everyone thinks ji changmin is cute and harmless, but you know that's not who he really is.
▷ genre, part warnings. e2l, childhood friends gone bad, (extra) slow burn, fluff, angst, crying lol, mentions of childhood trauma and parental manipulation, arguing, bittersweet galore, nct ten is there for the sole purpose of being nosy like the rest of us or for being a 2nd male lead who knows!, swearing, hurt/comfort, kissing!, ji changmin dancing (need i go on), symptoms of panic/anxiety, a lot of non-tbz moments sorry i meant it when i said extra slow burn, im literally writing abt people who dance like gods but im a plebian w two left feet i have no idea what im looking at except for hips—, pining haha...ha (more subtle until the end), he's in a bathrobe near the end sorry children
▷ PART TWO WC. 17.6k
love in unity series m.list / otr part one
a/n: if u haven't read part one GO AWAY GO READ PART ONE ??? WHAT'RE U DOING HERE
EPISODE NINE: OFF THE AIR
IT was common knowledge that the week before finals week was referred to as the dreaded Dead Week. Campus was barren, coffee shops and libraries were packed, and almost everybody lived in some variation of sweats, hoodies, and eye bags. You were actually holed up in the research lab (yes, again) because your deadline to get this paper to your graduation advisor was literally looming over your shoulder, and though you were practically done, you were too paranoid of not catching some dumb typo before you turned it in.
Plus, the coffee in the lab break room was free and sponsored by your resident graduate student supervisor, and beloved older brother figure, Qian Kun. God rest his workaholic soul and empty pockets.
There weren't many people here this afternoon; most had retreated to their own homes or offices or wherever they dwelled during the Week of the Dead.
Then there was Ten.
"So do you guys just wither away here by yourselves?" Amongst the empty workbenches, his words seemed to unnecessarily resonate. From his perch in Kun's office, he spread his arms wide to gesture to all the empty space.
Kun pressed his fingers to the space between his eyes. "Yes, now let me wither in peace."
"No, I don't think I will."
You felt yourself smile. Ten had come in a few hours ago with lunch for both you and Kun. Supposedly, when he had heard that the two of you habitually ran on only coffee and dreams during Dead Week, he took it upon himself to swing by the nearest fast food restaurant and pick up a very belated lunch for you both. You’d chomped down on it with Kun in his office, but as soon as you were done, you retreated back to your desk.
The sky outside of the research laboratory was already beginning to bruise to a gray-blue-purple, the color of a dusty blueberry. Soon, you would have to surrender yourself to the night and head back home, but hopefully before that, you would decide that you were at least too tired to continue staring at these same seventeen pages for hours on end…
All three heads perked up at the sound of the laboratory building door opening and closing in the distance. None of you were exactly expecting anyone, especially when people usually indicated when they would come into work. You craned your neck from your workbench to see who had come in—
“I’ll only be a minute,” you heard and recognized your colleague Jacob Bae as he strode in from the outside corridor and into the main laboratory floor.
He met your eyes and smiled. “Hey, Yn.”
“Hey, what’s up?”
He let out a sigh as he jogged past your desk and headed toward a cupboard in the back corner. “I forgot that I left my—” His voice cut out as he ducked into the dark cupboard and withdrew a giant plastic tub. From the plastic innards filled with paper, he fished out a specific packet of paper shoved into a flimsy manila folder. “Forgot my thesis draft.”
You coughed out a laugh. “Dude.”
His grin was innocent and boyish, standard Jacob. “What? A guy’s gonna forget some things sometimes.”
“Is that what you tell your girlfriend?”
He sent you an unimpressed look. “Ha ha, Yn. Very funny. For your information, she’s more forgetful than me sometimes.” He stuck his tongue out at you as he passed by your workbench, and you, as the very mature person you were, stuck your tongue out back at him. It was only fair.
A cough sounded out from the entrance to the laboratory, and you turned your head to find Changmin, out of all people, standing awkwardly in the doorway. Peering out from behind the corner of the wall, however, was his friend Sunwoo from that other night. And yanking Sunwoo back behind the wall was Chanhee. Strange.
Someone (you suspected Chanhee) gave Changmin a firm shove into the laboratory, sending the latter stumbling in before he caught himself and regained his balance. He was swaddled in a dark colored puffer jacket and a red scarf, his red-tipped nose and cheeks bitten by the cold. For the first time, he looked smaller than he was, almost shy or nervous. You hadn’t encountered this Changmin in a long time.
He wasn’t one to look vulnerable out in the open like this.
As Jacob passed by Changmin, he clasped his shoulder in reassurance.
“Hi,” Changmin said slowly as he approached your workbench.
You were still a little dumbfounded that he was here again. “Uh, hi. What’re you doing here?” The argument the two of you had earlier in the week replayed in your mind, and you almost grimaced. You’d both said even more hurtful things, and you supposed you had just been so sensitive that your brain just automatically went into defense mode to protect yourself.
No, you hadn’t been there that night for him. You hadn’t expected to see anyone there at that time of night. That was the whole point of you going so late. You had been trying to get yourself to go into the practice room on your own, but the longer you had stood there, staring at the door, the more you realized you couldn’t do it. It still didn’t sit well with you, how affected you were by your mother’s past words.
Changmin kept his distance, but he came close enough that you could hear what he was trying to say without the others listening in too much. “I was wondering if we could talk.”
You blinked. “Talk? Like right now?” Your eyes darted to your computer screen and the practically finished paper displayed. It wasn’t like you wanted to keep working on it, but your heart beat startled at the sudden thought of having that very important conversation right now, when you weren’t ready.
He caught onto your movements though. “No, no—I mean,” he stammered, recovering with a quick swipe of his tongue over his lip, “just whenever. It doesn’t have to be now. I just figured it’d be best to get that… out in the air, you know?” I think it’s what we’ve been needing all this time. Something proper; no more yelling matches.
For a second, you thought you could see some of the old Changmin in this one. It wasn’t like he had changed, per se, it was more like he was finally showing that part of himself that you had been missing all along. You swallowed, nodding. “Okay. Yeah, I’ll, uhm, text you sometime tonight after I turn this paper in.”
He nodded back at you. “Yeah, cool.”
When you saw him begin to back away, a thought suddenly occurred to you. You called out to him to get him to stop, and you could have sworn that there was a gleam in his eyes then. “Changmin—about Sumin…” You inhaled deeply as you fought for the right words to express your next thoughts, “be gentle with her, okay?”
Even then there was a pang in your heart as you uttered those words. Sumin had texted you all about her interaction with Changmin a day or so ago regarding his “interview”, and she had been gushing about her crush on him. She had even asked you how much you knew about him and if you could give her a crash course in all things dance or even Changmin. Suffice to say, you felt trapped between a rock and hard place, but you didn’t want to let her down. (You’d always wanted to be a big sister; you didn’t want to push her away because of feelings that you were too petty to address.)
Changmin’s head tilted to the side as he made a confused face. “Huh?”
You sighed, “You seriously didn’t notice?”
“No, actually,” he quipped.
You pursed your lips; why weren’t you surprised? It wouldn’t be very cool of you to reveal Sumin’s crush on him if that wasn’t what she wanted. You would have to be subtle, but also not subtle, then. “Just—” you made a vague gesture with your hands, “—don’t be brash.”
“Brash?”
“Don’t be mean,” you amended.
“I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”
You thought even Ten rolled his eyes from where he was in Kun’s office. “You’re hopeless, really.”
Changmin’s face pinched, and he was moving back closer to your workbench. “I’ll have you know that we’re both hopeless.”
You deadpanned. “Now I’m pretty sure we’re not even in the same ballpark,” you muttered in exasperation. “Whatever. Your friends are waiting for you, Changmin.”
His lips pressed into a line. He glanced quickly over his shoulder where his friends were pretending to not be eavesdropping, then looked back at you. “Okay, yeah. Just don’t forget.”
“I won’t,” you promised.
EPISODE TEN: OFF THE MARKET
CHANGMIN glanced up at the entrance to the coffee shop, matching the sign in the window to the one he had searched up on his GPS app. It seemed to match from what he saw.
Today was the Friday of Dead Week, a handful of days after he dipped out of his interview with Sumin and confronted you at the laboratory. He had consulted Chanhee that day, regarding his mess of feelings about the situation with you, and Chanhee had practically forced him to go with him and Jacob to the laboratory. (Sunwoo just happened to tag along because he, apparently, felt left out.) Changmin wondered how Chanhee could have possibly known that you would be there, but Chanhee dismissed his worries by assuring him that after he asked you, he would feel a lot better and less like a hot pile of shit.
Chanhee was right, as per usual. Not that Changmin was going to admit that aloud to him ever.
But today was important because of two things in particular, and they both had to do with things that occurred several days ago. The first item on the agenda was going into this cafe to finish up that un-started interview with Sumin. After he had given her his number that day, she was swift to send a greeting text to him to set up a time and place to meet. Changmin actually had yet to visit this coffee shop in particular, but then again, he was a bit partial to the one Jacob introduced to the group last quarter.
Your words of advice, or caution, rang in his ears like the bell that twinkled above the door as he walked into the building. Be gentle with her. Don’t be brash. Don’t be mean. What did all of that even mean? He liked being interviewed, especially when it was about dance, so why would you think he would be anything but well-behaved? Part of him thought it was based off of the two of your interactions for the past three years, but he knew you had the good sense to know he didn’t treat just anyone like he treated you.
The thought remained fresh in his mind even as he scanned the room for a familiar face.
Sumin was seated in a secluded booth in the corner of the coffee shop. When she saw him, she waved him over excitedly, slipping her compact into her purse. Her laptop was left on the table in front of her, but unopened. Huh, maybe she just got here, too.
Changmin slid into the booth across from her. “Hi, sorry, were you waiting long?” He asked as he shouldered his jacket off and set his bag on top of it.
Sumin perked up a little bit. “Oh, no! Don’t worry. Did you have a good week?”
“Ah, as good as the week before finals can be, I suppose,” he chuckled, leaning back against the booth seat. His eyes darted to the unopened laptop still in the middle of the table and he cupped the back of his neck. “Did you wanna order anything to drink? Or have you ordered already?”
She shook her head, her hand reaching up to fidget with the end of one of her curled locks of hair. “Hm? No, I didn’t order yet! I was waiting for you so we could order something together—I mean, at the same time.”
“Cool, yeah,” he cleared his throat, signaling for one of the workers’ attention with a wave of his hand. “We can order and then get started.”
“Ah, ha, right.”
Once orders were taken, Sumin finally cracked open her laptop and got a couple things set up. Changmin patiently waited for her to get all settled, his eyes wandering about the shop and absentmindedly observing the workers behind the counter as they bustled about to prepare drinks and pastries.
Sumin coughed, “Okay, I figured that recording is a little unnecessary, so I’ll just be jotting some notes down on my laptop.”
Changmin bobbed his head. “Sounds good.”
She shifted in her seat, her posture straightening, as she figured out how exactly to start. “I hope you’ll be patient with me since I haven’t been doing this for a long time, but Yn gave me some pointers to start with,” she said sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“No problem! I totally understand; take your time.” He cocked his head to the side unconsciously, “Yn didn’t offer to sit in for your interviews?”
“Oh! Uh, she did, but I insisted that I was feeling confident enough to do them on my own,” she laughed lightly. “Definitely a bit nerve-wracking, but I think the interviews with Juyeon and a few of the other dancers went well earlier in the week.”
“Hey, I mean, I admire your courage,” he said with what he hoped was an encouraging enough smile. “Just take your time with it, Sumin. We’ll make sure to get you all the info you need.” There. Was that what you meant by not being mean? Wasn’t this just being considerate, though?
His foot tapped against the ground absentmindedly as he thought about the next thing on his agenda after this interview: talking to you. It was weird, having to almost set an appointment to have this very needed talk, but as you had said, you texted him your availability and the two of you just happened to both have this evening free. He just needed to finish this interview… There was still plenty of time.
His words to Sumin seemed to make her shoulders relax a little bit, and she jumped right into her first question. Changmin would answer as thoughtfully as could, which wasn’t too difficult seeing as he was literally talking about one of the things he was most passionate about in this world. He could probably talk about dance and his love for dance for days on end. Sumin, in turn, would skillfully and naturally continue the conversation so it felt a lot less like an interview, and more like an interaction between friends about dance.
Perhaps he didn’t even realize when the questions became less about his experience about dance and more about him; when Sumin gradually stopped typing notes down on her laptop and instead leaned her chin onto her hands to watch him; or when she suddenly asked—
“Is that your ideal first date then?”
Record scratch.
The words on Changmin’s tongue died instantly, and his brain scrambled to process what she had just said. “Sorry?”
Sumin’s eyes widened, her cheeks flushing. “I—I mean, you were talking about going to see live dance shows with your former partner and I just…” She shook her head with an embarrassed laugh, “Sorry, was that too forward?”
Changmin blinked once, twice; dear god, he must have been running his mouth without even realizing. “I was talking about Yn?”
That ripped Sumin right out of embarrassment—well, it was closer to mortification. The color on her cheeks had turned pale. “Yn is your ex?”
Fuck— “No, no, no! She’s not. She’s definitely not—”
Sumin covered her face with both of her palms in distress, a sentiment that was definitely shared between both parties in the booth. “Oh my god, and I’ve been telling her all about my crush on you, too. I must have looked so stupid.”
His eyes flew open. “Huh?!”
“Please, I’ve been so obvious, Changmin!”
Not to me, he thought. Jesus, was he really so blind? Was this what you meant this whole time? Changmin waved his hands around in an X formation, trying to reign the conversation into some level of sanity. “Sumin, I can assure you, that you definitely weren’t obvious until you literally just said it,” he began. “And so we’re clear, Yn is not my ex-girlfriend. She was my ex-dance partner and friend, but not a significant other.” As much as it sucked to admit that—
Sumin slowly lowered her hands from her face with the light reflected in her eyes wobbling. “Oh… okay, I guess that makes sense then.”
Changmin let out a haggard sigh, holding his hand to his head. “Yeah, well… I guess I should say that I’m sorry, but I don’t really share the same feelings for you?” He shook his head to himself, trying to rephrase: “What I mean is that I’m not exactly looking for a relationship. I’m kind of messed up right now.” Understatement of the century.
She pursed her lips, but nodded. “I get that. Thanks for being so cool about it.”
“Least I can do,” he said, clasping his hands together over the table.
“So,” she drawled with a wince, “I take it this interview is over?”
He brushed a hand through his hair. “If you have everything you need and there are no hard feelings?”
She inclined her head in the affirmative, and that was that.
— ✶
Even on a Friday evening, if it was the week before an exam season, the library study rooms were always packed, one occupier after the other. Attempting to score one was the equivalent of launching a stakeout, complete with charging cables, two cups of coffee, and a will of steel (to wait hours for a room to open up). Someone must have been looking out for you though as you managed to snatch a study room as soon as you arrived on the second floor of one of the main student libraries on campus. When you and Changmin had exchanged an, albeit brief, bit of texts, you both agreed that meeting somewhere that could serve as common ground would be good for the both of you. It had to be semi-private, as well, since neither of you wanted to let anyone else in on your private, personal problems.
The library study rooms were your solution, and maybe this was the universe’s sign that this discussion needed to happen.
As soon as the door closed gently behind you, you set yourself up in one of the chairs around the small, rectangular table at the center of the room. Changmin said he would be a couple minutes late because the bus had been late to pick up his stop and Chanhee was borrowing his car, so you texted him to let him know which room you were in.
While you waited, you attempted to ease your mind by scrolling through social media and flipping through emails and returning to social media, and wait, did you ever get a reply back from that one TA? All the while, your knee would bounce up and down ceaselessly, your fingers shaking and cold and numb. You were perhaps seconds away from your throat closing in on itself again, but then the door opened.
Changmin murmured a “hey” to you as he closed the door behind him and lowered himself into the seat across from you.
The room was quiet. “Hey,” you said back, clearing your throat.
You watched as his nostrils flared slightly as he exhaled. “What did you mean by ‘when did I stop caring’?”
You were a little startled that he decided to start right away, but on the other hand, relieved that he did. You wouldn’t have known how to begin anyway. “When did you stop caring?” You parroted in case you hadn’t heard him right. If you weren’t mistaken, he was referring to what you had said that night in front of the practice rooms.
He gave a nod. “Yeah, I was thinking about what you said…” He scratched his jaw, continuing lowly, “...y’know, on the bus ride over here. And I just don’t understand where in the world you got the idea that I ever stopped caring about you.” He met your eyes then, and you could see the tightness in his jaw, but the gleam in his irises.
This wasn't about being right anymore; it was about making things right.
"You—" you grappled for words, finding yourself pinned down by Changmin's relentlessly piercing gaze, "—I just got so much radio silence from you."
"You were giving me the same excuses."
"Because it was the same, exact problem," you fired back. "And, okay, so they were excuses, but god, Changmin. I could just see how with each passing day, you looked at me differently because I was late or I told you I couldn't make it. Didn't I give you reasons why? Just that disappointment and cold shoulder…" It broke my damn heart.
Changmin's arms were crossed over his chest as he considered your words, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. "I never," he began, "thought poorly of you, Yn." It sounded like he was struggling to piece together the right words, too, and he choked down a swallow. "I was going through a lot of shit around that time, and my patience was always paper thin by the time it was our usual practice time, y'know? It was never you specifically I was mad at."
He paused for a moment. His head hung, and he picked at a stray thread on his jacket cuff. "My parents said they wouldn't support me if I majored in dance."
Your heart stopped clean.
"They basically said I'd have to finance myself for all four years if I wanted to make dancing a career," he said with a flippant, helpless gesture. "I was given some scholarship money from the school, but it was nowhere near a full ride. So I was stressed the fuck out because I knew I needed to win those comps to get more money. They were cool with me dancing as, like, a hobby or a way to get into college, but as soon as I told them my intended major was dance?"
Well, shit.
Horror pooled in your gut, the kind that started up at your shoulders and spider-crawled down the length of your spine. "I'm so sorry, Changmin. That must have been so much pressure for you, oh my god."
This entire time, you'd been under the impression that his parents were fine and dandy with their son becoming a dancer. He'd always had a natural, prodigal talent for the art form. He was the absolute cream of the crop from your class, and you couldn't believe they could be anything but proud of having a son like him.
But you supposed you shouldn't have assumed. There was a cost to being a hypocrite.
Changmin nodded, but it wasn't very affirming. It was like he had heard it all before and had already accepted it all grimly and reluctantly. "Yeah, well… I won all those comps, but what did I lose in the process, y'know?"
He gestured to you. "I just thought I'd always have you to run back to, but you were going through your own stuff. I'm not trying to pin the blame on you—it's… just that… you were my best friend. My partner."
"It's funny you say that," you said then, drumming your fingers anxiously against your leg. "I thought I could rely on you, too. And I definitely drifted away from you, but it was because of my own reasons."
Changmin nodded, settling his hands on top of the table and leaning in slightly.
Still, every time you told someone, you could never get it right. But maybe you could get it right this time. "You know how my parents got divorced and I said that my mom had changed?"
His forehead creased then, and he nodded again.
"She started yelling a lot," you said. "Would always make me listen to her scream in my face about how dance was useless, how dance would never help me in the real world, how I was absolutely awful at it and that I should be focusing on something worth my time." You swallowed, continuing on, "And when I told you I couldn't make it or that I was late, it was because she started refusing to take me to practices and competitions and shows.
"And I mean—I tried really hard to keep going, Changmin, I really did." You raised your eyes to meet his and found him staring at you still, but this time you saw that glisten in his eyes again. The tension in his jaw had slackened, and had been replaced with that same dread you had while he was telling you what happened to him. "I thought that I could get past what my mom kept telling me, and that once I got to the practice room—I just needed to get to the practice room—it would all be worth it."
There was a stinging feeling in the back of your eyes, at your tear glands. Your vision was blurring and you blinked back the traitorous tears.
Changmin pursed his lips, his face contorting slightly as he too tried to contain the emotions welling up in him. "And then I shut you out."
"We shut each other out."
"Why—" he rasped, his hand coming up to cover part of his mouth, "—didn't you tell me? I would've—god, I would've—" He didn't know, actually, but all he knew was that he would've been better. Would he have though? Truly? Would you have?
"I didn't like talking about it," you confessed, sniffling. You were ashamed of yourself, both then and now. You raised your hand up to wipe the corner of your eyes. "I'm sorry."
"No, fuck, don't apologize." He stood, arms opening and palms turning upward like an offering, "C'mere."
Both of you, teary-eyed messes, stumbled out of your chairs to close the distance in each other's arms. It was the feeling of finally holding each other after three years that made the two of you break down completely. The study room's quiet was filled with sounds of messy, blubbering sobs—hands grappling at the other's jacket, faces shoved into the warmth of a neck or shoulder.
Two pieces of a puzzle having finally been reunited.
This was where you belonged.
"This was all I wanted," you bawled into his shoulder.
It seemed to make his body tremble harder. "I would've given it to you—god, I would've given you anything. I'm so goddamn sorry."
"Hey," you mused half-heartedly, "if I'm not allowed to apologize, then neither are you."
He gave a watery chuckle. "Okay, fine." His wet eyelashes fluttered as he closed his eyes and tightened his hold around you. "That must have been awful, Yn. How…? Just how."
You rested your cheek against his toned shoulder. "Somehow… I don't really know. I'm proud of you, though, you know? I'm really proud of you."
"Thank you. I'm proud of you, too." He sniffled, mouth pressing against your shoulder. "All this time, I thought you hated dance and hated me."
"Oh, god no," you sniffled, sucking in a breath. "I—I knew I couldn't be strong anymore; I didn't want to disappoint you." And when you could no longer attend those practices, you had believed it would be better to not be there to drag him down. You thought that without having to wait on you every time, he would have been all the better. You see now that perhaps you were wrong in your logic.
For a moment, the two of you stood there in the other's arms as words settled and feelings sunk in. The realization that this tension between the two of you was possibly over now was crazy.
"For the record," Changmin murmured, "you're a great dancer. No matter what your mom told you, you'll always be a great dancer."
You laughed a little, shaking your head. "Not anymore, I'm not."
"That's where you're wrong." He pulled away from you and you saw the tears staining his dimpled cheeks, but the smile he was giving you was something out of a dream. He gently, playfully punched your arm. "You're still my partner, after all."
EPISODE ELEVEN: OFF THE SHELF
EVER since Changmin, Chanhee, JC!Yn, and her roommate Kei decided to change the weekly grocery shopping session to Saturday mornings, Changmin had never been so grateful for such a change until now. It used to be on Sunday mornings during the fall quarter because JC!Yn volunteered at the local children’s club on Saturday mornings, but since the Sunny Side Up Club had begun closing its doors on the weekend until summer break, her Saturdays had suddenly freed up.
Kei, as usual, had waltzed off in search of her own shopping list items, leaving JC!Yn and Changmin with the shopping cart of groceries and Chanhee sitting in the middle of it, cross-legged and swaddled in a pink hoodie.
“That’s awful,” JC!Yn lamented as she slowly trailed after Changmin while pushing the cart. There was a frown etched into her face, as well as Chanhee’s, while and after Changmin had caught them up on the events of the previous day’s talk with you. “I mean, I know some parents are super strict about their kids studying, but…” She shook her head, “You’ve both been through a terrible amount of shit, man.”
Chanhee nodded his agreement, peering up at Changmin who was at the helm of the cart, staring at the label on a container of canned corn blankly. “Yeah, for sure. How’re you holding up, Changminnie?”
Changmin shrugged half-heartedly and rather mopey. “As well as I could be.”
“Well, are you guys good now?” JC!Yn asked. “Y’know, after clearing all the air?”
Changmin made a face at the canned corn, but handed it to Chanhee to place amongst the other things in the cart with him. “I mean, kind of? Not really?” He scratched the side of his head, and his two friends looked on at him, then exchanged worried glances. Usually Changmin was the one cracking jokes, but to see him in such a state… “It’s just a little awkward now because we’ve been on ice around each other for years. Going back to normal shouldn’t be easy, should it?”
Chanhee pursed his lips, his head tilting from side to side. “That’s true. When you guys were still in grudge era, you let all the angst between you do the talking.”
“Angst? I was not angsty, for your information.”
Both of his companions scoffed their disagreement. “Every single time her name was brought up around you, you gazed far off like some kind of angsty main hero,” Chanhee retorted. “Like Kevin at that one dinner when we were interrogating Eric.”
JC!Yn laughed. “That feels like so long ago.”
Changmin sent her a look, the corner of his lips tilting upward like the arch of his eyebrow. “That’s because you and Jacob act like you’ve been married for ten years.”
Her face heated at those words, but she held her chin up in pride. “I’m gonna pretend this is your jealousy talking.”
“Oh, please,” he quipped back and turned back to the shelves to hunt for any other familiar labels that would trigger his hunger. “If I wanted to be so grossly in love—”
“Then you’d go find Yn?”
“—Then I’d go find Y—HEY!” Changmin sputtered as his cheeks lit up like the can of roasted red bell peppers in his hand. Chanhee and JC!Yn exploded into equal fits of delighted cackles, the former extending his arm back so the latter could return his fistbump. Changmin scowled through his flustered haze. “Whatever; taking advantage of my vulnerable state is not cool, guys.”
Chanhee beamed up at his best friend with the kind of smile that no one could be mad at. It was impish, adorable even. “Aw, it’s only ‘cause we love you.”
“Gross,” Changmin muttered, wrinkling his nose dramatically, then nudging his glasses up his nose.
As she stopped the cart behind Changmin, JC!Yn rested her arm against the bar and let her chin sit atop her fist as she and Chanhee watched Changmin scour the shelves again. “Didn’t you say you had feelings for her back then, Changmin-ah? Would you say they were still present or not?”
He sucked in a breath at the question as he let the question marinate in his brain. After yesterday’s world-altering talk with you, neither of you were able to stay too long afterward to catch up. You’d both, unfortunately, been called to your own separate summons. But this morning, when Changin had woken up with the information having been properly processed in his brain and given him room to overthink as he did… Truthfully, he had no idea where the two of you stood with one another. It wasn’t going to be the same, not like childhood and not like the past three years.
He didn’t exactly know what to say to you now, only that there was still that emptiness in his chest. He hadn’t expected the feeling to go away, but he also hadn’t expected it to remain. What was he supposed to do? He was pretty sure you didn’t even like him like that back then, so there was no way your feelings would have changed in that sense over the past three years. Some said that distance made the heart grow fonder, and while Changmin wasn’t one for cliche lines, he did feel an ache for you. He wanted to make up for lost time. Even if you didn’t feel the same way he had back then, it didn’t mean that he still felt the same… right?
“I think we lost him,” came Chanhee’s very loud stage whisper.
Changmin shook out of his mind and leveled a glare at his two friends. “I’ll think about it.”
“Didn’t you just think about it?”
“Hey, if JC!Yn-ie can take an entire quarter to tell Jacob-ssi her feelings, then you can give me like, five minutes to think about mine!” He squawked, waving his arms around in the air like one of those car-wash balloon people that flopped around in the wind. Except this one was high on emotions and his round lenses were slipping down his nose, adding to his overall mad man-like look.
JC!Yn deadpanned, shaking her head as she began pushing the cart after Changmin. She muttered under her breath, “He’s just astounded that he has feelings for someone, JC!Yn. Let him be touchy today.”
Chanhee, who had heard her speak to herself loud and clear, twisted around to grin and pat her arm reassuringly. “He’s just malfunctioning because he might actually have a chance now.”
“I can hear you!”
Chanhee chuckled, and the sound was villainous.
The three of them, as per routine, met up with Kei at the checkout lanes. There was one occasion where one of the workers was so tired that they tried to scan Chanhee and make them pay for him, but other than that, most people just offered him a sweet from the jar on the counter. As groceries were bagged up, and Kei was caught up on the situation at hand in verbal bullet point format, she took only a moment to suggest: “Why don’t you invite her to the dance showcase?”
All eyes went to Changmin, even as JC!Yn pushed the cart out with the group.
Changmin chewed his bottom lip. “I would, but... I dunno. I don’t want to trigger anything for her.” He winced to himself, “It would be really cool to have her there, of course! But I literally saw her in the practice room a week ago and she looked like she was seconds away from having a full-on panic attack.” As much as inviting you to watch him perform for the first time in three years thrilled him (and nearly sent him into cardiac arrest), he had seen you that day—blanched, struggling to breathe. He couldn’t imagine just what thoughts were running through your head then, especially after hearing what you had told him yesterday.
He was so—god, he was so angry at your mother. He knew about the divorce and the negative effect it had on her, but for her to practically take all that energy out on you? It was something simply unforgivable. His heart hurt for you.
Chanhee dipped his head in a slight nod, mouth curved down into a frown again. "That's fair. But I mean, it wouldn't hurt to ask, would it?"
"I just don't want to come off as insensitive, especially after three years of the cold shoulder." Your words from yesterday had penetrated him deeply—he hoped to never make you feel abandoned ever again.
Kei peered around at Changmin from the other side of JC!Yn. "If it counts, I don't think she'll take it as being insensitive, Changmin."
"She might feel better about getting, y'know, a personal invitation from you," JC!Yn chimed in. "Even if she isn't comfortable with going, she'll know you're thinking of her."
Changmin pressed his knuckles to his lips, bouncing on the balls of his feet anxiously. It was amusing, and perhaps a little concerning, for his friends to see him like this. He flapped the ends of his sweater sleeves in the air like he was hyping himself up. "Okay. Okay, yeah, I'll invite her to see me perform."
He raised an arm into the air toward the sky. "The next time I see her, that's what I'll—"
"Oh, look, she's right there," said Chanhee, pointing in the distance from his cart throne.
Changmin squeaked, "She's what?!" He slid behind JC!Yn in a very poor attempt to hide himself from the oncoming party.
Said party consisted of you, Yeri, Mark, and Ten—again. Except, instead of the coffee shop across the shopping mall, it was the parking lot on his friends' turf. Mark and Yeri were the first to see Changmin's friend group, both of them making unsubtle glances at Changmin. They passed by with friendly greetings, excusing themselves as they argued over the possibility of the store having watermelon (the answer was no; sorry Mark).
You and Ten lagged behind slightly, seemingly deep in conversation. The latter listened intently, but he felt eyes on him and looked up. His eyes twinkled as he made eye contact with Changmin—Changmin couldn't tell whether or not he liked that feeling.
You realized that he was looking outward and onward, and so you followed his gaze. Your eyes widened a tad at the sight of Changmin's friend group manifesting out of nowhere. "Hi guys," you said with an awkward smile when you and Ten met them in the middle.
"Hi Yn-ie," Chanhee giggled, turning around to wag his eyebrows at Changmin.
Changmin threw back a very unimpressed scowl. He let a smile grace his face just as he looked back at you. "Hey Yn, Ten."
JC!Yn unsubtly began pushing the cart to uncover Changmin. "Hey, you two. Changmin was actually just talking about you, Yn!"
Traitor! Changmin's jaw dropped.
Ten grinned. "That's really funny, 'cause Yn was just talking about you, Changmin."
You glared daggers at your friend with the same level of betrayal in your eyes as Changmin expressed. At least you were both getting thrown under the bus.
Kei nudged him. "Don't you have something to say to her?"
"We'll get out of your hair!" Chanhee chirped, patting the side of the cart as JC!Yn resumed her pushing on the cart past you and Ten. "See you at the car, Changminnie!"
As Changmin's last line of defense walked away with JC!Yn and the shopping cart prince, Ten inclined his head to you. "Should I stick around for this?"
You sighed under your breath. "Probably not. I'll see you inside?"
"Whatever suits your fancy," he mused, shrugging. As he passed by Changmin, he winked, then whistled some random tune as he went on his merry way.
"So what's up?" You asked him then. It seemed to be a cozy morning for you as you fidgeted with the ends of your big, woolen sweater. There was something delicate about the way the corners of your lips curled up into a smile.
Changmin cupped the nape of his neck. "Oh, uh, I know we had that whole talk yesterday, and I was wondering if you'd wanna come see my performance at the winter showcase on Friday?" He added quickly, "No pressure, of course. If you're uncomfortable, then you don't have to worry."
Your lips pursed together in a slight pucker. "I'd actually love to go. I mean—" you swallowed, "—I haven't gone to one since freshman year, but I'd love to."
"You can leave whenever you start feeling uncomfortable," he assured you, but he was smiling widely now. "It'll be cool to, y'know, have you in the audience."
"That means a lot, Changmin," you said earnestly, your smile sweet. It was almost weird to not have you frowning or glaring at him. It felt… good. It felt really good. “I will try my best.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets as he rocked on his heels, teeth biting down on his bottom lip to suppress the eager grin threatening to come out. “That’s all I could ask for.”
EPISODE TWELVE: OFF THE CHARTS
YOU were late. You were extremely late, actually, and to be honest, if you had known the bus was going to break down in the middle of the stupid road, you would have gotten off and walked. But then again, you were practically buried in all of the bundles of flowers you wanted to bring for your friends performing tonight. There were four bundles in total that you bothered to pick out just about two hours ago, one for Minho, one for Jungwoo, one for Ten, and of course, you could not forget one for Changmin.
When Changmin had personally invited you to come see his performance tonight earlier in the week, you couldn’t deny that the feeling made your chest warm and fuzzy. Even as you trudged your way up the stairs to the front of the performing arts building, you were filled with adrenaline and antsy energy. You’d waited so long for this, hadn’t you?
The last time you had come to see the winter showcase was in freshman year, the year the Daily asked you to write a review piece on one of the performers debuting that year, and even that had been enough of dance for the years following. It would be nice to know, this time, that you were wanted in the audience. (Changmin would have wanted you in the audience all this time, but you didn’t know that.)
Because you were unquestionably late, the doors to the hall would be closed shut now.
That was why having a friend like Boo Seungkwan was paramount.
“Thank you,” you gasped as one of the doors to the performance hall burst open and allowed you into the warmth of the lobby. You could hear the bass of whatever song was on and the audience’s cheers from here.
Seungkwan swept half of the bouquets from your arms with a click of his tongue. “Yah, you’re insane for taking the bus all the time. Yeri even asked to pick you up!”
“I know, I know!” You cried, the two of you scurrying over to one of the doors in the hall. “I panicked at the last second to get flowers and then I had to go all the way to the shop on fifth! By the way, did you know they’re open until 11?”
Both of your voices quieted as you slipped into the darkened auditorium. The stage was the only part illuminated in blinding, searing hot spotlights. You had just walked in on a brief break between acts as performers switched on and off stage. Seungkwan led you to one of the rows of seats in the nosebleeds that was relatively in the middle.
All of your friends practically occupied the entire row, and they lit up in delight at the sight of you.
“Yo Yn!” Mark whispered as he leaned over Yeri. “You’re actually here!”
Yeri reached over to squeeze your hand as you took the open seat next to her, and Seungkwan took the last seat in the aisle. “I’m so happy you’re here, Yn-ie.”
Doyoung and Kun peered out from around Mark, and you recognized a couple others from the NCT frat and RVE sorority further down the row. “Hey guys,” you said quietly to them as you wrangled your purse into your lap and adjusted the flowers in your arms, “how much did I miss?”
“Not much at all," Doyoung replied. "It's just been a few of the first years."
"We've got a little while until the older batch," Kun said with a wave of the program in his hands.
You nodded your understanding and settled into your seat to get comfortable. The performances went on one after the other. There was a mix of all different genres, ranging from contemporary ballet to tap and popping. Because everyone in the final winter showcase were in some kind of dance course on campus, a lot of the acts displayed a ton of experience already, even as first-years.
The longer the night went on, the less you believed your antsiness was a result of a nervous tick, but rather the bottled up adrenaline building up from watching all the performances. At some point, you realized you weren't even analyzing the performances anymore, but rather, sitting in awe of each one.
When a brief intermission was announced, Yeri and one of her sorority sisters squeezed past to head to the restroom while a few others from the row headed out to stretch their limbs and find some other friends. You and Seungkwan lingered in your seats, discussing your favorite performances so far, as well as how your finals weeks had gone for each of you.
"I'm just so glad we have spring break now," he groaned, his head hanging with exhaustion. "I might have skipped tonight if that meant I could sleep early."
"You would have regretted it though," you pointed out to him.
He gestured with his hand. "Right, you are." He let out a sigh as he raised his head and met your smile with a tired one of his own. "Well, Yn, you did it. You're watching your first full winter showcase. How do you feel?"
Your gaze flickered back to the stage. The house lights had come on for intermission, leaving the stage drenched in darkness. You could have sworn you saw the heavy red curtains shudder as if someone had poked their head out to view the audience. You remembered when you and Changmin used to do that when you were kids.
You turned back to Seungkwan. "I feel surprisingly okay," you confessed. "I was a little nervous before, but I think that I'm doing good."
He nodded. "Good. I'm glad you're here."
"Thanks, Kwan." You exhaled. "I didn't fully realize how long this was gonna be," you mused.
Seungkwan raised a brow at you. "Well, didn't you only stay for like, Changmin's performance last time you were here?"
"Well, yeah—"
The house lights suddenly shuttered off, and people rushed back to their seats. Your friends who were coming back squeezed past you and Seungkwan, effectively cutting off your conversation from before. The last half of the night would be handed over to the students who were majoring in dance and had been a part of the program for over two years.
You were properly in awe of the next performances. They had decided to put Ten out first, dancing to a song called Baby Don't Stop. He had mentioned the song to you once, but you hadn't really thought much about it until now. It was a side of Ten you hadn't seen yet since you had never seen him dance properly, but… you were definitely going to need to gush about this to him afterward.
You were pretty sure the crowd didn't quiet down for five performers in a row, as crazy-talented dancers such as Minho and Jungwoo followed after.
Each performance was incomparable to the next, and soon, you were sucking in a breath to the sound of Changmin's name being announced.
You slapped your hands onto Seungkwan's and Yeri's on either side of you, both of whom squeezed and shook your hands back as the curtain rose.
The lighting began a deep, electric purple, painting Changmin to look like a dark silhouette on stage. You almost couldn't make out the details of his white and black suit-like uniform. It was dynamic and unique with the suit cut outs and gloves, and he paired it all with an eye look that made his eyes feel darker and smokier.
He was still at first—until a set of horns, like trumpets, blared from the speaker's and he began striding forward.
You heard Mark gasp from two seats over. "Holy shit, he's dancing to Action Figure."
You vaguely recognized the title, but if you were thinking of the right song, then the room was about to get a lot louder. Unconsciously, you squeezed Seungkwan and Yeri's hands as you leaned forward and lingered on the edge of your seat.
The performance was everything you expected and more. Changmin was, as you had expressed before, the absolute cream of the crop. Each movement was brought with sharp precision, like the blade of a knife. Even during the slower bridge portion, he somehow executed the legato-like movements with a crispness of 4K HDR quality.
Everyone in the room held their breath (or screamed it out) with each sultry gaze, each lick of his lips, each smirk—a great dancer, a great performer; he would forever be one of the greats. That, you were very certain of.
When the song came to an end and he raised his head to peer at the audience through his bangs, you and everyone else erupted into applause, whistles, yelling—all the works. Your heart palpitated so hard in your chest that you thought it was trying to mimic his own dance. You were practically shaking from all of the bottled energy, and…
"Wow," you breathed out as you leaned back in your seat as the stage was reset for the next act. Your knee began bouncing fervently, sending the flowers in your lap up and down as well.
Seungkwan murmured his agreement, "Whew. I can't tell if I'm attracted or intimidated."
You snorted, patting his hand with your palm. "Both?"
"Probably."
You laughed, your hand lifting up to absentmindedly press against the base of your throat and sternum.
You couldn't help but think about what Changmin had revealed to you that day. How could a pair of parents not be absolutely floored to have a son as talented as Ji Changmin? It was so unbelievable to you, but you couldn't imagine how it might have felt to suddenly have all that support be ripped out from beneath your feet like his support had been.
The performances following would finish off those of the solo category. Afterwards, a handful of groups performed, including repeats of a few performers. Minho and Jungwoo had performed a stage together (Finesse, if you weren't mistaken), while Changmin and Juyeon made a return to the stage with another sultry hit by the name of Light a Flame.
By the end of the night, you were eager to head backstage to see your friends who had just performed their hearts out.
Plus, the bouquets were wilting.
Once the house lights had thunked to life, and the crowd was beginning to lessen, the row you were seated in with your friends stood together. Some of them were going to head straight home, but a few others planned to stay back to congratulate the performers on a night well done.
"You guys ready to head back?" Mark asked while nodding toward the stage with his hands shoved into the pockets of his puffer vest.
The high you were on was gradually fading out, and you had to clear your throat. "Can I meet you guys back there? I think I'm gonna take a quick breather and then just go in through the backdoor."
They were more than okay with accommodating you, encouraging you to take as long as you needed. Mark and Yeri both took the remaining two bouquets from your arms as Seungkwan ushered you out the door to take that breather.
As you hit the cool, early-March air, you wrapped your coat tighter around yourself and inhaled deeply. All around you, people lingered and chatted with each other, gushing about their favorite performances and reenacting the most memorable parts. You smiled to yourself when you overheard a group of boys near you talking about Changmin's tasteful choice in music, as well as the cohesion of his entire performance, ranging from not only the music choice, but down to the costuming as well. (And the choreography, of course. Everything about his performance, as emphasized, was breathtaking.)
With a sigh, you began rounding the building toward the back entrance.
Now that you had the space to deconstruct your thoughts, you realized that although you felt an indescribable amount of pride for your friends, you couldn't help the pit forming in the bottom of your stomach. In a way, you envied the performers onstage. You wished you had held on a little longer; maybe then, you could have been one of the people on stage tonight like you had wanted when you were just a teen.
When you reached the back door, you managed to gather your strength and let yourself in.
Like that day you had taken Sumin backstage, it was all hustle and bustle, but ten times that. Pandemonium erupted as performers raced past you left and right trying to find their friends, fellow performers, and even the location of their hairspray. (They should have put their name on it, you thought cheekily, but even then, it might not have worked still, you supposed.)
You kept your arms crossed over your chest as you squeezed past people toward where you were hoping to find your friends. As you walked into the dressing room corridor, you nearly collided with a silky dress shirt.
"Yn! I can't believe I found you," Ten chuckled.
You laughed, wrapping your arms around him in an affectionate embrace. "Ten! I can't believe you found me either. It's a madhouse here." You scanned the faces and bodies buzzing about for any sign of your friends. "Have Mark, Yeri, or Seungkwan found you yet? They have the flowers I was gonna give you."
Ten's lips curled up into a smile as he pressed a hand to his chest. "Gasp, you got me flowers?"
"Yes, and please never say 'gasp' aloud ever again," you winced.
That only made his smile grow. "No promises. But what'd you think of the show tonight? I'm glad you stayed the whole time."
"It was incredible! You were incredible," you amended with your eyes likely the shape of stars. "Who gave you the absolute audacity to be so talented, sir! I swear I heard some girl faint a couple rows behind me," you joked.
His eyes narrowed into sly, little crescents. "Oh? And did you faint for mine, too? Or did you save that reaction for another special someone?"
You flushed, your eyes averting to anywhere but the nosy feline before you.
Ten threw his head back in a loud guffaw. "Okay, okay. I see how it is. He's been looking for you, by the way."
Your eyes went wide. "And you wait until now to tell me?"
"I wanted my dose of Yn affection, too," he shrugged, giggling like a schoolgirl. "Plus, the look on your face was well worth it."
"Sometimes I hate you."
"Some is not all," he pointed out.
"—you said she was over here? Yn!"
Yours and Ten's heads turned and you watched as Changmin's eyes found yours in the crowded room. He began pushing his way toward you, sweat still dampening the strands of hair and falling into the collar of the dark blazer he wore for Light a Flame.
Ten snickered under his breath. "Well, I'm gonna go find Mark to get my flowers. Text me later, 'kay? Okay!"
Before you could blink, Ten had disappeared into the masses. You swore that man was so slippery sometimes.
You glanced back in the direction that you saw Changmin coming from,but when you couldn't find him, you frowned. It really was awfully hard to find people in here…
"Boo!"
You swore your soul left your body for five seconds. You whirled around, glaring daggers at the impish squirrel man who somehow ended up behind you. "You're such a menace."
Changmin grinned so wide it looked like even his dimples were strained. "Sorry," he wheezed, not sounding sorry at all. "The opportunity presented itself on a gold-plated platter."
"You should feel very lucky that I wasn't holding lemonade this time."
"Okay, but why were you drinking that without a cap on the cup? Did they not give you a plastic lid or something?"
You felt the corner of your mouth lift. How was it so easy to recall these things? "It's just the universe telling you to end your pranks."
He shrugged helplessly. "I can't help that you are so easy to sneak up on."
"You're gonna say that when I somehow heard you asking if I was in here from across the room?"
"That's because I let you hear that; there's a difference," he said, leaning against the corridor wall next to you. He looked you up and down, tongue darting out for a moment. "Thanks for coming tonight."
You leaned your shoulder against the wall next to him. "I enjoyed myself," you said in reply. "You did really well tonight though, Changmin. It was a great performance."
He grinned, and his tongue had to poke the inside of his cheek. "Just great?"
You raised your eyebrows at him and decided to bypass that question for the moment. "Did my friends give you your flowers?"
Changmin showed his empty hands and you deadpanned.
"What?" He giggled. "I'm just stating the obvious."
"You're so infuriating sometimes."
He gently bumped your shoulder with his. "Nothing new."
Nothing new, indeed. It was strange, actually, falling into this kind of easygoing, light-hearted banter. You'd seen how easy it was that night in the lab, but this was nice, you had to admit. Banter and arguing were two different things, you learned, and the latter always took such a toll on those involved.
How did the two of you stay away for so long? Maybe you were both too prideful, too afraid to break the ice.
Changmin's expression sobered a little as he observed your expression. "What're you thinking about?"
You blinked, glancing over at him. "Nothing, just…" Your voice lowered to something like a whisper, "I missed this." I missed you.
And as you met his eyes again, you knew that he had heard you. He swallowed, roughly. "Me too."
EPISODE THIRTEEN: OFF THE CUFF
THE quad was in bloom with the coming of spring and spring break. It was tradition at your university to take pictures and to take a stroll through the freshly bloomed cherry blossom trees lining the rectangular lawn. Only in spring did the trees reveal their beautiful, baby pink flowers, so it was optimal to go frolic amongst them while they were full.
Changmin had been dragged out by Chanhee. Well, he liked to say that Chanhee forced him outside, but in reality, Changmin had put just as much effort into his appearance today as Chanhee did, just not as formal. And luckily, it wasn't just the two best friends who were out with them among the crowd of people, but also the entirety of their friend group—plus the significant others, too.
"I hate this more than Valentine's Day," Sunwoo grumbled as he blew a curl out of his eyes. He was referring to the couples all around them taking pictures and holding hands and kissing.
"You're telling me," Kevin sighed as he messed with the settings on his camera for the pictures he wanted to take of the scenery. "At least on Valentine's Day, people won't photobomb you."
Sangyeon had his phone out and was already taking photos of the blooming flowers around him and in the trees. He suddenly turned his phone around, set at point five zoom. "Hey guys, look here and smile!"
Everyone in the shot (all the singles: Chanhee, Changmin, Sunwoo, Kevin, Juyeon, and Hyunjae) slapped smiles onto their faces. As soon as Sangyeon put the phone down, their smiles dropped.
"Who was that for?" Juyeon asked as he slung an arm around Sangyeon's shoulder to peer at the eldest's phone screen. He made a groaning noise before peeling away. "Ahhhh, 'The Girlfriend'. I see."
Sangyeon cocked a brow at him. "Have you finally accepted that I have a girlfriend?"
"Nope."
Sangyeon's eyes looked up and away in exasperation, before he shook his head and returned to doing whatever he was doing.
Changmin surveyed the crowded quad with disinterest. He scanned all of the faces present around him; too many to count that was for sure. Jacob and JC!Yn had separated from them almost immediately; Eric and his girlfriend were off being cute or something; Younghoon and his partner hadn't even traveled here with most of them; but at least Haknyeon and his significant other stayed with them for the first five minutes to make conversation about the dance showcase a few nights ago.
He sighed. That was how long ago it had been since he last saw you. (My god, he sounded like some kind of lovesick teenager, waiting by the landline for his lover to ring him up—)
On the other side of the quad, you and your friends had just arrived to do the same exact thing Changmin's friends were. But as soon as you saw the crowd, you were five seconds from simply giving up.
"We'd get like, one flower, and that's it," Seungkwan argued to Yeri who was trudging forward despite the load of people around.
Yeri huffed. "Not if you don't try, Boo Seungkwan."
He made a noise of disgruntlement, his head lifting up and nostrils flaring. "Oh my god—"
"Yn, my wife, defend my honor!"
You snapped up straight, tuning back into the conversation. Mark and Jungwoo trailed somewhere behind the three of you and if you weren't careful, you'd lose them, too. "Huh? Oh, well, Seungkwan…" Your voice trailed off, and your eyes wandered to a specific gathering of trees further down the lawn from where you currently were.
It was unfair how he was framed like a K-Drama shot: the slow motion pink petals drifting around him, his lithe body gracefully leaning against the dark bark of the cherry blossom tree, the green sweater vest layered over a white shirt and pants. You gulped—he looked way too pretty to just be standing there—
"—hello? Earth to Yn?" A hand was waving in front of your face and someone was poking your shoulder.
You shook away from them, eyes wide like a child with your hand caught in the cookie jar. "Huh?"
Seungkwan and Yeri sent you curious looks. "You were staring at Changmin," said Yeri, arms crossing over her chest.
Seungkwan let out a dramatically wistful, little sigh as he scratched the side of his head. "You're so lucky that Ten's not here; we are so very merciful compared to him."
You rolled your eyes, even though they were right. "I wasn't staring! I just—I couldn't tell if it was really him or not."
"Because I'm just so breathtakingly beautiful?"
"Definitely n—what the fuck," you yelped, nearly leaping out of your skin again at the right of Changmin's dimpled smile as he seemingly appeared out of thin air right next to you.
Changmin erupted into howling laughter, folding over onto his knees as he slapped his leg once, twice—
"You're not even that funny," you grumbled, side-eyeing both him and your friends. (Guess you really did lose Mark and Jungwoo…)
Seungkwan and Yeri did not hide their own laughs very well, but they definitely weren't knee-slapping themselves.
"How'd you even cover so much ground that fast?" You queried, whirling back on Changmin.
He lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, his hands resting in the pockets of pants as he stood in a relaxed posture. His skin was unfairly pretty in this lighting, like his smile. "I harnessed my inner squirrel."
"You mean your inner furry?"
Seungkwan and Yeri chose this moment to slip away, calling out something like "we're just gonna go walk a tree" before bowing out. Changmin feigned an expression of offense, pressing a hand to his chest. "Rude! It's called athleticism."
You wrinkled your nose. "Like you know what athleticism is."
"I'll race you to the stairs over there right now—HEY, CHEATER! I DIDN'T SAY GO—" Despite his indignant squawk, Changmin's cheeks hurt from how hard he grinned as he raced after you toward the stairs at the other end of the lawn.
— ✶
"So… no Ten today?"
After a daring race, you and Changmin settled on top of the stairs overlooking the entire lawn. The sun hung at golden hour position and painted the landscape and people below in beautiful, buttery gold wash. You even swore you saw Chanhee chasing after Sunwoo with a handful of loose cherry blossom petals, no doubt to dump into the latter's hair.
You looked over to where Changmin was leaning back onto his palms next to you. "This again?"
He pursed his lips. "Well, I mean," he drawled, "you guys are pretty close. I just figured you'd do this kind of thing together."
"That's fair," you conceded. "Uh, he's actually on a trip with a couple of his frat brothers this week. Something like backpacking in Switzerland."
Changmin gave an indulgent nod of his head. "Wow. Switzerland."
"I know, right?"
He peered out into the distance, eyes squinting against the strength of the sun, but he looked like an art piece nonetheless. “You and Ten aren’t, like, together? Are you?”
You tilted your head to the side. Interesting question. “No, we’re friends. I think in the beginning it might have felt like something on that level, but we’ve both—I think we’re both on the same page where we stand with each other.” You didn’t know why you were telling him so much; he’d only asked you a question. But speaking of being together with someone… You coughed, “Sumin told me what happened during the interview a couple weeks ago.”
Changmin smiled sheepishly, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. “Oh, ha, she did? I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised.”
“You really didn’t know?”
“That she liked me? No,” he laughed with a shake of his head. He leaned forward onto his knees then, turning his head to the side to look at you with his fingers laced over his knees. “Who do you take me for, hm? I couldn’t just assume she had a crush on me.”
You feigned a look of disagreement, and he gasped, shoving your upper arm playfully. “I’m not that bad!” He exclaimed.
“You could be that bad,” you teased.
You watched as his expression cooled and the air around the two of you shifted. There was an earnestness in his eyes now, emphasized by the brilliance of the setting sun reflecting across his smooth lines of his face. “Have you ever thought about, you know, like trying to dance again?”
You weren’t sure what prompted this change in subject, but you gave it a thought. “I definitely have,” you said honestly, “I just can’t really step into a practice room without getting nervous.” You picked at a stray thread on your pants as you spoke and felt his gaze on you. “That night—the one when you saw me in front of the performing arts hall really late at night—I was trying to get myself to go in. To at least… try, y’know. Maybe prove to myself that I could work up the courage to go in, but I couldn’t.”
Changmin was quiet for a moment. His knees angled themselves toward you, and he leaned forward so his chest practically laid over his legs. “I said a lot of bad things to you in senior year,” he said lowly. “They were stupid—I was stupid. And—and if your anxiety with practice rooms comes from me, then—”
“Changmin,” you interrupted and captured his attention. You shifted to mimic his body positioning, so your eyes were level and you were both just as small as the other. “I said really shitty things to you, too.”
“I told you that you should quit,” he rasped. He had to turn his head so you wouldn’t see the silver pooling in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Yn; I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it.”
You heard his sniffle over all of the chatter from the lawn below and you moved closer to him until your legs and arms were pressed together. You wrapped an arm around him, only for him to raise himself up and practically drape himself over you, his arms looped around your upper body and his face tucked into the side of your neck. Your heart tripped over itself in surprise, but you let yourself lean into his body heat.
“I’m sorry, too. I know you didn’t mean any of it. I didn’t mean any of what I said either.” You breathed for a moment and sighed, simply allowing him to stay in your arms for however long he needed. “I think,” you started, “even after three years, I still blame myself for letting all of that get to me. Sometimes, I want to go back in time and slap some sense into myself; maybe tell myself that I shouldn’t have let what my mom said bury itself so deep inside me. I mean… where would I be now had I not listened to her?”
Changmin pulled away then, resting his forearms on his legs again, but he didn’t back away from you. “You were just a kid, Yn. You can’t blame yourself.”
You rested your cheek against your fist. “I know. It’s hard not to, though.”
“I know.” He took another look at you, and you felt his eyes really take you in for a moment. The corner of his lips lifted. “Are you happy?”
“With?”
“With how you turned out? Where you ended up?”
You held your breath. It was a good question, and as you turned to search yourself inwardly, you came to a couple of conclusions. “In a way, I am. It’s probably just bitterness and regret I feel when I wonder what could have been, but maybe things happen for a reason.”
He nodded, his hand reaching up to pick out a stray leaf that had fallen into your hair. “We can always make up for lost time now,” he said. “We never did get to finish that duet.”
EPISODE FOURTEEN: [GET] OFF THE GROUND
THE next day, you found yourself standing outside the back door to the performing arts building. Because it was spring break, a large helping of the student population had abandoned campus as soon as their finals were over, leaving the place barren except for the area with the cherry blossoms. You stood next to Changmin, the latter holding his bag by the strap over his shoulder. You had been staring at the door for more than a minute now, trying to slow the palpitations of your heart.
“We can leave whenever you want to,” he murmured to you, the back of his hand nudging yours. “Let’s just try.”
You got yourself to nod.
The hallways were uncharacteristically quiet compared to the previous couple of times you had been back here. Since there was no one else here, you and Changmin got to pick whichever practice room you wanted. The largest one was the winner, and the lights flickered on to wash the shadows away. You immediately moved to one side of the room to set your things down, and Changmin went to his corner by the speaker. He was already hooking up his phone to the aux cord, but kept one eagle-eye on you as you inhaled the sight of the empty room around you.
As usual, your throat began closing in on itself, and you coaxed yourself into taking deep breaths.
You started out on the floor in front of the mirror, your legs crossed over each other and Changmin’s phone in your hands. Changmin had shouldered off his white athletic jacket, and began stretching as you swiped through the selection of music on his phone. The two of you collectively agreed for you to start off just watching. Once you were comfortable in the practice room environment, and if you wanted to dance, you would join him whenever you were ready. If you were never ready, then you could continue to just watch him and cheer him on during the practice.
You watched him card a hand through his hair as he peered at himself in the mirror behind you. “I always thought this mirror made you vain,” you chuckled, your hand having settled into your lap instead of at the base of your throat.
He furrowed his brows at you. His hands rested on his hips, the muscle in his forearms emboldening from the action. “Rude. I think you were the one who made me vain.”
“The fuck? How so?” You challenged.
“You always said you admired my facial expressions and my pretty smile,” he grinned at your reaction, snickering to himself. “Did you pick a song yet?”
You watched him dance. For the first few songs that played on shuffle, he was simply warming up his body and freestyling to whatever he heard. You knew Changmin was no stranger to people watching him dance, but there was something still so intimate about watching him in this space. You could watch him create things like magic, as well as watch him fumble and laugh at his own misgivings. Except, instead of doing it all by himself, his eyes would find yours and smile.
Next quarter, Changmin was supposedly signed on to be a TA for one of the dance courses, so he asked for your opinion on a few of his ideas for choreographies he could teach.
After showing you his second idea, he gestured to you then looked back at himself in the mirror. “What do you think? I’m not sure if writing something for each nuance in the beat would be a bit too much or if it’s something that should be used as a challenge routine.”
You hummed in understanding. “Well, if it’s an intermediate dance course, then I think it could be worked up to. Are these people dance majors or… maybe minoring in dance?”
He nodded when you said the latter. “Supposedly, they aren’t necessarily dance majors. But yeah, I agree—it could probably be brought out later in the quarter instead.” He made a motion with his hand as he backpedaled a couple steps to give himself more room between you and him. “Could you rewind to the first verse again? I wanna see something.”
You obliged him and rewinded the song to his desired timestamp. He tried out another possible set of choreo, but ended up stopping halfway through the chorus.
Again and again, you rewinded the song for him to try something new, but each time, he was met with his own dissatisfaction.
You suddenly stood, setting his phone on the ground with the song having been rewinded just slightly before the intended timestamp. Your hands were shaky and your heart was probably beating at an unhealthy speed, but you needed to try out something.
Changmin’s eyes opened wide as you came to stand next to him, but he said nothing. Instead, he let you loosely show him what you had concocted in your head while watching him go through trial after trial.
Before you knew what was happening, the two of you were weaving your ideas together, taking pieces of his original choreography and amending it with yours. You had watched him from the beginning so many times that you didn’t need long to pick up on the rest. By the end, the two of you had danced the entirety of the song together, your chest rising and falling fast with the speed of your breath.
Changmin released an exclamatory yell, thrusting his fist to the ceiling, then clasping your hand with his. “Let’s go! I really like that, Yn,” he said with his face split by a shit-eating grin.
Your heart was bursting again, not with nerves, but something you hadn’t felt in a long, long time. You brushed the hair from your eyes, a satisfied beam set on your face. “I like it, too.”
There was a sheen akin to pride in his eyes. “I wanna show you something,” he said, walking over to his phone with a skip in his step. “Stay there! I wanna teach you this bit of choreo that’s been living in my head for a while now.”
And so, you followed Changmin’s instructions as he put on a groovy-type beat. The routine was simple enough—looks-wise. But if you knew anything about the things Changmin choreographed, the difficulty was all in the subtlety and technique. When you were younger, the appeal between you and Changmin as partners were that you were practically foils for each other. While Changmin ruled the arena of sharp, focused isolations and movements, your area of expertise laid in bigger, fuller movements like that of a brushstroke. When you had watched Juyeon and Changmin’s performance during the winter showcase, you supposed that was why they were able to complement each other well. It was essentially what you and Changmin were, in combination.
The longer you and Changmin danced, the more your chest filled with air and warmth and love and happiness. The guilt and fear from before had melted away to reveal this suppressed portion of you that had been hidden for a long time.
At some point, the two of you were just messing around, and ended up sprawled on the polished wood floor of the practice room clutching your stomachs while choking on laughter.
Changmin rolled onto his side, eyes still squinted in delight as he tried to get a grip of his breathing. “Is your back okay?” He managed to wheeze between gasps and howls.
You wiped a tear that crept out from your eye. “No! I just tried carrying a fifty-something-kg man on my back. Do you think I’m okay?”
“In my defense,” he said, peering down at you as he rose into a sitting position and leaned back onto his palms, “you claimed you were stronger than me and could be the base.”
“A warning would have been nice!” You exclaimed. You rolled onto your stomach, laying your chin over your arms. “No one in their right mind just jumpscares people like that.”
“Have you met me?”
“Fair enough.”
A remnant of that merriment remained on his lips as he felt around the floor around him for where his phone had fallen out of his pants pocket. He caught a glimpse of the time, sighing, then raking a hand through his hair. “It’s already one o’clock. Are you hungry? Wanna get lunch or something?”
“Sure, what do you feel like?” You asked, eyes following his movements as he clambered up to his feet and tucked his phone back into his pocket.
He pressed his lips together in thought, humming, “Dunno. Fast food maybe?”
You rolled into a sitting position, similar to the one he had been in just moments before. “Okay.”
“Come on; let’s get up then.” He offered a hand out to you, and you clasped his forearm tightly.
In one fell motion, Changmin swept you upright and to your feet—but he used a little too much pulling force, and you were stumbling into him, palms pressed flat against his chest, and his arms coming around your waist. You held your breath as the two of you fought to stabilize the other.
“Shit, sorry about that,” he muttered from above you with a low chuckle.
You opened your mouth to reply, but as you raised your head to meet his eyes and not just his Adam’s apple, you lost all your breath. There was barely a hairsbreadth distance between your face and his. Changmin came to the same determination as you had and his eyes went wide.
A curious thing happened. His pupils dilated, and his eyes darted down to your mouth and his tongue swiped over his own to dampen them.
Your breath as you exhaled was as unsteady as your heart rate.
You felt his hold on your tighten slightly; his Adam’s apple bobbed. And then he was leaning forward, his eyes fluttering closed—
He kissed you then.
His lips were soft over your own with the slightest bit of pressure, nose nudging the side of your cheek.
Your hands moved up the plane of his chest to grasp his toned shoulders; he shifted his left hand to cradle the back of your head.
Wait, what is happening—
You both pulled away, as if the same thought had echoed through both of your heads at the same time.
Panic leapt into the two of you and you jolted away when the distinct sound of Boss by some group called Neo Culture Technology blasted throughout the quiet practice room.
"Fuck," you swore. You glanced back at Changmin and saw the question, the uncertainty, the—you couldn't even tell. Your mind was everywhere and nowhere at once. You could still feel his mouth on yours. "That—that's Doyoung's ringtone. I have to take this."
"Okay," he whispered inaudibly, and you slipped out from his hold.
With your back to him, he rubbed his hands down his face and an indescribable emotion seized his chest. He rubbed a thumb over his lips…
"Doyoung, you need to calm down," you said as Doyoung's voice quite literally rambled at lightspeed into your ear.
You heard your friend take one deep breath, then repeat, "I think one of these final draft files are corrupted. I'm freaking the fuck out right now, and I know you're not out of town, so if you could please—for the sake of my sanity—come to the office and help me!" He was pleading, begging, and Kim Doyoung did not beg. He sounded like one hair-pull from dropping down to his knees.
In any other context, you would have wanted to record this for the history books. Any other context.
Your eyes darted over to Changmin who was still standing in the middle of the room, hands tucked into his pockets, and gaze pinned to you.
You couldn't just—leave? Could you? Not after that—
Then you caught Changmin nodding his head in the direction of the door, his head cocking to the side in silent question. Do you need to go? He mouthed.
You pursed your lips with a reluctant nod. Something's wrong with the paper.
Then go. We'll talk after.
Talk. Yup. You started grabbing your things and you squeezed your phone between your ear and shoulder. "—okay okay, Doyoung. Can you stop wasting your energy for me, and tell me exactly what the screen is telling you?"
You began making your way to the door, but halted in the doorway. You hesitated, turning back to look at Changmin. You really shouldn't leave—but you had to.
"Yn."
You grabbed your phone and pressed the speaker into your shoulder. "Yes?" It sounded breathless.
Desperation gleamed like silver in his eyes. One did not often see that emotion from Ji Changmin. "Don't shut me out."
EPISODE FIFTEEN: OFF THE BOOKS
THE first person that came to mind was Choi Chanhee. "What—"
"I kissed her!" Changmin blurted, hand slapping over his mouth.
"You what?!"
— ✶
You were breathless, brain muddled, a hot mess of a shitshow, when you got to the Daily. The rest of the Board members were on break, including your resident tech expert, so you had assured Doyoung that you were free if he needed anything. (If you weren't deeply regretting that now though.)
You had fast walked all the way from the performing arts center to the Daily's newsroom, effectively cutting travel time down from ten minutes to seven, even with your bag of items. Though, it definitely didn't help your headspace. You could hardly think about Changmin, the kiss, and a corrupted file all at the same time. Not to mention, you finally managed to wrangle Doyoung off the phone with you so he could go splash water on his face to calm the fuck down.
The newsroom was dark when you got there, but you saw the light from Doyoung's office shining down the corridor. He was seated behind his desk, his expression a lot more calm than he sounded from the phone, but his face and bangs were a bit damp, meaning he had actually gone to wash his face. Good.
He saw you trudging down the hall, your baby hairs flying everywhere, and your breath coming out in pants. He noticed the bag slung over your shoulder and had the nerve to ask, "Oh, were you on the way somewhere?"
You sent him a pained stare and collapsed into the chair on the opposite side of his desk.
"You look stressed."
"Changmin and I kissed."
Doyoung's eyes nearly fell out of his head and his body was half an inch from falling out of his chair. "HUH?"
Your head craned back against the back of the chair. "I know."
"Girl, why are you here then?"
"You said it was an emergency!" You cried, straightening. You didn't even acknowledge the fact that Doyoung had just called you "girl". "Now, let's work this file situation out."
Doyoung moved his laptop further away from you. "Oh, nuh-uh, Missy. You're gonna just send me your copy, and then you're gonna go on your merry way back to Mr. Dancer Man and kiss him again."
Your face scrunched up. "Hello?" What was in the sink water in this building…
"Did you talk about it? Are you two dating now?"
"Doyoung," you whined, scrubbing a hand over your face, "you literally called right after we kissed."
Doyoung made a noise of disappointment. "Damn, I'm never gonna live this down."
"Seungkwan's gonna call you a cockblocker for the rest of your life," you muttered in agreement.
He snorted. "You said it, not me." He sobered then, closing the lid of his laptop so he could lace his fingers over it and fix you with a serious expression. "So how do you feel? Tell me what happened."
You twisted and dropped your bag to the ground by your feet, moving your chair closer to the desk so you could drape your upper half on top of the cool surface. "We were dancing—"
"Really?"
"Mhm," you hummed against the table. "It was… it was really nice, Doie. I actually had fun. And then we just—I don't even know—we played around a little and he was helping me up off the ground, and suddenly we were kissing."
Doyoung's brows furrowed together. "Ah, I see. Did he kiss you or did you kiss him?"
"He kissed me, but I didn't stop him." You could recall the look in his eyes with a striking amount of clarity. "I… I don't really know what it all means, or what it means to me. I'm a little confused, if I'm honest."
He sighed. "And that's okay. I think this is something you definitely need to go back and talk to him about though, hm?"
"Yeah."
"But Yn," he continued, reaching over to rub the top of your head and get you to look up, "did you ever have feelings for the guy?"
You slowly raised yourself up from the table with a frown on your face. "When I was a kid, I didn't really see anyone else but him," you confessed, almost unconsciously. You hadn't known what the feeling you harbored for him was back then, but maybe you could seek to understand it now.
Doyoung made a vague gesture with his hand as he sat back in his chair. "Well, that's a start for sure. But you and he have been on rocky terrain for years now. You're not kids anymore and a lot of things have changed." He was right, in some sense. You and Changmin had spent three years convincing yourselves you didn't need each other. Perhaps it had been the opposite the entire time, but what did it all mean?
"I'm glad to have him in my life again," you said quietly. "I think I've always felt… different about Changmin than any other friend I've had before, y'know? It was just unconscious in a way."
"Would you want to act on that then? See where it goes?"
You let his questions resonate around your head for a minute. But the more you thought about it, the more certain you became of your answer.
— ✶
The back corridors of the performing arts hall were just as dark as it was when you had left. For a moment, you were afraid that Changmin had left. But as you neared the practice room from earlier, you could make out the sounds of voices drifting from the cracked open door of the room.
You strained your ears—who was that with Changmin?
You reached the door, quietly pressing yourself against the wall to peer in through the cracked doorway. There, sitting opposite Changmin on the practice room floor, was Chanhee.
"—think about it, Changmin," said Chanhee as he dropped his friend by the shoulders to keep him from sulking. "She kissed you back. Don't you think that means something?"
"She could've just been caught up in the moment," Changmin countered. "She could've—" He made a frustrated noise and threw his hands out in front of him, "Maybe I just don't want to be disappointed."
Chanhee frowned. "Disappointed… that she doesn't return your feelings? Changmin, can you be honest with me for a second?"
He gave a solemn nod.
"Those feelings you had for her when you were a kid—have they ever gone away?"
You had to back away from the door and press your palm against your mouth. But because of that, you weren't able to catch Changmin's answer. Your heart slammed against your ribcage, your hands shaking as your thoughts raced in your head. You had to open the door now. You'd already intruded when you eavesdropped on their conversation.
Sucking in a breath, you pushed the door open wider. No going back now.
Changmin and Chanhee were both frozen in place when you poked your head into the room. The former paled in the warm-toned practice room lights, and you saw him gulp.
"Yn!" Chanhee laughed nervously as he and his friend both scrambled to their feet. His car keys jangled noisily from where they hung on a clip from his belt loop. "Uhm, I think I should leave," he said, clearing his throat and brushing past you.
You grabbed your arm as you shuffled into the room and gently kicked the door closed behind you.
Changmin cupped the back of his neck. "How much did you hear?" He asked, not even bothering to hide the open glisten in his eyes, the pure vulnerability lying stark on his face. It felt like you were seventeen again, standing alone together in the practice room, not really sure what the other person would say or do or feel.
"What did Chanhee mean by you having feelings for me when we were kids?" You asked.
The silence was palpable. "You really didn't know?"
No, you shook your head, definitely not. "I—I mean, no. Not really. I guess I always thought… I don't know what I thought."
He braced both hands behind his head now, his eyes tilted back toward the ceiling. "Yn," he said before looking you in the eyes again, "every time I saw you, I saw someone who put the fucking stars in the sky. If you watch any of our videos from back then—" He pushed out a haggard breath from his mouth. "I could never not care for you, could never stop caring for you. It hurt a lot when we stopped being us because I thought I…"
His hands fell to his sides, helpless. "I thought I lost you. And then it felt like you hated me, so I tried to hate you, too. And then we worked shit out. And then…" Changmin brushed his bangs back and was unable to look you in the eyes for longer than a second with each glance. "I'm sorry I kissed you. I don't want to lose you again, Yn."
Your heart thundered in your ears so loud that you almost thought he could hear it, even from so far away. You got yourself to take a step forward, and then another.
Changmin waited as you walked closer to him, his lips pressed together.
You inhaled. "Changmin, I can't say for sure what I felt for you back then, and I definitely can't articulate my feelings for you as well as you just did—" His eyes clashed with yours, that energy colliding, "—but I'm not sorry you kissed me, or that I kissed you."
You thought you heard his breath hitch for a moment.
"I don't want to lose you again, either," you said and tentatively reached for his hands. Never in your years of knowing him had you known a moment where his fingers trembled like they did now. "And I—I really want to see where this goes. Would you want to see where this goes with me?"
His fingers curled around yours as he nodded. "Yes."
EPISODE SIXTEEN: OFF [MY] FACE
"WHAT about that one?"
"Don't touch that one."
"Will it burn my skin off?" Changmin asked in a sleepy daze as one hand rubbed his eye and the other reached for the gallon of liquid that sat behind a locked cabinet with a clearly marked DO NOT TOUCH. DANGER. plastered on the side.
"Yes," you said without looking up from your organic chemistry textbook.
Changmin's hand dropped immediately and he turned to send a look your way. "Well, that's not very safe."
His hoodie-covered head began bumbling back over to you through the maze of workbenches. It was the first week back to school from spring break, thus, the very first week of the spring quarter. You and Changmin were currently in your regular lab space that you unofficially dubbed your study area. Kun was in the break room probably half asleep over a bag of shrimp chips, and Ten… Ten was somewhere around here. Maybe he got lost down the hallway looking for the bathroom or something.
Changmin had come to hang out with you though, even though he was practically a walking baby giraffe as drowsiness possessed his whole being. But he insisted on staying until you went home.
"It's actually just distilled water," you said with a chuckle. "The lab professors just don't want people using it because for some reason, the convenience stores around here are always out, and they don't want to go hunting for more."
You felt him drape over your back with a fwump. "I love when you talk dirty to me," he said through a rather large yawn.
You grinned to yourself, shaking your head. "Okay, I think we need to get you home."
"Not before you take me to dinner first."
"Are you sure you're not drunk?"
You packed your things up quickly, especially when you saw Changmin nodding off while standing upright. It was already around nine o'clock by the time you said good night to Kun and located Ten (yeah, he'd gone looking for the bathroom and almost gotten locked in a supply closet instead).
Changmin tried to convince you he was okay to drive, but by the way he couldn't even figure out that his keys were hanging on his belt loop, it was safe to say that you were driving tonight. The drive over to Changmin and Chanhee's apartment was an easy one since they lived in the university district and the streets were quite barren at this point. You helped him up to the apartment, greeting Chanhee who was in a fluffy pink robe and matching headband.
"Hi Chanhee," you sighed as you pushed Changmin into the bathroom to shower.
Chanhee looked on in ill-concealed amusement. "He'll be much better after he showers," he reassured you from his perch on the couch. You saw the page-long math problems spread out on the coffee table and held in a gag.
"Dear god, I hope so."
Chanhee directed you to where Changmin's room was and you dumped both yours and his backpacks on the floor by his desk. You actually had yet to step foot in here until now, so while Changmin was doing his thing in the bathroom, you let your eyes roam all around the room. It was relatively clean (emphasis on relatively) with walls that were minimally decorated. There was a whole separate rack of shirts and jackets left outside the small wardrobe, and you recognized a couple of them.
You leaned over his desk to see what he had posted on the wall above it. There were a couple dozen printed photographs of him and his friends, as well as an award or two that were big in name and no doubt special to him. You felt yourself smile; you didn't have to be up here, but you liked seeing his smile in all of these pictures.
And then you saw it.
There was a printed copy of a review pinned amongst the pandemonium of memorabilia. The layout of the page was incredibly familiar, and with widened eyes, you realized that it was a review from the Daily's Opera Glasses.
In fact, as you squinted and skimmed, it was your review from freshman year. It was your (anonymous) review about his debut winter showcase performance.
Wow.
You barely registered Changmin shuffling into the room in slippers and a bathrobe of his own, his dark hair still dripping with water.
He passed you a glance while heading for his wardrobe. "Hey, do you wanna stay over?"
You definitely weren't prepared for that question. "Stay over?" You parroted dumbly. "Also, you have an Opera Glasses review printed out?" Your hand gestured to the sheet of paper pinned to the wall.
Changmin's head turned and he abandoned the wardrobe to walk over to you and his desk. You pressed yourself against the wall to the side to give him space to look. "Ah," he said with a boyish grin, "that was yours, wasn't it?"
"How the hell could you tell?"
He leaned in close to you, bracing an arm above your head. The smell of his shampoo was strong and you came to the realization that he was still in a bathrobe. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. "You don't think I could tell what your writing voice sounded like?" He asked, his voice suddenly lowered.
You inched forward, a dare. "Are you gonna get dressed, Changmin?"
His smile widened. "I could," he teased.
"Hey! Can you guys close the door or keep it down? Some of us are single and have math homework!"
Both you and Changmin laughed at Chanhee's outburst even though your face was definitely heated up.
Changmin took advantage of your unassuming state and pressed his mouth to yours, tasting your laughter on his tongue until you could only taste his in return. It was a dizzying sort of kiss, his arm still above you and his other curled around your waist.
When he pulled away, he bit his lip around a smirk. "I'll get changed now."
Criminal. Absolutely criminal.
He indeed got changed. And so did you. Apparently, he was being serious about you staying the night, and soon enough, you found yourself buried beneath his covers and swept in his very clingy arms. Not that you were complaining; he smelled nice.
You and Changmin laid facing each other in the darkness of his room. Round spectacles sat awkwardly on his nose bridge since the side of his face was pressed against the pillow, but he said he wouldn't take them off until he was just about to drift off.
"Yn-ie."
"Hm?"
He giggled, turning over and reaching over the side of his bed for something. You were about to question what he was doing until he quite literally shoved his wretched Chucky doll into your face.
"What the flying fuck—" You glared at the toy and its creepy stitched face. You had been startled by it, but you had grown used to it after having to deal with his obsession with the damn thing in the last two years of high school.
Changmin hugged the abomination to his chest as he snickered loudly.
"I thought you got rid of that thing."
"You clearly don't know me well enough."
You began to sit up and make a show of throwing off the covers. "I'm leaving—"
"Wait, wait, wait!" He blubbered, grabbing your upper arm and yanking you back down onto the bed next to him.
He leaned over you, his Chucky doll still tucked in the crook of his arm, as Changmin pouted. The glasses were practically sliding off his nose and his hair was sticking up in the back. What a duality. "I don't want you to leave."
"I'm not cuddling with Chucky, Changmin."
"But—"
"I will go ask Chanhee for an extra blanket."
Changmin's pout contorted into a scowl. "I'll murder him."
You wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of this conversation. "I think you need to go to sleep."
He flopped back onto the bed next to you, reluctantly setting Chucky back down on the floor next to the bed where the wretched thing had been hiding this whole time. You suppressed a shiver.
Finally able to breathe easy, you settled back into Changmin's arms. He tucked you against his chest, his chin settled on top of your head. You felt him shift as he took his glasses off and reached behind him to set them on the nightstand.
You were just drifting off to sleep to the melody of his heart beat when: "Yn?"
"Hm?"
His lips pressed to the crown of your head. "I missed you."
You knew what he meant. You pressed a kiss to his chest and heard the shuddering breath that fell from his lips. "I missed you, too."
EPISODE SEVENTEEN (EPILOGUE): [ON OUR TERMS]
THE problem with the restaurant was that it reminded you of something like the word "home". The sign above the door was made with some common font that one could find on Microsoft Word and you were pretty sure they only took cash, too. There was a reason you had chosen this restaurant in particular, and it was because you thought that eating at a place with your comfort foods would, well, comfort you. But you had been staring at the front for a minute or two now, and you weren't sure it was working.
From beside you, you felt someone take your hand in his. "We don't have to go in," said Changmin, his expression blank and reserved as he looked at the eatery, but softened a considerable amount when he looked over at you.
Your mother was waiting for you in there, somewhere. You wanted to finally talk to her—maybe make some peace with yourself. You'd told Changmin about it, and he insisted on coming as moral support.
You squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. "I can't just not go, Changmin."
His touch was gentle as his thumb grazed over the back of your knuckles, just as gentle as his voice was, "You don't owe her anything, Yn. You deserve an apology from her and you deserve closure, but you don't owe her anything. Not after what she put you through."
You were quiet for a moment and your free hand brushed over the hollow of your throat where the tightening sensation was.
Changmin added, "I'll support whatever decision you come to."
You considered the restaurant again. It had always held a great amount of significance and comfort for you. Did you want to ruin that with a potentially sour conversation? For all you knew, this could end incredibly poorly.
But… there were some things that needed to be done.
You steeled your resolve. "Ready?"
Changmin, all dapper in his dress shirt and pants and styled hair, flashed you a dimpled smile. "Whenever you are."
a/n: wow ... anyways lol thanks for getting through that madness, and hope u enjoyed!! pls do consider reblogging, commenting, or sending an ask to my inbox teehee i would really appreciate it ! now, onto hyunjae's ! >:)
everyone thinks changmin is cute and harmless, but you know that's not who he really is.
▷ genre, part warnings. e2l, childhood friends gone bad, (extra) slow burn, fluff, angst, mentions of childhood trauma and parental manipulation, arguing, bittersweet galore, nct ten is there for the sole purpose of being nosy like the rest of us or for being a 2nd male lead who knows!, swearing, hurt/comfort, ji changmin dancing. (need i go on), symptoms of panic/anxiety, a lot of non-tbz moments sorry i meant it when i said extra slow burn, pining haha...ha (very subtle)
▷ PART ONE WC. 18.5k
this is the third installment of the love in unity series! this can be read as a standalone, but i encourage u to read jacob and eric's storylines too! all prev and future yns will be referred to as _!yn ;) / otr part two
a/n: this was going to be a very quirky author's note, but it's not anymore bc i'm really mad at tumblr. pls enjoy :')
EPISODE ONE (PILOT): OFF THE CLOCK
"NIGHT, Yn!"
"Good night, Yn-ie."
"Make sure you get some rest, Yn-ah! Good luck with the report."
The door out of the laboratory building shuttered closed after your last coworkers and peers swept out to leave you to the white noise of the lights above your head and the cooling units. You were probably the only person crazy enough to still be chained to your lab workbench on a Friday night, especially when it was already six o'clock. Your stomach growled its complaints as you tucked a pen behind your ear with a sigh. There was probably a bag of shrimp chips in the break room snack stash, and you pushed your stool beneath the workbench to head into the break room.
Now that the laboratory was practically barren except for you, it wouldn't be a bad idea to take the reign of Kun's speaker…
The sound of your phone ringtone blared out loud from your pocket, and you scrambled to grab it with your other hand not occupied with shrimp chip crumb dust (after having washed your hands, of course). You put the call on speaker then deposited your phone onto the countertop so both hands could be used for eating. "Yo."
"You've been hanging around Mark too much," Yeri answered from the other end.
You snorted, covering your mouth for a moment, then replying, "Well good evening to you, too, my beloved. What's up?"
You could hear the muffled sounds of your friends from the other side of the phone. A car door slammed shut. "Hey-yo, is that Yn? Yn, what's up, my dude?"
"Mark, can you speak like a regular human?" That was Seungkwan. "Hi Yn-ie! We miss you, mwah!"
"Look, man. Me and Yn are homies, and this is literally just how I talk—"
The car door opened and Yeri must have taken initiative to get out of the car herself at this point. You laughed at her audible eye roll. "Okay, now that you've heard what I have to deal with, will you tell me that you're coming to the dance draft show tonight?"
Your mood soured.
It wasn't that you didn't want to go for Yeri's sanity's sake, you just didn't want to go, period. What the performing arts called a rehearsal, they referred to as a "draft" stage, where they planned rough runs of acts for the showcase. It just so happened that the dance department was holding their draft show for people to sit-in to watch tonight; their final showcase would be held on the Friday night of finals week, which was only in a few weeks now.
(Why did they call it a "draft" stage instead of simply a "rehearsal"? Well, you had no clue, and you didn't have any plans to ask anyone who would know the answer.)
When you didn't immediately answer, you heard Yeri's grumble. "Don't nerd out on me, Miss Yn Ln."
You gasped. "Nerd out on you? I'm being responsible—"
"You're being a workaholic!"
You pursed your lips together and quickly rinsed your fingers of shrimp chip crumbs. "Fair. But I'm sorry, I'm not going."
A brief pause. Then, the sigh. "Okay. That's okay," she said. "Wanna meet us for dinner afterwards at least?"
Your stomach grumbled, right on cue. It wasn't loud enough for Yeri to hear on the other end, but the timing made you laugh to yourself. "Definitely."
There was a smile in your friend's voice. "Cool! I'll text you details once we figure out what's happening. In the mean—" her voice was interrupted by the sound of muffled yelling on the other side, and Yeri pulled her mouth away from the phone so she could screech at Seungkwan, Mark, and now, Kim Jungwoo, to be quiet and put their seatbelts on. You heard vaguely about Jungwoo being late for his call time, and you were not at all surprised. She returned to the phone with a grumble. "You're really leaving me with the kids, Yn?"
You giggled. "Sorry, Yeri. I'll pay for your dinner."
"Deal. See you soon, babe."
"See ya, love!"
When the phone call ended, you realized just how thick the silence fell around you. It settled like a blanket over your senses, and it all became a bit overwhelming, especially after such a loud phone call.
You sighed, putting the shrimp chips back in the snack stash. You might as well go find where Kun hid his speaker to fill the silence then.
— ✶
People were yelling. And tripping. And crying.
In retrospect, this constituted as a normal backstage environment for something like a finals showcase draft rehearsal. It was hardly even a rehearsal, but more so a sneak peek showcase. There were people in the audience, after all.
Ji Changmin would know. This would be his third winter draft show out of his three years here in university. There were always showcases at the end of each quarter, but the winter show wielded the title of most anticipated. With the cold and rainy weather keeping most people indoors, it allowed for a larger crowd to come flocking toward said indoor modes of entertainment. Thus, the winter showcase and all of its hype.
Changmin lingered in his little corner of the backstage area, calmly stretching out his lanky limbs while chaos erupted all around him. He had two acts this time around—a duet with Lee Juyeon, as well as a solo performance. It had been enough to keep him busy for the quarter, among his other classes.
"—Jungwoo, you're late!"
He raised his head at the sound of Lee Minho’s voice from across the room, the dirty blond sending a deadpanned glare at the man in question. Kim Jungwoo’s eyes were wide with doe-like innocence as he made his way toward his friend, his posse following behind and taking in the chaos with amused awe. Changmin could easily recognize those present—Kim Yeri, Mark Lee, and Boo Seungkwan.
He turned his head away; it wasn’t his business, and he had much bigger things to worry about.
He raised his hands to his neck to put his headphones over his ears, but paused when he caught a few more echoes of their conversation.
“ — sorry Minho, but you know I can’t resist getting a free carpool ride,” Jungwoo said while setting his duffle bag in the corner and swiftly joining Minho in stretches. If Changmin was a hard ass when it came to dance and schedules, Minho was much worse. But Changmin respected him a lot, especially in a craft like dance and performance—he saw him as an equal.
A sigh from Minho. “Yeah, yeah. Poor Yeri.”
Yeri huffed, her hands shooting up into the air. “Thank you!”
Minho folded his arms over his chest as he stood up straight to stand next to Yeri as the two of them absentmindedly watched Jungwoo fold himself in two to stretch his long legs out. “Huh, no Yn tonight?”
Changmin didn’t know why he was still listening. He slowly lowered his headphones back to their position around his neck, then resumed stretching out his hamstrings. He could wait a couple more minutes before getting into his choreography…
“You know you’re not gonna see her anywhere near this place,” Yeri said with a pointed look. Changmin held back a retort, or even a snort. “Wanna get dinner with us tonight? She’s coming to meet us after the show.”
“Ah, I’d love to, but I promised Jisung I’d swing by the studio afterwards. Hey, have you met Ten yet? You should ask…”
Changmin decided that this was an appropriate moment to tune out. He swiftly donned his headphones and reached for his phone hidden in the pile of his duffle bag and jackets in the corner. He didn’t even know why he listened in when your friends brought you up. Why were you even still connected to the dance and performing arts department people anyway? He huffed, rolling his eyes with a small shake of his head. It wasn’t like you wanted to be connected to dance anyway. So why give him a constant reminder of your existence and the past you shared—
“Changminnie!” Juyeon appeared in front of him, waving to him with that goofy smile to get his attention.
Changmin broke into a smile as he shifted one side of his headphones from his ear. “Hey. Wanna go over some of the routine?”
Juyeon nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready. I was trying to get your attention, but I think you were just occupied.”
Whoops. Changmin flicked his wrist as he followed Juyeon down the hallway to a more private place to practice with his friend. “Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking of something.”
“Oh, okay,” Juyeon ducked his head into an empty dressing room in the back hallway, beckoning Changmin to follow him in. “Nothing to worry about though? You can talk to me; no judgment.”
Changmin chuckled and closed the door behind him. “Nah, nothing important. Let’s just focus on the performance.” Anything involving you? Definitely not important anymore.
— ✶
Late February brought the cold, bitter winds of night to the university, so the trek all the way across campus from the laboratory buildings to the performing arts hall was a hellish one. You kept your head tucked into the puffy collar of your puffer jacket, hands stuffed into your pockets, a happy tune blasting in your ears to keep you going all the way up the road. It was around nine o’clock by the time you made it to the front of the performing arts hall, and you could already see the sea of people meandering outside its doors post-draft show.
You shivered and pulled your phone out from your pocket to see where your friends were waiting for you.
“Yn-ie!”
Your head lifted and you grinned, waving your hand at Seungkwan who was making his way over to you. “Hi Kwannie,” you greeted and wrapped your arms around him in a warm embrace.
When you’d pulled away, Seungkwan made a face as he shuddered. “Jesus, it’s cold. I should have brought a scarf or something. Did you walk here?”
You began to nod, but he tsked. “Aish, Yn. You should’ve called! No one should have to walk in this torturous cold.”
You laughed. “It’s no big deal. We’re about to go get some hot food, so it’s cool.”
“We might have to wait for a little longer.” Both you and Seungkwan turned toward Yeri, Mark, and Jungwoo who were walking over. Jungwoo had a sweatband holding his bangs out of his face and his duffle slung over his shoulder. He had his jacket draped over his arm; he was probably warm from the showcase. “We’re waiting on Ten to finish up.”
“Hi Jungwoo,” you greeted him, and the man returned the expression with a side hug. You furrowed your brows. “Who’s Ten?’’
Mark replied with a sniffle from the cold, “Oh, he’s a new exchange student! Well, he was originally admitted here, but he went abroad for a year. He's with the NCT frat. Super cool, super funny. He’s great at dance though.”
“I think you’ll vibe with him, Yn,” Yeri chimed in. “He’s asking a couple people for their opinion on a few parts of his routine, so I think he’ll be out soon.”
You nodded in understanding. You didn’t mind waiting, but you hoped what Yeri said about him was true. Hopefully you did get along with him, because you were honestly far too tired to forcefully play nice. You were hoping for a chill night anyway. Then again, as long as you could avoid a certain someone tonight, this would turn out to be a chill night in general.
You and your friends chatted for a few minutes only before Jungwoo caught someone’s eyes from behind you, Yeri, and Mark. He brightened. “Ten! Ten, over here!”
You all swiveled.
Ten was just as lean and lithe as Jungwoo was, but with black bangs, a pair of round spectacles hanging from the collar of his white T-shirt, and a cute smile on his face. You and he made brief eye contact before Jungwoo was hopping on the balls of his feet to greet him.
Jungwoo slung an arm around Ten’s shoulders as he brought him over to the group. “Yn, this is Ten Lee. Ten, this is Yn-ie—the friend we mentioned earlier.”
Your eyes widened slightly. “Why was I mentioned?” You laughed nervously.
Ten flashed you a boyish kind of smile. “Oh, it was nothing; don’t worry. It’s nice to meet you though.”
Your heart didn't slow at his assurance. “Ah, okay then. Uh, nice to meet you, too!”
“Did you get your routine settled?” Seungkwan asked as the lot of you began to move in one, loose blob toward Yeri’s car. (How all of you would manage to fit, that was something you mentally were trying to figure out. In Yeri’s tiny sedan, you might have to squish four people into the back seat.)
Ten nodded enthusiastically. “Yup, it’s all sorted. Minho and Changmin were really helpful with their comments.”
You felt the people around you freeze at the mention of Changmin’s name. You stiffened as well, but tried to force the strange feeling to go away. Your friends knew the drill, too, but you saw the way they glanced at you from their periphery.
Ten was smart, you realized, when his head tilted at all of your reactions.
Time for damage control. “That’s—that’s good!” Mark’s voice cracked and coughed to clear it. “I mean, Minho’s always been really attentive to details and stuff. I think he was almost recruited to become an idol or something like that…”
Ten pursed his lips, as if silently saying, ‘I’m not buying this bull’. You decided to just… do it. “Changmin’s a great dancer, too,” you said, and everyone shot disbelieving glances your way, but you could already see how Ten was grasping onto everything you were saying. You forced a neutral tone into the way you spoke, forced yourself not to let the bitterness seep through. No one deserved to fall victim to the feelings that were only meant for one Ji Changmin. “I’m glad he helped you out. He’s really good at sharp movements and isolations.”
“Oh, do you dance, Yn?” Ten piped up with a twinkle in his eyes.
“Ruh roh,” you heard Seungkwan murmur, and he shuffled away from you to go to the other side of Yeri’s car.
Maybe you purposefully let him see right through you. “Not really. It was a long time ago.”
You and Ten held eye contact, the silent tension like communication passed between the two of you—this was personal, but Ten could figure out that there was more to the story. It was odd though; the way he didn’t fear prodding just a little bit. You didn’t know why you were letting yourself feed him more bait, but Yeri was hollering for the two of you to squeeze into the backseat, and you snapped out of it.
Weird…
Ten held the backseat door open for you. “Looking forward to getting to know you, Yn,” he said pleasantly.
Your eyes narrowed slightly as you slipped into the backseat. “Same to you…”
EPISODE TWO: OFF THE TABLE
YOUR curiosity won you out.
In fact, it won you over so much that you agreed to get coffee with Ten Saturday afternoon—with Mark and Yeri, of course. The four of you had coordinated stopping by one of the coffee shops in the shopping mall just down the hill from the university to hang out and destress a little from the incoming second wave of STEM midterms. Well, you needed to destress. Mark was in communications, Yeri in psychology, and Ten was… what was Ten’s major again?
“Foreign affairs,” he answered before lifting the straw of his iced americano to his lips. “Lots of foreign language classes and politics and history. Politics and capitalism classes are not my favorite, but all the cultural courses on campus are really great.”
You bobbed your head, propping your chin onto your palm. You sat across from him at one of high tables in the cafe; Mark and Yeri’s stools were barren, save for the belongings they left for you and Ten to watch, while they literally sprinted across the mall to the grocery store because they forgot they were supposed to bring booze to the NCT-RVE joint alumni homecoming tonight. You probably weren’t going to go just because social energy came in short supply these days, but you promised to send a card for your friends in RVE.
“I can imagine,” you commented. “I took a really neat course on African tribes and culture in freshman year, and I miss my professor a lot. I sometimes wonder what would have happened had I joined his study abroad program in Ghana instead of staying here.”
Ten’s head did the tilt thing again, the one you recognized from last night as something he did when he was intrigued. “That does sound really cool. What made you stay?”
Where do I even begin? “My major,” you replied simply. It wasn’t really a lie—not entirely a lie. You sipped on your latte, a faraway look in your eyes. “I was so set on a plan that I guess I got nervous about the unknown should I have gone on that trip.”
“Mm, I understand.” He had taken on a softer look now, something more akin to empathy. “It is a little scary, but while I was in Indonesia, I realized I wouldn’t have traded such an experience for anything else."
You set your cup down. "Have you always wanted to dabble in global affairs?"
"Uh, I'm not sure," he said, head tilted upward with a scrunch in his nose. He nudged his glasses up the smooth slope of his sculpted nose. "I was kind of put in a situation where I had to learn a lot of new languages, and I luckily turned out to be pretty good at picking up on them."
"Wow, that's really cool," you chuckled. A talent you definitely envied. And it seemed like Ten had made the decision to pursue this future of his on his own. You wished you could say the same.
From the counter of the café, you heard one of the workers call out your order number for cinnamon rolls, fresh from the oven.
You began to slip off your stool, and Ten spoke up, "Oh, I can totally go get those."
"It's no problem," you chirped, "I'm already down anyway." You were swift to scurry over to the counter and pick up your table's tray of cinnamon rolls with a smile at the worker in deep gratitude. The thick, warm sweetness wafted into your nose, and you inhaled the delights with a blissful grin.
However, as you turned to head back to the table, you halted abruptly, nearly knocking the plates on the tray into each other.
There, standing next to your table and chatting with Ten, were Ji Changmin and Choi Chanhee.
Great.
The sweet dessert smell soured and tasted like acid on your tongue. Bitter, like the taste of hot coffee straight from the pot. You schooled your face into neutrality, but there was no way all of the uncomfortableness could stay away.
You made your way over; the tray was getting heavy.
"—actually here with Yn, Mark, and Yeri—" Ten was pointing your way and you had to control your urge to hide.
Changmin and Chanhee's heads turned in sync, but only Changmin's eyes narrowed at the sight of you. You returned the expression wholeheartedly.
Chanhee held his breath, muttering a "Yikes" under his breath, while Ten observed the interaction with slightly parted lips. Huh.
"Ji."
"Ln."
You deposited the tray onto the table and your biceps sighed in relief. Those four cinnamon rolls truly were quite hefty on their own.
You could still feel Changmin’s eyes on you as you slid onto the stool across from Ten. “Something you’d like to say to me?” You addressed him with ill-suppressed snark.
Changmin’s eyes narrowed. “Nothing that you’ll take into importance anyway. Just didn’t think you would ever hang out with someone from the dance department.”
“Ten’s got a life outside of dance, Changmin,” you replied. You flashed him a thin-lipped smile. “He gets it.”
“And you’re so much better than me for having a so-called life,” he rolled his eyes. “You know, some people are just really passionate about dance—something you seem to still not understand.”
“I really don’t think you want me to bring up the trove of things you don’t understand—”
Chanhee subtly moved over to Ten’s side as the two of them observed the sparring match between you and Changmin. A sigh fell from his lips, and his eyebrows raised up all the way to his pink-dyed hairline.
Ten had taken one of the plates of cinnamon buns in front of him, silently offering Chanhee some. The latter refused, and Ten began to peel away one of the sultry, sweet dough layers. “Is this… normal?” He asked Chanhee under his breath, motioning to the still-bickering couple across from them.
Chanhee snorted. “It’s their mating call.”
It seemed he had said those four words loud enough to catch yours and Changmin’s attention. A miracle, indeed.
“Ew,” both you and Changmin immediately grimaced at Chanhee. Then you looked at one another with a greater degree of disgust. “Stop copying me!”
…Or, less so a miracle, but rather, a tragedy.
Chanhee let out a haggard sigh, eyes sullen to a deadpan. “One of the few things the two of you will ever agree on.”
“The last thing we’ll ever agree on,” Changmin grumbled as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “C’mon Chanhee. We should probably order before JC!Yn and Kei finish loading up the car.”
Changmin was already making his way over to the cashier when Ten managed to get in a final question, “Are you guys coming to the NCT-RVE homecoming tonight?”
“Sure—”
“No.”
Chanhee sent Ten an apologetic look for Changmin’s brusque answer. “Sorry about him. We were thinking of it, but he might be practicing with Juyeon tonight. See you later, Ten—and Yn!” He chased after Changmin, ambushing his friend by practically leaping onto his back and then smacking his shoulder.
Now that Changmin was away from you, the red in your vision had begun to clear away, and you finally remembered the set of delicious cinnamon rolls waiting for you.
Ten propped his cheek against his fist. “So… you and Changmin…”
You made a sour face as you cut off a slice of your cinnamon roll. “What about the gremlin?” You asked. As soon as the buttery, sweet delight hit your tongue, you felt your body lighten and you did a little happy dance in your seat.
Ten chuckled at your behavior. “Lovers gone wrong?”
You choked on the bite.
Your new friend’s eyes widened comically to the size of saucers as he literally pounced across the table to pat your back. “Shit—sorry, Yn. I probably should’ve waited for you to finish swallowing, huh?” He winced when you’d managed to breathe correctly and washed the bite of food down with a sip of coffee. He returned to his perch, letting you recover while he talked through his thoughts. “I don’t mean to pry—actually—” he paused, reconsidering, “—I do mean to pry. Sorry, I’m kind of a sucker for this kind of stuff.”
One of your eyes squinted at him as you massaged your throat. “Yeah, I kind of figured.”
He beamed at you boyishly, the kind of expression that almost had your defenses slipping. Almost. Ten was one slippery fellow. For some reason, you kind of respected him for being upfront about the nosiness, and if you were being honest, if this drama wasn’t yours, you would also be curious about the whole thing.
“Can’t help myself sometimes,” he confessed with a mere shrug. “You don’t owe an explanation or backstory, of course.”
You sucked in a breath, opting to hold back on eating your pastry until you and Ten were done with this topic. “I’m just going to say that Changmin and I were not ‘lovers gone wrong’,” you said, body shuddering.
“Mm,” he hummed. His eyes wandered behind you and over your head, swiftly followed by the action of waving to Changmin and Chanhee on their way out of the cafe. “It’s just interesting to me. Didn’t you just advocate for him the other night at the draft show?”
That rang a bell, unfortunately. “It’s complicated.”
Ten pressed his mouth into a saccharine smile. “I can imagine.”
EPISODE THREE: OFF THE PHONE
THERE was an avid knocking at the laboratory door, usually done by those who didn’t actually work at this specific lab. This lab area was usually reserved for upperclassmen and graduate students and their work.
“Yn-ie, could you get the door, please?” You heard Kun called out to you from his office. It wasn’t just the two of you tonight, but rather, just a few others you didn’t know as well as you did Kun. He often worked late hours like you did, always overworking himself even more as a fresh grad student. You, on the other hand, were trying to finish up this one research paper resulting from last quarter’s research project. If you were lucky, you would be able to send it off to be peer reviewed soon.
You slipped out from behind your workbench and maneuvered the maze of workbenches to head out into the corridor. Exhaustion wore at your bones from having such a long day, but you really did need to get some productive work done so you could focus specifically on your midterms approaching at the end of this week and the beginning of the following week.
However, as you turned the corner into the corridor, you nearly missed your footing. At the end of the hallway where the glass door to the outside was, you found yourself identifying one Ji Changmin and his friend, someone you didn’t recognize. The latter wore a gray hoodie beneath a black puffer vest, and he reacted the opposite to how Changmin did when they caught sight of you.
“Hey! Could you open the door, please?” Not-Changmin hollered through the glass, furiously shaking his sweater-pawed hand down at the door handle.
You didn’t want to. God, you really didn’t want to.
Changmin stared you down, as if daring you to come closer.
You opened the door, and let the cool gust of late February air and two outsiders into the safety and warmth of the laboratory building.
Hoodie Guy shuddered violently to get the cold out of his system. “Jesus, it’s cold outside. Thanks,” he said to you. Then he nudged Changmin with his elbow, as if jolting the man into reality.
“What are you doing here?” You asked, words directed toward Changmin in particular.
His dark bangs were tucked beneath a black beanie with his pair of black headphones hanging around his neck. “You think I want to be here?”
His friend sent him a look, his eyes flickering between you and Changmin furiously until the pieces clicked into his mind. “Well, uh oh…” he muttered while turning away slightly to scratch his head. He gathered his wits then. “Uh, Yn, right?”
You perked up. “Yes.”
“Uh,” he drawled. “We’re actually here for Jacob Bae. You see, we told him we’d come pick him up to take him over to—”
“Is he here?” Changmin asked.
Your eyebrow shot upward. At least they were here for a proper reason. You crossed your arms over your chest, glancing back toward the main laboratory floor way down the hall. Man, the safe zone felt so far away. “He actually just left like, ten minutes ago. Sorry.” The apology was said to Changmin’s friend, the one who seemed to have been able to figure out who exactly you were to Changmin. Not that you were anything to him. And did Changmin just talk about you to all his friends or something—?
“Oh.”
Changmin tapped his friend with the back of his hand. “C’mon Sunwoo. We’ll just meet him over there.”
Sunwoo wrinkled his nose. “I just think it’s weird that he didn’t text us to let us know before we came over here.”
There was a pause and you could practically see the gears in Changmin’s head turning. You would have left them to their own company, but you technically weren’t allowed to leave unauthorized students alone.
It was strange seeing Changmin break into something akin to sheepishness. You saw the dimples appear in the apples of his cheeks as he cupped the back of his neck. “I might not have told him we were coming…”
Sunwoo’s eyes and mouth widened and he whacked his friend with the length of his hoodie sleeve. Changmin let out one of those hyena laughs that set off triggers in your mind. It’d been awhile since you heard that… “Hyung! You’re so unreliable sometimes, oh my god. Even Eric would have remembered to tell him!”
Changmin made a noise of dismissal, slinging an arm around his friend. “Ah, it’s fine. We’ll just meet him there—as you said.”
“Worst texter award goes to,” Sunwoo rolled his eyes.
“I guess some things never change.” The words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, and both Sunwoo and Changmin suddenly remembered that you were in the hallway with them. Sunwoo had perked up as if he were surprised you would even comment on their situation, but Changmin cut an unreadable expression your way. You didn’t want to read into it.
“You literally forgot to answer a text I sent for three days,” Changmin quipped.
Well, if he was going to play the back and forth game. “That was once out of how many other times,” you scoffed. “You refused to answer anyone’s texts in the mornings anyway, so don't get on my case about that.”
“He did that to you, too?!” Sunwoo cut in with fire behind his words.
You could’ve sworn you saw the slightest bit of blush grace Changmin’s cheekbones as you hid a laugh behind your hand. “He did that to everyone—”
“Hey, I’m better over call; you know that!” Changmin argued. “Sunwoo, you can’t even talk about being a bad texter. I have to hunt for you on discord sometimes to get a straight answer.”
Sunwoo groaned, “Yah! Whatever. It’s still better than your average three-business-day reply speed.”
Changmin stammered, “It is not an average of three business days.” If your ears were not deceiving you, Ji Changmin was whining. “It’s a couple hours at least.”
“A couple hours means half a day,” you said to Sunwoo.
Changmin whipped his attention back to you, finger jabbed accusingly in your direction. “Hey, missy! You always fell asleep on-call, even when you promised that you would stay up to help me study.”
You shook your head. “Not my fault! You know that I always fell asleep around midnight back then.”
“Well, back then—”
“Is everything okay out here?”
Everything in the corridor came to a stand still, and Changmin closed his mouth, mid-sentence. Kun had his head poking out of the door to the main floor, a crease pressed between his brows and right above the rim of his thin spectacles. He eyed the two non-laboratory students with a slight grimace. Of course, Kun was aware of who Changmin was. He could recognize him because of his famed performer reputation on campus, but he knew his history with you because you had spent far too many late nights here at the lab with things plaguing your mind. You and Kun both had a problem with trouble sleeping and being workaholics.
You turned slightly to Kun. “Yeah, everything’s okay, Kun-ge.”
He sent you an unimpressed look.
“We,” Changmin piped up as he urged Sunwoo to the door, “were just leaving.” The mirth and fire from the bickering just a few seconds ago had faded, and you could feel him slipping away.
Kun drummed his fingers along the doorframe, eyebrows shooting up for a second. “Oh-kay… Yn-ie, Ten says he’s right around the corner and asks if you want some company walking home.”
The door to the laboratory behind you was held open, and the night breeze brushed through your hair. When you looked back, you saw that Changmin had stalled in the door for a second. But, it had only been that second before he and his friend were gone.
“Oh.” You made your way over to Kun. “That’s really cool of him. I’d love that.” Some company on a late-night walk back to your apartment did not sound bad at all. You’d done plenty of trips on your own, but sometimes having even one person with you would have been nice.
Kun nodded, pursing his lips, as the two of you walked into the main lab together and toward his office off to the side. “Okay, I’ll let him know. You’re for sure okay though? That must have been… not nice, seeing Changmin here.”
You gave a stiff shrug, your hip leaning against the door of his office while Kun settled back at his desk. “It’s fine,” you said. To be honest, you weren’t even sure if that was a lie or not. You’d heard Changmin laugh for the first time in years. You’d seen the dimples in his cheeks, the sheepishness in his expression—you swallowed.
Once upon a time, you associated all of those things with something like happiness. Your happiness.
Kun fixed you with a pointed look. “If you need to talk.”
You gave a firm nod. “I know where to find you.”
He clicked his tongue, shooting you a finger gun, then shooed you off to finish your work and pack your things. Ten was just around the corner, after all.
EPISODE FOUR: OFF THE RECORD
CHANGMIN liked to think that he became nosy, and that he wasn't born this way. But ever since he overheard that Kun guy asking about Ten wanting to walk you home, he couldn't help but wonder…
He shook his head, brushing his hair out of his eyes and off his forehead, before those same bangs flopped back into their place. He walked back onto the main stage of the performing arts hall to the soundtrack of a hype playlist blasting from the ears of his headphones. As he made his way past groups and individuals doing their own thing, he absentmindedly searched for one person in particular.
Conveniently, he found Ten setting himself up right by Changmin's things. He was shouldering off his black puffer jacket, rolling the material up into a manageable ball to shove into his duffle bag.
"Hey," Changmin greeted, bending down slightly to grab his water bottle.
Ten straightened and flashed him a smile. "Hey."
It wouldn't be awkward would it? Probably not. Just be cool about it, Changmin. He smiled slightly, the dimples in his cheeks disarming his acquaintance. "I didn't know you and Yn were close."
Your name felt so… foreign, yet familiar, on his tongue. It was like tasting déjà vu, like eating a treat from childhood that had been associated with good feelings, but he couldn't decide if it was still as good as he remembered or a trick of his mind.
The mention of your name brought a jolt of energy to Ten's body and Changmin saw the man lean into the conversation. Curious… "Oh? Well, I mean—" he gave a shrug, "—she's really cool. She just seems like a good person to get to know, y'know? Why do you ask?"
Changmin couldn't tell how much he trusted the slight narrowing of Ten's feline eyes. There was no way you hadn't mentioned him to Ten at some point or another. To be honest, he didn't like the feeling of you still lingering in his head if he didn't linger in yours. It meant a myriad of things that he loathed to admit.
He let the feeling slide away, let his mouth tilt upward like his eyes to the spotlights in the ceiling. "Just be…" He shook his head. "Nothing. It's nothing." He flicked his wrist, as he spun his water bottle cap on tight. "You can forget about it."
Ten sent him a look that Changmin pointedly ignored.
Somewhere within the depths of the performing arts center, Changmin could hear the howling laughter of his friend Hyunjae as he most likely bugged his best friend out of her mind, both to her chagrin and her delight. That was another can of worms entirely.
Ten piped up as he settled onto the backstage floor while Changmin mentally went through some of the problem sets he had to review today. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you and Yn on such… uneven ground with each other?"
There it was. Changmin snorted. "Uneven ground? I don't even know if we're on the same ground."
"You're both really friendly people," Ten added, "so it just doesn't make sense to me."
Changmin pursed his lips. He never felt the need to divulge this stuff to anyone but his friends, but he didn't know what Ten already knew. He didn't know what you told him, but based on the fact that Ten wasn't looking at him the same way you did… Changmin scratched the back of his head and leaned his side against the wall to face him. "Something happened a long time ago. I guess we just both hold a grudge well."
Ten huffed a laugh in response. "Remind me never to get on your bad side then," he joked.
— ✶
There was a buzz about the university newspaper room. The Daily had only a handful of crew members onboard, mainly because it was so selective. Over the past few years that you had been apart of the staff, you and a few others had gradually loosened the reputation of the Daily's elitist interview process—there was still some level of intimidation that ensured the publication took on the hard workers and not those simply looking for an extracurricular to put on their resume though.
So when there was talk of a new staff member, everyone knew about it.
You let yourself in the door with a sigh, brushing the hair from your eyes held up with a random, blue claw clip you found on your bathroom sink. The bus had been late this morning because it broke down, but you luckily were able to make it to your lecture on time. You had run over here for a quick meeting that Kim Doyoung had summoned you for, no doubt about the new hire.
"Hey guys," you said as you passed by clusters of desks piled with copyedits and heads buried in monitor screens. The sounds of typing stopped briefly with each head you walked past:
"Yn!"
"Hi Yn!"
"Sup Yn—HEY! I just did my hair this morning!" Mark yelped, hands smoothing down the braids in his hair.
You giggled as you patted his head. "Your hair needs a break, Mark."
As you disappeared around the corner, you heard him shout back, "So do you, but you never hear me complaining!"
You rolled your eyes with an ill-concealed smile. The door to Doyoung's little editor in chief office was right down the hall next to the office for the sponsoring professor. As much as you and the others teased him about getting the "Boss man" office, he always complained to you about being on edge with the professor's office next door. You didn't quite understand since Professor Woo was almost never in his office anyway, but you supposed you could see.
Doyoung's door was open, and the fourth year's head perked up at the sound of your voice and nearing footsteps. He didn't even wait for you to knock or say hi, before beckoning you inside. "Yn, thank god you know how to hustle. Close the door on your way in. Thanks."
Your eyebrows shot up at the terseness in his tone, but didn't question him until you'd closed the door and settled into the chair opposite him. His desk, much like those outside, was covered in a sea of paper, with his laptop being the only land in sight. "What's up? You sound stressed."
He shot you a look over the rims of his thin glasses. "When am I not stressed?"
"Valid."
"Okay," he began with a sigh that made your concern rise just a bit more, "you know the situation with our performing arts review section, right?"
You nodded. "Of course."
The situation with the performing arts review section of the paper was inherently a mess. For a handful of years, the performing arts section was written under a pseudonym (lovingly dubbed Opera Glasses)—the identity of the reviewer was anonymous—which was a product of an incident a few years ago where a performer was unhappy with a review left by someone on the paper and came to ask, very unkindly, for a rewrite. Since then, the paper had been swallowed up by so much that finding a permanent writer or reviewer for the section became less and less of a priority.
When you joined the publishing team, it had been in the middle of freshman year when you were also putting your application out for research projects. Joining had felt like the right thing to do, as much as it was an act of rebellion against your mother and your childhood. They had asked if you knew anything about dance of all things.
And well, you did know.
You'd written one piece—one piece that was entirely you. It had been for one of the dancers just debuting at his first winter showcase. Since then, you couldn't stomach writing another one or watching another one.
You ghost wrote, you edited, you advised—but you stuck to putting your energy into covering the STEM-related sections of the paper now.
So Doyoung already knew your relationship with the performing arts review section. "Well," he cleared his throat, making a vague flourish with his hand, "I'm sure you already know that I just interviewed a new prospective recruit. I was wondering if you would be willing to take them under your wing and to show them the ropes."
Oh. That wasn't exactly what you expected him to say. Your heart kicked up for an entirely new reason, however. You'd always wanted to be someone's mentor. To be someone's older sister. "I mean, yeah. I'd love to," you stammered, a smile slowly curling onto your lips. "That would be really cool."
Doyoung sighed, his shoulders sinking in relief. "Thank you."
"But wait." You cocked your head to the side as you asked, "What does Opera Glasses have to do with this?"
"I want her to eventually take over for it," he explained. "She knows quite a bit about theater and music—little less about dance, though. I know that you have your issues with the dance department, but out of everyone here, you probably understand dance stuff the most. I just ask that you help her out a little with that, and maybe even introduce her to some of the people there so we can ease her in with interviews—"
You opened your mouth to interrupt him, but he sent you a pointed look. He continued, "Just hear me out, okay? If you're uncomfortable at all, you can back out. And you don't even have to back out right now or completely; maybe you could have Mark introduce her to Jungwoo for interviews, and you can just stick to the behind-the-scenes stuff."
Doyoung exhaled. "Okay, so what are your thoughts?"
You worried your bottom lip between your teeth. What did you think… What did you think?
Even the thought of stepping foot into a practice room made the yelling and screams echo in the caverns of your mind. But you'd missed them—missed the polished wood floors, the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, the people. God, you couldn't even stay away from the people if you tried, no matter how much you tried convincing yourself you could.
You weren't fooling anyone.
You swallowed. You'd always wanted to be a big sister.
What was the harm in giving this a try?
(Changmin. You'd probably run into Changmin a lot more often than if you didn't accept. But you could see him from that one night: the sheepishness, the dimples, the laugh. Why couldn't you get over that interaction?)
You mustered up your courage and straightened in your seat. "I'll still do it. When do we start?"
EPISODE FIVE: OFF THE MARK
IT turned out that Doyoung intended for you and your new recruit, Bae Sumin, to get started right away. With the winter showcase only a couple weeks away, it was imperative that the two of you dived right in.
"—so what made you interested in joining the team?" You asked, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets to hide signs of nervousness from your underclassman peer. The two of you were walking from the Daily's newsroom and over to the performing arts center. It was about a ten minute walk, but you figured that it would give you two the opportunity to get to know one another.
Sumin was a multimedia major, as you had been told earlier when the two of you just met for the first time in the entryway of the Daily newsroom. She was cute and well-dressed—she wore a pleated skirt and sweater with a white collar peeking through. Her smile was dazzling, and reminded you of someone who would do well on stage. No wonder she had theater and performing experience.
"Oh!" She shot you one of those dazzling smiles, her hand shooting up to shift the white, fluffy earmuffs seated over her head. "I actually had a cousin who came here and shared with me some of the Daily's earlier issues. She always said it was kind of competitive to get in, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to try."
You bobbed your head. "That's really cool." A small laugh fell from your lips, "I'm glad you did try! Lots of people just assume they're gonna get turned away and they don't try at all, you know?"
Sumin hummed in understanding.
Something had settled nicely in your chest throughout this walk. Even if your past anxieties were beginning to bubble up to the surface at the sight of the nearing performing arts buildings, Sumin's easy conversation calmed you. It was one less thing to worry about.
Yesterday, when Doyoung had proposed this job for you, you had asked Mark to accompany you and Sumin to the arts buildings. He couldn't walk with you two, but he promised to meet you there. Now, you were kind of glad you got to have this bit of bonding time with her.
“I think Doyoung said that I should introduce you to a few people in particular,” you said offhandedly and pulled your phone out to check yours and Doyoung’s text thread.
Sumin did the same, most likely taking out any notes she had taken from Doyoung’s instructions. “Yeah, something like Lee Minho, Kim Jungwoo… the Hwang?—the Hwang siblings, uhm and Ji Changmin…?”
Your footing faltered for a second, and Sumin asked if you were all right, but you recovered quickly. You let out an embarrassed laugh, feeling heat crawl up your neck. Why in the world did his name catch you off guard like that? Maybe it was because you assumed Doyoung would just let you avoid Changmin, but realistically, if Sumin was going to do an interview with the dance department’s most prominent members, then there was no avoiding Changmin.
You just had to suck it up and be an adult about it.
It was three years ago… What was the big deal?
But as you moved to open the door to the backstage area for Sumin with your ID card, you felt your throat tighten in on itself. You forced a smile to your face as you let Sumin go in before you so you could turn your head out to inhale a large lungful of fresh air. Then, you ducked in after her.
The backstage corridors were as hustle n' bustle as you expected them to be. The lights were dim-looking from the black walls and floors marred with scuff marks from years upon years of use. It was an overwhelming tidal wave of sensory details—what, with the clashing sounds of chatter and music, the smell of some kind of polish (or maybe that was resin?), the warmth of energy in the air and all around you.
The hairs on the back of your neck stood like you could sense someone was coming this way.
You gestured down the opposite direction to Sumin. “Come on; I’m pretty sure they’re down this way.”
It was a curious thing, memory. You could recall late nights of catching the bus to these very practice rooms and backstage rooms from when you were in high school. Performing on the stage was a whole other experience in itself, and though part of you missed it, there were other feelings that dominated the hints of nostalgia now.
You could hear the chatter even clearer now, even if their words were muddled.
The door to one of the larger practice rooms were left ajar, and though you only peered in, you felt the warmth hit you like a wave. Your throat was closing up again—breathe—
“Hey,” you said into the room, catching quite a few eyes. From an initial scan, you determined that Changmin wasn’t amongst the crush of people socializing in here, and you couldn’t identify the feeling manifesting in the pit of your stomach.
Jungwoo was the first to bound over toward you, swiftly followed by Minho and Hyunjin, one of the Hwang siblings. “Yn-ie! I can’t believe you actually came. I thought Doyoung was joking.”
A smile made its way onto your lips and you accepted Jungwoo’s side hug. “Yeah, well Doyoung doesn’t joke around.”
“He really doesn’t,” Hyunjin said with a grimace. “He’s kind of scary, that one.”
“If you can survive Minho,” you said to him, “then you can survive Doyoung.”
Minho made a face at you. “What have I ever done to you, Yn?”
Nothing; this is just me trying to pretend I’m not seconds away from quivering like a leaf in the wind. You laughed. “Nothing yet. Guys, I'd like you to meet Sumin. She’s our new recruit at the Daily, and she’s gonna be the one conducting interviews for the winter showcase this year.”
Sumin didn’t need much prompting to smile and wave at your friends in that same charming way. “Hi, nice to meet you!”
The three dancers before you replied in kind. Jungwoo offered to introduce her to some of the others in the room, and before you knew it, she was swept away.
Hyunjin made a comment about needing to go check up on a friend of his, leaving you and Minho chatting to the side of the room.
“Wow,” Minho said offhandedly as the two of you watched Jungwoo and Sumin work their way around the room, “she’s a natural at this. Where’d Kim find this one?”
“She saw some of our older issues,” you replied. You watched as Sumin ignited a sort of brightness in every conversation she started. You struggled to swallow; now that you didn’t feel obligated to keep up appearances, especially in front of Sumin, your jitteriness was beginning to come on just a little stronger. You absentmindedly massaged your throat, willing it to loosen up.
Minho glanced over at you, his eyes catching your anxious actions. “Must have a lot of confidence in her if he’s throwing her straight into taking charge of interviews. How’re you holding up?” The latter was said lowly and under his breath in case someone just happened to be close enough to catch onto your conversation.
Minho didn’t know your history with the dance department as thoroughly as your close friends did, but it didn’t take a genius to see that you weren’t at your absolute best right now. You gave a stiff shrug. “I’m alright,” you managed to say.
He nodded, though it was probably more for your sake than him saying he believed you. “It’s funny,” he drawled, “one might think that by sending you here on behalf of the paper, that you were behind Opera Glasses.”
Now that, you could let out a genuine chuckle at.
Minho gauged your reaction but smiled to himself. He wasn’t one to really care for the drama and gossip side that came privy to the performing arts review section, but you couldn’t blame him if he was curious.
“That would be really stupid if that was the case,” you mused.
“It would be,” he agreed. “Is this a sign that this will be the end of Opera Glasses then? Finally a face to the name?”
You pursed your lips. “Actually, I’m not too sure what Doyoung will end up doing. I’m sure he’ll call for a board meeting to decide what the review’s fate will be, but it’s not exactly our top priority—”
Your voice and words trailed off as your eyes met a pair coming into the practice room. You and Changmin froze at the sight of one another, two deer caught in headlights, and you felt your heart palpitate violently in your chest. Your breath left your lungs—his expression was filled with surprise, until it morphed into something you couldn’t read.
“What are you doing here?” He deadpanned.
Minho’s eyebrows shot up. “You didn’t know Yn was stopping by? We all got the email from Director Lee, man.”
Changmin pressed his mouth together and it made the dimple in his cheek deepen. He looked you up and down, and he opened his mouth to say something else, but paused when you unconsciously brushed your thumb against the hollow of your throat. (Dear god, why couldn’t you breathe? Breathe, breathe, breathe—)
He seemed to lose whatever he was going to say. You swore the sharpness in his gaze softened.
But then his jaw tightened; you didn’t know why. “I didn’t think you’d actually show,” he muttered under his breath.
Ouch.
The words from his mouth pricked uncomfortably at the back of your mind. You found your voice again. “I’ll be gone before you know it,” you replied tersely.
Your response touched a nerve for him, too. He cut his attention to the rest of the practice room. “Where’s your new girl?”
“Over there,” you said, inclining your head across the room where Sumin and Hwang Yeji were currently swapping contact information. Something soared in your chest at the sight, but you couldn’t tell if it was pride or envy.
Without any additional prompting, you watched Changmin make his way toward Sumin and away from you. You didn’t realize you were holding in a breath until you finally exhaled—
“Yn! Sorry I’m late.” Mark bumbled into the practice room, wiping a drop of sweat from his forehead as he quite literally crashed against the wall next to you and Minho. He was panting and gasping for breath, and you and Minho couldn’t help but express your amusement.
“It’s all cool, dude,” you assured while patting his head.
“I should probably get back to it,” Minho said as he began walking away from you and Mark. “Nice to see you, Mark. Feel free to take a water bottle from the green room.”
Mark thumped his head against the wall with his eyes closed. “Thanks, man,” he huffed.
With a snicker under his breath, Minho went his separate way.
You gave Mark a moment to catch a breath or two, and you slid down next to him against the practice room wall. Folding your knees up against your chest, you copied Mark’s position with his head tilted back as you both inhaled through your nostrils and breathed out through slightly parted lips. While Mark might have been trying to get a moment of rest from (no doubt) running here from the bus stop, you were trying to steady yourself.
The anxiety was starting to make your hands feel numb cold.
“You don’t have to stay, y’know,” came Mark’s voice, followed by the back of his hand gently nudging your arm. When your eyes fluttered open, you found him already looking at you. “You asked for my help; you can go take a breather outside and come back in—or maybe don’t—whatever you’re comfortable with. This can’t be easy.”
You were struggling to swallow again. One of your hands drummed messily against your kneecap. “It’s—” you shook your head, “—I’ll be okay. Thanks for coming though.”
“Yeah, dude. Of course.”
Something prodded at the side of your head, like someone was staring at you, but when you turned to see, it was just Changmin talking to Sumin. They were both smiling and making good conversation, it seemed.
You let out a sigh and closed your eyes again. Wishful thinking.
— ✶
Mark stayed behind to “vibe” with the remaining dancers still at the performing arts building while you and Sumin pushed out into the crisp, cool evening. Even after walking all the way to the bus station, your hands were still numb, and the cold definitely wasn’t helping.
“How do you feel about the dance interviews now?” You found yourself asking Sumin as the two of you sat on the bench at the station waiting for the bus to come pick the two of you up.
Sumin beamed. “I definitely feel a bit more secure about conducting them. I’ll definitely need some help with dance terminology and editing and stuff though.”
You nodded. “No problem at all.”
“The people are all really so chill and nice…” Your eyes definitely weren’t tricking you when you saw the bashfulness that her expression took on, and the little giggle you heard could not have been the wind. “Especially Changmin.”
Ha. What.
A weight fell to the pit of your stomach. Maybe you were hearing things… “Sorry?”
She blinked, and the blush on her cheekbones darkened. “Oh, haha, it’s nothing! I just… he was really sweet, and he has a really pretty smile and stuff—do you—uh, do you know if his previous dance showcase performances are online?”
(Something about that detail—he has a really pretty smile—rang a bell for you.)
It was really an innocent question, but you knew if Sumin went searching online for Changmin, and if she went deep enough, she’d find you there, too. You sucked in a breath. “I can—” you winced inwardly, “—send you some of his performances, if you want?”
You couldn’t deny the warm and fuzzy feeling in your chest when Sumin practically lit up at your suggestion. “Would you? I would really appreciate it, Yn! You’re the best.”
From your periphery, you saw the bus approach from down the street, and you gestured for the both of you to stand up and get your ID cards ready to board. You sent her a small smile—at least it felt good to help her out. You could pretend for a second that this was just a little crush or infatuation on some other colleague of yours that Sumin had. “Yeah, no worries.” No worries at all.
EPISODE SIX: OFF THE [TOP OF YOUR] HEAD
FRIDAY night brought you, Seungkwan, and Doyoung to the hotpot place located in the university district. The three of you were the unconventional combination of your friends, but Kun and Ten were supposedly on their way over as of five minutes ago. Thus, with the last of your party nearing, the three of you deigned to begin ordering almost everything off the menu—just to whet your appetites, of course.
Doyoung slumped down in his seat across from you and Seungkwan as soon as the waiter left to input your table's hefty order. "Ugggggggh."
Seungkwan snorted. "Ah, my favorite sound."
Doyoung passed him a dirty look over his lenses. "Is that sarcasm I hear, Boo Seungkwan?"
"I have no idea what you mean," he said with feigned innocence as he looked away and scratched the side of his head.
You chuckled to yourself, drawing your phone out from the inner pocket of your puffer jacket when you heard the series of buzzes. Your screen lit up with notifications from Sumin, all of them thanking you profusely for the spam of links you'd sent her way. These were on top of the videos you had dug up from your secret locked folder in your phone—and here you were, wondering why in the world you were doing this to yourself and for her?
"I can't decide if I dread Doyoung's noises of discontent or your expressions of pain more," Seungkwan commented, effectively pulling your focus away from your phone.
Both of your friends were now looking at you, patiently awaiting your answer to what ailed you tonight. Where should you begin?
"I'm not in pain," you scoffed. You set your phone facedown on the table next to you to avoid looking at the notifications. Huh. "Did I look like I was in pain?"
Doyoung's smile was wide like his eyes as he nodded. "Yup," he chirped in that sweet sarcasm of his. "Like you'd just watched a video of someone stubbing their toe against a doorframe."
Seungkwan blinked. "That's so—specific."
"You do not want to know what my For You Page looks like—"
You recreated the look of pain from earlier, holding your palm up. "Respectfully, Doie? I don't."
Seungkwan let out another snort of delight and had to hold a hand in front of his mouth.
Doyoung leveled a half-hearted scowl at you. "You're lucky I'm not your boss right now."
"As opposed to every other moment in time?"
"You have a mouth on you tonight."
"I do like to use it every so often," you quipped, the corner of your mouth lifting in an amused smirk.
Doyoung sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "I don't get paid enough for this."
"You're literally not getting paid at all—" Your words were sliced off at their end when you gasped—it was all a blur: a mass of reddish-brown hair, your phone snatched from right in front of you— "SEUNGKWAN!"
Seungkwan held his breath with an impish grin as he turned his back to you and shielded your phone from your attempts to get it back. "I just wanna see!" He said with a cackle. "Every time you've looked at your phone today, you looked like you wanted to fall into an abyss."
You glared at him, pulling away to cross your arms firmly over your chest. "You can't just steal my phone, dude!"
"What's so important on your phone anyway, Yn-ie?" Doyoung asked good naturedly, reaching for his glass of ice water. "You're usually not so attached to that thing."
Your lips snapped shut and you wondered if the heat creeping up to your face was obvious.
"You've been sending Changmin videos to Sumin?!" Seungkwan bursted out, his eyes so wide that you could see your reflection in his pupils. As you'd feared, Seungkwan still had his fingerprint registered into your phone from before (long story; don't ask), and had cracked the device open, as well as your most recently opened application—yours and Sumin's text messages.
You did nothing but stare at the table like you were getting war flashbacks, while Doyoung had even gotten up out of his seat to take a peek at your phone, too.
"I haven't even seen this video before," Seungkwan hissed as if you weren't right there.
You fixed them both with a stink eye, but at the same time, maybe this was for your benefit. They could help you without you actually asking for help—
Doyoung's face contorted into a laughable expression of shock (eyes wide, mouth wider, eyebrows pinched, nose wrinkled) as he viewed what Seungkwan had selected. "Oh my god. He's a child in this!"
"Actually he was a senior in high school—" You slapped a hand over your mouth. Whoops.
Both of their heads whipped over toward you. "I thought you deleted all your high school shit!" They chorused together. If it had been any other situation or context, you might have laughed at the hilarity if it all.
Instead, you averted your gaze, making a show of looking for the waiter or maybe even Kun or Ten. What was taking them so long anyway?
"Yn," Seungkwan addressed with a tone akin to that of a parent on the verge of lecturing their child, "what in the name of god are you sending Sumin and why?"
Helpless, you held both your palms up in a sheepish shrug. "The kid has a crush on him, and being the best mentor figure ever, I… did some compiling for her." You paused, "Now that I say it out loud, it does sound pretty stupid."
Doyoung returned to his seat. "Ya think?"
You wrinkled your nose at him. "Hey! Sometimes, some of us have bad nights and we wanna feel something." Out of context, this was a really suspicious conversation.
"Isn't this just you torturing yourself?"
Seungkwan slapped his hand against the table, and both you and Doyoung startled. "That's it! I'm calling for an intervention."
Your mouth parted open. "Right now?"
He deadpanned at you. "No, when Kun and Ten get here—of course, right now!"
You returned his deadpan expression. The adrenaline from all this back and forth was slowly fading, and what you were left with was something that felt like emptiness. So… now they knew.
Doyoung and Seungkwan exchanged looks with another from across the table, but it was the former who spoke first. "Why do you still have videos from back then, Yn-ie? I thought you told us you deleted them all?"
"I mean, we're not trying to be judgmental or anything," Seungkwan added firmly, but not unkindly, "they're your videos and photos, your past and memories, but… based on everything you've already told us before, wouldn't it be best to delete them?"
You didn't like the emptiness. The adrenaline had stripped you of energy and confidence when it faded. "I," you stammered, "I just… I couldn't bring myself to delete them." Your voice was quiet, almost inaudible compared to the liveliness of the hotpot shop around you and your friends. "I mean, how could I? Sometimes, I want to watch them and try to find the courage to say that I'm sorry first."
Yeah, you wanted to feel something. That "something" was actually a lot of things—courage, happiness, nostalgia, anger, melancholy, love, passion, pride. A life and childhood you had lost; who's fault was it but your own? You felt nothing short of pathetic.
Seungkwan frowned deeply, his eyes softening. He leaned forward and drew you into his embrace, his hold warm and comforting. "Oh, Yn. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have pried like that."
You wrapped your arms around him, eyes shuddering closed. "Yeah, you shouldn't have."
He grunted into your shoulder, a noise of defiance and attitude.
Doyoung had a similar expression of sympathy present on his face. You didn't often see something like that from him, but after years of friendship and working together, you'd begun to see a lot more of him. "I'm sorry too, Yn. It probably still hurts, and I know I was probably really insensitive when I asked you to introduce Sumin to the dance department—"
"Hey guys! Sorry we're late."
Everyone jolted at the sight of Kun and Ten arriving at your table. Kun sent Ten a sharp look along with a sharp jab with his elbow for interrupting. Kun shot you an apologetic look. "Sorry, we didn't interrupt anything, did we?"
You shook your head as Seungkwan pulled away. Doyoung and Seungkwan were both looking to you to make the decision of whether or not you would let Kun and Ten in on the prior conversation.
No, you didn't want to put a damper on dinner any longer. "Ah, no worries. We were just… discussing a couple work things. What took you guys so long?"
Luckily, no one (namely Ten) called you out and the two newcomers slid into their respective seats. Dinner would arrive soon, and you could fill your belly with something other than negative thoughts for once.
— ✶
boss bunny: hey, i didn't get a chance to say this earlier, but i'm so sorry for expecting u to introduce sumin to the dance dept
boss bunny: i didn't think at all abt how that might trigger u, and i still want u to know that u can back out whenever u feel uncomfortable. seriously.
your phone: it's okay, doyoung. i get it, i really do. and i promise that it didn't feel like u were forcing me or assuming that i would do it either
your phone: i knew it would probably trigger me like this too, but i kind of really wanted to be someone's mentor yk? it just… called to me ig
your phone: sounds kind of sad lol
boss bunny: nonono! not at all :( i understand that too
boss bunny: i admire ur strength, yn
your phone: DOIE 🥺
boss bunny: …okay love u and all, but let's not use that emoji yeah? T-T
your phone: okay wtv 🤧 now stop texting cuz ten is starting to realize ur not slick at this
boss bunny: AM TOO. >:(
— ✶
"He kept looking at his phone and then at you, like, every five seconds," Ten giggled, his shoulder absentmindedly brushing against yours as the two of you strolled side by side through the numbing cold night. Dinner had concluded just about half an hour ago, and while Kun ferried Doyoung and Seungkwan home, you and Ten decided to head down a few blocks to get milk tea and hang out.
You clapped your hands together in delight, your laughter lighting up the night. “That’s what I’m saying! He just wasn’t subtle about it and he kept arguing with me that he was.” You shook your head, tongue darting out to lick your lips, “It’s okay though. I think Dad Doyoung’s antics are charming.”
Ten grinned. “Dad Doyoung? I think he’s more of an uncle; ‘Dad’ is Kun’s title.”
“Fair enough.”
“Ayo, Ten!”
Both yours and Ten’s heads whipped upward at the sound of his name being called. You didn’t actually recognize the voice, but when you saw the lineup of four young men coming toward you from the opposite end of the street, you didn’t need to recognize it. Because, well, you recognized their faces.
Huh, you had been running into Changmin and his like a lot more often recently.
Heading straight for you was Changmin, Chanhee, Juyeon, and—you thought his name was Kevin. Kevin was the one who had called out to Ten, and he waved excitedly over to your friend. Based on Changmin’s not-so-subtle frown at Kevin, you could assume that this was not expected. Maybe he was going to advocate crossing the whole street to avoid you.
“Oh, hey Kev!” Ten greeted back cheerily, glancing at you beside him. “Do you know Kevin and Juyeon?”
You bobbed your head. “Briefly,” you replied. The two of your groups met in the middle, two blockades in the smack middle of the sidewalk. Impromptu meetups like this always seemed to end up clogging up the sidewalk for some reason.
After a swift greeting, Chanhee was already gesturing to the direction his group had already been headed in. “Hey, I’ll probably run up the street and get us a table. Haknyeonie says the tables fill up fast after eight o’clock.”
Juyeon perked up. “Oh, I’ll come with!”
Chanhee made eye contact with Changmin from across the group, and a silent form of communication passed between them. You watched this happen quietly, standing to the side with your hands tucked into your pockets while Ten and Kevin caught up from the last time they saw each other (apparently, it was a drawing and painting course from last quarter). However, instead of leaving with Chanhee and Juyeon, Changmin lingered with the three of you.
He naturally came to stand semi-close to you since he wasn’t exactly a part of the “drawing and painting” conversation. The frown from earlier had disappeared, though, and you didn’t know if you could call that a win or not.
Perhaps to you, the tension between the two of you was palpable. There were… far too many things up in the air at this moment, and it was nearly impossible for you to figure out just one thing to start with.
Plus, now was no time to get into all of that baggage. You needed to finish that intervention with Doyoung and Seungkwan before you could handle that kind of conversation—at least, that was what you would have preferred.
But for now, you found yourself clearing your throat and sparing him a glance. “Hey.”
Changmin’s eyes darted over to yours in ill-concealed surprise. “Hey.”
And that was that.
Luckily, Ten nor Kevin dragged on their conversation longer than it needed to be, and soon, you and Ten were passing by Kevin and Changmin as both parties went their separate ways. (You were going to pretend that you hadn’t looked back to watch Changmin walk away. Definitely not.)
“All good?” Ten asked, though, his voice was quieter than it had been before.
You could meet his eyes and nod. “Yeah.”
Ten followed up with an idle sort of humming noise, like he was one of those really loud computer fans (what in the world led you to think of that—?), “A few days ago, I kind of asked Changmin what the deal between the two of you was.”
“Oh?” Nervousness bubbled up the column of your throat. “What’d he say?”
He gave a shrug. “Something like a long-standing grudge.”
You let out a laugh that didn’t exactly sound like a laugh. “Well, I guess that’s one way to put it.” Was that how you would put it? In a way, that was what it was, but there was so much more to that, wasn’t there? Did Changmin think so little of what transpired between the two of you or was he just trying to deflect Ten’s interrogation?
The two of you had arrived at the tea shop by now, and Ten opened the door for you. The shop’s insides were warm and bright, and the tables were already filled up with fellow students who decided to hang out with friends on their Friday evening. You and Ten shifted over to the self-order kiosks to the side of the room and continued your conversation in low volumes.
“How would you put it then?” He asked. When you looked over at him, you realized that there was something scarily disarming about his eyes. “No pressure, of course. I mean, you can call me out on being nosy whenever; I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”
You pursed your lips as you turned back to the screen to absentmindedly swipe down the page to find your preferred order. On the inside, you fought for the right words. “Changmin and I were best friends since we were kids,” you started, inputting your preferred level of sugar and ice like clockwork, “and we met through dance.”
Ten nodded to signal he was still listening, and the two of you swapped places so he could input his order.
You cracked your knuckles and rubbed your palms together to generate some kind of heat between them. “I didn’t really like dance at first. It was just one of those things my parents put me in to occupy my time after school and while they were working. But… well, you know how Changmin is with dance—it was and is his livelihood.”
“Even then?”
A nod. “Even then.”
When your orders were paid for, the two of you moved to a quiet corner of the shop to wait for your number to be called from the counter. You leaned your side against the wall next to Ten, your eyes staring blankly at a crack in the floor. “He was actually the reason I grew to love dancing,” you confessed. “As we got older and went into high school, sneaking out to practice together and performing together on stage became as easy as breathing air and as normal as…” You shook your head. “It was just a lot easier I think, back then.”
Ten tilted his chin toward you. “What happened between you two, Yn?”
You swallowed roughly. “In my first year of high school, my parents got divorced. I always suspected it would happen, but my mom kind of changed after that.” Your eyebrows crinkled as you recalled the memories of your early teenage years and tried to grapple with an adequate way to express them aloud. “And, to be fair, the more I danced, the more I didn’t want to focus on school work, but my mom became really hard on me about all that and I started to crack down on that stuff.
“Eventually, she got tired of taking me to dance practices and shows, and she blew up at me about how useless dance was going to be if I was going to become a doctor or something like that.”
Ten heard your number being called and nudged you to follow after him. He handed you your drink, and the two of you pushed back out into the chilly night. You didn’t really know where you were trying to go, but you didn’t really care. You both ended up in one of the small parking lots squeezed between two fast food restaurants, and you sat yourself down on the curb.
You continued, “And so, she would purposely forget to come home in time to take me to competitions and rehearsals. By the time I realized she wasn’t coming, I was already late every time. I would start walking myself there and taking the bus instead. Changmin started noticing that I was slacking, but I…”
“He didn’t know?”
“No.” You didn’t want him to know. Maybe it was your stupid pride that was preventing you from admitting that aloud. Maybe you were ashamed that your mom wasn't as accepting of dance as his parents were. You let out a shuddering breath and watched it come out in a visible puff in front of your face. “She made me grow spiteful toward dance,” you said stiffly. “I would be trying to stretch or practice movement in my bedroom while studying for exams, and she would come in and berate me.”
The yelling echoed in your mind, all too vividly. Your mother never physically hurt you, but there were still scars. “She’d discourage me from rehearsals or signing up for competitions by telling me I was nowhere near good enough, that dancing wasn’t going to put food on the table, and that I was—” A complete disappointment. You could pick those exact words out of a line up.
Ten’s eyes glistened with silver in the amber glow of the streetlight above you. “Jesus, Yn. I’m so sorry; that’s—that’s awful.”
You didn’t know how to accept the sympathy, even after having received so much from your other friends already. No matter how many times you retold your story, it was never quite right or in the way your brain wanted to portray it. You didn’t want to portray anyone as the villain; you figured that maybe you could have done something back then to prevent this. (You couldn’t have, actually, and that was the most difficult part to accept.)
“Yeah,” you murmured, setting your drink on the ground as you curled in on yourself slightly. “Anyway, by senior year, Changmin was obviously really into dance and was probably really stressed about auditions and end-of-the-year competitions. We basically… we basically took out our anger on each other. He said some things, I said some things. The rest is history.”
It was quiet for a moment as you let the words sink into the open air. Your chest loosened a bit after being able to tell another person about it, but for the most part, your hands still trembled. You reached for your drink again to take a sip and to force some kind of liquid down your throat.
After a while, Ten piped up, “Yn… I hope you know that you are not whoever your mother was trying to make you believe you were. You’ve probably realized that already—or maybe you’re still working on it—but please know that you’re probably one of the strongest people I know. It must have been really hard for you and I…” He exhaled, “Sorry, I’ve never been great at this.”
You sent him a small smile in return. “It’s okay; I still appreciate it.” After a beat, you added, “I know I act like I hate him, but I still want to see him succeed. I can’t think that ill of him, especially when he wasn’t the only one at fault.”
“Ah, that’s why ‘it’s complicated’, huh? I get that.”
“Yeah.” Your hands—god, if they could just stop shaking—
Ten reached over and covered your hands with one of his, and you let the heat of his palm warm yours. “You’re doing great, Yn. You know that, right?”
You couldn’t choke out an answer to that. You could only really say, “I just miss him sometimes.”
A sad smile. “I know. Maybe he does, too.”
You wanted to laugh, or maybe cry, at that. Anyone who got in the way of Changmin’s passions was no one to him. You would know exactly how that felt.
EPISODE SEVEN: [ROLLS RIGHT] OFF THE TONGUE
WHENEVER Changmin was feeling unsure of himself, he would retreat to his safe space: the practice rooms. Even if it was some time in the ungodly morning, like 2am as it was now, he would make the trek beneath molten gold streetlights and barren cobbled streets. It was the one place where he could focus his energy solely on dance, and forget about everything else.
Once upon a time, it had been your safe space just as much as it was his.
Changmin huffed a sigh as he hiked up the remaining flight of stone stairs that led up to the backdoor area of the performing arts building. It was a handful of hours since he and Chanhee parted ways with Kevin and Juyeon after enjoying dinner together. Chanhee was probably dead asleep by now—he was probably going to wake up and continue studying for his exams anyway.
As he turned to his right, his breath hitched as he caught sight of someone standing right outside the door. Usually, he had no trouble getting in and security wasn’t exactly strict in this area of campus. In fact, he almost never bumped into anyone, as strange as it sounded. Maybe he should have counted his blessings.
But then he recognized your jacket from earlier this evening, the very same one you were wearing while walking next to Ten—practically squished up against each other, two peas in a pod. He didn’t like how irked he was by that detail. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you had said “hey” first.
You weren’t looking at him, rather, your body was completely turned toward the door as if you were trying to decide whether or not you should go in. You were as still as a statue, frozen in time.
The moment, however, faded as quickly as it had come. You must have sensed his presence, and your head whipped around to face him.
There.
His heart leapt into his throat—dear god, why did you look so afraid? And then he noticed that you weren’t frozen still, but rather, channeling all your energy into keeping your body from trembling. Were you cold? What were you doing here so late? Why weren’t you with Ten?
He watched your throat move as you gulped. And then you were walking toward him—no, past him—wait, come back— “So that’s it?”
The grip he had on his duffle bag strap tightened when you stopped next to him just as you were going to walk past him toward the stairs. Your gazes clashed like a pair of twin lightning bolts slicing through the night sky. There had always been a sort of energy between the two of you, and when you were young, he had been so very attracted to that kind of power, one so similar to his… he didn’t think he was mistaken back then.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You said, still there. Your voice was low, but he could detect the edge.
He didn’t know what it was supposed to mean; he just didn’t want you to leave without knowing why you were here. Were you looking for him? “You’re not gonna say anything to me? Why are you here?”
(He swore it wasn’t supposed to come out that brusque-sounding, but he also didn’t know what it was supposed to come out sounding like…? He felt like he didn’t know you anymore.)
There was a narrowing of your eyes, and you both angled your bodies to face one another like a standoff. “No one said I had anything to say to you. And I—” You tripped over your words, “—I don’t know why I’m here. That’s why I was leaving.”
Oh.
Why was he disappointed by that answer?
“So you’re not here with Ten or something?” He asked, unsure what else he could say to keep you here, even for just a couple seconds longer.
Your mouth curled. "Clearly not. Why are you so pressed about me and Ten?"
Changmin pressed his lips together. "I'm not." Okay. Very believable.
The face you made said the same thing. "Okay, yeah. I didn't expect you to care so much anyway."
For a reason he loathed to admit, anger spiked in his blood and he felt the distinct need to defend himself. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know," you replied sarcastically, your volume rising, "maybe it's that you've never really cared that much about things that concerned me in the first place?"
"Now that's rich coming from you."
Your glare pierced his. "Oh, please. As soon as I started slacking—god, it took so little for you to just abandon me."
His jaw fell slack. Where the fuck did this conversation just turn to? "Abandon you? You abandoned me!" He exclaimed, finger flicking between the two of you as if he could impale both of your chests with the sharp edge of his accusations.
"How could I have possibly been the one to abandon you?" Your face contorted with so much more emotion than Changmin had ever seen from you over the past three years. Suddenly, he could see the underlying desperation and devastation hidden beneath the lines of bitterness and anger. His heart sank, but his blood still boiled and pumped. He couldn't get the distinctly awful hole in his chest to stop aching. He could remember exactly when you just stopped coming to practice with him. He could remember exactly the day he gave up hope.
"You—" you stammered, your hand flying to your throat. It was the same action he had seen from you just a few days ago while you were in the practice room. He recognized it as a habit of yours for when you were anxious or overwhelmed because your throat closed in on itself. If that wasn't enough to make him want to lay down his sword… "—you stopped caring. When did you stop caring? I just want to know."
Everything went silent for him, just for a split second. You thought… you thought he stopped caring? How could he ever stop caring about you? Wasn't that why he was so upset in the first place?
And when the world zapped back into play, he was sure his skin was ashen. His throat bobbed. "How could you think so little of me?"
Your forehead creased. "Little? Changmin, you were everything to me."
Dear heart—
You were shaking your head and taking a step away from him then. "You couldn't possibly understand."
Just like that, there was fire in his veins again. "That's because you never gave me a chance to understand!"
You threw a look back at him and again, he could read everything there like an open book, so much unlike the wall he had been met with all this time. "And I can say the exact same thing about you. If you think I kept things from you, Ji Changmin—" you said with the undertone of a snarl, so fierce that, as you turned on your foot to face him again, your breath came out like that of a dragon's smoke, "—then how much have you kept from me?"
His nostrils flared and his hands gestured wildly, vaguely—he pressed his palms to his eyes with a haggard sigh. "Why are you here, Yn?" He asked again, finally. He lowered his hands and took a step toward you. "Are you here just to pick a fight with me?"
You paused.
He watched you open your mouth, then close it.
You pursed your lips, finally murmuring, "No. I didn't come here for you."
For some reason, that hurt even more.
— ✶
The practice room was colder than it usually was.
Changmin kept the lights dim for the sake of his stinging eyes, and he dumped his duffle bag in the corner of the room before making a beeline for the aux cord for the speaker system. He hooked up his phone and opened up his music files, his forehead pressing against the cool mirror wall.
For a moment, he simply let his eyes flutter shut and his lungs to breathe.
You were long gone by now, and Changmin considered just going back to his apartment, but he knew he would just lie in bed awake for hours if he did.
When he opened his eyes, he swiped out of his music and instead went to a file kept deep down in the depths of his storage. He had purposely named it so it would remain at the absolute bottom of the list when alphabetized, and the pass code on it was supposed to dissuade him from accessing it.
Supposed to.
He punched in the four digits of your birthday and the lock clicked open to reveal a hefty file of video after video. There were photos of you, too, somewhere, but the videos were all at the top of the file because of their size. He didn't know what he was gonna do when his phone ran out of storage; he figured that when that day came, it would either be when you and he finally figured shit out, or he got closure and could delete them all.
He sighed.
His thumb hovered over one of the video files near the top, one where he could see your face in the thumbnail.
When he opened it, his younger face filled the screen. His tongue poked out from his lips as he carefully settled his phone against the wall next to yours as both of your phones recorded the run-through that was about to happen.
"Changminnie! Come on, I'm starting the song!" Your voice echoed against the practice room walls, and his laughter soon followed as he scurried into place next to you.
Changmin watched his younger self transform his expression into something more serious, while you had looked at him through the mirror and burst out laughing.
Younger Changmin broke his facade, the dimples in his cheeks deep, his smile bright. "What?"
You grinned back at him. "Sorry, sorry! Nothing; it's just interesting how you can just shift your facial expression like that."
"You have to practice like you perform though!"
"I know, I know. I just like your smile better, y'know?"
Changmin could see the hearts in his younger self's eyes. Jesus, had he really blushed that hard? Younger Changmin cupped the back of his neck bashfully. "Really?"
You punched his arm playfully. "Yeah. It's really pretty, Changmin. I thought I told you this before."
"Well yeah, but it doesn't hurt to hear it again—yah! Hey, I can bite back, you know—!"
Changmin's eyes shuddered as the familiar melody of the song flowed into his ears. He abruptly slammed his thumb down onto the pause button.
No, he couldn't stomach hearing it. Not when he could recall every move from memory and not when he had no partner to complement those moves. It just reminded him of the gaping hole in his chest and the emptiness of this room.
"Let's get to work, Changmin," he muttered to himself as he swiped out of the folder and back to his music files. He had an actual to-do list in mind, after all, and it did not include a dive into the forbidden folder. (No matter how much he needed to hear your voice again, for once, not arguing with him.)
EPISODE EIGHT: OFF THE HOOK
"HE'S been pissy all morning—"
Changmin suppressed a groan of frustration as he heard his friend's voices nearing the dressing room he was in. All morning, the performing arts building had been a madhouse, even worse than the night of the draft showcase. Everyone just decided to be here today, whether they were his fellow dancers trying to score a practice room, one of the prospective actors auditioning for a part in Hyunjae's best friend's thesis play, or one of the tech members trying to make sure everything worked behind the scenes.
Changmin had gone from room to room in an attempt to find an empty one where he could have some peace in working on his own. He would have just gone home at this point, but Chanhee was stressing over his own exams, so Changmin was stuck here.
So taking all of that into account, including the rough encounter he'd had with you a couple days ago, plus a lack of sleep and coffee—not the happiest squirrel on campus.
(How could you just drop a bomb like "You were everything to me, Changmin" in his lap and expect him not to think of anything else for days on end?)
The door to the dressing room he was hiding in cracked open, and all of the cacophony from the outside flooded in, as well as a crush of his friends.
"Don't you guys have class?" Changmin moaned, his hand coming up to rub his sleep-deprived eyes.
"Well, yeah, but this is much more fun," came Younghoon's teasing chuckle as he walked over to Changmin and clasped a hand on his shoulder.
Changmin made a face. "I just wanted some peace and quiet."
Sunwoo scoffed. "Peace and quiet? You've come to the wrong place, hyung."
"Yeah," Hyunjae added on, "might as well take a break for once and come watch auditions with us! HJ!Yn needs help judging people anyway."
Changmin cocked a brow at the blond. "You should call Chanhee for that then. Shouldn't you be out there, Younghoon?" He nodded toward the tall, lanky drama major present.
Younghoon shook his head, bouncing on the balls of his feet. How did he have so much energy? "Nope. I'm auditioning for a part, so she's gatekeeping me from watching."
Changmin turned from his friends slightly as he reached down for his phone that he had situated on top of the small bluetooth speaker he had the good sense to bring. Then again, maybe he should have just stuck to earbuds… whatever. He was too tired to care. Part of him wanted to add to the chaos anyway.
"What's her thesis play about again?" He asked no one in particular. Sunwoo waddled over to him and stole his phone right from his hands and began browsing through the music selection.
"It's a modern take of one of Shakespeare's plays: Much Ado About Nothing," answered Younghoon. "It was really funny actually, like the original play. Lots of matchmaking, lots of stupidity. I think they dump someone in a lake..."
Hyunjae perked up. "Oh yeah! That was probably my favorite part of the whole script."
Changmin chuckled. "I was expecting you to say something like 'the whole thing's my favorite because my best friend wrote it'."
"Oh, no, that still applies."
Changmin, Sunwoo, and Younghoon all exchanged knowing looks with one another. Mhm… so they thought. There were a few too many in their friend group who had interesting relationships with their other friends. Exhibit A: whatever the fuck was happening with Hyunjae and his.
Hyunjae caught their silent communication and furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"
Sunwoo snorted, but Younghoon was the one to drawl, "It's absolutely nothing."
Changmin pressed his lips into a cheeky smile, brushing the bangs from out of his vision. Hyunjae's lips quirked to the side in a frown, but didn't make any comment on it. It wasn't a new reaction from the group, by any means, but… oh well. That would be a tale for another time.
With that being said, Changmin followed the three of them out of the relative privacy of the dressing room and out into the hustle-bustle of the main backstage corridor. As soon as that dressing room was vacated, however, somebody was swift to occupy it. Changmin cursed inwardly; guess he wouldn't be able to come back to that room later.
With the switching of theater leadership over the past year (a changing of the guard, if you would, but with professors and sponsors), the management of the entire performing arts department was a mess and a half. There were a few stand-out graduate students and undergraduates who were keeping everything in check for all of the events happening over this year—like Hyunjae’s best friend, Lee Jihoon (a graduate student specializing in sound and music production), and Moon Taeil (a graduate who was a soloist in the chamber choir).
As the four young men made their way closer to the immediate backstage, the sound miraculously dulled down. The lights were a lot dimmer here, as the spotlights were turned toward the main stage. Changmin spotted a few people scattered throughout the backstage area with phones or folded script packets in their hands as they recited their lines to themselves, with some even making exaggerated facial expressions and grand hand gestures.
Hyunjae’s best friend was one of the up and coming director-screenwriter “prodigies” that the drama department championed. She was a year older than Changmin was, and he didn’t need to be a genius to know that there were a crowd of people vying for a role in her graduating thesis play. It must have been stressful as fuck, but he knew that she had a good head on her shoulders—
“—I’m gonna stop you right there.”
HJ!Yn’s voice resounded from the other side of the hefty velvet curtains separating the backstage from the main stage. Hyunjae made a show of pressing his index finger to his lips to signal his friends to be quiet—Sunwoo thus made a show of rolling his eyes (“Duh, we’re gonna be quiet.”). They all huddled to the side of the curtain and poked their heads out to see what was going on.
The university performing arts hall was likely one of the most magnificent places on campus. It featured a vast array of floor seating, while also boasting three levels of balcony seats. Changmin remembered once briefly learning the anatomy of the theater seating: the floor or nosebleeds, the slightly lofted box seats, the grand circle, loge circle, and upper circle—the gods. It was all very antiquarian, but it was a place Changmin had become quite familiar with over the years.
The director herself sat in the dimmed nosebleeds section, in the smack middle. Someone had dragged out one of those plastic, foldable tables for her to set her paperwork and a small, battery-operated lamp on top of.
Curiously, sitting next to her was none other than Bae Sumin, your new recruit.
Changmin straightened, accidentally bumping into Younghoon’s shoulder as he did. “Sorry,” he whispered.
Younghoon shook his head to say that it was all good, his hand lifted in acknowledgement.
“Did you know Sumin was here?” He asked his friend.
Younghoon’s expression was thoughtful. “I think so? I left to go find you when I thought I heard someone say they saw her come in. Why? Did she not tell you when the dance department interviews were gonna be held?”
Changmin recalled receiving no notice. “No. I—I figured Yn would be here, too, then. Right?” Was he ready to face you again so soon? Would you even acknowledge him this time—?
Younghoon passed him an amused glance with a small smile fitted over his face. “That would make sense,” he murmured with his arms crossed over his chest. One of his hands reached up to idly massage his jaw. “I’d imagine she would be with her friends, somewhere around here. Though, it would also make sense that she would be sitting with Sumin, too. Then again—”
“You are… no help,” Changmin deadpanned.
His friend chuckled lowly, eyes upturned into slim crescents.
“Uh Jihoon-ah?”
Changmin and Younghoon’s attention flitted over towards the far side of the backstage and they watched as a girl chased after the resident sound producer graduate student. He was, perhaps, smaller than one might anticipate from the intimidating man, but he still harbored so much scary energy and talent within his body. Like all of the staff on the technical team, the pair were clad in all black.
Jihoon glanced up from his clipboard and at the girl. “Hm?”
The girl nodded toward the curtains. “Director is calling for a break and is asking if the house lights can be turned on.”
“Ah okay, come on then. Follow me.”
As the two of them strode across the length of the backstage, the girl’s eyes found Changmin and Younghoon, and… She was looking past him now at someone else. She lifted her hand in a small wave, paired with a smile, “Hi, Sunwoo.”
Changmin whipped his head around, only to realize that Hyunjae had disappeared, but Sunwoo was now standing on Changmin’s other side. He watched in utter delight as his younger friend flushed, even in the dim lighting, at the girl’s greeting. His eyes were wide as he squeaked out a quick, “Hey!” in return.
When Jihoon and his charge had gone out of view, Changmin turned on Sunwoo with a hyena cackle. “Oh my god! Who was that, Kim Sunwoo?”
Sunwoo seemed to shrink into the collar of his hoodie. “No one.”
Changmin’s laughter lit up the room just as the house lights thunk-thunk-thunk’d to life. Younghoon had slipped away, most likely to meet Hyunjae in the nosebleeds, which left only the two of them there alone. “Do you have a crush on her?”
“Yah! You’re such a menace,” Sunwoo groaned, whacking Changmin with the extra length of his sweater paw. “You can’t even talk, dude! You’re in love with a girl who can barely stand to be in the same room—” Sunwoo realized his slip up and slapped a palm over his mouth.
Ouch. The truth hurt, didn’t it? Changmin chuckled, though it was noticeably quieter now. “Well, you’re not wrong—” He shook his head, eyebrows creased together, “—wait, no. Wait, I’m not in love with her!”
Sunwoo rolled his eyes so hard he must have seen his brain up there. “Oh, please. The last time you were drunk and emotional, you showed us that secret little folder in your phone.” He jabbed his finger accusingly at the phone in Changmin’s hand.
Changmin scowled, pressing his phone to his chest as if to protect it in case Sunwoo decided to have wandering hands. “That was told to you in confidence!”
“No, it was told to me in a drunken stupor—” The two of them began to make their way back toward the edge of the curtain, ducking out from its shadow and onto the main stage. Hyunjae and Younghoon were indeed in the nosebleeds now, but Sumin was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she had only been here to observe the audition process. “And you guys say I’m the lightweight.”
“That’s because you are the lightweight.”
Just as the two of them hopped down from the stage and onto the ground floor of seats, Juyeon came in from the doors located at the back of the seats. He raised a hand in greeting to all present, cheerfully waving with that golden retriever-esque grin. “Hey guys! Oh, Changminnie, I was just looking for you.”
Sunwoo retreated into the rows up where Hyunjae and Younghoon were, while Changmin met up with Juyeon in the rightmost aisle.
Juyeon threw a thumb behind him toward the direction he had just come from. “Sumin was asking if you would be willing to do your interview right now.”
His eyes widened slightly. “Right now?”
“That’s what I just said, wasn’t it?”
Changmin pressed his lips together, before nodding. “Uh, for sure. Yeah, lead the way.”
The two dancers hiked their way back up to the back of the area and through the door Juyeon had originally entered through. The main lobby was much less crowded—it was practically barren, which made it the perfect environment to conduct an interview in. Sumin was setting herself up at one of the couches, setting her laptop, phone, and coffee cup on the coffee table opposite to her.
She raised her head when she heard the door open and close, and a bright smile graced her features. “Oh, you found him! Thanks, Juyeonie.”
“Yeah, no problem,” he chirped. “I’ve got a couple things to handle first, but just ask someone to come find me once you and Changmin are done.”
With Juyeon swiftly taking his leave, Changmin was left to take a seat on the other end of the couch that Sumin was sitting at. “Hey, nice to see you again, Sumin,” he said, crossing one ankle over the other and resting his arm along the back of the couch.
The corners of her smile widened. “Nice to see you, too, Changmin! Sorry this was so sudden; I figured that I could get started on some of the interviews while I was here.”
“Oh, yeah, no worries,” he chuckled.
She reached for her phone, fidgeting as she swiped to a simple recording application. “I hope you don’t mind me recording this…?” At his consent, she nodded. “Okay, cool. I did wanna say something before we started.”
He sat up just a bit. “What is it?”
There was a sort of twinkle in her eyes, and if he wasn’t mistaken, her manner became a lot more bashful all of a sudden. “I have to confess that I asked my mentor, Yn, if she could send me some of your dance performance videos and I’m literally in awe of your talent. Like, I wanted to tell you how starstruck I am just being able to tell you this right now, but I just wanted to say this before we started.”
He broke into a boyish grin at this, his dimples becoming craters of joy in the apples of his cheeks. “Ah, thank you—that really means a lot,” he smiled.
Sumin added on, one of her palms pressing against the couch cushion as she leaned toward him slightly, “I mean, I don’t even know how Yn was able to find videos of you from high school, but I’m so glad she did, because—”
Wait what. Changmin was watching Sumin’s mouth move as she talked but he wasn’t truly hearing what she said. His humble, albeit a bit dumbfounded, smile remained, but her words from just before resonated in his head. There were definitely a few of his dance performance videos online from his high school days, but did you keep links to them? Did you keep the recordings on your phone?
The fact that Sumin asked you meant that she probably had no clue about your past, only that you were the person Sumin could rely on if she had any questions.
What did it mean? What did it mean?
His heart pounded in his chest at the thought that maybe he could possibly have an excuse to get you to talk to him, even if it was one, truly dumbass excuse.
“—ready?”
Changmin snapped out of his dazed state. “Sorry?”
Sumin blushed slightly, clearing her throat. At some point, she had pulled her laptop onto her lap and prepped her phone by placing it in between the two of them to record the following conversation. “Are you ready to start?”
He coughed, straightening and adjusting his position. “Oh, yeah—uh, sorry. Yeah, whenever you’re ready.”
Sumin gauged his reaction carefully, but instead of pressing the record button, she hit the power button. “If I may, you seem a little distracted. I don’t really want this to feel like a burden if you’ve got a lot on your plate.”
Shit. “No, I mean,” he shook his head, “I’m sorry. I guess my mind just wanders really easily when…” He huffed a sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m a little tired, that’s all.”
“I totally get that,” she sympathized. “You’ve probably been practicing non-stop lately for the winter showcase. We don’t have to do this today if you’re not in the right headspace.”
He sighed and couldn’t help but feel just a little relieved. He needed to talk to Chanhee about this, math exam or dance practice be damned. But there was a part of him that definitely felt awful about having to cut off her interview even before it began. He gestured to her phone. “How about we reschedule? We could meet up sometime else during the week to redo this and I promise I’ll be all yours.”
He didn’t know what he did, but the pink on her cheeks deepened to a cherry red. “Oh, uh, sure!” She giggled, taking her phone and passing it over to him. “You can just put your phone number in there and I’ll text you to ask when you wanna meet up.”
Changmin nodded his agreement and swiftly inputted his contact information into the given slots. “Definitely,” he said before handing her phone back to her. The phone fumbled between the two of them, but Changmin was already standing up with the goal to go retrieve his bag (wherever it was), and to go consult Chanhee and the man’s infinitesimal opinions. “Really sorry again, Sumin.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it!” She dismissed his worries with a flick of her wrist. “Would you mind finding Juyeon, though?”
Changmin sent her a thumb’s up over his shoulder on his way to the door. “Yeah, for sure.”
She returned the gesture, watching as he disappeared out of the main lobby. It was only when he was definitely gone, she covered her mouth with her hand and stared at his saved contact in her phone. Then, with a silent scream of happiness, she ran to her text chain with you to tell you all about it.
a/n: PLS STILL REBLOG THIS PART EVEN THO ITS NOT THE FULL THING PLS PLS PLS IM BEGGING
Summary: Beomgyu comes over after a long day at practice, and all he wants is to do is satisfy the craving he’s had since he woke up this morning.
Oneshot
Smut, PWP, Idol au, Friends with benefits (more?) au
Warnings: Eater & Long haired! Beomgyu (my beloved), Dom! Beomgyu, Hair pulling (m! receiving), Oral (r! receiving), Multiple rounds even after reader blackouts, Somnophillia (Reader blackouts from the number of orgasms Beom puts them through <3), Clit Stimulation, Cum tasting and eating (Endless), *Aftercare*, Use of pet names: Baby *And if I missed anything pls lmk*
Word Count: 1,638
Beomgyu X Afab! Reader
If you are a minor, please do not read/engage with this post. This is an 18+ work.
------
You were busy doing nothing but lazing in your bed, rotting away just as you planned when you hear your front door jingle. You don’t think much of it because there’s only three other people with a key. One being your roommate, and the other two being your close friends. Well, ‘close’ for the one that was currently unlocking your door was an understatement. Friends with benefits would be a closer term, but even that fell short.
You hear him kicking off his shoes after he locks the front door before he strolls through your living room, and you continue playing on your phone without a care. He knocks on your door, “Can I come in?” You happily agree, looking up as he comes in, looking like he just got off of a long shift. “Hi, beom. You tired?” He shrugs, “Not really…” You tilt your head in confusion expecting him just to land on your bed and nap like he usually does after a long day at practice. And that’s when he drops to his knees at the foot of your bed. You raise your eyebrows at him knowing exactly what he wants, but you still wait for him to ask, “Pleeaasseee let me eat you out.”
You hum, “I was planning to just laze around Beom…” His eyes are doe like as he stares up at you, “I promise you won’t have to do anything… I just want to taste you… Please…” You hum, “Nothing?” He shakes his head, “I’ve craved you since I woke up this morning, and god… I need to eat you out so bad.” Your cheeks slightly burn at that, but you hum, before you nod your head at him and he immediately grabs your legs pulling you to him before he pulls off your pajama pants. You tell him softly, “I didn’t shave…” He groans, “Fuck, even better.” And you can’t help the surge of heat that courses through you at that. He spreads your legs before he kisses up your thighs, “My pretty baby…” His eyes close as he kisses along your thighs, humming happily to himself causing shivers to run up your spine as he grows closer to where you’re beginning to crave him.
But you decide to continue to rot away and play on your phone, pretending that the way he’s caressing you doesn’t affect you at all. That you were genuinely not going to react and just scroll through tiktok. And at first, it works, even with his breath tickling you, you happily scroll listening to different life stories and tiktok edits. Until you find an edit of him falling to his knees, and you groan, “Fuck…” knowing you have him in that exact position. You sneak a glance at him to see him looking up at you with his eyes blown out. And his tongue tentatively licks over your cute little panties. He lets out a groan before he takes a deep inhale, “Oh fuck, yeah…” He looks like he’s in utter bliss as he kisses over the fabric, making it wetter and wetter until it’s actively sticking to your folds.
He takes his time peeling them off of you with his teeth, watching intently as your folds stick to them. He lets out another groan before he peels them fully off of you. You let out a hiss at the sudden cold air rushing towards you, and he wastes no time diving in and finally tasting what he’s craved all day long. The way he moans against you has you letting out a soft whimper, and he mutters, “Fuck me, this is what I wanted…” You feel his head move side to side before he finally gets a better angle, able to taste you better. His tongue roams over your folds, playing over your clit, a few times before he laps at your entrance. He starts the cycle all over until he finds the rhythm he likes, one that drives you insane.
Your phone finally drops from your hands as you grow closer and closer to the edge. You grip your sheets tightly, holding on for dear life as he eats you out desperately, “Oh my god.” He hums, “Not god, baby…” You cry, “Beommm!” You can feel his cocky little smirk against your clit as he hums, “That’s right, baby.” And you reach your first orgasm of the night with a high-pitched whine. And he laps it up greedily.
Your hands wander from the sheet beneath you and into his long soft hair, and you feel his smirk grow even wider as your grip tightens in his hair. He chuckles against your folds, “Finally affecting you, huh?” You whimper and he makes it his mission to throw you over the edge again and quickly. His nose rubs against your clit as he laps at your folds, knowing how much it drives you insane, “Gonna cum again, baby?” You whine and pull at his hair a bit and he chuckles, knowing he has you right where he wants you and with a slight nudge of his nose on your clit, he has you falling over the edge again. Your thighs shake a bit around his head before they relax around his head. And he continues lapping at your folds like he’s starving and you cry out, knowing he’s not finished with you.
You feel another orgasm steadily approaching, and you finally cry out, “Beom, please!” He shakes his head against you, not having enough of your taste yet, “No… I’ve craved you since I woke up this morning, I’m going until you blackout.” You cry out as another orgasm floods over you and he groans loudly as he licks up every last drop. And you know he means every word of it, thank god your upstairs neighbors were playing their music loudly. Because if not, you were bound to get a noise complaint from the whole building due to the mess he was making of you.
Your clit feels more and more sensitive with each orgasm he pulls out of you, and it causes you to squirm, wanting to get away from his constant brushing and licking of it. Even though it feels good it was too much. You release your hands from his soft hair, and wriggle and sigh for the brief second you get away from his tongue. And that’s when his arms come up under your thighs, pinning you to the bed, not letting you escape his tongue. You whine and he mumbles, “Sorry, baby. But I’m still hungry…” Your thighs shake under his hold as he attacks your sensitive little clit, and you cry out as you feel yourself unable to keep still with each orgasm he pushes you through. It was mind-numbing but it felt so good, that as much as he couldn’t get enough of your taste you couldn’t get enough of him sending you over the edge.
You feel comfortably numb as your thighs shake around his head. Your mind feels blank as he sends you over the edge for the sixth one? You’re unsure you lost count after the fourth, it all feels endless, and you don’t have to do a damn thing. And it feels so good to relinquish all your control and needs to him. He knows exactly what you want, and he’s giving you all that and more. While also satisfying his needs of tasting you until his jaw is sore from being overworked. You’re sure it’s already slightly sore, but that doesn’t stop him and god, it feels so good you can’t even begin to form thoughts. And that’s when you finally feel yourself drifting out of consciousness, as the seventh? one washes over you. Your grip loosens on his hair, losing your strength to hold him against you. You let out a soft, “Shit…” He chuckles against your skin as his tongue circles over your clit a few times. His pace increases, and that’s the last thing you consciously feel as an eighth orgasm courses through you, rendering you completely boneless.
You wake to him besides you sleeping peacefully with his arms wrapped around you. The sheets beneath you were changed, and you can only assume that they were soaked from the endless amounts of pleasure he put you both through. You feel something soft in your arms and find your favorite plushie in your arms and a little note attached, “Sorry, I continued eating you out after you blacked out, but you tasted too good to stop <3 Love, your beomie bear <3” You chortle softly to yourself and you hear him stir. You ask him cheekily, “You have a good dinner?” He laughs, “The best…” You ask softly, “How many times did I… y’know?” He smirks, a teasing lilt to his smile, “Cum? All over my tongue? Give me the best meal I could ask for?” You roll your eyes, “Yeah…” You watch as he internally counts, “At least fifteen times…” Your eyes widen, “I didn’t know I could do that… that many times.” He chuckles, “I tried to get a sixteenth out of you… And well it seems you do have a limit.” You laugh before you hum, your eyes turning dark at the thought, “I wonder what yours is~” His eyes widen before his smirk deepens, “Is that a challenge?” You bite your lip, “Is it? Do you think you can cum more times than me?” He shrugs, “I guess there’s only one way to find out, huh?” You smirk and put your plushie under the bed, not wanting the little guy to see what you were about to do. You flip on top of Beomgyu and he groans, his long hair falls back against your pillow, and you can’t wait to ruin him like he ruined you.
i thought I should give a little life update <3 i've been working vv hard to get to where I am at rn- so I've been mia on almost everything- 😔 so it will take me a bit to get into the groove of things- anyways!!
i just recently moved into my first apartment w/one of my close friends🥹 and today I got the internet completely on!! 🤭 (that was a mess to deal with) i'm finally out of a situation that has caused me bunch of trauma/grief and i'm vv proud of myself! i feel safe here <3 oh and ofc shadow (as you may know as my cat) is getting well-adjusted to his new brothers~ (he doesn't realize it yet but they are gonna be best friends 🙂↕️)
i promised myself in december that i would do this- but now it's vv real and yeah T-T i did it 🥹🎉💖 T-T and i'm so grateful to the friends that helped me along <3 yeah life is good y'know? 😭😭😭
Wooyoung knew that you and his roommate weren’t exclusive. While you weren’t seeing anyone else for the time being, his roommate would occasionally hook up with other girls every so often. Wooyoung asked you multiple times why you didn’t decide to do the same, and you would always tell him that it was because you didn’t find anyone else that appealing yet.
What you didn’t know was that Wooyoung kept asking you that question because he wanted to ask you out, but he couldn’t figure out exactly how to phrase it. Were you open to actually dating, or were you only looking for casual relationships like the one you had with his roommate? No matter how hard he tried to figure it out, he couldn’t, so Wooyoung just decided to keep his mouth shut because he didn’t want to lose his friendship with you.
There was one thing about your relationship with his roommate that bugged him though, and that was the fact that he could hear you both whenever you hooked up. You were both pretty loud, and everything that he could hear turned him the fuck on— and he was ashamed to say that he beat himself off a couple times when he heard your melodious moans and sighs through the thin walls of his apartment.
One morning, he woke up to hear the two of you giggling in his roommate’s bedroom. His eyebrow twitched with slight irritation the louder your giggling got. He wanted to be the one to make you laugh like that. He wanted to hear that laugh while you laid in his arms and hugged him close so early in the morning. Was that too much to ask?
Begrudgingly, Wooyoung got out of bed to get started with his day. He trudged to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and stared mindlessly into the fridge. He didn’t know what to eat, so he just left the fridge open and continued to stare at the contents inside as his roommate entered the kitchen.
“Hey, if you’re not going to grab anything, close the fridge,” he lectured before closing the door in front of Wooyoung’s face.
“I was trying to figure out what to eat,” Wooyoung responded as he frowned.
“Well, don’t waste electricity.”
Wooyoung turned and faced his roommate, only to see that he was dressed and ready to head out. He looked at him, his face the epitome of a question mark.
“Where are you going this early in the morning?”
“I got a breakfast date. I’ll see ya later.”
With that, Wooyoung’s roommate left the apartment, leaving Wooyoung slightly flabbergasted. How could he just leave you here to go on a date with someone else? It felt wrong, but he wasn’t the one in an open relationship with you, so who was he to judge? Wooyoung turned back to the fridge and finally settled on grabbing a couple of fruits from the fridge and making himself a fruit salad.
He was peeling oranges when you sauntered into the area. You stifled a yawn and greeted him.
“Morning, Wooyoung,” you said sleepily.
“Morning…”
Wooyoung was still focused on the oranges when you sat in the bar stool at the end of the kitchen island. When you sat down, he finally looked up at you, and he immediately smirked as he popped an orange slice into his mouth.
“Did you sleep in my shirt? That’s hot,” Wooyoung said as soon as he laid eyes on you.
“Oh, yeah, sorry I borrowed— Sorry, did you just say “that’s hot”?” you stopped mid sentence as soon as Wooyoung’s words fully processed in your head.
“I mean, yeah. You usually wear Yunho’s shirts whenever you spend the night. The fact that you’re wearing mine… You look really hot, Y/N.”
Your face went red. You avoided eye contact with him and tugged at the hem of his shirt. You could barely let out a weak thank you, making the other man laugh at your reaction.
“You can’t take a compliment, Y/N?”
You kept your gaze on your lap as you shook your head. Wooyoung looked at you a little more closely, his heart skipping a beat as he suddenly felt a surge of courage course through his body. He wiped his hands on the kitchen towel and approached you. He held the bottom of your shirt, immediately making you snap your eyes to him.
“When are you going to give me my shirt back, then?” Wooyoung asked.
“Uh, I d-don’t— Sh-should I wash it first?” you stuttered.
“I don’t know… I kind of want my shirt back now.”
You blinked a couple of times, your brain unable to process what you were hearing. The words then flew out of your mind when he tugged your— his— shirt upwards slowly. You stared at him with wide eyes as he maintained eye contact with you, his intentions (finally) extremely clear to you.
“Is that okay?” Wooyoung asked. “Can I have my shirt back now?”
Gulping, you nodded. Wooyoung pulled the shirt off, revealing your bare breasts and leaving you in nothing but your panties. He let the shirt fall to the ground and immediately cupped your breasts, a soft exhale leaving your lungs as he massaged your breasts. You uttered profanities under your breath the more Wooyoung kneaded. He leaned in close to you, his lips teasing yours. You tilted your head and tried to kiss him, but he moved away right as your lips brushed his, making you whine slightly.
“You sure about that, Y/N?” Wooyoung asked teasingly. “You sure you want to cross this line with me?”
“Nngh, can you please just kiss me?” you complained.
“I want verbal confirmation from you, Y/N.”
“Yes, Wooyoung. I want to cross this line with you.”
Wooyoung smirked. He finally connected his lips to yours, electricity running through your body. You moaned and ran your fingers through his hair as you deepened the kisses, the man leaning into you to the point where you almost fell off the stool.
“Wait,” he whispered breathlessly as he moved his hands from your breasts to your waist.
He lifted you so that you were sitting on the kitchen countertop before smashing his lips against yours. He kissed you hungrily, his hands gripping your thighs and waist repeatedly as he restlessly made out with you.
“Fuck, Wooyoung!” you sighed as he trailed his kisses down your neck, his hand moving up to massage your breast again.
Wooyoung couldn’t even be bothered to respond— he was so focused on devouring and marking every part of you because he had been wanting this for God knows how long. With one hand on your breast, the other went into your panties, his fingers stroking your cunt roughly, impatiently. You could barely support yourself on the kitchen island, so you clung to him instead, your hands gripping his shoulders.
You whimpered and whined when Wooyoung moved away from you. He completely removed his sweatpants, revealing his red, throbbing cock raring to go before quickly pulling your panties off. You licked your lips and reached for him, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him close to you. Wooyoung smiled slyly before kissing you, his tongue pushing its way into your mouth as he rubbed his cock along your entrance. Your legs quivered every time the tip of his cock brushed against your clit, tingles spreading through your stomach the more he rubbed. While you loved the feeling, you needed more.
Luckily, Wooyoung was losing his patience as well. When he deemed you wet enough, he moved away from you so he could slide his cock inside you, making you press your hands flat on the countertop to support yourself. You moaned softly when you felt him enter you, the tingles only getting stronger. You leaned your head back and felt your mind start to empty out as Wooyoung began rutting into you. He moved one of your legs so that it was resting on his shoulder, giving him better access to your cunt.
“Fuck,” you heard him hiss, the sound of the profanity leaving his lips making every cell in your body react to him. “You’re so wet for me, aren’t you?”
You bit your lip and nodded, a whine leaving your lungs as you agreed with him. You had never heard your cunt sound quite like it did in that moment, squelching with every thrust from the man before you. You leaned back onto the counter top and moaned, your eyes fluttering close and filling the darkness with sparkles. You really were so close. You brought your hand in between your legs and rubbed your clit as Wooyoung focused on keeping his steady pace, the power of his hips only getting stronger. His hands went from your waist to your thighs so he could pull you close to him every time his hips moved. The added stimulation was just enough for you to push him away and let out a loud cry as you squirted onto the countertop, your arousal dripping off the edge and to the floor.
“F-Fuck, Wooyoung!” you cried as you creamed around his cock when he re-entered you, your legs trembling uncontrollably. He let go of your thigh, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist, and his hands moved to your breasts to grip them tightly as his thrusts got faster. “ Yes, yes! J-Just like that!”
Wooyoung was grunting, high-pitched whines leaving him every so often as his thrusts got more sporadic. He was truly losing his mind— when you clenched your walls around his cock, he was pretty much ready to cum, but he didn’t want to stop, not when the friction between his cock and your cunt was filling him with insurmountable pleasure.
Yet, he was fucked when you pushed yourself up and quickly held onto him before smashing your lips against his. It certainly did not help that you were rolling your body towards him, changing his angle ever so slightly. As you kissed him, you took his lower lip in between your teeth and bit down lightly, completely breaking Wooyoung. He quickly held your waist and pulled you close as he thrust rapidly into you before cumming, the man moaning against your lips. He had actually tried to pull out before cumming, but you clenched your walls again, stopping him midway through. He came inside you, his cock shuddering as his seed spurt inside you.
“Ah… Fuck,” you moaned as your pleasure slowly died down. “That was so good…”
“Shit,” Wooyoung hissed as he pressed his head into your shoulder. “I came inside…”
“That’s okay, Wooyoung,” you responded as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I don’t mind at all.”
“You sure?”
“With you, I’m always sure.”
Wooyoung let out a low exhale as he pulled out of you, his cum seeping out of your cunt and mixing with your arousal before dripping onto the ground. He was completely enamored with the way your red cunt was leaking white, his fingers spreading your lips open to let the rest of him drip out.
“Wooyoung, you’re making a mess,” you muttered with slight embarrassment as you tried to close your legs.
“My kitchen, my problem,” he replied immediately.
“Still…”
Wooyoung couldn’t help but chuckle at your reaction. He ended up stopping, allowing you to close your legs and shed your embarrassment. When you slipped off the kitchen countertop and tried to situate yourself though, Wooyoung pinned you in place, his hands gripping the edge of the counter as he leaned into you.
“Where are you going? I’m not finished with you yet.”
warnings: none really despite descriptions of blood
wordcount:1.8k
note: I'm trying to get back into writing, I was rewatching epic the musical. I had thoughts, idk how this happened so.....that's abt all I can say. it's like 12 am I have a test tmr I did NOT edit ts so pls lmk if there r any mistakes gang
Thinking about your Pirate husband! Hongjoong who's always gone away on long trips, months of him away at the open sea and your only word from him being the letters he sends from the islands they dock on.
Pirate husband! Hongjoong who despite technically working for your family's treasury, always brings you back the prettiest trinkets because who else deserves to wear those pretty stones than you? To him they only look good adorned by your neck, your wrists, rested against your chest. The other nobles don't need to ever know where you collect your new pieces from.
Pirate husband! Hongjoong who when coming back from a trip, always immediately needs to hold you for several minutes to an hour, weather you greet him at the dock or he walks through the door, he stands there, holding you, whispering how much he's missed you into your ear until those whispers inevitably grow dirty and your knees grow weak and you need to shoo him off to get cleaned up before he starts anything because he smells like months away at sea.
Pirate husband! Hongjoong who looks at you with half lidded eyes and drags you to the bathroom to help clean him up because his muscles are just so sore, of course he needs his loving wife's help.
Pirate husband! Hongjoong who is always whispered about, ladies behind fans talking about the feared Captain of the black battalion, how awfully it is that the nation's princess was promised to him, and not someone more respectable like their own son(s).
Pirate husband! Hongjoong, despite the rumors, was never anything but gentle, loving you, holding your umbrella under the sun, hand resting on your back no matter where you walked.
Pirate husband! Hongjoong who always comes back a little rougher, a little more mean, a little more spiky on the edges. He's done unspeakable things, he's caused amounts of blood no noble could even fathom. He's sacrificed so much of his humanity in order to hold victory for your kingdom, for you.
Pirate husband! Hongjoong who went away on an especially long trip, almost 5 years, no word, not from him, from the ship or any of its crew. They were thought to be dead, lost at sea, sunken by an enemy ship or one of the creatures your husband used to whisper about.
Your father wanted you to remarry, no respectable princess should stay a widower, and lord knows your brother wouldn't continue the bloodline, at least not nobly, nobody knows how many bastards he has running around. But you'd refused. He'd suggested it after a year, and you've held him off for four. But it's getting harder, suitors line the halls of the castle, vying for your hand promised to them by your father. The captain of the black pirates is dead, the skilled archer, the legendary soldier who garnered so much admiration, that no self respecting man would ever think of touching his widow.
And that was the problem wasn't it? The men now vying for your hand weren't anything worth respecting, they were vile creatures, sick and hungry wolves circling the one thing that could give them an endless supply of meat, of power- of glory.
You sit up in your bed, gazing out at the window, it's been long since you slept through a night. You never did sleep well when Hongjoong used to go away, five years has not made it easier. You turn, thinking it best to maybe put on your robe, at least be productive, go to the library maybe, that's when you hear it.
The thunder claps first, scaring you enough that you almost fall off the bed, then the rain starts, hard, drowning out any buzz of castle life, it's pouring in through your open balcony window, and you stand to close it. It's when you reach the edge, the wind nipping your skin, water just barely grazing you, that you see it, the large black ship, docked. Not in the harbor that's far from here, no right on the castle's shore. Your heart leaps, practically tripping over yourself as you turn to rush to the door that would lead you out of this room. That's when you hear it, louder than the rain, louder than the normal buzz of quiet shift rotations from the castle staff and laughter from drinking men.
Screams, cries, the clashing of swords and the distinct 'twoop' of a heavy arrow. A sound you know well, one you could never forget. For your husband's bow had always sounded distinct, louder, dominant, a sound that could silence a room just like him. You hear one of your guards that should be posted by your door scream for you to stay inside, you don't want to.
He's here, he's finally home. Why won't they let you out? you reach for the door, it doesn't open, they've jammed something there. You try harder, tears starting to fall down your face as the screams grow louder, closer. You don't know what's happening, why people are fighting, why you aren't allowed out.
You bang against the door until you feel the bruises forming on your hands, stupidly, try and ram it with your shoulder enough that you're sure you've dislocated something. It's stupid, you know it is but you know he's here. It has to be him. You hear the arrow again, a gurgle, the guard outside your door screaming, then another arrow, then silence. You step back, hand against your mouth to quiet yourself... maybe.. maybe this isn't your husband.. why would he hurt your own guards? the drunk men you'd get, you'd expected even, Hongjoong never had been kind to others. But your own guards?
You see blood seeping from outside, beneath the door into your room, there's a shadow moving through the crack until it's in front of you. You hear chains rattling, then dropping, and ever so slowly the door opens.
Pirate husband! Hongjoong stares at you when he first sees you again. 5 long years and you still look the same. Your eyes are more sunken in, tired, he can tell even with them being wide with fear, your lips are dry, chapped and bitten red. But you still look the same. The exact same woman he married, the woman who he kissed Goodbye five years ago, who he'd promised to return to, soon. It was the first promise he'd ever broken.
You barely recognize him, standing before you, blood drenching his clothes, his hairs grown out, covering his face, he holds his bow in one hand, reaches the other up to unclast his cloak, at least try and remove the garment holding the most blood. You make a choked sound. Because it's your husband, you're sure it is but it's also.. not. He looks so different, his eyes so dull, so tired. His jaw is set as if he's had nothing to smile about in these last five years, no twitch at the corner of his mouth at seeing you.
He steps forward, you step back, it's a small movement, but he sees it. You see him see it, see the hurt flashing through his eyes as he looks at you again, and suddenly, as if a switch flipped, you recognize him again. That sad look in his eye, the one he always held when leaving.
"Hongjoong?" you whisper it so quietly you're not even sure he can hear you, he doesn't nod, just drops his bow, the wood clattering to the ground, he takes another step closer, you don't move this time. Another, another and another until he's right in front of you, hands cradling your face despite the cooling liquid that drenches them. Tears fall freely down your cheeks, big heaving, ugly sobs, he doesn't seem to care, his thumbs while them away, his eyes flicking over every detail of your face, a small smile gracing his lips before tears line his own vision.
Pirate husband! Hongjoong who sinks down to his knees, arms wrapping around your torso, pressing his face into your stomach to quiet his own sobs. You're so warm, so much warmer than he remembers. Your hand rests in his heart, and his breath shudders. God he's missed you, he's missed you so much. You reach your hands down, your own sobs having quiet to silent tears as you lift his face, cradling his own cheek with your hands now soaked in the blood from his clothes. It's everyone on you now, you realise, but you don't seem to care.
"You came back" you whisper, "not soon enough" it's the first words he says to you, they're rough, his voice hoarse and deeper than last you heard it. Or it could just be that you've started to forget it. "You're here that's.. that's all that matters" you shudder, sinking down to sit on your knees before him, eye to eye.
You don't answer him, you can't, instead you kiss him, soft at first, testing that it is in fact still the lips of your husband. He's been away for 5 years and he tastes the exact same. His hand holds your face, pressing you closer against him, hungry, like a man starved for years for the first time eating food. You suppose he was starving, not having seen you for five years. He doesn't pull back, he can't, he'd die right now by running out of breath if it meant he didn't have to part from you again. Instead you do, push him away, just slightly, forehead resting against his own again, chest heaving. "Your hands are the hands of the husband that cradle me, that's built me everything I hold dear, and whittled me my favorite figures." You reach for his hand, kiss it.
Pirate husband! Hongjoong who stares at you, with a love and intensity you've never seen before, he truly has changed. You hear more commotion down the castle, the other guard shift must have returned. Hongjoong hears it too. His hand grabs yours, the ones that cradled his. He looks at you now, face stained with tear tracks and the blood from his hands, you've never looked more beautiful to him. "I have so much to explain to you, My Love, but we cannot stay here, it's not safe for you here" He stands, pulling you up with him. He pulls you into his arms, holds you tight, you feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest, his lips pressing against the top of your hairline. "Go, out, through the balcony, Seonghwa is waiting for you at the bottom, there's a robe tied to the railing, climb down, meet me at the ship" he says and pulls back, bringing you in for a final kiss, muttering the words 'I love you so fucking much' against your lips, before he's pushing you away, towards the open balcony door and story weather. He turns, grabs his bow to head back out.
Pirate husband! Hongjoong, who will do anything, has done everything, to ensure his wife's safety. He's sure of this, even as he walks out of their once shared marital room, bow drawn again to dispose of this entire castle, those who dared conspire against him, who tried to keep him away from you, who decided having him dead would be better than having him be yours.
pairing. bf!ateez x reader
cw. none
notes. i'm so ateezpilled rn so pls enjoy this humble offering. still getting back into the groove of posting so bear with me <3 we will slowly but surely get back into zone!! credit to the og posters of these adorable babies btw! reblogs and comments are appreciated <3
summary: In the bedroom, you're domestic. In the boardroom, dangerous. And when Taehyun missteps, you and Soobin are happy to demonstrate to that pack what happens when one of you forget who you belong to.
a/n If you thought the last chapter had a lot of smut, here's some more with slightly more plot with it I guess? Is the relationship looking a bit morally dubious? Yes. Do they also happen to be not very ethical people who commit violent crime? Also yes. Please mind the tags. I am a slave to feedback so if you (hopefully) enjoyed reading this, let me know. reblogs/comments = fic getting updated faster :) Thanks for reading!
masterlist
Morning comes soft.
The bedroom glows in the early light, white linen curtains shifting in the breeze from the cracked window Kai left the night before, golden sun pooling across the foot of the bed like spilled honey. Somewhere outside, a bird sings. Somewhere deeper in the house, security guards switch shifts. A phone buzzes and goes ignored.
The bed holds six.
Your pack is still asleep around you, limbs tangled, skin warm, breath steady. The mess of last night lingers faintly in the air: sweat, slick, blood, salt. The scent of sin. But it’s sweetened now by sleep, by morning skin and shared warmth, by the absence of danger.
You lie on your side, head cradled on Soobin’s bicep. His other hand rests low on your waist, fingertips splayed possessively, as though someone might steal you in the quiet hours before daylight dares to speak. Yeonjun breathes at your back, a steady rhythm, his arm thrown over your hip.
Kai’s curled near your legs, face buried against your thigh.
Taehyun sleeps in the corner of the bed, half off the mattress, fingers still brushing your ankle. Beomgyu is a tangle of limbs and hair and half-twisted blankets across the remaining space, his mouth open slightly.
No one mentions the bodies buried under warehouses.
No one talks about the men who screamed.
Today is domestic. Mostly.
Today, you are just an omega, loved and spoiled, wrapped in silk and adoration and far too many hands.
Kai stirs first.
His lashes flutter against your thigh, and he hums, high and soft, as he nuzzles closer. Then he looks up at you, eyes swollen with sleep.
“Wanna take a bath,” he mumbles. “We smell like sex and murder.”
You smile faintly against Soobin’s skin. He’s not wrong.
Soobin doesn’t open his eyes but mutters, “Then run it.”
He does.
You hear the water in the distance, Kai padding barefoot into the master bath, the tap hissing as hot water pours into porcelain. The scent of cedar oil wafts into the room a few minutes later. Then lavender.
Yeonjun kisses the back of your neck before he even opens his eyes.
Soobin groans, arm flexing around your waist as he finally stretches. His cock is hard against your hip, but he makes no move. Not yet at least.
“Come on,” Beomgyu mumbles, burying his face into the soft skin of your belly. “Before Kai drowns himself in bubbles and uses all the expensive salts.”
“You’re the one who keeps drinking the salts,” Taehyun says, voice rough, rising slowly.
Beomgyu lifts his head just enough to pout. “They taste good.”
“You taste like chemicals and regret.”
“Still came in my mouth last time.”
“I was drugged,” Taehyun snaps, and Soobin sighs.
“Bath.”
You rise slowly, with help. You wince, your thighs sore, your hole tender and leaking slightly still, but no one hurries you. You’re carried between them, and when you step into the marble bathroom, the tub is steaming and full.
Kai’s already in, chin resting on the edge, sporting a lazy smile.
You slip in after him, and the others follow. Yeonjun pressing behind you, Soobin opposite, Taehyun to your left, Beomgyu settling half into your lap with no shame, arms around your neck. The water is the perfect temperature.
They wash you in silence.
Lathered hands slide down your back. Fingers trace your hips. Someone, probably Taehyun, washes your hair, his fingertips gently rubbing your scalp until your eyes close. Yeonjun rinses your chest with a bowl, lifting it slow, letting water cascade over your skin. Kai giggles as bubbles foam between your legs.
Beomgyu presses kisses to your jaw, slick with soap. “We should stay here all day.”
“We have business,” Soobin says. But even he doesn’t try to get up.
You lean back into them.
None of you speak about the blood still under Soobin’s fingernails, or the bullet wound Beomgyu stitched, or the new body that will surely show up in the harbor with nothing but a gaping hole in his ribs from Yeonjun’s knife.
Today, you are just a pack. A filthy rich one, yes. A little brutal, maybe. But clean, at least in this tub.
Soobin shifts his hips beneath the water, just enough for his cock to brush against your thigh. He’s still hard.
You feel it. He knows you do.
His eyes are closed, head resting against the porcelain lip of the tub. The others speak softly around you, idle morning banter about market numbers, an upcoming foundation gala, whose turn it is to attend the board meeting with the Culture Minister. Clean things. Public things.
But Soobin hasn’t moved. Not even to ask.
He won’t. And you know that.
Not when he’s already had you. Not when you’ve bled for him. Not when his mark is still healing on your throat. He’s soft for you that way.
So you reach for him.
Your fingers curl under the water, ghosting over his lower stomach, the cut lines of muscle beneath his skin gone warm and wet. You feel him twitch. Just once. But he doesn’t open his eyes.
You wrap your fingers around him.
He groans, so quietly you feel it more than hear it. A sound that melts beneath the surface like everything else he doesn’t say.
You pump him slowly, wrist flicking under the water. The others continue their soft conversation, Kai talking about the color scheme for the new investment building, Beomgyu whining about having to wear another tie.
Only Yeonjun notices.
He shifts behind you, lips brushing your shoulder as he exhales. You feel the faintest smile against your skin.
"Good wife," he whispers.
Soobin’s head tilts slightly. His lips part.
You keep stroking. Long, smooth pulls, your thumb dragging up the underside of his cock. The water stirs faintly, steam curling around your shoulders. His hips flex once, then still. But you feel the tension. The tight coil beneath every muscle in his body. The silent need.
“Open your eyes,” you murmur.
He does.
A god trying not to tremble.
Your hand doesn’t stop.
He exhales, chest rising, and the water laps at the sides of the tub as his breath stutters. You lean in, your lips grazing the shell of his ear.
“You can’t go to the meeting with your cock this hard, oppa.”
His hand snaps under the surface, gripping your wrist. Just to feel it. The slick slide of your palm, the control he lets you have right now.
You smile.
"Let me take care of it."
He comes with a sharp breath, his cock pulsing in your hand, the heat of it lost beneath the water but felt in the way he exhales, in the way his fingers curl into your forearm, in the look he gives you as you lean back again, satisfied.
There’s a silent question behind his eyes. Shall I take care of you too, darling? You shake your head, still too fucked out from last night. Maybe later.
He sits up, adjusting himself beneath the water, perfectly composed again. Finally, Soobin gets up.
“We leave in twenty minutes,” he says, and steps from the tub.
Water slides down his chest, his hair slicked back by someone’s hands.
The others follow, some slower than others. Taehyun already has a towel in hand for you, Kai offers you a robe. Yeonjun kisses your cheek without a word. Beomgyu groans dramatically but rises anyway.
You stay seated a moment longer, skin pricked with cooling heat.
They’ll put on their suits now. They’ll step into the black cars. The skyscrapers. The conference halls.
Faces of men who do clean business.
But you know.
And they do, too.
So you let Taehyun help you up and towel you off. Let Kai slide the robe over your shoulders. Let Yeonjun dry and brush your hair while Beomgyu picks out what you might like to wear.
The silk you choose is ash gray, high-necked, long-sleeved, tailored perfectly to skim the shape of your body without suggesting anything too carnal. It drapes down your spine like smoke, delicate pearl buttons at your wrists, your scent muted beneath layers of polished propriety.
You sit at the vanity as Taehyun smooths his tie.
Your mark is still red, Soobin’s bite fresh at the curve of your throat. If you were going somewhere else, you might have left it as it is. But you have a role to play. It takes three dabs of concealer and a strand of hair drawn just so to make it vanish from sight.
“You don’t have to come,” Taehyun says without looking at you, adjusting his cufflinks in the mirror. He’s right. You don’t have to. But you want to.
You smile faintly, brushing a final touch of powder across your cheek.
“I’m not going to speak.”
“That’s what worries me.”
Soobin waits for you at the elevator.
He’s dressed in charcoal wool, a three-piece suit, the silver watch you had made for his last birthday on his wrist. The CEO of Choi Holdings. Untouchable. Beautiful in the way only power is.
Kai stands just behind him, tablet already in hand. His suit is light blue today, playful and precise, the color chosen because it makes the investors think he’s harmless when he most definitely is not.
Yeonjun wears black, of course. Tailored. His sunglasses will stay on indoors. He’s meant to be your shadow. The silent threat that stands behind you and promises consequences if anyone but your pack dare to look too long.
Beomgyu’s in navy, two buttons undone, grin crooked, gun holstered beneath his coat like it belongs there, because it does. He winks when he sees you step into the elevator, then hums under his breath.
“So pretty it’s criminal.”
You say nothing. Just smile, small and serene. Because that’s the kind of omega that the public will see. The kind of omega you want them to see.
It takes twelve minutes to reach the tower.
You glide across the marble floors of the conference level with Soobin’s hand on the small of your back. Taehyun peels off to speak with a Minister’s aide. Kai begins typing the moment they enter the room. Yeonjun flanks the doorway. Beomgyu leans against the wall with his arms crossed and the bored look of a man who already knows where the exits are.
And you?
You sit beside Soobin.
You do not speak.
You listen.
The boardroom is glass and steel, cold in the way that wealth has made it. They greet Soobin with soft bows and careful smiles. They look at you like you’re a decoration brought along to soothe him. A pretty prize. A pet spouse.
You fold your hands neatly on the table and let them think that you’re as inconsequential as all the ornaments they each brought with them, whether alpha, beta or omega.
Because the best thing about being an ornament is this:
They forget you listen.
The Finance Minister's secretary says something she shouldn’t. You take note of names, locations, timelines all while nodding at her with the blank look of an omega who’s only here because his alpha wanted some arm candy to show off.
And because some of the ornaments talk. Thoughtlessly. A quiet dig is made at the Chairwoman’s personal security. A coded reference to an illicit asset, shared casually over green tea because you look like someone who wouldn't understand what that even means.
You nod along. Sip your tea. Smile gently.
Later, in the elevator, Soobin speaks without looking at you.
“What did you hear?”
“Everything,” you say simply.
His hand finds yours.
You do not have to report it to him now.
That’s Kai’s job, to log every interaction of note for all of you to debrief later. It’s Yeonjun and Beomgyu’s duty to act as the hired guards while the public remains none the wiser of how their names strike fear into the hearts of those who’ve committed crimes so violent they make breaking news. And while you stay silent and let the unknowing spill their secrets, it’s up to Taehyun to use his words to loosen the lips of those who think they have more power than they actually do. Even if he did let the Minister’s aide a little too close for the pack’s comfort.
But that will be dealt with later.
Right now, you’ve done what you needed to do. Let them think you insignificant. Because that’s exactly the part you played for them.
You’re just the thing that listens.
And whispers what matters when the masks are taken off.
The hotel suite is too bright.
Floor-to-ceiling windows bathe the space in gold and glass, city lights beginning to bloom against dusk. A bottle of bourbon rests untouched on the credenza. The silence in the room is not casual.
You’re already seated, legs crossed, back straight, robe belted but slightly parted at the thigh. Yeonjun is by the window. Kai sits on the arm of your chair, tablet in his lap.
Beomgyu paces. He’s smirking, but there’s no real joy in it this time.
Soobin stands behind the sofa, hands clasped neatly.
Taehyun walks in last. He’s late. The Minister’s aide had asked for a private conversation. You know that he wouldn’t do anything. But she did. And he, thinking it would be in the best interest of getting the information needed, encouraged it. All of you can smell it.
The moment the door closes, Soobin’s voice cuts through the space.
“Take off your tie.”
Taehyun stops. Blinks slowly.
He still looks flawless, jacket crisp, hair perfect, expression unbothered.
You’ve seen him this composed while laundering billions. While interrogating. While holding a gun and shooting someone between their eyes.
But even he goes still at Soobin’s tone. Because he smells like he let someone touch him and they weren’t you or Kai or Beomgyu or Yeonjun or Soobin.
“…Hyung.”
“Now.”
Taehyun obeys.
His fingers move slowly, sliding the silk from around his throat. He doesn’t look at anyone. He folds the tie in half, then quarters it.
Soobin gestures once.
“Give it to me.”
Taehyun steps forward. Hands it over.
Beomgyu laughs under his breath.
“I told you,” he says, too loud, too amused. “I told you flirting back was stupid. You think no one noticed how close that aide got? How she touched your fucking lapel?”
Kai doesn’t laugh at the comment. Just waits.
Soobin takes the tie.
“Why didn’t you move?”
Taehyun’s voice is calm, but too even.
“It was a play, hyung. She—she wasn’t a threat.”
“No,” Soobin agrees. “She wasn’t.”
His hand moves so fast the crack of the slap echoes off the windows.
You jolt, breath caught.
Taehyun’s head snaps to the side, his face still stoic, but his cheek is red.
“She wasn’t the threat,” Soobin says again, voice low now. “You are. When you forget who you belong to.”
He tosses the tie at your feet.
“Come here,” you say softly.
Taehyun’s eyes finally meet yours.
He kneels.
Of course he does.
You pick up the tie. Guide it around his throat. Pull it tight just to remind him who’s allowed to touch.
“You don’t flirt,” you murmur, looping the knot high beneath his jaw. “You don’t allow yourself to be touched.”
“I didn’t—”
You tug.
He chokes quietly.
Beomgyu groans, low and eager.
Kai leans in. Whispers, “Let us help?”
You nod once.
Yeonjun doesn’t speak, but steps forward.
Soobin moves to stand at your back.
And Taehyun kneels at your feet, hands behind his back now, tie taut around his throat, his mouth parted in the beginning of surrender.
It’s not about causing pain. It’s not about correction, that’s Soobin’s to handle, not you. It’s about reminding your beta, again, exactly who he kneels for.
The tie pulls taut between your fingers.
You watch Taehyun’s breath catch as you guide it up, just enough tension to force his chin higher, make him look at you. The red across his cheek has faded now, replaced by the subtle flush of shame, of need.
He kneels in silence, his knees spread just enough to betray the thick swell of arousal beneath his tailored slacks. His posture is perfect. Hands behind his back. Shoulders set. Every line of him is immaculate.
Still, you shake your head.
“Too proud,” you murmur. “Even now.”
Soobin steps forward, sleeves rolled to his elbows, the elegance of his suit disturbed only by the hunger in his eyes.
“You belong to this pack,” he says, standing directly in front of Taehyun. “To me. And to him.”
Your fingers twitch on the tie. Taehyun lowers his gaze immediately.
Soobin undoes his belt slowly.
He doesn’t speak again. Just lowers his slacks and boxers enough to free his cock, half-hard, flushed, already leaking at the tip. He won’t admit it but it always makes his blood run hot when he watches you remind a wayward packmate this way. He grips Taehyun’s chin, thumb pressing to his jaw until he opens his mouth obediently.
Then he slides in.
You feel the shift in Taehyun’s breath as the head of Soobin’s cock presses against the back of his throat. He doesn’t gag. Not yet at least. But his thighs tense, chest rising shallow. His spine trembles, control fraying.
“Let him suck you slow, oppa” you say. “Let him feel it.”
Soobin obeys. He fucks Taehyun’s mouth with calm, controlled thrusts. He doesn’t rush, just carries out the deliberate correction of a disobedient beta being taught what happens when he oversteps. His fingers remain in Taehyun’s hair.
Behind you, Kai moans softly.
Yeonjun watches from the shadows, his arms crossed, unmoving. His eyes never leave the line of Taehyun’s throat as it bulges around Soobin’s cock.
Beomgyu has already undone his pants. Palming himself through his boxers, he laughs quietly. “Told you,” he mutters again. “So cocky. But he melts when hyung uses him like this.”
And he does.
Taehyun’s lips are swollen, wet, saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth. His eyes water.
He needs this.
He needs to be put back in place.
Soobin presses in deep.
Taehyun chokes, his first real sound, and Soobin holds him there just long enough to make the lesson last. His cock throbs against the back of Taehyun’s throat before he pulls free with a wet sound. He doesn’t come. Doesn’t give Taehyun the satisfaction.
You tug the tie once.
“Good,” you murmur. “Now show us who you really belong to.”
Soobin steps back.
Taehyun sways. His hands remain behind him. He doesn't look at anyone.
You rise from your chair and step in front of him.
"Take out your cock."
He hesitates,
"Now."
He obeys.
His cock is flushed, wet at the tip, desperate. He pants softly as the cool air hits him, as he kneels there, tie wrapped around his throat, face red, chest rising fast.
“Don’t touch yourself.”
Your voice is soft now.
“You don’t get to use your hands. Not after today.”
His cock twitches.
Beomgyu exhales. “Fucking hell.”
“Let him watch us,” Kai whispers, eyes bright.
You let your hands trail down Kai’s chest slowly, letting Taehyun see. Letting the others watch. You press a kiss to Kai’s neck as you glance down at Taehyun again. Then you pull away to lean down and whisper to the beta.
“You’re going to come on the floor, untouched, while you watch Kai-oppa fuck me” you say. “You needed Soobin-oppa’s cock in your mouth before you remembered who you were. Who you belong to. That was the correction. And this, this is your penance.”
Taehyun moans. Quiet. Like he hates how easy it is.
Kai is already reaching for you.
His hands come to your waist as you approach, his pupils blown wide, mouth slightly parted.
“Sit on me,” he whispers.
And you do.
You straddle him slowly, knees sinking into the plush couch as he pulls you down into his lap. You let your weight settle, let the heat of him spread between your thighs. You reach between you, take his cock in your hand, it’s already flushed, wet at the tip and you guide it to your slick entrance.
Kai moans as you sink down.
“Fuck—Omega—"
His cock slides in too easily, your hole swallowing him with the kind of practiced stretch that makes him shake. His hands fly to your hips, fingers splaying wide.
You roll your hips once.
His head falls back.
The others move around you but only slightly. Yeonjun stays where he is, arms folded, jaw tight, the bulge in his pants impossible to ignore. Beomgyu’s grin is lazy now, his cock still out, stroking himself slow and steady as he watches. Soobin sits, silent, his eyes never leaving where your bodies meet.
Taehyun remains kneeling. Breathless, red-cheeked and unable to look away.
You ride Kai slowly at first.
Long strokes, your thighs flexing as you bounce steadily on his cock, letting him feel every inch of your body claim him. Your fingers curl around his neck. His arms wrap around your waist.
His voice is breathless against your collarbone.
“I love you like this,” he whispers.
You don’t answer.
You moan.
You grind your hips down harder, your slick coating his thighs now, your mouth falling open as you fuck yourself on him, use him.
“God, look at him,” Beomgyu hisses. “He’s gonna come just from being used.”
“I want him to,” you breathe. “I want him to come in me.”
Kai cries out, his head burying in your neck as his cock pulses inside you.
He comes hard, trembling against you.
Spilling inside your soaked hole as you rock down one last time and hold him there, his cock twitching deep inside you, his breath shattered.
You don’t move right away.
You let him wrap around you.
Let his body soften.
Let the others watch.
Because this, too, is power.
And it’s yours.
Taehyun looks at you and you know he’s close.
You lean over and tighten the tie slightly.
“Eyes on me.”
He does.
And he comes.
Just like that.
Thick spurts across his own thigh, onto the floor, body trembling as he gasps, broken.
You kneel slowly in front of him as the final tremor leaves his body.
Your palm comes to his cheek. He leans into it.
“I forgive you,” you whisper. “Because now you remember.”
Sweat dampens his collar. His come stains the floor in neat splatter. His breath catches when you kiss his cheek and leave him still on his knees.
Kai shudders beneath you, arms clinging too tightly around your waist, breath stuttering against your neck as the last pulses of his orgasm taper off. You hold him for a moment longer and press your lips to the crown of his head.
Then you stand slowly.
His cock slips free with a slick sound, and the mix of his come and your slick drips down your inner thighs, cooling against your skin. Kai gasps softly, eyes wide as he watches the mess trail down your legs.
You say nothing. You just stand there.
Chest rising slowly. Thighs slick. Robe hanging open now, parted around your hips. Everyone watches.
Beomgyu’s grin is gone.
Yeonjun’s eyes are dark, unreadable.
Taehyun’s face is flushed, but he doesn’t move. He knows not to.
And Soobin?
Soobin leans forward in his chair, elbows braced on his knees, sleeves rolled neatly to the elbow. His gaze trails from the base of your throat, down your chest, your hips, your thighs to the slick between your legs.
He hums.
Then crooks a finger.
“Come here.”
You stop in front of him, the top of his thighs brushing your knees. He doesn’t look up right away. Just runs one hand up your inner thigh, palm flat, spreading the mess Kai left there, smearing it higher.
“You let him come inside you.”
You nod.
Soobin smiles.
“Good.”
Then he sits back, legs parted slightly, one hand gesturing to his lap.
“Climb up.”
Your knees bend automatically, but he stops you with one word.
“Face them.”
Your stomach flips.
But you obey.
You straddle his lap facing the pack, knees sinking to either side of his thighs, back arched slightly. His cock presses hot and heavy between your slick folds, not inside you yet. Just there. Waiting.
His arm wraps around your waist. The other slips between your legs.
And then his voice, low and final:
“Show them who owns you.”
Your breath hitches. Soobin doesn’t push in right away.
Instead, his fingers slide through the mess coating your thighs, Kai’s come, your slick. He presses two fingers into your hole with precision, stretching you open again, testing how easily you still yield.
You moan softly, hips twitching.
“Still wet,” he murmurs. “Still mine.”
You nod, breath shaky.
His cock nudges at your entrance. You try to sink down, but he stops you, one firm hand gripping your hip.
Soobin never lets you take what hasn’t been given.
He looks over your shoulder, eyes on the rest of the pack. His voice is carved in ice.
“Yeonjun-hyung.”
A pause.
“Get in front of him.”
Yeonjun stands like the command had been waiting in his bones.
He doesn't hesitate.
He moves across the room silently, footsteps quiet on the polished floor. His shirt is still unbuttoned from earlier, chest bare, skin flushed. He stops in front of you, tall, broad, his cock already hard again. Just like he’s always been, waiting for the moment Soobin allows him to be fed.
Soobin's hand slides from your hip to the base of his cock. He lines himself up beneath you.
Then thrusts up.
You cry out.
Your body drops slightly from the force of it, your hole forced wide again, stuffed full of Soobin's cock, thick and punishing, sliding into you with impossible ease from how open you've already been made.
His other hand grips your waist.
He fucks you from below.
You’re held there, knees on either side of him, thighs trembling, your body jolting with each slow, deep thrust. You can’t do anything but take it. Every inch. Every measured, perfect drag of cock splitting you open again.
“Don’t ride me,” Soobin says, breath hot against your shoulder. “You’ve done enough.”
He moves you, grinding you down onto his cock, fucking up into you like this is the only way to remind you who you belong to.
“Open your mouth,” he says.
You do.
Yeonjun steps forward.
His cock brushes your lips, swollen and flushed, already beading at the tip.
You don’t need to be told.
You lean forward and take him in.
Yeonjun groans the moment your lips wrap around him, the sound ripped from his chest like a wound. His hand cradles the back of your head.
You suck him deep as Soobin thrusts up inside you again.
The pack watches.
Beomgyu’s hand is back on his cock, mouth parted.
Kai sits at the foot of the couch, eyes wide, cheeks pink, hands in his lap as if holding himself back is some kind of pain kink.
Taehyun hasn’t moved from his knees. But his chest is rising faster now.
You’re stuffed.
Soobin’s cock thick inside you. Yeonjun’s cock stretching your throat.
You moan around him, and he shudders, hips rocking forward, breath caught. His fingers tighten slightly in your hair.
“Don’t come yet, hyung.” Soobin says to him.
Yeonjun freezes. Nods.
You moan again, hips jerking as Soobin drives up once more, his hand dragging down your spine.
And then, you raise one hand, just barely. Your fingers curl in a beckon, and it’s Beomgyu who moves first, of course.
He’s always the first to reach for you when he’s allowed.
He slides in behind you, next to Soobin, pressed to your side in a heartbeat, one hand snaking around your waist, the other dragging up your chest to cup your throat.
“Fuck, baby, I can feel him inside you,” he groans, palm resting right over your stomach where Soobin’s cock pushes up from below. “You’re stretched so full, how the fuck are you still taking him?”
You moan around Yeonjun’s cock, the sound guttural.
Kai crawls to your other side.
He kneels beside your thigh, eyes flicking from your face to your slick thighs to the messy join where Soobin fucks up into your hole slowly. He reaches out but hesitates. Then he looks to Soobin for permission.
A small nod.
And Kai’s hand slides between your legs, fingers curling gently around your leaking cock.
“You’re so wet,” he whispers. “You’re dripping down Soobin-oppa’s cock. Down your thighs. Over me.”
His tongue flicks out, catching the mix where it spills.
Beomgyu’s mouth is at your shoulder now, teeth dragging across skin damp with sweat.
“Let us see how you look when you fall apart for all of us.”
Yeonjun groans, his cock twitching in your throat.
You take him deeper.
Soobin’s thrusts never falter.
He’s steady but brutal, the kind of rhythm that punishes and worships at once. His hands grip your hips tighter, driving you down onto him as if you belong nowhere else.
And you don’t.
Taehyun stands last.
Still shirtless, still quiet.
He walks forward slowly, eyes tracking every inch of you.
He kneels at your feet again, lifts one to his thigh, and presses his mouth to your ankle.
A kiss.
A vow.
Then up.
He spreads your other thigh with reverent hands and leans forward. His tongue flicks against your hole where Soobin’s cock disappears inside.
You moan around Yeonjun’s cock.
Your body thrashes, overstimulated again, and no one holds you still.
Instead, they guide you through it.
Kai’s hand pumps faster. Beomgyu’s hand tightens around your throat. Taehyun’s tongue licks the come that leaks around Soobin’s cock.
And Soobin?
He fucks you harder.
“Come,” he growls. “Now.”
You do.
You convulse violently, cock twitching in Kai’s hand, your moan muffled by Yeonjun’s cock as thick spurts spill over your thigh and his wrist and the seat below you.
Soobin groans.
His thrusts snap up—one, two, three—
Then he buries himself deep.
His come floods your hole again, hot and slow, and you feel it spill around him.
Only then does Yeonjun thrust forward, finally allowed.
He grips your hair, moaning your name as he comes in your throat, and you swallow without thought, slick tears spilling from the corners of your eyes.
Soobin pulls out with a slick, wet sound. Yeonjun slides free, panting, his hand stroking down your jaw. And you collapse into Kai’s arms, messy and wet and glowing.
Your lips are wet. Kai cradles you, your thighs trembling. Soobin’s come still leaks out of your overstretched hole. Yeonjun’s cock glistens with your spit. Taehyun’s tongue glides once more over your inner thigh before he pulls back, eyes heavy.
You could sleep like this.
You could collapse and let them carry you to bed again, wrap you in silk, tuck your face against Soobin’s chest, the way he holds you like he’s keeping the whole world still with one arm.
But you don’t.
You turn your head.
Kai’s mouth is pressed against your ear, murmuring soft, sweet nothings. You slip your fingers through his hair and hold him gently. Then you look up.
At him.
Beomgyu stands just a few feet away, shirt open, belt hanging loose, his cock red and aching where he’s been stroking himself, waiting.
And that’s what gets you.
The waiting.
The fact that he wanted it so bad, but didn’t dare take it until you asked.
You open your mouth, voice gone hoarse.
“…One more, oppa?”
His eyes darken instantly. The lazy grin vanishes. He steps forward like a man possessed.
“Yeah?” he says, voice low, tight. “You want me?”
You nod. When he reaches you, you whisper it.
“Want your knot, oppa. One more. Just one.”
Beomgyu groans, deep and low, and drops to his knees.
You don’t say please. He doesn’t ask for permission.
He grabs your hips, fingers sinking into the softness there, and flips you over into his lap. The room spins. Your chest presses against Kai’s, his hands steadying you. Yeonjun brushes your hair from your eyes. Taehyun’s palm rests on your lower back.
Soobin just watches. Says nothing.
Beomgyu’s cock slides in with no resistance. You whimper, back arching.
He hisses through his teeth. “Still so fucking tight—"
He thrusts once, almost too deep, and you sob.
Then again harder and your legs shake.
Then he’s fucking you in earnest.
He fucks you like he’s been told it’s the last time. Like you might disappear if he doesn’t leave a part of himself inside you.
Kai strokes your cheek.
“You’re perfect,” he whispers.
Yeonjun’s hand brushes your hip, steadying you.
Taehyun watches Beomgyu’s cock disappear into you over and over again, his lips parted, chest heaving.
And Soobin speaks.
“Give him more.”
It’s an order.
Beomgyu slams forward.
You cry out, voice breaking, as the swell of his knot pushes against your rim, already too full, too sore, and forces in.
You convulse.
You feel the snap of your body giving in again. His knot locks in place, and he comes, spurting thick and hot. His face buries in your neck. He shakes.
“Mine,” he pants. “You’re—fuck—mine, mine, mine—”
You come again.
Clenching around him.
When he stills, still buried in you, your body slumps forward into the others.
Kai catches your weight.
Yeonjun kisses your temple.
Taehyun’s hand is on your back again.
And Soobin stands.
“You’ve had us all now,” he says, voice soft. “Sleep.”
a/n This is just a lot of smut. And powerplay. That's it. That's the chapter. You've been fairly warned. Also yes, Soobin and you and the rest of the pack had a maybe not safe and sane but very consensual conversation about doing this whenever they came back home after doing unspeakable and gristly crime.
I am a slave to feedback so if you (hopefully) enjoyed reading this, let me know. comments/reblogs = fic getting updated faster :) Thanks for reading!
masterlist
The belt falls.
A sharp crack, leather snapping across the tender curve just below your ass, and your breath shatters.
"Ah—!"
You don’t scream, not quite, but the sound is enough. Enough to echo against the marble, to wrench something primal from deep inside the pack.
Beomgyu’s chair screeches as he rises, looking half-feral. Kai gasps like he’s the one who’s been struck. Yeonjun’s hands curl into fists on the table, knuckles bone-white. Taehyun doesn’t move, but his jaw grinds, and the muscle beneath his cheek twitches with violent restraint.
But Soobin remains calm.
His hand smooths over the welt blooming beneath your robe, a single stroke that makes your knees threaten to fold. “Good,” he says softly, like it pleases him that you cried out. Because it was never about causing you pain, he just wanted to hear the sound of your obedience finally breaking loose.
“You’ll thank me,” he murmurs. “Later. When your hole’s leaking and your legs can’t hold you up.”
Another strike.
Your cry rips louder this time, raw and breathless and ruined.
The belt thuds onto the table, and Soobin finally steps back.
“Take it off,” he says.
Your fingers tremble where they reach for the belt at your waist, but you undo it anyway. Let the robe slip. The silk whispers down your arms, puddles at your feet, leaving you bare and glowing in the candlelight, thighs slick, scent heavy with need.
You hear Kai’s breath hitch. “Hyung…”
Soobin doesn’t respond. He doesn’t have to. He steps to the head of the table again, and when he speaks, it’s to the others.
“Since he wants to be loud tonight,” he says, voice cold as steel, “let’s see how long he lasts before he begs me to let him be quiet.”
You don’t move.
But you know what's coming.
Yeonjun’s chair scrapes next.
His footsteps cross the floor behind you, nearly silent, very much deliberate. You recognize them by rhythm alone. By his scent.
Leather gloves. Gun oil. Salt.
“I’m first” Yeonjun says, his voice a low vow.
You don’t speak. Instead, you move.
Your hips shift back, slow and deliberate, the curve of your spine deepening as your bare skin presses against the edge of the table. It creaks faintly beneath the weight of your submission, and the slick between your thighs shines in the low light like an invitation.
Behind you, Yeonjun stills.
Utterly.
You can feel him, not touching yet, but watching, heat pulsing from him. The silence stretches too long. The others know better than to interrupt. Even Beomgyu, who practically vibrates with impatience, keeps his mouth shut.
You don't turn to see him.
You don’t need to.
He’s shaking.
He always does when you give him this.
Because Yeonjun doesn’t want something soft. He needs it. And needing something makes him dangerous.
"Yeonjun-oppa," you whisper, just loud enough. Your voice is low, supple, pliant. Just what he needs. “Will you make it hurt?”
The sound he makes isn’t human.
Gloved hands close around your hips, dragging you back so hard your toes lift off the ground. You gasp, and he’s already there, body heat flush to your back, breath against the nape of your neck. One hand slides between your thighs, ungloved now, rough fingers spreading you with reverence edged in desperation.
“Already dripping,” he murmurs, voice raw and aching. “You want me to split you open like this?”
You nod. Barely.
He spits.
Right onto your hole. It’s filthy, almost too fast. His fingers spread it in, and you jolt forward, knuckles white on the table. He doesn’t even bother with more.
He doesn’t need to.
You gave yourself to him, and that’s worse than begging. That's an offering.
Leather brushes your inner thighs as he kneels behind you.
You don’t expect the first kiss.
But it comes, open-mouthed, pressed against the back of your thigh. Then your ass. Then the spot just beside your hole, where his breath ghosts hot and damp.
He ruins.
But he mourns what he ruins even as he does it.
You feel the scrape of teeth. A growl, low and guttural. His zipper lowers like a warning.
Then the head of his cock presses against your entrance.
You rock your hips back again, whimpering. For him. That’s what makes him lose it.
Yeonjun doesn’t ask, doesn’t bother giving a warning.
He thrusts.
The table slams forward an inch. Your cry is helpless, echoing off the walls, a hymn offered to a merciless god.
His cock stretches you wide, brutal and perfect, filling you so deep your vision whites out at the edges.
Behind you, his voice is shaking.
“Mine.”
The edge of the table bites into your hips with each thrust.
Yeonjun fucks like he’s punishing the ache in his chest, driving it into your body until his breath shudders ragged against your neck. His fingers lock around your waist like a man holding himself close to the only thing he trusts not to fall apart.
You’re the only thing he trusts. The pack are the only people he will ever fully trust.
He doesn’t say it. He never does. But the way he holds you says more than any confession ever could.
The head of his cock drags over a sensitive spot inside you, thick and blunt and aching. You moan, legs trembling. Slick coats your inner thighs, your hole stretched wide around him. Your body tightens again when he hits that same spot again and again with punishing precision.
“Fuck—fuck, look at him,” Beomgyu groans from the side, hand now shamelessly pressed to the front of his slacks. “He’s swallowing hyung’s cock like he was made for it.”
“Because he was,” Taehyun says, coldly clinical, but his voice sounds strained.
Kai doesn’t speak at all. He just stares, lips parted, eyes glassy.
Yeonjun leans over you, chest slick against your back. One hand claws over yours on the table. The other drags to your belly, pressing down possessively where his cock bulges from the inside, deep and relentless.
“You’re taking it so well,” he pants into your ear. “So fucking well, Omega. Look at you, dripping for me, choking on me, and you still haven’t begged for it.”
You whimper.
Then your voice cracks.
“Yeonjun-oppa—"
He snarls.
"—Knot me. Please. I want it. I want your knot, I want you to fuck it into me in front of everyone—please."
That’s what breaks him.
He grabs your throat, not tight enough to bruise but just enough to keep you still and buries his cock to the hilt.
You feel the knot starting to swell. It pulses at your rim, thickening slowly, forcing your body to yield. The burn is sharp, exquisite. You cry out, mouth open against your forearm, eyes wet, legs nearly giving out. He’s panting against your neck now, groaning, muttering mine mine mine.
But before it locks,
Soobin speaks.
“Stop.”
The word cuts clean across the room.
Yeonjun freezes.
The entire pack goes still.
You’re shaking. Slick. Open. Half-full of the alpha who needs you the most and he is not allowed to finish.
You turn your head, slow, dazed. Eyes meet Soobin’s.
He’s seated again, legs spread slightly, hands resting on the arms of his chair, a king awaiting tribute.
“Pull out,” he says.
Yeonjun exhales like it guts him.
“Now.”
And Yeonjun obeys.
He pulls out slowly inch by inch, trembling, his knot swollen and unsatisfied, your hole wet and gaping from the absence.
You moan, high and wrecked, collapsing forward onto your elbows. Your thighs quiver, the air cold on the mess between your legs. You’re empty, still slicking, unclaimed.
Soobin tilts his head.
“Come here,” he says. “On your knees.”
You move, a puppet cut from its strings.
Your hands rest delicately on your thighs. Your eyes lift.
“Ask me,” he says. “The way you asked him.”
You lick your lips.
“Soobin-oppa…” Your voice breaks. “Please. Please let me be knotted. I want it. I need it. Please tell me someone can claim me tonight—please.”
He watches you a moment longer.
Then nods.
“You’ll take them all,” he says. “One by one. But you won’t be knotted until I say.”
Beomgyu groans in relief. Taehyun exhales through his nose, unbuttoning his cuffs. Kai’s hand is already in his pants.
Yeonjun’s still panting behind you, cock red and leaking. This is exactly why he doesn’t like Soobin’s game. And yet, he still plays
Soobin leans forward.
“You begged so sweetly. Let’s see if your body can handle what your mouth promised.”
Your eyes flutter shut.
You breathe in through your nose, five distinct scents collapsing into something feral and intoxicating. Blood. Musk. Salted sweat. The lingering sweetness of your own slick, still running down your thighs.
Then, your voice.
“Beomgyu-oppa,” you whisper, lashes trembling, “touch me first.”
A beat of silence.
Then the chair scrapes. Fast, reckless.
“Fuck yes,” he snarls.
He’s in front of you before your next breath, dropping to his knees, dark eyes blown wide, lips already parted. His fingers are smearing against your slick the moment they land, two pushing into you with no ceremony at all. You choke on a moan, body jolting, back arching so beautifully that Yeonjun curses behind you and grabs his own cock just to stay still.
“Look at that,” Beomgyu murmurs, eyes glued to where his fingers disappear into your ruined hole. “Still open. Still greedy. Still fucking twitching for more.”
He scissors his fingers deep, crooking just right. You jerk forward with a strangled cry.
“There,” he breathes. “That’s the spot. You’ll come just like this, won’t you, little thing? Begged for knots but forgot how good fingers feel.”
You collapse into it. Your head dips low, hips rutting subtly into his hand but then someone else moves.
Kai.
He’s quiet, unseen until he always isn’t.
He slides beneath you, positioning himself between your knees, one hand sliding up the back of your thigh while the other tips your chin up with maddening gentleness.
“Sit on me,” he whispers, lips grazing yours. “Let me hold you while Hyung breaks you.”
Your legs tremble, body caught between Beomgyu’s fingers and Kai’s breath. You don’t speak, just obey.
You lower yourself into Kai’s lap, thighs bracketing his hips, his clothed cock pressing up against the slick mess between your legs. His arms wrap around your waist, deceptively soft.
“I’ll keep you together,” he promises. “While they pull you apart.”
Beomgyu’s fingers stay buried inside you as you shift, and the angle changes and fucks you deeper.
You cry out, keening into Kai’s shoulder as Beomgyu laughs, low and delighted.
“God, you’re soaked. Want another?” he asks, already sliding a third finger in beside the others.
You whimper, nod.
Kai kisses your temple.
Behind you, Yeonjun paces like a caged thing. Taehyun’s rolled his sleeves up to the elbow, still seated, but his eyes haven’t left your body for a second. Soobin hasn’t moved, hasn’t blinked. His hands are folded, one finger tapping, slow and patient, against the armrest.
He’s waiting.
Beomgyu adds the fourth.
You seize in Kai’s lap, mouth open, throat raw, your hole stretched wide around his fingers and pulsing. The burn is everything, white-hot and perfect. Kai’s hand presses low on your belly again.
“Still not full,” he murmurs against your ear. “Not even close.”
Soobin speaks.
“Taehyun.”
The beta rises smoothly. Every movement is controlled. Undeniably hard beneath his slacks, but composed as ever.
“Let’s test how long he can keep his composure.”
Your head rolls back against Kai’s shoulder, throat exposed, chest heaving as Beomgyu’s fingers thrust relentlessly into your soaked, stretched hole. The heat coils in your belly, impossible and bright but not enough. Not when Soobin hasn’t touched you. Not when he’s still clothed, still sitting there untouched by the filth he’s orchestrated.
You don’t look at Taehyun.
You look at him.
“Soobin-oppa…” Your voice is hoarse. “Make him break me.”
The reaction is immediate and absolutely devastating to the beta.
Taehyun freezes halfway to you, caught between duty and the raw, trembling line between control and ruin. You see the flicker of emotion behind his eyes, he pulse of want, sharp and fast, drowned under years of composure. But Soobin doesn’t grant him the dignity of a choice.
“Taehyun,” he says, voice a razor. “Do what he asked.”
A pause. Then:
“No restraint.”
A collective hush falls over the room.
Even Beomgyu stills his hand, fingers buried to the knuckle inside you, eyes wide and glittering with something that isn’t quite surprise. Kai’s arms tighten around you, keeping you in his lap, lips brushing your temple in silent warning: Hold on.
Taehyun steps forward.
He doesn’t rush. He never does. But when he reaches you, his eyes are darker, pupils blown, jaw set, lips pressed so tightly together they’ve gone white. He says nothing as he undoes his slacks, as he kneels between your legs and lets Beomgyu slide his fingers out, slow and wet.
Your body flutters around nothing for a heartbeat.
Then Taehyun’s cock replaces them. He doesn’t ease it in. Doesn’t try to tease either.
Just one hard, sudden thrust and you scream.
Kai catches it in his palm over your mouth.
Your back arches, thighs kicking, the table rattling from where parts of your body press against it. Taehyun’s cock is thick, smooth, deep, forcing your hole open in one brutal push. You clench around him instinctively, trying to hold on, and he groans quietly, chokes it down like the sound was pulled from his lungs against his will.
“God,” Beomgyu mutters under his breath. “Taehyunie really snapped. Look at him.”
And he has.
Your perfectly poised beta, the voice of reason—gone.
Taehyun grabs your hips with both hands, dragging you lower into Kai’s lap as he fucks up into you, merciless and precise. His thrusts are cruelly angled, punishing, forcing cries from your throat that you never meant to give. You feel every inch of him, feel how deep he reaches, how violently your body is made to take this.
Kai strokes your chest, voice in your ear. “You asked for this, darling.”
You nod. Crying now, mouth open, tears tracking clean down your cheeks, moans swallowed by Kai’s hand as Taehyun drives in again and again and again.
“I can feel you tightening,” Taehyun pants, hips snapping forward. “You’re close already. I’m not even trying to make you come.”
He is. He is, every thrust is angled like a punishment, cockhead grinding against where you’re sensitive so hard your legs twitch, your toes curl, your whole body threatens to shatter.
“Please—oppa, please, I can’t—”
“Not yet,” Soobin says.
You sob. Kai hushes you.
“You said he could break me,” you gasp. “You said no restraint”
“And I meant it.” Soobin’s voice is calm, terrifying. “But you don’t get to come until you beg him.”
Taehyun’s rhythm falters for half a beat.
You look down at him. He’s flushed, sweaty, falling apart and still holding on.
The restraint was never Soobin’s.
It was his.
You reach for his wrist.
Taehyun’s hand is tight on your hip, bruising, trying to contain himself in the controlled violence Soobin allowed but you break that hold. Fingers trembling, you guide his hand up, press it flat against your belly where his cock pushes deep inside, where you want him to feel what he’s doing to you.
His breath catches.
“Taehyun-oppa,” you whisper, voice shaking, wet and ruined. “Please.”
He blinks up at you, barely seeing, lips parted. Still moving, hips grinding into you with the kind of rhythm like he’s been waiting months, years to be given permission to lose control. But he’s still holding back. Still waiting for the edge.
“Please,” you whisper again. “Please break me.”
Your other hand touches his cheek, fingertips grazing his jaw, soft and trembling. “I want to come on your cock. I want to soak you. I want to feel you lose yourself inside me.”
His eyes roll back.
“Let me be your first, oppa,” you breathe, because you’re still playing the game and you know exactly what to say to him to win. Even if it’s a fantasy. “The first one you fuck.”
He growls. It’s not a sound heard from him often. It tears from his throat. Stripped down, Taehyun’s merely a man betrayed by his own restraint.
Then it’s gone.
All of it.
He lets go.
Your back hits the table. Kai gasps behind you as you’re ripped from his lap, bent over wood and silk, your thighs forced wide as Taehyun slams into you, cock hitting deep, precise, brutal.
You sob. Not from pain. From pleasure so intense it feels like you’re burning. Praying for salvation or destruction, you arem’t sure.
He pistons into you, merciless, his breath now frantic, mouth open, sweat dripping from his temple.
“Say it again,” he growls. “Say you’re mine—say it.”
You choke.
“I’m yours, I’m—fuck—Taehyun-oppa, I’m yours.”
You clench. The edge begins to swell.
Soobin doesn’t stop him.
And Taehyun, his control shatters.
He slams forward and forces all of his cock in, thick, blunt, stretching you wider than before. You scream, convulsing around him, body trembling violently as your orgasm rips through you like lightning down your spine.
Your come spills across the table, slick dripping onto the floor.
Taehyun bites into your shoulder.
He comes deep, cock buried inside you, body pressed flush to yours as he moans your name into your skin, whispering it like an apology or a blessing or a curse he asked to carry.
Kai is panting, stroking your hair, whispering nonsense praise against your cheek.
Beomgyu looks ready to devour you.
Yeonjun hasn’t moved, but his eyes haven’t blinked since you started screaming.
And Soobin?
He stands.
Undoes his cufflinks. Rolls his sleeves up to the elbow. Smooth, unhurried.
His voice is steady.
“Now,” he says. “Someone hold his legs open.”
Taehyun pulls out gracelessly. Your body trembles, limp across the table, throat raw, thighs soaked and glistening.
You should be empty. Spent. But the hunger inside you has only sharpened.
Soobin’s footsteps approach, measured and heavy with promise, and the air shifts with the weight of command. He’s already unbuttoned his sleeves. Veins flex at his forearms as he rolls them up.
Someone needs to hold you open.
And you reach for Yeonjun.
Your arm extends blindly behind you, slick palm curling through the air until it finds the sharp line of his wrist. He jerks like he’s been burned, still half-hard, knot swollen and aching, denied the one thing he’s wired to crave.
You turn your head, cheek pressed to the lacquered wood, eyes glassy but unyielding. Your fingers tighten around him.
“Oppa.”
He doesn’t speak.
He moves.
You hear the shudder in his breath as he comes forward, heavy boots on marble, his frame casting shadow over the table. His hands slide beneath your thighs, scarred knuckles, leather-worn fingers and he lifts them.
Yeonjun spreads you open like you’re something holy. Something sacrificial. And maybe that’s exactly what you are on nights like this.
You moan.
Yeonjun holds your thighs apart and your hole gapes invitingly, slick and twitching, dripping with their release.
“Hyung,” Beomgyu whispers from the side, breathless. “He’s still open. He’s—fuck—he’s going to take another cock”
Soobin steps between your legs.
Dark slacks. White shirt. Hands clean. Eyes unreadable.
He doesn’t speak.
Just watches as Yeonjun tilts your hips higher, your knees almost to your chest, your ass lifted so Soobin can see the mess, the ruin, the wreckage that he instigated, that somehow still pulses with want.
And then he unzips.
His cock is already hard.
Thick. Dark-veined. Too long to be kind.
You don’t want kindness though. You want to fall apart.
He drags the head through your slick folds and you twitch, eyes fluttering, your nails digging into Yeonjun’s wrist.
“I told you you’d take them all,” Soobin says at last.
Then he presses in.
The stretch is impossible. Too much. Your hole’s already ruined and Soobin is fucking huge, and yet he pushes steadily, watching your body shudder as it’s forced to yield.
You scream again.
Kai moans behind you. Beomgyu nearly drops to the floor. Taehyun just sighs, sated still.
But Yeonjun, he holds you tighter.
He whispers against your knee, breath catching on your skin.
“You’re doing so well,” he says. “Take him. Let him break you. We’ll put you back together after.”
Soobin’s cock pushes deeper.
You sob. Your body doesn’t know how to handle it, your brain short-circuiting between pleasure and agony and surrender so complete it’s like being on ecstasy.
He bottoms out.
Inside you.
It’s too big.
You can’t speak.
You can’t even breathe.
And then Soobin moves.
His hips grind in a slow, devastating rhythm, dragging thick, deliberate inches through the tight, overstretched mess of you, cock dragging against you like he wants to ruin every nerve you have left.
Your voice has long since broken.
There’s nothing left now but sound, half-sobs, ragged moans, the wet slap of skin against skin as your body is used past the point of reason.
And still you lift your chin.
You offer your throat, soft, exposed, slick with sweat.
Soobin pauses mid-thrust.
For the first time, he exhales like he’s lost something. The clench of his jaw eases. The line of his shoulders falters. Only slightly but enough.
Because you haven’t begged.
You could.
You’ve begged for knots. For hands. For cock.
But for his mark?
You offer.
And he understands the difference.
The next thrust is deep, a deliberate grind down, stretching you wider. You cry out, and Yeonjun groans, his fingers tightening on the backs of your thighs like he’s holding down an altar that might otherwise rise to heaven.
Soobin leans forward.
His hand comes to your jaw, tilting it gently. His cock stays buried inside you, his gaze dragging over your throat like a sword choosing where to fall.
Your scent is blooming now, thick with surrender, sticky with slick and sweetness and the wild ache of being so completely theirs.
His lips find your pulse.
He lingers there.
You feel his breath, slow and steady.
Then, finally, teeth.
He sinks them in.
Your body convulses.
The mark burns. It’s not pain, not quite, but something deeper. It feels like blood remembering who it belongs to. Like muscle re-aligning to crave his touch. The bite sends shockwaves through your whole body.
Soobin doesn’t move.
Just drinks you in.
Then pulls back slowly, blood blooming at your throat in two perfect crescents, and licks it clean.
Soobin looks down at you, still impaled on his cock, mouth slick with your blood.
“You’ll take us all,” he says again. “But I always leave the first claim.”
And you can only nod.
You sag forward.
Limbs trembling, jaw slack, breath ragged against the polished wood as your body throbs, stuffed full and leaking from every hole. Soobin’s come still trickles inside you, warmth sinking deep, claim written in your blood. Yeonjun hasn’t let go of your legs. His grip is bruising now.
You feel the table shudder when Beomgyu stands.
“Fuck, baby.” His voice cracks like glass under pressure. “You look like an offering.”
Your eyes lift barely.
You reach one hand forward, fingers curling lazily in the air.
“Come fuck my mouth, oppa.”
He groans.
It’s guttural. His belt is gone in seconds, pants shoved down just far enough. His cock is flushed, leaking, angry with denial and the moment you open your mouth, he’s there.
He doesn’t ease in.
Beomgyu never does.
He grabs a fistful of your hair and thrusts into your mouth, head thrown back with a hissed “Yes.” Your lips stretch wide, tongue slick under him, nose buried against his pelvis in seconds. You gag once but he moans like he wants the resistance.
“Fuck, I’ve missed this throat. Missed you like this,” he pants, rolling his hips. “My cock down your throat while Soobin-hyung inside you… God, you’re so fucking greedy—”
Then Kai moves.
Quiet as always. Invisible until the moment he isn’t.
He slips under the table, the soft brush of his hair against your calf the only warning before his tongue presses between your thighs.
You jolt violently around every cock inside you.
Kai moans into the mess of your hole, his hole, his precious, ruined omega split around Soobin. He drinks it in, tongue sliding along the split of you, tasting slick and semen and iron-tinged blood that dripped where Soobin marked you.
“Sweet,” Kai murmurs against your skin.
His tongue pushes in, into you, sliding between the edges of your stretched rim, licking around the cock still pulsing inside you, lapping up the mixture with slow, obscene delight. Soobin hisses at the sensation before pulling out without any warning.
You scream around Beomgyu’s cock.
You convulse, body arching off the table. Yeonjun tightens his grip to hold you down. Beomgyu moans brokenly, rocking harder into your mouth.
“Soobin, look at him,” Beomgyu gasps. “He’s choking and dripping and still asking for more,”
“I see him,” Soobin says calmly, now seated, Taehyun on his lap.
Kai hums in agreement.
“I want to eat him every time he begs.”
His lips suck at your entrance now, slick-slick-slick as he laps every drop of seed that leaks out of you, humming contentedly.
You suck Beomgyu harder, jaw aching, spit spilling from your lips. His moans rise in pitch. He’s close. You can feel the tremble in his thighs, the way his thrusts lose rhythm.
He hisses, hips jerking.
“I’m—fuck, I’m coming—”
He pushes deep, and you take it, mouth full, throat fluttering, his come spilling down your tongue.
Beomgyu’s whole body shakes as he groans your name and shudders.
At the same time, Kai moans beneath you. Your hole pulses around his tongue.
“I want to be inside,” he whispers.
You swallow Beomgyu’s come. Let your lips part as he pulls out, cock dragging from your mouth wet and spent, his breath ragged above you. His hand lingers in your hair, still curled, still trembling. You don't thank him.
You shift your head to the side.
You can feel Soobin’s come sliding out, and Kai’s mouth is gone now, replaced by the ghost of something harder, hot skin nudging at your rim, tip of his cock wet, wanting.
But he waits.
You feel his breath on your thigh.
He knows better.
And so do you.
You lift your head.
Find Soobin’s eyes across the table again, calm as death. You can’t kneel, not with your legs barely holding weight, but your voice is steady when it breaks the quiet:
“Oppa. Who gets it next?”
The others still.
Kai’s cock pulses behind you. Yeonjun’s hands haven’t moved from your thighs. Soobin’s expression doesn’t shift.
Only his fingers twitch once on the arm of his chair. Taehyun leans against him, boneless and spent.
He lifts Taehyun gently from his lap, stands again, and sets the beta on the chair like a ragdoll. Walks to you with slow, measured steps, and tilts your chin up with the barest edge of pressure. Your throat is still bleeding slightly. His mark. His claim. You feel him look at it. Then at you.
“I said you’d take them all,” he says. “And you will.”
A beat.
“Beomgyu fucked your mouth. Taehyun fucked your hole. Yeonjun-hyung hasn’t had you yet.”
Yeonjun’s breath catches. His grip tightens.
Kai’s fingers tremble on your ass.
“And Kai-oppa?” you whisper. “He’s waiting.”
Soobin’s lips curl, just slightly.
“He can wait longer.”
Kai whimpers softly behind you. Beomgyu huffs, but doesn’t argue. Because it’s Soobin’s game. Only Soobin gets to decide. Only he hands out your body tonight.
“Yeonjun-hyung,” Soobin says, stepping aside.
“Take him.”
You feel Yeonjun shudder.
Yeonjun doesn’t make you wait.
He pushes in, and you scream again because never ready for how he fucks. He sheaths himself in one stroke.
And groans, low and wrecked, against your shoulder.
“You asked,” he breathes, thrusting deep.
“Now take it.”
Yeonjun drives into you with the force of a man who has waited too long and now worships only through destruction.
Every thrust is brutal and deep, punching breath from your lungs, the wet slap of his hips against your ass drowned by the wreckage of your own moans. Your hole, swollen and overused, clenches down on him instinctively, milking him for every inch.
Your hand finds Kai’s shoulder, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, and you pull him forward.
He gasps, eyes wide, lips parted in shock as your free hand slides down to his belt.
“Come here, oppa,” you whisper, voice hoarse, throat red from Beomgyu, blood still faint on your lips from Soobin. “You’ve waited long enough.”
He nods frantically, breath catching.
Your fingers make quick work of his belt, then his fly, then he’s freed, hot and flushed and leaking from being edged by the sight of your ruin. You guide his cock to your lips, and he stares down at you like he’s about to cry.
Yeonjun thrusts deep again hard and you choke around Kai’s tip as it slides into your mouth.
It’s obscene.
Yeonjun behind you, grinding into your soaked hole. Kai in front of you, whimpering as your tongue laps around his cock, lips tight, cheeks hollowing as you take him all.
His hands flail for something to hold. One finds your jaw. The other braces on the table. His thighs tremble beneath your grip.
“Fuck—fuck, Omega,” Kai moans, hips jerking forward before he stifles himself, trying not to thrust too hard. “You’re—you’re too good—”
“Let him,” Soobin’s voice cuts in, dark and amused. “He needs it.”
Kai moans.
And then he fucks your mouth sweet at first, then reckless. Desperate. His thighs slap against your face as your lips stretch wide, saliva spilling down your chin, your moans swallowed around him.
Yeonjun groans low behind you, cock rutting into your hole now in sharp, possessive snaps.
“So tight still,” he grits. “Even after Taehyun. Even after Soobin. You keep pulling me in like you need it.”
You do.
Kai's hips stutter. You feel the telltale twitch in his cock, the choked sounds escaping his throat. His hands slide into your hair, gentle even now.
“I—Omega, I’m gonna—*fuck—*can I—?”
Soobin answers for you, calm and final:
“In his mouth. And don’t pull out.”
Kai’s moan is shattered.
He buries himself deep and comes hard, hot spurts filling your throat as you groan around him, lips sealed, swallowing everything he gives you. He cries out your name, hand shaking against your scalp, thighs trembling.
Yeonjun doesn’t stop.
If anything, your swallowing tightens your hole, and his groan breaks.
You pull back from Kai’s softening cock with a gasp, spit and come dripping from your chin. You turn your head enough to meet Soobin’s eyes again, mouth ruined, throat sore, hole still full.
You’re nothing but trembling muscle and devotion.
And he smiles.
“You’re ready now,” he says. “Beomgyu. Finish the job.”
Yeonjun groans against your back, cock pulsing as he finally spends himself inside you thick and molten, a slow flood of heat spilling into your ruined, twitching hole. He doesn’t knot.
He never does. Not without permission. And you didn’t give it.
Instead, you brace yourself on shaking arms as he slides free with a slick shhlk, your body collapsing open. You hear him curse behind you, hear the wet drag of his cock against his thigh, still hard but disciplined.
Then Beomgyu laughs.
Low. Dark. A sound full of promise.
“Finally.”
He moves fast.
Boots heavy, cock already in his hand, spit-slick and flushed angry red at the tip. You barely have time to shift before his fingers grip your hips, sliding through the mess between your thighs.
“Still warm,” he purrs, pressing the head of his cock against your spent hole. “Still open. Still mine.”
Then he shoves.
You scream.
There’s no patience. Just Beomgyu's cock punching deep into the heat left behind by three others, slicked with their come, stretched by Taehyun's cock, burned in by Soobin’s mark and still not enough.
He groans, head thrown back. “Fucking—Omega—"
His hips snap forward again. And again.
He fucks like chaos. Like a man who doesn't ask. Who takes. Who dares to believe your body was made for his cock alone and needs to be reminded who it belongs to.
Kai gasps behind you, watching, eyes wide and glassy. Yeonjun sinks into a chair, breath still ragged. Taehyun is sitting up now, flushed and silent, watching the bounce of your body on Beomgyu’s cock like he might break again.
Soobin stands, hands behind his back, saying nothing.
Beomgyu grips your ass tighter. His pace is vicious. There’s no rhythm nor reason, just raw need. He presses a thumb to your hole where his cock stretches you obscenely, smearing come and slick around your rim.
"You feel that?" he growls. "That’s all of us, baby. Soobin-hyung's come. Taehyun’s cock. Kai's tongue. Yeonjun-hyung's cock. And now—" his thrust knocks the wind from your lungs, "—me."
Your moans are raw. Half-sobs. You're not crying but close. Your body can’t tell the difference anymore.
And still he doesn't stop.
You feel the swell begin.
His knot. It feels too thick. Brutal.
“Beg for it,” he hisses. “Beg me to break you open again.”
You do.
You whimper, “Please, oppa, knot me—I want it, I want all of you inside, I want to be full—”
He loses it.
Slams forward, knot forcing in with a sickening, perfect stretch, and you scream as your hole clamps tight, locking him inside with a messy pop. He groans, spilling into you with a pulse that makes your legs shake, your back arch, your eyes roll back.
He bites your shoulder. Hard.
You come. Again.
Spasming under him, sobbing into the table, your body trembles like a puppet with strings cut. Beomgyu's breath stutters against your skin, one last thrust grinding into your overstretched hole, knot throbbing as he empties everything he is into you.
He pulls out a while later.
And you collapse.
But not for long.
You lift your head.
Turn your face to Soobin.
And crawl.
One ruined hand after the next across the floor, slick dripping down your thighs, your hole gaping, red and used. Your scent is thick enough to choke the air.
You reach his feet.
He looks down at you.
You climb into his lap.
He parts his legs and lets you straddle him, your spent body trembling against his chest, arms wrapped weakly around his neck.
You look into his eyes, barely whispering.
“I want your cock last, oppa.”
Soobin’s hand comes to your back. Gentle.
“Then you’ll have it.”
Soobin's thighs are hot beneath you, iron tension beneath a layer of tailored wool, his slacks still undone from earlier. You settle over him and his hands come to your waist immediately.
But you don't need his grip to move.
You ride.
One slow, trembling lift of your hips, slick dripping down the inside of your thighs, hole raw and ruined from every cock that came before and then you sink down onto him.
Soobin groans.
A single, low sound—fuuuck—ripped from his throat like it was dragged out with a knife. And you’re the knife.
He lets you take him.
Lets you set the pace. And it burns.
He’s thick. Too thick. His cock stretches you. You could be exaggerating but it feels like the first time, and maybe it is, because no matter how many times he’s inside you, it’s always new. Always a slow, surgical conquest.
Your palms brace on his shoulders, slick skin against his shirt. He doesn’t flinch at the mess. You lift again, thighs shaking, then drop. Grind. Take him deeper.
Your hole twitches.
“Fuck, you’re still open,” Beomgyu groans from across the room, shirt half-off, jaw slack. “You’re dripping all of us around his cock, look at that.”
Kai kneels nearby, hands on his knees.
Yeonjun sits in silence. His cock’s in his fist again. Taehyun is still. But his eyes never leave you. His mouth never moves. His hand is curled so tight in his lap, you wonder if his nails draw blood.
Soobin’s hand rises.
He brushes a strand of hair from your sweat-streaked face. His fingers linger at your cheek, tracing the blood he left in your throat with his bite.
“You waited for this,” he says, voice low.
You nod. Ride harder. Your thighs quake. Your mouth opens in another silent cry. You know how his game ends.
Soobin’s other hand grabs your ass now, guiding your rhythm. Still not taking charge. Still giving you the reins.
Your rhythm stutters. You clench around him. You feel the stretch of something blooming inside. Your climax is building again, third or fourth or—what does it matter now?
Your body’s his.
You throw your head back, riding faster, the slap of your skin against his now lewd and wet and filthy.
“Come on, wife,” Soobin breathes, voice close to breaking. “Show them who you belong to.”
You shatter. Violently.
Your hole clamps down, every muscle drawn tight as your orgasm rips through you with punishing force, your come splattering against his stomach, your body jerking uncontrollably in his lap.
And that’s when he moves.
Grabs your waist.
Lifts you.
Slams you down.
Once.
Twice.
Three brutal thrusts up into your body and then he knots.
It forces inside with cruel pressure. You cry out again, body locking as his cock seals itself in your ruined hole. His arms wrap around you, chest to chest, as he comes deep, filling you a second time.
You sob in his arms. He doesn’t let you fall.
His lips come to your ear, breath warm, voice soft.
“You’re ours now.”
And you nod.
Because there’s nothing else left to say.
Soobin doesn’t move at first.
His cock pulses deep inside you still knotted, still filling you with warmth that leaks out slowly,. His arms are tight around your waist. He rests his forehead on your shoulder.
You feel the tension bleeding out of all of them, uncoiling from their bodies quietly.
Across the room, Beomgyu is sprawled on the floor, shirt unbuttoned and chest rising with deep, even breaths. His smile is soft now. He watches you with something almost gentle in his eyes.
Kai curls at the foot of the table, arms around his knees, cheek resting on the edge.
Taehyun has returned to his chair. His hands are open now, resting palm-up on his thighs like he’s finally let go of something he didn’t know he was holding.
Yeonjun hasn't spoken since he finished. But he's standing again, quiet in the dim light, his shirt gone, belt discarded. He watches you like he’s memorizing your breathing.
Soobin’s knot softens slowly.
You shift in his lap, breath trembling, and he lifts you in one motion, one arm beneath your thighs, the other at your back. You make a soft sound, half-asleep already, and your head finds the curve of his shoulder instinctively.
And just like that, they follow.
Yeonjun is first. He gathers the discarded robe, tucks it gently around your shoulders. Beomgyu stretches his arms behind his head and laughs under his breath.
“About time,” he says. “If he stayed on that table any longer, I’d have asked for round two.”
“You still can’t walk straight,” Kai murmurs with a grin, and Beomgyu flips him off without getting up.
Taehyun is silent as he trails behind, lights dimming automatically as he passes. The house shifts with him into calm.
They don’t speak as they carry you to the bedroom.
It’s an expansive quiet space. Still scented faintly of the candle Kai lit before they left, the one you insisted on burning before every night that you know will end like this. You don’t stir as Soobin lays you in the center of the bed, your bed, their bed, theirs and yours. The silk robe pools around your waist. Your thighs are still faintly sticky. Your throat is marked.
They tend to you carefully but none of them wipe you clean.
Not tonight. Not when their instincts have just settled.
Yeonjun slides in first, taking the left side, your back pressed to his chest. Beomgyu wedges in on Yeonjun’s other side. Kai tucks himself between your legs, head resting on your stomach, fingers tracing lazy shapes over your skin.
Taehyun settles at the foot of the bed, then shifts upward, finally letting himself curl around your ankles, his hand ghosting over the bruises forming on your thighs.
Soobin’s last.
He turns out the final light, then climbs in beside you, fitting his body along the curve of yours, arms folding over your chest. His breath brushes your ear. His voice is low.
“You were good,” he murmurs. “Ours.”
You don’t reply.
You’re already asleep.
Their breathing slows one by one, the sharp edges from the night, blood under their fingernails, rage behind their eyes, the weight of everything they did in the dark, dissolving in the heat of your skin. Fucked out of their system.
This is what they killed for. This is what they come home to.
Summary: You’ve been in TXT’s circle forever, oblivious to Yeonjun’s not-so-subtle feelings about you
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1.7k
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You’d been part of TXT’s orbit for so long that the dorm felt more like a second home than your own apartment ever did. Pre-debut days, cramped practice rooms, late-night convenience store runs, somehow you’d become the sixth member without anyone ever voting on it. The boys called you their “lucky charm,” the one who showed up with iced coffees during comeback hell weeks and knew exactly which member needed a quiet pep talk versus a loud distraction.
Tonight was no different. Mario Kart flickered across the TV while the five of them lounged out. across the sectional like overgrown puppies. Beomgyu had claimed the spot right next to you, one long leg thrown over your lap, head resting on your shoulder as he trash-talked Taehyun. You laughed when Gyu dramatically threw his controller after losing Rainbow Road for the third time, ruffling his hair.
“Hyung, your girlfriend is laughing at me again,” Beomgyu whined toward Yeonjun, who was sitting on your other side with suspiciously perfect posture.
Yeonjun didn’t look up from the screen. “She’s not my girlfriend, Gyu. And you suck at this game.”
His ears were pink. They always went pink when Beomgyu made those jokes lately but you didn’t notice. You never noticed.
Soobin, stretched out on the floor like a very tall cat, caught Yeonjun’s eye and raised one eyebrow. The universal Soobin signal for I see you, idiot.
Yeonjun looked away fast and reached for the half-empty bag of shrimp chips on the coffee table. He didn’t like shrimp chips. You did. He tilted the bag toward you without a word.
“Thanks, Junnie,” you said, grabbing a handful. His fingers brushed yours for half a second longer than necessary. You didn’t even bat an eye.
The next morning you woke up on the dorm couch under a blanket that definitely hadn’t been there when you passed out at 3 a.m. Your favorite hoodie, the black one you’d stolen from Yeonjun years ago, was folded neatly on the armrest. A glass of water and two painkillers sat beside it like a silent offering.
You padded into the kitchen, still half-asleep, and found Yeonjun at the stove. He was shirtless under a half-tied apron, sweatpants slung low, hair still messy from sleep. The smell of perfectly crispy bacon and eggs filled the air.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” he said without turning around. His voice had that early-morning rasp you secretly loved. “Figured you’d be hungover from all the yelling Gyu did last night.”
You hopped onto the counter beside the stove, legs swinging. “You didn’t have to cook. I could’ve grabbed something on the way home.”
He plated the food with way more care than necessary, bacon arranged in a little heart shape, eggs sunny-side up exactly the way you liked them. “It was already in the fridge. No big deal.” He shrugged, but his cheeks were flushed. He blamed the stove.
Soobin wandered in, hair sticking up like a baby chick, and took one look at the plate. Then at Yeonjun’s face. Then at you. He smirked into his glass of milk.
“Hyung’s domestic era continues,” Soobin muttered, just loud enough for Yeonjun to hear.
“Shut up,” Yeonjun hissed, elbowing him.
You blinked. “What?”
“Nothing,” they said at the same time.
Beomgyu burst in next, still in pajamas, and immediately draped himself over your back like a koala. “Noona, save me from Taehyun. He’s making me do vocal warm-ups before coffee again.”
You laughed and fed him a piece of bacon straight from Yeonjun’s plate. Yeonjun’s smile tightened, but he turned back to the stove before you could see.
The pattern kept repeating.
You mentioned in passing that your apartment AC was acting up. Two days later Yeonjun showed up at your door with a massive standing fan he “found in the storage room” (it still had the price tag from the store down the street). He spent forty minutes assembling it in your tiny living room, shirt riding up every time he reached for a screw. When you offered to help he waved you off, insisting he had it. By the time he finished he was sweaty and triumphant, and you hugged him in thanks. He hugged back a little too tightly, nose buried in your hair for three full seconds before he pulled away muttering something about needing to get back to the dorm.
You thought it was just Yeonjun being Yeonjun, the caretaker, the oldest, the one who fixed things.
Soobin knew better though. One afternoon in the practice room you were laying on the floor scrolling your phone while the boys ran through choreography. Beomgyu flopped down beside you, sweaty and grinning, and started poking your cheek with one finger.
“Gyu, you’re gross,” you giggled, shoving him.
Yeonjun missed a step. Just a tiny stumble, but Taehyun noticed and shot him a look. Soobin, standing at the front as usual, didn’t miss it either. After practice, while you were in the hallway grabbing water, Soobin pulled Yeonjun into the corner by the mirrors.
“Hyung.”
“Don’t start.”
“You’re not slick.”
Yeonjun ran a hand through damp hair. “She laughs at everything he says. She lets him climb all over her like a jungle gym. What am I supposed to think?”
Soobin’s voice was gentle but merciless. “She lights up when you walk in the room. She keeps that hoodie you gave her two years ago like it’s sacred. She ate the heart-shaped bacon without comment because she thinks it’s just how you are. You’re killing yourself with these little domestic stunts and she still doesn’t know because you’re too scared to say it out loud.”
Yeonjun stared at the floor. “If she liked me she would’ve said something by now. We’ve known each other forever.”
“Exactly,” Soobin said. “Forever. Some people need a push.”
That push came on a rainy Friday night after the final concert of their mini-tour.
The dorm was packed. Takeout boxes everywhere, fairy lights strung up because Huening Kai insisted it felt cozier. You were wedged between Yeonjun and Beomgyu on the couch again, a blanket over all three of you because the AC was blasting. Beomgyu kept stealing bites of your tteokbokki and making exaggerated happy noises every time. You were laughing, head tipped back against the cushions, when Yeonjun suddenly stood up.
“I need air,” he muttered.
You watched him slide open the balcony door and step out into the drizzle. The city lights blurred behind the rain-streaked glass.
Beomgyu nudged you. “Go check on him. He’s been weird all week.”
You hesitated, then grabbed a hoodie and slipped outside.
Yeonjun was leaning on the railing, elbows braced, hair getting wet. He didn’t turn when you closed the door behind you.
“Junnie?”
He exhaled, long and shaky. “If you like Gyu, just tell me. I’ll stop.”
You blinked water out of your lashes. “Stop what?”
“Stop cooking for you. Stop fixing your AC. Stop folding your stupid hoodie. Stop… wanting to be the one who makes you smile like that.” His voice cracked. “I thought if I just did enough little things you’d see me. But you only ever see him.”
The rain picked up. You stepped closer until your sneakers touched his.
“Yeonjun.”
He finally looked at you. Eyes wide, vulnerable in a way he never let the cameras catch.
“I’ve been in love with you since we were trainees,” you said, voice soft but steady. “Since the first time you stayed up all night helping me with Korean homework even though you were exhausted. Since you let me cry on your shoulder after my first big fight with my family and didn’t say a single teasing word. I thought you were just being the responsible hyung. I thought you saw me as the annoying little sister who never left.”
His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
“You… what?”
You laughed, wet and disbelieving. “I thought you liked teasing me because I was safe. I thought the domestic stuff was just you being you. I had no idea it was for me.”
Yeonjun made a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. Then his hands were on your face, gentle at first, thumbs brushing rain from your cheeks like he was memorizing you. The kiss started soft, like he still couldn’t believe this was real. Then you rose onto your toes and he tilted his head and it turned hungry, years of swallowed feelings pouring out all at once. One hand slid into your wet hair, the other pressed against your lower back, pulling you flush against him.
When you finally broke apart, foreheads touching, he was smiling so wide it looked like it hurt.
“I thought I was being so subtle,” he whispered.
“You were an idiot,” you whispered back, grinning.
The balcony door slid open. Soobin stood there, arms crossed, looking unbearably smug.
“Finally,” he said. “I was about to lock you two out here.”
Behind him the rest of the members had crowded into the doorway.
Taehyun snorted. “Took you long enough, hyung. We all knew except the two of you.”
Huening Kai clapped his hands together. “Group hug! Right now! This is historic!”
Yeonjun groaned but didn’t let go of you. “Five minutes. Give us five minutes.”
“Ten,” you corrected, already pulling him back in for another kiss.
Soobin quietly closed the door behind them, muttering, “About damn time,” before the chaos inside erupted into cheers and wolf-whistles.
Later, when the rain had slowed to a drizzle and the members had finally given you both some space, mostly by force of Taehyun dragging Beomgyu away, Yeonjun tugged you down onto the balcony couch. He wrapped the hoodie around both of you like a cocoon.
“So,” he said, voice low and warm against your temple, “does this mean I can stop pretending I ‘found’ that fan in storage?”
You laughed into his chest. “You can stop pretending about a lot of things.”
He pressed a kiss to your hair. “Good. Because I’ve got a list. Starting with calling you baby in front of the others just to watch Gyu’s face.”
You swatted his arm. He caught your hand and laced your fingers together. The boys were already arguing over what to call the new couple in the group chat. You didn’t care what they named it, you were just happy.
Summary: A little picnic & book date with your favorite person in the whole wide world.
Fluff, Established Relationship
Word Count: 1,123
Juyeon X Reader
[A/n: Today is @jinkoh’s birthday!! 🎉 Thus!! 🥹 Happy Birthday, Kebbi! 🥳🎉🎊 I hope your birthday is filled with fun and this year is wonderful to you! Hab dich lieb~ 🥹💖I kept thinking about how you have your book goal this year, so I thought our resident bookworm would be perfect to read and spend your birthday with! (Also, I feel like the ending feels a little cartoonish, but I wanted to give you something dreamy and gentle, so I hope that comes off instead <3)]
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Juyeon pulled out all the stops he could possibly think of, from the way he steeped your tea and poured it into pretty travel mugs, to the way he delicately arranged everything into the basket. He wanted it to be perfect for you, so he took his time with each step making sure not to forget anything before he headed to the park that you agreed to meet at. He asked you not to bring anything but your current book, you agreed, and he couldn’t be happier. He knew you would love a quiet day out, where you both celebrated in your own way.
He grins as he finally spots you walking towards him on the sidewalk. You looked breathtaking today, you’re always beautiful in his eyes, but today? It felt like the sun was shining specifically on you casting you in a warm glow, like it knows today is your special day. So, it has to treat you special. He picks up his pace to meet you, and he grins as you wave at him and he waves back. When your shoes touch, he grins, reaching his hand out to yours and you let him take it and he pulls it up to his lips to leave a gentle kiss on top of it before he tells you with a grin blossoming across his face, “Happy birthday, baby.” You smile and tell him a soft, ‘thank you’ before he leads you into the park, hand in hand.
When you find the perfect spot in the vast park, where there’s enough shade, but still some sunshine peeking through. Juyeon pulls out a soft lemon-patterned throw and lays it on the ground. You can’t help but giggle to yourself as you ask, “Did you theme this around me?” He looks up from the blanket he was smoothing out on the ground, not expecting that question, “Yeah… it’s your birthday.” You hum, silently grinning at the thought he put into this already, “It is.” He smiles and gets up from the ground to take your hand and helps you down onto the soft blanket.
While Juyeon gets his book out to read, you flip yours open to the last page you read. You peek over the page to see him scooting closer to you before his legs are brushing against yours and you grin to yourself before you rest your head on his shoulder to read. You grin as you read how the character’s inner world gets richer as they finally look within and find the love that they always wanted was inside of themselves all along. You feel so proud and can’t help but giggle from how fitting it is to read about the character celebrating their birthday in a way that makes them happy. And you look over to see Juyeon looking at you with fondness, “What?” And he grins, “I love hearing you giggle.” And so, you tell him all about why you giggled and he can’t help but share your laughter feeling proud of the character in your book as well.
You finish the second to last chapter, before you close your book and wait for Juyeon to finish his before he eagerly tells you about the dream department store he was reading. When he finishes, he reaches in and pulls out the little pastries and tea he got just for the occasion. And you can’t help but grin as he informs you about the raspberry cheesecake tea, he found that reminded him of you. You try it eagerly, and grin as the flavor reminds you of your favorite cheesecake tea.
He puts out his tea to you and asks, “Cheers to being older?” You nod and clink your travel mugs together, “Cheers to being wiser~” He grins and you both take a sip together. You both take your time eating the little pastries he packed for you two, sharing little conversations as you do. And it all feels right. It feels gentle and easy just like how you wanted to spend your birthday. When most of the treats have been eaten, he asks, “Do you want to go on the trail?” Your eyes shine at him as you eagerly nod, and he gets up from the blanket before he holds his hand out to you and helps you up.
His big hand cradles yours softly before your fingers intertwine themselves between his. You both walk leisurely, leaving your birthday picnic behind for the moment. The flowers and the trees that grow alongside the trail are just breathtaking. But if you were to ask Juyeon, you’re the most breathtaking sight to take in as you walked along the trail.
When you reach the clearing, where a glistening pond sits, you both stand side by side, hand in hand, taking it in. And you gasp as you see the family of geese. And he looks over at you slowly, not quite catching what you see until you point it out for him. He grins as he finally spots the graylag goose and the little goslings trailing behind their momma, who paddles quickly through the water. You watch as she makes sure her goslings get up on the shore where her partner waits before she flips back into the pond to enjoy her swim.
When you turn to Juyeon again to say something about the goslings, you find him already staring at you. And you raise your brow and he says, “The sun is shining perfectly on you right now.” You look down to notice the rays that dance through rays over your outfit before you look back up at him, “Yeah?” And he grins as he reaches and tucks the hair that you didn’t notice had fallen against your cheek, behind your ear. Before he slowly leans in and gives you a soft kiss.
When he pulls away you can’t help but grin, “Again?” His eyes turn into soft little crescents as he agrees, “Again.” You grin and he kisses you tenderly, the sun shines perfectly down on you two. And if this was a cartoon, you know the geese would be shushing their goslings from their giggles and ‘awes’ at your public display of affection. When you pull away this time, you both can’t help the soft blushes that dance across your cheeks. He kisses your forehead before he whispers, “Happy birthday, baby.” You smile and lean in for another kiss which he eagerly gives back before you walk back to your birthday picnic, with his hand in your back pocket and yours in his. And you already know you’re going to spend the rest of the evening reading and snacking together before the sunsets, and reveals the shimmering night sky.
