You sigh in disappointment...

"So, Jungkook, right?" Finally says Namjoon "What do you do for living?"

You send a grateful gaze at your colleague.

"I'm a graphic designer" Jungkook answers politely but a little bit coldly, not sharing any more details. "What about you? What do you do exactly?"

"I'm the owner's assistant. I help him to supervise everything: the exhibitions, the contacts with the artists, the communication, the staff. I'm also in charge of training new recruits, that's why I've spent a lot of time with Y/N these days"

Jungkook grins, he knows damn well that this Namjoon guy wanted to snap at him. He sips on his beer, fantasying how satisfying it would be to kiss you again, like the last time, in front of Namjoon. He really has to behave to not put his hand on your thigh. It's even harder when you are so pretty in your pink a-line dress with small puff sleeves.

"Hey, Y/N, we could have a last drink at Danbam, what do you think?" Jungkook asks suddenly

You choke on your spit, blushing hard. Last time you were in this bar was for your make-out session with Jungkook. And the little sparkle of cockiness in his eyes proves you he meant to tease.

"I, uhm, I don't think I want to drink more than this tonight" you say cautiously

Namjoon grabs his chopsticks to gather some beef and puts it on your plate. The kind gesture makes you smile. At the same time, it makes Jungkook even more irritated. Yet, luck is on his side because a couple of minutes later, Namjoon receives a call: his boss requires him immediately. He wanted to spend time with you, get to know you because since your first day, he has found you so sweet and beautiful and smart and passionate. Since your first day, he has had a crush on you that only kept growing day by day. With a huge regret, he tells you goodbye and leaves you with Jungkook.

"So, do you go out with him a lot?"

Jungkook couldn't help but asking you. He feels so jealous, he doesn't even recognize himself. What are you doing to him?

"No, actually it was the first time"

"Good"

You turn your head to Jungkook with an abrupt movement. Your mouth is opened by surprise, questioning him silently about the meaning.

"I want to kiss you again" Jungkook says simply

His words provoke a whole ardent fire in your body. You want it too. So fucking much. You miss his lips, his hands on you. You miss feeling him on your skin - kissing him one time isn't enough. You want to do it again. You want more.

"Do it" you manage to whisper

It's enough for Jungkook to blend your lips together. The kiss is stronger, rawer than the last one. He is hungry and maybe a little angry. When the little moans he loves so much return to life, he smirks. He wants to kiss you like Namjoon nor any other men can. And he does. There is no word to describe how much you love his mouth. You wish the moment could last forever, you never want to be lips apart. But humans are not perfect and they do need to breath so you distance your face just enough to catch your breathe.

"Do you want me to take you home?" Jungkook asks

You know it's not just a ride home. It's an implicit question: do you want more? Fuck yeah.

You nod and Jungkook smiles. He looks happy and relieved. He leaves a soft kiss on your inflamed lips and grabs your hand.

———

You mostly stay silent in the car. It's not a weird or uncomfortable silence but just a calm silence, full of promise for what will happen next. You can't deny that your heart beats loudly and your hands are a little shaky. Jungkook remarks and intertwines yours fingers, saying with no words that everything is fine and you don't have to be stressed. But how can you not when you will spend the night with your crush? Your - two now - kisses proved you that you have feelings for him. Strong feelings.

After you opened your door and took off your shoes, Jungkook and you stay, once again, in silence. You are looking everywhere except at him, feeling so nervous. It has been more than one year since you last had sex, and all the times you had before were with your boyfriends. However, Jungkook is not your boyfriend, your relationship is... undetermined. You also wonder if he finds you attractive enough, and if you will be good enough in bed. All these thoughts make your hands sweaty.

But Jungkook gets closer and cups your red cheeks with his big and warm hands, making you look into his black doe eyes. They are so soft, so shiny - just like the billions of stars in the sky at night. They are so beautiful. Everything in Jungkook is beautiful.

"Hey, we don't have to do anything" he says gently "We can have sex, or not. We can do other things than having sex. Or we can just talk. Don't pressure yourself"

Your heart melts at his consideration. He is so nice, so sweet that you are falling in lo... No! No, it's too soon, you don't know much about him even after hours spent on his Instagram. It's just your arousal speaking, it messes up with your brain.

You take the time to look at Jungkook and you can't help but imagining what's underneath his black bomber jacket. You remember this one pic from Instagram of him at the beach, shirtless. His 'I know I make your panties wet' look has never been more accurate. Even right now, you are feeling horny.

He leans down and kisses you. At first, gently but the kiss is getting rougher. You instantly feel your pussy clench and moan at its emptiness. Your hands running through Jungkook's hair pull him closer and invite him to kiss you deeper if it's even possible. His own hands move all over your body: your hair, your neck, your back, your waist and your ass. He squeezes the latter and a small groan from you tells him you love it. Actually, you love every single of his touch on your body.

Your hands are struggling to take off his jacket but manage to do it. You want to feel closer, better. Without this barrier, you can appreciate his hard muscles. Gosh, it feels so good under your fingertips.

Jungkook leads you to your couch and puts you on his lap without breaking the kiss for a second. You are completely high on his touch, you can't think straight - not that you really care. Between your legs, you can feel his hard cock pressing on your covered and wet pussy. A moan of pure delight escapes your mouth and you press down to enhance the touch. You slowly begin to move your hips back and forth to release some of the urge of friction. Jungkook grabs your ass to control your move and you love it. You love how he uses your body to please himself.

But it's not enough. You need to feel his skin. You don't know if you said it or if Jungkook can read in your mind but he halts the kiss for just a couple of seconds in order to take off your dress. His intense eyes discover your matching white bra and panties, so pure, so innocent. It makes him crazy because the horniness visible on your face is far from innocent. He leans down and places his head between your boobs, kissing your skin. Your body is on fire. Your head rolls back - which makes your moans huskier - and you pull on his black hair by pleasure and he smirks.

You are so hot, so beautiful, he doesn't want any other men to touch you. He wants to mark you to make you his but he also knows that a huge hickey on your neck will not be great for your career. So he decides to put his mark somewhere only him can see. You feel his mouth sucking on the skin of your left breast, close to your heart. It hurts a little but it's a delightful hurt. Jungkook takes the time to admire his art piece - he has never created something so beautiful. The red, purplish mark is shiny because of his saliva and it looks so good on your soft skin.

"You're so fucking hot" he says with a raspy and so sexy voice

He suddenly changes position to lie you down underneath him and kisses you again. You take the hem of his black and large t-shirt to indicate you want it to disappear. One second later your wish is fulfilled. What a beautiful view. His chest is buff, his abs are well drawn, his arms are strong and his shoulders are large. Your hands brush his warm skin and you feel his muscles flexing under your touch. His body is so perfect. You'll never be bored of looking at it.

However, your eyes spontaneously shut when Jungkook's hand reaches your groin. His fingers find your clit in a second and start circle it through your panties.

"Oh my god!" You moan in his neck

It's so good. So fucking good. It's like you've never have been touched before. Your moans are louder as his fingers get faster. At this point, your panties are soaked by your juices - it could be kind of an unpleasant sensation if you could think.

"You're so wet" Jungkook teases you while he kisses your neck

You are feeling your orgasm slowly building up in you but the emptiness in your pussy is torture. You need something to fix that.

"Please"

It's the only thing you manage to say with a choked voice.

"Please what?" Jungkook smirks

He knows damn well that you can't concentrate enough to speak properly and he is filled with pride that the reason is himself. Seeing how you are going crazy under his touch is so fucking satisfying. The most important, the only mission in his life right now is to make you cum. He leaves your neck to kiss your body all the way down until he reaches your wet pussy.

"I think we should take this off" he says while trapping the fabric of your panties with his forefinger

He looks up at you to have your approval.

"Yes, please" you moan, looking away with embarrassment of Jungkook being so close to your intimacy.

What you don't know is that your shaky 'please' turned him on so fucking bad. He loves having control during sex, even being a little dominant. Fulfilling his desires without even knowing it makes him want to please you even more. So he slides your soaked panties down your legs and opens your thighs. The sight is breathtaking: your cunt is glistening with your arousal. He wants to taste you, you make him hungry. He gently rubs two fingers from your clit to your entrance before diving onto your pussy with his mouth.

He gives a single kiss on your clit at first and the feeling is so fucking good that you immediately grab his hair in a desperate need of holding on to something to not sink into this unbearable pleasure. Your fingers in his black strands give him the green light to go further. His tongue is now completely attached to your pussy. He is literally making out with it. He is so good with his mouth. Your clit is taken care of like it deserves. His tongue rolls around your bud, then takes a quick strip from your entrance to your clit and rolls again. It's a perfect pattern and it makes you go crazy. The wetness created by his saliva and your own arousal is full of sins and pleasures.

"Oh my god, Jungkook!"

You feel your orgasm coming and your fist clenches as much as your pussy. Jungkook notices it and enters your pussy with his finger. This friction in your body is exactly what you needed. He pulls in and out at a pleasant pace with his digit. Your brain is foggy, you don't even know where you are, you don't even hear your own moans. All you can feel is him.

"More, more!" Is all you can say

He adds another finger, sightly speeding up the back-and-forth's pace, his tongue still playing with your clit.

"You taste so fucking good, I could eat you all day"

His words reasoning on your pussy is too much to bare and you cum on his face and on his two fingers in you, screaming his name. The best fucking orgasm of your life. Your legs quiver when you reach your climax. But what did you expect from Jungkook? He was your best kiss, it's only natural for him to make you cum like nobody had done it before.

It takes you a few seconds to catch your breathe and to settle down back on Earth. Your cheeks, even red before, are blushing harder when you realize that you just let your crush eating you out. It takes you a lot of courage to look down to meet Jungkook's face between your legs. You see his mouth and chin glistening with your juice. The view is sinful. But he defies even more the limits of hotness allowed when he puts his fingers into his mouth to taste more of your cum. You gasp at the indecent teasing.

Jungkook goes up to your face and kisses you. You taste yourself on his mouth and you have to say that it's hot.

"Are you okay?" He asks you gently

His consideration is a dangerous weapon for your heart. Fortunately, you're still too much in the frog of pleasure to overthink it.

"Yes. It-It was really good" you whisper, blushing.

Jungkook's pride is beyond clouds when he saw how strong was your orgasm because of him. He wants to be the one that makes you cum the most, the only one that makes you cum. Because you are so pretty, so hot when you reach your high, he wants to be the only one who witnesses it. He wants to fuck you so hard that you won't ever be attracted to another man. His possessiveness is killing him. You are messing with his brain and you don't even know it. You are crushing down all his boundaries.

"I, uhm, I want to please you too" you say shyly

Jungkook is amused by your shyness when he just made you cum. But he is also touched that you care about his pleasure. He can't deny that his cock is really hard and that he would love to release the tension in his body. But he doesn't want you to feel obligated to return the favor. He didn't touch you to have something in return, he did it because he wanted to see your cute face torn in pleasure, a pleasure provided by him.

"You don't have to, Y/N" he says with a small peck on your lips

He helps you sit correctly on your couch, and the leaking between your legs make you wince. But not as much as his answer. Doesn't he want you to touch him? Does he think you won't please him? You feel a dragger in your heart, and maybe in your pride also. Jungkook frowns when he notices your expression darkens.

"It's not that I don't want to" he feels the need to tell you "Because, believe me, I want to. You make me fucking hard. But you don't have to, you don't have to feel obligated"

He cups your cheeks and you see the sincerity in his eyes. Rather than pushing you off, it makes you want to please him stronger.

"I want to" you simply say

The determination in your voice startles him a little bit because a new wave of arousal rushes through him.

"Okay" is the only thing he finds to say

You put your delicate hand on his stretched crotch, feeling him hard and big through the fabric of his pants. You can't deny that it makes you horny. Jungkook's body tenses, watching carefully your movements to detect any sign of displeasure and stop you in this case. But he only sees the way you blush and bit your bottom lip. So fucking cute, he thinks. He waits for you to express by your actions your want to get rid of his pants. He doesn't want to rush you and let you be in control of the pace, even if it's like a torture for him: he has been hard for a long time now.

When you grab the hem of this pants, he gets the message and rises his hips to slide down his piece of clothing. The bulge of his black underwear shocks you a little bit: he is fucking big. Your reaction makes him cocky, he knows he's big - a lot of women already told him that - but now he wants you to think that. He wants you to think about how his cock would fill your tight pussy. The thought of it makes his hard member twitch.

You push down the hem of his underwear to free his length. Your mouth waters at the sight of the perfect, velvety skin. He is hard, and thick. You wonder how would feel the stretch if he were in your pussy. You gently caresse his tip with your thumb and a drop of pre-cum escapes. You spread it on the tip, which makes it shiny and appetizing. You start jerking him off and a sigh of delight comes from Jungkook's mouth.

"You're doing great, babe"

The pet name makes your pussy clench and your heart beat faster. You also feel proud and more confident so you increase the speed, putting the right pressure. Jungkook's breathing gets more and more rugged, you can tell that he likes it. He grabs firmly - but not too harshly to not hurt you - your hair and pull you closer. He kisses you ruthlessly, his tongue meets yours. You moan at his sudden ardent desire. And this is what he wanted: hearing your sweet whimpers while you jerking him off. Your hand on his cock and your mouth on his lips are a dangerous combination for his sanity.

"You're perfect, so fucking perfect" he says against your pretty mouth "Keep going, you gonna make me cum, babe"

Babe.

Once again, it fills you with indescribable sensations - physical sensations and other sensations that you push away to not overthink. You keep sliding up and down your hand on Jungkook's fat cock, your arm is beginning to hurt but you don't stop. Making him feel good is so fucking satisfying. You being the reason of the orgasm of such an attractive, hot, handsome man messes up your bain - and your wet pussy.

"I'm cumming" Jungkook says in a gasp

After a few more strokes, you feel a hot and thick liquid on your hand. Jungkook relaxes his grip in your hair and kisses your temple, with a shortness of breath. Then, he rests his forehead against yours for a moment, to recover a regular breathing.

"It was perfect" he says with a soft smile. 

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[ithinkabouttzu]

hey! i was wondering if u could make an ateez reaction to their s/o being injured during their sport game (preferably hockey but any sport works!)

injuries could include:

concussions, skate cuts your neck, black eye, someone accidentally crashing into you, sprained/broken bone, busted lip, etc

thanks!!!!

(it’d also be interesting if there could be multiple injuries at a time like a black eye and concussion at the same time for example)

Ateez reaction to their s/o getting hurt during their sports game

genre: Angsty but romance

warnings: Blood and injuries (reader is gn)

description: The members of Ateez reaction to you (their s/o) getting hurt while playing their sport.

a/n: I made it pretty vague so it could fit into any sport if that’s alright with you! I also made the injury a bit different for each person. Hope you enjoy

VALENTINE’s DAY SPECIAL 💘💌

Hongjoong: He was at the game when you got hurt. When he sees you go down he gets so concerned, he jumps up from his seat and tries to get over the barrier to where you are. The coaches and everyone is surrounding you so he can’t see what’s going on but he gets so scared. When you get to the hospital he doesn’t leave you side not once, he so worried for the rest of your stay.

Seonghwa: He turns into a concerned mother so quickly. He would be sitting there watching the game with your loved ones when he saw you get hurt. “Does anyone know what happened?” You can hear the worry in his voice, his pulse is so quick and he gets so worried. His heart breaks seeing you in such pain and he wishes he could just take it all away.

Yunho: When he sees the person from the other team hit you so hard, he’s ready to go out there and start fighting the person who did it. He’s the one yelling at the refs to kick that person out of the game for their dangerous cheap shot at you. And Worried is definitely an understatement to him, he prays the whole time that you’ll just get back up and will be okay.

Yeosang: He didn’t see it, he was in the bathroom when it happened, but when he comes back out all he can see is you on the floor, screaming in pain. He runs as close to you as he can, getting past any barrier that he can to you, you had broken your leg and the ambulance was on their way, he stayed with you the whole time and held your hand through it all, he’s so comforting to you the entire time.

San: He’s also ready to fight whoever threw that a punch at you, he’s praying in his head that you get them back (which you do) but you have to sit out for the rest of the game because of the fight. After the game he runs to you and tells you how proud he is of you for sticking up for yourself but his heart drops when he sees the bruise forming on your left eye. “Let’s go get some ice on that, shall we?”

Mingi: His anxiety shoots through the roof when he sees you go down after a wrong turn, hurting your leg in return, he gets as close to the field/ice as he can, just worried that you will be okay. When you make it to the hospital he’s with you every step, and even greets you with flowers and small gifts after your injury, he holds you close and is even super helpful during your recovery and getting back out to play.

Wooyoung: He gets up from his seat immediately and starts yelling at the refs to do something. He really doesn’t play when it comes to you so he really got spooked when you got hurt. “What’s going on, does anyone know what happened?” He’s asking around to see if anyone will give him answers, he’s mad that no one is telling him anything, but he’s also terrified something really bad happened to you.

Jongho: He turns on his mom mode really quickly, trying to see what happened to you. He’s right at the edge of his seat. He’s so worried something really bad happened to you. He gets even more worried when he sees blood rush out of your nose and lip from the bad hit, it almost sends him running out there with you to help, but he holds himself back bc he doesn’t want to embarrass you. He’s just glad it wasn’t anything too bad.

Sorry for such a long wait! If you enjoyed this, making sure to help a writer out by liking or reblogging! Your show of support makes a difference! 💗💗

[toomanytookas]

A Fic Menu for Friendship!

My cherished @schnarfer. How wonderful that our little pieces of the internet intersected such that we could meet. It really does feel like I've known you always sometimes...

And how delightful it has been to be a bit of a garçon de cuisine in your kitchen as of late! Inspired by our convo about reclists as pairing menus, for the @swiftiscruff friendship exchange^ I've whipped up a very non-serious one (liberties absolutely taken with the genre) that is a riff on your masterlist and its wonderful contents. 🖤✨

For increased accessibility/given that tumblr can sometimes be weird with images, text of the menu with some formatting preserved is available below the cut! I haven't included links because they're all findable via Al's masterlist; see above!

^Thank you to Cat and Han for creating this event! It's been so lovely to see everyone's posts.

Cafe Schnarfer

Beautiful works handcrafted by head chef Al

Tonight's Menu

-First Courses-

If Wishes Came True (3.87k)

The newest dish on our menu. A perfect tasting platter of some of our chef’s specialties: sparkling love, a character you adore but want to give a firm talking to, and endings that make the angst feel incredibly worth it.

Recommended pairing A healthy slice of cake and a cola flavoured lollipop.

Difficult (12.03k)

The first dish developed for the restaurant! A must for those who enjoy notes of instant chemistry, a bit of self-destruction, a lot of Fleabag energy, and hopeful endings.

Recommended pairing A strawberry milkshake, whipped cream vodka optional* *strongly suggested to make things a little messy, just don’t accidentally give it to the kids

-Entremet-

Purple Haze (5k)

An opportunity to take a brief break from our menu's angsty notes to indulge in a heady, vintage-styled treat. This isn’t your average op-shop find, we’re talking high-end fashion, baby!

Recommended pairing A couple of gin bucks should do the trick. Or just the ginger ale if you’re not in the mood for a buzz!

-Second Courses-

Go Your Own Way (10.87k)

A dish close to the hearts of our whole kitchen. A perfect selection for those who have fallen for a fuckboy and find it therapeutic to recognise your past in a wonderfully raunchy but still angsty story. The finish of this dish manages to incorporate senses of both sadness and hopefulness, making for a cathartic aftertaste.

Recommended pairing A warming Mexican hot chocolate. You'll appreciate how it matches the spice and provides you with some added comfort when things get achy.

Endurance (15.11k)

You will never forget the first time you experience this dish and will always find a way to convince yourself that you aren’t boring for ordering it time after time. A slice of spiciness coupled with a heavy dash of the forbidden add immense depth to a texturally rich feast full of historical flavour.

Recommended pairing A U.S. Army-issued chocolate bar and maybe a prairie oyster for the vibes. But then make sure to treat yourself to some actually  nice-tasting chocolate.

-Dessert-

The Kit Kat Trilogy (16.25k)

The dessert you’ll think about for 10 years and then come back for more. Save room because it is full of delicious angst and delightful romance that you won’t be able to help but consume whole. On a day when you’re low on time, you’ll consider stopping by for just another taste of this memorable sweet treat, we guarantee it.

Recommended pairing A full roast dinner. Even if it’s just for yourself. And maybe a glass of champagne to throw at the wall when things get angsty for a sec.

-Digestifs-

Dial Drunk (7.70k)

Let’s celebrate the end of our meal with lots of hope that emerges from some long-endured darkness.

Recommended pairing The loveliest hot breakfast you could possibly make, full of all your favourites and with plenty of food to go round.

Illicit Affairs (7.47k)

Let’s derail the end our meal with a real hot mess. Maybe you’ll wish you had picked the sweeter option, but, damn, you’ll enjoy the deeply achy ride.

Recommended pairing Wrap yourself in a blanket warm from the dryer for this one. And maybe have some water? The lack of flavour will be a good break from the intensity of it all while still keeping you hydrated.

I love you, Al! 🖤😘

[bluest-planet]

Gonna go on a ramble about fics and KH and being aroace for a sec, nothing bad nothing good just good ol' talking.

Listen I'm well aware kh has extensive fic out there, more on ff.net than anything else, and I'm no stranger to using more archaic fic sites n stuff in the pursuit of good fic, I mean. I'm a nier and persona/smt girlie y'know? They're about as old if not older than KH is with just as many or less games.

I just think it's funny how apparently (smth I keep seeing being claimed) dead/dormant kh is? Like, damn, ik it's been a while since anything got announced (and I'm on a high as a newbie) but maybe it's the persona fan in me but I'm long since used to making more fun and art in-between games or long silences. Even if something doesn't get another game/update that doesn't the party has got to stop.

Esp in our current era. No offense but I'm not exactly fond of all old fandom/fic tropes and stories. Obviously everyone's taste is different and they're ARE some definite bangers and fics with themes you just don't get anymore, more a product of the era and the kind of attitude of fandom at the time. Plus fic is made for fun and for free! Even if we don't like it that doesn't devalue what it means to someone else or the work out into by the writer, I'm glad it exists as something to look back on and even learn from.

But I just think it would be neat to see whatever cool takes or new interpretation of the games and characters. But maybe I'm just being a lil' dumb dumb and there are some cool fics being made (again, it's not even completely dead compared to other fandoms since it's still so big) that I just haven't seen yet.

Gotta say though, from an aromantic and asexual position- KH is particularly fond for me, seeings it's heavy emphasis on friendships. Like, y'all know I'm a queerplatonic heart hotel truther. Even if it isn't all that prevalent in canon like I wished.

And although I definitely see where everyone is coming from about soriku, hell I'm a passive enjoyer of it even, they've also got some immaculate queerplatonic life partner energy I just adore, and would never be upset if it never got confirmed (bc it probably will never be but hey you never know) but personally I hope sokai never becomes real. Sorry Sora is my aroace sibling now. Glad y'all can enjoy it tho if u do ship it, but honestly it would be a big win for us as an aroace person to see Sora, a main protagonist, not end up with anyone and live with his friends/life partners all together in peace y'know?

That's all to say; I'm sorry, if a fic looks great and cool but has either of these ships in their tags I'm more than likely to pass on it even if it does interest me story wise lol. Like, I'm already bombarded by the idea that romance is expected and everything, so if I'm indulging in fic which is wish fulfillment, I'm not even gonna slog through background shipping if I can help it.

Which kinda... Sucks? Lol I'm not blaming anyone, it's just a product of how the world works and shipping is just a big part of fandom. Again rounding back to that; "I don't like most older fics bc fandom was way more romance centric in those days" and the way romance and ships used to written in the past isn't to my personal tastes, since I noticed it's mostly labels as yaoi or shounen ai. Which again, no judgement, it was a different time period pre everything we've done to get more queer representation and stories now. And those genres as a whole aren't any lesser than others. Nor does any one fic represent the whole genre. If someone likes it go wild! I'll do my own thing.

But with KH I kinda would be happier to see more fics by aromantic and ace writers. Which honestly could still be ship fics, as aromanticism/asexuality is of a spectrum and we're not a homogeny in our creative efforts. But for personal preference some of the best KH fics I've seen have been from those perspectives.

Mm also more of a fan of introspection, character drama, canon divergence, that kinda thing? With the rare exception of a cute mermaid fic or neat crossover lol. I don't find coffee/flower/tattoo shops, no powers, modern au etc very interesting. As usual when I'm into a story, a game or show, I wanna be in that same world- to really get the chance to explore more than it can offer with small HCs about a character's quirks n home life n stuff. It's why I like thinking Sora and Riku have piercings, or that Sora wears pearl earrings and has a jewelry set from birth he carries.

I like to imagine what the culture they came from must've been like, and how to relate bits of my own into it. So its a bit sad when I don't see more of that into fics but I think I'm just not looking hard enough, but here's my encouragement for anyone else to do the same! That's how you keep things fresh or add more to a story to get attached to.

This was just some rambles tossed together though, not targeted and not cohesive. Could come back and sperate these pieces into their own essays basically, but I'm too lazy. But yeah, said my peace.

[cloudteawrites]

chapter: six ( 15.5k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

what is hybrid marking

8.2 million results. 

While scent mixing (heretofore referred to as ‘scenting’) is temporary and lasts a maximum of twelve hours if left undisturbed, scent marking (‘marking’ in common parlance) is semi-permanent. A ‘mark’ is created when the pheromones present in a hybrid’s bodily fluids are applied directly to their markee’s skin. When said chemical compounds seep below the epidermis and bond to the sweat glands found within the dermal layer of the skin, the target has been officially ‘marked’. Between domesticated hybrids and their human caretakers, this is most commonly done by applying hybrid saliva to the skin of the neck, where a human’s scent tends to be strongest. While the behavior involved in marking resembles some aspects of human foreplay, it is a non-sexual expression of mutual trust and affection. It is important to note that most hybrids of age are able to mitigate the oral secretion of pheromones and cannot mark accidentally-

“How do I look?” 

The sound of Jimin’s voice makes you jump. You fumble with your phone, trying to exit out of the website, shove it in your pocket and look at the leopard hybrid’s outfit at the same time.

“You look great!” You tell him once the device is safely tucked away.

He rolls his eyes at you. “You’ve said that about everything I’ve shown you.”

You had, but only because it was true. No matter what the trio of hybrids tried on, they all looked great. You weren’t sure what it was, but seeing them in something other than neutral sweat suits made them look even better than they already had. You were discovering they all had unique senses of fashion too. Taehyung preferred earth tones, soft fabrics and slouchy cardigans, Yoongi tended toward plaid overshirts and dark denim and Jimin had just come out of the dressing room in his sixth button down and second pair of chelsea boots. 

When the four of you had arrived at the mall that afternoon, you’d told them to go wild and call you when they were ready to check out. There was an entire section of the shopping center that catered specifically to hybrids and you were certain they’d be able to find everything they needed and more. You’d been all set to sequester yourself in a booth in the food court and indulge your hybrid research habit, but Taehyung had fixed you with a forlorn look the moment you tried to part with them and Jimin had insisted that you personally review every piece of clothing he put on. You wouldn’t deny that you were having fun, but surreptitiously trying to google what every little thing they did meant without getting caught was getting harder and harder. 

Jimin breezes past you to the semi-circle of mirrors on the far end of the fitting rooms, brushing his tail against your shins as he passes. That was another thing that had changed. Since the talk you’d had with the boys last night, it seemed like they were always finding some excuse to touch you or brush up against you . You didn’t know if it was a manifestation of their cat genes or them just wanting physical reassurance that you were there, but it seemed like every time you turned around there was a tail curling around your calf or a nose tip against your ear or a shoulder brushing your own. You were practically wreathed in them. Even Yoongi hadn’t seemed to mind when your fingertips had brushed against each other at breakfast when you’d passed him the juice. You didn’t know if you should count that as progress, but you want to. 

You’re not entirely used to physical contact and nearly every time Taehyung rubs his cheek on the top of your head or Jimin reaches out to link your fingers together, you jump. It feels strange, to have people be so blatantly physically affectionate with you. It’s not like you dislike it, exactly, it’ll just take some getting used to. Whatever adjustments you need to make, you know you’ll need to make them quickly. You don’t think the hybrids will give up on friendly hugs just because you never initiate them first.  

“Y/N-ah,”Jimin calls, catching your attention. He’s twisting this way and that on the platform, trying to catch his reflection in every possible angle. He hums in disappointment as he turns back to the front, tail waving behind him. “This collar,” he says, tugging on the offending band of bright green plastic around his neck, “-is ruining my outfit. We’ll need to get real ones today.” 

You feel like a stone has settled in your stomach. Your shoulders sag, but if the leopard hybrid notices, he doesn’t say anything. “Yeah,” you reply. “Yeah, you’re right.” In truth, you’d hoped to put it off for a little while longer. Collaring and leashing a hybrid had always seemed odd to you. After all, weren’t they people too? The law was the law, you knew, but something about publicly and visibly marking someone as property...well, the morality of it was gray at best. The temporary collars had provided you with a stay from the inevitable, but there was no avoiding it any longer, you supposed. They’d have to get collars. 

“I saw a store for them a couple shops down,” Taehyung supplies as he steps out of his dressing room in a white linen shirt and cream drawstring pants. “We could go there?” 

“That works for me...Taehyung, one of your buttons is in the wrong hole.” 

The tiger hybrid squints down at his shirt, feels blindly for the hole he missed, but can’t seem to find it. 

“No,” you tell him. “Not that one, the other- do you just want me to fix it?”

He pauses and looks up at you for a solid three seconds before giving a single, slow nod. 

You come to stand in front of him and start undoing the buttons from the top. There’s only four of them but each one you pop open reveals more and more of his honey brown skin and prominent collar bones. Your fingers brush his skin accidentally and he chuffs happily, one hand resting on your lower back as you start buttoning him up again. Heat starts crawling up your neck unbidden. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, you can feel the warmth of his palm, how long his fingers are. He presses you closer until your arms are nearly flat against your chest as you try to finish buttoning him up. It’s hard to move squished between the insistent pressure of his hand and the- surprisingly- hard line of his body, but you make do. “There!” You pat him gently on the chest as you finish the last button. “All done.”

He dips forward and rubs his cheek against your forehead, rumbling so deep in his chest that the vibrations pass into you. “Thank you.” He releases you and pulls away, but as he does, his lips brush against your hairline. You try not to read too deep into it. 

The tiger hybrid sidles over to his friend in the mirror, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s waist and dipping his head into his neck. Jimin reaches back and scratches behind one of his ears and your heart swells in your chest. It was nice to see them be so openly affectionate with each other. They’re so close in a way you can’t even begin to understand. It’s beautiful. 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you thumb the screen to life. An incoming call from Mr. Seo. “You guys keep trying stuff on,” you tell the pair, already standing to make your way out of the dressing room. “I’ve gotta take this.”  They both call at you to hurry back and you give them a shout of assent as you rush away. 

The second you’re outside the store, you answer. “Hello?”

“Ms. L/N,” Mr. Seo’s voice crackles on the other end of the line. “I trust you’ve settled in well.” It isn’t a question and the tone of his voice makes it clear that he doesn’t wish to spend what precious time he has exchanging pleasantries with you. 

“Yeah, everything’s okay.” Everything had most certainly not been okay when you’d emergency dialed him two days ago about the tiger on your couch. The text he’d sent you back six hours later had told you to figure it out. You had and you knew you weren’t his responsibility, but him tossing you in the deep end was still a sore spot for you. 

“There’s been a change of plans.” 

You grimace. Straight to it, then. “What’s going on?” 

“Black Mountain Canines- the company your uncle purchased two of the hybrids from- changed their pick-up date. They want you to come get them in person today.”

“Pick-up?” You frown. “No, they were supposed to drop them off.”

“They were,” Mr. Seo confirms, “But it’s apparently no longer profitable for them to drive all the way into Seoul to hand-deliver two of their charges. They also claim they’re incurring additional expenses by feeding and housing two hybrids who’ve already been purchased, but we’ll see about that when we arrive.”

Your anxiety spikes and your fingers wrap tighter around your phone. You’d promised the boys a whole day out. All you’d done so far was get them phones of their own and furniture for their room. There was still so much to do, so much to see. “What about Yoongi and Jimin and Taehyung?” You blurt out.

Mr. Seo sighs and his breath crackles over the receiver. “Those are the cats, I assume? I suggest you let them know sooner rather than later that they’ll have to share their space.” There’s a flurry of movement on his end of the line, the sound of someone calling his name and papers shuffling. “I have to go; they need me to look over some case files.” He tells you. “I’ll be at Haneul Tower to pick you up in three hours. Be downstairs waiting.”And the line clicks off. 

You sigh and hang up. What were you going to tell the boys? Day one of your new friendship and you were already breaking promises. 

“Trouble?” Yoongi’s voice right behind you makes you flinch and whirl on him. His ears press back against his head and he takes a step back at your sudden movements. 

“Sorry!” You tell him, forcing your spine to relax. “Sorry, I didn’t notice you there; I thought you were still shopping. ”

“I can tell,” he snarks, but there’s no heat behind it. His eyes trace the line of your shoulders, still tense and flick to the phone in your hand. “I dropped my stuff at the register. What’s going on?”

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, nerves making your stomach ache. “C’mon,” you tell him, walking back into the store. “Let’s pay and grab some lunch. I’ll tell you when we sit down.” He follows after you a few paces behind, trying not to let worry prick in him at the anxious shift in your scent. Something was about to change, he was sure, and not entirely for the better. 

Twenty minutes later, the four of you are sitting in the food court, a mess of shopping bags at your feet and a bowl of tteokbokki between you. Yoongi and Jimin had picked out all the fish cakes first and were bickering good-naturedly over who the last one should go to, but Taehyung seemed content to just gnaw at his rice cakes. You’d hardly touched anything, your eyes flicking back to the time on your phone. 1:20 P.M. Two hours and forty minutes ‘til Mr. Seo would be at your apartment to pick you up and bring you to get two more of the hybrids your uncle had bought. You push a rice cake around on your paper plate with the end of your chopstick. Well, no point delaying the inevitable. 

“Hey, guys?” You call softly. Three pairs of ears swivel toward you immediately. The words die in your throat and your tongue feels like lead as they look at you, all their eyes focused and expectant. You clear your throat and force yourself to continue. “So...you know how I…” You search for the right word, but there’s really no other way to say it. “...inherited you guys from my uncle?” 

Taehyung’s eyes flick toward Jimin and the leopard hybrid brushes his tail against the tiger’s. Silent communication you couldn’t even begin to decipher. “Yeah,” Yoongi says, tossing his chopsticks down and leaning back in his chair. “I told them.”

That was right. What you’d blurted out at Yoongi yesterday on the street you had yet to disclose to his juniors. “Thanks, Yoongi,” You tell him, meaning every word of it. He’d spared you from yet another uncomfortable conversation. 

“...For what it’s worth, we’re glad it’s you,” Taehyung tells you, his tail twining around your ankle under the table. He looks at his hyungs for confirmation and when neither of them deny it, he settles his amber gaze back on you. “We like being here with you, even if you didn’t pick us. It’s...It’s nice.”

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips at his words. He beams at you, his boxy smile soft despite the sharp incisors poking his bottom lip. “I like having you guys around, too,” you admit, taking the time to meet each of their eyes. Jimin purrs as you look at him, the corners of his mouth curling. When your gaze meets Yoongi’s, his ears twitch but he doesn’t look away. He doesn’t blink either, just holds your stare with an intensity that makes heat crawl up your neck. You suddenly remember the warm stretch of his body over your’s, the sensation of his lips against your neck. You snatch your eyes away and cough to cover your lapse in speech.  “It would’ve been scary, I think, if I had to deal with all this alone.” 

You couldn’t even imagine it.That clinically clean apartment with its blank white walls and its imposing emptiness would have driven you down until you couldn’t stand it anymore. You’d always had a little pit of loneliness inside you. You didn’t know how long it’d been there. Maybe it always had been, a seed of something sad and dark at the core of your soul. You’d done well keeping it contained. You felt it in your goshiwon, but your room was small. It couldn’t grow beyond your keeping. In Oliver’s penthouse, it would’ve had endless room to sprawl and with no one to clip it back, you would’ve choked to death on vines of doubt.

“There are others,” you tell them, before you can down spiral into the mire of your own thoughts. “He bought other hybrids before he died. They weren’t supposed to be coming until next week but their company wants me to come get them today.” 

The mood at the table shifts almost immediately. Taehyung’s ears and tail sag, Jimin’s smile goes sharp at the edges and Yoongi’s lip curls. “How many others?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. You notice he does that when he’s nervous or uncomfortable. It’s a defense mechanism, no matter how at ease it makes him seem. 

“Four,” you answer and the bobcat hybrid’s ears tilt back in irritation. “Two are coming home today and the other two toward the end of next week.” Jimin doesn’t say anything, but you see the tip of his tail flicking back and forth. He’s annoyed. Taehyung drops a hand onto the smaller hybrid’s back and rubs circles in it, trying to soothe him. 

“Maybe it’ll be okay?” The tiger hybrid offers. He’s trying his best to be diplomatic, but you hear the strain in the deep timbre of his voice. “Having other cats around again might be nice. We used to live with a lot back at the center…”

You wince. “...they’re canines.” Almost immediately, all of their ears go flat against their skulls and they hiss in unison. Yoongi stifles himself the quickest, setting a hand on Jimin’s knee and squeezing to get the leopard hybrid to get a hold of himself. 

“Hybrids of different species don’t play well together,” he explains. “Especially not when our animals are solitary in the wild. The only reason Jimin, Tae and I are able to stand sharing the same territory is because we’ve known each other since we were kids and we’ve had to do it before.”

Before? A question forms in the back of your mind, but now isn’t the time to ask it.

“We don’t like sharing what’s ours,” Jimin continues for his hyung, interlocking his fingers with yours on the plastic table top. “It’s instinctual.”

“I know, I know.” You squeeze his hand lightly, trying to reassure him. “But the apartment is big; can’t you avoid each other starting out?”

All three of them give you a strange look and Jimin’s lips curl in a way that isn’t quite a smile. “...right,” he purrs, a little delayed. “The apartment.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, anxiety sinking its claws into you. “I’m really sorry to spring this on you guys, I know it’s not great, but…” Your shoulders sag. “I don’t want to have promised someone a home and rip the rug out from under them, you know?” You knew what that felt like. You wouldn’t wish that feeling on your worst enemy. “I’m just...I’m worried that they’re not being treated well.”

“They were up for sale,” Yoongi drawls. “They definitely aren’t.” 

The taxi ride back to Haneul Tower is uncomfortably quiet. Jimin still holds your hand and Taehyung still leans on your shoulder, but nobody says a word. You help them carry their bags upstairs and drop them off in the master bedroom. You’d told them they could have separate rooms if they wanted, but they’d insisted on sharing, so you thought it was only fair that they get the largest room in the penthouse. Clothes went onto hangars and into closets and before you knew it, there were only ten minutes until Mr. Seo’s arrival. 

“You don’t have to go,” Taehyung huffs. He’s got you wrapped in a bear- well, you suppose a tiger hug and his cheek is mashed against the top of your head. You don’t even think he’s actively scenting you at this point, just keeping you from leaving. “Send your assistant instead and stay here with us.”

You let out a puff of laughter and pat the hybrid on the back in a way you hope is soothing. “Mr. Seo isn’t my assistant, buddy, he’s my uncle’s attorney.” You give a little tug away from him and he lets you go, albeit with a sad little mrow that makes him sound just like a disappointed cat. “I couldn’t ask him to do that. The only reason he’s coming is because they broke the contract. And I can’t drive.” 

The look Taehyung gives you is so downtrodden that you toy with the idea of calling the whole day off and staying with them- but no. You can’t bail out now, especially not with what you’d put Mr. Seo through when the first group of hybrids were delivered. “I’ll be back before you know it,” You tell him with a steadfast smile. 

“You’d better,” Jimin says, nudging the taller hybrid out of the way. Taehyung gives a half-hearted growl, but settles as Yoongi squeezes his shoulder. “The longer you’re away, the longer you’ll have to sit in the stench of those mutts.”

You frown. “Jimin-”

“Only joking,” He soothes, bringing both of your hands up to his cheeks. You don’t believe him, but you don’t press it. The leopard hybrid nuzzles into your palms, purring happily at the feeling of your skin against his. Your palms nearly burn from how warm he is. You feel a warm puff of air against your fingers and tense as Jimin presses all ten of them against his lips. 

“Jimin.” Yoongi’s voice is hard, but his junior’s lips curl up in a satisfied smile, one of his incisors pricking at the pad of your index finger. 

“Hurry back,” he murmurs. You try not to shiver at the feeling of his plush lips moving against your oversensitive fingertips. 

“I’ll do my best!” You say,  a pained smile tugging your lips apart. He hums in response and drops your hands, his fingers trailing across yours as he lets you go. 

“Hyung,” he calls over his shoulder. “Is there anything you’d like to say to Y/N-ah?”

“Don’t let them scent you.” Is all Yoongi says as he breezes toward the stairs. “You know better now.” 

It’s as much as you were expecting. “I’ll see you guys later,” You tell them as you head out the door. “Finish setting your phones up and text me if you need anything!”

True to his word, Mr. Seo is parked out front at 4 o’clock on the dot. You haven’t seen him in a little over a week and you’d almost forgotten how imposing he was. He cuts a sharp figure against the backdrop of the bustling street, dressed in all black and leaning against a brand new Buick Enclave. The poor valet stationed at the front door looks like he’s been trying to work up the courage to ask to park his car for the past twenty minutes and sags in relief as you start heading over.

The lawyer dips his head in acknowledgement at you and checks his watch. “Miracle of miracles,” he says, popping open the passenger side door for you. “You’re on time.”

“I was late one time,” you huff, sliding past him and into your seat.

“And that was enough,” he snips back, closing your door before you can come up with a retort. You grumble to yourself, but don’t press him. You know he’s right. He’d gone out of his way to help you and you’d put him out. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell him as he settles into his seat and reaches for his seatbelt. “It won’t happen again; I know you’ve got other things to do.”

He stills and looks at you over the gold frames of his glasses. For a long moment he holds your gaze, unblinking. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek. Had you done something wrong? 

Finally Mr. Seo blinks and finishes buckling himself in. “I apologize for staring, I wasn’t sure if I’d heard you correctly.” He push starts his car and pulls away from the curb. “I never thought I’d see the day a L/N would apologize to me.” He edges the car into the steady stream of Seoul traffic and you’re off, zooming toward the freeway.

Silence fills the car again, but as Mr. Seo takes on-ramp, you work up the courage to ask your question. “Did Oliver never apologize to you?”

Mr. Seo snorts and it’s such an undignified sound that you almost can’t believe it comes from him. “You could tell your uncle the sky was blue and he’d argue that it was red until he was. And your grandfather-” He seems to catch himself, reigning back whatever meager bits of his personality had managed to slip through the cracks in his normally flawless veneer. You’re all ears.

Up until a week and a half ago, you hadn’t known you had any family, much less an uncle who owned buildings and bugattis. Now you were finding out that you had a grandfather too. “What about my grandfather?” The word feels strange in your mouth. It’d been years since you’d followed the word ‘my’ up with any type of familial relation. 

Mr. Seo cuts his eyes at you, and flicks them back to the front. “Nothing,” he replies, clearly done talking about him. “I spoke out of turn.” He reaches forward and turns on the radio, the sound of national news filling the silence.

You pout and slouch in your seat, disappointment setting in as the promise of new information slipped out of your grasp.

The rest of the drive is easy. Mr. Seo takes the highway out of Seoul and up into the foothills but you’re asleep before he even finds the exit. You’d slept more in the past two days than you had in the previous three weeks, but it seemed like years of bad habits were catching up to you.

Last night, you’d passed out halfway through the second movie snuggled up between Jimin and Taehyung. They’d been so warm and soft and the quiet thrumming of their heartbeats had lulled you to sleep before you knew what was happening.You’d woken up with them still curled around you and -maybe most surprising of all- Yoongi plating breakfast in the kitchen.

Still, it seemed even twelve hours of the best sleep you’d gotten in years and a peaceful morning devoid of stress -for the most part- hadn’t been enough.

You wake up just as the asphalt transitions into gravel, the sound of it crunching under the tires and the car’s shaking waking you up. You’re bleary-eyed and confused, but a sign up ahead snaps you to wakefulness. Standing like a guardian over a chain link fence topped with barbed wire is a metal sign, imposing as it is tall: Black Mountain K-9s, written in stark font.

“We’re here,” Mr. Seo says, as if it’s not obvious. He kills the engine and without its purring to distract you, you feel nerves starting to boil in your belly. What kind of place was this? You half expect sinister organ music to kick on and lightning to start flashing from black clouds. Neither of those things happen, though. The sky remains startlingly clear and the only things you can pick up are the sounds of whistles being blown, dozens of people doing call and response, and one voice, louder than all the others screaming for people to ‘Run faster! Get those knees up!’

You pop the door and step out of the car before Mr. Seo can open it for you and head around to the nose of the car, taking in the compound. 

“This facility produces some of the highest caliber bodyguards in the country,” He says, coming to stand beside you. The attorney rebuttons his suit jacket and flicks his sleeves up before settling his arms over his chest. “Politicians, celebrities, even a few former presidents all have hybrids from this training center.”

“It looks more like a prison,” You remark, nodding toward the barbed wire. “First big cat hybrids, now this...Why didn’t Oliver just get regular pets if he was lonely? Was he worried someone was after him?” 

“Anything I can tell you would be pure speculation,” He replies, walking away from you and heading for the callbox. “Your uncle very rarely confided in me.”

“But you were his attorney.” 

For just a second, the tight grip Mr. Seo has on his composure slips. His lips press together and his shoulders sag- but just as quickly as it’d lapsed, his mask is in place again. “Yes,” he says after a beat. “I was.” And he presses the button on the call box before you can pester him with any more questions about the dead men he’d known.

The call box crackles to life, speakers squealing with feedback. You flinch and slap your hands over your ears to protect them from the splitting sound. Mr. Seo doesn’t react at all and you’re stunned, wondering how he can stand it.

“Seo Seunghan and Y/N L/N for Lim Hangyeol.” 

The person on the other end doesn’t respond. The speaker cuts and a second later, the metal gate before you starts rolling to the side, pushed by invisible hands. It’s like a curtain going up at the theater. 

Before you lies a wide, dusty yard, devoid of any plant life. The thick-trunked trees and lush grasses of the surrounding mountainside had been stripped down to the roots here. All that remains are a few weeds poking out around the base of the long metal buildings that ring the fence, and even those seem like an intrusion. People are making use of the space in whatever way they can. A group of people with matching cropped black ears and docked tails run past you in four straight lines, all perfectly in step with each other. Over to your right, there’s a pack of teenagers working in pairs to scale a ten-foot tall sheer wooden wall and in the center of the field, twenty kids are running through taekwondo forms, supervised by a widely smiling instructor.

You’re in awe of it all. Every single person is like a cog in a well-oiled machine, all in the same black tactical pants and compression shirt. You’d never seen so many hybrids in one place before and certainly not all of the same breed.

Mr. Seo places a hand in the center of your back, steering you away from staring and toward a squat cement building.You let him lead you.

“When we get inside,” the lawyer begins, his voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “Let me speak first. If we can get him to admit to breaching the contract right away, it’ll be much easier to get him to agree to a settlement.”

You frown at that. “Why would we settle?” You ask him. “It’s not like I need the money.”

“It’s a matter of principle, Ms. L/N.” He sighs, pulling open the heavy metal door and ushering you into the building. “He did something wrong, and it’s most easy for him to bear the brunt of atonement financially. Without requiring damages be paid for breaches, contract law would collapse.” 

“Can’t you just have him apologize?”

Mr. Seo’s mouth twists up like he’s just tasted something unpleasant. “As you attorney, it is my duty to advise you against accepting restitution in the form of an apology. You’ll get a reputation for being a pushover.” 

You wanted to be anything but. “Alright, alright,” you concede, “Do whatever you think is best.”

The building you’ve ducked into seems to be an office. Along one wall are a set of metal folding chairs doing their best impression of a waiting room. Along the other is a metal door covered in peeling paint and one suspicious dent bearing a plaque that reads ‘DIRECTOR LIM’. Set between you and it is a desk covered in a mess of paperwork. An old desktop stands among it like an island in the ocean and middle aged hybrid woman in coke bottle glasses is hunched before it, tapping away at the keyboard at a mind-boggling speed. One of her ears twitches as the pair of you approach. 

“Take a seat,” she orders in a reedy voice, not bothering to look up from her work. “The Director will be with you shortly.”

“Send them in, Eunjung!” Someone shouts from behind the metal door  just as she’s finished. She doesn’t look up or stop typing or even acknowledge you two again. Mr. Seo takes it upon himself to breeze past her desk and open the door for you. 

The office is militaristically organized, all right angles and bare metal surfaces. There’s a black leather couch that’d seen better days to your left as you enter, a half empty water cooler to your right. Bookshelves lined with trophies and textbooks dominate the western wall. You scan the titles as you pass: Predatory Instinct: The Teaching and Training Canines, The Utility of Force, On Raising Hybrids, The Art of War, all dangerous and daunting as the man they belonged to.

Lim Hangyeol is the most grizzled man you’ve ever seen and the only other human besides yourself and Mr. Seo in the compound, it seems. He looks like a drill sergeant from an old action movie, his salt and pepper hair buzzed short and his face craggy with frown lines. There’s a semicircle of pockmark scars marring the skin of his right cheek and as you get closer, you realize they’re teeth marks. You shoot a concerned look to Mr. Seo, but he’s more focused on giving the director a shallow bow than allaying any of your fears. 

“Director,” He says, straightening back up. “Thank you for having us-”

“Spare me the bullshit,” The older man orders, kicking back his office chair and sinking back into it. “Take a seat. Let’s talk business.” 

A cold smile settles on your attorney’s lips and you see a cord twitching in his jaw, but he merely nods and replies in a breezy voice, “Of course.” 

The two of you do as you told, settling into two metal chairs in front of his desk. These ones are nicer than the folding ones in the waiting room, but no more comfortable. You try to slide yours forward only to find that it’s bolted to the floor. 

“Stops the dogs from throwin’ em when they get bad news,” Director Lim tells you as you uselessly tug at the legs. “Got tired of replacing windows.”

You grimace. If the awards on the bookshelf, what Mr. Seo had told you and the dozens of hybrids running boot camp drills outside were any indication, the man before you must’ve had some idea what he was doing. You didn’t end up providing security for high profile public figures without a smidge of credibility, you knew, but the bite marks on his cheek, the little crack about people throwing chairs at him and the way he’d referred to them as ‘dogs’ didn’t inspire confidence in you. 

This was your first time visiting a place that produced hybrids, you realized. You’d never even been into a shelter before and certainly not a breeding center. Were they all like this? Devoid of anything soft or comforting, rigid with rules and regulations? Had Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung come from a place like this? You don’t know and you’re not sure you’d like the answer if you did. 

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice,” Mr. Seo starts, popping open the hinges on his briefcase and pulling out a few sheaves of paper. “After the sudden cancellation of your company’s contract with Ms. L/N, I was concerned for the state of our business relationship.” He slides one of the packets across the desk to the director. 

“If I remember correctly,” Director Lim says, scanning the lines of ink and unintelligible legalese, “Me and your boss signed for delivery, not me and whoever this little girl is you brought.” 

Your eyes narrow and your lips curl, but before you can give voice to the nasty thing crawling up your throat, Mr. Seo gives a subtle shake of his head and taps you twice on the knee, out of eyeshot of the director. You grumble, but cage it behind your teeth. 

“See?” The man jabs one gnarled finger at the page, right over your late uncle’s flourishing signature. “It says it right there: L/N Oliver. Last I checked, he was dead. I’m not holding on to a dead man’s dogs. ”

That same muscle tenses in Mr. Seo’s jaw. “The contract states that Black Mountain Canines would deliver the hybrids my client purchased to his residence on December the eighteenth and that they would be received by a proxy if he was unavailable. You were made aware of the fact that he was unavailable, as well as the fact that he now has a proxy-

“I’ll pay the goddamn fine!” The Director barks, throwing his hands up in the air. “Christ above, I don’t know why he wanted those two fuck-ups in the first place, but I don’t want them on my property a second longer.” 

You shoot Mr. Seo a look of confusion, but he just watches, blasé, as the Director rifles through his desk drawers. The man finds what he’s looking for and drops two manila folders on top of the contract. “The pair of them are useless. If it weren’t for my reputation, I’d’ve had them both sent to shelters years ago. Or put down, but you know how touchy the law is about that.”

“I don’t.” You say, your voice edging dangerously close to a snarl. It slips out before you can stop it. Mr. Seo shoots you a warning look and you ball your fists up in your sweater sleeves, fingernails biting crescent moons into your palms with the effort of keeping your mouth shut. 

You can’t stand this man, you decide. He’s awful. You should’ve known that from the moment you saw elementary school aged hybrids stumbling through taekwondo drills with their ears taped and bandages on their tails. You’re going to take whatever hybrids Oliver bought, get them the fuck out of there and never look back. 

If Director Lim had heard you growl at him, he gives no sign of it, just flips open the folders. “To be honest, I should be paying you to take them off my hands. They’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass since they aged out of training. I told your uncle he could have his pick of the litter for what he was paying, but he wanted a wide-eyed buffoon and a mutt who’d rip your hand off soon as look at you.” Clipped to the insides are photos of two men, staring back at you in black and white. 

One has the same black and tan cropped ears as every other hybrid you’ve seen thus far. Unlike them, he’s smiling. His eyes are little upturned crescent moons and he beams at you through the photo paper. There’s so much light in his face it’s nearly blinding. 

The other is not nearly as inviting. The photo is taken at an odd angle and it’s blurry at the edges, like whoever took it was much shorter than the subject and had to zoom in to even get the shot. His ears, larger than any of the other hybrids and longer furred, are pinned back against his head. His jaw is clenched and he glowers down into the lens, one eye soot black and the other piercing blue. 

There are stats listed on the pages behind their photos: height, weight, shot records and the like. Among them, you see their call signs, highlighted in yellow: Hope and Monster. 

“I don’t know where I went wrong with him,” the director says, tapping Hope’s photo. “He went through all the training, passed all the tests, but when it comes down to it, he just doesn’t have the instinct.” He gives a single shake of his head, clicks the tip of his tongue against his teeth. “No one wants a guard dog that’d sooner talk an intruder’s ear off than actually guard what he’s supposed to. He’s not good for much but nannying the pups, but he’s too soft on them too.”

A light bulb clicks on and you realize the hybrid in question had been the one instructing the kids outside in the center of the yard, his tail wagging a mile a minute as they completed another form correctly.

“Now this bastard…” the director continues, jamming a finger onto the second photo with so much force, it rattled the cup of pens on his desk. “Is my biggest failure.” He crosses his arms and kicks back in his chair, his dislike of the hybrid in question obvious. “His mother was the cornerstone of this facility for nearly a decade. I sold her pups to assemblymen and actors alike. Centers around the country wanted pups with her genetics. If it weren’t for her, we’d never have grown to this size.” He sounds wistful as he spreads his hands out, gesturing around himself like a king taking in his holdings. “But all good things come to an end,” He sighs. “A pack of wild hybrids settled a little higher up on the mountain.” His face darkens and his lips twist. “Wolves,” he snarls with all the disdain he can muster. 

“All that about them being noble and self-sacrificing? Complete and utter bullshit,” He scoffs. “They’re transient lowlifes who’d slit your throat as soon as look at you. At first I didn’t care. They stayed on their side of the mountain and I stayed on mine, but then they started sneaking down here at night to steal my food and fuck my dogs. By the time I managed to get the cops out here, they’d cleared out and my top breeder had gone with them.”

He let out a low chuckle and shook his head. “I tell you, I thought I was ruined. But wouldn’t you know it, she came stumbling back here six months later, barefoot and howling to be let in and heavy with some wild thing’s pup.” Director Lim snaps both the folders shut and slides them to you across the desk. “The thing about breeding hybrids is, the money’s all in the bloodlines. No one wants a dog with mystery genetics. The only way to solve that problem is to cut it off at the root- but it was already too late by the time she got here.” 

You feel sick to your stomach. You hope he isn’t implying what you think he is- that hybrid children he hadn’t planned out himself were mistakes in need of correction- but you know he is. Deep in your gut you know.

“And she spoiled him. She let him run roughshod over everyone and everybody in this compound. I tried telling her wild hybrids need a firmer hand- he certainly did if we were gonna break that wolf he’s got inside him, but she wouldn’t hear it. I tried to crop him with the other pups his age, he gave me these,” he said, gesturing to the teeth marks in his cheeks. “We keep him shut up away from the others, now, in the back when he can’t bother anyone. He gets his meals delivered but we don’t ever let him out.” The grizzled man shakes his head. “A drain on resources is what he is.”

“And his mother?” You ask, quietly. 

“Eunjung?” he questions. “You met her on the way in.” The director stands and unclips a ring of keys from his belt buckle, making his way around the desk and gesturing for you and Mr. Seo to follow. “I’ve got her doing desk work now. Gotta keep her close so she doesn’t cause any more trouble.” He pushes open the door to his office, barks something at his secretary and steps outside, not looking back to see if you two are following. 

You shoot Mr. Seo a look before you stand and he meets it, evenly. “We’ll discuss this in the car,” he says, stuffing papers back into his briefcase and flicking the clasps shut. Oh, you most certainly will discuss ‘it’ in the car. 

You don’t really know what it is or where to even begin. The kids with bandaged ears? The fact that Director Lim seemingly decided who was allowed to see the sun and who wasn’t? You think back to the conversation you’d had with Jimin, Taehyung and Yoongi last night. Right now, it seems years away, in some unreachable, idyllic past before you knew how breeding centers worked and how security hybrids were made. You feel foolish. Who were you to try to get them to let go of their pain and their hurt? If what they’d been through was even a little like what was going on here, they wouldn’t be able to for a long time. You’re angry. You’re disgusted. You are unquantifiably fucking sad. 

You pass Eunjung on your way out. In your time in the director’s office, she’s pulled her ash brown hair into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck. Peeking out of the collar of her sweatshirt you can see a faded scar in the shape of a ring, little puncture marks pale and glossy. It looked similar to the one on the director’s cheek, but this one was a complete circle and not ragged at all, like she’d stayed completely still while it was given. Teeth marks. 

You swallow. You want to do something, to give her some words of encouragement, but you have no idea what to say. You still don’t as you slow to a stop beside her desk, but you open your mouth to speak anyway. “I’m sorry,” You tell her, with all the sincerity in your heart. 

She doesn’t answer, but one cropped ear flicks toward you and her fingers slow in their incessant race across her keyboard. 

You turn to go. Mr. Seo was holding the door open for you and you can hear the director barking orders at a group of trainees to run an obstacle course faster. Just as you set foot over the threshold, she speaks. Her voice is so quiet, you have to strain to hear her over the steady clack-click-clack of her nails on the keys. 

“He likes green things,” she says, not looking up from her work. “And old books.” 

You look over your shoulder at her. Her face is a mask of neutrality, her eyes clear and her mouth set in a relaxed line. She looks fine, but there’s an ocean of meaning behind her words. You see her, just for a moment, as she’d been all those years ago, barefoot in the snow and begging for shelter, her stomach full with one of the moon’s own children. You commit the sight of her to memory. Then you turn and you go.

The director is waiting outside, shielding his eyes from the sun and regaling Mr. Seo with some long-winded explanation on the best way to treat hip dysplasia in Doberman hybrids. “Where to?” you ask, effectively cutting him off mid-sentence. 

The man gives you a disgruntled look but despite the anxiety you feel spiking in your belly, you meet it evenly. Once upon a time, anyone in a position of authority looking at you the way he was would’ve sent you into a tailspin of self-doubt and nerves, leaving you shivering as your heartbeat thrummed in your ears, warning you of non-existent danger. If you were honest, it still did- but you didn’t have the luxury of running away and hiding anymore, not when there were people who needed you. 

“Hope’s bags are in the barracks. He just needs to grab them, and he can be on his merry way,” The direction grunts. “Monster’s still locked up, so I’ll-”

“I’ll go.” You can feel Mr. Seo stiffen beside you. 

“Ms. Y/N-”

“If he’s really that aggressive,” you start, your eyes not leaving the director’s for a moment. “Wouldn’t it be better for me to meet him now instead of when we’re packed into a car on a two hour car ride?” Director Lim narrows his eyes at you, but you don’t falter. You hold your hand out for the key. Your boldness surprises you. He drops the key ring into your open palm and you wrap your fingers around it, stuffing it in your pocket before he can snatch them back. You turn on your heels and march off in the direction he tilts his head in, nothing but a hiss of your name from Mr. Seo’s lips to accompany you. 

You walk quickly, eyes straight and willing your legs to go faster with every stride. It’s a long way across the compound but the less time you spend walking, the less time you have to stew in anxiety. None of the hybrids training in little packs spread across the yard pay you any mind- except for Hope. 

Your path takes you directly behind the group of kids he’s working with. You give them a wide berth, not wanting to disturb them, but you get a little distracted. Your steps slow for just a moment as you drink him in. He’s tall- the same height as Taehyung, if you’re judging it right, but there’s an ease about him the tiger hybrid hasn’t yet mastered. Everything about Taehyung is pulled in. He’s always coiled tight, like he’s preparing to spring forward at any moment, all his energy drawn into the center of his being. Even last night, when you’d been cuddled up with him on the couch, he’d pulled you tight against his side, shifting and rearranging himself til you both fit on one cushion. He’d held you tight through both films, his tail curled around the both of you and his spine tight, like if he let himself relax for a moment, you’d both turn to dust on the wind. 

Hope has no such fear. Everything about him is spread wide open, from the heart-shaped smile on his lips to his arms as he demonstrates a series of punches to his little pack of students. They all watch him with rapt attention, ears perked up and bandaged tails wagging. One of them asks him a question and he laughs, ruffles their hair. He laughs in a way you’ve never seen before, shoulders shaking like he can’t contain the force of it alone. It makes your heart flip. 

His ears twitch, picking up the change in the cadence of your footsteps. He looks up and your eyes meet for the first time. He looks surprised to see you, for a moment, face blank- but then it melts into a soft smile, brimming with affection you’ve done nothing to earn. You snatch your gaze away and fix it to the dirt in front of you, embarrassed at being caught. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him cock his head to the side in confusion, but he doesn’t go after you. All the better, you’re all but running away from him now. 

You shuffle across the compound in a blur of scuffed sneakers and frayed nerves. You barely give yourself time to look up at the small cinder block building before you, shoving the key in the padlock before you can lose what unearned confidence you have left. You twist it, yank the rusted thing open, take a deep breath and enter.

You don’t know what you’d been expecting, but it’s certainly not what you find. The way Director Lim had spoken about him and this place, you’d been expecting cobwebs on the ceiling, blood spatters on the wall and rusty nails on the floor. What’s before you is almost entirely the opposite.

The room is a veritable Eden. 

There are vines climbing every available wall, wrapping around structural posts and digging their way between concrete blocks. Every surface is crammed full of flowering plants in makeshift pots: lilies in old water jugs, violets in a worn out boot, black-eyed susans dripping orange petals from an upturned helmet. The floor is in a similar state, ferns and foxgloves turning what little space around his bed there is into a meadow. It’s beautiful. 

“He likes green things,” you marvel, stepping into the room and pushing the door shut behind you. It seemed every living thing that’d been uprooted to expand the compound had found a second life here, sheltered from the Director’s violence. Maybe the hybrid who lived here had too. 

A plant different from all the others catches your eye. It’s set up on the cardboard box serving as his bedside table and it’s the only one in a real pot from what you can tell. It looks just like a miniature tree, complete with knobs on it’s trunk and tiny leaves. You let out a little sound of wonder and crouch in front of it, your fingers reaching out on their own to trail across the delicate branches-

A massive hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you cold. “Don’t touch that.” 

You hadn’t heard him approach, but now you knew he was there. You could feel his presence behind you, heavy and warm. He’s looming over you. You swallow and make your arm go limp in his grip. No need to give him a reason. “I won’t,” You tell him. “Will you please let go of my wrist?”

He drops your arm without protest and relief floods your body. You weren’t sure if there was a hybrid version of lockjaw and you certainly weren’t itching to find out. You sit back on your heels and struggle to your feet, still hyper aware of the person behind you, his eyes boring holes into the back of your head. By the time you turn around, he’s back where he came from, standing in the entrance for a bathroom you hadn’t seen, half hidden behind a curtain of vines. 

He looks different than the others. You’d been expecting that, but the full-length fluffy tail held stiffly behind his back and the long-furred ears pointed away from you are still a surprise. His fur, instead of being in rigid black and tan points, is marked by whorls of black, brown and gray. Instead of the lean musculature all the other hybrids had -all trim waists and narrow ankles- he’s sturdier, his shoulders broad and the veins in his forearms popping as he clenches his fists. He’s looking at you with that mismatched glare, his chin tilted toward his chest and his eyes shining aquamarine and obsidian. 

“If you’re new,” he starts, voice raspy. “They should’ve told you: you’re supposed to knock before you come in.”

“No, I’m not-”

“You can leave the food over there.” He nods toward a little plastic folding table jammed into one corner. It’s the one surface in his room that’s devoid of plants and there’s nothing on it besides a metal cafeteria tray, licked clean. “I won’t move when your back is turned.”

“I’m not here to deliver your food.”

He frowns, brows drawing together as his shoulders tense. “Then why are you…?”

You ball your hands up in your sweater sleeves and turn to face him full on. “I’m here to take you home with me.” You tell him. “They didn’t tell you?”

He laughs, but it’s a cold sound, devoid of joy. “Nobody tells me anything.”

Based on the short conversation you’d had with Director Lim, his sudden cancellation of contracts and the way he seemed ready to bulldoze over anything and everyone that didn’t fit his agenda, he didn’t seem the sharing type. Still it was hard to believe he hadn’t told him he’d be leaving the compound that’s been his home for over twenty years. 

“You don’t have to come with me,” you add, softly. “If you don’t want to. I know I’m a stranger. But you can leave-”

“I can’t go anywhere.” He taps the collar around his neck. At first, you’d thought it was the same as the ones every other hybrid had been wearing. You can see now that it isn’t. Theirs had all been leather with thin silver buckles holding them in place. His was leather too, but the band was broader and double-layered. There’s a little box on the side with hinges and a small drawing of a lighting bolt. A shock collar. 

Your stomach turns. 

You take a slow step toward him, but the second you do, his ears go flat against his head and he pulls his lips back, revealing sharp teeth. You freeze, hands held up and the keys dangling from your thumb. “I have the keys,” you say, extending them toward him. 

His eyes flick from your face, to the keys in your hand and back again, like he doesn’t believe what’s happening, like he can’t believe you’d actually want him free. The silence drags out into a little eternity before he speaks again. “If I try to unlock it, it’ll shock me.”

You blink up at him and risk another slow step forward, hoping you’ve caught his meaning correctly. This time, he doesn’t growl but his ears stay pinned back as he watches you through narrowed eyes. You close the distance between the two of you. 

When you were six, your mom scraped together enough money to take you to Busan for your birthday. You’d spent the day down at the beach, building sand castles with sea shell windows and wading through tide pools. After the sun had set, someone had set off fireworks and you’d watched them cuddled up in your mom’s arms, eyes wide and filled with a riot of colors you had no name for. It’s strange, you know. The ocean is miles away, but that’s what he smells like: the sea and the sand, and the last curls of smoke from homemade bottle rockets. He smells like that day. 

You lift your hands to the clasp on his neck and slide the key home. You twist it and the collar falls to the ground, a monster that can’t hurt him anymore. His skin is warm under your fingers, but puckered with scar tissue. There’s a ring of it around his neck, branching with whatever current had run through him in different directions. There’s no way this was legal, no way anyone with half a heart could treat another person like this. Your fingers trail one of the splits over his adam’s apple and he swallows beneath your touch, snatching your wrist again. 

“Dont.” His voice is cold. You blink, shaking off whatever spell you’d been under and shuffle back quickly, eager to give him space. He cradles his throat with one long-fingered hand, massaging the skin. He rolls his neck and you look away. You shouldn’t stare; the last thing you want is to make him uncomfortable. “I’ll go with you,” he rasps, answering the question before you can ask it again.

You gape for a second. You really hadn’t expected it to be that easy. “Really?” You can’t stop a note of relief from creeping into your voice.

“Anywhere’s better than here.” He answers back. So, you were a means to an end. It doesn’t bother you. You’ll be whatever you need to be to get him away from this place and that man who seemed to only want to drive him down. 

“Do you need time to pack, or-?”

He gives a firm shake of his head. “There’s nothing from this place I want to keep.” And that’s the end of it. You push open the door and stride back out into the cold mountain air, trying your best to exude the confidence you know you lack. The hybrid slinks behind you, head hunched between his shoulders and every step stiff. He hesitates at the threshold and looks up at you, uncertainty written in the rigid line of his spine. He’s nervous. He has every right to be. 

How long had he spent in that little cinderblock room, shut away from every living thing? How long had he spent being told that he was a monster? You didn’t believe it, not for one second. No one who was as violent as the director had painted him out to be could’ve raised that garden. 

He leans out of the door frame, sniffs the air and lurches forward, out of the shadow of his room, His shoulders bunch up even higher around his head and he goes stiff like he’s waiting for a shock or a shot or a shout- but none comes. The sun is still shining and he’s barefoot in the sand, standing for the first time in years under the open sky. He exhales in a short puff and it looks like he’s going to walk beside you- but he turns on his heels on goes back inside. 

You make a little noise of distress in the back of your throat. Had he changed his mind? Did he not want to come with you anymore? You go to call his name out of concern- but realize you don’t know it. All you have is the call sign he’d been given and you sure as fuck aren’t calling him ‘Monster’. You don’t have to flounder for long. He comes back out two seconds later, cradling the bonsai that’d caught your attention to his chest. 

“I’ll take this,” he mutters, shuffling into place behind you. You can’t smother the smile that starts tugging at your lips. Yeah, no one hateful would hold a little tree with as much tenderness as an infant. 

You give him a little nod. “There’s a terrace where I live,” you tell him, starting your trek across the yard once again. “It’s got a garden and a little greenhouse on it. It’s not very big, and it’s not as pretty as your’s, but you could grow new things there, if you wanted.”

His ears twitch in response, but he keeps his glower firmly focused on the plant in his arms as he shuffles along beside you. It’s then you notice he’s barefoot. “Do you wanna go back and get your shoes?” You ask, trying to make the question sound as innocuous as possible.

“Don’t have any,” he grumbles back. “Don’t need them; I never go outside.” 

Alright, that was understandable. Your first stop when you got back into the city would be a shoe store to get him a pair to wear- or maybe not with the way he kept flinching every time a whistle blew and his ears were swivelling like satellites at each new sound that reached them. You chew the inside of your lip. You don’t want to ask, but you know you should. Better to rip the bandaid off now, than get surprised later. “How long were you shut in for?”

“Fourteen.” He bites out. 

“...weeks?” You venture. There's a hopeful uptick at the end of your words. Even that would’ve been horrible, even that would be worthy of the litany of profanity you’re mentally lobbing at Director Lim- but it’s still better than the truth. 

The hybrid cuts a flat look at you out of the corner of his eyes. “Years.” 

A wall of your scent hits him like a freight train, vacillating between the thick, cloying odor of sadness and the burn of anger. His nose wrinkles at it, brows drawing together in confusion. 

However little you might’ve known about hybrids, however limited your view of them was, you knew they weren’t supposed to be locked up. Domesticated hybrids like hamsters and cats might’ve been fine inside a house all day, assuming they still had regular interaction with people- but dogs weren’t. And he was half wolf. Wild, he’d have had dozens of square miles to roam over, and he’d been limited to a four-by-four yard room for fourteen years. Your goshiwon was a similar size, but it hadn’t been your whole world. All he’d had was one tiny window and what narrow view he’d managed to glimpse in the doorway when his meals were delivered. 

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but you’re cut off by a scream of delight and a snarl keying up in the hybrid next to you’s chest. Your jaw snaps shut with a click. 

A few yards ahead, there’s a group of kids wrestling in a massive pile. They’re all giggling and rolling over each other, tails wagging a mile a minute as they play bite and make grabs for the person at the center of their puppy pile. A head of black hair and a pair of cropped ears pop up and you see that it’s Hope, smiling bright as the sun as his students try to pin him. 

“You can’t leave!” One particularly determined kid yips, adamantly pushing his shoulder back to the sand. “Who’s gonna teach us?”

Hope just laughs.”Lisa is gonna teach you with the older kids-“

A chorus of disappointed barks and howls breaks out. “Ms. Lisa’s classes are too hard!” A little girl complains.

“Yeah!” Someone else chimes in. “And she’s strict!” 

The hybrid ruffles both kid’s hair affectionately, careful of their bandaged ears. “Just because she won’t let you get away with skipping night practice doesn’t mean she’s strict,” he laughs. He’s only met with more grumbles and complaints. 

It warms your heart to see. Even if these kids were at the mercy of their director -for now, at least- it was good that they had him to rely on. Your eyes meet and the sheer force of light in his face makes your own heat up. You look away, but he’s spotted you. He disentangles himself from the mess of kids and draws himself up to his full height. He’s in the same uniform he was in before, albeit with a black tactical bag now strapped to his back. He takes a step toward you and the wolfdog hybrid's ears go flat against his skull. He’s not deterred. “Joonie?”  It takes you a second to realize he’s talking to the hybrid next to you. “Kim Namjoon, is that you?” Hope takes one step forward and the hybrid - Namjoon - takes a step back to counter him. Hope looks like he’s going to advance again, but a small pair of hands wrapped around one of his own stops him. 

A little girl is holding on to him. She can’t be more than six years old. Her tail is still long and her ears are still floppy and she looks so small in her child-sized boots and cargo pants. “Mr. Hobi,” she whines, her head craned back to look up at him. “Please don’t go.”

He falters. His eyes flick from the pair of you back down to her, then he crouches, holds both of her hands in his. “I have to, Sowon-ah,” he says softly. 

She sniffles pitifully and juts out her lower lip.”But why?” 

It’s a fair question. You’re about to tell him that he doesn’t have to come with you if he  doesn’t want to, but he beats you to the punch. “Because it’s my job, sweetheart,” he tells her, smiling softly.

“Y-your job is to teach us,” she hiccups back, face growing blotchy as tears well up in her eyes. Hope swipes one of them away with his thumbs. 

“I teach you so you can grow up well and protect your person, right?” She nods, little hands balling the fabric of her cargo pants up in her fists. “Right. Well this,” he continues, turning and looking at you with a soft smile. “Is my person. And I’ve gotta go make sure she stays safe.” 

You feel your heart jump into your throat. He’s looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky and you don’t deserve it. You’ve done nothing to warrant that much unearned loyalty. Sowon rubs at her eyes with the back of her hands and Hope pulls her into a tight hug. 

“Ah, don’t cry, Sowon! You’ve gotta make sure you get stronger so someone takes you home, okay? You don’t wanna get old and still be here like me, right?” He squeezes her and goes to stand, but gets mobbed by his students again, all wanting their own hugs and making him swear to write them letters. It takes another five minutes of tearful goodbyes and Director Lim approaching for them to turn him loose.

“Get back to your training, all of you!” He barks, stomping out of the office and slamming the door, Mr. Seo on his heels. The kids scatter to the four winds almost instantly, not wanting to be underfoot for whatever scolding the director was about to deal out. Hope’s face remains the same but you catch his ears droop just a little as his students leave him. The wolfdog hybrid- Namjoon, you remind yourself- on the other hand has his ears flat against his skull. A growl bubbles up in his chest and rips past his lips. It’s a dark, full bodied thing that has you taking a step back and Hope shrinking with a whine. 

“Joonie-” he pleads. 

“Don’t fucking call me that.” All the fur on Namjoon’s body is standing on end, from the points of his ears to the tip of his tail. Even his hair has fluffed out. His mismatched eyes are narrowed, lips pulled back in a snarl that reveals his incisors and all that fury, all that rage, is leveled on Director Lim. 

To his credit, the grizzled man doesn’t shrink back an inch before the enraged hybrid. His lips twist and he yanks a little remote out of his pocket, mashing a red button in the center. Namjoon flinches, his hands fly to his neck- but nothing happens. The shock collar is gone and the director has no power over him anymore. 

The man in question’s eyes widen, flicking between the remote to the column of Namjoon’s throat, now devoid of his one element of control. “Where’s his collar?” He demands. “How the hell did you get your collar off?” He advances on the tall hybrid, his hand in the air and though he doesn’t stop snarling, Namjoon ducks his head, anticipating the blow. 

You don’t know what moves you. Maybe it’s Hope pleading for it all to ‘stop, just stop!’. Maybit’s how Namjoon knows exactly how to move when he’s about to get hit. Maybe it’s your own lack of self-preservation. Whatever it is, you blink and you’re in front of Namjoon, your hand up and clutching the director’s forearm, stopping him from striking the hybrid behind you. You’re not strong enough to stop him, not fully. Your elbow buckles in and you stumble back, your back pressing into the wolfdog hybrid’s chest.

The director yells something at you, red flooding his face. You can’t hear him over the rushing of blood in your ears, the pounding of your heart. You force a dry swallow down your throat, put on your bravest face and glare up at him. “Don’t hurt him anymore.”

He reaches out with his free hand to tug you out of the way, but before he can touch you, Hope is there. He presses close to your side and holds the director’s wrist firm, his eyes on the sand and his shoulders hunched up by his ears.

Director Lim looks angry enough to spit. “Hell of a time for you to grow a backbone,” he snarls at Hope, making the doberman hybrid flinch. “I want all four of you off my property now.” He snatched his arms free and you don’t miss the nasty glare he casts at Namjoon. “And if this mutt ever shows his face around here again, I’ll-”

“Director Lim,” Mr. Seo cuts in, his voice cool. “You’ve made yourself clear; we’ll leave. You needn’t make threats.” There’s an underlying warning in the attorney’s voice. The director locks his jaw.

“Get out.” He breathes. Hope ducks around him, his head low and his docked tail pressed close to his back. If he could tuck it, you think he would. You follow after him, eyes fixed straight ahead and your back ramrod straight. He might’ve scared the shit out of you, but you weren’t going to let him see that. Mr. Seo fixes you with a hard look and the second you’re within arms reach, he presses a hand to your back and ushers you toward the gate. The only one who remains is Namjoon.

He looks like his anger has rooted him to the spot. His ears are still flat against his head, his lip still curled. 

“Do it, boy,” the director taunts. “Give me a reason-”

“Namjoon.” At the sound of his name, his ears prick up and you turn around. It’d come not from Hope- which you’d expected, seeing as he seemed to be the only one who actually knew his fellow hybrid’s name- but from the open door of the office building where Eunjung stood. She looks at him, her expression unreadable and he stares back. All the tension in his body has shifted and for a moment, you think he’s going to spring toward her and fall into her arms- but she gives an almost imperceptible shake of her head and his face hardens. His arms tighten around his bonsai. You think you know, now, why it was the only plant in his room that had a pot. 

“Go,” she says and all the tension leaves him. His shoulders curve in and he drags himself past the director, out from the fence and toward Mr. Seo’s car. There’s something final about the way the gate rolls shut after him. If you hadn’t known better, you’d’ve sworn you heard him whine as it locked. 

The car ride down the mountain is...interesting to say the least. Hope insists that the seating arrangements inside the Buick be done to his specifications,( “You’ve gotta sit in the middle,” he tells you, pointing to the narrow center seat. “And Joonie and I will sit on either side of you to protect you in case we crash!” His tail is wagging a mile a minute behind him. You’re surprised it can move that much, given how short it is. Mr. Seo looks affronted at the unintentional jab at his driving and Namjoon just looks irritated. “I told you to stop calling me that.”) and he keeps throwing an arm across your middle everytime the car hits a bump. You’re going down the side of a mountain. There are a lot of bumps. He also keeps pressing his nose against the glass of his window, ears pricked up and trying to take in every tree that passes by. Namjoon, on the other hand, slouches back in his seat, his body curved around his plant and ever so slightly away from you. He still watches the world pass by, but he doesn’t acknowledge any of you or speak- which would be fine if anyone else would. Hope seems to be doing his best to appear stoic and alert every time you look at him and Mr. Seo seems comfortable with the quiet. So, you’re left to ride the two hours back to Seoul in silence. 

You almost cry with relief when your phone buzzes with an incoming text. You fish the device out of your pocket, thumb it to life and scan your notifications.

Unknown Sender [7:13 PM] where are you

You frown. Very few people had your number or any reason to text you. You’re about to chalk it up to a wrong number when the second text rolls in.

Unknown Sender [7:14 PM] it’s yoongi

Now that’s a surprise. When you’d hurriedly told the boys to text you, you’d been expecting Jimin to urge you to hurry or for Taehyung to ask for updates, not for their hyung to check your progress. A little smile pricks at your lips as you rush to reply

You [7:14 PM] We’re on the way back now!

Unknown Sender has been changed to Yoongi 

Yoongi [7:14 PM] can i call

You bite the inside of your lip, suddenly nervous. You know there’s no reason to be. After all, you tell yourself, what’s scary about a pair of roommates talking on the phone? You give him the go ahead and not three seconds after the delivered notification pops up, you get a call. You answer it on speaker.

“...Hello?”

“Did you just start driving?” Yoongi’s voice is thick with sleep, like he’s just woken up. It’s different than normal, his usual smooth drawl gone gravelly. 

“Y-yeah,” you reply, trying to ignore the way Hope is watching you out of the corner of his eyes and Namjoon’s ears have swiveled back toward you. “It’s gonna be awhile, still. Are Taehyung and Jimin-”

“They’re fine; They ate dinner earlier and they’ll be asleep til you get back.” He yawns and you picture him slouched on the couch, his hair mashed up on one side and his face puffy.  “Why do you sound nervous?”

“I’m not,” you counter. It’s a blatant lie and he knows it. He hums in doubt, but doesn’t press you.

“I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Do you want me to text you when we’re close?” It’s an innocuous question. There’s no reason you can see for him to pause as long as he does. For a second you think you’ve lost him- after all, mountains aren’t known for having great reception- but then you hear his breath fan over the receiver. 

“...Yeah.” 

You give a little nod you know he can’t see. “Okay.” He makes a little noise of assent and then his line clicks off. You hang up. Just as you do, another text comes through. 

Yoongi [7:16 PM] don’t let them scent you

“Who was that?” Hope asks in a small voice, pulling you away from your phone screen and Yoongi’s insistence that you remain scent-free. His tone is open, but you can tell by the way his knee is bouncing that he really, really wants to know. “Is that your husband?”

The bark of laughter that rips past your lips is out before you can think to stop it. Namjoon flinches and you wince at him in apology, your hand flying up to cover your mouth. Hope is frowning at you in confusion, his head cocked slightly to the side. You force yourself to calm and answer him. “No, Yoongi is not my husband.” You weren’t sure if you even really qualified as friends at this point. “He’s another hybrid that lives with me.”

Hope perks up in his seat. “You have another hybrid? Director Lim always told us that once we left the center, we’d be alone.” Your expression sours at the mention of the ill-tempered man and you shake your head. 

“No, there’s a lot of hybrids in Seoul,” you tell him, eager to dispel some of his misconceptions. “The three that live with me are named Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung. Yoongi’s around your age, I think. Jimin and Taehyung are younger.” The doberman hybrid sits at rapt attention, soaking up every bit of information you give him and waiting eagerly for more. What else could you tell him about them? You remember the boys’ reaction that morning when you told them you’d be bringing dog hybrids home. “...They’re all felines,” you say, slowly, trying to gauge their reactions. 

“So that’s why you smell like that.” It’s the first words Namjoon’s spoken since you all piled into the car. You turn to him, but he’s not looking at you.

“What do you-?”

“You smell like other hybrids,” Hope says, covering for him. “But I’ve never smelled any that weren’t other dogs before.” He leans closer, his seatbelt stretching. You tense and lean away from him, but he’s not deterred. The tip of his nose brushes your neck and you have to fight off a shiver as he breathes you in. “They smell the same…” he starts, his breath fanning over your throat. “...but different? And one of them isn’t as strong as the others-” He presses closer, trying to catch the scent that’s eluding him. You make a noise of mild distress and lean further back, pressing into the solid wall that is Namjoon. 

“Hoseok, let it go .” Hoseok. That was his real name then. To your surprise, the dog hybrid pulls back as instructed, settling back into his seat without so much as a whine.

“I’ve never met a cat before,” he muses, turning his attention back to the window. “I hope they’re nice.”

You think about the chorus of hisses you’d been met with when you told the boys they’d have to share their space. You hope so too.

It’s 9:30 by the time Mr. Seo drops you off back in front of your building. He wishes you a good night and promises to call later in the week to discuss Black Mountain Canines. You’re not sure if there’s anyone to report him to or anything you can do, but you want to try. What you’d seen at the compound was wrong any way you looked at it. It made you sick to leave anyone there knowing how the director treated Namjoon and Hoseok. No one was useless. No one deserved to be locked away for years at a time for the sheer crime of existing. You’d make them see that. 

The moment you step out of the car, Hoseok is all wide smiles and exclamations. “Woah, you live here?” he asks, tilting his head back to take in all fifty-one floors of Haneul Tower in their sparkling, glass-paned glory.

“Yeah,” you tell him, handing him his bag. In his excitement to get out of the car, he’d abandoned it and Mr. Seo had nearly driven away with it. “But I just moved in a couple days ago, so it’s still pretty empty.”

Hoseok nods, scanning the windows like he’ll be able to pick out which one’s your’s. Behind you, Namjoon is lingering on the sidewalk.

He’s still got his bonsai clutched close to his chest and he’s hunched down around it like he’s trying to stop unseen hands from picking at it. His shoulders are bunched up by his ears, and he flinches with every car horn, every siren that comes to you on the wind. He’d grown up in the mountains and spent the better part of his life indoors. It only made sense that he’d be sensitive to the sounds of the city. 

“Is there a security system?” Hoseok asks, still enamored with the building. “How many entrances does your apartment have?”

“Just one second,” you tell him, forehead wrinkling as you take in Namjoon. You slide slowly toward the wolfdog, not wanting to startle him. “Namjoon?” He flinches when you call his name, head whipping toward you. “Do you wanna go inside? I know it’s new, but it’ll be quieter, I think.”

His mismatched eyes flick from you, to Hoseok, to the building and back to you before settling firmly on the concrete at his feet. He seems different than he had in the mountains. He’s smaller, quieter, less sure of himself. Was it because this is all new territory for him? Or had the snarling hybrid in the mountains just been a roll he was forced to play, the mythic monster to the director’s tyrant king. 

“You don’t have to go inside if you don’t want to,” you tell him, in a voice you hope is reassuring. “We can wait, if you need to.”

“I’ll wait with you, Joonie,” Hope chimes in, giving the larger hybrid the same soft smile he’d given his students earlier. 

He swallows, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “It...it’s fine,” he mutters, “We can go in, I just…” He takes a few hesitant steps forward and huddles closer to you. There’s still an inch between you, but it’s closer than you’d thought he’d come. 

You peer up at him. “Okay?” You ask. He gives a single nod and your little group moves through the double doors and into the lobby. 

It’s quieter at this time of night. You don’t recognize the woman standing behind the reception desk. There’s no one really around except one man, pacing the width of the lobby looking thoroughly put out. You can’t really see his face, but there’s something familiar about the slant of his body. He whirls around as the glass doors click shut and you catch sight of a fringe of gray hair, pointed ears, narrowed yellow eyes and an all too familiar pout. 

Yoongi. 

“Fuck.” You’d completely forgotten to text him. Judging by the look on his face as he stalks toward you, he wasn’t happy about it. To his credit, Hoseok does his best to guard you, sliding in front of you and pushing you behind him. You can’t see Yoongi’s ears beneath the hat he’s wearing but if his curled lip and narrowed eyes are any indicator, they’re pinned straight back. 

“Move.” He snarls at the doberman hybrid. Hoseok is taller than he is, but the closer Yoongi gets to him, the smaller he seems to shrink. There’s fire in the bobcat hybrid’s eyes. Hope whimpers and slinks out of his way, ears low. 

You wince. “Heeeeey, Yoongi. I’m sorry I forg-“ before you can even finish the sentence, he tugs you toward him by the shoulders. His face roves your neck, sniffing in earnest as he tries to pick up the scent of the other hybrids on you. All is well until he reaches the right side of your throat and grazes over the exact spot Hoseok had nosed earlier. He pulls away slowly, his shoulders tight. His head turns slowly to the doberman hybrid, mechanical. 

“You.” He hisses at the other hybrid with so much virulence it makes your blood run cold. He takes one step toward him, teeth bared in a snarl, but Namjoon slides in front of him bumping him back. A growl bubbles in the bobcat hybrid’s chest and the wolfdog matches it, both their ears pinned flat against their skulls. 

“Hey-” If either of them hear you, they don’t react. They’re too focused on having a staring contest. “Hey!” You push between them, a hand on either of their chests. Namjoon snarls as you touch him and Yoongi looks ready to skin him alive for that alone. He pushes against your hand, trying to get closer to the taller hybrid. You ball your hand up in the fabric of his shirt. “Stop it!” The receptionist already has the lobby phone in her hand. She’s whispering earnestly into it and you’re sure security will be on the way any second. You exhale and squeeze your eyes shut. “Everybody, elevator.” 

Yoongi hurls an accusatory finger in Hoseok’s direction. “These fucking-”

“Yoongi, please,” you plead. That gets him to stop. His arm falls to his side and he glowers down at you for a few seconds before stalking over to the elevators and slamming the up button. “I’m sorry,” you murmur to Hoseok and Namjoon. The smaller of the two hybrids is still hunched in on himself and the taller has Yoongi fixed in his mismatched gaze, his lips curled in anger. 

This was not the way you wanted this to go. You’d wanted them to have time to settle before you discussed next steps and gave them the same talk you’d given the felines, but it didn’t look like that was in the cards. You don’t know what’s gotten into Yoongi. You’d thought the bobcat hybrid was calm, cool and collected, completely unflappable in the face of anything. Apparently not. He seemed upset that some of Hoseok’s scent had gotten on you, but there’d been no way to help that. You’d been packed in a car with him and Namjoon for two hours. It was inevitable, wasn’t it?

“It’s not okay,” you tell them, wanting them to know you didn’t condone the way Yoongi had acted. “I don’t...I don’t know why he’s acting like this; he doesn’t normally. Do you wanna go up separately?”

It’s Hoseok who answers. “No, we’ll go up together,” he assures you with a small nod. “If...maybe if we get used to each other, it’ll be okay?” 

You’re not optimistic, but you give him a pained smile you hope is reassuring. “Yeah, maybe?” You cast a look back over your shoulders. Yoongi is waiting by the elevators, his arms crossed over his chest and his tail flicking in irritation. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Well, there was no avoiding it. “Come on,” you tell them. “Just...keep to the other side, for now. I’ll stand between you and him.” 

The four of you pile into the elevator, all tucked into your own corners. It’s strange, you think. It’s never seemed small until now. Hoseok keeps casting worried looks over at you, Namjoon keeps subtly shifting closer and Yoongi is still glowering at the both of them, angry for a reason you can’t quantify. 

“If it helps,” Hoseok starts softly, his voice an intrusion in the awkward silence. “I really didn’t mean to, honestly-”

“Don’t apologize.” Namjoon counters. “If it bothers him that much, he can speak up” 

You don’t know what they’re talking about. It’s too late that you realize the canines aren’t addressing you. Suddenly, Yoongi’s fingers are hooked through one of your belt loops. He yanks you backwards and you stumble, falling against the length of his body. “My bad,” You shoot out, before the hybrid can hiss at you. “I just lost my bala-” The words die on your tongue as Yoongi fixes his mouth to the soft skin of your throat. The elevator goes quiet.

The canine hybrids avert their eyes almost instantaneously, instinct telling them they’re witnessing something they shouldn’t be. Yoongi keeps them fixed firmly in his sights, a dark growl bubbling in his throat. 

Your fingers flex uselessly at your sides, hands clenching unclenching as the hybrid works over the sensitive skin of your neck with his teeth and tongue. ‘Don’t make a noise,’ you plead with yourself. ‘This isn’t what it feels like. Don’t make a noise, don’t make a noise, don’t make a noise-’ Yoongi’s incisors graze over a vein and a little whimper slips past your lips before you can stop it. The grip he has on your hips becomes bruising. You feel your legs turning to jelly beneath you. Any more of what he was doing, and they’d have to mop you up off the elevator floor. You force your throat to swallow. “Y-Yoongi, I think that’s enough-” You don’t know if he hears you over the noise he’s making, so you lace your fingers through his and untangle them from your hips. He releases you with a wet pop and you slap a hand over the skin he’d marked. Heat floods your face and a smirk spreads across Yoongi’s, his teeth flashing at the canines. He leans in again to rub his nose against the mark he’d made- but a hand on his chest stops him. 

“Can you stop?” You ask in a small voice. Honestly, you’re embarrassed. Regardless of what the articles said about mark-making being platonic, it doesn’t feel friendly. It feels possessive and mean and you don’t like it. “I’m sorry I didn’t text you like you asked, but what is with you today?” Yoongi’s expression changes from smug satisfaction to confusion and then surprise, like he hadn’t expected you to protest. “I know what I said about you being ready but…” You rub a hand over the mark, wiping away saliva and your sweat. The bobcat hybrid visibly deflates. The elevator chimes for the fiftieth floor and the doors roll open slowly. You rush out before any of them can and start punching the code in your door with shaky fingers. You don’t know what to say. You’re tired and stressed and you don’t know what’s going on. Was this about the apartment? You knew the felines wouldn’t be happy about sharing their space, but why had Yoongi gone this far?

“Y/N…” He trails after you, his ears drooping. You shake your head, You can’t talk to him right now. 

“In the morning,” you tell him as the door swings open. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.” You can’t deal with everything that’s happened today, and Yoongi flipping out and getting the canines settled. You weren’t that good at juggling. 

By the grace of all that’s merciful, Taehyung and Jimin are still asleep when you walk in. You’d need to have an extended meet and greet tomorrow, you decide. Maybe do some icebreakers or team building exercises. If they reacted anything like their hyung did, you were in for one hell of an adjustment period. 

Hoseok and Namjoon trail you into the penthouse warily, sniffing the air. You want to give them time to explore and get their bearings, they deserve that, but with the way Yoongi still seems agitated when they venture anywhere but exactly in your steps, that’ll need to be saved until tomorrow morning too. You give them the most spartan tour you can muster up and show them each to a guest room, promising to order them furniture and get them the things they need tomorrow. 

By the time you collapse into your own bed, it’s damn near 11. You groan and drag a pillow over your face as you ask the universe for the thousandth time why it had decided to continuously kick your ass. Having three hybrids had been hard enough. Having five of all different species was likely to prove impossible and having seven was going to be a sisyphean task you’d had no training for. You groan and kick your feet in the air, allowing yourself the brief respite of a temper tantrum before crawling under your covers and flicking the lamp off. Maybe in your dreams there’d be no stress and no snarling hybrids with behavior you couldn’t explain.

[agustdakasuga]

Between The Bloodshed | Chapter 18

Genre: Mafia!AU, Angst, Romance, Fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of him through his recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that would change your life entirely.

There are just too many things going on right now with a heavier workload and more responsibilities. But maybe now is the best time to address the emotions that seem to be running too high. 

Warning: This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. It may contain depictions of violence, blood shed/ gore and mentions of abuse. Please read at your own discretion.

Chapter warning(s): Mentions of glass injury, censored curse word by angry Yoongi, reader goes drinking so alcohol mention. 

With the birth of your new niece, you had been even more busy, if that was even possible. Unfortunately, Jisung wasn’t able to stay over anymore because you were worried about him knowing what the boys did as their ‘jobs’. 

“Koo, I know it hurts but you have to stop moving.” You scolded as you used your tweezers to remove the shards of glass from his knuckles. Jungkook whined as he winces in pain. You had to make sure you removed every little piece of he might get an infection. 

“I told you to stop being reckless.” You sighed, placing the pieces of glass onto the cotton pad. 

“I was careful...”

“You punched through a car window. I don’t know how careful that was.” You rolled your eyes. When you were sure all the glass pieces were out, you moved the magnifier lamp away and threw the glass away. 

“I wasn’t going to let him get away. So I punched through the window and pulled him out.” 

“Okay, you already know what is next. So take a deep breath.” You warned, getting the antiseptic spray ready. 

“Can we skip that?” He whined. 

“Can you not get so badly injured?” You retorted, making him pout. You shook the bottle and he took a deep breath, biting his bottom lip and scrunching his face to brace. 

“Okay, we’re done.” You cooed. Jungkook let out tiny whimpers like an injured puppy, his eyes glossing over. You patted his head, gently dabbing his wounds with a cotton. Once that was done, you wrapped his knuckles up, fastening them in place with some medical clips. Jungkook watched as you cleared up the messy area, disinfecting the table after. 

“How’s your niece?” 

“She’s doing good, both her and her mother are getting all the rest and care that they need. Her name is Yuri.” You said, scrolling on your phone to show Jungkook a picture. 

“She’s cute. She has the same eyes as Jisung.” Jungkook smiled. You laughed, nodding in agreement. 

“So... did you find someone to accompany you to the ball yet?” He asked, finger drawing imaginary shapes on your desk. 

“If you couldn’t tell, I’ve been rather busy the past few days. And unfortunately, finding a date for the ball is at the end of my priority list now.” You scoffed, typing on your computer. Jungkook just hummed. 

“Well, I was wondering if-”

BANG!

You turned your head to see Yoongi standing at your door. His shoulders rise and fell with each pant. A deep frown was on his face and even if it was anger, it was very rare to see Yoongi display such strong emotion. You weren’t scared but worried and curious. 

“Out.” Was all he said to Jungkook. Jungkook didn’t even bother arguing like he usually did, standing up and making a beeline for the door. 

“What’s wrong?” You stood up. Yoongi seemed to hesitate for a while, it was obvious he was having an internal debate with himself. He untucked a manila folder from under his arm. 

“Yoong-”

“Just read it.” He cut you off, sliding the folder across your desk to you. You gave him a look before undoing the string, looking at the contents. 

“What does all that mean?” He asked impatiently. 

“Yoongi, this-”

“Just tell me.” He pressed. 

“It’s cancer. That’s all I can tell you now.” You sighed, putting the summary report down. Yoongi seemed shock, walking back into the chair opposite yours. It was silent as you continued looking at the other reports and Yoongi let reality sink in. He stared ahead blankly but you knew Yoongi well enough that he didn’t want to be comforted right now. 

“What else?” He asked. 

“Yoongi, you can shout at me all you want. But I am not telling you anything else until you tell me who this report belongs to.” You said firmly. Yoongi glared at you but you weren’t backing down. 

“Half brother.” He mumbled. Considering Yoongi has never even mentioned any siblings before, you believe this half brother was estranged. 

“He won’t let me near him after what my dad did to his mother. Getting a copy of these reports was the only way to know what was really going on.” Yoongi explained briefly. 

“It’s non-small cell lung cancer, stage 3.” 

“What does that mean? Can he be cured? Whatever needs to be done, I’ll do it.” Yoongi said firmly. 

“At this point, it still seems regional, which means it is only affecting the tissues in the surrounding area. It hasn’t widespread yet. Surgery can be performed to remove the affected tissue followed by chemo or laser therapy to kill off any other affected cells.” You informed. 

“Can you do it?” This was Yoongi practically begging at this point. 

“Can I do it? Yes, I can. Will I do it? No, I won’t.” You said, placing all the medical documents back into a stack, putting it back into the original envelope that it came in. 

“WHY THE F*CK NOT?!” Yoongi stood up with so much force, his chair fell back, crashing onto the ground. 

“If you read the report, you would know that your brother’s cancer has only gotten to this stage because he refuses treatment of any kind. He refuses to take even one pill from his doctor. You force him to do such a big surgery he doesn’t want, any plans you had of making up for your broken sibling relationship will be gone.” You frowned. 

“Hyung...” The others appeared at the door. They had rushed over when they heard the crash. 

“When Min Geumjae comes to me on his own will and tells me he wants the surgery, I’ll do it. But until then, I refuse to even look at his file.” You pushed the manila envelope back to him. 

“Hyung.” Namjoon brought Yoongi out to cool down. You let out a sigh, shivering slightly as you turned your chair around, back facing the boys. 

“This is the last thing I need.” You rubbed your temples. 

“Hey, you alright?” Hoseok’s soft voice appeared on your side. You opened your eyes to meet his worried ones. 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You replied a little colder than you intended to, turning back to your computer. The boys cast each other uneasy looks before everyone was ushered out by Jin. Only Jimin remained behind. 

“Say, what are you doing tonight?” He asked, leaning against your desk. 

“Chim, I really don’t have the time for this. If you aren’t injured or need medical help, please go somewhere else. I have work to do.” You said, typing away the report that was on your screen. Even your big computer monitor looked like a mess with multiple windows everywhere. 

“Come out with me. Tonight.”

“Chim, I-”

“I’ll meet you at the foyer. 9pm.” He smiled sweetly before getting off your desk and walked out. You stared at your closed door before shaking your head and turning back to your work. 

It was close to 9 when you came down from your room. You didn’t know how to dress but if you were going out with Jimin, you knew you had to meet standards. 

“Where is he?” You checked the time on your phone. 

“Uh, going out...?” Namjoon saw you and immediately grew curious. You were in a short, black bodycon dress with a slit on your left thigh. 

“Yeah.” You nodded. Some others passed by and also couldn’t help but stare at you all dressed up. They loitered around, wanting to see if they could catch a glimpse of someone picking you up. 

“I’m here! Sorry for being late but we can do now.” Jimin came rushing down, adjusting his suit jacket. He was in a more casual suit than the usual business ones the boys wore, the red jacket and pants complimenting to loose, black undershirt nicely. The others that were there in the foyer were speechless with their eyes wide. Jimin was taking you out?!

“Let’s go.” Your words confirmed their suspicion. 

“You look nice.” Jimin complimented. You let out a hum, bending slightly to wear your shoes. 

“The driver is outside.” He held his arm out for you to take as you headed out the door. You failed the hear the scrambling of footsteps from the others, rushing to the window to see Jimin opening the door for you. 

“What?!” Taehyung screeched. 

“That hyung is good.” Jungkook shook his head. 

The car stopped in front of a building. The neon sign flashed ‘Filter’. You remember this as one of Jimin’s businesses. 

“Come.” The driver opened the door for the both of you. People who were either waiting to get in or entering stopped to stare at the both of you. The girls squealed at Jimin’s good looks but the boy only focused on you. He placed a hand on your waist. 

“Good evening, boss.” The bouncers bowed. 

“That’s the boss?” 

“He’s so good looking!” The people were whispering. When the bouncers opened the velvet rope, Jimin led you in. The staff must have known that Jimin was here because some guys immediately came to you to serve you. 

“I’ve got it, guys. Thanks. But she’s mine.” Jimin waved his boys away. You couldn’t help but heat up at his words. 

“Yes, boss. Have a nice evening.” They wished the both of you and bowed before leaving the both of you. You felt rather lost in this whole situation, you’ve never seen this side of Jimin before. 

“You look like a lost lamb.” Jimin chuckled. He continued to guide you to the elevated VIP platform. Your booth overlooked the other club goers. 

“What would you like to drink? It’s on the house. You can just sit back and relax.” Jimin asked as you sat down. 

“Well, if you say so, Mr Park. Then I’ll start with a red sangria, please.” You ordered with a chuckle. Jimin laughed along as he nodded and sat down beside you on the plush couch, pressing a button on the armrest. In a few seconds, a tall male in a suit came in. His name tag flashed ‘manager’. He bowed deeply to the both of you. 

“A red sangria for her and a beer for me to start.” Jimin ordered. 

“Yes, sir.” He bowed and left. 

“You know, I’m perfectly fine being with the normal people downstairs. I don’t need a VIP booth or any special treatment.” You said. 

“Nonsense. (y/n), don’t you realise? You’ll be granted entrance and a VIP booth to anywhere that you go. It doesn’t matter whether me or the other boys are there.” He raised an eyebrow. 

“What do you mean?” 

“That.” Jimin pointed. You followed his finger to your bracelet on your wrist. The very one that Namjoon gave you when you joined. 

“That bracelet is a symbol that you’re part of the family.” He said briefly. You looked at the bracelet. Even if it was dark, the pink diamond charm was shining brightly next to the wing charm. 

“Don’t take it off.”

You remember Taehyung’s words when he first put the bracelet around your wrist. The manager coming back in with your drinks broke your train of thought. Jimin handed you your drink and you clinked glasses together before taking a sip. You let out a relaxed sigh. 

“It’s good.” You smiled, swirling the drink in your glass. 

“I’m glad. Have as much as you like.” Jimin grinned as he sipped his own beer. He was just happy you were smiling again. 

“Jimin... You probably think I’m cruel, huh? For not helping Yoongi.” You guessed that Jimin knew the situation with Yoongi since he was one of the ones that was the closest to the elder. 

“Why would you think that?” 

“Do you know why I refuse to do the surgery?” You asked as you stared at the drink in your hand. Jimin shook his head. 

“Because, I’ve seen it all before. Families, relationships, torn apart... Because some people think what they’re doing is the best for the patient. But have they really asked the patient what they want? My parents were all for it. Doing big surgeries brought a lot of good image and reputation but I didn’t want to be part of that.” You confessed. 

“(y/n)...”

“That’s why I can’t do it. I’ve seen people bribe patients to do surgeries with such high risk just to give the press something to write about.” You said. 

“I know Yoongi only has good intentions. He only wants his brother to live. But at what cost? If his brother doesn’t want it, who are we to make that decision for him? We can’t just make him do it.” 

“I never realised...” Jimin said. 

“It’s just the way the world is. Why do you think I live through my parents’ snide remarks instead of giving in to work for them?” You chuckled bitterly. 

“A son of an old patient contacted me that day. His mother needs a heart valve replacement, which can be a rather risky surgery considering her age and it’s open heart surgery.” You started. 

“Is she going to do it?”

“She didn’t... That’s why her son wanted me to convince her. I told him I would look at the medical reports before speaking to her. In the end, I declined. Yes, cruelly, I’m letting someone die. But why am I trying so hard to convince someone to do something they don’t want to do?” You looked at him. 

“Of course, I know when people have a chance of living and yet, they refuse, it���s a shame. But I willingly live with that guilt and regret.” You threw your head back. Jimin wrapped an arm around you. 

“I hate seeing you upset.” He comforted. You closed your eyes, putting an arm around him. 

-

“Hehehe.” You giggled as Jimin carried you into the house. Maybe you had a bit too much to drink but you were very insistent that you were not drunk. The other boys came down. 

“Oh my... How did she get so drunk?” Jin’s eyes widened when he saw you. None of them have ever seen you in that state before. Seeing the other boys standing there, you blinked at them before grinning and waving at them. Namjoon was the first to take you from Jimin. He gave you an amused smile and you poked his dimple. 

“Cute.” You commented. 

“Let’s get you to bed.” Namjoon said softly. 

“But I’m not sleepy...” You mumbled, cuddling against his chest. Jungkook patted your head. 

“Hyung, can we talk?” Jimin asked Yoongi. Yoongi nodded his head wordlessly, walking with the shorter male out to the garden. Namjoon looked at the two before bringing you upstairs. 

“Who are you?” You tilted your head. 

“Namjoon, doc. Did you forget me already?” He chuckled.

“Doc... I’m a doctor?” Your eyes widened as you pointed at yourself. Namjoon hummed in reply with a nod, kicking your room door open. He placed you to sit on your bed. 

“Woah... I’m a doctor. That’s cool. And what about you, Mr Namjoon? Are you a doctor too?” You asked. 

“No, I’m not a doctor. Only you are a doctor.” He said, grabbing some makeup wipes and began to gently wipe the makeup off your face. You seemed so fascinated with the life you were learning about from Namjoon. 

“You’re really nice, Mr Namjoon.” You giggled. 

“Thank you. Now, doc, do you think you can change out of your dress and into these?” He asked, holding up a shirt and some shorts. You stared at the articles of clothing before nodding your head. Namjoon ushered you to your bathroom and closed the door, staying on the other side. 

“I’m done.” You said. Thankfully, you were able to successfully change. Namjoon tucked you into bed. 

“Goodnight, doc.” He wished. 

“No, Mr Namjoon, don’t goooooo.” You whined, holding onto his wrist. 

“Come on, doc. Be good, you have to sleep. We can hang out tomorrow.” He coaxed. You pouted with a frown, crossing your arms like a little kid throwing a tantrum. 

“Well, then what do you want to do?” 

“I don’t know... I want to stay with you.” You said sadly. Namjoon smiled endearingly, patting your head. He helped you out of bed and into his room. 

“You can stay here with me.” He got under the covered. You snuggled close to him as he leaned against the headboard, reading his book. Even if you weren’t doing anything, you were content. 

“Are you comfortable?” Namjoon asked. You nodded your head, yawning again. He reached over to pat your head.

“Mr Namjoon?” 

“Hmm?”

“Do you have a girlfriend? Or someone that you like?” 

“I don’t have a girlfriend... But there may be someone I fancy. Actually, doc-” When he heard no sound from you, he stopped. Looking down, Namjoon saw that you were fast asleep, tucked under his arm comfortably. Namjoon closed his book, putting it on the nightstand before turning off the lights. 

“She probably thinks I’m just like her parents. Or all those other people she hates.” Yoongi sighed, leaning against the railing of the gazebo. 

“She’s doesn’t, hyung. You know doc isn’t like that. She knows all you wanted to do was help your brother. None of us would know all this, she only told me tonight.” Jimin shrugged. 

“All I did was add to her stress.” 

“Hyung, stop. Doc always tells you about taking all the blame on yourself and how it’s a bad habit.” Jimin scolded, making Yoongi hang his head. 

“Well, she said that she won’t do the surgery already. So I guess there’s really nothing else I can do except speak to my brother to try and get him to do the surgery... Or just watch him die.” Yoongi said bitterly. Jimin knew Yoongi was just at lost and as painful as it sounded, those were really his only options. He wrapped his hands around the older.

“No matter what his decision is, I’m sure he would appreciate your support. It’s never too late to mend a broken relationship.” Jimin comforted. 

“That’s if he ever wants to see me again.” 

“You’ll never know, hyung. Maybe a serious, sit down conversation is all you need.” Jimin pulled away with a chuckle. Yoongi forced a small smile, nodding his head in agreement. 

“About doc, I’ll speak to her soon. Thanks for taking her out.” Yoongi patted Jimin’s shoulder.

“I didn’t do it for you.” 

“Huh?” 

“I didn’t do it as a favour for you. I did it because I hate seeing the woman I love upset.” Jimin said before turning around to talk back into the house. 

~~

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[thefanficmonster]

Fated

Karl Heisenberg x Autistic, Sound-sensitive Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, Spoilers for RE8:Village, Noise sensitivity

Genre: Romance, Comfort

Summary: Not everyone could love a man like Heisenberg. But Y/N isn’t everyone, nor is she just anyone. She loves him as the whole package he is: murderous intentions, human experiments and all.

Requested by @phoenixofthevalley Hi dear! Here you go - the first fic I’ve ever written for Karl Heisenberg (first of many) and thank you so much for being my first ever Resident Evil 8 requester! Hope you enjoy the read! Feel free to correct me if I’ve described anything incorrectly or in an accidentally offensive manner. I have no intention of spreading hate or any type of misconception so I’d really appreciate the correction. Love, Vy ❤

Watching Karl get so excited over this grand plan of his - the destroying of Mother Miranda, his revenge - it all makes me feel uneasy. I can’t explain the feeling, mostly cause I’ve never felt it before, and I can’t quite describe it either. I don’t connect to people easily and I’ve always been told I’m the problem but I guess it took the right person to make me feel things I haven’t felt for no one else all my life.

“The weren’t worthy of your emotions, darling.“ Karl told me on one of the rare occasions when I opened up my mind to him. I felt his words wrap around me like a comforting embrace. For the first time in my life, I felt understood.

I think that’s what took me the longest to get used to - being understood, seen and validated. My opinions had never before been taken into account seriously, my personal boundaries were rarely respected by others and people always had a hard time dealing with how distant I can be. But what bothers me above all is how people refer to me as dramatic because of my sound sensitivity - something no one took seriously when I’d tell them about it.

Karl did though, surprising me to no end.

He respects that I like my personal space and prefer not being shown much affection, especially not physical. He understands that I have a hard time showing people affection myself. He goes out of his way to make sure I’m ok with whatever it is he’s doing, saying or suggesting. And I’m sure that if I were to ever tell someone about this, they wouldn’t believe me. That’s most definitely due to his rough exterior and intimidating appearance. Also probably because he comes off as downright selfish and rude when you first meet him, but getting to know him was a journey worth taking because I now know the real him. A trust me, his rough exterior and the softness of his true self have nothing in common. Although, he does claim that softness is only reserved for me.

With all that laid out, it’s completely understandable that I don’t want him going up against Mother Miranda. Thanks to Karl I’ve never had the displeasure of running into her, but I’ve heard countless stories of how powerful and downright terrifying that witch is. Bottom line: I don’t want Karl walking into something that’s the equivalent of suicide.

And I’ve finally decided to let him know exactly how I feel about it.

I’ve been sitting here, searching for my voice as I observe Karl in his deepest thinking space. He’s constantly in it, if you ask me - constantly thinking, looking for ways to make his innovations better, stronger, more powerful to add to his chances of victory against the sadistic ruler of this village. He was already at his desk when I walked in, hunched over dozens of drawings drawn with cut-edge precision yet in his mind they are probably not near good enough. In his mind, all he does is never good enough. He prides himself on this factory and what he’s produced thus far but he cannot stay proud of himself for very long, he constantly feels the need to better himself in order to remain worthy in his eyes. I wish I could change his mindset on those grounds but I know that my tries would be futile and pointless.

“Karl?“ I suddenly speak up, surprising both him and myself. I don’t know what I was thinking opening my mouth when I still have no idea how to go about this without making it seem like I don’t believe in him. That is in no way the case. I believe he can defeat her, if he cannot do it himself, his robo-army most certainly can. But I don’t want defeating her to cost him his life cause without him in mine I’m not sure what will be left of me.

He straightens up from where he’s been hunched over for the past God knows how many hours, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms as her turns to look at me, his sunglasses capturing the white neon light in the office as he does so.

“What is it, darling? Something wrong?“ he takes a step towards me as I stand up and go to approach him.

“Actually...“ Suddenly, that thing he keeps in a safety cell just below this room starts going off with that annoying loud sound it makes. It’s always disturbed me, ever since it came to exist which was not so long ago considering it’s been his latest project. It not only terrifies me but triggers my sound sensitivity as do most of the machines in this forsaken factory.

I close my eyes tightly shut as I cover my ears with my hands, praying for the sound to go away as soon as possible because I can’t take it. It almost makes me physically nauseous and gives me vertigo, bringing me to the brink of tears because of its loudness and intensity, like it’s drilling right into my brain.

I can’t quite pinpoint the exact moment the sound went away because when faced with such a pain-inducing experience, my senses tend to tune out while I still remain conscious, but when my hearing returns I the only thing I’m able to hear is a steady heartbeat and a steady breathing. 

“It’s ok, darling. You’re ok.“ I hear Karl’s quiet whisper, giving me peace and coaxing me into opening my eyes.

When I do so, I come to realize why the rest of the world has gone quiet. Why I’m suddenly so flooded with comfort like no one is able to bring me. No one but him.  One of my ears is pressed up to his chest while the other is covered by his warm hand which travels up to move a strand of hair from my face and put it behind my ear as he repeats his soothing words like a chant, slowly starting to let go of me out of fear that he’s crossing a line. He’s always so wary about that and I’ll forever be grateful to him for it.

“Are you ok, sweetheart?“ His hands gently cup my cheeks, tilting my head so I can look him in the eyes - directly in the eyes, for he has ridden himself of his glasses. I’ve found he does that often when around me - removes his glasses. I once asked him why that is but the answer he gave me was vague, all the while a small smile played on his face. Guess he’s a bigger secret-keeper than I primarily thought. It doesn’t bother me really, I know the only secrets he keeps are the ones that would be a hazard for my safety if he exposed me to them, so I allow him his secrets and I keep some of my own to myself. It’s only fair, after all.

I nod, blinking up at him, “Yes, I’m ok. But...“ Now or never, girl. Now or never. “But if you want me to be honest, I will be.”

He looks baffled by my answer but he doesn’t falter, quickly regaining his composure before he replies, “Of course, dear. I always want you to be honest with me. What’s on your mind, what’s bothering you?“

Now “I haven’t been really ok for a while now.” I take his hands in mine, removing them from my cheeks but holding them firmly between us - a gesture that surprises me just as much as it shocks him. Never have I felt the need to be so close to someone. It may be momentary and temporary, but I refuse to dwell on that as I push forward with my argument, “I haven’t been ok since you told me about your plane. The whole thing with Mother Miranda and all that...” Not the time to be leaving me, words. I started this, I’ll finish it. “Look, Karl, I know you and your army can bring that witch to her demise but...”

“But what, Y/N? Tell me.“ He encourages me softly, his hands subtly tightening their hold on mine as if to keep me grounded, remind me he’s listening closely to every word I’m saying. Like he always does.

“But what if it doesn’t go as planned?“ I blurt out, biting my bottom lip nervously. It makes me anxious, being so honest and emotionally exposed. That’s so rare for me I doubt I’ll ever get used to it, but that’s the only way I have at least a fragment of a chance of convincing Karl to drop this. “What if things go south and you end up killed or turned into a monster or something else?“

The concern on his face washes away when he hears my words, getting replaced by a soft, consoling smile. I quickly look away, feeling that confession on my part was quite odd. I feel out of place but not uncomfortable, I don’t know how to explain it. It almost feels like relief, like I’ve finally gotten a huge boulder off my chest and I can finally breathe properly. But I can’t, not until I hear his reply. That smile should probably tell me something but it doesn’t - I won’t believe anything until I hear it come out of his mouth with my own two ears.

“Oh Y/N, darling, you won’t lose me. Ever.“ His thumb swipes across my knuckles soothingly, drawing abstract patterns on the skin of the back of my hand, “You never need to worry about me, hun, I ain’t going anywhere. No one can take me away from you or you away from me. Anyone who dares to try, well, bad things will happen to ‘em.“ He chuckles, easing the tension enough for me to able to look up at him again. When our eyes meet again, I see something I can’t name nor describe. All I know is that what he’s telling me is genuine and comes, “I’ll always be here, by your side, Y/N. I will always be here to shield you from anything and anyone. Any rogue lycan or any loud sound, I’ll be there to prevent it from reaching you. Never forget that. Ok?“

That urge to be have him close takes over me again. I think that somewhere in the back of my mind I see a clock ticking down, counting down the numbered hours we have together before he inevitably carries out his plan. As scary as that is, I think I can do nothing but accept it.

And so, that’s exactly what I do.

Wrapping my arms around him tenderly, enveloping him in the first hug I’ve ever given him - probably the first hug anyone has given him - I accept our fate, silently hoping it changes somewhere along the lines.

“Ok.“

[artaefact]

a letter in roses.

—wordcount: 8k+

—genre: FLUFF, romance, CEO au, valentine’s day au, husband!taehyung

—pairing: kim taehyung x f reader ft. florist!hobi, baker!jimin & ???!jk

—rating: 18+

—warnings: cheesy fluff, taehyung wants the tea, taehyung is kinda a hazard in the kitchen, yeontan being a little rascal, suggestive themes, swearings

—summary: Since it’s the first time celebrating Valentine’s Day with you as his wife, Taehyung goes the extra mile of preparing something special for you. After all, he has managed to run a billion-dollar worth company. So, preparing handmade delicacies should be simple enough, right?

author’s note: this is part of the bangtan pastries collab hosted by @suhdays !! AND ALSO ____ and [Name] are two different ocs so hopefully it’s not confusing !! happy reading everyone 💖

© artaefact 2021. All rights reserved. Copying, reposting, translating, and modifying in any platform or by any means is NOT permitted.

Valentine's Day. The day where people spend time with their loved ones, either going out to celebrate or spending quality time together at home. Just anything to bring a smile to their loved ones' faces.

Taehyung used to question this annual occasion—a lot. What is truly the purpose of this day? Don't you have to make your loved ones happy all the time? What difference does it make to celebrate it on this "special" day and on a typical day? Or, in other words, it was a complete waste of time and energy—is what he used to say.

For many years, Taehyung's only companions on this day are paperwork, meetings, and... more paperwork. So, it's not surprising how disinterested he is at the thought of celebrating Valentine's Day.

But today, he barely can stifle his smile and contain his excitement throughout the morning conference. The minute when the meeting ends, he strides out of the room and heads straight back home.

His employees had stared at him in awe after he announced that everyone can leave work early today. Everyone wonders what has gotten Kim Taehyung so excited on Valentine's Day until they remember that he is, now, officially a husband. Taehyung no longer frequently locks himself in his office until past midnight dealing with documents and phone calls. Not when you're waiting for him at home. Sometimes he'd even cut his work hours short if he deems himself deserving just to see you faster.

Everyone can see how utterly in love the boss is with his wife. Just the mention of your name is enough to grace his usual stern expression with a soft smile.

So, it's not surprising that an annoyed sigh emits from Taehyung's lips when his work phone dings just as he steps out of the elevator on his penthouse floor. Taking out his phone, he reads an urgent message that some part of the meeting's presentation details have not been mentioned to him earlier. For once, Taehyung wishes work can give him a break. Today is supposed to be a special day, after all.

Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Taehyung walks into his home. Soft jazzy music plays from the living room, along with the tinge of coffee fragrance wafting in the air, ebbing his growing annoyance away. He takes off his dress shoes before entering even further, knowing full well how his wife would make him clean up if he stains the Persian rug you received as a wedding gift. With a pair of home slippers covering his feet, he emerges from the front hallway to the living room as he shrugs off his navy pinstripe suit jacket and loosens his tie.

Taehyung hears the rapid padding of pawsteps first as a fluffy friend appears out of the kitchen, greeting Taehyung with a woof and an excited wag of his tail, scampering to his owner. Smiling, Taehyung crouches to give Yeontan a backrub as the pomeranian revels at the affection.

After a few moments, he walks to the kitchen—Yeontan still excitedly following—where the smell of coffee grows stronger. He finds you sipping on your morning coffee and scrolling through your tablet—perhaps, reading the latest news—as you sit on the bar table of the kitchen.

Sensing his presence, your head turns to the doorway. “Hey, you're back.”

“Mhmm… Finished my meetings earlier today.” He closes the distance, giving you a kiss on the cheek. “You ate breakfast already?”

You nod. “Have you?” He shakes his head. “You go change, I'll whip up something for you.” You place your tablet down on the counter. “Are toasts and eggs, okay?”

He nods in response.

Standing up from the barstool, you are about to make your way to the counter when your husband stops you. “You haven't given me a kiss ever since I've arrived back home.” He pouts, arms circling your waist to keep you still.

You chuckle at his antics. Cupping his face between your hands, you place a chaste kiss on his lips. “There.”

“More please.” And you comply, placing another, and another…

You move your hands down, placing it on his chest when he releases his hold on your waist, cupping your face, finally giving you a deep kiss. Your heart is on the verge of bursting at the touch of his lips. Granted, you both shared kisses so many times, but each and every single one never fails to spread warmth in your chest. And you love to see his dazed expression or his bright smile afterwards.

After a few moments, you pull away, grinning. “Okay, go change.” Your smile so bright Taehyung just can't get enough as he still clings to you. “I have an appointment today before our dinner date.”

Taehyung raises a brow, now realising that you're dressed up. “Where might you be going?”

You simply poke his nose with a secretive grin. He pouts at your lack of response, watching you move behind the counter. You take out two slices of bread—putting them in the toaster—and eggs from the fridge.

With a soft smile on his face, Taehyung goes to the bedroom and freshens up, quickly changing to his usual home attire. He comes back to the kitchen donning a white shirt and a pair of shorts, finding you already setting up the plate on the counter.

He stops at your side, watching you place the scrambled eggs near the toast. Then the moment you're done, he wraps his arms around your shoulders.

“What's gotten into you today?”

“Can't I shower my wife with love?” He nuzzles his nose to the crook of your neck.

You laugh softly. “Alright, alright. Now, let me just—” You place the plate on the counter, Taehyung still embracing you. “—put this. And… Do you want strawberry juice?”

He nods eagerly. You open the fridge (yes, with Taehyung is still clinging to you) and take out the cut-up frozen strawberries before placing them in the blender and pouring some water.

“Go eat, baby.” You face him after turning the blender on. “I'll be with you in a minute.”

Taehyung gives you a kiss on the cheek then moves to sit on the bar table where you have placed his breakfast. After you place a glass of strawberry juice near him, you sit next to him.

“What are your plans for today?” You ask, resting your chin on one hand.

“Hmm…” He sits straighter, swallowing the food in his mouth. With a teasing smirk, he faces you. “Well, I was planning to spend the whole day with my lovely wife. But unfortunately, I can't do that until our dinner date.”

“Should I cancel my appointments today…?” You actually look worried, and Taehyung blinks.

“No!” He says almost too quickly. “I mean— It's okay, really. We'll have our dinner date. Plus, I have another meeting to attend to soon.”

“Thought you said you were done with work today?”

“Something else came up,” Taehyung sighs in annoyance, remembering the text he received earlier from one of his employees. “I have to make a few calls. But I wouldn't miss our first Valentine dinner date after our marriage.”

You chuckle. “Alright, I should call taxi—”

Taehyung stops you. “Y/N, you know you can use my chauffeur, right?”

“The taxi's fine—” You yelp as Taehyung tugs you close to him, causing you to nearly sliding off from your seat. Placing your hands on your husband's broad shoulders, you steady yourself.

“Love, call my chauffeur, hmm?” His voice turns low, and you fight back a shiver. “I know you're still getting used to this—” He motions towards the whole penthouse. “—but at least, let me make it easier for you today, yeah?”

Inhaling a sharp breath, you nod. “O-Okay.”

A sly grin decorates his pretty lips at your agreement. “Good.” Straightening yourself, you climb down the stool. Taehyung places a chaste kiss on your lips, and you are still in a daze at the sudden change of his demeanour. You walk out of the kitchen and reach the end of the hallway. While putting on your shoes, his face peeking from the living room, and he pipes, “Don't be late for dinner!”

When the front door closes, you place a hand on your chest — on top of your still pounding heart. You let out a breath, and a smile curls up on the corner of your lips.

I swear he's going to be the death of me.

After you leave, Taehyung is left alone to his own devices. He goes to his office space with Yeontan following on his trail. Turning his laptop on, he glares at the screen. Work seems to follow him wherever and whenever despite having worked his ass off. But he’ll ensure that nothing will ruin your date night today.

Taking a deep breath, he turns on his camera, not even bothering to change out of his home attire. Taehyung’s expressions have said it all as one of his company’s branch managers who messaged him fidgets on the screen under his stare.

“What else are we missing?” His voice like the calm before the storm. “I thought the meeting earlier today has been concluded.”

“I forgot that there are some things that…” The manager rambles on, and Taehyung can sense a headache looming.

Taehyung rubs his temple as the manager finishes prattling. Sitting up straighter, he advises, “I’m going to say this only once, you work in this position to oversee the marketing branch of my company. It is your job to ensure that all the little details for today’s meeting have been presented. So, this type of incident will not happen again. Do I make myself clear?”

The manager nods rapidly.

“Good,” Taehyung leans back on his leather chair. “Now, is that all?”

Again, the manager nods.

Finally.

After ending the call and answering a few more emails, Taehyung emerges out of the office room and plops down the couch with Yeontan in his arms. He stretches his neck to the right and left, ear to his shoulder. The pomeranian rests comfortably against his chest until the doorbell rings, surprising the poor dog.

Ah, Taehyung almost forgot. He coos at the stunned dog, a light giggle escaping his lips before putting Yeontan on the dog bed, right beside the living room’s couch. “Stay, I’ll be back.” Then he walks to the door, peeking through the peephole as a grin appears on his face. Opening the door, Jimin and Jungkook pop in with smiles on their faces.

“Hey man, long time no see.” Jimin wraps his arms around Taehyung, patting his back. “How’s it going?”

“It’s rare for you to call us nowadays,” Jungkook comments after giving Tae a hug as well.

“Yeah, I’ve been working my ass off.” Taehyung sighs and locks the door.

“Where’s Y/N?” Jimin emerges out of the hallway, and he crouches as Yeontan approaches him in the living room. “Hey, buddy. Long time no see.”

“What the hell? He’s grown so much, hyung.” Jungkook follows suit, petting the pomeranian and letting out the giggle when Yeontan playfully licks him.

Taehyung clears his throat. “Y/N is out for an appointment, and you guys need to help me.”

“Right,” Jimin stands up, recalling the text Taehyung sent him a few days ago. “So, I think we can finish in around three hours? It’s only six pastries—”

“One hundred forty three,” Taehyung corrects.

Silence.

Jimin blinks rapidly, processing his friend’s words. “Are you insane? We’ll need so much ingredients for that, and I’m guessing not even your gigantic kitchen can store—”

As if on cue, the doorbell rings again.

“Ah, it has arrived,” Taehyung muses, opening the door once more to reveal a delivery man with a cart full of packed grocery ingredients.

“Delivery for Mr Kim.”

“That would be me.” Taehyung signs the tablet before letting the delivery man unload the boxes. After a few minutes, the boxes are stacked near the hallway. Taehyung turns to his friends, “So, should we start?”

“Wait, are you seriously planning on baking a hundred forty three pastries?” Jimin’s expression still shows none other than horror. “That’s impossible.”

“But…”

“Nope,” Jimin shakes his head. “That won’t work. Not even if we have more people to help.” Taehyung’s shoulders noticeably droop. Jimin puts a comforting hand on Taehyung’s shoulder and adds, “Look, we can opt for a lesser number of pastries and arrange them. It’ll look great! Plus, knowing your extra ass, I bet you still have something else planned.”

Pursing his lips, Taehyung mumbles, “Well, you’re not wrong.”

“So, we’re settled,” Jimin lets out a relieved sigh.

There’s a funny look on Jungkook’s face as he watches the whole scene unfold. Taehyung raises a brow at the younger one, who responds with a shake of his head. “I thought you lost your mind, hyung. As someone who runs a billionaire company, I thought the stress is finally getting to you.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes before he realises, “Wait, aren’t you working somewhere else now?”

“Today’s an off day for me,” Jungkook shrugs, walking alongside Taehyung to the kitchen. “So, I figured after knowing Jimin hyung is coming here, I’d tag along.”

“I see.” Taehyung sets the sack of apples on the floor beside the main kitchen counter. Jimin is already rummaging through the kitchen for empty bowls to place the necessary ingredients for the pastries. Meanwhile, Yeontan sniffs the sack of apples curiously, nudging it when the apples tumble down, scattering on the floor.

Putting the bags of cinnamon and sugar on the marble counter, Jungkook mutters, “...And now, I’m already regretting.”

✧༺♡༻∞     ∞༺♡༻✧

You watch the snow-covered trees and sidewalks in a passing blur as Taehyung’s chauffeur drives you to the town’s famous flower shop. After turning to the familiar corner of the street, a few minutes later, you arrive.

Tightening your coat tighter to yourself, you climb out of the car, taking your handbag along with you. As soon as you go through the glass door, the owner greets you. “Y/N! You’re finally here!”

“Hobi!” You greet him in a friendly hug. “How have you been? You look great!”

“I’ve been good!” He motions for you to sit on the chair at the front counter. “Just finished arranging all the bouquets for today, and finally have some peace and quiet until the truck returns, then I have to load the second batch of bouquets.”

“You sure having a busy day.” You sit on the wooden chair. “Is ____ here already?”

He shakes his head, but his eyes are filled with mirth. “She’ll come visit later, she has something to do now. So, let’s start on your thing first.”

“Oh! Did you get it?”

Hoseok nods at your question, moving back behind the cashier counter, and crouches down as he rummages through his things. “Here,” he hands you a miniature of a cherry blossom tree inside a small sealed plastic.

Your eyes light up. “Hobi, it’s perfect!”

He smiles at your reaction. “What are you going to use it for?”

“For this.” You take out an empty snow globe from your bag. “It fits perfectly.”

“Well, you did insist for me to get the right measurements.” He chuckles, watching curiously as you unseal the plastic to take out the cherry blossom tree. “If it wasn’t for my fiancé, I would’ve gotten it wrong. She literally measured it down to precision.”

You laugh, placing the tree on the uncapped snow globe. “That’s what I love about her.”

“Me too,” he giggles before clearing his throat, still smiling. “And what bouquet would you like?”

“It’s for Tae. So...”

“Hmm…” Hoseok purses his lips. “Usually, people would go for roses, tulips, and carnations for Valentine’s Day.”

You ponder for a moment, weighing your options for the perfect bouquet for your husband. “I’ll go with carnations, roses, and baby’s breath.” Hoseok nods, eyes calculating as if picturing the bouquet you’d like.

“Is it okay if I use your counter for a while to assemble this?” You point at the snow globe and miniature on the counter.

“Sure~” Hoseok chirps, striding to the buckets of flowers a few steps away.

Then as if on cue, the front door opens. “I hope I’m not late…” ____ smiles at the sight of you, then her gaze shifts to her fiancé briefly, whose eyes are already on her. “I bring the supplies,” she places a bag of arts and craft supplies you requested in front of you.

“Thank you!” You beam, excitedly giving her a hug before rummaging through the bag. “You really brought everything.”

“No problem.” She ruffles your hair affectionately. “I understand that you had to keep this a secret from Tae for the time being.” Then she turns to Hoseok.

“Hey, baby,” Hoseok grins, opening his arms, his glove-covered hands full of picked flowers. She responds with a smile of her own, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Missed you,” Hoseok mumbles into her hair.

She rolls her eyes, “We just saw each other this morning.”

“Missed you every moment,” Hoseok replies cheekily.

You smile to yourself, hearing their exchange as you work on the snow globe. Taking the glue from the bag, you gingerly apply it to the bottom of the miniature cherry blossom and then stick it to the flat surface of the snow globe. You hold it in that position for a few moments before letting it go to dry.

____ once again stands beside you as Hoseok continues to work on the bouquet. She curiously observes what you’re doing and comments, “Did you come up with this idea?”

You nod. “Yeah, I thought of creating something special for him. After all, it’s our first Valentine’s together as newlyweds.”

Not a minute later, Hoseok already calls for his fiancé from the wrapping table on the other side of the room. “Babe, can you please help me with these?”

____ gives him a glance. “You’re just making excuses to be near me. You usually have everything under control.”

Hoseok wails in vain. “Pleaseee. Usually, I’d have Jungkook helping me. But ever since he’s gotten so busy with his new job, I haven’t been able to find another part-timer. So, I thought you’re helping me today.”

Failing to stifle a smile, ____ mutters a quiet ‘he’s so needy’ and then moves to help whatever Hoseok requires.

You chuckle hearing their banter. Just listening or watching them has always strangely brought warmth inside you. They treat you as their younger sibling, or even their child at times, but you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed at the treatment. Not when you know how they genuinely care about you.

Despite not tying the knot yet, they are the ones who made you believe that soulmates (or at least something really close to it) exist. And you hoped it’ll be the same for you and Taehyung.

Taehyung prides himself in many things—running his billion-dollar worth corporation, doing art, and gaming. He’d like to say that there are still many hidden capabilities that he has yet to discover. However, in the recent light of events, he is close to admitting that talent in the kitchen is a definite no.

“No! What are you doing?!” Jungkook gapes at the smashed apple in Taehyung’s hold, its juices dripping down onto the counter. “You’re making a mess, hyung! And you aren’t supposed to cut like that! Are you trying to commit a murder?”

“I thought this is how you cut it open...” The man in question mumbles, staring glumly at his work.

“No,” Jungkook groans. “You do it like this.” He slices the apple in half easily.

Right. Another aspect that Taehyung seems to lack is the ability to follow or listen to instructions. His primary instinct is either to go with the flow or dive right into whatever he’s facing. Hence, it’s still a work-in-progress since following others is just not his forte—

—except you. Your lilting accent whenever you speak, or even subtle actions, Taehyung follows you easily. One of your little habits—taking deep breaths whenever your emotions are getting the best of you—Taehyung has picked up that so effortlessly.

Like how currently, he’s taking a deep breath to not let his rising frustration get the best of him.

“Like this?” Taehyung attempts the way Jungkook cuts the apple—cutting it in half, aligning with the stem and core, then trying to slice it thinly.

Jungkook nods, observing Taehyung. Jimin, on the other hand, stifles his laughter as he assembles the apple slices on the pastry sheets. The blatant impatience in Jungkook’s face grows more and more apparent at Taehyung’s skill—or, rather lack thereof—in dealing with a knife. “Okay, I think it’s better if I do the rest of it,” Jungkook takes the cutting board, and the apples left. “You can help Jimin hyung do the pastries—shit!”

One of the apple pieces—a chunk, to be precise—rolls off the plate and falls onto the ground. Jungkook’s eyes widen in horror as a fluff of black and brown fur zooms past his legs and picks up the fallen apple as quick as lightning.

“Yeontan, no!”

So, while Yeontan munches happily on his newly-attained snack and a string of curses escapes Jungkook’s lips, Taehyung snatches the cutting board back. He resumes slicing the apples slowly. He’s a man with determination, after all. He’d like to be the reason his wife’s eyes light up with glee as she tastes the apple roses pastries he put his heart into.

Jungkook fusses in the background, “Can dogs eat apples?”

Jimin, now, can barely contain his laughter at the unfurling of the whole scene. “Well… I think so.”

“You think so?” Jungkook groans, quickly fetching his phone from the living room. He furiously types on his phone and googles: can dogs eat apples. “I will not be responsible if Yeontan falls ill and— Oh, thank goodness.” He lets out a relieved sigh. “It makes healthy snacks for them instead.”

“Yeah, it does,” Taehyung replies nonchalantly. “I usually let him have a piece or two without the seeds.”

Jungkook grumbles. “Why didn’t you answer me in the first place then? I panicked—”

“Cuz it’s fun to watch your reaction,” Taehyung and Jimin said in unison.

“And it serves you right...” Taehyung adds, mumbling.

“Screw you guys. I’m not helping with this anymore.” Jungkook crosses his arms, pouting.

“This is for my wife, you know,” Taehyung reminds him, “And remember how my wife is close to Hoseok’s fiance—”

Jungkook picks up the knife in record time.

✧༺♡༻∞     ∞༺♡༻✧

You stare at the finished snow globe in satisfaction, capping back the glycerin and distilled water bottle tightly. Then after you’re confident that everything’s all settled and cleaned up, you tilt the globe a few times to make sure the content is all set and doesn’t spill.

The cherry blossom tree stands tall as tiny leaf-like cutouts of pastel pink cascade through the liquid in slow motion, like real falling cherry blossoms.

“Wow, it’s so pretty,” ____ comments after she helped Hoseok with the bouquet.

You grin at her compliment before placing the snow globe in an empty black gift box. “I hope Tae will love this.”

“He sure will,” ____ muses, watching you tie the gift box. “You know he’ll love anything you give him. And—”

“Babe, can you help me get some ribbons?” Hoseok asks from the wrapping table across the room.

“Sure,” ____ chuckles, grabbing a basket of colourful ribbons under the counter and handing it to Hoseok.

“Can you help me tape around the edges?” Hoseok lifts the bouquet of flowers, gaze pointing at the bulk of stems. ____ complies, following his instructions before wrapping it with cotton paper.

You stand up from your seat and move closer to the couple. At the sight of the assembled flowers, you gape, “Now, that’s pretty.”

“I’m glad you like it,” He chuckles, tying the wrapped bouquet with a ribbon. “And we’re done!” He hands you the bouquet.

Taking a closer look at the vibrant hues of red, pink, and white, you stare in awe. “I love it!”

After bidding Hoseok and ____ goodbye, you step out of the shop with the bouquet and gift box in hand. Taehyung’s chauffeur opens the door to the car, and you climb in quickly to avoid the cold weather.

“Where would you like to go, Mrs. Kim?” The chauffeur asks as he drives.

“The bakery please. It’s a few blocks away from here.”

You hum to yourself a soft, happy tune. Just imagining how your husband would react has your heart fluttering and giddy. Wondering what he’s up to, you take out your phone from your coat and press on his number.

The familiar ring buzzes a few times until he answers. “Hey, baby.”

“Hey,” you smile. “What are you up to?”

“Hmm? Uh, nothing?” He answers, then you hear the sound of clanking and familiar whispers in the background.

“Tae… What are you doing?”

He hums. “Well, I thought I should clean up the penthouse before our dinner tonight.”

“Oh,” you giggle. “Did you really call Jimin and Jungkook to help clean up our place?”

Taehyung mutters a curse under his breath. “W-Well, they are willing to help. So, why not?”

“Usually, you’d call the usual cleaning services. Plus, isn’t Jimin’s bakery busy today?”

“Unfortunately, not this time, sweetheart. I’ve prepared some things tonight and I don’t want people nosing around.” Taehyung explains. “And Jimin says his girlfriend got it under control.”

You let out an amused chuckle. “Alright then.” Glancing out the car window, the pastel pink store is nearing. “I need to go now. See you tonight, baby.”

“See you soon, my love.”

The smile never leaves Taehyung’s face as he puts his phone back into his pocket and walks back to the kitchen. Jungkook is still cutting apples while Jimin cracks some eggs into a bowl.

“Was that Y/N?” Jimin spares a brief glance as he whisks the eggs.

Taehyung nods. “She asked what I was doing.”

“Nothing at all…” Jungkook mutters under his breath, arranging the sliced apples on a plate and putting them in the microwave.

“I heard that,” Taehyung narrows his stare at the younger one. “So… How are things between you and her, Kookie?”

Jungkook falters. “Uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ah, yes, do you know I just met her in my meeting a few days ago?” A teasing smirk curls up on Taehyung’s lips as Jungkook pouts, still arranging the second batch of apples.

“Don’t fight you guys.” Jimin groans. “We’re not even halfway done with this!”

Taehyung opens his mouth to complain, and Jimin cuts him off. “So, you’re going to prepare the muffin tray—” Jimin instructs Taehyung. “Then Jungkook is going to help me with the pastries.”

“Can I help with the pastries instead?” Taehyung watches Jimin pouring cinnamon and sugar into another bowl. “Jungkook can prep the muffin trays.”

“Are you up for it?” Jimin raises a brow. Taehyung nods enthusiastically.

“Alright. But make sure to follow how I do it.”

Taehyung smiles giddily and stands beside his friend. He follows every action Jimin does: brushing egg wash on the pastry, sprinkling cinnamon and sugar on the dough, arranging the apples, and rolling it into a tart.

“So, how’s things so far with Goldilocks?” Taehyung questions once he gets the hang of arranging the pastries.

Jimin lets out a sheepish chuckle. “That’s her pet goldfish’s name, you know.”

Jungkook places the muffin tray after he preps it. “And she made me carry the whole tank back home…” Jungkook grumbles, recalling the past event.

Taehyung shrugs. “Then Ms. Shooting Star.”

Jimin fights back a blush on his cheeks at the mention of that. “I’m beginning to regret telling you all that.”

Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows with a teasing smirk.

“We’re both really busy these days, and we said to take things slow since her parents are a bit complicated, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Jungkook chuckles, “Says the one who had a mental breakdown right before Christmas dinner.

Jimin glares at the younger one. “Look who’s talking. I wonder if you’d ever grow the balls to admit your feelings for She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.”

“I don’t have feelings for her.” Jungkook mutters, looking away.

Taehyung nods. “Well, then. That’s good to know. One of my business partners was asking about her the other day. I thought I’d introduce them. “

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Great, now you’re playing cupid?”

“Not yet. But I got one in mind who’s very interested in her…”

“Please, don’t.” Jungkook whispers, gritting his teeth.

“What was that?” Taehyung asks with an open hand behind his ear.

“Don’t…”

“What?”

“Please, for fuck’s sake. Don’t introduce any of your friends to her beyond business interest.”

Silence.

Jungkook blinks before he rambles, “I mean it’s going to be creepy if someone that’s fifty years older hits on her—”

“Oh, no. I can guarantee he’s not that old. In fact, he’s still a bachelor. Maybe a few years older than us. And—” Taehyung recalls, rolling the last apple rose pastry and placing it on the muffin tray. “—come to think of it, she did ask me about him once...” Taehyung trails, noticing Jungkook’s blank expression at the information. “Oops, I think I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

“They all look so good,” you mutter, scouring through the vast chocolate choices under the display glass.

[Name] shoots you a smile. “Take all the time you need. The cafe isn’t open today, so it’s not that busy here.”

You glance around the bakery briefly. “I can tell… No wonder Jimin is with Taehyung right now.”

“Mhmm…” [Name] nods; she leans forward on the glass display, chin resting against one palm.

“Are you okay spending time here alone…?”

She shrugs. “I was promised a date in the winter market tonight. So, I don’t mind—” The sudden ringtone of her phone cuts her off. “Wait, gimme a sec—” You nod as she picks up her phone. “Mochi?”

A chuckle escapes your lips at the cute nickname.

“No, I can’t go there right now. It’s still too early to close up.” She glances at the wall clock. “Huh? What do you mean Jungkook left?” Your gaze shifts up from the sweet displays to her worried expression. “Oh, okay.” She drums her fingers on the counter. “I’ll talk to him if he goes here. Bye— yes, love you too.” She presses the disconnect button.

“Is everything okay?” You ask curiously.

She responds with a nod. “You know the usual, Taehyung and Jimin teases Jungkook too much and now, he’s gone off to blow some steam.”

“To where—” The door to the bakery slams open, and there a huffy Jungkook appears.

“That was fast,” [Name] sniggers at her best friend.

“Not in the mood,” Jungkook pouts, sitting on the closest table to the cashier counter.

“They giving you a hard time?” [Name] places a steaming mug of hot chocolate on his table and tilts her head slightly.

Jungkook huffs once more, sipping the drink carefully. Honestly, he doesn’t even know what got him so worked up. He’s used to all his hyungs’ teasing, but...

“Tell me about it,” [Name] places a steaming mug of hot chocolate on his table. “After I helped Y/N with her chocolate.”

Jungkook blinks, now realising that you’re standing awkwardly in front of the glass displays. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hi, Jungkook,” you greet him back and turn to look at the desserts again. “And uh, I’ll take this and this…” You point out all the chocolate you’d like, earning a nod from [Name].

As soon as she’s done packing the chocolate box, you bid them farewell and exit the bakery with your heart fluttering in anticipation and excitement.

The peaceful atmosphere in the kitchen ceases the moment Taehyung’s phone dings when a text notification appears. Taehyung—who was busy admiring his final work on the muffin tray—takes a glimpse of his phone’s screen on the counter. “Oh no.”

Jimin takes the muffin tray off the counter and sets it in the oven. “What?”

“Jungkook just texted me that Y/N is coming back now.”

“Huh?” Jimin’s eyes widen. “But the pastries aren’t done yet!”

Another ding resounds through Taehyung’s phone.

Jungkook: Good luck tryna hide the pastries :P

“He can be annoying if he wants to...” Taehyung mutters under this breath at Jungkook’s retaliation.

“Well, we did hit a nerve by talking about her...” Jimin sighs, crossing his arms.

Taehyung snorts. “The kid needs to get it sorted out as quickly as possible. He sometimes just needs a push.”

“He still needs time,” Jimin counters, shaking his head. “Not all people have it easy in admitting their feelings.”

Taehyung mulls for a minute and nods in understanding. “I guess I shouldn’t push him too hard. But for now, I should find a way to distract Y/N,” Taehyung searches for your contact. “How long do you think we need?”

Jimin mentally calculates the time. “Like forty minutes to an hour?���

“Okay,” Taehyung clicks on your number. He clears his throat once you pick up the phone, “Y/N? Hey, baby, I might need help picking up something...”

“Oh, sure. What is it?”

“I need your help to pick up a cooking book I’ve been searching for…”

“...Cooking? Since when you’re interested in—”

“Look, I’ve been trying to find a new hobby and I thought why not cooking? Jimin recommended me to try it.” Taehyung blabbers, his heart beating fast. “And it’ll be fun if we do it together, right?”

“Okay.” The amusement in your tone lights up his face into a shy smile. “Send me which book you’re looking for and I’ll check with ____ if she has it. Just hope she and Hobi haven’t gone out for their date yet.”

“Thanks, love. I owe you one.”

He can hear the smile on your voice as you respond, “I only accept payment in kisses and cuddles.”

Taehyung chuckles fondly. “Consider it done.” Once you end the call, Taehyung checks the pastries in the oven, mumbling, “I hope that would keep her busy for a while.”

Jimin nods. “The first batch is almost done. But the second one—an hour should be enough...” He trails, voice filled with uncertainty.

“It has to be enough.” Taehyung picks up the dirty bowls and dumps it in the kitchen sink. “It should be...”

Jimin helps clean up the counter, even ensuring that there isn’t a trace of flour on the floor before he checks his phone briefly and pockets it back in his jeans. He moves near the oven—hands covered by the oven mitts—and tentatively takes out the first batch of apple roses pastries from the top rack and puts it on the counter.

“Let it cool off for a while and then you can hide it in the fridge or a container. Oh, and how will you plan to arrange the—”

Taehyung rinses off the remaining utensils—taking his washing gloves off—and rummages through the cabinets, taking out a heart-shaped platter.

With an unamused expression, Jimin blinks a few times. “You just have all kinds of things in your kitchen, do you?”

Taehyung shrugs. “Y/N came across it the other day and thought it was pretty. She didn’t buy it, so I bought it instead.”

A flabbergasted laugh escapes Jimin’s lips as he shakes his head. “Well, I better get going now. I don’t want to be late for my date tonight.”

“Thanks for your help, man. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“That’s what friends are for, yeah?” Jimin walks out to the front door and wears his coat before giving Taehyung a farewell hug. “And you should apologise to Jungkook too. He’s probably still having his pity-party in my bakery.”

Taehyung nods, opening the door. “I will.”

After Jimin left, Taehyung goes back to the kitchen. He puts one leg and the other over the pet barrier he set to prevent Yeontan from stealing any more fallen ingredients. Said dog is whimpering in front of the kitchen doorway until the front door clicks. Then he hears the familiar footsteps of his wife.

So, of course, things aren’t going according to Taehyung’s plan today.

✧༺♡༻∞     ∞༺♡༻✧

After retrieving Taehyung’s desired cookbook, you arrive in the lobby. You stop by the receptionist desk to hide the gifts and tell them to bring it up to the penthouse at your call around seven in the evening.

The moment you step through the door, the sweet smell of cinnamon fills the air. Taking off your boots and coat, you call out for your husband. “Tae? You in here?” You head towards the kitchen to find it barricaded by Yeontan’s fence barrier. “What the—” You lift one leg over the barricade, and your other leg follows. You stride to the refrigerator to get a drink, only to find it blocked.

When you glance down, there your husband lays—his long legs blocking the fridge—with a strained smile on his face, looking absolutely winded. “You’re back.”

“My goodness, what happened here?” You crouch, helping him sit up. “Did the cleaning go wrong?”

Taehyung shakes his head, leaning against the refrigerator. “Everything’s well. Just… Resting… For a while.”

“Are you okay?” You tilt your head. “I’m gonna get you some water—”

Your husband stops you, leaning in to give you a peck on the lips. “Hi.”

An involuntary shy smile appears on your face. “Hi there, do you mind scooting? I want to get a drink.”

He shakes his head again, winding his arms around you. “It’s okay... I’m— I’ll take it for you.”

“Hmm? But you can barely even move, Tae…” You reach out, moving a stray hair from his handsome face.

“I can…” he pouts, grasping your hand on his hair to kiss your palm. “Just give me a minute.”

With a teasing smile on your face, you reach for the refrigerator handle again and attempt to open it when your husband stands up.

He’s definitely hiding something, but luckily he’s cute. “Alright…” You muse, watching his attempt to keep you from opening the fridge. But you suppose you’ll comply with his conspicuous actions. “I’ll wait in the living room.”

After you head out of the kitchen, Taehyung opens the fridge—releases a breath as he takes out a water bottle—and closes it again. He goes out to the living room, finding you giggling as Yeontan playfully licks your face on the couch. The sight brings warmth inside Taehyung’s heart as he strides closer and sits beside you, handing you your water.

“Thanks.” You let Yeontan down from the couch before taking the water bottle. While you drink your fill, Taehyung lays his head on your lap, letting out a contented sigh as you weave your fingers through his dark locks. “What time is dinner again?”

“Seven.”

Capping the water bottle, you glance at the wall clock in front of you. “So… Two more hours. I gotta get ready.”

“Hmm…?” Taehyung opens his eyes. “But we’re celebrating here...”

You let out a quiet laugh. “You said you want to reenact our first date.”

Your husband blinks once, then realisation falls upon him as he groans in embarrassment, sitting up. “You’re actually considering it?”

“Why not? It’s a cute idea,” you giggle. “It’s only between us both.”

Facing you, he questions, “It’s not too cheesy or anything?” Uncertainty is evident in his gaze.

“Of course not.” You grin, encircling your arms around him. “I love that idea actually.”

He lets out a sheepish chuckle. “Then I’ll see you in two hours?” Taehyung bites his bottom lip—a habit when he’s nervous—but he still holds your stare. “I’ll use the guest bathroom to freshen up. So, you get the bathroom all to yourself.”

“Oh? We can share as usual—”

“But that won’t fully reenact our first date, you know, before we’re living together—” He rambles, eyes darting everywhere, but you. You, on the other hand, fail to stifle a smile at his flustered state. Nodding in understanding, you stand up. Taehyung grasps your wrist, causing you to turn to him. “No kisses for me?”

You lean down, levelling your face with his, with a teasing smirk. “I don’t kiss on the first date, handsome.”

“You know what, on second thought—”

“See you later, baby.” Escaping his clutches, you go straight to your bedroom for your “first” date with your husband.

Taehyung has never been this nervous before, well, ever since your wedding day—the moment you walked down the aisle with a beautiful smile on your face that he needed to pull himself together before he turns into a sobbing mess and—

Okay, the point is, Taehyung has presented business plans, his company’s valuation, and other significant matters in front of hundreds or even thousands of people. He managed to stay calm and collected in every presentation—full of confidence as he moved across the stage with ease.

But when it comes to you? He wonders where did all that confidence go. And you’re just one person. The one person who he had promised to cherish and love, and—

He lets out a deep breath, staring at himself in the guest bathroom mirror. In a deep burgundy suit, he does a once-over at his appearance before the sound of the doorbell rings. He rushes out and ushers the staff, who brings a decorated table in along with the surprises he prepared.

A few minutes later, when all is set, he knocks on your bedroom door, straightening his suit jacket in nervousness.

The moment the door swings open, Taehyung’s throat goes dry as he gapes at you, adorning the same black dress you wore on your first date. Your eyes momentarily grow wide as well at his choice of outfit—the same one he used on the first date—before bursting into a giggle. “Wow, we do think alike…”

Snapping out of his trance, he nods. “And you still look breathtaking as ever.”

“Stop stroking my ego.” You move closer to him, looping your arm through his as he leads you to the living room.

“You know I can’t help myself,” Taehyung chuckles.

A gasp escapes your lips as soon as you see what has been prepared. The whole room is lit up by candles—some real, some fake—yet, there are no other words than to describe it as beautiful. The couch and coffee table has been set aside, and in the middle of the living room, a candlelit table stands with meals for two prepared on it. Your gaze falls on the bouquet of roses Taehyung has in hand.

“It’s beautiful,” you mutter in awe.

Taehyung grins. “A hundred and forty-three roses for the love of my life.”

You gape, taking the bouquet into your arms. “A hundred forty-three?”

“It means ‘I love you’.” His gaze is full of emotions. “I don’t know if I’ll ever live up to be the man of your dreams. But I can continue—” He takes your hand in his. “—to love you even more as we spend our lives together.”

Silence.

Your gaze is glassy and unreadable. Then you blink your eyes rapidly, looking up at the ceiling. “Damn it, Tae. I’m using makeup.”

“Huh?”

Placing down the bouquet on the coffee table, you reach out for the tissue, dabbing your eyes carefully before fanning your hands.

“Oh no, don’t cry—”

“It’s your fault for making such a speech. You know how emotional I get when you do that.” You dab your eyes more as Taehyung wraps his arms around your waist from behind.

“Oh sweetheart,” Taehyung coos as you face him. You stare into his loving gaze for a few moments before you clear your throat. However, as if on cue, the doorbell rings. Taehyung furrowed his brows. “Expecting someone?”

“Wait here.” Pulling away from his hold, you rush to the door. The moment you return to the living room with presents in hand, Taehyung gapes as you hand him the bouquet and gift box.

“What is this?” He observes the gift box curiously, then admires the flowers. “It’s beautiful.”

You sit on the couch, patting the space beside you. Taehyung follows suit, placing the bouquet on the coffee table before untying the gift box’s black ribbon before his breath hitches in his throat.

With trembling hands, he lifts up the snow globe carefully. “It’s… Isn’t this where we met?”

You nod. “Just so you know, I couldn’t wish for a better person to be with,” you start. “I think some part of me has always known that you’d be the man of my dreams. Ever since you spilled strawberry juice on my shirt.”

It takes him a few moments to process your words as his eyes shift from the snow globe to you; a chuckle passes his lips. “First, that was an accident. And do you… really mean that?”

Taking his free hand on yours, you lace your fingers together. “I married you, didn’t I?” Your wedding rings gleam softly, reflecting the light of the burning candles in the room.

“Made me the happiest man alive.” He recalls the memories of falling cherry blossoms, spilled strawberry juice and frantic apologies-turned-laughter. A soft smile appears on your face after putting the snow globe back on its box. He turns to you. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

You raise a brow at him. “What’s stopping you?”

“You don’t kiss on first dates.”

“Well…” You lean closer to him. “I think I can make an exception for the man of my dreams.”

Taehyung exhales, “Thank heavens.” He cups your face gently, clearing the remaining distance between the both of you. No matter how many times you kiss, it never fails to send his heart beating a tad faster or put a smile on his face. In other words, Taehyung is head over heels in love with you.

After a few moments, you pull away, and he chases after you, but you place a pointer finger on his lips. “Dinner first,” you remind him.

He sighs in defeat, lips turning into a pout and nodded. Once you both finish dinner, you lean back on your chair, patting your stomach. “That was a nice meal.”

“I have one more surprise for you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, “What is it?” With a secretive grin, Taehyung stands from his seat and makes a beeline to the kitchen. You can hear the fridge opening and closing before your husband walks out of the kitchen with a—

“Isn’t that the platter I saw a few days ago?”

Excitement is written on his face at your realisation, placing the platter in front of you. You let out a gasp at the sight of the neatly-arranged apple rose pastries.

“I made it myself,” Taehyung beams. “Jimin and Jungkook came to help a bit.”

“A bit?” You tease, shooting him a glance before setting your gaze back on the pastries. “These look almost too pretty to eat.”

Taehyung drags his seat to your side and plops down. Anticipation is apparent in his eyes as he watches you pick up a pastry and bites into it. Another gasp escapes your throat at the burst of sweetness spreading across your tastebuds. You stare at him in shock as you chew.

“So?” He waits for your response. “How does it taste?”

“It’s...” You swallow the remaining pastry in your mouth down. “Really good.” Taehyung’s eyes twinkle at your compliment. “I’m… Wow,” you breathe out, utterly speechless. “So, this is why you wanted to start cooking?”

He blinks, with realisation dawning upon him, then he scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Actually… That was to keep you distracted for a while. I wasn’t done baking the pastries yet.”

Snorting, you lift another pastry in front of your husband’s mouth; he bites and chews for a few seconds. And stops.

You furrow your brows at his odd reaction. “What’s wrong?”

“Shit—” Taehyung rushes to the guest bathroom without another word. Placing the half-bitten pastry on the empty plate, you follow suit and find your husband retching on the toilet bowl. Once he’s done, he reaches for a mouthwash. “I think—” He gargles the mouthwash then spit into the sink. “—that one is still undercooked.”

“Oh, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t know—” you ramble, watching Taehyung wipe his mouth with a paper towel, then washes his hands.

He cradles your face with his dried hands. “It’s my fault. I didn’t check if all the pastries are fully baked. I’m sorry.”

“You okay, now?” Your voice sounds uncertain, hands covering his bigger ones.

He nods reassuringly. “It’s not that bad. Maybe I was over-exaggerating— oof.” You poke his stomach in retaliation as he giggles.

“You had me worried.”

“And you’re still a worrywart.” He rubs his nose on yours affectionately. “My adorable worrywart.”

Your gaze falls on his drenched shirt (and luckily, he already discarded his burgundy suit). “Your shirt is ruined now.”

“Hmm...? Oh, dear,” he feigns worry, leaning on the marble sink—his palms on your hips. “Now, what do we do? Do you wanna—” You roll your eyes at the teasing glint in his eyes. Knowing what he’s up to, your fingers unbutton his shirt, leaving him flustered at your sudden movement. “W-Wait—!”

You pull the collar of his half-unbuttoned shirt, leaning forward to have his face so close to yours. Both your lips just millimetres away from each other. Voice dropping into a lilting whisper, you purr, “Let me make it easier for you today, yeah?”

Shivers run down Taehyung’s spine at your familiar words. “Is this payback because of this morning?” You shrug and finish unbuttoning his shirt. His lean chest on display to your eyes now. “Or is this just an excuse to get me naked?”

A teasing smirk curls up on your lips. “A bit of both.” Then you wrap your arms around his neck, closing the distance between you—lips claiming his own.

Humming in approval, Taehyung winds his arms around your waist. Fire ignites inside you as you pull away briefly. Your husband turns you around, settling you on the marble counter of the sink while he stands between your legs.

Your dress hikes up to your thighs, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when the man of your dreams drags his luscious lips across your jaw and trails down your neck. Your breath hitches when he kisses your sweet spot; fisting his opened shirt by the shoulder as he rains kisses on your collar bones, nipping on it.

“Tae—” You breathe out as he hums in response, tugging the zipper on the back of your dress down. “—kiss me, please.”

And he complies, claiming your lips.

Tangling your fingers through his hair, you let out a sigh as he trails downward once more, scraping the skin of your throat with his teeth. Tugging the straps of your dress off your shoulders and letting them pool on your waist, he lets out, “You’re gorgeous.” He places a kiss on the juncture between your neck and shoulder. A soft whimper emits from your throat. “So damn gorgeous. And all mine.”

Tracing his jaw—half-lidded gaze staring at him—you whisper, “Why don’t we take this somewhere else more comfortable?”

Almost instantly, he lifts you up in his arms—your legs winding around his waist, arms around his neck—heads out of the bathroom and lays you gently on the bed. You discard your dress as it falls in a heap of silk on the rug. Then you tug off Taehyung’s shirt as he climbs on top of you.

“You’re spoiling me so much today. Thank you,” You mutter, holding your husband’s face in your hands.

“Thank you, my love. What I did today, it’s the least I can do,” He stares back at you with so much love, leaning down to kiss you softly. “After all, I’d do anything to make you smile.”

You chuckle at that, poking his nose. “I love you.”

He holds one hand of yours and kisses your palm. “And I love you.”

The remaining articles of clothing find themselves in a heap on the floor as your husband reminds you of your wedding night—making love to you into the late hours of the night.

EPILOGUE

“Don’t go…” he mumbles sleepily, keeping his arms around your naked waist.

“Tae, let me go, I just need a drink—” you wriggle in his hold to break free. “—my throat is really dry—” And your husband has the nerve to chuckle at your words. He lets out a pained groan as you poke his stomach (maybe a bit too hard), and finally, he lets you loose.

Climbing off the bed, you pick up his shirt and don it quickly. However, the moment you step out of the bedroom, an unpleasant smell wafts through your nostrils, and when you reach the living room, you gape in horror.

“Yeontan!” You shriek at the sight as the said perpetrator waddles towards you with his round innocent eyes.

Your husband emerges—bare-chested and in his boxers—out of the bedroom at your alarming shriek. Once he sees the scattered dog waste across the marble floor, he mutters, “I think we ignored him for too long.”

author’s note: i’ve decided to add another character (YAYYY CEO!taehyung) in the same universe as baker!jimin, florist!hobi and ???!jungkook (feel free to guess what he’d be 😙)!! thank you for reading and as always feedbacks are appreciated !!

[margotw10bis]

Crashing On Crush.JJK 8 [m]

crush!Jungkook x reader

Genre: smut; series; romance; angst

Words: 3.3k

Synopsis: What happens when your first encounter with your crush is Jungkook seeing your ass?

Warnings: drugs

previous ← 8 → next

"Kookie, I'm home" Mina announces when she steps in Jungkook's apartment

He is already waiting for her, determined to set the record straight. He has made his decision: he wants to be with you. Everything feels right with you. When you two talked at the coffee shop, he promised himself to do everything for you if you give him the chance to. He is tired of doing everything wrong and he wants to be happy, just for once. He does care about Mina, a lot. But he can't deny everything else for her. He has done it in the past, and nothing good arose from it.

"We need to talk"

Jungkook's serious tone makes Mina wince. She notices the frown on Jungkook's face and she knows that she won't like what is coming. She sits next to him on the couch.

"I think you should go back to Busan" Jungkook starts, carefully "I thought I could help you, but I can't"

"You're lying!" Mina exclaims, tears in her dark eyes

Jungkook's heart squeezes when he sees the pain and the betrayal on Mina's delicate features. He is hurting as much as she is.

"I'll still be there for you, Mina but you need to go to Busan, where people can actually help you. I called your parents, they'll arrive tonight to bring you home"

"You did not!" Mina gasps, now furious

She jumps on her feet, her whole body shaking of fury. She is angrily walking back and forth in the living room. She points an accusing finger at the person she trusted the most.

"How could you? You said you'd help me! You promised me you'll never give up on me!"

Jungkook closes his eyes at the accusations. They are all true. He promised when he saw her in front of his building waiting for him. When she asked him to help her. Because she is one of the most important people in his life. He promised because he thought she was Mina, his best friend. But as the days went on, Jungkook discovered new faces of her: she lied, she was manipulative, she was deceitful. She stole some cash in Jungkook's wallet and went out at night. If Jungkook promised her to help her, she promised to stop acting like that. She broke the promise first. And honestly, Jungkook is not strong enough to deal with that. He is still struggling for himself.

Suddenly, Mina's eyes narrow.

"It's because of her, isn't it?"

"What are talking about?"

"The girl we saw at the club. It's because of her! You are leaving me for her!"

"No, it's not because of her" Jungkook sighs, standing up too "It's because of you, Mina. It's too much to bare for me"

"She doesn't even know you! I know you. Do you really think that she'd want to see you again when she knows the truth?"

Jungkook winces, pain weighing on his heart at the simple thought of you rejecting him even though he knows that it's probably what will happen.

"But I'm here. I will never leave you. I know you, I know everything about you and I still love you" Mina's voice is way softer now.

She steps closer to Jungkook and cups his cheeks with her hands, making him look straight into her eyes.

"I love you, Jungkook. I always have and I always will. We can stay together, forever. I'll be better for you. I can't do it without you, please don't leave me"

Jungkook gulps and gently get her hands off of his face.

"Mina, I can't help you. I wish I could"

Mina's face changes once again and the soft features disappears to be replaced by anger.

"What did she say to you? That bitch must have said something, otherwise you won't leave me"

"She didn't say anything. This is not about her, I already told you" Jungkook is beginning to be sick of this go-around-in-circle conversation

"Do you love her?"

For a few seconds, the apartment goes completely silent. Jungkook looks at Mina, not seeing any emotion on her face. His jaws clench and he ends up nodding.

"Yes, I do"

Everything breaks in Mina. Jungkook is a fucking traitor. He promised her to always be there for her and now, he is ready to dump her for a girl he's known for five minutes. She knew you were not as innocent as you looked like. One thing is clear in Mina's mind: if she looses everything, then Jungkook will lose everything too.

"Okay" She says

Saying that Jungkook is surprised by Mina's calm tone is an understatement. He expected her to scream or to break everything. This is not normal...

"Your parents will arrive in a few minutes. Get your stuff, I'll go take a shower" He gets closer to Mina and hugs her "I am really sorry, Mina"

Mina doesn't hug him back but Jungkook understands that she is mad right now and he gives her room to process everything.

————

The whole argument with Mina makes you cranky and a little blue. The meeting with the print company didn't go well either so you decide to stop at a pojangmacha. You don't care it's only 6 pm and you asks the owner a bottle of soju. As you are filling up your glass shot, you wonder what to do with Jungkook. The few days working with him made you hope that things could work between you. You felt so good with him, even when you were just talking. You felt a real bond between you but did you imagine everything because you wanted it to be?

You have no doubt that Mina loves Jungkook. How can you blame her when you feel the exact same? But you had the feeling that Jungkook wanted something - whatever is it - with you... If Mina confesses, will he change his mind? Will he say that he loves her too?

You are completely lost, overwhelmed by multiple feelings you can't even identify. You want Jungkook to be happy, even if it's not with you and if you suffer. That's how much you love him, ready to give up your own happiness for him. Are you crazy? Mina was kind of right: you don't know much about him or about his past. But you do know what kind of human being he is. He is kind, caring, smart and funny. He is the kind of person you can count on and you can trust. He is sincere with his feelings. Isn't it enough to say that you know him and that you love him for who he is?

But then again, Mina is standing between you and you can't deny that they have history... Aren't you the villain if you keep them from living their first love? Do you have to step back or do you have to fight for your feelings? There are so many questions in your head and not a clue to answer them.

With a dragger in the throat, you drink your shot. The soju burns the inside of your body but doesn't hurt more than the whole situation with Jungkook.

"Imonim!'"You call out the lady owner of the pojangmacha "Can I have some tteokbokki please?"

You pull out your phone from your bag to tell Aecha how it went for the printer since you haven't check your cellphone for hours now. You are surprised to see a text from Jungkook: 'Can you come over to my place at seven please? I want to tell you something' Your heart speeds up its pace and your cheeks redden. You check the time and you freeze when you see it's almost seven pm. You need to leave now if you don't want to be late.

"I'm sorry, Imonim, I have to go. I left the money on the desk" You tells the owner while grabbing your things

In the bus, you are thinking about a hundred of scenarios. You go through all the possible things Jungkook would like to say: that Mina confessed and he loves her too, that Mina confessed but he realized that he loves you, or something totally different about work... When you step out the bus, you still have no idea what will come out of your meeting with Jungkook.

You stand in front of his door, your heart beating loud in your chest and ears. You rise your hand to knock but freeze when you notice the door is open. Why? Did something happen? You begin to stress but you rush in to check on Jungkook. What if something happened to him? Is he hurt? You panic at the thought.

You check the living room and the open kitchen but no one is here. Same in the bedroom. Something is weird. You hear a faint noise coming from the bathroom. You gather all your courage and push the door. You are shocked by what you see: Jungkook, sitting on the floor with his back leaning on the bathtub's wall, sobbing and staring at a small pouch in his hands. There is a white and glistening powder in it but you don't know what it is.

What the fuck is going on?

"Jungkook?" You whisper

Jungkook bursts into tears and hides his wet eyes with his hands. Your heart breaks. He is such in pain and you don't understand why. You get closer to him, gently putting a comforting hand on his shaking shoulders.

"Throw it in the toilet, I can't do it" He manages to say between hiccups

You frown but don't ask question. You take the small pouch and flush the toilet, making it disappear. You kneel down and you tightly hug Jungkook. Even if you don't know what's going on, you are here for him. You always thought that Jungkook was a strong man, never afraid of anything. His look and his confidence are the definition of fearless. But now, you are witnessing something you have no idea Jungkook had. It's true that sometimes you felt some pain in his eyes but you never thought that he was suffering this much.

"It's okay, I'm here" You say in his ear while you caresse his hair and back

Jungkook throws his arms around you and holds on on you for dear life. It's like he is drowning and you are a lifeline. If he lets go of you, he will be swallowed by the huge and terrifying black hole underneath his feet.

You would give everything to make Jungkook stop suffering. You feel his pain in your whole body and it's suffocating. You want to cry of how much it's painful to see him in pain. You pray every god to soothe him.

"Tell me what to do" You ask him, hopeless in front of his tears

"Can you drive me somewhere?" He demands with a broken voice

"Of course, anything"

You pull over just enough to look at his face. His eyes are red and his cheeks are drenched by his tears. The pain on his pretty face should be illegal. You softly rub his cheeks with your thumbs and press your forehead against his. By that, you try to show him that you are here for him and that you love him, no matter what. Everything that has been before is long forgotten, you only care about now, about him.

You stand up and grab his big hands. The effects of the two shots of soju you have drunk earlier are completely erased. Seeing Jungkook this distraught sobered you up. Hand in hand, you walk out of Jungkook's place and he gives you his car key. He is way too shaken to drive himself.

"Where do you want to go?" You asks him when you are both in the Mercedes, the sun now melting into gold as it settles down into the horizon

"Busan"

You don't question more. Jungkook will tell you when he feels ready to. You type in the GPS the address he gives you and you start driving. You are quite stressed because it's been a long time since you have been behind a wheel but you are more preoccupied by Jungkook's well-being. When you enter the highway, you feel more relaxed because it's easier for you than driving in the city. Without taking your eyes off of the road, you grab Jungkook's hand in yours on his lap. You caress the back of his hand and you feel him relax.

Jungkook is sleeping during the whole four hours of driving. Even if it's late in the night, you don't feel tired at all. Your brain is working flat out to make sense of this situation. Why Jungkook was so distressed because of this white powder? What was this white powder? Where was Mina? Why does Jungkook need to go to Busan all of the sudden? If you had questions regarding your relationship with Jungkook earlier, now you have so much questionings about Jungkook, period.

The GPS leads you to an apartment block. Nothing fancy, just middle-class neighboring. You sigh and look at Jungkook. He is sleeping peacefully and you don't want to wake him up. He is calm now but you know the second he'll open his eyes, he'll suffer again from whatever it is. You give him some rest for a few more minutes and gently shake his shoulder. Jungkook slowly opens his eyes and your heart breaks a little when you don't see the usual sparkles in them. He used to have beautiful shiny eyes like stars at night but now, they are like a cloudy night. You miss his bright doe eyes...

"I need to go see someone" Jungkook simply says

"Do you want me to come with you?" You replies softly, you don't want to push him but just let him know that you are here if he needs anything

"Can you wait in the car? It'll just take a few minutes" Jungkook seems embarrassed to have let you drive four hours and not invite you in when you arrive

"No problem, take your time" You give him a reassuring smile and he leaves the car

Jungkook knocks on the door and waits a few seconds but nothing happens. 'He must be sleeping' He thinks and knocks again, harder.

"What the hell?" A grumpy and sleepy man exclaims while finally opening the door.

His eyes widen when he discovers Jungkook on the other side. He hasn't seen him in years and judging by the time, it's not a simple courtesy visit. He worries immediately.

"Jungkook? Are you okay?"

"No"Jungkook manages to say before bursting into tears

"Come on in and tell me everything" The man responds and puts a strong and reassuring hand on Jungkook's shoulder while guiding him into his living room.

————

"I'm glad you went to see me" The man finally says after Jungkook told him everything "I know it wasn't easy but you being here says a lot about your courage and determination. You didn't choose the easy way and you can be proud of that. I am proud of you"

These words warm Jungkook's heart. He needed to talk to someone he could trust, someone who knew him in the past but didn't treat him like the others. That someone is Seokjin. Basically, Jungkook owes him his life.

"Do you want to sleep here tonight or are you going to your parents'?" Seokjin asks

"I haven't spoken to them in years" Jungkook winces "So, if it's okay with you, I'd like to stay at your place"

"No prob, I have a guest room" Seokjin smiles, patting Jungkook's shoulder

Jungkook smiles too, his friend does touch his shoulder a lot but he doesn't mind since it's a comforting habit of Seokjin.

"But, my friend drove me here so..." Jungkook starts, embarrassed

"Go get him, he can stay too"

Jungkook doesn't correct his friend, maybe because he is afraid that he will change his mind if he knows you're a woman. So he just gets up and walks back to his car.

When you see him, you get off the car.

"Are you okay?" You ask immediately, worried

"Yes, don't worry. We are going to stay at my friend's place for the night, okay?" Jungkook checks on you, he doesn't want you to feel ill-at-ease

You just nod, honestly exhausted now that the adrenaline went down. Jungkook grabs your hand and leads you to the apartment he was in a few minutes ago. This time, the door is unlocked and you both enter without knocking.

You are as surprised as the man in front of you but not for the same reasons. Seokjin expected you to be a man, and you didn't expect to see such an handsome man. His brown hair are messy but his features are just perfect. His eyes are in a so beautiful brown color and his lips are plump and juicy. He is as tall as Jungkook but he does seem older than him.

"Hi, I'm Seokjin, but my friends call me Jin" He warmly welcomes you

"I'm Y/N, nice to meet you. Thank you for letting us stay"

"Don't mention it"

His personality is soft and welcoming and you feel really good around him. There is something in his aura that calms you down after everything that you've been through today.

After saying your goodnights, Jungkook leads you to the guest room. It's quite a small room with a double bed and a drawer but you don't really care, you are just too tired. But that's when you realize that you're with Jungkook.

"I will sleep on the couch, get some rest" You tell him, gently

"Stay with me please. I don't want to be alone" Jungkook's voice is so fragile that you're afraid it will break

Your heart softens and cracks at his sweet but hurt tone. You step closer to him and hug him. You want to take all his pain away but you don't know how. Your eyes water at the intense emotion between the two of you. Once again, you feel the bond between you but way deeper than before since you have the feeling that you are witnessing a buried, hidden, maybe ashamed part of Jungkook.

Seokjin, being very considering, has brought two large t-shirts and sweatpants for you and Jungkook before you enter his place. You go to the bathroom to change while Jungkook does it in the bedroom. You take the opportunity to wash your face at the same time, removing your make-up.

When you come back to Jungkook, he is already in the bed but not sleeping. You turn off the light and join him. He immediately pulls you closer, your head resting on his chest and his arm around your waist. You hear his heart and it someway reassures you: it's not completely broken. Your hand goes up to reach his black hair. You run your fingers through it to soothe him and it works since he releases a content but weak sigh.

"Why did you come to my apartment earlier?" Jungkook asks

"What do you mean? You sent me a text" You answer, confused

You can't see it but Jungkook is frowning.

"I did not" But as soon as the words leave his mouth he understands: Mina must have done it while he was showering

It's another punch in his already smashed up heart. One of his best friends betrayed him in the worst way possible. Does she hate him so much to destroy everything around him? To destroy you? How much pain can he take from her without being too broken to fix it? Jungkook didn't know that Mina was ready to go this far to keep you away from him. She makes him show you his worst part without him even being prepared to deal with it. He was so close to drown but you saved him and you don't know it. Maybe it was a good thing that you received the text...

"Talk to me" You whisper as gently as you can but you still feel Jungkook's body tense under you "It's not because you owe me an explanation, because you don't. But I don't want you to go through this alone, Jungkook. I'm here for you, talk to me"

Jungkook stays silent for a few minutes, so you don't think he is going to talk. But then, he holds you closer, kisses the top of your head and starts speaking, confessing his darkest secrets and praying that you won't leave him afterwards. 

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Taglist @hoseokteardrop @aerynorirene @jkoooooooookie @lacolegaming @busanbby-jjk @mysteriousstress65 @coralmusicblaze @winter-bear98 @gimeow @cuntessaiii @nikkinik485 @jjin-kun @dmstoyangyang

[neoculturetravesty]

We met in online class - Part 7

Image adapted from here.

Pairing: Renjun x Reader Genre: College AU, romance, angst, fluff Warnings: Strong language, descriptions of a shiner, a character gets Covid-19 Word Count: 7.3k

Navigation: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | You are on Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Last Part

A/N: I’m sorry for all the angst, you guys.

You only stop walking when you’re out of the apartment building. Eyebrows scrunched, face scowled like you were trying to hold onto the anger. But the more you had walked, the more you had realized that you couldn’t hold onto something that wasn’t there in the first place. It would be like holding onto smoke: futile and baseless. You weren’t angry. You stop moving to just breathe for a moment. And as the cool night air hits your face, you get a little more clarity in your thoughts. No, you weren’t angry. Not really.

Suddenly, you find yourself smiling to the sky and scoffing. Oh, how stupid. How stupid and how typical. This was classic you. Only this time, you couldn’t believe you had fallen for the broody artsy boy type. The kind of boy that blew hot and cold. The kind of boy that would keep you on edge and never like you as much as you liked him. God, you were such a cliché. Fuck, how embarrassing. So no, you weren’t angry. You were embarrassed. You had spent the last few weeks simping over a boy that never really liked you. God, you were so stupid.

‘The only reason I’ve kept you around for so long is because I wanted to get to your brother.’ His voice echoes in your head. 

Your friends had told you that you were doing way too much for a boy you weren’t even official with yet. You had literally spent the past couple of weeks running to him to dote on him. Bringing him food and checking up on him even though you were drowned in work, and making sure he was okay. And all this time, he had been using you. Oh, God. You were like the embarrassing second female lead in every drama ever. The kind that would bring cartons of milk to her crush in the hopes that he would like her back. Only you had actually believed that he liked you back. Oh, how embarrassing. 

‘Y/N, you are not my girlfriend. So stop acting like it.’

Oh, how freaking embarrassing. You had been acting like the girlfriend. But you had been the second female lead all along. 

You groan and make yourself keep walking. You didn’t want to be near his building anymore. Not where he could step out any moment and humiliate you some more for reading the signs all wrong. You keep walking as your phone keeps ringing. You don’t pick up. You wanted to put as much space between yourself and the building as possible. You walk and you walk till you reach the bus stop. And then you finally sit and take your phone out.

There are around 8 missed calls from Haechan as well as a string of texts. You sigh and hail a cab from an app before you get the spirit to read his messages.

‘Y/N, please pick up.’

‘Where are you???’

‘I can’t find you. Where are you???’

‘Pick uppppp’

‘Can you at least tell me where you are?’

‘I’m calling Yeri.’

That’s Haechan’s last message and you let out another groan. Why did he have to call Yeri? She was going to be worried for no reason. She was already under so much stress with her thesis. You didn’t want her to sit in the apartment and have all sorts of thoughts going through her head about what happened to you. So you text him back.

‘I’m just going home. Don’t worry.’ you write back. Not even ten seconds pass by before he replies.

‘How? You don’t even have your car! And you’ve been drinking.’

‘I called a cab. Don’t worry.’

‘Y/N, please tell me where you are? Let me take you home.’

‘The cab’s already here, Haechan. It’s fine. I’ll text you when I get home.’ you say as you get into the car.

‘No way. Share your location.’

‘The cab’s already moving.’

‘Okay, but share your live location so I know you’ve safely gotten home.’

You sigh and give into his wish. ‘Happy?’

‘I’ve shared it with Yeri as well.’

You groan again, making the cab driver give you a quizzical look through the mirror. ‘Haechan, please don’t bother Yeri.’

‘Text me as soon as you get home. I’m coming over first thing in the morning.’ 

‘Okay.’ you reply and sigh again, resting your head against the window because it felt like the sort of thing to do in this situation. But it only makes your temple awkwardly rattle against the glass as the car moves. How did people do this in dramas? Look so elegant as they pensively looked out the window? Because right now, you neither felt elegant, nor pensive. You just felt stupid. You feel your phone buzz again and see another text from Haechan.

‘You’re my best friend and I love you to the moon and back. Nothing changes that, okay?’ the message reads and suddenly, you feel tears brimming in your eyes. That’s the first time he had called you that. What a stupid boy he was, Lee Donghyuck. Why did he have to attack you like that with all the feels? Silly boy. Well, at least there was something that came out of this mess. 

How had you been so stupid? Renjun had practically told you of his motives on the very first date. He had told you that his lifelong wish was to get into Midnight fucking Arthouse. And instead of staying away, you had run to your brother the very same day to fulfil that wish. The thought chases away the tears that Haechan’s text had brought. You were so stupid. Even your brother had warned you.

“Y/N, I don’t trust his eyes.” Doyoung had told you that afternoon at the party. And you had laughed at him.

“What does that even mean?” you had rolled your own eyes at him, because really, you were watching Renjun into the distance as he talked to another artist. God, he looked so handsome, you had thought as you ogled.

“He just seems like he’s hiding something. He just seems like a guy who would have something to hide.” your brother had warned you and you had just laughed and joked it away.

“I mean, sorry to break it to you like this, big brother, but he’s a serial killer by night. The art student stuff is just for show because when people aren’t looking, his ass goes full Joe Goldberg in You.” you had teased your brother who had exhaled long and put his arm around you.

“Fine, fine. Don’t trust your big brother. Do what you want. I just don’t like him for you.” Doyoung had cut it out for your sake and you had cuddled into him happily because you were so giddy that day. Nothing could’ve spoiled your mood then because the boy you liked had just kissed you. He had held your hand and held your face and kissed you and kissed you and kissed you.

“Of course you don’t like him for me. You won’t like anyone for me because you’re my big brother.” you had baby-talked at Doyoung and cuddled him till he had ruffled your hair and pushed you away.

God, you were so stupid. Did everyone know but you? Could everyone see how he’d been using you? Had your crush on him really been so bad that it blinded you? Oh, how embarrassing. How fucking embarrassing. Well, at least the two of you weren’t official yet. That was a plus. Otherwise, there would’ve been a break up involved. Then again, that would mean that Renjun liked you enough to make you his girlfriend. Or that he would have gone so far as to exploit you like that. Would he have done it? You don’t even want to think about it.

You were fine, really. This was okay. It’s good that he cleared that you weren’t his girlfriend. This whole situation would’ve been sillier if the two of you were official. You chuckle as you enter the elevator of your building. You were fine. Everything that had happened was just a silly misunderstanding. You had just read the signals all wrong. You knock your knuckles on your head. Silly you. It was just a silly crush. You had just chased a boy you had a crush on and it hadn’t worked out. There was nothing wrong with that. These sorts of things happened all the time. You were fine. 

But Renjun hadn’t been just a boy.

He had been the boy of your dreams. He had been the boy that had smiled at you over his coffee cup on your first date and you had felt that he looked into your soul. He had been the boy who would wait outside your lecture hall with the most hopeful look in his eyes and you would melt because he wore that look for you. He had been the boy who had laid his head on your shoulder and opened his heart to you and you had thought that you would do everything it takes to give him the world. He had been the boy that had held your hand and made you feel so incredibly safe that day at your parent’s house that you had found yourself falling. He had been the boy who had taken you in his arms and kissed you so sweet that you had felt like flying. He had been the boy who would lay out in the sun next to you and you’d think that everything was alright. 

Renjun hadn’t been just some boy you had chased. You couldn’t lie to yourself like that anymore, even though you were trying. He had been the boy you had given your heart to. 

You don’t realize that your feet had carried you all the way home till you look up to the door opening on it’s own. And Yeri is standing there like she was expecting you.

“Haechan called me.” she says and you have no idea what she sees on your face because she says “Baby…” in the softest voice before she grabs her Lysol concoction and starts spraying you carefully.

You stand there in the doorway, watching her as she sprays at your feet and takes your shoes off for you with so much love. You don’t know what it was about seeing her face. But anytime you did, all your walls came tumbling down. You could never hide from her.

She looks up at you and whatever she sees makes her speed up her sanitizing ritual. And you realize your shoulders are shaking. You feel the wetness on the tops of your cheeks. You feel the scrunching between your brows. You hear your breath coming out in sniffles. It probably looks like the strangest scene in the world. You, standing there unmoving, looking at her as you crumble in the doorway. And her looking back at you worried, and hurriedly soaking you in Lysol.

Yeri takes your hands in hers and sanitizes them, then takes your purse from you while you do nothing but just stand there, looking at her. She takes your jacket off and then your mask and then finally kisses your cheek and pulls you into her arms. She holds you and kisses your forehead and strokes your hair.

“You will always have me, okay?” she tells you and this time, you’re fully aware that you’re sobbing. Because she puts an arm around you and walks you to your room. She lets you cry as she takes your makeup off for you and brushes your hair. And you watch her attending to you with so much love in her eyes, that for a moment, you’re not sure what’s making you cry. Your broken heart, or her pure, unadulterated love for you.

For as long as you could remember, this girl had been there for you through all your highs and lows. She hadn’t just been a friend. She had been more like a sister. Come to think of it, she had been more a parent to you than your actual parents. You could never hide from her. So when she puts you to bed, you cuddle into her and cry when you tell her,

“I really liked him, Yeri.” Because what was the use of lying to yourself or anyone else? You liked him. You had unabashedly, completely and without any sort of a restraint given him your whole entire heart. And he had broken it. This was something that had happened. So why would you deny it? You had been hurt so you were going to cry to your heart’s content. That’s what people do when they have been hurt.

“I know, baby girl.” she strokes your hair and holds you and kisses the top of your head and your eyes go to your nightstand. You see things that would look like trash to other people. But to you they were the most important treasures.

A paper napkin folded up into an origami crane. Renjun had made it on your very first date.

A can of coke, flattened and leaned against your nightlight. Renjun had drunk from it the first time he came over to your apartment.

A scrap of paper taken from a notebook in a photo frame. Renjun had doodled on it one day as you two had waited for class to begin.

A daisy, pressed and preserved in a little glass disc. Renjun had randomly plucked it from the grass and given it to you as you two had lazed about. It was the first flower he had given you.

God, you were such a sentimental hoe. This boy had broken your heart and you had kept his trash in your room, right on your nightstand so his would be the last thought on your mind as you went to sleep. Realizing that just makes you cry more.

“It’s okay, baby. Your heart’s been broken so you’re going to cry. It’s okay to cry.” Yeri coos at you, echoing your own thoughts. But somehow hearing it from her makes it more soothing. She was right. You had liked a boy and he had broken your heart. It had happened. You were going to cry. 

So you laid in Yeri’s arms and let her comfort you. Even Galbi the asshole had joined your pity party as he sat on top of your head and purred, as if he realized you needed comforting and all the purring was going to heal whatever hurt you were feeling. You laid and you cried and you cried till you were all cried out and sleep was taking you.

“That is a shiner.” you say, eyes wide.

“Mhmm. It’s my mark of honor.” Haechan smiles his smug, annoying smile as he leans back in his chair.

The library was emptier than usual, because really, exams were over for most students. So people that lived in and around campus were basically using it as a common room.

“I mean, it’s a shiner as big as I’ve ever seen.” you say, leaning over and lightly tracing the hues of red, purple and black under your friend’s eye. And he just sits there, chin jutting out, smiling broad, proudly allowing it to be touched like a trophy.

“It’s the outcome of me being the biggest little shit, so it goes with the vibe.” Haechan says and you make a face at him.

“Honestly, I’m surprised it took someone so long. Lowkey impressed that you’ve avoided these so far, despite being that professional little shit.” you lightly press the pad of your index on a particularly discolored area and watch as he moves away.

“Guess I’d just been looking for the right reason to get one.” he says, still wearing the smug look on his face. But he must have noticed a change in your expression because he gives you a look of disapproval. 

“Hey, stop that.” he snaps at you.

“Stop what?” you retort defensively.

“Stop it with those sad puppy eyes. I don’t like it.” he almost scolds.

“I’m only sad because it’s making you look uglier than usual.” you reply pouting.

“Please. It’s making me look sexier than usual.”

“If ugly was the new sexy, then sure.”

“Yo, he’s not ugly, he’s just not in his moment right now.” he pouts and nothing on Haechan’s face says that he’s joking which somehow makes it funnier.

“What’s that even supposed to mean?” you wanna smack him on the head.

“It means that you need to give it till tomorrow to finally see it in it’s full bloom.” he says with the most satisfied look on his face but it deflates you. Shit. This wasn’t even the worst of it. He was probably going to look worse in the next couple of days.

Haechan sighs because you figure he finally sees that this conversation isn’t exactly making you feel any better. So he addresses the elephant in the room.

“He’s an asshole.” he says simply.

“Haechan…” you stop him because honestly, you didn’t really want to talk about it anymore, especially not with him. You didn’t want to be that person that makes mutual friends pick a side. Besides, Renjun had been right. They were technically his friends. But they were also your friends. This was a hot mess already and you didn’t want to add to it.

“I’m only saying it because it’s true. But, also, Y/N…” he’s taken your nickname and his voice has suddenly gone small and so apologetic that you look up, just to check if he’s the one talking. Your stupid friend had a way of never reading the room and keeping up his joking antics no matter the circumstance. So hearing his voice do that got your attention to say the least.

“I, uh…” he goes on and he looks like he’s uncomfortable, like he’s trying to find the words to break some bad news. “He’s an asshole and all, but… I’m kind of the one that put that idea in his head in the first place.” he fesses up and finally meets your eyes.

You jump a bit as you see a strong arm reach over your shoulder and set down a coffee cup on the table with a resounding thud. Jeno has appeared as if on cue and he now has those arms crossed over his chest as he pins Haechan down with a death stare.

Haechan looks up at his audience of two and decides to address the boy that stands there looking like he would most likely complete his shiner set. “I just told him Y/N was Kim Doyoung’s sister! You know he had been dying to get into Midnight Arthouse! And Y/N was the one that asked him out! Didn’t you, Y/N?” he looks at you with eyes that plead for help “I only told him he should accept her date, I promise. But yes, it was my stupid idea and fuck, I wish I could take it back. I’m an idiot and I deserve whatever you want to do to me, Y/N.” he holds his hands up as if in surrender as he watches Jeno’s cold expression and your unreadable one. 

You reach your hand over towards him and watch as he closes his eyes and braces to perhaps be punched in the face again. But you don’t punch him. You ruffle his hair.

“Don’t do it again, okay?” you scrunch your nose at him and give him a smile to put him out of his misery.

Heachan lets out a long, dramatic exhale that finally matches his true personality. “Cross my heart and hope to die.” he says, actually crossing his heart over his chest and he looks up at Jeno to seek his forgiveness as well. 

Jeno’s expression has softened and he’s smiling, almost as if he had expected this confession and its outcome. He was always more perceptive than he let on. Although his arms are still intimidatingly crossed over his chest as he says

“Follow me to the rooftop, Lee Donghyuck.” 

“Yes, yes, I know I deserve it, because I know she’s your childhood friend. But she’s my best friend now and if she’s forgiven me, then--”

“--you’re a piece of shit.” Jeno declares and takes a seat next to you, laying out the rest of the breakfast he got. You snigger and hug onto his arm, as if to thank him for... everything. You and Jeno had never been one to talk things out, but an advantage of being friends for so long was that you didn’t have you. He would understand what you mean, even though all you’d done was held and leaned into his arm.

Haechan looks at the two of you fondly and waits a couple of beats. His voice is soft and empathetic when he says, “He probably didn’t mean those things he said, you know? He was drunk.”

“We were all drunk.” you agree, tracing your finger over your coffee cup.

“He’s an asshole, but… he likes you, you know?” Haechan says and suddenly, you can’t look anybody in the eye anymore. You don’t want to say anything either, because you’re afraid your voice would give you away. 

So you purse your lips and take a deep breath before you say “Yeah, well… it doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

“I’m going to kick his stupid ass.” Haechan mutters but it only makes Jeno chuckle.

“You mean when you’re not too busy getting your ass kicked by him?” he pokes fun while he feeds you a bit of his croissant. And despite everything, you find yourself laughing out loud.

“Hey! I could totally take him down if I wanted to. I was just holding back.” Haechan puffs his chest and Jeno smiles wider, shaking his head.

“Ugh, you know what. We’re on semester break. We’ve literally been waiting for this time. Let’s just chill before I have to leave.” you declare.

Haechan snaps and points his finger at you. “That is the right attitude, Y/N L/N.”

After that, he goes on and on, talking nonstop about everything you could do while you didn’t have classes, doing the most to make it up to you. You listen to him fondly as you happily enjoy breakfast with your friends.

Down the rows, Renjun had walked into the hall, hoping the library could be his sanctuary for the day. How very wrong he was. Because now, he just watched into the distance as you reach out to ruffle Donghyuck’s hair and Jeno smiles down at the two of you. Unbelievable. Renjun turns on his heel right away and leaves. Because this was unbelievable. 

How come Lee Donghyuck came out of this situation unscathed? It was his stupid idea to begin with. Renjun had been happy living his life normally till Donghyuck encouraged him to date you. So how come neither you nor Jeno were mad at him? Renjun was the only one that came out of this as the bad guy. And everyone else just continued on to be one big happy fucking family.

Last night, Jisung had left to stay over at Chenle’s, and Renjun assumed it was so he didn’t have to be in the same room as him. He hadn’t seen Jeno, and it was probably because he had woken early morning to have breakfast with you. The only one of his friends that Renjun saw this morning was Jaemin. But the only thing he had said before he walked out the door was that he was spending the day with his girlfriend and won’t be home either. 

It seemed like everyone around him was doing their best to avoid him. He felt like a dementor. Like he was putting out lights wherever he went. Like he was draining hope, peace and happiness out of everyone that came in contact with him. That’s perhaps why his friends wanted to stay away from him.

There was maybe some advantage to that. Renjun wanted to be alone. You had pretty much stolen all his friends. It was clear that they had taken your side in all of this. No one had wanted to know what Renjun was going through. But they were all too concerned about the poor little rich girl. It’s why they were with you this morning and not him. Poor little rich girl that got her heart broken by Renjun the asshole. Of course, no one would want to know the other side of the story, Renjun thinks bitterly.

What was the other side of the story, anyway? That you had been too kind to him? That you had been thoughtful and understanding? That you made so much effort to be a part of his life, and he had made none? That you had put a word in with your brother right after you had first met Renjun, before your relationship had even begun? 

You had done everything in your power to make Renjun look like the bad guy. And he realizes that this was precisely the reason he never wanted to look at you ever again. Renjun feels nothing but bitterness in his heart. He had spent all those weeks exploiting your feelings for him. Making you believe that he was interested in you so he could get close enough that you would introduce him to your brother. But all of it had been for naught. Because you didn’t need a relationship or a reason to be kind to people. You had just heard Renjun’s dream and fulfilled it that very same day you had met him. You had granted him his biggest wish whilst wanting nothing in return, expecting nothing back. You had put him in your debt. And he hated you for it.

Renjun needed a break. Because his life seemed to be throwing him more curveballs than he could possibly manage. He wanted to reverse it all. Go back to the time when he hadn’t met you. He should’ve turned you down during that ill-fated online class. Then none of this would’ve happened. 

But almost as if the heavens wanted to give him a cruel reminder that all of it, in fact, had happened and he, in fact, had exploited you, he gets a phone call. Whilst he can barely make out the number through his cracked screen, he recognizes the voice right away.

“Huang Renjun!”

“Kim Doyoung.” Renjun replies automatically, because his mind is still processing the irony of it all.

“I have a proposition for you.” Doyoung goes straight to the point and Renjun realizes that he’s not talking to him as your brother right now. He’s talking to him as the owner of Midnight fucking Arthouse.

“Uh, okay?” Renjun says and almost instantly regrets it. He should’ve said something more professional, but he has to admit he has been caught off guard.

“Can you come meet me at the studio in an hour?” he states more than he asks. And Renjun gets the feeling that this man hasn’t been told ‘no’ enough. At least not in this context.

“I… I can.” Dammit. Why wasn’t Renjun able to put more than two words together today?

“Great. Let’s have a lunch meeting at my studio.” Doyoung once again states. Renjun would usually be annoyed when someone was this imposing with him. But for some reason, Kim Doyoung’s boss voice is working on him. 

“Okay, see you in an hour.” Renjun says and he’s glad he’s spoken a full sentence this time.

“Great. Oh, and Renjun?”

“Yes?”

“Bring your portfolio along.”

Renjun doesn’t know how long he sits there. The steak that was served to him in a pretentiously off-centered plate remains mostly untouched. Because Renjun couldn’t keep more than two bites down. Not when Kim fucking Doyoung was standing up and flipping through his portfolio without a sound. 

This portfolio was Renjun’s lifelong work. Who knows how long he had spent on each piece. Some day, when he had the time, he was going to calculate the number of man hours he spent on building the whole damn thing. And then calculate how many days, weeks or months it amounted to in total. Because the way Kim Doyoung was flipping through it without much care minimized his life’s worth to mere seconds. He had spent hours and hours on each work and Kim Doyoung didn’t even spare more than half an eyeful on each piece.

And not a single word. 

Doyoung seemed to be a different person at work than he had been at the party at his parent’s home. Here, he was the Kim Doyoung, and for a moment, Renjun could finally see how he might have risen all the way up to the top. Because every single minute of his life was accounted for. From the moment Renjun had walked in, all he could see was how his assistant kept pushing him from one task to the other. He hadn’t even spent too long on pleasantries before he took Renjun to his office for lunch. And if he thought that lunch for Doyoung would be a time of peace, he was wrong. Because he ate quickly and Renjun couldn’t possibly meet his speed. He supposed that’s how successful people ate. Because every minute they ate was every minute they were not making money. Renjun was only halfway through his lunch when Doyoung had gotten up and started going through his portfolio.

And Renjun hadn’t been able to take a single bite since. His stomach was in knots. He felt small, sitting here in this grand old office in one of the biggest arthouses of the country. Weirdly, Renjun finds himself internally smiling at the fact that Doyoung had called this place a studio. Because, no way. The place that Renjun interned at was a studio. This was a fucking art museum and nothing less. 

A finalizing shut of the portfolio is what breaks Renjun out of his thoughts.

“Okay, Huang Renjun, I’m going to cut to the chase.” Doyoung says and Renjun sits up straighter, his eyes and ears attentive and open. “I need new artists for the 2021 Midnight Arthouse Annuale. Every artist that I’ve ever introduced in spring has gone on to become a best seller by winter.”

Of course he knew that. Renjun could name every single artist that had gotten that exposure. But hearing it straight from the man that gave it to them was making goosebumps run down his spine.

“I’ve got two spots to debut artists that no one has ever heard of. And someone put in a very convincing word for you.” he says and Renjun feels his stomach do a flip before it drowns in guilt, because he knows that the both of them know who that someone is. “But I’m going to be honest with you. Nothing I see in here is worthy of the Annuale.” he says plainly. Renjun looks up. His heart drops.

“Um… nothing?” Renjun asks stupidly. Suddenly, he doesn’t feel like the big man that had punched someone in the face from an inflated ego the night before. He feels like the little fish in a sea of big fishes. He feels like someone is finally showing him the mirror and telling him exactly what he’s worth in the context of big names and big opportunities. And it’s a humbling and sobering experience. Because Renjun feels his hangover dissipating. 

“This is basically an art student’s portfolio. What you’ve shown me is essentially a series of assignments you’ve made for your professors. Nothing is inspired. Nothing has vision. Nothing in here jumps out at me and tells me who Huang Renjun is.” Doyoung is speaking to him straight up. No niceties. No filters. He’s speaking to him like the owner of a huge motherfucking company and nothing less.

And maybe someone had to speak to Renjun this way and deflate his ego, so he could finally open his eyes to the real world. Because Renjun doesn’t feel angry or broody or venomous over these words. He feels like he has been sobered. He finds himself agreeing with everything that has been said. Like he’s opened his eyes for the first time and finally seen what he’s actually like without his ego or conceit filtering his vision. He was absolutely right. Kim Doyoung had been the one to tell him this before. But sitting here in his huge fucking office, in a building where he was surrounded by art that was in every way better than his… it puts everything in context, and Renjun finally realizes that he had been right all along.

“So, here’s my proposition.” Doyoung begins. “Make me something worthy of the Annuale. And I’ll help you make your debut.”

Renjun’s eyes widen. His mind races. He didn’t have much time. And the stakes were too high. How could he possibly make the best work of his life, the work that would help him launch his dream in a span of two weeks? It wasn’t enough time.

Then again, this was the opportunity of a lifetime. This was make or break. So Renjun doesn’t even think much before he replies “I’ll do it. I’ll show you.”

Doyoung smiles. “I had a feeling you’d say that. In that case, I have another meeting to go to. But my assistant will help you sort out the details. I’m sure you’ll understand.” he says, already getting up and putting his jacket on. 

Renjun stands with him. He doesn’t believe it. Suddenly, this opportunity feels too big for his breaches. But it’s there for the grabbing. And he could only ever miss the shot he never shoots. 

Yet somehow, Renjun also feels like he’s about to make a deal with the devil. Is this how the unassuming hero feels in movies when he’s made an agreement with the mob boss? Renjun reckons it comes close. He’s not sure whether to shake hands or to bow in these situations. So he stands there awkwardly and does neither as Doyoung walks to his door.

“My assistant will be in contact with you. I look forward to seeing your masterpiece.” he smiles a loaded smile and in that moment, Renjun decides that your brother was nothing like you. 

“Oh, and Renjun. The theme is ‘The Past Year’ but don’t tell anybody that.” he smiles and Renjun nods as Doyoung takes his leave. He’s not sure why he’s been given that extra bit of information. He’s not sure if that pointer has come from Kim Doyoung of Midnight Arthouse or Y/N L/N’s older brother. It is a bit of a mindfuck, but Renjun tries not to dwell on it too much. He had to leave his intellectual capacities free for his bigger purpose.

Renjun looks up to see Doyoung’s assistant smiling professionally at him. “Would you like a tour, Mr. Huang?” she says and Renjun once again gets the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory feels he always got around your family’s grandeur. But this was more than riches. This was art from people Renjun had admired and closely followed. Maybe this would give him some inspiration and put him in the right headspace.

“Yes, please.” Renjun says a bit too eagerly before he is led outside.

It is once again, a humbling experience. Renjun had already seen most of the work displayed here in one form or the other. But watching it with the naked eye and up close was a different experience altogether. The art here was in a different league and now Renjun starts to understand what Kim Doyoung had meant. None of Renjun’s existing works came close to what he was seeing displayed right here. He had thought Midnight Arthouse was some sort of a viral launcher. The kind of company that only looked for social media sensations rather than trailblazers and actual talent. But Renjun realizes that he had been massively underestimating them. Kim Doyoung knew what he was doing. Renjun did not. 

All this time, Renjun had walked the earth with a chip on his shoulder. He had been envious of everyone who ever did better than him. He had resented every artist that had risen to fame for reasons Renjun could not understand. He had judged every person ever who was well connected enough to rise to the top. 

And now, standing here in the majesty of Midnight Arthouse’s proud displays, all Renjun feels is small. Like he’s been served a slice of humble pie. For the first time in a long time, Renjun feels inspired, but not from a place of envy or jealousy or bitterness or vengeance. He feels inspired to make the most out of the opportunity that his life had given him. Because who was he to judge anyone that used connections when he was standing here doing the same? The mere fact that he, a junior in college had gotten a meeting with Kim Doyoung over lunch in his office while his assistant was personally showing him around… that was proof that Renjun had become one of those well-connected people.

Renjun’s initial feeling had been right. This was a deal with the devil. Because Renjun had paid a pretty big price for it. His stomach feels queasy. Was it only last night that he was going around throwing punches and being a general asshole? He doesn’t want to think about it. Because then he’d be forced to remember the faces of all his friends, and he didn’t want to revisit that memory through the lens of a deflated ego and a dissolving hangover. So Renjun is almost thankful when Doyoung’s assistant speaks to him.

“Are you ready for some paperwork? Just some general entry applications and agreements.” she says, still smiling that strictly professional smile.

Renjun takes a deep breath in. He feels unprepared, yet ready. He was going to take this opportunity. Or everything he had done this past year would have been for naught. 

“Let’s do it.” Renjun says, nodding.

“Great. Follow me.” she says and Renjun starts walking. Each step forward feels like a heavy, purposeful and loaded step towards his future. Here it was, a few strides away from his grabbing. Forget the past year. His whole life had been amounting to this moment. 

Every stroke of his brush had led him here. Every drop of his sweat. Every sleepless night. Every decision he had made. Every heart he had broken. Every friend he had lost. 

Renjun was walking towards his goal a man with nothing left to lose. And he had heard that they made the most dangerous men. His future was two strides away now. Two more strides and he’d be one step closer to achieving his life goal.

But when he’s about to make the final stride, Renjun receives a phone call that shatters his entire world as he knows it. 

And in that moment, he turns on his heel and runs faster than he ever had in his entire life. The future that was so close that he could almost taste it, now becomes smaller and smaller as it fades into the background behind him. Because Renjun had run in the opposite direction and left it in his dust.

Renjun pushes through the doors and doesn’t even absorb the pain he should be feeling in his shoulder from the force of the contact. 

“Where is she!” he yells. He doesn’t feel like a person. Because how much could one person take, anyway? How many times could he be beaten down by the universe before he would fall to his knees and beg to be spared?

He looks around and finally spots the man he calls his father standing near a watercooler, talking to someone he doesn’t recognize. So he has no care about rushing up and getting in his face. Because what more was there left to lose?

“Where is she?” he yells at his face. His father nods a farewell at the unassuming man before he turns to his son.

“In the isolation ward, Renjun. Where else would she be?” his father says and his voice is so calm that Renjun wants to grab at his collar. But he takes in a deep shaky breath to calm himself. It doesn’t happen. So he finds himself yelling again.

“How did this even happen! She hasn’t even been outside her house this entire time!” Renjun is trying so hard to hold back the tears of rage. But they’re threatening to explode any minute now.

“What does it matter how she got the virus? It’s a global pandemic. She has it now, like thousands of people around the world. The doctors are doing all they can.” his father says and if Renjun had been in his right mind, he would’ve realized that this was the first time he had spoken to him in over a year. But all he could think of right now was so what if others had it? So what if every fucking person in the world had it? How dare his father say that? 

“How are they doing all they can when she’s on fucking life support?!” Renjun growls through his teeth and he’s inhaling sharp breaths to keep himself from breaking.

“Your mother is with her, Renjun. The best you can do now is pray.” he replies and Renjun wants to hit him. He wants to punch that holier than thou look off his face. His grandmother was probably on her last breath and his father had the audacity to ask him to pray.

“I have to go see her. I have to take care of her.” Renjun turns and looks around, breathing heavily before he begins to move. But his father grabs at his arm.

“You can’t see her, Renjun. Are you even listening to me? Your grandmother is in the isolation ward. There’s only one family member allowed and your mother is it.” he has raised his voice at him.

“She doesn’t know! She doesn’t fucking care about her! I’m the only one who knows! I have to be there with her!” Renjun shouts at him and he’s only acutely aware that he’s sobbing because his words are loud but inchoate. 

“Renjun. Son. There’s nothing we can do.” his father shakes his head at him and watches with his mouth open as his son sobs and barges to the door like a madman. Because Renjun will find a way to get to her. No one cared about her like he did. No one loved her like he did. It had always been him and his grandmother against the world. He needed to be there for her. But the hospital staff is grabbing at him and pushing him out while his father watches from a distance like a helpless man. 

Renjun is barely aware that he’s doubling over because his tears are blinding him or that he’s been led outside because the cool air is hitting him. He gets up to charge back in but his resolve is so much weaker now and he feels another hold around him, keeping him back. 

"Renjun I'm so sorry. Your mother called me. I don't think she knows about us." Yoo Jimin whispers softly as he falls to his knees. She crouches next to him and puts her arms around him.

And in this strange, awful moment, Renjun finds himself realizing that the arms that are holding him aren't the arms that he wanted. The arms that are soothing him and holding him while he cries into the ground are not the arms he craved.

He wanted the arms that had held him that one night while Renjun had laid his head on their shoulder and bared his heart for the very first time. He wants the arms that had enveloped him and had, for at least a moment, made everything alright. He wanted the arms of the person whose heart he had cruelly broken.

Copyright © 2021 NeoCultureTravesty. All rights reserved.

[alluringjae]

until dawn; pt. II - ljn

part I | part II

⤑ summary: basic number one rule of the museum is not to touch the art. but no one told jeno that falling for one of them isn’t allowed either.

⤑ pairing: jeno x female reader

⤑ word count: 12.2k

⤑ genre: ANGST, fluff, romance, smut (f receiving, dom!jeno waow, dirty talk, wrap it everyone) | broke architecture major!jeno, historical figure!reader, enemies to lovers!au, college!au, night at the museum-inspired!au

⤑ warnings: references to actual historical figures, explicit language, graphic details, major heartbreak caused by another party, expect time jumps too

⤑ author’s note: happy jeno day!! i’ve been so excited to post this part, and i’m happy we’re here!! perhaps, this is the last long fic i’ll write for a while so i can rest, but i’ll still be posting short stories within the weeks to come! i’m excited for may to say the least hehe

btw, for the smut scene (indicated with **), i highly recommend you listen to strange (feat. hillary smith) by kris bowers!! this song is from the bridgerton soundtrack, and oh man, the feels!!

with that, enjoy!

italicized text either means they are personal notes or flashbacks.

this was meant to be more angsty, but either way, i screamed every time i wrote something gut-wrenching.

⤑ taglist: @renjunniehome

​ ⤑ ctto above!!

⤑  leave me some feedback, constructive criticism, or hellos!

“You ready to get your butt beaten by me, Lee?”

“Prepare your final words when I win instead, (Y/L/N).”

Mischievous banter exchanged between you two became a new norm. Almost every night, someone within the art pieces established a contest over anything and it released the competitive sides of you two. So far, Jeno has been winning. Not like it hurt your pride, but maybe just once, you could conquer one game to feel better. Not only that, there’s a mini penalty for the loser. So far, you’ve cleaned up the lobby yourself and acted cutely to everyone the entire evening (or aegyo as Jeno called it).

Tonight, a game of archery was held by the Greek gods. They pushed away any extra pieces away, leaving the whole room vacant with two boards right beside Zeus’ throne. Numerous arrows were produced and sharpened, Zeus in the center announced to everyone participating.

“It’ll be 1 on 1 games. First to go are Jeno vs (Y/N), followed by Athena vs. Hermes, Cleopatra vs. Freddie, and last would be Hades vs Aphrodite.”

Cutting the chase, you didn’t expect Jeno to be that good at archery. Sure, he told you that he took classes with his friends for fun when he was younger, though it showed that he’s a fast learner and even hit one bullseye in the middle of the game.

Not slightly threatened until the last rounds, you fixed your aim and lessened your overthinking when preparing to shoot. Thus, you scored 2 bullseyes shot. It was a close fight, having the audience on the edge on their feet again because it’s the two of you. Your dynamic with the night guard always elevated the mood, shifting their bets over and over again.

By 1 point, you received your first victory against Jeno. Unlike you, he showcased his sportsmanship sweetly without any comments of disbelief. He’s never bragged about anything big in his life, not unless it’s a high grade for his plate. Normally, he celebrated wins in a laid-back manner. But don’t be fooled: he loves giving penalties.

“This is why I don’t make bets with my friends because I really go for their weak spots.”

“You’re cynical, Lee Jeno.”

“Only if you’re close to me, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Aren’t we already past that stage?”

Almost halfway through his job, he sustained a meaningful friendship with you. Out of everyone, you were his default person to hang out within the nights he had a shift. If he wasn’t present, he made sure to give you small treats or gifts as much as possible. An innocent friendship, it was that the world would’ve never believed in.

Or was it?

“To celebrate your win, what do you want me to do?”

“You’re too kind for me to play around with, even if you’re the complete opposite of me.”

“I’ll make it simple and worthwhile since I don’t know when I’ll win a game again.” As your finger tapped your temple as you pondered deeply, a smart idea came through. “Grant me 3 wishes.”

He chuckled, lowering himself to view you better. “Am I like some genie now to you?”

“No room to complain, I won, didn’t I?” You grinned, raising one brow to show your dominance.

“You’re petty in your own way, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps. Now come on, I want to use my first wish.” You shrugged it off like no big deal, loving the high feeling of triumph. You lead him to the center of the lobby, where a beautiful grand piano only selected people get to play during exhibits. “Open the museum piano.”

Ever since you were brought to life, you never used it. Tempting but because people from the outside might here, maybe it’s time to try something new. A new challenge, and besides, you missed entertaining people through it. The last time you touched the delicate piano keys was to your family before you ran away.

It’s a good thing that in the shackle of keys Jeno held, the needed key was there. Unlocking the lustrous black instrument, you sat by the matching black bench. Crackling your fingers, you tested by pressing a few keys to get the hang of it again.

“What are you planning to play, (Y/N)?” Jeno leaned against the side, his arms crossed.

Humming the first notes of your piece, the nostalgia ran through your veins. “Nocturne No. 2 in E flat by Chopin.”

Your fingers took off and played each chord slowly and calmly. This piece reminded you the most of your mother, who sat by the couch in front of your old piano with your father while guests from the party they hosted crowded around you. Being the youngest, they often requested you to perform as entertainment so you always put your best foot forward. Or so you tried.

Nevertheless, no one else in your family was capable to play this piece as perfectly as you. By the way your eyes closed and your body swayed to the mellow tune, Jeno observed how you memorized this piece by heart. A passionate flame you were, outshining every pianist out there.

He wasn’t surprised at how multi-talented you were, though there’s a different kind of aura you present when you played the instrument. From your hard and tough front, you could be soft and sweet to the right people.

In a way, you showed your comfort toward the boy by serenading him with the piano. Sketching him with him in the past was one thing, but this was another. You’d sketch with people you’ve grown used to, but you play piano to people you want to cherish in your life. As dangerous as it seems, Jeno was someone special to you, only wanting to have good moments with him.

Junmyeon will always have a huge part in your museum life, but Jeno filled the emptiness that he left behind. This loneliness for a human friend vanquished thanks to Jeno, and you didn’t want to jeopardize it at all. Sure, whenever he acted like a gentleman around you, let you inside the Foreign Art Room, or brought you food sometimes, you couldn’t help feel honored.

Though lately, every time he showed off his strength when he defeated Zeus and Hades during an arm wrestle game the god held again. You seriously had to catch a breath at every flex his arms made, like the goddesses. Maybe how he pushed his black hair back when he’s drawing another plate, you’d give yourself a few extra seconds to see his long fingers skim through them. He’d bit his lower lip when he’s in too deep with his creativity, wondering if he’d bite the lower lip of the girl he’d ki-

All right, (Y/N), relax. Maybe you’re thinking this way because it’s been decades since your last relationship. You wouldn’t want to fall for another possible trap and hurt yourself again, right?

Ever since this job, Jeno’s university life drastically changed. Yes, he still hung out with his friends and performed extremely well in his classes, though he prioritized anything related to the museum wherever he was. If they were drinking out, he’d buy an extra bottle of soju for you on his way back to the dorm. Rarely does he get shitfaced anyways.

If he and Renjun visited the bookstore to purchase pens or any art-related materials, he always bought either an extra sketchpad or set of pens. Even if you were simply a figure to everyone else, he appreciated the bond you both developed.

Every night, he’d tell you about his day from the start. Normally, it consisted of a lot of schoolwork and coffee, some stories about his roommates too. Speaking of them, he’d insert a lot of humorous words about his entire group of friends, whom you learned their names too.

Mark, Jaemin, Renjun, Jisung, Chenle, and Donghyuck, each of them presented a different color in their group. Jeno, who’d admitted to being shy and quiet, grew out of his shell because of them. A friend of Jeno’s would automatically be a friend of yours, if only you were allowed to leave the museum or become a human.

Jeno learned more about your past explorations that never got documented because you no longer had an interest in jotting them down. They were adventures you’d kept to yourself, memories only close to you then would know. Except now, Jeno was another addition. You’re not the type to instantly open to people, though again, a sense of relief surrounded him every time you encounter each other. It grew gradually like a warm hug, softening your heart and breaking your walls.

The more he spent time with you, nothing feared Jeno the slightest. He’s always maintained himself intact, avoiding lines to be crossed and giving respect to those who deserve it. However, he began to question himself where exactly his feelings lie with you after Jaemin tried to set him up on a blind double date just so the best friend of his date wouldn’t feel left out.

He’s rarely one to get crushes on people, even when other girls in his college openly showed their affection towards him. Valentine’s Day or his birthday, several girls sent him chocolate or flowers. Jaemin and Renjun got sick of girls reaching out to them first so they could reach him. It’s not because he’s not the dating type, but because he’s so goal-oriented that unlike his roommates, he doesn’t have a slight clue about dating.

Though one-night stands while at a party and dating were completely different, he’d still say he had experience with girls. Plus having an older sister, he never took advantage of them. He’d rather tell them in person that the feelings weren’t mutual than ghosting them. He’s not like Jaemin anyways.

With that, he’s so lost when his heart beats twice as fast the second you’ve woken up from your posing slumber. He doesn’t comprehend how flustered he’d be when you highly insist to help him with his plate or how cute he finds it when you’re playing fetch with Mochi. On top of it, when you chose to sketch each other for one of your sketching sessions, he’d take a longer stare at your visage before he drew some strokes.

A lot of historical accounts mentioned how your beauty was the standard of the Victorian era, wherein you were the jewel of your neighborhood and numerous men wanted your hand. Women envied you, especially having high intelligence skills that were equivalent to a man. That time, that felt like a threat to most men. Though surprisingly, it turns out there were men who liked intelligent girls.

Jeno knew he liked you as a friend, though liking you past that he didn’t intend. Nor was it allowed because it’ll break one of the golden rules. Before he’d go beyond contemplating, he had to stop himself. This was so unlike him. The feelings will fleet away, he’d repeat to himself. Don’t waste a great friendship because of your silly emotions.

Individually, both of you swallowed these harboring feelings down your guts and simply kept your friendship status safe. Doing your typical activities or whatever else you could think of, none of you minded to change it whatsoever.

Unknown to you though, it was obvious to the other art pieces ones that you two practically passed off as young lovers. Although they know that pushing one towards the other went against the rules, Aphrodite begged to differ.

“Holding them back from expressing what they really feel just because of the law here is a tragedy. They should at least try, you know?”

On another typical night, Jeno invited you to the Theater Room for a movie marathon. After finding out that you’ve never seen any moving pictures, he wanted to be there to introduce it. Luck was on his side to not have plates or requirements due for the week and everyone was behaving themselves, so he started with rolling out short films from the 88mm projector. Having premade popcorn and drinks, the two of you shared roars of laughter and emotional tears.

Switching to the cd player for longer and clearer films, you’d opt to believe that you were born at the wrong time. With all these advancements, it came with a lot of new beliefs. One of them was allowing women to study and work. Then again, she was a pioneer according to historians. Without her, it wouldn’t help shape society as it is today.

Nonetheless, this movie Jeno played on the big screen was what he defined as “one of the classics”, 10 Things I Hate About You.

This outspoken character named Kat was presenting a poem to her class, trying to hold in her raw emotions towards Patrick, the boy who broke her heart. Too engaged, you didn’t notice how Jeno stretched his arms out so he could wrap one around your shoulder. Not that you were complaining, his warmth reassuring you safety.

“I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme. I hate it, I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie.” The way she attempted to keep her strong ground only reminded you of where you were weeks ago, especially once she excruciatingly broke down.

“I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.” Only when you leaned back to the chair, you felt his arm. His thumb caressing your covered shoulder, you peeked him a little bit. His eyes fixated on the screen, absorbed in the acting and how Kat’s tears weren’t scripted as she stormed out of the classroom.

Not that you were her, but it sparked the past memory of how you merely disliked him because of his job. But as a person, not even close, not even once did you hate him. How blessed that he never judged you for it, staying patient all this time.

Right before he could look back at you, you moved your face back to resume your watching. Jeno definitely noticed what you did, though not sure as to why. Whatever it was, it wasn’t harmful.

Once the film ended, Jeno checked his watch for the time. 4 am, he wanted to do something else now instead of film viewing. You were on par with it, wanting to walk it out after being seated for hours. As you both cleaned up and bid the posters outside goodbye, the doors to the museum were locked unexpectedly. Impossible on Jeno’s half because he had the keys for every room, but he double-checked his bunch.

Alas, the keys for these doors specifically were missing. But there was no other way anyone could’ve gotten it, plus it’s not like the last person he talked to, which was Aphrodite, would need it.

Or did she?

Rather than putting any blame on each other, your only wish now was to return to your section before sunrise. You and he could just relax momentarily before yelling for help.

“Maybe we should watch another film first?”

“Alright, you choose while I return the rest.”

As Jeno inserted the cd of Cinema Paradiso inside, the background music of the opening played. He hummed the first notes, already feeling the love from this film. Another must-see classic as recommended by Renjun, he wanted to rewatch it with you.

Slowly returning each cd and film roll to their respective drawers, the melodious theme had you waltzing in the small space. Even beyond your life, classical music never gets old. Aging like fine wine, sounding spectacular as time passes because of people’s creativity.

Jeno gazed over your sudden movements, smiling uncontrollably at how immersed you were as you multi-tasked. However, you took a wrong turn by the desk and almost dropped a priceless film roll. But before you fully slipped and fell, a pair of strong arms caught you at the right time. Panting from the nerves, mostly when he was inches from your face. Never has he pressed his body this close to you to protect you, and never have you seen his captivating eyes this up close.

As enchanting as the background music of Ennio Morricone was, it only became noise once Jeno took ahold of the film roll on your hand and placing down on the desk. Taking another step closer, you were backed up by the edge. Not to mention how his height dignified his impact on you, your arms were still situated by your side with nowhere else to go.

That was until his finger elevated your chin so he could meet you on eye-to-eye level. His other hand gripping your waist, you became brave enough to place your hands by his broad shoulders. Licking your lips, you glanced at his lips quickly. But he noticed it, and as risky as this was, it was a leap of faith to take.

“May I kiss you?”

Always such a gentleman, even when he already knew how much you desired him through your returning affections. Calming your breath patterns by the speed of everything occurring, you came back to your senses. He’s the one who constantly told you not to forget your roots, so you were going to take this one.

You trust him, and he does too.

“Yes.”

Since the first film, some kind of tension increased the closer he moved or intimate his actions were towards you. You kept pushing it back in hopes not to ruin what you both have. But it only turned out to be mutual, especially how none of you held back as soon as his lips passionately clashed yours.

Tangling your arms around his neck, you stood on your tiptoes to press even closer to him. Feeling his lively heart pumping against your hollow chest, you bit his lower lip. Something you’ve secretly craved to do, he growled from the pleasure. He hoisted your waist to the desk, his impatient hands earnestly traveling all over your body. While your legs locked around his torso, your feisty nature leaned back so your entire body lied on the small desk.

Jeno was on top, placing one hand down to hold himself while the other squeezed your waist firmly. Even if you’re made of wax, you’re like an actual living woman at night. Everything about you becomes real until dawn. You emitted vulgar moans, giving him more access to your neck. Peppering a mix of soft to hard kisses, your hand teasingly snaked under his shirt. He really wasn’t joking when he bragged that he was quite ripped since he enjoyed sports and going to the gym, cupping a part of his toned abdomen.

“If you want something, all you have to do is ask.” He sluggishly sucked the area between your ear and neck, one of your weakest spots. “What’s on your mind, baby?”

The growing moistness in between your legs left a stain in your panties, trying to close your legs out of embarrassment. It’s been decades since you’ve been stimulated like this. However, Jeno beat you to it as he trailed the hand that was on your waist and lowering it right above your covered sex. He cupped it agonizingly slow, making you folding your leg from the pleasure. For a man who doesn’t date around, he knew exactly what he’s doing.

“I just kissed you, and you’re already this soaked. Can you handle me, baby?”

As the strong woman that you present yourself to be, it would selfishly take the right touch from the right man to weaken you. With his savage lips back on yours while your hands clutched on his shirt, he was simply waiting for a verbal answer, yet driving you completely mad. Everything was happening so fast, and here he was to please you in anywhere you seem fit.

You were deprived, and oh, you needed it more than ever.

However, seconds before you replied, there was loud rumbling from the main doors which stopped your devilish antics. As Jeno moved back from you to see the ruckus, you lifted yourself back up, pulling back your dress sleeves and flattening out the creases. The last thing you wanted was a trail of familiar red marks from the aggressive male, finding any reflective surfaces to check.

“I wouldn’t be that dumb to leave you hickies now, would I?” Jeno ended your worries as he placed his hands by your side again. His face leaned towards yours again, reliving the warmth in your cheeks. His lips were plumper, catching traces of your coral lipstick smudged there down to his jaw. He slotted himself again between your legs, grazing a hand on your waist and the other to your warm cheek. “The door’s unlocked now, and it’s 5 am. Do you want to clean up now?”

You playfully scoffed, aware that neither of you had plans to do that yet. Such a player while in the heat of the moment.

“Spare me 15 more minutes with you first.”

Hiding the romance you’ve both built failed without trying. Aphrodite spotted all the signs from your open physical affection and words of admiration, calling you two out in front of everyone without shame. She is the goddess of love, after all. You couldn’t fool her even if you tried.

Plus, she’s the one who locked the two of you up in the Theater Room that night. But neither of you know that.

“Sketch my ideal home?” Jeno bent down to the table, testing out his newly bought pens so they wouldn’t spill.

“Isn’t that why you decided to pursue Architecture in the first place? Come on now!” You pestered across him, opening your new sketchpad since your last one ran out of pages. As expected, Jeno bought you one when he went to the bookstore. As much as you insisted not to because he should use the money somewhere else, he did it anyway. He loved your works, encouraging you in any way he could.

When he was reminded of his humble beginnings of his passion for architecture by you, never had he envisioned exactly how his perfect home would be like. Settling down was so far beyond his mind, only focusing to graduate university then study for the licensure exams. However, he did miss drawing something for fun, not as a requirement. He also was the one who took charge of designing his dorm.

“Fine, only if you draw what your ideal home would’ve been if you never left London.”

Now as lovers, the only addition to your relationship were the public and private exchanges of affection. Deep conversations, film viewing, back and forth banter, you’re both still the same competitive duo everyone expected to be together. In public, the two of you held hands, hugged, kissed each other cheeks too when it felt right. Cleopatra’s face of fake nausea was priceless every time, while Princess Diana, Anne, and Katherine enjoyed it. It’s been years since they’ve seen this glow of adoration in you. Bit by bit, you’re going back to the old you. Except now, you’re a lot stronger.

Perhaps, this version of you proved wrong for the need for romance. Even if you made the choice not to settle down then, it would’ve been different if Jeno was in your universe then.

“Are you done there?” Jeno asked while you were finishing up your masterpiece. Life in London sounded fun when you were younger, having all these ideas on interior design and the like. An innocent time.

Instead of replying, you strode to his side and compared your pieces together. He pictured a two-story home, with a backyard and rooftop area. He definitely wanted to stay in the city as his whole life was based there. Although you preferred living in the countryside more for more freedom, you gave it a shot by pinpointing every detail of a wealthy typical Victorian-era home you liked. You desired a spacious lobby with a grand staircase in the middle, a crystal chandelier there too. The living room would have a small library and a grand piano, where wide doors leading to the grasslands were beside it.

Considering you two lived from different times, in a way your ideal homes were similar. Somewhere private, surrounded by nature and minimal furniture, you’re curious as to how it would look if the two of you fused them together. A mix of old and new, will it look pretty?

“What will look pretty?” Jeno questioned your random thought, looking back and forth at your sketches. “You know who’s pretty though?”

“If you say what I think you’re going to say, I’m lea-”

“You.”

Jeno has gotten flirtier since that night, always finding the right opportunity to flatter you. Although you denied them out of embarrassment, the butterflies in your stomach can’t lie to you.

You’re so smitten, and so was he.

Jeno’s always one to follow the rules, but so far, he’s been breaking some of them already.

Just last night, he gave Renjun access to the lively museum because he needed more research regarding you. Initially, he practically interviewed Jeno for every piece of information he gathered because he used to be so deep in the books to study everything about you. Now in the past, Renjun still couldn’t forget how Jeno drunkenly admitted how crazy he was going to be over you and your coldness whilst sobering up in the dorm.

He didn’t understand one bit by that, especially when you’re technically dead. But by the sight of the first piece Renjun saw alive, which was Zeus, he almost passed out. Piece by piece, he viewed these artworks come to life from his fresh eyes. Right before he could’ve screamed when Athena shot a lightbulb in their exhibit, you happily called out Jeno’s name.

Renjun froze on the spot upon seeing your wax figure come to life. He’s browsed through this museum numerously due to the new exhibits, but lately, he checked your section out to find any tiny details that were linked to your life. Aside from the sketchpad, compass, and hairpins, he wanted to know if there was more to your life as an explorer.

As human interactions except the night guard weren’t allowed, Renjun needed help for his project in Women Studies. Just like Jeno’s assignment, you aided him. Fruitfully answering every question he gave you, Athena popped out of nowhere to inspect Jeno.

“I see you’re breaking another rule.”

“I’m sorry, Athena. He was desperate, and it would be selfish of me to let him fail.”

“This is the last one I’ll let slide, alright?” Athena huffed, not impressed by the reckless behavior Jeno acquired over time. She saw this coming, but for a change, she couldn’t punish him. He was a young adult, still learning more about life. Only will she step in if things turn for the worst. “I can’t believe I’ve gained a soft spot for you.”

Jeno laughed, hugging the figure like his older sister. “You love me though!”

Glad to say, Renjun aced his project and kept his word of not telling anyone about the happenings in Jeno’s job. Jeno even made a makeshift non-disclosure contract so Renjun wouldn’t spill the slightest details.

Lately, so much has been happening in the museum that having alone time with each other was rare. And when you did, the two of you made sure to maximize it and make every intimate moment count. From each touch, each longing kiss, each moan, and groan, never were you left hanging whether you’re at the Theater Room, Jeno’s office, or the Foreign Art Room.

The only time the two of you went beyond the boundaries was at the indoor garden. Jeno managed to get the key to it, lighting up some candles before you invited you inside. Thanks to the magic of the Greek gods, the cameras were bewitched to display fake imageries when security checks in the morning after.

Upon your deep conversations, you’ve mentioned once or twice about the indoor garden. It was the latest addition of the museum, opening in the early 2000s. Because it was a sacred place, no art piece was ever allowed inside.

Yet again, Jeno challenged the rules again when he invited you inside. A few minutes before, he set up some lights along the hallway of the garden, where he placed a blanket, a picnic basket, and his laptop right at the end of it. The best place to view everything, he just knew you’d love it.

He was undoubtedly right once you gasped at such a pretty sight. Seeing the silhouettes of various flowers and plants together with the night sky with all the stars sparkling, it was like you’re attending another ball with your sisters, who were looking for suitors then.

Once Jeno leisurely led you until the end, he brought out all the delicacies from the basket. One of them was this Italian savory dish of dough with toppings such as cheese and pepperoni, or pizza as they named it. The next ones were fresh strawberries and melted chocolate, followed by grape juice.

“I’d drink actual alcohol with you again, only if I didn’t get shitfaced and do my job properly.”

“Point taken. Besides, this is close enough. So pour me a drink please.”

Perhaps this was the closest to a date Jeno could ever ask you out to. With the restrictions and being constrained with time, he brainstormed all sorts of ways to bring the outside world to you. From simply letting you wander around this fascinating room, he unleashed the inner romantic in him. None of his friends would’ve thought since they never asked him about it, so he kept it to himself only. Finally, he’s satisfied with what he prepared. After eating, the two of you would watch more films before the sun rose again.

You’re just the right person for him at the moment he can act that way.

After your quiet stroll and sitting back down, Jeno surprisingly handed you a tiny box.

“A gift?”

“Open it.” He sipped on his juice, paying attention to your actions. Gently untying the box, the amazement in your eyes couldn’t fathom such a lovely present. No words were required to verify that Jeno outdid himself again, just your facial expression alone is enough.

When Jeno said that he pays attention to the tiny details, he doesn’t bluff. Throughout your growing relationship, you’ve cited how you wanted another special flower in your life. Just because you couldn’t view lavender roses the same way ever again, it didn’t mean you wanted to kick them out of your life. Flowers were one of nature’s beautiful creations, so you’re wishing to find the love you once had for lavender roses in other ones.

Thus, you came across what you thought held the highest form of meaning: red roses. Despite its thorns, it’s still a marvelous flower. Innocently, you told him that just because of the memory of your father giving them to your mother on her birthday yearly.

Red roses represented true love and romance, a discreet message only those eager would know.

Jeno was one of them, which was why he reserved this gift for this very moment. It was a necklace he found through a college fair recently, a subtle red rose pendant in the center. Since he couldn’t give you huge gifts, he settled for something light. Something none of the guards or the director wouldn’t pinpoint out when they do their inspections.

“Do you like it?”

Not one utter from your mouth since you’re so hypnotized, your lips quirked up in a charming smile. “Is that even a question? This is astonishing, Jeno.”

After you attempted to put it around your neck, Jeno sighed and stepped in to help you out. “Turn around, (Y/N). Let me.”

The tension gradually heightened once you held your hair up so Jeno accessibly viewed your clean neck. Clasping the lock, it took all his might to hold himself back from you. Even from behind, your silhouette was attractive to him. The lights he set up weren’t helping the slightest of what he’s thinking to do with you.

“Done.” He breathily whispered in your ear.

**

If he thought he was the only one feeling something powerful, he’d be more than wrong. The lingering sensation of his slim fingers gracing your décolletage area unhinged another kind of want, the one you’ve only imagined in your mind when you were needy and alone. It shouldn’t be a sin unless you’re with the person you’ve fallen for, right?

Facing him again, the eye contact didn’t last long when you were the first one to strike a move. Jeno kissed back right away, his hands pulling you closer by your waist. Whatever sultry music Jeno played, it gave you the perfect momentum to grind on his lap. He groaned against kisses, adding his tongue. His thumbs sensually rubbed your hipbones, one of your hands toying around with his hair while the other one balled up his shirt by the chest. None of you cared if anyone caught you.

The last time you’ve been this aggressive was at the Theater Room, which eventually increased the hidden lust you’ve had towards each other. Taking things slowly at first, it’s about time to delve in for more. The mood was already set from the start, even if Jeno didn’t plan this to happen here. But being the prepared man he is, he did have a condom in his back pocket.

Your fingers trailed from his neck until his crotch. He was hard, sensing how suffocated he must be. But he kept himself in control. Locking eye contact, you sweetly spoke.

“Grant my second wish, Jeno.” That same hand of yours held one of his, planting it in your breast. “Make love to me.”

Giving the go-signal, he crashed his lips on yours while stripping you off your dress. Carefully, he turned you around to untie your tight corset. Once it fell, your neck leaned sideways as his lips attacked it madly. Your breaths were tremulous, placing both his hands on your freed breasts to knead with. His touch felt like fire on your skin, yet you couldn’t stop.

“Jeno,” Obscene moans from your lips choked out. You desired more, shifting back to face him again to attack his lips. Slowly feeling one of his hands laying you down, you spread your legs with ease just for him. He parted after your head landed on the cushion to unbutton himself. The way your mouth dropped to selfishly stare at his bare body, flexing them before getting back into position. He was fit and toned just as Cleopatra predicted.

As much as Jeno knew how wild your thoughts were getting, he was more taken aback by your perky chest.

“Fuck, you are divine.” He sucked one nipple as his fingers ventured to slip your panties down. So much was going on, you didn’t know which stimulated you more. You tried to close your legs around his hand, but he slapped your inner thigh to stop you.

The cool breeze shivered you, especially from your core. Jeno’s fingers adventurously grazed from your hip area to your lower lips. He teasingly rubbed it up and down in your essence, his index finger settling it right at your needy clit. Another moan escaped your lips, an opportunity for Jeno to slide his tongue in your mouth. Enjoying the moment, his fingers dipped inside you. A gasp broke your kiss, making him giggle in your ear.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Oh, angel. The things I want to do with you.”

Sliding them back and forth, curling it even, you squirmed for more. Dropping himself to meet your core, Jeno placed your legs on his shoulder. Pushing you closer, his steamy breath felt like friction. Your hips grinded against it, so he gripped on them so you stay put.

“Angel,” He chuckled darkly, his crotch tightening at how powerless you looked. “You’re so pretty.”

You were drenched from arousal. But to Jeno, you were glowing under the lights. He wanted to take his time to admire what he had done to you. His independent girl, only weak for him.

His fingers unfolded in your lower lips, diving in to your orbit. You could hardly speak from his skilled mouth, especially his tongue savagely lapping your clit in numerous paces. You’ve only daydreamed about what it could do aside from kissing, and it exceeded your expectations. By the heated sensation that had the heels of your feet digging his back deeply, you affirmed to have seen more stars than the night sky above you.

Your back arched uncontrollably while his hands grasped your hips to stay in place, the tears in your eyes formulating while tugging on his hair. Your thighs clenched around his face, but his broad shoulders widened it to taste more of you. No use of pulling away when his grip on you was tight, so you could only cry out from the pleasure.

“Fuck!”

The ringing sounds in your off were going off, your throat drying up from moaning once another orgasm was about to hit. Once the knot in you snapped, nothing could hold back your screams of pleasure whilst panting for air. Sensitive as he licked every remaining essence he caused, he smirked as he got up to unbuckle his jeans.

Oh, boy. He got quite a package behind his boxers.

Even while you were overly sensitive, you had to grasp it in your hands. He was yours, and you were his.

The way you clenched around his protected length, pausing to readjust yourself to the feeling. The foreplay deemed helpful, though the girth of him overwhelmed you. He stretched you out so good.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)?” The stunned face you made was expected, still feeling worried that it may be too much.

Biting your lip, you moaned once everything felt bearable. “You can move, Jeno.”

None of you could track exactly how many rounds you went through. Even in the semi-public area, it didn’t hinder either of you. There’s that thrill, and surprisingly enough, you both shared the liking of it. Always switching the positions, you decided to call it quits after another sloppy round in missionary. Something seeing Jeno on top, fully submitting yourself to him, made you feel calm to be vulnerable. It’s really the trust you’ve established from the start, making you rely on humans again once you’ve let the past be.

Jeno brought out another blanket, initially meant for cuddling. It was still applicable though, curling your body into a spoon towards his racing chest. Music was no longer noise, the intimacy creeping back instead of lust this time. The afterglow of Jeno, sweaty and knackered as his legs sprawled under the sheet, was a sight for sore eyes. He’s always been handsome while on duty, but post-sex gave him an extra boost.

Plus there’s pride from the red marks courtesy of you on his chest, grazing over it softly.

Jeno chuckled softly at your smooth fingers, lifting them up to kiss them tenderly before kissing your lips again. Only humans were capable of and to love, but you’re some kind of an exception. Regardless of the magic from the plate, you’d be able to love too if it weren’t for your background.

There’s so much love Jeno wanted to offer you, even if he hasn’t said it out loud yet.

Perhaps one reason was because time was beginning to tick. Finals were a few weeks away, then the one-month long semestral break until a new semester kicks off. Time really flew by, and his bank account and heart expanded too. Enjoying the now was all he could think of doing, but those uncertainties bothered him.

The biggest would be where you and he would stand when his job ended.

Jeno was too absorbed in his internal debate, as portrayed by his eyes staring off in space and running his hand in his hair repeatedly. Something was disturbing him, and you’re concerned as to what it was.

“Jeno,” Around his arm, you tapped his chest to get him out of it. “What’s going on in your head?”

Jeno approached every obstacle he faces straightforwardly, not wanting to let him hold back. Rarely did he keep secrets, especially from you. Instead of hiding away, he voiced it out.

“(Y/N), will we work out?”

“What do you mean, Jeno?”

You’re so occupied in the present that thinking of the future was never in your field. Like him, you’re just enjoying being in the moment. Though after tonight, it’s making you wonder if there’s a future.

“Well,” He placed his hand on top of yours, affectionately observing you. “Times flies faster when you’re having fun, and well, the semester is ending.”

His last words crushed a part of your heart, remembering his initial plan. None of you expected your friendship to bloom into what it is now, but life was just full of surprises without a schedule. At the same time, none of you wouldn’t have it any other way.

It may have been a few months since you two committed to each other, but the spark was still strong. It wasn’t like a summer romance kind of feeling. Time was not a determinant of love either, which you were certain of it with Jeno. A lot more than Junmyeon.

It should’ve frightened you when you realized your love for Jeno, but it didn’t. Even if you didn’t age physically, your mindset did. You’ve learned to forgive your younger self, and through Jeno, you let your guard down completely. From that, you let love in. Platonic to your fellow art pieces, and all of the above to Jeno.

Throughout your relationship, you regained all confidence in yourself and everything you set your mind to.

“I wouldn’t want to worry too much about it if I were you.” Your body flipped to lie on your stomach, resting your head on your palm.

“Why shouldn’t I, angel?”

Gazing back at him, you left a velvety kiss on his lips to rest his thoughts. His hand wrapped your neck, deepening it. But you pulled away with a giggle, all too knowing of his secret intentions as his cock began to harden again. His eyes narrowed down and his lower lip stuck out at your attempt of being a tease.

But enough about sex, you wanted to address a point.

Lee Jeno was going to be the biggest risk you wanted to take and fight for, and no one should try to stop you.

“I’ll ask Circe for a potion. For me, for you, for us.”

If it weren’t for insistent questioning towards every art piece, who kept their mouths shut, only Circe herself banished him from his suffering. Her series of potions varied, and the one you requested years ago which you threw out was capable of turning any art piece into a living human. No potion of Circe ever failed, so you entrusted your life for the day you do drink it.

“Are you sure, angel?”

Jeno knew about that one specifically, and as great to hear that you never threw it out, he never put pressure on you. He wanted you to do whatever felt right, even if deep down, he wished you’d use it. He was only worried about how the flow of the entire museum would be disrupted.

Typical Jeno always looking out for you, but you saw right through his concern. Here you were, caressing his check as reassurance. With an honest smile,

“I’ve never been more certain with anything in my life here until you came, Lee Jeno.”

Jeno opened up more to his life outside the museum, telling all sorts of experiences not just his days as a university student. From his childhood, his family, his travels, heck you even want to meet his friends at this point!

Newly, he shared with you how the sunrise and sunset looked like in Seoul with much vivacity. It’s a luxury as a human to witness as day breaks and ends, so you could imagine by yourself how it would look like. Sure, you had drawings and all, but that was from the real (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

This version of you wanted to live more; that’s your greed now.

“You’ve never touched snow too, right?” Jeno, who had his arm wrapped around you, silently watched the first batch of snow from inside.

“Yup, that’s the thing when you’re imprisoned in this place.” You sulked by his side, earning a chuckle from him who pulled you in closer.

“Don’t tell me now that you despise this place.”

“I don’t, but it hinders me to experience new things. The whole pattern of being awake at night by a plate gets tiring, Jeno.”

All Jeno would do when you’re frustrated was placing your head on his shoulder, listening as you talk.

“I know, angel. But it won’t be long until you leave this place with me, right?”

“You know it!” You interlocked your hands with him, eyes trained at every falling snowflake.

Sometimes, moments in silence with Jeno were all you needed for the night. Being within each other’s presence, focusing or admiring something from afar, it was all the peace you’ve needed from the bustling art pieces.

This week was the last of the semester, and Jeno’s off duty for tonight to focus on his exams. You’ll see him tomorrow night, which was his last shift ever, and also yours too.

Perhaps the biggest milestone you’re committing to without any regrets.

However, it took an unnecessary conversation you accidentally eavesdropped on to rock your decision.

You needed more ink after running out mid-way of sketching the sculptures as a secret parting gift. Before you could take a single step inside your exhibit room, a series of voices were full-on arguing. Booming back and forth, you peeped your ear out whilst hiding against the door.

“Athena, how dare you did to her?! She’s done so well from moving on from it, falling in love even! And now you’re telling me this?!” The distinct voice of Princess Diana, who spoke sweetly most of the time, boomed towards the Greek god. “You’re heartless.”

“I did what I had to do for the sake of this place, Diana!” Athena raised her voice, the lightning in her hands holding back from lashing out. She hated it when anyone argued with her, especially when she does things according to what she believed was necessary. Out of everyone, she had more leadership. “She had to know that her place is here as a wax figure, not outside. Talking Junmyeon out of it was for the best, plus it’s ideal when he drank the potion of memory loss from Circe.”

“But it tore her apart when he left her, and it’s going to tear her again if you do the same with Jeno.”

“How else are you going to approach the situation then, Diana? Those two have broken the highest golden rule, so they need to wake up.”

Right when she celebrated within herself for healing, hearing the unbearable revelation behind the past devastated you. This whole time, she internally blamed herself for being ageless and lashed out at others. The scary past barged back in, and you couldn’t handle it anymore.

Somewhere in the corner, you wept without a trace. You could care less about Athena’s opinions, but you found yourself agreeing to some of her words. You had a role to fulfill, and leaving that behind would be selfish and it could make the museum go topsy-turvy. As painful for Junmyeon to leave you, it was because the truth hurts. Nothing could change it, even if Circe could be your solution because it’ll leave a lot of questions. You didn’t want Jeno to be seen as a suspect.

Oh, Jeno.

There’s nothing wrong with falling in love either, you didn’t intend it to happen. But it becomes unfair when it compromises with your purpose, and that’s not how you are. You’ll always remember Jeno as your biggest risk, though it’s time to end things. Treacherous as it was to accept for you, risk-takers have boundaries too.

Fast forward, on the night of Jeno’s last shift, you’ve cherished every second with him. Playing around, chatting with other art pieces, kissing in private, you made it count. Before dawn broke, that’s where you chose to come clean by the garden, your sacred place. Not even your self-reassurance could prepare you to witness the hurt and confusion Jeno felt.

“You’re a mortal, and you still get to choose your path. Mine is already predetermined here as a wax copy of a historical figure.” You advised as you held both his hands, your voice shaking at the reality.

A few days ago, you were beaming with exhilaration at a new journey but now you’ve permanently backed out. Jeno couldn’t comprehend, and as much as he tried, he couldn’t. A life without you by his side would be empty and dull. “Even so, there are things about you that the original person didn’t have.”

Arguing with him wasn’t your favorite, and it’ll leave the two of you in a bad mood. But there is no way to negotiate this; you’ve already made up your mind. “We must end this, Jeno. You need someone who can grow old with you, and I can’t be that person for you.”

“But we can make it work!” His hands gripped on your slumped shoulders, whilst your face avoiding his to spare yourself from the heartache. “There’s still Circe.”

“I know, but recently, I found out that she’s an indirect cause of my misery.” Pulling away from his touch, you belted with frustration. “I cannot do this anymore, Jeno.”

You’ve always fought for whatever you wanted in life, and Jeno knew he was one of them if it weren’t for you telling him that. So he did the same, thinking of ways to make you feel whole. Now, he couldn’t tolerate the sudden crumbling of his heart from your outburst, and all he wanted to know was why you felt this way. How could he help you?

You don’t keep secrets from Jeno, but the truth behind your harsh actions cannot be revealed for the sake of the museum. Plus, you didn’t want him to despise this place he admired. Causing him pain wasn’t on your list, but keeping him safe was. It may be shown differently and he may not understand it now, but over time, he will.

“Jeno, you’ll find someone better out there. Someone with their whole life ahead of them, who’ll love you for everything that makes you who you are.” Repetitive punches in your guts urged you to barf at your half-lie, but you held it in.

“Why are you pushing me away? What happened to taking risks, (Y/N)?” Jeno interrogated, taking your hands in his hands again. They unconventionally quivered, like his lips. Jeno has never cried in front of anyone, not even when he was younger. Though for you, he just might. “Am I not worth it for you?”

Dear heavens, he was wrong. You internally screamed that, but you can’t let your selfishness seize the night. As Athena said, you had to wake up from your dream. “Committing to you was my biggest risk of them all, Jeno. Everything else that went along with it, I don’t regret it one bit. But time’s really up for us, and we must resume our normal duties.”

“I can’t lose you, (Y/N).”

“You never will, Jeno.”

He crouched lower to meet your height, his finger moving your head so you’d look at him back. Weakly enough, you did. “I want you to be a part of my normal life, angel.”

“I’ll always be here, you know. I’ll be standing in my usual spot upstairs, and you can drop by whenever you can.” You pressed your lips, lifting your head to avoid incoming tears. Meanwhile, he began shedding a few. You’ve hurt him big time, and you’ll never forgive yourself for this. “I still have one wish, right?”

Jeno’s sorrow was beyond his capacity, leaning his forehead against yours to kiss it. No matter what he could say or do, he already knew it won’t be effective. You’re affirmative in your choices, yet he still wanted to challenge it. All he wanted to know was why you’re doing this.

“Let me walk you one last time to your section.”

The black night sky had remnants of blue, motioning that dawn was approaching. Other figures gave their goodbyes to Jeno earlier, cleaning up their areas before they pose. Though none of them anticipated such a cold atmosphere between you two, they could only spy on what was bound to happen.

“My last wish is for you to let me go, Jeno.” You avowed, blinking your eyes with faux positivity. Your hands patted his blazer so it wouldn’t crease. “I already have a role to fulfill here, and you’re on the way to yours, future architect.”

“I love you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Only tonight did he muster his courage to finally admit it to you after giving himself more time to analyze it. Timing was always crucial, and the badness of it showed.

Deep in your heart, you resonated the feeling. But it’ll make things more complicated, and it was the final thing you’ve wanted to occur. Someone had to be the strong one, and now, it should be you. With one more compassionate kiss on his lips, you stepped inside your section and readied your position.

“Goodbye, Lee Jeno.”

The sunshine brightened the room, and you’ve frozen to slumber again.

All Jeno could do was drop on his knees, sobbing over your rash actions. Unknown to him, a single tear left your eye as you posed.

Regardless of what status you were in, the pain of it all remained.

Jeno spent most of his semestral break with his friends to travel or whatnot, trying to forget it all. Even if he aced all his finals, his efforts felt like nothing if he never had you by his side to celebrate.

The sting over his short-lived romance with you never diminished the slightest, no one whom he could express his pain about it to especially when Renjun drank the memory wipe potion that Athena initially left for Jeno by his desk.

Forget it all, and live a peaceful life. You have so much potential, my mentee.

- Athena

Perhaps this was the same thing Junmyeon drank all those years ago, but unlike him, he didn’t have the guts to. He still wanted another chance.

So every day since the new semester began, he spent every afternoon break at your section. He’ll be seated by the bench, doing his assignments and talking about his day while sometimes stealing a glance of your figure. Some habits don’t change.

He never got sick of the same smile you exemplified, falling even more for you. He’ll often wonder what you’ve been up to.

What are your new sketches?

Are you taking care of Mochi well?

Have you apologized to Sanghoon yet?

Speaking of him, he surprisingly scooted over to Jeno’s side. This was the first time Jeno met the man, and politely enough greeted him. Sanghoon interviewed the boy, asking all sorts of questions that Jeno had every answer to. The biggest change that Sanghoon noticed since he left was your personality. You no longer bite, but treat everyone kindly without bias. You’re always active to help him out in cleaning the lobby, and you don’t go easily defensive.

Once he found out that Jeno was the reason for that, he was overjoyed at the start and wanted to meet him some way. You were a tough cookie, but now you relaxed. That was all that mattered to him, hoping to know more about him from you. That was until Diana stepped in and told him everything that happened. Mostly, the bad.

Playfulness eventually bore love. The last time you fell in love was in the 80s and Junmyeon pushed you away, he recalled. This time, you’re pushing Jeno away because you simply agreed with Athena’s points.

This wasn’t right, but it wasn’t his place to interfere.

But then again, he finally caught Jeno for the first time today and this time, he was open to hearing his side of the story. Lessen his misery too.

“No matter how stubborn she is, she loves you.” He advised him, bringing out one of your full sketchbooks. As Jeno opened it, the majority of the portraits were him. Sleeping, smiling, laughing, you drew him from every minor detail you could spot like the mole near his eye and his crescent eyes.

A handsome face I would never get sick until the end of time. Someone I want to wake up to every day in the morning if it weren’t for that plate.

- (Y/N)

Towards the end, a sketch of a house unfolded. The interior was a fusion of modernity and old royal design due to its white walls, wide space, and the placing of less furniture, plus an open backyard. There’s another tiny comment on the side from you.

I was right. Joining our varying designs together is pretty. Maybe Jeno and I could live in a house like this one day.

- (Y/N)

If you loved him so much, why did you let him go then when you had all these plans with him? Even if he tried to understand, he just didn’t.

“Don’t give up just yet when she told you to.”

“Are you just saying this or something?”

“Well, Princess Diana passed this message on but after everything, I believe that she’s right.” Sanghoon gave his opinion, but Jeno was reluctant to accept it.

“I never got a proper explanation why she suddenly changed her mind, Sanghoon.” He ranted, raking his hand through his hair from puzzlement. “Did I do something wrong?”

Sanghoon pitied him, having the upper hand and questioning himself whether to reveal the truth. However, since this boy took the job, he’s succumbed to secrecy. Without any transparency, it could drive someone mad. He’s too young for that, so Sanghoon breathed in defeat and placed his hand on Jeno’s shoulder.

“Promise me you won’t be mad when I tell you because I was when I found out; almost screamed even.”

Jeno nodded, listening to whatever Sanghoon had to say.

Of all people, he never would’ve expected Athena to do such a brash thing. Someone he respected and trusted, only to betray him by doing something she believed was good for all. Except it wasn’t, and it ended up hurting you all these years. The woman he loved, now he’s a clearer understanding of why you did what you did. Yet, it can’t fix his excruciation.

Heartbroken was an understatement; he had no one to rely on. With Sanghoon, he finally had a proper breakdown. The older man could only comfort his quietly, picturing him like one of his sons going through a hard time in school. But if it involves the heart, it’ll take more time to recover.

“You’re always the one adjusting, Jeno. But I think this time, you’re the one who needs space.”

A Year and a Half Later

“Jeno Lee!!!” Jaemin roughly wallowed his best friend in a hug when he arrived in their dorm room for the first time in a long time. “You dyed your hair blonde again!”

Renjun, who was behind the two of them, only rolled his eyes as he helped carry Jeno’s bags. “God damn it, Jaemin! You’re supposed to be helping me first!”

“I know, but give me a few seconds! I’m just happy our group is back together!”

Jeno laughed at his friends’ annoying yet silly dynamics, giddy to be back home. For a year, Jeno spent his 3rd year of university in Rome, Italy after one of his professors brought up to him about a scholarship program there for his course. At the time where he needed a change of scenery, he sent his application form and got interviewed.

Acing it, he had the opportunity to fly across the world to study and travel. His English skills surely improved, even picking up Italian words along the way due to a required class for it. He studied the history of different locations and how they were built.

He also went on field trips almost every day if it weren’t for the Italian students assigned to tour him around, academic and non-academic. Nights he spent on drinking wine on the rooftop of his dorm with them, screaming his complaints in the world with them.

It didn’t hit him that his stay was reaching its end until he submitted his final plate. His goodbye party didn’t even feel like one, but a see you later in the next few years after he becomes a licensed architect with money. His goal of it felt more realistic, motivating him to excel in his remaining years in university.

After unpacking half of his things, he was reminded of an email from one of the head professors, who requested another copy of his confidential documents from the Italian university he went to as soon as he’s back on campus.

He raced to the department with a folder of them and luckily encountered the said professor. Handing it to him, this professor questioned how he was and what experiences he gained from the trip. With excitement, Jeno spoke all sorts of tales from his adventures, highlighting how determined he was now to be an architect.

“That’s great to hear, Jeno!” He celebrated, checking on his watch, and widened his eyes. Frantic at his colliding schedules, he asked Jeno for a favor. It turned out that at the same time as his emergency meeting, he’s supposed to tour the new transferee student around campus.

“Only if you have time, Jeno! I could always ask another student, plus you just came back and need rest.”

“It’s not like I left for a decade, sir. No worries, I’ll do it.”

“Oh, bless your soul.” He put his hands together in prayer position, bowing back and forth with gratitude. “Wait, she’s right outside! Go ahead and introduce yourself.”

Jeno nodded, exiting right through the department doors. This girl had her back turned, inspecting her surroundings. She wore a black and white tweed blazer that matched with her skirt, black high heeled boots, and a black handbag. She must be a foreigner, Jeno thought.

“Excuse me, are you the transferee in the department of Architecture?”

Jeno didn’t brace himself for the surprise he’d face once this girl reacted to him calling her out. Her face was one he could never forget, no matter how many times he told himself to. The same face he convinced his heart to stop beating for, yet it lied.

This radiant face was none other than yours.

Jeno almost dropped his phone. He tried his best to hold on to your promise, but he failed. It was the main reason he studied abroad; to forget and focus on his career path. So the least thing he could’ve done was to study hard for his dream career.

Just a glimpse of you projected back every single memory you’ve had together. Beautiful yet heart-wrenching, he kept his emotions to himself.

You even wore the rose necklace he got you. Could it be?

“It’s been a while, Lee Jeno.” You took the metaphorical scissors to cut the tension, trying to contain the crushing feelings. The faculty center was a public place, yet it’s like the two of you were on the main stage.

“Do you remember me?” Astounded, you nodded. Every single detail.

Jeno could’ve ran away, but didn’t. He could’ve left you hanging, but didn’t. He can no longer count how many times you’ve appeared in his dreams, only to be disappointed when morning comes to not have you in his arms. He took one step closer, taking his time.

“How do you know me?”

“You’re the boy whom I helped with his assignment, argued with me over Romeo and Juliet,” You mimicked his move, making you one step nearer to him. “And most of all, the boy I once gave my entire heart to.”

Another step, leaving a few inches between the two of you. His heart palpitated without caffeine. What if he was napping in his dorm again? It was all surreal. “Is it really you, (Y/N)?”

Hearing your name from his lips lowered your guard, you pleased him with a hopeful grin. “I’d be dust by now if I didn’t drink Circe’s potion, right?”

That’s where Jeno unchained himself from his emotions. He engulfed in a warm hug, one that has no plans to let go when his chin planted on your shoulder. You returned the gesture, dropping all your worries away along with your bag and papers as your arms snaked through his neck.

You knew you had to part ways for a while after everything, though you were unsure how he’d feel about it. You recalled every time he visited you after his job ended up until his intense chat with Sanghoon, where he bawled his heart out. You couldn’t take it anymore after trying to stay strong, crying as soon as you woke up that night.

All your fellow figures could do was soothe you down like before to the best of their abilities, yet this time, it was unsuccessful. You’re filled with misery, realizing later how much of a big mistake you’ve made.

You’ve isolated yourself again for a while, but less rudeness and more silence. It was until Circe visited you. She doesn’t like getting involved with drama, though now was different. She, alongside Hera and Aphrodite, couldn’t withstand you tolerating the heartbreak again. So they went behind Athena’s back on this one time and created a potion together just for you. But with a compromise.

“This potion can turn you into a human. However, there’s only a 10% chance you’ll regain all your memories from this place.”

“So I’ll forget everyone and him?”

“Yes, unfortunately.” You’re about to shoo her away, not in the mood to do something drastic as that. But Circe grabbed your arm again. “I strongly believe that if you and he meant to be, then there will come a time these past memories will suddenly surge at you.”

“Must I need to forget to live properly?”

You’re stubborn, and Circe expected it. “You’ve broken so many golden rules, (Y/N), so it must be done. I’ve gone against Athena for this potion, and rarely have I done that. So rather than wallowing up in misery, you should focus on yourself. Do what makes you happy because this place is trapping you from every great thing out there.”

Those were the word that the actual (Y/N) (Y/L/N) lived by, nevertheless, you’re unique from her. You built a separate identity from her. “But Jeno-”

“At the right time, (Y/N). Pull yourself together and do all the things you’ve dreamt of before he came into the picture. I just know he loves you that much, and that he will wait for you.”

That same night, you gathered all your senses and drank it. The transition was fast as lightning speed, and behold, you were like a new person. You’re back in London, with a family that closely resembled your former one; only 3 older siblings, making you the youngest. You also had a new set of memories, from childhood until your adult years.

From (Y/N) (Y/L/N), you became (Y/N) Edwards.

It took one drunken night out with your university friends for the unlikely surge of old memories to speedily hit through your intoxicated state. Way beyond a dream, you’ve dropped your shot glass and broke down in the bathroom of your dorm room. You left something unaccomplished, and you had to do something before it’s too late.

Thus, you rushed to Seoul thanks to your parents’ support as they agreed that exploring outside your home country was a great experience. The only excuse you gave to your friends for the sudden transfer was you finding a new calling.

Sure, studying abroad was an exciting thing but you’re more determined to reunite with him. Even if this encounter was unforeseen, it was bound to happen one day. It so turned out that you had the same major in your former university and this new one.

Head to toe, you remembered everything.

“I’m so sorry I took so long.” You cradled your head on his chest, unaware of how your new life left Jeno so troubled.

“That doesn’t matter anymore.” Jeno tightened his grip, scared of releasing you again. Those two years felt like a breath of fresh air and a punch in the gut. “I tried to live up to your last wish, but I really can’t.”

“I want to take that wish back, Jeno. I wasn’t thinking right and only ended putting you through so much.”

“Oh, angel. I slowly understood why you did it.” Before he got too fragile, he softened his grip on you and showed his face again to you. He wanted a better look at his pretty girl, his fingers brushing strands of your hair behind your ear. Heart-fluttering, you bit your bottom lip. “What would you want to wish for instead?”

“Instead of you letting me go, I wish you could take me back and love me again. I can’t undo the past, but I’d still like to think I’ve tried my best.” That was the only wish you could ever think of. As huge as it was, it was something he may not accept. Yet you gave it a go, risking it all. “I don’t deserve you at all, Jeno.”

“Don’t say that, (Y/N).” One of his hands grabbed yours, putting it on his cheek. Cupping it, “I’ve never stopped loving you, you know.”

Oh, love. An all-too familiar emotion that either makes or breaks you. Of all the times you could’ve said those words, you held back, especially that wretched night you two broke it off. Although you showed it, being able to say it to someone felt more empowering.

This was finally the chance you’ve unconsciously waited for.

“I’m stupid for not saying this sooner.”

“What is it?”

With intimate eye contact, you drowned in the comfort of his brown orbs. You trusted him then, and you trusted him now. “I love you, Lee Jeno.”

Secretly, Jeno anticipated for the day you’d say those meaningful 3 words. Just like you, he showed more affection through actions than words. He only admitted when he lost you, and never would he do the same mistake again. If he felt that the love was strongly present, he will say it aloud.

“I love you still, (Y/N).” His arm around your waist tugged you in further. “I loved you as (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and I will continue to love you as (Y/N) Edwards.”

He peeked on your ID earlier, but regardless, he stood by his truth. You’re still the same (Y/N).

Finally, he closed the limited space between your lips. The memories of your past romance replayed in sync of every touching kiss, popping one leg up like in the movies. The Princess Diaries, specifically. Like in the museum from your unbearable parting, one warm tear freed itself down your cheek.

The sweetness of being reunited with you again beat the torturous wait of Jeno. Time really made your hearts grow fonder. As everyone said, if the love between two people is real, then it’ll find its way back to each other.

The world must be on your side too because no professor called you two out on your public display of affection. Jeno pecked your lips one time before stepping away, picking up the things you dropped.

“Now come on, I have to tour you around as instructed.”

You stomped on your feet, rolling your eyes from being left hanging. He’s still the same tease from before. “After that kiss though, I would’ve thought we could reschedule it.”

“No can do, Edwards.” Passing over your things, he wrapped one arm around you as he escorted you out of the building. The university was huge, with more buildings and green fields surrounded everywhere. “Left or right? There are a lot of places you missed out on all those years.”

“Point taken. Then you lead the way, my love.”

[ktheist]

life is yours

muses. professor!fiancee!namjoon x reader x fiancee’s friend!past life husband! expecting father!yoongi

genre. reincarnation au. college au. pregnancy au.

word. 1.7k

x

you loved min yoongi, you’d die for him.

and died for him you did. when the traitors came for your king, you’d leaped in front of him and took a swing of the treacherous sword. history books portrayed him as the king who went mad. the king who slayed hundreds of lives in one night and ruled for fifty more years as a tyrant.

what are histories if not painted with a tragic romance?

they said it was because of you he went mad. because he lost his queen, his breath.

a few hundred years later, he’d found her again. at the age of twenty-seven and you, twenty-two.

his girlfriend was pregnant with his baby and you were professor kim namjoon’s student-turned-fiance.

“it’s funny, you know,” you took a whiff of the cigarette and breathe out through your mouth, “we can walk out of our current relationships and ruin everyone’s perception of us, or we can just lead the life we’re living like we didn’t remember anything.”

yoongi squints his eyes as he stares up at the sun. lips tucked downwards, as though telling the universe that after one lifetime too many, he’s unimpressed.

“or we could just run away,” he recalls the flames of the torches of that night - not as bright as today’s sun but just as mocking, “forget about everything and run away.”

“you make it sound so easy,” a laugh escapes your smoke kissed lips, “it’s not as if the people we’ve known and loved are fake, faceless puppets.”

this life is just as real.

though it would’ve gone much different if you’d met each other sooner.

yoongi taps the pointed corner of the invitation card on his palm. it tickles but it’s nothing compared to the burning sensation as he held onto the handle of the sword despite it grazing his flesh.

“how far along is she?” his girlfriend, you mean. 

walking into namjoon’s office - the office you’d snuck into a few times too many but felt utterly alien - you saw the porcelain, snow-kissed complexion of your king. all at once, the memories hit you like a rain of shards.

and in each, individual shard, you see the images of your first step, first drawing, first embroidery and the first time you met yoongi. an arrogant boy whom you pushed into the koi pond.

the same boy who smirked at you the whole time during your engagement ceremony while you squirmed in your seat, scheming a runway and an apology at the same time.

and the man who strutted into the room, plopped on the left side of the bed and bade you good night on your first night as a married couple.

it was until three months later, that you trapped him under you and confronted him about it.

you thought yoongi, the crown prince turned king, had a lover. but he loved you too much to hurt you. they said you’re supposed to bleed on your first time. you laughed until your stomach hurt because you were happy beyond words that your husband was abstaining himself for you and not going around fucking a lover behind your back.

not even a year later, you caressed your stomach and giggled to yourself, thinking about yoongi’s stone cold expression turning pink and speechless. that night, the rebellion happened.

your last memories was of him holding you in his arms and calling out your name. 

in this lifetime, your first memory of him is watching him smile a familiar smile that screamed awkwardness as namjoon relayed their youthful tales.

that was, until he got to the part where yoongi’s about to be a father.

all of a sudden, there’s a knot in your stomach. it twists and tightens until you feel like you’re going to puke if you didn’t excuse yourself, saying something about calling your mom that you’d be having dinner with namjoon and letting the two men catch up.

“ten weeks. we’re ten weeks pregnant,” he sucks in a deep, agonized breath - and from the way he’s gazing up at the sky with his hands on his hips, you don’t think he meant to hide his afflictions.

the way he refers to himself and her as ‘we’ makes that knot all the more painful.

“i was a seven weeks pregnant,” you smile softly to yourself, gazing down at your stomach as if you could feel your baby from your previous lifetime.

you shouldn’t have said it.

should’ve just kept quiet.

but-

“they told me you were eight weeks in,” the soft, breathless tone that comes from yoongi is  what makes your heart beat again.

as if you’d come to life. as if min ___, the queen of joseon had come back to tell her king the one thing she wished to say. the one thing she wished for.

a family.

“taeyang. i was going to name him taeyang because he was going to be the sun of the dynasty and bring peace to the nation,” you laugh and it’s the choked up sound that you make that makes you realize you’re on the verge of crying.

“never thought i’d be talking about histories and dynasties with anyone - i hate history,” the confession slips out of you like you’re talking with an old friend. someone you trust wholeheartedly. someone you know you can confide in. 

yoongi was your friend, your lover, your king.

“come with me. i have a savings account, we can start anew somewhere, we can have what we couldn’t have back then.” he turns to you and looks at you in the eye. 

“what about your baby?” you ask because you know it’s meant for his future family.

“i’ll send child support every month,” he says.

“your parents?” you ask because his mother was a concubine and the king barely remembered his name out of the names of his many children.

in this lifetime, from the way namjoon candidly told the story, you know they love their eldest son as much as he loves them.

“they’ll adore you,” he says.

“no one’s gonna love a homewr- ah,” you hiss, dropping the cigarette that was trapped between your fingers until it burned your skin.

“___,” a familiar, deep but less gravelly tone reverberates against the walls as namjoon comes jogging at you like you’re a kid who just bruised her knee.

you study his face and yoongi’s eyes burn holes in your head.

from the way he meets your gaze and gives you ‘your fingers almost got burned and you’re looking at me?’ you think it’s safe to say that he didn’t hear what you were saying.

“i’m fine, i just burned my fingers because i got too engulfed in yoongi’s stories about how you two met,” you laugh at how namjoon’s inspecting your fingers more attentively than a doctor would.

“another reason to include in the long list of reasons not to smoke,” your finacee chides.

“that was my last,” you announce in a higher pitch than your usual voice - and that’s how namjoon knows you’re half-joking, even when you- “i promise.”

“anyways,” you place the injured hand on his chest to distract him - the way yoongi’s jaw tighten doesn’t go past you, “i talked to my dad because apparently my mom was cooking and couldn’t come to the phone and he said to tell you to bring me back before curfew.”

it’s the way namjoon freezes underneath your touch, his eyes blinking once and his soul retreating far back into his subconscious that makes you giggle.

“i’m kidding.”

only then, does he breathe again.

“my mom wasn’t cooking, she was watching her favorite show,” you say again.

it takes a split second for namjoon to put two and two together and tenses up again. as if he feels your father’s hardened gaze behind him. your father didn’t take it too well when you introduced your professor as your boyfriend who proposed to you a week before.

“it was nice meeting you, yoongi, we look forward to see you at our wedding,” you extend a hand, the playful smile reserved for namjoon, now directed at your king.

the king whom you died for. and the king who you’re telling to live his life, as you’ll live yours.

“wouldn’t miss my best friend’s wedding for the world,” he smiles, his hand grasping yours and you thought you’re going to combust from the electrifying sensation that runs through your veins.

but it’s only short-lived. 

you pull your hand away and he summons his back to his side.

he turns to namjoon and gives him a pat on his shoulder, congratulating him again but this time, with a lingering stare before walking past the two of you and towards the parking lot.

“professor, i’ll get my purse from your office and we’ll be good to go.” you say absently before skipping to the opposite direction of where yoongi was headed.

with each step you take, you hear your heart breaking. just like the pieces of your memories that rains down like shards of glass.

you wonder if you’ll make it through this life without dying of a broken heart.

“i thought we fixed that?” namjoon murmurs behind you, just as you sling the strap of your purse over your shoulder.

“hm?” you turn to the man leaning against the doorframe, observing you with a crease between his brows.

“you called me professor again,” namjoon mumbles almost as if he’s sulking.

and your heart warms at the tender sight of a grown man acting like a child. you’re reminded of the reason you fell for kim namjoon. his gentle nature was the opposite of yours yet he laughed at your jokes like he laughed off your flirtatious advancements.

he told you he saw you as a student and lent you his scarf when he saw you shaking in the cold while waiting for your uber. the next time he saw you, at 11 pm before the library closes, he offered to drive you home even though his was in the opposite direction from yours.

“namjoon,” you say his name, a smile tucked on your lips as you wrap your arms around his waist and his arm that had been crossed over his chest instantly makes it way around you, “thank you.”

“for what?” his eyes light up like a christmas tree, dimple digging into his cheek.

“for choosing me,” you stand on the tip of your toes and he meets you halfway for the kiss.

and you loved min yoongi, you died for him.

you love kim namjoon, you choose to live the rest of your life with him.

x

note. so like, the title - technically, it’s like oc saying “my life is yours” to both yoongi and namjoon but in different lifetimes :D

[sckyie]

word count: 1.6k

genre + warnings: angst to fluff; platonic flirting, friends to lovers, touch of insecurities

pronouns used: she/her

a/n: oooooooooooooo sunaaaaaaaaa

You know those stages that happen before you're dating someone? Those awkward, "I'm talking to someone but I'm not official," stages? That's what it felt like with your close friend, Suna. It was always something along those lines but never any action happened.

The two of you were known by your friends how you'd flirt with one another. Constantly using pick up lines and calling each other terms of endearment. It was confusing to your friends with your relationship, your friendship if you will.

There was one rule between you two once you started this platonic flirting. No catching feelings. Simple as that, you and Suna hadn't felt any tinge of romance when you were beside each other. It was easy enough as you'd help each other with setting one another on dates.

That was until you caught yourself. "What wrong with you?" Osamu poked at your cheek. "You haven't touched yer lunch at all."

"Oh, I'm just thinking," You say, snapping out of your thoughts.

"What about?" He asks.

"My stupid crush," You sighed, munching on your bento.

"Heyo!" Atsumu came into the classroom with Suna trailing behind him. He sits beside Osamu and Kita.

"Hey baby," Suna says, greeting you. He pulls a seat to sit beside you  

"Hey," You smiled. "I'm gonna go get something to drink. Did you want anything hon?"

"Just the melon soda please," Suna says, handing you some coins. You turn them down, turning to leave.

"Can I come with?" Osamu asks, knowing something was bothering you. You nod as he followed you out to the vending machines. "Alright what's buggin' you?"

"Nothing," You lied, inserting the coins into the machine.

"C'mon Y/n, spit it out," Osamu crosses his arms.

"Fine," You sighed. "I like this guy and he's been on my mind lately...It's just bugging me how bad I want to confess, but I know he probably doesn't like me. He's my close friend and it'll ruin our friendship."

"Does this guy, say, flirt with you a lot?" Osamu hinting at Suna.

"Yes, it's him," You confirmed, bending to grab the drinks. "We made a rule to not fall for one another. It's hard to not like someone when they flirt with you everyday. Even you saw it, he calls me baby and I can't tell him to stop."

"You could always tell him how you feel, ya never know, he could like you too," Osamu says. You sighed, ignoring your friend's advice, trailing back to the classroom.

"I would never date her," You overheard. Osamu puts his arm out, stopping you from entering. "Y/n is just my friend, I'd never see her as more than that."

"That's Suna's voice," You whispered.

"Oh come on, no feelings at all?" Atsumu says.

"She's too- what is it- clingy? She's always pushy and can't see her romantically.," Suna explained. "Hey, look at this chick."

You pushed past Osamu's arm, entering the room. You place his drink on the desk, returning to your food. Suna had leaned over to show Aran a photo from Instagram, he moves back, draping his arm over your chair. "Thank you baby," He says, taking your drink from the desk. You hummed in response, eating the rice in your bento.

"Hey, Y/n are you coming to the game next week?" Atsumu asks.

"Maybe," You say. "I have to study for the exam coming up."

"Aww, yer not gonna come support your baby," Atsumu teased. You rolled your eyes, finishing up your food.

After school, usually you met with Suna before practice started and before you'd walk home. It was a usual thing, he says some corny pick up line and gives you a hug goodbye after you wish him a good practice. Today however, you were hurt by his words. Clingy and pushy? Were you always so attached to him he started to dislike it?

Suna waits patiently outside the gym like normal but you didn't arrive. He checks his phone, noticing that practice is close to starting. Confused, he turns around and heads to the locker room. "Did Y/n already come by?" Atsumu asks.

"No, she didn't come at all. Wonder if she's okay," Suna deadpanned.

rin rin: hey, you didn't come by today? you okay?

you: yea, just tired, sorry rin

rin rin: it's fine, text me when you get home, yea?

you: gotcha!

You locked your phone shoving it into your pocket. A sting in your chest kept bugging you on your way home. It hurt knowing that Suna doesn't even want to be more than friends. You would've taken the rejection face on but, hearing it behind your back? Was there even a point in this platonic flirting?

After hearing his words of how he felt about you, distancing yourself from him only felt right. For the next few days, you stopped your extra flirting, visiting him after class, and overall, you stopped calling him some cutesy pet name.

Tomorrow was the day of the game, Suna had sat with Atsumu outside at lunch since the classroom was full. "You okay, Suna?" He waves his hand in front of his face. Osamu approaches them as Suna breaks out of his thoughts.

"Hm? I'm fine," He lied. "Just...thinking about..." Suna looked up to see you talking with a male classmate.

"About Y/n?" Atsumu implied.

"Do you guys know why she's avoiding me?" Suna asks.

"Because you said you didn't think of her romantically," Osamu says bluntly.

"What?!" Atsumu looks at his brother. "Y/n likes Suna?"

"I thought it was obvious. The two of 'em flirt all the time, it was bound for one of them to catch feelings," Osamu explained.

"But, she didn't confess?" Suna kept his eyes locked on you. "Why is she avoiding me if I never rejected her."

"Because dumbass," Aran smacked the back of his head. "She overheard you say you'd never date a girl like her. She thinks you're just flirting with her just to do it and that her feelings don't matter."

"Wait why do you two know she likes Suna?" Atsumu raised his eyebrow. "Did she tell you?"

"She told me, those two just caught on by how she's been acting," Osamu gestured towards Kita and Aran. "What are you gonna do now Suna?"

"I...don't know..." He says. You finish talking to your classmate and feel a pair of eyes watching you. Looking around, you spot Suna staring at you, causing you to blush and cower back into the building.

Your mind was racing after seeing Suna. Why was he staring at you? Do you think he knows you like him? What are you going to do?

After school, you headed to the gate, spotting Suna waiting by the entrance. You kept your head down as you walked with the crowd out of school. Unknowingly, you walked on you path home with Suna walking behind you. As soon as it was just the two of you on the way to your house, he decided to break the silence.

"You can't keep ignoring me Y/n," Suna calls out. You stop in place, knowing that voice from anywhere. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Shouldn't you be at practice?" You ask. You kept your back to his voice, not wanting to look at him.

"Coach cancelled, now," Suna walked to you, turning your body to face him. "Why didn't you tell me how you felt?"

"Because...you said," You hesitated answering. "You didn't like me that way."

"That gave you the right to ignore me? Leave me in the dark?" He asks. He sounded condescending.

"I'm sorry I don't want to face rejection twice," You finally looked up and met his eyes.

"You didn't face it to begin with," Suna says, he took notice of your red cheeks.

"It felt like I did, jerk," You say. "Why should I confess if you're only going to reject me?"

"Why do you keep saying I'll reject you?" Suna crossed his arms.

"Because- why wouldn't you?! Stop being confusing. I like you and I know you don't feel the same. So, stop trying to get me to confess-" You were interrupted by Suna cupping your cheeks. He leans down, crashing his lips into yours. At first you didn't know what to do, your hands flew up, grabbing his wrists as he began to deepen the kiss. You pulled away, huffing for air. "I need- air- Why did you kiss me?"

"Was I supposed to let you continue to lie to yourself?" He asks, placing another kiss on your lips. His kisses were lazy but were so soft.

"Rin," You breathed. Suna pulls away, his eyes meeting yours.

"I hate those in between stages," He says. "I hate that whole talking stage. I didn't want to go through that with you."

"But...you told Atsumu," You looked away for a second, only for Suna to turn your face back to his.

"I told him that so he doesn't get on my ass for liking you," He sighed. "I didn't mean it when I called you pushy."

"Or clingy?" You asked.

"Well no, you are clingy- Ow!" You smack his shoulder, giggling at his words. "I like having you cling to me. Let's me know you only have eyes for me."

"Okay, so what does this mean for us?" You muttered.

"It means," Suna lifts up your chin, placing yet another soft kiss on your lips. "I want you to be mine officially. Let's skip all the in between parts, I just want you."

"Hmm," You hummed.

"What are you thinking?" He asks.

"I'll say yes if you let me wear your spare jersey tomorrow," You smiled.

"Deal," He leans down asking for more love but you move your face away. "Hey, what are you doing?"

"Nuh-uh you hurt my feelings, kisses aren't going to make up for it," You turned around walking towards your house.

"I'm not letting you ignore me again," Suna says, quickly grabbing your hand. He whips you around, leaning into you, connecting his mouth with yours. You smiled as his hands snaked around your waist. You pulled away smiling yet still furrowing your eyebrows. Suna rolls his eyes, holding you close. "Shut up, we're cuddling when we get to your house."  

taglist: @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme @just-a-siiimp @d0llpie @elianetsantana

[kim-seungmine]

moonlit

title: moonlit

characters: fem!reader x lee minho (lee know) of stray kids feat. bang chan, kim seungmin, hwang hyunjin, kid!yang jeongin

genres: exes to lovers au, romance, angst, based on eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, chan’s one sided love if you squint real hard, bff!seungjin.

warnings: cursing, mentions of drinking and food, mentions of insecurity/emptiness, minho is lowkey a flirt (and smooth af), this one is WORDY, sometimes nonlinear (flashbacks marked in italics, phase 2 completely happens in the past), lots of inner conflicts, watch me repeat the same words again and again.

word count: 14k

synopsis: after a nasty breakup, you have lee minho clinically erased from your mind... only to be reminded that while memories can be erased and forgotten, feelings will always demand to be felt.  

Phase 1: Awakening

You clamp your shaking legs together, desperately trying to look like you’ve got it all together. The carton box on your lap feels heavier with each passing second as you wait for your name to be called. When the receptionist finally tells you to enter the consulting room, your head is full of him. His laugh, his voice, his touches, his smile, his empty promises, his lies, his last words…

This is why you’re doing this. You want him gone.

“Miss Y/N, please have a seat.” The doctor, Seo Changbin, motions at you to sit at the back of the room. A nurse places a tripod in front of you, setting the camera so it will capture your whole body. “Your sessions will be recorded, and we will keep all the recordings as archive. These recordings are confidential unless they’re needed for national security purposes. And, of course, if you wish to get your memories back in the future.”

Dr. Seo smiles, the calming tone in his voice doesn’t match the weight of his words. “You… you can restore the memories back?”

“I can’t,” he answers. “Patients are usually able to remember some past memories when triggered. And at least you will be reminded of why you want to do the erasure procedure in the first place. There are a lot of patients who regret doing this, and the last thing we want is to get sued because people make the wrong choices for themselves. I’m sure you have already read that part on the consent form.”

Great, you’re going to stop him from messing with your head by letting strangers literally damaging your brain.

“I won’t sue you. Let’s get this over with.”

“Sure.” Dr. Seo points at the camera. “Now, tell us everything, starting with who you want to erase.”

You grip your box tighter, as if to check if all the things inside still cause you pain no matter how many times you’ve seen them. You could have done this the normal way—crying, cutting your hair, even turning to God for help.

The thing is, one of these days the pain is going to swallow you up, and then you’ll be left with nothing. Nothing but an empty shell.

You should have been able to do this the normal way, but you’re too weak. Can’t you be weak for once? You can, right?

Clearing your throat, you stare at the lens. “Lee Minho.”

“Lee Minho,” you repeat. Louder. Clearer. “I’d like to erase Lee Minho.”

Chan finishes his beer in one gulp while you’re still struggling to open yours. It’s a shame, really—you drink almost every week, he drinks twice a year. He tosses the now empty can to the trashcan before opening another with ease, handing it to you. Mumbling a quiet thank you, you take a sip and watch him tear a pack of dried squids open.

“You’ll never go to those parties again,” he says. “I didn’t know my parents invited you because of that.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine. They meant well.”

He pulls his hair in frustration. “I can’t believe they said that in front of everyone! You must’ve been so shocked. I’m sorry.”

You grimace, the unwanted attention was indeed quite embarrassing. Enough to make you politely reject the next time Chan’s parents invite you to another gala. Mr. and Mrs. Bang have always been supportive of their eldest son, letting Chan started his own business instead of taking over the family business. Chan’s mother had called you a few days prior, asking you to accompany her son since it would be a good opportunity to “build connection and expand your business.”

You and Chan did exactly that, so it wasn’t like they were lying. But Chan’s parents also used the opportunity to try to convince the two of you that you’re match made in heaven.  

“Can we drop this?” You glance at your watch, stretching your limbs before rising from your seat. The traffic light turns red and you signal at your best friend to walk faster. “I keep getting flashbacks of CEO Kang’s son laughing at us.

Chan follows suit, placing his hand at the small of your back before crossing the street. You let out a relieved sigh when you reach the warm subway station. “Kang Younghyun has more embarrassing incidents than ours combined,” he scoffs. “This is nothing compared high school. No worries.”

“You sure you don’t want me to take you home?” he asks as you train is arriving. “I should’ve brought the car instead of letting my parents drive us to the party.”

You click your tongue at him. “Then you’ll miss the last train.”

“I can take a cab home. You always fall sleep on the train it’s giving me headache!”

“Bang Chan.”

The train stops and opens its doors. “Fine,” he mumbles. “Just don’t fall asleep.”

“No promises!” you tease, stepping into the train a second before it closes. You wave at Chan until he disappears into a small dot before choosing the seat beside the door. The train is almost empty; standing near the door is a high school student listening to an online lecture and sitting across you is…. the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life. He meets your eyes for a second before shifting his attention back to his phone again, leaving you slightly disappointed.

You despise socializing at parties but you want the Hottest Man Alive to talk to you? Y/N you’re so pathetic.

The sight of a bundle of name cards inside your purse is what gives you a reality check, various names and faces are popping up in your mind. Only now you feel how exhausted you are, parties and talking to a bunch of strangers have never been your thing. You take your platform heels off just as the train makes its stop, one of them almost hitting Hottest Man Alive as a result.

Apparently God has decided to make you the embarrassment icon of the day.

“I’m so sorry!” you panic, about to reach your flying heel when he stands up and picks it up. He silently places it in front of you before pulling out a card out of his pocket.

“It’s okay, just check out our café when you have time.” Hottest Man Alive slips the card into your palm, rendering you speechless with his bashful smile.

Oh, you’re not going to fall asleep at all tonight.

You run your eyes over the black embossed letters once more, trying to calm your erratic heartbeat as you mentally convince yourself that he does want you to pay his café a visit. Your whole life has always been normal, so alarmingly calm and peaceful it makes you question your whole existence. Sometimes it feels like you’re living in someone else’s dream, foreign and temporary. Uncertain and insecure.

Last night was… weird, to say the least. You’ve never felt that attracted to someone before, not even your ex-boyfriends. In that moment, you felt unstoppable, carefree, happy… everything that wasn’t you.

Sadly, that moment didn’t last long and now you’re back to your overthinking self. What if he was just playing with you? Will he find you desperate or, God forbid, easy if you actually show up at his café? But what café owners don’t want a new customer? Besides, you’re bringing Chan, so Hottest Man Alive (or Lee Minho, according to his name card) is getting two new customers. If anything, he will be thanking you and hoping you will come again, just like any normal business owner.

“Hey,” Chan calls out to you, knocking on the car window. “We’re here, daydreamer.”

You shove the card back into your wallet, met with Chan’s confused eyes when you finally open the door. “You okay?” He cocks an eyebrow. “You look so out of it.”

Chan knows nothing about your encounter with Hottest Man Alive; he would’ve freaked out if he knew you wanted to visit a café because a random (handsome) stranger told you so. “Just thirsty. It’s so hot,” you mumble.

Eat Here Café gives off the homey atmosphere that immediately calms your nerves. You quickly scan the whole building, looking for any sign of Hottest Man Alive. You feel lighter yet bummed that he’s not there, except for some photos of him with a group of children pinned on the wall.

You choose a table near the cashier. “I’ll order. What do you want?”

Chan shrugs. “Any kind of cake.”

The puppy-like part timer greets you with a smile when you reach the counter. “Good afternoon, what would you like to order?”

“Injeolmi bingsu and Coke, please. Oh, and a vanilla cake!”

He repeats your order politely and you decide that you like the boy, taking a glance at his nametag that says Kim Seungmin. You never really pay attention to part timers before, but this one is remarkably efficient, polite, and very very cute (in a “I’d like to adopt him!” way).

You drop some cash into the tipping jar, the twinkle in Seungmin’s eyes feels so rewarding that you’re ready to put it into your “little things that made my day” on your journal later. He hands you the buzzer with a bright smile. “Please wait for your order!”

“Your stingy ass never gives such a generous tip. Did he flirt with you or something?” Chan marvels—loud enough to get Seungmin’s attention—when you return to your table. There are times when you regret being Chan’s business partner, but you realize that you’ve invested so much of your time and energy into building the company. That, and Chan is actually a dependable friend when he’s not trying to ruin your image.

Chan gets your order after the buzzer vibrates, digging into his cake right away. “Whoa this is good!” he exclaims. “How did you find this place?”

“…Instagram.”

“Do you think they hired a branding consultant already?”

You shake your head. “They post pretty regularly but I don’t think so.”

Chan’s eyes sparkle. “Do you think we should ask to meet the owner or something?”

“Hey Seungmin, iced Americano please! And remind me to pay your bonus later.”

The faintly familiar voice stops you from answering, your eyes wildly searching for the source. And there he is… the one you’ve been dreading to meet and also the one you’ve been yearning to meet. Lee Minho saunters into the café with his charming bunny smile and soft eyes, earning everyone’s attention except for Seungmin who’s still taking orders.

Seungmin only replies with a short hum, not taking his eyes off the cash register. You glance at Minho, mentally surprised by the way he doesn’t seem to be bothered with how Seungmin treats him.

“Quit staring before you start embarrassing yourself,” Chan warns you in the most boring tone. “I think he’s the owner.”

You almost spit out your drink. “I’m not staring!”

Minho exchanges some words with Seungmin before focusing his attention to all the customers. Your bingsu is melting, but you still follow his every move through your peripheral vision, not knowing whether you want him to recognize you.

“You really came!”

Chan points at himself, then at you. “Us?”

Minho shifts his gaze to Chan like he didn’t even notice the dimpled man was there whole time.

“Ah… y-yes,” you stutter. “This is very a nice café.”

One look at Chan and you know there’s no way for you to hide anymore. “He invited me!” you quip. “I mean, us.”

“Do you have anyone handling your social media accounts? Planning the digital marketing? Creating ads?” You have bombarded Minho with questions before Chan says anything, skipping the whole small talk step in “how to smoothly intrigue clients” manual.

Seungmin arrives with Minho’s iced Americano, putting the tall glass in front of him with no words before smiling at you and Chan. “Does any of you want anything else?”

“Yes, please,” Minho interrupts before you can refuse. “Please order whatever you want, it’s on the house.”

“Pulling the boss card, huh?” Chan jokes. “Then I’ll have orange juice.”

“Y/N?”

You didn’t have a chance to try the vanilla cake Chan ordered because he inhales food instead of digesting them, but the chocolate ice cream looks beyond tempting—

Minho chuckles. “How about our vanilla and chocolate ice cream?”

“Did I say that out loud?” you mumble to yourself, but proceed to thank Minho for his suggestions and tell Seungmin you’d like to have those. Minho flashes you a soft smile, almost making you melt on the spot if it weren’t for Chan’s leg kicking yours.

The conversation continues without any embarrassing incident. Chan lets you do all the talking, only adding further details when necessary while Minho asks you challenging but intriguing questions you answer passionately.

The so-called meeting ends with Minho promising to sign the contract by next week and Chan shaking your hand under the table, both confused and impressed.

“Is that why your employees are so relaxed around you? Because you just want everyone to eat and live well? I swear Seungmin didn’t even try to curse discreetly when you told him to wipe the counter for the 5th time,” you ask.

Minho laughs as the said boy exits his station, backpack slung across his shoulder. “Yes I’ll transfer your money after our guests leave. Don’t you dare remind me again!” the former yells playfully before the part timer opens his mouth. Seungmin bows to you and Chan before scowling at his boss. “You’re the one who told me to—nevermind. See you tomorrow, hyung.”

“I really like that boy,” you coo when Seungmin closes the door.

“I treat them as my friends,” Minho says. “I decided to do this because I just want to help everyone, including my employees. I don’t want Eat Here to be one of those expensive, pretentious cafes. I just want everyone to eat what they want, that’s why we have all sorts of things here. Combination of Eastern and Western, stuff like that. But this is still business, I have to do things to keep it running, right?”

You’ve met a lot of people with beautiful visions, but you’ve never met someone who wants something so simple yet complicated like Minho. It’s been quite a long time since you’re genuinely excited for a project, and now you know why Chan didn’t freak out upon knowing that you met Minho on the train.

“You guys can do whatever you want,” Minho adds, waving to a pair of part timers clocking in. “Are you going back to the office?”

Chan stretches his limbs. “Yeah,” he groans. “Gotta make sure our intern doesn’t jam the printer again.”

Your phone rings the moment Chan finishes his sentence. ”You jinxed it! Hyunjin is calling.”

“Whatever it is, wait until we’re back!” you whisper-yell at your intern.

“But noona, the printer—”

You give Hyunjin no chance to blabber about one specific printer and end the call. Minho giggles at your antiques, and you don’t have the energy to stop yourself from admiring his pretty features in the most obvious ways possible.

Chan pats your back before grabbing his phone and stands up. “I guess that’s our cue to leave.”

“Take these.” Minho writes your name on one of the paper bags, handing them to you with a big smile. “For everyone at your office. Thanks for reaching out to us.”

You peek inside the bag that has your name scribbled on it, not surprised to see both vanilla and chocolate ice cream inside—it’s the clear bottle that you’re curious about.

“Bye! I’ll send you the gym’s contact later!” Your best friend slash business partner waves at your new client slash crush from the driver’s seat. You take out the bottle, it’s filled with sikhye.

Your favorite drink, but Minho isn’t supposed to know that.

“Everyone deserves a fresh start. Don’t let anyone from your past haunt you. Start Erasure now.”

Minho mutes the television, heaving a sigh as he recounts his fateful meeting with you yesterday. The world has always been rather weird, he would say, but nothing defeats meeting his ex-girlfriend—his first love—who has no recollection of your time together. He heard from his former classmates that you sent them a message a few years ago, informing them that you would undergo the erasure procedure. According to his friends, you specifically told them to “never ever mention Lee Minho’s name or ask you about the procedure.”

You’re back in his life now, happy as ever, and the last thing Minho wants is breaking your heart all over again. He no longer owns that special spot in your heart, you owe him nothing. He left you insecure, disappointed and soulless, and now it’s his turn to be haunted by all the questions and what ifs in his mind.

His phone vibrates as soon as he flips the signage open, your name flashing on his screen. “Hey Y/N what’s up?”

“Minho I can’t multitask so please give me quick and accurate answer. I’m at the traffic light in front of Lotte now—”

“You need to turn left.”

“Okay… didn’t know my non-existent sense of direction is that obvious — damn, let me change lanes.”

Minho suppresses a chuckle. You’ve always been bad with directions.

“Turn left once more, and you’ll find us. We’re right across the first G25 store on the street.”

He steps out the café to welcome you when he spots a white Kia arriving. In contrast to his horrifying memories of teaching you to drive, you manage to parallel-park your car smoothly in 10 seconds, stopping Minho from offering to help you park your car.

“Sorry,” you grimace. “I suck at directions. Last week was the first time I went here and Chan was the one driving so I wasn’t really paying attention… and before you ask, no I can’t use GPS while driving. I barely managed to dial your number.”

Minho lifts his hands. “I was just going to say hello.”

“Oh, good! People always judge me for that!”

You don’t let him respond as you point at the photos on the wall. “Tell me about them!” you request. “Our photographer Hyunjin is going to be here any minute, and we’ll give this corner a special attention. Your customers need to know this.”

Minho scratches his head bashfully, the glint of admiration in your eyes is making him a bit dizzy. It’s been a long time since you looked at him like that. “Uhh, okay. These are the kids I’m supporting, they live in Africa,” he starts. “I hope I can visit them someday, but they’ve been sending me letters, saying thank you... telling me about their days and all.”

“Wow!” you marvel. “How does it feel? To receive such lovely letters?”

“Honestly, it kinda makes me feel like a parent,” he replies. “It feels wonderful.”

Moving onto the next set of photos, his smile grows wider. “I teach these kids dancing, sometimes taekwondo. They’re all very sweet, especially the maknae, Yang Jeongin.” Minho points at a boy with contagious smile. “He can be a brat sometimes, but everyone loves him.”

“Is this an orphanage? Can I meet them?” you blurt out.

“Of course! You’ll love them to bits.”

“You have to come back with Y/N noona!”

A few weeks later, Minho took you to the orphanage. You played with the kids all day and watched him teach them dance. You thought the kids wouldn’t like you as much, but now they’re trying to persuade you to stay the night.

“Aww, of course I’ll come back. Be a good boy, and we’ll be back sooner than you thought!”

Yang Jeongin, the youngest boy in the orphanage, has done everything to make you stay. If it weren’t for your “adult responsibilities,” you would have caved in because nothing could beat his puppy eyes and hopeful smile.

“Alright, go back inside, everyone. All of you need to sleep.”

The kids grumble at Minho’s command, slowly walking back to the main hall. After making sure no one sneaks out to follow you, the two of you make a stop at a nearby park that Minho claims to be the perfect place to admire the moon.

“Okay, you’re not lying. The moon does look pretty from here.”

The man sitting beside you smirks in satisfaction. “I never stay too long but I always like spending time here. Now that I think about it, you kinda resemble the moonlight.”

The switch of the mood has you cackling. “Aren’t everything about the moon associated with werewolves and murders? You’re expecting me to fall for such a lame pickup line?”

“That’s not how I see it.” Minho disagrees. “I think you’re radiant, bright but not blinding. Take it as a compliment.”

The word radiant strikes you light a lightning, forces you to face the harsh reality that you’re doing a really good job in hiding the hollowness inside—all the lingering questions and uneasiness. You’re far from being the light Minho admires.

“Trust me, I’m not radiant whatsoever.”

Minho stiffens, observing you carefully until you feel brave enough to look at him. At first, you see pity in his eyes, but it morphs into something that feels too good to be true. You find tranquil in his gaze, so serene that you nearly let your tears fall.

He reaches for your hand, interlocking your fingers together before pulling you up from your seat. “I’ll tell you whenever you’re being the moonlight that you are,” he promises, his voice is a perfect mix between sincerity and mischief. “Prepared to get sick of me because I’ll remind you everyday.”

Just because most people often cross the line doesn’t mean that being able to exert self-control when needed is something to be proud about, but Minho has always thought of it as his positive trait.

He’s going to cross it out of the list today.

His hand is still holding yours tightly, chatting away with a lopsided smile on his face. And yours. This wasn’t what he intended to do, but life loves to play God and tests him the moment he thinks he knows what he’s doing. Giving you his name card on the train has spiraled into taking you home hand-in-hand, peppering kisses on your temple when you become too cute to handle (which is almost all the damn time) and falling in love with you all over again. What happened in the subway impulsive and dumb, but he couldn’t control himself. He wanted to see you again, he longed to talk to you.

Minho just wanted a second chance to be good to you, but will things ever be enough? How will he make things right again? Providing you free coffee and say thank you for your visit? It was a selfish wish he shouldn’t have acted upon.

“We must’ve crossed paths somehow. There’s no way that we’ve never met before!” you say, swinging your intertwined hands happily.

It’s too late. History repeats itself, but Minho’s too far gone to stop. He’s trying to feel it, the need to exert self-control—he can’t.

“I didn’t come home often,” he lies, every word feels like knife stabbing his heart. You hum in response, a yawn escaping from your mouth as both of you are nearing your unit. Minho watches you enter the door password, mouthing the numbers silently, 2 3 0 9. Your grandma’s birthday. It’s always been your password for everything—phone, laptop, even Minho’s old apartment since you were the one who set it for him. It stays with him until this very day although he no longer lives in the same apartment.

You tug at his sleeve. “Come on in.”

Your stuffs are pretty much the same, if not exactly the same as a few years ago. The only things missing were those related to him. Polaroid photos of you together, the umbrella he left at your place, the mug he…. wait.

The purple mug Minho bought for you is sitting on the kitchen counter, causing him to nearly trip over his own feet. Did you forget to get rid of it before the procedure?

“Let me go change first,” you tell him. “Feel free to grab any snack. There’s cold water and beer in the fridge.”

He can barely answer as you disappear into your room. Memories start flooding his mind, it feels as if he finally finds all the folders with your name on them that he tried so hard to bury, stashed in the deepest part of his heart.

Those memories were so painfully beautiful he has to bite his lip to prevent his tears from falling.

“Oh that’s my favorite mug!”

You’re back, dressed in the black loose T-shirt you always wear during summers. Minho’s eyes automatically dart to your left shoulder, spotting the hole on the shirt that exposes a part of your shoulder.

Another thing that hasn’t changed. Another thing that makes you the you he knew. Another thing that diminishes his self-control into nothing because you have no idea how much he loved to—

“Minho?”

You cradle this face softly, wiping the tears he didn’t know he shed. Confusion and panic reflected in your irises. “Is everything okay?”

“Huh?” He touches his cheek before attempting to laugh. “Something probably went into my eyes...”

“Let me see.” Before he refuses, you’ve taken a step closer, gently blowing into his eyes. “Better? Want some eye drop?”

Minho shakes his head, removing your hands from his face and plants a kiss on your forehead. Another mistake that feels so right. “I guess I’m just tired. Is it okay if we chat some other time?”

You mumble an okay, following him to the front door. When he turns the door knob, you reach for his hand. “Hey,” you murmur, slowly examining his face. Minho tries to read yours in return, sensing your hesitation. He waits for a good minute patiently, letting you form words in your head.

“What are we? These things we’ve been doing… what do they mean to you? Does this mean we’re…”

You let out a frustrated sigh, more directed to yourself than him, and Minho understands what you’re talking about. He tightens his grip on the knob, desperately begging himself to stop all of this. You don’t deserve another heartbreak when you’ve done everything to continue living.

You’re a whole new person, yet you remain the one he adored. How can you be so different yet familiar? How can you be so… dearly you?

“Minho, does this mean that we’re—”

Minho throws his arms around you, burying his head into the crook your neck before slowly trailing his lips towards the exposed part of your shoulder. You have no idea how much he loves leaving kisses there, on that particular spot. As strange as it sounds, it gives him the strength and hope he needs. Minho never told you this; you’ll never be able to imagine how happy and relieved he currently feels when he plants one, two, three, countless kisses that set his whole being on fire.

“We are,” he whispers, dropping one last kiss before pulling you even closer, enveloping your body in his embrace.

There’s only one thing in Minho’s head now: love. He can only think about loving you better than before, and in this moment nothing can stop him from doing so because whether he likes the old you or the new you doesn’t matter anymore.

Minho just loves you, and he doesn’t want to think about anything else. Not even his selfishness. And especially not your future heartbreak.

“You’re so precious, Y/N. You’re so precious to me.”

Hyunjin is the only one at the office when you arrive. He’s busy with his camera, changing its setting every now and then before capturing random things on his desk. You and Chan were on the fence about hiring him at first since you’re just a small company and he’s a student with high expectations. However, Hyunjin turns out to be the one of the most eager apprentices ever, and you’re going to bawl your eyes out when his internship ends next month.

“What are you doing?” you ask him, only earning a distracted “Huh?” as an answer.

“Hyunjin, don’t forget to go over the photoshoot details with me before we leave later, okay?”

He lifts his head a little this time. “Okay. Let me just finish trying out this new technique Seungmin taught me.”

You chuckle, snapping a photo of your intern yelling at his camera when he messes up. Sending it to Chan, you write, “We should give him a raise.”

Your phone rings a few seconds later, frowning when Chan’s urgent voice greets you. “I’m inside my car. Can we talk?”

“Whoa, relax. What happened?”

“Y/N, please. Just come out for a sec.”

No one wants to start a fight with Chan when he’s talking in that tone, so you inform Hyunjin you’re stepping out for a bit. Chan’s sedan is parked right in front of the building, his conflicted face prompts you to enter the car right away.

“You told me there’s something weird about Minho but now you’re dating him? And you’re hiding it from me?” he deadpans without waiting for you to close the door.

“I didn’t mean to hide it from you,” you murmur. “I just don’t know how to explain it.”

Chan sighs in exasperation. “Why do you think you owe me an explanation?  I’m your best friend, not your mother. How is Minho different from any other guy you’ve dated that you really tried to keep it a secret from me?”

You gulp. “Things between Minho and I… it’s different. I thought I knew what liking someone felt like, but after meeting him I realized I knew nothing about it. Everything feels so overwhelmingly wonderful and insanely intense I think I may fall apart if I start talking about it.”

Your best friend gives you a knowing look, but says nothing as he stares at a random stranger walking down the street. “And I know you’re not really fond of him so I was trying to look for the perfect timing to tell you. Sorry.”

“I just want to keep you safe. This guy knows small details about you that even I didn’t know. Are you sure you never met him before?”

He pauses, taking a deep breath before adding, “Did you do that erasure procedure?”

“How am I supposed to know?” you snap. “Isn’t forgetting about the whole thing the point of the procedure?”

“You love him, don’t you?” Chan’s voice is soft this time, but his words hit you right in the gut you have to stop yourself from flinching. Hearing someone say that they love you is scary, admitting that you are in love is a hundred times scarier.

Taking your silence as a yes, Chan turns on the engine. “Look, the last thing I want is seeing you sad. It breaks me, more than you know. So please consider trying to find out the truth. How are you going to love him if you don’t trust him? How is he going to love you if he keeps you in the dark?”

You lean your head against the window, watching your best friend dialing Hyunjin’s number to tell him that both of you will be back after lunch.

“We better be quick,” Chan says. “Hyunjin’s terrified he will have to answer Mr. Song’s call again.”

“We should definitely give him a raise.”

“Oh we will,” he snickers. “If he survives Mr. Song’s call.”

“You’re cruel.”

For the first time in your life, you feel like a ruling queen inside your island instead of a trapped princess. You know every nook, every secret passage, every hidden treasure that nobody else has ever explored. Everything feels real for once, you’re in control and you want to stay here forever.

Eat Here has gained more regular customers since you and Chan started handling its social media accounts, and the face-splitting grin on Minho’s face whenever a new customer pushes the door open makes you feel proud and giddy at the same time.

You weren’t able to witness your Hottest Man Alive greeting his customers happily today, but you promised to pay him a visit at the café. It’s a few minutes past 10, meaning the café has closed for the day, so you were prepared to see everyone cleaning up. To you surprise, there’s nobody inside when you arrive.

“Minho?”

Your boyfriend waves from inside the pantry. “Coming!”

Moments later, he comes out with a tray of food. Gesturing at you to take a seat, he places a bowl of potato salad, a pot of kimchi jjigae and some side dishes. “Wait, let me get some more.”

You recall your phone conversation 2 hours ago, vaguely remembering telling Minho that you haven’t had dinner. When he serves the last batch of side dishes and a bottle of sikhye, you tease him for being so sweet.

“I’m not being sweet though?” He pulls out a chair for himself, watching you eat with content eyes. “You said you were starving, so I prepared you some food.”

You shrug, letting him pour sikhye into your glass. “I just never expected that you’re someone who…”

“… cooks?” he finishes for you. “I just did the bare minimum. Do you really want to see me being sweet?”

“Is that a challenge?”

Minho clears his throat, the way he stares at you makes you fidget in your seat. Only God knows what’s inside this man’s mind. One second he’s nonchalant and cool, then he’s Mr. Flirty and makes you all swoony.

Patting his thigh, he smiles at you. “Come here baby.”

You shake your head in fear of completely losing your sanity. “No. What are you trying to do?”

“Being the most romantic boyfriend ever. Come on.”

Minho tries his best to suppress his laugh as you finally settle yourself on his lap, not sure whether you should rest your head on his shoulder or peck his lips or marvel at how firm his thighs are... damn it Y/N, what are you? 17?

Although you’re just sitting there like a log, Minho looks unbothered and reaches for the chocolate cake. He slices it into smaller bites, taking a piece of it with the fork before telling you to open your mouth. “If you still want ice cream then we can get some on the way home.”

“I’ve had enough ice cream for today. I went to this cute ice cream parlor with Chan.”

You take the plate from him, stuffing yourself with the rest of the cake. Minho’s soft pats on your shoulder and the sweet taste of chocolate seem to flush all the initial awkwardness from your system.

Another hour passes with you curling up on Minho’s lap, the latter listening to your little speech about how grateful you are for vending machines as if you’re talking about world peace. Your back hurts and his thighs ache but the way your head nestles in the crook of his neck and the way he pecks your cheek every few minutes are enough of a spell to trap both of you in this exact moment, where lies, doubts and regrets cease to exist.

You wake up with a jolt, reaching for your water bottle on the bedside table. It’s surreal for a dream to feel that real—it almost felt like a memory, something distant but present nonetheless. You’re sure that was the younger Minho you saw in the dream instead of the one you know, and before you come to a realization that it’s currently 2AM, you’re already dialing his number.

He picks up on the fifth ring. “Hmmm my moonlight, missed me?”

His sleepy voice causes you to blush, definitely not seeing that coming. “Nothing.” You wince at your parched voice. “I just had a dream.”

Minho lets out a low laugh, you can hear him sitting up on his bed. “About me?”

“Well… yeah.”

“Tell me about it.”

You sink into your bed, heaving a sigh you forget to hide. “It’s complicated.”

“Was it a bad dream?” Minho’s voice is firm but oh so calming that you start recounting every detail you can remember. He listens to you attentively, humming once in a while, and your muscles are all relaxed now. Minho is here, listening to your bullshit in the wee hours of the morning. Minho is here, calling you his moonlight with the most caring tone ever.

“I miss you,” he declares the moment you finish talking. “Can I come over?”

“All of sudden? Minho, it’s 2AM.” You glance at the clock. “Wait, it’s 2:18 now.”

“Then I’ll be there at 3AM.”

“But—”

He hangs up, and you just sit there until Minho enters your room at 3AM sharp, taking in your dumfounded state before plopping himself onto the bed and pulling you close. “I’m here,” he sweetly says and you can only nod, eyes boring into his as he runs his thumbs along your cheekbones. “I like you, exactly the way you like me. I like you more.”

You shake your head, burying your head in the crook of his neck to hide your red cheeks. “It was just a dream,” he adds, enunciating each word like a mantra. Closing your eyes, you repeat his words again and again inside your head, traces of pain from the dream still crawling up your skin as Minho’s sweet praises lull you to sleep.

“I’m sorry but that’s classified information. We cannot mention anything about our patients.”

“But she did the procedure because of me! I’m the one she erased!”

“That only gives us more reasons to forbid you from obtaining any information. It’s our policy to protect our patients, especially after the procedure is done.”

Minho wonders how this sullen kid managed to land the job, but bites his tongue before he really gets kicked out. He takes one deep breath before pleading at so-called receptionist (his name is Kim Seungmin but he could care less) once again. “May I at least know whether she was in so much pain?”

Seungmin fixes his glasses. “People her age mostly spend their money on traveling or whatever cool things they want to do, but she chose to have her memories manipulated so she wouldn’t have to remember you. I think that’s enough of an explanation.”

It’s no big deal, Minho tells himself. It’s normal for people to have the Erasure procedure thesedays. In fact, it’s become so normal that no one bothers to talk about it anymore. Erasure is simply another way to move on, just like Love Alarm is another way to detect love. If you decided that your memories together weren’t precious enough to keep in your heart, so be it. If he hurt you that much but you chose to erase him instead of confronting him, then it’s your loss.

Exactly. Was he that bad? Did he hurt you that much?

“Excuse me, Sir?” Seungmin is already standing by the door. “I think it’s better for you to leave.”

“Alright.” Minho lifts his hands in defeat, starting to feel bad for the poor boy who’s just trying to keep his job. “Hang in there, kid.”

“Congratulations, you just earned a VIP pass to Hell.”

Eat Here is doing well, the kids he’s supporting are starting school soon and he finally gets to return the feelings of the girl he loves the most but yes, Seungmin is right. The gates of Hell are open for Minho.

“Right,” he scoffs. “As if you didn’t greet people with a smile and convinced them that erasure was the best solution for all their problems.”

Seungmin grits his teeth; talks about Dr. Seo Changbin’s Erasure Centre are never easy for both of them. For Seungmin, it reminds him of all the pain, rage and guilt he thought he was used to seeing. For Minho, it reminds him of his selfishness and failure to make you happy.

“The erasure did help a lot of people though,” the puppy-eyed boy trails off. “It’s been years yet I’m still torn between wanting the procedure to perish and thanking it for saving lives.”

“Maybe it does save people. But then there’s Y/N.”

“And you,” Seungmin adds.

Minho chuckles. “And you.”

“Are you just gonna wait until she realizes that those dreams actually happened?”

A long silence looms over them until Seungmin slides a clear CD case along the counter. “I guess it’s time to reveal how I risked my life for you the day I quit my job there.”

A label with your name is plastered on it along with the logo of the centre. It’s the answer to all his questions when he first met Seungmin. The sole proof that everything between the two of you happened.

“I can get sued anytime,” the part-timer warns jokingly. “So use it well, and don’t cry. She said some hurtful things, but you deserved it anyways.”

“Do you think it could last another hour?”

Hyunjin snaps one last photo and tells the models to get a 5-minute break. “Do you want an honest answer or an intern-can-make-anything-happen answer?” he whispers at you while checking his shots.

You’re currently at a photoshoot in Gyeongju with a client you desperately need to impress, but your clumsiness just had to choose today to get in action. Chan was almost furious when you told him you left all the cameras’ charging cables at Minho’s apartment.

“So we’re fucked up,” you conclude. “How many outfits are left?”

“Including this one… three.”

“We’re so fucked up,” you correct yourself, approaching Chan to relay the expected bad news when a familiar car arrives at the villa. You barely hear Hyunjin muttering, “God is a male… for today…” before rushing to take the black duffel bag from Minho’s hand. He only smiles when you tell him he’s getting all the hugs and kisses later.

The photoshoot continues smoothly; allowing you, Chan and Hyunjin actually breathe after 5 hours trying to make the cameras’ batteries last as long as possible.

“I’m so sorry Chan,” you sigh.

He lets out a weak chuckle. “It’s fine. The problem’s solved anyways.”

“No thanks to me.”

“Thanks to you.” Chan glances at your boyfriend who’s leaning on his car, watching you from afar. “Minho brought the chargers, but you were the one who made him drive all the way here. You need to stop underestimating his feelings for you.”

You let Chan’s words sink in, eyes meeting Minho’s in the process. For a split second you forget about everything’s that’s been bugging you, wanting nothing but to lose yourself in his affection for you.

“Do you trust Minho now?”

Chan puts his hand inside his pocket, exhaling softly. “I know he’s crazy for you Y/N, I’m not dense. But does that mean he’s being honest with you?”

Hyunjin snaps one last photo that marks the end of the shoot, giving you a reason not to respond to Chan, jogging towards the models instead. “Thank you, everyone!” You bow to them. “There are some snacks left inside so please eat before you go, or you may take them home.”

You can still feel Minho’s eyes on you, following you wherever you run with the sweetest kind of fondness that makes it hard for you to question him. He’s like a prince who comes from another kingdom after crossing the long bridge and fighting in the wild forest. He stands there in front of your castle, waiting for you to deem him worthy of your love, of you.

How do you say no to that?

But how do you know if he sees you the way you feel he does?

After that night, you’ve had other dreams—the ones you never told him—each dream etched itself into your mind, filling in the empty spaces slowly but surely. They become a part of you so naturally that you’re convinced you somehow lived them.

“What are you thinking about?”

Minho has just finished loading the last box of props into Chan’s car trunk, now waiting for you to break your train of thoughts with an amused smile. You barely hear Chan and Hyunjin saying goodbye before they enter the car, leaving the two of you alone.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

Minho’s smile is long gone, his expression mirroring yours: confused, lost, a bit scared. “Are you okay?”

Even your 18 year-old self knew what to do then. A bit late, but she did it. The thought of embracing her as a part of you is making you nauseous, the acknowledgement of having a past you don’t remember is disturbingly scary.

“Those dreams... they were real, right? Those are my memories.”

Your stomach churns when Minho nods, surprisingly calmer than you expected. He pulls out a CD out of his bag, carefully slipping it into your hand. The thin plastic feels heavy in your hold, the world as you know it crumbling at the realization that this Lee Minho was the same boy who had your heart in his palm and broke it.

“I tried to picture this situation in my head every single day, but never had the courage to actually tell you. I’m so sorry Y/N. For everything, then and now.”

Lee Minho, the one who sees you as his moonlight, was also the one whose heart could never be yours.

“I’m Lee Minho. We’re both from Gimpo, and we met at high school. We were best friends, then sometime during 11th grade we started dating. You were this amazing, lovely girl who wore your heart on your sleeves, and I was the asshole who failed to realize how blessed I was to have you.”

Minho pauses to look into your eyes, the sorrow in his orbs triggers the tears you refuse to shed. “I became your boyfriend because I didn’t want to lose you,” he continues. “I was stupid, wasn’t I? Stupid and inconsiderate. All I had to do was tell you how I felt…”

"B-but why?” you sob. “Y-you l-lied to me, Minho. Again.”

“I did. Fuck. I did,” he admits. “You have every right to never ever forgive me. But Y/N, I never meant to play with your feelings. I was too late, but I loved you then. I love you now, and I don’t think I’ll be able to love anyone else even if I try.”

Phase 2: Forgotten Days

“A mug?”

Minho hums as an answer while copying your English homework in a speed of light, failing to answer your questions about why, out of all things he could buy in Japan, he decided to gift you a mug. You let out a huff when he leaves your next question hang in the air (“How did you know that I needed a new mug?”), but lets him be since the bell will ring in 15 minutes.

The purple mug is quite heavy and somehow that makes your heart flutter. Minho gave all the other classmates green tea Kit Kats and keychains, but he was willing to fit the bulky mug into his tiny suitcase for you.

You don’t know what’s going on inside his head most of the time, for all you know he could’ve bought the mug because he forgot to buy something for you and decided to grab the first thing in sight. It’s just a little gift, something you should just appreciate without thinking too much about it, but you can’t help but wonder. Sometimes you feel sorry for yourself for overanalyzing Minho’s every little gesture, trying to guess how much he likes you.

“I’m done!” Minho exclaims, returning your book before grabbing his wallet. He finally looks into your eyes, smiling at you as he ruffles your hair. “Gotta grab some snacks. You want anything? Strawberry milk? Chips?”

When he comes back with both although you told him you only wanted chips, Minho argues that he knows you’ll get hungry in the middle of lessons. Again, it shouldn’t feel so special, but he’s looking at you now, you and no one else. Lee Minho is like an enigma, but at times like this, you bask in his bright smile and everything is forgotten.

Summer is the enemy you’ve managed to beat every single year, but combine the scorching heat with excruciating cramps and you don’t stand a chance. You peek into the practice room once again, but Minho is still practicing his dance routines, his phone laid neglected at the corner of the room. The supposed-to-be 30 minutes practice turns into an hour, and you decide to just wait outside since you don’t have energy to go home on your own.

The door opens when you’re on the verge of passing out, luckily someone has caught you before you collapse on the floor. “Y/N,” Minho’s voice forces you to open your eyes. “What happened?”

“… cramps…”

He lifts you and dashes to the infirmary without saying anything else, yelling at some other students to “fucking move!” while trying not to trip over his undone shoelaces. You try to tell him that you’re alright, just a little tired from enduring the pain but he gives you no chance to talk.

Minho finally stays still after kicking the infirmary’s door to no avail. He makes no other attempt to open the door, slowly making eye contact with your drowsy eyes. You love seeing fire in Minho’s eyes, especially when he dances or plays with his friends. This is the first time Minho sees you with such intensity, but this is not the passionate flame you’ve been craving to see. This fire is destructive, painful. It breaks your heart that he’s looking at you like this, like you’re the source of all unfortunate events that happens in his life.

You feel like you’re the unfortunate event in his life, and the thought is enough to make you break free from his bruising grip, pushing the door open yourself.

“Go back to practice,” you tell him, sitting on one of the beds. “I’ll lie down for a bit then go home.”

Minho rummages through the medicine cupboard, taking a painkiller pill and fills an empty glass with warm water. “Drink this, I’ll take you home.”

“I’m fine, Minho…”

He shakes his head. “You’re sick and I’m taking you home.”

Too weak to argue, you swallow the pill and let him walk you home. Minho keeps his hand around your shoulder the whole time, not even bothering to check his ringing phone. He doesn’t talk to you either, and at this rate the silence is more concerning than your cramps.

“Can you go up on your own?” he murmurs when you reach your apartment building. “I have to go back to school, but I’ll stop by later.”

You only nod, about to wave him goodbye when he reaches for your arm. “Wait.”

Minho cups your face, pressing his lips on yours and stealing your breath away. Soon, he starts kissing you harder, but his lips still feel cold against yours and he still feels so faraway even when he’s gripping your waist like his life depends on it.

“Minho,” you manage to rasp, cradling his face to stop him from planting another kiss on your lips. He opens his eyes, staring at you with those beautiful eyes that, sadly, never really shine for you. “Your friends are waiting.”

Still panting, Minho gives you a nod before pulling away. The fire you saw in his eyes earlier has died out.

As you watch him walk away, you finally realize that you’ve been asking yourself the wrong question. It’s not about how much Minho likes you, it’s about whether he likes you at all.

If Minho could choose only one person to be with for the rest of his life, he would choose you. He enjoyed watching movies with you, he loved sending his silly selfies to you, he always wanted to end a tiring day by talking to you all night long.

He can still do that, you’re still his friend. The only difference is that he can hug and kiss you and tell other people that he’s yours. Minho doesn’t know why he lets the words “boyfriend and girlfriend” change the dynamics between the two of you, but it’s too late to undo everything.

“Can we just be friends again?” he repeats the question in his head over and over, yet he can never voice it out. The look in your eyes will be too devastating for him to bear, and he will you lose you forever.

“I’m outside,” he tells you over the phone, trying not to flinch at your excited “Oh!” 

A few minutes later, you step out of the elevator, walking towards him with big steps.

“Feeling better?” he asks, noting the way your eyes light up at the question.

“Hmm. I took a short nap and it’s gone.”

Minho sighs. “Don’t wait for me next time. If I take too long, you can just go home. I’m sorry that I let you wait around like that.”

The last sentence causes you to lower your gaze, seemingly self-conscious with the fact that he forgot you were waiting for him. “Bought you some ice cream,” Minho says, trying to distract you from your thoughts. “Chocolate, vanilla, mint choco, it’s all there.”

“As an apology?” you half-tease, the tinge of sadness in your voice causes Minho’s heart to clench a little.

He quickly pulls you into his arms, resting his chin on the top of your head. “Yes and no,” he murmurs into your hair. Part of him is relieved when you don’t question his answer, only humming against his chest before wrapping your arms around him. It’s so easy to make you happy and it angers him. You’re too kind. Too patient. Too loyal. You’re too in love with him, and it hurts not being able to feel the same.

But as the warmth of your body starts to comfort his senses, Minho realizes this is where he wants to be. He wants to be with you, no matter what the labels are. “If you miss the last bus you’re gonna have to walk all the way home,” you remind him, voice muffled since neither of you wants to let go.

“One more minute,” he replies, fingers playing with the hole on your shirt. He places one feathery kiss there, a silent promise that he’s going to try his best loving you. The one promise that could have made you stay, but it remained unsaid until the day you left him.

“Surprise!”

Minho lets out a yelp, coughing up confetti that you pop right in front of face. His parents, standing a few steps behind you, are giggling at their son’s reaction. “I thought you had to go somewhere with your mom!” he exclaims, the surprise in his eyes is now replaced by confusion and… annoyance?

You quietly step aside, letting him shake off the confetti as you’re trying to find your voice. Minho’s parents don’t seem to notice the tension, laughing and explaining that they invited you over for the family birthday dinner.

His mother ushers both of you to the dining room where the feast awaits. “After all this time you still haven’t introduced Y/N to Soonie!” she protests jokingly while the said cat is purring at you. Coming over to Minho’s house without his knowledge sounded like a terrible idea right from the start, but now you really wish you had turned the offer down. The birthday boy only pats you on the back before telling you to sit down, and you spend the rest of the dinner conversing without ever looking at each other in the eyes. That’s no surprise, what surprises you is the fact that you don’t even bother trying to get him look at you.

After 2 years, you’re finally tired of waiting for Minho to love you.

“Soonie doesn’t usually like strangers,” Minho says as you’re walking to the bus stop. “But he really likes you.”

“Do you?”

“What?”

“Like me. Do you like me?”

Minho chuckles. “What kind of question is that?”

Words are bubbling inside your head, all emotions threatening to spill out you have to literally swallow them down. It feels like the world has come to a stop—the realization that your world has been revolving around Minho all this time makes you feel queasy.

“Y/N?”

You want to explode. You wish you can explode. There’s nothing you want more than taking out every piece of your broken heart, count all of them and show him how much you’ve been hurting. You thought your love was enough for both of you, but the bigger your love grew, the farther the distance between the two of you became.

Minho keeps his gaze on you as you’re mustering up courage to ask the most heartbreaking question. “Why?” you quiver. “Why do you pretend that you like me? Why do you bother doing that for 2 years?”

“I-I like you. So much,” he stutters. “Just not in the same way you like me…”

Blinking your tears away, you return his tormented gaze. “Then why did you let me like you alone? Every fucking day you let me wonder how much you like me, if I mean anything to you… I wait for you, convincing myself that you must’ve liked me if you chose to be my boyfriend. But it’s just a game to you, isn’t it?”

Lee Minho has always had his own way to love. You’ve seen him showering those around him with love in ways that seem so ordinary that people often take it for granted. But you see and feel everything, including hints that your feelings have always been one sided. You bury all those hints, telling yourself that he only needs time.

That time never comes, and you have run out of lies and excuses and hope to cover up for both of you.

Phase 3: Chasing Moonlight

The Queen lived under a spell all this time, believing that the foreign kingdom was her whole world while she didn’t even have a home to begin with.

But the ruins of her castle—the only thing that’s left of the kingdom she tried to understand her whole life—will become one. She’s going to build herself a new kingdom, one that she knows by heart, and call it home.

“Noona!!! I’m going home!!! Don’t stay there too long!!! You’ll get sick!!!”

You tear your gaze from the cloudy sky as Hyunjin shouts at you from the ground. You dismiss him with a little wave, forcing a small smile so that the boy will leave instead of going back to the rooftop.

“He’s right,” Chan adds. “You’ve been here for hours.”

After showing up at work with puffy eyes and hoarse voice, Chan attempted to send you home, but you insisted to complete some of your tasks before breaking down during lunch after Hyunjin accidentally revealed that he would meet Seungmin at Eat Here.

So here you are, finally sated after crying all the tears you had left at the rooftop during the remaining working hours.

“I’m fine,” you croak, cringing at your own voice. “You can leave.”

“And let you stay here until you’re all stiff and frozen?”

“Just let me be pathetic for one more day.”

He furrows his brows. “You’re not being pathetic. After what he’s done to you, weeping is the least you should do.”

You let out your first laugh of the day. “I surely wept.”

Looking incredibly relieved that you haven’t lost the ability to feel other emotions than sadness, Chan continues, “Wanna talk about it?”

“Do you know what hurts the most?”

He takes the longest time to think, but shakes his head at the end.

“The fact that I’ll probably never see him again.”

“That’s supposed to be a good thing, but go on.”

“Should I give him one last chance? Or should I just hate him until I die? What’s the right thing to do? What should I do to heal? What should he do to heal? All these questions are driving me insane.”

Those questions are the easiest to answer, so you expect Chan to sigh and tell you to snap out of it, but he just smiles at you. “What do you want to do?”

“Huh?”

“Have you tried answering your own questions? What you want to do is what you’re supposed to do. It’s easy, my dear friend.”

“I want to…”

Your mind wanders to last night, recalling that agony on Minho’s face that mirrors your own. A small part of you wants him to suffer for the rest of his life, consumed by guilt and the sheer horror of being erased from someone else’s memories.

“I want to curse him out.”

Chan playfully smacks your head. “You didn’t do that?”

“My mind went blank, then I started crying. That wasn’t cool at all, I know,” you huff. “I should’ve told him to go to hell or something.”

“After that? What do you want to do?”

You bury your face into your palms, ignoring the teasing tone in Chan’s questions. “The last time we talked, you were Lee Minho’s #1 hater. What happened?”

“I just wanted him to be honest with you. I never hated him,” he tells you softly. “Do you?”

You may never get all of your memories back, but the ones you can remember are enough to know that being with Minho used to be a silent torture. He was a thorny rose, beautiful yet unattainable. You wanted him so much you refused to look down and see your bloody fingers. The thorns were stuck there for the longest time, eventually infecting your soul until you were too weak to heal yourself.

But he’s not that boy anymore. He’s just Minho who listens to all of your rambles and actually keeps all those details in his mind. He gives you the warmest hugs and the most sincere kisses. He stays by your side, and you will always want him to stay.

When you finally lift your head to answer Chan, he gives you his reassuring smile that never fails to make you feel better. It’s the first time he’s talking about Minho without a frown, and you hope it’s a good sign. “Like I said,” he sing-songs. “Do what you want to do.”

The sound of footsteps approaching prompts you to curl yourself into a ball, trying to make yourself as invisible as possible under the dining the table. Jeongin manages to push the heavy door open after a few tries, mumbling that you’re not going to take the “king of hide and seek” title from him. You can’t help but giggle at his determination, waiting for him to find you while he’s scanning the whole room.

“Minho hyung!”

You stay still, not wanting to fall into the 5 year-old’s tricks so easily… until you hear Minho’s voice calling the little boy’s name. “What are you guys playing? Where’s Y/N?”

“We’re playing hide and seek,” Jeongin answers, his eyes still as sharp as a hawk. “I’ve found everyone, only Y/N noona is left!”

Minho hums. “Want me to help you find her?”

You don’t hear Jeongin responding, but the next thing you see is a pair of pretty eyes staring into yours. “Found her,” Minho murmurs.

Jeongin pulls you out with a huge grin on his face. “I knew you were there! Thanks for helping me, hyung.”

Minho ruffles the boy’s head before gazing back at you. “If you’re thankful, can I borrow her for a second? We just need to talk, then she’s all yours.”

You can’t find the strength to say no, hoping Jeongin will somehow be clingy this time. “Are you guys fighting?” he asks instead.

“Do you think we’re fighting?”

Jeongin nods, his sparkly eyes turn gloomy. “If I let you talk, will you make up?”

Minho glances at you. “I don’t know… I made a huge mistake.”

“Did you make her cry?”

“Yeah,” Minho confirms, voice thick with remorse and you’re not sure how long you can pretend to be okay in front of Jeongin.“I’m a bad person, aren’t I?”

You crouch down, pinching the boy’s pout with an endearing smile. “I promise nothing bad will happen. Can we go outside now? I’m sure everyone is waiting for you.”

Still a bit sullen, he links his hand with yours and lets you lead him out, Minho trailing behind the two of you. Once you’re back at the garden, Jeongin whispers into your ear, “I’ll always be your friend, noona. I won’t hurt you.”

“Of course you won’t,” you laugh. “I’ll join you soon, okay?”

Minho turns to you as soon as Jeongin goes back to his friends, studying your expressions carefully. You want to tell him so many things, yet the only words you can produce are, “Fuck you, Lee Minho.”

You feel slightly lighter when Minho says nothing to defend himself, sitting on the grass before gesturing at you to do the same. It fuels your need to let out the pain you previously sealed inside your heart, ironically basking in his comforting presence as you do so.

“The whole time I felt like something was missing. You knew that, then went on hiding the rest of the puzzle pieces and left me there, incomplete. Just like that.”

This isn’t your first time baring your heart to Minho, the last time you did it you were left with such immeasurable pain that erasing a part of your brain—your soul—sounded like a better choice. You wait for the sadness and rage to take over your mind, but the storm never comes. You wonder what makes it different until Minho shifts to look at you in the eye.

Minho is looking at you with those pretty eyes like you’re the only one he can see. It’s not just a sweet dream you tried to dream of every night when you were 17. You’re no longer the only one who’s wearing your heart on your sleeves.

“Am I doing this because I feel guilty or because I genuinely want to be with you?” he begins. “Believe me Y/N, I spent months trying to find the answer and justify what I did, but I guess you can never exactly separate those two feelings.”

His confession is bittersweet; you know it won’t end all your personal battles. You still have to fight them, help yourself to understand why you are thinking and acting the way you are. The gaps have been filled, and now you have to be the one who define yourself.

“I thought I could just treat you better for the rest of our lives. I was sure my love would be enough to heal you. That was very stupid and selfish of me, and I’m sorry. You’re free to hate me, push me away, ruin my life… the decision is yours. But I don’t wanna hide how I feel anymore. Not from you.”

You’re still pondering his words when Jeongin comes to check on you, making sure Minho isn’t making you cry again.

“No, Jeongin, I’m fine. Look? I’m not crying!” you reassure the pouty kid.

He beams at you with his toothy smile. “Really?! Did you make up? Friends have to forgive each other!”

“I know, sweetheart,” you coo. “And yes, we made up. Friends forgive each other.”

Minho shoots you a surprised look, but you ignore him until you convince Jeongin that he can continue playing. “I don’t know whether we can go back to what we were,” you tell him, gazing at the clear sky. “I still need time to process everything, but I was afraid that I wouldn’t ever see you again. So we can be friends, if you want.”

He chuckles, eyes sparkling and hopeful. “Hi. I’m Lee Minho.”

“I’m Y/N,” you reply. “Anyways, Lee Minho my new friend, how did you know that I’m here?”

“Your scary friend Bang Chan told me you’d be here.”

“So you think Chan is scary.”

Minho does something that’s between a shrug and a shudder. “He’s always shooting daggers at me how do you not notice?!”

As you and Minho spend the rest of the day laughing and enjoying the sun, you rediscover the magic of following your heart.

It’s heavenly.

To Minho, there are only okay days and good days. Bad days almost never happen, but today is a bad day. Everything started from Eat Here’s fruit supplier sending them the wrong strawberries, then Seungmin called in sick minutes before his shift started, and now he has to deal with a couple whose order hasn’t been processed since 40 minutes ago.

“I apologize for the inconvenience. We’re processing your order now and it will be on us. Jisung, we need another 2 glasses of lemonade—”

“We need our food, not—”

Minho’s lips stretch into a thin smile, the kind of smile he hates because you once said you could sense that he was faking it. His business smile is the only that can save him now, so he ignores the fact that you’re watching the whole chaos and says, “It will be on us. You’re going to need more drinks while waiting.”

After making sure that he’s appeased the angry customers, Minho goes back to the small table at the corner where you’re waiting for him. He can no longer mask his fatigue and annoyance when you lay your eyes on him, all he wants now is to hold you in his arms and sleep everything away. He knows he can’t ask you for more, he’s already getting more than he deserves since you agreed to be friends with him again.

He’s undeniably the luckiest man in the whole galaxy, but it’s human instincts to always want more. There are days when his longing for you is too much to handle, and today is one of those days.

His train of thoughts is interrupted when a cold glass is pressed against his cheek. “Minho?”

“Huh?”

Your eyes crinkle knowingly when he focuses his eyes on you again. “I want to listen to you ranting but I really need to go now. Chan needs me back at the office.”

“Okay,” he answers rather brashly. “Thanks for stopping by.”

Minho almost pouts the way Jeongin does (that pout always gets him) whenever the two of you are going home, luckily he stops himself just in time, opting to wonder what will happen if he tells you that he wants you to stay just a minute longer instead.

You make your way to the door, but not without stopping to give him one last advice, “You better not complain that everything is annoying every 5 seconds if you want that new guy to last more than a day. He’s been looking like a lost quokka!”

Your “warning” came out a bit too loud than you expected. Of course, it reaches Han “that new guy” Jisung’s ears and Minho hopes he remembers to give the poor kid a slice of cheesecake for free after his shift ends. You flash him an apologetic smile, turning to Jisung to convince him that his boss isn’t as bad as he seems before your phone rings.

“He’s harmless, Jisung, just make him iced Americano everyday, praise his cats, and you’re good. Okay, I have to go now or I’ll be jobless in an hour! Byeee!”

Minho’s mouth has curled into a lovesick smile at your antics, waving at you until you close the door of your car. The way you naturally calm him down surprises him everytime, it’s like you’re unaware of how much power you have over him.

God, you really own every inch of his heart, don’t you?

Second chances are overrated.

People change, but once you pay attention to them a just a liiiitle more, you realize that they’re still the same. Lee Minho believes he doesn’t deserve any second chance from you, yet he finds himself seeking forgiveness the moment he looked into your eyes again. As selfish as it sounds, Minho wants your love. Nobody else’s, just yours.

He tried to fill in the empty space you left with other people, but none of them fit. It was always too much or too little, punching him right in his gut for ever thinking that what you two had was too much, that you were too much.

Seeing you fast asleep in his living room with Soonie, Doongie and Dori is another reminder that you were never too much.

You were, and still are, his everything.

Dori opens her eyes before jumping out of your arms, making you stir. Minho quietly strokes your hair to lull you back to sleep, but soon your eyes flutter open as well. “Hmmm look who’s here… the hottest man alive,” you mumble.

Minho points at himself. “Not that I’m surprised, but thank you.”

Your sleepy smile and the breathy chuckle that comes after make his stomach flip. It’s just a simple reaction, something you probably didn’t realize doing, but it feels breathtakingly intimate and loving to Minho. A small part of you that only him can see, something that will cross his mind sometime during work, making him wish time to pass quickly so he can rush back home. To you.

Damn, he promised himself not to let him picture a life with you as the love of his life, but look at his defense crumbling right in front of you because of a mere smile.

You seem to notice his dilemma, lips forming another smile. Opening your arms, you whisper, “Come here.”

The voices in his head are drowned by your request, it’s echoing inside his head like a deathly spell. You have him in your embrace nanoseconds later, curling your hands around his neck as he completely succumbs to his longing.

Minho’s head buzzes with the need to tell you that he loves you, wants you, and misses you to the point that he almost asks you to please please please please forgive him and take him back.

“Okay.”

He lifts his head from the crook of your neck, eyes flickering to yours. You chuckle at his reaction, cupping his cheeks with your warm hands. “Say that again.”

“Say… what again?”

Minho blinks up at you, tiny groans of regret escaping his lips when he realizes that he just spilled everything out loud. “I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I wasn’t supposed to say that. I know this isn’t about me, but—”

“Did you mean it, though?”

“Of course I did,” Minho says. “But I want to go according to your pace.”

“If I didn’t want the same thing I wouldn’t be here, Minho.” Your voice is as sweet as honey, hypnotizing him into dropping his hopeless pretense. “I’ve built a new home that truly feels like home. It’s probably just a small house, filled with everything that makes me me. But it feels like a beautiful kingdom, and it’s not complete without you in it.”

You don’t have to say it; the way you hold his gaze with such a raw, pure sincerity and the way you asked him to be with you as if he’s the best person in the whole world are enough to let Minho know that he’s all forgiven.

Feeling a tug at his shirt, he meets your expectant eyes once again. “Are you going to continue staring at me like that until we fall asleep?”

The last traces his fear for disappointing you melts away as you start stroking his hair. “I love you,” he rasps, unconsciously leaning in until his lips brush over yours. “My precious moonlight, I’ll do my best so you won’t ever have to erase me again. I love you, Y/N, please don’t leave me.”

You barely manage to nod before Minho finally crashes his lips against yours, not giving you any chance to steal a breath as he lets his feelings overtake himself. He explores every part of your lips like a madman and you accept whatever he gives you, trying to keep up with his feverish kisses and letting him know that he doesn’t need to hold back.

The sudden urge to see you encourages him to pull away. Minho says nothing for a while, only looking into your eyes with silent adoration. Still breathless, you prop yourself up to reward him with a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose, the sweet gesture causing Minho to attack you with a series of playful smooches.

“How long do you think this will last?” you ask in between kisses, giggling when Minho switches your positions, you’re now lying on top of him.

“This?”

You pinch his cheek. “I gotta admit it feels kinda nice to hear you saying please so many times.”

Minho arches an eyebrow at your cheeky remark. “Is that so? Wait until you find out how much I like hearing you beg.”

“Minho!” you exclaim, dropping your head on his chest to hide your flushed cheeks. He wraps his arms around you, ready to make you even more flustered before accidentally locking eyes with his cats. You lift your head when you feel his body stills, following his gaze.

“Oh no,” you murmur. “The kids saw that, didn’t they?”

He smiles sheepishly at each of them, somehow feeling like he’s gotten caught by his parents. “This kind of thing happens when you love someone,” he attempts to joke. “So get used to it, okay kiddos?”

You nudge his chest with your chin. “God, you’re shameless.”

“They’re cats!”

“Then why are your ears so red?!”

Minho tuts. “That’s it. We need to do this more often so they’ll get used to it.”

As he silences you with another searing kiss, Minho almost malfunctions at how addicting and comforting it is to have you as his again. It’s impossible to fathom all of his feelings for you into words, yet he still hopes you’ll feel every single one of them.

And you do, because Minho is yours. Entirely yours.

“How did you pass your driving test? Did you bribe them or something?”

Hyunjin doesn’t bother to answer Seungmin’s accusation, eyes glued to the road.

“Watch it,” Minho warns monotonously while you’re gripping his hand, too scared to witness the younger trying to drive. Seungmin shrieks in horror when Hyunjin hits the break almost too late. He glares at the passenger seats where you and Minho are seated. “Hyung can you just take over? Or at least switch seats with me?”

“I can’t.” He points at you. “Y/N is scared as hell and I’m not gonna let you hold her hand.”

Hyunjin curses under his breath when several other cars pass him. “Give me a break! This is my first time driving at the highway,” he argues. “And I was supposed to borrow Chan hyung’s car! Driving your car makes it even ten times scarier!”

“Hey, what’s wrong with my car?!” your boyfriend protests.

The three men continue talking over each other, causing you to roar, “SHUT UP!! Hwang Hyunjin, if you take your hands off the wheels you’re gonna die before you even scratch the car!”

Twenty painful minutes later, Hyunjin succeeds in parallel parking the car with the help of a very frustrated Seungmin. The two boys are heading to the orphanage right away, leaving you and Minho alone for your little date.

Minho opens the trunk, setting it up quickly before pulling you to sit beside him, handing you one of the toasts he packed this morning. “Whoa, the moony park is even more beautiful during the day,” you muse, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Minho agrees. “Should we come here more often at this hour?”

“It doesn’t matter, as long as you’re with me.”

Minho snorts at your cheesy answer, but you still sense his wary from the way he keeps glancing at you from time to time. “Is this about the erasure recording you found in my room yesterday? Is that why you took me here?”

“I’m just wondering why you’re still keeping it. I thought we agreed to destroy it,” he says, doing his best to conceal his uneasiness. You initially thought it was a great idea to forget it ever happened, but no, you’re not running away. You want to accept all the consequences of the decisions you have made, especially this one.

“We did, but then I realized I didn’t want to. I don’t want to erase anything anymore, Minho. I want to live life as it is. It’s a memento from the most important period of my life, and while it hurts, it’s a part of me.” You throw your arms around him, squeezing his body until he turns to you and return your hug. “It’s also a reminder that what we have is stronger than anything, don’t you think? I erased you and I still fell in love with you again. Like an idiot.”

Relief washes over you when Minho chuckles, carefree and amused. “You’re not an idiot,” he teases. “You just have an exceptional taste, and I’m way too irresistible. Let’s face it, you were already crazy for me even before I gave you my card.”

“No I wasn’t! I just thought you were attractive!”

“I am the hottest man alive.”

You sigh. “You’ll never let me live it down.”

“No,” he affirms. “Because you’re right. It’s time to stop trying to forget our past. I’ll never forget the fact that you’re calling me the hottest man alive, just like I’ll never forget how much I’ve hurt you. And how much I’ll always try to make it up to you.”

You laugh at his comparison. “I honestly can’t tell whether we’re having a serious conversation or just trolling each other.”

“It’s my talent, baby. Life is always fun with me.”

Although the park has become more crowded and your boyfriend is never big on PDA, you have no choice but giving him a kiss on his cheek. “You don’t have to do anything for me,” you whisper. “Just love me.”

“Hmm.” His lips stretch into a loving smile, the one smile reserved for your eyes only. “That I do.”

Minho isn’t a prince charming who sweeps you off your feet. He is your wandering prince and you’re his moonlight, illuminating his gloomy world. You show him that he doesn’t have to wander for the rest of his life, that he can call you home and stay.

And Minho will always be with you, showering you with the love you deserve. He’ll be the one who fight the demons for you and with you, he’ll be the one who reminds you over and over again how strong and precious you are whenever you lose faith in yourself. Together, you are moonlit. Together, you are complete.