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fullsunstrawberry · 10 months

Text

Love Beyond Labels

synopsis: the misunderstood "rich girl," reveals her academic struggles to a loner with his own challenges. In an unexpected twist, they form a unique friendship—she gets study help, and he gains a true companion.

genre: slice of life, humor, fluff, angst, smut, freaky nerd

warnings**: bullying, swearing, self-hate, mentions of anxiety, jokes of social "suicide", dreamies are kinda mean in this..., no condom mentioned, praising, fingering, marking, lots of boobie touching cause haechan loves them okay, make-up sex, idk probably more lol

word count: 8.9k

a/n: first ever written fanfic....kinda nervous haha

School is easy, all you have to do is sit there and look pretty. Well, that's what all your classmates thought. They didn't know how difficult school was for you. You never got what was happening in class. Anytime you got an answer wrong, no one batted an eye because who expects the rich pretty girl to get an answer right? But little did they know you would cry in the janitor's room after each time. You just hated feeling so dumb.

"Ugh, I'm not ready for today's test," Jaemin huffed, plopping down beside you.

"Wait, there's a test?" you sighed, already predicting the outcome.

Mr. Moon whispered a half-hearted "good luck" as he handed you the test, before moving on and finishing handing out everyone else’s tests. He already knew how it was going to go.

You hated how even the teachers knew you were stupid.

After the test, you already knew you failed it. You were the last one to turn your test in, when Jaemin asked if you wanted to meet up with him, Jeno, Mark, and Chenle for lunch. You nodded telling him you had to stop at the office real quick.

Instead of walking towards the office, you sped walked to the janitor's closet, already feeling the tears threaten to escape. You knew you failed that test. Even though you acted like you didn’t know you had a test, you lied. You’ve been studying for it for a long time. Even canceling plans. But you would never admit it to anyone. You studied your ass off but still failed, that’s even more pathetic than forgetting about it.

You quickly took out the keys and opened the door quickly so no other student would see it. You thank the janitor for being so forgetful that you could easily steal one of his keys. He has a bunch of copies, one missing wouldn’t hurt. Right as you locked the door you sat in the corner, not even bothering to turn the lights on.

you were always an ugly crier, but it was okay cause you bought the most expensive waterproof makeup for these occasions. Only a quick bathroom stop is needed before meeting your friends for lunch.

As you were drying your tears you heard the door jiggle and then open. you quickly hid your face just in case it was someone you knew.

"Y/N?" a voice you didn't recognize spoke, interrupting your quiet moment in the janitor's closet.

Confused, you wiped your face and looked up at the mystery voice. You kind of recognized the thick black glasses boy in front of you. You knew he was in some of your classes but you couldn’t think of his name.

Fearing the worst you cleared your throat before asking “What do you want?”

“Uh, I don't want anything!" the boy replied, swiftly stepping into the room and closing the door. You noticed he had his lunch tray with him. "This might sound pathetic, but I like to eat my lunch here."

confused, you asked him “Why would you do that?”

“Well I don’t really have friends and I don’t want to get picked on” he explained sitting down next to you, not having much of a choice because there wasn’t that much room.

"Oh, I'm sorry for bothering you. I'll just go," you said, preparing to stand up. But before you could, he quickly called out your name, making you look down at him.

"You're not bothering me! You can stay and talk about what's going on. I know we don't talk, but I can listen to you." His hopeful eyes convinced you to sit back down. You quickly wiped away your tears before confiding in him.

“You can’t tell anyone this!“ You put your pinky finger up and put it near him. “promise?”

“I don’t have many people to tell” he let out a small laugh while putting his hands up defensively. “promise!” he took your pinky finger in his

“okay” you nodded “I failed my psychology test today”

you looked at his face and he looked confused “What?” you questioned

“Oh it's just, you always fail your tests. Everyone knows that”

As he said that you felt the tears start to come back. Of course, he wouldn’t get it. Why did you ever think he would get it?

“I didn’t mean it like that, I’m so sorry” he panicked “I shouldn’t have said that!”

you turn away, quickly wiping away your tears again. “no I get it, I’m the dumb girl”

"No, no, no, that's not what I meant. Hey, want to hear something embarrassing about me? I'm only here because of a scholarship. That's why no one wants to be friends with me!" he confessed.

you start to giggle “That’s not embarrassing!”

“It made you laugh! But here is something actually embarrassing, my teacher forgot my name today. Even though I've had her for the whole year.”

Your eyes widen, feeling bad that you forgot his name.

“ahh you don’t know my name either”

you smile “If you tell me your name, I’ll forgive you”

“haechan”

“That's a nice name, haechan” You smiled at the way it rolled off your tongue.

“thank you, I have a proposition or a proposal”

“I know what proposition means” you teased

he giggled, “I’ll help you study”

your eyes lit up, “really? What can I do for you?”

he avoided your eyes and cleared his throat “Be my friend”

your eyes softened “That’s not hard, I was going to be your friend after this conversation anyways” You pushed his shoulder.

He finally met your eyes and smiled at you. “then you don’t have to do anything, friends help friends”

As the bell faintly rang, you pulled out your phone. "Here, give me your number so we can talk."

he paused for a second before taking your phone

standing up and thanking him before you quickly left to go touch up your makeup in the bathroom. Reminding yourself you would have to tell Jaemin you were sorry for ditching him and the guys.

You walked into your next class as the late bell rang.

“there you are! Jaemin told me you ditched us” Mark laughed.

“I didn't mean to ditch you guys, just got carried away.”

“carried away, with what?”

“I was working on my psychology essay, and I can't believe she makes us write one every week!” you huffed out, setting your bag down before sitting down.

“Could have just said you were talking to guys instead of lying.” Mark laughed, too interested in whatever was on his phone to notice your face drop. What did your friends think of you?

“What do you mean?”

Mark glanced at you before laughing, “You always procrastinate, there is no way you even started it!”

Instead of arguing you turned to face the front, pulling out your notebook. The essay is due in two days, of course, you started it. There would be no way for you to finish the four pages if you didn't. Turning towards Mark again you huffed out, “Well someone is helping me study.”

Shocked, Mark quickly faced towards you “What? What happened to y/n?”

You scoffed, “Really? That surprising”

“I am, you never really cared for grades”

“Well I'm sick of failing every test”

“So who's helping you out?” Mark leaned towards you “Could have just asked me”

“His name is Haechan”

Mark’s eyebrows furrowed “That one kid that eats in the bathroom?”

“He doesn't eat in the bathroom!” You defended

“Just be careful, he’s a little weird”

“What do you mean, you don’t even know him” You started to get upset.

“He doesn't really talk to anyone” He could see how your face scrunched up and you were about to start an argument with him so he shrugged, not really caring “Why didn't you ask me, I'm one of the top students”

You didn't really want to explain what happened so you just blew his question off. Before he could press you for an answer, the teacher walked in.

Haechannie🤓🐻: When do you want to start?

Y/N☺️: I have my psychology paper due soon. Could you read it over before I turn it in?

Haechannie🤓🐻: Yeah meet me at the public library after school

Y/N☺️: Thanks!

Haechannie🤓🐻: No problem :)

Jaemin and Jeno are probably thinking you're going crazy when you tell them you didn't need a ride after school. But you didn't want them to drop you off at the library and question you the same way Mark did in class. So you just said you were meeting up with a girlfriend of yours who wanted to walk to the park. At the mention of a girl, they didn’t question anything.

Now that's how you ended up looking around the library for Haechan. He wasn't on the first or second floor, so you started making your way up to the third floor. Questioning why he even would go all the way up there, no one liked the third floor. As you looked around you spotted Haechan sitting at a table in the corner.

As he heard you coming, he looked up and smiled. “Took you long enough!”

“Who even uses the third floor of the library, all the books up here are just textbooks.” You huffed out, setting your bag down and taking out everything you needed.

“That’s the whole point! It’s quiet up here”

You can admit, that he has a point! Maybe you will actually start using the third floor more. As if you ever go to the public library without your friends dragging you there. Liking your room for studying a lot more because there are no judging eyes.

“Okay, let’s get started! Let me see what you have already” Haechan smiled at you.

You pulled out your notebook and quickly found the page you started to write on before handing it to Haechan. As you handed it to him, your fingers brushed, which made Haechan pull away quickly.

You watched as his eyes read through everything you wrote. Anxiety started to fill you up. What if it was really bad and he thinks you're even more of an idiot than before? Ugh, he’s a nice guy, he wouldn't think like that. But you don’t really know him— Before your inner monologue continues Haechan put down your notebook. Shock showed in his eyes.

“Wow, that was really good! The way you described Sensation and Perception was easy to understand. How do you usually fail with papers like this?”

Shocked that he actually liked your paper it took you a couple of seconds to register his question. “I usually get good grades on my papers and in-class work, but tests always seem to get to me.”

“mmm, I understand,” Haechan hummed. “A lot of people have test anxiety, I have some tips I can give you if you want”

Your eyes lit up as you nodded, eager to hear what he had to say.

“It’s getting quite late, maybe we should start wrapping this up?” Haechan yawned.

You quickly looked at the time, not believing him that it was so late. You gasped, shocked at how quickly time passed with Haechan. “Oh, I better get going, before my mom starts to ask questions.”

“Yeah, I have to get going too. It was nice hanging out with you.” Haechan quickly gathered up all his things before moving to leave.

“Wait!”

Haechan paused looking at you confused.

“What are you doing tomorrow after class?”

“Nothing, until I have to go in for work” Haechan sighed “I don’t want to study again tomorrow”

A little taken aback by the change in his tone, you quickly cleared things up “That’s not what I was going to ask you! I wanted to know if you wanted to hang out, like at the mall or something”

you couldn't quite read the emotion on Haechan’s face. Was he shocked? Happy? Confused? Maybe a little bit of each.

“Oh um yeah, we can hang out.”

“Good, I’ll text you the details” You smiled before turning away and leaving him to stand there not knowing what was going on in his head.

The final bell rang as you rushed out to find Haechan. Earlier promising that you both would take the bus to the mall together.

Your eyes lit up seeing him standing at the bus stop, calling out a quick “Haechan” to get his attention. Which seemed to work as he found you in the crowd of other students.

As you finally pushed through all the people to get to Haechan, your face dropped. He wasn't looking at you anymore. “What’s wrong?”

“You don’t want to be caught hanging out with me, it will ruin your reputation.” He whispered

Taken aback you laughed, which turned into a heavier laugher. Shocked and confused by your reaction, Haechan turned towards you, watching you laugh like you were crazy. “I’m not joking! Hanging out with me in public is literally social suicide”

You took a couple of deep breaths before answering him “Haechan, this isn't some teen drama! Who even cares about that”

Haechan looked embarrassed by this and started to fiddle with his fingers. You saw the bus starting to pull up so you took hold of his hand. Stopping him from fiddling with them and making sure you didn't lose him to the crowd of people waiting for the bus.

If you were paying more attention, you would have seen how bright his cheeks turned. Before quickly snapping out of it.

As you got onto the bus, you noticed how full it was. Only noticed one seat in the back. quickly you pulled him towards the back and offered him the seat.

Shaking his head, he told you to sit down. But you insisted that you were okay with standing. Looking around you noticed the other people starting to get annoyed, even hearing an older lady saying she hates teenage couples.

Before he could protest, you pushed him down onto the seat and sat on his knee. “Are you happy now? It’s a win-win situation, we both get to sit now” You smiled.

The whole ride there was silent. Maybe the stunt you pulled on the bus was a little too much for him to handle.

But you didn't let that stop you from grabbing his hand when the bus finally arrived at the mall. Excitedly telling Haechan about all your favorite stores and sales that are going on right now.

He didn't seem to care when you kept dragging him to different clothing and makeup stores. It wasn't until you noticed how uncomfortable he was did you realized how rude you were being.

“Oh shit sorry, where do you want to go next?”

Taken back by this Haechan quickly tried to brush it off “No it’s okay, where do you want to go next?” Not letting him dodge the question you push him for an answer. “No, come on, let's go somewhere you like next!”

“Uh I like Gamestop”

“Then we are off to Gamestop, I know where it is because it’s next to my favorite shoe store!”

Haechan’s eyes lit up when he saw the new Lord of the Fallen had been released. “Cool! I’ve been waiting for this to come out” But as quickly as he picked it up he put it down.

“You're not going to get it?” You questioned

“Oh no, it’s too much money” He turned to look at other things, leaving you the opportunity to grab and pay for the game without him knowing.

Finding him in the back, you asked if he was finished looking around. Which earned you a nod. As you stepped out of the store, you held up the bag. “What did you get?” Haechan asked, confused.

“It’s for you” You giggled handing him the bag.

He hesitated before looking in the bag and gasping “Y/n, this is $80!”

“That’s nothing! I love buying my friends things that I know they will like” You smiled, hooking your arm with his. “Now I'm hungry, let's go eat.”

The food court wasn't your first choice, but haechan insisted. Arguing that he knew you were going to try to pay for his food if you went to some fancy restaurant. Which he is right, you would have. But you settled for paying for his Taco Bell instead.

“Let's go near the carousel I love the view and plus not a lot of people sit over there”

Haechan nodded, letting you show the way.

Everything was going very smooth. You wanted to do this again and again. But as you were in your own world you heard voices call out “Hyuck”. Haechan's eyes widened and looked around.

Two boys, one tall and one short, sat down near you guys.

“Long time no see, we missed you!” The taller one said either not knowing or not caring about your presence.

The shorter one cleared his throat before asking Haechan “So are you going to introduce us”

Haechan laughed nervously before looking at you, pointing to the shorter one “This is Huang Renjun” and then pointing to the taller one who seem to now noticed you were there “And this is Park Jisung”

Before Haechan could speak you smiled “I'm F/N L/N!”

Haechan winced at your mentioning your last name. You looked at the other guys and their faces dropped. Confused, you asked “what's wrong?”

Haechan quickly cleared his throat and explained “It’s nothing! We used to know someone with that last name and so they're just surprised.”

The two boys looked confused before nodding “Sorry, just bad memories” Renjun forced a smile before getting up and announcing “Oh we’re gonna be late for our movie, let’s go Jisung”

They left before you could even get in another word. Noticing your shock, Haechan shakes his head “Those are my friends from my childhood, we haven't talked in a while because we go to different schools now.”

Not wanting to push you just hummed.

Something felt weird but you didn't want to bring it up. Today has been one of your favorites and you didn't want to sour the mood by letting Haechan know his friends acted a bit rude.

So the whole time you didn't bring it up, instead going back to your cheery self. After a few more stores, you both decided that was enough for today and Haechan really needed to get home so he could get enough sleep before having to go to his part-time job.

Soon days, weeks, and months flew by. Hanging out with Haechan really made things go by so quickly. You liked his company. So did your teachers, complimenting you on passing all your tests. One even accused you of cheating, but Haechan stepped in and confessed he had been helping you study.

Even your parents seemed to notice the change in your mood. Your mother loves getting her cheerful daughter back. The only people who seemed to hate the “new and improved y/n” were your best friends. It started with Jaemin accusing you of sleeping with Mr. Moon because he swore there’s no way you could have gotten scored higher on your test then him. Obviously, you were pissed that he could even suggest something like that.

So you ended up admitting to your not-so-secret tutoring sessions to your friends one day at lunch.

“So that's where you've been during lunch?” Chenle questioned.

“Yes, we’ve been eating in the library together”

“So you’ve been ditching us for that nerd this whole time!” Jeno’s voice raised, causing some of the other students in the cafeteria to look at your table.

“Don’t call him a nerd!”

“But he is one!” Jeno threw his hands up in the air.

“Just because he gets good grades? Then why don’t you call Mark or Jaemin a nerd?”

“Y/N Come on, why are you defending him? He’s just some loser who eats in the bathroom when you're not at school” Chenle laughed, trying to get everyone to calm down.

Taken back by how rude your best friends were, you looked around and made eye contact with Haechan.

He was supposed to meet your friends today. He was really excited after you hyped all of them up. But as he was walking to your table, you could tell that he heard everything.

You saw how his eyes were starting to water.

“Maybe he is a nerd but he is way hotter than all of you! Bet he can actually get me to cum unlike any of you” You smirked knowing this would get on their nerves. Hitting it where it hurt, their egos.

You heard Jaemin scuff, “Yeah right, we all know your type! You wouldn't even kiss him”

Taking the challenge, you looked around and spotted Haechan again. But this time his face was red and his eyes were wide. You smirked, “wanna bet?”

The tension in the cafeteria was thick after your bold statement, and all eyes seemed to be on the unfolding drama. Your best friends wore expressions of disbelief mixed with irritation. You made your way over to Haechan.

Haechan's eyes showed surprise, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. You could feel the weight of the challenge in the air as you took a hold of his sweater collar, the fabric warm beneath your fingers. The cafeteria buzzed with hushed whispers and curious glances, but your focus was solely on him.

Pulling him down gently, your lips hovered near Haechan's ear, and you breathed out a teasing question. "Can I?" The words were soft, carrying a hint of playfulness.

In response, Haechan nodded fervently, his eyes wide with anticipation. "Please," he whispered back, his voice barely audible.

With a mischievous smirk, you seized the moment, closing the distance between your lips and Haechan lips. Time seemed to slow as the cafeteria fell into a stunned silence, and then erupted into a mix of gasps, whispers, and scattered applause. The unexpected turn of events had caught everyone off guard, including your best friends, who now wore expressions ranging from shock to disbelief.

Breaking the kiss, you stepped back. You saw how Haechan went to lean back in again. Quickly placing a short kiss to his lips you whispered “everyone watching us” His eyes widened and looked around the cafeteria. Making you giggle and whisper a hushed “Cute”

After your little stunt in the cafeteria, everyone’s been asking you who that guy was and if you two are dating. You already knew poor Haechan was getting the same questions.

Y/N😊❤️: People keep asking me if you’re a good kisser

Haechannie🤓🐻: Well am I?

Y/N😊❤️: Absolutely

Y/N😊❤️: What are you doing after school?

Haechannie🤓🐻: Working and then going home

Y/N😊❤️: When do you get off? Want to hang out with you

Haechannie🤓🐻: 9 pm, at the convenience store on the other side of town

Haechannie🤓🐻: we can hang out only if you promise to kiss me again

Y/N😊❤️: we’ll see ;)

The convenience store was a far walk from your house so you asked your friend Yuna to drive you. But that didn’t stop your parents from scolding you for going out so late. All you had to say was that you were staying over at Yuna’s house. Yuna is your mom's best friend's daughter. She had no problem with this because last summer you had to do the same thing for her.

There was only a few people at the convenience store. You saw Haechan slumped over at the counter scrolling through his phone. “Aren’t you supposed to be working”

Haechan jumped up from his sitting position, ready to be scolded by his manager. But when his eyes landed on you he shook his head “Ah you scared me! I still have 10 minutes until closing”

“I wanted to get here early, I heard there is a cute cashier boy here” you smirked

You can already see Haechan’s face start to become a light shade of red.

“Stop flirting with me, I'm working!”

Before you could say a comeback, an older guy put down his stuff on the register.

“She’s just trying to get free stuff” The random guy scoffed

Taken aback you scoff, tilting your head “What do you mean by that?”

“You’re too pretty for him”

You looked at Haechan and saw his head lower.

Looking back at the guy you laugh “Nerdy guys are the freakiest” you winked

Haechan’s eyes widened, not being able to make eye contact with anyone.

“All girls are the same” The guy harshly stated before throwing ten dollars on the counter and leaving.

“How do you know I’m freaky?” Haechan busted out laughing.

“I don’t but guys hate when their masculinity is threatened” You shrug.

“So what do you want to do after I close”

“I don’t know, I told my parents I was staying over with a friend tonight. So I’m all yours”

“All mine? I like the sound of that” Haechan smirked leaning in “I live alone”

You gasp “How do you live alone?”

“It’s a small place, I don’t have a relationship with my parents anymore” Haechan grabbed the keys to close the shop. “It’s not too far from here, only a five-minute walk”

Entering Haechan's apartment, the reality of his living space matched his earlier description. It kind of reminded you of a college dorm. Only a small living area with his bed and a tiny hallway that leads to his bathroom.

As you took in the surroundings, Haechan couldn't help but laugh at your reaction. "I told you it was small," he remarked, his eyes glinting with amusement. "It's not the fanciest part of town, but it's affordable."

"It's nice!" you assured him, a genuine smile gracing your face.

Haechan, skeptical, teased, "You don't have to lie to me."

Your laughter filled the room. "I'm not lying! I was expecting much worse for a guy living alone." Your lighthearted comment elicited a chuckle from Haechan, getting rid of any lingering tension.

Looking around the compact space, you ask, "So, what do you want to do?"

"I was promised a kiss," Haechan said with a mischievous smirk.

Your laughter continued, but before you could respond, you felt his hand gently cup your face, pulling you into a kiss. This wasn't like the previous one in the cafeteria; it was more intense, and filled with passion.

As the kiss deepened, Haechan guided you backward until the back of your knees met his bed, causing you to gently fall onto it. Yet, he didn't break the kiss, instead, he adjusted his position to hover over you. Placing his knee between your legs, he elicited a soft moan from you. The sound only fueled Haechan's desire, and he broke the kiss momentarily, his gaze locking onto yours.

"You sound so beautiful," he murmured, his eyes fulled with desire. His fingers delicately traced the curve of your jawline, leaving a trail of electrifying sensations.

The air was charged with a blend of desire and anticipation as Haechan, deepening the kiss and found a comfortable position on top of you.

His hands, warm and assertive, traced subtle patterns along your sides, sending shivers down your spine. The small apartment seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you entangled in the intoxicating rhythm of the kiss.

As the kiss continued to deepen, Haechan's movements became more deliberate. He pressed himself against you, and the warmth of his body radiated through the layers of clothing, intensifying the sensations.

The noisy world outside seemed to disappear, leaving only the echo of shared breaths and the subtle noise of hearts beating together.

Breaking away from the kiss, Haechan's eyes held an unspoken question, seeking affirmation in the depths of your gaze. Without uttering a word, you nodded, granting permission.

Haechan's lips traced a path from your mouth, leaving a trail of lingering kisses along your jawline and down your neck. Each touch sent shivers through your body, awakening a heightened awareness of the closeness between you.

As Haechan's fingers delicately traced patterns on your skin, he whispered “God I can’t get enough of you”.

“I need you inside of me right now” You moaned as he started to take your shirt off.

Your words seemed to ignite something in Haechan, his eyes darkening with desire. He gently removed your shirt, his touch making your skin tingle.

You felt Haechan’s warm breath against your skin as he buried his face in your breasts. The sensation of his lips approaching your skin caused you to gasp, and the sound fueled his desire. As his lips made contact with your nipple, you felt a wave of pleasure run through you.

“God, Haechan”

His lips found yours once again. The pleasure of his lips on yours left you intoxicated.The feeling of the soft sheets against your bare skin and the warmth of Haechan’s body made you feel safe, yet vulnerable. Your heart skipped a beat as you felt his lips take your nipple in his mouth yet again, and the pleasure and excitement was overwhelming. The intensity of the sensations had left you without words, and you felt yourself wanting to scream with pleasure.

“G-God”

The moan that escaped from your lips seemed to ignite something in Haechan, and he moved his mouth to your other breast, leaving a trail of hot kisses. Each one caused you to gasp with pleasure and your hands explored the his back from under his shirt. The pleasure and excitement was too much, and you needed him inside you, but he kept teasing you in different ways.

When he finally moved to kiss you again, his hands gently moved down your body to rest on your waist. He seemed to be asking if it was okay to continue, and you nodded, silent. His hands moved to take off your pants, and you felt your heart start to race.

His touch was gentle and soft, and his lips were warm against your skin, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps. You could feel the bulge in his pants pressing against you. The feeling of his skin against yours was intoxicating. As his hands kept tracing patterns across your skin. As his lips reached your thighs, you moaned with pleasure, begging for more

"Please..." you moaned, "I need you inside me."

Haechan looked up and gave you a mischievous grin, and his body tensed for a moment before he moved to undress himself. His movements left you breathless, and you stared at him as he removed his pants. The light of the room glinted off of his skin, and you felt your body start to quiver with anticipation.

His eyes seemed to penetrate you as he looked at you, as if he could see things you didn't want anyone to know about. There was a moment of silence as the two of you stared at each other, before he moved over you and hovered on top of you. The moment was perfect, the way his body molded to yours.

His lips found yours once again, and the kiss started off soft but eventually deepened. The intensity of the moment was something you had never experienced before, and your body felt on fire as his hands explored your skin. As his fingers traced patterns on your skin, you felt more and more aroused, and you moaned with pleasure as his fingers moved down across your sensitive skin to your underwear.

As you felt his fingers graze across your most sensitive parts, you gasped with pleasure, and Haechan smiled

“you’re hands please, i just need something inside of me” you begged.

Haechan smirked as he continued to tease you over your underwear. “then we have to get rid of these”

He slowly removed them before stuffing them into his nightstand.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as Haechan's fingers continued to tease you over your underwear. Your body throbbed with need, and you couldn't help but beg for more. The anticipation was driving you wild, and you craved the touch of his hands inside of you.

"Please, Haechan," you whimpered, your voice laced with desperation. "I need you inside me."

Haechan's smirk widened, his eyes darkening with desire. He knew exactly what he was doing to you, reveling in every moment of your vulnerability. Without a word, he slowly removed your underwear and discarded it into the nightstand.

The cool air caressed your exposed flesh, making you shudder in anticipation. Haechan positioned himself between your thighs, his gaze intense and hungry. You could feel the heat radiating off his body as he hovered over you, his breath mingling with yours.

His lips crashed onto yours once again, this time with an even fiercer hunger. The kiss was bruising, and passionate, as if he wanted to consume every ounce of your being. His hands roamed your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Every touch sent electric shocks through you, heightening your desire.

But Haechan was not one to rush. He knew the power of anticipation. His fingers danced along the curves of your thighs. You squirmed beneath his touch, unable to suppress the moans that escaped your lips.

"Patience," he murmured against your skin, his voice laced with a raw sensuality that made your heart race. "I want to savor every moment."

His words only fueled the fire within you, igniting a primal need that consumed your thoughts. You could no longer wait, your body aching and yearning for release. With desperate boldness, you reached for him and pulled him closer. Haechan's eyes gleamed with a mixture of surprise and desire as you guided his hand to where you needed him most.

Without hesitation, his fingers slipped between your slick folds, finding your throbbing core. His touch was electrifying, sending waves of ecstasy through your body. You arched your back, giving him better access as he explored every inch of you, driving you to the edge.

As his fingers moved in delicious circles, your moans filled the room, mingling with the sound of his breathless whispers in your ear. It was as if time had stopped, leaving only the two of you.

Haechan's lips found yours once again, muffling the cry that escaped from deep within you as he brushed against your most sensitive spot. Your body shook with pleasure.

Every stroke sent shockwaves coursing through your body, building the pleasure to an unbearable peak. Your hips instinctively rose to meet his ministrations, wanting to feel even closer to him. The room seemed to spin as you felt your orgasm start to wash over you.

Haechan's fingers quickened their pace, pushing you further. With a sudden burst of overwhelming pleasure, your climax finally crashed over you. Your body shuddered beneath Haechan's touch as waves of intense bliss radiated from your core. It was an explosion of ecstasy that left.

As you finally started to get all your senses back you quickly reached out to Haechan. "Let me make you feel good too"

Haechan's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he chuckled nervously, avoiding your gaze. "I-I get pleasure just from giving you pleasure," he stuttered.

The corners of your lips turned up in a sly smile as you teasingly asked, "Did you cum in your pants?"

In response, Haechan groaned and buried his face on your neck. "You just sounded so beautiful, I couldn't resist," he admitted shamefully.

You couldn't help but feel a mix of desire and amusement at his confession. Pulling away from him, you leaned into captured his lips with yours. "That's incredibly hot," you muttered against his mouth before breaking into a giggle.

"Alright," you said with a mischievous glint in your eye, "let's get cleaned up...and maybe we can find a way to get out of those pants too."

In the morning, you felt the warmth of hands around your body. With a content smile, you turned around to find Haechan already awake, looking at you. "Good morning, beautiful."

"How long have you been awake?" you inquired.

"Not too long, I didn't want to wake you up" he replied.

Leaning in to plant a morning kiss on Haechan's lips, you were halted midway. "I messed up," he confessed.

Shocked, you asked, "What do you mean?"

"I slept with my only friend," he admitted.

A chuckle escaped you. "Well, if you play your cards right, you might end up with a girlfriend instead."

He chuckled at your response, pulling you in for another kiss

As the soft morning light streamed through the curtains, the intimacy between you and Haechan deepened. The laughter from the lighthearted exchange lingered as he pressed his lips against yours.

Breaking the kiss, Haechan looked into your eyes with a mix of affection and sincerity. "I'm serious, though. I don't want this to change things between us."

You traced your fingers gently along his cheek, reassuringly. "Haechan, it doesn't change anything. We both have our pasts, and what matters is what we have now."

A grateful smile played on his lips as he held you close, appreciating the comfort of the moment. "You're amazing, you know that?"

The tenderness in his words made your heart flutter. "You're not too bad yourself," you teased, your fingers intertwining with his.

Your mother has noticed a change in your demeanor, catching glimpses of smiles and laughter while you were on your phone. Initially, you tried to dismiss it, claiming it was just conversations with friends, but the façade crumbled when your mother overheard you on a Facetime call, and she didn't recognize the voice. Peeking into your room she also didn’t notice the face on the screen.

Now, you found yourself anxiously anticipating how your parents would react to meeting Haechan for the first time. Your mother insisted on the introduction, pointing out that you had never appeared as happy with your previous partners. Which you had to give it to her, it was true.

While you were confident your mother would adore Haechan, your concern was with your father. He was often distant, engrossed in his role as the owner of a major technology company. His strict views on your relationships were rooted in a desire to maintain a family business, yet he doubted your ability to contribute to it.

Hoping your father would be too occupied to attend dinner wasn't far-fetched, he frequently skipped family gatherings. However, your mother's pleas for him to take a rare evening off for his "precious" daughter won him over.

When you first brought it up with Haechan he was terrified. Always saying he was too busy to meet them.

But you finally caught him. He was complaining that he hasn't seen you in some time and that he misses you. So you asked if he was free later. Implying something sexual so he would change his plans if he needed to. When he took the bait and said he would be free all weekend, you told him to get ready to meet your parents.

As the doorbell rang, you rushed to answer it before anyone else could. "You look so handsome," you cooed, admiring Haechan in a suit that, while not perfectly fitted, he still made it look good.

Haechan, in turn, was taken aback by your appearance. Clad in a baby pink puffy spring dress with pearl accessories, you radiated elegance. The elaborate outfit was your response to your father's decision to turn a family dinner into a business-oriented event.

Warned in advance, Haechan contemplated rescheduling, but your disappointment look and tears swayed him.

"I can't do this," he admitted.

"Yes, you can. It's okay," you reassured him, leading him toward the dining room.

As the evening unfolded, Haechan appeared more nervous than usual. Sensing his discomfort, you offered solace by whispering in his ear, "We can go to my room after we finish dinner." This seemed to ease his tension, evident in the subtle relaxation of his shoulders.

Upon entering the dining room, you wore a big smile, catching your mother's approving gaze. "Ah, this must be Haechan! I've heard great things about you," she greeted warmly.

"I've heard a lot about you too, Ms. [Last Name]," Haechan replied.

The initial interactions went smoothly. Haechan answered a few questions from your mother, and the room dissolved into various conversations. However, your father remained engrossed in discussions with his employees, seemingly oblivious to Haechan's presence.

Sensing Haechan's ongoing nervousness, you discreetly held his hand under the table. "You're doing amazing, we can sneak out soon."

As if on cue, your father redirected his attention to Haechan, acknowledging his presence. "How rude of me! I haven't even spoken to my daughter's new boyfriend," he announced. "So, what is it your parents do for a living?"

Haechan hesitated before revealing, "Well, they don't do much anymore. I work at a convenience store to pay for my apartment."

Your father raised an eyebrow. "Already working for yourself, impressive. Do you do anything else in your free time?"

Releasing the breath of air you were holding in, you smile. This was a small victory, your father rarely asked the guys you brought over questions. Not even caring for your friends. Remembering the time Jeno once threw up in your bathroom from how your father kept ignoring him.

"My father taught me how to code when I was younger," Haechan disclosed.

"That's impressive," your father acknowledged, swirling his wine before taking a sip. "What's your surname? You look familiar."

Haechan gulped before confessing, "Lee."

A collective widening of eyes among your father's employees followed, and your father smirked. "I knew you looked familiar, Lee Donghyuck."

Confusion furrowed your eyebrows. You expected Haechan to correct your father, but instead, he flinched and looked at you.

"I'm guessing you lied to my daughter?" your father quipped. "What was the name you came up with again? Haechan."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and to salvage any remaining dignity, you stood up and hurriedly left the room.

Your mother exchanged a glance with Haechan before whispering something to him. He excused himself from the table and followed you.

You slammed the door shut, intending to cry alone. However, Haechan entered the room moments later.

"Please let me explain first," Haechan begged, attempting to pull you in an embrace, but you resisted.

"What is there to explain? Have you been lying to me this whole time?"

"No, God, no! Yes, my name is Donghyuck.. Haechan is just a nickname," he clarified. "My dad worked at your father's company, coding for years until he was fired. They wanted someone younger."

He gently held your face in his hands, "At first, I hated you. But when I saw you tearing up and running to the janitor's closet, it made my heart hurt, so I had to follow you."

"I told you my name was Haechan because that's what I go by in school. I wouldn't have gotten the scholarship if they knew who I was related to. Your father basically runs this town! I had to!"

"I swear I was going to tell you, but then I started developing feelings for you. I couldn't risk it! This is the best thing to ever happen to me, you're the best thing to ever happen to me!"

As you stood there, emotions swirling within you, you listened to Haechan's explanation. His vulnerability and genuine regret were evident in every word.

A mixture of anger, confusion, and empathy danced on the surface of your emotions. "Haechan, why didn't you trust me enough to tell me the truth?" you asked, your voice a blend of hurt and frustration.

his eyes pleading for understanding. "I wanted to, but the fear of losing you, or jeopardizing everything we had, it paralyzed me. I never meant to lie to you. I just didn't know how to tell you."

You took a deep breath, attempting to collect your thoughts. The truth was a bitter pill to swallow, but his honesty and the vulnerability in his eyes struck a chord. "You should have trusted me, Haechan. Relationships are built on trust, not on secrets and lies."

He nodded, remorse written across his features. "I know, and I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, and I understand if you can't forgive me."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of everything hanging in the air. You finally spoke, "I need time to process this. It's not just about the lie but the fact that you felt you had to hide something from me. Trust is something we'll need to work on."

Haechan nodded, his eyes reflecting a mix of regret and determination. "I'll do whatever it takes to make things right, even if it takes time.”

“I love you, and I'll always be honest with you from now on," he promised, enfolding you in a tight embrace.

Your body resisted at first, still in shock of everything that just happened, but you eventually gave in, wrapping your arms around him. The familiar scent of his cologne and the warmth of his embrace made you realize how much you loved him despite the lies.

You looked him in his eyes, studying his face before slowly letting your body finally connect your lips to his.

Haechan’s kiss was soft and gentle at first, but it quickly grew in intensity as the passion between the two of you grew. You felt his hands on your waist as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

Despite the initial shock and hurt, you found yourself unable to resist Haechan’s touch, his lips, the way he made you feel. You knew trust would take time to build, but right now, you couldn't resist the heat between the two of you.

Haechan’s hands moved up to your hair, tangling in the strands as he deepened the kiss even further. “Donghyuck” You moaned softly, unable to control the pleasure that coursed through you.

“I love the way you moan my name” he growled

As the kiss came to an end, you were both left breathless, panting from the intensity of the moment. You looked up into Donghyuck’s eyes, seeing the love and desire there, and you couldn't help but smile. “I love you so much” he whispered

"I love you too,"

Your eyes met his and your lips curved into a smile. "Thank you."

"For what?" he asked

"For loving me enough to tell me the truth," you responded.

“I will never hurt you again”

You stared silently, soaking in his presence, and a moment later, a small smile stretched across your lips. Donghyuck pulled you in for another heated kiss causing you to let out a small moan before pulling away slightly.

“You promise?” voice still shaky from the kiss.

Donghyuck grinned, his hands moved to your waist. There was a brief moment of discomfort as he lifted you onto your bed, but your objection was quickly silenced once you regained your balance.

You couldn't help but giggle at the boyish grin on Donghyck’s face as he looked at you from between your legs.

“I promise” he spoke as his hands traced the edges of your panties underneath your dress, teasing you and leaving you desperate for more.

A mischievous grin spread across Donghyuck’s face as he slowly began to slide your panties down, revealing more and more of your skin. You bit your lip, enjoying the sensation as he removed the final bit of fabric.

Donghyuck’s hands quickly moved to hook your legs around his waist, and you felt his fingers move towards your wet core. He teased you for a few minutes before moving his fingers up your slit, one finger brushing against your clit.

You moaned softly, biting your lip as you tried to keep yourself from making too much noise. You couldn’t help yourself though, the sensation overwhelming you as he began to circle your clit.

The sensation was so intense you couldn’t help but squirm beneath Donghyuck, his lips leaving a trail of kisses up your clothed stomach. His fingers slowed and he looked up at you. “Shh…” he whispered, lowering his head to your chest, kissing your exposed skin as you tried to regain control of yourself.

For a few moments you could barely breathe, light kisses upon your skin driving you wild. You could feel his cock pressed against your leg, and could tell it was straining against his pants.

“You are so gorgeous,” Donghyuck spoke softly as he moved up your body. His lips pressed against yours, his fingers teasing your clit as he moved his hand away.

Your lips were breathing heavily against his, your hips bucked as you felt him tease your clit again. You began to breathe hard, hot breaths gusting between your lips and his. "I love you” he repeated as his lips moved to your neck. He bit your neck, his lips sucking just hard enough to leave a mark.

You moaned softly as you moved your hands to his pants, fumbling with the button before pulling them and his underwear down so he could step out of them.

You felt his cock pressed against your skin, and you couldn’t help but reach out for it. You could feel his shaft pulsating against your hand as you stroked it.

Donghyuck let out a small grunt, his hips bucking into your hand as you teased the head of his cock. “goddamn” he moaned as you pulled him closer.

“I want you inside me. You could feel his shaft twitch in your hand as you said the words, your fingers tightening around the shaft as you moved to stand in front of him.

You pulled your dress over your head, tossing it to the floor as you reached behind your back to unclasp your bra. The garment fell to the ground, your breasts exposed to Donghyuck’s hungry gaze.

Donghyuck reached up, taking your breasts in his hands. He gently laid you back on the bed, his hands moving from your breasts to your hips.

You waited with heavy breaths as he finished stripping down, your eyes eagerly scanning his chest and abdomen. Reaching for his cock again eager for him to be inside you.

Donghyuck quickly shifted his hips, slowly sliding his cock inside you. You let out a soft moan as he slowly filled you up. He began thrusting slowly, his thrusts growing stronger and deeper.

He moaned loudly as he thrusts inside you, letting you slowly push against him. His thrusts were desperate.

As he felt his climax coming he reached down to grab your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. The connection between you intensified, your bodies moving in perfect sync. It was a dance of pleasure and desire, each movement bringing you closer to that sweet release.

As his thrusts became more urgent, his hips snapped against yours with a hunger that matched your own. The room filled with your moans and the rhythmic sound of skin slapping together. Time seemed to blur as the world around you vanished.

Your nails dug into his back, leaving red trails as he drove deeper into you. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, dragging you deeper into the abyss of ecstasy.

Donghyuck's breath grew ragged against your ear as he moved faster, chasing his climax with fervor. His grip on your hand tightened, his body trembling with anticipation.

You arched your back as you felt yourself approach climax, your hands gripping the sheets as you sought more friction. Donghyuck’s pace quickened, his cock sliding in and out of you as you felt your orgasm approach.

Your body tensed as you came closer and closer. You cried out, moaning his name as he kissed you. “Donghyuck!”

Donghyuck’s thrusts grew more and more erratic. He began to let out a series of moans as he continued to thrust. He groaned loudly, your walls tightening around his cock as he continued to thrust. You could feel his cock twitch as he came, his cum filling you up.

Donghyuck’s cock slid out of you as the two of you came down from your orgasm. You curled up against him, his arms wrapping around you as you kissed him.

“I love you too.” you whispered, kissing his lips softly. You rested your head against his chest, and for the first time in a long time, you fell asleep without any worries.

The morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. Donghyuck stirred, his eyes slowly fluttering open. He blinked sleepily and focused on the beautiful sight in front of him--your peaceful face, bathed in gentle morning light.

As he realized your arm was still snugly wrapped around him, a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. The night before had been filled with whispers, laughter, and tender kisses shared between you both. And in this quiet moment, as the world outside continued to awaken, Donghyuck felt an overwhelming sense of contentment.

Leaning in closer, he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. His touch was feather-light, melting away any lingering traces of sleep from your mind. You stirred slightly, a drowsy smile playing on your lips as you looked up at him.

"Mmm, good morning," you murmured, your voice filled with warmth and affection.

"Good morning," Donghyuck replied, his voice low and husky.

His fingers gently traced the contours of your face, his touch so tender it sent shivers down your spine. As you peered into his eyes, you could see the love that radiated from within him. It was in those moments when the world was still and quiet, that you truly understood the depth of his affections. Donghyuck was not one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but in these stolen moments, he bared his soul to you.

taglist: @yesohhsehun @numberonekeehostan @rjreins @yutaswh0re @haechansbbg @fullsunahceah @sundamariis @sinsgaybutthatsokay @nae-vm @hcheach @snflwrhaerecs4u @jenodreamer @mystverse @lhcread @onlyoursol-ace @enchantingtreedrea @jaeimjaemin @justforme211 @jakejaehyun @nk-3554 @hyunniesvlog @bbyjayb @nodisdino @qwonii-111 @pwarkkjisung @wettestpoussy @bomi-ja

(srry if i forgot you or if it didnt tag you)

#nct dream #nct dream x reader #nct dream au #haechan #donghyuck #haechan smut #haechan x reader #haechan fluff #haechan angst #donghyuck smut #donghyuck x reader #nct dream smut

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ghostofhyuck · 2 months

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NCT Dream who has a crush on you (high school edition.)

AN: This is Dreamies' POV from my other scenario! You can check it here to understand the context more. <3

Mark Lee

His first encounter with you was when you went to the faculty room to give your homeroom teacher your class' papers which you collected. Turns out Mark was there to talk to his homeroom teacher. Both of you made eye contact, and Mark being Mark, smiles at you in which you replied with a timid one. Mark found you cute but never had the guts to approach you because you two never bumped into each other the following days. Up until now, he still daydreams about that cute junior of his.

Huang Renjun

You've been classmates with Renjun for a long time and at first, he doesn't notice you at all, really. Until the following year, he just found himself drawn to you. Glancing at you or whenever you passed by him, his eyes just follows you. He's too shy to approach you but he's very entrailed by your beauty. What you don't know is that when you're busy staring at him doodling something at the back of his notebook, Renjun's actually sketching you! Your eyes, face, and your smile. Slowly, you became his muse.

Lee Jeno

OH. OH!!! This is a painful mutual pining apparently. Jeno likes you WAYYYY back then, but he just keeps it all by himself because he thinks he doesn't stand a chance on you. You two have interacted a few times, during group projects where you two are groupmates but that's it. He can count in his fingers the many times you two talked, and sometimes he blames himself for being quiet and awkward that he couldn't muster up the courage to talk to you. :< he's scared that you might be weirded out by him! (no you're not oh my god jeno!!!)

Lee Donghyuck

Sometimes, Haechan just wants to confess to you at any moment when it's just the two of you. When he's walking you home, or when you two are in a convenience store holding ice cream, or maybe during prom, where he was your prom partner. BUT Donghyuck's afraid of ruining your friendship so he just takes care of you in the most possible way without you thinking that he likes you. It's great thing that you're oblivious with his actions. Not noticing that he always have heart eyes on you.

Na Jaemin

Probably the one that knows you have a crush on him because the way you act around him is different from the way you act around guys. And yes, he was celebrating deep inside that the feelings are mutual. Probably won't make a move quickly because he doesn't want to rush things but hey, it's a perfect opportunity for him to get closer to you. He often tease you and is very flirty with you!! He couldn't help it, not when you act shy around him. Oh he's just controlling himself to not hug you right there!

Zhong Chenle

"Hey Chenle, yn's here," Chenle's teammate pointed out. Chenle will curse internally, not his crush watching his game. He thought that your sport is on the same schedule with his match, but looks like it's done already. Chenle was quick to concentrate but he seems more pumped up today compared to his other game, probably because you're there. He has to impress you. That's why he's more active than usual. Scores the most and hypes the crowd too. His team mates keep on teasing him that it's because of you. He denies it though lol.

Park Jisung

I think that Jisung became part of the dance club not only because he has passion for dancing but because he wants to impress you. He's at that phase where he thinks dancing can impress the girl he likes and yeah, he's right about that. So whenever he dances for a school event, he makes sure that he does his best because he never know whether you're watching him or not. ALSO, I think that he's quite popular because of his dancing but he's a shy student when he's not dancing, so he avoids contact whenever you two ran to each other!!!

#nct dream #nct imagines #nct dream fic #nct fic #nct x reader #nct #nct dream imagine #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct dream reactions #nct dream imagines #nct drabbles #nct mark #nct jeno #nct renjun #nct jaemin #nct haechan #nct chenle #nct jisung

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liveandyouwillsee · 1 month

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your nct dream keychains are so cute! 🥰

thank you!! I made them myself 🥹💛💖

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starsstuddedsky · 1 year

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Persimmon Problems

jaemin x reader

summary: fantasy crushes are all fun and games until it stops being a fantasy and he’s really talking to you. but what are you supposed to do when he invades every part of your life?

genre: fluff, angst, university au, non idol au, he’s not a frat boy but he’s basically a frat boy, inaccurate depictions of student council, I don’t actually know what this is

warnings: swearing, drinking, implied sex (it’s pg-13), lmk if I missed any

wc: 18.3k (oops)

a/n: ahahaha remember that jaemin dream… yeah. anyways so I’ve looked at this for so long that I don’t even know what this is anymore, all I know is that I can’t keep working on it. also I still don't know what a persimmon tastes like so.. yeah. I really wanted to try one but if this stays in my drafts any longer I will go insane. I hope you all enjoy!!!! as always I'd love to hear what you think :)

You’ve never had persimmon before but you think maybe it’s the best word to describe Na Jaemin. He is a persimmon in your palm, an unknown flavor to be discovered if you dare to bite. It doesn’t help that he chose to wear orange today, the sweater a shade away from pink.

There’s a pinch at your side. “You’re staring again.”

You glare at Renjun, who doesn’t bother to look up from his laptop, working on the graphic for the student council. “Was not.”

“Whatever,” he says. “Just don’t let the pretty boy distract you from paying attention because I needed to finish this yesterday.”

“The only one distracting me is you, and you aren’t pretty.” You pretend his silence is agreement instead of him trying to force you to take notes as Professor Bae closes up the lecture.

It’s not that you can’t focus around Na Jaemin–your perfect notes at the end of class prove just the opposite. Jaemin simply exists in another world. There is your corner, mostly filled with student council responsibilities and never ending university work, and there is Na Jaemin, honorary member of every frat on campus. Not that you’ve been thinking that much about him, but his Instagram shows up in your recommended often enough for you to know that he goes to parties nearly every weekend. The sliver of overlap in the Venn diagram of your world and his only includes Microbiology on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 1 to 4, and that’s enough for you. To fantasize about him from here, a fruit you’ll never have the opportunity to try.

Jaemin starts to turn around and you quickly turn to Renjun, resisting the urge to peek at him out of the corner of your eye. You look at the shapes on Renjun’s computer instead.

“That looks like shit.”

“Trust the process,” he says.

“You spent the entire lecture working on this, you are aware we have a lab where you actually have to do things right?”

“You don’t think you can handle it on your own?”

“Stop trying to bait me into doing all the work.” You close your laptop, standing and stretching. You see Jaemin out of the corner of your eye, a blob of black hair shuffling down the aisle toward the door to the classroom. The orange-pink sweater is actually a cardigan, large cream colored buttons keeping it together. That’s when you realize you’re staring again. Shit.

“Are we eating before lab or do you seriously think you’ll finish that thing in the next thirty minutes?” You ask Renjun, who still hasn’t moved.

“You want to be president when you aren’t even pressuring me into posting the election announcements that were supposed to go out yesterday?”

“I want to eat something before we have to stare into microscopes, so what do you want?” You wonder if he’s focused enough to miss you grabbing his wallet out of his bag.

“Whatever you want is fine and if you use my card it will literally decline.” You curse and toss his wallet back into his backpack.

“Should have taken that class with Chenle, his card never declines.”

“That’s because it’s his parents’ black card.” He finally looks up from his laptop at you. “Are you getting the food or not?”

You open your mouth to say something extremely witty and/or smart, but your stomach rumbles. “I’m going to fire you when I’m president.”

“And who else will put up with your bullshit?” he calls as you walk down the aisle. You prepare a mature response (sticking your tongue out at him), walking backwards. Directly into someone—bouncing off their chest, more specifically.

Hands grab your shoulders before you can react, straightening you before you have a chance to fall. “Woah there.”

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry,” you say as you turn around and find Na Jaemin staring at you. Apologies spill out, even as he smiles at you, a true, knees-to-jelly, threat-to-sunshine smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says.

“Sorry,” you repeat. Your brain struggles to diversify its vocabulary with him looking at you, smiling with his eyes in full focus. His eyes are so dark it’s difficult to distinguish between his pupils and his irises. Staring, again, the third time in an hour. Why can’t you be normal around him?

“I was blocking your way out anyway, so it wasn’t all your fault.” He steps back, letting you out of the aisle. At least, giving you the space to do it, since your feet decide not to work. He tilts his head at you, sending your brain into a spiral of predictions, ranging from he’s going to ask you out (rather fantastical) to he’s going to tell you that you have something stuck between your teeth (horribly realistic).

Instead, he says, “You’re YN, right?”

“Yeah. How did you know that?”

His smile widens when you say yes. “Student council vice president, right?”

You don’t trust your voice so you nod.

“I’m Jaemin,” he says, extending his hand for a moment like he wants to shake hands but he pulls away at the last second. “Your picture is on the website.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say, mouth going through the motions on its own since your brain’s whiteboard has been wiped completely clean. The only thing left is NA JAEMIN in giant bold letters, bright red marker and all.

“Yes, it is,” he says. Does he know the effect his smile has on people? Legally it could be considered a weapon. He pauses a moment longer, like he wants to say something else but instead he turns away, walking back to his seat, waving at half the class because of course he does.

You don’t have to turn around to feel Renjun staring at you. You don’t feel like hearing his judgy comments, even when they’re only passed on through his eyes. Whoever said eyes are the window to the soul was right—Renjun’s give you a clear view of the most judgmental person you have ever met. You leave the class without looking back.

Very few places nearby campus sell edible food, and even fewer are ever empty enough to be able to grab food and eat before the three hour lab starts. Today is even worse than normal, as if everyone has chosen to be hungry at the same time as you. You end up at a 7/11, grabbing Takis since they’re the only chips Renjun will eat. You grab an iced tea, tapping your finger in line as you wait. Getting the food was enough of a distraction to keep you from thinking about Jaemin but as you wait for the person in front of you try to get a discount using a coupon that expired three months ago, you go over every millisecond of the interaction–and god, you were so awkward. All you really did was apologize to him, you couldn’t even move. You have got to grow up, stop acting like a middle schooler with a crush.

The cashier finally gives up, giving the person a discount and waving them out. You set your food down and smile at her. She does her best to put a customer service smile back on her face, though you can see the exhaustion. You thank her as profusely as you can.

By the time you make it back to the lecture room, there’s barely five minutes left of break.

“Thank god, I’m starving,” Renjun says, grabbing the bag out of your hands. You keep your iced tea on the side farthest from him, glaring at him until he tilts the bag so that you can reach it too. “We are going to make Donghyuck cook tonight, I need real food.”

“Agreed,” you say, covering your mouth with your hand so you don’t spew hot chip dust everywhere.

“And I took pictures of you embarrassing yourself in front of Jaemin, so please try to replace me as your social media correspondent.” He smiles at you over the purple bag.

“You’re horrible, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Music to my ears, sweetheart.”

Unfortunately, Renjun’s graphic does look good, though still not good enough to warrant how much time he spent on it. The messy shapes don’t look half as bad when they’re the right color, and all the information is listed (not in Comic Sans, though it’s only a matter of time before he tries to use it again. You have yet to find out if he actually likes the font or just wants to be annoying). He posts it an hour after the lab, which wasn’t half bad. Your percent error was under 50% for once.

It’s a Friday morning, no classes since your university actually listened to the student requests for a three day weekend, which the student council (you) takes full credit for. Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean you are responsibility free. Instead you sit in cheap plastic chairs rented from the events and planning committee and under a tent that’s in serious danger of blowing away.

You cling to your ball cap, NCIT STUDENT COUNCIL embroidered on the front. The papers in front of you whip around, the weights on top of them holding steady. At least it isn’t raining, though the thick clouds overhead get darker every minute.

Realistically, there’s no reason for you to be here. All the information about running for student council is posted online and with over 30,000 students, only a small portion of the student body actually care—none of whom are walking around campus at 11 in the morning on a Friday. You pull the blanket tighter over your shoulders. Just another fifteen minutes and then Jisung will relieve you. Mark should be the one freezing his ass off since he’s the one that insists on upholding tradition, but as president he takes advantage of avoiding work whenever he can.

Only two and a half months before that privilege is yours. Assuming you are elected, of course, but there’s no real danger in losing that. You’ve been a part of the council since freshman year, appointed as vice president as a sophomore. Few people have more qualifications, and fewer are actually interested in the position. Usually the competition comes from within the cabinet, but none of the rest of the guys have said anything about the running, though that might be because you haven’t shut up about the position since freshman year. Either way, the position is all but yours, and there is absolutely no reason you need to sit here when you could be studying for midterms.

A strong gust of wind blows from in front of you instead of behind and this time you are too slow. Your cap flies off your head, tumbling across the empty quad. You shuffle after it, keeping the blanket wrapped tightly over your shoulders, which helps protect you from the cold winds. Unfortunately, said cold winds don’t stop blowing, and your hat blows faster than you can shuffle. It reaches to the sidewalk on the opposite side of the squad by the time it finally stops.

Moving as fast as you can wrapped up one dry day away from mummification, you try to snatch the cap before it gets blown away again. You bend down to reach for it but a pair of sneakers appear in front of you and a mitten-clad hand grabs it before you can. You stand up and find Jaemin, wearing bright red earmuffs that have a green headband to make it look like a pair of cherries. He holds your hat out, smiling when he sees you (when he recognizes you?).

“What’s wrong? Hat got your tongue?” He waits, with an expectant smile. The boy next to him, wearing more layers than you, shakes his head. “Sorry,” Jaemin says, “bad joke, I know, but I couldn’t help it.”

Even the most lovesick part of you can’t defend him on that one. You take your hat from his outstretched hand, sticking it back on your head when you realize what your hair must look like after crossing the quad with all the wind.

“It’s Jaemin, from microbio,” he says, as if there’s actually a chance you don’t know him.

“Thanks, Jaemin from microbio.”

He flashes a smile that warms you better than any sun. “My pleasure, Vice President.”

“You can just call me YN,” you mumble.

“Where’s the fun in that?” You swear he winks, though maybe it’s the wind blowing in his eyes.

The boy next to him nudges Jaemin with his shoulder, keeping his hands tucked safely in the pockets of his jacket. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

Jaemin rolls his eyes. “This is Jeno, he’s–God, I guess he’s my best friend.” He glances at Jeno, unimpressed. “The position is temporary.”

“Thanks!” Jeno says brightly.

“Jeno, this is the vice president of the student council,” he says.

“YN,” you say, “I’d shake your hand but…” You show your hands, stuck keeping the blanket wrapped around you.

“It’s alright, I lost my gloves, so my hands are stuck here.” Jeno lifts his jacket with his hands in the pockets, just to prove his point.

“Hey, I didn’t get a handshake,” Jaemin says.

“Did you need a handshake?”

He tilts his head, showing off his jawline, not that you’re paying attention to that at all. It simply calls attention to itself, and who are you to ignore a jawline that could have been sculpted by Michelangelo (not the ninja turtle). He must be cold with so much skin exposed.

“I’ll settle for some advice,” Jaemin says. Right, maybe you shouldn’t be comparing his face to famous works of art mid-conversation (save it for the Instagram stalking like everyone else).

“Advice?”

“I was actually looking for you anyway.” Jaemin glances at Jeno before meeting your eyes again. “The student council election is open to anyone, right?”

“The presidency is open to seniors that are enrolled here, but yeah,” you say. “Why?”

He shrugs. “I’m going to apply.”

You blink at him. “For president? Of student council?”

“Yeah,” he says. Jeno shuffles beside him, stuffing his hands impossibly deeper into his pockets.

President… but that’s your position. If it wasn’t for the senior-only rule, you’d already be president. You rose through the ranks, suffered through a vice presidency with Mark to get here–it’s your position.

“Do I apply there?” He asks, pointing at the table you’re supposed to be sitting at.

“The application is online,” you find yourself saying, “you have to submit a resume and go through a qualifying process, and submit your proposals for campaign policies and a whole bunch of other stuff, it’s all on the application information.” You’re about halfway through your own application, though it’s mostly copying and pasting from the document you’ve been working on since you joined student council.

“You can scan the QR code on this blanket, it’ll take you to the application.” You hold it straight, cursing Renjun in your head for being so creative with marketing. You look like an idiot, waiting for him to scan your shoulder.

“Cool,” Jaemin says, pulling out his phone, but instead of scanning the code, he hands it to you, a new contact profile with your name already in it. You glance between the phone and the smiling boy. “Can I ask you if I have any questions?”

Jaemin is asking you for his phone number. To help with his campaign, against you. Your brain works in overdrive, trying to determine how you are supposed to feel. Your heart doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of the internal turmoil. You put your number into his phone and hand it back to him.

“Sure,” you say, even as your brain screams at you not to. “Whatever I can do to help.”

He grins and your brain fully malfunctions, gears popping, cartoon sparks flying. “Thank you, YN.”

“No problem,” you mumble, knowing that’s not true at all even without a functioning brain cell. You should have let him call you vice president when you had the chance–this is so much worse.

“I should go back,” you say, taking a step backward, a gamble considering your history of walking backwards around him. Trying not to linger in Jaemin’s presence is like a planet resisting the pull of gravity to the sun–no matter how hard you try, you can’t beat physics.

But maybe he isn’t the sun because when you take another step, Jaemin takes a step to follow you. Are there stars that revolve around planets? But Jaemin doesn’t revolve around you, he doesn’t even exist in your solar system. Maybe a black hole is a better metaphor, sucking you in from a galaxy over. You should stop making metaphors based on middle school astronomy.

You peer at Jaemin as he continues across the quad, walking leisurely beside you as you shuffle. Jeno trails behind slightly, risking the cold to pull out a phone.

“Are you following me?”

Jaemin looks at you over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows. “You think you’re that special already?” Before you can answer, he laughs. “But, yeah, I am. I can’t leave you all by yourself out here, anything could happen.”

“As opposed to by myself at the table?”

He shrugs. “There’s two chairs. I could sit with you.”

It’s your turn to raise your eyebrows, looking him up and down. He’s got a puffy jacket (bright red, probably to match with the earmuffs) and jeans. “You’d freeze in five minutes.”

“You could–”

“Are we going to Doyoung’s or not?” Jeno calls from behind you.

“Right,” Jaemin says, “I definitely did not forget about that.” He glances at you. “Rain check?”

“I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunities for you to keep me company freezing my ass off,” you say, “but seriously, I wouldn’t let you stay anyway.” You reach the table, turning to face him.

Jaemin pouts. “Why not?”

“For starters, I don’t want to be responsible for the hypothermia you’re bound to catch,” you say, “and it’s a student council thing. You’re not a part of the student council.”

“Not yet.”

Right. The standard, crush-threatening-the-dream-you’ve-spent-three-years-working-toward-situation. “Also, no offense, but I barely know you.”

“Offense taken,” Jaemin says, holding a hand over his chest. “We’ve taken half a class together!”

“We’ve spoken twice if you count today!” You say. Does he really not get it? “At the very least it would be awkward.”

“I take full offense to the idea that I could ever be awkward,” Jaemin says. He folds his arms over his chest, eyeing you. “I’ll prove it to you.” Your gut twists, sending off the warning bells, but there’s no way Jaemin is actually flirting with you. He probably hates the idea that someone doesn’t immediately trust him with their heart and soul. He doesn’t need to know that you already do. That’s why there’s simply no way he’s flirting with you–it simply doesn’t make sense.

“Dude, we seriously need to go,” Jeno says. “Doyoung is spam texting.”

Jaemin wiggles his eyebrows at you. “I’ll see you in class.”

“Bye Jaemin,” you say. You watch him walk away with Jeno, throwing his arm over his friend’s shoulders. He doesn’t look back at you.

What just happened?

Jisung approaches so quietly you jump when you turn around and he stands in front of you. “Was that Na Jaemin?”

“Yes–wait, how do you know him?”

Jisung avoids your eyes, turning to watch the pair of boys trudge away. “Renjun talks.”

You’re going to kill him. But first you need to defrost, so you hand the blanket over to Jisung and jump a few times to warm yourself up, trying in vain to make up for the loss.

“What was he doing here?” Jisung asks, wrapping himself so tightly his feet are bound together. One strong push would send him tumbling over, probably unable to get up. If only it was Renjun.

“He wants to be president.”

“Of student council?”

“Apparently.”

“Huh.” Jisung sits back. “Aren’t you supposed to be president?”

“Yep.”

“Huh.” Jisung stares at you.

“Have fun!” You say. The air without Jaemin is so much colder. Maybe your toes have frostbite. “It’s cold!”

Jisung grunts, huddling down and you don’t spare a second look at him. There’s a solid chance he’s texting Renjun already, since your best friend has decided to be a dirty gossip. You walk along the sidewalk and try to tell your heart that no matter how pretty his smile is, Na Jaemin is bad for you. Your heart reminds you that he saved your hat.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull it out, fully expecting to see a message from Renjun but instead a string of numbers show up. you better save my number :). You stare at your phone until it fades to black, which is why you know the exact moment it starts to snow. Though it’s March and the groundhog didn’t see its shadow, a snowflake falls on your phone, melting quickly. You walk home in the snow, thoughts of Jaemin piling up a snowbank that no plow can clear.

For breakfast on Tuesday morning, you have an untoasted bagel with a side of impending doom. You woke up with the feeling, a knot in your gut that usually only appears before exams or after you drink too much coffee, but today has chosen to warn you of unknown horrors yet to come. It has to be the dream you had, only you forgot it the moment you woke up.

[Bitch #1] You’re just trying to avoid jaemin.

You don’t know why you expected Renjun to support you. Unsurprisingly, he found out about Jaemin’s intent to run for president before you made it back to your apartment, and dedicated an hour to lecturing you over FaceTime, then spent the entire pregame on Saturday side eyeing you.

Jaemin’s message sits at the bottom of your recent texts. He hasn’t sent anything since Friday, though neither have you. You close your phone and try not to think about him, an impossible task. In the end you can’t think of a valid excuse, and go to your morning lecture. It’s one of your favorite classes (world history of medicinal developments 1200-1600) but today your mind drifts, still trying to figure out why today feels so off. Are you forgetting an assignment? You’ve checked the syllabus for all of your classes and the reminders your professors sent out but nothing has slipped past your the list on your planner. You check your outfit after class to see if you put something on backwards but you look fine. By the time you head toward microbio, you’ve resigned yourself to a day of inexplicable anxiety.

You should have trusted your gut.

You take one step into the room and the knot in your gut twists itself into a mess that spells out leave now while you still have the chance.

In your normal spot at the back of the classroom, sitting beside Renjun, sits Jaemin, grinning and waving at you like he’s been sitting there the entire semester.

You walk carefully down the aisle of desks, stopping in front of him. “You’re in my seat.”

Jaemin doesn’t seem to notice Renjun’s snort, opting to smile at you. “Hello YN, it’s nice to see you.”

“Hi Jaemin,” you say, “you’re in my seat.”

He rolls his eyes, sliding his backpack to the side and slipping into the next seat over. “I was just getting to know Renjun.”

You glare at your best friend, sitting beside him. “I’m sure he’s been lovely.” Renjun smiles innocently, turning back to photoshopping a graphic of the student council.

Jaemin pulls out his laptop, sitting leaning back into the chair. Is he planning on sitting here for the whole class?

“What are you doing?” You ask softly. Renjun continues to click around, not even pretending not to eavesdrop.

“I told you, I could never be awkward,” Jaemin says.

“Speak for yourself,” you mutter, shrinking in your seat. Does he really not notice the class staring at you? Okay, maybe staring is an exaggeration, and it’s not the whole class, but the people he normally sits with keep glancing back at you and whispering to each other.

Professor Bae walks in and they turn back to the front, saving you from (more) embarrassment. From the corner of your eye, you watch the boys at your sides—Renjun doesn’t bother to open the notes doc he shares with you, opting for continuing the edit, which you can’t really complain about because it’s the series of posts you asked him to make. Jaemin pulls up a cartoon series, Teen Titans, volume off with the subtitles on.

“Is this what you do every class?” You whisper.

Jaemin looks away from his fake typing for a moment. “She grades for attendance, not participation.”

“Are you even passing this class?”

Jaemin grins. “Sweetheart, I skew the curve.” Just to prove his point, he pauses the bickering superheroes and pulls up the grade review for the class. True to his word, his scores are well above average, rivaling your own. With the exception of Renjun, you haven’t met anyone who’s gotten similar grades.

Jaemin smiles, switching back to the show. He exudes confidence, and why wouldn’t he? Not only hot and popular, he’s smart too, smarter than you—it takes you hours of studying, exam cram sessions, paying attention in class—he doesn’t even hide that he isn’t paying attention, and from his reputation alone, you know he doesn’t spend as much time studying as you. Does he know what he’s getting into with student council? Even the laziest of presidents put in several hours of work a week.

Jaemin laughs at the show. Renjun finally glances at you, raising his eyebrows at Jaemin in a silent question. You shrug, mouthing, I don’t know either. He purses his lips and turns back to photoshop. You’re sure the second Jaemin steps away he’s going to be on your ass again.

Belatedly, you realize you’ve spent far too much of the class thinking about Jaemin. Professor Bae has already moved on from weekly announcements to new topics, meaning you have a date with YouTube review videos tonight. Thank god Professor Bae actually cares about her students and has recorded lectures. You just have to hope you didn’t miss one of the exam hints she only drops during class.

Jaemin and Renjun stay quiet for the rest of the class period, though it does little to help you actually focus. Between Jaemin existing next to you and the inevitability of Renjun’s judgment, it’s hard to stay focused on virus identification. You take half the notes you usually do.

But can you really blame it on them? It’s you that loses focus, you that is distracted by Jaemin beside you when he doesn’t actively try to pull your attention. He may have disrupted the balance of the universe by sitting beside you, but that doesn’t mean you have to fall off the scale.

Professor Bae announces the end of lecture a couple minutes early. You swear you see her raise her eyebrows at you and glance at Jaemin before disappearing into her office for the half hour break before lab. Is it too self-absorbed to wonder if she’s taking things the wrong way? But what is the wrong way? None of it makes any sense except that maybe Jaemin is too stubborn for his own good. Funny how a week ago he didn’t know your name and now you can say he’s ‘too’ something.

“So what do you normally do during break?” Jaemin asks. “Other than bounce off the chest of your roguishly handsome classmates.”

You roll your eyes to keep him from noticing how flustered his comment actually makes you. “Go over the prelab in case someone forgets to do it–”

“I always do it!” Renjun says.

“–but usually get snacks and do homework. Lately Renjun has been doing a lot of student council work during class, but that’s because he doesn’t know how to manage his time.”

“Says the one who asked me to design a scheduler for them.”

“Just because you’re good at Canva doesn’t mean you’re on top of your work.”

Renjun shakes his head. You can tease him all you want, at the end of the day, you know that it doesn’t really matter. The truth is, he just doesn’t need to study as much as you. Sort of like Jaemin, and absolutely nothing like you.

“What do you normally do during break?” You ask.

Jaemin purses his lips. “Well, my lab partner rarely does the prelab, so usually I let him look at mine.” From the row where Jaemin normally sits, a guy in a striped yellow polo glares back at you.

You glance between him and Jaemin, who turns away from his partner to look at you. “Should you go over there?”

“Probably.” He doesn’t make a move to get up, instead tilting his head and smiling at you a little. “You’re very interesting, YN.”

You cough, breaking eye contact to fiddle with the A key on your laptop which is in serious danger of falling off. “Well, your lab partner is probably going to try and inject you with a virus during lab if you don’t go over there.”

Jaemin laughs. “You’re probably right. I’ll talk to you later.” He stands up and glances at Renjun, who finally looks away from his laptop. Jaemin nods at him and flashes a smile at you, showing perfect rows of white teeth, and finally turns around, backpack half open in his hand.

You tear your eyes away from him, turning back to Renjun, who sits with his elbow on the armrest, chin in hand. He softens his eyes and looks up at you. “You’re very interesting, YN.”

“Shut up,” you say, pushing his elbow out from under him, though he doesn’t fall like you wish he would.

He shakes his head. “I do not like that guy.”

“Really?” You frown. “Why?”

“The fact that you’re even asking me that.” He sighs. “He’s just not my favorite type of guy.” He glares at you before you can tease him. “You seem to exclusively be attracted to shitty men, and then I become associated with them through proximity and it’s overall not a fun time for me.”

“Okay first of all, you barely know Jaemin,” you say, “and second of all, nothing’s ever going to happen with him.”

Renjun raises his eyebrows.

“Seriously,” you insist, “he’s literally Jaemin, and I’m… not his type. You can hate him all you want but don’t do it on my behalf.”

Renjun stares at you a little longer. He doesn’t believe you, and he’s probably right not to. But he turns back to his computer and doesn’t argue back.

“I didn’t do the pre lab, though,” Renjun says, “that was a lie.”

“I’m going to kill you and make it look like an accident.”

Jaemin doesn’t show up to class on Thursday. You stare at your phone, the single message in your conversation with him. Curiosity and something bitter boil together, making it impossible to think logically. He acts so friendly around you it would be easy to mistake him for a friend, but it’s not like you don’t have friends. You wouldn’t have a second thought about sending a text like this to Renjun or Donghyuck–but you’ve never felt butterflies when either of them looked at you.

So when your phone dies, you slip it into the pocket of your sweatshirt instead of trying to fight Mark for a charger (ever since “someone” stole one, he’s been overprotective of the cords). It’s movie night anyways, it’s not like you need your phone.

“Wait,” you say, “since when are we watching Endgame?”

“We literally just voted,” Donghyuck says, “You could have tied it for Lilo and Stitch but you weren’t paying attention.” He glares at you.

Mark throws an arm over your shoulders. “It’s all good, YN can just make the popcorn.”

“It’s hitting buttons on a microwave.”

“Oh, would you look at that, the movie’s starting!” Mark says, pushing you off the couch and towards the kitchen of his apartment. You glare at him, but the guys have made you watch Marvel movies enough times that you are glad for the excuse to escape any part of it. It’s bad enough you can hear it from the kitchen.

The shelves in Mark’s apartment are tall enough that he keeps a stool in the kitchen so that he can reach the highest of them. Of course that’s where he keeps his popcorn, so you jump as high as you can, snatching the box. Except you pull a little too hard and the box flies clean out of your hand, your feet slipping out from under you. You tumble to the ground, narrowly avoiding banging your head on the faux marble countertop.

A moment later, Donghyuck appears standing over you, box of popcorn in one hand. “You could have just used the stool.”

“That’s so much work.”

“And yet it keeps you off the floor.” He holds out his free hand and helps you stand. Your tailbone hurts a little but otherwise it seems you dodged major damage.

“You okay?” Chenle shouts.

“Fine,” you shout back. You wonder what the odds are that they’d let you bleed out to finish the movie—probably higher than what you want to calculate. At least Donghyuck is as anti-Endgame as you.

He sets the box on the counter, pulling the plastic off a bag and putting it in the microwave for five minutes. You would’ve just used the popcorn button but Donghyuck insists it tastes better this way. He turns around, leaning against the counter and studying you.

“So,” he says.

You raise your eyebrows. “‘So’ what?”

“So, Jaemin.” Donghyuck stares at you, eyes unreadable. He’s been like this ever since you met him—pulling people apart with his eyes and extracting the most important bits, all with a smile on his face. He knew Shotaro was going to drop out before Shotaro did.

“He’s…” A friend? A crush? The guy you wish would stay out of your life so you could keep daydreaming about him?

“He’s sort of famous,” Donghyuck says. “Or infamous, depending on who you ask.”

“And if I ask you?”

Donghyuck smiles like this is going according to his script. “He’s lots of fun to party with. I don’t know anyone that doesn’t like him.”

“But?” You jump when the first piece of popcorn pops.

Donghyuck pins you down with his eyes. “But he isn’t the boyfriend type. I mean, I’m not best friends with the guy, but it’s pretty obvious, and I talked to—”

“Stop.” You hold a hand up. “I know exactly what kind of guy he is, I’m not an idiot.”

“I’m not saying you’re an idiot, I just—”

“Donghyuck, I get it.” You stare back at him. “I really do, but I promise I know what I’m doing.” Okay, maybe that last part is a lie, but you know what you aren’t doing. You don’t expect a single thing from Na Jaemin.

“I heard he’s running for president.”

“Come on,” you say, “you think he can beat me?” Donghyuck raises his eyebrows. He won’t call you out on it, but he doesn’t have to. Your lie doesn’t even convince yourself. Jaemin has it all—grades, good looks, and, most importantly, popularity. Yes, he can beat you. Easily.

“Why are you helping him?”

“Jisung can’t keep his mouth shut, huh?”

“Renjun was actually the one that told me, but that’s not the point,” Donghyuck says.

“He hasn’t even asked for help,” you say, “and it’s not like I’m going to give up. I just…”

“You like him,” Donghyuck says. He raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to try to deny it but you won’t fight a battle that’s already lost. But you won’t admit it either.

“I know what I’m doing.”

Donghyuck chews on his lip for a moment. “Just be careful,” he says, “I do care about you. A little. Just a tiny bit. And from what I know, Jaemin is a good guy, but I don’t want you to get hurt because he isn’t what you want him to be.”

“Gross, stop acting like we’re friends,” you say.

“Never mind, I take it all back,” he says, “and I won’t be your vice president.”

“Too late.” You shrug. “You already signed a contract.”

“Fine, I’ll veto everything you propose.”

“You don’t have the power to do that.”

He tossed his hands up. “What is the point of being vice president?”

You beam at him. “Doing the shit I don’t want to do!”

Donghyuck opens his mouth to argue back but he pauses, sniffing at the air, and that’s when you realize the popcorn has long since stopped popping. Behind Donghyuck, smoke rises.

He curses, pressing the button to open the door only to take a wave of smoke straight in the face. At least the bag isn’t on fire. You laugh as he waved his hand in front of his face, coughing.

“Dude, what is that smell?” Mark shouts from the living room.

You spend half the movie bickering with Donghyuck while trying to get the sharp smoky scent out of Mark’s kitchen. By the time the Avengers have all the infinity stones again and are in the final battle, you are curled up on the floor with a blanket, the popcorn bowl confiscated by Chenle when he realized how much you and Donghyuck ate while making it (it sort of tastes like smoke anyways). Two Marvel movies later, Mark shakes you awake and sends you and the rest of the guys out.

You’re so tired by the time you get home, you plug your phone in and fall asleep. That’s why you don’t see the message until your alarm goes off the next morning.

[Na Jaemin] you busy?

For the past three weeks, you’ve tried meditation. Renjun swears by it, but you’ve seen him lose it over half a quesadilla, so it doesn’t exactly instill confidence in you. Still, you set aside ten minutes every morning to listen to the podcast he sent you. It’s meant to be calming, to connect you with yourself, and usually you do feel better, at least for a few minutes.

You peek at your phone, checking how much time in the lesson is left (3 and a half minutes). No new notifications.

Jaemin’s message gave you a heart attack when you woke up. He sent it at 8:12pm, probably right after your phone died. So seeing his message first thing in the morning woke you up pretty fast. You sent an apology that you definitely didn’t rewrite fifteen times, and now you wait.

But no, you’re meditating right now. Clearing your mind, not thinking about a single thing except the air that floods your lungs, letting your heart beat twice before releasing the air again. You peek your right eye open. No new notifications.

The narration ends and you sigh, laying back on your bed and checking your schedule for the day even though you’ve memorized it. In half an hour you need to be in the library to meet with your study group, then a council meeting, some space for lunch (which will undoubtedly end up crashed by Chenle or Donghyuck), then more homework in the afternoon. Tonight you’re supposed to go to a party thrown by one of Mark’s friends from grad school—depending on whether Renjun can find out if he’s a poli-sci major or not.

You jump when your calendar disappears and the incoming call screen pops up. You stare at Jaemin’s name for a couple seconds before your brain begins to function again, and you slide the button at the bottom of your phone to answer the call.

“Hello?”

“YN,” Jaemin says. His voice is a little deeper than normal, raspy like he just woke up. “I was starting to think you’d blocked me.”

“Sorry, my phone died last night and Mark doesn’t let anyone use his chargers.”

Jaemin laughs, the phone distorting the quality, sounding choppy and un-Jaemin. “Damn, does the student body know he treats his council like this?”

You laugh a little but can’t think of anything else to say. The silence stretches longer as Jaemin doesn’t speak either. The ceiling of your apartment has a constellation of holes, evidence of the former tenant’s antics. You have yet to figure out exactly what it could be—stabbing the ceiling with a broomstick? What does Jaemin’s ceiling look like? He’s so hard to pin down, like the more you get to know him the less he makes sense. He’s the type to have a messy room with clothes tossed everywhere and a bed that’s never made, yet he’s also the type to keep it neat, put up diagrams to match the college aesthetic of studying even if Jaemin himself is allergic to it.

“So,” Jaemin says, apparently realizing you aren’t going to say anything else. “I actually texted last night because I wanted to see you.”

You shove down the butterflies that spring up. “For what?”

“First of all, it’s cruel that you don’t think I’d want to see you just to see you. But also I was gonna ask to go over microbio together because I heard a rumor that Professor Bae talked about the final.”

“Don’t you have a lab partner?”

“Yeah, he’s who told me she talked about it. Unfortunately he’s worse at taking notes than me.” He pauses. “Besides, you’re much cuter.”

“Oh.” The butterflies breach containment, digging like madmen trying to escape your stomach.

“So are you free?”

Despite just checking your schedule, your mind goes blank. You frown, trying to remember what you’d just seen, and thank every deity that might exist that Jaemin can’t see your face right now.

“I’m free after the council meeting. How is 12:30?”

“Damn, council meetings on Fridays,” Jaemin says, “that works though. Meet you in the library?”

“We can use the council room on the third floor,” you say, “no one else will be there.”

“Okay,” Jaemin says, “see you soon, YN.”

“Bye, Jaemin.”

The butterflies have turned into zombies, rotting in your stomach and spoiling the leftover popcorn from last night. It’s just sharing notes. It’s just Jaemin. He’s just a boy from another world. The butterflies groan and demand chocolate.

Council meetings feel a little bit like the Magic School Bus series. The tagline plays in your head: A normal council meeting? With this group? No way!

Some of the blame can be directed towards having such an eclectic group of majors, Mark as the only true political science major. The rest of the group has been adamant about keeping the council safe from political science majors (how Mark doesn’t see the horrors of his classmates you truly don’t know). Another point towards Jaemin, being biochem and pre-med.

Though being a non-poli-sci major doesn’t mean he can handle the presidency. Mark can barely do that. Not that he’s a bad president. Though it sometimes feels like you do all the heavy lifting for him to take credit for, he does work hard. No, Mark’s problem isn’t his leadership—it’s that he doesn’t know when to give up.

The council meeting is long done but he continues to bicker with Donghyuck, who holds the entire student council hostage.

“It’s a proven fact,” Mark says. “How are you arguing with science?”

“Can science tell me what I feel?” Donghyuck folds his arms over his chest. His laptop has faded to black, the meeting notes long forgotten. “This isn’t about facts, it’s about my experience!”

You check your phone. The meeting has already gone over fifteen minutes. Any longer and Jaemin could walk in on a very not-empty room with Mark committing a crime against Donghyuck for saying that Froot Loops have individual flavors. Maybe it’s time to intervene.

“You’re just gaslighting yourself,” Mark says, “it’s not physically possible!”

“Well, you’re not physically possible!”

“That makes negative sense. I’m getting dumber listening to your attempts to argue.”

“Okay,” you say, standing up so quickly your chair falls back. “This isn’t council business anymore. All in favor of concluding the meeting?” According to the official rules, Mark is the only one that can conclude the meeting, but Jisung’s hand flies up, followed quickly by Renjun and Chenle.

“Cool, majority rule,” you say, ignoring the outrage on Mark’s face. Donghyuck pretends to be mad too, but he was only arguing with Mark to piss him off. He’ll probably follow the older boy around just to ruin his day. The two always have some fight going on—you’re convinced the reason Donghyuck agreed to be your vice president (if you win) is just because Mark would hate it.

Jisung leaves first, eager to escape from Donghyuck and Mark. Donghyuck pauses long enough to write a few more summarizing notes on the meeting but catches up to Mark before he can vanish, continuing to pester him about Froot Loops.

“Going home,” Renjun says, “we’re going out tonight, by the way. Turns out Taeyong is an econ major, and also a former frat president.”

“Huh,” Chenle says, “I can’t believe neither Donghyuck or me know him.”

Renjun shrugs. “I need to finish a couple projects since nothing will get done tomorrow.” He grins. “See you guys later.”

“Bye Renjun,” you say, tapping your phone screen to check the notifications.

[Na Jaemin] in the library [Na Jaemin] lost in the library [Na Jaemin] nvm found the stairs

[yn] need me to come find you?

[Na Jaemin] nah i don’t get lost (yes please)

“You’re texting with Jaemin?” Chenle breathes over your shoulder, making you drop your phone. Unfortunately it’s still open, your messages easy to read and Chenle doesn't hesitate to snatch it. At least the rest of the guys left, only Chenle is nosy enough to wonder who you’re texting.

“This is painful,” he announces. He hands the phone back to you. “You could at least add an emoji. Or, like, send more than one sad message.”

“Why?”

Chenle shakes his head. “You are texting the Jaemin, right? Na Jaemin?”

“Is there any other?”

“You’ve got a chance here,” Chenle continues, ignoring your question. “Not many people—well, I’ve actually heard he’s quite experienced but that’s beside the point, because you have a chance and that’s rare.”

“Genuinely, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You glance at the door, just in case Jaemin appears. Somehow you don’t think you want him overhearing this conversation.

“Okay, look,” Chenle says, “you’re you. Student council, 4.0 GPA, plans to be the next director of the WHO or whatever—”

“That’s not at all what I want.”

“—never a second you aren’t working, and then there’s Jaemin, and sure he’s a STEM major too, but the he’s type that strolls through life, who has things fall into his lap because he’s hot and lucky but you can’t really be mad about it because he’s Jaemin.” He pauses, like that explains everything. But you already know that Jaemin exists in a realm outside your own. Chenle waits a moment longer then shakes his head. “You know what, you’ll figure it out eventually.” He glances at you with a frown. “Maybe.”

“Good bye, Chenle,” you say pointedly.

He moves extra slow, closing his laptop only after spamming the save button. He once forgot to save a spreadsheet after a two hour budgeting session and you think he’s still traumatized. Still, spending a full thirty seconds hitting CTRL + S is excessive even for him—he’s stalling, trying to be as nosy as ever.

“I’m meeting him at the elevator so you can stop stalling,” you say. You hover over the send button, Chenle’s “advice” infecting your brain. You hit send before you can overthink it any more.

[yn] on the way now 👍

Chenle sighs, returning to peeking over your shoulder. “You’re hopeless.”

You grin and give him a thumbs up. “Thanks buddy. If you hurry you can run into him in the elevators.”

Chenle perks up, grabbing his still-open bag and sprinting out the door. You feel a little bad for lying to him, but he was the one that didn’t read Jaemin’s messages closely enough—evident from missing the fact that he’s on his way up the stairs and how Chenle thinks he might actually be flirting with you. You shake your head at the thought.

Just when you reach the doorway to the stairs and wonder if you should meet him in the stairwell, the door flies open. Despite climbing three flights of stairs, Jaemin breathes normally. A different backpack than usual is sling over his back, bright orange, like… well, an orange. (Persimmon, your brain unhelpfully supplies).

“Hi,” he says. “Sorry I’m late.” You wonder how anyone is immune to his smiles. A smile like that robs you of everything irreplaceable and leaves you missing it as soon as it’s gone.

“You’re not late,” you say, showing him the time on your phone as you walk to the council room. “Exactly on time.”

“Oh.” He glances at you, and when you turn your phone back to face you, you understand the awkwardness.

[Chenle] good luck 🤪🤪🤪

[Chenle] have fun with the hottie 🔥🔥🔥

[Chenle] but not too much fun 😼😼

You clear your throat, praying he didn’t get a chance to read all of the messages. “Chenle’s just making fun of my emoji use. Or lack of emoji use.”

Jaemin nods. “I hate to take the side of someone I’ve never met over you, but he might be right.”

“I use a perfectly respectable amount of emojis,” you say. “Besides, I’ve never seen you use any.”

“You’re just going to have to text me more to find out.”

You’ve never been so happy to see the doors to the council room. It’s nothing more than a glorified study room, with a rectangular table that stretches in the middle of the room, eight wooden seats set around it. A giant whiteboard stretches the majority of the back wall. The only truly special part of the room is the projector that hangs from the ceiling, with a screen that needs a button to come down. The walls that line the hallway are glass, along with the doors, so that anyone can see the council discussions, though tucked away in the back corner of the third floor, only the occasional passerby is subject to the bickering.

Jaemin raises his eyebrows and whistles. “This is nice.”

“Don’t lie,” you say. “The only nice thing about it is that we have full access to it whenever we want.” You point to the sign that reads Student Council Members Only. Truthfully, the six of you use it more as a private study room than for actual council work.

“It is nice,” Jaemin says, holding the door open for you. He pauses in front of the whiteboard. Chenle had been sitting closest to it, apparently spending the final thirty minutes of the meeting drawing out different game plans for the basketball club he somehow has time for.

“Chenle,” you explain, “he thinks he’s a part of the Golden State Warriors.”

“How much council work actually gets done in these meetings,” he says teasingly.

“You catch on fast,” you say. “It took me the full first year to realize how incompetent we are.”

“How come?”

“The president just wanted resume padding. He was incredible at sucking up to faculty and making the right people think he was a great leader, but he would send us fresh-terns to pick up condoms and sent Donghyuck with a fake to get drinks once.”

“Fresh-tern?”

“The freshman interns,” you explain, “since the president is the only elected position and the rest of the council is appointed, the only way to get known is through the ‘internship,’ which technically is open to anyone but only freshman are dumb enough to dedicate that much time to a job that does absolutely nothing—like, it doesn’t pay or even guarantee you a spot on the council in the future. It’s all based on whether the president likes you or not.

“Anyway, our president last year was marginally better, and he tried to abolish the seniors-only president rule but couldn’t get it to pass in time, so we ended up with Mark. Not that Mark is a bad president, though council meetings could be half as long if he wouldn’t go on tangents every two minutes.” You stop, realizing how much you’re talking. You’ve come dangerously close to telling him the truth about the presidency. Jaemin says nothing, probably bored. “Anyways, we’ve got a few new initiatives this year but mostly we try to maintain the annual events and keep Mark’s head on his shoulders until he graduates.”

“Sounds like fun,” Jaemin says.

“Sometimes.” You pause. “How’s your application going, by the way?”

He glances at you, smile fading a little. He turns back to the whiteboard, this time studying the fading drawing Renjun made a month ago of a goat fighting Donghyuck. “Still figuring things out. Mostly working on my campaign goals.”

You nod. A part of you wants to press further, learn more about his plans—but because you want to beat him or because it’s Jaemin? Why is it so difficult to think clearly around him?

You sit at the table and open your laptop, pulling out your notes. He sits beside you, scraping the chair against the tile floors until his knee is an inch away from yours. He must not notice the way your breath catches in your throat when he leans closer. A moment later and your brain is invaded by his scent, a clean smell like laundry detergent or body wash.

“It’s organized by subject,” you explain. “Usually I take notes in class and then Renjun reviews and organizes it with keywords and highlighting and this coding system that I don’t really get but he swears by. Either way it works for us.” You show him the keyword that Renjun uses to signify exam hints, combining it with the past class’s date to cross reference the relevant information.

Jaemin lets out a low whistle. “This is crazy.”

“Yeah,” you say, “Renjun puts a lot of time into it. But when we study for exams, it’s worth it.”

“You know Renjun from student council?” He asks, beginning to type a few notes.

“I guess that’s where I met him first,” you say. “But he’s pretty much my best friend. The whole student council is pretty close, way closer than the group Mark came into. He tells us horror stories about how they made the fresh-terms compete just to turn them against each other, though that’s back when it was filled with poli-sci majors.”

“None of you are poli-sci?”

“I’m public health,” you say, “and Mark is poli-sci, but the rest of the guys avoided it. We swore that the next council would be free of the plague of poli-sci majors.”

“You really hate them?”

“They deserve it,” you say. “But also it’s because I made the mistake of dating one last year.” You shudder at the memory.

“Really?” Jaemin looks away from his laptop, staring at you instead.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you whine. “It was a moment of weakness and he confessed to me with cookies.”

“Not making fun,” Jaemin says. “Were the cookies at least homemade?”

“Well, yes.” You shake your head, trying to stop the next bit from coming out. But Jaemin raises his eyebrows and you can’t help it. “He had his ex make them, actually.”

“No!”

“Yeah, and then dumped me for them after, like, two weeks, and the guys are all convinced that he cheated on me with them,” you say. “So, no, I don’t really like poli-sci majors.”

“A good observation,” Jaemin says. His approval makes your cells glow—scientists could discover a new form of bioluminescence from within you.

Jaemin continues to stare at you, eyes full of warmth. It’s so easy to get lost in them, glancing between the pure dark chocolate and fond smile on his lips. The change in light when your laptop screen fades snaps you out of it.

You eye him. “Do you even need these?”

“Nope,” Jaemin says. He grins at you. “Just an excuse to see you.” He turns back to the laptop and continues to copy your notes into his document. You turn around, giving him no chance to see the smile that creeps onto your face. You seriously need to get a grip. Jaemin needs to get a grip and realize that he can’t flirt with you like this, not without completely upsetting the balance of the universe. But even as the world slides sideways, you smile.

“Nothing special.” That’s what Renjun said when you asked him what he wanted to do for his birthday. But March 23rd falls on a Friday this year, and everything snowballed from there.

That’s how you find yourself wearing an outfit even the most lenient parents would dub inappropriate, wearing more body glitter than exists in the state of Utah, taking your fifth shot.

“Sixteen more to go,” Renjun says, patting your back. Why you promised to match him shot for shot, you aren’t quite sure. You had reasoning, at some point. Definitely before the shots.

At least you aren’t alone—Donghyuck curls his lip after his shot, lime slice snatched out of his hand by Mark before he can take it as a chaser. Mark laughs as he grimaces.

“What’s our motto?” Donghyuck shouts.

“Two and three to infinity!” Mark shouts.

“Nobody goes to the hospital!” You shout.

“To the grave!” Renjun shouts.

“Huh, I guess we should have coordinated that,” Donghyuck says. “I was thinking something more like ‘happy birthday Renjun.’”

“Shoulda said something,” you say. You take a step to the couch, the world tilting to the side, though maybe it’s actually you because you stumble into the wall. It holds you up until you make it to the couch, sighing as you reach solid ground. A couple people sit next to you, friends of friends of Renjun whose names you don’t know regardless of the alcohol.

“You’re YN, right?” The girl closer to you says, making you feel a little guilty for having no idea who they are. She beams when you nod. “I live in Apollo Hall, Karina is my RA, she says you aced biochem.”

“Oh, yeah,” you say. “Who do you have?”

“Professor Ahn,” she says.

“He’s good,” you say, “I had him for a different class and he talks off topic all the time but if you visit him in his office hours once, he’ll remember and be more lenient on the research report. I can send you my notes, too, if you want.”

She smiles even wider. “Really?”

You nod, your brain sliding around your skull with the movement—not a good sign, only five shots into the challenge.

The music changes, a Britney Spears song that Donghyuck must have slipped into the rotation. The girl’s friend drags her up to dance before you get the chance to ask for her name.

Dancing sounds like so much fun, until you stand up and realize that you’ve been hydrated too well. Your bladder announces its need for attention much like the maintenance worker that fixed the leak in your shower—loud and last minute.

You push your way through the people crowded at the edge of the room, making your way to the hallway where the bedrooms and, more importantly, bathroom are. You pass by a semi-familiar face flirting with a girl from Renjun’s study group, but your bladder gives no time for your brain to make connections of recognition, let alone time to wave.

Finally, you break the crowd, ignoring the couple making out concerningly close to Donghyuck’s bedroom door (something you like to call “not my problem”). All your focus is on the door to the bathroom, a piece of lined notebook paper taped on with RESTROOM scribbled in marker. Just as you reach for the handle, the door swings inwards.

You might have caught yourself, two or three shots ago. Instead you tumble forward, the floor coming to meet you fast. And then you aren’t.

“We have got to stop meeting like this,” Jaemin says, laughing. He caught you by the elbows, your face pressed into his chest. He helps you straighten up, though he doesn’t let go of your arms.

“Jaemin.” You grin at him.

He tilts his head. “You’re drunk.”

“You’re pretty,” you say. Jaemin tilts his head and smiles at you. Endearing. Endearing, that Jaemin has an amused expression on his face. Like he is endeared by you. How funny.

But he really is pretty. He must be hot in the leather jacket, loose over his broad shoulders. Yes, those broad shoulders. He’s hot too. But first, he’s pretty. His black hair falls just above his eyes, loosely split down the middle, framing the perfect angles of his face–the perfect line of his nose, gentle curve of his cheekbones, that jawline–and of course those lips. Perfect lips.

Jaemin leans closer. “You’re prettier.”

You burst into laughter, stopping only when you snort. “You almost sound serious.”

Jaemin doesn’t say anything else, still smiling at you, only a couple inches of space between you. Ignoring those lips this close is impossible. They’re the prettiest shade of pink, and he must have put on lip balm–or maybe it’s the lighting–because they glow. What do they feel like? They have to be soft—you’d bet everything in your pocket (if these pants had pockets) he tastes sweet. Like a fruit, a yummy, juicy fruit, dripping with juice, which reminds you—pee.

You push past Jaemin, into the bathroom. “Need to pee.”

He catches his hand on the door before you can close it, frowning a little. “You’re not going to slip and crack your head open?”

“Nope,” you say. “Really need to pee.” He lets go of the door and you slam it shut, using one hand on the counter to steady yourself while you fumble with the lock. After an eternity, you finally get to the toilet, which, despite the number of people crowded in a house of two college guys, isn’t totally disgusting.

Two minutes, an empty bladder, and clean hands later, you push the door open. Your balance has improved just enough for you to feel confident in your ability not to die on the dance floor—and with perfect timing because Break Your Heart by Taio Cruz just started playing. You find Donghyuck in the middle of the room and join him, grinning when he cheers.

Renjun appears halfway through the next song, shots in hand. More of the tequila ends up on the ground than in your stomach by the time you knock it back but Renjun shouts, “Six!” anyways.

Another 2000s hit plays (it’s definitely Chenle’s playlist, which reminds you that you haven’t seen him in a while) and you get Renjun to stay on the dance floor for the full song. It’s hot and sweaty and you wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world.

Donghyuck cheers again, hyping up the people that join your little circle. You turn to see Jeno, wearing a piece of fabric that technically could be called a shirt though it really looks like a hole for his head that’s completely open at the sides except for the ties at the bottom. Beside him, and right next to you, Jaemin grins at you. He throws an arm over your shoulder, pulling you against his side.

“And I was like baby, baby, baby, oh!” You shout along with the song, vaguely aware of the rest of the guys singing along—except for Jaemin, who waits for Ludacris’s verse to come in to rap it word for word.

Renjun drags you away before the next song can start. “Number seven,” he shouts in your ear over the bass.

“What about Donghyuck?” You glance behind you where he starts a full performance, an empty water bottle as a microphone.

Renjun shrugs. “He’ll catch up.”

You watch Renjun struggle to pour the tequila, holding the bottle with two hands off the edge of the counter to get the mouth as close to the paper shot cups as possible. You can’t see how much tequila actually makes it into the cups but it burns its way down, sending your stomach spinning. Only a third of the drinks you are supposed to take with him but you’re already questioning the next round.

Renjun gets dragged away from you by some people you aren’t even sure are actually his friends, but you lose track of him when someone tugs on your hand. Jaemin, again. He lost his jacket at some point, wearing a shirt that matches Jeno’s, showing off his considerable arms. Even in the poor lighting from the strobe lights Donghyuck set up, you can see the definition in his biceps.

Yeah, you’re definitely staring.

Jaemin asks something but you can’t hear him over the music. You step closer, stumbling a little on your own feet. As always, he catches you, arm sliding around your waist.

“How are you doing?” He shouts over the music.

You grab his other forearm to keep yourself from falling over. “I’m so hungry.”

Jaemin leans closer, lips brushing against your ear. “Wanna get out of here?” You raise your eyebrows at him and he grins. “The McDonald’s, across the street?”

“I need French fries,” you say, letting go of his arm and spinning out of his embrace to face the door. He catches you before you can go too far (and fall on your face), looping his elbow through yours.

As soon as the door closes behind you, everything falls silent. Not everything, because you can still hear the bass from inside the house, and cicadas sing, and the highway is close enough to hear the rumbling of engines passing by. But quiet falls in the space between you and Jaemin, a breath waiting to fall free.

He doesn’t let go over your arm, using his other hand to brace the three steps in front of Donghyuck and Renjun’s place. He leans on you as much as you lean on him, magnets stuck to each other, except magnets don’t struggle to stay upright crossing an empty street. Maybe if they could get drunk.

The street light flickers above you, crackling electricity. You can feel Jaemin’s bare arm against yours, firm muscle held taut. You peek at the boy beside you, his head tilted to the sky. Pretty. You won’t say it again for fear of being repetitive, but it’s the right word for this moment. Not just Jaemin, but the chilly night air, the faulty light above you fighting with the neon lights to illuminate your breath. You’ll blame the alcohol in the morning, but tonight it’s all pretty.

Jaemin swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and he turns to meet your eyes. It’s definitely the alcohol but you don’t look away.

The crosswalk changes to the white man, beeping at you to cross the street. You tear your eyes away from him, settling for clinging to his arm to make it past the striped crosswalk illuminated by headlights.

You’re hardly the only drunk couple at McDonald’s. Jaemin notices you limping a little and drops you off in a booth, stumbling on his own to order. You must have done something dancing, though you don’t remember anything hurting. Your ankle hurts now, so you lean your head into your elbow and watch Jaemin’s back.

The fluorescent lights can’t make him look sickly. They show his arms in their full glory, open sides revealing enough of his body to make you self-conscious. The hint of a farmer’s tan dusts his arms, shoulders just a shade lighter than his forearms. Where did he get that from?

So many questions about him. So much to know. So little you do know but you like him so much it gets so hard to tell. What matters.

Jaemin puts his wallet into his back pocket, turning around and smiling when he meets your gaze. He slides into the seat across from you. “Potatoes are incoming.”

“Do you know what persimmons taste like?”

“What?” His brow furrows, a cute frown that makes you forget what you’d asked.

“Never mind,” you mumble. Opening your mouth any more around him is a dangerous game—you aren’t quite sure what will spill out.

He reaches out to tap his finger on your arm. Like the sun, being in his atmosphere makes everything warmer, his touch boiling your skin. The heat flows through your body, each cell vibrating with the need for something.

“You feeling okay?”

It takes considerable concentration to work past his finger, which has graduated to drawing shapes, and answer him. “Renjun wanted to do twenty-one shots for his birthday but seven is beyond enough.”

Jaemin whistles. “Is Renjun going to survive tonight?”

“Probably not,” you mumble. “That opens up a council position. You could be a good social media person. Your face is pretty enough.”

“Is that the only requirement for student council?” Jaemin asks. “Being pretty?”

“You can’t be a poli-sci major either,” you say, “which you pass. It helps that you’re smart, and kind. I like people that are smart and kind.”

“That’s a low bar,” Jaemin says. “What else do you like?”

“Hm…” Your voice rumbles, a funny feeling in the back of your throat. You hum for a little longer before you remember Jaemin asked you a question. What do you like?

“Sharks. They’re much cooler than dolphins. And potatoes, I love potatoes. I like Renjun. And Donghyuck. And Mark, even though he’s a poli-sci major. I like Chenle and Jisung. They might be my favorite people.” And you. I like you so much I don’t know how to say it.

“What about doctors?” Jaemin leans closer, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Do you like doctors?”

You lift your head up, pouting your lips at him. “Doctors have needles. I don’t like needles.”

Jaemin laughs. “Even if the doctor is super rich?”

“Rich? From taking all my money?” You cry.

“Rich from saving people’s lives,” he says. “Like a neurosurgeon.”

You squint at him, the blurriness of your eyelashes mixing with the blurriness of the alcohol and canceling out until his face becomes clear. “Are you actually pre-med because of Grey’s Anatomy?”

Jaemin looks away, running a hand to the back of his neck. “Maybe.” His biceps are almost enough to distract you from his admission. Almost.

“Oh my god.” You can’t hold back the giggles, trying to cover your mouth with your hand. Tears prick at your eyes and you gasp for breath, stomach twisting the alcohol with the giggles and turning over itself until you aren’t sure if you’re starving or need to throw up.

“It’s a perfectly respectable career!” Jaemin says.

“You want to be Patrick Dempsey?” You say between giggles. “Not even McSteamy?”

“Hey, he’s—wait, you watch it too?”

You shrug. “It’s fun.”

“Then how are you making fun of me!” He cries.

“I didn’t go into medicine because of it!”

Before he can say anything else, the workers shout a number. He glances at the receipt and shoots you a glare without a drop of malice in his eyes and leaves.

Jaemin being silly. Jaemin bickering with you. Hard to believe that even two weeks ago, you never would have believed he watched children’s shows in class and chose his profession because of a soap opera. Jaemin who keeps surprising you, who makes you want to believe that maybe he’s from the same planet as you after all.

He brandishes the brown paper bag in front of him like treasure. What does it matter that you’re grinning because of him and not the golden treats inside?

“For you,” he says, setting the bag in front of you and tilting it on its side so you can reach inside for the fries. “I didn’t know what sauce, so I fought… Okay, maybe flirted with the worker, but the important part is that I got one of each.” He pauses glancing at you. “Which apparently you don’t need.”

“So good,” you say, eating them properly: no sauce, just freshly fried golden perfection. You look up to find Jaemin smiling at you… fondly? Is that what’s in his eyes?

“What?”

He shakes his head. “You’re just cute.”

You stare at him, fry halfway to your mouth. He looks down, the tips of his ears tinted red as he grabs a fry and dips it in honey mustard.

The rest of your time at McDonald’s is dedicated to properly enjoying the French fries and not at all sneaking glances at Jaemin sneaking glances at you. You finish the fries long before the swirly feeling in your stomach goes away. The butterflies must be drunk too.

“Back to Renjun’s?” Jaemin asks, standing up and extending a hand for you to take. The most dangerous handhold of your life. You don’t think twice about taking it.

“Mm, I’m pretty tired,” you say, “and Renjun was pretty adamant about the twenty-one shots thing. If we go back, he won’t let me go until one of us is in the hospital.” Walking is easy when Jaemin lets you lean on his shoulder. Standing just outside the McDonald’s, your shadows stretch ten times as tall as you, the lines between you and Jaemin undefined.

Jaemin raises an eyebrow. “You aren’t worried about him?”

“He swore to send Donghyuck to the grave before him, he’ll be fine,” you say, “plus Jisung is there, sober. They’ll be fine.”

“And you?”

“I’ll be fine when I get home.” You tilt your head up from his shoulder only for him to look down at you, his nose brushing against yours. Your breath catches in your throat, heart pounding. But you don’t move away and neither does he.

“Take me home?”

He doesn’t move for a heartbeat, eyes flickering to your lips. Then he turns his head straight, patting your head with his free hand a couple times. “Okay.”

You whisper directions, a ten minute walk from Renjun’s place. The walk home is considerably less stumbly, your balance recovered halfway through the fries. You cling to Jaemin’s arm anyway, more afraid of letting him go than falling.

The building appears far too quickly, Jaemin pushing open the glass doors and walking you to the elevators. You don’t dare say a word to break the silence as the elevator dings to the third floor. He waits until you reach your door to disentangle himself from you, standing with the tips of his sneakers a millimeter away from yours, catching your hands in his.

“Goodnight, YN,” he says.

No. This isn’t the time for goodnight, not when every atom in your body might explode if he takes a step away. You tighten your fingers around his.

“Do you want to come in?” You ask. “See my apartment?”

He tilts his head, a little frown creasing his brow. “Okay.”

You fumble with your keys, hands shaking when you open the door. Emotions swirl around you, making it difficult to tell the difference between excitement and anxiety, if it exists. Calling the place an apartment is a bit of a stretch. Glorified broom closet is your preferred term–a bed shoved against the far wall with a tiny window next to it, desk tucked in next to it like a puzzle piece without enough space for a chair, a door for your bathroom, directly next to the “kitchen” of a stovetop oven and sink, and a closet that barely fits your coats.

Beyond being tiny, you left the place a mess, second, third, and fourth contenders for outfits strewn on your bed, unwashed dishes in the sink. The entryway is the only space for the two of you to stand together comfortably but you lead Jaemin farther in, balling up the clothes and tossing them into your hamper underneath the bed.

“I don’t normally have company,” you explain.

“It’s okay,” he says, “my room’s a mess too.” He picks up the pink teddy bear from your bed and smiles. “A gift?”

You shake your head. “Bought it myself for surviving sophomore year.” You pull the great white shark out from beneath a blanket. “Freshman year.”

“Cute,” Jaemin says, still looking at the bear.

You follow Jaemin as he wanders the tiny room. He pauses at a framed picture of the student council that sits on your desk. It was a gift from last year’s graduating cabinet, the whole group, president, appointed cabinet, unofficial members, and the fresh-terns, fifteen people in total.

“That one’s my ex,” you say, the word still strange in your mouth. “If you count two weeks as even dating.”

“The one in red?”

You nod.

Jaemin snorts. “I’m way hotter than him.” He sets the picture and turns, and suddenly only a couple inches of space separate him from you. This close, you can see exactly how pretty he is, long eyelashes that cannot be natural, even longer when he stares at his toes instead of meeting your eyes. And, this close, you can see the soft pink of his lips, lower lip jutting out just a tiny bit.

Not drunk, not yet sober, it’s easy to lean a little closer, brush your lips softly against his. The kiss is over before you can think about it.

You open your eyes to Jaemin staring at you, eyes wide, somewhere between disbelief and fear. You open your mouth to apologize but he moves faster, hand coming up to cup your face and pulling you closer until you kiss him again, your hand instinctively catching you against his chest. He links his fingers with your free hand, tugging you even closer to him.

He moves slow at first, a gentle kiss that takes your breath away anyway. He pulls away when the stars flood your brain, smile boyish and sweet. His thumb strokes your cheek into the shape of a heart. Then he slides his hands to the back of your neck, letting go over your other hand to wrap around your waist and pull you against his chest.

Jaemin knows how to kiss. He moves like it’s his last chance, desperate lips telling truths words can’t capture. And you might not have as much experience, but you understand the language of desperation. A never ending chain of fireworks explode within you, pushing you to wrap your arms around his neck, kiss him even harder. Your hands move on their own, tugging at the cloth of his shirt until he leans back, breathing heavily.

“How far you want to go?” He asks, chest rising and falling with each breath. “You know consent is so sexy.”

You laugh, giddiness making it difficult to think. “You have a condom?”

Jaemin grins, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. He slips the shiny packet out, tossing his wallet to the floor along with his shirt. He gives you a proper amount of time to ogle his chest before tugging you against him again, your heart pounding so hard against him he must feel it.

He tilts your head towards his until his lips brush against yours, and when he speaks, you feel every word. “Now where were we?”

[Na Jaemin] sorry I had to go :( [Na Jaemin] wish I could have been there when you woke up [Na Jaemin] but! I have a surprise [Na Jaemin] [image attached] [Na Jaemin] see you in the morning <3

You blink at the message, a picture of him wearing a fuzzy headband in the middle of his skincare routine. Your head pounds a little, but otherwise your hangover isn’t too bad. Definitely not the worst it’s ever been.

No, the strange feeling in your stomach is something else. Last night is burned into your memory, every move, every touch. Jaemin, who you fell asleep beside, though the timestamp on the texts show he didn’t stay much longer after. Not that you expected him to. It’s Jaemin, you remind your traitorous heart. No matter how much he flirts, no matter what he did drunk, he was never yours.

Your phone rings, but it isn’t Jaemin.

“Hey,” Renjun says.

“You sound awful,” you say, throat aching.

“You’re one to talk,” Renjun says, “and you didn’t even get to double digits. Donghyuck out-drank you.”

“And how’s Donghyuck doing?”

“Throwing up in the shower, it sounds like.”

You laugh, the motion, sending your stomach spinning. “Happy birthday Renjun.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, “I actually did call for a reason.”

“I am not helping with clean up,” you say, “Chenle swore he’d do all of it since he bailed on set up.”

“Not that,” Renjun says. “I’ll be over as soon as I can walk without passing out.” He hangs up, leaving you to frown at the empty screen.

Well, considering how late he got back, Jaemin probably won't be awake any time soon. You need to shower and rehydrate and try to convince your stomach to take something—and with how Renjun sounded over the phone, it seems like you’ll have plenty of time.

An hour later, slightly burnt toast, and post-Advil, the headache is mostly gone. Your stomach still twists at the thought of Jaemin. You jump at the doorbell but find Renjun wearing a mismatched sweatsuit and his bright orange crocs, glasses nearly sliding off the bridge of his nose. He wears the hood of his sweatshirt up but you can see tufts sticking up.

“God, did you shower?” You catch a whiff as he passes by, reeking of tequila.

“I was serious about coming over as soon as possible.” He groans, collapsing on your bed. “I think I maybe came over too early though. Might need to throw up.”

“Do you want toast?” You offer.

He glares at you. “Just sit.” Renjun rarely speaks with patience but today he seems extra short on it. Maybe because of the hangover, but the way he glares at the carpet before turning to look at you makes you wonder if something else is wrong. His eyes soften a little when he meets your eyes, his frown lightening just barely.

“I really wish I didn’t have to tell you this,” he begins. “Did you go out with Jaemin last night?”

“He… took me home,” you say. “What’s wrong Renjun?”

“Last night—well—this morning, I met some guys from Sigma Nu, who are friends with Jeno and Jaemin,” he says, “who were talking about how Jaemin is going to be president. About how he’s messing around with the frontrunner, trying to distract them or fuck around, trying to take the presidency.” He falls quiet, studying your face.

“He wouldn’t.” Your voice feels so small.

He wouldn’t, you said, but you can’t even convince yourself. Your heart flounders, drowning in a lake of its own creation, choking on fantasies. Your brain takes control in the chaos, gears turning despite the crashing waves. Facts don’t need oxygen.

1) Jaemin approached you about the presidency first

2) he pretended not to know you were running

3) he’s known for hooking up with anyone

4) he never belonged in your world

The conclusion is obvious, a conclusion you could have come to much sooner if you weren’t too busy getting swept off your feet by his easy flirting and sweet smile. Though your heart doesn’t want to believe it, it makes too much sense. So much more sense than the hope you were stupid enough to believe in. Jaemin isn’t that type. How many of your friends told you that? How many times did you tell yourself that? But you let him hurt you anyway because he held your hand and called you cute. How quickly a fruit can rot when it sits in the palm of your hand.

Jaemin doesn’t exist a universe away–he lives in your world, worse than a cliche. The type of boy that made you want to believe in him, even when you knew better from the start, and maybe that’s the worst part. He never hid who he was, what he wanted. It’s you that wanted more, that believed he could want something more. How pitiful.

“I’m sorry,” Renjun says softly. “I wanted him to be different.”

“Did you? Because everyone was telling me about how I needed to be careful, protect myself, not get hurt over him. Did any of you consider that I didn’t ever expect anything from him?” You shake your head. “No, you all thought poor little YN, getting their feet swept out from under themself over a boy that doesn’t give a shit about them? A boy that’s actively trying to stop them from achieving a dream they’ve had since they started college? Well, guess what? You all were right. Congratulations.” You bite your lip trying to hold back the tears but it’s too late.

“I’m sorry,” Renjun repeats. He pats your arm, looking away when you swipe at your eyes. He waits for you to take a shaky breath, hand on your arm. You grab the teddy bear, trying not to hear Jaemin calling it cute.

“I slept with him.” The admission burns its way up your throat. “Last night.” You sigh. “You don't have to tell me I’m an idiot.”

“Okay, I wasn’t going to say that,” Renjun throws his arm over your shoulders. “Though I’m kind of regretting sitting on the bed.” He scoots a little forward but squeezes your shoulder. “You’re going to do things you regret, there’s no stopping it.”

“Why do you always have to be right? Why am I exclusively attracted to shitty men?” Your chin digs into the innocent bear, jaw tightening. “Why can’t I just like a boy that likes me?”

“Do you think maybe you liked him too much?” Renjun asks gently. “Like maybe you liked the idea of him more than Jaemin himself.” He pauses, squeezing your arm. “Don’t let a boy that isn’t real hurt you.”

You lean into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder. “But he was real. Sweeter than persimmon. Like a strawberry. Or a mango.”

“Okay, I’m not understanding.”

“I thought he was a persimmon, a magic fruit I could imagine tasting sweet or sour or tart but he’s real and even though his flavor isn’t a mystery, it’s better than what I could have imagined. Like taking a bite of a pineapple and it’s the best pineapple you’ve ever had, juicy and sweet.”

“Okay first of all, that’s a terrible metaphor, please stop talking about how he tastes or I will throw up,” Renjun says. “Also persimmons are real.”

“I know that,” you snap, “but I’ve never had one, so they’re magic to me.” You stare ahead, grateful Renjun knows when you just need a little bit of time to work up the courage to say what you need to say. “I’m saying you are right. I didn’t really like him, not at first. But it’s worse than that because when I did get to know him, it was so much better. He wasn’t a dream, he was a boy who watches Grey’s Anatomy and does skincare even after a night of partying.

“I know it makes more sense, that his flirting wasn’t real, that he was never really interested in me. But nothing real about him makes sense, and I want to believe in him, still.” You purse your lips. “Pretty pathetic, huh?”

“You really liked him,” Renjun says, “that won’t just go away.”

“That would be too easy,” you mutter.

Renjun laughs. “You’re going to be fine. There are so many better men.”

“That’s what you said last time,” you say.

“And I was right,” Renjun says, “Jaemin is better than last time. Marginally. At least he isn’t a poli-sci major.”

You snort.

“See, you’re already laughing at him.” Renjun pushes you off his shoulder, standing up and groaning. “Now, I’m going to throw up in your bathroom, and then we can watch dumb action movies until your brain rots. The rest of the guys are supposed to come over, though I think Donghyuck is still throwing up.”

You bury your face into the bear. “Does everyone know?”

Renjun pauses. “The guys from this morning were sort of proud to be the ones to tell us.”

You groan. The door to your bathroom closes but you barely hear it. You clutch the bear a little tighter, as if the fluff could break through your chest and fill the spilling hole in your heart.

It would be too easy to blame Jaemin, to pretend like none of the pain is from your own stupidity. But you already told Renjun. You knew it from the start.

Knocking at the door, a knock that means only one person. You wipe the tears from your eyes and take a deep breath that does nothing to steady your heart.

“God, I was afraid I was waking you up.” Jaemin starts talking as soon as you open the door. He holds up a bag, a tray with two iced coffees and a hot cup. He looks unfairly good and, of course, he grins at you. “I wasn’t entirely sure what your hangover cure is, so I got hot and iced coffee, and there’s a breakfast sandwich and a donut and also these potato things, I really wasn’t sure what you’d like, but–”

“Did you know that I was running for president?”

Jaemin freezes, frown slowly curling his brow. “What are you–”

“Just answer the question.” You grip the door handle, knuckles turning white.

He pauses a moment too long. “It’s not like that.”

“Never talk to me again.” You fight the urge to slam the door, but your neighbors don’t have to suffer your wrath. You shake your head, “I can’t believe I fell for your bullshit.”

Jaemin opens his mouth but you close the door, sliding the deadlock as hard as you can. He has the audacity to try to explain himself. If you didn’t want to hear him out so badly, you might laugh. Instead you turn your back on the door, sliding down it until you can rest your head on your knees and sob.

Jaemin makes it halfway down the aisle of seats on Tuesday before you turn to Renjun, panic and tears in your eyes. He glares at Jaemin so hard he freezes in his tracks and doesn’t try again. He doesn’t look at you in class, not even a peek. On Thursday, he walks straight to his seat.

Chenle doesn’t bother to throw his packages into the recycling after opening them. He says he’s hanging onto them to make moving out easier, but really he’s just too lazy to break them down. You have to step around them to get into his apartment, since he thought it would be fun to make an obstacle course out of them. Navigating these sober is hard enough, you have no idea how he makes it to bed after a night out.

But today, it’s worth it. It’s been two weeks since you cut off Jaemin, a month since the day you bumped into him in class (a month and three days but who’s counting?). He doesn’t look at you anymore. You haven’t fully escaped him–every once in a while you’ll hear his laugh from the other side of the lecture room. The sound still stabs between your ribs, a wound turned new each time you hear it. But it cuts a little more shallow each time. One day you won’t feel it at all.

And today, Chenle got a puppy.

She cries before you make it over the baby gate in Chenle’s room. A tiny ball of white fluff bounds toward you, tripping over her own feet.

“Hi baby!” Your voice automatically rises three pitches looking at her. “Aren’t you just adorable!” You crouch down, letting her jump on your knees. She won’t sit still long enough to be pet, sprinting around your feet, then back to Chenle sitting on the floor, back resting against his bed.

“Hi to you, too,” Chenle says pointedly.

“Hi Chenle,” you turn back to his puppy. “And hello puppy!”

“Her name is Daegal,” he says. You can hear him rolling his eyes. “‘Cause she’s got a big ass head.”

“Chenle is so mean to you!” You coo at the puppy at your feet. “But that’s okay, I’ll take good care of you. You can come home with me!”

“You hear that baby?” Chenle says. “YN wants to pay me $1000 to take care of you!”

You stare at him. “Did you seriously adopt a $1000 puppy?”

He shrugs. “She’s really cute.”

“You’re insane.” Daegal settles down enough to let you pat her head.

“I invite you into my home for some much needed puppy love and this is how you treat me?” Chenle sighs. “To think that I felt bad for you, that I told you about her before anyone else. This is how I get treated for my kind heart.”

“I don’t need your pity,” you say. Daegal licks your hand.

“It’s not pity.” He pauses. “Well I guess it is pity, but you’re also my friend YN. Believe it or not, watching you live the sad boy lifestyle over some dude, again, is not fun. I’d much rather watch you being happy with my puppy.”

“You’re the one who brought it up,” you mutter.

Chenle claps his hands, making Daegal jump. “But that does remind me, everyone has been too much of a coward to ask, but I’ve heard from tertiary sources about his reputation, but I’d love a first hand account.”

“What are you talking about?” You eye him.

“How was the sex?”

“You’re seriously asking me that?”

He shrugs. “Well, yeah.”

You pick up Daegal, staring at her instead of Chenle. She wiggles her tail, then her paws, so you set her back down. “I’m not answering that.”

Chenle narrows his eyes, studying you. “That means it was good.”

“That’s not at all what I said.”

“And yet you’re not denying it.”

“Please shut the fuck up.”

For once he listens. With Renjun, silence means peace–he doesn’t say anything that doesn’t matter. When Chenle doesn’t speak, it means he has something to say and he isn’t sure how to say it. You peek up at him and your suspicions are confirmed. He chews on his lip, frowning at you.

“Just tell me.”

Chenle purses his lips. “He dropped out.”

“Of school?”

He rolls his eyes. “The election.”

You stare at him. “Seriously?”

“He hasn’t touched his application since Renjun’s birthday and Donghyuck said yesterday he emailed and said he wasn’t going forward with it.” He doesn’t say anything about how technically you should be checking the email.

“But it doesn’t make any sense.”

Chenle shrugs. “I’m just telling you what I was told.” He stands up. “Now! How much do you like cleaning up dog pee?”

You glance down at Daegal, who squats in the middle of the room, a dark stain on the carpet beneath her. Chenle tosses you some paper towels and a can of Febreeze.

“Why am I cleaning up after your dog?”

“Because you tried to steal her,” he says, “and I’ve already done this three times today and I’m really sick of it.”

You shake your head but pull off a paper towel and press it into the stain.

“We’re going out tomorrow night, by the way,” Chenle says. “And you’ve passed two weekends in a row so you’ve hit a cap for the month. You have to come with, no ‘buts.’”

Apparently the grace period of pity is over. Whatever, it’ll be nice to do something other than hiding in your room watching Powerpuff Girls. And maybe you will see him. Maybe you’ll get an answer to the giant question mark that’s lodged itself in your heart when Chenle told he dropped out. Maybe the little caterpillar of hope that’s survived these past few weeks can metamorphize.

And maybe he’ll break your heart again. But you won’t get any answers daydreaming.

How Renjun can still drink Tequila, you truly do not understand. Ever since his birthday, the thought of it makes your stomach flip, and you didn’t even drink that much. But he sips on the margarita, insisting it doesn’t taste like alcohol.

“It’s disgusting,” you say, pushing it closer to him. “I am not drinking this.”

He rolls his eyes. “You do realize the whole gimmick of this place is all their drinks are made with tequila, right?”

“No one told me that!” You glare at Chenle, who showed up at your door at exactly 8:00pm and dragged you to the bar. “For the record, I would have pre-gamed. But I guess I can be the babysitter tonight.”

Chenle cheers. “Donghyuck, you’re back in! YN is babysitting!”

Your drink slides down the table to Donghyuck, interrupting whatever ‘conversation’ he was having with Jisung.

“I thought the whole point of dragging you out was to make you have fun,” he says.

“You better be fun, then,” you say.

Donghyuck raises his eyebrows but eventually take a long sip. “Brain freeze!” He cries, clutching his forehead. You laugh with the rest of the guys. It’s almost normal, except you can’t help but peek at the door whenever somebody walks in.

The night passes and the guys get more drunk. The bar gets more crowded–soon you are squished between Renjun and Chenle, barely able to breathe as the music slowly gets louder. The tequila looks more and more appealing but the guys need at least one person sober to make it back alive: Chenle arm wrestles a stranger while Donghyuck has some poor soul cornered, practicing his pick up lines.

When Chenle loses, you push past him, muttering something about fresh air that they probably can’t hear. You push through the crowd of drunk people, trying not to remember the last time you did this.

You squint at the steps, edges difficult to see with so little light. Who builds a bar on the second floor of a building? You make it to the final step but misjudge how close it is and your foot slips off the edge, sending you tumbling forward. You might have caught yourself, but you don’t have to—strong arms catch you mid fall, wrapping around your waist and swinging you clean off the stairs and onto solid ground. You aren’t surprised at all to look into Jaemin’s eyes as he lets go.

He frowns at you, eyes so dark they look black. Maybe it’s the lack of light, but the twinkle in his eyes, the glint you’ve come to recognize as trouble, is missing.

“Hi,” you say.

He drops his arms, stuffing his hands into his back pockets. “So you’re talking to me now?”

An apology begins on your lips but you can’t push it out. Not when you still don’t understand. “Can we talk?”

He glances at you. “Have you been drinking?”

You shake your head.

“Okay.” He doesn’t walk away, folding his arms over his chest.

When you imagined this conversation, the sun shined so that you could see the warmth in his eyes. He smiled at you, called you silly for ever doubting him. The Jaemin in your head wouldn’t ever do something to hurt you.

But Jaemin doesn’t exist in your head–it’s far past time you learned that.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I shouldn’t have just cut you off. But I thought… I don’t know what I thought, let alone what I think now.” You force yourself to meet his cold eyes, searching for a hint of warmth. “Chenle told me you dropped out of the presidency.”

He nods slowly.

“But Renjun told me that someone told him that the presidency is the only reason you ever pretended to like me, but if you dropped out then I really don’t get it. Not that I ever got it in the first place, though, because you’re you and I’m me, and everyone kept telling me that, like I didn’t already know that you are supposed to be a persimmon and grow on a tree far far away from my lemon or pomegranate or whatever kind of fruit I am, because the point is we were never meant to be.” You take a deep breath, realizing that you don’t exactly sound sane. “What I’m trying to say is that it doesn’t make sense. It made sense when you were trying to cheat me out of the presidency, but you dropped out. And it doesn’t make sense.”

Jaemin blinks slowly at you. “You would rather believe that I was trying to rob your presidency than that I actually like you?”

“Do you?”

He frowns. “Of course I do. I like you so much I think about things I’ve never wanted before, the silly shit–watching horror movies as an excuse to cuddle, having picnics by the river, buying groceries together–I wanted to do all of it with you.

“You talk a lot about how we’re different people—who gives a shit? If I’m the type of person that wants to be with you and you’re the type of person that wants to be with me, why does any of that matter?” He takes a step closer to you, and you can see you were wrong. His eyes aren’t cold, they’re full of emotion, dark waves of hurt. “What do I have to do to prove it to you? Should I tell you how pretty you are? How incredibly smart you are—not fake smart like me, but really smart. And when I’m around you, I like who I am. I know it’s cheesy but you bring out the best in me.

“I know I fucked up. I should have told you how I felt before anything else, and I shouldn’t have left. I regretted it as soon as I was gone but it was terrifying to lay next to you and give you my bare heart, even when I didn’t think you would ever try to hurt me.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t know if it hurts more thinking that you never wanted a relationship or thinking that I’d ever stoop that low. I mean, everyone tells me about my reputation, but I didn’t think you cared about any of that.”

Tears prick at your eyes. How could you be such an idiot? Listening to all the wrong people, especially yourself. Jaemin doesn’t exist in another world, he isn’t any kind of fruit. He’s a boy that you like that likes you back. It doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, reaching a tentative hand out to rest against his arm. “I’m so sorry.” He drops his head, sighing. “I was an idiot.”

He sighs, staring at your hand. You start to drop it but he grabs it, squeezing your fingers. “Where do we go from here?”

You study him, eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. Jaemin who is not a fruit, not an alien, just a boy.

“Hey.” You reach out and cup his cheek, waiting for him to meet your eyes. “My name is YN. I think you’re really cute.”

For a heartbeat he doesn’t move. Then he smiles, cheek rising underneath your hand. “Hey, my name is Jaemin. I think you’re really cute too.”

“Oh really?” You slide your hand to the back of his neck, wrapping your other arm across it. His arms wrap on your waist, pulling you into a hug. He squeezes you flush against him, head tucked into your shoulder just as yours is tucked into his.

“I know we can’t start over,” he says, “but can we start again?”

“How about this time we just talk to each other?” You say, tapping your fingers on his shoulder. “No more rumors and gossip.”

He nods, chin digging into your neck a little. “I swear, I won’t give you any reason to doubt me ever again. I won’t be the kind of guy your friends call a red flag.”

You loosen your grip and lean back to look him in the eye. “Wait, did they seriously say that to you?”

“I ran into Donghyuck after I dropped out and we had a very… one sided conversation with his side doing all the talking,” Jaemin says, “and Renjun made it obvious from the start that he didn’t like me.”

You laugh a little, then even more when he pouts. “You’ll win them over again.”

“They really don’t like me,” he says.

You cup his cheek again. “You’ll change their minds.” He leans into your touch, closing his eyes. You lean forward, resting your forehead against his. He gasps a little, hands tightening on your waist.

“Now, am I remembering incorrectly, or are you an amazing kisser?” You ask.

He grins, leaning forward and closing the distance without wasting a second. Neither of you can stop smiling, lips and teeth gnashing together but it’s still the best kiss you’ve ever had.

You stretch an arm out, only to find more bed instead of empty space. You sit up, shivering as the blanket falls away. Right, you fell asleep in Jaemin’s bed. His room is much bigger than yours, sharing an apartment with Jeno. He has enough room for a dresser and a nicer desk, even a chair. It seems he lied to you about being messy, because even when you show up unannounced, like today, his clothes are neatly folded and the biggest mess you’ve found has been three dirty dishes in the sink (which you later found out were Jeno’s).

Jeno, apparently, isn’t all bad–he did let you in even though your boyfriend was still out. He doesn’t fully trust you, but then again, your friends don’t hide their mistrust of Jaemin either. You maintain your earlier stance that time will heal that wound.

You hear a knife against a cutting board coming from the kitchen, so you wrap the blanket around your shoulders and shuffle towards the sound, unable to stop the smile from spreading up your lips when you turn the corner and find Jaemin standing at the counter. He glances behind him and grins at you, and even though you just woke up from a nap and probably have messy hair and marks on your face, he says, “you look sexy.”

“So cheesy,” you say. He laughs and turns back around. You slip behind him and wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his back and closing your eyes. He radiates warmth better than any blanket. It’s too easy to lean against him, take a deep breath of the scent of his laundry detergent and cling to him. Jaemin moves slowly, careful not to hit you by accident.

“What’re you doing?”

“A surprise,” he says, “at least my attempt at one.” He sets down the knife on the counter and taps on your hands, pulling them apart gently and spinning around to face you before setting your hands back on his waist. He tilts his head at you when you purse your lips and frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Still no ass,” you say, patting him a little lower than his waist.

“Hey!” He sticks his lower lip out. “I’m trying.”

“No one’s perfect,” you say, sliding your hands back up and sneaking a kiss to his cheek.

“You are,” he says, cupping your face to kiss you properly. Jaemin still kisses like it’s his last chance, drawing out every moment, lips lingering on yours until your head spins. It’s only when you can’t breathe that he finally pulls away.

“Good answer,” you say.

He smiles. “If you come to the gym with me I’d be more motivated to get an ass you’d be proud of.”

“You send enough pictures for me to know that if I saw you at the gym I would never survive,” you say. “You want me to die?”

He laughs, squishing your face together with his hands. “If anyone’s going to die, it’s going to be me, because you are too cute.”

He presses another kiss to your lips, still squished together in a pout. He laughs at the outrage on your face, letting go of your cheeks and slipping his hands behind your neck, kissing you one more time for real, letting go far too early.

“The surprise,” he says. He lets go of you with one arm, turning to the cutting board and holding up a slice of what he was cutting. It looks a little bit like a tomato, though it’s more orange than red, and about the size of a golf ball.

“A persimmon?”

“I still don’t really get the persimmon thing,” he says, “but I’ve never tried one.”

You blink at him. Jaemin makes it so easy to fall in love. He holds the piece closer to your mouth, waiting for you to open. A persimmon tastes sweet and mild and rich, a little bit like honey. Jaemin eats his own piece, frowning and nodding.

“No more magical mystical fruit,” Jaemin says.

“You’re going to make an amazing trophy husband,” you say. You tap him on the nose. “Maybe we could even be a power couple.”

He grins. “We’ll be so cool. Like Beyoncé and her husband.”

“Jay-Z?”

“Whatever.” Jaemin flips his hand. “The important part is that I am Beyoncé.”

You smack his shoulders softly. “Hell no, Beyoncé would never have a flat ass.”

“It always comes back to the ass.” He sighs. “Be honest: are you embarrassed by me?”

Once you never thought he could be embarrassing. That was before you knew he staked his career on a soap opera and wears jorts to the gym, before he called you drunk just to confess he accidentally stole your pencil, before he spent three hours putting up campaign posters for you (and then another two getting written up by campus police for not having permission). Before you fell in love with him.

“By you? Never.” You pat his cheeks. “Your ass leaves much to be desired, though.”

thank you for reading!

#🌟 stars galaxy #nct #nct dream #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct reader #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct fluff #nct angst #jaemin #na jaemin #nct jaemin #jaemin x reader #jaemin fluff #jaemin angst

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sincerelyneo · 6 months

Text

woman | h.rj

“i hope you can see the shape that i’m in while he’s touching your skin”

💿now playing: woman by harry styles

❯ summary: Renjun is selfish - he knows. He knows that he has no right to be jealous of Shotato, your dance partner, but he is. Because even though he broke up with you, you’re still his.

❯ pairings: renjun x fem!reader (ft. riize’s shotaro)

❯ genre: exes, smut, angst, idol!au

❯ words: 6.5k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, jealousy, swearing, arguing, slight angst, smut, dom!renjun, unprotected sex (don't do this!), marking, possessiveness, oral sex (f receiving), praising, mirror sex, hair pulling, creampie, porn with a little bit of plot, use of 'my girl', reader uses she/her pronouns, literally just renjun being jealous and sulky for 6k words.

Fuck Osaki Shotaro.

That’s the only thing going through Renjun’s mind as he sees the younger dancer have his hands all over you in your dance rehearsal.

Renjun knows he has no right to be seething right now - he’s the one that broke up with you - but there’s something about seeing Shotaro in your personal space, tracing his fingers down your torso, and making you smile with every compliment he gives you on your technique that’s really starting to piss him off.

It's not that Renjun has any specific issue with Shotaro himself; any guy in his position would irk him. Still, it’s Shotaro's love for helping others improve their dancing that only adds fuel to Renjun's frustration, especially now that he's volunteered to assist you.

As Renjun feigns busyness on his phone, waiting for his own rehearsal, he seethes behind the glass of the practice room, a visible vein pulsing on his forehead.

“Dude, you’re practically burning holes into Taro’s hoodie,” Chenle chuckles as he walks over, a smirk playing on his lips as he gazes down at Renjun.

“Don’t be so ridiculous, I’m not!” Renjun rolls his eyes and moves his bag to make room for Chenle to sit on the floor beside him.

“Oh yeah?” Chenle teases, “Then what’s with the bursting vein on your forehead?”

“I’ve just been replying to some shitty emails,” he lies, hastily locking his phone and stuffing it into his pocket.

Chenle quirks a brow and gives him a deadpan look, “You had the weather app open.”

Renjun runs a hand through his hair, about to defend himself, but then he hears your laughter and his gaze snaps back to the glass instantly.

Shotaro's hand delicately trails along the curve of your waist, before he pulls you into a graceful twirl. You laugh softly, the sound echoing in the room loud enough for everyone outside to hear. Your movements are fluid and seamless against each other, and it’s starting to make Renjun feel sick.

What dance lesson requires the instructor to twirl and dip the student?

Shotaro's grin is infectious as he spins you around, and you giggle in response. Renjun’s not stupid - he can see the chemistry, the easy camaraderie that exists between the two of you, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

As Renjun's eyes fixate on the scene inside the practice room, he scoffs tonguing the inside of his cheek. Chenle follows his gaze and smiles, an idea popping into his head. He lets out a low whistle. "Damn, they're really going for it, huh?"

Renjun clenches his jaw, trying to tamp down the surge of irritation. "Yeah, well, they're just rehearsing," he mutters dismissively.

“Just rehearsing? We don’t rehearse like that,” Chenle counters, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Renjun looks up at him with a scowl. He doesn’t know what’s worse, what’s going on in front of him or the irritating little man next to him who seemingly loves poking the already angry bear. He can practically feel the amusement radiating off his friend as if he's revelling in his torment. It's infuriating, but Renjun knows he can't let it get to him. Instead, he focuses back on the glass, his jaw clenched tight as he watches Shotaro's infectious grin and your giggles echo through the room.

“Taro’s cool, I’m sure if you asked him to stop dancing with Y/N he would,” Chenle suggests.

But Renjun's got more pride than that. He's just about able to handle the teasing from his friends about his jealousy, and he knows that telling Taro to back off would only add fuel to the fire of ridicule. And he's not sure if he's ready to deal with that.

“I don’t mind Y/N and him dancing together,” he shrugs.

Chenle’s face falls flat, “Huang Renjun don’t lie to me. You’re jealous.”

“No, I’m not!” His voice raises to an audio level that’s louder than he would like, gaining the attention of some of the other members outside the room.

"Hey, man, look I’m sorry, but it's okay to feel jealous. You two dated for a long time,” Chenle pats him on the shoulder gently. “Honestley I’m shocked the two of you even broke up.”

So is Renjun - even though he knows he was the one who initiated it. Honestly, there was no good reason for your breakup now that he thinks about it - now that he sees you with someone else. The reason behind the breakup stemmed from Renjun’s growing anxiety that being an idol would force distance between the two of you. You had assured him it wouldn’t, and you knew what you were getting into when you agreed to be his girlfriend; still, Renjun figured separation would be the best despite your protests.

He sighs, feeling a mix of frustration and gratitude for Chenle's understanding. "I know, it's just..." He trails off. He doesn’t know how to properly articulate what he’s feeling without sounding like a hypocrite.

Still, Chenle nods sympathetically. "Just give yourself some time, Renjun. It'll get easier."

Renjun offers a weak smile in response before turning back to the glass. He doesn’t have his phone in his hand to ‘distract’ him now so he has to watch the scene in front of him, and his heart sinks.

He doesn’t even know how it happened, one minute the two of you are just laughing together, then he turns to talk to Chenle for another and as he turns back to you, Shotaro's hand gently cups your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin with a tender touch. Your eyes flutter closed, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you lean into his touch, your bodies inching closer.

He can't tear his eyes away, the sight before him a painful reminder of what once was and what now feels so out of reach. Renjun's fists clench at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as he struggles to contain himself.

It's not just the physical proximity that stings, but the undeniable chemistry between you and Shotaro that Renjun just can't ignore. The way your laughter intertwines with his, the way your eyes lock - it's like a dagger to his heart, reopening wounds he thought had healed.

But just as your lips are about to meet, Renjun's up on his feet and barging through the practice room door without a knock.

"Alright, rehearsal time's over," he announces, his tone clipped and authoritative as he strides into the room.

Shotaro immediately pulls away from you, glancing at Renjun, who responds with a scowl. Despite the tension, Renjun can't help but feel a sense of relief as the two of you separate.

"Hyung, we've still got fifteen minutes—"

"We need to start early today, gotta prep for the comeback and all," he interrupts.

Renjun's gaze shifts to you. You're shaking your head at him, hands on your hips, your midriff exposed and glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. It brings back memories of all the times he's fucked you in this very practice room. Apart from the physical closeness, the fact that Shotaro got to witness you like this - sweaty and out of breath - infuriates him.

“That’s not fair Jun, we booked this room for the full hour, you can’t just barge in like this!” You argue with him, but Renjun can’t even take in anything you’re saying because even after your months apart, you still use that nickname for him.

Shotaro snaps him back to attention, “It’s fine, Y/N, we can reschedule for next week.”

Like hell you will, Renjun thinks.

You narrow your eyes at your ex-boyfriend before scoffing and heading for your dance bag, tossing it on your shoulder and heading to the exit. You make sure to slam your shoulder into his body as you pass him, muttering how much you hate him under your breath.

Shotaro’s about to follow your lead, hoisting his own bag over his shoulder, but Renjun stops him in his tracks.

“Taro, can I talk to you for a sec?”

Shotaro nods, slinging his bag back down but pausing by the door.

Taro 1:25 pm

Sorry Y/N, I won’t be able to help you with your

rehearsals anymore, something’s come up.

There’s just no way. You look down at the text message, confused.

Shotaro loves dancing, he loves teaching people choreography and helping them improve, so you know there’s no possible way he’d cancel your sessions like this with no word of rescheduling. Glancing at the time on your phone, you realize it's Wednesday afternoon - around the time Shotaro usually finishes his dance practices with his group. With a furrowed brow, you decide to head over to the practice rooms to ask him about it.

After all, you liked Taro and his teaching methods.

As you approach the practice rooms, the faint strains of music drift through the hallway, accompanied by a few stops and restarts. Finally, you reach the room where Riize is rehearsing. The door stands slightly ajar, and you pause, opting to linger and peer through the glass instead. Inside, you see them all - sweaty and breathless, a clear sign that they've reached the end of their session.

You're about to knock on the door when you hear Anton's voice from inside. "Taro, are you eating with us today, or are you practising with Y/N again?"

“I’m not helping Y/N out anymore,” he replies and you deflate a little.

“Why? I thought you liked dancing with her.”

Shotaro groans audibly, then passes his water bottle to Eunseok, who starts chuckling.

“What’s funny?” Anton asks.

“Hasn’t he told you?” Eunseok interjects, casting a glance between them, “Taro loves dancing with Y/N, but last week Renjun made it known that he’s not too keen on it.”

Anton’s face channels your own, because what the fuck did that mean?

You look down at the text message again, and now that you look at it, it only has one person written all over it.

You know your ex-boyfriend better than anyone, and just from the way he crashed your practice last week, you could tell that the dance rehearsals with his old group member were getting under his skin. You won’t lie, there’s a part of you that liked the idea of irritating him, riling him up now and then just to be reminded that he still cared. But you’d never think he’d go this far.

“It’s true,” Shotaro confirms, “Last week he told me to hang back after one of our practices, and he asked me to…” he clams up abruptly when he sees you standing in the doorway, arms folded tight across your chest.

“He asked you to what?”

Shotaro doesn’t answer. The laughter between the boys suddenly runs quiet as you all just look at each other.

“Finish that sentence, Taro.”

He groans and runs a hand through his hair, “Y/N, come on, he told me not to say anything—”

“Tell me what he said to you, he doesn’t just get to make demands about me anymore.”

“It wasn’t exactly a demand…” he mumbles, “More of a request.”

You give him a knowing look, “I swear to God if you don’t tell me what you know right now Shotaro, I’ll—”

“Okay, okay,” he interrupts, “I’ll tell you.”

Around half an hour after grilling Shotaro and his group members for the truth, you burst through the practice room of NCT DREAM. The air is hot and humid, and it only channels the fury that’s built up in your muscles since finding out about your ex-boyfriend’s silly little plan. Huang Renjun has officially crossed the line and there’s no way on this Earth you’re going to let him get away with it without a lecture.

The boys all look a mixture of shocked and surprised to see you. And you don’t blame them, the last time you were in a practice with them, you were happy, probably bringing your boyfriend lunch to make sure he’d eaten. But this time you’re angry, so angry you’re body is trembling.

“Huang Renjun!”

He turns around almost instantly, and instead of looking scared about your anger, he fucking smirks with that stupid beautiful smile you hate (love).

“Y/N?” He responds innocently, though there's a glint of mischief in his eyes that tells you he's well aware of the storm about to be unleashed upon him.

As you and Renjun lock eyes, a heavy silence descends upon the room, punctuated only by the sound of your breathing. Mark, ever perceptive, notices the tension crackling between you, and like a good leader he senses the need to diffuse the situation.

"Alright, everyone," he interjects, his voice firm yet soothing. "Let's take a break, yeah?"

Because of Mark's intervention, the boys nod in agreement, gathering their belongings and exchanging knowing glances and whispers as they file out of the practice room one by one.

With the others now gone, you waste no time laying into him, “What is the matter with you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugs.

You scoff, frustration bubbling up inside you. "Don’t pull that clueless shit with me. He told me what you did!”

His facade cracks ever so slightly, a flicker of uncertainty crosses his features before he quickly masks it with a defiant smirk. "And what exactly do you think I did?"

"Oh, don't play dumb," you snap, advancing towards him with each step. "You told Shotaro to cancel our dance lessons, didn't you?"

Renjun's expression remains infuriatingly neutral, but there's a glint of defiance in his eyes that sets your blood boiling even more. "And if I did?"

The audacity of his response only serves to fuel your rage. "Do you have any idea how selfish and manipulative that is?" You accuse, your voice rising with each word. "You have no right to interfere with my life anymore!"

He doesn’t look at all remorseful as he shrugs, “I’m not interfering in your life, I just figured Shotaro shouldn’t overflow his schedule.”

You shake your head in disbelief, “You’re unbelievable. That’s not your call to make. You’ve never had a problem with Shotaro teaching anybody else to dance until me.”

“That was before Riize debuted, it’s different now Y/N.”

“No, it’s not fair!” You snap, “You’re not being fair.”

“I’m just looking out for Taro…as his senior.”

“No, you’re not, you’re doing this to piss me off!” You groan, “So I’m asking you why?”

Renjun clings to the last shred of his pride, attempting to brush past you to grab his water bottle, hoping to deflect the conversation elsewhere. But you weren't about to let him off that easily. You reach out and grab his hand as he tries to slip past.

Your eyes plead with him, and he cracks under the weight of your gaze.

"What do you want me to say, Y/N?" He finally erupts, his voice rising in frustration. "You want me to admit that I'm fucking jealous, that I can't stand the thought of him with you?"

“What, if you can’t have me no one else can?”

He goes quiet at that and just looks at you, the silence speaks a thousand words and you can’t believe his audacity right now.

With a heavy sigh, you run a hand through your hair, exhaustion creeping in. "You broke up with me," you remind him, your voice barely above a whisper.

Renjun's expression softens for a fleeting moment, a trace of remorse flickering in his eyes before it's replaced. "I know," he admits. "But that doesn't mean I stopped caring about you."

You take a step back, his words hitting you harder than you expected. "Caring about me doesn't give you the right to meddle in my life.”

He reaches out tentatively, his hand hovering in the air between you as if unsure whether to touch you or not. "I messed up, okay? It’s just, I don’t like the way he touches you. I guess…I let my jealousy get the best of me."

"Jealousy?" You repeat. "After everything that's happened between us, you're still jealous?"

Renjun's gaze drops to the floor, unable to meet yours. "I can't help it," he admits, his voice barely audible. "Seeing you with him, it just... it drives me crazy."

You shake your head in disbelief, struggling to process his confession. "You broke up with me, Renjun. You made that choice."

"I know," he repeats, his voice filled with remorse. "And I regret it every day."

You're torn between anger and longing, resentment and yearning. Honestly, ever since he broke up with you there hasn’t been a day where you haven’t missed him. You’ve waited to hear him say those words - that he regrets leaving you - but you’re not about to make it easy for him to just crawl back.

You narrow your eyes at him, a mischievous glint dancing in them as a sly smile tugs at the corners of your lips. "You know, Shotaro is a great dancer," you say, your tone deliberately casual.

Renjun's jaw clenches at the mention of the name, his gaze flickering with a mix of anger and insecurity.

"It's been interesting to know he's always there for me now that you're not,” you say with a nonchalant shrug, enjoying the way his irritation simmers beneath the surface.

You watch as his hands clench into fists at his sides, his chest rising and falling with each aggravated breath. His eyes darken with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine, but you refuse to back down.

"It's almost as if he's filling a void that you left behind," you continue. "But I suppose that's just the way things go after a breakup, isn't it?"

The taunt hits its mark and Renjun's temper flares. In a sudden burst of rage, he closes the distance between you, his grip tightening on your shoulders as he presses you against the nearby mirror. His gaze turns possessive as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear.

"You really think I'll let him have you like that so easily?” He asks, voice low and dangerous.

You shiver at the intensity of his words, feeling a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. "And what makes you think that’s your call to make?"

A wicked smile tugs at Renjun's lips, his eyes gleaming with determination. "Because deep down, you know you’re still my girl," he asserts. "No matter how much you keep trying to deny it, you know you’re mine."

You scoff, trying to ignore the way his words resonate within you, "You can't just break up with me and then waltz back into my life claiming me as your own, Jun!"

He smiles at the nickname again, and it gives him the confidence boost he needs to know you still want him, still crave him the way he craves you.

"Oh but I can," he counters, his tone unwavering. He brings his finger to your cheek, tracing it along your skin until it rests underneath your chin. "Because no one else can make you feel the way I do. No one else knows you like I do."

His words send a shiver down your spine. All the good times you have with him replay in your mind and despite your best efforts to resist, you find yourself succumbing to the magnetic pull of his presence, to the familiarity of his touch.

"You’re fucking crazy babe if you think I’ll let some other man have you," he whispers. "Especially him.”

Your eyes narrow, he’s so close now that the two of you are practically sharing the same breath.

“And you’re fucking crazy if you think you have a say in my relationships.”

He remains unfazed at your rebuttal, his gaze unwavering as he leans in closer, his lips dangerously close to yours now. "Maybe I am," he concedes smugly. "But deep down, you know you still want me."

Part of you wants to push him away, to resist the pull of him, but another part - the part that still aches for his touch, for his love - finds itself surrendering.

"Renjun," you whisper, voice barely above a breath. "I..."

And before you can finish your sentence, his lips crash against yours in a heated, passionate kiss, his pent-up frustration and desire spilling over into the touch. It's a tumultuous mix of emotions - there’s still so much unresolved between the two of you - but you get lost in the moment. You melt into his embrace, and perhaps, just perhaps, being possessed by Renjun again isn't such a bad thing after all.

As the kiss deepens, your hands tangle themselves into his hair until it’s dishevelled and the lines between love and hate blur. It's a dangerous game you're playing, dancing on the razor's edge between desire and destruction, but right now you couldn't care less about the consequences. You can talk about all that later - after he fucks you.

He pulls back for a breath, trailing kisses down from your lips to your neck, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body.

"God, I've missed you," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin.

"I've missed you too," you gasp out as he starts to nibble on your earlobe.

He moves his hand up higher along your thigh until it reaches the hem of your shorts, and he wastes no time slipping his fingers inside them. “It’s been too long.”

You exhale as you feel his hand brush against the edge of your panties before slipping under them. He runs his hand through your folds as he looks at you with a predatory glint in his eyes before finding your clit. A soft moan escapes your lips as you move your hips instinctively towards him.

"You're so wet already," he murmurs as he starts to rub circles around your clit. “This all for me?”

You arch your back in pleasure, feeling a wave of heat surge through your body. You nod pathetically, not being able to form a coherent sentence because the familiar feeling of Renjun's touch makes you feel dizzy. He smirks at your reaction, then pulls out his hand making you whimper from the loss of friction.

You know you’re fueling his ego with your whining, but you can’t help it. You hadn’t realised just how much you missed the feeling of his hands before they were being ripped away from you so abruptly.

“You know, you never asked me for dance lessons when we were dating,” he says - almost accusatory - between soft pants as his kisses return to your jaw, trailing down your neck. His hands slowly travel from your legs and past your waist, dancing along your exposed sides until his fingers are fiddling with the straps of your sports bra.

You can’t stand his teasing, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned about sex with Renjun, it’s that you play by his rules.

“I know,” you remark, a little breathless.

“And I hated every time he would touch your skin, and how much it would make you laugh and smile,” he growls, gently nipping your neck and soothing the spot with his tongue. “I want all your fucking smiles, Y/N.”

You hold back a whimper as he sucks a small spot just beside your collarbone, a mark you know you’re going to have to cover tomorrow.

“Seems quite selfish, Jun.”

“I guess I am when it comes to you.”

His fingers take off your bra, exposing your naked breasts to him. You gasp at the cool air making your nipples toughen. He looks up at you, his gaze dark and wild and sending a shot of pleasure straight through you. Not once does he break contact as his hands slide down your body, grazing your nipples until you shiver, and travel down until he is back at the hem of your shorts.

His fingers dance along your inner thighs before they trace along the hem of your panties. Your breath hitches as he skims along your clothed clit, not enough to be truly stimulating but enough to make you bite down in anticipation.

He knows you want more, but your impatience is his favourite part.

So he doesn’t bother to hide his smirk as he wraps his fingers around your waistband and slowly tugs on your shorts and panties together, pushing them down until they pool at your ankles where you swiftly step out of them.

The smile on his lips can only be described as feral. “So damn pretty,” he mumbles, “And it’s all mine, yeah?”

You smile as you shake your head. “Possessive much?”

“Maybe a little bit,” he smiles. “But don’t pretend that you haven’t missed that about me.”

“Bold of you to think I’ve missed things about you.”

He grins. “Deny it all you want babe, but the fact you’re the one naked right now speaks volumes.”

You blush at the revelation and the fact that he’s fully clothed whilst you’re bare. You turn your head to the side and mumble. “That doesn’t mean I missed you.”

"Oh?" He raises his eyebrow, his finger gently finding the underside of your jaw, tilting it to meet his gaze. His pupils are dilated, filled with a level of lust you didn’t even know was possible. “Then maybe I need to show you exactly what you’ve been missing.”

That’s when he finds himself dropping to his knees, his head dipping low enough to kiss up your thighs. You let out a small sigh as his lips latch onto your skin, nipping and sucking in the same way he used to do when he wanted to leave a trail of marks.

Your lip gets trapped between your teeth, and the cold from the mirror behind you lingers on your exposed back. You look down and wish you could see the look in his eyes right now, yearning to see the hungry glint as he’s between your thighs. You can’t help your nails from digging into his shoulders as you relax into his tantalizing kisses.

“Still so fucking responsive to me, aren’t you?” His words fan over your heated skin, his breath so close to your clit you can’t take much more.

“Don’t tease me, Junnie,” you breathe out.

He laughs softly before pressing a gentle kiss against your clit, his tongue darting out to follow his lips. He can’t help but grin when he feels your nails digging deeper into his skin. His hands move to cup your ass, squeezing the flesh and basking in your moans.

He loved it more than anything when his girl was always so vocal, he could get drunk off the sound. Especially when he knows it’s his tongue licking along your soaking cunt and was making you whine like that.

You’re like putty in his hands, breathless and barely able to form coherent sentences as he teases you. And before you can even whine for more, his insatiable need to taste you gets the best of him and one of your legs is being thrown over his shoulder so his face can nuzzle further against your cunt.

“Fuck,” he groans against you, the hum of his words vibrating against your clit. Your knees buckle under the sensation but the tight grip he has on your ass keeps you upright. “Still taste like fucking heaven.”

“Shit,” you moan before throwing your head back.

“Only for me, right?” He mutters, ignoring your whine as he pulls himself away from your cunt to look up at you before adding a stern, “Answer me.”

“Yes, yes.” You’re so needy right now that you don’t even care that it comes out in pants. “Only you.”

“That’s right, no one gets to taste this cunt but me,” he grits through clenched teeth. “You’re mine, every fucking part of you.”

He savours the way your cheeks burn red as you nod vigorously in agreement. His mouth finds your pussy again, and now that he has your omission, he doesn’t bother holding back. He loves the way your eyes flutter shut, and the shameless moans escaping your lips as he devours you like you're the last thing he’ll ever taste - he’s certain it will be the last pussy he’ll ever taste.

You can barely think as his fingers run up and down your thighs, slowly travelling up until his thumb is pressing slow, torturous circles on your clit as his tongue dives inside you, lapping and rolling. His teasing along with the fast tempo of his tongue makes your hips rock subconsciously against his face.

“Please, please, please.”

The words are a shameless plea, and you can’t help it because he has your legs physically shaking.

“Cum for me, baby. Be a good girl for me and cum on my tongue.”

The simple words of praise are enough for your body to be hit with a strong wave of pleasure. Your muscles tense, your body shakes, and your thighs run wet and slick with a mix of your release and his spit. The room is only filled with pants and you feel a few soft kisses being placed along your thighs.

Seconds later, his face, plastered with a very smug smile, appears in your line of sight. You notice how his lips and chin glisten; you didn’t think it was possible but you grow even more wet at the sight.

“I’ve missed making you cum.”

You can’t help the huff of laughter that escapes you. “I guess I’ve missed you being the one making me cum.”

“You guess?”

“I know,” you correct, “I know I’ve missed you being the one making me cum.” You bite down on your lower lip. “Starting to think I should have more dance lessons with Shotaro to make you jealous more often.”

His eyes instantly darken. “That’s not even funny.”

Your smirk widens, “It is a little bit.”

“You think mentioning another man’s name after I’ve just made you cum with my tongue is funny?” He asks, and his hands find their way to tighten on your waist. “Did I not make you cum hard enough if you’re struggling to remember who you belong to?”

You’re amused by his comment, nail lightly trailing along his lower lip before he playfully nips it. “I don’t belong to you anymore.”

He shakes his head with a tut, “Stop it, you know you belong to me, just as I belong to you. Always have, always will.”

“You must’ve been really intimidated by Shotaro to be this possessive right now,” you tease.

“Doesn’t matter though does it?” He squeezes your waist tighter. “Because Shotaro wouldn’t stand a fucking chance against me. He doesn’t know your body like I do.”

Your breath hitches, hands gripping his shoulders. “He could learn.”

The muscles in his jaw flex and his eyes sharpen, “Not a chance.”

His lips tease along your jaw, and he grins when you move your head to the side to give him better access. “You think he could make you cum like I do? Think he’d know how to make you scream like you do for me?”

The grip he has on your hips is a mixture of pain and pleasure. You feel him smile against your skin when his lips kiss over the developing mark on your collarbone, already starting to turn purple, from earlier.

Then, without warning, he’s flipping you around and pressing you against the cold glass of the mirror. The plush flesh of your tits flatten against it along with your hands, making you gasp. He’s quick to find your ear, nibbling at it before whispering.

“He’d never get the chance to even look at this pussy.”

“Fuck, Jun,” you squirm.

You know you’ve hit a nerve when you see his reflection toying with the drawstring of his sweatpants, tugging them down along with his boxers with one hand still on your hip.

It’s clear as day that he wants to claim what was his, and you’re more than happy to let him do so. Because the look of determination bordering on something more territorial sends a thrill through you.

You can see everything in this position, from the way he has you firm in his grip, to the way he’s slowly stripping from his own set of clothes. You watch as he grabs the flesh of your ass and squeezes it. And he can see you too, your flushed-out expression.

“Bet Shotaro doesn’t know you like watching yourself get fucked out, huh?”

You exhale deeply, making his smirk grow as he runs his hands along your skin, slowly venturing to lightly tease along your slit.

“And he’ll never get to know. Isn’t that right?”

Your eyes don’t leave his through the glass, “I don’t know,” you tease, “Maybe you should give me a good enough reason to make sure he never gets to know.”

You watch as he leans closer to you, his back slowly covering yours as he kisses against the nape of your neck. His cock head is teasing your entrance, sliding up and down your cunt tormentingly.

“You know I love a challenge babe.”

He doesn’t even give you a beat to throw a snarky remark back at him because he finally thrust into you, deep and thick and just the perfect fucking fit. Your eyes roll, matched by the guttural moan he lets vibrate beside your ear as you clench around him, listening to the small list of curses he lets slip past his lips.

“Already squeezing around my cock, huh?” He hisses through tight teeth, hands tangling in your hair and giving a sharp tug so your eyes snap open. “Eyes on me. I want you to see how much you fucking missed my cock.”

Your eyes are weak and hooded and your skin is flushed. You so desperately want to flutter them closed, but not more than you want to obey his command. So, you open them hazily and Renjun can’t get enough of it - enough of you.

The way you let out cute, little whimpers with every thrust; the way your hands clench into fists against the mirror as he pounds into you from behind, his tempo unforgiving and merciless. The way his hand tangles in your hair to tug you close enough that your back is pressed against his chest. The way your own chest is heaving up and down, hips wiggling against his.

He watches as your fist unclenches and comes to cover your mouth in a feeble attempt to hide your moans – that won’t do, he thinks.

“Don’t you dare hide those moans from me,” his voice may be breathy but it’s still commanding. The hand not in your hair snakes around your body so he can cup your tit. “I haven’t heard them for months, so don’t hide them from me.”

“And whose fault is that?” You counter, followed by soft whimpers as he squeezes your breasts.

“Stop reminding me.”

He rolls his eyes as his hand travels down the plain of your stomach, until his fingers reach the sensitive nub between your thighs, making you press your lips together.

The pace of his thrusts - deliberately harsh and sharp to entice moans from you - has you biting down on your lower lip.

“Look at yourself baby,” his breath fans over your heated skin. “So fucking pretty. All wrecked out for me.”

Your hair is tangled, wild and messy, and your thighs slick. It’s the hundredth time your body has begun shaken with desperation for his touch and - well - you just look so damn needy.

But who can blame you? Huang Renjun makes you feel things that no other person has. He hits spots so deep inside you, spots you didn’t even know existed. He is just not like anyone else and you love that he was all yours and you were all his.

And just when you think you couldn’t become more of a mess, the muffled words he speaks in your ear as he fucks into you are filthy enough to have you tittering on the edge.

“Junnie!”

Your orgasm comes crashing down. Hot pleasure rushes through your veins and then throughout your whole body. Your hand reaches behind you to cling onto him like a lifeline, nails digging into his skin as he fucks you through his own release. Your head feels fuzzy with the feeling of his cock driving in and out of you along with his moans – especially when he lands one last final sharp thrust inside of your cunt.

He holds your body close to his for a moment, letting the seconds pass as his mouth plants kisses messily against your shoulder. You shudder when you feel him pull out of you slowly, and then you feel his wet sticky cum dripping down your thigh.

He grabs for your panties, which have been disregarded somewhere in the room, and starts to wipe off the cum on your skin. It doesn’t even register in your mind what he’s doing until you properly look at him in the mirror.

You try to pull away from him, but his hand finds your hip and holds you in place. “Renjun! I need to put those back on!”

“Your point?”

You shake your head and look at him through the mirror, “I have rehearsals and my panties are going to be sticky from your cum.”

He smirks smugly, almost excited at the idea of you having rehearsals. He stands back to his feet holding your panties out for you to take.

“Good,” he shrugs, “That way if Shotaro wants to try anything, he knows you already belong to someone.”

You scoff and take the panties from his hand, slipping them past your ass with a roll of your eyes. You both find the rest of your clothes, dressing yourselves quickly. Honestly, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t slightly aroused at the idea of you wearing panties filled with his cum during a rehearsal.

“Jealousy isn’t a good look on you, you know.”

“I don’t know about that one,” he gives you a shrug, then pulls you closer to him by your hand. “It helped me get to fuck you again didn’t it?”

You snort, “That’s your takeaway from all of this?”

He’s about to say something cocky, you know it, but he’s interrupted by a pounding at the door.

“Are you two done fucking in there so we can get back to our dance practice?!” Haechan shouts and you hear utters from the others telling him to shut up. Renjun groans a series of curses as his friend’s voice starts complaining.

“Give me a second will you?!” He yells back.

“Seriously how long does it take to have makeup sex?”

“Shut it, Haechan!”

You can’t help the laughter and amusement in your expression as Renjun turns from the door to face you.

“Is that what this was? Makeup sex?” You ask.

This time when he pulls your arm into him he wraps his hand around your waist, hovering right before your lips. “You know it was. How many more times do I need to tell you I’ve missed you for you to realize you’ll always be my girl?”

“Hmmm, maybe a couple more times.” You tease, and then your words soon morph into giggles as he nuzzles against your neck, right where he knows you're ticklish.

“Then I fucking miss you. A lot.”

#nct smut #renjun smut #nct dream smut #nct x reader #renjun x reader #nct dream x reader #kpop smut #nct dream hard hours #renjun scenarios #nct scenarios #nct imagines

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vanesycho · 20 days

Text

NCT MASTERLIST

Jaemin

f!reader x playboy jaemin

f!reader x playboy jaemin(ft. jeno) part 2

f!reader x jaemin(+18)

innocent f!reader x perv!jaemin(+18)

Haechan

f!reader x haechan(+18)

f!recording engineer reader x idol!haechan

haechan make out headcanon

f!reader x haechan(+18)

f!reader x gamer boyfriend!haechan(+18)

Renjun

f!reader x renjun(ft. NoMin)(+18)

f!reader x renjun

Chenle

f!reader x chenle(+18)

rich friend!chenle headcanon

Jisung

f!reader x (older)jisung

f!reader x jealous jisung(+18)

f!reader x drunk jisung(+18)

f!reader x perv!jisung(+18)

Jaehyun

f!reader x ex!jaehyun(+18)

f!reader x jaehyun&jeno(+18)

f!reader x older!jaehyun

f!reader x older!jaehyun[part2] (+18)

f!reader x killer!jaehyun

Yuta

f!reader x yuta

sick f!reader x yuta&mark

f!reader x yuta(+18)

Jeno

f!reader x jeno&jaehyun(+18)

friends to lovers [jeno]

cold boyfriend jeno headcanons

f!reader x jeno(+18)

Kun

f!reader x kun

Mark

f!reader x mark(+18)

sick f!reader x yuta&mark

mark headcanons

Jungwoo

f!reader x jungwoo

f!reader x jungwoo(+18)

Doyoung

f!reader x doyoung

Taeyong

f!reader x taeyong(+18)

Johnny

student f!reader x prof!johnny[part1]

soft thoughts about johnny

Ten

f!reader x ten(+18)

Hendery

f!reader x hendery(+18)

Xiaojun

f!reader x xiaojun

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starlightkun · 3 months

Text

❧ word count: 26.7k ❧ warnings: cursing, VERY suggestive/innuendous, reader teases mark a lot playfully but he’s a shy loserboy so the banter is not usually returned and it might come across as a bit excessive/mean sometimes but it’s their version of flirting i promise, blasphemous usage of the word MILF ❧ genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, modern magical creatures au, basilisk mark, sphinx reader, age gap (older reader), college student mark, career woman reader, ft. various magical neos, human renjun, human johnny (and other very special guest appearances), same universe as strawberry sunday ❧ extra info: this work is set in the same universe as strawberry sunday but can be read as a standalone! there is no continuing plotline between fics in this universe, they simply take place in the same world/magic system and may have overlapping characters (neos may pop up in more than one work!) ❧ author’s note: this one is definitely not going to be for everyone i think. but! i had fun with it. it’s got me exploring a lot of new stuff in it: writing for mark, writing this kind of relationship dynamic, figuring out what sphinxes are like in this universe, and some new characters (gasp!) so i had a ball. which of course means the word count is obscene lol. anyway enjoy the (probably) last installment of the strawbsunday universe. i’m not going to call this the official end bc i had so much fun with these characters that i could totally see myself coming back, but as of now this is all i have planned! thank you all for tagging along and i hope you're looking forward to what’s next!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ explore the strawberry sunday universe more here!

“You—” Jisung was cut off by Chenle.

“Totally fucked our neighbor! I always knew you were a MILF hunter, Mark Lee—” Chenle’s voice was getting louder and louder, and you were sure that at this point you might not have even needed magical hearing to discern their words.

Friday night. After a long week of work, you finally could relax, order some food, make yourself a drink, kick your feet up, and just have a nice quiet night to yourself. Reclined on your couch in your comfiest silk robe, you brought your glass to your lips as you flicked through some options for what to watch. With delight, you realized that a drama you’d been watching had released a new episode. You’d barely clicked play and settled in when the raucous sounds of hooting, hollering, and electronic shooting and smashing penetrated through your living room wall. Sighing to yourself, you paused your show and stood up to walk over to the wall that your TV hung from, which you shared with your next-door neighbors.

A few months ago—at the beginning of the local university’s fall semester, you figured—two college kids had moved in next door to you. You liked Chenle and Jisung just fine; they were polite whenever you saw them in the hallway or elevator, sometimes if Jisung saw you carrying heavy groceries, the dragon would offer to help you bring them in, and while some people may not be thrilled to have a fairy next door, you knew that a lot of your neighbors felt the same way about you, so you didn’t hold that against Chenle. All in all, they weren’t the worst people to live next to. Except for when their other rambunctious college friends came over for video game nights. They didn’t always seem aware of the noise levels. Thankfully, they were quick to make adjustments as soon as you made them aware. Another reason that you didn’t mind living next door to them, despite the occasional loudness.

You banged your fist against the wall a couple times. It was almost immediately followed by a distant ‘Oh shit!’ and the hasty lowering of their video game volume. A young man’s voice then came through the wall much clearer, as if he were just on the other side from you.

“Sorry!” It sounded like Jisung. You didn’t respond, instead plopping back down onto your couch and playing your show again. No need to have a shouting match through the wall and disturb everybody else in the building. They continued their video games at a constant, but much quieter hum for the rest of the evening, and you puttered around through your streaming services until you deemed your night over.

After putting your leftovers away in your fridge, you were about to head off to your bedroom when you heard the distant shuffle of footsteps over your welcome mat. You paused at the threshold of your kitchen to your living room, waiting to see if whoever it was would actually ring the doorbell, or just keep… well, it sounded like they were pacing anxiously. Finally, there were a couple soft taps on your front door. If you were a human, you weren’t sure if you would have even heard that. Your footsteps were soft across your carpeted floor as you moved to answer the door. First looking out the peephole, your interest was piqued when you saw a young man standing there who was neither Chenle nor Jisung. Though you did have an idea of exactly what this was about.

Undoing your deadbolt, latch, then disarming the alarm, you opened the door just enough for you to cross your arms over your chest and lean against the doorframe. “I accept apologies in the form of cash or groveling.”

“Huh?” The young man stared at you wide-eyed, open-mouthed, and dumb-founded. You took note of his slit pupils, and the two fangs that hadn’t yet fully descended from his top jaw. Huh, basilisk.

“Did the boys not send you over here to be the sacrificial lamb?” You cocked your head and looked him up and down perhaps too obviously, as he shifted nervously under your gaze. A very timid basilisk at that. You eyed the oversized t-shirt he had on that had the same university logo that you’d often seen your neighbors wearing. “You are one of Chenle and Jisung’s friends, right?”

“Oh, y-yeah, I am. I’m Mark. Mark Lee.” He took one of his hands out from where he’d stuffed them into the pockets of his joggers, wiped it on the leg of said joggers, and held it out to you. As he got close enough to shake your hand, you could finally smell him. Sphinx noses weren’t as sensitive as werewolves’ or vampires’—or basilisk tongues for that matter. Not to mention that basilisks just didn’t have as strong of a scent as most other beings. They had a mild, earthen smell that reminded you of peat freshly after rain. Others tended to make less favorable comparisons such as damp caverns or even mildewy caves, but those ideas never occurred to you. Maybe it was because one of your own childhood best friends was a basilisk, so you were just used to the smell and had positive memories associated with it.

You couldn’t conceal the amusement on your face as you delicately shook his hand, now very aware of his clammy palms. “It’s nice to meet you, Mark, I’m Y/N. Now if they didn’t send you over with your big brown eyes and sweet face in an attempt to distract me from the ruckus you all were making earlier, then why are you on my doorstep?”

“Wait, you can look at my eyes?” There was a noticeable drag on his s’es when he spoke, which you noted with a certain fondness. He must be young enough to have missed most, if not all, of the mandatory speech therapy that the basilisks of your cohort and before went through during primary and secondary school. It was removed from the curriculum for being unfair and prejudiced against the creatures, but that was after your time. You could remember your friend Jongin being singled out to leave class three times a week for the “therapy.” Even now he could still recall the name of the instructor who led it, his voice filling with bitter vitriol on the rare occasions he’d choose to talk about it.

“I’m a sphinx, honey. You couldn’t petrify me if you tried,” you informed Mark knowingly. Now you were curious as to why he was out and about without magical eye protection or at least non-magical sunglasses if he was apparently so worried about petrifying people. But, not curious enough to divert you from your original mission. “Now, why are you here?”

“O-Oh, right, uhm, I’m really sorry for bothering you, ma’am, it’s just that I went to go get something from my car but then I realized that I forgot my keys in their apartment and I came back up to get them but I locked myself out. My phone’s in the apartment too, and I tried knocking but they’re not answering and—”

“They fell asleep in the two minutes you were gone?” You cut him off, raising your eyebrows slightly in disbelief.

“No, no, they were already asleep. You see, uhm, I’m crashing on their couch tonight and—”

“Got it, got it.” You nodded. Well, that explains the lack of sunglasses. They were also presumably locked in the apartment. “So, what do you want from me?”

“Can I borrow your phone really quick, just to try to call them and see if they’ll pick up? Again, I’m really, really sorry about this.”

“I will actually do you one better, Mark.” You did a small shooing gesture, and he seemed to get the idea, taking a couple steps back. Once he was off of your welcome mat, you lifted up the corner and grabbed the key that was sitting under there. You held it out to him. “Here.”

“Uh—”

“It’s their spare key, not mine.” You reassured him. “When they moved in, they asked if they could hide it under my mat because it would be too obvious to burglars for their spare key to be under their mat.”

“O-Oh.” Mark gingerly took the key from you. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Mark, one more thing.”

“Anything!” He blurted out, then his entire face flushed as he scrambled to tone it down. “I mean, y-yeah, of course, ma’am, what do you need?”

You couldn’t help but smirk as you requested, “Stop calling me ma’am.”

“Right, sorry.”

“You can call me Y/N.”

“O-Okay!” The basilisk smiled at you brightly, another flash of his not-yet fully developed baby fangs. He presumably was only a year or so out from his first molting. They were cute. He was... cute.

“Goodnight, Mark.” You stepped back and grabbed the edge of your door, preparing to close it.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

His eyes didn’t leave you the entire time as you shut the door. Curious, you peered out your peephole. Mark flicked his forked snake tongue out in the air once before he made his way over to your neighbors’ door. The boys had a corner apartment, meaning that despite the two apartments sharing a wall, their door was actually perpendicular to yours, so you could see it from your peephole. You watched Mark unlock the apartment, then dart back over to yours and bend over to lift up your mat. You froze, not expecting him to immediately return the key. You figured he’d just give it back to his friends in the morning. He paused after he’d put the key under the mat again, tongue once more testing the air. You held your breath, waiting for a paralyzing one, two seconds before he finally left again. You didn’t relax fully until the boys’ apartment door had closed behind him, though. You wanted to hit yourself. What were you even nervous about? A grown woman being caught standing by your own apartment door? By some random college kid? Ridiculous. You scoffed, doing up your locks, latches, and alarm again.

“Hi, Ms. Y/N.” “Hi, Ms. Y/N.”

Chenle and Jisung gave you two very polite nods as they passed you in the hallway heading out of the building at the same time that you were coming home from work. It had been a couple weeks since their last video game night when you’d had your unexpected visitor, which was also the last time you’d seen or heard a peep from either of your young neighbors. You figured they’d been keeping an extra-low profile out of guilt.

You smiled back at them genuinely. “Hi, boys.”

The third figure behind them looked at you with wide eyes, and you arched an eyebrow curiously at him, a silent challenge.

“H-Hi, Y/N.” To his credit, Mark’s voice didn’t crack at all, despite the stutter.

“Hi, Mark,” you practically purred his name, not slowing down in the slightest as you continued your path to your front door. You bit your bottom lip to keep from laughing as you heard the fervent whispered back and forth of the college students behind you.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Jisung hissed at Mark.

“Yeah, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Chenle concurred.

“What?” Mark shot back quietly.

You arrived at your apartment door at the end of the hall, still well within earshot for you. Opening up your purse to fetch your keys, you unhurriedly flipped through every key on your keyring.

“You—” Jisung was cut off by Chenle.

“Dude!” Mark snapped, and you heard the sound of what you were pretty sure was the basilisk slapping a hand over the fairy’s mouth. “She can totally hear us!”

You raised a hand above your head and, without turning around, waved it. “Hey, boys. Sphinx, remember?”

“Sorry, Ms. Y/N!” Jisung called out down the hall to you, and you could picture his sheepish face in that moment. You went to actually unlock your apartment now, pushing the door open.

“Sorry!” Mark apologized too, as you had stepped into your home.

You just caught his eye and a glimpse of his pink ears as you turned around to disable your alarm next to the closing door. In the moment before the gap shut all the way, you winked at him.

Humming along to the music playing from your phone, you touched up your work makeup to make it a little more ‘nighttime’ and swapped out your studs for some more flashy going-out dangly earrings. You’d already changed into a much less corporate outfit for your night out with your friends that you had planned and were just putting the finishing touches on before you had to leave in a few minutes. You’d just finished up with your hair and makeup when you swore you heard a knock at your front door. Pausing your music to stick your head out of your bathroom, you listened more carefully. Yeah, there were definitely footsteps at your front door, and it didn’t sound like a delivery person dropping a package off and leaving. In fact, it sounded like someone pacing nervously. A very familiar shuffle, if you weren’t mistaken.

Already bemused, you took long strides through your apartment to get to your front door, deftly unlocking it. And sure enough, when you so confidently swung it open without peeking through the peephole first, your instincts had of course been right. Mark Lee was standing on the other side, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot. His gaze immediately snapped up to you, and you barely contained your amusement at how his jaw literally dropped when he took in what you were wearing.

“Hello, Mark,” you greeted him, once more leaning against your doorway. It had been a few weeks since you’d last seen him, and you could only guess why he was knocking on your door again.

You could see him blink himself out of a trance, running a hand through his hair, knocking the hood of his forest green hoodie off his head in the process. “Hi, Y/N. How-How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you. How about you?”

“Good! I’m good.”

“So… What brings you to my doorstep again? You know where the boys’ key is.” You pointed to the welcome mat underneath his sneakers.

“Oh, Chenle and Jisung aren’t even home right now,” he said off-handedly. “I didn’t come to see them.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. I uhm, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Mark…” You said his name calmly, but with a hint of warning. Truly, this was your fault. You’d been having too much fun and let this get out of hand, and now you were going to have to let this sweet boy down easy before he started something he couldn’t finish. And you’d had such a good relationship with your neighbors so far, too. Maybe he’d be too embarrassed to tell them. One could only hope.

Mark’s ears were getting redder by the second. “Sorry, I know you’re probably too busy but— Could you maybe help me with my abilities?”

Well, that certainly wasn’t what you were expecting. Shoving away the strange twinge of disappointment in your chest, you reminded him, “I’m not a basilisk. I’m not even reptile adjacent at all. Sphinxes are part-lion, part-eagle.”

“I know, I just thought that, you know, sphinxes develop your powers later, right? You’re not born with them.”

“Right…”

“Basilisks too. I just thought that, I don’t know, maybe you’d be able to at least give me some advice?” He immediately shook his head at himself. “I’m sorry, you don’t even know me, I’ll just—”

“Hold on, Mark.” You went to stop him from leaving entirely. While you weren’t fully convinced, this at least wasn’t a conversation to be having on your doorstep. You had better manners than to leave the poor boy on your doormat. You stepped back from your door, opening it wider. “Here, come in.”

“O-Okay.” He obliged, walking into your apartment. “Thank you.” He stood awkwardly just a couple steps past the front door, looking around your living room hesitantly.

“Do you want something to drink? Water? Tea?” You offered, hoping it would calm him down. He looked so tense that you were a little worried about his blood pressure. “Unfortunately I don’t have any Red Bulls or whatever college boys sustain themselves on.”

“Oh, uh, no thank you. I actually don’t drink energy drinks or any of that stuff.” He shook his head, his nose wrinkling. “Tastes too… too much.”

“Hm…” You filled up a glass of water for yourself, and an extra for Mark anyway. He was your guest, after all. You sat back in your spot in the corner of your couch, putting one of the glasses down on your coffee table for him. You took a sip of the other. When Mark was still rooted to the same spot a couple seconds later, you gestured to the other two-thirds of the piece of furniture. “You can sit, my couch won’t come to life and swallow you whole, you know.”

“Right, sorry.” He laughed, looking down at his feet as he walked over and sat on the opposite end from you. Or, as far to the opposite end as he could get. You had several throw pillows on that side. He still looked nervous, refusing to meet your gaze as his eyes flicked around your living room skittishly.

“I’m also not going to swallow you whole.”

“Of course, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Mark picked up the glass of water that he had told you he didn’t want, this time looking you in the eye as he gave you an anxious smile before bringing the drink up to his lips.

“Not unless you ask nicely.”

He immediately spat the drink of water he’d just taken back out into his cup as he coughed and choked, and you covered your own mouth as you giggled, not wanting to outright laugh in the poor boy’s face.

“I’m sorry, Mark, that was mean of me.” You patted his knee, then quickly took your hand back. You really were just trying to reassure him. “Now, you came in for a real reason, not just for me to tease you. Go ahead.”

Having finally recovered, he set his water back down on the table to talk. “Y-Yeah, right. Uhm… So, basilisks don’t start developing their powers until they’ve gone through their first molting. Mine was a year and a half ago and honestly my life has kind of been one big shit show ever since.”

“Basilisk powers aren’t all they were cracked up to be?”

“I first partially petrified my human roommate last spring and now I have to wear sunglasses around him all the time or God forbid I’m going to actually turn him to stone one of these days. I accidentally compel him, too, like all the time, and he refuses to let our witch friends make any sort of protection charm for him.”

“He wants to get petrified and compelled?”

“No, he doesn’t want me to think he’s afraid of me. But I’m afraid of what I’m going to do to him. I feel like I can barely be in our apartment except to sleep.” Mark rubbed a hand over his face, visibly stressed and upset now. “Dude definitely knows I’m avoiding him but… I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I actually hurt Johnny.”

“Well first you’re not going to punish yourself over something you haven’t even done. That’s not going to do anything for you or your friend,” you told him firmly.

“Hmph,” he chuckled cynically.

“You don’t know any basilisks that could help you? Your parents? Friends?” You suggested gently. He clearly did need help, but you weren’t going to be his best option. “They might be a bit more useful than me.”

“My parents live five hours away. Not exactly a day trip. And I don’t know any other basilisks at school. My friends have all been supportive but useless. They’re either human or have been using their powers since before they could talk.”

You sighed and nodded in understanding. “I know what you mean. It’s like puberty all over again. A magical growth spurt but instead of suddenly losing all body awareness, growing four inches, and having hormones making your brain all fuzzy, you’re trying to gain an awareness on some new part of yourself you didn’t have before, you’re teething like a giant toddler, and have magic making your brain all fuzzy.”

“Yes, the teething! God, I thought I was crazy!” Mark groaned, vindication and relief all over his face at having someone else validate what’s been happening to him. His features then turned confused. “Wait, sphinxes don’t have fangs, do you?”

You grabbed your top lip to pull it up, at the same time letting your second set of teeth descend.

“Wow…” He breathed out, watching you as you tucked them back into your jaw.

“Lion canines. Retractable, thankfully.” You let go of your lip and closed your mouth, habitually running your tongue over your normal teeth. Sphinxes still didn’t have perfectly average human teeth as their first set of teeth, they were much sharper, with a greater number of human canines. But you much preferred your first set anyway, they were the ones you grew up with, and were a lot less cumbersome than a full set of lion canines, incisors, and carnassials. All the second set was really good for was a party trick. Not that you really went to those anymore; you’d been out of college for years now.

“Have you ever met another sphinx before me, Mark?” You asked.

“W-What do you mean?”

“You knew that sphinxes get our powers later in life, but you didn’t know about our second set of teeth. I don’t know, your knowledge is a little... inconsistent.”

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Well... my friend Renjun, he’s a Magical Creatures Studies major. He goes on all these tangents all the time. I kind of zone in and out.”

“So you haven’t met another sphinx, but you were listening when your friend was talking about sphinxes getting their powers later in life, but you completely missed the part about lion teeth.” You ticked every detail off on your fingers to make sure you had it straight.

“Yeah...”

You burst into laughter again, watching as the pink that had persisted on the tips of his ears spread down to his cheeks. “Sorry, sorry, I’m not laughing at you.”

“It sure feels like it,” he mumbled, but you caught sight of a bashful smile on his lips as he stared down at his lap.

“I mean, I am laughing, but it’s just— you’re just— you’re very endearing, Mark,” you tried to explain to him. “I’m being endeared right now— It’s a good thing, just take it as a compliment, okay?”

“Sure, I’ll take it as a compliment.” He nodded. “From now on, when you laugh at something stupid and embarrassing I do or say, I’ll take it as a compliment.”

You chuckled, “You’re funny, you know that?”

“You’re the first person who’s ever told me that,” he admitted, looking up from his hands to you. “You know that?”

“Wait, seriously?” Your smile faded.

“No, but you believed me, didn’t you?” The basilisk snickered.

“Oh, hey!” You retorted indignantly. “Not fair! You had me feeling bad for you this whole time with the sob story about your powers! You can’t just—” But Mark had already devolved into a fit of giggles, and you knew he was too far gone for your argument to hold any water. Instead, you watched him fondly as you realized that this was the most relaxed he’d been around you. As he started collecting himself, you took one more sip of your water, then set it down on the coffee table. “Alright, so what’s your class schedule?”

Mark stared at you wide-eyed. “Huh?”

“I can’t guarantee results of any kind, but I’ll do my best to teach you what I know at least.”

“Really?!” He seemed shocked that his own plan had worked.

“It’s not going to be a one-and-done, I can tell you that much. So, what’s your schedule?” You reiterated your question. “I get off work at five every day and have yoga Tuesdays and Thursdays. So you better be available on a Monday or Wednesday.”

“Wait, what’s wrong with Friday?”

“You may have endeared me, but not enough to give up my Friday nights.”

"Of course, right. Uh, Wednesdays should be the best for me. My last class is over at three and I usually don’t get scheduled then since it’s so late in the day.”

“Where do you work that 3:00 in the afternoon is late?”

“Campus bookstore. Closes at 5:00.”

“Gotcha. So, I will see you here, next Wednesday at 6:00.” You could see panic grow in Mark’s eyes as you started to stand up.

“W-Why not now?”

“Because I have other plans, Mark,” you told him patiently. “I’ll keep Wednesdays for you in the future, but tonight I have somewhere to be. You and Johnny have survived this long, I believe that you’ll be able to survive one more week, okay?”

He got to his feet with a sigh. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Thank you, Y/N. Seriously.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” You started guiding him toward your front door. “Who knows, I might make it worse.”

“I doubt it could get any worse.”

“I am so sorry I’m late,” you breathed out as you sat down at the restaurant booth where your friends were waiting.

“That’s okay, Y/N!” Baekhyun reassured you, pushing a glass over to you. “Here, we got you a water. We didn’t know what you were going to get to eat, so we didn’t want to order a drink-drink.”

“You’re not usually late,” Minseok, another sphinx, pointed out from across the table from you and your siren friend.

“Yeah, is everything alright?” Jongin asked from his seat beside Minseok. You especially noticed now how his s’es weren’t as pronounced as Mark’s, but at least some of his natural sibilance had come back once he got out of that speech “therapy.”

You let out a sigh, dropping your head back against the booth. “I had an unexpected visitor.”

“Ooh, do tell.” Baekhyun’s opalescent scales that sat just under the skin of his cheekbones, bridge of his nose, and forehead shifted with the inquisitive tilt of his head.

“Nothing scandalous, I assure you,” you snorted. “Just some friend of my neighbors, you know, the college kids—”

“A college boy? Y/N, you cougar!” The siren exclaimed, and you rolled your eyes.

“Are you done?”

“Yes, continue.”

“I mean, his friends did indirectly call me a MILF, but I don’t know if I should take that a compliment or an insult really.”

Minseok and Jongin guffawed at that while Baekhyun’s face lit up with delight. He smushed your cheeks in between his hands. “Oh, I’m so proud of you! My baby’s all grown up! No longer a baby but a MILF!”

“At least to a bunch of college boys,” Minseok pointed out, grabbing his glass that looked like it was filled with some dark liquor. Whiskey, maybe. He always liked to mix it up. “Don’t let it get you too down, Y/N, they probably think anybody above human drinking age is middle-aged.”

“Let it get her down?” Baekhyun scoffed indignantly. “You’re clearly missing three-quarters of the acronym here, Minseok!”

“Guys!” You cut into their bickering. “I don’t particularly care one, how old they think I am, or two, how fuckable they think I am.”

“Then why was one of them over at your place and making you late to our dinner?” Jongin arched a brow, taking a drink of what you knew was a glass of witch’s brew and tonic water. Basilisk tongues were extremely sensitive to taste, so regular alcohol was out of the question for him. Witch’s brew on the other hand was the perfect solution, with no burn and a pleasant, light, flowery taste. Almost too perfect of a solution, as you’d carried him home absolutely shitfaced drunk from plenty of parties after he discovered it in high school. Thankfully he’d both built up a tolerance and learned to pace himself and drink responsibly since then, so you hadn’t had to do that in years.

“Because I kind of just agreed to sort of... mentor him?”

“Huh?” Baekhyun tilted his head to the other side.

“Why?” The sphinx snorted and took another swig of his drink.

Jongin just stared at you wordlessly. Shifting forward in your seat, you prepared yourself to try to explain it. “Long story short, he needs help with his powers, and he thinks I can help him.”

“So he’s a sphinx,” Minseok surmised.

“Well, no...”

“Gryphon that was abandoned as a child and never learned how to fly?”

“What? No.”

“Sorry, that’s just literally the only thing that makes sense other than him being another sphinx.”

“No, he’s a... he’s a basilisk.” You crossed your arms over your chest, already prepared for the backlash from your friends over your choice.

“Then give him to Jongin.”

The basilisk scoffed, “I did not come out tonight to be given some kid. No thanks.”

Minseok gestured to him to emphatically. “See? If Jongin’s not worried, the kid’s probably not that big of a danger to society. No need to help. Which you wouldn’t be able to do anyway, because you’re not a basilisk.”

You held your hands up defensively. “Look, I told him I might not be any help, but—”

“But he was just sooo cute with his widdle forked tongue and shedding molting skin all over your couch that you couldn’t say no?” Minseok retorted, making Baekhyun burst into laughter.

“I’m right here, man,” Jongin muttered, taking another sip of his drink.

“No!” You replied indignantly over both Minseok and Baekhyun’s unrestrained laughter at your expense. “He had an actual reason! He pointed out that sphinxes and basilisks develop their powers similarly. We both are born as supernatural creatures, instead of being turned like vampires, but we get our powers later in life, unlike most creatures like sirens, or fairies, or dragons.”

While Jongin actually seemed to be considering the argument, Minseok and Baekhyun still both had disbelieving looks on their faces. The siren composed himself again to ask, “Sure... yeah. But be honest... was he at least a wittle cute?”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I mean, there’s a reason we don’t let you near the animal shelter, Y/N,” Minseok reminded you. “You’d adopt everything in there and never get your security deposit back.”

“I told him it might not work. It won’t hurt to just try,” you huffed.

“Just don’t let him tear up your curtains.” Baekhyun patted your shoulder.

The next Wednesday finally rolled around, and you went through your day at work with the thought of your impending guest lingering in your mind. Or, more specifically, what the hell you were going to teach him. It had been on your mind all week. You jotted down what you were first taught when you got your sphinx powers, which was mostly a lot of breathing. Probably not really what he was looking for, but it was the best you got. It sounded like he didn’t even have much of a foundation, which he needed before you could do anything close to actual compelling or petrification—or preventing such.

Locking your front door behind you, you set your purse down and made a beeline for your bedroom to change out of your work clothes into something casual and comfortable. Mark had already seen you in your pajamas once, you weren’t trying to make any impressions here. You tidied up your living room a little, moving a couple dirty pieces of clothes into your bedroom hamper, then took care of your dishes from breakfast this morning that you hadn’t cleaned before leaving for work. All those miscellaneous tasks took up your time nicely, as just as you had finished wiping down your kitchen countertops, you picked up a familiar squeak of sneakers rushing down the hallway. Glancing up at the clock on your microwave, it struck 6:00 p.m. at the exact moment your doorbell rang.

You tossed your used paper towel in the trash before walking over to the front door. Mark was on the other side, the basilisk panting heavily, panic on his face. Before you could even greet him, he blurted out, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I hope I’m not late! I’m here! Please! I was studying, and lost track of time, please, I’m really sorry, Y/N!”

“Woah, Mark, slow down,” you said calmly. “You’re right on time. It’s okay. Please, come in.”

Holding the door open and stepping back, you beckoned him in with a reassuring smile. He let out a sigh of relief, walking in with his head down, eyes focused on his shoes. You got the two of you settled on the floor of your living room, sitting cross-legged facing each other.

“Okay, so today we’re really just going to be—” You were cut off by the sound of a stomach growling very loudly. And it wasn’t yours.

Mark ducked his head in embarrassment. “I’m sorry! Keep going! Just-Just ignore that.”

“You hungry, Mark?”

“Sorry—”

“Did I ask for an apology?”

“No.”

“Then why are you apologizing?” You asked gently.

“Right. Uhm, I had classes and then a meeting with a professor and then I was studying and I’m pretty sure I haven’t eaten since breakfast. I didn’t want to be late…”

You shook your head. “Well, you can’t do this on an empty stomach.”

“I’m—”

“I’m putting a moratorium on the word ‘sorry’ for tonight. You’re done. You’ve hit your max.” You stood up, heading towards your kitchen. “Come on, let’s get some food in you.”

“Okay…”

You rummaged through your fridge to bring out the ingredients for the dinner that you were planning to make tonight after Mark left. Looks like you were going to be moving dinner up. “I don’t know what kind of gourmet meals you’re used to, but don’t expect anything fancy out of my kitchen,” you forewarned him in jest, turning on the stovetop.

That finally got a smile out of him. “Better than the dining hall, I’m sure. And, you really don’t have to—”

“It’s fine. Think of it like this: Would you go on a run, or go to the gym without eating anything? Magic needs energy too, just like exercise.”

“I never realized that.” Mark’s stomach let out another growl then, making the basilisk rub the back of his very red neck, and you smiled quietly to yourself.

“And, I don’t think either one of us could focus much with your stomach rumbling like that.”

Dinner was pulled together quickly, and you took it to your dining table. Pushing aside your laptop to give you enough room to set your plate down, you headed back to your kitchen. “Mark?” You called for his attention as you opened your glasses cabinet. “Water? Wine? Beer? I think I might have a Coke in the back if you want that.”

“Water’s fine.”

You nodded, filling up his glass of ice water before grabbing a beer for yourself and heading back to where the basilisk was waiting for you.

“Thank you.” Mark accepted the cup from you. “Really, this is great.”

“You’re welcome.” You popped open the tab of your can and held it out towards him. He tapped his glass to it, and you grinned, taking a sip before picking up your utensils to start eating.

As you watched Mark dig in eagerly, you felt a warm fondness in your chest for the basilisk in front of you. You wracked your brain for the last time you’d cooked for someone else. Whoever your last boyfriend was, you figured. It was funny, you couldn’t even remember a specific instance, that was just a guess. You and your friends usually ate out, ordered in, or there was the odd occasion that Jongin would host a dinner party and you all would get dressed up to go over to his penthouse—he’d done the best out of all of you, he owned a luxury clothing brand and definitely lived like it. So as you sat here, watching the college student in front of wolf down the simple meal you’d just made for him like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted, you felt the sides of your lips upquirk just the slightest. You lifted another bite to your mouth and took another swig of your beer.

“So what’s your major?” You asked, and he finally looked up at you. It took everything in you not to immediately giggle and coo at his slightly bulging cheeks.

He quickly swallowed the food in his mouth and drank some water before answering your question. “Bio… pre-med track.”

“Wow. Human medicine or magical creatures?”

“Both. Doctors should want to help everyone.” Mark had a scowl on his face as he stabbed a piece of food with his fork.

“Good point. When do you graduate?”

“Next spring. One more year.” He took a deep breath, then let out a big sigh. “After this semester. Then med school… If I don’t catch an attempted murder charge for petrifying Johnny first.”

You looked down at his empty plate, then your half-full one. “Let’s see what we can do about that, then. You want seconds?”

“Please?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his big, pleading eyes. “Of course, go for it.”

Back on your living room floor sat cross-legged after dinner, you started where you left off before getting interrupted by the basilisk’s growling stomach. “Tonight won’t be anything big and showy. From what you’ve told me, you don’t even have a foundation. We need that first.”

“A foundation?” The basilisk questioned.

“The times that you’ve accidentally petrified or compelled Johnny, did you feel anything?”

“Horrible and guilty and like a terrible person and that I was a danger to other people.”

You shook your head. “I meant— Did you feel any different physically? On the inside? Or in your body? Not like, ashamed or embarrassed. Not emotionally.”

His face screwed up as he tried to think. “No?”

“That’s what I mean. You can’t even feel when you’re using your magic. Your powers are a part of you, but right now they’re functioning completely separate from you. We need to work on you being able to feel your magic at all before getting around to doing anything with it.”

“And how do I do that?”

“We’re going to go through some guided breathing techniques that I did when I first got my powers, and see how those work, okay?”

“Okay. Uhm, first, though…”

You looked at him attentively. “Yes, Mark?”

“Do you think you could show me your-your heliokinesis?”

“Asked your friend to finish his lecture on sphinxes, huh?” You snickered, twisting around to crack your back.

“Yeah, I mean—”

“It’s fine. Good move, considering. We just don’t call it that.”

“Oh. What is it called?”

“Heliokinesis is the academic word for the general ability to control solar energy, you weren’t wrong. A few different beings can do it. Witches, with the right tools or spells; some fairies; phoenixes at the zenith of their life right before they’re reborn; dryads to a smaller degree; and sphinxes. Us sphinxes call it sol-channeling.”

“Got it. Could you show me some? Sol-channeling? If that’s okay?”

Looking out the window, you saw that there were still remnants of the sunset glowing outside. “Sure, there’s still enough light out.”

The basilisk sat up straight, eagerly drinking in every move you made and every word you said.

“Now, we can only channel, manipulate, and shape existing solar energy that’s available. We can’t create solar energy. So once the Sun is down, that’s it,” you explained, raising your hand towards a beam of orange sunlight that was illuminating a square of carpet in front of you.

Delicately, you plucked the light right out of the air and into your palm, feeling the warmth against your skin as the square melted into a puddle of gleaming liquid amber in your cupped hand. The boy across from you gasped softly as you raised your hand up slightly to pour the sunlight into your other palm like sand at the beach. Tossing it up into the air, it turned into splatters in the empty space between your faces, like an abstract art painting. The deep terracotta light washed Mark’s delighted features in a heavenly glow as he watched it hover there in awe. Like wiping a chalkboard, you took the light back down into your hands again, then gestured for Mark to hold his out. “Come on.”

“A-Are you sure?” He looked between you and the apricot heavens that you were holding uncertainly.

“Yes. I won’t let anything happen to you, Markie. Promise.” You pushed your hands towards him again, insistent. “Now come on, before the sun sets completely and I have to send it back.”

“Alright, alright.” He put his hands out in the space between you, palms cupped together. You placed yours just above them, parting your own palms so that the sunlight fell down into his waiting hands. It had already been tempered, so you weren’t worried about it burning him. Instead, you just got to watch him breathe out in absolute stunned awe as he gently rolled around his little puddle of sunshine. “Dude…” His eyes were glued to his hands. “This is officially the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. And done.”

You laughed. “I’m honored. A bit skeptical, but honored.”

“My powers aren’t cool. They’re just something else that can go horribly wrong,” he sighed, continuing to watch the light in his hands.

Looking outside at the fading sunbeams, you held a hand back out towards him. “I need to send it back. The Sun’s almost gone.”

Mark gently tipped the golden energy back into your waiting palm. You closed your hand around it, focusing on allowing the light to return to its natural state, before opening your fingers. A soft ball of pure, hazy light drifted up from your hand, before shooting out your living room window to rejoin the setting Sun.

“So that’s sol-channeling...” The basilisk murmured.

“One facet of it, yeah,” you nodded.

“It’s beautiful.”

You tilted your head as you took in the pensive look on Mark’s face. Turning back around to fully face him, you could only guess where his thoughts had spiraled to.

“And destructive. Before I could do that, I would melt things, light things on fire, burn... hurt people. Things I can’t undo.” Your voice was quiet but firm, trying to get the point across to him in the most sympathetic way possible that he wasn’t alone in this. He wasn’t the only person to have ever struggled with powers, to have done things he wishes he could take back. “You have got to stop looking at your powers like a curse, and everybody else’s like a blessing. They’re neither. They’re just... they just are.”

The basilisk was quiet, turning his gaze from the carpet up to you. You held his eye contact, easily looking back into those slit pupils with sincerity. “Got it?” You asked.

“Got it.”

Trying not to make your breath of relief too obvious, you rolled out your neck as you focused back on what you’d really meant to start with tonight. “So, some breathing techniques for grounding. Again, we’re trying to build a foundation before anything else. Throughout all of these, I want you to try to reach out for your magic. I know this whole time you’ve been trying to avoid it, right? Trying not to hurt your friend?”

“Yeah.”

“You can’t hurt me, so don’t worry,” you flashed him a confident smile.

Mark sat up with interest at this. “I’ve always heard that sphinxes can’t be petrified by basilisks, and I always kind of thought it was just one of those things about our magic canceling each other out or whatever. Like how siren venom doesn’t work on other sirens. But then Renjun said that actually nobody’s powers work on you because you’ve got... he called it anti-magic, I don’t know if that’s right or...”

“Well that’s very dramatic,” you commented humorously. “‘Anti-magic.’ No, we call it nixing, or foiling. Like all of our powers, we don’t come into it until we’re adults, so technically magic does work on us for a period of time. It also fluctuates with our magical strength, like all beings’ powers. That’s why ‘anti-magic’ isn’t the best word, because it is magic. We can use it too much and get drained.”

“So there’s still a chance I could accidentally petrify you or something!” He panicked, his voice rising with fear.

“Mark, you’re not going to,” you said calmly. “Nixing is instinctual to me, like it is for any developed sphinx. That’s why your friend Renjun called it ‘anti-magic.’ Because it’ll seem like I’m not even doing anything, like your powers are just fizzling out on their own. I promise it’ll be fine. It would take me nixing a lot of very strong magic for a very long time to be drained anywhere near levels where my nixing could have even a chance of being weaker, much less not working at all. What we’re doing won’t even come close.”

He gulped. “Really?”

“Really. Let me worry about me and my powers.” You placed a hand over your chest. “You just work on finding your powers, wherever you’ve pushed them to in there.”

“You say that like I’ve got some big cavern inside of me or something,” he snorted skeptically. “Or this mind palace thing that Renjun always talks about.”

“If imagining something like that helps you, then sure.”

“I was joking.”

“This is magic, Mark. It’s a lot more abstract and metaphysical than whatever you’re learning in your bio classes.”

He groaned. “Oh great. I almost failed my philosophy class freshman year.”

“Good thing I’m not handing out grades, then. Come on, close your eyes. I’ll start a count.”

Mark had even less of a foundation than you did when you started out. At least your powers had been tied to your emotions at first—such as the case of a rather unfortunate car melting—meanwhile from what you could tell, his seemed to just happen randomly. When you tried to talk him through recalling how he felt in the moments leading up to when he actually used his powers, he couldn’t find any sort of common thread. The first time, he’d been startled by Johnny unexpectedly appearing around the corner in a clay face mask, but other times they’d be watching movies together, eating dinner, or playing basketball. It couldn’t be self-defense, fight or flight, or even just any strong emotion—one time Mark was scrolling on his phone practically catatonic, glanced up for one second and Johnny was on the floor.

Counting back down from the last breathing exercise you had prepared for the night, you stole a glance at the time. Between dinner and this, Mark had been at your place for almost three hours, that was plenty for one night. “Alright, Mark, let’s call it there for today,” you announced quietly, offering him a fleeting half-smile. “How are you feeling?”

“The same as when I got here. Well, less hungry, I guess,” he shrugged, blowing a couple pieces of hair out of his eyes. “Thanks, though. Sorry I ate your food then just wasted your time.”

“I told you it wasn’t going to be a one and done. I think the only one of us who expected you to come in here and immediately nail everything was you.”

“It’s not that I was expecting to nail everything… just sort of hoping I’d at least be able to do something? Other than breathe?”

You chuckled, “Yeah, that’s fair. Once you can feel your powers, it’ll be a lot different, I promise.”

“Different…” he echoed. “Not easier, or better?”

“Different,” you confirmed with a nod. “Unfortunately, it’s looking like we can’t use muscle memory to get there, which is how I was taught. Since there’s apparently nothing in common with how you’ve used your powers before. Other than—” With a thoughtful frown, you cut yourself off, quickly trying to recall all the stories Mark had told you tonight of him accidentally petrifying or compelling his roommate.

“Other than…?” The basilisk prompted you curiously.

“Have you used your powers on anybody other than Johnny?” You questioned. “Other human friends? Classmates? Random cashier at a grocery store?”

“Yeah, one time.”

“Tell me about it!”

“I don’t know if it really counts…”

“It’s an anomaly, it might help. Who was it? What happened?”

“It was Renjun.”

“Your Magical Creatures Studies major friend.”

“Exactly. He’s kind of got like this list of magical stuff that he wants to do? Like, getting his blood drank by a vampire, experiencing siren venom, that kind of stuff.”

“Getting petrified by a basilisk?”

“Yeah.”

“So you petrified him.”

“Not on purpose! Or, not on my purpose,” Mark groaned. “Renjun’s like actually insane when it comes to that kind of thing. Somehow, he figured out when he was most likely to get accidentally petrified by me and… it happened.”

“Mark.”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“You need to get Renjun’s notes,” you instructed him.

“What?”

“On how he got you to petrify him. If he’s that neurotic, he was definitely taking notes and found some sort of pattern, and probably kept his notes. We need those notes. Get them.”

He sighed and rubbed his face. “You don’t know Renjun. When I say he’s insane about this, I’m not kidding. There’s no way he’d—”

“Just a copy, he can keep the originals. He can come make the copies at my office so he doesn’t even have to use his printing credits at the library,” you bargained.

“Fine, fine! I’ll ask him.”

“Perfect! Here, if you give me your phone, I’ll put my number in and you can let me know what day I can expect him.” After inputting your cell and texting yourself, you handed Mark’s phone back to him, not missing his shaky fingers. You patted his hand, softening your voice, “We’ll figure this out, Mark, alright?”

“Why?” He looked up from where your hand was still resting atop his, to your face, gnawing on his bottom lip with his baby fangs. “Why did you agree to help me? Why are you doing it so… enthusiastically?”

“I’m helping you because you asked for help. And when I was your age, and I needed help doing all of this, too, I had somebody there with me. I don’t know, call me crazy, but I don’t think all of us are here just to go about our lives by ourselves. I think people are supposed to rely on each other, criss-cross their lives so much until you can’t tell one line from another.”

“We’re all interconnected?”

“Yeah, or at least I think we should be, that’s how we’re meant to be. To rely on each other.” You nodded. “Not to randomly get all philosophical on you, I know you said you almost failed that class. You asked me for help, and I wanted to try to help you. No ulterior evil sphinx motive here, I promise. You can tell everybody not to worry about their poor little Markie.”

Mark’s face started turning pink. “It wasn’t really the sphinx part that they were focused on.”

“Oh?” You leaned back, propping yourself up with two hands behind you. “What was it then? Stranger danger?”

“No, not exactly…”

“Then I am stumped about what it could be,” you replied facetiously.

Mark started scrambling to his feet, his word speed picking up, “You know, it’s getting late, if we’re done, I should really get going—”

You followed him up with a grin. “Yeah, of course. You know, I’ve got work tomorrow, you’ve got class—Oh, is that it?” You breathed out in feigned realization. “Because I’m an older woman? They thought I was going to devour you in a different way?”

“Oh God—” He said under his breath, staring at the ceiling. His throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard. “I’m really sorry, they were just kidding, you know. And I know there’s no way you’d want to—”

“Remember what I said last week, Mark?”

“W-What part?”

Leaning forward just a little, you reminded him, “Not unless you ask nicely.”

His eyes shot open to the size of dinnerplates, and you could only hold it in for a second before you were openly laughing in his face, barely having the decency to attempt to cover your mouth with your hand, which honestly did little to muffle it.

“You’re awful, Y/N,” Mark groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. “Is this what endearing you gets me? Torture?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you tried to apologize through your breathless giggles. “Anyway, I’ll let you go, stop torturing you. Let me know when to expect Renjun. In the meantime, I want you to practice that first breathing exercise twice a day on your own until next Wednesday, okay?”

“Right, thanks.”

You didn’t even look up from your computer screen as you picked up your ringing desk phone. It was the ring for an internal call, meaning that it was either the front desk or one of your colleagues calling you, you didn’t need to filter those calls as much as external calls. “This is Y/N,” you answered automatically, still reviewing the timeline that had just been submitted to you.

“Uh, Ms. Y/L/N?” It was the receptionist, the poor guy sounding rather confused. “There’s a… boy here to see you?”

“A boy?” You repeated, bewildered. “What? Like, a child?”

“No, sorry, not like a little boy. College kid, Huang Renjun, says you’re expecting him?”

“Oh, oh, yes!” You lit up in recognition. “Have him wait there, I’ll be down in just a minute to grab him.”

Striding off the elevator, your eyes immediately locked onto a young man standing in the lobby, clutching a notebook to his chest as he peered around at everything suspiciously. He readjusted his backwards baseball cap minutely, checking the watch that was on that wrist as he brought his hand back down from his head.

“Renjun,” you said his name confidently, walking up to him with a bright smile. “Hi, I’m Y/N. Thanks for coming.”

“Damn, you’re real,” he breathed out.

“Let’s go upstairs, hm?”

The two of you were the only ones in the elevator as the doors shut. “So, what part of my existence did you doubt, exactly?” You asked, amusement in your tone. “Mark knowing me? Or my being a sphinx?”

“The first one,” Renjun had recovered from his initial shock, his voice level as he answered. “I’ve met a sphinx before.”

“And what did you have them do to you?”

“What?”

“You’ve tricked Mark into petrifying you, had your blood drank, and you want a siren to dose you up. I’m wondering what about sphinxes could provide that sort of… rush.”

“I’m not an adrenaline junkie.”

“Your words, not mine.” You held up your hands. “And I’m not judging you, Renjun. Just curious.”

“I don’t know them like that, anyway. It’s my friends’ boss.”

“So what’s on your list, then?”

“I want to solve a sphinx’s riddle.”

One of your eyebrows quirked up, and it was then that the elevator dinged and stopped on your floor. In the copy room, you held a hand out towards Renjun expectantly, and he reluctantly gave you a stack of notebook paper from within his binder. You put the first page on the pane of glass of the copier, lowered the lid, and prepared the setting to make the first copy. “I’m not giving you a riddle,” you stated into the heavy silence that had descended over the two of you.

“Why not?” Renjun whined, reminding you of a petulant child.

The copier shot out the first page, and you repeated the process with the backside. “As a Magical Creatures Studies major, I’m sure you know very well why not.”

“I would totally solve it though! You wouldn’t have to worry about me going insane!”

“You either greatly overestimate your intelligence, or greatly underestimate a sphinx’s.” You shook your head.

“Plenty of people have solved sphinx riddles.”

“And even more have gone insane trying,” you retorted. “No way am I going to even risk making you go insane.”

“I’ll sign whatever waiver you want! You won’t be liable at all!”

“But it’ll still be my fault,” you sighed. “Sol-channeling, nixing, flying, I’d show you any of that. But no riddles.”

He let out a long, dramatic sigh, “Fine.”

“How’d you do it, by the way?”

“Do what?”

“Make Mark petrify you.”

“It’s all in there.”

“Yeah, but we’re going to be here for a little while I copy all these.” You put the next page on. “You can tell me how you figured it out, can’t you?”

“Well, I started by taking notes of as many parameters I could get about when, where, and how Mark was petrifying Johnny,” Renjun started, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “At first I was a bit concerned that he wouldn’t be able to petrify anybody but Johnny. But then I found that in addition to him always petrifying Johnny, one of three things was always present.”

“And what were those three things?”

“Being at home, it being nighttime—aka he was tired—or him being stressed. I figured if I could remove Johnny from the equation but hit all the other three, and conveniently hide his sunglasses, I had a pretty good chance of being petrified.”

“And what if he had accidentally turned you to stone for real?” You crossed your arms over your chest. “He’s a developing basilisk with absolutely no control over his powers, he could have seriously hurt you, or worse.”

Renjun shrugged. “That was a risk I was willing to take.”

“Yeah, for the both of you,” you scoffed, throwing the lid of the copier open and accidentally hitting the wall behind it in the process. “Do you know how awful Mark would’ve felt if he had actually turned one of his friends to stone? And then he had to live with that for the rest of his longer-than-human life? Did you even think about that before tricking him into petrifying you for some stupid fucking magic junkie bucket list?”

The human seemed to be at a loss for words, opening and closing his mouth several times before he looked down at his shoes, going silent.

“That wasn’t rhetorical, Renjun.” You closed the lid on the next page, turning to look at him pointedly. He was looking incredibly guilty, but you weren’t going to let him get away with a noncommittal silence. “Look, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt that your heart is in the right place, and you’re just genuinely curious about all this stuff, but your magical friends are not just here for your entertainment. Whatever they do to you, they have to live with too. You know that, right?”

He sighed bitterly, and after another long, contemplative pause, nodded. “You’re right, you’re right.”

“Yeah, I know I am.”

You sent Renjun off with his original notes and hopefully a lot to think about. You yourself didn’t have too much more work left to do, and locked yourself in your office to go over the copies you’d made. He’d been thorough, and you were realizing that Mark really hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d called his friend crazy. About thirty minutes before the end of the workday, there was a timid knock at your door, and you put down the papers to go answer the door. It was one of your team members, who timidly informed you of a horrible error that had happened that would put the entire project back by two days if it wasn’t fixed today. It was really nobody’s fault, so you took a few deep breaths, rolled up your sleeves, and got to work with everybody else. It was Wednesday, though, and you kept an eye on the time as you worked, running mental calculations in the back of your mind as to when you’d have to text Mark to let him know you’d be late getting home. Thankfully, it was all solved right before then, and you were able to run out the door at just the right time where if you speedwalked and made every light perfectly, you’d be home right on time.

And so you burst into your hallway at exactly 5:59 p.m., spotting Mark on your welcome mat, just lifting his fist to your door to knock. “I’m here!” You called out to him, making him whip around, the surprise apparent on his features. “I’m here, sorry, I’m here. Got held up at work.”

“Hey, no worries,” he flashed you a bright smile, stepping out of your way to let you unlock your front door. “Everything alright?”

You threw an exasperated look at him over your shoulder as you disarmed your alarm, then led the way into your apartment. “Heavenly Sol, don’t get me started. Computers are out to get us all, I swear.”

“Yeah, okay,” Mark nodded, closing the door behind you two and flicking the latch. “Add printers to the list, too. I can never figure out the ones in the library when I have an assignment due.”

You threw your purse onto your kitchen table haphazardly, starting to look through your fridge for dinner ingredients. “Oh shit, I was going to pick up stuff for dinner on my way home, but then everything fucking caught on fire right before I was supposed to leave.”

“That’s okay, Y/N,” the basilisk reassured you. “We can just order pizza or something, alright?”

“Yeah, okay, pizza.” You shut your fridge, rubbing your face in frustration.

“I’ll call and order it, you go get out of your work clothes and stuff. Sound like a plan?”

You took a deep breath. “Sure. Thanks, Markie.”

He beamed at you again, letting you get a full view of his baby fangs. “See? I’m not totally useless.”

“Nobody said you were except you,” you finally chuckled, patting his cheek on your way out of the kitchen.

Jongin had invited everyone around to his place for another dinner party, and you were the first one to arrive tonight. You’d already cracked open a bottle of wine—you snooze, you lose, Baekhyun and Minseok—and were tipping back your first glass of the night as Jongin finished up the food preparations.

“Y/N, how’s your basilisk doing?” Your friend asked, plating a serving of pasta.

“He’s doing alright. It’s been a little rough these past few weeks, if I’m going to be honest with you,” you sighed, doing another heavy pour for yourself. “I taught him some breathing exercises, and those helped a bit, but I can only watch him breathe for so long.”

Jongin made a noise of acknowledgment, but didn’t say anything else, fingertips messing with a silver chain around his neck.

“Do you… have any tips for me?” You asked, used to his minimalist way of communicating.

Your friend pulled out from under his shirt the pendant that hung at the end of that silver chain. It was a black gem that could fit neatly into his palm, obsidian, an intricate weaving design of a snake carved out of the face of it. “Does he have an anchor?”

You habitually twisted the ring around your right ring finger. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Find him one.” He tucked the necklace back under his shirt. “Get him out of his head.”

“Right. Thanks, Jongin.”

A flurry of excited knocks came from the front door, and you and Jongin exchanged knowing looks. You threw open the door to see an excited Baekhyun and already beaming Minseok, the former’s eyes lighting up even as he gasped in mock offense.

“You started drinking without us?!” The siren threw a hand over his chest as he locked in on the glass in your hand and open bottle on the kitchen island.

“Yep, you’re a glass and a half behind,” you taunted, guiding him in by the arm he had around your shoulders. “Better catch up, Baekhyunnie.”

“She opened that not even ten minutes ago,” Jongin informed the other two flatly in lieu of a proper greeting.

“Fuckin’ narc.” You stuck your tongue out at him as Baekhyun started pouring for him and Minseok. Minseok, meanwhile, was over by the vinyl record player, flicking through Jongin’s collection until he picked one that he liked, and swapped out the classical music that the basilisk already had playing.

“I was listening to that,” Jongin complained as a funky, upbeat pop melody started coming through the speakers.

“And now you’re listening to this,” Minseok retorted. “Much better party music.”

“And you people wonder why I don’t invite you to events with my colleagues,” the basilisk sighed, taking out his bottle of witch’s brew from the fridge. His slit pupils trailed over the figures of you and Baekhyun, not nearly tipsy enough for the kind of dancing you were doing, but doing it nonetheless. “Heathens, the lot of you.”

“Oh, like we didn’t all go to college together,” Baekhyun fired back, mischievous glint in his eye. “We all know what you used to get up to on that stuff, Jongin. Before you started playing pretend at being respectable and refined.”

“Yeah, come on, NiNi!” You tugged him into the living room by his wrist, playing absolutely dirty by bringing out the nickname you used to call him when you were little, little kids. When you first met, you couldn’t quite say his name, so you somehow landed on NiNi, which you called him until you could finally say it intelligibly. Even now, you only brought the nickname out when you really wanted something. And according to the now nearly two glasses of wine in you, you really wanted him to dance with the other three of you.

“God, fine,” he rolled his eyes, taking a deep swig of the witch’s brew before letting you fully tug him into the mess.

The following Wednesday found you opening up your door a few minutes early, 5:55. Mark was already pink-eared and covering his face with his hands. “God, let me in, please, please,” he groaned, making you cock your head curiously.

Before you could ask what was going on, you heard a couple wolf whistles and taunts from further down the hall, and spotted a gaggle of college boys heading towards you. Or, rather, heading towards your neighbors’ apartment, presumably, as you spotted Chenle and Jisung in the throng of students. You opened your door wider for Mark, who didn’t even wait for you to move as he ducked under your arm to run inside. With a final humorous glance at the group, you turned around to face the anxiously pacing basilisk.

“And what are you so worked up for?” You asked with a chuckle, shutting your door behind him. “You just got here, take a breather.”

He gesticulated at the closed door, a wild look in his eyes. “Well, because they all think we’re—”

“Having sex? I know.” You laughed again and headed back into your kitchen.

“And you don’t care?”

Pivoting on your heel to focus a pointed look on him, you put your hands squarely on your hips as you told him frankly, “Mark. I’m a grown ass woman. Whatever ideas my two college kid neighbors and their little twerp friends have about my sex life are so beyond the realm of things that I care about.”

“Oh.” He blinked, and you could practically see the gears turning in his brain as he processed that. “Of course.”

With that settled in your mind, you turned your back on him again to attend to your cooking, continuing your conversation over your shoulder. “You should really try it, you know.”

“Try what?!” He squeaked as he was halfway through taking his backpack off his shoulder and setting it down beside the couch.

“Not caring so much about what other people think about you. You know they’re only doing all that because you’re reacting like this.”

“I know, I know,” he admitted with a sigh, his voice much closer now. You heard the scrape of one of the stools at your kitchen island as he pulled it out to sit down and watch you cook.

“So, have you been working on—”

“Wait, do you think I’m a twerp?”

You pivoted around, knife in hand. “Three seconds ago I would’ve said no, except you just interrupted me, so yes, I think you’re a rude little twerp with no manners.”

He looked at you with wide eyes. “Sorry, sorry.”

“So have you been working on the breathing techniques I showed you?” You tossed the last bits in the container, sealing it up before putting it in the fridge.

“Yeah.”

Putting everything into the sink to be washed up later, you spun around to look at Mark eagerly, “Good. Now come on, grab your bag.”

“Wait, we’re done already?”

“No, we’re going shopping.”

“I thought you were cooking dinner?”

“Yeah, that’s my dinner for tomorrow, it’s got to marinate overnight. You and I are eating out tonight. Come on!” You clapped your hands together in a hup-hup gesture, and Mark scrambled to grab his bag before meeting you at the front door.

“For a lot of magical creatures who were born with their powers, they often see it as shameful to use objects to focus or help them harness their abilities,” you explained to Mark as you stopped in front of your first destination. He rushed to hold the door open for you, and you gave him a nod and grateful smile as you continued, “Save for witches, of course, that’s kind of their whole thing. But for beings like us, whose powers come on later, a lot of times having an external object can help ground us a lot better and give us something physical to tie this new part of us to while we’re learning to use it.”

“What kind of object?” He asked, looking around the apothecary hesitantly.

“It’s different for every kind of being, and even for every individual. That’s why I couldn’t just show up with some rock and say ‘here you go!’ You need to pick it out for yourself.”

“What’s yours?”

You held up your right hand, where a toffee brown gem gleamed from a silver setting on one of your fingers. “Tiger’s eye ring. My grandmother gave it to me when she was helping me out with my powers.”

“It’s really pretty.”

“She said she got it from a witch ‘friend’ of hers a while back,” you commented humorously. “Anyway, anything speaking to you?”

He looked over the merchandise around you, and sighed. “I mean, it’s all cool, but... nothing really jumps out.”

“That’s fine, don’t force it. This is just the first aisle of the first store we’re looking in. Deep breath, Mark.”

“Right, okay. It can be anything?”

“Anything. Doesn’t have to be a stone, doesn’t have to be jewelry, those are just sort of the most popular items. I hate to have to say this but... you’ll know it when you see it. You just will.”

“Y/N.” He said your name flatly. “I have never been that sure of anything in my entire life.”

You tried to keep in your giggles at his clearly exasperated expression. Tweaking one of his cheeks, you reassured him, “First time for everything, Markie.”

Three apothecaries and a 24-hour ramen place later, and you could tell Mark was Over It, capital O, capital I. He had really been trying his best, engaging with every miscellaneous item that you showed to him, but you could tell that none of them were it for him. Leaving the last shop for the night, you opted not to take him into another one, instead meandering away from the shopping district downtown that you had been in.

“I’m sorry I’m such a dud, Y/N,” Mark groaned, running a hand through his hair.

“No, you’re not, Mark,” you tried to reassure him. “You’re just… taking it at your own pace.”

“Was that supposed to make me feel better? You might as well have called me a late bloomer.”

“What’s wrong with being a late bloomer?”

“That’s what people tell losers so they don’t feel like losers.”

You rolled your eyes. “And that’s how I can tell you’re still a kid, Markie.”

“What?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a so-called loser, or a late bloomer, or taking things at your own pace. Part of growing up, and becoming an adult, a real grown-up, is realizing that there’s no one prescribed path and way to do things. Especially when it comes to being a magical being.”

“That’s easy to say when you’re already a grown-up.”

“I suppose.” You shrugged. “Here, I’ll let you in on a secret, hm?”

“Oh yeah?”

“When was your first kiss?”

“What?” He sputtered out. “I thought you were going to tell me a secret?!”

“Humor me.”

He mumbled something under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch.

“What was that?”

“Seventeen, okay?!” He huffed. “Listen, it was my first girlfriend and—”

“Twenty-one,” you cut him off with a shrug.

“What?”

“My first kiss was when I was twenty-one,” you repeated nonchalantly. “You thought I had it a lot earlier, didn’t you?”

“It’s not like I was really hypothesizing about it or anything—”

“But the way you told me about yours, you got defensive, like you had assumed yours was late or something, and that I was going to judge you, because I must have had mine earlier than seventeen,” you pointed out. “But I didn’t.”

“But you’re… you’re so… Why?” His face screwed up in confusion.

“That was my first serious boyfriend,” you explained. “I wanted it to be special. I didn’t expect it to take that long, but it did.”

“And what was the point of this?”

“There’s nothing wrong with whatever pace your life is going at, Mark. I don’t think ‘late bloomers’ even exist, because that implies there’s a benchmark to do something by, and having it happen after that therefore makes you late.”

Mark was quiet for a few moments as you continued walking. “You really think I’m still a kid?”

“Oh yeah,” you ruffled his hair. “Only a kid would be worried about if someone thinks they’re a kid.”

He made a disgruntled sound at you messing up his hair, but did nothing to move out of the way of your hand. “Where are we even going now? Another store?”

“Nah.” You led the way off the sidewalk and into the grass, towards the river that cut through the center of town. Traffic hummed overhead where a bridge crossed the water, and you stopped at a rocky patch to pick up a smooth pebble, tossing it up and down a few times. Looking over your shoulder at a skeptical Mark, you asked, “You know how to skip rocks?”

You tossed your first one, managing to skip it a few times before it plopped under the surface. Grabbing another rock, you pushed it into Mark’s hand insistently. “Oh, gross, it’s cold and wet,” he wrinkled his nose, but readied his arm nevertheless.

“You’re literally a basilisk, dude,” you retorted, watching him line up his shot.

“Rude.”

“Hey, I don’t mind.” You held up your hands defensively. “I’m just saying.”

He got it two-thirds of the way across, and shrugged. “Eh…”

“First one to skip it all the way across wins?” You suggested with a smirk.

“Wins what?”

“Mmm…” You hummed thoughtfully. “I got it! Winner earns a secret.”

“Huh?”

“Winner earns a secret of their choosing from the loser. If I win, I can ask you to tell me a secret about whatever topic I want. If you win, same goes for you.”

“Why would I agree to that?”

You grinned. “Because you want to know more about me, don’t you, Markie?”

He gulped, then started looking around at the rocks down by his feet. “Fine. But don’t ask me anything weird if you win.”

“Aw, where’s the fun in that?” You snickered, searching for your own rock to toss.

Mark went first, and his almost made it, but lost momentum about eighty percent of the way there. You went next, flicking your wrist the complete wrong way, only getting one skip before your rock pathetically plopped under the surface. The basilisk next to you giggled. “Are you even trying?”

You stuck your tongue out at him. “Like you’re doing any better, you little shit.”

“Real mature,” he shook his head, brushing off some dirt from the rock he just picked up. “Real grown-up of you. Who’s the kid here, allegedly?”

“Just throw it.” You were already searching for your next pebble.

“So, did you say anything to Renjun, when you met him?”

“What do you mean? Of course I talked to him.”

“No, I mean like—” Mark flicked his arm a couple times in practice shots, maintaining his hold on his stone. “He apologized to me, for tricking me into petrifying him and bought me lunch. Renjun doesn’t apologize.”

“Oh,” you feigned surprise. “That’s nice of him.”

“Y/N.”

“I didn’t threaten him, if that’s what you’re asking. We chatted. He apparently thought some more afterwards.” You finally spotted a lovely lighter colored one, with dark, perfectly circular spots all along it. You couldn’t quite make out the colors in the negligible light from the moon and lone streetlamp all the way up on the bridge, but you liked the weight of it in your hand.

You looked up just in time to watch Mark skip his rock all the way across the river, skidding up onto the shore on the other side. He jumped up and down victoriously, turning around to look at you, excitement on his features. “Yes! Did you see that?!” He cheered, an ecstatic grin on his face. “Ha! Take that!”

“Good job, Markie,” you snickered, holding a hand up for him to high-five zealously. Your palm stung where he had smacked it enthusiastically, a loud slap of skin hitting skin ringing out. Taking your phone out, you turned on your flashlight to look at the rock that you had found, taking in the mossy green color and dark red spots. “Huh, cool.”

As you were about to toss it back into the water, Mark’s hand darted out to grab your wrist. “Wait a second…”

“What?” You looked at him curiously. “You want to try to make it across twice? You won’t get two secrets from me. Sorry, one-time offer.”

“No,” he shook his head, holding your hand open to stare down at the stone. “It’s… it’s a nice rock.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you agreed, continuing to study his face. “Do you… want to keep it, Mark?”

“Do you mind?”

“No, go for it.” You turned your hand over, depositing it into his palm. “All yours.”

He continued looking at it with fascination, fingertip tracing over the textured edges. “Y/N… I think this is my anchor.”

“I think you’re right.” You patted him on the shoulder. “Congrats, dude.”

“Hey, can I uh, take a raincheck on asking you for that secret? I kind of want to think on it.”

“Sure. Use it wisely.”

“I just got home, Sehun, what could be so pertinent that you need to call me now?” You sighed as you answered your ringing cell phone some weeks later. “And why are you still at work? You said only ten more minutes, thirty minutes ago.”

Your coworker sounded simultaneously guilty, nervous, and as exasperated as you, “I know, but Director Han was asking to see some of the numbers and then, well... I got this email from Mr. Shin. I don’t know how to respond. I forwarded it to you.”

Sitting down at your kitchen table, you opened your laptop, which turned on already to your work email. Right at the top was a forwarded email from Oh Sehun, and you clicked on it. You skimmed it over, your lip curling with distaste. Mr. Shin was a project manager in another department, and was apparently trying to assign “urgent tasks” to your employees that needed to be on his desk first thing tomorrow. Sehun would’ve needed to stay all night and/or come in ridiculously early tomorrow in order to get this done. “I’ll handle Mr. Shin, don’t worry about doing any of this. You go home. Now.” You directed Sehun. “And I’ll remind Director Han in the morning about the company’s overtime policy as well.”

“Right. Thank you, Y/N.”

“Of course. Goodnight, Sehun.”

Setting your phone aside, you quickly drafted an email in reply to Mr. Shin, keeping your snark to appropriate corporate levels, reminding him that he couldn’t assign tasks to your employees, and any requests such as this had to come through you first. As well as outlining the unreasonableness of the time demands.

“So what do you do?” Mark asked, suddenly reminding you of his presence. It was Wednesday, though your usual dinnertime ritual had been interrupted before it could even start, Sehun’s call coming as soon as the college student had stepped foot in your apartment.

“I’m a project manager at a company that does network security for other companies,” you informed him, not taking your eyes off your screen as you went to re-read the email for a quick proofread.

“Project manager?”

“I manage a bunch of other people’s projects instead of actually working on them myself, and get paid more than them for it.” You filled in a missing word, and deeming the email finished, pressed send, shutting your laptop. Looking up at Mark, who had an adorably confused look on his face, you gave him a smirk. “When you grow up, Markie, you’ll understand that most corporate jobs are fake and it’s all about your title and how well you can negotiate your salary and bullshit in front of your boss.”

“So you don’t like your job?”

You shrugged. “I like it just fine. It pays for me to live here by myself, after all. I have reasonable hours, and plenty of free time, vacation days, and disposable income. I keep my subordinates and my superiors happy. But if I got a better offer at another company, and my company couldn’t match it, I would have no qualms about packing it up next week.”

“Seriously?” His eyes widened.

“Seriously.”

“Just-Just leaving?” His voice rose with alarm.

“The company, yeah. Not here. I have a life here. My family, and my friends,” you explained, standing up from your dining table.

You could see him visibly relax at that. “Oh, okay.”

“And my Markie,” you teased, pinching his cheek as you passed him on your way to the kitchen.

He squirmed a little, but didn’t knock your hand away. “Hey...”

You laughed to yourself, stopping at the sink to wash your hands before starting on dinner.

“Am I not your friend?” Mark’s question stopped you as you were grabbing ingredients from the fridge.

“Huh?” It was your turn to be confused. Your hand hovered over a bell pepper.

“You said you have your family, your friends, and me. You didn’t include me in your friends. Am I not your friend?” His voice was closer now, and you shut the door to turn towards it, not expecting him to be right on the other side. You jumped in your skin a bit, but that wasn’t the only reason your heart was racing, and a shiver shot up your spine all the way to the back of your neck. Mark’s dark, slit pupils were focused on you with such an intensity that you would’ve thought he were trying to petrify you if the both of you didn’t already know that that wouldn’t work. There was something so startlingly adult in his gaze, all sense of boyish charm that his features usually held gone as the overhead lights of your kitchen cast them in harsh shadows and angles. For the first time ever when you looked at Mark, you were reminded that basilisks were technically predators.

You laughed, hoping he couldn’t hear how nervous you were in it. Wishing your heart to still, you squeezed his upper arm reassuringly. “Oh, no, of course you’re my friend. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you out like that.”

Were his arms always this toned? Or was this just the first time you noticed it?

Mark held your gaze for another moment before he blinked, shook his head, and smiled, “Yeah, of course. I’m sorry about that. School’s just fried my brain, you know?”

“Don’t worry about it.” You smiled back, patting his shoulder before opening the fridge again.

“You need any help?”

“Sure, sure. You mind chopping some vegetables?” You held the bell pepper out to him.

He nodded dutifully. “On it!”

As he started on that task with the same eagerness to please that he always had, you found that you couldn’t box him back in as just that cute bumbling college kid who had appeared on your doorstep a few weeks ago. Gently pressing your hand to his back to let him know that you were skirting around behind him with your own knife, you took note of how firm it was under your fleeting touch, hidden under another one of his school t-shirts that hung off his shoulders in such a way that it seemed as though every readjustment of his arms caused the motion to catch your gaze. When he asked you to assess the cuts he was making, you had to reach over to adjust how he was holding the bell pepper and knife, listening to his own heartbeat for a twofold reason: to not have to hear to your own spike as your gaze dragged over his forearms and hands where they gripped the handle, and because you were curious. You weren’t a fool, you knew Mark was attracted to you superficially the moment you opened your door the first night. But what about now?

You carefully made a couple minute adjustment to his fingers, letting your own fingertips graze over his skin and linger for just a moment longer than necessary, as if you were making extra certain he had the right position. To your satisfaction, you heard his heart pick up to more of a skitter, and his breaths through his nose quickened. Then, you let go of him as quick as you’d descended.

“Try that now,” you murmured. He pushed the blade down and sliced it through the red pepper easily, at the perfect width. You squeezed right at the bend of his arm approvingly as you praised him, “Good job, Mark.”

“T-Thanks.” The tips of his ears were red, and you could feel his arm tense under your grasp. Taking your hand back to pick your blade up again, you then went back to chopping your own ingredients.

A few weeks later, and Mark had been progressing pretty well now that he had an anchor. You’d taken his stone to a local coven’s shop downtown to get it turned into a pendant so he didn’t have to worry about remembering to put it in his pocket every day. Interestingly when given free rein to match the carving to him without either of your input, the witches had crafted a lion instead of anything serpentine, as was popular for basilisks. On a Wednesday morning, you had just settled into your desk at work when your phone buzzed with a text from Mark.

[markie: i am SO sorry but my prof just announced a study session tonight and i NEED to attend. are you free any other time this week? if not, next week is great as usual!]

[you: saturday. 10:30 a.m. be there or be square]

[markie: be there or be square? i forgot how old you are]

[you: nvm don’t come over you ungrateful twerp]

[you: i was joking, Sol forbid women do anything]

[markie: nooooooo im so sorry 🥺🥺🥺]

[you: nice try but those emojis are doing nothing you googoo gaga ass bitch]

[markie: i'll bring bagels?]

[you: fine. no bagels no entry]

[markie: 🫡]

Saturday at 10:29 a.m. there was a knock at your front door. Mark was in fact on the other side, holding up a brown paper bag with a logo of a nearby bakery on the side.

“Hey, come on in.” You smiled breathlessly, readjusting the toddler on your hip.

“Thanks.” He shut the door behind him, then nodded to the child. “So uh, anything new, Y/N?”

“He’s not mine,” you replied frankly. “This is my nephew. I’m emergency babysitting, hope you don’t mind. We had already rescheduled once, and it was last-minute.”

“No, of course not. Little guy’s cute.” Mark gently poked MinMin’s chubby cheek, making the little boy giggle, and the basilisk giggle back in turn. “So this is what a baby sphinx looks like...”

“Not a sphinx, he’s a wittle witch.” You cooed at the baby in your arms, gently pinching his tummy to elicit another joyous laugh.

“Huh?”

“He’s not actually related to me, he’s my friend’s kid. I’ve just known Jongdae—his dad—for so long that I get to be Aunt Y/N.”

“That’s really nice... So what’s his name?”

“Everyone just calls him MinMin. I don’t think the poor guy will ever be called by his real name unless he’s in trouble.”

“Oof, the full name scolding.”

“Speaking of... Did you remember, Mark Lee?”

“Ouch. You can literally see the bag in my hands.” He shook the bag before putting it on the dining table.

“I meant your homework, not the bagels.”

“Oh.” Mark grabbed a couple dishes from your kitchen cabinets, setting them at your usual places before doing the same with napkins. “Yes, I did that too.”

You sat down, settling MinMin in your lap as you peered into the bag for your usual bagel order, setting it on your plate. “Alright, then show me.”

“Uh... with MinMin here?” Mark asked uncertainly, looking at the child.

“Oh, right. Hold on.” You stood up and walked over to the diaper bag Jongdae had dropped off when he’d shown up and deposited MinMin into your arms in a rushed panic. His wife was an emergency medicine doctor and had gotten called into a shift at the ER in the wee hours of the morning, but your friend was already booked to perform at a wedding that day, and the only babysitter he could find at the last minute was you. You were more than happy to take MinMin for the day, even with your prior arrangements with Mark.

Rooting around through a couple of the pockets, moving aside diapers, snacks, and spare changes of clothes, you finally secured what you were looking for. A teeny, tiny, baby-sized pair of sunglasses. Taking him and the glasses back over to your spot in front of Mark, you sat MinMin down in your lap and gently pulled the green Keroppi-themed sunglasses onto the child’s face. They secured around the back of his head with a strap, which you adjusted as you spoke to Mark, “He would probably be fine, but just in case.”

Mark still seemed hesitant.

“His parents are witches, these are enchanted,” you reassured the basilisk, tapping the frames. “And I’ll be nixing anything you send our way. He’ll be fine. Promise.”

“Aren’t we supposed to eat first?” He sighed, gesturing to his bagel that he hadn’t even been able to take a bite of.

“You’re right, you’re right,” you relented. You were a few bites into your meal when MinMin had finished off his sippy cup. Picking up the empty container, you took it and the toddler with you as you stood up from the chair. “Oh, all done, bub? Let’s get you something else.”

Opening your fridge, you started pointing out the options to the child, “Let’s see… we have water, your dad left you a juice box… or we can open the chocolate milk we grabbed from the corner store before Markie got here?”

“Choco!” MinMin chirped excitedly, and you chuckled as you took out the carton. As you turned to grab the sippy cup, you weren’t expecting to see Mark turned around and peering at you with interest on his features, his eyes locked on the jug in your hand. You raised an eyebrow at him, continuing your task of rinsing out the previous drink before cracking open the carton.

“Mark…” You said knowingly. “Do you want chocolate milk?”

“Please?” He replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sure.” You smiled to yourself as you grabbed another cup from your cabinet, filling that and MinMin’s up before putting the chocolate milk back. Handing MinMin his sippy cup to hold, you carried him on one hip and Mark’s glass with the other hand, setting it down in front of the young man as you went to sit back down.

“Thank you!” He beamed, immediately picking it up and taking a big gulp.

You had the same fond smile on your face as you immediately saw his dark milk mustache, handing him a napkin. “You’re welcome.”

“Thank you!” MinMin echoed, lifting his own sippy cup to his mouth. “Thank you thank you!”

“Aww, you’re welcome, MinMin,” you giggled, patting the top of the boy’s head.

“Alright, you’re doing pretty good,” you declared as you’d reached a stopping point for the day.

He ducked his head bashfully. “You’re a good teacher.”

“Aw, thanks.” You stood up, grabbing the napkin from MinMin’s snack to toss in your kitchen trash. The boy was playing with some toys next to the two of you on the floor of your living room.

“So uh—” Mark cleared his throat over a voice crack. “What are you doing for the rest of the day? Do you have MinMin all day or…?”

“Jongdae said the reception won’t be over until late tonight. But his wife should get off sooner than that.” You tidied up a couple miscellaneous items in your kitchen as you chatted. “And what are you doing today, Mark?”

“Well—Woah!” At his sudden exclamation and the small giggle that followed, you peeked up from the dish you were drying to see Mark cautiously holding his hands up like he was under arrest as MinMin floundered around in his lap—you guessed he had fallen into it at first—for a second before righting himself and plopping down properly. “Uh… hi, buddy?” Mark said, his lack of self-confidence evident in the high pitch of his voice.

“Hi!” MinMin replied cheerily, his attention otherwise on the toy in his hand.

“You two alright in there?” You questioned, not bothering to hide the amusement in your tone.

“He just kind of sat down, I don’t know,” he quickly explained, still not lowering his hands.

“If you’re okay with him being there, that’s fine.”

“Y-Yeah!”

“You sure?” You walked back over, sitting down in front of the two boys so you could reach out and teasingly pinch MinMin’s nose. “You look terrified. He’s a baby witch, but he won’t do anything to you, promise.”

“It’s just… I have an older brother, and I’m the youngest cousin,” he admitted. “Haven’t really been around a lot of babies. Basilisk or otherwise.”

“Me neither, before MinMin,” you replied in understanding. “Only child, and so were my parents.”

“Wow, really?”

“Sphinxes are rare, remember?”

“I mean, I knew that, but I never really thought about what that really meant like, for you. Like, your family, that kind of stuff.”

You shrugged as a sort of ‘it is what it is’ gesture. “So, you never did tell me what you’re doing today.”

“Oh, uhm, well, we’re all having a movie night, at Chenle and Jisung’s later. And I was wondering if you—”

“Would let you stay here until then so you don’t have to go all the way back home then come all the way back here?” You finished knowingly, eyebrow quirking up.

“Yeah! Yeah, exactly,” he smiled sheepishly.

“Sure,” you agreed. “Looks like MinMin isn’t going to let you go anytime soon, anyway.” You indicated towards the toddler who had slowly started slumping over in Mark’s lap, very clearly about to nap.

“Uh, what do I do?” He asked you with wide eyes.

“He can sleep there, or I can take him.”

“Maybe you should…”

You nodded, standing up to go over to MinMin’s bag and pull out a floor mat, stuffed animal, and baby monitors. After setting everything up in a clear area of your floor, you scooped the boy up out of Mark’s lap and deposited him onto the mat on his back. You watched as he rolled around and readjusted until he was comfy, eyes fluttering shut completely and breathing evening out. Satisfied, you walked back over to Mark and offered him a hand up off the ground. He took it, seeming confused as you then led him away from the living room and towards your bedroom. At your room, Mark stopped in the threshold like crossing in would burn him alive, as you flopped onto one side of your bed, set the baby monitor on your nightstand, and grabbed your laptop. You scoffed and patted the other side of the bed, “Do you need to be invited inside like a vampire? Please, come in, Mark.”

“I’ve never been in your bedroom,” he muttered, taking a hesitant step in, his eyes focused on his feet.

“Really?” You scrounged through your memories, and came up empty. Shrugging, you patted the empty space on your bed insistently again. “First time for everything. Come on, we can’t watch TV out there with MinMin napping.”

He tentatively sat down cross-legged, his entire body noticeably tense as you slumped into your pillows and started scrolling through your options.

“You pick,” you declared, pushing the device towards him. “I’m in the middle of a drama and if I put it on, you’ll be confused.”

“I don’t mind, you can put on what you want,” he nudged the laptop back to you.

“Nope, I don’t need a twerp making fun of my drama preferences.” You pushed it back.

“Not a twerp. And I won’t make fun of it.” He pushed it over again.

“On one condition,” you bargained, pointing a finger at him threateningly. “You need to get invested. No scrolling on your phone. I’ll pause and answer any questions, explain everything for you. But I need you to be an active watcher with me. Deal?”

“Deal.” He nodded quickly.

As you queued up the next episode, you explained the basic premise, “It’s set in modern day, but there’s flashbacks from all different time periods. It’s about a phoenix who was cursed hundreds of years ago and can never remember her past once she reincarnates. This is obviously difficult for her vampire lover, who now has to win her over again with each reincarnation, but they’ve made it work so far. Except he wasn’t there when she had her last reincarnation, because she got into an accident while he was away at work or something. So in her amnesiac state after reincarnation, she wandered off, and he ended up losing her for long enough for her to have started a completely new life. And by the time he finds her again, she now has a new partner!”

Mark was nodding along, having listened to everything with rapt attention like you were teaching him about his powers again. “So that’s where this episode starts?”

“No, Markie,” you laughed and patted his leg. “That was just the first half of the pilot. We’re about to start episode eight.”

“Wait, that’s it?!” Mark scrolled down to the bottom of the list of episodes in disbelief. “But they just can’t leave it there!”

“The season is still premiering,” you informed him with a chuckle, readjusting your pillow under your head. “I think there’s maybe five more episodes?”

He had gradually sat back against the pillows at the head of your bed over the course of the two episodes you’d watched, and ran a hand through his hair as he let out a disgruntled sigh. “You’ve got to tell me how it ends.”

“It premieres on Fridays at 8:00.”

His brows knit together with confusion as he tried to follow the conversation. “It’s okay, I won’t make you wait five days to watch it with me.”

It was your turn to be confused for a beat, and then you realized that he thought you were offering to not watch new episodes when they premiered on Fridays and instead watch them with him when he came over on the following Wednesday. “No, Mark, if you want to watch it, you can come here and watch it. On Friday.” You clarified, then at his apparent surprise, tacked on, “With me.”

“But I thought you didn’t want to give up your Friday nights?”

“Yeah, because I’ve been watching this,” you gestured to the laptop screen. “No magic, that stays on Wednesdays. Fridays are for ‘Our Love from the Ashes’ only. Deal?”

You held your pinky finger out to him. He looked down at it nervously, then hooked his with it. “Deal,” he nodded, shaking pinkies in a very business-like manner.

At the same time, you started hearing the babbling sounds of MinMin waking up, and your phone screen lit up with a text. You grabbed both the baby monitor and your phone as you rolled off your bed, checking your messages and heading for your door. Covering your mouth, you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped.

“What?” Mark was following you, and stopped when you did by the threshold.

“Jongdae’s gig got cut short. He’ll be by to get MinMin soon,” you said, reading the message from your friend again.

“‘Got cut short?’”

You looked up at the basilisk as you said plainly, “Groom got cold feet, apparently.”

His eyes widened. “Oh my god…”

There was a knock at your front door less than an hour later. “MinMin, that’s your Dada!” You told the toddler enthusiastically, pulling on his last shoe as he sat in your lap.

He kicked his feet excitedly, making the task more difficult. “Eee!”

“Mark, can you get his diaper bag for me?” You requested of the basilisk, who was standing off to the side uncertainly.

“Yeah, of course.” He quickly went to oblige.

You walked over to the front door holding one of MinMin’s hands, and opened it for your friend. Jongdae was still in the full suit he was meant to perform in, bowtie and all, and stepped inside to give you a hug hello. “Hi, Y/N,” he patted your back. “Thank you again.”

“Hey, Jongdae,” you hugged your friend back. “No problem, he was great for us. I feel so sorry for that poor bride, though.”

“I know, I know.” He shook his head.

“Please tell me you’re still getting paid, right? At least a half-day or a deposit or something?”

“I keep my deposit, yeah. I usually don’t insist on much more if it’s not a mutual cancellation. Feel too bad…” He rubbed the back of his neck before picking up his son, focusing a much brighter smile on him. “Hi, MinMin! Were you good for Aunt Y/N?”

The boy nodded quickly. “Yeah!”

Jongdae then turned back to you, “So who did you say was coming over again? Baek?”

Mark finally approached from where he had been awkwardly hovering by your dining table just behind Jongdae, holding MinMin’s diaper bag. You stepped in to make introductions, grabbing Mark’s arm to bring him closer. “Jongdae, this is Mark, the basilisk I’ve mentioned, remember? Mark, this is Jongdae.”

“Nice to meet you,” Mark said politely, offering out the bag.

“You too.” Jongdae accepted the bag, giving the younger man a quick, mildly intrigued once-over before looking back to you. “We owe you one, Y/N.”

“No you don’t, you know he’s welcome here anytime. He’s a little angel.”

“For now. The terrible twos are around the corner,” your friend scoffed, turning towards the door again.

“You’re going to jinx yourself,” you warned him, grabbing the door handle to hold it open for him.

“I’ll throw some salt over my shoulder when I get home.” He shook his head, then gave you and Mark a nod goodbye. “See you two. Say bye, MinMin.”

“Bye!” The boy waved zealously over his dad’s shoulder, and you grinned and waved back before shutting the door behind them.

Turning back to your one remaining guest, you tilted your head to ask, “When does movie night start?” Before Mark could answer, however, the sounds of explosions and engines revving came through your living room wall, albeit slightly muffled. “Right now?” You guessed, amused.

“Oh, didn’t even realize the time…” Mark’s ears were pink as he looked at his phone as if checking said time.

“It was very sweet of you to stay, Mark, but you could’ve gone to movie night. You saw how good MinMin was, I would’ve been fine with him on my own,” you smiled and squeezed his arm appreciatively, herding him towards the door.

“There’s still dishes—”

“You want to do my dishes?” You laughed. “College boy who wants to do dishes instead of go to a movie night with his friends? What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing, I just—I don’t know, it’s not fair. You do everything.”

“It’s my home. You’re my guest.” You cocked your head curiously. “It’s okay, Mark.”

“Well, I’m here a lot, you know? You’re already helping me with my powers and stuff. I want to help you too.”

“Okay, you can start doing your own dishes if that’ll make you feel better,” you agreed skeptically. “Next week. Go on, I’m sure they’re going to give you enough shit as is for being late.”

“It’s not just the dishes,” he mumbled under his breath, stuffing his feet in his shoes. You weren’t sure if you were meant to hear that.

As he went to grab the door handle, you put a hand on the door to keep him from opening it. “I want you to bring Johnny next time.”

“What?!” He squeaked.

“Bring Johnny when you come on Wednesday. You need to practice using your powers on someone they’ll actually work on.”

“I don’t think that’s a good—”

“I’ll be right here, Mark,” you reminded him. “It’ll be fine.”

“Alright, fine. I’ll see if he can come.”

At 5:58 p.m. the following Wednesday, there was a knock at your front door. You opened the door to two figures this time, Mark’s familiar face and another young man behind him, a head taller than him. “Mark! And you must be Johnny.” You beamed at the two of them, beckoning them in and then introducing yourself to the human, “I’m Y/N, please, come in.”

“Thank you for inviting me over.” Johnny nodded politely as he followed Mark in.

You furrowed your brows, looking over at the basilisk suspiciously. “Mark, you did tell him why we invited him over, right?”

“I did, I swear!” He promised.

“I know it might sound kind of weird, for me to be thanking you for inviting me to get petrified and compelled or whatever, but I want to help Mark out however I can. So really, thanks,” the human smiled genuinely.

You relaxed at this, guiding them further into your apartment. “Well in that case, you’re welcome.”

“Y/N, bathroom?” Mark pointed down your hall.

“You know where it is.” You waved him off as you headed towards the kitchen to grab three glasses.

Johnny followed you into the kitchen, careful to lower his voice as he told you, “Besides, none of our friends have even met you, and we’re all kind of curious about Mark’s new older lady friend that he keeps talking about, so I just had to come, petrification be damned.”

“I do hate to burst your bubble, Johnny, but Chenle and Jisung have met me before. They live next door,” you informed him.

“Oh, Mark’s other friends?”

“Yeah, I guess. He hasn’t drawn me a diagram, so I don’t have a perfect idea of who knows who, sorry.”

“Well, of our other friend group, I’ll be the first to have met you, then.”

“And? Am I everything you all had dreamed of? The mysterious sphinx in her lair luring poor little Markie in every week?” You opened your fridge, skimming your eyes over your drink options. “Wine? Beer? Water? Chocolate milk?”

Johnny chuckled, “Is that for ‘Markie?’”

“No,” you snickered. “My nephew was over this past weekend, but I figured I’d offer it to you guys since I had extra.”

“What kind of wine?”

“A very lovely red. The grapes are grown in a vineyard in this fairy kingdom whose vale naturally produces magical dew. It’s hard to describe, but the flavor that gets imparted is… exquisite to say the least.”

“Sold.”

You poured two glasses of the red wine, then filled up the third with chocolate milk. “So, if Mark hasn’t explained how this works, we’ll eat dinner first, then get into the magic stuff. It’s kind of like exercising, it’s pointless to do it on an empty stomach.”

“You’re different than I thought you’d be,” Johnny admitted thoughtfully, swirling the wine in his glass around.

“More human looking?” You guessed, expecting that you were the first sphinx he’d probably ever met. Not only were your kind rare in and of themselves, but Mark had mentioned that Johnny didn’t even meet any magical creatures until coming to college just a few years ago.

“That, and… younger?”

You snorted, Chenle’s previous ‘MILF hunter’ comment echoing in the back of your head. You set your wine down to cross your arms and cock your head as you asked him, “What do you know about sphinx and/or basilisk aging?”

“Literally nothing. Mark molted all over our apartment a couple summers ago and it was so gross but apparently that’s something that’s supposed to happen a year or two after basilisks reach adulthood.”

“So I could be a thousand years old for all you know.”

He blinked. “…Are you?”

“No.” You shook your head. “However, Mark and I will both outlive you and your grandkids, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Woah… congrats.”

“But since you brought it up…” You lifted your glass back to your lips, taking a slow sip. You then leaned in conspiratorially. “Between us, does Mark have a thing for older women?”

Johnny smirked and leaned in as well. “Why? You interested?”

“Just heard a little rumor, that’s all.”

“I don’t know about having a type, per se, but he definitely has a thing for this one older woman he knows.”

Before you could respond, you heard the door to the bathroom open, and straightened back up. Johnny furrowed his brows in confusion, and you nodded towards the entrance of the kitchen, where Mark appeared just a moment later.

“Hey guys—oh, chocolate milk! Sweet!” He happily picked up the untouched third glass. Mark then went to explain to his friend, “Y/N only buys chocolate milk when her nephew MinMin comes over. She’s way too much of a real adult to have it around otherwise.”

“Is this your passive-aggressive way of telling me I should buy chocolate milk just for you to drink when you come over?”

“Maybe. Is it working?”

“When you start helping foot my grocery bill, you can dictate what goes on my grocery list, how about that?”

Mark’s eyes widened at that, and he didn’t respond, instead taking another big gulp of his chocolate milk. When he brought his cup down from his face, he had a chocolate milk mustache, and offered you a big thumbs up as he grabbed for a napkin. “Thanks, Y/N! This is perfect!”

“Uh-huh,” you rolled your eyes, but were unable to fight the fond smile on your lips as you turned back to your fridge. “Alright, dinner’s pre-made ravioli, the next person who whines doesn’t eat.”

“Yum!” “My favorite!”

Sat at your dining table across from the two roommates, you took a sip of your drink before engaging your new guest in conversation again, “Are you a student as well, Johnny?”

“Yes, I’m a Comms major, focus in advertising,” he answered.

“And what do you want to do? Advertising?”

The human shrugged and smiled. “Don’t know. Something I don’t hate, I guess.”

You laughed. “That’s fair. I was the same way when I graduated undergrad. Didn’t care where I worked as long as it paid well, didn’t have crazy hours, and wasn’t so boring that I wanted to bang my head against a wall while I was there.”

“Exactly.” Johnny gestured at you triumphantly. “Where’d you end up working?”

“Network security company,” you shrugged one shoulder. “Honestly, I’m not even a big tech person. Can’t fix my own wi-fi if it’s out, past turning it off then back on again. I’m a manager.”

“Need an intern?”

“Dude, you have a job,” Mark interjected, elbowing his friend in the arm.

“I’m networking, dude,” Johnny replied pointedly, elbowing him back. “Not all of us can bank on being doctors in eight years, you know.”

You watched their bickering with amusement before answering the human’s question, “I can make an inquiry. The Advertising AD may or may not owe me a favor…”

“Thanks!” He beamed at you. “So, I’m sorry, if this rude or something, but sphinxes do those riddles, right?”

You arched an eyebrow. “Yes… Don’t tell me Mark has two magical adrenaline junkie friends? I’m not giving you a riddle either.”

Mark’s head shot up from where he had been sullenly eating his ravioli, his eyes going wide with mortification. “Renjun asked you for a riddle?!”

“I didn’t give him one,” you snorted. “I’m not going to be responsible for some kid going mad.”

“I’m going to kill him,” the basilisk groaned, covering his own face in embarrassment. “Why is he like this?”

“I’m not asking you for a riddle, don’t worry,” Johnny assured you. “I was just curious… Would that make sphinxes good poets or writers, then?”

“Sphinxes are good wordsmiths, yes,” you answered with a smile. “But we stick more to oral traditions. One of our favorite pastimes is riddle-weaving. Sphinxes will swap riddles back and forth, solving each other’s riddles to see who can come up with the best one. It’s a good way to pass the time on long car rides.”

“Renjun also said there’s a lot of sphinx lawyers?” Mark added.

“If you compare the percentage of the entire population that are sphinxes and the percentage of lawyers that are sphinxes, yes, sphinxes are overrepresented in that field,” you nodded. “Kind of like how there’s a lot of unicorns in healthcare and education.”

“And dryads in ecology,” Johnny followed your train of logic.

“Exactly.”

After dinner, the three of you moved into your living room. The sun was beginning to set outside, so you retrieved the glowing spheres that had been sitting in your lamps and sent them back outside to rejoin the rest of the rays. You preferred to light your apartment with sunlight when possible, as it was both more beautiful to you, and way more cost-effective than using electricity.

As you went to turn the ceiling light on with the lightswitch, you started explaining what you’d just done to your human guest, “That was sol-channeling. You might hear it be called heliokinesis as well. Sphinxes always call it sol-channeling.”

“Can you sol-channel moonlight? Since it’s technically just reflected sunlight?” Johnny questioned curiously.

“Nope. Magically different properties. Just like how werewolves are only affected by the full moon and moonstone, not by any sort of sunlight or sunstone.”

“…Right. Of course.”

“We can only manipulate existing sunlight, but we can’t make it, and we have to send it back before the Sun sets.”

“What happens if you don’t send it back before the Sun sets?”

“We’re only borrowing the sunlight from Sol. It has to be anchored to us while it’s here,” you said, guiding him by the arm to stand in one spot. “If we don’t end that connection ourselves willingly, it’ll still go back… and rip a piece of our soul out with it. The more sunlight that you’ve sol-channeled, and have anchored to you, the more of your soul that’s taken.”

You then positioned Mark across from Johnny, facing his friend from several steps away. The basilisk’s eyes were locked on your face in horror, but you just kept calmly readjusting him.

“Can you… regrow it? If that happens?” Johnny asked quietly.

“You can heal, physically,” you answered levelly, walking behind Mark. “Hurts like a bitch for a while… but healing a soul, that’s something that takes a lot of power. I can really only think of one thing that would do that…”

“What is it?” Mark blurted out.

“The Sun,” you replied bluntly. “Phoenixes, when they reincarnate. Everything is healed, soul included.” They were quiet for a moment, and you clapped your hands together, changing conversation topics, “Alright, time for some compelling! Ready, guys?”

“Totally!” Johnny gave you two thumbs-up.

“Mark?” You prompted the basilisk right in front of you.

“Shouldn’t you be by Johnny? In case you need to nix it?” He pointed to the human, looking down at his feet.

“I can nix from here,” you assured him. Reaching over his shoulder, you secured between two fingers the silver chain that you knew his lion pendant dangled from. You pulled it out from under his shirt, holding it in his eyeline. “Breathe, Mark. Let’s do a round of those grounding breaths, hm?”

You let his anchor go to rest on his chest again, and watched his eyes flutter shut as you started counting him through the breaths. Once he was done, he opened his eyes back up, the slit pupils slowly dragging up from his feet to your face first. You smiled reassuringly at him from your spot just beside him now. You squeezed his arm. “You’ve got this, Mark. Just like we’ve done before. I’ll be right back here, okay?”

As you went to step back, you saw Mark gulp, and his gaze fell down again. He wouldn’t be able to compel Johnny if he didn’t look him in the eye. While you had read through Renjun’s notes pretty thoroughly early in working with Mark, you were using them as a guide of what not to do. You didn’t want him to constantly be in a state of being stressed, tired, and stuck at home in order to be in tune with his powers. But right now, you could tell that you were hitting at least two out of three of those. Dinner had already taken up a considerable portion of your evening, and Mark was still not as relaxed as you needed him to be.

“Hey, Mark, I finally figured out why Yuta’s barely passing all his classes,” Johnny suddenly interjected.

That caught the basilisk’s attention, his voice confused as he went to respond, “I thought he was on the Dean’s List—”

“Because sirens only know what’s under C-level,” the human finished with a wide grin.

“Dude—” Mark was cut off by his own laughs. “That was bad. Like, barely made sense bad.”

“Well, did I tell you about this fairy philosophy major I met the other day?”

“What? Were they cute or something?”

“Yeah, a real Thinker-bell…”

That one even made you snort as Mark devolved into giggles. Johnny caught your eye as he continued, “You know how Taeil and Doyoung are witches that live together?”

“I mean, Jungwoo’s there—”

“And they were broom-mates…”

“Stop, dude,” Mark’s protests were dampened by his non-stop giggles as he clutched his sides. “We’re trying to— We’re trying—”

“What’s a vampire’s favorite fruit?” You cut in, making both of them turn to you. “A neck-tarine…”

Johnny actually burst out laughing at that, probably more than the awful pun warranted, as he quickly doubled over and had to hold himself up with his hands on his knees. Mark stumbled just the slightest towards you as he was still giggling, finally moving from the place that you had set him up in. “Y/N, not you too!” He complained through laughter. “God, you two are awful. Not funny at all.”

“Then why are you laughing so hard, Markie?” You pointed out with a chuckle, letting him lean his weight on your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.

“Because I can’t believe you would make terrible dad jokes like that.” He took deep breaths, still holding his side. “Looped back around to being funny.”

“Then why’d you laugh at mine?” Johnny was upright again.

“Pity.”

And as you caught Johnny’s twinkling eyes again from across the room, you figured that you were thinking the same thing. Success. One much more relaxed Mark Lee.

Mark found his footing again, and with one more deep breath, looked up at Johnny. You watched him carefully, feeling the exact moment he made contact with his powers, extending them out towards Johnny. They weren’t overwhelming, out-of-control, hasty, or at risk of boiling over. Johnny stood still, pupils dilating as he looked to Mark for his cue.

“Touch your right index finger to your nose gently,” Mark instructed calmly. That was something you had worked on, specificity without complexity.

Johnny lifted his right hand, tapping his nose with his pointer finger.

“Put your right hand down.” After he had done so, Mark then requested, “Lift your left hand above your head, slowly.”

Johnny raised his hand like he was in a classroom, holding it there.

“Put your left hand down please.”

The human lowered his hand again.

“Thanks, Johnny, you’re done,” Mark released him, and you felt the energy draw back into the basilisk as steadily as it had extended out. He let out a breath as Johnny blinked and came back into himself. “You alright, man?”

“Great!” Johnny beamed and gave him a thumbs up. “Thanks for not making me do anything weird.”

“I told you I wouldn’t, man.” The basilisk rolled his eyes.

“Mark!” You threw your arms around his neck without a second thought, practically vibrating with excitement. “You did it! On purpose!”

“I’m going to pee, before the petrification,” Johnny whispered loudly, excusing himself down the hall.

“I-I mean, I had a good teacher...” Mark muttered, tentatively hugging you back.

“I won’t argue with you there,” you snickered, squeezing him even tighter. “I’m proud of you, Markie.”

Two days later, and it was Friday night. After a long week of work, you finally could relax, order some food, make yourself a drink, kick your feet up, and just have a nice quiet night to yourself. Well, sort of. You had actually ordered food for two, prepared an extra glass of ice water, and were awaiting a familiar knock on your door before you could kick up your feet and start your show.

Mark knocked at 7:50 p.m., just 10 minutes before the newest episode of Our Love from the Ashes would be premiering, and you ushered him in quickly. Squished into the middle two couch cushions next to each other so you could both have access to your coffee table to eat from, you were pleasantly surprised to find that he wasn’t incredibly tense or actively running away. He was doing exactly what you’d asked him to do—getting invested. Reacting to the episode with you, quiet at the tense parts, laughing at the funny parts, pretty much the perfect drama watching partner. You were done with your food halfway into the episode, and dragged over a blanket to cover your lap now that you weren’t at risk of any spillage. It was large enough to cover both you and Mark, so you put it over his lap too, and that was when he suddenly choked on a noodle.

“You alright?” You snorted, giving him a couple solid smacks on the back. “Food go down the wrong pipe?”

He wiped his mouth with a napkin to catch a dribble of sauce. “Yeah, sorry. Don’t—Don’t mind me.”

Right as you focused back on the show, however, loud shooting and explosion sounds started up from the other side of your living room wall, and you sighed. You reached forward to grab the remote, pausing the show before scooting out from under the blanket and walking over to your shared wall with Chenle and Jisung. Banging your fist against the wall a couple times, you then waited. The video game sounds decreased significantly, then you heard a dampened, “Sorry, Ms. Y/N!” from Chenle this time.

“That’s how loud it is?” Mark asked, now looking incredibly guilty.

“Yep,” you replied, plopping back down on the couch next to him and pulling the blanket over you again. With the show still paused, you looked over at him curiously. “Are you missing a video game night right now?”

“It’s not like everyone or anything,” he shrugged, casting his eyes down to his dish as he pushed food around with his utensil. “I mean, I think it’s just Jaemin, Hyuck, Chenle, and Renjun. Jeno and his girlfriend are celebrating their anniversary, and Jisung’s not even there at the game night in his own apartment because he’s out with his girlfriend. It was going to be a single losers night.”

“So what does it mean that you’re here with me instead then?” You mused humorously, hitting play.

Mark apparently wasn’t hungry anymore, as he set his food down and leaned back against the couch cushions. But he didn’t relax very much. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see one of his legs bouncing up and down. With the warm summer air outside, he had worn a t-shirt with some comic book character on it. As his fingers started messing with the texture of the blanket, your eyes followed the movement, up to his hands, then further up to his forearms, where you could see his muscles twitch and flex in the slightest under his skin. You were suddenly more aware of the lounge clothes you were wearing. They were nothing special, a comfortable t-shirt of your own and pair of shorts, but as you became conscious of exactly how much the shorts had ridden up with the way you were sitting under the blanket, your focus was still locked on Mark’s hands, not the show that you had unwittingly tuned out.

“Sorry,” Mark’s voice was sheepish, and you blinked, looking up from his hands to his face. “Didn’t mean to pull at a thread. I just fidget, you know…”

His fingers had stopped messing with the blanket, and you gave him a half-hearted smile and shake of your head. “It’s fine, Mark. Didn’t mean to stare like that, sorry.”

When you turned back to the screen, you were able to focus on the show for a whole two minutes. And then the main couple’s romantic kiss turned into a prolonged make-out session. Mark’s hands pulled at the thread again. You smacked a hand down over his, harder than you intended to. He jumped under your touch, but stopped his accidental unwinding of your textile. You kept your hand there to prevent him from unraveling the thread again, skin buzzing with a new kind of energy where it touched his. You didn’t look at him. Then the kissing turned into a bit more, with some conveniently placed objects in frame, and a tasteful fade-to-black. Mark shifted a bit higher in his seat. You slowly took your hand back. That wasn’t the end of the episode, as there was a very cute morning-after scene as well, but you could barely celebrate the fact that the characters were back together. Finally looking at the basilisk beside you out of the corner of your eye, he was staring straight ahead at the TV, his leg back to bouncing. He ran a hand through his hair, and you could see his throat bob as he swallowed hard.

As soon as the credits started rolling, Mark was on his feet. “Uhm, thank you for having me.”

“Right… thanks for coming over.” You walked him to the door like usual, which he seemed to be racing you to. Holding your hand on the door handle without actually opening it, you watched him shift uncomfortably in place. “Are you okay, Mark?”

“Hm? Fine, fine!” His voice cracked. “It was a-a good episode.”

“Yeah, they finally got back together and—”

“Sorry, I just remembered I actually have an assignment due at 11:59 tonight,” he blurted out, scratching the back of his neck. You peered over his shoulder at your stove clock visible from your kitchen. 8:58 p.m.

“Oh. Well, I’ll let you go then.” You went to give him a one-armed hug goodbye without a second thought, feeling him stiffen in your loose hold. Stepping back, you opened the door for him. “See you Wednesday, Mark.”

His face was bright red as he stammered out, “See-See you. Goodnight, Y/N.”

His sneakers squeaked as he took off down the hall. You closed the door behind him and looked back into your apartment, which felt oddly empty now.

Pushing open the door to Half Moon Bakery some days later, you were immediately enveloped by the cozy and sweet smells of the various breads, sweets, and pastries inside. Two employees were behind the counter, one attending to the register while the other restocked their shelves with loaves of bread from a tray, his back to you.

“Hi! Welcome to Half Moon! How can I help you?” The friendly-looking worker at the register greeted you brightly. As you got closer, you could very clearly smell that he was a werewolf, musky and warm.

You offered the young man a smile back. “Hi, I’m actually—”

“Y/N?” The other employee, who had also been wearing a backwards baseball cap, turned around then, surprise on his features.

It took you a second to place the face so out-of-context, immediately offering a kind greeting as soon as you recognized him. “Oh, Johnny, hey. It’s good to see you. Almost didn’t recognize you in the apron, sorry.”

The human gestured down to the navy-blue apron he had donned as part of the bakery’s uniform. “Yeah, it’s me.”

The first boy’s eyes widened as he turned to Johnny. “Wait, Y/N, as in…?”

“Yes, Jeno, this is Chenle and Jisung’s neighbor,” Johnny confirmed pointedly through gritted teeth. You knew very well what was also implicitly being confirmed, because if he knew Johnny, knew your name, and knew Chenle and Jisung, then Jeno presumably also knew Mark and your apparent reputation among their friend group.

“I-It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Y/N. Uhm, sorry about all the noise all the time,” Jeno stammered out an apology.

The way he addressed you made you chuckle lightly. There were only two people who called you that, and with whom he would’ve had to be apologizing for noise if he’d been with. “Oh, you must be one of Mark’s other friends that’s always playing video games so loudly in the boys’ apartment next door.”

“R-Right. Again, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m teasing, Jeno,” you reassured the poor boy, who looked like a kicked puppy at this point. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“So what can we get you?” Johnny asked, motioning to all of the various baked goods in the shop.

“As delicious as everything looks, I’m actually not here to eat, unfortunately. Another time,” you promised. Refocusing on the real reason you came into the bakery today, you looked around. “Minseok in?”

“Oh, yeah, Mr. Minseok’s in the back. I can go grab him for you,” Jeno offered.

“Would you please, Jeno?”

“So, how do you know Minseok?” Johnny asked as you waited, genuine curiosity in his tone.

“Oh, we’ve known each other for years,” you started. “We’re—”

“Y/N, hey!” Minseok calling your name out snapped your attention to your friend making his way out of the back of the bakery.

“Minseok— ah!” You got cut off by a sputtering laugh as he came around the counter to hug you, patting his back in the embrace. When you pulled back, you didn’t let your friend get very far, brushing at a white smudge on his cheek. “You’ve got flour on your face, you know? I swear you’d have lost your canines a decade ago if it weren’t for me, Kim Minseok.”

“I work in a bakery,” he reminded you with a huff, disentangling from you to cross his arms stubbornly. “Call it an occupational hazard. And you’ve got some on you, too.”

“Oh, and whose fault is that?” You scoffed, wiping at your own face where it had brushed against his in the hug.

“Yours. You’ve got to play better defense, Y/N.” He pretended to punch your upper arm a couple times as if in a boxing match.

“Defense against flour-covered hugs? My bad, I’ll train up on that this weekend.”

Your friend dropped his mock boxer’s stance. “Anyway, you ready to go?”

“Yep, I am if you are.”

“Absolutely.” He nodded, then turned to his employees, who suddenly seemed extremely invested in wiping down the countertop by the register. “I’m about to take my lunch. You two need anything from me?”

Johnny shook his head, giving his boss a reassuring grin. “Nope, nope, all good.”

“Jeno, you think she needs anything back there?” Minseok asked the werewolf.

“Nah, you saw her, she’s totally in the zone,” Jeno replied, a soft smile overtaking his features. “We’re actually taking our lunch break soon, too.”

“Cool. Be back in an hour, hour and a half.”

You lifted a hand to give them your own farewell, “It was good seeing you guys, bye!”

“Since when do you know my employees so well?” Minseok squinted at you as the two of you walked down the sidewalks together.

“They’re both Mark’s friends,” you explained.

The sphinx made an extended ‘ohhh’ sound as you rounded the corner to your destination, a quick, casual café. While you didn’t technically have a timed lunch break since you were in a salary position, your schedule was full up with meetings for the afternoon that you couldn’t be late for. Minseok held the door open for you. “So I guess I have you to thank for Johnny no longer missing shifts because he got petrified, then.”

You covered your mouth with your hand to cover your laugh. “I guess so.”

Saturday night found you hosting all your friends at your place—a rare occurrence. It wasn’t that you didn’t like hanging out with all your friends, it was that you four usually went out somewhere, or to someone else’s place. You weren’t a big hostess in general, and typically Jongin or Baekhyun preferred to do the hosting of the four of you, but somehow, this time, everyone ended up at your place for board game night.

“Something you’d like to tell us, Y/N?” Baekhyun raised his eyebrows as he dug a forest green garment out from between two of your throw pillows on your couch. He set his wine glass down on the coffee table to spread the hoodie wide, allowing you to see the logo on the front, the name of the college that Mark and your neighbors attended.

“Mark left a hoodie here?” You questioned. “The horror…? It’s a hoodie, not a condom. Calm down, Baek.”

“I just don’t get what you’re waiting for.”

“What are you talking about?” You walked over to take the hoodie from him, folding it up and setting it aside on your dining table so you wouldn’t forget to give it back to Mark on Wednesday.

“You haven’t talked about any other man since you started ‘mentoring’ this kid,” the siren said frankly, putting his hands on his hips. “Every time we see you, it’s ‘Mark did this’ and ‘Mark said that’ and ‘Mark’s doing so good’ and—”

“I don’t sound like that,” you scowled.

“You kind of do,” Minseok agreed, reclined on your couch.

You looked to Jongin, hoping that he’d at least back you up. He shrugged.

“I’m just saying, from what you’ve been saying, he’s been wrapped around your finger since he laid eyes on you,” Baekhyun continued. “So, what are you waiting for? He’s got his powers under control; he’s obsessed with you—have some fun. I think you’ve earned it. Go be the MILF you want to see in the world.”

“You mean the MILF that you want to see in the world. Pass.”

“What? Is he not cute or—”

“I said pass, Baek. Leave it.”

“Does he have a partner or something?”

“No, I don’t think so. Can we just play—”

“What is your—”

“Baekhyun.” Jongin cut him off coolly. “Stop.”

The siren held up his hands. “Fine. Sorry.”

As everyone sat around your coffee table to start setting up the board game, you could feel Minseok’s contemplative gaze on you. “You really like him, don’t you?” The other sphinx asked quietly, into the dead silence. “Your basilisk.”

Never had you ever been more relieved to hear loud, raucous video game explosions from the apartment next door. You scrambled to your feet, happy to be out of that conversation. “Oh, that’s the boys. Sorry, hold on.” You walked over to your shared wall, and banged your fist on it a couple times.

The volume was quickly cranked down, then Jisung called out, “Sorry!”

You turned back to your own friends with a pleased smile. “There we go.”

A moment later, your phone buzzed in your hand.

[markie: sorry, i tried to tell them it wasn’t quiet enough]

[you: that’s alright. thanks, markie]

[you: also, you left a hoodie here. you can grab it wednesday]

When you sat back down to set up the boardgame, your friends apparently decided to leave the topic well enough alone, letting you start reading off the direction with no further poking or prodding.

A few hours later, after the games had been abandoned but before your friends were ready to leave, you were washing up a few glasses at your kitchen sink as the others debated some movie options to round out the night. There was a faint knock on your front door, and you looked at the time on the stove clock curiously.

“Oh, can someone get that?” You called out to the living room, hands still wet, soapy, and holding an equally wet and soapy glass. “I’m expecting a package, needs to be signed for.”

“I’ve got it!” Minseok shouted back, the sound of the front door opening following just a moment later.

“W-What?” A familiar stutter reached your ears, and you grabbed a dish towel to start drying your hands off, listening carefully to make sure you’d heard correctly. There was no reason Mark should be at your door right now.

“Oh, Mark, right? Johnny’s roommate.” Nope, apparently he was, according to Minseok’s memory.

“Mark?” You poked your head out of the kitchen, the rest of your body following when you did in fact see the basilisk at your front door. “What are you doing here?”

“What is he doing here?” Mark pointed at the other sphinx accusatorily.

“So this is Mark?!” Baekhyun had joined you three at the door, delight on his features. “Minseok, don’t be rude, let the boy in.”

“What’s uh, what’s going on?” Jongin called from the living room as he, too, stood up to start walking over to the front door.

You shook your head at your friends, turning to chastise them, “Oh my God, all of you, stop it.” Clearly, the younger basilisk was in some kind of panic, and you had no clue why he was even at your door when as far you knew, he and his friends were playing video games thirty seconds ago. Putting your focus back on Mark, you softened your tone, “Mark, why are you—”

But the college student turned on his heel and took off down the hallway at a sprint.

“Mark! Hey!” You called after him, stepping out of your doorway, but it was useless, as he was already long gone down the stairwell. With a sigh, you dropped your hands to your sides in defeat and moved back into your apartment. Leaning against the inside of your closed door, you looked around at your friends, at a loss for words.

“Do you think we scared him?” Baekhyun asked, his head tilted.

Jongin’s forked tongue flicked out, his eyebrows shooting up before his features relaxed again. “You think?”

The next Wednesday, as the time neared 6:00 p.m., you paced your living room anxiously, eyes on the microwave clock as you strained your ears to listen to every minute sound in the hallway. Listening for footfalls, or maybe even the door of the stairwell opening if it were quiet enough. 6:00 passed, then 6:01, 6:02, 6:03, 6:04, and at 6:05 you checked your phone for any indication from Mark that he was still planning on coming over, maybe just running late. You hadn’t heard a peep from him since Saturday, which included leaving you on read this afternoon when you asked him if he wanted pizza or dumpling soup for dinner. You made pizza, too distracted to trust yourself to do more cooking than putting a frozen pizza in the oven. 6:08 p.m., and you heard someone walking down the hallway, past the boys’ apartment, and finally stopped on your doormat. They knocked, and you let out a sigh of relief, rushing to answer the door before he could have the opportunity to run away again.

You unlocked your locks in record time, a breathless smile coming to your face at the familiar figure of Mark standing there. His hands were stuffed into his hoodie pocket as the side of his mouth pulled up into a sheepish half-smile. “Hey, Y/N. Sorry I’m late.”

“Mark,” you breathed out his name in relief. “Just get in here, would you?”

“I’m really sorry about Saturday,” he apologized immediately as soon as you had locked up, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, what even was that?” You asked, a concerned frown on your face as you stepped closer to him. “I mean, why did you come over? And then why did you run away as soon you showed up?”

“It’s… not a good reason. And again, I’m so sorry.” He ran two hands through his hair this time, thoroughly mussing it up.

“Uh, do you want to sit down, Mark?” You offered your couch up.

“Sure, sure, yeah.” He obliged, but was on the edge of his seat, leaning his weight forward on his arms and bouncing a knee. You were getting more nervous just looking at him. “Uhm, so, Jeno had told me about when you came into the café last week, when you got lunch with his boss. And I sort of got freaked. And then I came over here and he was here, I got even more freaked. And then all those other guys were here and I got super freaked and bolted. Like I said, I’m really sorry.”

You opened and closed your mouth a couple times as you tried to figure out what you wanted to address first. Finally, you landed on: “Jeno told you? Not Johnny?”

“Johnny helped me get un-freaked enough to come over tonight.”

“Well, big thanks to Johnny, then. Though I will admit that I’m not sure what to do with the fact that me having friends freaked you out so bad in the first place.”

“I-I know, it was really immature of me, I just…” He sighed, wringing his hands together.

You felt bad, he was clearly at a loss for what to do next. He knew he’d messed up and how, and had apologized multiple times. You figured he’d only gotten so “freaked” because he’d known so little about the situation, so you decided that offering some more information would help put him at ease.

“Baekhyun, Minseok, and Jongin. Those are their names,” you said. “They’re my closest friends. Baekhyun’s a siren, Minseok’s a sphinx like me, and Jongin’s a basilisk like you. You can ask me questions about them, if you want.”

“How did you guys meet?”

“We were all in the same class together in primary school.”

“Oh that’s cool!” He replied brightly.

“What?” You blinked at him, caught off-guard. That usually wasn’t the reaction that piece of information garnered from other magical creatures that were from here.

“That you guys went to school together and you’re all still friends. I don’t know how many people I went to primary school with that I could even still name off the top of my head. Did you guys have like a Cool Magic Kids Only Club type thing or something?”

You looked down at your lap. “Not exactly…”

Mark had picked up on the unease in your tone, all perk falling from his features. “What? Is something wrong, Y/N?”

It took you a moment to figure out how to phrase this for him, pressing your lips together in a line as you thought. When you settled on the words, you told him gently, “We were all in the same class because we were the only kids in our class. It was for magical creatures only.”

“Wait, what?”

“I mean, not just the four of us, there were ten students total. But, yeah, we were kept separate from the human kids in school. For their safety.”

“I’ve heard about that kind of stuff, like, when integration was first happening, but you’re not that much older than me!” He pointed out, his jaw dropped in disbelief.

You decided to do a little test. “Mark, did you go to speech therapy? When you were in school?”

“What? No.”

“Jongin, the basilisk, he used to get pulled from class three times a week to go to speech therapy to ‘fix’ how he spoke.” You made sure to throw sarcastic air quotes around the word fix.

“What the fuck?”

“I mean, I didn’t have any powers, so I just had to keep my first set of teeth in check, you know. But they didn’t believe me when I told them I couldn’t possibly be a danger yet because sphinxes didn’t get their powers until they were adults. After all, sphinxes were riddle-makers, tricksy, and couldn’t be trusted.”

“Oh, oh my god, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

“So, anyway, that’s how we all know each other. Thirteen years of educational trauma does a lot to make some pretty unbreakable bonds.”

“Y/N… I’m so sorry, I was a dick.”

“Thanks, Mark. But to be fair, you don’t know any of my friends, do you?”

“I’ve met Minseok before.” He tried to reassure you. “And Jongdae!”

“You mean you’ve said hi to Jongdae once, and met Minseok as Johnny and Jeno’s boss.” You shook your head with a small smile. “But I mean, I’ve met a bunch of your friends. Chenle and Jisung, obviously, and I’ve met Renjun, Johnny, and now Jeno. You talk about all of them all the time. It’s not entirely unreasonable that you could’ve… jumped to conclusions.”

“But it wasn’t fair of me to do that.”

“Well, can’t argue with you there.” You agreed. After a pause of the two of you just sort of looking at each other, you offered, “Do you want to hear more about them?”

“You don’t have to… tell me anything you don’t want to, Y/N.”

“Minseok and I weren’t always the closest on the surface, you know. Baekhyun and I liked more of the same stuff, Jongin didn’t really to talk to anybody except me for our first few years of primary school, and Baekhyun and Minseok would team up to pick on me sometimes, but there was always an unspoken bond between us, since we were both sphinxes.” You decided to start with Minseok, since that’s who started this whole freak-out in the first place. “You know, we’re so rare, it was comforting to have another one of us around during all of this. We weren’t allowed to riddle-weave at school, obviously, but whenever we could find the rare opportunity at our magic-only recess, or in a corner of the library, or walking home from school when we were a little older, we’d swap riddles back and forth with each other. One of us would give a riddle, the other would solve it, then give a riddle back. And don’t get me wrong, our whole class was really close. There were only ten of us, and we had pretty much no contact with the rest of the students at our school until high school. But the four of us, Minseok, Baekhyun, Jongin, and I, were truly the best of friends. Still are.”

“What about the rest of you? The other kids from your class?” He asked.

“We keep in touch with all of them. Sort of parted ways in college and as we got older, you know. I actually work with one of them. Remember that phone call I got from my employee, Sehun?”

“Kind of?”

“He’s one of my former classmates, a witch.”

“Oh. Huh.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw him walk in on his first day. Let me think… Jongdae, witch, he’s the only one of us to have a kid so far, MinMin; Chanyeol, werewolf, just got a promotion… then of course Minseok owns the bakery, Baekhyun has his boba shop, Jongin has a whole designer brand... Yeah, we’re all doing just… great. Really makes my heart happy.”

“Ah, Y/N…” Mark got to his feet, throwing his hands down by his sides in fists as he paced.

“Woah, Markie, are you okay?”

“No, just— Doesn’t it make you mad? That they did this to you guys?”

“It used to, yeah, absolutely. We used to be the angriest, angstiest, most vitriolic people you could ever meet. We hated that school, and society, and the world for letting them treat us like that. Hell, Jongin still hates his speech therapist, and I’ll let him die with that grudge.” You shook your head, the momentary bitterness dissolving from your tongue and a melancholy replacing it instead. “But it ate at us. And not only that, but society kept changing. And we were all stuck in that time, in those memories, stuck with that anger. It was killing us from the inside. I am so glad you didn’t meet me in college, Mark, because it was not pretty. The number of nights that none of us can remember—and not for any fun reason—is far too many.”

He still didn’t seem convinced, but had stopped his angry pacing, standing in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I mean, just look at you. You went through the same schools that I did practically right after us and had a completely different experience. A better one. And that makes me so relieved.” You beamed up at him, and saw a mixture of guilt and bashfulness flicker across his face. “It doesn’t take away what happened to me at all. But anger with no direction is useless. It all really hit us when Jongin, Minseok, and I all developed our powers the same semester of undergrad. And we were all messes. We couldn’t get them under control because we were just so angry. We felt like we were being forgotten, that our suffering was being forgotten. Everybody else was moving on and pretending like it never happened. When I uh, mostly unintentionally melted a portion of a professor’s car, my grandmother pulled me away for spring break—absolutely ruined my plans—and made me spend the entire week learning to control it all.”

“You melted—”

“Thankfully, Dr. Kwon was very understanding, and I wasn’t kicked out or anything.”

“How did Minseok and Jongin…?”

“Those aren’t really my stories to tell. But ultimately, we couldn’t hold onto that anger anymore. So instead, I try to focus on all the good that we have in our lives, and all the things we’ve been able to accomplish despite what was done to us.” You then gestured to him, “And I look at the magical creatures who came after us, how much better things were for them, and are continuing to get, and all I can feel is happiness now.”

Mark sighed and sat down on the cushion next to yours, and you found yourself relieved to see the anger drain from his face. “I’m sorry, Y/N. It’s not my… thing to get angry over.”

“No, Mark, it’s okay.” You reached out to grab his hand, pulling both of them over to rest in your lap. Your other hand was up by your mouth, where you were chewing on a nail in between your thoughts— an anxious habit your grandmother thought she had broken you of in high school. “It tells me you care, and it means a lot, that you do. Makes it still feel real. And it is your thing to get mad about, as far as I’m concerned. What happened to us—and to Jongin—could’ve easily been you and your friends too. I’m just really glad it wasn’t.”

The basilisk squeezed your hand, then scooted closer until you were shoulder-to-shoulder, knee-to-knee. But it wasn’t electricity that jumped between you two this time, or strange butterflies in your stomach. It was an unspoken, understanding kindness that connected you and Mark, and a quiet sense of security that had settled deep in your chest. You shifted to rest your head on his shoulder, letting go of his hand only to wind your arm under his and lace your fingers together.

“Mark?” You said quietly, gaze locked on your intertwined fingers.

“Yeah?” He murmured, and you could feel him turn his head to look down at you.

“When you asked me if you’re my friend… one of the first times you were over. You remember that?”

“Ah, god, Y/N.” He shook his head, letting out an embarrassed chuckle. “I’m sorry about that, I shouldn’t have asked you. I was insecure and fishing for—”

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t answer you honestly,” you insisted. You held Mark’s hand even tighter. “You’re not my friend, and… I don’t know when it happened. Honestly, I don’t think you ever were.”

He was quiet for a moment, letting your confession settle over the two of you like a blanket. But you didn’t feel suffocated by it, or scared. It sort of felt like something that was always in the room with you and Mark, but now you two were just finally talking about it. And after Mark’s history of impulsive decisions, and talking without thinking, and getting freaked, you were more than happy to give him whatever time he needed to get his thoughts together before responding to you.

“Can I ask you for that secret now?” He asked into the empty air of your living room, his voice wavering.

“Of course. Anything.”

“How... Can you tell me a secret you have about me? About how you feel about me?”

You lifted your head off his shoulder to turn in your seat and face him. His big, brown eyes were looking at you like you were everything, and you just took a second to admire him as you pulled together your own thoughts. Here everyone was worried (to varying degrees of seriousness) that you were luring poor, innocent little Markie into your lair every week and corrupting him. But really, you’d been unknowingly leaving the doors to your heart wide open for this little basilisk to slither right in and make himself at home. And now that he was here, you had no intention of ever asking him to leave.

“I like you, Mark. Something other than friendship. Romantically,” you clarified. “I have feelings for you.”

His grip tightened on your hand as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Mark? You okay?” You asked softly.

“Great, yep, awesome,” he promised. “Just uh, just losing my mind a little.”

You laughed, stroking your thumb over his comfortingly. “Take all the time you need. Don’t want any more freakouts if we can avoid them.”

“Y/N?” He looked up at you again.

“Yeah, Mark?”

His eyes flicked between yours and your mouth. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.” You agreed enthusiastically, but didn’t make another move for fear of scaring off the skittery basilisk.

He still hesitated, though. “D-Do you want me to?”

So polite. It was taking everything in you not to pounce on him.

“Yes.” You said again, a bit firmer. For encouragement, you took his hand that you were holding and moved it up to your face.

Mark took the cue and gently cupped your cheek, leaning in towards you. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let him guide your mouths together. The first touch of his lips to yours was feather-light, barely there.

“I…” He drew back, dropping his hand to hold yours again. “Like… You want to date me?”

“Yes,” you confirmed with another light chuckle.

“You’re laughing at me again.”

“Sorry, sorry.” You tried to compose yourself, but you knew that you still had the same smitten smile on your face. “You’re just… too cute.”

“Do you remember when I came here to ask you for help with my powers in the first place?” Mark asked, poking a couch cushion. “What you said about your couch?”

“My couch…?” You echoed, trying to think that far back. It felt like a lifetime ago at this point that you had first welcomed the incredibly timid basilisk into your home. Then it hit you. “I said neither my couch nor I would eat you whole.”

“Unless I asked nicely,” he added, swallowing thickly. “I’m-I’m asking nicely now, Y/N. Please, if you want—”

“Oh, Markie,” you sighed, standing up and pulling him up with you. You grabbed his jaw between two fingers, looking into his slit pupils as you pulled him closer. “You’re so adorable.”

Before he could say anything else, you crashed your mouths together. His hands immediately flew to your hips to ground himself, as you kept one hand on his jaw and the other rested on his shoulder. You had a reason for standing up, however, beginning to push him back in the direction of your bedroom.

He asked to be eaten whole, after all.

When your work alarm came the next morning, you snoozed it and buried your face back into your pillow. There was a groan from beside you, and you could hear Mark shifting as well.

“Don’t tell me that’s actually how early you get up for work?” He asked incredulously.

“I have to shower, and make breakfast, and brush my teeth, and get dressed in clean clothes, and commute,” you mused. “Can’t just roll out of bed five minutes before I need to leave and show up in the same pajamas I slept in anymore.”

“Ugh.”

You chuckled, rolling over to snuggle up to his side, throwing an arm over his waist. “Do you have class today?”

“Summer break.” His arms hesitantly wrapped around you.

“Right, right. Well, I guess you can snooze until I’ve got breakfast ready, then.”

“Mm, pretty sure I heard something about a shower?”

“You might have,” you replied coyly. “Why?”

“You know, Renjun was telling me about how climate change is shrinking the natural habitats of glacial sirens at the poles, and—”

Your laughter cut him off, and he started giggling at himself as well. When you’d finally caught your breath, you said, “I’ve heard the ‘saving water’ line before, never heard it taken to that extreme. Come on, if we waste any more time, we’ll be having untoasted bread for breakfast.”

“Ooh, my favorite,” Mark grinned, following after you.

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