Hello! Just to make sure it’s restated, this is my running tbr blog; I often don’t have time to get into a fic when I come across it, so I like to save it for later! The way I tag these are by group and usually a couple of versions of the name/s of the member/s (or ot# if it’s the whole group). If it’s a fic I really liked, I’ll usually tag it as “rec” and I’ve been trying to get better about adding my thoughts with it. If it’s a rec list made by someone, I’ll usually follow the aforementioned tags but add a “rec list”.
IMPORTANT TO NOTE: this is a side blog, so all my likes come from my main (@/lissiesykes). So if you’re like “wow, this blog only liked/reblogged and not the other!”, fear not because they’re just under two URL’s.
Being a pretty human in the wrong place at the wrong time and catching Beomgyu’s eye. He was out on a hunt and happened to see you at the festival. What was he meant to do after locking eyes with you? Not talk to you?
He really wouldn’t have done anything! Just wanted to chat for a bit. If you knew any better, he wouldn’t have even gotten hooked. But you’re just a girl visiting her family in a far off village. You don’t know of the fae or their customs. You don’t know just how much a name is worth. Or how much favors mean.
He simply walked up to you and you started chattering like you were old friends. Telling him about your family and how you were visiting your sister and her husband. Yapping about how fall looks so different in this village. And then you just had to ask for directions. What was Beomgyu meant to do? Leave you alone? Let you get lost? Oh, sweet girl, you should know better. Did your sister not tell you of the creatures lurking?
When he gives you directions, he asks for your name in exchange. And yet again, you do not know better. Letting him know so easily and asking for his in return. Of course he gives you a nickname, but you’re none the wiser. He goes back to his coven with a spring in his step.
Going straight to Kai and Yeonjun because Soobin and Taehyun are cold sticklers. They say mixing with humans for any other purpose than hunting is useless. Well, Beomgyu thinks they just don’t like fun. When he takes Yeonjun and Kai to see you, they’re instantly enamored. They simply can’t let you leave. It wouldn’t be right!
How would they be able to exist without you? And you’d do better too! Being brought into a world of wonder and magic! Sure, it’ll get a bit dangerous but no life is completely safe! All it takes is a few sweet words and suddenly you’re trapped in a house with five fae. Two that hate you and want you dead and three that like you so much so fast it should really be considered obsession. But, hey, that’s how you know it real!
It’s still softcore Sunday so u know what that means… 🧜🏻♀️
Mermaid Seulgi who likes to have a little cove to visit her human at night when all the surfers are gone ✨ she chastises u if u don’t bring a flashlight or at least follow the bioluminescent algae trail she left swimming to meet u 🩵 brings u beautiful shells from her adventures underwater, always making sure no sea creatures are disturbed 🐚 “this one’s a cowrie! It’s got lovely spots on it - and this one I call an ice cream cone, but it’s technically a cerith, aren’t they lovely?” 🪸 she’d also tell u all about the fish she’s seen and let u sketch them in ur ocean journal, recounting every detail from the fin length to common areas they’re found in to vivid colors 🐠 and she’d make certain that you got home safely by tracking you on her shellphone of course! How else is she supposed to make sure the cute little human is tucked safely into bed with her shell pillows and soft-as-jellyfish blankets? 🪼
Synopsis: When your sister tries to steal Seungmin, he makes one thing painfully clear: he only has eyes for you.
A/n: omgg this took so long to edit ive been putting this off for ages but i finally did it! I also couldn’t help but sprinkle in some poly skz x reader lmaooa
Wc: 20.1k
The first warning came when your sister texted you three times that morning to ask exactly when you and Seungmin would be arriving. The second came when she opened the front door wearing a dress you distinctly remembered her describing as far too nice for family things.
You looked at her. She looked at you.
Neither of you said anything for a moment. Then Seungmin appeared behind you, one hand holding a neatly wrapped cake box and the other resting comfortably against the small of your back. “Hi,” he said brightly. Your sister’s entire expression changed.
“Seungmin.” She smiled as though she had been expecting him personally. “Finally.” You glanced over your shoulder at him. He glanced down at you. His eyebrows lifted slightly.
Finally? You bit the inside of your cheek. Your sister stepped aside to let you both in, although she somehow managed to position herself so Seungmin had to pass close to her. He murmured a polite thank you and guided you ahead of him with a gentle hand at your waist. You had been dating long enough that the gesture barely registered anymore. Seungmin was always touching you in small, absent-minded ways—his fingers brushing yours as you walked, his palm settling on your knee beneath tables, his hand finding the back of your coat when you crossed a road.
It was rarely dramatic. It was simply constant. Your sister noticed. Her gaze dropped to his hand before moving back to his face.
“You look different in person,” she told him. Seungmin paused while removing his shoes. “Do I?” “Better.”
You turned away before either of them could see your smile. Seungmin placed his shoes neatly beside yours, then leaned closer to whisper, “Am I supposed to say she does too?” “No.” “Good.”
You elbowed him lightly. He caught your arm and squeezed it against his side, looking pleased with himself. Your sister was still watching. “You brought something?” she asked, nodding towards the box in his hand.
“Cake,” Seungmin said. “Your mum said she liked the one from that bakery near our flat.” “That was thoughtful.” “She sent him a photograph of it with the address circled,” you said. Seungmin looked offended.
“She provided helpful guidance.” “She threatened to disown me if we arrived without it.” “Still thoughtful.” “You didn’t even pay for it.”
“I carried it.” “You made me carry it on the train.” “For part of the journey.” “You said your arm hurt.”
“It did.” “Because you spent the entire morning playing games.” Seungmin smiled at your sister. “She has no sympathy for my suffering.” “None,” you confirmed.
Your sister laughed a little too enthusiastically. Not because the conversation had been particularly funny, but because Seungmin was smiling while he said it. You noticed. You also noticed the way she tucked her hair behind her ear before asking, “Do you want me to take that for you?”
She reached for the cake. Seungmin shifted it away automatically. “No, it’s all right. I’ve been entrusted with it.” “He’ll cry if anything happens to it,” you said.
“I’ll tell your mum it was your fault.” “You see what I live with?” Seungmin bumped his shoulder against yours. “You love it.” You opened your mouth to disagree.
He looked down at you expectantly, the beginnings of a grin already pulling at his lips. You hated how well he knew you. “Whatever,” you said. “There it is.”
He bent and pressed a quick kiss to your temple before following the sound of your mother calling from the kitchen. Your sister remained by the door with you. She watched him leave. Then she looked at you.
“You never said he was that handsome.” You blinked. “You’ve seen photographs.” “Photographs are different.” “I suppose.”
“He’s taller than I thought.” You stared at her. She stared back, seemingly unaware that there was anything strange about the intensity of her assessment. “Do you need his measurements?” you asked. “I can check the label in his coat.”
She rolled her eyes. “I was only saying.” “Right.” “You don’t have to be weird about it.”
“I’m not being weird.” “You’re doing that face.” “What face?” “The face you do when you think you’re funny.”
“I am funny.” “Seungmin clearly thinks so.” There was something strange beneath the words. Something slightly too pointed. Before you could decide whether you had imagined it, she smiled and linked her arm through yours.
“Come on. Mum’s been panicking over lunch for an hour.” She pulled you towards the kitchen as though nothing had happened. You let her. At that point, it was easier.
౨ৎ
Your mum adored Seungmin. That was hardly news. She adored him because he arrived on time, complimented her cooking, remembered details from conversations they had months ago and always insisted on helping clear the table. Your dad liked him because Seungmin could discuss football with convincing enthusiasm and had once spent nearly forty minutes helping him fix a temperamental television.
Even your relatives who had only met Seungmin briefly tended to approve of him. He was polite without seeming rehearsed, funny without demanding attention and attentive in a way that made people feel remembered. Your sister had apparently taken all of these qualities as an invitation. At first, you didn’t think much of it.
She asked him about work. Normal. She asked about the other members. Also normal. She asked whether he enjoyed travelling, what food he liked and whether he preferred going out or staying at home. A little interview-like, perhaps, but not particularly suspicious.
Then she moved from the chair opposite him to the empty one beside him when your mother asked her to fetch another plate. You looked at the abandoned chair. Then at her. She smiled innocently and crossed one leg over the other.
Seungmin glanced towards you. You were sitting on his other side, close enough that your knees touched beneath the table. He nudged your foot. You nudged him back.
His mouth twitched. Your sister leaned towards him. “So,” she said, “what did you think when you first met her?” You nearly inhaled your drink.
Seungmin turned towards you slowly. “Oh, no,” you said. His eyes brightened. “Oh, yes.”
“Don’t.” “I thought she was very strange.” Your mother laughed from the other end of the table. You stared at him. “That isn’t what you said before.”
“You told me not to embarrass you in front of your family.” “And this is you behaving?” “This is me being generous.” Your sister laughed, resting her hand against Seungmin’s arm.
It was light. Brief enough that she could claim it meant nothing. Still, you saw it. Seungmin looked down at her fingers. Your sister removed them a moment later, smiling as though the contact had been accidental.
“What did you actually think?” she asked. Seungmin looked back at you. The teasing softened around the edges. “I thought she was pretty.”
The answer was simple enough to make warmth spread through your chest. Then his smile returned. “Until she spoke.” You kicked his shin beneath the table.
He flinched dramatically. “See?” he told your family. “Violence.” “You deserved that.” “I complimented you.”
“You immediately ruined it.” “I said you were pretty.” “You said I was strange.” “You are strange.”
Your sister tilted her head. “I suppose you must usually date girls who are quite different from her.” The sentence slipped into the conversation so smoothly that it took you a second to understand it. Seungmin frowned slightly. “Different how?”
Your sister shrugged. “You know. More… elegant.” Your father suddenly became very interested in cutting his food. Your mother looked up.
You glanced down at yourself. You were wearing a jumper and trousers. Nothing particularly inelegant, unless your sister was counting the tiny mark on your sleeve from where Seungmin had flicked sauce at you in the kitchen. Seungmin followed your gaze. Then he looked at your sister.
“No,” he said. “I like this one.” You pressed your lips together. “This one?” you repeated. He patted your knee beneath the table.
“My favourite.” “I’m so flattered.” “You should be.” Your sister laughed, but there was something strained about it.
“I only meant that you seem very put together.” “I’m not,” Seungmin said cheerfully. “She found me looking for my phone this morning while I was talking to someone on it.” He looked towards your mother. “You raised a very critical daughter.” Your mum smiled. “She gets it from me.”
“Good to know.” The conversation moved on, but your sister did not return to her original chair. Every few minutes, she found another reason to address Seungmin directly. Did he like the food?
Had he visited the restaurant she mentioned? Did he think her hair looked better dark or light? That one made you turn. She lifted a section of her hair between her fingers.
“I’ve been thinking of changing it,” she explained. “What do you think?” Seungmin blinked. “I don’t know.” “You must have a preference.”
“For your hair?” She laughed as though he had made a joke. “Generally.” He looked at you. You had stopped pretending not to listen.
A hint of mischief appeared in his expression. “I like hers.” You narrowed your eyes. “You said I’d look good bald.” “You would.”
“That doesn’t count.” “It shows versatility.” Your sister’s hand fell from her hair. “You’re lucky,” she told you.
The words sounded pleasant. The way she looked at Seungmin did not. You raised an eyebrow. “I know.” “I mean, you’ve never really cared about things like that.”
“Things like what?” “Your appearance.” Silence settled over the table. It wasn’t complete silence. Your father’s fork scraped faintly against his plate, and the clock in the hallway continued ticking.
But the conversation stopped. Your sister smiled as though she had offered you a compliment. “You’ve always been confident enough not to bother,” she added. You knew this routine.
It had existed long before Seungmin. Your sister would say something cruel with a pleasant expression, and if you reacted, she would insist you had misunderstood. That she admired your confidence. That she wished she could leave the house without making an effort. That you were lucky not to care what people thought. Normally, you could ignore it. Today, the comment felt particularly childish.
You opened your mouth, but Seungmin spoke first. “She spent forty minutes choosing that jumper.” You turned towards him in disbelief. Your sister laughed.
Seungmin continued, “Then she asked me which trousers looked better and ignored my answer.” You nudged his side with your elbow. He caught your hand before you could pull it away and linked your fingers beneath the table. The gesture was concealed from everyone else.
His thumb brushed once over your knuckles. You understood what he was doing. He hadn’t ignored your sister’s comment. He had simply refused to let it settle over you.
“She looks lovely,” your mother said firmly. “She does,” Seungmin agreed. Your sister’s smile tightened. “I never said she didn’t.”
“No one said you did,” you replied. Her gaze met yours. For a moment, something sharp passed between you. Then Seungmin squeezed your hand and leaned close enough that his shoulder pressed against yours.
“You have something on your face,” he whispered. You immediately touched your cheek. “Where?” “The other side.” You touched the other cheek.
“No, lower.” “Seungmin.” “A little lower.” You glared at him. “There’s nothing there, is there?”
He smiled. “You’re so easy.” You tried to pull your hand from his. He tightened his grip.
“Don’t be sulky.” “I hate you.” Your sister watched the exchange with an unreadable expression. You barely noticed.
౨ৎ
After lunch, your mother attempted to stop Seungmin from helping with the dishes. Seungmin ignored her. He rolled his sleeves to his elbows, collected the empty plates and followed you into the kitchen. Your sister followed him.
Naturally. “You don’t have to do that,” she told him, taking a plate from his hands. “It’s fine.” “You’re a guest.”
“So is she.” Seungmin nodded towards you. You were leaning against the counter eating a piece of cake. Your sister looked at you.
“She’s family.” “She isn’t helping.” “I’m supervising,” you said. “You’re eating the dessert we haven’t served yet.”
“I’m checking it for poison.” Seungmin set the plates beside the sink. “And?” You took another bite.
“Still collecting evidence.” He reached towards your plate. You moved it out of reach. “Get your own.”
“I bought it.” “I paid for it.” “With our money.” “We don’t have shared finances.”
Your sister laughed again. “You two are funny.” You glanced at her. The compliment sounded genuine enough, but her eyes remained fixed on Seungmin.
He turned on the tap. Your sister stepped beside him. “I’ll wash,” she offered. “I can do it.”
“You dry, then.” You watched her pick up a sponge. Your mother called your name from the living room, asking whether you could help her find something. You pushed yourself away from the counter.
“Don’t eat my cake,” you warned Seungmin. “I would never.” “You absolutely would.” He placed one hand over his heart.
“Your lack of trust is upsetting.” You pointed the fork at him. “I’ll know.” “Go away.” You reluctantly carried the plate with you.
As you left the kitchen, you glanced back. Your sister had moved slightly closer to Seungmin. He was focused on rinsing a plate. You nearly stayed.
Then you caught yourself. It was your sister. Seungmin was your boyfriend. Nothing was going to happen because the two of them spent ninety seconds alone beside a sink.
You found your mother’s glasses on top of her head, endured several minutes of her insisting she had already checked there and returned to the kitchen. Your sister was speaking. “…must get tiring.” Seungmin passed her another plate. “What does?”
“Dating someone so different from you.” You stopped just outside the doorway. Seungmin didn’t appear to notice you. He frowned. “You’ve said that a few times.”
“I don’t mean it badly.” “What do you mean?” Your sister dried the plate slowly. “You’re very disciplined. Ambitious. You take care of yourself.”
He waited. “And she isn’t?” “She’s just more relaxed.” Seungmin looked down at the soapy water.
You knew that expression. He was choosing his words. Your sister mistook his silence for agreement. “I’ve always been more like you,” she continued. “Even when we were younger. People used to say I was the more responsible one.”
“Did they?” “And the more confident one.” Seungmin made a small sound that could have meant anything. Your sister smiled.
“It’s funny, really. Most people usually notice me first.” He glanced at her. “Okay.” You pressed your lips together.
She appeared thrown by the response. “I don’t mean to sound arrogant.” “Then don’t.” The answer was delivered so lightly that for a second, you wondered whether you had heard him correctly.
Your sister laughed uncertainly. “I’m only being honest.” Seungmin rinsed another plate. “About people noticing you?”
“Yes.” “Congratulations.” You had to cover your mouth. Your sister’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“You must have noticed that we’re quite different.” “I’ve noticed.” “I’m probably more like your usual type.” Seungmin finally turned off the tap.
He looked at her properly. “What’s my usual type?” Your sister leaned one hip against the counter. “Confident. Sophisticated.”
“Are you asking me or telling me?” “I’m guessing.” “You’ve guessed wrong.” She smiled as though he were teasing her.
“Have I?” “Yes.” Something about his tone should have ended the conversation. It didn’t.
Your sister lowered her voice. “She’s always been the sweeter one, I suppose. Men tend to like that.” Seungmin stared at her. Then his gaze moved past her shoulder and found you standing in the doorway.
His expression changed immediately. The irritation disappeared behind a slow, knowing smile. “How long have you been there?” he asked. Your sister turned sharply.
You lifted your plate. “Long enough to know you’ve been having a very interesting discussion about your type.” Seungmin dried his hands. “Apparently, I have one.”
“Do you?” “I’m learning a lot today.” Your sister straightened. “We were only talking.” “I heard.”
“There’s no need to make it strange.” You stepped into the kitchen and placed your half-finished cake on the counter. “I didn’t.” “No, but you’re doing that thing where you act territorial.”
Seungmin’s eyebrows rose. You laughed. “Territorial?” “You don’t need to hover every time another woman speaks to your boyfriend.” “I was helping Mum.”
“And then you came straight back.” “Because this is where my cake is.” Seungmin immediately reached for your plate. You slapped his hand away.
“See?” He looked wounded. “You care more about that cake than you care about me.” “The cake has never stolen my crisps.”
“It would if it could.” Your sister sighed. “You’re both impossible.” “Thank you,” Seungmin said.
You picked up your fork again. Your sister gave you a long look before placing the tea towel on the counter. “I’m going to see if Mum needs anything.” “She doesn’t,” you said. “Her glasses were on her head.”
Your sister ignored you and left. You waited until her footsteps had faded down the hall. Then you turned towards Seungmin. He was already looking at you.
A smile pulled at your mouth. “Your usual type?” He groaned and leaned back against the sink. “Please don’t.”
“So much like her.” Seungmin reached for you. You dodged around the kitchen island, laughing when he followed. “I’m only being honest,” you said, mimicking your sister’s voice.
“You’re enjoying this far too much.” “Apparently she’s the woman of your dreams.” “My dreams have better conversational skills.” You gasped. “That was mean.”
“It was accurate.” He moved to one side of the island. You moved in the opposite direction. “I thought you liked confident women.”
“I like you.” “That wasn’t the question.” “It’s my answer.” “You’re only saying that because I caught you.”
“Caught me doing dishes?” “Seductively.” “I was wearing rubber gloves.” “Exactly. Very provocative.”
Seungmin stopped. You stopped too, watching him suspiciously from across the island. His expression softened. “Did that bother you?”
The question was quiet enough to dissolve some of your amusement. You considered it. “Not really.” “Not really?”
“I don’t think you’re secretly going to run away with my sister.” “That’s reassuring.” “I’d give you at least a week before you begged me to take you back.” “A week?”
“Maybe four days.” Seungmin looked offended. “I wouldn’t make it through the first evening.” You smiled. He continued to watch you.
“But?” he prompted. You looked down at your cake. “She does that sometimes.” “Does what?”
“Compares us.” You scraped your fork lightly through the icing. “She always has. She thinks she’s being subtle.” “She isn’t.” “I know.” “She also thinks I’m an idiot.”
You laughed. “Why?” “Because I’ve said I like you at least twelve times today, and she’s decided that means I’m interested in her.” “Maybe you’re sending mixed signals.” “I asked her to move because she was standing on my foot.”
“Very flirtatious.” “She apologised and touched my arm.” “Scandalous.” “She’s touched my arm six times.”
“You counted?” “I started counting when she asked whether I thought she looked better with dark hair.” You laughed again, and Seungmin smiled. Then he walked around the island.
This time, you let him reach you. His hands settled on your waist, drawing you between his knees as he leaned back against the counter. “For the record,” he said, “I don’t think you’re lucky.” “No?”
“No. I think I’m incredibly brave.” You flicked his shoulder. He caught your wrist and kissed your palm. “And lucky,” he added.
“That was nearly sweet.” “Don’t tell anyone.” You rolled your eyes, but your arms slipped around his shoulders. He tilted his head.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” “I’m fine.” “Your sister’s being strange.” “She thinks she can steal you.”
“Can she?” You pretended to consider it. Seungmin pinched your side. You squealed and tried to twist away, but he trapped you against him.
“Answer carefully,” he warned. “I don’t know. She is very sophisticated.” Another pinch. “And confident!”
He attacked your other side. You dissolved into helpless laughter, nearly dropping your fork as you attempted to escape. “Seungmin!” “Wrong answer.”
“She’s your type!” “Take it back.” “Never!” He caught both your wrists in one hand and used the other to tickle your waist.
You kicked uselessly at his legs. “You’re horrible!” “Take it back.” “Fine!” you gasped. “She isn’t your type.”
“And?” “And you don’t want her.” “And?” You stared at him, breathless.
His hair had fallen over his forehead during the struggle, and his smile was bright and boyish and entirely too pleased. “And you’re obsessed with me.” “There we go.” He released your wrists.
You immediately smacked his chest. Seungmin laughed and caught you against him again, pressing a noisy kiss to your cheek before you could complain. “You’re very annoying,” you told him. “You were laughing.”
“Against my will.” He kissed your other cheek. “Still counts.” Footsteps sounded in the hallway.
You both separated just before your mother entered the kitchen. She looked at Seungmin’s messy hair, your flushed face and the abandoned washing-up. Neither of you spoke. Your mother sighed.
“The dishes, Seungmin.” “I was doing them.” “He attacked me,” you said. “You provoked me.”
Your mother pointed at the sink. “Both of you.” “Yes, Mum,” you said. “Yes, Mum,” Seungmin echoed.
You turned to glare at him. He smiled innocently. Your mother left the room shaking her head. Seungmin bumped his hip against yours as he turned the tap back on.
“Pass me the sponge.” “You pass me the sponge.” “It’s closer to you.” “You’re closer to the sink.”
He looked towards the doorway, then lowered his voice. “Do you think your sister would do it for me?” You stared at him. He managed to hold a serious expression for approximately two seconds.
Then you shoved the sponge directly into his chest.
౨ৎ
When you finally prepared to leave, your mother packed enough food for several days into a bag and made Seungmin promise to visit again soon. Your sister stood in the hallway while you put on your coat. “You’re leaving already?” she asked. “We’ve been here for five hours,” you said.
“It doesn’t feel that long.” Seungmin bent to tie his shoelace. Your sister’s gaze lingered on him. “You should come over more often.”
“We will,” you replied. “I meant Seungmin.” He looked up. Your sister smiled. “You don’t need to wait for her. You’re practically part of the family now.”
There it was. Not quite enough to confront. More than enough to notice. Seungmin straightened.
“I think she’d be upset if I visited without her.” “I wouldn’t,” you said. “I’d enjoy the peace.” He placed one hand on top of your head and pushed down lightly. Your sister laughed.
“You’re very patient with her.” Seungmin looked at you. “No,” he said. “She’s patient with me.” For once, there was no joke attached.
His hand slid from the top of your head to the back of your neck, thumb brushing softly beneath your hair. Your sister’s smile faded for half a second. Then it returned. “Well,” she said, opening the door, “it was lovely seeing you.”
“You too,” Seungmin replied politely. She hugged you first. It was brief. Then she turned towards Seungmin.
You expected her to offer a wave. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him. Seungmin froze. His hands hovered uncertainly beside her shoulders.
Your eyes widened. Over your sister’s head, his gaze found yours. His expression was so openly alarmed that a laugh burst out of you. Your sister released him.
“What’s funny?” “Nothing.” Seungmin stepped immediately towards you. You were still laughing as he took the bag of food from your hand and placed his other arm securely around your shoulders.
Your sister glanced between you. “Text me when you’re home.” “I will.” She looked at Seungmin. “You have my number, don’t you?”
“No,” he said. “Oh.” She paused. “I thought you did.” “Why would he?” you asked. “In case of an emergency.”
Seungmin nodded. “I’ll call emergency services.” You choked on another laugh. Your sister’s mouth tightened. “I only meant if something happened with you.”
“He has Mum’s number.” “And her Dad’s,” Seungmin added. “And Chan’s,” you said. “And Minho’s.”
“He doesn’t need your number.” Your sister folded her arms. “You make everything sound strange.” “You asked my boyfriend whether he had your number.”
“For emergencies.” “Right.” Seungmin gently steered you through the doorway before either of you could continue. “Thank you for lunch,” he called politely.
Your mother called goodbye from somewhere inside the house. Your sister remained at the door while the two of you walked down the path. You could feel her watching. Seungmin’s arm stayed around you until you reached the pavement.
Then he leaned close. “Don’t look now.” You immediately looked back. Your sister was still standing in the doorway.
She lifted her hand when she saw you turn. You waved. Seungmin sighed. “I specifically said not to.”
“I don’t take instructions well.” “I know.” The door finally closed. You walked several more steps in silence.
Then Seungmin said, “Your sister wants me.” You stopped. He stopped beside you. The solemn expression on his face lasted less than a second before you both started laughing.
“Your confidence is disgusting,” you told him.
౨ৎ
Your sister arrived at your flat on Saturday afternoon wearing heeled boots, a fitted coat and enough perfume to announce her presence before you had even opened the door. You looked at her. Then at the small handbag hanging from her shoulder. Then back at her.
“You said you were coming to borrow my straighteners.” “I am.” “Are you planning to straighten your hair here?” “No.”
“Then why do you look like you’re going somewhere?” She frowned. “I’m meeting someone later.” “You didn’t mention that.” “I didn’t realise I needed to submit an itinerary.”
“You don’t.” “Then why are you interrogating me?” “I asked one question.” “You asked three.”
You stepped aside to let her enter. She walked past you, removing her coat as she went. The outfit beneath it was somehow even more carefully chosen. You watched her smooth the fabric over her waist before checking her reflection in the hallway mirror.
Interesting. Very interesting. “You could have texted,” you said, closing the door. “I would’ve brought the straighteners to Mum’s tomorrow.” “I was nearby.”
She wasn’t. Your sister lived nearly forty minutes in the opposite direction. You decided not to point that out. From the living room, Seungmin called, “Who is it?”
Your sister’s posture changed almost imperceptibly. Her shoulders pulled back. Her expression softened. You stared at her.
She ignored you. “Your favourite person,” you called. There was a pause. Then Seungmin replied, “Felix?”
You gasped. Your sister laughed. You marched into the living room, already preparing several punishments. Seungmin was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the coffee table.
A pale blue fabric headband held his hair away from his face, and there was a thin layer of clay mask drying across his cheeks because you had told him his skin looked tired. He had complained for eleven minutes. Then he had asked whether there was enough left for his forehead. Your left hand rested carefully on top of an old magazine while Seungmin held your right between both of his.
Three of your fingernails were painted. One was half-painted. The fifth had somehow acquired a streak of polish across your skin. Seungmin looked up as you entered.
The smile on his face widened. “There’s my second-favourite person.” You stopped in front of him. “Second?”
“Felix bakes for me.” “I cook for you.” “You once burned instant noodles.” “The packet was confusing.”
“You forgot the water.” “It didn’t say when to add it.” You placed one foot against his thigh and pushed lightly. Seungmin caught your ankle.
“No kicking near the nail polish.” “You deserve worse.” “You asked me to do this.” “And you’re doing a terrible job.”
He looked down at your nails. “They’re beautiful.” “There’s polish on my knuckle.” Your sister appeared behind you.
Seungmin glanced towards her. His expression flickered with surprise before settling into a pleasant smile. “Oh. Hi.” “Hi.”
Your sister looked him over. Her gaze paused at the headband. Then the face mask. Then your hand resting in his.
Her smile faltered, only slightly. “I didn’t know you were here.” You turned your head towards her. She knew.
You had mentioned it the previous evening when she asked what you were doing this weekend. Seungmin did not appear to remember that. “I live here sometimes,” he said. “You don’t,” you replied.
Your sister moved further into the room. “You look comfortable,” she said. Seungmin touched the edge of the headband. “This was forced on me.”
“You asked whether the bow should go in the middle,” you said. Your sister laughed, lowering herself onto the sofa behind him. “It suits you.” Seungmin looked up at her.
“The face mask?” “The headband.” He touched it again. “Thanks.”
Her smile brightened. You watched her tuck one leg elegantly over the other. Seungmin returned his attention to your hand. “Stop moving.”
“I’m not moving.” “You’re moving now.” “Because you told me not to.” He tightened his fingers around yours.
“If you smudge this one, I’m starting again.” “You’ve already smudged it.” “That was intentional.” “Was the polish on my skin intentional too?”
“Yes.” “What was the artistic vision?” “Annoying you.” You tried to pull your hand away.
Seungmin held on. “Stay still.” “You’re enjoying the authority.” “I rarely have any in this relationship.”
“Because you can’t be trusted.” Your sister leaned forwards. “You let him paint your nails?” You looked at her.
“He volunteered.” “I was coerced,” Seungmin said. “You said you could do it better than me.” “I can.”
You lifted your hand. He immediately lowered it again before the wet polish could run. “That remains to be seen.” Your sister tilted her head.
“I’d never ask my boyfriend to do something like that.” You glanced at Seungmin. He glanced at you. There it was again.
That tiny shared pause when both of you noticed something and decided, without speaking, whether it was worth reacting to. You smiled. “Good thing he isn’t your boyfriend, then.” Your sister’s expression tightened.
Only for a second. Then she laughed. “I only mean I’d feel bad making him do something so feminine.” Seungmin inspected your thumbnail.
“You think painting nails is feminine?” “Usually.” “Then I’m doing a very poor job of it.” You snorted.
He blew gently across your nail. Your sister watched his lips purse. “It’s sweet,” she said. “I just wouldn’t have expected it from you.” “What did you expect?” Seungmin asked.
“I don’t know.” She did know. You could tell by the way she leaned towards him. “Something more masculine, I suppose.”
Seungmin looked down at himself. He was wearing grey jogging bottoms, an old sweatshirt and your fluffy skincare headband. “I’m devastated.” “You know what I mean.”
“I really don’t.” She smiled as though he were deliberately teasing her. “You seem like someone who’d usually want a very feminine girlfriend.” Seungmin’s brush paused.
You looked at your sister. She was looking at him. Not you. He lifted his eyes slowly.
“I do.” Your sister’s smile widened. Then Seungmin returned his attention to your hand. “That’s why I’m dating her.”
You pressed your lips together. Your sister glanced at you. You smiled pleasantly. Seungmin dipped the brush into the polish.
“She isn’t exactly what most people would call feminine,” your sister said. You raised your eyebrows. Seungmin’s hand stopped again. Your sister gestured towards you.
You were wearing one of Seungmin’s old shirts, a pair of shorts and fluffy socks. Your hair was twisted into a loose knot that had begun collapsing an hour ago. There was a faint smudge of clay mask beside your jaw where you had attempted to kiss Seungmin before it dried. You looked extremely comfortable. That had apparently become a flaw.
“I’m not?” you asked. “I didn’t mean it badly.” “Of course not.” “You’ve never cared about being girly.”
“I’m getting my nails painted.” “By your boyfriend.” “Yes.” “So?”
“So that feels relevant.” Your sister rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. You’re not someone who gets dressed up around the house or worries about always looking attractive.” You looked down at yourself.
Then at Seungmin. His gaze had settled on your face. You recognised the slight narrowing of his eyes. Not anger.
Not yet. Attention. Your sister continued, “I just think it’s brave.” “Brave?” you repeated.
“To be that comfortable so early in a relationship.” You and Seungmin had been together for nearly two years. Apparently that remained early enough to maintain a constant state of glamour. “How does she normally dress at home?” Seungmin asked.
Your sister seemed pleased to have his attention again. “Like this.” “Right.” “She’s always been a little careless.”
“With clothes?” “With everything.” You laughed quietly. Your sister looked at you.
“What?” “Nothing.” Seungmin placed the nail brush carefully inside the bottle. Then he lifted your hand and examined his work.
“Perfect.” “It’s uneven.” “So are your fingers.” “My fingers aren’t uneven.”
“One’s shorter.” “They’re supposed to be different lengths.” “Convenient excuse.” He brought your hand towards his mouth.
You frowned. “What are you doing?” “Checking whether it’s dry.” “With your lips?”
“Yes.” “That makes no sense.” Seungmin pressed a delicate kiss to the side of your index finger, avoiding the wet nail. Then he kissed your knuckle.
Then your wrist. A smile pulled at your mouth despite yourself. “Dry,” he announced. “You didn’t touch the polish.”
“I’m an expert.” “You’re an idiot.” He kissed your wrist again. Your sister shifted on the sofa.
“You two are very…” She paused. “Affectionate.” “That sounded judgemental,” you said. “It wasn’t.” “It sounded a little judgemental,” Seungmin agreed.
“I only mean you don’t seem like the clingy type.” She was speaking to him again. Seungmin leaned back against your legs. “I’m not.”
You looked down at him. He looked up at you. “You’re currently using me as a chair.” “You’re comfortable.”
Seungmin smiled lazily, reaching behind himself until his hand found your knee. You threaded your fingers through his hair, careful not to disturb the headband. He immediately tilted his head into your touch. Your sister watched him do it.
Something in her expression hardened. “You always liked being fussed over,” she said to you. You looked at her. “What?”
“When we were younger. You always needed everyone’s attention.” The comment was casual. Almost playful. You knew better.
“I don’t remember that.” “You used to follow Mum around constantly.” “I was six.” “You cried whenever she left the room.”
“I was still six.” “You’ve never liked being alone.” Seungmin’s thumb stroked once over your knee. You shrugged.
“Good thing I don’t have to be.” Your sister’s eyes flicked towards his hand. “That’s what I mean. You need a lot from people.” There was a quietness beneath the words.
An implication she wanted Seungmin to catch. You were needy. Difficult. Exhausting.
The kind of girlfriend who demanded face masks and painted nails and constant affection. Your sister, naturally, would never require so much effort. Seungmin looked up at you. “Do you?”
“Do I what?” “Need a lot from me?” You pretended to consider it. “Well, you could make more tea.”
“I made the last one.” “You drank half of it.” “It became ours when you let me taste it.” “That’s not how sharing works.”
Your sister exhaled through her nose. “You make everything into a joke.” “You make everything very serious,” you replied. “I’m trying to have a conversation.”
“With my boyfriend?” “With both of you.” “You’ve mostly been looking at him.” The room went still.
Your sister blinked. Seungmin’s eyebrows lifted. You hadn’t intended to say it quite so plainly. You weren’t upset.
Not yet. You were mostly curious to see what she would do when someone acknowledged the obvious. She recovered quickly. “I’m looking at whoever’s speaking.”
“He hasn’t been speaking.” “He literally just was.” You smiled. “All right.”
Your sister folded her arms. “You’re being strange again.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You implied something.”
“What did I imply?” “You know exactly what.” Seungmin’s hand slid around the back of your knee. His fingertips squeezed gently.
You looked down at him. He gave you a small, private smile. There was no concern in it. He knew you weren’t jealous.
Mostly, he appeared entertained. “You came for straighteners,” you reminded your sister. “I know.” “They’re in the bedroom.”
“Can you get them?” “You know where they are.” She hesitated. Her gaze moved towards the hallway, then back to Seungmin.
“I haven’t been in your bedroom since you moved things around.” “You’ll survive.” “I don’t want to go through your things.” “You’ve never had an issue before.”
Her mouth tightened. You smiled sweetly. “I’ll show you.” You gently extracted your hand from Seungmin’s grasp, holding your fingers carefully apart.
He immediately caught your wrist. “Where are you going?” “To get the straighteners.” “You’ll ruin your nails.”
“I’m walking, not digging a tunnel.” “You’re very clumsy.” “You painted them five minutes ago. They’re dry.” Seungmin tightened his grip.
“Wait.” “What?” He reached for the bottle of top coat on the table. “You need this.”
“You didn’t mention top coat before.” “I forgot.” “You just don’t want me to leave.” “That’s ridiculous.”
“You’re holding my wrist.” “To protect my work.” “Say you’ll miss me.” “You’ll be gone for thirty seconds.”
“Then it shouldn’t be difficult.” Seungmin narrowed his eyes. Your sister watched the exchange. You waited.
He looked away first. “I’ll miss you,” he muttered. You grinned. “What was that?”
“You heard me.” “I don’t think I did.” “I’m not repeating it.” “Then I suppose I’ll have to stay.”
Seungmin looked back at you suspiciously. You lowered yourself onto the floor in front of him. His expression brightened. Then you reached for the top coat.
He held it out of reach. “You said you were staying.” “To do my own nails.” “No.”
“Give it to me.” “You’ll ruin them.” “They’re already ruined.” Seungmin gasped.
You grabbed for the bottle. He leaned away. You lunged across him, careful to keep your painted hand lifted. Seungmin caught you around the waist with his free arm.
“Behave.” “Give it.” “No.” “Seungmin.”
You tried to reach behind him. He shifted again, pulling you further into his lap. Your sister cleared her throat. You both looked towards her.
She was still sitting on the sofa. Watching. You had briefly forgotten she was there. “Sorry,” you said, although you weren’t particularly sorry.
Seungmin rested his chin on your shoulder. He still had one arm wrapped firmly around your waist. Your sister’s gaze dropped to it. “Could you get the straighteners?” she asked.
“You know where they are,” you repeated. “I already told you I don’t.” Seungmin lifted his head. “I can get them.”
Your sister’s face brightened. You turned towards him. He was already beginning to stand, carefully guiding you off his lap. Your sister rose too.
Seungmin paused. He looked at her. Then at you. You pressed your lips together to keep from laughing.
There was no reason for both of them to go. Your sister apparently believed your bedroom contained an unusually complicated straightener-storage system that required Seungmin’s personal guidance. “I know where they are,” he said. “I’ll come with you.”
“You can stay here.” Her smile faltered. “I don’t mind.” “I do.”
The answer was so immediate that you made a small choking sound. Your sister’s patience finally snapped. “Can someone please get them?” You and Seungmin both looked at her.
She smiled tightly. “The straighteners.” “Right,” you said. Seungmin pointed at you.
“Don’t touch anything.” “It’s my flat.” “My nail polish.” He disappeared down the hallway.
Your sister waited until he was out of earshot. Then she looked at you. “You don’t have to perform every time I’m here.” You stared at her.
“Perform?” “The constant touching. The little jokes.” “You think that’s for you?” “I think you’re trying very hard to prove something.”
You looked towards the hallway. Seungmin was rummaging through the bathroom cabinet, apparently having forgotten that you kept the straighteners inside your wardrobe. You turned back to her. “I’m sitting in my own living room wearing his shirt while he paints my nails.”
“Exactly.” “What am I proving?” “That you’re comfortable with him.” “I am comfortable with him.”
“You don’t need to make it so obvious.” A laugh escaped you. Your sister’s expression darkened. “What?”
“I genuinely don’t understand what you’re accusing me of.” “You’re acting territorial.” “I haven’t stopped you speaking to him.” “You don’t have to. You just keep interrupting.”
“This is my flat.” “So?” “He’s my boyfriend.” “I know that.”
“Do you?” Her eyes narrowed. You smiled. Still amused.
Mostly. But something sharper had begun pressing beneath your ribs. Your sister had always competed with you. Clothes. Friends. Attention. Compliments.
Anything you possessed became evidence that she deserved something better. You had simply never expected her to become this obvious. “You’re imagining things,” she said. “Am I?”
“Yes.” “Then why did you come dressed like that to borrow straighteners?” Her face changed. Only for an instant.
Then she scoffed. “I told you I’m going out.” “Where?” “Why do you care?”
“I don’t.” “You clearly do.” “You’ve travelled forty minutes to borrow something you could buy for twenty pounds.” “I was nearby.”
“No, you weren’t.” She folded her arms. “Seungmin doesn’t seem to mind me being here.” There it was.
You looked at her. She looked pleased with herself. “Why would he mind?” “He’s been friendly.”
“He’s usually friendly.” “Not with everyone.” You nearly smiled. Your sister had known Seungmin for one afternoon.
Apparently she had already developed an extensive understanding of his social habits. “He complimented me last time,” she continued. “When?” “He said my dress was nice.”
“Mum told him to.” “That doesn’t mean he didn’t think it.” “No, I’m sure he has very strong feelings about the dress.” “You don’t have to be jealous.”
You stared at her. Then you laughed. You couldn’t help it. The idea was so completely detached from reality that amusement overwhelmed everything else.
Your sister’s face hardened. “I’m serious.” “So am I.” “Then why are you laughing?”
“Because you think Seungmin complimenting your dress means I should be worried.” “I didn’t say you should be worried.” “You said I was jealous.” “You’re acting like it.”
“Trust me.” You leaned back against the sofa. “I’m not.” Your sister opened her mouth. Seungmin returned before she could answer. He was holding the straighteners in one hand
He handed the straighteners to your sister. She accepted them. “Thank you.” “No problem.”
Her fingers lingered against his for a moment. Seungmin looked down at their hands. Then politely extracted his own. “I should probably go,” your sister said.
You looked at the clock. She had been there for less than twenty minutes. “Your plans?” you asked. “Yes.”
She picked up her coat. Seungmin returned to the floor beside you, already reaching for your hand. Your sister watched him pull you down beside him. Your sister opened the front door.
“I’ll text you,” she said to you. “Okay.” She looked towards Seungmin. “It was nice seeing you.”
“You too.” “You look good, by the way.” Seungmin glanced down at his sweatshirt. “Thanks.”
“The headband especially.” His hand rose to the blue bow. “Right.” She laughed softly.
Then she left. You waited until the door closed. Silence settled over the flat. Seungmin stared at it.
You stared at him. He turned slowly. “What?” You broke first.
Laughter burst out of you so suddenly that you nearly knocked over the nail polish. Seungmin caught the bottle. “Careful!” “The headband especially,” you repeated.
“Stop.” “You look good, by the way.” “I said stop.” You twisted in his arms until you were facing him.
Seungmin was kneeling over you, one hand planted beside your shoulder and the other wrapped securely around your waist. You looked up at him. “I like your headband.” “Thank you. I already have a beautiful girlfriend.”
You nodded. “Very natural.” “You’re ridiculous.” “And you’re obsessed with me.”
“There it is.” “There what is?” “You’ve been waiting to say that all afternoon.” “I haven’t.”
“You have.” “No.” “Yes.” You tried to push him away with your forearm.
Seungmin remained exactly where he was. “Admit it,” he said. “Admit what?” “That you’re jealous.”
“I’m not.” “Just a little?” “No.” “Not even when she touched my hand?”
“I thought about breaking her fingers.” Seungmin’s eyes widened. You hooked one leg around his hips and attempted to roll him onto his back. He anticipated it, shifting his weight before you could gain any leverage.
“You’re cheating,” you complained. “How?” “You’re stronger.” “That isn’t cheating.”
“It is when I’m losing.” He laughed. You used the distraction to push at his shoulder again. Seungmin caught both your wrists.
Your breath hitched, more from surprise than anything else. He pinned them lightly above your head, careful not to let your nails touch the carpet. His hair had begun slipping free from the headband. The clay mask had cracked faintly near the corners of his smile.
He looked completely ridiculous. And unfairly lovely. “Still think I enjoyed it?” he asked. You pretended to consider your answer.
His eyes narrowed. “Choose carefully.” You bit back a smile. “She is very feminine.”
Seungmin lowered his face closer to yours. “Wrong direction.” “And confident.” His grip tightened slightly around your wrists.
You laughed. “And sophisticated.” “Do you want to keep your newly painted nails?” “That sounds like a threat.”
“It is.” “You worked so hard on them.” “I can start again.” “You wouldn’t.”
“I have nowhere to be.” You squirmed beneath him. He shifted, trapping you more securely without putting his weight on you. “You’re impossible,” you said.
“You started this.” “She’s your type.” Seungmin stared at you. Then he released one of your wrists.
You immediately tried to escape. His free hand found your side. You squealed. “No!”
“Take it back.” “You can’t keep doing this!” “I can until you learn.” His fingers dug gently into your waist.
You dissolved into laughter, twisting helplessly beneath him. “The mask!” you gasped. “You’ll crack the mask!” “I don’t care.” “You were worried about it two minutes ago!”
“You’ve pushed me too far.” You kicked at the rug. Seungmin caught your leg beneath his knee. “You’re evil!”
“And?” “Controlling!” “And?” “Obsessed with me!”
His fingers stopped. “There we go.” You glared up at him, breathless. “That isn’t fair.”
“It’s completely fair.” “I was supposed to say you don’t want her.” “I know I don’t want her.” “You’re supposed to reassure me.”
“Are you worried?” “No.” “Then why do you need reassurance?” “Because I enjoy compliments.”
Seungmin smiled. The teasing faded gently from his expression. He released your other wrist and settled his hand beside your head instead. “You’re very pretty.”
“That was basic.” “You’re especially pretty when you’re wearing my clothes.” “Better.” “You’re funny.”
“I know.” “And irritating.” “That wasn’t a compliment.” “It’s one of my favourite things about you.”
You looked up at him. His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek. “You’re my favourite person to come home to,” he continued. “My favourite person to annoy. My favourite person to do absolutely nothing with.” Your smile softened.
Seungmin’s did too. “And,” he added, “I’m so obsessed with you that I let you put this stupid thing on my head.” You touched the bow. “You love the headband.”
“I tolerate it.” “You’re avoiding the important part.” “What important part?” “The part where you admit I’m obsessed with you.”
You laughed. “You just admitted it yourself.” “I want to hear you say it.” “You’re obsessed with me.”
“And?” You stared at him. He waited expectantly. “And you don’t want my sister.”
“Obviously.” “And?” A slow grin spread across his face. You realised what he wanted.
“No.” “Say it.” “I’m not saying it.” “You know you want to.”
“I don’t.” Seungmin’s fingers hovered threateningly near your waist. You recoiled. “Don’t.”
“Then say it.” “You’re abusing your power.” “I’m waiting.” You glared at him.
He looked delighted. “And I’m obsessed with you too,” you muttered. “What was that?” “You heard me.”
“The face mask is restricting my hearing.” “That isn’t how masks work.” “Speak clearly.” You tried not to smile.
“I’m obsessed with you too.” “There we go.” He bent and kissed you. It began soft.
A pleased little press of his lips against yours. Then you reached for the back of his neck and accidentally brushed one wet nail against his cheek. Seungmin pulled away. You froze.
A bright streak of polish now cut through the dried clay mask. For one second, neither of you moved. Then you burst out laughing. Seungmin stared at you.
“You ruined it.” “I’m sorry!” “You did that on purpose.” “I didn’t!”
“You attacked me.” “You were on top of me!” “Because you accused me of wanting your sister.” Seungmin touched his cheek.
His fingers came away with polish on them. His mouth dropped open. You laughed even harder. “You look beautiful.”
“You’re sleeping on the sofa.” “It’s my flat.” “Then I’m sleeping in your bed alone.” “You wouldn’t last ten minutes.”
“I’d sleep perfectly.” You grinned. Seungmin tried to maintain his glare. He failed.
A laugh escaped him. Then another. He lowered his head until his forehead rested against your shoulder, both of you shaking with laughter on the living-room floor. You wrapped your arms around him.
“Your mask really is ruined.” “I know.” “And the polish is definitely smudged.” “I know.”
౨ৎ
Your sister invited herself shopping with you three days later. Technically, she asked whether you had bought your mum’s birthday present yet. When you told her that you and Seungmin were going into town on Sunday to find something, she replied that she had been planning to go that day too. You had stared at the message for several seconds. Seungmin, lying beside you with his head on your stomach, had tilted his phone away from his face and asked, “Why are you making that expression?”
“My sister wants to come shopping with us.” He had gone silent. You lowered your phone to look at him. “That was a very long pause.” “I was trying to think of something polite.”
“And?” “I couldn’t.” You laughed and ran your fingers through his hair. “We are shopping for her mum too.” “Unfortunately.”
“She’s my mum.” “That’s why I said unfortunately. I like your mum.” “You’re horrible.” Seungmin had turned his head and pressed a kiss to your stomach through your shirt. “Tell her she can come.”
“You don’t sound very enthusiastic.” “I’m thrilled. Maybe she can tell me more about what kind of woman I usually prefer.” You had flicked his forehead. He had bitten your finger.
The matter was settled.
౨ৎ
Your sister arrived twenty minutes late. You and Seungmin had already been standing outside the shopping centre long enough for him to complain about the cold four times, steal one of your gloves and attempt to warm his other hand by shoving it beneath the back of your jumper. You had slapped him away. He had waited thirty seconds before trying again.
“Your hand is freezing,” you complained, twisting out of his reach. “That’s why I need your body heat.” “You have pockets.” “They’re not as warm as you.”
“They don’t want you touching them either.” Seungmin smiled and caught the belt loop of your jeans when you tried to step away. “Come back.” “No.” “You’re abandoning me.”
“I’m moving half a metre.” “That’s still too far.” You rolled your eyes, but you let him pull you backwards until your shoulder rested against his chest. He wrapped both arms around your waist and tucked his chin over your shoulder, immediately pleased with himself. “You’re very clingy today,” you said.
“It’s cold.” “You were clingy yesterday too.” “I was tired.” “You fell asleep on top of me. I couldn’t breathe.”
“And yet you let me stay.” His laugh warmed the side of your neck. Your sister found you like that. She slowed as she approached, taking in Seungmin’s arms around your middle and the way your hands rested over his. Then she smiled.
“Sorry,” she said, although she did not sound particularly sorry. “The train was delayed.” “You said you were driving,” you replied. She paused. Seungmin’s face disappeared briefly against your shoulder. You felt the silent shake of his laughter.
“I changed my mind,” your sister said. “Clearly.” She looked at Seungmin. “Have you been waiting long?” “Long enough for her to attack me.”
“I moved your freezing hand away,” you said. Seungmin tightened his arms around your waist. “Exactly.” Your sister laughed, her gaze lingering on him a little too long. “You poor thing.” Your sister looked at you with a small, knowing smile. “You’ve always been like that.”
“Like what?” “Rough.” Seungmin’s eyebrows rose. You looked down at your outfit as though you might find evidence of roughness on your coat. “I pushed his hand away.”
“I’m only joking.” “Right.” “She’s very frightening,” Seungmin said solemnly. “I live in constant fear.” Then he kissed your cheek and released you, taking your hand instead. “Can we go inside before I lose feeling in my fingers?”
“You stole my glove.” “It wasn’t enough.” Your sister walked beside him as you entered the shopping centre. You ended up on his other side.
It was not immediately strange. The pavement narrowed near the doors, people moved around you, and your sister had always been skilled at placing herself exactly where she wanted to be without appearing deliberate. But once you were inside, she remained there. She asked Seungmin what he thought you should buy. She asked whether he enjoyed shopping. She asked which shops he liked, whether he cared about clothes and whether he usually chose his own outfits. He answered politely.
Mostly. When she asked whether he had a favourite designer, he said, “Whoever makes comfortable trousers.” When she asked what colours he liked on women, he said, “Normal ones.” Your sister frowned. “I was asking a normal question.”
“I know,” you said. “His answer was stupid.” Seungmin swung your joined hands between you. Your sister glanced down. “I think you’d suit darker colours,” she told him.
“I wear dark colours.” “I know. They make you look more mature.” You looked across him. “What does he look like now?” She ignored you. “You have a very classic face.”
Seungmin turned towards you. “Do I?” “No.” He looked offended. “You didn’t even think about it.” “I look at your face every day.”
“And you’ve never thought it was classic?” “I’ve thought it was annoying.” “That isn’t a facial structure.” “It should be.”
Your sister sighed softly. “You never take compliments seriously.” “She rarely gives them,” Seungmin said. “I complimented you this morning.” “You said my hair looked less strange than usual.”
“That was generous.” “You also said I looked tired.” “You did.” “You make me feel very cherished.”
You stopped in the middle of the walkway and placed both hands around his face. “You are beautiful.” Seungmin’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’re mocking me.” “Never.” “You’re smiling.”
“Because you’re beautiful.” He stared at you for another second before his mouth betrayed him. A reluctant smile appeared. “There,” you said, squeezing his cheeks. “Pretty.”
Seungmin caught both your wrists and pulled your hands away. “Don’t touch my face in public.” “You love it.” Your sister had gone quiet. You released Seungmin’s face and started walking again. He slipped his hand into yours as though the interruption had never happened.
The first shop was useless. The second was worse. Your mum had said she wanted something for the house, which sounded simple until you were faced with fifteen aisles of objects she might already own. Your sister suggested a decorative vase.
You reminded her that your mum had six. Seungmin picked up a tiny ceramic dog wearing a crown. You told him to put it down. “She’d love him,” he said.
“She’d ask why we bought her rubbish.” “He’s cute.” “He’s ugly.” “He can hear you.”
Your sister smiled at Seungmin. “I think he’s cute.” You looked at her. She was not looking at the ceramic dog. Seungmin, apparently unaware or pretending to be, placed the ornament carefully in your hands. “Hold him.”
“No.” “He likes you.” “You like him.” “He reminds me of you.”
You stared at the dog. The dog stared back with badly painted eyes. “You’re sleeping alone tonight.” Seungmin smiled. “You say that every week.”
“One day I’ll mean it.” “No, you won’t.” Your sister picked up a sleek glass vase and held it towards Seungmin. “What about this?” He glanced at it. “It’s nice.”
“She already has something similar,” you said. Your sister’s smile tightened. “Not exactly like this.” “It’s almost identical.” “It’s more modern.”
“Mum doesn’t care about modern.” “She might.” Your sister looked at Seungmin. “What do you think?” He looked between you both.
Then at the vase. Then at the ceramic dog still in your hands. “I think we should buy the dog.” You laughed.
Your sister did not. “You’re both impossible,” she said, returning the vase to the shelf. “That keeps coming up,” Seungmin replied. You carried the dog for another two aisles before secretly placing it on a display of cushions.
Seungmin noticed immediately. “Where is he?” “Who?” “The dog.”
“I don’t know.” “You abandoned him.” “He wasn’t ours.” “He could have been.”
“Not everything you like has to come home with us.” “You came home with me.” Your sister laughed. You turned towards Seungmin slowly. “Was that meant to be sweet?”
“Yes.” “It sounded like you found me beside a road.” “I rescued you.” “From what?”
“Yourself.” You shoved him lightly towards a stack of towels. He caught your elbow and pulled you with him, making you stumble against his chest. His free arm wrapped around your waist before you could fall. You tried not to smile.
You failed. Your sister walked ahead.
౨ৎ
After nearly an hour, you found a set of handmade serving bowls that your mum would genuinely like. Your sister thought they were plain. Seungmin thought one of them looked like a hat. You thought both of them needed to stop talking.
You were waiting at the till when your sister announced that she wanted coffee. “There’s a place downstairs,” she said. “I’ll go.” “I’ll come,” you replied. “I need the toilet anyway.” Her expression flickered.
Only slightly. Then she smiled. “You can stay with the bags. Seungmin and I can get them.” Seungmin looked up from the receipt in his hand. You looked at her.
She looked at him. There was a small silence. Then Seungmin said, “She knows my order.” Your sister recovered quickly. “You can tell me.”
“I’ll forget something.” “It’s coffee.” “He’s very demanding,” you said. Seungmin nodded.
Your sister laughed, although her eyes stayed on him. “I think I can manage.” You could have refused. Part of you wanted to, not because you thought anything would happen, but because your sister’s intentions had become so transparent that allowing her to proceed felt almost embarrassing. Then curiosity won.
You handed the shopping bag to Seungmin. “Fine. Get me something sweet.” “What?” “Surprise me.” “That always ends badly.”
“Only because you make poor choices.” Seungmin stared at you. You smiled. He sighed. “Fine.”
Your sister looked pleased. Far too pleased. You kissed Seungmin’s cheek before stepping away. “Don’t let her buy me anything with coconut.”
౨ৎ
Seungmin watched you disappear into the crowd. He knew exactly what you were doing. You had kissed him in front of your sister on purpose. Not because you were worried.
Because you were a menace. A message appeared on his phone before he and your sister had reached the escalator. Don’t fall in love while I’m gone x He smiled despite himself.
Your sister noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “Was that her?”
“Yes.” “What did she say?” Seungmin put his phone away. “Nothing important.” Your sister stepped onto the escalator beside him.
For several seconds, she was silent. Then she said, “She checks on you a lot.” Seungmin looked at her. “Does she?” “She’s always texting you.”
“We text each other.” “I know. I just mean she likes knowing where you are.” He considered the comment. “She sent me a joke.”
“What joke?” “One you wouldn’t find funny.” Your sister’s mouth tightened. “You don’t know that.” “I know her sense of humour.”
“And mine?” “Not really.” The escalator carried them down another floor. Your sister rested one hand on the rail. “You and her are very different.”
Seungmin looked ahead. “You’ve mentioned that.” “I don’t mean it as an insult.” “You keep saying that too.” She laughed softly. “You remember.”
“I have a good memory.” “You do seem observant.” “Sometimes.” “That’s why I’m surprised.”
He turned his head. “By what?” She looked briefly uncertain, as if she had expected him to understand without making her say it aloud. “Nothing.”
Seungmin faced forwards again. The coffee shop was busy. A line curled away from the counter, giving your sister more time than she probably needed. She moved closer to him as they joined it. “I’ve always wondered how she ended up with someone like you.”
Seungmin’s expression did not change. “Someone like me?” “Successful. Disciplined. Mature.” “You think she isn’t those things?”
“I didn’t say that.” “You implied it.” Your sister sighed. “You’re very defensive of her.” “She’s my girlfriend.”
“I know.” “Then why are you surprised?” “I’m not surprised. I just think you misunderstand me.” Seungmin shoved one hand into his coat pocket. “Then explain.”
Your sister glanced towards the counter. The line had barely moved. “She’s always been the sweet one,” she said. “The one people feel protective over. I’ve always been more independent.” “Okay.” “She needs more reassurance.”
“Does she?” “You’ve seen how she is.” “I have.” “And that doesn’t get tiring?”
Seungmin looked at her properly. His tone stayed light, but his eyes sharpened. “No.” Your sister held his gaze. “You don’t have to pretend with me.” “I’m not.”
“She can be a lot.” “So can I.” “You’re different.” “You don’t know me.”
The words landed more firmly than anything he had said before. Your sister blinked. Seungmin looked back towards the counter. The line moved forward.
For a few seconds, she said nothing. Then she tried again. “She doesn’t tell people this, but she used to get overlooked a lot when we were younger.” Seungmin’s jaw tightened.
“Overlooked by who?” “People.” Your sister exhaled, clearly frustrated by his refusal to fill in the gaps for her. “Boys usually noticed me first.”
Seungmin waited. She smiled faintly. “She never minded. At least, she pretended not to.” He looked at her. “And?”
“And nothing. I’m only saying it’s probably nice for her to be the one someone chose for once.” Seungmin stared at her for a long moment. Your sister interpreted the silence as an opening. “You’re kind,” she continued. “You probably don’t even realise how much that means to her.”
“I noticed her.” The sentence was quiet. Immediate. Your sister’s smile faltered.
“I didn’t say you didn’t.” “You said people didn’t.” “I said they usually noticed me first.” “I didn’t.”
Something sharp passed across her face. Then she laughed. “You hadn’t met me.” Seungmin looked at her.
The confidence in her smile returned. It was not difficult to understand what she meant. If he had seen her first, things might have been different. If he knew her better, he might recognise what he had missed.
If you had not reached him before she did, perhaps he would have made the correct choice. Seungmin almost laughed. Instead, he said, “I’ve met you now.” Your sister’s smile remained fixed.
The line moved again. She stepped closer. “I think we have more in common than you realise.” “Do we?”
“We’re both ambitious.” “So is she.” “We care about how we present ourselves.” “She does too.”
“She doesn’t care what anyone thinks.” “That’s one of the things I like about her.” Your sister’s eyes narrowed. “You turn everything into a compliment about her.” “Yes.”
The answer was so simple that it left nowhere for the conversation to go. Your sister looked away. Seungmin’s phone buzzed again. He checked it.
Is she seducing you yet? A second message appeared. Blink twice if you need rescue Then:
Actually don’t. I can’t see you He laughed under his breath. Your sister glanced towards the phone. “She’s checking again?”
“She’s entertaining herself.” “She doesn’t trust me.” Seungmin looked up. “Should she?” Your sister went still.
He raised his eyebrows slightly. For the first time, she seemed uncertain whether he was joking. Then he smiled. Not warmly.
Not cruelly either. Just enough to make the question impossible to challenge. Your sister looked towards the menu. “What did she want?”
“Something sweet.” “That isn’t very specific.” “She likes trying new things.” “I know.”
“Do you?” Your sister frowned. “She’s my sister.” Seungmin slipped his phone into his pocket. “Then choose.” She looked at the display board.
After a moment, she suggested a coconut latte. Seungmin stared at her. “What?” “She hates coconut.”
Your sister hesitated. “Does she?” “She told you five minutes ago.” “I forgot.” “I didn’t.”
He ordered your favourite instead.
౨ৎ
You returned to find them sitting at a small table near the window. Your sister was speaking. Seungmin was looking at his phone. That alone told you almost everything you needed to know.
He was never rude enough to ignore someone without a reason. When he spotted you, his entire expression changed. His shoulders relaxed. His mouth curved into a smile. He put his phone down and lifted one hand towards you. “There you are.”
You slid into the seat beside him. Seungmin immediately hooked his fingers through the belt loop at the back of your jeans and tugged you closer. “I was gone for fifteen minutes.” “It was difficult.”
“You seemed fine.” Your sister looked between you. You picked up the drink in front of your seat and inspected it. “What did you get me?” “Try it.”
“What is it?” “I’m not telling you.” “Why?” “You said to surprise you.”
“I don’t trust you.” Seungmin pushed the cup closer. “Drink.” You took a cautious sip. It was sweet, creamy and familiar.
Your favourite. You looked at him. He smiled smugly. “You didn’t choose something new.”
“I chose something you’d like.” “That isn’t a surprise.” “You were surprised.” “I was surprised you made a good decision.”
Seungmin leaned towards you. “Say thank you.” “No.” “Say it.” “You’re very demanding.”
“I carried the bowls.” “They’re in one bag.” “A heavy bag.” “They’re ceramic, not concrete.”
Your sister interrupted. “He remembered your order.” You looked at her. There was something brittle in her voice. Seungmin rested his chin briefly on your shoulder and stole a sip of your drink.
You pushed his face away. “Of course he did,” you said. “He orders it more than I do.” “For you,” he corrected. “You steal half.”
“It tastes better when it’s yours.” “That’s because you’re a thief.” He smiled against your cheek. Your sister looked away.
You could practically feel the conversation you had interrupted sitting between them. You waited until Seungmin sat back. Then you asked, “Did you have a nice chat?” Your sister reached for her coffee.
Seungmin looked at you. His eyes were bright with the effort of not laughing. “Very informative.” “Oh?”
“I learned that I’m successful, disciplined and mature.” You nodded solemnly. “One out of three isn’t bad.” Seungmin kicked your foot beneath the table. You kicked him back.
Your sister sighed. “I was complimenting him.” “I know.” “She thinks I’m mature,” Seungmin said. “She doesn’t live with you.”
“I don’t live with you.” Under the table, Seungmin’s knee pressed against yours. You tapped it once with your own. He tapped back.
Your sister watched the movement. “I was only saying that you’re lucky,” she said. You looked at her. “Again?” “You are.”
“I know.” “She thinks you’re lucky someone finally noticed you,” Seungmin added. The words were delivered with deceptive casualness. Your sister’s head snapped towards him.
Your hand stilled around the cup. Seungmin lifted his drink. You looked at your sister. She looked suddenly furious.
“I didn’t say it like that.” “How did you say it?” “I said people usually noticed me first when we were younger.” You raised your eyebrows.
Your sister leaned back. “It was relevant to the conversation.” “What conversation?” “We were talking about relationships.” “You were talking about mine?”
“She asked whether dating you was tiring,” Seungmin said. You stared at him. He took a calm sip. Your sister’s face reddened. “That isn’t what I asked.”
“It was very close.” “You’re twisting my words.” “I remember them quite clearly.” You looked between them.
The ridiculousness of it arrived before the hurt could. Your sister had finally managed to get Seungmin alone, and she had apparently used the opportunity to explain why being with you must be exhausting. A laugh slipped out. Your sister’s mouth tightened. “Why are you laughing?”
“Because you had fifteen minutes.” “What?” “You finally got him alone and that was your strategy?” Seungmin choked on his drink.
Your sister stared at you. You turned towards him. “Are you all right?” He held up one hand and coughed into the other. “You’re horrible,” he managed.
“You were thinking it too.” “I was trying to be polite.” Your sister placed her cup on the table more firmly than necessary. “Nothing happened.” You looked at her. “I know.”
“Then stop acting like you caught me doing something.” “I didn’t catch you. He told me.” Your sister stood. The legs of her chair scraped against the floor.
“I’m going to look at another shop.” You glanced at the untouched coffee. “We just sat down.” “I remembered something I need.” She grabbed her handbag.
Seungmin watched her. Your sister looked at him, waiting for something. An offer to come with her, perhaps. An apology.
A private look that confirmed all the things she had decided existed between them. Seungmin lifted his hand. For one hopeful second, she smiled. Then he pointed towards her cup. “Are you taking that?”
Her smile disappeared. “No.” “Can I have it?” You elbowed him.
“What?” he asked. “She isn’t drinking it.” Your sister walked away without answering. You watched her disappear into the crowd. Then you turned slowly towards Seungmin.
He was already reaching for her abandoned coffee. You slapped his hand. “No.” “She said she didn’t want it.”
“You don’t know what’s in it.” “Coffee.” “She might have poisoned it.” “Why would she poison her own drink?”
“She sensed rejection.” Seungmin laughed. You folded your arms. “What did she actually say?” He gave up on the coffee and leaned back in his chair.
“Exactly what I told you.” “She asked whether I was tiring?” “She implied that you need constant reassurance, said you’re a lot and suggested I probably chose you because I’m kind.” Your amusement faded a little.
Seungmin noticed immediately. His foot slid beside yours under the table. “She also told me men usually noticed her first,” he added. You looked at the crowd beyond the window. “She loves saying that.”
“I asked which men.” That made you smile. Seungmin’s knee pressed more firmly against yours. “She couldn’t name them.”
“You interrogated her?” “I asked good questions.” “You never ask good questions.” “That’s unfair.”
You looked back at him. He was watching you closely. Not pushing. Just waiting.
“What else?” you asked. Seungmin hesitated. “She implied I might have chosen differently if I’d met her first.” A strange little ache settled beneath your ribs. Not because you believed it.
The idea of Seungmin choosing your sister felt almost comical. But because she believed your entire relationship could be reduced to timing. That you had simply arrived first and seized something that should have belonged to her. You looked down at your cup. “And what did you say?”
“That I’ve met her now.” Your mouth twitched. “That’s all?” “I thought it was enough.”
“It is.” “She didn’t like it.” “I’m devastated for her.” “I also told her I noticed you.”
Your fingers tightened slightly around the cup. Seungmin’s expression softened. “What?” “Nothing.”
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “I noticed you.” You fought a smile. You covered his mouth with your hand. Seungmin kissed your palm.
You pulled it away immediately. “That’s disgusting.” “You liked that too.” “You’re so pleased with yourself.”
“I handled a difficult social situation and bought you the correct drink.” “You want a medal?” “A kiss would be appropriate.” “You’re asking for payment?”
“I did hard labour.” “You stood in a coffee queue.” “With your sister.” You considered that.
Seungmin lifted his eyebrows. You leaned over and kissed his cheek. He turned his head at the last second, catching the corner of your mouth instead. You pulled back.
“That was cheating.” “You’re slow.” “You tricked me.” “You still kissed me.”
“Barely.” “You can try again.” “I’m not rewarding bad behaviour.” Seungmin rested one elbow on the table. “Then I’ll have to live with the memory.”
“You’re dramatic.” “I suffered for fifteen minutes.” “You were texting me.” “That was my lifeline.”
You laughed and nudged his foot beneath the table. Seungmin caught your ankle between his. “You know she’s going to tell herself you only rejected her because you knew I was coming back.” Seungmin’s expression became thoughtful. “Do you want me to say it more directly?”
You looked towards the direction your sister had disappeared. Part of you wanted him to. Part of you knew she would turn even that into evidence of something else. “She hasn’t actually admitted she wants you,” you said.
“She invited herself on our date.” “We’re buying Mum bowls.” “A highly romantic date.” Seungmin reached for your hand across the table.
His thumb brushed slowly over your knuckles. “If she says something properly,” he said, “I’ll answer properly.” “You have answered.” “I mean without being polite.”
“That sounds frightening.” Seungmin squeezed your hand. “Tell her that when she tries again.” You looked at him. “When?”
He smiled. “You think she’s stopping?” You glanced once more towards the crowd. “No.”
“Neither do I.” There was a pause. Then Seungmin brightened. “Can we go back for the dog?” “No.”
“He could be part of your mum’s present.” “She would hate him.” “She’d learn to love him.” “You only knew him for ten minutes.”
“That was enough.” Seungmin smiled and lifted your hand to his mouth. This time, he kissed your knuckles slowly. You let him.
Your sister returned ten minutes later carrying nothing. Neither of you mentioned it. Seungmin did, however, remain close to you for the rest of the afternoon. His hand at your waist when people passed too close. His fingers laced through yours on the escalator. His chin briefly resting on your shoulder while you examined candles. His mouth near your ear when he whispered that one of them smelled like “an expensive wardrobe”.
Your sister tried to walk beside him. Seungmin kept drifting back towards you. She asked his opinion. He asked yours.
She suggested shops. He followed wherever you went. By the time you left the shopping centre, your sister had stopped speaking unless someone addressed her directly. The three of you stood near the station while she checked the time.
“My train’s in five minutes,” she said. Your sister adjusted her handbag and looked at Seungmin. “It was nice spending time with you.” “You too.” “We should do it again.”
You looked at him. He looked at you. Your sister noticed. “Without making it into a whole family thing,” she added.
You raised your eyebrows. Seungmin slipped his arm around your shoulders. “I think she comes with me.” Your sister laughed. “You’re allowed separate friends.” “I have friends.”
“She means her,” you said. “I know.” Your sister’s cheeks coloured. “That isn’t what I meant.”
“What did you mean?” Seungmin asked. She looked at him. He waited. His expression was pleasant.
Curious. Entirely unwilling to rescue her. Your sister’s train arrived with a rush of noise behind her. She glanced towards the platform.
“I have to go.” “You should hurry,” you said. She hugged you briefly. When she turned towards Seungmin, he lifted the shopping bag between them.
Your sister stopped. He smiled politely. “Bye.” For a moment, she looked as though she might push around the bag and hug him anyway.
Then she stepped back. “Bye.” You watched her hurry towards the train. As soon as she was out of earshot, Seungmin lowered the bag.
“You used Mum’s bowls as a shield,” you said. “I panicked.” “You’re very brave.” “She hugged me last time.”
“Terrifying.” “I didn’t know what else to do.” “You could have hugged her.” Seungmin looked horrified. “Why would I do that?”
“She’s confident and sophisticated.” “Stop.” “More your type.” He pointed at you. “We discussed this.”
“She only needs an opportunity.” “You’re becoming annoying.” “Becoming?” “More annoying.”
You smiled. Seungmin stared at you for a second. Then he hooked one arm around your waist and lifted you just enough that your shoes left the ground. You yelped.
“Put me down!” “Take it back.” “We’re in public!” “I don’t care.”
You grabbed his shoulders, laughing as he carried you several steps away from the platform. Seungmin lowered you carefully to the ground. His smile softened. Seungmin took your hand again, swinging it once between you before pulling you towards the station exit.
“Come on,” he said. “We have to go back.” “For what?” “The dog.” “We are not buying the dog.”
“He’s waiting for us.” “He’s ceramic.” “He’ll think we abandoned him.” “You said I was the abandoned animal.”
“I can rescue both of you.” “You already complain that I take up too much space.” “He’s small.” “I hate you.”
Seungmin kissed the side of your head. He smiled and kept walking. You followed, because the station exit was in the same direction as the shop. Not because you had agreed to buy the dog.
Definitely not. When your mum opened her birthday present a week later, she found a beautiful set of handmade serving bowls. And, tucked between them, a tiny ceramic dog wearing a crown. She stared at it.
You stared at Seungmin. Seungmin looked unbearably pleased.
౨ৎ
By the time you finished getting ready, Seungmin had changed his shirt twice, complained about both options and somehow blamed you for the fact that neither looked right. “You said the black one was nice,” he reminded you from the bedroom doorway. “It was nice.” “And then you told me to wear the blue one.”
“Because the blue one is nicer.” “So the black one was ugly.” “That isn’t what I said.” “It’s what you implied.”
You turned away from the mirror and looked at him. He stood with both shirts hanging from one hand, his hair still slightly damp from the shower and an expression of genuine betrayal on his face. “You’re having a crisis over two nearly identical shirts.” “They aren’t nearly identical.” “One is black and one is very dark blue.”
“Exactly.” You stared at him. Seungmin stared back. Then his gaze drifted slowly down your body.
The offence disappeared from his expression. You had chosen an outfit that made you feel good. You suspected you would regret that decision later, but Seungmin’s reaction made it worth it. He looked at you for long enough that you lifted an eyebrow. “What?” “Nothing.”
You tried not to smile. “Have you not seen me before?” “Not in that.” “You watched me put it on.” “I was distracted.”
“By what?” “The shirt crisis.” You laughed and turned back towards the mirror. Seungmin abandoned both shirts on the bed and crossed the room, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. “You look pretty,” he murmured, resting his chin on your shoulder.
“Only pretty?” His eyes narrowed at your reflection. “Don’t become demanding.” “You stared at me for thirty seconds. I expected something better.” “You look very pretty.”
“That’s the same thing with an extra word.” “You look so pretty that I’m reconsidering letting you leave the flat.” You smiled. “Better.” “I knew you were fishing.”
“I enjoy compliments.” “I know.” Seungmin kissed the side of your neck, then another spot slightly lower. You tilted your head instinctively before remembering you had spent far too long getting ready. “Don’t ruin my makeup.”
“I’m nowhere near your makeup.” “You’ll work your way up.” “That sounds like encouragement.” You caught his wrists and pulled his arms away. Seungmin resisted just enough to make it difficult, then released you with an exaggerated sigh.
“You don’t love me anymore.” “I’m trying to get us to the party.” “Chan said eight.” “It’s quarter past.”
“Exactly. We’re early.” You looked at him through the mirror. “For what?” “A party.” “That started fifteen minutes ago.”
“Social events have a grace period.” “You invented that because you’re never ready on time.” “I was ready.” “You aren’t wearing a shirt.”
Seungmin looked down at his bare chest, then at the two shirts abandoned on the bed. Your phone buzzed on the dressing table. You picked it up. Your sister had messaged.
Are you there yet? A second message followed before you could reply. Is Seungmin going straight from yours? You turned the screen towards him.
Seungmin read both messages. His face remained blank for one beat, then he placed his chin back on your shoulder. “She misses me.” “She saw you last week.” “A long separation.”
“She didn’t ask whether I was going straight from mine.” “She knows you’ll be there.” “She also knows you’ll be there.” “That must be why she asked to come.”
You laughed and nudged him backwards with your hip. “Put the blue shirt on.” “The black one makes my shoulders look better.” “Then wear the black one.” “You said the blue was nicer.”
“Seungmin.” He smiled and kissed your cheek before finally retrieving the blue shirt. You replied to your sister while he dressed. We’re leaving soon. Bring the drinks you promised Chan.
Her response came almost immediately. What’s Seungmin wearing? You looked up. He was buttoning the blue shirt.
You considered sending her a photograph of the black one lying empty on the bed. Instead, you typed: Clothes x Seungmin glanced over. “What did you say?”
“Nothing important.” “You’re smiling.” “I’m entertaining myself.” “Is she seducing me remotely now?”
“Apparently she needs to prepare.” “For what?” “To be more your type.” Seungmin finished the final button and walked towards you. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”
“It’s funny.” “Until she touches my arm fifteen times.” “Maybe she thinks that’s where your romantic feelings are stored.” “That would explain why I keep trying to get away.”
You laughed, and Seungmin’s smile softened. He reached out to fix the chain of your necklace where it had twisted, his fingers careful against the back of your neck. “Tell me if it stops being funny,” he said. The words were quiet enough to change the air between you. You turned.
Seungmin let his hands settle at your waist. “I will.” “Promise?” “You already made me promise.”
“I’m making you do it again.” “Very controlling.” “Very caring.” “Debatable.”
He squeezed your waist. “Promise.” You rested both hands against his chest. “I promise.” Satisfied, Seungmin kissed your forehead. Then he leant back and examined his shirt in the mirror. “Do my shoulders look strange?”
You pushed him towards the door.
౨ৎ
The party remained civilised for approximately forty minutes. Then Changbin brought out the shot glasses. Chan saw them from across the room and immediately shook his head. “Take it easy” “You bought the alcohol,” Changbin reminded him.
Jisung appeared beside the kitchen counter as though summoned by the word drinking. “Shots are normal.” “You said that last time and threw up in my shoes.” “That was unrelated.” “It was directly related.”
Felix slid into the space beside Jisung and began examining the bottles. You followed closely behind him, your own drink already mostly gone. Seungmin caught your wrist before you could reach for anything. “You’re not doing shots.” You looked at his hand around your wrist, then at him. “Excuse me?”
“You’ve already had three drinks.” “So have you.” “I can still walk in a straight line.” “I can walk in a straight line.”
Seungmin released you and pointed towards the hallway. You stared at him. He lifted his eyebrows. “You want me to demonstrate?”
“Yes.” You placed your empty glass on the counter and turned towards the hallway with as much dignity as you could manage. Felix and Jisung watched in complete silence. You took three perfectly respectable steps.
Then your hip struck the edge of the sofa. You stopped. Seungmin smiled. “The sofa moved.”
“It’s been there all night.” “It knew I was trying to prove something.” Jisung nodded seriously. “Furniture can sense weakness.” Minho, sitting nearby with his ankle resting over one knee, looked at him. “That explains why you keep walking into doors.”
Jisung placed a hand over his chest. “Why are you attacking me?” “Because you make it easy.” Jisung abandoned the counter and dropped onto the sofa beside him. Within seconds, his legs were stretched across Minho’s lap. Minho glanced down but made no effort to move them.
You pointed towards them. “He can’t walk straight either.” “He’s sitting,” Seungmin said. “He was walking badly earlier.” Changbin began pouring.
Hyunjin took the bottle from Changbin before he could overfill the glasses. “At least make them even. You’re pouring like you’ve never seen liquid before.” “I’m being generous.” “You’re trying to kill Jisung.” Jisung lifted his head from Minho’s shoulder. “Yes please.”
Minho pressed one hand against his forehead and pushed him back down. “You accept nothing.” You managed to claim a glass before Seungmin could stop you. Felix took one. Jisung reached for another, but Minho lifted it out of reach.
Jisung stared at him. “Give it.” “No.” “You aren’t my father.” “Thank fuck for that.”
“You can’t control me.” Minho looked at the legs still resting across his lap. “Stand up, then.” Jisung considered it. “No.”
“Thought so.” Felix passed Jisung his own glass beneath the edge of the table. Minho saw. He allowed it.
You caught his eye. Minho shrugged and took another drink. “Traitor,” Seungmin told him. “I’m off duty.”
“You were never on duty,” Chan said. “Exactly.” Changbin raised his glass. “To Chan finally letting us have fun.” “This is my party.”
“Then act like it.” Chan swore at him, but lifted his drink anyway. Everyone crowded closer. Your friend remained beside your sister near the end of the counter, amused but still slightly removed from the intimacy of the group. You caught her eye and held up your glass.
She lifted hers back. Your sister barely noticed. She was watching Seungmin. He stood behind you with one hand resting against your hip, his thumb moving absently beneath the hem of your top.
You leaned back into him. “To being hot,” Hyunjin said. Jeongin nodded. “Finally, something relevant.” Chan looked around the group. “Can we toast to something normal?”
“No,” everyone replied. The shot burned on the way down. Felix coughed. You squeezed your eyes shut and grabbed the first solid thing you found.
It was Changbin’s arm. “Fuck.” Changbin laughed. “You agreed to it.” “That tasted like paint stripper.”
“You’ve never tasted paint stripper.” “Maybe I have.” Seungmin pulled you backwards against his chest. “And this is why you weren’t doing shots.” You turned in his arms. “I did one.”
“You nearly died.” “I recovered.” “You’re still holding Changbin.You could have held me.” You looked down to find your hand still wrapped around Changbin’s bicep and slowly released him. “Come back when you’ve got biceps, bud.”
Seungmin stared at you for a beat before catching you around the waist and pulling you firmly against his chest. “You seemed perfectly happy with mine earlier.” You placed a hand against his arm as though inspecting it. “They’re all right.” His grip tightened. “All right?” You smiled. “Maybe a little better than that.”
౨ৎ
Someone suggested a drinking game. Nobody later remembered who. You all ended up sitting in a loose circle around the living room with bottles, half-empty glasses and bowls of food scattered between you. Your friend sat beside your sister on the sofa. You were on the floor between Felix and Seungmin, with your back against Seungmin’s legs. His hand rested loosely at the base of your throat, occasionally brushing your hair aside.
Jisung had begun the game beside Minho. By the third round, he was mostly sitting on him. “Never have I ever,” Jeongin began, smiling in a way that immediately made Chan suspicious, “lied to get out of plans with someone in this room.” Nearly everyone drank.
Chan stared at the group. “Are you serious?” “You make too many plans,” Seungmin said. “I ask whether you want dinner.” “That’s still a plan.”
You lifted your glass. Seungmin looked down at you. “When did you lie to me?” You took a long sip. His fingers tightened gently at the back of your neck.
“When?” You smiled into your drink. “Next question.” “No. We’re staying here.” Felix laughed. “She said she was ill once because she wanted to watch a film with us.”
Seungmin stared at you. “You exposed me,” you told Felix. “I forgot it was a secret.” “You chose them over me?” Seungmin asked.
“You were working.” “You still lied.” “You would’ve sulked.” “I am sulking now.”
You twisted around to look at him. “Do you need a kiss?” Seungmin considered the offer. “Yes.” You kissed him quickly.
He kept one hand against your jaw and prevented you from moving away. “That was inadequate.” Everyone groaned. You laughed against his mouth before kissing him again, slower this time.
When you finally pulled away, Changbin threw a crisp at Seungmin’s head. “Some of us are single.” “You don’t have to watch,” Seungmin said. “You’re in the middle of the room.”
“Look somewhere else.” Hyunjin placed one hand against Changbin’s cheek and turned his face away. “There. Problem solved.” Changbin bit his palm. Hyunjin screamed.
The game continued. “Never have I ever had a crush on someone in this room,” Felix said. Silence fell. Then Jeongin drank.
Hyunjin drank. Changbin drank. Jisung lifted his glass, looked around and drank twice. Minho looked at him. “Twice?”
Jisung rested his chin on Minho’s shoulder. “I contain multitudes.” Minho took Jisung’s glass and drank from it. The room erupted. Jisung stared at him, eyes widening. “Was that your answer?”
“It was your drink.” “You have your own.” “I wanted yours.” “That is not an answer.”
Minho smiled into the rim of the glass. You turned towards Felix. He was already looking at you. Both of you burst out laughing.
“Don’t,” Minho warned. You covered your mouth with both hands. Seungmin’s chest shook behind you. Your sister remained completely still.
You could feel her watching. Felix nudged your knee. “You didn’t drink.” “I’m dating someone in the room.” “That doesn’t mean you never had a crush.”
Seungmin’s fingers slid beneath your chin and turned your face towards him. “You had better drink.” You stared at him. “Why?” “Because you had a crush on me.”
“That was never confirmed.” “You asked Chan for my number.” The group laughed. Your sister’s glass stopped halfway to her mouth.
Seungmin’s eyes flicked towards her, then back to you. Your smile softened despite the alcohol. Felix made an emotional noise. Minho pointed at him. “Don’t fucking start.”
Felix’s eyes had already begun shining. “I’m fine.” “You’re about to cry.” “I just think they’re cute.”
Seungmin felt you sniff. “No.” “I’m not doing anything.” “You’re crying.”
“Felix started it.” Felix wiped beneath one eye. “I’m happy.” “That makes it worse,” Seungmin said. You twisted and threw your arms around him.
He caught you automatically. “I love you.” Seungmin sighed, but his arms tightened around your waist. “I love you too.”
౨ৎ
The music became louder after that. So did everyone. Chan lost control of the playlist when you, Felix and Jisung began shouting over every song until he played something you liked. By then, the coffee table had disappeared beneath bottles, crushed cans and bowls of snacks nobody remembered opening. Somebody had spilt something sticky beside the sofa. Changbin had taken his shirt off for reasons nobody understood, and Hyunjin kept threatening to throw it out of the nearest window. You, Felix and Jisung dragged one another into the middle of the room.
At first, you actually danced. Felix knew what he was doing even while drunk. Jisung knew what he was doing until something distracted him, which happened every ten seconds. You possessed confidence far beyond your ability and therefore believed you looked incredible. Changbin encouraged that delusion by cheering whenever you moved. Hyunjin attempted to correct your posture once.
You told him to fuck off. He looked deeply wounded. “I’m trying to save you.” “I don’t need saving.” “You’re dancing like your limbs have separate plans.”
“They’re expressing themselves.” Felix laughed and caught your waist before you could stumble into the coffee table. Jisung pressed against your back, shouting the lyrics directly beside your ear while the three of you moved with very little coordination and enormous enthusiasm. From the sofa, Seungmin watched you. His blue shirt had come unbuttoned slightly at the throat, his hair had fallen across his forehead and his cheeks were warm from the alcohol. One hand rested around his glass while his eyes remained fixed on you.
Your sister sat only a few feet away. She attempted to speak to him twice. He answered politely, but barely looked in her direction. When you caught his gaze, you smiled and crooked one finger towards him.
Seungmin shook his head. You did it again. He lifted his drink as though that explained why he could not move. You pouted.
That worked. Seungmin put the glass down and crossed the room. Felix released your waist with a grin. Jisung remained attached to you until Minho appeared behind him, hooked an arm around his middle and pulled him backwards. Jisung laughed and twisted in his hold. “Jealous?”
Minho murmured something into his ear. Whatever it was made Jisung’s face turn bright red. Felix screamed. You screamed because Felix did.
Seungmin caught your face between both hands. “Why are you shouting?” You pointed vaguely towards Minho and Jisung. “Something happened.” “Nothing happened,” Minho said without looking at you. Jisung buried his face against his shoulder.
You grinned. “Something definitely happened.” Minho gave you a warning look. You immediately turned back to Seungmin and began adjusting his collar as though that had always been your intention. “Coward,” Seungmin murmured.
“You’re supposed to protect me.” “From the consequences of your own behaviour?” “You’re my boyfriend.” “That isn’t what that means.”
His hands slid to your waist as the song changed. You pulled him closer, and although he continued pretending not to dance, his body fell easily into the rhythm of yours. “There,” you said. “You’re dancing.” “I’m standing near you.” “You’re moving.”
“You keep dragging me around.” “You love it.” Seungmin lowered his mouth beside your ear. “I love you.” The softness of it caught beneath your ribs.
You turned and kissed him. He kissed you back without hesitation, one hand spreading across the small of your back while the party surged around you. Someone wolf-whistled. Someone else shouted at them to shut the fuck up. You suspected one of them had been Changbin. When you pulled away, Seungmin followed far enough to steal another brief kiss.
“You’re clingy,” you murmured. “You called me over.” “And you came.” “You pouted.”
“That’s all it takes?” “Unfortunately.” You smiled and kissed the edge of his jaw. His eyes closed.
“Again.” “You’re demanding.” You kissed his jaw again, and Seungmin’s grip tightened around your waist. Across the room, your sister emptied the rest of her glass.
You barely noticed. Seungmin’s attention had already wandered from dancing to pressing lazy kisses against whatever part of you happened to be closest—your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. When his lips brushed beneath your ear, you laughed and pushed lightly at his chest. “You’ve completely stopped dancing.” “I never started.”
“You came over.” “You summoned me.” “I moved one finger.” “Very controlling.”
His hand settled lower against your back, holding you close when somebody squeezed past. You reached up and fixed his collar again. “You look messy.” “You made me messy.” “That sounds suggestive.”
“It was meant to.” His smile turned slow and pleased. Before he could say anything worse, Felix collided gently with your side and caught your hand. “I need her.” Seungmin kept one arm around you. “You’ve had her for three songs.”
“The next one’s important.” “They’ve all been important,” you said. Seungmin looked at Felix. “You sound like her.” “That’s why she loves me.”
Felix pulled. Seungmin held on. You found yourself stretched between them. “Don’t make me choose.” Felix smiled. “You’ll choose me.”
Seungmin’s eyebrows lifted. “Choose carefully.” You pretended to consider it before twisting out of Seungmin’s arm, kissing him quickly and letting Felix drag you away. “Coward,” Seungmin called after you. “You still got a kiss!”
“Barely.” You laughed as Felix pulled you back into the crowd. The next hour dissolved into heat, noise and flashes of movement. Hyunjin danced as though someone might be filming him. Changbin attempted to copy him with enough force to make the floor shake.
Nearby, Minho took the glass out of Jisung’s hand and drank from it himself. Jisung watched him. “You said I couldn’t have that.” “You can’t.” “But you can?”
“Yes.” “That’s hot.” Minho looked away, but not before you saw him smile. Someone produced two microphones.
The karaoke began badly and deteriorated almost immediately. You, Felix and Jisung chose a song all three of you knew, which would have helped if any of you had agreed on when to start. Jisung came in too early. You missed half the first line. Felix attempted to hold the performance together and ended up laughing so hard that he could no longer sing. Changbin provided backing vocals without a microphone. Hyunjin acted out the lyrics from the sofa.
Chan kept trying to lower the volume and being shouted at whenever the music became even slightly quieter. By the second song, you had abandoned any pretence of performing well. You and Felix shared one microphone while Jisung used the other for increasingly dramatic ad-libs that had nothing to do with the actual song. Halfway through the chorus, you passed close enough to the sofa for Seungmin to hook his fingers around your wrist. He pulled.
You landed sideways across his lap, and the microphone struck his shoulder. “Shit. Sorry.” Seungmin took it from you before you could hit him again. “Ouch.” “I’m performing.”
“You’re screaming into expensive equipment.” He placed the microphone safely on the table. Felix shouted your name. You tried to stand, but Seungmin held your waist.
“I have responsibilities,” you told him. “You have absolutely no responsibilities.” “Felix needs me.” Felix and Jisung had abandoned the song and were arguing with Chan about whether the lyrics on the screen were wrong.
Seungmin looked towards them. “They seem busy.” “Then I need to help.” “You need to stay here for thirty seconds.” “Why?”
“I missed you.” Your expression softened before you could stop it. Seungmin smiled, knowing he had won. “You’re manipulative.”
You settled more comfortably across his thighs, one arm circling his shoulders. Seungmin rested his face against your chest and closed his eyes while your fingers moved through his hair. Across from you, your sister’s gaze remained fixed on his hand resting against your thigh. Your friend was speaking to her. Your sister nodded without listening.
By one in the morning, the party had split between the living room, the kitchen and the balcony. The music remained loud enough to vibrate through the floor. People drifted between conversations with drinks they had not poured and jackets that did not belong to them. Someone had opened a window, but the room was still hot with too many bodies and the sharp mixture of alcohol, perfume and whatever Changbin had sprayed after insisting he smelled fine. Your friend remained mostly with your sister. She laughed whenever the group became loud enough to include everyone, but she never tried to force herself into the easy physical closeness surrounding the boys.
You checked on her whenever you remembered. Each time, she assured you she was fine. Your sister always said the same. The fourth time you approached, your friend caught your wrist. “You are incredibly drunk.”
You looked down at yourself. “I’m standing.” “Barely.” Your friend laughed. Your sister did not. “She’s been throwing herself around for hours. She always gets like this when she drinks.”
There was something dismissive beneath the words. You recognised it even through the alcohol. Your friend did too. “She looks like she’s having fun,” she replied.
“I’m having an incredible time,” you announced. “I can tell.” Your sister glanced across the room towards Seungmin. “He must be exhausted.” You followed her gaze.
Seungmin was beside Chan, listening to Changbin explain something with far too much hand movement. He caught you looking almost immediately and lifted one eyebrow in silent question. You smiled. He smiled back. “Does he look exhausted?” you asked.
“He’s spent the whole night following you around.” “He likes me.” “I’m aware.” Before the conversation could sharpen, Felix appeared behind you and looped an arm around your shoulders. “There you are.”
“I’ve been here.” “You disappeared.” “I was checking on them.” Felix glanced towards your friend and sister. “Everything good?”
Your friend nodded. “We’re fine.” Your sister smiled at him. “We were talking.” “Great. I’m stealing her.” “You always steal her,” your sister said.
Felix laughed as though she had made a joke. “Everyone does.” He pulled you towards the kitchen. You looked back once. Your friend gave you a small, reassuring smile.
Your sister was already watching Seungmin again. In the kitchen, Jisung was sitting on the counter while Minho stood between his knees, holding a glass out of reach. “That’s mine,” Jisung complained. “It was yours.”
“I’m not finished.” “You said the room was spinning.” “It stopped.” “When?”
“When I closed one eye.” Felix immediately took Jisung’s side. “Give it back.” Minho looked at him. “You’re a terrible influence.” “You’re drinking too,” you pointed out.
“I can handle it.” “So can I.” Minho gave up and handed the drink to you instead. Jisung gasped. “That’s mine.”
“You’re too drunk.” “So are you.” “I’m handling it better.” Felix took the glass from you and drank before either of you could protest.
Minho laughed. It was becoming obvious that he was far drunker than he appeared. His movements were still controlled and his words remained clear, but his eyes had softened and he was smiling much too often. You stepped into the space beside him and wrapped both arms around his waist. Minho looked down. “What’s this?”
“I’m appreciating you.” “You’re crushing my shirt.” You rested your cheek against his chest. “You smell nice.” “None of you are getting another drink.”
“You ruined it,” you complained. “He ruins everything,” Jisung agreed. Minho caught Jisung’s chin and tilted his face upwards. “You can barely keep both eyes open.” “I only need one.”
“For what?” “To look at you.” Minho stared at him. You buried your face against Minho’s shoulder to hide your laughter.
Jisung looked unbearably pleased with himself. Minho’s ears turned pink. “You’re a fucking menace.” “You love me.” Seungmin entered the kitchen before anyone could comment.
He looked at Minho’s arm around you and Jisung hanging over his shoulders Then he looked at Minho. “You’ve collected them.” “I didn’t.” Seungmin approached and slid both hands onto your hips. “You keep disappearing.”
“You were talking.” “I can talk while holding you.” “That sounds inconvenient.” “I’m talented.”
Minho nodded towards you. “Take her before she asks for another shot.” You turned in Seungmin’s arms. “He’s trying to get rid of me.” “You’re attached to his shirt.” “I like him.”
“You like everyone tonight.” “I like everyone every night.” Seungmin’s expression softened. The next drinking game began in the kitchen because nobody could be bothered to move.
It was meant to be truth or drink. Within minutes, it became an excuse to ask invasive questions and shout whenever somebody refused to answer. Changbin joined first, followed by Hyunjin and Jeongin. Chan arrived last, realised what was happening and attempted to leave. You caught his wrist. “No.”
“I’m hosting.” “You’re hiding.” “I need to check the living room.” Jeongin looked towards the doorway. “It’s still there.”
Chan appealed silently to Minho for help. Minho poured him a drink. “Traitor.” “You chose to host.”
Everyone crowded around the counter and floor. You ended up sitting between Minho’s legs with your back against his chest because the chairs had disappeared beneath coats and bags. Seungmin sat in front of you, one hand wrapped loosely around your ankle. Jisung remained tucked against Minho’s side, his head on his shoulder and one leg draped over yours. Changbin pointed at you first. “Truth or drink?” “Truth.”
“What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve done because you were jealous?” Seungmin looked interested. You looked at Changbin. “I’m not jealous.” The entire room laughed.
“That wasn’t the question,” Hyunjin said. You raised your glass. “Then I’m drinking.” Seungmin’s hand tightened around your ankle. “Answer.” “You don’t get to interfere.”
Everyone shouted. “Coward,” Changbin said. “That’s the point of the game.” “The point is to expose yourself.”
“That sounds like a different game,” Jeongin said. You chucked at that The questions became worse from there. Felix refused to reveal who had received a flirtatious message he sent to the wrong person.
Changbin demanded to know whether anybody had ever hooked up somewhere they could have been caught. Half the room drank. Chan stared at everyone with a raised eyebrow. “In my home?” “Not necessarily,” Jeongin said.
“That did not reassure me.” Jisung claimed he had never done anything humiliating because he was horny. The entire group drank on his behalf. “Fuck all of you.”
Minho leant close enough to murmur something beside his ear. Jisung’s face turned red again. You twisted around. “What did he say?” “Nothing.”
Minho looked unbearably pleased. Your sister stood at the edge of the kitchen beside your friend. She watched Seungmin’s hand move slowly over your ankle. Then she watched Minho’s arm settle across your middle when you leant back against him. Perhaps she expected Seungmin to object.
Instead, he reached forward, caught your chin and tilted your face towards his. “My turn,” he said. You kissed him. The kiss was brief, but intimate enough to inspire several dramatic complaints.
When you pulled away, Seungmin’s thumb brushed once beneath your lip. Your sister looked away. The game ended when Chan realised the music in the living room was loud enough to make the glasses vibrate. Everyone returned to dancing.
By then, nobody pretended it was organised. You, Felix and Jisung shouted lyrics you barely knew with your arms around one another. Sometimes you danced. Sometimes you merely jumped during the chorus and trusted somebody to catch you. Changbin joined whenever the song was good. Hyunjin joined whenever he considered the song worthy.
Jeongin joined only to make everyone else look worse. At one point, Minho caught your hand as you passed and spun you beneath his arm. You nearly completed the movement gracefully. Then you lost your balance.
Minho caught you against his chest. Jisung caught you from the other side. The three of you laughed, tangled together. Seungmin appeared behind you and closed both hands around your waist. “You’re stealing my girlfriend,” he told Minho.
Minho shrugged. “She came willingly.” “He spun me.” “You asked,” Minho reminded you. Seungmin looked down at you. “You ask everyone for things.”
“And they give them to me.” “That’s because you’re spoilt.” “By you.” “Mostly.”
He kissed your forehead. You leant into him, suddenly overwhelmed by the warmth of the room and how much you loved everyone in it. Across the room, your friend smiled at the sight. Your sister finished another drink.
By the time you needed the bathroom, you were far beyond pleasantly drunk. You were still awake, still talking and technically capable of walking, but the room tilted whenever you turned too quickly. Seungmin noticed you heading towards the hallway and followed. You looked over your shoulder. “Where are you going?”
“With you.” “I can piss alone.” “I’m making sure you reach the bathroom.” “That’s insulting.”
Seungmin caught your waist before you walked into the wall. “Exactly.” You allowed him to guide you down the hallway, although you complained the entire way. At the bathroom door, you planted both hands against his chest. “You can’t come in.” “I wasn’t planning to.”
“You looked like you were.” “I was opening the door.” Seungmin smiled and kissed your forehead. “I’ll be here.” “Why?”
“Because you’ll forget where the living room is.” “It’s one hallway.” “And yet.” You narrowed your eyes and disappeared into the bathroom.
When you came back out, your sister was standing in front of him. One hand rested against the wall beside his shoulder. Seungmin was leaning away. “You could come upstairs with me,” she said.
He blinked at her. “Why?” You stopped in the doorway. Even through the alcohol, laughter rose immediately in your chest. Your sister looked at him as though he were deliberately being stupid. “You know why.”
“I genuinely don’t.” She moved closer, forcing Seungmin’s back against the wall. “We could have sex.” For one long second, Seungmin simply stared at her.
Then his gaze found yours over her shoulder. You covered your mouth. The expression on his face made it impossible not to laugh. His eyes widened slightly, one corner of his mouth twitching as though he could not decide whether to be horrified or offended. Your sister followed his gaze and found you standing there.
Her face hardened. “Oh, please. Don’t act like it’s ridiculous.” That made you laugh harder. “I’m sorry. His face.” “You’re not helping,” Seungmin said.
“You asked why.” “It was a reasonable question.” “She invited you upstairs.” “She could’ve needed something.”
“At one in the morning?” “I didn’t know what she meant.” “You did,” your sister snapped. Seungmin looked back at her. “Apparently not.”
She folded her arms. “You haven’t even considered it.” “No.” “Why?” He stared at her.
Then he gave one short, humourless laugh. “Because I don’t want to.” “You don’t know that.” “I do.” “You’ve never given me a chance.”
“I’m not required to.” Your laughter faded. Your sister stepped closer and reached for his chest. Seungmin caught her wrist before she could touch him.
“Stop.” The word was calm. Firm. He moved her hand away and released it.
Humiliation sharpened your sister’s expression as she turned towards you. “You think this is funny because you assume he’d never choose me.” “I don’t assume it.” “You should stop speaking for him.” “I’m standing right here,” Seungmin said.
She ignored him. “You’ve always done this. You get something and act smug because you know somebody else deserves it more.” The alcohol inside you turned suddenly heavy. You steadied yourself against the bathroom door. “Somebody else?” “You know what I mean.”
“No. Say it properly.” Her eyes travelled over you. Your clothes had shifted from dancing. Your lipstick was smudged. Your hair was a mess and your balance remained questionable. You had never felt happier.
“Look at you,” she said. “You’re completely wasted. He’s spent all night following you around while you throw yourself over every man in the room.” Seungmin’s expression hardened. You laughed softly. “Is that what this is about?” “I’m saying he could do better.”
“With you?” “Yes.” The certainty would have been impressive if it were not so pathetic. Your smile disappeared.
Your sister noticed and pushed harder. “I’m prettier. I know how to behave. I don’t need eight men constantly touching me and telling me how special I am.” “Nobody is taking care of me.” “You can barely stand.”
“I’m drunk at a party.” “You’ve been climbing into their laps and letting them put their hands all over you. It’s embarrassing.” Seungmin stepped away from the wall and moved to your side. His hand settled securely at the back of your waist.
Your sister watched it. “She hasn’t embarrassed me once,” he said. “She’s been all over Minho. Felix practically had his hands under her clothes earlier.” “So?”
Your sister blinked. Seungmin’s thumb moved slowly against your side. “She loves them,” he said. “They love her. I know exactly where I stand.” “You should have more self-respect.”
His eyebrows rose. “You asked me to cheat on her beside a bathroom.” “You’ve spent the whole night trying to fuck my boyfriend,” you said, “and somehow I’m the slut?” Your sister glared at you. Seungmin continued before she could answer. “Don’t talk to either of us about self-respect.”
“You only say that because she’s standing here.” “I rejected you when she wasn’t.” “You knew she’d find out.” “I knew because I was going to tell her.”
“Why?” “Because she’s my girlfriend.” Your sister shook her head. “You don’t have to keep settling because she got to you first.” Seungmin went still.
There it was. The belief beneath every comparison and every attempt. You had simply reached him first. Had she met him earlier, dressed better, tried harder or pushed for long enough, he would eventually recognise that he had chosen the wrong sister.
Seungmin’s arm tightened around you. “I noticed her,” he said. Your sister scoffed. “You hadn’t met me.” “I’ve met you now.”
The hallway became very quiet. Music still thudded beyond it. Someone laughed in the living room. Your friend called your sister’s name once, distant and uncertain. Seungmin looked directly at her. “And I still choose her.”
Your sister’s face changed. For a moment, she appeared almost sober. Then the anger returned. “She isn’t better than me.”
“This isn’t about who’s better.” “It always is.” “No,” you said quietly. “It’s always been that way to you.” She looked at you.
You could feel Seungmin watching your face. At first, it had been funny. Her unnecessary outfits. Her fake excuses. The way she interpreted Seungmin’s basic manners as secret attraction. Even now, the idea that he might accept remained ridiculous.
But the joke had always required you to ignore the part where your sister could not want something without explaining why you deserved it less. “You can want him,” you said. “I don’t care. It’s humiliating for you, but it doesn’t threaten me.” Her mouth twisted. “What pisses me off is that you can’t admit you want him without telling him I’m ugly, exhausting, childish or not good enough. You don’t flirt with him. You campaign against me.”
“I’ve never called you ugly.” “You keep telling everyone you’re prettier.” “I am.” Seungmin made a disbelieving sound.
You glanced at him. “What?” “Nothing. I’m trying very hard to remain polite.” Your sister folded her arms. “See? You’ve turned him against me.”
“I didn’t have to. You did that by ignoring him every time he said no.” The words landed. Your sister looked at Seungmin. His expression did not soften.
“I thought you were being loyal,” she said. “I was being clear.” “You were trying not to hurt her.” “I was trying not to humiliate you.”
Her cheeks flushed. Seungmin’s voice lowered. “You’ve made that impossible.” Your friend appeared at the far end of the hallway. She looked between the three of you, taking in your sister’s expression and Seungmin’s arm around your waist. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” your sister said immediately. You laughed tiredly. “She asked Seungmin to have sex with her.” Your friend’s eyes widened. “You didn’t have to say it like that,” your sister snapped.
“How should I say it?” “She’s drunk,” your friend said carefully. “So am I.” “I know.”
Your friend approached and touched your sister’s arm. “Come and sit down.” Your sister pulled away. “Everyone’s acting like I’ve done something terrible.” “You propositioned my boyfriend after he repeatedly told you he wasn’t interested.” “You don’t own him.”
“No,” you said. “I don’t.” That stopped her. You rested more heavily against Seungmin’s side but kept your eyes on her. “He’s a person. He said no. That should have mattered even if I didn’t exist.”
Your friend looked at your sister. “She’s right.” Betrayal flashed across your sister’s face. “You’re supposed to be here with me.” “I’m here because she invited me.” The answer was gentle but firm.
Your sister looked between you. Then she laughed bitterly. “Fine. Everyone thinks I’m pathetic.” Nobody answered. That seemed to hurt more than any denial would have.
Your friend held out her hand. “Come on.” After a moment, your sister accepted it. She allowed herself to be led back towards the living room without looking at either of you again. You remained in the hallway.
Seungmin rubbed one hand slowly over your back. You watched them disappear. Then you looked at him. “You really asked why.” His mouth dropped open.
The laughter returned before you could stop it. Seungmin stared at you. “You’re impossible.” “Your face was so confused.” “She was vague.”
“She had you against a wall.” “She said upstairs.” “At one in the morning.” “That could mean anything.”
“Name one other thing.” Seungmin opened his mouth. Nothing came out. You waited.
His expression grew increasingly offended. “Exactly.” He caught your waist in both hands and pulled you closer. “You’re very annoying.” “You love me.”
“I’m reconsidering.” “No, you aren’t.” “No,” he admitted. Your smile softened.
The alcohol made it difficult to hold on to one emotion for long. Amusement blurred into exhaustion, which blurred into the ache your sister’s words had left behind. Seungmin noticed. He always did. “Hey.”
You looked at him. His expression had gentled, eyes warm despite the alcohol. “Are you okay?” “I’m extremely drunk.” “I know.”
“She’s a bitch.” “She is.” “I can’t believe she said I throw myself over everyone.” “You do,” Seungmin said, completely unbothered. “Luckily, everyone seems very happy to catch you.”
“With all of you.” “I know.” His hand settled more firmly at your waist. “I’ve never complained.” “And you don’t care?” Seungmin looked genuinely confused. “Why would I?”
You shrugged. “Because she said—” “I don’t care what she said.” The answer came quickly enough to interrupt you. Seungmin lifted your hand and kissed your knuckles.
“I know you,” he said. “I know them. I know what all of this is.” His free hand gestured towards the living room, where Felix was shouting the chorus to another song while Minho told somebody to turn the music down without making any effort to do it himself. “You’re my girlfriend,” Seungmin continued. “That doesn’t mean you stop belonging with them too.” Something warm tightened in your chest.
“That was disgustingly sweet.” You kissed him. His hand slid to the back of your neck, keeping you close as the kiss deepened. Nothing frantic. Nothing performed for anybody else. Just familiar affection in a dim hallway while the party continued metres away.
When you pulled back, Seungmin followed for one more kiss. Then another. “You’re doing too many,” you murmured. “I’ve lost count.”
“You always say that.” You laughed and rested your forehead against his. “There she is,” he murmured. Footsteps sounded behind you.
Felix appeared first, followed by Jisung and Minho. Felix’s expression changed when he saw your face. “Are you okay?” You nodded. Jisung looked unusually serious. “Your friend said something happened.”
“My sister asked Seungmin to sleep with her.” Jisung stared at Seungmin. Then at you. Then back at Seungmin.
“Why?” You burst out laughing. Seungmin pointed at him. “See? Reasonable question.” “That isn’t what I meant,” Jisung said quickly. “Why would she think you’d say yes?”
“That sounded better after clarification.” Minho stepped closer and touched the side of your face. “Are you actually all right?” You leant into his palm. “Mostly.” “Mostly isn’t yes.”
“She was being a bitch.” “I gathered.” From the living room, Changbin shouted, “If you lot are done fondling each other, we’re doing another round.” Chan shouted back that nobody was doing another fucking shot.
Jeongin appeared in the hallway holding four. The party carried on around you.
Synopsis: han jisung as the third wheel who is not really a third wheel at all
A/n: ahh this had made me want to write for these two even more if anyone has any requests i would love to write them!
Wc: 3,267
Dating Minho came with rules.
Not official ones, of course. Minho wasn’t the type to sit you down with a serious face and a bullet-pointed list of relationship terms. He was more the type to silently place the last piece of meat in your bowl, glare at you until you ate it, and then call you dramatic when you got emotional about it.
Still, the rules existed.
One: Soonie, Doongie, and Dori were to be spoken to with respect at all times.
Two: if Minho cooked, you were expected to praise him properly. Not too much, because then he’d accuse you of being fake. Not too little, because then he’d sulk in silence for exactly twelve minutes.
Three: if you were dating Minho, you were also dating the fact that Han Jisung came attached.
That third rule was the one no one warned you about.
You had discovered it slowly.
At first, Jisung appeared on casual outings. A café trip here, a convenience store run there. Minho would text you, I’m outside, and when you opened the car door, Jisung would already be sitting in the back seat with a packet of crisps, waving at you like he had been invited.
“Hi,” he’d say cheerfully. “Don’t mind me.”
You would glance at Minho.
Minho would stare straight ahead, one hand on the wheel. “He was hungry.”
That was always the excuse.
He was hungry. He was bored. He looked lonely. He said he wanted coffee. He was whining. He followed me out. He has separation anxiety.
Jisung never denied any of it. In fact, he seemed rather proud.
Over time, he stopped sitting in the back seat.
Now, he sat in the passenger seat when Minho drove, because he claimed he got carsick in the back, even though everyone knew that was a lie. You sat behind Minho, reaching forward occasionally to poke his cheek or fix the collar of his jacket. Jisung would watch in the mirror, lips pursed.
“You never fix my collar,” he complained one afternoon.
“You’re wearing a hoodie,” Minho said.
“So?”
“So there’s no collar.”
Jisung turned around to look at you with wounded eyes. “Do you see how he speaks to me?”
You leaned forward and gently adjusted the drawstrings of his hoodie instead. “There. Better?”
Jisung immediately melted back into his seat, smiling smugly. “Much better.”
Minho clicked his tongue, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
That was how it always went.
Jisung complained. You fussed. Minho pretended to be annoyed. Then, when Jisung wasn’t looking, Minho would do something stupidly tender, like pass him the first bite of food or tug his hood up because the wind was cold.
It was impossible not to love them together.
It was also impossible to go on a normal date.
You had tried.
Not because Jisung was rude about it or anything. He wasn’t. That was the thing people didn’t always get about him.
For all his dramatic whining and his tragic little sighs whenever Minho said he was busy, Jisung knew when to step back. He knew when a date was a date. A proper one. The kind where you dressed up, Minho booked a table somewhere nice, and Jisung sent exactly one text saying, Have fun, bring me dessert if you love me.
Which, obviously, Minho pretended to ignore.
And then brought him dessert anyway.
That was how it usually went.
Tonight had been one of those proper dates.
You had spent too long getting ready, changing your outfit twice before settling on something you knew Minho liked. Not because he was hard to impress — he really wasn’t, no matter how much he acted like he was — but because the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention still made your stomach do stupid little flips.
When he knocked on your door, you opened it before he could text you something annoying like hurry up, I’m ageing outside.
Minho stood there in a black coat, hair soft over his forehead, one hand tucked into his pocket.
For once, he didn’t immediately say something sarcastic.
His eyes moved over you, slow and obvious, and his mouth parted just slightly before he caught himself.
You leaned against the doorframe. “What?”
He blinked, then looked you right in the eye.
“You look gorgeous.”
There it was.
No mumbling. No pretending. No weird
dodge.
Just Minho, looking at you like you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen and deciding, apparently, that you deserved to hear it.
Your face warmed. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” His gaze dipped again, softer this time. “Really pretty.”
You tried to play it cool. You failed immediately.
“Careful,” you said, stepping out and locking the door behind you. “Compliment me too much and I might start thinking you like me.”
Minho took your hand before you could overthink it, lacing his fingers through yours. “Shit. That would be embarrassing.”
The date itself was perfect in that quiet, sort of way.
He complained about the lighting in the restaurant and then still took a picture of you because he said you looked too good not to. He told you not to order something spicy because you’d regret it, then swapped plates with you halfway through when you did, in fact, regret it. He reached across the table to wipe sauce from the corner of your mouth with his thumb, called you messy, and smiled when you kicked him lightly under the table.
It was romantic.
It was just yours.
No interruptions. No Jisung dramatically appearing.
Because Jisung wasn’t a dick.
He might be clingy. He might text Minho twenty-seven times in a row because he saw a cat that “looked similar” to him. He might act like being left alone for three hours was the same as being abandoned in the wilderness.
But he respected you.
He respected Minho.
He respected the relationship.
And maybe that was why you liked letting him into it so much.
By the time dinner was over, you and Minho were walking back to the car hand in hand, your shoulder tucked against his arm, the night air cold enough to make you shiver.
Minho noticed immediately.
Without a word, he unwound his scarf and looped it around your neck.
You smiled. “You’ll be cold.”
“I’m strong.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“You’re gorgeous. Be quiet.”
You laughed, tugging the scarf closer around yourself. “You can’t just say that whenever you want me to stop arguing.”
“It worked.”
“It did, actually.”
His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and for a moment, everything was calm and warm and easy.
Then his phone buzzed.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Minho didn’t even check it at first.
You did.
Not the messages, just the name lighting up on his screen.
Han Jisung.
You snorted. “Your son is calling.”
“He’s older than a son.”
You snorted again. “Your other half is calling.”
The phone buzzed again.
Minho sighed like the weight of the world had personally chosen him. Then he answered, putting it on speaker before you could stop grinning.
“What?”
Jisung’s voice came through instantly. “Wow. Hello to you too, sunshine.”
“What do you want?”
“First of all, rude. Second of all, nothing. I’m just checking you’re alive.”
“You texted me nine times.”
“Because you didn’t answer.”
“I was on a date.”
“I know! That’s why I only texted nine times. I was being respectful.”
You covered your mouth, laughing silently.
Minho glanced at you, his expression flat, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “What happened?”
There was a pause.
Then Jisung said, quieter, “Nothing happened.”
Minho stopped walking.
You stopped too.
His voice changed, not by much, but enough that you heard it. Softer. More focused.
“Han.”
Jisung made a small noise. “Don’t do the scary voice.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing bad. I just…” Another pause. “I finished my schedule and everyone’s doing their own thing and I’m bored as fuck.”
You looked at Minho.
Minho looked at you.
You leaned closer to the phone. “Did you eat?”
Jisung gasped. “Oh my God, hi.”
“Hi, Sungie. Did you eat?”
“Define eat.”
Minho closed his eyes. “Han Jisung.”
“I had crisps.”
“That’s not dinner,” you said.
“It was a big bag.”
Minho was already pulling his keys from his pocket. “We’re picking you up.”
Jisung went silent.
Then, suspiciously soft, “You are?”
You glanced at Minho, raising your eyebrows.
He shrugged like this hadn’t been his decision before you even said anything.
“Our date’s finished,” you said. “And Minho owes you dessert.”
“I do not,” Minho said.
“You bought it already.”
Jisung made a delighted sound. “You bought me dessert?”
“No,” Minho said.
“He did,” you said.
“No, I didn’t.”
“You asked the waiter to pack an extra slice of cheesecake.”
“That could be for me.”
“You don’t even like cheesecake that much.”
Jisung’s voice wobbled with pure, ridiculous emotion. “You got me cheesecake?”
Minho unlocked the car. “I’m hanging up.”
“Hyung.”
“What?”
“I love you.”
Minho froze for half a second.
You watched him carefully.
His face didn’t change much, but his ears went pink again.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Stay where you are.”
He hung up before Jisung could make it worse.
You slipped into the passenger seat this time, still wrapped in Minho’s scarf, still warm from dinner and his compliments and the easy weight of his hand in yours.
As soon as he started the car, you looked over at him.
He didn’t look back. “What?”
“You’re cute.”
“I’m driving. Don’t annoy me.”
“You got him cheesecake.”
“He’s annoying when he wants something sweet.”
“You love him.”
Minho’s fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel.
For a second, you wondered if you’d pushed too far.
Then he said, very quietly, “So do you.”
You smiled.
“Yeah,” you admitted. “I do.”
He glanced at you then, quick and careful.
Not jealous. Not uncomfortable.
Just checking.
You reached over and rested your hand on his thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“I love you too, you know.”
Minho’s face softened immediately.
“I know,” he said.
Then, after a beat, “I love you.”
You grinned. “See? Was that so hard?”
“Awful. Nearly died.”
“You’re so brave.”
He smiled then, small but real, and took one hand off the wheel just long enough to lift your hand to his mouth and kiss your knuckles.
By the time you pulled up outside the studio, Jisung was already waiting near the entrance in an oversized hoodie, bouncing slightly on his heels from the cold.
The second he saw the car, his whole face lit up.
“Oh, he is so pleased with himself,” you said.
Minho sighed. “Don’t encourage him.”
“You say that like we aren’t literally here to pick him up and give him cake.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“He’s pathetic.”
Jisung opened the back door before you could answer and immediately leaned between the front seats. “I heard that.”
“Good,” Minho said.
Jisung ignored him completely and looked at you. “Hi, pretty.”
“Hi, princess.”
His smile turned smug instantly.
Minho groaned. “Don’t call him that. He gets worse.”
“I deserve nice things,” Jisung said, climbing into the back seat and shutting the door. “I have suffered.”
“You were alone for two hours,” Minho said.
“Exactly.”
You turned around in your seat and reached back to fix the hood slipping off Jisung’s head. His hair was messy underneath, fluffy and sticking up at the sides.
“You’re freezing,” you said.
“I know, I’ve been suffering out here.”
Minho reached for the heater without being asked.
Jisung noticed.
You noticed him noticing.
Minho noticed both of you noticing and immediately looked pissed off about being perceived.
“Don’t,” he warned.
Jisung pressed his lips together.
You did the same.
The silence lasted three seconds.
Then Jisung said, “You love me so bad.”
Minho put the car into drive. “I’m taking you back.”
“No, you’re not. You have cheesecake.”
“Had cheesecake.”
Jisung gasped. “You wouldn’t.”
You reached into the bag at your feet and pulled out the takeaway box. “He wouldn’t. He was very serious about making sure they packed it properly.”
Minho muttered something under his breath.
Jisung leaned forward, eyes shining. “Can I have it now?”
“No,” Minho said.
“Yes,” you said at the same time.
Jisung looked between you both. “Mum said yes.”
Minho’s head turned slowly.
You burst out laughing.
“Do not call her that,” he said.
Jisung looked between you both. “Your gorgeous date said yes.”
Minho’s head turned slowly. “Don’t flirt with my date.”
“I’m complimenting her.”
“That’s flirting.”
Jisung smiled around his fork. “You’re jealous.”
You reached back and gently pinched Jisung’s cheek. “Eat your cheesecake before he takes it back.”
Jisung immediately clutched the box closer. “He wouldn’t. He loves me too much.”
He took one bite and immediately slumped back against the seat, eyes closing. “Fuck, that’s good.”
Minho glanced at him in the rear-view mirror. “Seatbelt.”
Jisung, still chewing, blindly reached for it.
You watched Minho watching him.
That was the thing about dating Minho. People who didn’t know him properly always acted like he was hard to read, like his love had to be dug out from underneath layers of sarcasm and blank stares.
But you had never really seen it that way.
Minho loved in a way that was almost impossible to miss if you paid attention. He held your hand without thinking. He fixed Jisung’s hood when it slipped off his head. He kept his palm warm against the small of your back when you walked through busy places, guiding you gently without making a big deal out of it. He bought the cheesecake. He turned the heating up. He told you that you looked gorgeous and said it like he meant every single letter.
He could tease, obviously. He could be dry and blunt and annoying as hell when he wanted to be.
But cold?
Never.
Not with you.
Not with Jisung.
Not when he looked at the two of you like you were something soft he had been trusted to take care of.
By the time you got back to the dorm, Jisung had already eaten three bites of the cheesecake in the car despite Minho telling him to wait until you were all inside.
He had agreed, very seriously, and then opened the box the second Minho looked back at the road.
“You have no self-control,” Minho said, unlocking the door.
Jisung walked in first, cheesecake tucked protectively against his chest. “I have joy. You should try it sometime.”
“Don’t say that while holding a plastic fork,” Minho said.
“Why?”
“It ruins the effect.”
You laughed, slipping past Minho into the dorm. “So there was an effect?”
Minho looked at you, then down at your outfit again, the same way he’d been doing all night when he thought he was being subtle.
“There is when you do it,” he said.
Your face warmed immediately.
You took your coat off, still smiling, and before you could reach for the hook, Minho stepped behind you and lifted it gently from your shoulders.
His hands lingered for half a second.
“You really did look gorgeous tonight,” he said, quieter now.
You turned your head slightly, smiling at him over your shoulder. “You’ve told me that already.”
“I know.”
“And you’re telling me again?”
His mouth curved. “Problem?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He kissed your cheek before hanging your coat up, quick and casual enough to make your heart feel stupid.
When you glanced towards the living room, Jisung was already on the sofa, cheesecake balanced on his lap, fork held loosely in his hand.
He wasn’t saying anything.
Which was, honestly, how you knew something was up.
Usually, Jisung filled every room he was in. A little hum here, a comment there, some dramatic noise just to remind everyone he existed and deserved to be looked at. But now he was just sitting there, lips pushed into the smallest pout, poking at the corner of his cheesecake without actually eating it.
You softened immediately.
Minho noticed too.
His eyes flicked over Jisung’s face, and all the teasing left him at once.
You sat down beside Jisung, still smiling, and reached over to fix the hood of his jumper where it had bunched awkwardly behind his neck. “Poor Sungie.”
Jisung’s pout deepened, but he leaned into you almost instantly, like he’d been waiting for permission.
“I’m fine,” he mumbled.
“No, you’re not.” You reached up and pushed his hair back from his forehead, gentle with it. “You’re sulking.”
“I’m not sulking.”
“You’re holding your fork sadly.”
His eyes dropped to the fork in his hand.
Then, very quietly, he said, “Maybe a little.”
Your chest went all warm and soft.
You cupped his cheek, thumb brushing lightly over his skin. “Did you want some attention too?”
Jisung didn’t answer straight away.
He just leaned heavier into your hand, cheeks going pink.
That was answer enough.
Before you could say anything else, the sofa dipped on Jisung’s other side.
Minho sat beside him, close enough that their knees touched, and reached over to take the cheesecake box from his lap before it could slide off.
Jisung looked at him.
Minho looked back, expression gentle in a way that always made your heart ache a little.
“You went quiet,” he said softly.
Jisung shrugged, suddenly very interested in the sleeve of his hoodie. “Didn’t wanna interrupt.”
“You’re not interrupting.”
“You were being cute.”
Minho’s face softened even more.
Then he reached up and tucked a messy piece of hair behind Jisung’s ear, his fingers lingering there.
“You’re allowed to want attention,” he said.
Jisung blinked.
The room went quiet for a second.
Not awkward. Just soft.
Then Jisung mumbled, “That’s embarrassing.”
Minho smiled a little. “You’re embarrassing.”
“Hyung.”
“Cute, though.”
Jisung’s head snapped up.
You smiled so hard your cheeks hurt.
Minho didn’t look away from him. He didn’t roll his eyes or pretend he hadn’t said it. He just looked at Jisung like he adored him because he did. Like Jisung being needy and pouty was something precious, not annoying.
Then Minho leaned in and kissed his forehead.
Jisung’s eyes fluttered shut immediately.
The pout disappeared from his face so quickly it was almost funny.
You leaned in too, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
Jisung made a tiny sound, pleased and shy all at once, before hiding half his face behind his sleeve.
“You’re both so mean,” he mumbled.
You laughed softly. “We kissed you.”
“Exactly.”
Minho’s hand slid to the back of Jisung’s neck, thumb rubbing there gently. “Spoiled.”
Jisung peeked over his sleeve. “Loved.”
Minho’s smile was small, but so warm.
“Yeah,” he said. “Loved.”
Jisung went quiet again, but this time it wasn’t sulking.
You settled closer against his side, and Minho stayed right there on the other, sandwiching Jisung between you both until his shoulders finally relaxed.
After a moment, Jisung picked up his fork again and took a tiny bite of cheesecake.
“There he is,” Minho murmured.
Jisung leaned into him, still chewing. “Don’t talk about me like I’m a cat.”
Minho brushed his thumb once more against the nape of his neck. “Then stop acting like one.”
You reached over and wiped a bit of cheesecake from the corner of Jisung’s mouth with your thumb.
He smiled, completely shameless now.
“Can’t help it,” he said. “I like being taken care of.”
Synopsis: You used to orbit around Chan, all late nights and unspoken feelings, until his rejection forced you to move on. Now you’re in a soft, quietly solid relationship with Seungmin—and Chan can only regret the choice that made room for someone who actually chose you back.
a/n: ahh this is so bittersweet but comforting at the same time
wc: 6,978
You always find him in the same place.
Headphones on, shoulders hunched, fingers tapping restlessly against the desk as a project file glows on the screen. The clock on the wall insists it’s nearly 2 a.m., but Bang Chan still looks like he’s only halfway through his to-do list.
You pause at the doorway of the studio, paper cup of coffee warm between your hands.
“Chan?”
He jumps slightly, spinning in his chair. The harsh blue light of the monitors softens when he recognises you.
“Oh— hey. You scared me.” He pulls one earcup down, a small tired smile tugging at his lips. “What are you doing here? Didn’t your shift end ages ago?”
You step in, closing the door with your foot. “Didn’t your shift end ages ago?”
He laughs quietly, that soft breathy sound you’ve heard a thousand times. You cross the room and set the coffee beside his keyboard.
“Thought you might need this.”
His eyes flick to the cup, then to your face.
“You’re an actual angel, you know that?” He wraps his hands around it, inhaling the steam like it’s oxygen. “Thank you.”
“It’s just convenience store coffee.”
“Yeah, but it’s coffee.” He takes a sip, eyes closing. “And you thought about me.”
He says it so casually, like it doesn’t send your heart straight through the floor.
You swallow, fingers twisting together. You’ve rehearsed what you’re about to say a hundred times— in the shower, on the bus, staring at your bedroom ceiling when you should be asleep. It never sounded right in your head, but your chest feels too tight to keep carrying it around.
“Chan?”
“Mm?” He’s already turned back to the screen, cursor dancing through waveforms, but his attention shifts when he hears your tone. He swivels properly to face you, brows knitting. “Everything okay?”
No. Not really.
You exhale slowly. “Can we… talk for a second? Like, not about work.”
His posture straightens. “Yeah, of course.” He takes the headphones fully off and sets them on the desk. “What’s up?”
You thought you’d be more nervous, but once the first word leaves your mouth, the rest follow like they’ve been waiting at the edge of a cliff.
“I like you.”
His eyes widen just a fraction. For a moment, all you can hear is the hum of the computer and the faint thump of music leaking from some neighbouring room.
You push on before you can lose your nerve.
“I know you’re busy— more than busy, actually, like some sort of functioning insomniac— and I know this probably isn’t a good time. But I…” You swallow. “I’ve liked you for a while. And I didn’t want to keep tiptoeing around it like it’s not there.”
You watch the realisation land slowly across his features, like dawn creeping over a horizon.
“Y/N…” His voice is soft, almost careful.
“I’m not asking for anything huge,” you add quickly, cheeks burning. “You don’t have to… give me an answer now, or at all, really. I just— I needed you to know. Because pretending I don’t feel this way is making it really hard to even be in the same room as you.”
You laugh, a short, embarrassed sound. The room feels much smaller now.
Chan stares down at his coffee for a long moment. When he looks back up, there’s something heavy in his eyes.
“I… thank you,” he says, and you know from the way his voice dips that it’s genuine. “Really. For telling me. I know that wasn’t easy.”
“But…” you say quietly.
He winces at the word, like it hurts him too. “But.”
You brace yourself.
“I care about you a lot,” he starts, fingers tightening around the paper cup. “Like, a lot. You’re… one of the people I rely on the most. You know that, right?”
You nod, though it doesn’t feel like enough.
“And that’s why I…” He takes a breath. “I don’t think I can give you what you deserve right now.”
There it is.
“You’re always here,” he continues. “Helping with schedules, picking up things we forget, bringing coffee at stupid o’clock—” he tries to smile, but it falters “—and I already feel guilty about how much of your time I take. If we… if we tried to date on top of that, I don’t know how I’d not let you down.”
“Chan—”
“I’m always in the studio. I’m always thinking about the next comeback, the members, the fans… and it’s not because you’re not important. You are.” His voice cracks slightly on the word. “But I’m scared I’d make you wait. For answers, for time, for promises I can’t keep. And you don’t deserve that.”
Silence stretches between you like a tightrope.
You’d prepared yourself for rejection. You hadn’t prepared for it to sound like this— soft, apologetic, filled with too much care and not enough room.
“So you’re saying no,” you say quietly, just to make it real.
He flinches, but nods. “Yeah.” His gaze doesn’t leave yours. “I’m… I’m saying no.”
Your chest aches, but it’s a clean pain, sharp and bright. You nod once, slowly.
“Okay.”
“I’m sorry,” he blurts, leaning forward slightly, eyes frantic. “Y/N, I’m really, really sorry. It’s not that I don’t—”
“Don’t.” You smile, and it’s steadier than you feel. “Please don’t make it harder.”
He shuts his mouth, guilt flickering across his face.
You pull in a breath and straighten your shoulders. “Thank you for being honest with me.”
“You’re not… you’re not angry?”
“Honestly? Maybe a little.” You huff out a humourless laugh. “But it’s not your fault you’re married to your job.”
He groans quietly, burying his face in one hand. “God, don’t say it like that.”
“It’s true, though,” you say, softer. “And I knew that. It’s not like you suddenly turned into someone else. You’re just… you.”
He drops his hand and looks at you. There’s something raw in his expression, something fragile.
“I’m still really glad I told you,” you add. “Even if this is your answer.”
“Y/N…”
You step back before he can say your name again in that tone that makes everything sting.
“You should get back to work,” you say. “Deadline and all that.”
“Work can wait.”
“That’s literally the opposite of everything you’ve ever said to me,” you tease weakly.
He smiles, but it’s tight, pained. “I hate this.”
“Me too,” you admit. “But I’ll be okay.”
The problem is, you’re not sure if you’re trying to convince him or yourself.
You leave the studio before you change your mind, before you stay and let the ache drag on. The door closes behind you with a soft click, and you only let your smile drop once you’re safely in the empty corridor.
For a long moment, you just stand there, staring at the scuffed floor, listening to the faint muffled beat of music through the walls.
Then you square your shoulders, wipe at your eyes, and walk away.
౨ৎ
Two years pass.
Comebacks blur into each other. New songs, new concepts, new tours. The boys grow more confident, more famous, more exhausted in that strange, glittering way success demands. And you’re still there— behind cameras, in rehearsal rooms, at the side of the stage with a clipboard and an emergency stash of plasters and cough drops.
You and Chan never talk about that night again.
You don’t avoid him, not exactly. The first few months are awkward; you triple-check your words, make sure your smiles are the right distance. He hesitates the first few times he asks you for help, like he’s waiting for you to say no. But slowly, bit by bit, it settles into something gentler. A quieter kind of friendship. Not as easy as before, but not broken either.
The feelings fade the way old bruises do— colour draining slowly, leaving faint shadows only you notice.
You still catch yourself looking at him sometimes when he’s laughing at something one of the members said, or when he falls asleep on the sofa between schedules, mouth slightly open, hoodie pulled over his head. The affection is still there, but it’s less of a storm now and more of a tired tide, lapping at your ribs and then retreating.
Life fills up the empty spaces.
And somewhere in the middle of all that chaos, you start to notice Seungmin.
౨ৎ
It starts with your ankle.
You’ve been on your feet all day— early dance practise, then a long shoot, then a last-minute change to the schedule that has you sprinting down the corridor with a stack of revised cue sheets. By the time the boys are running the choreography again for the fifth time, your legs are buzzing and your trainers feel about two sizes too small.
When the music cuts, you lean back against the wall, stretching one foot, rotating your ankle until it pops.
“You’re doing that thing again.”
You blink and turn to see Seungmin watching you, water bottle dangling from his hand. Sweat darkens his fringe, cheeks flushed from exertion, but his eyes are sharp.
“What thing?” you ask.
“The one where you pretend your ankle doesn’t hurt.”
“I’m not—”
You shift your weight and immediately wince as pain flares.
He raises a brow. “Right.”
“It’s fine,” you insist. “I’ve just been walking a lot.”
“Exactly my point.” He takes a step closer, tilting his head slightly. “Sit down.”
You let out a breathy laugh. “Excuse me?”
“Sit,” he repeats, like he’s talking to a stubborn puppy. “Before you actually injure yourself and we have to drag you to A&E in the middle of promotions.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“Call it preventative care.”
You roll your eyes, but your ankle throbs in protest when you shift again, so you slide down the wall until you’re sitting on the floor. He nods, satisfied, and crouches in front of you.
“I’ll be fine after I rest a bit,” you say. “You should be stretching or something. I heard your choreographer threatening bodily harm if any of you pull a muscle.”
He huffs. “I already stretched.” He gestures at your foot. “May I?”
You stare at him. “What are you, the physio now?”
“Only for people who are bad at looking after themselves.” His tone is dry, but his gaze is steady, waiting.
“Shouldn’t you be starting with Chan, then?” you mutter.
A small, wry smile tugs at his mouth. “I’ve been trying.”
You hesitate, then extend your leg a little. He takes your ankle gently, fingertips surprisingly careful and warm even through your sock. He presses lightly into the joint, testing the movement.
“Does this hurt?”
“Only my pride,” you say.
His lips twitch. “So yes, then.”
He loosens your laces and adjusts your trainer, retying it more securely. When he lets go, the pressure feels different, more supported.
“Better?” he asks.
“Yeah,” you admit, a little thrown. “Actually.”
“Good.” He stands and offers you his hand. “Come on.”
You take it without thinking. His grip is firm as he helps you up.
“Try not to sprint around for the rest of the day,” he adds. “You’re the one who lectures us about ‘long-term health’ every week.”
You squint at him. “Do you… actually listen when I say those things?”
“Apparently more than you do.” He steps back, eyes flicking briefly to your ankle. “If it still hurts tomorrow, tell someone. Don’t be an idiot.”
“You’re very bossy for someone younger than me,” you grumble.
He shrugs. “Someone has to compensate for your terrible life choices.”
You’re still rolling your eyes when the music kicks in again and he jogs back to his spot, slipping effortlessly into formation. But later, when you’re at home and finally take your shoes off, you realise your ankle does hurt less than it had that morning.
You tell yourself it’s just the way he tied your laces.
You don’t think about the way he’d watched you for a full song before saying anything.
౨ৎ
After that, you start noticing him more.
How he always seems to be the first one to grab an extra mic if someone’s cuts out. How he quietly adjusts Hyunjin’s in-ear without making a fuss. How he’s quick with dry comments in interviews, but even quicker to back off if he thinks his joking is actually bothering someone.
“Do you ever stop working?” he asks you one evening, dropping onto the chair opposite your desk in the staff room.
You glance up from the schedule spreadsheet. “Do you?”
He shrugs. “Fair point.”
He’s got a coffee in one hand and a small plastic bag in the other. He puts the bag on your desk.
“What’s that?” you ask warily.
“Food.”
You narrow your eyes. “Why?”
“Because the last time I walked past, you were chewing on the end of a pen,” he says, deadpan. “Which I’m fairly sure has zero nutritional value.”
You stare at him. “…Have you always been this sassy or did I just not notice?”
“You were busy limping around and pretending not to be in love with Chan,” he says, casually.
The air leaves your lungs in a whoosh. “Wow,” you manage. “Subtle.”
His expression softens. “You’re better now, though.”
It’s not really a question. You look down at the bag and peek inside. There’s a neatly wrapped kimbap and a small packet of your favourite crisps.
“I’m getting there,” you say quietly.
He nods once. “Good.”
You tear open the crisps. “You know, for someone who calls me an idiot at least twice a week, you’re surprisingly considerate.”
“I never said you weren’t one of my favourite idiots,” he replies, sipping his coffee.
Your heart does a small, inconvenient flip.
You tell it to calm down. It doesn’t listen.
౨ৎ
You and Seungmin fall into an odd sort of orbit after that.
He starts appearing at your desk more often, asking oddly specific questions about the schedule that you suspect he already knows the answer to.
“So, what time is rehearsal tomorrow?” he asks one afternoon, leaning over your shoulder.
“You literally have it in the group chat,” you reply.
“Yeah, but your version is more accurate.”
“It’s the same version.”
“Yours is in pink highlighter,” he points out. “That makes it feel less aggressive.”
Sometimes he joins you on late-night convenience store runs when practices run long.
“Why do you always get that one?” you ask as he grabs the same brand of yoghurt drink for the third time that week.
“Because I’m loyal,” he says, then glances pointedly at the instant ramen in your basket. “Unlike some people I could mention.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You said last week that was your ‘absolute favourite flavour in the world’,” he mimics your voice. “And now you’ve thrown it over for spicy seafood.”
“It’s called personal growth,” you sniff.
He nudges your shoulder with his. “Mm, sure.”
He notices things.
“You’ve been staring at that screen for twenty minutes,” he says one night in the empty dressing room. “Either you’re very enamoured with that spreadsheet or you’re thinking too much.”
“Is this how you flirt?” you ask, dry.
“Is it working?”
You choke on your own saliva. He laughs, low and pleased, and tosses you a bottle of water.
And then, without you really realising when it happened, he becomes the first person you text when something good or bad happens. The one who sends you photos of funny signs he sees on the way to schedules. The one who asks you, “Have you eaten?” with a raised brow that says he’ll be annoyed with you if the answer is no.
You don’t notice the exact moment your heart switches allegiance. All you know is that one day, Chan walks into the practice room, smiles at you, and your pulse stays calm.
Later that same day, Seungmin sits next to you on the floor, knees touching as he scrolls through dog photos to show you, and you feel your cheeks heat.
You stare at your traitorous hands, resting a little too close to his, and think, Oh.
౨ৎ
Ironically, it’s Chan who notices first.
You and Seungmin are backstage at a music show, pressed into a narrow corridor while technicians wheel equipment past. The boys are due to go on in ten minutes. Felix is stretching his shoulders; Changbin is muttering lyrics under his breath; Jisung is bouncing on his toes, burning off nervous energy.
You’re scanning the running order, making sure you haven’t missed any last-minute changes, when Seungmin leans in.
“Hey.”
“Hmm?”
“Your hair.”
You frown. “What about it?”
He reaches up and gently smooths a strand of hair back, tucking it behind your ear. “There. It was annoying me.”
Your brain short-circuits for a second. “Oh. Thanks.”
His hand lingers a moment too long, fingertips brushing your temple. When he pulls away, there’s a small, satisfied smile on his lips.
You look up and freeze.
Chan is a few metres away, watching the exchange. He’s mid-conversation with the stage manager, but his gaze flickers briefly between you and Seungmin, eyes narrowing just a fraction in thought.
He catches your eye and quickly looks away, plastering a smile back onto his face as he nods along to whatever the staff is saying.
Heat creeps up your neck. You suddenly feel very aware of the small distance between you and Seungmin, of the way his arm presses lightly against yours.
“You’re fidgeting,” Seungmin murmurs.
“I’m not.”
“You are.” He bumps your shoulder. “Relax. You look like you’re about to be the one going onstage.”
“That’s because you are about to go onstage.”
He tilts his head, studying you. “You’re worried.”
“Of course I am,” you mutter. “You’re all running on four hours’ sleep and caffeine.”
“Five,” he corrects. “I had a nap.”
You give him a look.
He smiles, softer now. “We’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.”
You open your mouth, then close it again. Instead, you just nod.
He glances at your hand, fingers twitching, and then— slowly, like giving you time to pull away— he takes it.
His palm is warm and dry, fingers slotting between yours with an ease that makes your chest hurt.
“Breathe,” he says quietly. “Yeah?”
You let out a shaky breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding.
“Good.” He squeezes your hand once, then lets go as the stage manager calls them to standby.
As he walks away, you feel Chan’s gaze brush your profile again. When you glance over, his expression is unreadable.
౨ৎ
You and Seungmin don’t define anything for a while. It’s a series of almosts— his fingers skimming yours in busy hallways, his hand hovering at your lower back as he guides you through crowds, his teasing texts that sometimes stray a little too close to something else.
Seungmin:
you left your charger in the practice room again
You:
my bad, will get it tmrw
Seungmin:
no you won’t
You:
are you calling me unreliable?
Seungmin:
i’m calling you you
i’ll bring it to you
You:
ok bossy
Seungmin:
you like it
You stare at that last message for longer than you should.
The official shift happens on a rainy Tuesday evening.
Schedules had run long, and by the time you leave the building, the sky has opened properly, sheets of rain drenching the pavement. You stand under the awning, clutching your umbrella, watching cars hiss by in the wet.
“You’re not seriously going to walk home in that.”
You don’t even have to turn to know who it is. “Seungmin, I live fifteen minutes away. I’ll survive.”
He steps up beside you, opening his own umbrella. “Which direction?”
“Spying on my address now?” you tease.
“I’m deciding whether to file a noise complaint,” he replies smoothly. “Which way?”
You roll your eyes and point. He hums. “That’s on my way.”
“It isn’t,” you say immediately. “You live in the opposite direction.”
“Yeah,” he says, entirely unbothered. “But I also live with a group of grown men who absolutely know how to feed themselves. You, however, will probably go home and eat instant noodles.”
You gasp. “How dare you.”
“You literally did that last night.”
You deflate. “Okay, fair.”
“Come on,” he says, stepping out into the rain. “Walk with me.”
You fall into step beside him, umbrellas overlapping slightly. The city glows under streetlights, puddles reflecting neon signs and traffic lights. For a while, you just walk, listening to the soft patter of rain on plastic.
“I like nights like this,” you say quietly.
“Rainy ones?”
“Yeah. Everything feels… slower.”
He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “You need slower.”
You snort. “Says the idol whose job is literally running around stages worldwide.”
“Exactly. I’m uniquely qualified to diagnose the condition.”
“And what condition is that?”
“Overworked idiot who thinks rest is optional.”
You bump his shoulder. “Stop calling me an idiot.”
“No,” he says, but there’s a smile in his voice. “What are you thinking about right now?”
You blink. “What?”
“You looked like you were somewhere else,” he says. “Where were you?”
You hesitate. Normally, you’d laugh it off, deflect with a stupid joke. But the rain, the quiet street, the way he’s really looking at you— it all makes you braver than usual.
“I was thinking about… timing,” you admit. “How unfair it can be.”
He’s silent for a moment. “Because of Chan?”
You stare down at the wet pavement. “Not exactly. Not anymore. Just… thinking how a few years ago, if someone had told me I’d be walking home in the rain with Kim Seungmin, I’d have laughed in their face.”
“Oh?” he says lightly. “Is that a bad thing?”
“No,” you say quickly. “That’s not— I mean…” You exhale, breath fogging the air. “I used to be so stuck on one idea of what my life should look like. One person. One… version of happiness. And when it didn’t work out, I just assumed that was it. That I’d missed my chance and everything else was just… consolation prize.”
“And now?” he asks quietly.
“Now I know I was being dramatic,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Because I didn’t know there were other ways to feel—” You stop yourself before you say this safe, this seen.
Seungmin slows, then comes to a stop under a streetlight. Rain drums steadily around you. You look up at him, confused.
“What?” you ask.
He looks at you for a long moment, the usual mischief in his eyes replaced by something softer, more open.
“Do you like me?” he asks.
The question lands between you with surprising gentleness. No teasing, no theatrics. Just simple, direct words, spoken like he already knows the answer.
Your heart thumps unhelpfully.
“That’s a very arrogant question,” you say, trying to deflect.
He tilts his head slightly. “Is it wrong?”
You chew on your bottom lip. “You’re very… sure of yourself.”
“I’m very sure of you,” he corrects. “Which is weird, because you clearly have no idea.”
“Seungmin—”
“If you don’t,” he adds quickly, “if I’ve misread everything, tell me. I’ll shut up. We can go back to me bullying you about your snack choices and pretending I don’t care whether you rest or not.”
Something in your chest squeezes.
You think of the coffees, the snacks, the way he steals your pen just to give it back with a stupid flourish. The way he stands a little closer than necessary. The way he noticed your ankle when no one else did. The way he’s quietly shifted his route home just to match yours.
You think of Chan’s studio, the way your confession fell awkward and hopeful into the dim light. The way your heart had shattered and slowly, slowly put itself back together.
You think of how you feel now, standing under a flickering street lamp with Seungmin, rain pounding a steady rhythm around you.
“I do,” you say.
His brow furrows. “You do… what?”
“Like you.” You exhale, a shaky laugh leaving your chest. “A lot, actually. Which is very annoying, because you’re very smug about it.”
A slow grin spreads across his face, bright even in the dull light. “I knew it.”
“You’re unbearable.”
“You like that too,” he says, and then his expression sobers. “Can I…?”
He doesn’t finish the question, but you understand. You nod, heartbeat roaring in your ears.
He steps closer, shifting his umbrella slightly so he can see your face properly. Raindrops catch on his lashes, his fringe damp. He lifts his free hand, fingers brushing your cheek, then your jaw, giving you one last chance to pull away.
You don’t.
He leans in and kisses you, soft and unhurried, like you have all the time in the world.
It’s not fireworks and orchestras and the world spinning off its axis. It’s something quieter— a warmth that blooms low in your chest and unfurls slowly, wrapping around all the old aches and whispering, See? It can be like this too.
When he pulls back, there’s a faint flush on his cheeks, but his eyes are steady.
“Just so we’re clear,” he says, voice slightly rough. “This isn’t a consolation prize.”
“I know,” you say, and you do. “You couldn’t be a consolation prize if you tried.”
“Good.” He presses a quick kiss to your forehead, smirking. “Because I don’t come second to anyone.”
You laugh, the sound carried away by the rain.
౨ৎ
People find out gradually.
Hyunjin shrieks when he catches you and Seungmin holding hands in the practice room. Jisung won’t stop making exaggerated kissy faces for an entire week. Felix beams so brightly you’re genuinely worried he might combust. Minho just gives Seungmin a long, assessing look and says, “Don’t be weird about it,” which is his way of approving.
You’re more careful in public, but around the team and core staff, you don’t hide it. It feels too big to tuck away into shadows.
And Chan… well.
You don’t know exactly when he pieces it together, but one evening, you walk into the studio to drop off revised schedules and find him mid-conversation with Seungmin. They fall abruptly silent when they see you.
“…Am I interrupting?” you ask cautiously.
“No,” Chan says quickly. “We were just— uh—”
“Talking about you,” Seungmin supplies smoothly.
Chan shoots him a helpless look. You blink. “Oh. Should I be worried?”
“Probably,” Seungmin says.
“Definitely not,” Chan says at the same time.
You snort. “That’s reassuring.”
Seungmin steps towards you, brushing your hand briefly with his. “I’ll meet you downstairs, okay? Don’t let him bully you into doing another all-nighter.”
“Oi,” Chan protests.
“I mean it,” Seungmin says, ignoring him. He looks at you, gaze briefly soft. “Ten minutes.”
“Got it,” you say.
He leaves, closing the door gently behind him. The studio feels oddly quiet in his absence. You turn to Chan, suddenly very aware that you’re alone.
You hold out the folder. “Updated schedules for next week.”
“Thanks,” he says, taking it. His fingers brush yours briefly. “How are you?”
You blink at the question. “I’m fine. Why?”
“Can’t I ask?”
“You can, but you usually lead with ‘Sorry, can you do me a favour?’”
He huffs a small laugh. “I am trying to improve.”
You smile, but there’s a tension in the air that wasn’t there before. You hover for a moment, unsure whether to leave.
“Y/N,” he says suddenly.
“Yeah?”
He stares at his hands. “When did you… start dating Seungmin?”
Your pulse stutters. “Um. A while ago.”
“Right.”
You chew your lip. “Is that… okay?”
He looks up sharply. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know. It’s just… you’re the leader. Maybe there’s some unwritten ‘no dating staff’ rule I missed.”
He snorts. “If there is, they’ve never told me about it.” He sobers, fingers tightening around the folder. “I just… I wanted to make sure you’re happy. That’s all.”
You study him. There’s something careful about his expression, like he’s holding himself still.
“I am,” you say quietly. “I’m really happy.”
A flicker of something crosses his face— pain, regret, something small and bitter— but it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a soft smile.
“Good,” he says, and he sounds like he means it. “He’s… good. Seungmin.”
“He is,” you agree, warmth curling in your chest at the thought.
Chan looks at the monitors, then back at you. “Can we… talk? Properly. Not right now, maybe. Just— at some point.”
Your stomach twists. You’ve known this moment might come, but you’d hoped, selfishly, that you could just glide past it forever.
“Okay,” you say. “Just tell me when.”
౨ৎ
It happens two days later.
You’re half expecting him to text you late at night, ask you to drop by the studio after everyone’s left. Instead, he catches you after practise, when the others have already shuffled out, laughing and shoving as they head to the showers.
“Y/N,” he says, leaning in the doorway. “Got a minute?”
Seungmin looks up from where he’s fiddling with his phone. His eyes flick between you and Chan, and his jaw tenses almost imperceptibly.
“You good?” he asks you quietly.
“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll meet you in the lobby?”
He studies your face for a heartbeat, then nods. “Text me if you need rescuing.”
You roll your eyes. “He’s not going to murder me, Seungmin.”
“Well, he did reject you once,” he mutters under his breath, just loud enough for Chan to hear. Chan chokes on his own saliva.
“Go,” you urge, shoving lightly at his shoulder. “You smell like sweat.”
He gasps. “Rude.”
You watch him leave, then turn to Chan. “So. What’s up?”
He jerks his head towards the studio. “Come here for a sec?”
The familiarity of the room hits you as soon as you step inside. Same scuffed rug, same mismatched cushions, same faint smell of coffee and dust and creativity. You remember standing in almost this exact spot two years ago, heart in your throat.
Chan closes the door gently behind you, then walks over to his usual chair, but doesn’t sit. He rests his hands on the back instead, fingers drumming restlessly.
“I’ve been… thinking,” he says finally.
“That sounds dangerous,” you reply, because humour is easier than the knot in your stomach.
He huffs a weak laugh. “Yeah.”
Silence stretches. You watch him, waiting.
“I owe you an apology,” he says at last.
Your gut twists. “Chan—”
“No, listen— please.” He takes a breath, eyes fixed on his hands. “When you confessed to me… I handled it badly.”
“You were honest,” you say. “That’s not bad.”
“I was honest about the symptoms,” he says. “Not the cause.”
You frown. “I don’t follow.”
He lifts his gaze to yours. “I told you I couldn’t give you what you deserved because of work, because of my responsibilities, because I was too busy. And that was true, but it wasn’t the whole truth.”
“What was the whole truth, then?” you ask, voice low.
He swallows. “I was scared.”
Your chest aches. “Scared of what?”
“Of letting you down,” he says. “Of getting it wrong. Of being selfish enough to say yes when I knew I’d be exhausted all the time, distracted all the time, asking you to understand things you shouldn’t have to.” He exhales, shoulders slumping. “I thought that by saying no, I was protecting you. That you’d… move on faster without having to deal with me half-loving you between deadlines.”
The word hangs in the air like a dropped glass.
“Half?” you say, heart hammering.
His lips twist. “I… liked you. Maybe more than liked. I just… refused to look at it too closely. Because if I did, I knew I’d give in. And the group was still finding its feet, and I felt like I couldn’t afford to be… anything but focused.”
You stare at him, a dozen memories rearranging themselves in your head. The extra coffees. The late-night conversations. The way he’d always seemed to know when you were having a bad day, even when you didn’t say anything.
“Why are you telling me this now?” you ask, not unkindly.
“Because for a long time, I thought I’d done the right thing,” he says, voice quiet. “I told myself you’d get over it, that you deserved someone who could actually show up. And then I watched you and Seungmin.”
Your throat tightens.
“He looks at you like you hang the moon,” Chan says, a faint, bittersweet smile on his lips. “He notices things I used to notice before I forced myself to stop. He walks you home. He makes sure you eat. He teases you until you laugh on days when I’m too buried in my own head to see anything past my laptop screen.” He takes a shaky breath. “And I realised that the thing I thought I was doing for you… I was mostly doing for me.”
You blink. “What do you mean?”
“I told myself I was being noble,” he says, rolling his eyes at himself. “But it was easier to say no and bury it than to admit I wanted you and still might not be enough. I was cowarding out, basically. And in the process, I hurt you. And then I just… let that hurt sit. I never cleared it properly.” He looks at you, eyes earnest. “You deserved better than that. You deserve better than me pretending it never happened.”
Emotion burns behind your eyes. You look down at your hands.
“I did wait,” you say quietly. “For a while.”
He flinches.
“Not… forever,” you add quickly. “But I waited. I thought maybe once things calmed down, once you’d settled a bit, you’d come back and say you’d changed your mind.” You laugh, small and self-deprecating. “Then I realised your job is never really going to calm down. And neither is mine. So I had to stop waiting or I’d just… stay stuck.”
“I’m sorry,” he says again, voice thick. “I never wanted you to feel like you were waiting for something that was never going to happen.”
“But it did happen,” you say, meeting his gaze. “Just not with you.”
A faint, sad smile flickers over his face. “Yeah. I see that.”
You take a breath. “You’re right, though. About Seungmin. He… shows up. Even when he’s tired, even when he’s busy. He doesn’t make me feel like I’m an extra task on a checklist.” You shrug. “It’s not big grand gestures. It’s… him turning up with my favourite snack after a long day. Or texting me just to ask if I got home safe. Or noticing when I’m quiet.”
“Sounds familiar,” Chan says, a ghost of a smile crossing his lips.
“Yeah,” you say softly. “A little.”
He looks at the floor, jaw working. “I’m really happy for you,” he says, and this time you can hear the honesty through the ache. “I mean that. Even if it… hurts, sometimes, when I think about what I could’ve done differently.”
“You were doing your best,” you say. “We both were. We were just… different people then.”
He huffs a quiet laugh. “You got wiser. I just got more sleep-deprived.”
“Hey, you’ve grown too,” you protest. “You apologise faster now.”
“That’s growth?” he asks.
“For you? Definitely.”
He smiles properly, the tension easing a little.
“For what it’s worth,” you add, “I don’t regret telling you. Or… liking you. It hurt, but it also… made room for the person I ended up with.” You shrug. “We wouldn’t be here without that.”
He nods, eyes shining faintly. “I’m glad you didn’t wait forever.”
“So am I,” you say, meaning it.
He hesitates, then steps closer, holding out his hand. “Friends?”
You look at it, then up at him.
“Friends,” you say, taking it.
His grip is warm and steady, and for the first time, the old ache in your chest feels like something finally, properly laid to rest.
౨ৎ
You find Seungmin leaning against the lobby wall, scrolling on his phone. He looks up as you approach, eyes immediately scanning your face for signs of distress.
“You survived,” he says.
“Disappointed?” you ask.
“A little,” he admits. “I was looking forward to a dramatic rescue.”
You snort. “You’d get distracted by a dog on the way and forget what you were doing.”
He gasps. “Untrue. I can multitask. I would absolutely rescue you and pet the dog.”
“Your priorities are very concerning.”
“My priorities are excellent,” he says, straightening and taking your bag from your shoulder without asking. “You just happen to be one of them.”
Warmth flutters in your chest. You bump his arm lightly. “We talked,” you say.
“I figured,” he replies. “You look like someone who just let go of a very heavy backpack.”
“That’s… weirdly accurate.”
He glances at you. “You okay?”
You consider the question. Think of the studio, of Chan’s apology, of the way the ghost of your old crush finally loosened its grip.
“Yeah,” you say. “I’m okay.”
He nods once, accepting your answer. “Good.” Then, with mock seriousness: “If he made you cry, I’m pushing his chair over in the next meeting.”
You laugh. “He didn’t. I promise.”
“Shame,” he muses. “Would’ve been fun to watch.”
“You’re evil.”
“You like that,” he says, the words so familiar now they feel like a private joke.
You do. You really, really do.
౨ৎ
Months later, at a team dinner, someone makes a comment that finally puts everything into sharp, almost comical relief.
You’re squeezed into a long table at a restaurant, empty plates and side dishes scattered everywhere. The boys are loud and loose, laughing over some story Jisung’s telling. You’re perched between Seungmin and Felix, half listening, half texting a colleague about tomorrow’s call time.
Seungmin drops a piece of meat into your bowl without looking, still engaged in an argument with Changbin about some game.
“Eat,” he says absently.
“I was going to,” you mutter, but you take a bite anyway.
Across the table, one of the stylists watches the exchange, eyes flicking between you and Seungmin, then over to Chan, who’s quietly topping up everyone’s water glasses.
“You know,” she says, grinning, “I always thought you and Chan would end up together.”
The table goes briefly, awkwardly quiet. Your chopsticks pause halfway to your mouth.
“But seeing you with Seungmin now…” She gestures vaguely between you two. “You suit each other so well. It just makes sense.”
Time seems to slow for a second.
You risk a glance at Chan. He’s frozen, jug in hand, expression carefully blank. Then he clears his throat, smile returning a fraction too bright.
“Yeah,” he says, voice light. “They do.”
Heat rushes to your face. You open your mouth to deflect, but Seungmin beats you to it. He simply reaches over and casually adjusts the collar of your shirt, fingers deft, like he’s done it a thousand times before.
“Obviously,” he says. “She’d be miserable with anyone else.”
You choke. “Excuse me?”
He gives you an innocent look. “What? You’d be late, unhydrated, and your ankle would definitely be in pieces by now.”
“Wow,” you say. “Romantic.”
He leans in, voice dropping just low enough for only you to hear. “You know what I mean.”
You do. Your cheeks burn, but you can’t stop smiling.
Across the table, Chan watches for a moment, then looks down at his plate. When he looks up again, he catches your eye and gives you a small, genuine smile. There’s a hint of sadness lingering at the edges, but it no longer feels like an open wound— more like an old scar you both acknowledge.
You smile back, and that feels like its own kind of ending.
౨ৎ
Later that night, you and Seungmin walk home together. The city is quieter, streetlights casting long shadows on the pavement. He hooks his pinky through yours, swinging your hands between you.
“Tired?” he asks.
“A bit,” you admit. “You?”
“I’ve been tired since 2018,” he says. “It’s my personality now.”
You snort.
He glances at you, then gently tugs you closer, slipping his arm around your shoulders. You melt into the warmth instinctively, head resting against his shoulder.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hmm?”
“If you’re tired,” he continues, “lean on me. I’ll carry the heavy stuff. You just have to walk next to me.”
The words are simple, almost off-hand, but they land somewhere deep, somewhere that remembers late nights in studios and unanswered wishes and the feeling of always coming second to something you couldn’t compete with.
You look up at him, your chest full.
“Okay,” you say. “But only if you let me carry yours too.”
He smiles, a small, secret thing. “Deal.”
You walk the rest of the way like that— in step, shoulders touching, the future not some grand, glittering promise, but a series of ordinary nights like this one. Quiet, honest, shared.
In a studio several floors above, Chan sits alone in front of his computer, headphones on, a half-finished melody looping gently. Through the window, he can just make out the street below, two small figures walking side by side.
He watches you both for a moment, something bittersweet tugging at his ribs. Then he smiles to himself, presses play, and gets back to work.
He’d made his choice years ago.
You made yours now.
And for the first time, all the timelines sit comfortably together in your chest— the girl who once stood under harsh studio lights with her heart in her hands, the woman now leaning under the soft glow of a streetlamp against someone who always, unfailingly, shows up.
Good for you. Bittersweet for him.
But right for everyone.
You tighten your arm around Seungmin’s waist, and he squeezes your shoulder in reply, as if to say, I’m here.
ᢉ𐭩 texting ateez members “he’s gone you can come over now” .
☕️ ot8 x 𝑓 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 . ̫ . smau ❤︎ ⓘ 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 , 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗌 , 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖾𝗆𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗅 , 𝗌𝖾𝗑 𝗃𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗌 , non idol au
iza ❤︎ editing this at 2am after the busiest day in the world so don’t say i don’t love u. i’m tired asf and this is lowk bad so sorry. idk hi iza in the morning i had to edit this like three times bc i missed like 3 screenshots. idk how i did that
warnings: this series will have alcohol consumption, drug use, sexual content, and challenges from media
rating: mdni
pairing: fem! reader x txt
networks: @k-vanity
a/n: this may or may not be coming from me thinking about all the shit 5sos has done… (it definitely is) but you'll see once the series begins that all chapters are 5sos songs lolll
if you want to be added to the taglist comment below!!
profiles ! | intro
✏️ =written part 💬 = texts/twitter posts ⚠️ =smut
[1] If Walls Could Talk 💬
[2] Permanent Vacation 💬
[3] Youngblood 💬
[4] boyband ✏️
[5] Money 💬
[6] Babylon 💬
[7] Red Line 💬
[8] Moodswings 💬
[9] NOT OK 💬
[10] Waste The Night ✏️
[11] CAROUSEL 💬
[12] Lie To Me 💬
[13] telephone busy 💬
[14] Ghost Of You 💬 ✏️
[15] No.1 Obsession ✏️
[16] You Don't Go To Parties 💬
[17] Want You Back 💬
[18] Best Friends
[19] Easy For You To Say
[20] Take My Hand
[21] istillfeelthesame
[22] evolve
[23] Lover Of Mine
[24] COMPLETE MESS
[25/ bonus] Older
f!reader x Xavier | non-mc!reader x Xavier | unrequited love | plot twist | angst | there's gonna be grammatical errors | might have lore mistakes my bad
Xavier knew something was wrong the day he saw you sitting on his couch, uninvited with an awkward smile on your face.
He knew that you, out of everyone that remained of the Backtrackers, remained dutiful and isolated from the rest of the team. You didn't show up unannounced without a good enough reason. And yet, there was no great exigency that caused you to break into his home and watch day time television on his couch.
"The mechanic shop you had me maintaining near the outskirts of the N109 Zone is under repair after some nasty Wanderer situation. So, hope you don't mind me crashing at your place."
"Could you not stay at Philos?"
"You forget I'm still angry at Jeremiah. Yeah, no, that's not happening unless you want him knocking at your door demanding compensation for all the flowers I'd destroy out of spite."
"The flowers are innocent."
"Don't care."
And yet he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about you. You never specified exactly what happened, however, crucially, he never pressed you for more details aside from one or two questions that you vaguely answered.
You crashed in the spare bedroom, yet each morning he always saw you on the couch, no matter what odd hours of the night he woke up. You would just wave at him, watching whatever was on. He never took you as the type to indulge in modern television, investing your time in dramas and sitcoms like you had nothing better to do.
"So, if I'm understanding this right, Kim is in love with Taeha, but because of the historical accuracy this show is trying to present, they can't be together because they're both men and being gay is illegal?"
"I'm not even sure what's going on because you've been watching this for the past three days and I just started right now."
"Okay, but, what would be your opinion on that? Would it just be better to elope somewhere and move away?"
"If I understand it based on this half-hour you've made me watch, I don't think that's possible. They're both in the military to start off and Taeha is his commanding officer. They'd be hunted and killed for deserting if they made that attempt."
"Tragic."
"Sure, but since when did you commit so hard to watching dramas? The last time I saw you, your commitment was towards monitoring everything you could about the current technological advancements."
"Mnm, I was. I simply hit a cap point for now and thought a hobby was in order. Besides, I like hanging out with you."
And there was just something about the way you turned to him, eyes soft and smile so tender that made him realize that he never really got to know you. He'd never taken the time to really learn about your likes and dislikes. What other hobbies did you have? Did you try to make friends here, like he and Jeremiah had?
Were you happy with the way things turned out? Did you have any regrets? Did you have any doubts?
Did you feel like you were withering away here?
For the time being, he made the effort to try to learn more about you. He hung out with you more, finding a nice TV show to watch together. He learned what made you laugh the hardest or what trashy show ended up being a guilty pleasure. He learned that you were closeted romantic, catching the tears in the corner of your eyes as you tried to disguise the sniffles when the couple finally kissed.
Before he really knew it, months had gone by with you in staying at his place. He grew accustomed to your presence in his home, always greeting him when he came home and wishing him pleasant dreams when he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. He woke up with a blanket over him more times than he could count.
"I noticed something about you."
"Mnm, what's that?"
"You've been wearing the same sweater the entire time. I don't think you've taken it off. With how often you wear it, I can't imagine all the dead skin cells and sweat that might be clinging to that poor thing."
"I'm sure you've heard of them before, but just in case you haven't, there's this machine that cleans your clothes. They call it a 'washing machine' and it's pretty easy to use. You just toss your clothes in, add some laundry detergent and fabric softener, press a button or two and it cleans your clothes for you."
"Uh-huh. But why not wear something else in the meantime?"
"It's my favorite sweatshirt. You gifted it to me a few decades back, don't you remember?"
"Hm, yeah, it looks familiar. I'm surprised it's still in good condition after all this time."
"I take good care of my gifts, Xavier."
He should've known something was wrong at the time, too. He should have noticed it. Aside from the meter, there was nothing noticeably different about the bills that came every month. No extra water usage. No dip in his food bill when he went out. Even the days he was gone longer on missions, the food in his fridge remained untouched. Not even extra dishes.
You always made the excuse that you ate beforehand every single time, too stuffed to even drink a glass of water. He never took the time to question it, believing more that you just did everything outside of the apartment.
Xavier believed in you, even if his instincts warned him in the back of his mind. He trusted you because you were never lied to him. You never betrayed him. You stood by him when the other Backtrackers turned. You sullied your hands with their blood alongside him, knowing the dangers of losing part of your own humanity. Living with the looming threat that if you lost your sanity, you would turn into a Wanderer just like them the longer you remained.
"She's training to be a Hunter now."
"Mnm, it's been a decade since the disaster hasn't it?"
"It has."
"Worried?"
"No. Well, maybe a little."
"Relax. Her Majesty was rather skilled from what I can remember. I'm sure she'll be alright. Just keep doing what you're doing and keep an eye on her from the defectors and everything should be fine."
"Don't you mean 'we'?"
"... Of course."
He should've known then. He should have questioned you right then and there and pressed for more information. But he didn't. He ignored what his eyes were telling him because you were his friend. Because he grew comfortable around you despite the suspicion gnawing inside of him.
Xavier should have known something was wrong when you refused to go see Jeremiah at Philos. You claimed you were still angry at him, but who held a grudge that long? He never knew what it was that made you resent him so much that you just outright refused to even contact him. Which was why he thought he'd try to smooth things over and ask him while he was getting updates on the other Backtrackers.
"Wait, you're telling me that she's been squatting at your place for months now? And she's still mad at me?"
"This week would mark the eight months she's been at my place. She showed up and said that the shop was in repairs. Though, every time I bring it up, she tells me that the construction was delayed due to the increase in Wanderer activity."
"That's weird."
"She's never lied to us about situations like these before, so I trust her. But, I'm also here to see if I can extend the olive branch. I don't really know what it was that made her hate you so much."
"Hm, I want to see something."
"Dodging the question?"
"I'm looking up the updates from her last entry and something isn't quite adding up. You said she's been there eight months right?"
"Watching TV on my sofa like it belongs to her."
"... Xavier, the last update she gave me was almost a year ago. It's been eleven months. She never missed an update before that."
"That doesn't make sense. I understand eight months since she's been with me, but eleven? Where are the extra three months unaccounted for?"
"No idea. You said she was mad at me, right? Enough to not want to talk to me? But, even if that were the case, if she really had a problem with what I told her, she would just message you, not me."
"... I'll try talking with her. Something isn't adding up."
"Tell her I'm sorry, while you're at it. I... I didn't mean to call her out."
"Call her out?"
"She'll know. It's not something I'm allowed to tell you."
Hundreds of possibilities surged through his head on his way back. Hundreds of potential lies. Hundreds of questions that all led to the one conclusion he refused to believe.
You didn't betray him.
You were loyal.
You stood by his side when all he wanted was to make sure that the woman he loved wouldn't have to be sacrificed time and time again for the sake of a doomed planet.
You turned your back to your comrades. You turned your back to your people that cursed their names for their betrayal. You killed people that you once called a friend. You did it all with him, never once wavering.
Had time finally caught up with you?
Were you finally too exhausted of this life and just wanted to go back home?
He needed to finally quell the suspicions that plagued him. He'd rather make an ass out of himself, questioning your loyalty than be weighed with the guilt that his decisions finally pushed you over the ledge.
And like always, when he entered his apartment, you were there, smiling at him and welcoming him home. The TV was on, like it always was. You were watching reruns of the drama you've probably seen a hundred times already.
But things were different. He wasn't allowing his eyes to be clouded in the presence of a friend, but someone that could potentially ruin all the work they've done these past hundreds of years. He was going to see you for all that you were.
"How was Jeremiah? Still tending to his plants?"
"Yeah. But, we need to talk about something." You hesitated briefly, the corner of your lips tightening a bit before you relaxed yourself.
"Can it wait until after the show is over?" A show you've seen a hundred times already? It wasn't that interesting.
Xavier wasn't going to let you deflect. He walked towards you and picked up the remote, turning it off and standing before you. You closed your eyes, sighing deeply before sitting up and meeting his eyes.
You weren't running away. You never did.
"What's up?"
Too many questions sat at the tip of his tongue, his eyes darting around the room for a moment to take in the environment. Was it... always so cold near you? Is that why you wore a sweatshirt all the time? Was there a draft?
The lights never turned on, but the TV was never off. No matter what odd hours he woke up, be it in the middle of the night or late into the afternoon, you were always sitting right there.
Eight months.
Eight months... and he never got close enough to touch you.
Xavier felt his grip around the remote loosen until it clattered to the floor, his heart sinking so deep into his stomach as a cold chill ran down his spine. He a took step towards you. Then another. And another. Each one heavier than the last until finally, he was standing so close, his legs brushed against yours.
You didn't flinch. You didn't move away. But your expression looked so clouded, your smile wavering as you looked up at him with tears in your eyes. He reached forward to touch your cheek, feeling something solid, just... frozen.
You were freezing to the touch.
"What happened?" Your eyes fluttered shut, your hand coming up to hold his hand closer to yours, nuzzling your cheek into his palm.
"Something bad. I'm sorry, Xavier. I'm sorry." He dropped down to one knee, taking your face fully in his hands as he watched the tears that gathered finally fall.
"Tell me everything." You laughed weakly, peering at him through bleary eyes, your lips quivering as you tried to keep a brave face for him.
"I failed. I wasn't strong enough for the ambush sprung on me. I didn't have time to react and I didn't know my system's defenses had been breached. The remaining defectors caught me and though I tried to fight them off, eventually I was captured."
Xavier bit his tongue, the anger that ignited within him threatening to overtake him. He couldn't allow his emotions to get out of control right now. Right now, you needed him to stay calm. You needed him to be in the right state of mind.
"They threatened me, tortured me, tried to blackmail me and when I didn't budge, they were willing to use me as bait. The problem is, when you rile someone up enough, they make mistakes. They get so angry and so resentful, they lash out." You chuckled weakly, shaking your head lightly. "They didn't mean to kill me. But... I was hoping they would. It would ruin the mission if you had to deal with a hostage exchange."
Anger gave way to shock. Shock turned to disbelief. Disbelief turned to grief.
"You're dead?" And suddenly, everything clicked into place. Why you never moved from your spot on the couch. Why you never ate. Why you never drank. Why you wore the same clothes every single day.
He was right. He was wrong.
You didn't betray him. You never did.
Your loyalty got you killed.
Your trust and faith in him to find the solution he was so desperate for made you think your life wasn't worth saving.
You swore your allegiance to him. To the Queen. You never wavered.
And in the end, all you got in return was an early grave after dedicating your life to finding a solution and a way back home.
Guilt tore at him in a way he couldn't imagine, his chest feeling like it was caving in on itself as he struggled to maintain his composure. It didn't make sense though. Something still wasn't adding up.
"How are you... here?"
You laughed. You laughed, staring into a fit of giggles before bellowing out with laughter as the tears continued to fall. As you held his hands so tightly, trembling from all the emotions you were experiencing.
"Guess ghosts are real, huh? You know what they say, if you die with regrets, you can never really move on. Didn't think it'd apply to aliens like us, huh?"
It wasn't funny. It wasn't funny at all.
He spent these months with you in his home. He watched all sorts of dramas and movies with you. He learned everything he could about you, crossing that bridge and getting to know the person you were.
A hopeless romantic deep down inside. So much, you cried at even the most shallow of love stories because you were happy they were in love. But you cried the hardest when the second lead never got their chance to be with the person they loved. When they let them go... because their happiness meant more to them than their own heart.
"Even if the second lead would have given up their entire soul for the main lead, it takes a lot of whole lotta grit to let someone that means the whole world to you go. Their happiness is all that matters."
No. It couldn't mean...
"Jeremiah said he's sorry for calling you out... what did he mean by that?" Your lips brushed against his palm in a chaste kiss, your eyes slowly dragging from his lips up to his eyes to really look at him.
"He knew I was in love with you."
It never crossed his mind. It never was a thought he entertained when he was so devoted to his beloved. To the young woman he was so desperate to save.
He could argue that you never let it show. He could shift the blame that you didn't like being around people often that he never saw it. He could lie to himself all he wanted.
The truth was in the sweatshirt you wore. The day he gave it to you, you never looked so soft. Your smile was splitting your face, the giddiness rolling off you in waves as you put it on as quickly as you could. The only time you went out of your way to hug him, squeezing him tight as you thanked him for the gift.
It was just a sweatshirt. He got it because it suited you and he thought you would like it since you had been working so hard.
And now you were dead.
"I don't think I've ever seen you cry before, that's so alien. It's a little weird." Xavier couldn't help it. He couldn't help the anguish he was feeling, never knowing your true feelings. Even if he couldn't return them. Even if...
He pulled you tight into his arms, hugging you close and burying his face into your shoulder. His body wracked with sobs, the guilt of every decision he made and all the people he lost tearing right through his chest and carving a hole where his heart was.
You died and remained with regrets.
You haunted him because you wanted to remain close to him.
Even if all you did was spend time watching stupid shows and movies on his couch while he drifted in and out of sleep. That was enough for you. It wasn't fair to you. It wasn't fair at all.
Xavier cradled you in his arms, pulling you onto his lap as he sobbed into the very gift that meant so much to you.
"It's okay, you know? I don't blame you. It was just something that was bound to happen the longer we stayed here." You soothed his back softly, comforting him even in death. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way. Even if it wasn't something I couldn't control, I'm sort of glad it happened. It meant I could hang out with you like this."
He shook his head violently, his grip around you tightening so much that he would have left bruises if you were... alive. "You could have done that at any time! Not like this. Not when you're just a ghost in my apartment. Not when..." God his voice never sounded so broken before. "Not when you're dead. Not when your body is somewhere we don't know."
"Yeah, sorry. That was... insensitive of me." He couldn't let go.
He didn't want to let you go.
There was still so much he had to learn. So much he wanted to talk to you about. There was so much time you both were supposed to have. So much time wasted. So much time he could have taken to actually hang out with you. Suddenly, a hundred years felt so damn short. He took the long lifespans for granted and now it was all too late.
"Xavier." You did your best to peel yourself back so that you could look at him. His eyes were burning and his nose was blocked up, but he met your gaze head on. Your fingers brushed against his cheek, wiping the tears away.
He committed your face to his memory. The way your eyes softened when you looked at him with the most gentle smile on your face. The way you looked at him with such tenderness and love, he wished he could see it on you for real.
"I love you." You leaned in to kiss him, your lips soft against his as he gently kissed you back. It wasn't out of love, but he felt you deserved it. You did.
It was closure and you deserved it more than anyone.
He felt it before he saw it. Your form was dissipating right there in his arms, but he didn't pull away. He just clung to you tighter, kissing you harder to give you something before you completely disappeared.
"Thank you." Were the last words you said before you were gone.
He sat there on the floor, his arms empty and his apartment colder than ever. You were never coming back. He was never going to see you sitting on his couch and welcoming him back. He was never going to hear you laugh too hard at a comedy skit or ball your eyes out over some romantic drama.
He was never going to learn more about you. Never hear your voice again. Never see you again.
You were gone.
"Thank you for always being by my side."
a/n: could not put the post twist in the tags, sorry. if it bothers you, feel free to yell at me. and yes, I write this in one go because I have no self-restraint
one of my favorite kinds of non mc angst is when you have stood by the boys through every lifetime, so much so that your presence has become a quiet certainty for them.
they expect you to always be by their side, moving through the world as if your loyalty is as certain as the sunrise.
and whether they are blind to your feelings, consumed in their quest to reunite with mc, or simply incapable of truly seeing you, they’ll never choose you.
still, you remain, tethered to their side through every heartbreak.
but when you find out your cycle of reincarnation is finally ending, you keep it to yourself. is it selfish? perhaps. but your heart is weary, your love is stretched thin, and you know that if your devotion was never returned before, it never will be.
so when you finally slip away—cradled in their arms during a mission, surrendering your soul to the ocean at a seamoon ceremony, or resting among a field of datura flowers—they mourn you. of course they do. tears will fill their eyes as they whisper your name into the silence.
but some part of them knows you’ll come back.
you always do.
they’re certain you’ll return just as you always have, and that soon enough you’ll be smiling beside them again, teasing them like nothings changed.
you always return as yourself—changed in small ways, perhaps, but still marked by the beauty spot beneath your eye or the gentle brown of your gaze.
your face may shift with each timeline, but the faint scar along your arm from protecting him from wanderers or the wound over your heart always remains.
it’s all a quiet testament of your love.
so when the next cycle comes, and they cannot find you in a scattered crowd of villagers, when they don’t sense your presence in a university hallway, when they wait for you to find them in a game of hide and seek on a playground—the one right next to your father’s house—or amongst the last remaining lemurians who reside in verona, they begin to question it.
they start to wonder.
where were you? what’s taking you so long to come back to them?
where is the one who knows them best? the girl who shares every memory, who understands their purpose, who feels their pain more deeply than anyone else?
simply put—
where are you?
but the truth is painfully simple.
you are not here.
not anymore.
your soul is finally at peace, and alongside it, your love.
or maybe, somewhere in the world, you still exist.
maybe you grew up wrapped in the warmth of a loving family. maybe you still remember the warnings of hunters past and steer clear of those forbidden no hunt zones.
maybe you attend college, or perhaps you open a flower shop in a city where no one knows your name.
maybe every night you dream of a life you have never lived, with a man whose face you have never seen.
maybe you are sitting right beside them, by the sea or on a park bench, laughing at a joke you just told, while he absentmindedly takes your hand in his.
and maybe when you wake with tears drying on your cheeks, you’re confused, unable to understand what it all means.
but dreams fade the longer you remain awake, and slowly, you return to your life.
you feed your cat. you take out the trash. you spend a tuesday afternoon tackling a week's worth of laundry.
you live through mundane, ordinary moments.
you meet up with old colleagues for brunch, talking to your mother on the phone while waiting for the next train. you reply to the messages of a man you matched with online and let him take you out for a drink or two, thanking him at the end of the night for the fun you had.
the next day, you pass by a mural painted by a well-known artist from whitesand bay, leaving you so awestruck that you take a quick snapshot to post on your moments page before continuing on your way.
you arrive at akso hospital, stepping into the lobby to find the rest of your family sitting anxiously for news of your niece’s birth. you sit beside them, praying for the time to pass more quickly, absentmindedly reading the framed research credits of a 28-year-old cardiac surgeon hanging on the wall nearby.
and when you return home that night, head stuck in the clouds, swiping at the hundreds of photos you took of your sister's baby girl, someone stops you in the street.
their eyes—sky blue, violet-gold, or cotton-candy—search your face with overwhelming relief, haunted by a grief that feels centuries old.
“i’m so glad i found you again,” they’ll whisper as their arms wrap around you, the embrace tight enough to keep you from pulling away so easily, but gentle enough not to steal your breath.
“i missed you so much. where have you been?”
you freeze, fear rooting you into place as a voice inside urges you to fight, to punch, to kick, to scream—anything to break free from the arms of someone you don’t know.
you tense, and they feel it immediately. they notice your stillness, your lack of recognition, and finally, they let you go, albeit slowly.
their hands settle gently against your shoulders, smiling with a softness you have never seen directed to you, and they ask again:
“where have you been?”
you force yourself backward, taking three deliberate steps to create space between you, your left hand already searching your purse for anything to defend yourself with.
pairing: Bang Chan x f!reader
wc: 22 ss
tags/warnings: soulmate!au, friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, angst/fluff, mutual pining, poor communication, cursing
part one // part two // part three
masterlist
Summary: Everyone has their soulmate's first words to them tattooed on their skin, which might be helpful if yours didn't just say a generic "Hi." Your best friend Chan has the same one—well, that's what he told you.
a/n: The last part of my 1k follower event! Thanks to everyone who voted in the polls and read and left comments. I hope you enjoy the ending!
The End
a/n: Thanks for reading!! Sorry for all the emotional whiplash lol
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which one from each group not only would be friends, but all be in a poly relationship
honestly just based on who i think gives the same vibes. i think pairings would actually be different to avoid power indifferences
adult content featured, read at own discretion
hongjoong x bang chan x sangyeon
leaders. alpha men. they may butt heads sometimes so you have to make a schedule for them. daddies for a reason. pure dominants (with love).
seonghwa x lee know x jacob
dedicated mothers of the group. will love and care for you tenderly, but their mom side will flip whenever you be bratty to them.
yuhno x hyunjin x juyeon x younghoon
height. hands. romantics. yes. need i say more???? also getting brat tamer vibes just a weeee bit — unpopular opinion.
yeosang x felix x new
sunshine vibes. with a dark side. high key into the freaky stuff. like real freaky. most unexpected ones always the freaks.
san x jisung x eric x hyunjae
don’t let the innocent faces fool you. have you seen jisung lately? he’s buff! each of them will love you so tenderly but will also throw you around (with love)
mingi x seungmin x haknyeon
men who act tough but are just big princesses. you could easily discipline them although they want to be the ones to discipline you. who’s the real dominant one in the relationship?
wooyoung x changbin x kevin x q
i get menace vibes. wooyoung and changbin are actually friends too so yeah. all them love you so much and just want to care for you
jongho x jeongin x sunwoo
the men who share you, but on different days. they require your attention 100%. skinship is no unless with you. also maknae line and what is it jeongin said? maknae on top.
Stray kids as Your Husband – SFW & NSFW Headcanons
my main list / Stray Kids Masterlist
Bang Chan:
SFW:
Bang Chan is the definition of a dream husband. He takes the “leader” role very seriously even at home, always making sure you feel loved, protected, and taken care of.
He wakes up before you most days just so he can make breakfast or at least prepare your favorite coffee. You’ll often find little sticky notes with sweet messages like “Have a good day, my love” or “I’m so proud of you” hidden in your bag or on the mirror.
He’s extremely affectionate in private. Loves pulling you into his chest for long hugs the second he walks through the door after a long day at the studio. No matter how tired he is, he always has energy to listen to you talk about your day, rubbing your back gently while you speak.
Chan is the type to plan cute at-home dates when his schedule is busy — movie nights with all your favorite snacks, building blanket forts, or slow dancing with you in the living room at 2 AM. He remembers every important date and surprises you with thoughtful gifts that show how well he knows you.
He’s very protective. Gets a little possessive when other people get too close to you, but he expresses it in the softest way — wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him while smiling politely. He calls you “baby”, “love”, “my wife” and “Mrs. Bang” all the time, and you can hear the pride in his voice every time.
He’s incredibly patient and understanding. On days when you’re feeling down, he becomes your safe place — running you a warm bath, washing your hair, and holding you tight until you fall asleep in his arms. He never raises his voice at you, even during arguments. Instead, he prefers to talk things through while holding your hands.
Physical touch is his biggest love language. He’s always touching you somehow — playing with your fingers, resting his hand on your thigh while driving, or cuddling you from behind while you cook. At night, he sleeps best when you’re tucked against his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you.
He loves building a future with you. You’ll often catch him talking about “our house one day”, “our kids”, or “when we grow old together”. He makes you feel like you’re his greatest priority and his safe haven at the same time.
NSFW:
As your husband, Bang Chan’s possessiveness and desire for you only grow stronger. He no longer holds back — you’re his wife now, and he wants to claim every inch of you every single night.
He’s still incredibly attentive in bed, but there’s a much more dominant and hungry side to him now. He loves taking his time undressing you, kissing every new piece of skin he reveals while whispering how beautiful his wife is.
Chan has a massive size kink and breeding kink when it comes to you. He loves watching your face as he slowly pushes inside you, stretching you open with his thick cock. “Look at you taking your husband so well… so fucking tight for me even after all this time,” he’ll groan against your ear.
He’s obsessed with eye contact. He’ll fuck you in missionary with your legs over his shoulders, holding your hands above your head while he thrusts deep and slow, making sure you feel every inch. When he gets more desperate, he pounds into you harder, the sound of skin slapping filling the room as he growls, “You’re mine… my wife… gonna fill you up until you’re dripping with me.”
His dirty talk is constant and loving but filthy. He loves calling you “my good little wife”, “babygirl”, and “Mrs. Bang” while he’s buried deep inside you. When he’s close, he gets even dirtier — “Gonna breed this pretty pussy… want to put a baby in my wife… you want that, don’t you? Want your husband to cum deep inside you?”
He’s amazing with his mouth. Chan can spend ages between your legs, licking and sucking your pussy like he’s starving for you. He uses his tongue expertly on your clit while two thick fingers curl inside you, moaning against your folds because he loves how you taste. He won’t stop until you’ve cum at least twice on his tongue.
He also loves when you suck him off. He’ll sit back against the headboard, one hand gently holding your hair while you take him down your throat. “Fuck… look at my wife sucking my cock so beautifully,” he groans, his voice getting rougher the deeper you go.
Bang Chan can go for multiple rounds. After he cums inside you the first time, he’ll stay buried deep, slowly grinding his hips to push his load further in while kissing you messily. Then he flips you over and fucks you again from behind, gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks as he pounds into you.
He has a thing for marking you. Loves leaving hickeys on your neck, breasts, and inner thighs — places only he gets to see. After sex, he’ll gently trace the marks with his fingers while whispering how much he loves you.
The aftercare is immaculate. Even after the most intense rounds, he becomes the softest husband again. He’ll carry you to the bathroom, clean you up gently, bring you water, and then pull you into his chest, kissing your forehead and whispering sweet nothings until you both fall asleep tangled together.
Lee Know
SFW:
Lee Know is the kind of husband who loves you quietly but deeply, in his own special way. He may not be the loudest with words, but his actions show how much he cherishes you every single day.
He’s incredibly attentive in small, meaningful ways. He remembers exactly how you like your tea or coffee, makes sure your favorite snacks are always stocked, and leaves Soonie, Doongie, and Dori with you when he has long schedules so you won’t feel lonely. Coming home to you and the cats is his favorite part of the day.
He’s surprisingly soft and clingy when it’s just the two of you. After a long day, he’ll crawl into your arms, bury his face in your neck, and let out a tired sigh while you play with his hair. He loves when you call him “jagiya” or “honey” — it makes his ears turn pink every time.
Lee Know is the husband who teases you constantly, but it’s always filled with love. He’ll make fun of the way you sneeze or how you dance around the kitchen, only to pull you close right after and kiss your forehead, whispering “You’re so cute, I can’t handle it.”
He’s very protective in a calm, steady way. If anyone makes you uncomfortable, he’ll step in quietly but firmly, placing himself between you and the person while giving them that signature cold stare. At home, he makes you feel completely safe and adored.
He loves quiet domestic moments with you — cooking together (even if he pretends to complain the whole time), watching dramas while tangled on the couch, or taking late-night walks with the cats. He’s the type to randomly buy you flowers or your favorite dessert just because he saw it and thought of you.
On tough days, he becomes your safe place. He’ll pull you onto his lap, wrap his arms around you, and stay like that for as long as you need, gently rubbing your back and pressing soft kisses to your temple. He doesn’t always know what to say, but he knows how to make you feel loved and calm.
He often calls you “my wife” with a gentle smile, like he still can’t believe he gets to say it. He loves planning small trips or cozy weekends just for the two of you, always making sure you feel like the most important person in his world.
NSFW:
Even as your husband, Lee Know remains incredibly soft and intimate with you in bed. He’s not the aggressive type — instead, he’s deeply sensual, patient, and focused on making you feel cherished and pleasured.
He loves taking his time with you. He’ll undress you slowly, kissing every inch of skin he reveals, murmuring sweet praises like “So beautiful… my pretty wife” against your body. His touches are gentle but confident, hands sliding over your curves with adoration.
Lee Know is obsessed with kissing you during sex. He wants his lips on yours, on your neck, on your chest — constant, deep, and loving kisses while he moves inside you. He enjoys slow, deep thrusts, rolling his hips carefully so you feel every inch of him, savoring the way you moan softly against his mouth.
He’s incredibly good at oral. He loves going down on you, spreading your legs gently and licking your pussy with slow, deliberate strokes. He takes his time exploring every fold with his tongue, sucking softly on your clit while his fingers slide inside you, curling just right. He moans quietly against you because he genuinely loves your taste and the way your thighs tremble around his head.
When you go down on him, he gets adorably shy at first, but quickly melts. He’ll thread his fingers through your hair gently, watching you with half-lidded eyes and letting out soft, breathy moans. “Feels so good… my wife is so perfect,” he whispers, his voice getting huskier the closer he gets.
He has a quiet but strong breeding kink. While he’s buried deep inside you, he’ll hold you close and whisper things like “Want to fill you up… want to make a family with you one day” in that low, sweet voice. When he cums, he likes to stay inside you for a long time, gently rocking his hips as if he doesn’t want any drop to escape.
Lee Know prefers positions where he can stay close to you — missionary so he can kiss you deeply, or you on top so he can hold your waist and look up at your face with pure adoration. Even when the pleasure builds and his thrusts get a little faster, he remains tender, never rough.
After sex, he’s the king of aftercare. He’ll clean you up carefully with a warm towel, pull you into his chest, and cuddle you for hours. He loves falling asleep skin to skin, one arm wrapped securely around you while his fingers draw lazy patterns on your back, whispering “I love you” until you drift off.
Changbin
SFW:
Changbin is the softest, most loving, and whipped husband you could ever ask for. He’s big, strong, and looks intimidating to others, but with you he turns into the biggest teddy bear in the world.
He’s incredibly affectionate and never shy about showing it. The moment he comes home, he drops everything to find you and pull you into one of his famous bone-crushing hugs, lifting you off the ground while burying his face in your neck and mumbling “I missed my wife so much today.”
He loves spoiling you. Whether it’s buying you flowers, your favorite snacks, or random cute things he saw that reminded him of you, he’s always thinking of ways to make you smile. He calls you “baby”, “princess”, “my love” and “jagiya” constantly, and his voice gets extra soft when he says “my wife.”
Domestic life with him is pure comfort. He loves cooking with you (even if he’s not the best at it), dancing around the kitchen while music plays, and carrying you around the house just because he can. He’s the husband who will do anything you ask — cleaning, laundry, carrying heavy things — and he does it with a proud smile because he loves taking care of you.
Changbin is extremely clingy and needy for your attention. At night he becomes your personal heater, always wanting to cuddle. He loves when you lay on his broad chest and when you play with his hair or trace his muscles with your fingers. He gets all shy and giggly when you compliment how strong and handsome he is.
He’s very emotionally open with you. If he had a hard day at practice, he’ll come to you immediately, lay his head on your lap, and let you baby him. He feels safest when he’s being spoiled by his wife. anniversaries and special dates are always celebrated big — he plans romantic dinners or surprise getaways just to show how much he treasures you.
He’s protective but in the sweetest way. He’ll puff up his chest if anyone looks at you too long, but the second you hold his hand or call his name softly, he melts completely. You’re his biggest pride — he loves introducing you as “my beautiful wife” with the brightest smile.
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Even though Changbin is big and muscular, in the bedroom he’s surprisingly submissive and absolutely loves when you take full control. Being “dominated” by his wife turns him on more than anything else in the world.
He gets incredibly needy and desperate the moment you start commanding him. Just hearing you say “Be good for me, Binnie” or “Lay down, baby” makes him instantly hard. He loves being told what to do — where to touch you, how fast to move, when he’s allowed to cum.
His favorite thing is when you ride him. He’ll lay on his back, gripping the sheets tightly while you sink down on his thick cock, moaning loudly as you take control of the pace. He looks up at you with heart eyes, whimpering “Please… use me however you want, princess.”
Changbin has a massive praise kink. He melts when you tell him how good he feels inside you, how strong and pretty he looks when he’s falling apart for you. Words like “Good boy”, “Such a perfect husband for me”, and “You’re doing so well, baby” make him moan and twitch inside you.
He’s very vocal and whiny in bed. Expect lots of breathy moans, whimpers, and desperate “Please… I need you…” when you tease him or edge him. He loves being overstimulated — even after he cums, if you keep riding him he’ll cry out from sensitivity but beg you not to stop.
Other kinks he has(I'm sure of that, okay? )
- He loves when you mark him up. Hickeys on his neck, chest, and thighs make him feel claimed and owned by you.
- Light choking (your small hand around his thick neck) drives him crazy.
- He has a breeding kink too, but in a more submissive way — he loves when you tell him you’re going to “milk him dry” and make him fill you up.
- He’s obsessed with giving you oral. When you sit on his face he becomes euphoric, licking and sucking your pussy eagerly while moaning loudly against you, happy to stay there until you cum multiple times.
Even when he’s inside you, he prefers when you’re in control. He’ll thrust up into you only when you allow it, always asking “Can I move, baby? Please let me fuck you…” His hands will grip your hips tightly but he won’t take over unless you tell him to.
After sex he becomes even softer. He loves when you take care of him too — cleaning him up, cuddling him, and praising him while he rests his head on your chest. He’ll whisper “I love you so much… thank you for taking care of me” with the sweetest, most satisfied smile.
Hyunjin
SFW:
Hyunjin is, without a doubt, the most romantic and affectionate husband in the world. He loves you so deeply and openly that sometimes it feels like you’re living inside a romance movie.
He’s incredibly soft and gentle with you. Every morning he wakes you up with slow kisses all over your face, whispering “Good morning, my beautiful wife” in that smooth voice. He treats you like you’re the most precious thing in his life — because to him, you really are.
He’s a master at making you feel loved. He writes you little poems, draws portraits of you when you’re not looking, and surprises you with flowers “just because”. Date nights with him are always special — whether it’s a fancy dinner, dancing under the stars, or staying home where he sets up a pillow fort and slow dances with you in the living room.
Hyunjin is extremely clingy and touchy. He always needs to be close to you — holding your hand, resting his head on your shoulder, or pulling you onto his lap while he’s painting or watching movies. He loves when you play with his long hair and will literally purr if you scratch his scalp.
He’s the type of husband who gets emotional easily. Sometimes he looks at you and gets teary-eyed because he can’t believe he gets to call you his wife. He’s not afraid to tell you “I’m so in love with you” multiple times a day.
He venerates you in the sweetest ways. He calls you “my queen”, “my love”, “angel”, and “my beautiful wife” with so much adoration in his voice. He loves spoiling you — buying you beautiful clothes, jewelry, or anything that makes you feel like royalty. He’s always taking photos of you because he says he needs to capture your beauty forever.
Even on busy days, he makes time for you. He’ll send you selfies from the practice room or voice notes telling you how much he misses his wife. When he comes home, the first thing he does is find you and hug you for a long time, breathing you in like you’re his home.
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As your husband, Hyunjin’s love for you becomes even more intense and worshipful in the bedroom. He absolutely adores venerating your body and making you feel like a goddess.
He’s incredibly sensual and teasing. He loves to provoke you until you’re shaking with need. He’ll spend ages kissing down your body, lightly biting your inner thighs, licking and sucking marks into your skin while whispering filthy but romantic things like “Look at how wet you already are for me… my perfect wife.”
Hyunjin is completely obsessed with making you squirt. The first time he made you do it, he became addicted. Now, every time you have sex, he makes it his mission to make you squirt for him. He’ll finger you with those long, elegant fingers, curling them perfectly against your g-spot while sucking hard on your clit, refusing to stop even when your legs start shaking. When you finally squirt all over his hand and face, his eyes light up with pure pride and lust as he moans “That’s it, baby… give it to me. Squirt for your husband again.”
He loves going down on you for a long time. He eats you out like he’s worshiping you — slow, deep licks mixed with intense sucking on your clit. He moans against your pussy because he genuinely loves your taste, and he gets even more turned on when you pull his hair and ride his face.
When you ride him, he becomes a complete mess. He lays back, hands gripping your hips, looking up at you with hazy, lovesick eyes while you take control. He loves when you use him for your pleasure, whispering “Use me, my love… ride your husband however you want.”
He’s very vocal and romantic even during sex. He constantly praises you — “You’re so beautiful when you fall apart for me”, “I love how you feel around me”, “You’re my everything”. He can go from sweet to provocatively dirty in seconds: “Come on, angel… let me feel you soak me again. I know my wife can give me more.”
Hyunjin especially loves positions where he can see your face and watch every expression you make. He’ll fuck you slow and deep in missionary, kissing you passionately while grinding against you, then suddenly speed up when he feels you getting close, determined to make you squirt all over his cock.
He has a strong worship kink. He loves kissing and licking every part of your body — your breasts, your stomach, your thighs, and especially your pussy after you cum. He’ll clean you up with his tongue while telling you how perfect you are.
After sex, he becomes even softer. He’ll pull you into his arms, kiss every inch of your face, and hold you close while whispering sweet nothings. He loves falling asleep with your bodies pressed together, his long fingers gently stroking your back as he tells you how much he loves being your husband.
Felix
SFW:
Felix is the type of husband that makes people around you jealous because he’s genuinely the sweetest, softest, and most caring man in the world. Everyone who sees the way he treats you says the same thing: “My God, he’s the most affectionate and loving husband I’ve ever seen.”
He’s incredibly gentle and warm with you. Every single day he makes sure you feel completely loved. He wakes you up with the softest kisses, his deep voice whispering “Good morning, my love” or “Wake up, beautiful wife” while stroking your hair. He loves hugging you from behind while you’re doing anything — cooking, brushing your teeth, or working — and resting his chin on your shoulder, breathing you in like you’re his favorite scent in the world.
Felix is extremely thoughtful. He remembers every little thing about you: your favorite flowers, the exact way you like your coffee, the songs that make you emotional, and even the small details like how you scrunch your nose when you’re concentrating. He surprises you constantly — leaving love notes inside your bag, buying you skincare products because he noticed your skin was dry, or planning cozy movie nights with all your favorite snacks and blankets.
He’s the biggest cuddler. At home he’s always touching you in some way. He loves when you sit on his lap while he plays games or when you lay on his chest while watching dramas. His favorite moment of the day is when he can finally come home, pull you into his arms, and stay like that for hours, talking about everything and nothing while his deep voice vibrates against your ear.
He calls you the cutest nicknames in the softest tone: “sunshine”, “angel”, “my pretty wife”, “babygirl”, and “love of my life”. When he says “my wife”, his eyes sparkle with pure pride and adoration. He’s not afraid to show how whipped he is for you — he posts pictures of you two with the sweetest captions and loves telling everyone how lucky he is to be married to you.
Felix is incredibly patient and understanding. On days when you’re tired or overwhelmed, he becomes your safe haven. He’ll run you a warm bath with your favorite scents, wash your hair with the gentlest touch, cook your comfort food, and then hold you close while humming softly until you fall asleep in his arms. He makes you feel like the most cherished person on earth.
He dreams about building a beautiful future with you. You’ll often catch him talking about “our home”, “our future kids”, or “growing old together” with the brightest smile. He wants to give you the entire world and makes sure you never doubt how deeply he loves you.
NSFW:
While Felix is the sweetest and most angelic husband on the outside, behind closed doors he becomes an entirely different person — dominant, intense, and incredibly commanding.
His deep voice is his biggest weapon. The moment he switches into dom mode, that low, raspy Australian accent becomes pure sin. He loves using it to control you completely. A simple “On your knees, baby” or “Be quiet and take what I give you” said in that velvet voice is enough to make your legs shake.
Felix has strong BDSM tendencies and loves incorporating them into your sex life (always with clear consent and aftercare). He enjoys light impact play — spanking your ass hard until it’s red and marked with his handprints, then soothing the skin right after with gentle kisses. He loves choking you just enough to make you feel owned, his large hand wrapped around your throat while he looks into your eyes and growls “You’re mine, understand?”
He’s very into degradation mixed with praise. He’ll call you “my dirty little wife”, “greedy slut”, or “such a desperate whore for your husband” in that deep voice, only to follow it up with “but you’re so fucking perfect like this… taking everything I give you so well.”
He loves putting you in submissive positions where he has full control: fucking you from behind while pulling your hair, bending you over the desk or the kitchen counter, or tying your hands with his belt or silk ties. His favorite is missionary where he can pin your wrists above your head with one hand and fuck you deep and hard while maintaining intense eye contact.
Felix is obsessed with power exchange. He loves when you obey him instantly — spreading your legs wider when he commands, or asking for permission to cum. When you’re being especially good, he rewards you with the most mind-blowing orgasms. When you’re bratty, he enjoys punishing you with edging, overstimulating you until you’re crying and begging.
He has incredible stamina. He can fuck you for hours — switching between rough, deep thrusts that make the bed shake and slow, teasing rolls of his hips that drive you insane. He loves making you squirm and moan loudly, pushing you to your limits and then pulling you back just to do it all over again.
Even when he’s being rough and dominant, there’s still an underlying layer of love. Between degrading words and hard spanks, he’ll lean down and kiss you passionately, whispering “I love you so much” against your lips while still pounding into you mercilessly.
After every intense session, Felix turns back into the softest husband imaginable. The aftercare is long and loving — he cleans you up gently, checks if you’re okay, brings you water, and holds you tightly against his chest. He’ll stroke your hair, kiss every mark he left on your body, and whisper sweet praises like “You did so well for me, my love… my perfect wife” until you fall asleep feeling completely safe and adored.
Han
SFW:
Han is the definition of a whipped, loving, and incredibly affectionate husband. He’s completely head over heels for you and doesn’t even try to hide it. To everyone around, it’s obvious how much he adores his wife — he looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky.
He’s extremely clingy and touchy in the sweetest way. The second he gets home, he’s already searching for you, calling out “Jagiya~” in that cute voice until he finds you. He loves attacking you with kisses — quick pecks all over your face, long kisses on your lips, and soft kisses on your neck while he hugs you tightly from behind. He can spend minutes just kissing you without saying anything, like he can’t get enough of your taste.
Han is the type of husband who lives to make you happy. He obeys you so easily in daily life — whether it’s running to the store because you want something, doing chores the way you like, or changing plans last minute just because you asked. He genuinely loves when you take the lead and tell him what to do. “Yes, baby” and “Whatever you want, my wife” are phrases you hear from him all the time.
He’s incredibly playful and fun to live with. The house is always filled with laughter because of his silly jokes and random aegyo. But underneath all the chaos, he’s deeply emotional and soft. He loves cuddling on the couch for hours, laying his head on your chest while you play with his hair, or falling asleep wrapped around you like a koala.
Han is the king of random affection. He’ll send you voice notes throughout the day full of “I miss you”, “I love you so much”, and cute sounds. He brings home little gifts — snacks he knows you like, a plushie he thought was cute, or flowers he saw on the way home. He calls you “my wife”, “baby”, “princess”, and “noona” (even if you’re not older) with the brightest smile.
When he does something wrong or upsets you even a little, he turns into the cutest puppy. He looks at you with those big, round, sparkling eyes full of regret, pouting and saying “I’m sorry… please don’t be mad at me…” He knows exactly how weak you are to his puppy eyes, and most of the time you end up forgiving him quickly while he smiles victoriously and showers you with even more kisses.
He’s incredibly supportive and proud of you. He cheers for you louder than anyone, brags about you to the members, and always tells you how amazing his wife is. Being married to you makes him feel like the luckiest man alive, and he never lets a day go by without reminding you how much he loves you.
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In the bedroom, Han is an extremely desperate and eager submissive for his wife. He lives to obey you and please you in every possible way. The more you dominate him, the more turned on and needy he becomes.
He has almost every submissive fetish you can imagine. He loves being told what to do, being ordered around, and serving you completely. Whether you want him on his knees, tied up, edged for hours, or used as your personal toy — he’s more than happy to comply. “Yes, ma’am”, “Whatever you want, baby”, and “Please use me” are things he says breathlessly while looking at you with pure desperation in his eyes.
Han is insanely kissy during sex. Even when you’re dominating him, he’s constantly trying to kiss you — deep, messy, desperate kisses. He’ll whine into your mouth while you ride him, kiss your neck and chest when you let him, and beg for kisses as a reward when he’s being good. Kissing you turns him on almost as much as being dominated.
He gets incredibly whiny and vocal when he’s needy. Expect lots of desperate moans, whimpers, and broken “Please… I’ll be good… I promise…” He loves being punished. If he does something “wrong” (like touching you without permission or cumming too early), he’ll look up at you with those big puppy eyes, pouting and begging for forgiveness while his cock twitches with excitement. Most of the time you forgive him quickly because he looks too adorable, but sometimes you make him wait and suffer a little longer just to hear him whine more.
His favorite thing is when you take complete control. He loves when you ride him hard, when you edge him until he’s crying, when you sit on his face and use his mouth for your pleasure, or when you make him wear a collar while you stroke him slowly. He has a strong praise kink too — every “Good boy”, “You’re doing so well for me”, or “Such an obedient husband” makes him melt and leak precum instantly.
Han especially loves being overstimulated. After he cums, if you keep touching him or riding him, he becomes a shaking, whimpering mess — tears in his eyes, body twitching, but still begging “Don’t stop… please… I can take it for you.”
He’s very into body worship from the submissive side. He loves kissing and licking every part of your body when you allow it — especially your thighs, your pussy, and your breasts. When you sit on his face, he eats you out like a starving man, moaning loudly and desperately trying to make you cum as many times as possible.
Even in his most submissive moments, there’s so much love. Between desperate whimpers and pleas, he’ll look at you with heart eyes and whisper “I love you… I love being yours…”
Aftercare with him is incredibly sweet. Once the scene is over, he becomes extra clingy and soft. He’ll nuzzle into your neck, cover you with small kisses, and let you baby him while he recovers. He loves when you praise him and tell him how good he was, falling asleep in your arms with a satisfied, lovesick smile on his face.
Seungmin
SFW:
Seungmin is the type of husband who shows his love in quiet, meaningful ways rather than grand gestures. His affection is subtle but incredibly deep and consistent — the kind that makes you feel truly cherished once you notice all the little things he does for you.
He’s not overly loud or clingy in public, but in private he becomes much softer. He expresses his love through small, thoughtful actions: making sure your favorite mug is clean and ready in the morning, leaving your favorite snacks on the counter with a small note, remembering exactly how you like your coffee or tea, and quietly taking care of things around the house before you even have to ask.
He loves listening to you. After a long day, he’ll sit beside you on the couch or in bed, gently playing with your fingers while you talk about everything that happened. He doesn’t always say much, but his attentive gaze and occasional soft “Hmm” or “That sounds tough” show how much he cares. He’s the husband who remembers the smallest details you mention in passing and brings them up weeks later.
Seungmin has a dry, sarcastic sense of humor that he only fully unleashes with you. He teases you constantly in that signature deadpan way, but it’s always filled with affection. Right after teasing you, he’ll pull you close and press a gentle kiss to your temple or the top of your head, murmuring “You know I’m just joking, right? I love you.”
He’s incredibly reliable and steady. You can always count on him — whether it’s picking you up when it’s raining, helping you with work, or simply being there when you need quiet comfort. On days when you’re feeling down, he doesn’t overwhelm you with words. Instead, he’ll wrap his arms around you from behind, rest his chin on your shoulder, and stay like that until you feel better.
He calls you “wife” in a soft, almost shy way when it’s just the two of you. He also uses “baby” and “jagiya” sparingly, but when he does, his voice carries so much warmth. He loves holding your hand under the table or resting his hand on your thigh while watching movies. His favorite moments are the quiet ones — reading together, listening to music, or simply existing in comfortable silence while tangled up on the couch.
Even though he’s discreet with his affection, the love he has for you is profound. He shows it by always choosing you, by being patient, by making you feel safe, and by being the calm presence you can always lean on. He may not say “I love you” every five minutes, but when he does say it, it carries the weight of all the quiet ways he’s been loving you every day.
NSFW:
In the bedroom, Seungmin is a perfect switch with a strong submissive lean. He’s not fully desperate like some of the others, but he deeply enjoys when you take control and push his limits, especially with overstimulation and toys.
He loves when you use toys on him. Vibrators, cock rings, prostate massagers, plugs — he’s very open to almost anything as long as it’s you controlling the pleasure. He particularly enjoys being edged for a long time. You can have him trembling and biting his lip while you slowly stroke him with a toy, bringing him right to the edge and then stopping, over and over again until he’s breathing heavily and quietly begging with that husky voice.
Seungmin is very responsive to overstimulation. After he cums once, he becomes incredibly sensitive, but he secretly loves when you keep going — using your hand, mouth, or toys to keep working him until he’s shaking, thighs twitching, and letting out those rare broken moans and whimpers. He’ll grip the sheets tightly, eyes half-lidded, murmuring “Fuck… baby, it’s too much…” even as his hips unconsciously push up for more.
He enjoys being told what to do, but he also likes a bit of push and pull. Sometimes he’ll be a little bratty on purpose just to see how you’ll react and punish him. He finds it incredibly hot when you pin him down, use a commanding tone, or make him keep a toy inside him while you ride his face or use his cock for your own pleasure.
Even when he’s submitting, there’s a certain elegance to it. He loves eye contact. He’ll look up at you with dark, intense eyes while you’re on top of him or while you’re using toys on him, letting you see exactly how much he’s feeling. He’s not super loud, but the quiet, breathy sounds he makes when he’s close or being overstimulated are addicting.
He also loves when you use him for your pleasure. Sitting on his face is one of his favorites — he’ll hold your thighs gently but firmly, licking and sucking your pussy with focused dedication until you cum, and even then he won’t stop unless you tell him to.
After intense sessions, Seungmin becomes incredibly soft and cuddly. The contrast is beautiful — one moment he’s trembling from overstimulation, the next he’s nuzzling into your neck, seeking comfort and affection. He loves when you praise him quietly (“You took it so well, Min”) and when you take care of him during aftercare — cleaning him up, holding him close, and stroking his hair while he recovers.
Jeongin
SFW:
Jeongin is the definition of a freshly married, lovesick husband who is still in the honeymoon phase even months after the wedding. Because your marriage is still relatively new, he’s constantly in awe that he actually gets to call you his wife. He’s incredibly soft, gentle, and ridiculously affectionate with you in every possible way.
He’s still getting used to married life in the cutest way. Sometimes he’ll randomly smile while looking at the wedding ring on your finger and blush when you catch him. He loves saying “my wife” out loud — it still gives him butterflies every single time. You’ll often hear him practicing it quietly to himself when he thinks you’re not listening: “My wife… yeah, she’s my wife.”
Jeongin is extremely caring and thoughtful. He wakes up early just to make you breakfast, even if he’s sleepy, because he wants to start your day feeling loved. He packs little snacks for you, sends good morning and good night texts with the sweetest messages, and always checks if you’ve eaten or if you’re feeling cold. Small acts of service are his love language — folding your clothes, warming up your side of the bed before you get in, or carrying your bag without being asked.
He’s incredibly clingy and cuddly. At home, he follows you around like a puppy. He loves hugging you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder, and peppering your neck and cheeks with soft kisses. He’s not afraid to be openly affectionate — he’ll pull you onto his lap while watching TV, nuzzle into your neck, and sigh happily when you play with his hair.
Jeongin is the type of husband who gets shy easily, but with you he tries his best to be brave. He writes you little love notes and hides them in places you’ll find later. He gets genuinely excited about planning dates, even simple ones at home, and always wants to know what makes you happiest. He brags about you to the members in the most adorable way, showing them pictures and saying “Look how pretty my wife is.”
He’s very protective in a gentle way. If you’re upset or having a bad day, he becomes your safe place. He’ll pull you into his chest, wrap his arms around you tightly, and stay there as long as you need, whispering “It’s okay, I’m here” while gently stroking your back. He hates seeing you sad and will do anything to make you smile again.
Even after being married for a while, he still gets flustered when you call him “husband” or when you do something sweet for him. He’s just so genuinely happy and in love that it shows in everything he does.
NSFW
As your husband, Jeongin is incredibly soft, loving, and eager to please you in bed. He’s still discovering his confidence as a married man, but what he lacks in experience he more than makes up for with pure enthusiasm and adoration — especially when it comes to oral.
Jeongin is completely obsessed with eating you out. It’s easily one of his favorite things in the world. He loves going down on you for long periods of time, treating it like his personal mission to make you feel as good as possible. He’ll spread your legs gently, settle between them, and look up at you with those big sparkling eyes before diving in.
He eats your pussy with so much passion and care. He starts slow, placing soft kisses on your inner thighs and over your folds, then uses his tongue to lick you from bottom to top, savoring every drop. He’s amazing at focusing on your clit — sucking it gently between his lips, flicking his tongue in steady rhythms, and humming happily against you because he genuinely loves your taste. When you start moaning and pulling his hair, he gets even more into it, licking faster and pushing his tongue inside you, fucking you with it while his nose rubs against your clit.
He can stay between your legs for hours if you let him. He loves when you ride his face — he’ll grab your thighs and pull you down harder, moaning loudly into your pussy as you grind against his tongue. Multiple orgasms are his goal every single time. He won’t stop until you’re shaking, thighs trembling around his head, and even then he’ll keep licking softly through your sensitivity, cleaning you up with gentle strokes of his tongue.
Because he’s still getting used to married life, he’s very attentive and responsive to your reactions. He learns quickly what you like best and always asks “Is this good, baby?” or “Does it feel nice?” while looking up at you from between your legs with flushed cheeks and glossy lips.
When it’s time for him to be inside you, he’s still incredibly sweet and loving. He prefers positions where he can see your face — especially missionary so he can kiss you deeply while thrusting into you. He’s not overly rough, but he can get passionately intense, especially when he’s close. His moans are beautiful and a little shy at first, but they get louder and needier the better it feels.
He has a soft breeding kink that comes out when he’s really lost in pleasure. While buried deep inside you, he’ll whisper breathlessly “Want to fill you up… want to make you feel so full, my wife…” and cum with his face hidden in your neck, holding you tight.
After sex, Jeongin becomes even softer. He loves skin-to-skin contact and will pull you straight into his arms, covering your face with gentle kisses while catching his breath. He always asks if you’re okay, if it felt good, and then cuddles you close, playing with your hair or rubbing your back until you both fall asleep tangled together.
Which group should I do next?
BTS
Enhypen
ATEEZ
Voting ended onMay 8
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