late night thoughts & dreams

i write sometimes

[withlovemark]

pairing: arranged marriage! chenle x reader | genre: angst, fluff, smut | words: 26k+

synopsis: you’ve known zhong chenle since you were five years old. once inseparable childhood best friends, everything between you shattered at eighteen — the moment your arranged marriage became real. to him, you became a symbol of everything he lost: freedom, choice, and a future that no longer belonged to him. by twenty-four, you finally marry as the country’s beloved golden couple. the heirs of zhong cosmetics and yü skincare, bound together by legacy, business, and expectations.

warnings: some scenes are very angsty! chenle is mean! cheating! a near death experience! pregnancy! +18 reader is a virgin and very inexperienced, not your ideal first time, sex is treated as a duty once, chenle is a pussy eaterrr, he cums inside every time, not super detailed but a sex montage featuring the following: slight exhibitionism, rough sex, dirty talk, fingering, he bends you over a billiards table, blowjob, riding him in the hot tub, doggy-style, squirting, i hope i didn’t miss any. mentions of: blood

an: i am in my chenle feels! and i’m also procrastinating writing for the donors, the loverboys and ruin the friendship jeno ver right now, so you’re all getting this instead! and liking it! (i hope) please let me know what you think of this one! - with love, c.

⚜️ THE GOLDEN COUPLE ⚜️

“i would like to thank everyone for coming today,” lili zhong, aka chenle’s mother and legally your mother-in-law as of five hours ago, says into the microphone. her voice carries effortlessly across the grand ballroom, smooth and commanding without needing to be loud. the entire venue stills for her, conversations fade, forks lower onto porcelain plates. 

there were exactly a thousand guests in attendance tonight. family, friends, business partners, celebrities, investors, socialites, industry executives from every corner of asia, people whose names appear in magazines and headlines and billion-dollar reports. the ballroom itself looked almost unreal – dripping crystals suspended from the ceiling, white roses woven into towering arrangements, soft gold lighting reflecting against polished marble floors. every detail had been curated to perfection. fitting for the wedding of the heirs to two of the most influential beauty empires in the country.

“we have been waiting for this union for years now,” mrs. zhong continues, and somehow every person in the room hangs onto each word she says. she has always had that effect on people.

“my one and only son, chenle…i am very happy and excited as you take on this next chapter,” her eyes land on him briefly, full of pride, “i know you will be extraordinary, as you are in everything you do.”

a wave of soft applause spreads through the room. chenle beside you gives a polite nod, composed as ever. 

then her attention shifts entirely to you.

“and of course, my beautiful daughter in law, y/n zhong…,” the warmth in her voice softens you completely. the last name making your heart flutter. you don't know if you'll ever get used to hearing it.

“i’ve always wanted you as my real daughter,” she says with a small smile painted in her signature crimson lipstick,  “and now i can finally say you are.”

your chest tightens in the best way possible. you smile back before you can even think about it, eyes sparkling beneath the lights as emotion swells quietly inside you. because unlike the cameras and contracts and business articles surrounding this marriage…this part felt real. 

lili zhong was someone you had admired long before you ever understood what admiration truly was. 

you can remember it as if it was yesterday – being seven years old inside the towering headquarters of zhong cosmetics, your tiny dress shoes squeaking against the floors as you and chenle ran through the halls without a care in the world. the building had felt gigantic back then, less like a corporate empire and more like your personal playground. you remembered hiding beneath reception desks with chenle while assistants searched for the two of you in panic. remembered spinning around in leather office chairs worth more than most people’s rent. remembered sneaking into empty conference rooms just to press random buttons on expensive remotes.

and then lili zhong walked out.

and the entire atmosphere shifted the moment she appeared. not much different from how it is now. employees straightened immediately. conversations stopped mid-sentence. people moved aside for her without being told to. she carried herself with grace and effortless authority, shoulders back, chin lifted slightly, heels clicking sharply against the floor like a metronome everyone unconsciously followed. but what fascinated you most wasn’t the fear or respect she commanded. it was how composed she looked doing it. 

you remembered watching from next to chenle as she reapplied her lipstick using the reflection of a glass wall, precise and graceful like second nature. one smooth swipe of red. cap clicked shut. then immediately back to discussing quarterly projections as if perfection came as easily as breathing. prim. proper. poised. she was untouchable. and you had been completely mesmerized. 

from that moment on, you’d wanted to become the kind of woman lili zhong was – respected, strong, confident – the type of woman who could walk into a room and have the world rearrange itself around her. and now, standing beneath thousands of glittering lights with the zhong diamond resting heavily on your left ring finger and her son beside you, you suddenly wondered if this was the closest you had ever come to becoming her. 

“i wish you both a fruitful marriage,” she says with a subtle wink in your direction, a wave of laughter spreading softly through the ballroom. your face warms instantly because everyone here understands exactly what she means. not just the merger between zhong cosmetics and yü skincare. not just the billions this marriage would bring. not just the headlines already flooding social media tonight.

but heirs too. children with the zhong name. future successors beautiful enough to belong on campaign billboards before they could even walk.

“may it always be filled with prosperity and success,” mrs. zhong continues, lifting her glass slightly, “and may the two of you continue bringing honor to our families and our companies.”

camera flashes explode around the room like lightning. you can already imagine tomorrow’s articles.

THE GOLDEN COUPLE OF BEAUTY

CHINA’S MOST POWERFUL MARRIAGE!

LOVE, LUXURY, AND LEGACY.

“this country has not seen such a beautiful couple before.”

the applause is immediate. a thousand guests rise to the toast without hesitation, crystal glasses lifting beneath the chandelier light. from the stage, the entire ballroom looked dipped in gold. 

“to mr. and mrs. zhong.”

“to mr. and mrs. zhong!,” the crowd echos. 

you lift your champagne glass with a smile so genuine it almost hurts. because despite everything, despite the pressure and expectations and business contracts hidden beneath layers of silk and diamonds – you were happy. maybe pathetically so. 

you have loved zhong chenle for most of your life. 

before the magazines started calling him the future of luxury cosmetics. before investors nicknamed the two of you the golden couple. before marriage turned into obligation instead of possibility.

and there was a time, too. a time when chenle used to reach for your hand first. a time where the two of you spent entire afternoons running through corporate buildings while your parents attended meetings. a time where he’d steal your desserts at dinners and complain when other boys talked to you at events. a time where marriage jokes from your families made both of you groan dramatically before dissolving into laughter. 

back then, it had felt harmless. like something far away. until you both turned eighteen. when meetings became serious. when contracts replaced teasing. when your families stopped asking and started deciding. 

that was when everything changed. 

because every time chenle looked at you after that, it was no longer with warmth – it was resentment.

you became the physical reminder of every choice he would never get to make for himself. the life he would never get to live. the love he would never get to experience freely. 

somehow, the public never noticed. that was the worst part – chenle was terrifyingly good at pretending. like right now, with one hand resting against the small of your back, he looked every bit like the devoted husband he wanted the media to believe him to be. calm smile. soft gaze. protective touch. 

the perfect heir beside his perfect wife. 

and the cameras adored him for it – “mr. zhong, look here!” “mr. zhong, one more picture with your wife!” “you two are stunning together!” 

his fingers flex lightly against your waist as another round of flashes goes off, and anyone watching would think the gesture is affectionate. loving, even. but you know chenle well enough to recognize performance from sincerity. his hand only ever lingers when people are watching. once they turn away, he lets go like touching you burns. 

still, your heart betrays you. every. single. time. because some part of you still remembers the boy before all of this. the boy who used to grin at you with missing front teeth and tell everyone you were his favorite person in the world. 

the boy you always pictured on this day.

“i can’t wait for this to be over,” chenle murmurs beside you, barely moving his lips. to everyone else, it probably looked like he was whispering sweet nothings into your ear. 

“perfect!,” someone gushes behind a camera, “they look crazy in love.”

the irony nearly makes you laugh. 

chenle turns toward you then, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear with such practiced tenderness that several people nearby audibly swoon. you hate how your stomach flips. 

he’s beautiful at pretending to love you. 

sometimes beautiful enough that you can almost pretend with him. 

the reception continues in a blur of diamonds, champagne and endless congratulations. one by one, some of the most influential people in the country approach your table to greet the two of you personally, every gift placed before you looking absurdly expensive. 

chenle smiles effortlessly but if someone looked closely enough, they would notice you speaking far more than he was, carrying conversations, thanking guests, asking about their families and businesses with perfectly timed warmth. prim. proper. poised. you had learned from the best. every time chenle’s expression dulled slightly, you stepped in before anyone could question it. when his attention drifted you redirected conversations smoothly. when his smiles became visibly strained, you compensated with your own brightness. and you’re convinced no one notices his lack of sincerity. or maybe they do and simply choose not to acknowledge it. because appearances mattered more than truth in a room like this. 

“you two truly are perfect together,” an older woman sighs while admiring the two of you, “just look at how attentive your husband is.”

“he always takes good care of me,” you reply quickly, smile never faltering, the lie sliding off your tongue so naturally it almost scares you. chenle glances at you briefly after that comment. you can’t tell if he’s irritated or grateful. perhaps both. 

minutes pass like that. more smiles. more photos. more toasts. more champagne. your cheeks begin aching from smiling so much but you endure it anyway. this was your wedding day. everything is supposed to be perfect. until–

“excuse me,” chenle suddenly says beside you after another round of greetings, “i need to use the restroom.”

you immediately nod before anyone else can react, “of course.”

one of the investors chuckles knowingly, “already escaping from married life, mr. zhong?”

a ripple of laughter follows. chenle gives them a charming grin that doesn’t reach his eyes, “just five minutes. i'll be right back.” he leaves with calm steps, posture still immaculate beneath his suit. you continue smiling after he disappears into the crowd. 

five minutes pass. then ten. then twenty. people begin noticing. 

“where’s your husband?” someone asks casually. 

you let out a soft laugh, “probably being dragged into another business deal somewhere.” they laugh with you easily. and you cover for him again. and again. and again. 

by the thirty-minute mark, you can practically feel whispers beginning to bloom around the ballroom like perfume in the air. so you straighten your spine further, lift your chin slightly, and you smile brighter. if chenle was going to disappear from his own wedding reception, then you would make sure no one noticed the crack forming underneath the surface. you continue greeting guests alone, accepting congratulations with elegance polished into your bones. 

mrs. zhong watches you from across the ballroom, sharp eyes lingering knowingly on your solitary figure. she says nothing. because she knows her son. how loud his resentment has been years,  months, weeks building into this. but she also knows you. and she trusts you’ll be perfectly fine. that’s why she chose you for her son anyway.

chenle finally returns before he hit the forty-minute mark. your eyes find him immediately across the ballroom. his tie is slightly loosened now, not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for you to catch instantly. his expression remains composed. but the second he reaches your side – you smell it. whiskey. strong enough to linger beneath his cologne. 

and truthfully? you don’t really mind. chenle was always easier when he drank. looser around the edges. less cold. less careful about keeping distance between the two of you. sometimes…he even looked at you like he used to.

and after disappearing for almost forty minutes, he was going to have to sell this act twice as hard. 

“there you are,” you say smoothly as another cluster of guests approaches the two of you. before you can even fully turn toward them, chenle’s hand settles against your waist. firm. far more natural than earlier. 

“sorry,” he says quietly near your ear, voice lower now, slightly roughened by alcohol, “got cornered.”

you hum in acknowledgement, not bothering to call him out. he was lying, obviously. but this version of chenle was infinitely more tolerable than the sober one who treated your marriage like a prison sentence. 

“mr. and mrs. zhong!” another investor greets excitedly, approaching with his wife beside him, “we were just saying you two look unbelievable together tonight.”

normally, chenle would give a polite smile, a practiced nod, maybe rest his hand on your back for exactly five seconds before pulling away. instead, he pulls you closer. 

“thank you,” he says easily, “my wife makes it difficult not to stare.”

your breath nearly catches. it was the first time he’d call you that. his wife. and you hate how much you loved hearing it. 

the investor’s wife practically melts on the spot, “oh, he adores you.”

you knew that couldn’t be further from the truth. chenle’s just performing harder now. making up for lost time. and annoyingly enough, he’s very good at it. throughout the next hour, he barely left your side. and you’d be lying if you said it didn't affect you. drunk chenle was dangerously convincing. this version of him looked softer around the edges, dark eyes warmer beneath the ballroom lights. he smiled more. touched you more. occasionally leaned close enough that his shoulder brushed yours naturally instead of mechanically. like right now-

“you’re doing that thing again,” he murmurs quietly, only for you to hear. 

“what thing?”

“over-smiling,” his lips twitch faintly, “your cheeks are probably hurting.”

the fact he noticed at all sends something uncomfortable fluttering through your chest. 

“i’m fine.”

“mhm,” his pointer finger lightly grazes your cheekbone, soft and careful, “liar.”

your heart stumbles embarrassingly fast. you hate that alcohol makes him kinder. or maybe not kinder. just more honest with his attention. 

another camera flash bursts in front of you both. another perfect photo for the headlines tomorrow. you wonder if anyone would still call the two of you the golden couple if they knew chenle only touched you this much after drinking enough whiskey to blur the resentment out of him.

you enjoyed the rest of the wedding reception. or maybe endured was the more accurate word. either way, you played the role of the perfect wife flawlessly. enough to fool an entire ballroom full of billionaires. by the time the reception finally ended, your cheeks ached from smiling and your feet hurt from hours in heels. 

still, there was a strange warmth sitting inside your chest because despite everything – you had married the boy you love. even if he no longer loved you back.

⚜️ THE MARRIED LIFE ⚜️

the drive home is quiet. chenle sits beside you, his gaze lost outside the window. he doesn’t look at you once. the alcohol from earlier seems to have worn off already. funny how quickly the warmth disappeared from him too. 

eventually, the gates to the mansion slid open. your mansion now. your home for the rest of your life. the estate stood enormous against the night sky, lights glowing warmly throughout the property. it was less of a house and more of a private villa, complete with a fountain in the middle, sprawling gardens, balconies overlooking the endless green landscape, rooms neither of you would probably ever step foot in. beautiful but cold.

the car comes to a stop and before the driver can even fully open the door, chenle steps out first. you follow shortly after, one of the maids helping you with your dress as you stepped inside the mansion. the grand foyer stretches high above both of you, chandelier light reflecting against polished floors. 

chenle was already halfway up the left staircase. “night,” he finally says. flat. automatic. not even turning around. like the two of you didn’t just celebrate a once in a lifetime event people dream of. 

he disappears down the left wing leading to his bedroom without another word. you stare after him for a moment before quietly turning toward the opposite staircase. right side. your side. your room.  

lili zhong had arranged this mansion for the two of you a month before the wedding, insisting that it would help ease the transition. she genuinely believed that if the two of you lived together beforehand, chenle would eventually come around, that proximity would soften him, that he’d remembered the closeness you once had. you remembered how hopeful she sounded while showing you around the estate.

“give him time,” she had told you gently, “chenle’s stubborn, but he’s a good boy.”

you wanted to believe her. you really did. so for a month before the wedding - you tried. you asked him about work. about basketball games you knew he loved. about the restaurants you knew he liked. you sat beside him even when he barely acknowledged you were there. you tried being patient. understanding. gentle. it didn’t work. and in the end, your efforts never mattered anyway. because whether chenle liked it or not, the wedding was always going to happen. 

now that it had, the distance between you felt even larger. married yet sleeping in separate bedrooms like strangers forced under the same roof. it’s whatever, really. the mansion had far too many empty rooms anyway.

three months pass like that.

the routine becomes almost mechanical. you wake up separately. leave for work separately. return home separately. 

real conversations only happen at the office. meetings. sale projections. marketing campaigns. brand collaborations. like business partners instead of husband and wife. which, you probably should have expected. 

at home, chenle barely spares you a glance. he doesn’t sit beside you on the sofa. doesn’t ask about your day. doesn’t linger in rooms you enter. dinners are eaten across opposite ends of a table long enough to seat twenty people comfortably, silence filling the space where conversations should’ve been. sometimes the only sounds are the clink of silverware against plates and the faint ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway.

and at night, the lights still glow beneath two different bedrooms. you’ve never stepped into his this entire time. and he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone what the colors of your walls were. sometimes you wonder if he stays awake as long as you do. 

one night, you walked into the living room to find him watching basketball. for the first time in weeks, he actually looked alive. completely relaxed against the couch, eyes fixed on the television while quietly reacting under his breath. stephen curry had just made an impossible three-point shot and chenle actually laughed softly, shaking his head with genuine enjoyment lighting his face. you had almost smiled seeing it. because it reminded you of the boy he used to be. then he noticed you standing there and immediately, everything disappeared. his posture straightened. his expression flattened. he watched the rest of the game in complete silence, pretending not to care when curry hit the game winning shot minutes later. pretending he hadn’t been enjoying himself at all before you arrived – that one hurt more than you expected. you realized then that your presence drained the life out of him. he physically could not relax around you anymore. 

so eventually – you stopped trying to fill the silence. stopped asking if he wanted dinner together. stopped lingering in shared spaces hoping he might speak first. 

if chenle wanted distance that badly, then fine. you would give it to him. even if the loneliness of this massive mansion swallowed you whole because of it. 

⚜️ THE OTHER WOMAN ⚜️

you couldn’t help it though. every night, no matter how much you told yourself to stop caring, you still waited for the sound of chenle’s bedroom door shutting. just to make sure he came home. 

some nights he came home early, footsteps echoing through the quiet mansion before midnight. other nights, he returned a little later, long after you were supposed to be asleep, the distant sound of his shoes against the floor enough to finally let the tightness in your chest loosen.

he never knew you waited. or maybe he did. either way, neither of you acknowledged it.

but tonight was different.

the grandfather clock in the foyer had already struck two a.m. nearly fifteen minutes ago, the sound heavy and hollow throughout the massive estate. 

chenle has never been out this late.

you glance toward the entrance again before lowering your gaze to the untouched cup of chamomile tea in your hands. it had gone cold almost an hour ago, when you first realize how late it was and your husband was nowhere to be heard. 

“did chenle say where he was going tonight?” you ask the maid standing nearby.

“no, mrs. zhong,” she answers carefully, “but he did call for the driver around twenty minutes ago, he should be making his way back.” 

and it’s ridiculous, really, how your maid knows more about your husband's whereabouts than you do. 

“okay,” you nod gently, setting the untouched tea aside, “go ahead and get some rest,” you offer her a smile despite the exhaustion sitting heavily behind your eyes, “i’ll wait up for him.”

“are you sure, mrs. zhong? i could wait instead.”

you wave her off, “it’s a wife’s duty to take care of her husband.” 

she smiles politely at your response, “okay mrs. zhong, i’ll be here when you need me.” 

“thank you,” you say genuinely. 

she bows her head slightly before disappearing down the hallway, leaving you alone with the silence again. the moment she’s gone, your smile fades. slowly, you rise from the sofa and make your way toward the grand staircase. more specifically  – the left staircase. chenle’s staircase. the one you never use.

the mansion had been designed almost absurdly symmetrical, splitting the house in two. like the house itself understood the distance between you. 

you settle onto the second step quietly, smoothing the fabric of your silk pajama dress beneath you, waiting for him to come home. your eyes drift across the foyer absentmindedly – the massive chandelier overhead, the single round table with the antique vase filled of flowers you didn’t even like, and the wedding portrait hanging near the entrance your mother-in-law gifted. it always made your chest ache a little. you looked so happy in it. chenle looked convincing.

you wonder if this is what arranged marriages are supposed to feel like. waiting around in silence for someone who never notices you waited at all. you lean your head lightly against the staircase railing. maybe he was working late. maybe he was drinking. maybe he didn’t want to come home anymore. the last possibility settles the heaviest. 

your mind drifts despite yourself, back toward the beginning. a time when chenle used to text you constantly whenever he went anywhere. texts that were as silly as:

look at this ugly dog i found

watch basketball with me, i have popcorn

and others, that always made you smile and your heart race:

just tried the new restaurant down the street from our favorite tea place. i have to bring you there..it will make you cry tears of joy.

i saw this dumpling plushie and it reminded me of you, so guess who has a new dumpling plushie

let’s go on trip this weekend, just me and you…already got the flight tickets 

my mom’s annoying me. come save me. please. 

where are you? i’m picking you up

you used to be the first person he looked for in every room. now you barely knew what was going on in that mind of his. a soft laugh escapes you suddenly, quiet and humorless. if the tabloids could see you now, they’ll realize just how easy it is to create fake gold.

another thirty minutes pass when headlights appear through the front windows. your body straightens instantly before you can stop yourself, heartbeat quickening embarrassingly fast. 

the front doors open moments later, chenle walking in. his tie hangs loose around his neck, dark hair slightly messy like someone has been running their fingers through it repeatedly. he smells faintly of alcohol, expensive cologne and perfume that definitely wasn’t yours. your stomach drops before you can even process it fully. it’s sweet, floral, feminine – not familiar. 

chenle freezes the second he notices you sitting on the staircase. for a brief moment, genuine surprise flashes across his face. 

“what are you doing up?” he asks, voice rough and tired. 

you force your expression to remain soft, normal, “waiting for you.”

something unreadable flickers in his eyes. guilt. maybe. or irritation. you can never tell with him anymore. whatever it is, it disappears almost instantly.

“go to bed, y/n,” he says with a sigh, already sounding exhausted by the conversation before it even begins. then he walks past you. just like that. and something inside you finally snaps. 

there were many things that you could let slide. chenle ignoring you. chenle barely speaking to you unless necessary. chenle looking at you with those cold eyes sharp enough to cut skin open. chenle hating you for a life neither of you truly chose. 

but this? coming home way past midnight smelling of alcohol and another woman’s perfume while wearing lipstick marks on his neck like he didn’t even care enough for you to hide them???

a wife could only take so much. 

you could only take so much. 

before you know it, you’re standing abruptly and following him up the staircase. his staircase. your slippers hit the marble harder with every step as anger burns hotter beneath your skin. he pushes open his bedroom door and you follow him inside immediately, shutting it sharply behind you, the sound echoing through the room.

it’s your first time entering his bedroom in the four months you’ve been married. that realization alone feels pathetic. it’s cleaner than you expected. dark walls. dark sheets. expensive furniture. floor to ceiling windows overlooking the green landscape, similar to yours. it looked less like the room of a married man and more like a luxury bachelor suite. nothing about it felt like there was space for you. 

“are you fucking cheating on me?!” you demand, voice coming out harsher than intended, anger cracking through the polished composure you spent years perfecting.

chenle groans immediately, dragging a hand through his hair before kicking his shoes off carelessly, “i don’t want to fucking talk about this right now.”

you ignore him completely, hurt and fury already boiling too violently inside your chest. 

“is this why you hate me so much?,” you ask, voice rising, “because you’re already in love with someone else?!”

that catches his attention instantly. his head snaps toward you so fast it almost startles you.

“what?”

you let out a bitter scoff, “oh my god, chenle!,” you gesture toward him angrily, “you have her scent all over you, there’s lipstick all over your neck–i’m not fucking stupid.”

your voice gets louder with every word. so much for grace. so much for being poised. right now you’re just angry. hurt. humiliated. 

chenle stares at you for a second before rubbing both hands down his face tiredly, “i’m not fucking in love with someone else,” he mutters. 

“then what the fuck is this?!”

silence stretches for half a second.

“i needed to get laid.”

chenle laughs once humorlessly, “if you haven’t noticed,” he says coldly, “i’ve basically been fucking abstinent for four months and i just…needed a release.”

it’s almost sickening how that makes you feel better. your anger doesn’t disappear but the crushing feeling in your chest eases slightly knowing there wasn’t some other woman holding his heart while you sat here playing the perfect wife. it was just sex. not love. 

you step closer before you can think better of it. chenle’s brows furrow slightly at the sudden closeness. 

“if you need to get your dick wet, you come to my room.” 

his expression changes instantly, genuine shock flashing across his face. you continue before he can interrupt. 

“no one else’s.”

your chest rises sharply with each breath.

“i’m your wife now, for fuck’s sake.”

chenle just stares at you like he genuinely doesn’t know what to say.

“i don’t care if this marriage was arranged for business,” you snap, “you do not get to cheat on me…again.”

that room falls silent after that. you can practically see the conflict moving behind chenle’s eyes now. because he hates this. all of it. the marriage. the expectations. the loss of freedom. but you can also tell he didn’t expect this reaction from you. didn’t expect you to claim your place beside him so bluntly. 

“besides,” you add bitterly, “we need to have a child eventually, as our parents love to remind me,” your laugh comes out hollow, “you’d be doing me a fucking service.”

irritation flickers in chenle’s face immediately. but you don’t stay long enough to examine it. you turn sharply and walk out before he can say anything else, your heartbeat pounding violently in your ears as you cross to your side of the mansion. 

⚜️ THE BEST FRIENDS ⚜️

the two of you never talk about that night again. it got buried beneath the same routine. work meetings. silent dinners. passing each other in hallways without speaking. but something had changed after that. because you opened a door that night. and whether or not chenle chose to knock was entirely up to him. 

it takes another month before he finally does. 

chenle can’t believe he’s actually considering this. he stands in his bedroom, staring at the half empty whiskey glass in his hand. this was insane. he was about to walk into your room and what? sleep with his wife? his best friend? except he’s not even sure that title still belongs to the two of you anymore. 

best friends didn’t look at each other the way he looks at you now – like you were both the wound and the knife that caused it. best friends didn’t spend five months barely speaking despite living under the same roof. best friends definitely didn’t resent each other enough to split a mansion into separate lives. 

chenle exhales sharply before taking another shot. not enough to get drunk, just enough for that liquid courage to settle into his bones, silencing the voice in his head that told him this was wrong and allowing himself to knock on your door.

he knows this is so hard to do because of him. he knows he’s been irrational. resenting you for decisions neither of you truly got to make. taking every ounce of frustration and grief and anger about his life and placing it onto your shoulders because it was easier to have someone to blame than to accept that this is his reality. 

and yet despite all of that – the only thing you had ever truly asked of him during this marriage was to not cheat on you…again. you could’ve demanded affection. attention. a real marriage. instead, you simply looked him in the eye and told him to come to you first. that memory hasn’t left his head since. 

another sigh escapes him before he sets the empty glass down and finally walks out of his room. the hallway separating your bedroom feels strangely longer tonight. every step making him question himself again. this was a terrible idea. he should turn around. go back to his room. pretend this impulse never happened. but fuck, he needs to get laid…right now. 

the knock startles you instantly. you glance up from your bed in confusion. it’s almost midnight. no one ever knocks this late and the maids only enter when called. for a second, you wonder if something’s wrong. 

slowly, you slip off the bed and walk toward the door, your silk, short pajama dress flowing around you. and there he is – standing in the hallway looking strangely tense beneath the dim lights.

for a moment, neither of you speaks. then chenle says flatly–

“i want to have sex.”

simple. direct. like he’s discussing a business proposal instead of standing outside his wife’s bedroom at midnight. your chest tightens painfully because somehow, even after everything, a part of you still hoped he’d come here for another reason. that maybe he missed you. maybe he couldn’t sleep either. maybe tonight, after months of silence, he finally wanted to talk to you like he used to.

but of course not. he wasn’t your chenle anymore. and this was your marriage - transactional. carefully detached. emotionally hollow.

“okay,” you answer softly after a second, stepping aside to let him in. 

chenle walks past you quietly, eyes scanning your room almost curiously. unlike his bedroom, yours actually looked live in. warmer lighting. books scattered across tables. skincare and makeup products lining the vanity. blankets thrown carelessly across the couch near the windows – and trinkets, gifts, specifically from him – scattered around different parts of the room. 

the dumpling plushie he got you when you were fifteen all because it reminded him of you.

the vintage camera on your shelf he bought behind your back when you were sixteen because you had mentioned once, only once, that you loved taking pictures because it made moments feel permanent. he remembers showing up the next day with your dream camera like it was nothing. “don’t say i never support your hobbies,” he teased. 

even those damn crybaby figurines he bought you when you were seventeen were lined carefully beside your bookshelf. every single one from the collection you obsessed over years ago. you had a frown on your face over not getting the rare one from a blind box once and chenle spent nearly two weeks secretly hunting every figurine down until your collection was complete. you used to tell him he was insane for it. he used to think seeing you happy made the effort worth it. 

suddenly the room feels suffocating. because there are pieces of him everywhere in here. small reminders scattered throughout your life of proof that before everything fell apart – chenle used to love you loudly. maybe not romantically. maybe not in the way you wanted. but enough to memorize the smallest things about you. enough to notice every passing comment and quietly turn it into something real. 

chenle rubs the back of his neck awkwardly before finally looking at you fully and for the first time in months – he doesn’t look angry when he does. if anything, he looks shaken. then he clears his throat.

“we don’t have to make this…” he pauses, brows furrowing slightly, “more than what it is.”

“okay,” the answer leaves your mouth too quickly. too easily. like you’ve already accepted that this was how it was always going to be. 

he nods, leading the way as he reaches for the buttons of his pajama shirt. you look away the second the fabric slips from his shoulder, the room suddenly feeling warmer. chenle drops his shirt onto the chair near your vanity while you remain frozen beside the bed, fingers nervously toying the hem of your pajama dress.

neither of you knows how to start this. that becomes painfully obvious almost immediately. there’s no romance here to guide the moment. no affection softening the edges. just tension and awkwardness. 

finally, because if you stand there any longer, you think your heart might actually burst through your ribs, you reach beneath the fabric of your dress. with shaky fingers, you hook the elastic of your underwear and slide them down your legs, stepping out of them and leaving it on the floor. you keep the pajama dress on through, the thin material clinging to your curves. 

the room goes still. chenle's eyes lift instinctively toward you, tracing the silhouette of your body before darting away almost immediately. and somehow that reaction hurts more than if he’d stared openly. because this feels like restraint. like guilt. like he is forcing himself not to want you.

you climb onto the bed quietly, trying desperately to appear calmer than you feel. 

“you can turn the lights off if you want,” you murmur softly. 

and maybe that was better. maybe if he couldn’t see you, he could pretend you were just another one of his one night stands. maybe the darkness would erase the history between you, leaving only the physical need. darkness settles over the room instantly, softened only by the lights outside filtering through the windows. 

chenle approaches the bed slowly afterward, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight as he climbs in beside you, leaving enough distance between your bodies. neither of you speaks. there’s nothing comforting to say. just the sound of breathing filling the dark room. 

then, he finally reaches for you. his hand settling against your waist, his palm warm against the thin fabric of your dress. he pulls you toward him and your breath catches immediately. and it’s sad, really, that despite the coldness, despite the hate, you’ve wanted this for years. you want him so badly it feels like a physical ache in your chest. 

you close your eyes as he shifts closer, the last fragile layer of distance between you finally disappearing. he doesn’t lift the dress, simply just bunching the fabric up around your waist, exposing your hips and thighs to the cool air. he doesn’t kiss you. he doesn’t whisper your name. he simply positions himself, his cock hard and pressing against your entrance…and he thrusts in. 

“fuck,” chenle groans under his breath, his hand gripping your waist harder instinctively, digging his fingers into your skin, “you’re so fucking tight.”

your breath catches painfully at the stretch, a sharp, searing pressure tearing through your center as your body struggles to accommodate the sudden intrusion. your fingers unconsciously claw into his biceps, gripping the hard muscle as a gasp of genuine pain escapes your lips. it hurts – more than you expected it to. there was no slow build up to soften any of this. no tender words whispered against your skin to ease the transition. this wasn’t lovemaking. 

for chenle, this is only a physical release, a way to drown out the noise of his own sadness and the crushing weight of his expectations. for you, it was simply duty. the possibility of giving both families the heir everyone expected from the moment your engagement was announced. just two emotionally exhausted people trying to fulfill a role they’d been pushed into years ago. 

chenle notices your pain immediately. you know he does because his movements stall, his body freezing inside you for a beat. in the dim light, you see his brows furrow, a flicker of something – hesitation, perhaps, or a ghost of the boy he used to be – crossing his features. he gives you a moment to adjust, his chest heaving against yours, but. neither of you say anything. 

what would even be the point? there are no sweet words to be exchanged here. no declarations of love. only uneven breathing filling the dark room and the occasional strained sound slipping from both of you despite yourselves. 

chenle keeps his eyes fixed downward, jaw tense like he’s trying not to think too hard about any of this. about you. about the way you feel wrapped around him. about what this act actually means for the two of you.

your fingers loosen from his arm eventually, your grip shifting to the silk sheets beneath you, bunching the fabric in your fists as the initial, blinding ache slowly dulls into a manageable throb. but as the physical pain recedes, a different kind of agony takes its place – one that is far more suffocating, your mind cruelly reminding you that this is the boy who used to hold your hand while crossing the street to make sure you were safe. the boy who bought you random gifts because they reminded him of you. the boy you had loved with a purity that now felt like a joke. and now, here you are, beneath him in a silence so heavy it felt suffocating. 

he doesn’t try to make it last. he doesn’t try to find your pleasure or bridge the emotional divide between you. he simply drives into you with a mechanical, rhythmic intensity, his movements devoid of affection.

he lasted six minutes before it was finally over. 

chenle curses softly under his breath as he paints your walls white. his forehead drops briefly near your shoulder, breathing unevenly before finally stilling completely. the room falls quiet almost immediately afterward except for both of your breathing. 

then, chenle carefully pulls away. he begins to shift back but freezes mid-motion, his eyes dropping toward the sheets beneath you, the air in the room vanishing – small, vivid spots of red stain the white sheets. 

“shit,” he breathes, his entire expression changing instantly. the detachment he had maintained through the act vanishes, replaced by a sharp, jagged edge of alarm, “are you okay?”

the concern in his voice catches you off guard more than anything else. real, genuine concern that you haven’t heard from him in years. the same boy who used to worry if you’d scraped your knee. 

still trying to steady your breathing, you blink at him tiredly, “what?”

“you bled,” he says immediately, eyes darting back toward the sheets before the realization visibly crashes into him. his face tightens, jaw locking as the implication sinks in. 

“fuck, y/n…,” he exhales sharply, “are you a virgin?”

you stare at him for a long second, the silence stretching between you. you feel empty, raw and utterly exhausted. you shrug lightly, “well,” you mutter dryly, “as of a couple minutes ago, i no longer am.”

chenle looks at you like you’ve just punched him in the chest. there’s disbelief there. guilt. and worst of all – pity.  you hate it instantly. you aren’t a porcelain doll. you are the owner of an empire and you had walked into this encounter with your eyes wide open. 

“don’t look at me like that,”  you scoff, reaching for your blanket and pulling it over you, “it’s not a big deal, chenle. it was gonna happen one way or another.”

he lets out a frustrated sound immediately, dragging both hands through his hair, “why do you keep saying that?!,” he snaps suddenly. 

you blink, startled at the sharpness in his tone, the sudden eruption of emotion, “because it’s true.”

“no, it’s not,” his brows pull together harder, frustration and disbelief bleeding into his voice, “and this is a big deal. i just took your virginity.”

“and?!” you shoot back instantly, emotions finally cracking open.

“it was always yours to take!”

silence. thick. heavy enough to suffocate the entire room. chenle stills completely. the lights spilling through the windows cast shadows across his face, but you can still see the shock there clearly. he looks haunted, as if you’ve just revealed a truth he wasn’t prepared to handle.

“what?” he asks quietly. 

“unlike you,” you say bitterly, your chest rising sharply, “i never thought marrying my best friend was something so repulsive.”

the words hit hard enough that chenle just stares at you. stunned. because he genuinely cannot understand it. 

when he found out about the arrangement years ago, it felt like his entire life stopped belonging to him. suddenly every conversation had contracts hidden beneath it, every family dinner felt staged, every interaction between the two of you became another reminder that his future had already been decided before he even got a say. he panicked. rebelled. slept with girl after girl trying to desperately prove to himself he still had freedom. he still belonged to himself. still had choices before marriage locked him into a life he never asked for. 

but you – you just accepted it. 

you didn’t run. you didn’t scream. you didn’t burn the world down to get away.

he remembers sitting in those meetings, hating every single second of it and every single time he looked at you – you were just sitting quietly beside him. calm. composed. nodding along politely whenever someone addressed you. you never argued. never pushed back. never looked angry enough. 

and chenle convinced himself that meant you didn’t care. that maybe this really was just business to you, too. he resented you for it. resented the way you accepted everything so easily while he felt like he was suffocating. resented the way you let your parents decide both of your lives without fighting harder beside him. resented how fake everything started feeling after that. like your friendship had never really belonged to the two of you. like it had been another transaction always meant to happen. 

just like tonight. 

just like this bed. this room. your first time. 

the reality settles sickeningly into his chest. because despite all his anger, despite all the resentment he carried for years – this should have been special. not because virginity itself mattered to him. but because you did. somewhere beneath the layers of bitterness, the boy who loved you was still there, and he realizes with a jolt of horror that he is the one to turn this moment into something cold. another deal to complete. another box to check.

for the first time in months, chenle genuinely feels ashamed standing in front of you. 

you slide beneath the blankets completely, turning away from him. your voice goes cold again. controlled. composed. your expression slowly shutting down. piece by piece. the same way it always does whenever he hurts you. it’s a practiced defense, a wall built from years of his indifference.

“i’ll have the maid clean the sheets tomorrow.”

chenle opens his mouth slightly. then closes it again. because there’s nothing he can say that fixes this. nothing that gives you back the moment he just ruined. he cannot un-take your innocence.

“if you’re done here,” you murmur quietly, “you should just go.”

the guilt eats him alive, gnawing at his insides as he stares at your curled-up form. yet, chenle walks out anyway. 

⚜️ THE MOTHER IN LAW ⚜️

you get your period two weeks later and it annoys you far more than it should. the second you see the faint streak of red, disappointment settles heavily into your chest before you can stop it. pathetic. you actually let yourself hope that one night would be enough. that somehow, despite how cold and emotionally disastrous it had been, it might’ve at least resulted in something tangible. something that would finally make this marriage feel like it’s moving forward instead of rotting quietly in place. something that would finally make this mansion feel like a house. 

you’re afraid of the possibility it won’t happen again. not after the way things have been recently. 

it’s gotten worse between you and chenle. at least before, when he looked at you, there was fire there. albeit, not the good kind…but fire, nonetheless. 

now, it was just stone cold. and every now and then – guilt. it’s like he doesn’t know what to do with himself around you anymore. and every single time you notice it, sorrow settles deeper inside your chest. guilt isn’t love. you don’t want him feeling sorry for you. you want – no. you force yourself to stop that thought before it finishes.

wanting things from chenle only ever leads to disappointment. 

“y/n, dear, how are you and chenle?” mama li’s voice breaks through your thoughts. she’s sitting elegantly across from you in the living room, posture perfect even in something as simple as afternoon tea. sunlight pours through the massive windows behind her, catching the gold resting against her fingers as she lifts her teacup gracefully. 

she’s beautiful in the same terrifying way chenle is. composed. sharp. impossible to fully read. sometimes looking at her hurts because all you can see is him. 

she asked the question gently. but there’s always command hidden beneath her voice, years of power woven naturally into every word she speaks. 

“uhm,” you hesitate, “i don’t know, mama li,” the nickname leaves your lips naturally. it always has, “i don’t think we’ll ever go back to the way we used to.”

for a moment, genuine sadness flickers across her face. she exhales softly before offering you a small smile, “just give it time,” she says gently, “you know he’s always loved you.” 

your chest tightens painfully. it’s what everyone says. your parents. his parents. family friends. employees who watched the two of you grow up together. everyone insists chenle loved you once. maybe still does. but lately, you’re not so sure anymore. maybe everyone simply misunderstood him all these years. maybe being comfortable around someone your entire childhood wasn’t the same thing as loving them. 

after all – chenle himself has never actually said it. not once. 

mama li studies your expression carefully before continuing, “chenle has always been difficult with his emotions,” she says with a quiet sigh, “but that boy would follow you around everywhere when you were younger. you were the only person who could calm him down whenever he got upset.”

you force out a faint smile, “that was a long time ago.”

“feelings don’t disappear that easily,” she replies smoothly. 

you wish you believed that. instead, you take another sip of tea to avoid answering. 

“even so, my dear,” her eyes linger meaningfully on you, “i hope you’re not forgetting your duties.” 

there it is. the real reason behind this conversation. behind her visit.  

children. heirs. you suddenly feel exhausted. you don’t know what to say. you’ve only slept with chenle once. and considering the fact you got your period this morning, you’re very aware you are not pregnant. still, you can’t exactly tell his mother that her son barely touches you. so instead, you straighten your posture slightly and force your voice to remain calm. 

“we’re trying.”

mama li’s expression brightens immediately, genuine excitement sparkles in her eyes, “well, that’s wonderful news,” she says warmly, “we have to continue our legacies after all,” she adds with a soft smile, lifting her teacup once more. 

legacy. sometimes you wonder if anyone in this family actually understands how lonely that word feels. 

⚜️ THE DRUNK WIFE’S PINKY PROMISE ⚜️

it’s been a month since mama li’s visit. and half a year since you and chenle got married. he hasn’t touched you once since that night. not even accidentally. no lingering touches while passing each other in hallways. no brushing shoulders. no quiet midnight knocks at your bedroom door. absolutely…nothing. 

and lately, the restlessness sitting inside you has started turning into panic. because six months into marriage and you still weren’t even close to being pregnant. your parents ask constantly. mama li asks so often that your stomach knots every single time. even the public has started wondering. the media hasn’t said anything outright yet, but you’ve seen the headlines. 

WHEN WILL THE GOLDEN COUPLE ANNOUNCE THEIR FIRST HEIR?

A BOY OR A GIRL? IT SHOULD BE ANY DAY NOW.

and worst of all — people at work were starting to notice things too. the whispers had gotten louder these past few weeks:

why do you never arrive together? why do you leave separately? why do the two of you never eat lunch together despite literally being married? were you both simply that professional??? or did you secretly hate each other???

the stress had been eating at you slowly. you feel like you’re being watched even more so than usual. 

so tonight, for the first time in months, you finally leave the mansion for something other than work. with your best friend - yizhou ning-qian. if anyone understood arranged marriages, it was her. except for the obvious difference that her husband, kun qian, absolutely adored her. even with their seven year age gap, they worked. somehow effortlessly. which honestly made your own marriage feel even sadder by comparison. 

“have you tried initiating it?,” yizhou asks casually, sipping her tequila.

the two of you were tucked away inside one of the private rooms at a high-end bar where membership alone cost more than most people’s yearly salaries. dim lights glowed against velvet seating while soft jazz echoed faintly beyond the closed doors. 

you stare at her, “yizhou,” you say flatly, “i can’t even get close enough to try.”

she snorts immediately, the sound sharp and mocking of the situation.

“every time i walk into a room,” you continue, “he leaves. immediately.”

"man,” she sighs, shaking her head, “chenle seriously needs to grow the fuck up.” you can’t even disagree. “this was always going to be our lives,” she continues, taking a quick sip of her drink, “and honestly? it’s not even that bad.”

another tequila shot arrives at the table. she pushes it toward you with a mischievous glint in her eye.

”i mean,” she giggles, “we’re literally billionaires! it can’t get better than this.”

you burst into laughter with her despite yourself, the alcohol finally beginning to warm your chest pleasantly. 

“exactly!,” you groan dramatically after downing the shot in one go, “all we have to do is marry someone else rich and pretty yet chenle thinks the world has ended.”

yizhou nearly chokes, laughing, “god, he’s just been too spoiled.”

the two of you dissolve into another fit of giggles. and if it was any other person, you’d feel awful for trash talking your husband. but she was your best friend, one of your safe spaces. and it feels good to laugh. you haven’t done that in a while. 

yizhou wipes beneath her eyes dramatically before leaning back against the couch, “if anything,” she says, still grinning, “you guys are the luckiest out of all of us.”

your smile falters, “and why’s that?”

”you married someone you already know…someone you already love.”

the words silence the laughter instantly. the love you carry for chenle is a heavy, aching thing – a devotion that has survived his coldness and his resentment. but love is a two-way street. and chenle has shown it loud and clear that he didn’t share those same feelings for you. 

“he doesn’t love me, yizhou,” you say quietly. 

for a second, she just stares at you. then suddenly, she bursts into even louder laughter. ”yeah,” she says sarcastically between giggles, “and my husband is fucking poor!”

you shove her shoulder weakly while laughing. considering kun was literally one of the ten wealthiest men in the country, the statement sounds ridiculous. 

her expression softens after laughing, “y/n,” she says more seriously now, “that boy has loved you since before we even knew what love was.”

“you don’t know that,” you whisper, chest tightening painfully as you shake your head immediately.

“oh, please,” she rolls her eyes, “everyone knows that.”

you sigh into your drink. you wish people would stop saying that. it just lets the hope linger longer. just reminds you of the boy he used to be. just makes the man he has become feel more like a tragedy.

”seriously,” she continues, leaning forward now, “he just needs to wake up from whatever self-pity hole he dug for himself.”

you stare down at the amber liquid in your glass quietly. 

“i mean, come on, he has to know that it could be worse,” she adds. 

“how could it be worse than this?”

”jaemin’s literally arranged to marry someone he actually hates,” she points out, “and even he isn’t acting as childish as chenle,” she reaches for your hand then, intertwining her fingers through yours. 

“it’s not your fault, y/n.”

your throat tightens at her comfort, the alcohol heightening the vulnerability of your emotions. 

“and sooner or later,” she says softly, "chene's going to realize that too. he’s going to realize that while he was busy hating the arrangement, he was losing the only person who actually gives a damn about him.”

you drank a lot more than you should’ve. at first, it was just to loosen up. but somewhere between the expensive tequila, the soft jazz playing in the private room and yizhou’s ridiculous stories, the warmth spreading through your body started feeling addictive. every shot made things quieter. lighter. your thoughts blurred around the edges. your chest stopped hurting so much whenever chenle crossed your mind. for the first time in months, you weren’t thinking about the empty side of your dinner table or the way your husband avoided looking at you like eye contact physically pained him. 

you were just laughing. drinking. existing. and maybe that’s why you didn’t realize how much time had passed until yizhou was shoving your purse into your hands while laughing at your completely incoherent attempt to put your heels back on. 

by the time your driver finally pulls into the mansion’s driveway, it’s nearly three in the morning. the second the car door opens, cold air hits your face and you instantly regret every decision you made tonight. 

“mmm,” you groan softly while stepping out drunkily, “why is the ground moving?” you complain.

“the ground is not moving, mrs. zhong,” your maid says gently while helping steady you. you squint suspiciously at the marble steps leading toward the front door. you manage to stumble inside the mansion without face-planting into the floor. barely. if it wasn’t for your maid’s help, you’d be on the ground. 

“its uh–kay,” you mumble as your maid carefully tries helping you remove your coat, “mmm okay, i can take care of myself. i’m a professional. i’m a…ceo of being okay!”

you absolutely are not. your words are slurring into a thick, honey-like mess and you nearly take out a priceless vase with your shoulder before you finally collapse onto the bottom step of the right staircase. 

upstairs, chenle hears your voice immediately. he had been awake. waiting. though he’d never admit that out loud. usually, when he came home from work, your bedroom light would still be visible through the tiny crack beneath your door. 

tonight, it had been dark. 

and when he checked downstairs earlier under the excuse of getting water, you hadn’t been in the living room either. and for reasons he doesn’t want to examine too closely, it unsettled him. so tonight, he intentionally left his bedroom door slightly cracked open. just enough to hear when you returned home. 

and now here you were. sounding very, very drunk. 

chenle exhales sharply before stepping out into the hallway. he makes his way downstairs quietly only to stop midway down the staircase at the sight in front of him. you’re sitting on the bottom step of your staircase now with your head slumped against the railing while your maid looks one second away from panicking. 

“i said i’m okayyyy,” you groan. 

“sir zhong,” the maid says immediately in relief the second she notices him. 

your head snaps upward clumsily at her voice, eyes unfocused as you follow her gaze. chenle stands halfway down the staircase dressed in dark sweatpants and a loose shirt, his hair looking unbelievably soft. he looks unfairly handsome for three in the morning – a devastatingly beautiful statue carved from ice and moonlight. 

“mrs. zhong is drunk,” the maid explains carefully.

“i’m not drunk,” you counter immediately. then your body sways sideways slightly and she catches your shoulder before you topple over completely. 

she turns back toward chenle helplessly, “i’m trying to help her up the stairs, sir. she might hurt herself without guidance.”

chenle’s jaw tightens slightly. then he nods once. “i’ll take care of it, you may go.”

she bows politely before quickly disappearing down the hallway, leaving the two of you alone. silence settles briefly. chenle walks down the remaining stairs slowly before stopping in front of you. 

“you drink now?” he asks flatly, clearly not amused. 

you squint up at him from the floor, “wow,” you mumble, a small, crooked smile playing on your lips, “judgmental much? mr. perfect.”

stubbornly, you attempt standing on your own. terrible decision. the second you rise, the world spins 360 degrees. chenle reacts immediately, one arm hooking firmly around your waist and hauling you flush against his chest. the contact is electric. it’s the first time in months he's touched you with any kind of intent, and the sudden heat of his body against yours makes your breath hitch. he is solid, warm, smelling of expensive soap and something uniquely him.

you blink up at him, your heart hammering against your ribs as you reach out, poking his chest weakly with a finger, “you’re not the only one,” you whisper, your voice losing its playful edge and becoming raw, “who wants to forget.”

the words come out quieter than intended. more honest too. you’re too drunk to notice the way his face softens for half a second. deep down, he’s always known it. he just never wanted to acknowledge it – the fact that you were hurting, too. 

he reaches forward, his hand cupping your face and squishing your cheeks together, forcing your lips into a pout. his brows furrow, gaze scanning your flushed face, “you know you’re not good with alcohol.”

you sway weakly at his wrist with a dramatic scoff, “psh, whatever.”

then you wriggle yourself fee from his hold before turning toward the staircase again, “i’m a big girl now,” you mumble stubbornly as you begin walking upwards, “i can do it.”

chenle hums behind you, not convinced in the slightest. you make it about five steps before the world starts tilting unpleasantly again. he was right. you were never good with alcohol. your head feels heavy. your feet hurt from the heels you still haven’t taken off and suddenly the stairs look impossibly long and all you want to do is fall asleep right here.

with a defeated sigh, you finally turn around. and only then do you realize how close chenle actually is. he’s standing just two steps below you. close enough that if you slipped backward even slightly, he’d catch you instantly. it softens you immediately. the way he still followed you. your expression crumbles into something smaller, softer.

“lele,” you mumble quietly, the nickname naturally slipping from your lips. you haven’t called him that in years. not since everything between you became sharp and complicated. 

chenle visibly freezes. the air in the stairway seems to solidify, trapping him in the space between who he is now and who he used to be.

your lower lip juts out slightly as you blink at him tiredly, “i need help,” you admit finally, your voice small and stripped of all its corporate armor.

his heart stops. he swears the world stops moving. because you sound exactly like her. not the polished corporate heiress version of you who sits through board meetings with perfect posture and calculated smiles. not the wife who carefully measures every word around him now. 

you sound like the girl he used to know. the one who used to cling onto his arm after getting tired at amusement parks. the one who cried dramatically over a barely scraped knee and demanded he carry her because “best friends are supposed to help each other.” the one who looked at him as if he were the only source of light in a dark world.

you sounded like the girl he loves. 

before business meetings hollowed everything out between you. before his own resentment poisoned every room you shared. 

chenle exhales slowly through his nose, a shaky breath that rattles in his chest. he sighs, and for the first time in years, the sound isn't one of annoyance, but of defeat.

“come on, you big baby,” he mutters. 

the tease slips out so effortlessly it surprises both of you, a sudden echo of a decade ago. your eyes widen slightly, he hasn’t sounded like that with you in a very long time. before you can even respond, chenle bends slightly and hooks an arm beneath your knees. you let out a tiny squeak as he lifts you effortlessly into his arms, bridal style. instinctively, your hands grab onto his shoulder, settling against his chest automatically as he starts carrying you up the stairs properly this time. his warmth surrounds you immediately, steady and safe, your alcohol fogged brain melting into it without resistance. 

chenle tries very hard not to think about how natural this still feels. how your body still fits against his as if they were two pieces of a puzzle designed by a higher power. he feels your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, a subconscious grip that mirrors the way you used to hold onto him when you were children. years ago, this would’ve been normal. he used to carry you all the time. after you fall asleep in the car rides home. after twisting your ankle once trying to impress him at basketball. after you threw a dramatic tantrum at sixteen because your heels hurt during some charity gala. back then, touching you was easy. now it feels dangerous. 

he pushes your bedroom door open with his shoulders before walking inside. carefully, he lowers you onto the mattress. but the second he starts pulling away, your hands grab onto him tighter. 

“not yet,” you mumble immediately, tugging him downward with surprising strength until he half falls onto the bed beside you. your arms wrap around him instinctively, face burying against his chest, holding him close. 

chenle freezes for half a second. then exhales slowly. because fuck. he missed this. he missed you. not the tense silence between board meetings. not the careful distance. not the version of you that flinches emotionally every time he looks at you now. but this – warm and soft and clinging onto him like he was still your safest place in the world. 

your hugs always used to calm him down faster than anything else. even now, after everything, his body relaxes embarrassingly quick the moment your arms tighten around him. he lets himself stay there for a little while. just a little. his hand settles carefully against your back as your breathing slowly evens out. 

eventually, he pulls back enough to look at you properly, brushing your hair away from your face gently, his fingers lingering slightly longer than necessary. 

“why’d you drink so much anyway?” he asks softly. 

and maybe it’s the alcohol. maybe it’s the exhaustion. or maybe you simply miss your best friend too much to keep pretending you don’t. because suddenly, you start talking to him like he’s still that person. 

“my husband won’t touch me,” you mumble sadly.

the words hit him directly in the chest. especially because you say it like your husband and the man currently holding you are two entirely different people. his eyes widen slightly, heat creeping into his face almost instantly and he’s almost grateful you’re drunk enough not to notice. 

“and everyone keeps asking me about children, lele…” your voice grows smaller, “it’s just–it’s too much,” you pout slightly afterward, eyes glossy and tired. 

chenle’s guilt continues to grow. he knows all of the pressure has been landing on you. his mother stopped bringing children up around him months ago. your parents tread carefully too. everyone gives him space, shows him more grace. he think’s it’s because everyone is afraid that if they push him too hard, it will make him snap completely. make him finally leave. no one realizes he never actually could. not when the thought of a world where he wasn’t with you, even in this broken, tragic way, felt more impossible than the marriage itself.

“do you even want a child?” he ask quietly, not sure why he keeps this conversation going. maybe because this is the most honest the two of you have been with each other in years. 

you shift, turning on your side to find a more comfortable position, and in the process, you instinctively seize his hand again. without a second thought, you tug his arm around your waist, pulling him flush against you until your back is pressed firmly against his chest. the position nearly wrecks him. because this used to be normal too. movie nights. sleepovers. lazy afternoons tangled together on couches while studying. you always used to curl into him naturally like he was home. and he used to hate having to leave, always wanting more time with you.

“it wouldn’t be that bad to have one,” you admit softly, your fingers playing absentmindedly with his, tracing the lines of his palm, “i mean…we have all the money in the world.”

chenle huffs quietly through his nose, a small, dry sound. it always comes back to that, doesn't it? the money. the wealth. the legacy. the gold-plated chains that bind you together.

“we could have twenty and still have plenty left over,” you add with a sleepy, whimsical giggle.

that actually almost makes him laugh. the image of the two of you with twenty children running around this mansion sounds absolutely insane. he can barely handle one drunk wife right now. still, his chest feels strangely warm hearing you talk like this – domestic, hopeful, almost dreaming. it stirs something in him that he thought he had buried under layers of corporate coldness.

chenle doesn’t even know if he wants children. at least, not like this. not because families and investors expect it. not because it’s another duty to fill. 

suddenly, you shift again, turning in his arms to face him fully. your movements are slow, languid, you lift your hand, fingers grazing his jawline with a touch so light it’s almost a hallucination. you caress him carefully, your eyes searching his with a heartbreaking intensity.

“give me a baby, lele,” you whisper. 

his entire body stills. every muscle locks. he knows its the alcohol talking. 

but, fuck.

the way you’re looking at him right now could ruin him. chenle would give you anything. money. houses. companies. his entire fucking life if you asked for it. just – not like this. not when it would feel like another transaction instead of something real. 

his hand slides carefully into your hair instead, “why do you want a baby so badly?” he asks quietly, voice strained.

you shrug faintly. then your expression softens into something heartbreakingly vulnerable. 

“i just don’t want to be so lonely anymore.”

his heart breaks instantly. completely. it’s his fault. he is the one who built the walls. he is the one who turned this house into a gilded cage. 

“so…” you mumble sleepily, eyes barely open now, “will you give me one?”

hope flickers across your pretty face so softly it nearly kills him. 

he swallows hard, “not right now, y/n,” he says gently. your expression falls immediately and the guilt twists violently inside him again. so he adds.. quietly…“maybe someday.”

your eyes lift toward him again slowly. then, you raise your pinky between the two of you.

“you promise?” 

chenle stares at it and suddenly he’s thirteen again. you don’t link pinkies the way others do. you once declared that it “felt fake” and that crossing fingers didn’t feel lucky enough for important things. so, the two of you had invented your own ritual. your own secret language of loyalty.

carefully, with a tenderness that makes his chest ache, chenle takes your hand and he leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against the very tip of your pinky finger.

“i promise.” 

your sleepy face brightens instantly. you grab his hand and softly kiss the tip of his pinky too. 

a promise sealed.  except this promise wasn’t as simple as the ones before. 

eventually, your body relaxes fully against his chest while his fingers continue stroking slowly through your hair until you fall asleep in his arms. chenle stays there longer than he should, watching you sleep peacefully against him, finally not hurting for a little while. once he’s sure you’re completely asleep, he carefully slips out of bed. but before leaving, he gently pulls your heels from your feet one by one. then he places a glass of water and two pieces of tylenol on your nightstand. the same way he used to after parties years ago. for a while, chenle just stands there staring at you. then quietly, he turns the lights off and finally lets the night end. 

⚜️ THE DEATH GUMMY ⚜️

another month passes. and things were starting to shift subtly. you’re not entirely sure what happened that night you got drunk. honestly, most of it is blurry fragments in your memory – warm arms, soft whispers, the feeling of safety you hadn’t felt around chenle in years. 

whatever happened though, it softened chenle a little. just a tiny bit. 

he still doesn’t initiate a conversation unless absolutely necessary. still keeps most of his thoughts locked tightly behind careful expression. still retreats into himself more often that not. but he doesn’t leave rooms as soon as you enter anymore. and slowly, he starts joining you for dinner again. you ate silently, still on opposite ends of the table but at least he was there now. 

then, one night, you found him in the living room watching an episode of f.r.i.e.n.d.s. normally, you would’ve turned around to avoid making him uncomfortable. instead, chenle glanced at you briefly, eyes soft, not leaving, not telling you to go away either. so, cautiously, you sat on the opposite end. the two of you watched an entire episode, occasionally laughing at the same jokes. at one point your laughter overlapped and both of you went awkwardly still afterward. but even that tiny moment felt precious. more than you could ask for. 

maybe everyone was right. maybe chenle simply needed time. 

today, the two of you are at yü skincare headquarters. a product development meeting. one of the company’s biggest launches planned for next year. your team had spent nearly eleven months developing a new type of vitamin e supplement. and because you took your work seriously, you always insisted on testing products yourself. if consumers were putting your products into their bodies, then so would you. 

the testing room buzzes quietly with concentration. there are only five people here today – you, chenle, your assistant, mark lee – head of the vitamin research development team, and another researcher seated nearby typing notes rapidly into a laptop. 

mark steps forward excitedly, holding the newest batch carefully, “today is mainly flavor testing,” he explains, “we finally stabilized the texture, so now we just need to ensure the taste is actually enjoyable for the mass market.” he places one small green chewable into your palm. then another into chenle’s, “we infused it with natural fruit extracts to eliminate the vitamin aftertaste.”

you nodded absentmindedly, your mind already drifting toward the logistics of the rollout. you trusted mark implicitly – he was one of the best in the industry.

without a second thought, you and chenle both placed the gummies into your mouths.

and that’s when everything goes wrong.

your throat locks almost instantly. your eyes widen violently. for half a second, you think you might have swallowed wrong. but then your airway starts closing. fast. 

you can’t breathe. 

in a blind surge of terror, you slapped your hand hard against chenle’s arm, the sound sharp in the quiet room. his head snapped toward you, and every ounce of color drained from his face. he watched, in horror, as you began to turn a terrifying shade of red, your mouth opening desperately, gasping for air that wouldn't come. your eyes were wide, filled with a raw, primal terror.

chenle reacted before anyone else could even process what was happening. he lunged forward, gripping your shoulders with a strength that nearly knocked you back, facing you fully.

“Y/N?!” his voice was tight, laced with immediate alarm.

your lips parted, but no sound emerged – only a wet, wheezing struggle. you clawed at your own throat, your nails digging into your skin in a desperate attempt to open the airway.

a wave of pure, unadulterated terror hits chenle, his eyes darting around the room frantically, searching for the cause, mind racing through every possibility.

“what the fuck happened?!," he roared, voice echoing off the sterile walls.

the room froze. everyone stood paralyzed, their faces masks of confusion and sudden fear. no one answered. no one has answers. the silence was suffocating, broken only by the horrific, whistling sound of your struggle to breathe. chenle’s gaze snapped to the tray of green gummies. he pieced it together then.

“we’re there kiwis in these?!” chenle demands sharply.

mark blinked, nodding quickly, his voice trembling, “uh–yes, sir. we infused it with concentrated kiwi juice because it–”

“SHE’S ALLERGIC!,” chenle’s voice cracks through the room so loudly everyone jumps. 

you were deathly allergic to kiwi. not mildly allergic. not uncomfortable. deathly. a single slice of the fruit in a room could make your throat itch, a concentrated extract delivered directly into your system was a death sentence.

his breathing turns uneven instantly as fear floods his system. you’re not coughing anymore. you’re struggling. really struggling. your body starts slumping sideways in your chair and chenle catches you immediately before you hit the floor.

“hey–hey, stay with me!” his voice shakes. 

for the first time in years, he completely loses his composure in front of other people. he was no longer the cold heir, he was a terrified boy watching the only person he truly loved slip away.

“her bag,” he barked, the command slashing through the chaos, “someone get me her fucking bag now.”

your assistant rushes forward immediately, handing your bag over. another employee is already yelling for medics outside the room. everything becomes chaotic around him. but chenle barely hears any of it. all he can focus on is you. the violent red of the reaction was fading into a ghostly, terrifying pallor. your lips were tinged with a bruised blue, and your head kept dipping weakly, your consciousness flickering like a dying candle. your hand, resting against his suit jacket, felt colder with every passing second. for one horrifying, timeless moment, he genuinely believed you were dying.

“look at me,” he pleaded, his voice urgent and wrecked. he gripped your face, his fingers trembling against your cheeks, trying to force your unfocused eyes to lock onto his. “y/n, look at me! stay with me!”

your eyelids fluttered, your pupils blown and hazy. you could see him – the panic in his eyes, the sheer, unadulterated terror – but you couldn't reach him. you were drowning on dry land.

“fuck—!” he let out a choked sound, his hands shaking violently as he dove into your bag. he tossed aside your wallet, your phone, a lipstick, his movements frantic and clumsy, “where is it–where the fuck is it–”

then finally – the epipen. you always carried it for emergencies. 

relief crashed through him so hard it was almost physical, a wave of adrenaline that surged through his veins. he didn't hesitate. he didn't even remove your clothing, he slammed the injector hard against your outer thigh, the needle piercing through the fabric of your trousers with a sharp, clinical click.

“stay with me,” he whispered, his voice rough and broken, “please, please stay with me.”

the seconds that followed were an eternity of agonizing silence. chenle held his breath, his heart hammering against his ribs, watching your face for any sign of life. then it happened – you let out a sudden, violent gasp, a broken, desperate inhale that sounded like a sob. it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. oxygen flooded back into your lungs, and the sudden rush of air brought a torrent of tears that spilled from your eyes, soaking into the fabric of his shirt.

chenle exhales shakily like he forgot how to breathe too, his forehead nearly dropping against yours from relief, his eyes closing tight.

“that’s it,” he whispers frantically, his voice a breathless wreck, “that’s it, baby, breathe.”

he doesn’t even realize what he called you. he only cared that your hand, though weak and trembling, was curling around his fingers, clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping you anchored to the earth. chenle grips tighter immediately, as if letting go would allow the death that had just brushed past you to return and take you away. 

“you’re okay,” he keeps repeating, “you’re okay. i’ve got you, i’ve got you.”

his breathing is uneven. his eyes are glossy. everyone in the room is staring now because they’ve never seen zhong chenle like this before.

but chenle doesn’t care about appearances anymore. not when he thought he was about to lose you forever. 

⚜️ THE ONLY CHOICE HE’S EVER MADE ⚜️

chenle never visits you in the hospital.

the first day, mama li told you he was busy dealing with the fallout at work, there were investigations happening now, meetings with legal teams and a very furious chenle. the second day, you waited. by the third day, you stopped expecting him entirely.

your private hospital suite overlooks the city skyline, expensive and pristine in the way only billionaires could experience. fresh flowers arrive every morning from companies and family friends. assistants rotate in shifts outside your door. nurses practically hover around you like you’re made of glass. everyone treats you like you almost died. which, to be fair, you technically almost did. still, you feel fine now. a little tired maybe. but alive. 

your father is currently standing near the windows watering the ridiculous amount of plants someone sent earlier when the question finally slips out of you quietly.

“has chenle come by?”

he pauses mid-motion before looking over his shoulder at you. then slowly, he shakes his head, “sorry, sweetheart.”

you look down at the blanket pooled over your lap, “you were right, dad,” you admit softly, your voice sounding hollow in the vast room.

his brows furrow, “i’m right about a lot of things…but what is this one about?”

you force out a weak laugh, “maybe it would’ve been easier to marry someone i didn’t love.”

that makes him stop completely. he places the watering can onto the nearby table before he walks toward your bed. your father has never been particularly good with emotions. he showed love through stability, protection and business lessons disguised as life advice. still, he takes the seat beside your bed quietly. 

“sweetheart,” he says carefully, “there are positives and negatives in every situation. and sometimes…the choices we make can hurt more than we expected them to—but you already made your decision,” he sighs softly, “and just like every good business deal, you have to commit to it fully.”

you almost smile. trust your father to turn emotional comfort into a corporate lesson. 

“trust your instincts,” he adds quieter this time, his hand patting yours awkwardly. it’s probably the closest thing to emotional reassurance he knows how to give. it helps a little. 

“thanks, dad,” you murmur. 

he nods once before leaning down to kiss the top of your head gently, “get some rest.”

then he leaves you alone again. the second the door shuts, the loneliness creeps back in. because despite his words – the only person you actually wanted to see was chenle. 

unbeknownst to you, chenle visits every single night.

always after midnight. always once he’s certain you’re asleep. he slips into your hospital room quietly, dressed in dark clothes and exhaustion. the first night, he genuinely thought you looked dead. too still. too pale. fear hit him so hard he crossed the room immediately just to place a trembling hand near your face and make sure you were still breathing. only after feeling your warm breath against his skin did he finally relax. after that, it became routine. every night he checks your breathing first. sometimes, he sits beside your bed for hours in complete silence, staring at you while guilt slowly eats him alive from the inside out. 

because you could’ve died.

and worse–

you could’ve died believing he hates you. 

chenle doesn’t think he would’ve survived losing you. that realization was a cold, jagged blade, cutting through the carefully constructed armor he had worn for years. it terrified him more than anything else. for years, he convinced himself the opposite, that you were the reason he felt trapped, the reason his life no longer belonged entirely to him. the reason everything started feeling planned and suffocating. but the second your breathing stopped sounding normal – none of that mattered anymore. all he remembered feeling was pure, violent fear. 

the memory keeps replaying in his head every night no matter how hard he tries to shut it out. your hand grabbing his arm desperately, your face turning red, the sound of you struggling for air, the way your fingers slowly weakened in his grasp, the horrifying weight of your body slumping against him and worst of all – how cold he felt. like someone had dumped ice water directly into his chest. 

he hates that it took a near-death experience to shatter his delusions. he hates that he had been so blind. fear like that doesn't stem from obligation. you don’t unravel, you don’t scream into the void, and you don’t beg a person to breathe if all they ever were to you was a responsibility — he hates how almost losing you made him realize that everything he felt for you had always been real. not planned. not arranged. not a script written by two powerful families to ensure a monopoly on the cosmetic industry.

because long before contracts existed. before business meetings and inheritance talks and engagement announcements – chenle loved you. 

he loved you when you were thirteen, sealing promises with kissed pinkies. he still remembers the first time you came up with it. the two of you had been sitting on the rooftop terrace of your parent’s vacation house, legs dangling over the edge while sharing melted popsicles in the middle of summer. “crossing fingers feels fake,” you complained dramatically after he broke a promise to watch a movie with you the week before, “people break pinky promises all the time.” he laughed, “so what? we sign contracts now?” you rolled your eyes before grabbing his hand. then, with complete seriousness, you pressed a tiny kiss against the tip of his pinky finger. “there,” you said proudly, “now it’s permanent.”  after that, every important promise between the two of you was sealed that way. he never broke a single one. 

he loved you at fifteen when you attended every single one of his basketball games with his number painted proudly across your cheeks in bright blue despite both your parents immediately scolding you for putting “cheap toxic paint” on your skin. you didn’t care though, you sat front row, screaming, “that’s my lele!,” every time he scored. he used to pretend to act embarrassed in front of his teammates while secretly searching for you in the crowd every few minutes just to make sure you were still there. you always were. and after the games, you’d rush toward him, still wearing his jersey, eyes sparkling. no victory ever felt as good as seeing you proud of him. 

he loved you at sixteen when your vintage camera became permanently filled with blurry pictures of him. half the photos were terrible – his face cut off, him mid-yawn, him glaring because you kept shoving the camera into his face while he was trying to eat. but mixed between those were softer ones too like him asleep in the car with his head tilted towards you, him laughing with his head thrown back, pictures of the two of you together. he once asked why you took so many pictures of him and you shrugged like it was obvious, “because you’re my favorite person.” he thinks maybe that was the first time his heart ever genuinely stuttered inside his chest. 

he loved you when you were seventeen, in a moment so sudden it had nearly knocked the wind out of him. he remembered the weight of the shopping bags in his hands, the handles digging into his palms, and the sheer, unfiltered joy radiating from you. you had spent weeks in a state of mourning over your crybaby figurine collection, devastated after failing to pull the secret rares. you hadn’t asked him for help – you never did – but chenle had watched your disappointment from the sidelines, and it had felt like a physical weight in his own chest. he spent nights contacting resellers behind your back until he found every missing figurine himself. when he finally handed you the completed set, the expression on your face had been blinding. you had looked at him as if he were the center of the universe. without a second thought, you reached up, grabbed his face in your small hands, and pressed a fervent, lingering kiss to his cheek. “i love you the most!” you squealed, your voice high and breathless with excitement. chenle remembered the way the blood had rushed to his face, a heat so intense it felt like a fever, while you remained blissfully oblivious, already turning back to admire your figurines. in that moment, he had realized that your affection was a drug, and he was already hopelessly addicted.

and deep, deep down, he knows he loved you at twenty-four. especially on the day you became his wife. the moment those heavy doors opened and you stepped inside wearing that white dress you spent months carefully choosing – he forgot how to breathe. everything around him blurred instantly. time slowed to a crawl, yet he felt his entire future rushing toward him at the same time. all he could see was you. the slight tremble in your hands, the way your eyes shimmered with a mixture of hope and fear, and the way you looked at him as if he were still your favorite person in the world, despite everything. you looked beautiful. not in the polished, public way magazines later described. not like “the perfect heiress.” you looked devastatingly you. and chenle wanted so badly to reach for you, pull you close, wanted this marriage to be real in every way that actually mattered. when the officiant gave the command to kiss the bride, his chest ached with a sudden, sharp grief. it felt cruel that this – a choreographed moment in front of a thousand witnesses – was your first kiss together. he remembers leaning down slowly, your lashes fluttering, lips soft and warm and gentle against his. and for a second, chenle forgot there were a thousand people surrounding you both. forgot cameras existed. forgot he was angry. kissing you felt terrifyingly natural, like a missing piece of his soul finally clicking into place, a homecoming he should have claimed years ago.

but the truth was, he had loved you long before he even had a word for it. back when the two of you were six years old and accidentally broke expensive glass tubes inside one of the zhong cosmetics labs while playing tag in the rooms. assistants had panicked instantly, someone yelled, another employee nearly cried seeing the shattered equipment all over the floor. you got scared immediately, eyes filling with tears as adults crowded around the two of you. and without even thinking, chenle stepped in front of you protectively, “it was my fault,” he lied. he remembered the feeling of your watery gaze on the back of his head while he stood there, taking the brunt of the scolding from every adult on the floor. he hadn't cared. the only thing that mattered was that you weren't crying anymore. later that evening, you had secretly slipped half of your dessert onto his plate, whispering that “heroes deserve rewards.”

everything else in his life had been a predetermined path. the schools, the internships, the board meetings, the carefully curated image of a successor. his life had been a series of checkboxes marked by people who didn't care about his heart.

but all those moments – the pinky swears, the blue paint on your cheeks, the secret figurines, the shared dessert – those belonged entirely to him. entirely to the two of you.

loving you was the only choice he ever truly made on his own. 

it had happened naturally, quietly, and without permission. he had built this love in the secret spaces of his heart, and in his desperate, panicked attempt to protect his freedom, he had almost destroyed the only thing that had ever actually set him free.

he hasn’t forgiven himself for any of it yet. not for avoiding you all these years. not for making you lonely inside your own marriage. not for turning your first time into something cold and painful. not for the way your face looked when you admitted you just didn’t want to be lonely anymore. and definitely not for freezing in that meeting for even half a second before realizing what was happening.

which is exactly why he can’t face you while you were awake right now. he physically can’t. because the second you look him with those eyes of yours, he’s terrified he’ll completely break apart in front of you. he imagined himself sobbing at your bedside, begging for a forgiveness he didn't believe he deserved.

and everyone keeps reminding him stress is bad for your recovery. the irony was a bitter pill to swallow. chenle knew he was the primary source of stress in your life. so, he remained a shadow, visiting only in the dead of night, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest. it was pathetic. it was cowardly. but it was the only way he knew how to love you without hurting you further.

by the third day, your regular hospital meals suddenly disappear. instead, trays arrive with your favorite comfort foods – steaming siomai, all types of dumplings, wonton noodles – all warm and prepared exactly the way you like them. you can’t hide your smile when you see them because there is only one person in the world who knows your comfort order by memory, a relic of a childhood where he used to sneak you treats when you were sad. you stared at the tray fondly. chenle might not have visited you, but this feels like proof he still cares anyway. 

and by the fifth day, you’re completely over it. everyone is being ridiculously dramatic. you feel so energized already. bored out of your mind. still, every doctor insists your body needs more recovery time after the severity of the reaction. your parents refuse to let you leave early and the only person who actually has the authority to pull you out, your husband, isn’t taking that risk either.

you end up staying in the hospital for two more days before finally coming home. 

⚜️ THE AIR ⚜️

when chenle got home that afternoon, he’s exhausted. the past week had destroyed him more than he let anyone sees. he barely slept. barely ate. and every single time his phone rang unexpectedly, panic seized his chest before he could stop it. 

he loosens his tie tiredly as he walks through the mansion doors, mentally preparing himself to go to the hospital to pick you up. but as he walks into the kitchen — he freezes. 

you’re standing there, alive and healthy, wearing one of your silk pajama sets while leaning casually against the island, sipping water and scrolling through your phone like nothing happened.

for a second, he thinks he’s imagining you. you weren’t supposed to be released for another three hours. then again, you were stubborn enough to convince almost anyone to do what you wanted eventually. no one ever really knew how to tell you no when you looked at them with that specific, determined glint in your eyes.

“you’re home.” 

the sound of his voice quickly diverts your attention from all the emails you were catching up on to him. you glance up and in his eyes – you see the difference. the armor he usually wore wasn't just cracked – it was gone. his eyes were wide, vulnerable, and shimmering with a relief so profound it looked like pain. slowly, you place your phone down on the counter, smiling at him gently. 

“i’m home.”

for the first time all week, he remembered how to breathe again. like he had given you all of his air and it’s now finally being returned to his own lungs. 

the briefcase he was carrying hit one of the glass tables with a loud, jarring crash. he didn't care. he didn't even look at it. he crossed the kitchen, closing the distance between you and collided with you, pulling you into his arms so suddenly and with such force that the air left your lungs in a small gasp.

chenle hugs you tightly. desperately. like he needs physical proof you’re still here. still warm. still breathing. 

your eyes widen in shock, breath hitching against his shoulder. then, slowly, you let your guard down and wrap your arms around him, feeling the frantic, erratic thumping of his heart against your ear.

“i thought i was gonna lose you.”

his voice cracked, the sound raw and jagged against your hair. the confession was stripped of all pride, all resentment, and all the distance he had spent years cultivating. the fear was completely exposed, leaving him naked before you.

you pulled back just enough to look at him, though you stayed in his arms. the sight of him broke your heart. there were dark circles beneath his eyes, and his skin looked sallow from lack of sleep. and then, a single tear escaped, tracing a slow path down his cheek.

you froze. in all the years you had known him – from the boy who chased you through the labs to the man who ignored you across the dinner table – you had never seen chenle cry. not once.

with tenderness, you lifted your hand and brushed the tear away, your fingertips lingering on his skin, impossibly soft.

“zhong chenle,” you murmur softly, voice trembling with a mixture of ache and affection, “you really think you can get rid of me that easily?”

his eyes close briefly at your touch like your fingers can undo the pain inside him. he doesn’t answer, doesn’t joke, doesn’t hide behind sarcasm or distance or that cold indifference he perfected over the years. instead, chenle just pulls you back into his arms again, holding you tighter this time. and for the first time in years, you let yourself lean into him fully. 

eventually though, reality settles back between the two of you. chenle slowly loosens his hold first. the second he realizes how tightly he’s been clinging to you, his expression shifts immediately. he clears his throat quickly and takes a half step back like distance might help him regain control again. 

“i’m glad you’re okay,” he says quietly, guarded again.

before you can even process the moment properly — he leaves. just walks out of the kitchen entirely, leaving you standing there alone trying to understand what the hell just happened. 

none of that made sense.

chenle has spent the last six years hating you. yet, for a few minutes, he had held you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. you stare at the doorway long after he disappeared through it. confused. hopeful. terrified. you didn't want to read too much into a moment of panic-induced weakness, but the ghost of his heartbeat was still echoing in your ears.

until your phone buzzes nonstop, dragging you back to reality, life continuing on like your world hadn’t just tilted.

⚜️ THE MISTAKE THAT ALMOST TOOK YOU FROM ME ⚜️

the next day you’re back at the office like nothing happened. your heels click softly against the marble flooring of yü skincare as staff members greet you nervously on your way toward your office.

you settle into your executive chair with a quiet sigh, immediately scanning through the pile of reports waiting for you. the vitamin incident had already become a nightmare with legal teams involved, quality control investigations and public relations teams working overtime to keep information contained. 

you press the intercom button lightly, “send mark lee in.”

less than a minute later, the heavy door to your office swung open to huang renjun, human resource manager. his posture was stiff, his expression carefully neutral, yet there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes that immediately set off alarm bells.

your brows furrowed as you continued flipping through a document, “where’s mark?” you asked, your voice cool and professional, “i need the updated reports on the supplement.”

renjun coughs awkwardly, the sound immediately making you look up, something about his expression feeling off, “ma’am…” he hesitates, “he’s no longer with the company.”

your hand stills completely against the papers, “…what?”

“he’s been terminated.”

“i didn’t receive a resignation letter, nor did i authorize a termination,” you pointed out calmly, though your eyes narrowed, “explain.”

renjun uncomfortably shifts beneath your gaze, “sir chenle fired him.” you stare at him for a moment, trying very hard to not let your surprise show too obviously. renjun clears his throat again, “he actually fired everyone involved in the vitamin project.”

your mind raced. chenle was many things – arrogant, distant, and emotionally stunted. but he was never impulsive when it comes to business. he was a strategist who weighed every risk. for him to wipe out an entire department without a single consultation, without even a courtesy to call you, meant he had completely lost his composure.

you force your expression neutral anyway, “i see. you may go, renjun.”

renjun bows quickly before practically escaping your office. the second the door shuts, you lean back into your chair slowly. you should be angry. technically, you are. chenle had overstepped every professional boundary, sabotaging your chain of command and stripping you of your most experienced researchers. but beneath the irritation, a treacherous warmth bloomed in your chest. for the first time in six years, chenle had been emotional. he had been protective. he had burned down a project just because it had dared to hurt you. it was a violent, impulsive gesture of care, wrapped in the guise of corporate cruelty.

that night, you leave your office long after most employees have already gone home. the building is quieter now. the endless clicking of keyboards and ringing phones reduced to distant murmur somewhere far below. through the massive windows lining your floor, the city glows beneath the dark sky, millions of lights flickering like stars against the glass. 

you wrap your blazer tighter around yourself before stepping out into the hallway. your heels echo sharply against the tiles as you make your way toward the glass bridge connecting yü skincare headquarters to zhong cosmetics tower beside it.

the bridge had always fascinated everyone. two billion dollar companies physically connected in the middle of the skyline. a symbol of merger. of power. of the marriage between you and chenle. you used to love walking through it. now it just feels symbolic in the cruelest way possible — close enough to see each other yet still separated by glass. 

you knew these buildings like the back of your hand. every hallway. every hidden office. ever late-night corner where you and chenle used to sit as teenagers avoiding meetings your parents forced you into. the memories follow you all the way across the bridge tonight. 

by the time you reach the executive floor of zhong cosmetics, the receptionist has already gone home. only chenle’s personal assistant remains seated outside his office. the man immediately stands and bows politely the second he sees you. 

“mrs. zhong.”

you nodded once, your gaze fixed on the closed doors. “is he busy?”

his assistant hesitated for a fraction of a second, glancing at the clock. “yes, ma’am, but… you may go in.”

you don’t bother knocking, simply pushing the doors open and walking inside. his office is dim except for the warm lighting near his desk and the city lights pouring through the windows behind him. chenle sits in his massive leather chair, sleeves rolled up slightly while scanning through documents with quiet concentration. he doesn’t look up immediately, probably assuming it’s just his assistant.

“you fired mark lee?” your voice cuts cleanly through the room, chenle’s attention snapping upward instantly. for a fleeting second, relief flickers across his face, like part of him still instinctively checks whether you’re okay every time he sees you now. then the expression disappears again, turning into something neutral. 

“who’s that?”

you exhale slowly through your nose, already irritated, “chenle,” you say flatly, “mark lee. head of the vitamin research team.”

understanding clicks across his face immediately, but it isn’t accompanied by apology.

“ahh,” he leans back slightly in his chair, “yes. that guy. how could i forget.”

the dismissiveness in his voice immediately annoys you further as you walk deeper into his office, “you cannot fire my people without consulting me first.”

chenle finally sets the file in his hands down, “your people are my people,” he says coolly, “that’s the whole point of this marriage.”

you ignore the sting in that statement – the reminder that in his eyes, you are just another asset to be merged.

“i want him back on the team.”

his jaw tightens almost instantly, “no. y/n.” 

the answer comes too quickly. too firmly. 

you stop dead in front of his desk now, arms crossing, refusing to back down, “chenle,” you say, your voice carefully modulated, fighting to keep the anger out, “mark lee has been employee of the month for seven consecutive years. he’s one of the best researchers in the industry. he’s valuable to this company and firing him is a strategic mistake.”

"valuable people don’t almost kill my wife."

the room goes still. your heartbeat stumbles slightly at the sharpness in his voice, at the way he says my wife. the possessiveness of it nearly undoes you, but your frustration and stubbornness is stronger.

“for fuck’s sake, chenle,” you snap, the poise you’ve spent years perfecting finally cracking, ”it was an accident!”

his expression hardens immediately, “an accident?”

"yes, an accident!," you throw your hands up, “he didn’t even know i was allergic to kiwis!” 

which was true. almost nobody did. allergies were weaknesses and weaknesses were dangerous in industries like yours. information could be weaponized to easily. chenle knew that better than anyone. 

suddenly, he stands, furious enough that his chair rolls backward sharply against the floor. his palms slam loudly on his desk, a sound that cracks through the office. 

“an accident that almost took you from me!”

his voice hits the room heavily — raw, furious, terrified — completely unraveled in a way you’ve never heard before. you stare at him across the desk, chest tightening painfully before anger rushes back to protect you from the hope that can completely blind you.

“oh please,” you scoff bitterly, rolling your eyes, “i bet you’d be jumping up and down if i actually died. it would have been the perfect exit strategy for you wouldn’t it? no more obligations, no more arranged marriage.”

the second the words leave your mouth, the atmosphere changes completely. the heat of his anger vanishes, replaced by a cold, suffocating stillness. chenle freezes, his eyes locking onto yours, hurt plastered all over his face.

“what?” he whispers.

your own emotions spill over immediately afterward. because you’re angry too. and hurt. and most of all, confused. you don’t know what he wants anymore. he needed space, you gave him space. you offer him a physical relationship that benefits him, he barely even touched you. and now – now he’s acting like he cares.

“you’ve spent the last six years making it very clear that you hate me,” you say, refusing to let your voice shake, “you’ve avoided me, ignored me and treated me like a burden. so don’t suddenly start playing the caring husband because i almost died. don’t pretend you have a heart now just because you’re scared of the paperwork a death certificate would cause.”

his expression breaks even more. the anger is gone, replaced by a look of such profound devastation that it almost feels like a crime to feel the way you do.

“i don’t hate you.”

and he sounds painfully, devastatingly honest.

you stare at him from across the desk, your heart beating so loudly it almost drowns out the silence filling the office. chenle doesn’t look away from you. the room feels too small now. too full of things neither of you know how to say. 

“you don’t get to say that now,” you whisper finally, your voice cracking, “not after all these years.”

he looks down sharply, jaw tightening hard enough for you to see the muscle twitch. then he laughs once, a miserable, dry laugh. 

“i know.” the words come out rough. he drags a hand over his face like he’s trying to pull himself back together. it doesn’t work. “i know,” he repeats weaker this time, sounding small and hollow. 

you watch him carefully now, even more confused. zhong chenle never falls apart. not publicly. not privately. not ever. he is the gold standard of control – composed, untouchable, a man carved from ice and expectation. yet, standing before you, he looks like he’s seconds away from total collapse. 

your anger starts cracking around the edges as you look at the boy in front of you. you were always weak when it came to him. if there were a list of your weaknesses, he’d be right there, on top of that damned fruit.

“chenle…”

he suddenly shakes his head. he physically can’t let you comfort him right now.

“do you know what i thought when you stopped breathing?”

the question hangs in tha air as you hold your breath. 

“i thought,” he exhales shakily, “i thought the last thing you were ever going to believe…was that i hated you.”

he finally looks at you again then, completely wrecked, his eyes bloodshot and swimming with a grief that has been simmering for years. 

“and i couldn’t fucking breathe,” he admits quietly, his voice trembling, “because all i could think was that you were going to leave me believing i didn’t love you.” 

the world feels like it stops spinning. love. he said love. not care. not obligation. love. your lips part slightly but no sound comes out. chenle laughs bitterly again before shaking his head. 

“you’re right. i spent years blaming you for everything because it was easier than admitting i was scared,” he confesses, his gaze searching yours, “scared that none of my choices were mine anymore. that my entire life was a script written by our parents,” he swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing, “but loving you…that was the only choice that was actually mine.”

that brings tears to your eyes instantly. chenle looks at you helplessly now. he doesn’t know what to do with all the emotions spilling out of him anymore. 

“and i ruined us anyway.”

he moves then, walking around the desk quickly, finally removing the barrier that always sat between the two of you. you think he’s going to stop in front of you.

instead – he drops to his knees. 

“what are you–”

before you can even process the gesture, his arms wrap tightly around your waist, forehead pressing against your stomach and finally — he breaks completely. you feel the shuddering breath leave him in a great, racking sob, his grip tightening almost painfully around you, tears slipping down his cheeks. 

“i’m sorry.”

the words come out cracked. wrecked. nothing like the polished man the world knows. 

“i’m so fucking sorry.”

you cover your mouth with your hand, stifling a sob of your own, even though you could already taste the salt from your own tears. this is the same boy who never apologizes unless forced to. the man who would rather bleed out than let people see weakness. and here he is, kneeling at your feet, clinging onto you like you’re the only thing keeping him together. 

“i’m sorry for all of it,” he gasps, his voice breaking, “for hurting you, for making you feel lonely, for making you believe i hated you when i—,” his voice breaks completely. 

slowly, tentatively, you thread your fingers through his hair. the moment your touch meets him, chenle exhales a shaky, broken sound against your stomach, his entire body shuddering. even a small gesture of comfort from you is enough to undo him.

“stop that,” you whisper, voice trembling.

your heart is breaking for him, for the boy who spent years pretending to be a monster so he wouldn't have to admit he was a prisoner. you can't stand to see him like this – on his knees, apologizing as if he is something broken and discarded at your feet, rather than the person you’ve loved for all of your life. 

you gently tug at his hair, coaxing him to look up. when he finally does, his eyes are swimming with tears, his expression completely defenseless. in this moment, everything else feels distant and irrelevant. there is only one overwhelming realization pouring through your chest:

chenle loves you. 

the boy you spent years mourning while standing right beside him this entire time still loves you. your heart feels too full for your body. before you can overthink it, before the fear and doubts can return, you slide your hands down to his face, pulling him upward carefully.

“get up,” you murmur through your own shaky tears. chenle obeys immediately, still staring at you like he’s afraid this moment isn’t real. your hand slides slowly against his cheeks, wiping his tears away before settling on his jaw.

“you really love me?” 

the question is a fragile thing, barely a whisper, floating between you like glass that could shatter at the slightest breeze. you sound disbelieving, your voice trembling with the weight of six years of silence and cold shoulders.

chenle’s expression dissolves. the hardness in his eyes, the armor he’s worn since he was eighteen, it all melts into something so painfully tender it nearly wrecks you. 

“i always have,” he confesses. 

that’s the final blow. the last shred of distance, the last wall of resentment.

you kiss him first.

but chenle returns it immediately, kissing you back like he’s been starving for it, years of tension snapping instantly. his hands come up to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, enough to pull a gasp from you while your fingers tangle tightly into his hair. 

this kiss feels nothing like your wedding day. it’s not polite. not careful. 

it’s desperate. it’s the sound of two people drowning and finally finding air. all the years you spent silently loving each other crashing together at once. he kisses you like he’s trying to make up for every moment he wasted. every cold shoulder. every lonely dinner. every time he walked away instead of reaching for you. 

your back bumps lightly against the edge of his desk. he breaks the kiss for a fraction of a second, his forehead pressing against yours, both of you panting, breaths mingling in the charged air.

“fuck,” he whispers against your lips, his voice a wrecked, needy rasp, “i missed you so fucking much.”

the words makes your head spin. you don't let him breathe, pulling him back down, your mouth seeking his with a hunger that matches his own. his grip on your waist tightens, and in one fluid, powerful motion, he lifts you effortlessly, hoisting you onto the desk. papers scatter, sliding across the desk and fluttering to the floor. he doesn't give a damn about the reports. the only thing that matters is the heat of you.

you wrap your legs around his waist automatically, pulling him into you as he steps between your knees. he crashes his lips back onto yours, his tongue sweeping through your mouth with a possessive urgency. this isn't just lust, it’s an exorcism. he is purging years of loneliness, and you are drinking him in, fingers clutching his hair, pulling him closer as if you could merge your very souls.

“do you know-,” he groans, his voice sounding almost angry at himself, his mouth moving to the sensitive skin of your jaw, “-how long i've wanted to do this properly?”

“stop talking then,” you tease, your voice breathy and laced with desire. you reach down, hooking your fingers into his belt loop, tugging hard, dragging his hips flush against your center.

chenle lets out a grunt as he grinds his cock firmly into your clothed core, the friction sending a jolt of pure electricity through both of you. he freezes, a shudder racking his entire frame, his breath coming in jagged hitches.

“wait... wait, baby,” he groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he forces himself to pull back just an inch.

“what’s wrong?” 

“i really, really want to do this,” he rasps, “but...not here.”

you laugh softly and it almost undoes him. almost makes him take back what he just said. with a tiny smile on your lips, you nod, “okay.”

then you glance around the wreckage of his desk, your smile turning into something playful, “do you need help finishing up those reports first, then?”

“are you crazy?” he asks, though his tone is fond. he doesn't let go of you, his hands sliding down to squeeze your hips one last time before he helps you down.

“we’re going home...right now.”

the ride home is a blur of friction and heat. for the first time in your marriage, you don't sit in separate cars. you spend the entire journey tangled together in the backseat, the partition slid up to shield you from the driver’s view. you can’t stop kissing him. you can’t stop laughing into him, feeling the giddy, overwhelming rush of being loved back.

chenle is just as relentless, his mouth roaming all over your exposed skin, leaving a trail of dark, possessive marks that claim you as his. every time you try to catch your breath, he finds a new spot to kiss, his hands roaming your curves.

the air in the car is thick with the scent of expensive cologne and arousal, the silence of the ride punctuated only by the sound of wet kisses and the shaky, happy sighs of two people who have finally come home.

⚜️ THE MASTER BEDROOM ⚜️

as you step through the front door, chenle is practically jumping beside you, a boyish grin plastered on his face. he looks at you with a hunger that is now subdued by an overwhelming sweetness.

“race you to the top!,” he shouts.

before you can even process the challenge, he’s already bolting up the left staircase, his laughter echoing through the foyer.

“lele! this isn’t fair! i’m in heels!” you squeal, your voice sounding lighter than it has in years. you run up the right staircase anyway, feeling like a kid again – the version of you that loved him without fear, and the version of him that followed you everywhere. 

by the time you reach the top, breathless and flushed, he’s already there, leaning against the railing with a smug, sparkling expression. 

“that was not nice, you should’ve given me a head start!,” you complain, crossing your arms and pouting, a childish expression you haven’t dared to show him in a lifetime. he chuckles then, stepping forward, his presence enveloping you as he pulls you back into his arms. 

his finger lifts your chin to tilt you face up to his, “and what does the winner get?,” he asks, eyes dancing with a mix of mischief and adoration. 

you lean back slightly, a playful, daring glint in your eyes, “hmm…you get to choose.”

he quirks a brow, gaze dropping to your lips, “choose what?”

“my room or yours?” you say with a smile that looks innocent but tastes like a provocation. 

a slow grin spreads across his face, “how about ours?”

“ours?” confusion flickers across your features. 

without a word, he takes your hand and begins leading you. he doesn't turn toward the left wing or the right…instead, he guides you toward the central hallway – the one you’ve spent months ignoring. it was the dead zone of the house, a place too painful to acknowledge because it represented the void in your marriage. the hallway that leads straight to the master bedroom.

as you walk, he slides behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist in a tight back hug, pulling your back flush against his chest. he presses a kiss to the side of your neck, his breath hot and steady as he pushes open the two grand double doors.

you freeze, your breath catching in your throat. the room is breathtaking. grand and dipped in gold. 

“wow,” you whisper, stepping inside, “i haven’t been in here since your mom gave me the tour…i thought it would’ve collected cobwebs by now.”

“it did,” he whispers against your ear, his voice thick with a sudden, piercing apology, “i had the maids clean while you were in the hospital. i wanted it to be perfect for when we finally came home together.”

you turn in his arms, looking up at him. a small, bittersweet smile tugs at your lips., “maybe i should’ve eaten that kiwi a lot earlier.”

chenle’s grip on your sides tightens, his expression shifting into one of genuine panic, “don’t joke about that, baby. please.”

you giggle, the sound soft and melodic. he scolds you, though his eyes are softening, “it’s not funny, y/n.”

“i’m not smiling because of the kiwi,” you reply softly, your voice barely a breath.

“then why are you smiling?” he asks, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

you look away for a second, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment, “i just…i really like it when you call me baby.”

chenle’s heart is practically audible in his chest, his gaze intensifying as he tips your chin up gently, making you look into the depths of his devotion.

“i love you,” he declares, the words sounding like a vow.

“i love you, too,” you whisper back.

he kisses you then – not the desperate, starving kiss from the office, but something slow, sweet, and profoundly tender. it’s a promise of a future. a seal on the new life you’re starting.

then, without warning, he breaks the kiss and sweeps you off your feet. you let out a startled gasp, clutching his shoulders as he lifts you bridal style. he carries you across the room with effortless strength, eyes locked on yours, matching smiles on your faces before placing you carefully in the center of the massive king-sized bed.

as chenle looms over you, the playful energy morphs into something more deeper. he moves with deliberate, agonizing slowness, as if he wants to memorize every single inch of you, making up for every second of the years he spent pretending he didn’t want you. 

he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that starts as a whisper and grows into a demand. his tongue swirls against yours as you moan into his mouth, hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

“you have no idea,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice a low, gravelly vibration, “how long i’ve dreamed of kissing you.”

his hands move to the hem of your blouse, fingers grazing your skin and sending jolts of electricity through your nerves. he undresses you with a reverence that borders on worship, peeling away the fabrics slowly, pausing to kiss the hollow of your throat, the slope of your shoulder, and the middle of your breast. when you’re finally bare beneath him, he pulls back for a moment, his eyes darkening as he drinks in the sight of you.

“you're so beautiful,” he whispers, his gaze heavy with adoration. 

he descends slowly, lips finding your breast as he takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking firmly, you let out a sharp gasp, your back arching off the mattress. the sensation is new – a focused, searing heat that radiates from your chest down to your core. he alternates between soft licks and deep, demanding suctions, moving from one breast to the other, leaving a trail of wet, burning kisses across your ribs.

“lele…oh, god,” you whimper as he continues trailing lower, his tongue tasting the skin of your stomach, circling your navel and teasing the very edge of your underwear. you can feel the heat radiating from him, the scent of his skin mixing with the luxury of the room, your breath coming in short, jagged hitches.

you’ve only known one kind of intimacy ever – that cold, transactional night with him that left you feeling empty. this is different. this is a slow burn, a deliberate awakening.

as he slides your underwear down your legs, he settles between your thighs, pushing them wide. you feel a surge of vulnerability, a sudden flash of inexperience that makes you shy away slightly.

“wait, chenle…i've... i've never…” you start, your voice trembling.

chenle looks up at you, a tender, knowing smile on his face, “i know, baby. just relax. let me take care of you.”

the first contact of his tongue against your clit pulls a soft moan out of you, a sensation you weren’t prepared for. the feeling of pleasure, making your hips instinctively jerk upward, arching off that mattress in a desperate search for more. he presses deeper, his tongue swirling in a slow, rhythmic motion that targets the most sensitive part of you.

“do you like that?” he mumbles, his voice a low, vibrating growl against your wetness, the heat of his breath sending fresh shivers racing down your spine.

“yes…” you whisper shyly, voice trembling. you try to keep your eyes open, wanting to witness the sight of him. but you don’t get to watch for long before your eyes begin to roll back, lids fluttering as he begins to feast on you with a sudden, hungry intensity. he’s no longer just tasting you – he’s consuming you. his tongue flickering rapidly, alternating between broad strokes and sharp, pointed pressure that makes your toes curl. when he suddenly sucks your clit into his mouth, creating a powerful vacuum of pleasure, your vision blurs into a haze of white and gold. you are completely undone. the tension in your lower belly coils tighter and tighter, building into a frantic crescendo that makes you feel like you're vibrating.

“chenle, i’m… i think i’m…” you gasp, your fingers clutching the silk sheets until they bunch up in your fists.

“go on, baby. give it all to me,” he encourages, his voice thick with desire. he works his tongue faster and harder, driving you relentlessly toward the edge.

as he does, he glances up, his dark eyes focusing on the sight of you – your head rolled back, your mouth parted in a silent, desperate gasp, your body arched, your nipples peaked.

he reaches up, grabbing your hand and locking his fingers with yours, anchoring you to the bed. you squeeze his hand with everything you have, clinging to him as the world finally shatters. you cum hard, your clit pulsing against his tongue in a series of intense spasms that leave you sobbing for air. the release is so overwhelming that it feels as though you're floating in a void of pure euphoria, a level of pleasure you never knew existed. you collapse back into the pillows, panting heavily, chest heaving as the aftershocks continue to ripple through you.

chenle slowly lifts his head, your pleasure glistening on his lips. he looks at you with a mixture of triumph and pure, unadulterated love. he crawls back up your body, kissing your forehead, your nose, and finally your lips, making you taste yourself on his tongue.

you reach up then, your fingers hooking on his tie. it’s already loosened from your earlier desperation. you tug on it firmly, finally removing it. 

with a low, needy sound against his lips, you sit up, beginning to undress him, your movements hurried and clumsy with eagerness. buttons pop and fabric slides until he’s completely naked, his skin warm against yours. 

your breath hitches in your throat. you hadn’t seem him fully the first time – but now, in the soft glow of the bedroom, you can’t seem to look away. your gaze drops to his cock.

driven by a sudden, bold curiosity, you reach out, your fingers wrapping around the warm skin of his shaft. 

chenle lets out a sharp, strangled whine, his hips jerking towards your touch instinctively. the sound is so visceral, so unlike the composed man the world knows, that you freeze, your eyes widening.

“did that hurt?” you whisper, looking up at him with genuine concern, as if you've just discovered a secret vulnerability.

a small, breathless smile tugs at his lips, though his eyes are clouded with lust. he shakes his head slowly, his voice a strained rasp, "no, baby... fuck, it feels so good. you drive me insane–,” he kisses you again, pulling back just an inch, forehead resting against yours, breath hot on your skin, “-but you need to stop,” he groans, the sound vibrating in his chest, “i need to be inside you.”

he carefully guides you back to lay on the bed, hands sliding under your thighs to pull you closer to him. he spends a long moment just looking at you, his gaze roaming over your flushed skin and swollen lips.

“i’m sorry about before," he whispers, “i promise i’m going to make up for every single second of it,” he says, voice thick with emotion before grabbing your hand and pressing a soft kiss to your pinky. and before he can let go, you pull his hand towards you, returning the kiss to his pinky too – not the innocent promise of children, but a mature, desperate vow of devotion. chenle’s breath hitches, the small gesture acting like a catalyst, snapping the last thread of his restraint.

he doesn't rush though. he moves with a slow, reverent precision, parting your legs with a gentle nudge of his knee, his eyes never leaving yours. as he positions himself, the head of his cock brushes against your entrance, slick and searing hot. you gasp, your hips instinctively arching upward, seeking the friction. chenle lets out a shaky exhale, his muscles trembling with the effort of holding back. he enters you in one slow, agonizingly steady glide.

“oh...chenle,” you moan, your eyes fluttering shut as you feel yourself stretching to accommodate him. you’ve never felt so full.

he freezes for a moment, buried deep inside you, his forehead pressed against yours, a low groan escaping his throat, “you're so tight... so warm. i can't believe you're actually mine.”

then he begins to move, and it is nothing like the clinical urgency of the first time. this is a dance. he pulls back until he is almost out, only to plunge back in with a slow, heavy thud that makes you cry out. every thrust is deliberate, designed to make you feel the weight of him, the heat of him, and the sheer intensity of his love.

“chenle... please,” you whimper, your fingers clawing into his shoulders, “right there... don't stop.”

“i've got you, baby,” he whispers, kissing the sensitive skin of your neck, his lips leaving searing trails of heat.

he picks up the pace slightly, the wet, slapping sound of skin on skin filling the quiet room. then he reaches down, his hand sliding between your bodies to find your clit, thumb circling your swollen nub, perfectly timed with the deep, rhythmic thrusts of his hips. the combination is electric. you feel that same tension building again, faster this time, a coil of pleasure tightening with every stroke. you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, wanting to erase any remaining space between you.

“look at me,” he commands softly. you open your eyes to find him watching you with an expression of pure, unadulterated worship, “tell me you feel it. tell me you know how much i love you.”

“i feel it,” you sob, your voice breaking, “i love you...i love you so much, chenle."

the words breaks something inside him. his movements become more urgent, more passionate, though he never loses that sweetness. he begins to whisper things against your skin – promises of a future, apologies for the past, and raw admissions of how much he craved this specific moment.

as the climax begins to crest, you feel your walls clamp down on him in tight, rhythmic waves. you gasp his name, body shuddering under the force of a release that feels like a spiritual cleansing. chenle lets out a guttural, strangled cry, his body stiffening as he delivers a few final, powerful thrusts. he pours himself into you, his own release consuming, his head falling at the crook of your neck as he gives in to the euphoria, collapsing onto you, his chest heaving against yours, his arms wrapping around you in a protective, crushing embrace. for a long time, the only sound in the room is the synchronized thumping of two hearts finally beating in the same rhythm.

“i love you,” he whispers into your hair, his voice exhausted but certain.

⚜️ THE REST OF YOUR LIFE ⚜️

you wake up to the sound of light snoring from your husband, his arms locked firmly around your naked waist, your back flushed against his bare chest. the warmth of skin on skin is electric, but it’s the prominent, hard bulge of his cock pressing firmly into the small of your back that makes your breath hitch.

you pinch your arm, a sharp sting that confirms this isn't a fever dream. 

then you shift gently in his embrace, turning in the circle of his arms to face him. as you move, his cock slides against the curve of your hip, dangerously close to your core. the proximity makes your pussy clench instinctively. you’ve always loved chenle but this kind of hunger was new - a desperate need to be consumed by him.

“stop staring at me, you creep,” he teases, his voice thick with sleep.

you let out a breathless laugh, swatting his shoulder. the sound of your own laughter feels foreign yet right.

it hits you then – the terrifying, beautiful ease of it all. like the past six years of coldness, the resentment, and the silence were just a bad dream, easily erased by the heat of his body.

sensing your sudden silence, chenle opens his eyes. the gaze he meets you with is soft, searching, and filled with an intensity that makes your heart race. 

“what are you thinking about?” he asks softly, his hand drifting up to thread his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp.

“just… thinking about how nice this is,” you whisper, a small, genuine smile tugging at your lips.

“yeah?” he lets out a playful hum, his eyes shimmering with complete adoration, “think you could do this with me for the rest of our lives?”

you lean in then, kissing him softly, “yes,” you murmur against his lips with absolutely no doubt, “you’ve always been the only person i could ever do this with.”

chenle’s heart stutters. he had thought his love for you had reached its peak, but every time you surprise him with your tenderness, the feeling grows, expanding until it feels like he might burst.

“do you think this would still be nice with twenty kids?”  he teases, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes.

you recoil slightly, a look of genuine horror flashing across your face. “what?! i’m not giving you twenty kids, chenle! are you insane?!”

he bursts into a loud, genuine laugh, his eyes disappearing into crescents, his kitten-like smile whiskers prominent. as he calms down, he smirks, leaning closer, “i’m not the one who wants twenty kids. i’m pretty sure it was my beautiful wife, coming home drunk a month ago and begging me for a baby.”

you groan, your face flushing a deep crimson as you try to rack your brain for any memory of such a confession. but you don’t remember anything.

“i was drunk! i wasn’t in my right mind!”

“hmm,” he draws the word out fondly, his hand sliding down from your hair to trace the curve of your hip,  “how many kids do you actually want then?”

“two,” you admit shyly, looking away.

“only two? baby, this mansion would go to waste,” he teases, a playful smirk on his face.

“okay… three then,”  you say, trying to hide the smile growing on your face.

“what if one of them feels left out?”

“four. and that’s it!” you exclaim.

in one fluid motion, chenle rolls you onto your back, pinning you beneath his weight, his eyes dark with lust, his hard cock hitting your thigh with a heavy thud. 

“guess we should start getting to work then,” he smirks.

you giggle underneath him, pulling him in for a quick kiss before murmuring against his lips, “can you do that thing you did last night first, though?” you ask, cheeks burning.

“what thing, baby? i did a couple of things.”

the embarrassment is overwhelming, but the craving is stronger. you bite your lip, unable to say it aloud.

“c’mon, mrs. zhong, owner of two beauty empires,” he teases, his voice a low, sultry drawl, “you can tell your husband exactly what you want.”

“go down on me again, chenle,” you whisper.

he grins, a predatory yet loving expression, “of course, baby… but you do know that’s not how babies are made, right?”

you groan, shoving at his chest, “i really don't care.”

he chuckles, the sound vibrating in his chest before he slides down your body. he doesn't stop until his face is buried between your thighs, letting out a low moan at the scent of your arousal, his hot breath ghosting over your clit before his tongue makes a slow, wet sweep from your bottom to the top, tasting every drop of your longing.

⚜️ THE OFFICE ⚜️

when you get to the office later that day, arriving in the same car, and walking through the lobby of yü skincare together – the atmosphere shifts. you can feel the collective intake of breath from the staff, the employees practically vibrating with curiosity, eyes darting between you and chenle, trying and failing to hide their sheer shock. you don't blame them. for seven months, your marriage had been spent apart. to see him not only accompanying you to your door but looking at you with an expression of raw, unfiltered adoration is enough to send the office gossip into overdrive.

your eyes scan the room, landing on a familiar figure – mark lee is back at his desk, focused and working. a surge of triumph rushes through you. you’ve won.

the moment the heavy door to your private office clicks shut, the professional facade vanishes. chenle doesn't waste a second. his hands are instantly back on you, grip firm and possessive as he spins you around to face him, pinning you lightly against the edge of your desk.

you grin, your eyes dancing with mischief, “i see mark lee is back,” you say teasingly.

chenle huffs a small, amused breath, his forehead resting against yours, “yeah, he’s back. but tell him he’s walking on a very thin line,” he murmurs, though there’s no real heat in the threat. you laugh, a genuine, light sound, and shove his shoulder playfully. 

his expression shifts, the playfulness melting into something achingly sincere as he cups your face in his hands, thumbs tracing your cheekbones with a reverence that makes your heart stutter. 

“you know i’d give you everything you want, right? just say the word and it’s all yours.”

it’s not just a statement – it’s another confession, a continuation of the vow he’s been making since you woke up. 

“i told you,” he whispers, his gaze searching yours, “i’ll spend the rest of this life, and every single one after that, making it up to you.”

you let out a soft, breathless laugh, feeling a warmth spread through your chest, “when did you become such a sap?” you tease, reaching up and winding your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck to pull him down.

the kiss is slow, languid, and deep – a sweet contrast to the hunger of the morning, but filled with the same desperate need to be close. as your tongues slide together, the corporate world outside the door ceases to exist, there is only the scent of his cologne, the heat of his body, and the overwhelming realization that you are finally, truly, loved.

⚜️ THE FULFILLED PROMISE ⚜️

it didn’t take long after that before you finally got pregnant.

you and chenle fucked all the time. and it wasn’t even to conceive – the two you just physically could not get enough of each other. the mansion became your personal playground. you were pretty sure there wasn’t a single square inch of the estate that hadn’t felt the heat of your bodies. 

like that one time when you both got home after a charity gala. you had worn a red dress that hugged every curve, the slit climbing dangerously high up your thigh. all night, chenle had been a predator in a tuxedo, his gaze burning into you, hand possessively gripping the small of your back, whispering filth into your ear while you smiled for the cameras. he didn't want to network, he wanted to rip the dress off your body. the moment the heavy doors of the mansion clicked shut behind you, the facade crumbled. he didn't even let you take off your heels. chenle grabbed you by the waist, hoisting you up with a grunt of effort and placing you down onto the large, circular marble table that sat centrally between the grand staircases, not even caring about the priceless antique vase sitting on top of it. he didn't waste time with foreplay – he reached down, bunching the red silk upward, exposing your lace panties and with one violent tug, he ripped the lace aside, the sound of tearing fabric echoing in the vast foyer. “i’ve been thinking about this since the moment you put this dress on,” he growled, voice raw. he freed his pulsing cock, already leaking pre-cum, and shoved it into you in one deep, punishing thrust. you moaned his name so loud, back arching off the marble, legs locking around his waist to pull him deeper. the sound of your shared moans bounced off the high ceilings, filling the foyer with the raw noises of pleasure. he fucked you desperately, hips slamming against yours with a wet, slapping sound that could be heard all around the mansion. you knew the maids were nearby, you could almost feel their shocked eyes on you, but the thought only made you wetter. you gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his tuxedo jacket, sobbing his name as he hammered into you, driving you toward a shattering climax that left you shaking and drenched.

then there was the discovery of the billiards room. it had been a forgotten wing of the house, dusty and silent until you both stumbled upon it during a lazy afternoon. the moment the door closed, the atmosphere shifted. the green felt of the billiard table looked like an invitation. chenle didn't even let you stand still. he lifted you up the billiard table, hiking your dress up and spreading your legs wide. “you smell so sweet,” he murmured, breath hot against your inner thigh. he didn't hesitate, burying his face in your pussy. his tongue was your favorite  weapon – broad, wet, and relentless. he licked your folds, swirling around your clit, making your toes curl. he fingered you with his other hand, two fingers sliding deep inside your soaking walls, stretching you while his tongue continued to drive you insane. it was an intense combination. you were sobbing, fingers clutching his hair. just as you reached the peak, he pulled away, leaving you gasping and dripping. he didn't give you a second to whine about it, grabbing your hips to help you down then bending you forward until your chest was pressed against the green felt. “look at you,” he whispered, his voice a dark caress, “always so ready for me.” he entered you from behind, his cock filling you completely over and over again. the friction of the billiard table against your skin and the relentless pace of his thrusts sent you over the edge. he fucked you ruthlessly, his hand reaching around to pinch your nipples over your pajama dress, his chest heaving against your back. every thrust was a claim, a promise that you belonged to him, until he finally groaned, filling you with a hot, thick surge of cum that left you both breathless and spent.

and also that one time in the hot tub, it wasn’t even night time…it was pure daylight, the sun was out, illuminating every inch of the outdoor sanctuary. the risk of being seen by the gardeners or the staff was immense, but the adrenaline only fueled the fire. you were draped across him, your legs wrapped around his waist as you rode him. the warm, bubbling water splashed around you, clinging to your skin. chenle’s hands were everywhere – one gripping your ass to keep you steady, the other reaching up to grab your breast. he leaned in, his mouth latching onto your nipple, sucking it hard, his tongue swirling around the peak. you threw your head back, your moans echoing across the open terrace, completely uninhibited. you could feel the vibration of the water and the rhythmic slide of his cock deep inside you. every time you sank down, you felt him hit your cervix, a sensation that made you whimper and cling to his shoulders. “who cares if they see?” he gasped, his eyes locked on yours, filled with a mixture of lust and adoration, “let them see who you belong to.” he gripped your waist tighter, lifting you slightly before slamming you back down onto him. the splashing grew more violent, the water churning as the pace increased. you rode him with a frantic energy, your clit rubbing against his pelvic bone with every downward stroke. when the climax hit, it was explosive. you screamed his name into the open air, your walls clamping down on him in tight, rhythmic waves, while he groaned, thrusting one last time and flooding you with his cum under the bright, midday sun.

and then there was that one week honeymoon that chenle insisted on, saying that he never got to give you a proper one. you two spent a week in the most luxurious private resort in hawaii. the resort is beautiful, open to the tropical air and the rhythmic crash of the ocean, but you barely saw the view. you were too occupied by your husband. for seven days, the world ceased to exist. there were no board meetings, no family expectations, and no corporate rules – only the sound of wet, slapping skin and the desperate gasps of two people becoming one. he fucked you in the private pool, the warm water swirling around your hips as he held you against the edge, his cock sliding in and out of you with a frictionless ease that made you scream into the salty air. he fucked you on the outdoor daybed, under the moon, the linen sheets soaking through with your combined juices. he would spend hours worshipping your body, his tongue tracing every curve, every fold, before driving himself into you with a force that left you shaking and sobbing his name. 

and of course, eventually, you fucked in both of your offices. the two of you tried to keep it professional at first but at one point, you just couldn’t stop yourselves. i mean, no one can fire you anyway. and the two of you spend so much time at work it just makes sense. your favorite routine involved the desk — when you were the one who gets to play, disappearing from view while chenle continued a conference call. the contrast was intoxicating, his voice, cool and commanding, discussing quarterly projections, while your mouth was wrapped tightly around his cock. you would suck him with a focused intensity, swirling your tongue around the head and taking him as deep as your throat would allow, listening to the slight hitch in his breath and the way his hand gripped the edge of the desk to keep from groaning. when he finally hangs up, he would haul you out from under the desk by your waist and slam you down onto the edge of it, “my little slut wants to play, huh?” he’d growl against your lips as you cling to the desk for dear life, heels digging into the carpet. he took you right there in the center of his power, filling you to the brim.

but still...nothing beats fucking in your shared bedroom, this was where the real intensity lived, especially on the nights when chenle’s gaze turned dark and determined. on those nights, he didn't just want to fuck you – he wanted to possess you completely. he would start by flipping you over, forcing you onto your hands and knees in doggy style. he loved the view of your arched back and the way your ass looked spread wide for him. he would grip your hips, his fingers digging into your skin, and thrust into you from behind. the sound of his balls slapping against your cheeks echoed through the room, a raw, primal beat that drove you insane. he would reach forward to pull your hair back, whispering filth into your ear about how much he loved the way you took him. then, he would flip you onto your back, hoisting your legs up high,  sometimes draping them over his shoulders, so that he could penetrate you at the deepest possible angle. in this position, there was no escape. he drove himself in until he hit your cervix, each thrust a heavy, thumping blow that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. “look at me,” he would command, his eyes burning with an obsessive kind of love, “tell me you're mine.” the friction and the intensity pushed you toward a peak you had never experienced before. in the heat of those nights, you discovered the sensation of squirting – your pussy drenching the sheets and leaving you gasping for air. the feeling of losing control, of your body literally overflowing with pleasure, sends chenle into a frenzy. he would fuck you even harder, driving you through multiple, shattering orgasms, his own release coming in a hot, thick flood that filled you completely, leaving you both tangled in the damp sheets, hearts racing in a synchronized rhythm of absolute devotion.

now, a year into marriage and you were two months pregnant with your first child.

it hasn’t been easy, your baby was stubborn – which you honestly should’ve seen coming knowing how stubborn its father is (and you, too). 

the pregnancy had stripped away your usual composure. for a woman who navigated the cutthroat world of billionaire cosmetics with a steady hand, the loss of control was infuriating.

your morning sickness wasn't just “morning”sickness – it was a rolling tide of nausea that lasted the whole day. you had spent the last few weeks throwing up everything from expensive lobster to plain crackers. to add to the misery, your breasts had swollen, becoming agonizingly sore to the touch.

you were, in a word – grumpy. a whirlwind of mood swings, snapping at assistants and sobbing over the smallest of things, existing in a state of perpetual irritation. which was especially unfortunate considering you had never been particularly good at dealing with discomfort. you are a billionaire. struggle is not your forte.

still, chenle had been unbelievably sweet and understanding through all of it. he spent his days balancing both companies and his nights massaging your back or holding your hair back while you retched into the toilet, kissing your forehead with a tenderness that still made your heart ache.

today, you were plagued by a craving so specific, so visceral, that it felt like a physical hunger. you wanted a tomato-egg dish. but not just any version. it had to be right.

chef sung ahn, a culinary genius, was currently in the midst of a crisis — seven bowls of the dish sat on the marble island, each one a slightly different variation of seasoning and texture. and yet, none of them were right.

you pushed the seventh bowl away with a pout, your lower lip trembling. you knew you were acting like a spoiled child, but as you rested a hand over your still-flat stomach, you reasoned that you were carrying what is about to be the most spoiled heir in the country. it only made sense. 

the heavy thud of the front door announced chenle’s return. he stepped into the kitchen, shedding his blazer and loosening his tie, his eyes immediately landing on the scene.

“baby,” he murmured, stepping behind you and pressing a lingering, sweet kiss to the crown of your head.

his scent, expensive cologne and the lingering musk of a long day at the office, usually calmed you, but today you were too frustrated to be fully appeased, “what’s going on in here?”

you let out a dramatic groan, leaning back into his chest, “your stupid baby wants a certain taste, and the chef can’t do it!" you complained, pouting up at him, “nothing tastes right, chenle! everything is wrong!”

chenle looked from your frustrated expression to the exhausted but patient chef sung ahn, a small, apologetic smile playing on his lips as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders.

“i’m so sorry, chef. she’s been incredibly sensitive since the pregnancy started. i think we're dealing with a very demanding little one.”

chef sung ahn smiled knowingly, unfazed by the seven wasted bowls. he was paid far too much to be offended by the complaints of a pregnant billionaire.

“that’s perfectly alright, mr. zhong. my wife was exactly the same way. i remember a week where she nearly kicked me out of the house because the toast was too loud.”

the two men share a low chuckle while you try not to roll your eyes. his wife was valid and you know it. 

“i think i know exactly what she wants, though,” chenle said, his voice dropping an octave, becoming soft and confident.

"i’ll take care of it. thank you, chef. you can head out for the day."

as the chef departed, chenle took his place, rolling up his sleeves and exposing his forearms. you remained seated on the bar stool, watching him. there was something hypnotic about the way he moved – the precision of his knife, the way he cracked the eggs with one hand, the sizzle of the tomatoes hitting the pan.

as the aroma began to waft through the air, something happened — for the first time in hours, the nausea in your stomach vanished, replaced by a sudden, intense surge of appetite.

your mouth watered. the scent was an exact match – not to a michelin-star recipe, but to a memory. a flash of nostalgia hitting you. you were seventeen again, shivering under a duvet in your room, delirious with a fever. chenle visited you with a simple, home-cooked tomato-egg dish. it hadn't been fancy, but it had been made with a quiet kind of care that had spoken louder than any words.

you looked at your husband – the man who had once been your best friend, then your cold stranger, and now the love of your life. a small, amused smile tugged at your lips. your baby, barely the size of a fruit, was already exerting its will, bypassing the expertise of a world-class chef to demand the specific, nostalgic touch of its father.

god, you thought, a small, amused smile tugging at your lips as you watched him plate the food. the baby already has a favorite. what a traitor.

chenle finished the dish quickly, the steam curling upward, carrying that precise, comforting scent that had finally silenced the storm in your stomach.

he slid the bowl in front of you, the colors vibrant and the aroma intoxicating. as you picked up the spoon to take a bite, he stepped towards you. 

“how is it?” he smirks teasingly. because he knows you. and he knows it’s exactly what you needed. 

you let out a soft, involuntary sigh of contentment, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of a verbal compliment just yet. instead, you pouted, looking up at him through your lashes. without warning, you reached out and gripped the fabric of his shirt, bunching the material in your fist and tugging him towards you as you burrowed your face into chest.

“you’re not allowed to go to work anymore,” you mumbled against his shirt, “you’re staying with me. every second of every day.”

a low, vibrating chuckle erupted from his chest, the sound echoing against your cheek. he wrapped his arms around you, hands splaying across your back.

he adored this version of you – the spoiled, demanding, vulnerable woman who only wanted him.

“i’m perfectly okay with that,” he whispered, his voice dripping with fond adoration. 

you pulled back just enough to look at him, your eyes shimmering. the stubbornness was still there, but it was softened by a deep, aching affection.

you reached up then, hooking your arms around his neck to pull him down toward you for a soft, lingering kiss filled with tenderness and love.

⚜️ THE END ⚜️

an: weeee!!!! did i spend my entire weekend glued to my computer writing this like a loser? yeah…i did. but i had to ride on the high of inspiration and delusions before i lose it or else this would take me months to finish lmao. anyways, i loved writing this! and i’m also realizing it’s very easy for me to write for chenle idk it’s always so fun for me!!! fun game: can you guess what kind of dad chenle is!! aka can you guess the gender of the baby??? put in the comments what you think! 😉 (i do have the answer). and please let me know your thoughts! thank ü for reading, much love to ü 💛

EXTRA: GENDER REVEAL PARTY

🏆 likes, reblogs and comments are not required but is very appreciated

💳 if you enjoyed this story and would like to show extra support, my kofi is open! (i’m so broke rn guys pls spare some change 😔🚬)

🥂 wedding guest list: @markiepoo4eva @haru-lvsjiho @underscuare @starcandybby @flowerpote @markclle @myrainbowgelpen @ajjunicesblog @musken23 @yayayawnnz @untitledtyun @girloftherem @neotannies

[starcandybby]

drop dead ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ happy Hae day

haechan x fem!reader

based on Olivia Rodrigo’s drop dead

synopsis: Haechan would much rather spend his birthday at home, gaming with his friends. A simple night to celebrate. However, fate and Na Jaemin have other plans. He’s dragged out to a bar against his will. But, when he meets you, Haechan decides this is his favorite birthday yet.

fluff & smut, 5.7k wc

warnings: non-idol!au, fluff.reader uses she/her pronouns, haechan is referred to as donghyuck, Dreamies are annoying LMAO, smut, terrible writing, technically unprotected sex (no mention of condom or birth control), alcohol, getting drunk, bar scene, swearing. i think that’s all? Please let me know if I missed anything

a/n: Happy birthday to my favorite boy ever. Happy Hae Day!!!!!!! This is based on the lyrics of drop dead by Olivia Rodrigo. I’ve been loving this song so much and with Haechan’s birthday coming up, I wanted to combine the two. This is very rushed (life’s always busy) but I tried my best!! If you see any mistakes, I’m sorry in advance. This is also my first time posting smut SO PLEASE BE NICE THANK YOUUUUU that’s all. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated. Hope you enjoy 🤍

Donghyuck had a plan. On June 6th, he would sleep in, lounge around all day, have his brothers over, order delivery, and then game the whole night. Cake too, if he remembers.

Na Jaemin has a different plan.

A plan that Donghyuck is unaware of until now.

The birthday boy’s original plans had gone accordingly throughout the day. He woke up at a time far past morning and continued to stay in bed even later. Any other weekend, he’d have plans, appointments, places to be, but today is his day. No one and nothing to answer to unless he wills it.

Donghyuck smiles when he hears the doorbell ring- those would be his brothers, friends he’d known for the better part of a decade, the only people he wants to spend his birthday with.

He strolls up lazily to his front door, phone already open to a food delivery app.

However. When Donghyuck opens the door and sees Na Jaemin’s big smile, he feels his heart drop, dread washing over him.

He knows something is wrong when he steps back and really observes his friends.

Why is Renjun wearing his clubbing boots? Why are Jisung and Chenle holding two six packs of beer? Why is Jeno avoiding his gaze? Why is Mark wearing his good leather jacket? And, why is Jaemin looking at him with the most shit-eating grin he’s ever seen?

“What are you wearing?” Donghyuck starts, eyebrows raised so far you might think they’ll float off his face.

Jaemin claps back immediately, “What are you wearing?”

Donghyuck looks down at the sweatpants and old t-shirt he’s currently adorned in.

“I’m wearing clothes appropriate for a nice night in of pizza and gaming. Why the hell are you all dressed like that?”

Jaemin hums and they all push past the birthday boy, stepping into the apartment like they own it.

(With how much they stay over, they basically do at this point.)

The sound of the front door closing shocks Donghyuck out of his astonishment and he follows his friends into the kitchen.

“We’re going out. Tonight.” Jaemin says like it’s obvious. The friends work quickly around the space, pulling out glasses and bottle openers.

“No we’re not.” Donghyuck says sternly.

“I assure you, we are.” Jeno speaks up with a sigh, against the idea of going out in the first place but what Jaemin, Renjun, and Chenle want- they get.

“I’m sorry?” Donghyuck says, growing more frustrated by the minute. “Did you forget whose birthday it is today? I don’t want to go out.”

Jaemin walks over to face him directly.

“Baby,” he starts, to which Donghyuck rolls his eyes, “You only turn 26 once! You are a young, handsome bachelor. Why are you wasting your 26th birthday inside?”

Donghyuck steps back and rebuts- “It’s not a waste if it’s what I want to do.” Jaemin hums, point taken. But, he won’t give up. He refuses to let his friend stay home on his birthday.

“He’s not gonna take no for an answer, Hyuck. Let’s just go out tonight and we won’t bother you tomorrow.” Mark speaks up, snacking on some chips he found in his pantry.

The birthday boy scoffs. Closing his eyes as he weighs his options.

He wanted to celebrate with his friends. If his friends want to spend tonight at a bar, he guesses that’s okay.

Just as he’s about to surrender, Jaemin speaks up again.

“Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet a pretty lady and she can make the whole night for you,” eyes wiggling suggestively in his Jaemin manner.

Donghyuck groans and turns to walk out of the room. “Fine. I’ll go get ready.”

He only hears the echoes of cheers as a response.

-

An hour later, Donghyuck emerges back into the kitchen. Hair slightly damp from his shower but still swept back with a light gel. A nice t-shirt compliments his frame and the leather jacket he wears on top accentuates his shoulders. Bootcut dark-wash jeans elongate his legs. Tying it all together is a pair of black boots. He looks good , even if he doesn’t feel like it.

Chenle whistles and Jaemin ‘woo-hoos’ when they see the man of the evening has returned in appropriate bar attire. Donghyuck shakes his head and reaches for a beer. God, he needs a drink.

Thankfully, they ordered pizza while he was getting ready. Eating and drinking commence while camaraderie takes place around him. He listens to Mark and Renjun have a debate about the best hotpot ingredients; he watches Jisung lose drinking games again and again to Chenle while Jeno and Jaemin (and himself) watch fondly.

The beer and pizza loosen him up a little bit and he feels better about the prospective of going out tonight. It could be fun, he supposes.

7:30 p.m. comes and the group starts getting ready to go- Chenle mentioning something about Jaehyun saving them a table.

Everyone is a little tipsy and in good spirits, even the birthday boy.

-

Soon enough, their taxi pulls up to a lively bar. Donghyuck had never been here before.

“Is this place new?” He wonders out loud.

“No,” Chenle answers for him, “But, Jaehyun recently took over the management and he really revived the place.”

Donghyuck could do nothing but agree. Groups gather at every table outside the bar, drinks on tables and in hands, cigarette smoke wafting through the warm summer air, but not enough to overwhelm you. The chatter is joyful and lively- you could tell good stories are being shared all around. Lamps extending from the brick exterior of the building give enough light to see in front of you but leave enough darkness to hide an intimate moment if you wanted to.

That thought give Donghyuck chills.

He follows his friends inside the bar, feeling relief that the good energy follows as well. The inside matches the outside, except a little louder as the chatter was now contained within four walls. Stone floors, wood paneling, tables, and chairs, warm lighting, small paintings decorating the walls- it reminds him of an English pub he visited during a boy’s trip to London a few years ago. The memory warms him inside.

Chenle finds Jaehyun soon enough. The older man’s face lights up when he sees the group has arrived. He moves from behind the bar to greet them properly.

“Donghyuck!” He shakes his hand.

“Been a while.” He replies with a smile. It has been a while since he saw his friend. Jaehyun graduated a few years before him, and post-grad life kept them busier than they anticipated.

“Happy birthday man!” Jaehyun claps him on the back affectionately. “I saved a booth for you guys.”

He leads the way and the younger men follow him like ducklings. Their table is a little tucked away from the main scene, to which Donghyuck feels a little relief- it’s just a bit quieter and it gives the group a chance to be with themselves. There’s only one other table- a high-top table where three young women sit, seemingly wrapped up in their own friendship too.

Once they get settled and order their first round of drinks, Donghyuck feels more at ease. Him and his friends carry on their own lively conversation. Sharing memories, inside jokes, teasing each other- the friendship flowed effortlessly between them. Donghyuck realizes that this is all he wanted- whether it was in his own home or in the bar, the company with him is all that matters.

He stands up to help Renjun with the next round of beers- he’s strictly prohibited from paying for any round tonight- but he’ll help carry the drinks as a thank you.

Falling into conversation with Jaehyun, Donghyuck didn’t even notice another figure appear next to him. Didn’t notice until-

“Can I get three pints of Kloud please?” A sweet voice interrupts.

Nothing could prepare Donghyuck for the vision he sets his eyes on.

Is he so far gone that he’s seeing angels now?

You lean forward on the bar with a smile that matches your sweet voice. Somehow there are stars in your eyes that compliment the flush in your cheeks.

Donghyuck can’t breathe for a second- mind and body too busy taking you in- the way you look just like heaven. The conversation with Jaehyun and the beers in front of him long forgotten.

“Are you ever gonna try anything else?” Jaehyun teases you with a playful grin, preparing your pints nevertheless.

“We know what we like, nothing wrong with that.” You play back. Your smile grows and it makes Donghyuck very nervous.

Thankfully, you hadn’t noticed the silent stranger whose eyes were glued to you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he looked away for a moment. Unfortunately, the stranger’s friend behind the bar did notice Donghyuck’s sudden quietness.

When he takes your card from you, he nods his head toward the man next to you.

“It’s my good friend’s birthday tonight.”

Donghyuck looks away quickly to not be caught staring at you. He stares down an old water stain on the bar top while his cheeks fail to hide his blush.

When your eyes do land on the dark-haired boy, warmth rushes over you. In the moment, you’re keen to blame it on the alcohol.

It’s amazing how someone who looks so cool can simultaneously be so shy.

You feel endeared toward him and you’ve not yet spoken a word.

“Happy birthday.”

Your honey voice sounds like music to his ears and when he looks up to meet your gaze, an entire symphony erupts.

Are everyone’s eyes so pretty? How are you so pretty?

“Thank you.” He hopes you can feel his genuineness and when your smile grows just a bit more, he has a feeling you do.

Your eyes break away from his and move to the drinks sitting in front of him, “Surely you’re not paying for your own drinks tonight.”

He chuckles and shakes his head, “No, no. My friend would never let me pay tonight- they’d hide my wallet if they could.”

You giggle in response and he feels his confidence returning. Thank god. He’d never forgive himself if he fumbled that bad in front of you.

“You have good friends.”

“Yes, I do.” He agrees. You two then fall into easy conversation, how you each know Jaehyun, your jobs, where you’re from, your current neighborhood- not the most exciting conversations but Donghyuck makes it fun anyway.

Pints and beers long forgotten in front of you, swept up in the company beside you.

“I just moved a few months-“

“Donghyuck-ah!” comes the booming voice of Zhong Chenle. The man in question flinches, praying to any god listening that this younger brother won’t embarrass him.

“Why are you taking so long? The beer must be- oh.” Chenle stops his complaint as soon as he sees what- rather who- has kept Donghyuck from returning to their table. A teasing smile immediately appears on his face as he glances between you two. Donghyuck adorns a tight lipped smile while you smile as if you’re not bothered at all. Matter of fact, you’re curious about Donghyuck’s friend.

“I see.” Chenle says, mostly to himself. It’s taking every thing in him not burst into giggles.

“I’m sorry I kept your friend and your beers.” You shoot Chenle a smile, but the playful glint in your eyes tells everyone that you’re not really sorry.

“No, no. Not a problem at all.” He says, big goofy grin on his face. “I’m Chenle.” He holds his hand out, which you shake. Irritation grows in Donghyuck’s chest. He was perfectly content getting to know you within your own bubble.

“I’m Y/N.”

“It’s his birthday.” Chenle nods toward Donghyuck, mimicking Jaehyun’s actions minutes earlier.

“I’ve heard.” You grin, turning back to the handsome boy whose cheeks are flushed once again.

“You know he didn’t even want to come out tonight.” Chenle starts; he can’t help but being a shit-stirrer, even on his friend’s birthday.

You feign shock before sending Donghyuck a sweet smile. “Well, I’m very happy you did.”

“Me too.” He admits. Chenle grabs the beers and leaves the two of you, alone once again.

Just as you’re about to continue your conversation, a familiar melody starts playing through the bar. Donghyuck wishes he could capture the way your face lights up and frame it forever.

“Just Like Heaven” by The Cure- one of his favorite songs.

“I love this song!” You exclaims.

One of yours too it seems.

You start singing the lyrics, and Donghyuck joins in, unable to resist.

You wish you had a tape recorder so you could capture his sweet voice and listen to it on repeat forever.

No one pays attention to you both- well except for the two tables of friends who are already planning all the jokes they’ll make about the two of you. But, you pay no mind to them. You’re lost in your own world.

“You

Soft and lonely

You

Lost and lonely

You

Just like heaven”

When the song finishes, your eyes meet Donghyuck’s; and though out of breath, you both burst into a fit of giggles.

“I think we’ll deserve a drink after that.” He declares, already pulling out his wallet.

“Oh no.” You place a hand on his arm, making Donghyuck freeze. “I can’t let the man of the hour pay for a drink on his birthday.”

He shakes his head and takes out his card anyway. “Since it’s my birthday, I can do whatever I want. And, what I want is to pay for a pretty girl’s drink. What would you like? A pint of Kloud?”

You’re grateful he’s turned his head away from you so he can’t see the blush that graces your cheeks.

He’s thinks I’m pretty.

“Yes, please.”

With drinks in hand, Donghyuck offers to walk you back to your table. Initial disappointment weighs on your chest. Is this where it ends? A handsome stranger charms you to a blushing mess, buys you a drink, and now he’ll walk you back to your table and….leave you alone for the rest of the night?

No. Something inside tells you that it’s not over yet. A gut feeling. An intuition.

“Where’s your table?” Donghyuck puts his hand lightly on your lower back to help guide you through the still-crowded bar. He hopes you don’t feel the way it shakes.

“It’s in that corner back there.” You point. When Donghyuck follows your gesture, he realizes it’s the high top right next to his booth.

“Oh you’re right next to mine!”

When you get closer, you realize that you do recognize Chenle at Donghyuck’s table.

You pause in front of the tables, looking at him, hopeful that this won’t be where you part for the night.

“So, we’re here.” You prod. He can practically see the hope shining in your eyes.

“Thanks for talking with me tonight. I hope you enjoy the rest of the evening with your friends.”

Donghyuck winces at this own response. He can’t believe he just said that. He’s too out of practice, too sober, to think of a flirty, clever way to talk to you more. He shifts his gaze to avoid seeing your disappointment, but is unfortunately met with the disapproval of his friends. Renjun sighs and Jisung shakes his head.

“I hope you have a good birthday.” You say softly before walking back to your table.

As soon as Donghyuck returns to his seat, the scolding begins- though at low whispers as to not be heard by the neighboring group.

“Are you stupid?” Jaemin scolds him in a whisper-shout.

“Oh my…” Mark mutters to himself.

“Even, Jisungie is better at flirting than that.” Renjun sighs out again.

“What do you guys suggest I do? Hm?” He exhales, looking at his friends expectedly. If they were going to nag him, the least they could do is offer him some solid advice.

However, as he suspected, the table grows quiet. “Exactly. Let’s keep our comments to ourselves.” Then, he takes a long sip of his beer.

Camaraderie ensues again, but Donghyuck can’t stay focused. His eyes keep moving back to you. The way you’re leaned on the hightop table, fully focused on the story your friend is telling, and how your eyes somehow sparkle in the low bar lighting- he thinks you’re so pretty.

You catch him staring at you a few times, but before you can hold the eye contact, he looks away, as if embarrassed.

“This is your chance.” Jaemin mutters to Donghyuck, snapping him out of his daydream.

“Hm?”

“Her drink. It’s empty. Offer to buy her a new one and then ask you if can talk more privately.”

Donghyuck thought for a moment. It’s actually a good idea. What’s the worst that could happen? You could laugh in his face and tell him he missed his chance.

But you wouldn’t do that.

He stands up, his own empty beer glass in his hand, and walks around to your table. He feels even more pleased with his decision when your face lights up seeing him in front of you.

“I see you’ve got an empty glass. Care for a refill?”

“Who’s paying?” You prod with a teasing grin.

“It’s on me if that’s okay with you.”

“More than okay.”

Donghyuck is sporting a full toothed grin now. Feeling brave, he holds his hand out. When you take it, he feels on top of the world. A simple gesture has him flying.

He leads you back to the bar, pays for your drink as promised. Comfortable silence comes over you while you watch Jaehyun pour your beers.

“I’m not sure how much longer you’ll be staying but I wanna talk with you more, away from my nosy friends.” He says as confidently as he can.

You blush- you were right to listen to your heart. This is not over. “I’d like that a lot actually. You know I was a little disappointed when you went back to your table.”

Donghyuck throws his head back and groans, “I know, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.” The dramatics make you giggle.

“It’s okay. I’ll just go let my friends know.” Donghyuck watches you walk back to your tables. He’s entranced by you, completely. Taking a deep breath, he prays that tonight goes in his favor.

It’s his birthday after all.

Not even minutes later, you return.

“Let’s go to that table over there.” As he follows you, he finally notices that the bar has considerably cleared out. Soft jazz music now plays through the speakers. A mellowed out vibe compared to an hour earlier. This puts him more at ease.

You both slide into the booth, only centimeters separate you. You’re practically sitting shoulder to shoulder, feeling the heat radiate off him.

Conversation between you both begins again, flowing like it never stopped. You talk about the friends here with you tonight, your go-to coffee orders, your travels- if he’s ever been to Japan or France. Everything and anything in between.

Somehow you’ve both drifted closer to each other, shoulders now touching. You’re leaning into him as he is into you. Beer glasses still half-full- too caught up in the company next to you to care.

You can hardly focus on anything at this point. His proximity makes your head spin- or maybe that’s the alcohol still in your system you’re not sure. All you know is you can hardly focus on anything but the way his lips move as he talks. They look so soft. How would they feel moving against yours?

“….That’s when I told Jeno he was absolutely crazy. Are you even listening to me right now?” He teases.

You can only hum and nod as your reply, too dazed and entranced by him to properly say yes. Even so, it’d be a lie. You were not listening; you were just staring at his lips and begging any higher power listening that they would whisper to Donghyuck that-

“Y/n….can I kiss you right now?” He asks, voice barely above a whisper as if he’s afraid he’ll pop the perfect bubble you’re in right now.

Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes

You nod and before you know it, he’s leaning in.

You expected fire- hot and heavy that makes you flinch if it burns too long. But, the moment your lips meet Donghyuck’s, it’s warm. Not sparks, a steady flow of electricity that makes you feel alive. His lips are as soft as they look. He applies the perfect amount of pressure that doesn’t push you away but still leaves you wanting more. His hand comes up to cup your jaw and bring you closer together. Your mouths move more fervently and one hand comes up to rest on his chest to keep you steady. You’re starting to squirm, that electric flow awakening other parts within you. If he stops now, you might drop dead.

To your dismay, he pulls away, leaving you both breathing heavy. He smiles, a mix between embarrassment and satisfaction.

“You know the bar closes at 11.” He mutters. You turn to check the wall clock.

10:45

“Maybe, if you never finish your beer. We’ll never have to go.” You joke, but there’s a hint of sadness in your voice. You’re worried once you exit the walls of this bar, you’ll go back to being strangers. Then, you’ll spend the rest of your life missing that one handsome man you met at a random bar in your twenties.

“I don’t think Jaehyun would like that.” He says while patting your head affectionately as you pout in response.

“It’s getting late. Let me take you home.”

Such a simple statement stirs butterflies in your chest. You’re still feeling buzzed from the kiss you just shared.

“My apartment’s only a few blocks from here.”

“Lead the way pretty girl.”

You both bid goodbye to Jaehyun who is already starting to clean up. If you two weren’t so caught up in yourselves, you would’ve read the phone messages your friends sent you that they’ve gone home.

You don’t know when your hands connected after leaving the bar but you’re more than happy they did. The action warms your heart more than the alcohol tonight ever did.

You swing your hands together almost childlike as he walks you home. The light to guide the way are the street lamps. But, you’re not scared. Not with Donghyuck by your side.

“What did you do for your birthday today? Before the bar?”

“Hmm,” He thinks for a minute, “I slept in really late and stayed in my pajamas most of the day until my friends took me to the bar.”

“You didn’t do a lot..” You murmur.

“It’s exactly how I wanted it to go.” He raises your intertwined hands and kisses the back of yours. Donghyuck of course leaves out the part that his friends had to practically drag him out of his apartment to this bar. He figures you don’t need to know that.

“Did you have any cake at least?”

“Hmm. Nope. No cake.”

You completely stop in your tracks. He walks a few steps before feeling a tug on his hand.

“You didn’t have any cake?” You ask incredulously, eyes practically bugging out of your skull. Donghyuck chuckles to himself at the sight. You’re so damn cute, and dramatic.

“I guess we just kind of forgot.” He shrugs.

“We have to fix this.” You shake your head. “There’s a convenience store the block before my apartment. Let’s see if we can find something in there.”

He doesn’t argue with you, letting you pull him forward. Donghyuck doesn’t know you well but he has a feeling once you set your mind to something, there’s no convincing you otherwise.

Sure enough, after walking a ten more minutes, you’re stood in front of a 24 hour conveniences store. The bright light glowing from the sign almost makes Donghyuck squint.

The bell rings as you push yourself inside, dragging the birthday boy behind with your intertwined hands.

The clock reads 11:07. Plenty of time.

You scan the aisles diligently; Donghyuck follows like a lost puppy (he practically is one in this moment). Finding a pack of two basic candles, all that’s left is a cake, or something close to.

“All they have is a big chocolate cookie or a cup of strawberry ice cream.” You frown. Donghyuck feels the temptation to kiss it right off you. He refrains for now- you’re on a serious mission after all.

“Whatever you want pretty.” He says, moving his thumb across your hand absentmindedly. Donghyuck truly doesn’t mind- he’s not even sure he wants a sweet treat. But, you’re so determined, he can’t say no to you.

“But it’s your birthday. I want you to choose.” You whine.

“Ok. Let’s do strawberry ice cream and we can share it.” You smile in satisfaction before taking the both of you to the register.

“Oh! Do you have a lighter?”

After he shakes his head, you take one off the shelf and start to pay. Best believe, Donghyuck insisted he pay but, you argued back that he payed for your two drinks and it’s a gift for his birthday. He conceded in the end.

Next thing you know- you’re sat on the curb outside of the store. You prepare the impromptu birthday cake, carefully placing the two candles in the very small cup of ice cream.

“Ready?”

He nods, giving you the okay to light the candles.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..”

Your voice is so sweet. He wants to drown in the honey. He wants to freeze this moment. Just between you and him, and the bright convenience store lights.

“Make a wish!” You whisper.

He closes his eyes and really wishes.

He wishes for more moments like this with you. He wishes that this isn’t the end of your journey together. He wishes that by the end of the night he’ll be brave enough to get your number. He wishes this, whatever this is, will blossom into so much more.

Donghyuck will never say any of this out loud though. He won’t risk anything for his wish to not come true.

He opens his eyes and blows out the candles. You cheer and watch the smoke dissolves into the summer night.

11:35 perfect timing.

“Happy birthday, Donghyuck.” You smile at him shyly. He wants to eat you alive. How can you have such a hold on him? Not even four hours ago, he hadn’t even known you. He never wants to go back there again.

You both dig into the ice cream. Granted, you each only get about four full bites in before the cup is finished.

“Best birthday cake ever.” He says, and you giggle in reply. He hopes you know that he means it though. Silence settles over you. It’s disgusting- the hearts that are coming out of both your eyes. Anyone would become sick looking at the two of you.

Donghyuck brings a hand up to your cheek. “You have a little something here….” And, he’s kissing you again. It’s sweeter this time- the lingering taste of strawberry on both your lips. In sheer desperation, you grab his shirt to pull him closer. He opens his mouth in response to you, his body telling you that he wants you as much as you want him. Your tongues dance together, in perfect sync. Breathing in each other’s air, you’re bordering on exhibitionism.

Maybe, not that far.

But, if he keeps this up, you might ask him to take you right here on the curb.

“Please take me home.” You whine, breaking away, an unfortunate but necessary communication.

“Okay, yes, okay.” He stands up, helping you in the process. You’re a giggling fluttering mess, practicing skipping the rest of the block to your apartment. Donghyuck follows close behind, extremely amused and equally as happy.

His hands are on your waist as you come to your front door. You fumble with the keys, from both nerves and giddiness

As soon as the door opens and closes, he’s on you again. Arms wraps around your waist to pull you close and your lips connect again, moving with more passion than before. It’s quite a haphazard scene- the two of you walking backward in the dark completely unaware and uncaring about your surroundings.

Eventually, Donghyuck taps your thigh. You hop up and wrap your legs around his waist, fully supported by him now.

“Where’s your bedroom sweet girl?” He detaches for a moment and then continues kissing down your neck, waiting for your reply.

“To the left, down the hall.”

He walks with haste; you appreciate it. Pushing open your bedroom door, he sets you down, now hovering over you.

“I should prep you baby. What do you want?” He says, searching your eyes. You look like a dream- face flushed, hair laid out around you like a halo. The moonlight that shines through your window seems to make you sparkle.

You blush at the question. What do you want? Your mind is too clouded by him . That’s the only answer you have.

“Just want you.” You murmur. He hums and thinks.

“Really want to be inside you. How about my fingers? I’ll eat you out another time- I’ll do it slow and properly next time. Is that okay?”

You nod frantically. You’d have him in anyway; it didn’t matter to you.

“Need words.” He whispers, hardly a centimeter from your face.

“Please fuck me, Donghyuck.” You practically whine out, growing patient. If you weren’t such a horny mess, you’d be more appreciative at his thoughtfulness.

With the green light, he helps to strip you, throwing the clothing across your room.

God, you’re a sight. He could come just looking at you.

He full crawls on top of you, connecting you lips once again. One arm braces himself over you while the other one snakes down your torso. You whine into his mouth when his hand stops at your hip. Your body tries to take initiative when your hips buck into him. He chuckles into your mouth.

“Okay, okay.” He relents. Donghyuck didn’t mean to tease you- he was trying to savor the moment.

Once his fingers prod your entrance, all is forgiven. It’s overwhelming- how he stimulates your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you squirm. He curls his fingers in just the right way. Your body reacts to him so well- like you’ve known each other for years.

That familiar coil starts to wind in your stomach. You’re close. He knows it, you feel it.

“Want you inside me.” You whimper. He happily obliges to your request. Taking his fingers away from your core- you whine at the loss of contact, even though that’s what you just asked for. Donghyuck takes his fingers up to his mouth and you watch, with lust-filled eyes, him put his fingers into his mouth, sucking and licking them clean from your slick.

He moans at the taste. “You taste so sweet, baby. I promise I’ll fuck you with my tongue next time.”

After completing stripping himself, he lifts your leg and bends it, exposing your core. Donghyuck starts to nudge himself inside- the feeling making both of you close your eyes in pleasure.

You could feel him pulsing inside your walls; he no better, barely holding his sanity together.

“You’re so tight babygirl. Fuck.” He grunts.

“Move please, Hyuck.” You whimper. When he does start rocking his hips against yours, you feel euphoric all over again. The rhythm, the angle- he’s hitting all the right spots. His head is buried in your shoulder, willing himself to not come just yet.

But, something about you makes it hard for him to control himself. His movements turn frantic, chasing that high for both of you.

“I’m close.” Your grip on his arm tightens as you’re about to come undone.

“Yeah? Come for me baby.”

He leans down to connect your lips again. It’s with such passion, adding to the stimulation. Overwhelming but welcome nevertheless.

You unravel under him. Donghyuck winces when he feels you come around his cock. He rocks inside you a little more, helping you ride out your high before pulling out and finishing on your stomach. Collapsing next to you, he’s silent for a minute, catching his breath and recollecting himself. You’re doing the same. The perspiration on your skins makes you look like you’re glowing. Some could argue it’s a post-sex glow; Donghyuck argues it’s also from pure happiness.

Not long after you’ve both finished, he starts to get up- the urge to take care of you ever present. You murmur sleepily where your washcloths and pajamas are. Donghyuck is now on a mission.

First, he sneaks into your kitchen for some glasses of water. Then, he stops in your bathroom to prepare a washcloth to clean you up. His final destination is your closet where he finds a soft old t-shirt and new underwear for you to sleep in.

Once he cleans you up, he lays down next to you, pulling you into his chest. You’re so sleepy and far gone, you could think this is a dream. The last thing you feel is Donghyuck’s steady heartbeat before you’re pulled into a deep sleep.

-

It’s sunlight that pulls Donghyuck into consciousness. The light shining through your windows prods his eyes open. Then, he registers a weight on him. You’re sprawled out across him, left leg draped across his body and arm curled on his chest. He relishes in the feeling.

Donghyuck doesn’t know what time it is, if you have plans today, or how you’ll feel when you wake up. All he knows is that he doesn’t want to leave your warmth.

He doesn’t have to wonder long as he feels you start to stir as well. The way you nuzzle into his shoulder makes him melt.

“Morning.” You murmur, still refusing to open your eyes to the sunlight.

“Hi pretty girl.”

“Did you sleep okay?”

“Better than ever.” He grins.

“Good.” It’s quiet for a moment. Maybe, you’re feeling brave, or maybe it’s the sleep clouding your brain, you dare to ask, “How long can you stay?”

Forever, Donghyuck thinks.

But, he squeezes your waist instead and offers an answer much less overwhelming, “I have no plans other than you, baby.”

Let’s go steady.

Let's go out

And tell the whole damn world how….

disclaimer: I do not claim anything in this fic happened in reality. This is all fiction and for fun.

[neogotmycookie]

same page | l.dh

summary: you don’t necessarily mind admiring lee haechan from afar, but when the opportunity for you to get closer presents itself, you grasp it, and eventually you come to the realisation that whilst you’ve been too busy admiring, you’ve failed to notice that he’s been doing exactly the same. pairing: student!haechan x f!reader. mdni! adults only. genre: university!au, fluff, strangers to acquaintances to lovers, smut! word count: 32k (i am sorry) tags/warnings: alcohol consumption, smoking/vaping, swearing, talks of fetishes, explicit sexual content, kissing (a lot), making out, semi-public shenanigans(not sex), spitting (yum), fingering, dry humping, oral (both receiving), multiple orgasms, multiple smut scenes, dirty talk, praise, light chocking, lots of teasing, protected sex, overstimulation, haechan is cocky but also pathetic, haechan being bf material without even being her bf, he calls her a brat like once, petnames (baby, pretty, baby girl, good girl), she calls him “hae”, they’re both down bad, soft dom!haechan, sub!reader, switch!haechan, cumshot oops, aftercare, he’s just a good guy, both are mature but can be too in their head at times, there’s no toxicity or angst in this fic, ✨communication✨, pls let me know if i missed anything! other characters: the whole dream gang, chenle & ningning as oc’s besties a/n: hi all! this is my first ever fic (that I'm posting lol) and I've poured my heart and soul into it so i hope you show some love. it's definitely not perfect and i could keep rereading and finding things that I'd change but I've kept my writing in the dark for long enough and if i don’t post this now i know i never will, so please take it! I do have a part 2 in the works, which will be diving into their feelings and more angsty themes, but for now I hope you lovely people enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it xoxo ps. the idea for this fic blossomed while i was listening to eye candy by justin bieber, so might be worth giving it a listen whilst reading → Part 2

It's not like you’re obsessed with Lee Haechan. You just enjoy looking at him. You barely even know the guy, but, annoyingly, he's difficult to ignore. Difficult not to notice. And it’s not like you’ve spoken much to each other either, apart from the rare exchange of a few words here and there or the odd nod of acknowledgement in corridors.  

There was this one time where he sat next to you in class, but that was only because he was late and the seat next to yours was the only empty one that was close to the entrance of the classroom. That was the first time he smiled at you. Nothing more than casual and polite but it still made your heart race.

Then, of course, there was the time where you bumped into him on the street, while you were on your way to a date, which ended up being disastrous, but that didn’t really bother you. What bothered you was the fact that he was also on his way to a date. With a girl. A girl he chose to go on a date with. A girl that he probably found pretty. A girl that wasn't you. Regardless, that didn’t negate the fact that, that night you had your first ever conversation with him. It was brief, but it happened, and it certainly left you with a bittersweet taste in your mouth, which was probably why you later couldn’t focus on the boy you matched with on that godforsaken dating app. And as mean as it sounded in your head, you hoped Haechan’s date went as badly as yours. 

Next time you saw him, was at a campus party you got dragged to by Chenle and Ningning. Mark convinced Chenle, who convinced Ningning, who forced you and it’s not like you don’t enjoy a fun night out with friends and alcohol, you just weren’t in the right mood that night and you were convinced that being in your luteal phase had definitely something to do with it.   

You remember instantly spotting him in the kitchen, leaning lazily against the counter as he was speaking to a girl you didn’t recognise and you could tell just from her side profile that she was nothing but attractive. You watched as she reached and took the drink he was holding, bringing it up to her lips, tasting the contents of the cup but also him, and you decided to look elsewhere before witnessing anything that would (but definitely shouldn’t) ruin your night.   

You were determined to spend the rest of the party as far away from him as possible, forcing poor Chenle to go and refill your drink in the kitchen every time you ran out. You were more than aware it might have sounded silly to anyone else, but you didn’t want to go down the rabbit hole of trying to get someone’s attention, when they were clearly not interested. You’d been that person in the past, and you refused to make the same mistakes again. At the end of the day, it was just a crush. It would go away eventually. Right?  

When the party started to die down, you found yourself in the back garden with no one else other than the lovely Na Jaemin, after you stumbled upon him being sick in a fake plant pot. You could have left him in his own fate, but knowing yourself, you would definitely feel guilty for the rest of the night, if you didn’t make sure he was safe. You started to regret your decision about 10 minutes later, when he had already fallen asleep with his head in your lap and you were sure he was drooling on you, but that was the least of your concerns in that moment. Thankfully, Chenle picked up on the first ring and when you asked him to come outside with reinforcements, he immediately said, “I’ll be there in a sec.”

The reinforcements, of course, being Jeno and Haechan, wasn’t exactly what you had in mind, but you weren’t in a position to be picky. You found out shortly after that Haechan had only stepped outside for a smoke and got dragged into ‘helping’, which he refused to do since, according to him, Jaemin had put him in that position countless of times and he’s sick of looking after a grown ass man who’s got the alcohol tolerance of a twelve year-old. You found his point more than valid, but you didn’t say anything.   

When Chenle and Jeno disappeared back inside, carrying a whiny and barely coherent Jaemin, you found yourself alone with the boy you had initially tried to steer clear of at all costs. Your mission miserably failed that night and at the end of it all you realised one thing; whatever it was that you felt for Lee Haechan, wasn’t just a harmless crush.   

“I gotta admit, that was slightly entertaining.” He said as he took the seat that Jaemin had previously been occupying next to you on the wooden bench.   

You must have sat there with him for about an hour, talking about everything and nothing, while enjoying the early summer breeze and the freedom that came with the end of finals. He insisted on getting you an uber home when you announced that you were going to walk because your phone had died and when you asked if you could pay him back somehow, he said, “Just don't be a stranger next year.”  

Autumn  

You were aware Zhong Chenle was an evil little thing, but you hadn’t pegged him for a traitor. And betrayed is what you felt as you read the message on your screen over and over again.   

@kh1000le: greetings folks, party at my new place this saturday @8 – I'll add the deets later but feel free to invite more people. ps. don’t forget to bring extra booze.  

You look up from your phone, remembering you're still in class and the professor is still talking stats. Your eyes instantly land on Haechan, still sitting two rows ahead of you, between Jeno and Jaemin and you can tell he’s looking down, probably reading the message you were reading just seconds ago. Jaemin shifts closer to whisper something in his ear and Haechan leans in to hear better. He quickly nods his head agreeing to whatever Jaemin says. 

You turn your attention back to your phone again as more notifications flood your screen. Other people in the group chat responding and reacting to messages. Haechan is still silent. No reactions or responses. You wonder what he's thinking. But most of all, you wonder if he's noticed you're also in that group chat. Would he recognise your username? You only started following each other the day after that party before summer, but it’s been almost four months now and there has certainly been no exchange of messages.   

Suddenly, you notice people have started packing up their belongings and you quickly start doing the same, hoping you can flee the scene as fast as possible, before Jaemin comes up to you with questions about the party.   

The second you step outside the doors and into the corridor, you exhale, relieved to have succeeded and as you start walking towards the main building exit you realise you spoke too soon.   

"Y/n, wait up!"

You close your eyes muttering a quiet “shit” to yourself. You put on a smile and turn around, Jaemin quickly approaching you. Haechan, who's trailing a few steps behind him, isn’t really paying attention, already in a conversation with Jeno.   

“Jeez woman, you sure walk fast. You got somewhere to be?” He speaks fast as he tries to catch his breath.  

“Hey Jaemin, yeah, sorry, I'm in a rush, how can I help?" You try and respond as nonchalantly as possible.   

"I just saw you're in that group chat and I'm assuming you'll be there on Saturday?" He asks with eyes full of hope.   

"Yes sir. I'm actually meeting up with Chenle now to talk logistics." You explain quickly, seeing Haechan getting closer from your peripheral.

"Ahhh that makes sense, I just wanted to ask if we should bring anything else other than alcohol?"   

"Just your drink of choice will be enough for you I reckon, don't want you ruining any of his new plants." You say with a teasing tone. 

"Yah!" He complains with a pout that is nothing but laughable. 

"Hey Y/N." Jeno approaches with a smile and joins your conversation. “Is this man bothering you?”   

“Not really, just making sure he doesn't die of alcohol poisoning on Saturday.” You try to keep your eyes on Jeno, avoiding the handsome boy who's also joined your little group. 

”I thought you were a nice one.” Jaemin whines like a little child while a frown adorns his face.   

“You’ve been fooled my friend,” Jeno comes to stand next to you, throwing an arm around your shoulders, shaking you playfully. “She’s evil.”   

You're mid eye roll when Haechan’s voice cuts through. “Seems pretty harmless to me.” He’s standing next to Jaemin now. One hand in his pocket, the other holding the strap of his bag. You notice the two rings adorning his middle fingers. Such a pretty hand, you think, the veins prominent, running down his smooth arm, disappearing underneath an oversized check shirt he's wearing over a white t-shirt. You then notice he's got a pair of jorts on and you can't help but wonder who can even pull off jorts that effortlessly nowadays.   

Your attention drifts back up to his face, the most adorable boba eyes are twinkling as he looks at you and his captivating mouth offers you a cheeky smile. A small dimple appears, barely there for you to see and you think you're on the verge of throwing up. His lips move again and you watch him carefully like he’s moving in slow motion. "Hi." His hand leaving his pocket and raising in the air to offer you a quick wave. It's annoying how such a small and casual gesture makes your heartbeat faster and your cheeks feel warmer. You're pretty sure your eyes are giving you away, showing how affected you are behind the stoic expression you’re struggling to maintain. You never thought you'd be here, but you have Chenle to thank. Or maybe strangle. You haven't decided yet.   

"Hi." You return the smile as calmly as you can, foregoing the wave. You don't think your limbs are working properly right now and you're pretty sure your fingers are slightly shaking by your sides. And you’re now thankful for Jeno’s arm still draped around you, the weight grounding and necessary. You feel your phone vibrate a few times in your back pocket, assuming it's either Chenle or Ning checking if you're alive and that pulls you out of your trance. “Evil is a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?”   

”That’s funny, remember when you told me to go fuck myself and read a book whilst I’m at it?"   

“Oh, I’m sorry,” You shove his arm off you in fake annoyance. “Did I offend you?” You feign concern dramatically. “Remember when you asked me if I’ve got any friends who need, and I quote, an unforgettable dicking down session and then proceeded to say, and I quote again, ‘is Murakami the fella who wrote that book about some Norwegian guy’s dick?’” You get slightly irritated just at the memory. 

"Ahhh that explains it! This guy came back home a few months ago asking if anyone’s got a copy of Norwegian Wood." Jaemin looks at you as he explains, whilst pointing a mocking finger at Jeno. 

"Oh? You actually read it then?" You ask with a hopeful smile and Jeno offers you a shy nod. Maybe there's hope for him after all. 

“Read it? He actually cried when he got to the part where Naoko kills herself.” Haechan snorts at Jeno’s sour expression and reaches out to lightly pinch his cheek. He instantly gets shoved away. “Aw come on, I thought it was endearing.” Haechan turns to look at you now. “I was wondering who made him read that.” He holds your gaze while you hold your breath, and you wish someone could hold your heart as it’s about to beat out of your chest. “I love that book.” He admits with a smile, and you celebrate internally, because you knew he wasn’t just a pretty face, and you feel giddy knowing that you’ve both loved the same thing, even if it’s just a book. 

You picture him sitting in a pink cafe, wearing a cozy sweater, looking all warm and comfy while turning page after page. You find yourself wanting to ask if he’s read it more than once, like you have and what his thoughts are on the ending. But you don’t. Not yet. 

“Well maybe you two nerds should join a book club.” Jeno bitterly says.   

“I mean, I’d be down?” Haechan raises his eyebrows suggestively at you. Mothefucker.   

“I would, but unfortunately I have somewhere to be right now.” Your response causing his tongue to poke in his cheek, trying to fight off a smile. The gesture making him look incredibly handsome and boyish at the same time and if you were a cartoon character, pink heart eyes would be bulging out of your eye sockets. You force yourself to look away from Haechan's face, opting to divert your gaze between the other two boys instead. They're both carrying amused expressions, looking between you and Haechan and you feel like you’re missing something.   

“Ouch.” Jaemin says with a laugh, now mocking Haechan.   

“See?” Jeno looks at both of his friends, crossing his arms over his chest as if proving a point. “Told you she’s evil.” He smiles like he’s proud of you.   

And that’s your queue to escape. ”Right, well, as lovely as this has been, I actually have to go.”   

“Okay, busy queen.” Jaemin snaps his fingers and you can instantly picture him getting along with Chenle. “We’ll see you Saturday then.” He smiles sweetly.   

”You will indeed. Don’t be too late.” You say with a warning, pointing a finger between all three of them.  

”Yes, mam.” Jeno nods in agreement.   

You look at Haechan one last time. His expression contemplative, almost like he's torn between saying something else and keeping quiet. The way he's observing you makes you feel like he's already got you all figured out. Like there's no way he doesn't know you’re having trouble breathing, all because of him.

“See you Saturday.” He says in the sweetest tone, smiling at you like he's done it a million times before.  

You give him a small nod goodbye and when you start to walk away you try your best to do so at a normal speed, not wanting to give away the fact that you're practically running away.   

You hear Jaemin's loud voice again. “Bye Y/N!”   

”Bye Jaemin!” You respond, mimicking his cheerful tone without looking back.   

As you head towards the exit, you've already decided you're going to go with the option of strangling Chenle. Because there’s no way you’re surviving Saturday night without going clinically insane. Not if Haechan holds your gaze the way he did just a few moments ago. Not if he talks the way he talks and certainly not if he looks as good as he always does. 

You’re done for.   

_

You’re baffled as to how and why Chenle knows this many people. You assume majority are friend of friends and acquaintances, because you’ve known the boy for three years now and never has he mentioned more than five names. You’re also starting to get worried he might get a noise complaint from the people occupying the flat downstairs, but you assume he has already warned them about tonight.   

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud exclaim and you feel like laughing when you hear Chenle’s screechy voice shouting Mark’s name excitedly, announcing his drunkenness along with the older boy’s arrival.   

"Lover boy still not here?" Ningning teases you as you check the time on your phone for the umpteenth time that night. She takes a sip from her drink and looks over your shoulder. "Relax, it only 9pm." 

"I'm relaxed." You defend quickly. She takes in your stressed expression and pauses to think for a second. "What?"  

"Nothing, I just realised I haven't seen you so excited about a boy before. It's refreshing." She smiles while trapping the straw between her pearly whites. "Speak of the devil." She jerks her chin towards the direction of the door and you instantly know who she’s referring to, but you don't dare to turn around and look yet. You feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest and Ningning sets her drink down on the kitchen counter before taking hold of both your shoulders. "Y/N, we talked about this. There's literally no reason to freak out. If he flirts, flirt back. Let it happen naturally yeah?" Her tone serious, as if you're both on a mission. 

You widen your eyes comically to match hers, nodding your head quickly while trying not to laugh at her expression. It’s almost as though she’s more anxious than you are. "Ning, I'm good. I got it."  

"Just saying, he'd be a dimwit not to like you." One of her hands pushes a strand of hair behind your ear and the comforting act gives you the reassurance you didn’t know you needed. "Plus, this dress makes your tiddies look yummy." She smirks and you wack her hand away with a laugh when she reaches out to poke into the bit of cleavage that spills from the top of your dress. You can tell she's entered the realms of tipsiness, and you wish you were there with her too, but the tequila shot from earlier definitely didn't do its job. 

"Fuck me, didn’t think this many people would turn up." Jaemin's loud voice startles both of you, making you turn around and you're met with the three boys from your stats class. "Good thing we brought reinforcements, huh?" He says excitedly, shaking a Jack Daniels bottle.   

"Are you a middle aged man by any chance?" Ningning's face scrunched up in disgust as she inspects the whiskey bottle in Jaemin's hands. "What happened to just drinking plain old vodka at parties?"

"Ah, Jeno is your guy." Jaemin points his thumb behind him and Jeno raises the hand holding a vodka bottle.   

Jeno's face lights up when he spots the unused cups and heads over to start making drinks for him and Ningning. "Lemonade?" He asks, looking at her and she nods excitedly. "Same for you Y/N?" His eyes on you now.  

"Nah, I'm on gin tonight, thanks though." You smile appreciatively at him.  

"Guess I'm your guy then."   

Fuck.  

Your eyes instantly meet. He's already smiling down at you, and he looks so good. Too good for your respiratory system to function properly. His dark hair is messily styled, fringe almost covering his eyes. He's got a black button-down shirt on, top three buttons undone, collarbones on display and sleeves rolled up revealing his veiny forearms, all effortlessly combined with dark blue jeans and black converse. Pretty. Perfect.   

Without permission, his hand engulfs yours, wrapping around your drink, bringing the cup to his lips, your own hand slipping down as he downs the liquid in one big gulp. The cooling feeling of his rings lingers, and you can’t help but stare at his neck as he swallows and then his eyes are on you again, his tongue slightly darting out to lick his bottom lip where there's a drop of liquid. His eyebrows furrow and he nods in approval. 

"Lemonade it is." He casually says, like he didn’t almost just cause your heart to fail. He takes your now empty cup with him, joining Jeno at the counter.   

"Well then," Jaemin feigns disappointment, eyebrows furrowing dramatically. "I guess I'm having this whole whiskey bottle to myself."  

"I'm sure Chenle would help you out." Ningning half jokes. "Good luck finding him though." 

"Yeah, what the hell, this place is so crowded." Jeno returns with two drinks and hands one of them to Ningning. "It might be a bit strong, sorry." He warns her.   

Her face grimaces slightly when she takes a reluctant sip, proving Jeno right, making you both laugh. "Eh, it'll do." She says carelessly, "I've had a stressful week."  

"Here to help." Jeno raises his cup, and they do a quick cheers. They start conversing comfortably about why her week was stressful and you're pretty sure they've never met before but that's Ningning. Top yapper, never awkward.   

"Yours might be a bit on the strong side too." Haechan says apologetically as he stands in front of you, handing you back your now full cup. You smile at the sparkly straw he's added. Cute. "Try it."  

And you do. It feels too intense, almost intimate, drinking while holding eye contact with someone, let alone this fine man, so you don't. But you feel his eyes on you as you take a sip. And you really do hope the drink is strong, because if you're going to survive tonight, alcohol will be your savior. He's looking at you, carefully taking in your expression as you taste the drink, almost as if he's sat on the edge of his seat waiting for your reaction.   

"It's good. Thank you." You smile appreciatively as you welcome the slight burn in the back of your throat and he mirrors you excitedly. 

"Good." He nods with a satisfied expression. Then he lets his eyes wander downwards. He takes in your dress in a not-so-subtle way, and you could swear he’s checking you out. You watch his eyes move on you and you love how he's still holding his cup close to his lips, touching the bottom one. You fight against the urge to reach out and drag it down with your thumb. Would he mind if you did that? You reach behind you instead, resting one hand against the counter to somewhat ground yourself, and the action seems to bring him back to reality. Is he always this obvious? 

"Did you also have a stressful week?" He asks casually, like he wasn't just staring at your boobs a second ago. His eyes on yours now.  

"Huh?"  

"Your friend said she's had a stressful week," He explains, chuckling at your confusion. "Was just asking if it was the same for you."  

"Oh right. Umm, I dunno." You shrug. "A little, I guess." 

"How come?" His head tilts to the side slightly.  

"It's always fine until Thursday to be honest." Your admission holds a double meaning and he seems to catch on as the sides of his lips slightly lift amusedly.   

"Really? I thought Thursday was our day, no?" He playfully pouts and you’re trying your best not to let his smooth words affect you. Our day? What a little shit. You notice the silver chain around his neck and you can't help but feel a tinge of shame at the inappropriate thoughts that flood your mind. 

"Just not a big fan of stats." You make up an excuse with a slight delay, hoping that he can't tell you're practically ogling him. 

He nods understandingly. "You and me both. I've been seriously thinking about dropping it next semester."  

"What would you choose instead?" You ask curiously, trying to cover the frown that takes over your face at the thought of not sharing any classes with him. 

"Why, you interested in joining me?" Is he flirting or have you already gone insane?   

"Depends." You shrug, twirling the sparkly straw, eyes not leaving his. 

"I think I'd go for creative writing." He studies your face for a reaction.   

“Oh?” Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “So you really did mean it when you said you wanted to join a book club.” You tease with newfound confidence and he lets out an airy chuckle. 

“That offer's gone now, you turned me down.” He says with a smirk.   

"I'm sure I could convince you to reconsider." You say with a suggestive tone, catching him off guard and before he can retort with a witty response, you return to your initial subject. “So, you wanna be a writer or...?”  

"Well, no, not exactly.” His voice is hesitant, eyes lowering to look at his drink, almost as if he’s embarrassed. Does he think you’ll judge him? You suddenly get the feeling that you might have overstepped.   

“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. You don’t have to-”  

“No, no, you’re good.” His words are rushed, his head shaking quickly, hand reaching to touch your arm reassuringly. It’s light, quick, barely there but his fingers feel hot against your skin. Before you have time to react, he continues. “I just- I don’t really go around talking about personal goals and what not, don’t want you to think I’m flaunting.”  

“Why would I think you’re flaunting?” Your perplexed tone causing him to smile. 

“I wanna make music.” Eyes carefully watch you as he waits for a reaction. When you just nod for him to continue, he almost looks surprised but quickly recovers, clearing his throat. ”So, I thought creative writing would help.”  

"So, you wanna write songs." You state as if to make sure that you heard him correctly and he nods, still watching your face. "Or have you already?" You ask carefully and he chuckles at your attempt to keep your nosiness to a minimum but failing.   

He moves to stand next to you, leaning against the counter. You feel like you can breathe again, now that his eyes aren't on you, but his arm brushes against your shoulder and you almost shiver when you feel the warmth radiating off him. You get a whiff of his scent, subtly inhaling, cologne and detergent mixing into an intoxicating potion that clouds your senses. He's too close but you somehow want him closer. You suddenly wonder where Chenle is and instantly feel bad for threatening to cut his air circulation. This is good. This feels good.   

He looks down at his drink, in thought. "I play the piano, so creating a melody is relatively simple if I really put my mind to it." Oh? He looks at you again and you feel scrutinised under his gaze. Suddenly, your shoes are very interesting to look at. "It's just the words I struggle with." He admits.   

"Maybe you need to find some sort of inspiration?" You suggest.  

"Maybe." He puts his drink down and leans against the counter, crossing his hands on his chest. "Got anything in mind? 

"I mean, it could be a person." You say nonchalantly, without really thinking. "Unless you’ve already got that covered?" The bold question comes out before your brain can process the thought and you internally scream.   

He smiles wide now. Pearly whites on display. His eyes back on yours. "I thought you didn’t mean to pry." He teases and laughs when your eyes widen. “I’m joking.” He elbows your side softly and you almost gasp as the touch. Why does he keep touching you?   

“I tend to get nosy after a couple of drinks, sorry.” You huff a quick laugh before taking another sip of your drink, trying to distract yourself.  

“You can be nosy, I don’t mind.” He says in a more serious tone now and you feel his gaze on you. Choosing to keep your eyes on your drink seems like a wise choice, watching as you swirl the liquid in your cup. "To answer your question though, I currently have no clue what or who I'd write about." He responds indirectly, but the implication is clear. He reaches for his drink again in thought. "Maybe ask me in a year's time? Hopefully I’ve found a source of inspiration by then."   

“That’s fair.” You pick up your phone from the counter and after unlocking it you click on your calendar app. You scroll until you find next year’s October and select today's date. He looks over your shoulder and laughs when he reads 'Ask Haechan about his songwriting' as the reminder's title. You show him your screen and smile when you see the approval on his face.   

"Yeah, that works." He nods.  

You look around and notice that all your friends are now gone. "We should probably mingle." You suggest.   

"Right, yeah." He agrees with a nod, looking around just like you did a second ago. 

When you spot Ningning in the crowd, she's laughing with Jeno and Jaemin. Their attention on Chenle and the girl who's got her tongue down his throat. You and Haechan find the situation just as comical.   

The rest of the night flows smoothly. You get to meet a few more people as well as the other two boys Haechan, Jeno and Jaemin live with and you wonder how all these insanely attractive boys came to be friends. Renjun and Jisung are both equally as lovely. You find Renjun’s mother figure hilarious and Jisung’s shyness endearing. You don't fail to notice that Haechan always hovers close. Not necessarily standing or sitting next to you, but always close enough that you can see him from your peripheral and you can't help but wonder if it's intentional or just a coincidence. 

You’re mid conversation with Mark when you feel a hand on your lower back. You easily recognise the now familiar scent of his cologne, and you instantly turn your head and look at him. You don’t know if it’s the alcohol deceiving you, but he looks even more irresistible than he did before. His hair slightly stuck to his forehead from the heat surrounding the crowded living room, cheeks and lips a deeper shade of pink now that he’s had his fair share of alcohol. You wonder if his lips taste the same as yours since you’ve been having the same drink all night.

“Shots?” Haechan shouts over the music and you and Mark follow him into the kitchen, where Jaemin and Jeno are preparing tequila shots and you wonder who assigned these two clowns with bartender duties. Chenle is now gulping down a glass of water and you’re thankful to whoever made that decision for him. 

As soon as you’ve downed your shot, you take a sip of your drink as a chaser to minimise the burning sensation in your esophagus. “Wanna go get some air?” Haechan leans in and you almost shiver as his warm breath fans against your naked shoulder and you internally thank Ningning for prompting you to wear a strapless dress.   

You respond with a quick nod and he smiles. “I got you.” He mumbles as he takes hold of your hand and leads you to the big balcony doors. On the way, he grabs a hoodie you assume he dumped earlier on the couch and the second you’re outside and he shuts the door, you feel the ringing in your ears. You’re thankful for the fresh air infiltrating your lungs and brain, feeling a little less intoxicated now. “Maybe that shot was a bad call,” Haechan laughs quietly at your dazed expression. “Didn’t take you for a lightweight.” He teases.  

“Yah!” You elbow him, your voice louder than you intended it to be and he giggles softly, clearly also affected by the drinks he’s had all night. “I’ve had the same amount as you.” You pout drunkenly.   

“I’m just teasing.” His smile soft now.   

“Yeah, you seem to keep doing that.” You say with a complaint in your tone, eyes narrowing.   

“Maybe I wouldn’t if you didn’t keep getting all flustered every single time.” His words take you aback; a surprised laugh escaping your throat at his boldness.   

Before you have time to speak, he notices your arms coming up to conceal a shiver and without a word, he’s closer than he’s ever been before. His arms circle around you, hands hovering just above your shoulders as he holds up the hoodie, waiting for you to slot your arms through the sleeves. You look up at him before you obey, his intense stare not giving much room for any objection.   

Once it’s on you, his hands come to your front to fix the neckline that connects to the hood and when you think he’s about to zip you up, he reaches behind you again, playfully dragging the hood up, over your head, covering most of your face with the thick fabric and you whine loudly, causing him to laugh. You push the hood back down, with a frown.

“Aww, cute.” He coos as he gently tames the mess he created on your head, fingers untangling and smoothing down the strands and he smiles endearingly when he’s happy with his work. "There you go, all done." 

“Thanks.” You say in a bashful tone.   

“For keeping you warm or calling you cute?” He asks with a smirk and you can’t help but scoff, feigning annoyance as you swat away the hand still playing with a strand of your hair.   

Desperately needing to escape his daring eyes, you walk past him and towards the railing as you take in the view of the twinkling city lights and you withhold a smile when you feel him follow after you.  

You feel his stare on you as he leans against the railing, taking a vape out of his pocket. He takes a puff and exhales the smoke through his nose, as he takes in the view himself, before turning to meet your eyes again. The action shouldn’t feel this intimate and it definitely shouldn’t make him look even more attractive than he already is. 

You instinctively reach out and fix the chain that’s somewhat tangled around his neck. He doesn’t flinch, just moves his head to the side to make room for your hand and the sides of his lips twitch, fighting a grin. “What flavour is it?” You drop your hand from his collar and step a little closer to take a look at the fruit-flavoured stick in his hand.   

“Cherry ice.” He holds it out for you. “Wanna try it?”   

When you do, you can't help but scrunch your nose at the sugary taste. “Hmm.” Your uncertainty obvious as you exhale the smoke. “It’s too sweet.” You cringe at the aftertaste, your funny expression making him laugh. And you feel your heartbeat fastening at the sound. Because you're right. It's too sweet. 

“I like sweet things.” He says in a hushed voice, as if he's letting you in on a secret. The dual meaning of his words causes a blush to creep up from your neck to your cheeks. You can tell he notices, but this time he holds back on teasing you and turns to look at the view again, taking another puff.  

You gawk at how handsome he looks from this angle. His long lashes, the slope of his perfect nose, his incredibly kissable heart-shaped lips, his sharp jawline, his neck. Pretty. Everything about him. 

“Yeah, I bet you do.” You mutter in a daze. He looks at you again and you don’t look away this time. His brown eyes sparkle, reflecting the city lights below. You realise that you’ve never actually been around him in a setting like this. It’s always been daytime with him. Always crowded. Always surrounded by noise that you had to block out. But now it’s all new.   

Nighttime. Just you two. Quiet.   

“That dress looks good on you, I like it.” His eyes trail down your form again, a lot quicker this time, but still noticeable and at this point you're convinced he's not even trying to hide it. 

Your face feels warmer than before as you look down at your dress, your hand instinctively smoothing down the material. You can see the smoke he exhales from your peripheral and then you choose your words boldly again. “I know you do.”   

“Really?” He steps closer and his hand comes up, thumb delicately tracing the tiny bow at the centre of your cleavage. “What gave me away?” Your heartbeat increases when his fingers trail upwards, pushing your hair behind your shoulder and settling on the base of your neck, his thumb on your jaw, giving you no option but to look up at him.   

“You’re just-” You pause to inhale sharply when you realise how close he is. Your noses almost bumping into each other. You tip your head back slightly, to look at him properly.  

“I’m what?” He urges you to go on.  

“Not very subtle.” You finally finish your sentence.   

“Y/N-” He says with a breathy laugh and you don’t think you’ve ever liked the sound of your name so much before. The tip of his nose rubs against your own just once and the sweetest smile takes over his features. You feel yourself leaning into him even more. His thumb still caressing your jaw and you know he wants to kiss you, but you wait. You let him take the lead. Because you need him to. “I don’t think I ever intended to be subtle with you.”   

Your gaze drifts down to his lips and you so desperately want them on yours now, you think you might cave and close the gap yourself. One of your hands travels up and your pointer finger curls around his chain, pulling just a tiny bit.  And the second he closes the gap you think you’re going through an out-of-body experience. His lips feel soft, and you can instantly tell he’s a good kisser.   

His mouth slots perfectly against yours, slow at first. But he doesn’t waste time when your lips eagerly part against his. He licks at your bottom lip teasingly before briefly sucking, tongue easily finding its way in and the second it glides against your own, hot and wet, you moan. Both your hands find their way in his hair, slightly pulling, and you feel him sigh against your mouth. The hand on your jaw drags slowly to the back of your neck and into your hair, tilting your head to get the angle he wants. It's filthy, the perfect amount of sloppy and careful. A thousand times better than what you’ve imagined. He sucks on your tongue, forcing another moan out of you.   

You try to pull away for a second to catch your breath but the hand in your hair silently instructs you to stay put. “Mmh-mm.” He protests with a whine and the vibration against your mouth feels delicious. Arousing. And you feel pathetic at how wet you already are just from kissing him. He licks into your mouth one more time before pulling back, allowing you to catch your breath, a string of saliva still connecting your lips as you both breathe heavily and your fingers tighten around the collar of his shirt in desperation.   

“Fuck.” He exhales against your lips, sounding beautifully wrecked, chest moving up and down rapidly against your own and your erect nipples feel so sensitive rubbing on his shirt. Even with your eyes still closed, you can sense him looking at you, making you feel exposed and incredibly turned on at the same time.    

You fully come back to your senses when he starts walking you backwards until you’re eventually backed up against the wall next to the balcony door, suddenly reminding you of your surroundings. You don’t have much time to think before his lips are on yours again and you immediately turn into mush in his arms, mouth pliantly giving him access. The only things audible are your heavy breathing and the wet sounds of your lips smacking. The faint music coming from inside, barely noticeable now.

Haechan wraps a hand around your throat, gentle but possessive and you love the weight of it on your sweaty skin, just resting there with intend. His other hand grabs the side of your thigh, raising your leg to rest on his hip. And that’s when you feel the hardness, grinding slowly against your tummy, testing the waters, and you can’t help but gasp in response. 

His mouth leaves yours, trailing gentle kisses down your jaw and the side of your neck, leaving wet patches of your combined spit on your skin, and when he reaches the dip of your collarbone, he bites gently, soothing the skin with his tongue afterwards. You can’t help but clench around nothing.   

He angles your head to the side, giving himself more space to suck and lick where he pleases as his other hand trails from your thigh to the curve of your ass, squeezing the flesh and bunching up your dress in the process. You whimper at the feeling of his rough hand, your eyes rolling back when he grinds into your front again, with more urgency this time.  

"Fuck." You whisper breathlessly, feeling lightheaded.   

“Yeah?” He mumbles against your sensitive skin, and you cup his face in your hands, guiding him to look at you again. “What do you want?” He gives you a sweet peck and you instantly melt, your insides turning into mush as you hold him there, kissing him deeply again, squishing his cheeks between your hands and he smiles into the kiss, biting your bottom lip playfully, letting lets it snap back into place, making you whine softly. “Talk to me baby.” It’s barely audible, and he says it with ease, like he’s been calling you that for a long time and your eyes almost roll back at the pet name. A few hours ago, you were high on nerves because of him and now you’re just high on him, touching you and kissing you and calling you ‘baby’, like he owns you.   

Your thumbs caress his cheekbones before you trail your hands back up into his hair, nails gently scratching his scalp and he closes his eyes, humming in satisfaction. “Want you,” You murmur and kiss the side of his mouth as you drag a hand down his arm, giving his bicep a squeeze, before sneaking down to his hand that’s casually resting on your ass like it belongs there. You interlock your fingers with his, bringing both your hands between your bodies, guiding him under the front of your short dress, pressing his fingers against the seat of your lacy underwear. “Here.” You whisper against his lips and he inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring and you almost laugh at his reaction. Your leg wraps securely around him urging him closer by pushing the calf into his ass.   

“Jesus Christ.” He whispers and his eyes are on his hand as his fingers now start rubbing slowly against your sensitive clit, the delicate lace somewhat helping with the much-needed friction, but you desperately want to feel his skin on yours with no barrier.   

You kiss him again and he pliantly parts his lips for your tongue to invade, allowing you to taste the remnants of cherry ice. Your wet muscle glides against his slowly, and you moan when he pushes the flimsy material of your panties aside, like he’s read your mind. The moan turns into a whine when his middle and ring fingers make direct contact with your swollen clit, rubbing slow circles around the nub with precision, like he knows exactly what you like and you kiss him harder trying to distract yourself from the sensitivity, because there’s no way you’re cumming just from a few touches like a horny teenager.

You both moan in the kiss the moment his fingers dip lower and drag through your wet slit and he doesn’t waste a second, rubbing up and down slowly, spreading the wetness messily.   

“You're soaked, fuck.” he mumbles in awe and you bask in the feeling of him finally knowing how much you want him; how much you need him to do something about it. “Messy baby.” His filthy words cloud your brain as your head lulls back against the wall to watch his face. He looks so pretty, his bottom lip trapped in his mouth, his glazed eyes focused on his hand still working between your legs. 

He must feel your eyes on him because he looks up at you and watches your reaction with a satisfied expression as the tip of his middle finger catches at your entrance before coming back up to your clit, spreading more of your wetness. He smirks when your jaw drops and your eyes roll back as he starts rubbing the bundle of nerves in firm and quick side-to-side motions with three of his fingers. 

"You're so pretty." He mutters against your lips and your stomach flutters at the words, along with your pussy.

“Fuck.” You whine when you feel him delicately suckle on your bottom lip, his tongue playfully dipping out to lick before he starts kissing down to your neck again and your arms wrap around his shoulders, holding him close, tugging at the fabric of his shirt in desperation. “So good.” You breathe into the night air, relishing in the intense pleasure the pads of his digits are giving you, flicking with just the right amount of pressure, exactly how yours would.   

“Wanna make you cum.” He breathes heavily into your neck, dragging his lips up until he gently bites your earlobe. His fingers move faster now, abusing your poor clit, circling and massaging harder, and you feel a bead of sweat rolling down the back of your bent knee.   

“Yeah, want it.” You nod eagerly, your hips jolting forward and he inhales sharply.   

“Yeah, baby?” His eyes on you now. “Think you can take it?” His fingers now slowing down, teasing.  

“Uh-huh.” You manage to get out in urgency as his fingers dip down again. “Please.” You stare into his eyes, and you feel yours starting to water when his middle and ring fingers slowly slide into you with ease. Your jaw drops, the stretch delicious and so needed, so welcome. Your vision blurs when he slowly starts pumping them in and out, testing the waters first and your eyes roll back in relief. A squeal escapes you when he curls his fingers just the right amount and starts fucking in and out of your pussy at a rapid pace, like he’s on a mission.   

“Oh fuck!” You exclaim in shock, your hand flying to his bicep as you look down at his hand, the veins protruding on his tan arm, the sight so sinful you have to close your eyes again. The heel of his palm rubbing against your clit each time he fucks into you, creates a deliciously warm vibration. The sounds are obscene, your wetness making every thrust loud. 

Another pornographic moan breaks out of you when his pace gets a little rougher and Haechan has to shut you up with a hand on your mouth. Your shaky fingers are clawing at his chest, over his shirt, and he lets out a low grunt against the hand he’s got pressed on your mouth, his forehead resting on yours and his eyes closing when you clench around his fingers. Your legs start shaking from the intense pleasure and he opts to wrapping his arm securely around your waist in order to help you maintain your compromised balance. He doesn’t hesitate to replace his hand with his lips, silencing you with a wet, tongue-filled kiss, swallowing all your noises. You’re not really kissing him back, your lips parted against his at a pathetic attempt of reciprocating, just panting and whining, completely lost in pleasure. 

“I’m so close.” You whisper and you feel like you’re on the verge of crying.   

“I’ve got you, baby, c'mon.” He murmurs into the messy kiss breathlessly, saliva coating both your chins and you love every second of it. The pads of his fingers now abusing the spongy spot at the front of your walls at an intense speed, hitting it just perfectly and you think you might pass out. Your walls flutter around his fingers, sucking him in and you're sure he can tell you're right there. Slick is dripping down his wrist, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. “Fuck yeah, there it is.”  

“Haechan, I'm-“ Your eyes slightly widen, and you can’t even finish your sentence as you stumble over the edge. “Oh my god.” Your voice strained, your lungs struggling to keep up. The heat from where his fingers are burying repeatedly, starts spreading and your stomach clenches. Your walls clamp down on his hand, kneading his fingers and for a second, his eyes close, seeming to enjoy the constricting feeling. Your own eyes roll back at the pleasure, eyebrows creased, jaw dropping in a silent moan, breaths coming out quick and you're sure he can feel your leg shaking uncontrollably against his hip.   

“Fuck, you feel so good.” His words make you smile in your daze, and you bite on your bottom lip knowing he finds pleasure in your own. He doesn’t stop moving his fingers, letting you ride out your high for as long as possible and when your eyes open, you see him watching your face in awe, and ironically, you feel shy.

His fingers slow down when you whine from overstimulation, until he completely halts and buries them inside to enjoy the feeling of your sensitive walls for a little longer. He kisses your cheek sweetly as he carefully pulls out of you, his fingers bumping lightly against your clit, causing you to flinch. He buries his face in your neck to conceal his laugh, hot breath fanning against your damp skin as he scatters little kisses.

You sigh and relax contently when his warm hand cups your soaked centre and he keeps it there in a comforting manner.   

"Good?” He whispers, nose delicately rubbing against your flushed skin and you almost don’t hear him due to the ringing in your ears still lingering after the intense high.  

"Yeah." Your forehead is sweaty; you feel baby hairs sticking to the damp skin and you lazily smile at how fast his heart is beating against your palm. Your eyes are staring dreamily at his face and you rub your nose against his, your hand coming up to stroke his cheek affectionately. Your thumb drags across his bottom lip and he bites on it playfully, his nose scrunching cutely, making you swoon. It scares you how comfortable you already feel around him.   

Your leg drops from his hip, and you wince at the soreness. His hand now trapped between your legs, still cupping your heat. An idea pops into your head, making you smirk and he watches your expression with an inquisitive look, eyebrows raising slightly in question. 

"What?" He asks, eyes innocent, seemingly lost. 

You firmly wrap a hand around his wrist, trying not to whimper when you feel his fingers drag against your sensitive clit and your hold tightens. He lets you lift his hand between both your faces, his eyes inspecting the strings of wetness stretching between his long digits. Without warning you lean forward, wrapping your swollen lips around the two fingers that were inside you just a few minutes ago and Haechan whimpers at the sinful gesture. It’s erotic, filthy and you don’t even know what took over you but you certainly relish in his reaction. Your eyes watching him carefully, his pupils dilated as he watches you hungrily, cheeks flushed, swollen lips parted prettily.   

“Shit, baby.” His voice on the whiny side now, and you feel his other hand tightening on your hip. He’s very clearly turned on and you almost feel bad for torturing him, considering he’s done nothing but please you. He pushes his fingers deeper inside your mouth wanting you to taste yourself and you swirl your tongue around them, harshly sucking, making a mess on purpose. You let a satisfied hum around his digits, closing your eyes as you pull them out with a wet pop.   

“You’re being unfair now.” He grunts and grabs the back of your neck, crashing his lips against yours in an open-mouthed kiss. Teeth clashing and tongues tangling messily as he licks into your mouth obscenely, moaning at the taste of you. You let out a surprised yelp when his fingers find your oversensitive cunt again and he dips them between your puffy lips, rubbing them up and down, like he did before, unforgivingly ignoring your protesting sounds. “Still so wet.” He mutters into the kiss and you whine pathetically.   

“Mmf-, too much.” You force the words out against his mouth and grab his wrist in urgency this time. He laughs meanly but obliges anyway. He brings his soaked fingers up to his own lips this time and you can’t seem to be able to break eye contact as he slowly sucks on them, making a spectacle, the act much more intimate when he’s the one doing it.   

Once he’s done, he drops his hand on your waist, wiping the wetness on the material of his hoodie and kisses you again, this time slow, languidly, wanting to savour your taste and he moans when your hands start unbuckling his belt. “Can I make you cum?” You murmur into the kiss and he’s contemplating but just as he's about to kiss you again, the moment is ruined by a wandering Jaemin, who rolls the doors open and lets out a shocked sound when he steps out.   

“Oh shit, sorry.” His eyes widen when he realises it’s you and Haechan he’s walked in on and not a couple of strangers. “Oh shit.” He says again, with more emphasis this time and you bury your face in Haechan’s shoulder to hide your embarrassment. His arm around your waist tightens in reassurance, sensing your unease and you smile against his neck in silent gratitude. “Yo!” Jaemin says loudly and points an accusatory finger at both of you. "What the fuck? We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”   

“Jaem, read the fucking room.” Haechan’s tone is slightly harsh but his touch feels delicate where his hand strokes gently on your waist. “Go back inside, we’ll join you in a bit.”   

Jaemin grins mischievously. “Well, most people have gone home now, I just came out to have a smoke, but I’ll leave you to it.” He moves to head back inside but before shutting the big glass door he pokes his head out again. “Oh, just fyi, Chenle is passed out on the sofa and Mark is still in there somewhere, just in case you’re planning on fucking out here.” His expression then changes, eyes narrowing as he inspects both of you from head to toe, a look of realisation taking over his face. 

“Unless you already have?” He poses quizzically. 

“You’ll go back inside now, unless you want Jeno finding out about last-“   

”Kay bye!” Jaemin quickly shuts the door, fleeing the scene before Haechan can finish his sentence.  

“Sorry about him.” Haechan mutters, burying his face into your shoulder and lets out a sigh. “Half his brain cells appear to be dead.” You snort at his jokey comment but you can sense the irritation in his voice. You run your fingers through his hair, scratching on the back of his neck and smile to yourself when you feel him shiver against you, his cheek resting on your shoulder.   

He lifts his head, looking down your figure as his hands slide down your hips and onto the tops of your thighs, dipping under the hem of your dress and before you can protest, he slips your underwear back into place. His knuckles drag against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and your breath hitches when you feel him tap his fingers against your core lightly. He laughs when you slap his hand away and you narrow your eyes at him scoldingly. You relax when he smooths over the fabric of your dress to make it look less wrinkled and you find yourself fighting a smile at the sweet gesture. It feels domestic almost. 

“Thanks.” You say softly, eyes locking with his. He smiles and leans down to quickly peck you on the lips. His hands caress your sides one last time and then they slide up, squeezing your tits softly in the process, the pads of his fingers lightly dipping into the flesh that spills over the top of your tight dress.  

”Pretty.” He mumbles almost to himself and if you were under the impression he was an ass man, now you're thinking you might have been wrong. He continues his journey upwards, taming your messy hair, gently combing stray strands behind your ears. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”   

When you step back inside, you both quietly laugh at the sight of poor Chenle sprawled face first on his new sofa and you’re pretty sure he’s drooling on it. Haechan heads into the kitchen and comes back with a glass of water, which he places on the coffee table next to Chenle’s unmoving body. He then maneuvers him carefully, turning him on his side so he doesn’t choke to death in his sleep with his face buried in the cushions. You smile at the thoughtful gesture, and you move to grab your bag from the coffee table to distract yourself from the fluttering in your stomach.   

“’Will he be okay on his own?” A tinge of concern in his eyes.   

“Yeah, he’ll be fine. He always passes out like this when he gets too drunk.” You lean down and leave a small kiss on Chenle’s temple, brushing the hair away from his forehead. “I’d say he looks angelic but he’s actually the devil incarnate.” You whisper, observing Chenle’s cute face, and you can confirm he’s actually drooling on his sofa. 

_

The walk back to your place is mostly quiet but comfortable. Haechan swings your interlocked hands distractedly as you’re both walking at a slow pace, trying to prolong the night for as long as possible. 

“What’s Jaemin’s dirty laundry then? You threatened him you’d tell Jeno earlier.” You break the silence and he chuckles at your question. 

“He had sex in Jeno’s bed last year.” He chuckles as he spills the secret and looks at you, gauging your reaction. 

“Sounds like someone needs to teach that boy a lesson.” You say, and before you can stop the words tumbling out of your mouth, “Maybe we should fuck in his bed.” Your eyes widen at your own words and Haechan’s head snaps up to look you, mirroring your shocked expression. And then he laughs loudly. A kind of laugh you’ve never heard from him. His hand rests on his abdomen as if his stomach is in pain.   

“Alright it’s not that funny.” You pout in embarrassment. “In my head it sounded kind of sexy.”   

His laugh gradually dies down until there’s just amusement written on his face. “I mean, we can do that if you actually want to, but I have other priorities.”   

“Meaning?” 

“Well..” He trails in thought. “Ideally, I'd like to take you out first,” You feel like exploding but you maintain a stoic expression, gesturing him to continue. “And I'd rather fuck you in my own bed before moving on to Jaemin’s or anyone else’s.”   

Your breath catches at his forwardness and you’re suddenly struggling to find the right words. “Umm,” you think carefully. “What about my bed?” You ask innocently.   

"Don't worry, it's up there." His smirk makes you feel weak and you feel him squeeze your hand in his, running his thumb over the back of it.   

“You sound awfully confident.” You say calmly, fighting a smile.  

He pulls you closer by your hand. “What, you think I’m playing?” He almost sounds offended.   

“I dunno, don’t really know much about you.” You shrug. 

“Do you want to?” He asks and for the first time he sounds nervous.   

You squeeze his hand the same way he did with yours, hoping to reassure him. “I think I’ve made it pretty clear that I do.” You halt your movements when you reach your building and look up into his eyes. “A lot.” His fingers stay intertwined with yours lazily. A relieved smile takes over his expression, and you really feel like kissing him again. He looks shy all of a sudden and a giggle escapes your throat. “Cute.”   

He clicks his tongue to show annoyance, and you can see him poking the muscle against the inside of his cheek, trying to hold back a smile when he looks away for a second. Then he steps closer, invading your space again. “You wanna give me your number? I don’t really use instagram.”   

“Okay, green flag.” You say playfully and he snorts. You hold your hand out for him to pass you his phone and when you’ve saved your contact, you text yourself a “hi” so you can save his number too.   

“Cool.” He says casually as he shoves his phone in his back pocket.   

“Cool.” You say back and step closer to him, wanting to feel his warmth one more time before parting ways. He smiles in understanding and pulls you closer, wrapping both arms around your waist to hold your body flush against his. You wrap your arms around his middle and rest your head on his chest. “I had fun tonight.” You murmur.  

He rests his chin at the top of your head. One of his hands sneaks up and holds the back of your neck gently while the other strokes the small of your back. “I did too.” His fingers bury in your hair, gently pulling to make you look at him but you don’t get the chance, because his lips are on yours instantly, dragging slowly, carefully. Both his hands cup your face as he licks your bottom lip for access, which you give without a second thought and his tongue sneaks in to play with yours, letting you taste him. Your body completely relaxes against his, enjoying the warm feeling of his chest against yours.  

You whine when he pulls back to look at you and he smiles when your lips trail after his. He gives in with a smile, chastely kissing you again. No tongue this time, but he playfully sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, and you love how safe you feel in his arms. He trails up, kissing the tip of your nose and back down again as he gives you another wet smooch before creating a tiny bit of distance between your lips while still maintaining the closeness between your bodies.  

You smile against his jaw as you slip your hand into his empty back pocket, lightly squeezing his ass cheek and he laughs at your playfulness.

“Okay, you better go now before I drag you upstairs with me.” You give him a little kiss on the cheek before slipping away from his warmth. You take off his hoodie and hand it back to him.   

"Mmm okay." He moves away reluctantly. “I’ll text you yeah?” He says with a cute smile.  

“I’ll try and text you back.” You tease and he rolls his eyes, his smile not faltering.   

“Night, Y/N.” He quietly says in the night air and you melt at the way your name rolls off his tongue.  

“Night, Haechan.” You give him a small wave goodbye and watch him walk away.   

_

The next morning, you're quietly munching on your cereal, lost in thought, reminiscing last night like it’s a distant memory, when you see a hungover Jeno messily stumbling out of Ningning's room, carrying his shoes in one hand and his jacket in the other. "Didn't care to take off your shoes at the door?" Your voice seems to startle him in the quiet of the morning.   

"Shit!" His reaction making you laugh. "Fuck, Y/N, you scared me."  

"Sorry." You're really not. "Are you pulling a French exit on my friend?" Your serious tone seems to intimidate him.  

"No, she's awake, just snoozing." He says quickly. "I swear." You try not to laugh at the nervousness written all over his face. "Nothing happened, we just cuddled."   

"Relax, I'm just fucking with you." You chuckle at his disheveled state. "Want some breakfast? I can offer three kinds of cereal." You point at your selection of boxes.  

His eyes widen eagerly at that. "Sure, thanks." He walks towards where you're sitting at the kitchen table, dropping his shoes on the floor and his jacket on the back of his chair, before taking a seat across from you. "I'll just have what you're having." He says with a sweet smile, eyes almost disappearing and you realise he sort of looks like a Samoyed puppy but refrain from making a comment. You’re not that close after all.  

You nod and get up to grab him a bowl. He's looking at his phone when he speaks up again. "So, you and Haechan?" You hold back a smile as you pass him a bowl with a spoon and the milk. He looks at you again and he explains when he sees your questioning stare. "Jaemin messaged the group chat."  

"Ah," You nod in understanding. "Of course."  

"So?" He asks expectantly, chewing loudly after he's poured the milk in his cheerios.   

"What, you can't wait until he tells you himself?" You ask sarcastically.  

"Girls' perspectives are always better." He pauses mid munch. "Plus, Haechan is the most private dude when it comes to stuff like that." For some reason that doesn't surprise you.   

"Good for him." You get up to wash your bowl after finishing. "Maybe you're just too nosy."   

"Oh c'mon, it's not that big of a deal, is it?" Your silence seems to intrigue him. "Or maybe it is?"  

You turn to look at him when you're done washing up, leaning next to the sink and you see he's already devoured the contents of his bowl. "Feel free to go for seconds." You say pointing at the box in front of him and his face lights up before he starts pouring more cereal.   

"Do you like him then?" He asks casually as he starts munching again and the question makes you falter. "Because, if you do," He swallows. "I can confirm it's reciprocated." Your eyebrows lift at his confession and Jeno smirks at your shocked expression. "Just spill, I won't tell him." And you trust his words, but you suddenly feel shy, thinking about your intimate moments with Haechan.   

"I'll tell you if you tell me about you and Ning." You like knowing boys' perspectives too.  

"Sounds fair." He nods with his mouth full.   

"You want the TMI or PG-13 version?" You appreciate he's still eating so you don't want to ruin his breakfast.

"TMI, always." He says casually.  

"He fingered me on Chenle's balcony and then said he wants to take me out." Jeno chokes at your confession.  

"Jesus woman!" He coughs lightly and clears his throat before continuing. "No tact whatsoever."  

You snort at his reaction. "You said 'TMI always' no?"  

"Was it good?" He asks in a quieter and more serious tone now. Like he's asking you to share one of your deepest secrets. And here you were thinking you weren’t that close. You can’t help but laugh because that sounds like what Ningning would have asked in a situation like this. Maybe they are a good match after all.   

"The fingering?" He nods at your question, eyes not leaving yours, having paused his eating, spoon still in hand hovering over his bowl. "I mean, I thought I was gonna pass out at some point so, yeah, pretty good."  

An eyebrow raised in fascination. "Damn, go Haechan." Then he asks carefully. "So, I take it you'd go out with him?"  

You shrug. "Maybe, but I don’t think I want a situationship or anything like that."  

"You're in luck, he's not into that shit either." 

"We'll see, he hasn't texted yet." You try to sound casual but you know Jeno can see right through you.   

"Don't worry, he will."   

"Who says I'm worried?" You huff a humorless laugh.   

He rolls his eyes and gets up to walk over to the sink, taking his bowl with him. "If he said he wants to take you out, he meant it. And trust me when I say, that boy has had enough of casual flings. He might be going about it a bit backwards, but he’s definitely interested." He states like it's a fact and you're thankful he's trying to reassure you even though he doesn't owe you anything.   

"How do you know it's reciprocated?" You ask carefully, referring to what Jeno said earlier and he smiles cheekily.   

"I thought you weren't worried." He teases, moving his eyebrows up and down and you flick the back of his head. "Ow! Okay okay, jeez." He rubs the sore spot with the inside of his wrist to prevent his soapy fingers from touching his hair. He then proceeds to dry the clean bowl with the kitchen towel he spots on the counter and hands it to you with a sweet smile on his face.   

"Thanks, you didn't have to wash up." You say, putting the bowl back on its shelf. He waves his hand, gesturing that there's no need to thank him for something so small.  

"He said he thought you were ‘pretty cool’ after we hounded you on Thursday and for the first time in, like, forever, he was stressing about his outfit before a party."  

You give him a pointed look. "How’s that an indication of anything?"  

"Trust me, that's enough indication for Haechan. He's probably already planning your wedding as we speak." You roll your eyes at his exaggeration. "Y/N, he likes you. It was so obvious that both me and Jaem knew he was gonna make a move last night." He sits down again and starts putting his shoes on. "Obviously, I didn't think he was gonna finger you in a public space and what not but-"  

"To be fair, I initiated that." You interrupt him and he snorts.  

"I'm sure he didn't mind." Jeno jokes with a smirk, and you cover your face in embarrassment, earning a chuckle from him. He must be enjoying this because he proceeds to tease even more. "If anything, he probably found that incredibly hot." You groan at his words. "Seriously, there's nothing hotter than a woman who knows what she wants."   

You look at him through your fingers still covering your face, a teasing comment pops in your head. Two can certainly play this game.   

"That explains why you didn't sleep in your own bed last night." You notice the blush that creeps up on his cheeks and you can help but cross your arms over your chest proudly.  

"Yeah, something like that." He says sheepishly, his hand awkwardly scratching the back of his neck and you suddenly can't wait for your debrief with Ningning later. "Anyway, my point is, I think you should give him a chance." He finishes putting his shoes on, both feet on the floor now and he looks at you, his back leaning against the chair and his arms crossing over his chest. "He's a great guy." 

"Alright, enough about me, your turn now."   

_

Haechan likes to think he's a decent guy. He's got his life together; he's on top of his coursework, he gets decent grades, he's got good friends and he's got a part-time job at a record store that pays relatively well. At least well enough to cover his own personal expenses. His parents help him out with rent, but they do appreciate his efforts and he does his best to not feel like a burden. He's a good son and a good big brother to all three of his siblings. 

He's polite to old people and even helps them cross the street when he needs to, he loves his friends and always looks out for them, even if he gets grumpy sometimes, he never holds grudges and is upfront about things that bother him. He likes buying his loved ones presents and not just for special occasions. Not because he's a people pleaser, but because he just likes making them happy whenever he can. He tries not to lie except for the odd white lie here and there.

He doesn't fuck around or date aimlessly. At least not anymore. He went through a phase during his first year of uni but it's been two years since then and he's currently embracing single life. Yes, he sometimes does cave into the temptation of bringing a girl back after a party, but it's a rare occurrence and he's always honest about what he wants. He hates leading people on. It's not that he's afraid of commitment, he often finds himself wanting a girlfriend but he's not actively searching for one either.   

He knows he doesn't lack in the looks department, or in any other department really. Yeah, he's got his silly insecurities like everyone else but he's a confident guy overall. Although, he does admit that he can sometimes be cocky, that's because he knows he's the most mature out of his friends. Yes, Renjun mostly looks after everyone and has a motherly figure, but Haechan gives the best advice when it comes to most serious life dilemmas, and he's aware of that. He might not be the brightest when it comes to academics but he's confident when it comes to navigating life sensibly and responsibly. That's why he was completely and utterly flabbergasted when you came into the picture. His picture.   

He's always noticed you before, yes, and he's always thought you were good looking, but that's about it. He doesn't just go around hitting on every girl he finds attractive. He's more of a 'personality above all else' type of man, so when he first saw you, even though he thought to himself 'wow, pretty', he didn't think it would be appropriate to just come up to you and ask for your number. Plus, you seemed somewhat reserved from the few times you had exchanged words. Not that he didn't like that, because he did, he did find you intriguing, he would get to know you if the opportunity posed itself to him, but he also didn't feel like chasing after you would be something you'd like or even welcome. You didn't seem cold, just indifferent. And so, he kind of just opted to observing you from afar.

Sometimes you were alone, other times you were with a girl whose name he didn't know, others with a boy whose name he couldn't remember. He was sure they'd met before though, maybe at a party around campus or maybe through a friend? He couldn't quite place him. Other times you were with them both, laughing your heart out at whatever you three were talking about and he found himself wondering what makes you laugh that hard.   

He knew you always sat two rows behind him in his stats class every Thursday afternoon, his last class of that day. However, he rarely got to see you on Thursdays, even though you were both in the same room for an hour and a half. You always arrived after him and left before him, so, whenever he turned his head at the end of the lecture to look for you, you were already gone. The times he did get to see you, were the times he would turn up a little later than normal, which was exactly one minute before the professor started speaking. Even then, he wasn't really able to observe you for as long as he'd ideally like. He would just get to see the back of your head for a few seconds before reaching his usual seat. He sometimes would pretend to crack his back, just to turn around twice and look at your pretty face for a few seconds. Your attention was always on the notes in front of you though. One time he did catch you already staring at him. You looked away the second his eyes met yours, almost shy. He found it cute and thought to himself; 'maybe she's not that indifferent after all'.   

He knew you and Jeno were somewhat friendly because you shared a few classes and he was sure he'd caught you speaking with Jaemin a couple times in corridors. He wasn't jealous or anything, but he definitely wouldn't mind being on first name basis with you too. And it's not like he was obsessed with you. He didn't really think about you that much, but his intrigue definitely intensified when he got to speak to you properly for the first time at that party just before summer. He can’t clearly remember what you two exactly talked about, but he does remember not wanting to leave, he remembers thinking you looked unreal and he certainly remembers wishing he could relive that moment sober so he could memorise every word that came out of your mouth.   

Things have changed now though. Drastically and unexpectedly. Because just two days ago he got to speak to you again and his curiosity morphed into excitement.

You pleasantly surprised him. From the way you handled yourself around Jaemin's obnoxiously loud personality to the way you put Jeno in his place like no girl ever has before. You were witty and smart and sweet. Too sweet. And he knows that, because he's quite literally tasted you now. Just a few hours ago he had you pinned against the wall of your friend's new apartment. Just a few hours ago he had you gasping and writhing and pathetically whining his name, simply because his fingers were too much for you. And he loved every second of it.   

Haechan didn't really go to Chenle's party thinking he'd get some. He was just excited to get to know you and speak to you one on one. He went into the situation hoping he could maybe flirt with you and end up with your number in his contact list at the end of the night, which he did. And maybe he was hoping he could get to walk you home and get a kiss from you, which again, he did. But he didn't expect you'd reciprocate his flirting like you were prepared for it. He definitely didn't expect you'd ask him who and what he wants to write songs about and he definitely didn't expect you to kiss him back the way you did.

He's kissed many people before. He's had good kisses, bad ones, a few memorable ones and certainly a lot of forgettable ones. He's never kissed anyone the way he kissed you, though. And he's equally never had anyone kiss him the way you kissed him. Not even ex-girlfriends. Not that he's had many, but the two he's had don't even come close. And that scares him. Because if Haechan thought he wasn't obsessed with you before, he really doesn't know what to think now. But what he does know is that it’s incredibly unfair of you to make him feel and think this much, this soon.

It's still early, the sun barely out. He's maybe managed to get four hours of sleep before getting woken up by the sound of someone retching in the bathroom down the hall. Most likely Jaemin. He almost fell asleep again after that but the sound of a door slamming, completely ruined his slumber. So, now he's just staring at his ceiling, one arm supporting his head on the pillow and the other resting lazily on his naked stomach. He feels tired but he knows he won't be able to go back to sleep now. And that's fine, because he can at least think about you. He can think about your voice and your scent and he can think about how you touched him and how you let him touch you. He can think about how you tried to keep quiet in the midst of pleasure but miserably failed repeatedly. And he's definitely going to think about how good you felt around his fingers. Perfect. There are so many things he can think about when it comes to you and there's not a single bad one. Everything related to you is good.   

You said you wanted to get to know him 'a lot', and that was exactly what he wanted to hear, but he can't help but wonder when you started to feel this way. Not that it matters that much, because, regardless of the timeline, he's going to make it happen. He's going to take you out and he's going to get to know you. He's almost worried that he's going about this in the wrong order, because, ideally, he would have wanted to take you out before any kissing and sexual activities took place. Not because he's old fashioned or some kind of prude, but because he doesn't want you getting the wrong impression. He doesn't want you thinking he's only into you because of the sexual chemistry you share. Of course, he thinks physical intimacy is important, but he's always found that emotional intimacy beats all. And he wants to see if he can get to that level with you. He knows you're compatible sexually, he could tell last night you were on the same wavelength. There was no awkwardness, no uncertainty. 

He could tell you knew your body well, that you knew what you wanted and he liked that you weren't shy about it. And he'd be lying if he said that wasn't one of his favourite parts of the night; the moment you guided his hand where you wanted it. He found that so attractive that he actually thought about it when he got in his bed last night and finally managed to relieve the hardness in his boxers. He loved that you weren't shy about how much you wanted him to touch you. You were the perfect amount of vocal, and your body reacted to his words the way he hoped it would. So, yes, he is positive sexual chemistry isn’t something you two would struggle with, but he also doesn't want it to be the main thing that you connect on. He wants a lot more than that.   

Haechan is self-aware. He's a horny guy and he's not shy about it. He likes what he likes and there's not much he doesn't like when it comes to sex. He's very much open to exploring and what not, but he knows that he's always struggled connecting with people on an emotional level before. Especially people he's dated. He's had flings and he's had casual sexual partners. He's been in a couple of serious relationships, and he's been infatuated with his ex-girlfriends or ex flings, but he knows he’s never been in love with any of them. He remembers thinking he loved his first girlfriend, but he was only 16 back then and when he thinks back to that relationship, he barely sees it as a relationship. All they ever did was go on walks, watch movies, cuddle and make out. Eventually it just fizzled out. 

His second relationship was serious, but toxic. He remembers enjoying the push-and-pull situation initially but when it all became so unbearably exhausting, it put him off relationships for a long time. Now that he's had time to be alone and process his own feelings, he knows he's capable of commitment, but he wants it to be with the right person, and he wants it to be with someone who will accept him for who he is. Haechan knows that if he found the one now, he would commit. And he doesn't know if you're the one, but he wouldn't mind exploring if you would stick around for the long run.   

And so, later in the day, when he's lazily sprawled on the sofa, next to a hungover Jeno, who apparently saw you this morning and reassured him that you're definitely interested, Haechan decides to finally text you like he promised. When he opens your chat, he sees you've already texted yourself to save his number and added a little sunflower emoji next to your name and he smiles to himself. He wonders if you've added an emoji next to his name too and if so, which one?  

20:03 Hae☀️: hey pretty   

20:03 Hae☀️: have any free periods tomorrow?   

20:09 y/n🌻: hii :)  

20:09 y/n🌻: i do 

20:10 y/n🌻: I am free between 1pm-3pm   

20:11 Hae☀️: wanna grab a coffee with me? 

20:12 y/n🌻: i'd love to 

20:13 Hae☀️: woop! 

20:13 Hae☀️: where shall I meet you?  

20:18 y/n🌻: how about the café by the architecture building?  

20:21 Hae☀️: i know the one  

20:21 Hae☀️: i'll be there there at 1pm sharp  

20:22 Hae☀️: don't stand me up 👉🏻👈🏻  

20:24 y/n🌻: i would never 🥺  

20:25 Hae☀️: thought about you a lot today  

20:26 y/n🌻: really?  

20:26 y/n🌻: what did you think about?  

20:28 Hae☀️: yes really  

20:28 Hae☀️: just...things   

20:29 Hae☀️: can't say much more than that   

20:29 Hae☀️: did you not think about me? :( 

20:31 y/n🌻: nah   

20:31 y/n🌻: not really :(  

20:32 Hae☀️: 🙄  

20:32 Hae☀️: ur rude  

20:32 Hae☀️: and a liar    

20:34 y/n🌻: oops  

20:34 y/n🌻: why ask a question you already know the answer to?   

20:35 Hae☀️: smooth   

20:35 Hae☀️: i guess i needed some reassurance  

20:36 y/n🌻: Hae?  

20:36 Hae☀️: yea?  

20:37 y/n🌻: I thought about you  

20:37 y/n🌻: a lot   

20:37 y/n🌻: like an unhealthy amount  

20:38 Hae☀️: fuck   

20:38 Hae☀️: didn't think you'd actually say it  

20:40 y/n🌻: happy?  

20:40 y/n🌻: it appears I can't say no to you  

20:41 Hae☀️: very :)  

20:41 Hae☀️: it appears the feeling is mutual  

The rest of Haechan's evening consists of him pretending he's paying attention to the Netflix show Jeno picked out for them to watch after dinner, when the only thing he's actually interested in are the messages he's exchanging with you. You told him you're also chilling on your couch with Ningning, watching a crime documentary with a bowl of instant ramen.  

"Bruh, you're astronomically whipped." Jeno laughs to himself, the constant buzzing coming from  Haechan's phone making it obvious that he's been messaging you.   

"Yeah, so? Deal with it." Haechan doesn't even lift his head to look at Jeno, just keeps smiling distractedly at his screen.   

Jeno snorts. "At least you're not denying it." He turns his attention back to the show he's practically been watching on his own for the past hour. "I respect that."  

Haechan looks up at Jeno and shrugs. "I'm no fraud, Lee Jeno. You, of all people, should know that." And that earns him laugh with a nod of approval.   

“You asked her out yet?” The question casual. No teasing tone detected, just curiosity.   

"I'm seeing her tomorrow between classes." Haechan's attention back on your chat.   

“Like a coffee date?” Jeno asks cutely and Haechan just responds with a nod, his thumbs hovering over his keyboard as he looks up at Jeno, waiting for some sort of comment.  

“That's a good first date.” Jeno's words of approval offer Haechan a sense of relief he didn't know he needed. "Just good quality time, no pressure."  

“Yeah, that's what I was thinking.” Haechan's eyes are on the tv now, but he isn't really paying attention to the programme.  

Jeno sees right through him. "You nervous?"  

Haechan thinks about his response. Is he nervous? “More excited than nervous, I'd say.” Haechan looks up at him when he's met with silence. "What?" He asks confused when he notices his friend's amused expression.   

“Nothing, just trying to think when you turned into an absolute sap.” And he laughs loudly when Haechan hits him in the face with one of the cushions scattered on the sofa. “Relaaaaax you big baby, I'm just messing with you.” Jeno throws the cushion back at Haechan and he catches is with a grunt. “I actually think this is good. You haven't dated anyone half decent in a long time.”   

Haechan snorts, because Jeno's words hold nothing but the truth. “True.” He states with a purse of his lips.   

“If your first date is casual vibes, you should do something fancy for the second one.” Jeno says in a skeptical tone.  

“Since when are you a dating expert?”  

“Shut up, you've been dying to ask for advice and you know it.” He's right, but Haechan would never admit that. “It should also be on a Friday or Saturday so you don't have to worry about being hungover in class.” Jeno points a finger at Haechan. “Karaoke could be fun!”  

“Where are you taking Ningning?” Jeno's eyes widen at the question and Haechan chuckles triumphantly. "You ever gonna tell me about that or nah?"  

“Your new girlfriend can tell you all about it tomorrow.” Jeno crosses his arms over his chest after pulling the hood of his jumper over his head.   

“Yeah, we're gonna spend the entirety of our first date talking about your sexcapades.” Haechan responds sarcastically.   

“No sexcapades, she said she's not currently dating.” Jeno says quickly with a frown.   

“And that's a problem for you, because..?” Haechan gestures with his hand for Jeno to explain. “Is your ego hurt or something?”  

Jeno shrugs his shoulders like a toddler. “Just a bit disappointing, you know?”  

“Shit.” Haechan says with a tone of fascination. “So, you're into her then.”  

Jeno shrugs with a huff and Haechan almost feels bad.   

“Did you sleep with her or nah?”  

“Nah, just cuddled.” Jeno admits, voice laced with disappointment.   

“Jeno,” Haechan pinches the bridge of his nose to show exasperation. “You're an idiot.”  

“Wha- why?” Jeno's eyes widen at his friend's insult.   

“Are you being daft on purpose? She would've fucked you and chucked you out if she wasn't interested.” Haechan is putting the facts out on the table as if it's going to help Jeno realise what is happening, but to no avail. “She's clearly aware of your reputation.”   

Jeno perks up at that. "What about my reputation?" His eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.   

Haechan kisses his teeth. "You're a certified slut."  

“Yeah and? What am I meant to do?”  

“Well, if you want her, you're gonna have to work for it.” Haechan says like it's self-explanatory.  

"I don't chase." Jeno mumbles stubbornly.   

"No Ningning then." And Jeno scoffs at Haechan's patronising tone. "Sounds like you're in need of advice more than I am."  

_

You can't really wrap your head around the fact that you're currently walking to your favourite café in campus, only this time you're not meeting up with your two best friends, you’re meeting with Haechan instead. Fuck. You're meeting up with Haechan.  

You don't even know if you're supposed to call this a date. He said he wanted to hang out with you and that he can't wait to see you, but people say all sorts of things, and you don't want to get ahead of yourself. You wonder if he's nervous like you are, or if he sees this as a casual coffee break in between his routine. But then again, if it's just that, why ask you and not one of his friends? You told yourself this morning that you wouldn't overthink, but you're now realising that you're miserably failing. Ningning would not be proud.  

You check the time on your phone and that instant it buzzes in your hand. Your heart beats a little quicker.   

12:55 Hae☀️: what do you want?   

12:55 y/n🌻: in life or..?  

12:56 Hae☀️: lmao  

12:56 Hae☀️: to drink silly  

12:56 Hae☀️: we can talk about what you want in life when you get here  

12:57 y/n🌻: caramel iced latte pls and thank you :)  

12:57 y/n🌻: im 2 mins away btw  

12:57 Hae☀️: thought you didn't like sweet things   

12:58 Hae☀️: no rush, just ordering now  

12:58 y/n🌻: i like my coffee sweet  

12:58 y/n🌻: among other things  

12:59 Hae☀️: cheeky   

12:59 y/n🌻: im here   

13:00 y/n🌻: where you at?   

13:00 Hae☀️: you look cute   

13:00 Hae☀️: to your left   

And there he is, sitting at a table by the window, already looking at you, head tilted, eyes pretty, smile saccharine sweet. His phone is still in his hand, thumb hovering over the screen and you notice there's a new ring adorning the digit. His other hand raises and his fingers wiggle, playfully waving at you. You already feel flustered and you think that it should be illegal for a man to be this handsome.  

When you walk over, he stands up and casually lifts an arm for you to slot under. "Hey you." He says quietly and you smile. Your arms instinctively wrap around his middle, and your face buries in his shoulder, taking in his familiar scent. It immediately brings you comfort, your overthinking long forgotten. You feel his arms squeezing around your figure and he playfully rocks you from side to side. You giggle and pull back slightly to look at him.   

“Hey you.” You repeat his words back at him and his smile is nothing short of mesmerising. His lovely doe eyes hold warmth and tiny stars that you feel could burn you if you stare into them for too long, so you decide to look at the table instead. You spot your iced latte, placed opposite what you assume is an iced americano. “Thanks for getting my coffee, you didn't have to.”   

“I wanted to.” He states plainly and unwraps his arms from you, allowing you to sit down before taking his own seat opposite you. It almost feels strange sitting with him like this, seeing him in this light. Not in a lecture hall and not at a party surrounded by your friends. Just the two of you, on a Monday, sitting at your favourite café, in the middle of the day. It’s real. It’s mundane. “Are you hungry? We can get something to eat if you want.” He speaks so fast, one would think he’s trying to cover up nerves.   

You smile at his attentiveness and shake your head. “I’m good for now, thanks.”   

“Okay.” He doesn’t press and you can’t help but think he looks so boyfriend coded. His big forest green jumper makes him look extra cuddly and you want to bury your face in his neck again. “Heard you bumped into Jeno yesterday.” He says, filling the silence before taking a sip of his coffee.   

“Yeah, I interrupted his walk of shame.” You chuckle at the memory. “He looked quite embarrassed, bless him.” You twirl your straw, staring at the condensation dripping down your cup. “Didn’t realise he was that nosy though.” You say with a grin and your eyes move to look at Haechan who’s mirroring you.   

His lips curl into a smirk. “Why, did he ask about-” He pauses for a moment, trying to find the right words. “About Saturday night.” His eyebrow raises inquisitively.   

Your chin rests on your hand. “Mm-hm, apparently Jaemin messaged your group chat.”   

Haechan snorts and you assume he knows which message you’re referring to. “Yeah, if you found Jeno nosy, good luck tolerating Jaemin.”   

“I’m just hoping we didn’t scar him for life.”   

“I mean,” he shrugs, gently tapping his fingers on the table surface. “He didn’t actually see anything.” His tone suggestive, eyes watching you, trying to gauge a reaction. “Had he walked out a few minutes earlier-”   

“Shut up.” You warn and cover your eyes with both hands in embarrassment, smiling against your palms at the sound of his pretty laugh.  

“C’monnnn,” he reaches across the table and takes hold of your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face so he’s able to look at you properly, while holding your hands in his, in the most delicate way. You stubbornly look away, trying to hide the blush that has taken over your face. “Aww don't be embarrassed.” He coos and squeezes your wrists in his hands, his thumbs sneaking under your sweater paws, rubbing gently against your pulse points, causing goosebumps to raise on your arms. “Okay, I’m sorry, I won’t tease anymore today, I promise.” He says in a playful tone but you still don’t look at him and maintain the pout on your face. A quick kiss on the inside of your wrist earns him your attention and then another on the opposite one makes you break your resolve completely, your eyes now on his. “Yay, there she is.”   

“You’re annoying.” You huff and he chuckles again.   

“And you’re still blushing.”   

You retract your hand from his hold and attempt to flick at his forehead, but he grasps it again before you’re able to. He interlocks his fingers with yours and gives you a toothy grin. His perfect teeth showing and his eyes wrinkling at the corners. “How do you expect me to not feel embarrassed when you act like-” You stop yourself from saying what's on your mind and he perks up at your hesitation, eyebrows raised.   

“Like what?” He asks, his voice laced with intrigue.  

“The way you do.” Your gaze moves to your connected hands, taking in the way his fingers look slotted between yours. Perfect. Like they belong there.   

“You don’t like the way I act?” His bottom lip jutting out in a fake pout, gently stroking the back of your thumb with his own.   

“No, I do but-” You observe how his palm opens against your own, fingers extending and yours instinctively mirror the action, elbows pressed on the table and your heart flutters at how big his hand looks compared to yours.   

“But?” He’s also looking at your hands now and slots his fingers between yours again, his grip tight, his palm warm and you worry he can feel how clammy yours is.   

“You’re just too forward.”   

“Is that a bad thing?” His tone more serious now, his eyes observing you. “I told you; I never intended to be subtle with you.” His hold on your hand loosening. “But I can stop if you’re uncomfortable.”  

“No.” Your hand tightening its hold, quietly indicating you don’t want him to let go and he sports a cheeky smile, like he expected you to react that way. “I’m just not used to this.”   

His eyes are curious now. “Used to people being forward?” You nod at his question. He thinks about it for a moment. “You were pretty forward yourself the other night.” 

“That’s different.” You say calmly.   

“How come?”   

“Nights like that don’t happen all the time.” You explain with a shrug, without giving away too much. 

His expression softens, and his nods in understanding. “So, you knew you wanted me before the party then.” He says it like a statement but you know he’s asking as he watches you with expectant eyes. His hand leaves yours momentarily, dropping on the table, palm facing up, waiting for your own hand to drop back into his. And it does. You trace your fingertips from his wrist to the middle of his palm, drawing along the lines there. His own fingers raising slightly to tickle against your palm, tracing patterns and you feel giddy. He’s emitting this softness you’ve never encountered in a romantic partner before and you’re not sure if you can handle it. But you want to be able to.  

“I did, yeah.” You admit with a smile, eyes finding his wide ones. “Why are you so surprised?”   

“I just- I did too.” He bites the inside of his bottom lip in thought. “Just wasn’t sure how to approach you before.” Your own surprise evident. “Why are you so surprised?” He mimics your question with a playful tone.  

“Since when?” You ask, wanting to know more.  

He hums skeptically, and you feel his knee bumping into yours under the small table, “I mean, I’ve always been intrigued.” He moves again and you feel both his knees rubbing against yours now. “But I knew I was into you after we spoke at that party in June.” Both your knees are trapped between his now and you can’t help but feel flustered, your fingers limp in his palm while his index is still tracing the inside of your wrist. It slightly tickles but it’s welcome. “You?”   

You could lie and say it was the same for you. That you realised you were interested when you finally spoke for the first time. But you don’t really want to, and you don’t see the point. “I think- I can’t really place it, but I was definitely interested before June.” You expect him to tease, but he just nods in understanding, gesturing you to continue. “And I could tell you were kind of flirting, when we briefly spoke last week, so, I thought Chenle's party was the perfect time to act on it.”   

“So, you’ve had a crush on me?” He smirks and his knees squeeze yours between them, finally teasing you. "Cute.” He says under his breath, eyes move to your lips for a second and then up to your eyes again. “You should’ve said something sooner.” He raises his drink and his lips wrap around the straw and you can’t help but look, remembering what they felt like on yours, on your skin, what they looked like wrapped around his fingers when he wanted a taste of you.   

“I didn’t think you would’ve reciprocated.” You say bashfully and he looks at you, like he finds your words absurd.  

He puts his drink down again. “I'd be clinically insane.”   

His words emit a small laugh from you. "Well, I'm glad you're somewhat sane."  

"Do you wanna go for a walk?" The question unexpected and your eyebrows raise in surprise. "Sun's out again." He points his chin towards the window and you turn your head to look outside. The autumn leaves are still falling but he's right. The sun is out for the first time in a few days. "Promise I'll have you back by three." He says in a playful tone and you look back at him, pretending to consider his suggestion, even though, you know you won’t decline.

_ 

Haechan isn't really a big fan of autumn. He doesn't hate it, but he certainly likes summertime the most. He likes being able to walk down the beach with no layers on and no worry that it'll get cold late at night. He likes the way the sun feels on his skin and he definitely prefers the way he looks when he's sun kissed. He finds that everyone looks good in the sun.  

He's always associated the idea of falling in love with a nice refreshing summer breeze; not necessary, because he's content in the heat, but definitely not unwanted.   

The thought of summer always makes him miss home and look forward to the next time he's able to visit. If he's completely honest, Haechan always misses home a little bit, it's always occupying the back of his mind. The city; as fun as it is living here, has always felt too different. Too chaotic. Now that you're walking next to him though, he's not missing anything and he thinks it's the first time since he moved here, that he feels absolutely and utterly content. At peace even. Even in the chilly autumn air as you two walk through the park near your campus, surrounded by brown leaf covered trees.   

"What's your favourite time of the year?" He can't help but ask the question when it pops into his head.   

"Hmm I think this one." You lift a finger, gesturing to your surroundings and you pause for a moment skeptically. "I think it’s mostly because I prefer autumn fashion." He chuckles at your reasoning. "Hey, don't laugh," You protest. "I'd like summer more if I could lounge by a pool in a bikini whenever I wanted." You inhale deeply, your eyes briefly closing and he can tell you're enjoying the autumn air. "Autumn is just easier, plus, I love the smell of rain." You turn to look at him before looking ahead of you again. "What's yours? You give off major summer vibes."  

He exhales a laugh through his nose. "Really? What gave it away?" He looks at your side profile as he waits for a response. He thinks you look so pretty in this gloomy setting and wonders if you’d look even prettier during his favourite season.   

"Dunno." You seem to be in deep thought, your lips pursing and your eyes narrowing as you inspect his face carefully. "Maybe your tan?" And he mimics your expression, scrunching his nose too and you gently elbow him. "Did I get it right?" You ask hopefully.  

"You sure did." He confirms, nodding proudly and a cheeky smile makes its way to your lips.   

"Why summer then?" You ask with a curious lilt in your tone.   

"I guess I associate summer with my childhood." He explains with a fond smile. "It reminds me of being-"  

"Carefree?" You finish his sentence and he smiles, nodding slowly in agreement. "That makes sense." You validate his thought process in the sweetest voice and he can't help but feel a certain way that leads him to slip his hand into yours. He senses your hesitation and worries he's overstepped a boundary but instantly relaxes when he feels your fingers take their place between his. You're not looking at him, but he can sense you trying to conceal your flustered state by nonchalantly keeping your eyes on the pavement.

He suddenly remembers you've got a class to attend at 3pm and slips his phone out of his back pocket to check the time. "It's half two, we should probably start heading back." He reminds you, not wanting to be the reason you mess up your schedule for the day.   

"Oh shit." Your eyes slightly widen at the realisation. "That was quick." You admit absentmindedly and he laughs softly.   

"Hmmmm what can I say, time flies when you're with me." He says with a suggestive pointed grin.   

"Didn't realise you were this deluded." You scoff, eyes rolling playfully. 

"Hey now." He warns with a nudge against your shoulder and can't hide the amused grin on his face when you giggle. "You had fun, admit it."  

"Mmmmaybe." You say with a cheeky smile, and he feels his pulse increasing. His chest constricts inevitably at how cute and soft you look. Your chin brushing your shoulder as you turn your head to look at him, batting your lashes seductively. He wonders if you know the effect you have on him.   

“You act all brave now, but -” He stops walking, making you halt, and you turn to look at him. “I bet I could easily make you skip class, if I really wanted to.” He says suggestively, a cocky eyebrow raising when he takes in your surprised expression. He pulls you closer, pulling lightly at your hand that's still in his and you stumble, putting a hand on his chest to regain your balance. You look up at him, and he thinks 'there it is', there's that not-so-innocent look from Saturday night. You don't shy away or get flustered this time, you stand your ground, and he suddenly wants to ruin you. But he knows this is not the time and place and he curses internally for choosing to go on a stupid coffee date. He's definitely taking you out somewhere more intimate and romantic next time, like Jeno suggested.   

"And how exactly would you do that?" You ask, testing his resolve, which, apparently, runs very thin when it comes to you.   

He leans down so his lips are by your ear, the hand that's not holding yours, taking purchase on your waist. "I'd show you but you'd probably get all shy on me." He murmurs and relishes in the way your hand tightens its hold on the fabric of his jumper. He feels your breathing quicken and can't help but laugh at your reaction.   

He moves to pull away and the second his eyes land on yours, your hand grabs the back of his neck and your lips crash on his. His breath hitches and his eyes widen at the impact, before he relaxes against you and kisses you back. He relishes in the feel of your soft lips sliding against his, and the warmth your body radiates when he pulls you closer with his arm around your waist and when he feels you sigh, body pliantly slotting into his, he wonders if someone if playing a prank on him, because there’s no way you’re this perfect for him. You wrap both your arms around his neck securely and he moves a hand to your hip, gently squeezing, his fingers dangerously close to your ass. You whimper when his tongue makes contact with your bottom lip and he feels you tilt your head to the side silently asking him to deepen the kiss, but he decides that the next time he has a full on make out session with you is going to be somewhere private. He bites your bottom lip lightly and gives you a quick peck before breaking the kiss completely and you whine at the sudden loss of contact, making him laugh. The hand on your hip sneakily slides itself into your back pocket, giving your bum a playful squeeze, before letting it rest there lazily, simply because he can't help himself. "You're trouble, Y/N." He mumbles against your lips.  

Your eyes open at that, finding his and your hand caresses the back of his neck while you suck your bottom lip into your mouth and his jeans start to feel constricting at the thought of you doing that so you can taste him again, now that he's no longer kissing you. "I'm trouble?" You ask in disbelief.

"You kissed me." He states in an accusatory tone as if he wouldn't have done it himself anyway.  

"I know." You whisper, your eyes dropping to his lips again. "I wanted to." You mumble and your tone makes his brain overflow with thoughts that revolve around you and his bed, because it doesn't matter that it's Monday afternoon and you're walking around the park. In Haechan’s head, nothing matters in this moment other than the fact that he desperately wants you in ways he hasn’t wanted anyone before and that scares him. Not because he doesn’t want to. But simply because he does. Haechan wants to want you.

_ 

"And with five minutes to spare." Haechan says with a proud smile when you reach the entrance of the building your class is in, still hand in hand and you can't help but smile back.   

“You know you're definitely gonna be late, right?” You say in a scolding tone and he scoffs rolling his eyes.  

“And whose fault is that?” He says playfully, pulling you closer.   

“You should've said you were meeting Jaemin at three, how am I supposed to- mmmf.” He interrupts you with a kiss against your lips, cupping your face in his hands. He pulls away quicker than you'd prefer but you still can't help the surprised laugh that escapes you.   

"I know I’ll see you on Thursday, but can I take you out Friday night?" He asks, eyes wide and hopeful and you smile.   

"You can." You say with a dreamy tone, taking in his pretty brown eyes and the way his smile widens when you accept to go on a second date with him.   

"Good." He kisses you chastely again and rubs his nose against yours before dropping a wet smooch on your cheek, laughing at your reaction.  

"Yah!" You complain cringing at the wet sensation against your skin. "Ewww, you slobbered on meeee." You whine, wiping the wetness off your face with the back of your hand, your nose scrunching in fake disgust but your heart flutters at the sound of his laugh. "Fucking weirdo." You huff, torn between laughter and exasperation.  

"Be a good girl and get to class." He turns you around, putting his hands on your shoulders and guiding you towards the entrance of the building, arms hugging you from behind and the butterflies in your stomach go ballistic. "Also, sit with me on Thursday." He whispers in your ear and you shiver at the feeling of his warm breath on your neck. You turn your head sideways to look at his face and you can't stop your lips from curling into a grin.   

"Be a good boy and don't tell me what to do." You whisper against his jaw, where you press a quick kiss that surprises him, his arms loosening around your shoulders in shock and you take the opportunity to turn around and loosely wrap your arms around his waist. You raise on your tippy toes so you can bring your lips to his ear. “I’ll see you soon, Lee Haechan.” You say with a low tone and to anyone else it might seem like you're just hugging, but you can feel his chest moving shallowly against your own when you give him another gentle kiss, on the cheek this time.  

"What the f-" You walk away with a sweet smile, before he can react or finish his sentence and you couldn't be more satisfied with yourself. You know he's still standing there, looking at you while you walk away from him and you smile to yourself.   

When you take your usual seat next to Chenle, in the back of the big lecture hall, he looks at you with a smirk, arms crossed over his chest. "So? How was it?" He asks and a giggle escapes him when you sigh with a dreamy smile on your face. "That good?"   

“You have no idea.” You feel you phone buzz in your pocket and you already have an idea what to expect.   

15:01 Hae☀️: that was fucked up...  

15:01 Hae☀️️: you're in for a treat next time i see you

_

Thursday rolls around slower than normal this week and you know why it feels that way. You can’t wait to see him.   

It’s the first time you’re running late to class though, and you’re cursing yourself for deciding to take a nap earlier. The bus that would have gotten you there on time is long gone, so your only option was to walk and be ten minutes late. You know it’s not the end of the world, students run late all the time, and it’s not like you’re anal about punctuality. It’s just that you hate being the centre of attention.   

And when you walk in the lecture hall, everything pans out exactly how you had predicted; some people turn their heads to look when you enter the hall as quietly as possible and some couldn’t care less. When you skip past your usual row of seats though, taking a seat two rows ahead instead, next to the handsome boy who’s been lately occupying your thoughts nonstop, more people’s eyes drift to your direction and you’re thankful to your professor, who continues speaking, without batting an eyelid at your tardiness.   

“You okay? I texted you.” Haechan leans into whisper in your ear, voice as quiet as possible. An arm extends behind you, resting on the back of your seat casually and you feel the warmth radiating on your shoulder blades, through the material of your top.   

You look at him for a moment before starting to take out your notes and iPad. “I know, I took a nap and overslept.” You whisper back maintaining the decibels of your voice as low as possible and you can tell he’s holding back a laugh.   

You look past him and you see Jaemin and Jeno both looking at you and waving. You mouth ‘hi’ to both of them offering a smile and your eyes land on Haechan again who’s smiling at you like he’s up to something. He relaxes in his seat, comfortably sinking into it while spreading his legs, his knee now touching yours and you know what he’s trying to do.  

You also lean back and relax in your seat, pretending to finally pay attention to whatever example is being demonstrated on the board. Your knee playfully nudges his.

“Stop manspreading.” Your eyes still on the board but your attention on him.   

“I’d say sorry, but it was intentional.” He states and you hold in your exasperation as well as your laugh. Your amused expression falters when he reaches to take your hand in his and rests them on his thigh. He’s too casual for your liking and too soft for your poor heart.   

When he said that you’re in for a treat he really did mean it.  

He walks you home that day.   

-

“What the actual fuck?” Your voice is high-pitched; eyes so wide, they resemble a cartoon’s.   

“What?” He laughs at your comical expression and places the mic down on the table in the centre of the noraebang room.  

“You made me go first so you could embarrass me!” You loudly accuse with your finger pointing at him.   

“You weren’t bad!” He can’t help the laughter that won’t stop. You’re frowning still and you look so adorable and believably annoyed. He knows it’s all pretend though.   

“You were so good though.” Your frown slowly turns into a pout. “And it was all in Japanese.” Your wide eyes looking up at him from when you’re still sat cross legged on the leather sofa seat. He feels weak. You make him feel weak.   

“I took singing lessons when I was younger.” He explains with a smile. “And that’s my favourite song so I’ve had practice.” He approaches slowly and takes a seat next to you, huffing and spreading his legs slightly to get comfortable while his head rests on the back of the sofa. He’s the one looking up at you now. You look so pretty in the purple and blue hues that light up the room. He definitely made the right choice bringing you here after dinner. He wanted to keep your second date PG but the way you’re looking at him right now makes him contemplate.   

“Ah right. He’s an artist.” A teasing smile takes over your face as you hold his gaze. He groans and you giggle when his hands come up to cover his face in embarrassment. He feels you shift next to him and when he looks at you through the gaps of his fingers you’ve turned your body towards him, still crossing your legs. “You have a pretty voice, Lee Haechan.”   

He knows he’s blushing, but he snorts, trying to feign nonchalance. “Thanks.” his hands drop and rest on his thighs.   

“Did you bring me here to show off then?” Your tone still ever so teasing.  

“No, but I was hoping to impress you maybe.” He admits without realising. Your effect on him frustrates him.   

“By serenading me in a language I can’t understand?” Your smile is so sweet, tooth ache inducing. So sweet it’s contagious. You move a little closer and he can smell your sweet perfume. His eyes drop to your exposed neck and then to the collarbones he’s dying to press soft kisses on. “Consider me impressed.” You say and his eyes come back up to your face. You seem to be fighting your smile now and he’s obsessed with the fact that you don’t want to give away how affected you also are by him.   

“What’s your favourite song?” He asks in a low voice, sitting up a bit and extending an arm along the back of the sofa. Your eyes instantly drop there, and your hand comes up to trace a vein absentmindedly. He manages to contain the shiver that creeps up on him, but he can’t control the goosebumps raising on his skin.   

“Japanese Denim by Daniel Caesar.” You respond, copying his low tone. Your eyes not leaving your fingers gingerly trailing up and down his skin. “You know it?” you look at him in question.   

Haechan is thankful he does. “Myyy blueee jeaaansss.” He sings the start of the chorus playfully and you giggle, pushing his shoulder lightly.   

“Okay r&b king.” You joke with a laugh. He pokes your side and you flinch with a half whine half giggle. He can’t help but smile at the sound.   

“I just think his lyrics are like poetry, you know?” You shrug, explaining why you see the appeal. Your hand is now resting in his arm, no longer tracing and he enjoys the weight of it. The warmth. He wants to reach out and touch you too, but he doesn’t move. The moment feels too precious to ruin.   

“They really are.” He agrees with a small nod. He likes to think that maybe he’ll be able to write lyrics like those one day, but he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t want to talk about himself now. He’s too busy admiring you. “You’re so pretty.” He says softly and he doesn’t even register the words leaving his mouth until he gets the cutest reaction from you. You look away, smiling big and your hands come up to press against your cheeks, attempting to cover what he assumes is a blush. A soft chuckle escapes him and he reaches up with both hands to remove yours from your face. “Blush away, no need to hide.” He teases you. He finds that he’s good at it. He wonders if it’s because you generally get flustered so easily or if it’s just the effect he has on you. He hopes it’s the latter.   

When your hands aren’t in the way, he taps a finger under your chin gently encouraging you to turn your head so he can look at you again. He then instinctively moves closer, craving to feel your warmth better and when your eyes find his again, his chest constricts. He sometimes doesn’t understand how it’s possible that he’s come to feel so attached to you in such a short amount of time, how he so easily gravitates towards you. But then you look at him and he understands. You speak and he understands. You laugh and he understands. You touch him and he understands. It almost feels foreign but never unwelcome. Never forced. And that scares him.   

Haechan trails his fingers from your chin down to your collarbone, tracing softly and he slowly moves the fallen strands of hair behind your shoulder. He feels your gasp when he leans forward to leave a kiss on the curve of it. Then a little lower. And a little lower until his nose nuzzles against the dip of your collarbone. Another kiss. And another. This time his tongue makes contact first, tasting the skin, before his lips pucker on the sensitive surface again. Your breathing has turned shallow and he smiles at the sight of your chest moving up and down. Your fingers thread into his hair, slightly pulling and he sighs against your wet skin. You catch him off guard when your other hand pushes him by the shoulder and he’s about to apologise for crossing a line but then you quickly straddle him and his mind goes blank. This is definitely not PG.   

“Someone could see us, you know.” You whisper against his lips and he almost moans. The hand in his hair pulls again and his head drops against the back of the seat pliantly, eyes closing at the feeling of your lips on his jawline. You scatter small kisses until you reach his ear and lightly bite on his lobe, his breathing quickens and the moan he’s been holding in eventually escapes at your next words. “Bet that turns you on though.” His hands instantly come up to hold onto something, anything. One grabs onto your waist, the other lands on your thigh, just below the hem of your skirt. “Talk to me.” You whisper sweetly in his ear before starting to trail kisses down the column of neck. The further down you travel, the wetter they get and he feels himself getting hard, his hips slightly raising to get some friction, but you don’t budge. “Behave.” You laugh against his neck in a hot puff of air and his voice comes out in a soft whine.   

“Baby,” he breathes out weakly and you coo softly against his neck while gingerly sucking on the delicate flesh. He feels you place a hand on his chest, above where his heart is beating uncontrollably and he knows you can feel it too, your thumb stroking soothingly to comfort him. “Wanna kiss you.” He pleads pathetically and he feels like he might come in his pants when you suddenly grind your hips down. His breath catches in his throat and he trails a hand up your back, between your shoulder blades, to wrap around the base of your neck, pressing you down as he thrusts up into you. He smiles stupidly when you bring up your face, unburying from his neck, to look at him with wide eyes. He thinks you might scold him but instead you just wrap a hand around his neck, pressing your fingers against his pulse points in a possessive manner and he groans. His eyes shut at the dizzying sensation and when he feels your lips press on his, he relishes. His head tilts automatically to deepen the kiss and he sighs into your mouth when your tongue finds its way in. It’s intoxicating and he swears he feels high. Your hand around his neck definitely playing a part but it’s mostly your taste and the way you kiss him exactly how he likes to be kissed. Wet and filthy but still slow, sucking on his tongue to tease him. He feels his heartbeat going wild without permission when you grind down again, just the right way, the perfect amount of pressure to drive him insane.  

His hands trail down to messily bunch up the fabric of your corduroy skirt so he can squeeze the flesh of your ass in his palms, fingers digging into the skin. He’s not gentle with you this time but your moans against his lips encourage him not to hold back.

You’re now grinding down with determined force and he moans into your mouth when his fully hard dick slots between your pussy lips, the only thing separating you, his layers and your underwear. He matches your pace, hips coming up when yours drop down and he realises that you’re no longer teasing him. “Think you can cum like this?” You ask against his lips, the scratch in your voice driving him insane, breathing ragged, hips quickening their eager ministrations. He nods, staring into your eyes. “You want to?” You ask again, keeping your eyes on his as your arms wrap around his shoulders to gain more support and he responds with another nod and a shaky breath. His head dips forward, eyes dropping down to where you’re connected and his hand pushes your skirt up even further, to get a better look. He groans at the sight. Your panties almost trapped between your folds, your pussy leaving a trail of wetness on the front of his jeans whenever you drag your body back and he feels himself twitch in his pants. It’s sinful. It’s perfect. You're perfect.  

“Fuck, hang on.” He whispers suddenly, arm wrapping around your middle to halt your movements and he quickly unbuttons his jeans with one hand. His hips raise a little bit as he clumsily pushes the fabric down, leaving his boxers still on. “Okay.” He exhales and his hands find your hips again, guiding you to resume your work. The friction so much better now that he can properly feel your wetness seeping through the cotton and he loves that he can see the way his fat cock drags between your lace clad pussy lips.

Your whining doesn’t go unnoticed, and he looks up at your face only to find you also looking down dazedly. He relishes in the idea that you can get as dirty as he can and he takes in the sight of you now; lips parted, gasping audibly, your nipples hard and visible through your thin blouse and he’s suspecting that you’ve foregone wearing a bra. 

His hands drag upwards, leaving your hips, trusting you to keep grinding down with no guidance and when he squeezes the flesh of your breasts through the fabric, his suspicions are confirmed. You moan when his thumbs rub on your already sensitive nipples, leaning into his touch and he repeats the action, enjoying the desperate little sounds you let out.

“I’m close.” He announces in a gasp, his balls feel heavy and he knows he’s leaking precum, adding to the wet patch you’ve created on the front of his boxers.   

“Yeah?” Your eyes search his, hands cupping his face and kissing him again, soft this time. “You gonna cum for me, pretty boy?” He feels his eyes roll back at your words and all he can do is nod again. He anchors himself by squeezing your ass in his hands again and he loves the whimpers you let out when his hands get a little rougher, making the flesh ripple. He decides to take matters into his own hands when he feels your thighs shaking around his hips, suspecting the soreness in your muscles and his hold on you gives you no option but to quicken the pace

“Fuck, you feel so fuckin good, baby, please don’t stop.” He exasperatedly begs, his breath shaky and he feels like he’s losing it. Pathetic.   

“Yes, god, m’cumming.” His voice comes out ruined, words muffled against your lips, vision blurring and his jaw drops when he reaches his peak, soaking his boxers like a teenage boy. Your hands slide into his hair when he starts shaking and he basks in the comforting touch. His head drops back on the seat again and he feels dizzy, your hips are still moving, dragging out his high and when it gets too much, he gently taps his fingers on your ass cheek, smiling dumbly. “Mmh, just give me a second.” He sighs as you take a seat, directly on his cock, softly cooing at him and kissing his cheek as you push his fringe back, revealing his damp forehead and he purrs at the gentleness.

“Good?” You ask sweetly and he almost scoffs, because there’s no way you don’t know you’ve just ruined him when he’s pathetically drenched his underwear like a horny teenage boy.

“Intense.” He hums and he feels himself shiver when you let out a breathy laugh against his skin, nuzzling into his temple. He slowly turns his head and catches your lips in a slow kiss. “Wanna make you feel good too.” He murmurs in the kiss and when he notices the conflicted expression on your face, he doubles down. “I’ll be quick.”

“Confident?” You tease with a smile that he can’t help but return. Your teeth sink on your bottom lip when he cups your pussy and he moans at the feeling of soaked lace.   

“Not like I haven’t done it before.” He teases back and he laughs when you swat at his chest. “Please?” He tries again, tone needy this time and he uses his puppy eyes, smiling when he breaks through your resolve. The second you nod, he wraps an arm around you securely and his other hand grabs at the fleshy bit where your ass meets your thigh. “Lie down for me.” He whispers and helps maneuver you onto your back swiftly.

He can’t help but smirk when your legs instinctively part for him to slot in between, and he does exactly that, coming to position himself above you, supporting his weight on one arm by the side of your head. His lips find yours again, in a hungry kiss and this time it’s his tongue that dominates yours, sliding into your mouth, tasting you just like you did to him earlier. He loves the sigh you let out through your nose when his hand slips into your underwear slowly, sliding his middle finger between your folds but what he loves the most is how wet you are.   

“Can I use my mouth?” He questions mid kiss and you must like the sound of that, because he feels you grind against his palm.   

“You can do anything you want, just no sex.” You say shyly. “Not here.”

“Told you, baby,” He gives your lips another peck before kissing down your neck, giving your tit a tentative squeeze as he moves downwards. “Wanna do that in my bed first.” Your moan at the promise brings a smile to his face as his hands slip into the top of your panties and drag them down your legs hastily, feeling the goosebumps on your skin. He stuffs the flimsy material into his back pocket, earning a questioning look from you and he grins. “Don’t worry, you’ll get them back.” He starts kissing from the inside of your knee to your inner thigh, wet and full of tongue.   

“Stop teasing.” You whine, raising your hips impatiently when he reaches closer to where you want him. And he chuckles against your folds, watching as your legs spread even more for him.   

His head rests on your inner thigh, comfortably and he looks up at your face, gauging your reaction. “What do you say?”   

“Please.” You whisper and he feels his dick harden again at your submissive tone.   

“Good girl.” He mutters and his hands slide up your inner thighs, thumbs pulling your pussy lips apart, revealing your cute swollen nub, all pretty and in need of attention. He can see you’re clenching around nothing, clear pearls of slick dripping from the tiny hole that he can’t wait to lap up. 

You’re more than wet enough but Haechan doesn’t think twice before letting a fat glob of spit slowly drip from his mouth and he feels his dick twitch at the sight. You moan when you feel the extra wetness land on your cunt and he does it again, watching his spit drip down to your asshole, making a mess of you. Nothing but sensual. “Yeah? You like it messy?” He breathes out in admiration and he doesn’t even need an answer, he knows you do.

His hand comes up again, fingers spreading the mixed wetness through your folds. His middle and ring fingers create a v shape around your clit, isolating the nub between them and the tip of his tongue comes out to make contact, flicking gently up and down. You both moan in unison, your hands burying in his hair to keep him where you need him and he loves how ruined you already sound, how your legs part completely, how addictive you taste on his tongue. And he loves that he can’t get enough of you.

“Mmh, fuck.” You moan when his arm wraps around your thigh, bringing his hand to separate your folds from the top, palm pressing against your pubic bone, fingers delicately pulling the hood of your clit up, revealing more of the little nub. His flat tongue licks from your hole to your clit and he repeats the action when he feels your fingers pull at his hair harder. The pink muscle then settles back to delivering quick flicks on your nub, the direct contact making you squeal and he smiles at the adorable sound. “Yes, like that.” You encourage him, the praise making his chest swell with pride. His other hand joins and his middle finger teases your leaking entrance, circling before slowly sliding in until it’s fully buried inside, your soaked walls making the glide so easy, that he’s certain one digit won’t be enough.

When his jaw gets tired, he switches to sucking harshly on your clit, making you groan and he slowly starts to move his finger in and out, curling up slightly, following the curve of your pussy. He knows you want more, your hole dripping even more slick around his finger, so he slows down as he adds a second one. You sigh when you feel the extra stretch and he knows he’s got you where he wants you when you start clenching.   

“Fuck, baby, you’re creaming.” He points out in disbelief when he sees the white substance coating his digits every time they pull out of you and you whine in embarrassment. “I swear to god, I’m gonna fuck you stupid one day.” He promises against your cunt and goes back to sucking, more determined this time. His fingers start pumping quicker into you, the squelching sounds nothing but melodic in his ears and your tight walls nothing but heaven around his fingers. Your whines get louder when his speed increases and he knows he’s hitting your sweet spot every time he thrusts in, the pads of his fingers dragging against your walls. “Right there, hm?” His pace quickens even more and he looks up when he feels your eyes on him. You’re on your elbows now, jaw agape, eyes on his lips, watching him ruin you and his tongue comes out to flick quickly from side to side, his head moving with it, making a spectacle without breaking eye contact.   

“I’m gonna cum.” You warn in a whisper, burying a hand in his hair again and your elbows give out, allowing your body to drop back down. He hums against your cunt, letting you know he’s got you and he feels your legs trembling around his head. “Fuck, yes yes yes.” Your voice sounds broken, your walls are kneading his fingers and he has to put extra effort into sliding in and out due to the restricting tightness.

He doesn’t stop though, even when he knows you’re coming down from your high, he keeps pushing your boundaries. He wants more. “Haechan!” You squeal when he suckles on your clit again and he laughs darkly at the cute sound. Your hand tries to push him away, legs attempting to close around his head but he’s not quite done yet, his hold around your thigh tight enough to keep you open for him.   

He pulls his fingers out slowly and you whine. “Sorry, pretty.” He whispers mockingly against your clit before dipping down to lick at your pulsing entrance, smiling at the mewl you let out. He licks from bottom to top again, gently flicking at your clit when he comes up and he knows it’s too much when your body convulses and you sound like you’re crying. You’re not pushing him away though, which gives him hope. He opts to circling instead of flicking, tongue relaxed now; languid and he feels your legs spread again. “Yeah? Want more gentle?” He coos as his eyes look up and he can see your perky tits moving up and down with your breathing. He trails a hand up your body, squeezing greedily around the flesh and he moans at the feeling of your stiff nipple against his palm.   

“I’m too sensitive.” You sigh and bring a hand above his, squeezing around your own tit with him as you raise on your elbows again. 

“You can give me one more, though, right?” His eyes staring into yours, hopeful.   

“I think so.” You nod tiredly, eyebrows furrowing slightly at the overstimulation, breathing coming out harsh. “I’m still turned on.” You admit shyly, biting down on your bottom lip as you push his fringe away from his damp forehead.   

“Such a good girl.” He says dreamily and his tongue gently circles your clit again, wet hand pressing against the back of your thigh to keep you spread out for him.   

Only after you come again on his tongue, does he stop, moving to kiss on your inner thigh, sucking on the supple skin there, leaving a wet patch behind along with a subtle mark. He leans over you again, taking in the sight under him. Your breathing slowing down as you look up at him, your hair fanned around you and your eyes blinking slowly. You look beautifully and utterly fucked out and so angelic. His heart swells when you reach up, pulling him close to you and he gives in right away, dropping down, resting his weight on you carefully. He kisses you slowly, pushing his tongue past your parted lips, moaning with you, knowing you can taste yourself.   

“You’re hard again.” You whisper against his lips and he laughs, because of course he is.   

“You are not making me cum in my pants again.” He scolds and kisses softly on your cheek as you snort a laugh, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, holding him close.   

“Okay, I won’t.” You say with a smile, leaning in to kiss him again. He lets you.   

—

“Do you guys have any, like, weird fetishes?” Jaemin asks randomly, interrupting your conversation with Ningning and almost causing you to choke on a fry.   

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Haechan pipes up next to you, genuine concern laced in his tone, his hand stroking your back whilst you cough.   

“Yeah, changing the subject from ‘I’m broke’, to that, is slightly worrying to say the least.” Ningning agrees but that doesn’t stop her from laughing. “Look, even Jeno is speechless.” She points at Jeno’s shocked expression and he snaps out of it, taking a sip from his coffee.   

“I was just curious.” Jaemin shrugs as he explains. “I’ve been texting this girl and the other night it turned into sexting and she asked me if I’d be down to piss on her?”   

“Oh wow,” Ningning is suddenly interested. “What did you say?” She asks and he eyes widen as she awaits his response. All eyes around the table are on Jaemin now and he’s clearly thrown off, struggling to find the right words.   

“Wellllll-“   

“Oh my god!” Renjun exclaims and covers his mouth with both hands. “Please tell me you didn’t actually do it.”  

“No, of course not.” Jaemin defends himself quickly. “I haven’t even slept with her.” He steals a fry from your plate. “Yet.” He concludes with a smug smile.   

“Okay, but, let’s say you do sleep with her and she asks you to piss on her.” Haechan interferes. “Would you?” He asks with an amused expression and Jaemin seems to be in deep thought.   

“I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed to it but I’m pretty sure I’d get stage fright.” Says casually and stuffs a few more fries in his mouth. “Also, I don’t think I can pee when I’m hard.”   

”Yeah, I was thinking that.” Jeno says with narrowed eyes. “It’s also a bit weird if you don’t know them that well or if it’s just a one-time thing, no?” He looks around, asking everyone.  

“Yeah, true.” Renjun agrees. “Not that I’ve done it before, but, surely you do those kinds of things with someone you’re in a relationship with or at least someone you’ve been seeing and agreed to experiment with.” He looks at Jaemin. “But then again, you’re a different kind of breed.” Everyone laughs at that.   

“That I am my friend.” Jaemin laughs darkly and leans over to kiss Renjun on the cheek. The latter pushes him away by shoving a hand against his face with a disgusted expression and you snort at the scene.   

“The question is, where did you even meet this girl?” You ask with a wiggle of your eyebrows, not because you care, but because you find it amusing when Jaemin gets flustered.   

His eyes meet yours now and he seems taken aback before he puts on his cheeky grin again. “Oh, I have a better question, miss thing.” His voice laced with nothing but mischief and you’re now scared. “Would you let Haechan piss on you if he asked?” There it is.   

“And I ask again.” Haechan saves you momentarily. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” His voice is calm but there’s definitely an edge to it, a warning even. He doesn’t move from his position next to you. An arm lazily resting on the back of your chair, the warmth certainly comforting on your shoulders. You instinctively lean into him, resting a hand on his thigh and his knuckles rub against your arm soothingly. Your eyes meet Ningning’s who’s watching the whole interaction smiling and you try to contain your own smile.   

“What? It’s a good question, no?” Jaemin says with a shrug and you roll your eyes.   

“Jaemin, I don’t know about you, but I don’t really talk about golden showers at least until after the fifth date.” You say sarcastically and Jeno snorts trying to hold in a laugh. “And that’s besides the point. You asked if we have any fetishes so I think we should all share one.”   

Jaemin smirks and points a finger at you playfully. “I knew you could match my freak.” He says, giggling like a schoolgirl and Haechan’s arm around your shoulders tightens, the act unnoticeable to everyone else but not to you. Your fingers resting on his thigh, tense slightly trying to get his attention as you turn to look at his face and you can’t help but notice the frown on his face while he’s looking at Jaemin. He’s jealous and it’s obvious and you can’t help the warm fuzzy feeling spreading in your belly. When he looks down at you, his expression softens and you feel his arm relax around you. You give him a smile, which he instantly returns. You’re definitely bringing this up later.

“Take your freak elsewhere please.” Renjun says with sass, earning a few laughs around the table.   

“Ugh fine, I’ll start.” Ningning says and all eyes snap towards her. “I’m not opposed to some toe sucking. There you go. Thank you. Let’s move on.” Your laugh is loud and you wish Chenle didn’t have basketball training so he could witness this shit show.   

”Alright, I like sucking on toes.” Jeno confesses and you bury your face in your hand leaning into Haechan’s shoulder to conceal your laugh. You feel him chuckle in your hair as he wraps his arm around you properly and you love the heat radiating off him so much that you wish you could stay there for the rest of the day.   

“Next!” Ningning says exasperatedly, sending Jeno daggers across the table. It wasn’t even his turn but you respect his efforts. Not a lot of men have managed to get Ningning this flustered before and it actually makes you wonder if any toe sucking took place that night they supposedly only cuddled. You make a mental note that this might also be worth bringing up earlier.  

It’s Renjun’s turn and he seems to be in deep thought. “I honestly can’t think of anything, I think I’m pretty vanilla.”   

“Surely there’s something, it doesn’t have to be hardcore.” Haechan butts in. 

“I guess choking?” Renjun’s ears have turned red now and you almost feel bad, because out of everyone around this table, he’s the one that deserves to be embarrassed the least.   

“Ooooh erotic asphyxiation!” Jaemin says feigning a seductive tone. “Okay, so, I may or may not like butt stuff.”   

Everyone’s eyes widen at the confession.   

“As in your butt or the other person’s?” Jeno asks curiously. Jaemin only responds by wiggling his eyebrows and Jeno gasps dramatically. 

“As in you’ve had a finger up y-“   

“Moving on!” Jaemin exclaims loudly, interruptinh Ningning. "Your turn, lover boy." He gestures at Haechan to continue as Jeno’s mouth is still open in shock.   

“Hmm.’ Haechan ponders, his fingers tapping on your shoulder absentmindedly as he thinks. For some reason, even though it’s not your turn to answer, you feel exposed, as though all your friends are watching you both, trying to gauge your reaction at his response. You try to maintain as neutral an expression as possible and you hope he says something you might have already guessed by the times you’ve been intimidate with him. “Maybe the risk of getting caught.” He finally admits and you’re definitely not shocked.   

“That’s boring, everyone likes that.” Jaemin complains.  

“Speak for yourself, sicko.” Renjun defends. “Some of us like total privacy.”   

“Aww you really are vanilla.” Ningning pouts cutely and Renjun scoffs.    

“Y/N?” Renjun says to divert the attention from him and you fear your ears might be as red as his now. Everyone is watching you, including Haechan and you’re starting to regret suggesting this in the first place.   

“Just say it, no one is going to judge.” Jeno encourages and you want to bury your face in Haechan’s shoulder again.   

“Maybe Haechan should try and guess.” Renjun suggests and now you feel like you've underestimated him.  

“Oh yes!” Jaemin quickly agrees excitedly, clapping his hands. “Okay, how about he whispers it to you and if he gets it right, he then has to say it out loud.”   

“What if he gets it wrong?” You ask and Haechan scoffs next to you.   

“He seems pretty confident.” Ningning says, pointing at Haechan’s face and when you look up at him, he’s got a cocky smile plastered on his stupidly pretty face.   

“Alright, Haechanie, make us proud.” Jaemin says while holding a hand to his chest and Haechan rolls his eyes at his friend.   

“Okay,” He leans closer, cupping his hand around your ear to conceal his mouth from the group. “Spitting.” He whispers so that only you can hear and you feel lightheaded for a moment. When he retracts, he gently moves your hair behind your ear and when your eyes find his, he smirks. He’s got you all figured out and he knows it. Bastard. “So?” He asks patiently.   

“Correct.” You say in defeat and everyone cheers a little too loudly around the table.

“So, what is it?” Jaemin asks excitedly.

“Can I?” Haechan asks, eyes still on you, ignoring his friend and you appreciate that he prioritises your comfort. You nod with a smile, giving him permission to say it out loud.

“Spitting.” He says again, out loud this time for all your friends to hear.   

“That’s quite vague, no?” Jeno says. “Who’s spitting and where?”   

You turn in his direction, throwing daggers at him, because there’s no way he’s trying to be a brat. “Oh, would you perhaps like a demonstration? I’ll happily spit in your cute little boba tea right now.” Your sweet tone, insincere and Haechan bursts out laughing, head thrown back, pretty neck on display but you push that thought to the back of your mind.

“Relax woman!” Jeno says with his hands raised in surrender. “No saliva in my drink please.” He takes his drink from the table and covers the top with a hand protectively.   

“You can spit in mine.” Jaemin offers with hopeful eyes, holding up his drink in your direction and you groan at his crassness.   

“Dude, you’re sick.” Renjun says with a shake of his head, judging his friend.   

“No, I’m just versatile.” Jaemin defends with a pout. “No one’s spat in my drink before.”   

“That you know of.” Haechan says with a feigned smile, voice laced with mild irritation.

“Right, well, I hate to ruin the fun, but I have class in fifteen minutes.” Ningning gets up, grabbing her bag and drink. “Bye losers.” She says with a sweet smile and starts walking towards the exit of the cafeteria.   

“Wait!” Jeno’s voice is loud. “I’ll walk with you.” He gets up quickly, clumsily gathering his stuff before following after her like a puppy following his owner, without even looking back at the rest of you. You look at them walk away, already discussing something. You think they look cute together and you wonder what you and Haechan look like to other people.   

“Someone’s toes are definitely getting sucked later.” Jaemin says and you can’t help but laugh at his silly joke.   

Haechan turns to you with a sweet smile. “Are you done with classes for the day?” He asks quietly, leaning his body closer to you and you smile at how comfortable he already acts around you, not caring that his friends are still there.   

“Mm-hmm.” You confirm with a nod, sitting up to stretch your limbs and once the stiffness is somewhat relieved, you sink back into your chair, leaning into his warmth as he wraps his arm around your shoulders again, like it belongs there. “You working this evening?”   

“Nah, I only need to go in on Sunday this weekend.” He says happily as his other hand takes hold of yours, resting limply on his lap. “Wanna come over for dinner?” He asks carefully and your eyes fall on Jaemin and Renjun who are deep in conversation about what jobs Jaemin could look for to earn some extra cash. They’re paying no attention to you and Haechan.   

“Dinner?” You ask with a hopeful smile and turn your head to look up at him, his pretty boba eyes already on you and he nods.   

“Yeah, I could make us something, or we could get takeout.” His cheeks are now pink and you feel giddy at his flustered look. He looks so unbelievably cute and you get the urge to give him kiss, but you don’t. Not here.   

“Sure, I’d like that, but-” Then you look at the two boys sat across the table again, posing a silent question.   

“They’re all out tonight, don’t worry.” He reassures you quietly, reading your mind.   

It’s not that you don’t like being around Haechan’s friends, they’re all lovely and have been nothing but nice to you, but you would appreciate some one-on-one time with him. It’s been exactly a week since your second date and even though you’ve seen him around campus since then, it’s always been with his or your friends around. On the other hand, you’re now realising that neither of you have been over at each other’s places and you feel the nerves as well as the excitement brewing in your stomach.   

You’re aware that both you and Haechan are still navigating the nature of your relationship and even though you know that it’s too soon to tell where it’s going, you’re more than happy to see it through with him. 

You’re also aware that so far, you’ve both made very clear that when you’re left alone, it’s almost impossible to keep your hands off each other. And although, the last thing you want is to keep things between you at a superficial level, you can’t help but wonder what sex with him would feel like. And although, you want things to progress naturally, you have a feeling that if you go over for dinner, you might find out.  

“You sure you don’t wanna go out with them?” You ask, checking that he’s not cancelling any important plans for you.   

“I can’t think of anything worse than going to a frat house filled with a bunch of people I barely know, trust me.” He says with a laugh, his thumb stroking the back of your hand gently. “Plus, I feel like I haven’t properly seen you this week.”   

“Missed me?” You tease him, laughing at his reaction. His eyes roll and he tongues his cheek, trying to conceal his smile.   

“Yeah, and what if I did?” He challenges, his eyes widening, his lips forming a cute pout.   

“If you did,” You trail, leaning closer as you lower your voice, squeezing his hand in yours. “Then that’s great. Because the feeling might be mutual.” You reach up with your free hand to pinch one round cheek and before he has time to react, you lean in, dropping a quick kiss on the other one. “I’d love to come over.” You say with a smile and poke the tiny dimple that’s appeared where you’ve just kissed him.   

“Oh great, so you guys are fucking on our couch.” Jaemin ruins yet another moment and Haechan closes his eyes trying to compose himself. A thought pops into your head and you’re already internally laughing at your own joke.   

”Now, why would we do that, when your bed is available tonight?” You say with a toothy grin and you’re sure Renjun’s loud laugh makes some heads turn, Haechan mimics his reaction, head thrown, hands clapping. “Do not test me Na Jaemin, I will break you.” You point a finger at him with a serious look.   

“You two make a great match, it’s actually scary.” He says in what could be described as amazement or fear, gesturing between you and Haechan.  

_

You wake up confused, looking around and seeing you’re not in the familiar space of your apartment and when you inhale deeply you realise you’re safe. Haechan’s familiar scent helps you relax again and when you move to stretch your legs, you feel a comforting weight on your back, stroking slowly. You nuzzle your face into Haechan’s neck, humming in delight as he pulls the fluffy blanket, which you assume he threw over your figures whilst you were asleep, up to your chin.

“Hey, pretty.” He whispers in your ear, not wanting to startle you, his hand now in your hair, gently scratching your scalp and you purr in delight. “We fell asleep.” His tone still low, voice a little groggy, laced with sleep still.   

”Mmm, what time is it?” You mumble sleepily in his neck and he shuffles around, careful not to move you from where you’re lying comfortably on him, grabbing his phone from the coffee table near the couch you’re both currently cocooned in. Your blink your eyes slowly, thankful that the only thing producing light in the living room area, is the tv screen. Shin-chan still playing on the screen from earlier but the volume is lowered. You assume you must’ve fallen asleep mid cuddling, after dinner. You remember telling him about this crime documentary you watched with Ningning a few nights ago and how you couldn’t sleep after. You also remember him saying that you should’ve called him so he could take your mind off it, and you remember wondering if he really meant that or if he was just being nice.   

“It’s almost nine.” He says quietly after unlocking his phone. “We slept for like two hours.” He yawns cutely while checking any missed notifications and you can see from the corner of your eye, he quickly replies to a message from Jeno. “Seems like Jen convinced Ningning to come out.” He announces with a snort and your ears perk at that, your head slightly raising to look at him in question and he shows you the selfie he’s received from a visibly drunk Jeno, who’s got an arm wrapped around your friend’s shoulders, who’s sticking her tongue out, also visibly drunk.   

“Fuck's sake.” Your head drops on his shoulder again, groaning. “She’s gonna be hungover tomorrow.” You whine and Haechan lets out a laugh, holding you tightly against him, his arm wrapping around your middle. Your hand rests on his chest and you close your eyes, allowing the cosiness to engulf you.  

“It’s fine, I’m sure he’ll look after her.” He places his phone back on the coffee table and wraps his other arm around you, squeezing you like a teddy bear, with a sigh. “Bet my left nut, he’s staying at yours again tonight.” He jokes and you snort at his choice of words.   

“Why the left one specifically?”   

“I’m right-handed so I thought I’d keep the right one.”   

“I’m sure you’ll get to keep both anyway; he’s definitely going home with her.” You agree with his point and tap your hand lightly on his chest, while resting your chin on it to look up at his pretty face. His eyes are closed now and he looks so relaxed, you can’t help but wonder if he’s enjoying the cuddling session as much as you are, but you also don’t want to assume he wants you to stay over. “I can go home, if you wanna go to bed. It’s getting late.”   

His eyes open the moment he seems to have registered your words and he looks down at you. “Or you could stay?” He suggests with hopeful eyes, gauging your reaction. “I have a spare toothbrush, and you can wear something of mine.” He can definitely tell you’re contemplating. “No pressure of course, I get if you wanna be in your own bed.” His fingers comb through your hair soothingly and you close your eyes momentarily.  

"Hmm." You ponder with a smile, letting your hand trail up his chest, fingers absentmindedly stroking along his jaw, feeling the scratch of the light stubble adorning his chin and he tilts his head, leaning into the touch. “I'm sure I won't miss my bed that much.”  

_

After you’ve both brushed your teeth and he’s given you a comfortable big t-shirt of his to change into, you’re ready for bed and when you walk into his room, he’s already turned the main light off and left the bedside lamp on.

He’s lying comfortably under the white covers, back against the headboard while he’s lazily scrolling through his phone. You feel giddy at how soft and warm he looks. Just like a teddy bear you wouldn’t be able to sleep without.

You place your clothes on his desk chair and walk over to the side he’s not occupying, noticing your own phone is placed on the bedside table next to him, plugged in and screen down. You smile at the thoughtful gesture and slowly lift the duvet to get under, instinctively shuffling closer to his side of the bed when he stretches his arm out for you and you place your head on his chest, resembling the position you were in earlier on the couch. His bedsheets are cold and you tangle a leg with his, wiggling your toes against his skin to warm them up, making him flinch and you giggle quietly. “Sorry.”   

He places his phone down, next to yours and moves to get comfortable against the pillows while holding onto your shoulders, bringing you down with him. He maneuvers you so you’re both on your sides facing each other and his arm is still slotted under you, between your head and your shoulder, while yours lazily drapes over his waist. He cups your jaw, gently rubbing his thumb against your skin and when he kisses your forehead gingerly, your eyes close momentarily while your arm tightens around his middle, pulling yourself closer so your chest is touching his. It feels domestic and so comfortable, like you’ve shared a bed with him a million times before.

“You comfy?” He whispers and you nod, the tip of your nose rubbing against his in the process. You see the corners of his lips lifting into a smile that probably mirrors yours. “Are you sleepy?” He murmurs against your lips and you smirk, knowing he’s testing the waters now. His fingers are in your hair and his thigh is resting between your legs, so close to your aching centre that you’re worried he can feel you throbbing through your underwear.   

“Not really.” You breathe against his lips, your hand on his back slipping under the hem of his t-shirt and you feel him shiver when you trail your fingers up, your nails lightly scratching, feeling the goosebumps on his warm skin. “You?” Your breath hitches when his thumb traces your bottom lip, dragging it down and your eyes travel to his heart shaped lips. You instantly wish they were on yours, but you want to let him go at his own pace.   

“What do you think?” He asks rhetorically and you breathe out a laugh, biting down on your bottom lip when his thumb moves to stroke the apple of your cheek.   

“I think,” you pause, lightly dragging your nails down his back, earning a whimper from him. “I’m not really thinking actually.” You confess as your hand travels to his front, fiddling with the strings of his shorts, your fingers catching the elastic band of his shorts and letting it snap against his lower abdomen, earning a gasp from him, which hits your eager lips.   

“Dumb already?” He attempts to tease and the smile dies on his lips, jaw dropping when your hand dips into his slacks and past his underwear, to wrap firmly around him. His eyes close when your thumb rubs under the head and you relish in the fact that he’s almost fully hard. He feels velvet smooth against your palm, thick enough to make you think it will probably sting when he enters you for the first time, slightly curved upwards, length perfect for hitting that sweet spot in your walls. You feel yourself getting wet at the thought and your breathing stutters when his thigh makes contact with your pussy, your hips instantly pushing forward, chasing the stimulating feeling. “Mm fu-“   

His lips are finally on yours, interrupting you and you moan against his mouth in relief, kissing him back like you were made for it. You can’t help but think of that night in the noraebang room; how these very lips completely and utterly ruined you for anyone else. How they devoured you like no one else has before and probably like no one ever will.   

Without breaking the kiss, you push him gently and he rolls onto his back dragging you with him so you can straddle him. He buries his fingers into your hair, deepening the kiss, his tongue gliding against yours and you moan at the taste of him; toothpaste and something uniquely him. Your hands take hold of his, dragging them down your figure and you stop to rest them on your ass, smiling in the kiss when he instantly kneads and pulls at the plush skin. You allow him to lick into your mouth one more time, before breaking the kiss to sit up and take in his dazed expression. Eyes hooded, lips wet and swollen and so irresistible, you feel helpless. Before he can complain, you drop your hands to the hem of the shirt that he let you borrow and slowly start dragging it up your skin, until it’s off you and on the floor.   

“Fuck.” He exhales heavily, the second your tits are free and his hand comes up caressing from your hip up to your ribs until he reaches the underside of your boob and he gently cups, feeling the weight of it in his hand. “You’re fucking unreal.” He whispers and licks his lips before sitting up and wrapping his other arm securely around your waist.

His forehead rests against your chest for a moment, inhaling deeply, almost as if he needs a minute to compose himself while still squeezing your boob in his hand and you let him, threading your fingers through his hair to offer some comfort. His warm breath caresses your nipple and your shiver, the skin around the nub pebbling against his palm. You whine at the sensitivity, pulling at his hair to guide him closer to where you want him.

He gets the message and he kisses across your sternum, his tongue coming out to make contact with your skin before it circles around your areola slowly, teasing you. The pads of his fingers digging into the skin of your boob, squeezing as he sucks the nipple into his mouth and he moans when you whine. He starts flicking his tongue, driving you close to insanity and the wetness in your underwear feels almost unbearable now, but you have other priorities.   

“Hae?” You call out into his hair as he’s still sucking and licking and he hums, indicating that he’s listening, as he scatters more kisses across your chest, moving to wrap his lips around your other nipple. “I wanna suck you off.” You say quickly, before allowing the shyness to infiltrate your brain and he instantly releases the nub, with a wet pop, so he can look up at your face with wide eyes. His mouth is ajar and his lips swollen and wet with his spit. He looks fucked out like this, hair messy and you love it, because you’re the sole reason. You cup his face and he absentmindedly squeezes both your tits in his hands, pushing them together, his eyes not leaving yours.   

“Yeah, baby?” He leans up and kisses you softly. “Wanna make me feel good?” He mumbles seductively against your mouth, and you don’t even think before quickly nodding.   

“Mm please.” You say in a whiny voice, playing along with him, as you pull at the fabric of his top and his hands move to pull at the collar, swiftly removing it. Your hands drag down his naked chest, pushing him to lie against the headboard, continuing their journey down his body, until they reach his shorts. You don’t waste any time, pulling his boxers along with them and he spreads his legs when he’s completely naked, for you to kneel in between them. His hand wraps around his hard cock, resting on his tummy and he whimpers at the needed friction while his eyes are on yours.   

“Tongue out, keep your eyes on me.” He says softly and you clench around nothing, your panties a mess by now, you have to refrain from cringing at the feeling. You instantly obey, leaning closer and sticking your tongue out, millimetres away from where he wants it. He gently taps the head against the centre of your awaiting wet muscle and you moan, fighting to keep your eyes on his, the act feeling intensely intimate. “Suck, baby.” He says, his voice still gentle but more authoritative than before. You wrap your lips around the head and suck softly, tasting his precum and you can’t help but let your eyes close at the taste and weight of him in your mouth. You pull back slightly, swirling your tongue around him and flicking at the underside, causing him to grunt. “Fuck, pretty girl, you’re so good to me, aren’t you.” He says, with a shaky voice in his state of vulnerability, and you moan at the praise as you slap his hand away, replacing it with your own, wrapping your smaller fingers around his thick length and he lets you. You start to move your hand up and down, pumping him at a quick pace while sucking around the tip again, tongue dipping gently in his slit and when his hips buck up, wanting you to take him deeper, you place a hand on his hip as a warning and he grunts. "Fuck baby, please."   

You gather a good amount of saliva in your mouth and when you look up to make sure he's watching you, you let it drip down slowly, watching as it coats his cock and travels down to his balls. You smile when his eyes roll back and you lick from base to top teasingly, surprising him when you take him as deep as you can, with your hand wrapped tightly around the base.

You moan when he reaches the back of your throat, swallowing around him with purpose and you pull back up when you start to gag. Your hand follows your mouth as you slowly start to move your head up and down, trying to give him as much pleasure as you can and you know you're doing a good job when his hands curl in your hair, gathering the strands into a messy ponytail and his moans turn into whines. This time, when his hips start moving, you allow him to fuck up into you, having gotten used to the feeling of him in your throat.

You slacken your jaw, moving your hand from the base to his thigh, and he moans louder when you allow him to go deeper than before. You feel your eyes water and you know you're slobbering around him, making a complete mess as saliva drips from the corners of your mouth, gathering at the base of his cock and balls. Your hand comes up to cup them, rolling gently and he abruptly pulls your mouth off him with a loud groan.

You look at the thick string of spit mixed with precum that’s connecting your lips to his tip, as you gasp for air and then your teary eyes travel up to meet his wild ones. He looks conflicted and his grip on your hair feels tight. "What's wrong?" You ask, your voice comes out hoarse and you feel like coughing to clear your throat, but you just swallow carefully.  

He manages to laugh breathlessly at your confused expression, his breathing shallow and his lips bright pink from all the biting. "I was about to cum." He explains and grabs you by the arms to pull you up.   

"Ain't that the point?" You say as you straddle him again and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, some of the drool smearing on your chin and you internally cringe at the wetness, but his eyes on your mouth tell you he thinks otherwise.   

"Not if you want me to fuck you, no." Your heart jumps at his words and the look on your face must betray you, because he’s smirking. "Unless you don't." He teases, caressing your thighs as you place both hands on his naked chest, your pinky rubbing against his nipple and you giggle when he shudders.   

"No, I do." You confess as you lean down to kiss him but he quickly sits up, meeting you halfway as he wraps his arms around you, maneuvering you onto your back swiftly and you feel yourself bounce on the mattress when he plops you down. He kneels between your legs and without warning, he starts pulling your panties off you. You eagerly raise your hips to help him, bringing your bent legs together, so the fabric doesn't stretch.   

Once the lace is somewhere on the floor, you see his lips curling into a smile as he bites on the bottom one when you mindlessly spread your legs for him again, inviting him to settle between them. He moves closer, dragging his knees on the mattress as his hands take purchase on your hips.   

"Scoot up a bit for me?" He asks sweetly and he helps you move up the bed, so your head rests comfortably on the fluffy pillows, and you feel the butterflies in your stomach causing havoc with no permission, your heart thudding like crazy as your eyes find his and fuck holding back now. You just want him to ruin you.   

You pull at his silver chain, your other hand grabbing the back of his neck and he grunts the second your lips crash, all tongue and teeth with no coordination. You tilt your head to the side to get better access and the wet sound of kissing fills the room. Your clit is throbbing and you desperately need him to do something. Anything. "Please, I'm so wet." You whine against his lips and he moans at your neediness, grinding into your centre. His cock sliding between your folds, the head bumping into your neglected clit and your hips raise searching for more friction.

He leans back on his heels and hunches over you, one hand splayed on your tummy, the other wrapping around his dick as he taps the head against your clit and your legs spread completely, giving him full access as you squeeze around your own tits, needing to hold onto something. Your eyes roll back when he starts firmly rubbing the swollen nub, flicking from side to side and you feel like you're  about to combust, your back arching off the bed as you moan loudly.   

You open your eyes the second the friction comes to a halt, and the complaint dies in your mouth when you're met with the sinful sight of him coating two of his fingers in spit before they disappear between your legs and into your needy hole. "Shit, baby." He says in awe when they easily slide into you and your jaw drops at the fullness, your eyes threatening to shut from the pleasure, but you refuse to stop looking at him. His arm muscles are flexing when he starts fucking you open, instantly finding that sensitive spot that drives you insane, his other hand still, possessively pressing down on your lower abdomen to hold you in place, his hair matted on his damp forehead, his eyes focused on your dripping centre, bottom lip trapped between his teeth in concentration. He looks so hot, you could come just from looking at him and when his thumb comes into the equation, rubbing merciless circles around your clit, you feel yourself getting tighter.   

“You gonna cum?” He asks in a whisper, his eyes meeting yours momentarily and you nod quickly, eyebrows creasing at the intense pressure in your belly.   

"Uh-huh, don’t stop." You respond in a high pitched plea and his pace quickens, creating the filthiest squelching noises around his hand and your eyes close, half in ecstasy half in embarrassment. "Oh my god." Your fingers knead your tits harder when you're on the edge and a moan from him is what topples you over. "Fuck, I'm cumming." Your pussy feels like it's on fire as your walls spasm, your clit throbs like it's about to fall off and your legs can't stop shaking. His fingers are pistoning into you so hard and fast, that it feels like it slightly hurts but it feels so good at the same time. Too good. You sense that you're on the verge of peeing and your voice comes out in a broken squeal. "Shit, ah, stop stop stop!" Your hand grabs his wrist in a desperate state and he looks up at your face with widened eyes, like he's come out of a trance. He stops his ministrations but keeps his fingers buried inside you.   

"Fuck, baby, I'm sorry." The hand on your stomach, moving to your ribs, caressing gently. "Did I hurt you? You- shit, I thought you were gonna squirt for a second so I kept going, I'm really sorry." His pupils are shaking as he explains quickly, taking in your sweaty, disheveled form and you feel so exposed that you make grabby hands at him, wanting him close. He instantly moves, supporting his weight on one arm, careful not to crash you and you sigh when you feel his chest flush against yours, warm and damp.   

"It didn't hurt." You assure him, cupping his cheeks in your hands and he closes his eyes, sighing in relief. "I just felt like I was gonna pee." You confess bashfully and he chuckles, burying his face in your neck, inhaling deeply as you run your fingers through his hair. "I've never squirted before, so I freaked out a bit." You explain quietly. "Plus, I don't wanna ruin your bed sheets before we even get to the sex part."   

He snorts and raises his head to look at you again. "Pretty sure they're already ruined." He says giving you a kiss on the cheek and you move to playfully push him off you, but a gasp escapes you when you feel his fingers slightly move, reminding you they're still buried inside your sensitive walls. "Unclench a little, you're squeezing." He whispers and when he kisses you, you slowly relax your walls around his digits, allowing him to carefully pull out and you whine at the loss, making him smile in the kiss. His hand cups your sensitive core, making you mewl at the comforting warmth. "You sure you still wanna keep going? We don't have to if you're feeling sore."  

"I'm fine." You wrap your legs around his waist, holding him close. “Want you.” You whisper, hands sliding up his chest, coming up to bury in his hair again, as you bring his lips down to yours, urging him to kiss you stupid. And he does. 

It’s slow, steady, passionate and you feel like mush in his arms, numb to the core, your lips moving in sync with his, taking what he’s giving you. You inhale and exhale heavily through your nose, refusing to break the kiss and you moan when he obscenely shoves his tongue into your mouth, licking messily and the conversation from earlier enters your mind suddenly. “Mm- I want mmf-” He interrupts you with another messy kiss before pulling away, allowing you to speak.  

“You want what?” He asks quietly, lips still grazing yours as he catches his breath. Your eyes are on his glistening mouth, and he must sense your hesitation, because he presses again, hand caressing up and down your thigh in encouragement. “Tell me, baby, I’ll give you anything you want.”   

“Remember what we talked about earlier?” You try, too embarrassed to actually say the words.  

“Earlier?” His eyebrows furrow in thought, not catching on straight away.  

“At the café.” You whisper, your eyes drop to his mouth again, slightly hinting and when they find his again, you know he’s caught on.   

“You- fuck.” He falters when your hips raise, the tip of his cock catching at your entrance momentarily before sliding between your folds. “You want me to spit in your mouth?” He asks carefully, after having somewhat collected himself, both arms coming up, trapping your head between them as he rests his weight on them. You nod, holding eye contact, hands traveling down his abdomen, fingers tracing his sides before trailing up his spine, bracing once having reached his shoulders, palms resting on the blades. “You fucking minx.” His hand cups your chin, fingers lightly squishing your cheeks, forcing your lips to pucker as he leans in to press a chaste kiss on them. 

His index taps against your cheek gently, as his hold on your face loosens. “Open up.” He instructs, his voice low, eyes darkening and you feel your cunt fluttering around nothing. “Tongue out.” His fingers lightly shake your face from side to side possessively and your brain stops functioning, tongue sticking out as if on demand and you whine when you watch him gather saliva in his mouth, cheeks hollowing a little, before slowly letting it dribble down your awaiting muscle. Your eyes rolls back when you feel it and your fingernails instinctively dig into his shoulders. “Swallow.” He instructs again, and you obey with a desperate moan, revelling in his dominant demeanour. His hand wraps around your throat, feeling the movement and he kisses you again, grunting against your lips, as you struggle to keep up with him, mouth widening to take his tongue in and you feel the wetness smearing on your chin messily.   

You realise no one has ever kissed you like Haechan, and you wonder if he’s always kissing his sexual partners like this. Has anyone else experienced this level of intimacy with him before? You instantly feel the jealousy brewing at the thought of someone receiving this kind of affection; this kind of pleasure from him and you surprise yourself, never having felt this possessive over someone before. Something switches in you.

“Fuck me.” You breathlessly mumble, not recognising your own voice and he moans in your mouth as your hand reaches down, wrapping around his cock, smearing the shiny drops of precum adorning his tip. His hips thrust forward into your touch and you pump him steadily a couple more times, offering some sort of relief.   

He pulls away slightly, to look at you. “Let me grab a condom.” He says quickly before grabbing your ankles, unwrapping them from his waist.   

“Right, yes.” You nod dumbly, feeling a little silly for having lost all sensibility because of him.   

You watch him as he reaches blindly in the bedside table drawer; his eyebrows furrowing in concentration and his face lights up the second he finds one. You watch him as he sits back on his heels, ripping the foil with his teeth. You watch him as he rolls the latex carefully onto his hard cock, teeth sinking in his bottom lip as he pumps himself a few times, ensuring the condom is on properly, chest moving as he breathes heavily. You watch him as he moves closer, coating two fingers in saliva, before bringing them down to your slit again, rubbing up and down slowly before dipping them in and quickly pumping into you to prep you, even if you really don’t need it. You let him though, because you want to keep watching him for a little longer. 

He looks ethereal, skin glistening in a sheen layer of sweat, his shoulders wide, his chest and arm muscles lean, bicep flexing subtly as he expertly slides his fingers in and out, scissoring them to stretch you for him. He looks like the epitome of sex and you can’t even bring yourself to moan as his palm rubs against your sensitive clit, your jaw dropping with a quiet, trembling breath when he starts jabbing at your already abused g-spot and your hands release the sheets in favour of holding your legs open, when they threaten to close.

“Think I’m gonna cum again.” You mumble in awe, eyes staying on him still.   

“You think?” He asks, voice laced with sarcasm, pace quickening, urging you to unravel around his fingers for the second time tonight. “Go on, baby.” His free hand, presses against the back of your thigh, pushing your leg close to your chest, testing your flexibility and the second his eyes meet yours, you cum. Hard. “Yeah, good girl.” He praises softly and you let out a whine, allowing your eyes to finally shut, not being able to handle his intense stare, your back arching as your fingers dig into the backs of your thighs, legs uncontrollably shaking, walls clenching repeatedly around his hand, clit pulsing against the heel of his palm as he helps you ride out your orgasm.   

He starts kissing up your trembling body, lips wet, tongue lapping up your sweaty skin and he doesn’t even give you the chance to catch your breath when he harshly sucks your nipple in his warm mouth as his fingers leave your heat to wrap around his hard cock, rubbing the head up and down your soaked cunt. Your hands come up to grab onto his hair, as you attempt to anchor yourself and you can’t help but moan loudly when he pushes in. And even though it’s only the tip, it’s enough to drive you close to insanity.   

“Fuck!” You exclaim, forcing his head up so you can kiss him as he slowly bottoms out, distracting yourself from the stinging sensation.   

You both moan when his pelvis meets yours, his pubic bone flush against your hypersensitive clit as he gives you a second to adjust. He slowly pulls out to the tip and thrusts back in, maintaining a slow, careful pace to make sure you’re feeling comfortable.

“Relax for me.” He exhales a shaky laugh against your lips and you squeeze even harder to tease him. “Fuck! Baby, what the f- don’t.” He warns with a grunt as he wraps an authoritative hand around your neck and draws his hips back a little, before slamming in with force, not a second later. 

The loud noise that escapes your throat resembles a scream and your eyes roll back when he starts fucking into you hard and fast, wet slapping sounds echoing and you don’t even feel embarrassed at hearing how wet you are, the intense pleasure taking over your senses, completely clouding any coherent thought.

“Not so bratty now, are we?” He grunts against your jaw as the hand around your neck tightens slightly, causing your ears to start ringing and your eyes to water. He releases you just when you start feeling dizzy, allowing you to catch your breath. He lets out a dark laugh at your loud gasps and buries his hand in your hair instead, pulling at the roots, so your head lolls back on the pillows, giving him access to your neck. 

“So fucking wet, fffuck, so good.” He slurs between sloppy kisses against your sensitive skin as his hips slow down, fucking you nice and deep at a lazy pace, torturing you. “You take me so well, baby.” His crude words causing you to clench around him as his tongue laps from the base of your neck, up to your ear, flicking the lobe playfully.

“Look.” He whispers, moist breath tickling your ear as the hand fisting you hair, forces your head forward and off the pillow, making you look down between your bodies and you obediently open you eyes. You take in the unholy visual of his cock slowly dragging out to the tip, coated in your shiny slick essence, a white ring forming at the base and your eyes threaten to roll back when he so easily slides back in, at the same torturous pace. “See how perfect you are?”

Your nails drag down his back, leaving scratch marks behind and he hums against your neck when they dig into the flesh of his ass. “Faster, please.” You breathe out and he loosens his hold, allowing your head to tip back down, his eyes finding yours as he maintains the slow pace. 

"You sure, baby?" His tone mocking as he sits back up on his knees, looking down at your messy cunt practically sucking him back in every time he slowly pulls out. You reel at the sight of his feral expression, his eyes unfocused as they trail up and down your naked body, like he can’t decide what to focus on. You feel exposed to the core but your arousal wins and you moan loudly, back arching when his thumb slowly circles around your clit twice, stimulating the stiff nub. 

"Hae, please." You're on the verge of tears and he must like the sound of your begging, because he doesn’t hesitate this time.

He leans down again, bringing his lips to yours, thrusts increasing in pace and force significantly but never losing preciseness, giving you exactly what you want. “Yeah, you want it hard? Fuckin take it.” He grunts, kisses turning sloppy, all tongue and teeth and you can’t stop moaning, mouth hanging open against his as he relentlessly slams his hips against yours.

“Yes, oh my god.” You exhale against his mouth, as he changes the angle slightly and starts fucking directly into your g-spot, barely pulling out before thrusting back in, his balls slapping against your ass and you’re pretty sure you’ve never been fucked this good before. “Fuck, Haechan, baby, please please please, don’t stop.” You blabber, completely lost in mind-numbing bliss, your legs spreading as far as they can go, allowing him to thrust as deep as he pleases. 

“Fuck, Y/N, I need you to cum.” He whispers, tone laced with urgency, almost sounding like he’s in pain and he wastes no time; a hand slotting between your bodies, resuming the stimulation on your clit, as he supports his weight on one arm, thrusts unfaltering, unforgiving and just perfect. His fingers start rubbing rough, tight circles around the nub and your toes curl against his sides, arms securely wrapping around his shoulders, as your walls squeeze around him, indicating another orgasm approaching, and when his fingers along with the head of his cock rub against the right spot, you’re gone.

Your moan comes out broken, walls clamping down on him, legs pathetically attempting to close around him but failing as your thighs shake violently and you feel dizzy, a tear rolling down your temple from the intensity of your high.   

He keeps fucking you into the mattress, thrusts turning a little sloppy now that you're squeezing around him, hips losing their steady rhythm and when the pleasure borders overstimulation, causing you to mewl, he abruptly pulls out, kneeling between your legs and over your spent body. He pulls the condom off quickly with trembling fingers and he moans as he starts jerking himself off, aiming for your abdomen as his free hand curls around your ribs, holding you exactly where he wants you.  

“You look so good.” You exhale in awe as you observe him in the midst of his pleasure, his eyes shut, head thrown back, his pretty neck on display as he moans loudly and his hooded eyes find yours again for a second before they roll back into his head. 

“Shit, gonna cum.” He shakily announces, your praise seeming to have worked wonders, as you feel the first spurts of hot liquid landing on your skin. You take in the beautiful sight of his shaking form, chest and neck flushed, drenched in sweat, eyebrows creasing in between, eyes still shut, jaw slack as he releases short breaths.

He’s milking himself when you look down and you can’t help but ogle at the sight of your skin covered in the sticky white mess he’s created, illuminated by the bedside lamp. You notice some of it has landed on your tits, some on your tummy and you’re pretty sure some of it is pooling in the dip of your belly button, causing you to bite back a smile. 

“Fuck.” He breathes in relief as his eyes slowly open to look at you and he looks dazed, fucked out. His tan skin flushed, making him look delicious. Sweat drips down his temple, hands shaking as they rest on your thighs limply. “I think I blacked out for a second there.” He mutters in awe and you giggle at his crazy eyes, while he tries to regulate his breathing.

His cheeky smile has returned, and he leans in, taking a closer look at his work. “Damn, I did a number on you.” He teases, eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in the sinful sight. “Pretty.” He whispers and takes your limp hand in his, lips kissing gently on the back of it, eyes looking up at you innocently, like he didn’t just fuck you stupid.   

When he drops your hand, he leans down with no warning and you panic at his mischievous expression, as his head disappears between your legs.

“What are you doing?” You ask in confusion and he chuckles softly.   

“Shhh.” He breathes against your folds as his hands hold your legs open and the second his tongue swipes against your heat, you squirm, trying to move further up the bed, but he tightens his arms around your thighs, holding you still. “Relax, just take it.” He whispers calmly before gently sucking on your clit. His tongue slides down to lap at your entrance, slightly dipping in, tasting you directly, before flattening and licking up to the bundle of nerves, making you mewl when he swirls around it languidly. He keeps going, alternating between sucking, licking and gently circling until your legs are shaking again. Your hands release the sheets, moving to desperately hold onto his hair, fingers pulling, not knowing whether to push him away or pull him closer and his moan vibrates against your clit, pushing you over the edge once more. You cry out pathetically, not able to form any words, cumming uncontrollably on his tongue as he refuses to let up until your whole body shakes from overstimulation.  

“Please, I- I can’t- can't cum again.” You stumble over your words, as he licks against your entrance, slurping up your juices, the sounds incriminating and you don’t even have the energy to push him away anymore. You just accept that if he tries to make you come again, you’ll probably pass out. To your relief, he thankfully stops once he’s cleaned you up with his tongue.

You blink up at him when you feel his weight on you, his skin feels hot on yours, his cum smearing between you, and he doesn’t seem have a care in the world. The only thing he does seem to care about is shoving his tongue in your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself, kissing you like he owns you and at this point, he might as well spell out his name on your body with his cum, because he has completely and utterly destroyed you and you know you’re irrevocably ruined for anyone else.   

“So good for me, baby girl.” He mutters wetly, mouth open against yours, breathing heavy. “So fucking sweet.” He whispers almost inaudibly and you cup his chin in your hand, squishing his cheeks between your fingers, pecking him on his puckered lips.   

“You’re fucking insane, Lee Haechan.” You weakly chuckle as he tries to kiss you again, his whine childish as your firm hold on his face prevents him from doing so. “Get off me, before I piss myself in your bed, you freak. You’re pressing against my bladder.”  

_

After having gently cleaned you up with a warm hand towel and carried you to the bathroom so you can sort yourself out, he’s got you back in his bed, safely cocooned in his arms and under the covers. His front is comfortably pressed against your back and you’re basking in the warmth and the nakedness.   

“Now I’m definitely sleepy.” You mumble with a content smile and he quietly chuckles in your hair, tightening his arms around you, holding you as close as possible, sighing in delight.  

“Mm same.” He mumbles sleepily against your neck. “You comfortable like this?” He checks, and you feel giddy at his attentiveness.   

“Mm-hmm, more than.” You nuzzle back into him, lazily stroking your fingers up and down the arm that’s wrapped around your middle, his palm casually cupping your boob; not squeezing, just gently holding. You feel him smile as he presses a sweet kiss on your shoulder.

A few moments of comfortable silence pass, and just when you think his breathing has started to slow down, he quietly speaks again.  

“Y/N?” He asks tentatively and his serious tone worries you.   

“Yeah?” You attempt to turn your head to look at him, but his tight embrace holds you in place and you presume he needs to not be looking at you when he says his next words.   

“I think-” He pauses, collecting his thoughts and you have a feeling you know what he’s trying to get at, so you give him time, hand still gently stroking his arm. “Are we on the same page here?”  

“Well,” You sigh, feigning uncertainty and the tensing in his arm almost makes you regret dragging this. “That depends Lee Haechan.” The teasing smile evident in your voice. “What page are you on?”  

© neogotmycookie 2025

[smileysuh]

Scent : alpha! Haechan

🌙 staring. Haechan x afab!Reader

🔮 synopsis. alpha Haechan finds you, a stray omega having issues with your heat suppressants, and he decides that even if he is one of the younger members in an all alpha pack, and even if he doesn’t want kids, it’s a fabulous idea to all but take in a cute, fertile, omega who is deep in heat. 

cw/tw. a/b/o au, abo class systems, power dynamic focus, mentions of werewolf men being creepy to omegas, inclusion of omega on heat, masturbation, mutual masturbation, scenting, dirty talk, dom daddy Haechan, lots of talk about cum, mentions of breeding kinks, fingering, tension, so many orgasms, voyeurism, like 3 separate sex scenes, multiple positions, oral (f receiving), alpha kink, Haechan has monster cock syndrome as per usual, overstimulation, sex with a condom!, dumbification, etc

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 11k

🍭 aus. a/b/o & werewolf au, all alpha pack, soulmate themes, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. find the a/b/o au masterlist here

Something smells amazing. Like truly. Haechan’s eyes scan the entire bar, where could the scent possibly be coming from? There’s no way an Omega is at the bar, some alphas flaunt their mates in public, but a place like this? Way too many threats. 

And Haechan’s never smelled someone like you before. You must be in heat- or near it.

The one thing that doesn’t make sense is why no one else is reacting.

Even Johnny, who arguably has the best scent ability because he’s physically one of the largest alphas in the club, is still laughing with Jaehyun about something.

Haechan stands up, hand grasping the worn leather jacket that had been on his chair. 

“Where are you going?” Doyoung asks quickly, eyes flashing red at the sudden movement. Out of all the alphas, Doyoung’s one of the jumpier ones. In the safety of their own spaces, Haechan can afford to push his buttons, but in public, they can’t get into fights, no matter how much they both need one. 

“Out.”

Keep reading

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

family lines masterlist (m.r.)

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: Curly brown hair? Brown eyes? You must be a Riddle.

Status: Complete

A/N: Please comment under this post to be added to the family lines taglist <3 For other taglists please send me an ask!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Epilogue

taglist under the cut

family lines taglist:

@ladyelena112 @seawaterbrain @s4rangh0e @empath-bunny @alittlewhelmed @insideoutjulie @alexiared @fayezasstuff @lorenzozurzolocanruinmylife @cantbecreative @iamheretoread1234 @fawnme1 @thelittlestspot @venusvoids @aefillor @lunaxlibrary @loml-gs @melsunshine @abbier08 @svr2003 @faeriepigeons @eyes-ofhell @sydpickle @in-the-kosmos @20marie08 @kiessecretcove @selenewowww @lilyyyyy08 @sleepybookworm21 @oh-buttercup @allurearia @rhysology @hey-there9-its-me @hereticdance @moonlight52moonlight @shwnirwin @btilesbilinski @lightningdaze @littlepippilongstocking @h3lloooooocha0s @leighclerc @rereluvsobx @unicornslushicore @prensess777 @mars-made-cannon @day3moon @quirkylaugher @sadfishstuff @sunburntbitch @chocolatemagazinecupcake @abigaiili @dreamilyultimatestructure

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

family planning (t.n.)

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Reader

Word Count: 11.6k

Summary: Theodore never wanted children. The day his mother died was the day he had sworn off any semblance of a family. That was until a child appears before him, claiming to be his daughter.

A/N: this is NOT a pregnancy fic you guys i promise also i didn't want to split this into two parts but tumblr deemed it too long so um two parts ig

credits to @dividers-are-us for the divider

Part 2

Theodore Nott had read enough books to know that the day his entire life changed was supposed to feel different.

The air would be heavier. The world sharper. Something—anything—would be off. A subtle wrongness, a warning. Foreshadowing of the wrench about to be thrown into his carefully ordered life.

He had felt it once before, when his mother died and left a hollow space behind that never quite filled.

But that was the thing.

Nothing felt wrong about today.

Had everything gone as it usually did, it would have been completely mundane—monotonous, even. Theodore woke up, ate breakfast, slipped outside for a smoke. Double Potions. Another smoke. Transfiguration. Lunch. Arithmancy.

And now he was stuck in Charms.

Professor Flitwick had been lecturing about advanced spell interactions—something about like and unlike spells, wand movements and intent—when the first spell fizzled.

Then another.

Then three more went wildly off course, sparks ricocheting off desks and dissolving into the air like fireflies gone wrong.

Theo leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, unimpressed.

“Focus,” Flitwick snapped, wand raised, “Clearly someone here has—”

The room cracked.

Not shattered. Not exploded.

Cracked—like reality itself had split open for half a second.

There was a blinding flash of gold light, a rush of displaced air, and then—

Silence.

Sitting in the middle of the classroom floor was a little girl.

She couldn’t have been more than three or four years old. Dark curls fell into her face, dressed in pajamas, and her small hands were clenched into fists as she looked around, eyes wide and terrified.

For exactly two seconds, she was quiet.

Then her lip trembled.

“—Papà?”

Her voice broke.

And then she started crying.

Not soft sniffles. Full-on, panicked sobs—the kind that came from being suddenly, completely lost.

“Voglio il mio papà!” She cried, scrambling to her feet, “Voglio andare a casa!” (I want my daddy! I want to go home!)

The classroom froze.

“…Did she just Apparate?” Someone whispered.

Another voice, baffled, “She’s a child.”

A Ravenclaw girl cautiously stepped forward, “Hey, it’s okay—”

The girl recoiled instantly, backing away as if burned, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“No! No, no, no!” She sobbed, shaking her head violently, “Non ti conosco! Voglio il mio papà! Voglio papà!” (I don't know you! I want my daddy! I want daddy!)

She spun in a slow, desperate circle, looking at all of them with pure, unfiltered fear.

“Papà! Dove sei?!” (Dad! Where are you?!)

Theo stared at her from his seat.

He wasn’t heartless—of course he wasn’t. There was something about the way she wailed, the sheer terror in her voice, that made his chest tighten painfully. And yet, he stayed where he was.

“Is she—speaking Italian?” Someone murmured.

A ripple of voices followed.

“Yeah.” “Definitely Italian.” “I don’t speak Italian.” “Does anyone speak Italian?”

Someone turned.

Then another.

Then, inevitably, every gaze slid to Theo.

Blaise nudged his arm, “Oi, Nott. You speak Italian, don’t you?”

He didn’t bother answering. Everyone already knew—thanks to the absolute slew of Italian curses he’d hurled at Weasley during the last Quidditch match.

“Great,” Blaise said immediately, “Do something.”

Theo’s eyes flicked back to the girl.

She had dropped to her knees now, small hands pressed to her face as she cried, her breathing beginning to hitch dangerously. A Hufflepuff girl hovered nearby, concern written all over her face, but every step closer only made the child cry harder.

“Voglio il mio papà… per favore…” She sobbed between gasps. (I want my daddy… please…)

Something twisted uncomfortably in Theo’s chest.

“I’m not exactly a baby person.” He muttered.

“Nott,” the Ravenclaw girl hissed, “She’s a toddler. She’s about to have a panic attack, and she can’t understand a word we’re saying.”

The girl let out a sharp, breathless sob, her chest stuttering as she tried—and failed—to calm herself.

“Papà…” She whimpered.

Theo closed his eyes for a brief second and exhaled.

“Cazzo.” (fuck)

He pushed his chair back and stood.

The entire classroom fell silent as he took a step toward her.

Theo approached slowly, hands raised in a placating gesture despite himself.

“Ehi,” He said gently, crouching a few feet away from her. His voice was low, careful, “Va tutto bene. Respira, sì? Piano, piano.” (It’s okay. Breathe, yeah? Slowly, slowly.)

The girl barely registered him.

She was still crying hard, hiccupping sobs shaking her tiny frame as she shook her head over and over, “No, no, no… voglio papà… voglio papà adesso…” (No, no, no… I want daddy… I want daddy now)

“Io so,” Theo murmured, trying to keep his tone steady, “Ma sei al sicuro. Nessuno ti farà male. Guarda me, piccola.” (I know, but you're safe. No one's going to hurt you. Look at me, little one.)

He reached out slightly—then stopped, unsure.

“Come ti chiami?” He asked softly. (What's your name?)

She sniffed, wiping her nose with her sleeve, eyes squeezed shut as if refusing to look at the world around her. “Voglio papà,” She repeated stubbornly, voice breaking again, “Ho paura…” (I want dad, I'm scared)

Theo swallowed.

“Papà non è lontano,” He said, choosing his words carefully, “Va bene? Respira con me.” (Dad’s not far away, Okay? Breathe with me.)

That was when she opened her eyes.

Really looked at him.

Her crying hitched mid-sob.

For half a second, her face went utterly still—eyes widening, breath catching like she’d forgotten how to breathe.

Then—

“Papà!”

She surged forward.

Theo barely had time to react before a small body collided with his chest, tiny arms wrapping around his neck with desperate force. She buried her face into his robes, clutching him like he might disappear if she let go.

“Papà, papà, papà,” She cried, the word tumbling out between sobs, “Ti ho trovato… non andare via… per favore…” (I found you… don't go away… please…)

Theo froze.

Completely. Utterly.

His arms hovered awkwardly at his sides, unsure what to do as the child clung to him, shaking with leftover fear. Her tears soaked straight through his uniform as she pressed closer, like she was trying to crawl into him.

The room was dead silent.

Theo’s eyes flicked up.

Every single person was staring.

Flitwick looked like he might faint. The Ravenclaw girl’s mouth hung open. Blaise had gone eerily still, eyebrows raised so high they were nearly in his hairline.

Theo slowly mouthed, Get this child off me.

No one moved.

The girl sniffed loudly and tightened her grip, small hands fisting in the fabric of his robes. “Papà.” She whimpered again, quieter now, exhausted.

Theo looked down at her—at the way she fit far too easily against him, at how natural it felt for her to be there—and felt his brain short-circuit.

“I—” He cleared his throat, voice coming out rough, “Io… eh…”

She tilted her head just enough for him to feel the movement, her grip loosening slightly as the tension finally drained from her small body. Her breathing stuttered once more, then evened out, warm against his chest.

Theo looked down just in time to see her eyelids flutter.

Once.

Twice.

And then she was gone.

Fast asleep.

Her forehead rested against his collarbone, tiny fingers still curled tightly in his robes like she was afraid to let go even in sleep. A quiet, shaky sigh left her, the last echo of fear finally spent.

Theo swallowed hard.

The hospital wing smelled faintly of antiseptic and lemon polish. Sunlight slanted through the tall windows, but it did nothing to calm the chaos of the little girl in Theo Nott’s arms. Professors Flitwick, McGonagall, and Snape hovered nearby, wands and parchment at the ready, while a few house-elves scurried nervously at the edges of the room.

Theo wasn’t sure how he’d ended up here—one hand on her back, the other awkwardly supporting her legs—and frankly, he didn’t care. All he wanted was to set her down in a cot and get the hell out of there.

“She appears… well, as far as magical diagnostics go." Pomfrey said uncertainly, trailing off.

Flitwick rubbed at the crease between his brows and sighed, “I’m not even sure what spells were cast. Perhaps someone transfigured an object into a child… though it seems highly unlikely. I did a head count, but maybe a student from another class managed to get de-aged? It will take me some time to get to the bottom of this.”

“During which,” McGonagall added crisply, “We need to figure out where exactly she is going to reside.”

All eyes turned to Theo, still awkwardly seated on the bed. The green tie in her grubby hands was clutched tightly, her shirt streaked with snot from her tears. He stared at the ceiling, silently praying to whatever deity listened that this problem would disappear.

“All right,” Flitwick muttered, “We need… more concrete information. Perhaps a simple veritas test to confirm basic biological markers…”

He waved his wand carefully over a tiny strand of her hair, muttering under his breath. The result came up empty. Flitwick let out a frustrated sigh, before his gaze fell on the way her small body curled naturally against Theo. Her fear of strangers was… painfully clear.

He waved his wand again, more deliberately this time.

“It would seem, Mr. Nott,” He began cautiously, “that you are biologically related to her.”

Theo blinked in shock, his grip faltering. The little girl nearly toppled in his arms.

“Excuse me?” He managed, voice tight, heart racing, utterly refusing to acknowledge what Flitwick had just said.

Flitwick adjusted his glasses nervously, “I—I understand this is… unusual. But the magical markers are clear. There is no doubt: you are biologically related to her.”

Theo’s eyes narrowed, “No. I… that… that’s impossible.”

McGonagall stepped forward, arms crossed, her voice calm but firm, “Mr. Nott, we must consider all possibilities. Clearly, she has appeared here through some magical anomaly."

Snape, leaning against the wall with an unimpressed frown, muttered, “Magical anomaly is one way to put it. Unprecedented, more like.”

Flitwick cleared his throat, “We may need to consider the… temporal aspect. Combined with the accelerated spellwork and residual transfiguration energy from earlier… it is conceivable that she has been displaced here from another point in time.”

Theo blinked, “…You’re saying… she’s from the future?”

“Yes,” McGonagall said carefully, though her eyes softened as she looked at the child curled against him, “And until we can stabilize whatever magical interference brought her here, we will need to come up with a plan to care for her."

Theo exhaled slowly, a sound somewhere between frustration and disbelief, "Alright then, take her."

Flitwick hesitated, frowning. The professors exchanged glances.

Theo’s heart thumped in a way that was decidedly unhelpful. The child pressed closer, nuzzling her face into his chest, hiccupping softly.

"Perhaps, it would be best for the child to stay with her fa—"

“I’m not her father,” He said firmly, “…And she is not my responsibility.”

“If you truly refuse,” McGonagall said quietly, “then the staff will care for her until we can determine a safe way to return her to her own time.”

McGonagall nodded once and gestured toward Madam Pomfrey, “Very well.”

Pomfrey stepped forward gently, arms outstretched, “Come now, dear. Let’s get you settled—”

The moment she felt herself being pulled away from the warm chest she’d been clinging to, the effect was immediate.

The little girl stiffened in Theo’s arms, eyes flying open as she registered that the hands lifting her did not belong to him. Her face crumpled, breath hitching once before she broke into loud, panicked sobs.

“No—no, no!” She cried, voice high and shaking, “Papà! Papà, portami!” (Dad! Dad, carry me!)

She twisted against him, burying her face into his chest as if trying to disappear. Tiny arms wrapped around his neck with desperate strength, her small body trembling violently.

Theo froze.

Pomfrey halted mid-step. Flitwick winced. Even Snape straightened slightly, eyes narrowing.

“Papà, per favore,” She sobbed, words tumbling over one another, “Ho paura… non voglio… non voglio…” (Daddy, please. I'm scared… I don't want… I don't want…)

Theo’s jaw tightened. He stared straight ahead, pulse pounding, every instinct screaming at him to hand her over and walk away. But her grip only tightened, her cries growing sharp and breathless.

She was shaking.

“Alright,” Theo snapped suddenly, sharper than he meant to, “Stop—just—don’t—”

Everyone froze.

Theo swallowed and glanced down at her. Her face was blotchy and red, lashes clumped with tears, chest hitching unevenly as she struggled to breathe. She looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes, like she was bracing for him to vanish.

Something twisted painfully in his chest.

“…Va bene,” He muttered, the Italian rough but instinctive, “Va bene. Basta piangere.” (All right. No more crying.)

Her sobs stuttered—not stopping, but slowing.

Awkwardly, he adjusted his hold, one arm settling more securely around her back while the other patted her shoulder once—too stiff, too careful. He cleared his throat.

“Shh.” He said quietly, glancing around like he’d been caught doing something illegal, rocking her back and forth like a rusty robot that hadn’t been oiled in years.

She sniffed hard, still clutching him, but the panic ebbed enough for her breathing to even out. Her head tucked beneath his chin, warm and damp against his collar.

McGonagall studied the child for a long moment, then Theo. Her expression softened—just a fraction.

“It seems,” She said evenly, “that she has made her preference quite clear.”

Flitwick nodded, rubbing his hands together nervously, “Yes… yes, I’m afraid forcing the issue would only distress her further.”

Theo exhaled sharply through his nose, “…Unbelievable.”

The girl whimpered once more, fingers tightening in his shirt as if reminding him she was still there.

Theo stiffened, then sighed.

“…Fine,” He said quietly, “Okay. She can—she can stay. For now. Until you figure this out.”

The walk back to the Slytherin dorms was… an experience.

Theo kept his pace measured, one arm secured firmly around the sleeping weight against his chest. She’d fallen back asleep somewhere between the hospital wing and the dungeon corridor, her curls tickling his jaw every time she shifted, breath warm against his collarbone.

He ignored the stares.

The whispers.

The way a passing Hufflepuff nearly walked into a wall trying to figure out why Theodore Nott was carrying a child through the corridors like this was a perfectly normal occurrence.

The Slytherin common room fell silent the moment he stepped inside.

Lorenzo blinked once. Then twice.

“…Is this some sort of social experiment?”

Mattheo’s grin spread slowly, wicked and delighted, “Papa's home.”

Theo shot him a glare sharp enough to draw blood. “Say another word,” he warned quietly, “and I’ll hex you.”

Blaise tilted his head, eyes flicking between Theo and the small, curled form in his arms. “Congratulations,” He said lightly, “When were you planning on telling us you’d been leading a double life?”

Theo didn’t dignify that with a response. He adjusted his grip slightly when the girl shifted, instinctively tightening his hold, and turned toward the stairs.

Behind him came a chorus of barely-suppressed laughter and stage-whispered “Night, daddy!” that followed him all the way up.

He noticed the change in his dorm the second he stepped inside.

Not because it was loud.

But because it was wrong.

Sitting neatly on his bed were things that had absolutely not been there that morning.

Tiny clothes, folded with precise magical care. Soft socks. A small blanket charmed with a low, steady warmth. Even a stuffed creature—some sort of dragon, judging by the horns—rested near the pillow, its stitched eyes cheerfully oblivious.

Theo just stood there.

Staring.

This was real. This was happening.

He looked down at the small, sleeping child in his arms, her face slack with sleep, lashes dark against her cheeks. A living, breathing human being. And somehow—somehow—he was now responsible for her.

His stomach twisted.

This hardly seemed responsible.

Did the staff really just let him walk out with an entire child and no follow-up instructions? No pamphlet? No checklist? How was he meant to keep one of these things alive? What if she woke up hungry? Or scared? Or—Merlin forbid—started crying? Again.

Theo swallowed hard, dread creeping in like a cold chill down his spine.

He crossed the room slowly and carefully, as if any wrong step might shatter the fragile reality holding this together, and lowered her onto the bed. She stirred faintly but didn’t wake, curling instinctively toward the lingering warmth of his body.

He hesitated.

Then, with movements stiff and unsure, he pulled the blanket up around her shoulders and tucked it in the way he vaguely remembered adults doing when he was small—firm but gentle, like it mattered.

He stepped back.

She looked… peaceful.

Completely unaware that she had just detonated his entire existence.

Theo dragged a hand down his face and turned toward the door.

He needed a cigarette. Immediately.

Just as his fingers brushed the handle, a small sound stopped him.

“Papà…”

It was barely audible—a sleepy mumble, her brow knitting faintly as one small hand twitched against the sheets.

Theo froze.

“…Papà.” She murmured again, softer this time, like she was reaching for him even in her dreams.

He closed his eyes and let out a slow, resigned breath.

“Merda.” He muttered.

If he left and she woke up—

He glanced at the chair beside the bed.

Then back at her.

“…Unbelievable.” He whispered.

Theo pulled the chair closer and sat down, leaning back with his arms crossed, eyes never leaving her face. He flinched every time she so much as twitched, every uneven breath sending his pulse spiking.

Just for tonight.

That’s what he told himself as exhaustion settled heavy in his bones.

Just until she woke up.

Theo woke to pins and needles.

A sharp, unpleasant numbness shot up his legs, like they’d ceased to exist sometime during the night and were only now remembering their purpose. He sucked in a quiet breath and shifted—immediately regretted it.

There was weight on him.

Warm. Solid.

Theo froze.

Slowly, carefully, he looked down.

She was asleep in his lap.

At some point during the night—at some point he did not remember authorizing—the little girl had migrated from the bed, curled herself into the space between his arms and legs, and settled there like she belonged. Her head rested against his bicep, curls splayed messily over his chest, one small hand clutching the fabric of his shirt.

Theo stared.

His mind helpfully offered no explanation.

He vaguely recalled her stirring sometime in the early hours. A soft whimper. A half-formed Papà breathed into the dark. He must have reached out—must have pulled her close without fully waking, murmuring something useless and soothing under his breath.

Apparently, his subconscious had decided this was his life now.

He didn’t move.

Couldn’t, really—his legs were numb to the point of concern, and any shift risked waking her. Her breathing was slow and even, lashes fluttering faintly as she slept, utterly unbothered by the fact that she was using him as a mattress.

Theo let his head fall back against the chair with a silent groan.

“This is a disaster.” He whispered.

She stirred at the sound, nose scrunching slightly, fingers tightening in his sleeve as if anchoring herself. Theo went completely still, heart hammering like he’d been caught committing a crime.

He tensed, eyes snapping down just as she stirred properly, lifting her head and blinking blearily up at him.

For a long second, they just looked at each other.

Then her face brightened.

“Buongiorno,” She said, voice thick with sleep. A pause, “…Papà.” (Good morning.)

After getting her dressed for the day using the clothes the professors had provided, Theo could only thank Salazar that whoever—or whatever—had sent her back in time had at least had the decency to send an older child.

Because Merlin help him, she was competent.

She managed socks on her own. Shoes, too—wrong feet at first, but she fixed it herself with a sharp little huff of frustration. He didn’t even have to supervise. He just stood there, half-awake, watching in stunned silence.

The only time he stepped in was when the shirt became her enemy.

She wrestled with it valiantly, tugging it halfway over her head before getting stuck, arms flailing wildly as she wobbled on the mattress like a headless chicken. For one terrifying second, Theo was certain she was going to pitch forward and crack her skull open on the floor.

Just as he reached her, hands already out, she stamped one socked foot and protested indignantly.

“Papà! Sono una bambina grande—faccio da sola!” (Dad! I'm a big girl, I can do it on my own!)

He waited—hands hovering uselessly in the air—until she finally relented with an irritated sigh and allowed him to tug the shirt the rest of the way down. She immediately smoothed it herself afterward, chin lifted proudly.

Theo pinched the bridge of his nose.

This was going to be a long day.

By the time they stumbled downstairs, the Slytherin dorm was already awake and in motion. Mattheo, Draco, Lorenzo, and Blaise were halfway through getting ready, bags slung over shoulders as they headed out for breakfast.

Theo was still in his pajamas.

He didn’t care.

The professors had given him permission to skip class until further notice—something he had accepted with a detached nod, too tired to even question how serious this apparently was.

He was already mentally charting a course to the kitchens. Quiet. Private. No gawking students. No questions.

He turned toward the common room—

And she bolted.

“—Oi, wait—!”

Too late.

She launched herself down the stairs at an alarming speed, feet barely touching the steps. Theo’s heart stopped dead in his chest.

“Slow down!” He snapped, already moving after her, “You’re going to—”

She did not fall.

Instead, she hit the common room floor at a full sprint and beelined straight for Mattheo, slamming into his pant leg with the force and commitment of a homing missile.

Mattheo yelped, stumbling half a step, “What the—”

“Zio Mattheo!” She chirped joyfully, arms wrapping around his leg like she’d just found a long-lost treasure.

The room went dead silent.

Draco stared.

Lorenzo choked.

Blaise pressed his lips together, shoulders shaking.

Mattheo looked down slowly. Very slowly.

“…Little girl,” He said carefully, “how do you know my name?”

Theo stopped behind her and closed his eyes.

“She can’t speak any English, you idiot.”

Mattheo glanced up at him, affronted, “I see recognition in those beady eyes—”

He looked back down at her just in time to see her grin widen, all teeth and delight.

“Buongiorno!” She announced brightly.

Mattheo snorted despite himself.

Then she lifted her arms toward him, wobbling slightly on her feet, “Portami! Portami, zio Mattheo!”

Mattheo blinked. Once.

Then he looked up at Theo, eyebrow raised.

Theo sighed, rubbing a hand down his face, the tips of his ears burning.

“She’s asking her uncle to carry her.”

Mattheo’s grin turned downright smug as he crouched and scooped her up like she weighed nothing—slung against his arm with all the care of someone carrying a sack of potatoes. She giggled, utterly delighted, legs kicking happily.

Theo moved instantly.

“Oi—if you drop her, I swear to Merlin—!”

Mattheo adjusted his grip lazily, unfazed, “Relax. I’ve got her.”

Blaise smirked, “Wow. Someone’s being all fatherly for a bloke who isn’t a baby person.”

Draco leaned against the stair rail, grinning, “Yeah, daddy. Love this look on you."

“…I hate all of you,” Theo muttered darkly.

The girl twisted in Mattheo’s arms, peering over his shoulder. “Papà!” she called brightly. “Voglio fare colazione con zio Mattheo!” (Daddy! I want to have breakfast with Uncle Mattheo!)

Theo opened his mouth on instinct.

“Non puoi chie—” (You can't ask)

He stopped.

Because she wasn’t crying.

She wasn’t reaching for him.

She wasn’t clinging to his sleeve like the world might end if he stepped two feet away.

She was perfectly content. Happy, even. Nestled comfortably in someone else’s arms.

Theo’s brain stalled.

Then—click.

The realization hit him like divine intervention.

An hour.

A whole, uninterrupted hour without tiny hands grabbing his clothes. Without panicked crying. Without being someone’s emotional anchor.

The synapses in his brain fired one by one like fireworks. Sweet, blessed relief bloomed so fast he was pretty sure he could feel tears—possibly drool—gathering.

He lifted his gaze slowly and locked eyes with Mattheo.

“You,” He said calmly, decisively, “are on babysitting duty.”

“What?” Mattheo barked, “Oi—wait—!”

Theo was already turning away.

“Feed her,” He called over his shoulder, “Don’t drop her."

Out of the common room. Down the corridor. Gone like a wanted man escaping Azkaban.

“HEY!” Mattheo shouted after him, “That’s not how this works!”

The girl waved cheerfully from his arms, “Ciao, papà!”

Mattheo looked down at her.

Then back at the hallway Theo had vanished down.

"Well, I hope you enjoy being an orphan. Take it from me it's better than having a shit dad." He said absently, carrying her toward the door.

Theo didn’t even remember reaching the usual alcove.

He only knew his hands were shaking by the time he lit the cigarette, breath dragging deep and slow as the smoke filled his lungs. The burn grounded him. Anchored him. For five blessed minutes, he was just Theo again—no professors, no timelines, no small human being calling him papà.

He shouldn’t feel guilty for this. Dammit.

It wasn’t like he was some kind of deadbeat. He wasn’t even her actual father. Her actual father existed a decade in the future and had—presumably—actively chosen to have this suctioning little tentacle of a child.

He exhaled, staring at the stone wall.

And yet.

She adored him. Wanted him. Chose him over everyone else without hesitation. Which meant—somewhere in the future—he must be doing something right.

Sometime in the future… I’m a good father.

The thought unsettled him more than the panic ever had.

He had never imagined children in his life. Never thought himself capable of it—not after losing his mother so young. How would future him handle this? How would he guide her, discipline her, protect her from the quiet, unrelenting cruelties of the world?

How would he keep her safe?

Theo exhaled again, watching the smoke curl upward and vanish.

Merlin, he needed that.

When he finally returned to the common room, the laughter hit him first.

She was being levitated up and down—up and down—by Mattheo, shrieking with unrestrained delight. Chocolate smeared her cheeks, and it was painfully obvious Mattheo had absolutely no sense when it came to not jostling a child who had just eaten her body weight in breakfast.

Theo stepped closer.

Her face lit up the moment she saw him.

“Papà!”

Something eased in his chest.

At least future me doesn’t screw this up, he thought faintly.

Mattheo gently lowered her into Theo’s arms.

And immediately—

“—achoo!”

She blinked. Sniffed.

Then again.

“Ach—ah—choo!”

Theo froze.

Her nose scrunched as she rubbed at it clumsily, eyes beginning to water, cheeks flushing, “Papà…?”

Theo’s heart dropped straight into his stomach.

Was she sick? Had he missed something? She’d been fine an hour ago—

Mattheo’s gaze flicked from her red nose to Theo’s ash-stained fingers. He sighed, already reaching for her and lifting her back into his arms.

“…Go shower,” He said calmly, “I’ll skip first class.”

Theo blinked, “I—I didn’t know—”

“I know,” Mattheo cut in easily, “It’s all good. Go.”

Theo swallowed.

“…Right.” He muttered.

He hesitated only a moment before turning toward the stairs. As he passed, she reached out, fingers brushing his sleeve.

“Papà?” She asked softly.

Theo stopped.

“I’ll be right back,” he said quietly—then corrected himself, Italian rough but sincere, “Tornerò subito. Promesso.” (I'll be right back. Promise)

Her shoulders relaxed instantly.

Mattheo watched him go, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

When Theo returned—hair damp, robes changed, skin scrubbed raw of smoke and ash—the little girl didn’t sneeze once.

Instead, she wriggled free of Mattheo’s arms and launched herself at him with a delighted squeak, wrapping her arms around his neck like she’d been waiting.

Theo caught her automatically.

She settled against him, warm and content.

And for the first time, the weight that settled in his chest had nothing to do with panic.

It felt a lot like guilt.

And something dangerously close to resolve.

Theo was collapsed across his bed, utterly defeated. The day had been… long. He hadn’t even gone to class, but that was before the small human currently treating him like a jungle gym had decided it was time for her daily inspection.

He didn’t even have the energy to move her. She clambered over him, tugging at his robes and sniffing at his hair, and he let her—somehow, it was easier than trying to resist. Five minutes of relative respite came only when she discovered something else interesting: the top of his dresser, the ceiling, the corner of the bedpost.

Every so often, one of her “uncles” captured her attention—Blaise, Draco, and Enzo—each appearing just long enough to be ignored by the child, much to Theo’s surprise. Somehow she recognized them, somehow she liked them, and somehow they had managed to reconcile the fact that she adored Mattheo more than all of them combined faster than Theo had reconciled her existence at all. He watched them all patiently endure, his mind boggling at how quickly they’d adjusted.

Currently, she had his hair in a death grip, determined to tug out every last strand with her clammy little hands. Theo winced as she yanked again, a protest lodged somewhere deep in his chest. She scrambled backward across his chest—kicking him squarely in the face in the process—then crawled toward the edge of the bed and started opening the drawer of his bedside table.

“Oi. Cosa fai?” He asked, tone half-scolding, half-exasperated. (What are you doing)

“Voglio un elastico per capelli! Mamma sempre ne tiene qui.” She declared, fumbling through the drawer. (I want a hair tie! Mom always keeps some here.)

Theo froze.

Mom? She has a mom?

The thought hit him like a bucket of ice water. All this time, he had assumed—stupidly—that she had appeared out of thin air, some magical anomaly he had to manage. Now the idea that she had a mother… a real, actual human mother… knocked the air out of his lungs. He felt absurdly unprepared.

She pulled something plastic-sounding from the drawer and held it up.

“Papà… cos’è questo?” (Papa... what is this?)

Theo’s heart skipped. He blinked, eyes widening. And then the aneurysm in his brain fully bloomed: a condom wrapper. In his daughter’s hand.

“Oi! Restituiscilo!” He shouted, leaping upright just in time for her to bolt, giggling, around the room. (Give that back!)

“Get that out of her hand!” He yelled again, spinning to intercept her, but it was too late. She dashed past Blaise, who was already doubled over laughing, and then past Draco, who had his hands pressed over his mouth to keep from cackling. Even Lorenzo had tears in his eyes from the absurdity.

“Little girl,” Lorenzo called, trying to sound authoritative but failing miserably as he wiped tears from his face, “wait a second—what is her actual name?”

Theo froze mid-chase, mind scrambling.

“You… you don’t know her name?”

The little girl shrieked with laughter from the foot of the bed, completely oblivious to the chaos she had caused, while Theo felt like the universe was quietly reminding him that, yes he was an utter fool.

The little girl zig-zagged across the room, still clutching the condom wrapper like it was some kind of treasure. Theo lunged, arms flailing, but she ducked under his reach and squealed with pure delight.

“Papà! Prendimi!” She shouted, her voice ringing with mischief. (Papa! Catch me)

“Merlin’s beard, why am I even doing this?!” Theo groaned, diving forward again, only to collide gently with Blaise, who had fallen onto the floor laughing.

“Oi! Watch it, Nott!” Blaise gasped between giggles, brushing off his robes, “Maybe if you had been as enthusiastic about birth control as your little girl there, you wouldn't be having this problem."

Theo didn’t even glance at them. His focus was entirely on the girl, who had somehow vaulted onto the armrest of the sofa and was teetering dangerously.

“Oi! Scendi di lì, immediatamente!” He barked. (Hey! Get down from there, right now!)

“Papà!” She chirped again, holding the wrapper above her head like a flag, “Guarda! Guarda!” (Papa! Look! Look!)

Before he could reach her, Mattheo appeared like a hero in the last second, levitating gently above the floor with his wand, and swooped in. “I got her!” He said triumphantly.

He glanced down at the pile of humans scattered around the room—Blaise doubled over, Draco snickering, Enzo leaning helplessly against the wall—and grinned, “You really gave them a run for their money, huh, Bianca?”

Theo froze mid-lunge.

“You… you know her name?” He asked, voice tight with disbelief.

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, utterly flabbergasted, “You didn’t?”

Raising children, Theo decided, was an absurd amount of work.

He handed Bianca over to Madam Pomfrey the second she woke up.

He had tried—really tried—to delay it, holding out hope that the professors would have some sort of solution by now. But it had been three days. Three days of dungeon air, sleep-mussed curls, and the unmistakable stickiness that came with being a toddler. She desperately needed a shower.

And while Theo was getting increasingly comfortable handling her—some might even say paternal—he was still very much not prepared to be the one responsible for that particular task.

Pomfrey had taken one look at the state of Bianca’s curls, the faint smudges on her cheeks, and Theo’s exhausted expression and immediately agreed.

Theo sighed in relief, already imagining a shower of his own. Or maybe collapsing onto a bed and stealing an extra hour of sleep. He didn’t understand why he was so tired—he was sleeping the same amount he always did.

Still. He felt wrecked.

He promised he’d come back.

Repeated it, even.

Swore on—well. Something. He wasn’t sure what, but it sounded convincing enough.

It didn’t help.

She cried anyway.

Clutched his robes with tiny hands, face crumpling as she begged him not to leave, words tumbling out too fast and too panicked for him to catch more than Papà and non andare. Theo pried her fingers loose with a wince, murmuring reassurances the entire time—but he couldn’t will himself to walk away while she was screaming like that.

Especially now that he knew the difference between her cries.

So, one of the girls’ bathrooms had been cleared out for the morning.

Pomfrey, Bianca, and Theo occupied it alone, the echoes far too loud for his liking. He stood just outside the stall while Pomfrey bathed her, hands shoved deep into his pockets, posture stiff—like a chastened criminal awaiting judgment.

The child sang.

Loudly.

Badly.

And every time Theo stopped responding—

“Papà?”

—her voice wobbled, threatening to tip into tears.

“Sono qui,” He called back immediately, instinctive, “Brava.” (I'm here. Good job)

She giggled and continued singing something that sounded vaguely like a nursery rhyme and vaguely like a direct threat to musical theory.

Theo leaned his head back against the tiled wall and exhaled.

My God, was she clingy.

Then again… he supposed he couldn’t fault her for it.

If Flitwick was right—if she truly had come from the future—then she’d been ripped away from her home. Likely somewhere warm and familiar in Italy. Dropped into damp, grey Scotland. Surrounded by strangers. Spoken to in a language she didn’t understand.

Clinging to the only constant she recognized.

Him.

The thought settled heavy in his chest, sharp and unwelcome. Theo swallowed, fingers twitching as the familiar urge for a cigarette crept in—persistent, comforting.

He resisted.

Inside the stall, the singing faltered.

“Papà!” She called, sharper now.

“I’m here,” Theo answered immediately, softer this time, “Sono qui. Non vado da nessuna parte.” (I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.)

The singing resumed—quieter. Sleepier.

Theo closed his eyes.

Unbelievable.

Bianca emerged from the bath wrapped in a towel with a warming charm woven into the fabric, her pajamas peeking out beneath it. Her curls were still damp, springing in every direction, cheeks flushed pink and clean, eyes already heavy with sleep. Madam Pomfrey handed her over with a satisfied nod and a stern warning about drafts, and Theo took her automatically, settling her against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He was now only dimly aware of how absurd this entire situation was.

They stepped out into the corridor together, the stone cool and quiet at this hour—

—and promptly ran straight into you.

You froze.

You’d heard the rumors, of course. Everyone had. Whispers carried between classes, exaggerated retellings murmured in the Slytherin common room. Nott has a kid. From the future. Ridiculous. Entirely ridiculous. There were more reasonable theories floating around—some magical accident that accidentally teleported a child here from outside Hogwarts walls. Others were more creative, claiming Theo had a secret child hidden away in Italy and the time-travel nonsense was just a cover story.

You firmly belonged to the former camp.

This—whatever this was—had to be some sort of misunderstanding.

You opened your mouth, ready to apologize for bumping into him—

“Mama!”

The word rang out, bright and clear, echoing far too loudly down the stone corridor.

Bianca lit up like she’d been waiting for this moment all day. She wriggled out of Theo’s already-loose hold with surprising strength, arms stretching toward you, the towel slipping dangerously as she leaned forward.

“Mama! Mama!” She chirped, utterly delighted, fingers grasping at empty air, “Sei tornata! Mi sei mancato!” (You’re back! I missed you!)

You stared at her.

Then at Theo—who looked just as stunned, mouth parted slightly, grip tightening instinctively around her before he even seemed to realize he was doing it.

Then back at the small, very real child reaching for you like this was the most obvious thing in the world.

You stared at her.

Then at Theo—who looked just as stunned, mouth parted slightly, grip tightening instinctively around her before he even seemed to realize he was doing it.

Then back at the small, very real child reaching for you like this was the most obvious thing in the world.

You forced a smile, gentle and careful, lowering yourself slightly so you weren’t towering over her.

“I’m not your mama, little one.” You said softly.

You spared Theo a glance, silently pleading for him to say something—anything—but he looked like a statue carved from pure shock, arms still locked around Bianca as though letting go might shatter reality itself.

Bianca frowned.

Just a little.

Her brows knit together as she studied you, head tilting to one side in confusion. Then she turned in Theo’s arms, small hand gripping the front of his robes like an anchor.

You spared Theo a glance.

He hadn’t moved.

Not an inch.

He looked like a statue carved in shock, Bianca still tucked securely in his arms, as though letting go might shatter something irreparable.

Bianca’s smile faltered.

Just a little.

Her brows knit together as she studied your face, head tilting in quiet confusion. Then she turned slowly toward Theo, curls brushing his collar.

“Papà?” She asked, uncertain now.

Theo swallowed.

She pressed her cheek against his chest and spoke again, voice small but earnest—

“Papà… ora che la mamma è tornata, possiamo andare a casa? Ho sonno.” (Papa… now that mama is back, can we go home? I'm sleepy)

“There is absolutely no way I’m her mother.”

Your voice echoed far louder than you intended in the hospital wing, ricocheting off white curtains and cold stone with humiliating clarity.

Madam Pomfrey paused mid-sentence.

Flitwick blinked.

McGonagall’s lips thinned—just slightly.

Theo, seated stiffly on the edge of the bed with a sleeping Bianca curled against his chest, did not move. He looked like someone who had accepted his fate three hours ago and was now simply watching the universe pile on for sport.

It was hard to believe he’d been standing in this exact position less than a week ago, being told the very same thing.

Honestly, he wasn’t even sure the news had fully settled yet. He hadn’t had time to properly panic—not just about Bianca having a mother, but about who that mother apparently was. A girl he’d never given a second glance to. Someone who, in some unfathomable future, he had fallen in love with. Married. Chosen to have a family with.

Theo Nott. Married. A father by choice.

The thought felt so foreign he thought he might throw up.

“For one,” You continued, gesturing vaguely at yourself like the evidence should be self-explanatory, “I would remember giving birth. I am quite certain of that.”

Pomfrey cleared her throat delicately.

“And second,” You added, beginning to pace, panic sharpening every word, “there are processes involved in creating children. Processes which I have never done—” You pointed sharply at Theo, “—with him.”

Theo didn’t react. Didn’t even flinch. He just adjusted his grip slightly when Bianca shifted, instinctively tucking her closer as she sighed in her sleep.

Flitwick glanced down at his parchment, “…The magical diagnostics are, I’m afraid, quite clear.”

You stopped short. “So you’re actually telling me,” You said slowly, incredulously, “that this child is from the future? A future where I have a baby with Nott of all people?”

McGonagall folded her hands calmly, “Miss (Y/N)—”

“You’re joking, right?” You cut in, letting out a hollow laugh, “I mean, everyone here can see that there isn’t even a modicum of possibility that the two of us would date—let alone get married, let alone have a child.”

Theo’s jaw tightened.

He wanted to argue—wanted to back you up, to scoff and insist this was ridiculous, that there had to be some enormous mistake, some elaborate cosmic joke with particularly poor timing. A week ago, he would have done exactly that.

But he’d been standing in this same position barely days earlier.

He knew now that arguing would get him nowhere.

Soon enough, Bianca would wake up. She always did. And when she did, she would cry—sharp, panicked, desperate cries that cut straight through stone and reason alike. She would call for you the same way she had called for him, voice cracking, hands reaching for something familiar in a world that made no sense.

And if you were even remotely a decent person, you wouldn’t be able to ignore it.

The thought sat heavy in his chest, uncomfortable and inescapable.

But Bianca only shifted in his arms, letting out a small, congested sniff as she rubbed at her itchy nose against his robes. Theo adjusted his hold without thinking, brushing his thumb gently along her back until her body went slack again, weight settling against him.

Theodore Nott was not a single father.

Absolutely not.

He wasn’t even a father if one wanted to argue technicalities—and frankly, he did. Loudly. Frequently. If he wasn’t considered a father, then you certainly couldn’t be considered a mother. It was only fair. Balanced. Logical.

And yet.

If he was being forced to look after a suction cup turned human child—day in and day out—then he didn’t see why you got to take the easy way out and keep avoiding her. Avoiding them.

It felt less like co-parenting and more like he was chasing you down for childcare payments.

So he handed Bianca off to Mattheo—who was, once again, skipping class and therefore had no grounds to complain—and went looking for you.

He caught you just as Potions let out, students flooding into the corridor in clusters of laughter and complaints. Theo slipped through them with singular purpose and grabbed your elbow just outside the classroom doors.

You startled, turning sharply, “Nott? What do you need?”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what this is about,” He hissed, releasing you only to cross his arms over his chest, “Go see your child.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, “She’s not my kid.”

“She’s as much yours as she is mine,” Theo shot back, frustration flaring hot in his chest, “and it’s not fair that I’m the one looking after her all day.”

“We can’t even speak the same language.”

“She’s three,” He snapped, “All you need to do is watch her while she plays with toys or draws or—Merlin—something.”

“She doesn’t even want to come with me.”

The words hit harder than he expected.

“Maybe she would,” Theo said, quieter but still sharp, “if you spent more time with her.”

The conversation had officially crossed into absurd territory. Theo felt like every dramatic woman in those ridiculous telenovelas his mother used to watch—hands flying, emotions everywhere, dignity nowhere to be found.

You scoffed, “Oh, come off it, Nott. Don’t you find it strange that she can only speak Italian? Nothing else? Not even my first language?”

Theo frowned, but you weren’t finished.

“She never comes to me first,” You continued, voice tightening, “Never asks me for help when she’s eating. Never reaches for me when she wants something. You’re always her first choice. Have you noticed that?”

His mouth opened—closed again.

“And,” You went on, softer now, more brittle, “you know she never lets me carry her? Not even once. And believe me, I’ve tried. She squirms out of my arms every time.”

The anger he’d carried with him faltered.

He could see it then—the hurt etched into your expression, raw and unguarded. Theo shifted, frowning, “She’s just… not used to—”

“I don’t think that’s it.” You interrupted quietly.

You hesitated. Took a breath.

“What if,” You said, voice barely above a whisper now, “what if in the future… I’m not there?”

Theo’s chest went cold.

“No,” Theo said quickly, the word cutting through the silence like he could sever the thought itself, “No. That’s—there are other explanations.”

You looked at him, eyes searching his face.

“Like what?” You asked.

He exhaled sharply, already reaching, “Maybe we just—split up. In the future. People do that. All the time.”

Your mouth twisted, humorless, “Right. So either I’m dead, or I’m a deadbeat.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“That’s exactly what you said,” You shot back, “Because if I’m alive and well and present, Theo, then why doesn’t she know my language? Why doesn’t she come to me? Why doesn’t she trust me?”

His jaw clenched, “You don’t know that she doesn’t—”

“She doesn’t,” You said quietly, firmly, “And you know it.”

He felt like he couldn't breathe. His hand twitched at his side.

Theo shook his head, hands curling into fists at his sides, “You’re making assumptions."

"I don't want to confuse her," You snapped, "What if I spend time with her now and she goes back to a future where she's confused that future me doesn't? Don't you think it's better for her to not be left with any painful memories?"

"Fuck this." He said harshly.

You stared at him, stunned, “Theodo—”

He turned away before you could finish.

He needed a fucking cigarette.

Theo didn’t look at you when you spoke.

“I thought I might find you here.” You sighed, stepping into the Astronomy Tower. The night air was sharp, the stars cruelly clear.

He only glanced at you once before turning back to the edge, exhaling smoke into the dark. The orange tip of his cigarette flared, then dimmed.

He hadn’t gone back before bedtime like he’d promised Bianca.

The thought twisted in his chest—but he shoved it down. Mattheo would handle it. He told himself Mattheo would’ve worn her out enough that she’d gone down on her own. That she’d fallen asleep surrounded by noise and laughter and familiar faces. That she wouldn’t notice.

But he couldn’t go back now. Not like this. Not smelling like smoke and guilt and the kind of fear that hollowed you out from the inside.

You shifted, eyes flicking to the small graveyard of cigarette stubs at his feet, and visibly bit back a comment.

“You can’t seriously be that upset at the thought of me dying, are you, Nott?” You said lightly, like it was a joke you didn’t quite believe in, “After all, we aren’t anything to each other.”

Theo’s fingers stilled.

Truthfully, he wasn’t.

Not in the way you meant.

It wasn’t you he was grieving.

It was the future he thought he was building.

He had thought—Merlin help him—that he was doing something right.

Thought that maybe—maybe—this was him breaking the cycle. Overcoming his own childhood, his own grief, his own scars. The way she clung to him, trusted him, sought him out—he’d taken that as proof. Proof that he was doing something right. That he was raising her in a house full of warmth. Of love.

A home that wasn’t cold. A father who didn’t disappear into silence. A childhood that didn’t feel like walking on broken glass.

He had thought he was undoing the damage his own father had carved into him.

Breaking the curse.

And now it felt like he was watching history fold back in on itself.

Bianca would lose her mother. Just like he had.

She’d be left in a cold home, one that hollowed out instead of held you together. She’d grow into something sharp and distant and unfeeling—just like him. Just like his father.

Would he turn into him?

Would he still be able to love Bianca if every time he looked at her, all he saw was you? Would he sit across from her in silence at meals, watching her struggle to eat in the tension, only to hear her throwing up later—alone on the bathroom floor, crying for a mother who wasn’t there?

Would he say the same vile things? Lock her in the same closet?

Would his hands—

Theo’s breath hitched.

He’d never imagined hitting a child. Never.

But perhaps his father hadn’t imagined it either. Not at first.

Perhaps he was driven to it.

He took one last drag from the cigarette and flicked it away, crushing the ember beneath his heel before reaching for another with trembling fingers.

He never got the chance to light it.

Your hand closed around his wrist.

Firm. Steady.

He stilled.

Slowly, his focus shifted—really shifted—to you.

For the first time since Bianca had seen you, since the world had tilted on its axis, he truly looked at your face.

And there it was.

Your eyes.

Or rather—

Bianca’s.

His throat closed, eyes flickering over your face as he began to compare the two of you when your nose began to twitch, the smell of the smoke finally getting to you.

"Achoo!"

Theo couldn't help but let out a dry breath of laughter.

“You should spend time with her,” He said finally, voice rough—scraped raw by smoke and something dangerously close to tears, “I wanted nothing more than to remember my mother when she died.”

The words hung between you, fragile and devastating.

Theo swallowed.

“She deserves that,” He added quietly, “And so do you.”

Morning came quietly in the Slytherin dorms. The others had already left the dorm to get breakfast and begin classes.

Theo had been awake long before it—again. He sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the small lump buried beneath his blankets. Bianca had twisted herself sideways sometime in the night, curls exploding in every direction, one chubby foot sticking out from under the covers like a silent rebellion.

“Bianca,” He murmured gently, nudging the lump, “È mattina.” (It's morning.)

She made a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a whine and promptly rolled onto her stomach, hugging the pillow tighter.

“No,” She mumbled sleepily, “Ho sonno…” (I'm sleepy)

Theo blinked, staring at the blanket-wrapped lump that was technically his responsibility. For a fleeting moment, he considered letting her sleep—just fifteen more minutes, surely that wouldn’t hurt.

But experience had already taught him better.

If she slept in, she’d be feral by noon. No nap. No quiet. No sleep later. Which meant another night of pacing the dorm with a squirming toddler while his own body begged for rest.

He sighed. The deep, tired, fatherly kind—the one he was rapidly perfecting.

Just as he leaned forward to try again, there was a knock at the door.

Theo froze.

His mind leapt immediately to the all possibilities.

Professor McGonagall, stern and efficient, here to inform him they’d finally found a way to send Bianca back to her own time.

Or worse—here to say they couldn’t.

Another knock followed. Softer. Hesitant.

Theo stood slowly, smoothing a hand through his already-mussed hair, heart doing something distinctly unhelpful in his chest. When he opened the door, he wasn’t entirely sure what he’d been expecting.

But it was you.

You stood there awkwardly, hands clasped in front of you like you might bolt at any second. You weren’t in your uniform—dressed casually instead—and floating just behind you was a small enchanted tray, stacked with breakfast.

Theo’s brows lifted despite himself.

“Oh,” He said. Guarded. Careful. “…Morning.”

You hesitated, then offered a small, tentative smile.

“I brought breakfast.”

Behind him, there was sudden movement.

Bianca’s head popped up from the blankets, curls crushed on one side of her face, eyes still hazy with sleep.

She stared at you for half a second before her entire expression lit up.

“Mama!”

Theo barely had time to react before she scrambled upright, tangling herself in the covers.

“Buongiorno?” You said, tilting your head as you stepped inside, “I—uh. I’m hoping I'm pronouncing that right.”

Theo stepped aside as you entered, watching carefully as Bianca scooted closer, clutching her blanket around her shoulders like a cape. You set the tray down on the bedside table and sat beside her without hesitation.

Breakfast became a quiet, shared thing.

Bianca sat between the two of you on the bed, half-awake but cooperative, munching on cut fruit and toast while you worked patiently through the knots in her hair. She winced once, then relaxed when your touch stayed gentle.

“I used to have curls like this too.” You said softly, lifting a section of her hair.

Theo glanced over, wondering why you were saying this. Perhaps you were just getting sick of being out of the loop while Theo constantly reminded Bianca not to chew with her mouth open, “Really?”

You hummed, “Yeah. Until I spent one entire summer swimming. Completely ruined them.”

"Oh." He muttered.

“And then,” You continued, amused, “I discovered Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion and never really went back.”

You began sectioning her hair, fingers moving more confidently now, twisting it into neat little ponies.

Theo slid the tray closer to you, “You sure you don’t want some?”

You shook your head lightly, “I already ate.”

Bianca paused mid-bite, brows knitting together. She looked up at you, then spoke quietly.

“Mamma… stai male di nuovo?” (Are you sick again?)

Theo stiffened slightly, “…Cosa intendi?” (What do you mean?)

Bianca shrugged, matter-of-fact in the way only children could be, “A volte la mamma sta male e non riesce a mangiare.” (Sometimes mommy gets sick and can’t eat.)

Theo looked at you slowly, something uneasy settling in his chest.

You tilted your head, confused, "Am I missing something?"

The Slytherin common room was unusually quiet.

Theo had never realized just how quiet it could get when everyone was actually in class. On the rare occasions he skipped, he was usually surrounded by his noisy gaggle of friends—laughter, insults, the scrape of chairs. Now, with most of the students gone, the space felt cavernous, almost reverent.

Sunlight poured in through the tall windows, casting lazy rectangles of gold across the stone floor. The lake beyond the glass shimmered faintly, shadows drifting slowly along the walls.

Theo sat at one of the long tables, a textbook open in front of him. Beside him, Bianca occupied her own chair, perched atop a cushion to give her some height. Even then, she barely reached the tabletop—her upper body completely propped up on her elbows as she strained forward, tongue poking out in concentration.

A piece of parchment lay in front of her, covered in colorful scribbles, and a box of crayons sat nearby—formerly one of Theo’s cigarette packs, now successfully transfigured.

You sat on his other side.

Your space had slowly expanded until it spilled over into his—parchment and quills scattered between you, a textbook here, a notebook there. You leaned in to show him a particularly complicated potion formula, pointing at your notes with the tip of your wand.

“So yesterday, we covered the difference between tinctures and infusions,” You explained, flipping through your notebook until you found the relevant lecture, “I wrote the key points here—see? You mostly just need to memorize the ratios.”

Theo scanned your notes, brow furrowing as he compared them to the questions listed beneath. He tapped one section with his finger.

“What about this one?” He asked, “It doesn’t match the ratio.”

You leaned closer to see what he was pointing at, scooting nearer without thinking, “Oh—okay, this one’s an exception. It’s considered an infusion because of the brewing process, not the base ingredients.”

You were just about to continue when Bianca suddenly sat upright, eyes wide, like she’d uncovered a great secret.

“Papà! Mamma! Guarda!” She chirped, spinning the parchment toward you with pride.

You leaned in immediately, your expression softening.

It was a drawing—very clearly the three of you. Stick figures, yes, but unmistakable. One tall with dark hair. One beside him with longer hair. And a much smaller one in the middle, curls drawn in chaotic loops. Behind you stood a crooked little house, flowers floating inexplicably in midair, and a tiny sun tucked into the corner of the page.

You laughed quietly, “This is adorable.”

Bianca smiled, satisfied, but said nothing—already basking in the praise.

You turned to Theo, “What’s wow in Italian?”

He shifted his gaze from the drawing to you, and it was only then you realized just how close you’d gotten—practically halfway into his seat. At this distance, you could see every individual lash, the faint shadows beneath his eyes.

You froze.

Theo leaned in, lowering his head toward your ear. When he spoke, his voice was low and lazy, far too close.

“Wow." He said simply.

You pulled back just enough to glare at him, “You’re unbearable.”

A corner of his mouth lifted, “You asked.”

Theo hadn’t planned on going to the Hufflepuff house party.

Not really.

But you’d insisted—gentle, firm in that way that made it hard to argue without sounding like an idiot.

“Go,” You’d said, already kneeling to help Bianca with her pajamas, “You haven’t been out in days. You deserve a night that doesn’t involve a sticky toddler."

Bianca had protested briefly, arms looping around his neck like a vise, but you’d distracted her with some Jaffa cakes. That seemed to do it.

So he went.

There was music. Laughter. Too many people packed into a common room that smelled faintly of firewhisky and bad decisions. Mattheo handed him a drink almost immediately.

Theo stared at it.

Then thought of Bianca—overtired, unfamiliar bed, the very real possibility that she’d decide midnight was an appropriate time to throw a tantrum and demand to be taken back to Theo's dorm only to be greeted by his drunk self.

He handed it back.

“No?” Mattheo blinked.

“No.” Theo said flatly.

He stayed long enough to prove he’d tried. Not to himself but to you. Who he knew would give him a teasing scold when he'd come back early, tail tucked between his legs.

And then—quietly, without much fanfare—he left.

The Slytherin dorms were dim when he returned, the corridors hushed and cool. He moved carefully, like any loud noise might break something fragile.

When he opened his door, the first thing he noticed was the lamp.

Low. Warm. Soft golden light spilling across the room.

The second thing—

You were there, curled on your side beneath his blankets, Bianca tucked against your chest like she belonged there. One of your arms was draped protectively around her small body, fingers curled instinctively at her back. Bianca’s face was pressed into your collarbone, curls splayed wildly across the pillow.

Fast asleep.

Theo stopped just inside the doorway.

Something tight in his chest loosened. Something else replaced it—heavier, warmer, far more dangerous.

You’d kicked off your shoes, throwing off your jacket as well in favour of casting a warming charm over the two of you right as you had fallen asleep. Bianca’s tiny hand was fisted in the fabric of your shirt, anchoring herself.

Theo approached slowly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

He studied your face.

A loose strand of hair had fallen across your cheek, brushing your lips. In your sleep, your brow pinched faintly, nose scrunching in the exact same way Bianca’s did.

He let out a quiet, disbelieving chuckle before he could stop himself.

Carefully—so carefully—he reached out and brushed the strand of hair away from your face with two fingers.

You stirred.

Not fully awake—just enough to shift closer to Bianca, murmuring something soft and unintelligible. Your hand tightened reflexively around her back.

Theo froze.

Bianca was going to lose this one day.

She was going to lose this—the warmth, the safety, the arms of her mother.

He was going to lose this someday.

He didn't want to lose you.

He wanted you for the rest of his life.

The thought hit hard and fast, knocking the breath out of his chest.

He swallowed, jaw tightening, eyes fixed on the slow rise and fall of Bianca’s back. On the way your fingers curved protectively at her spine even in sleep, like your body knew the job before your mind ever caught up.

Then you shifted again.

This time more sharply.

Your eyes blinked open, unfocused and glassy with sleep, lashes fluttering as you took in the dim room. For half a second, you looked confused—then awareness snapped in all at once.

You stiffened.

“Oh—Merlin—” You whispered hoarsely, lifting your head an inch before immediately freezing again when Bianca huffed and burrowed closer.

You blinked.

You slowly sank back down, mortified.

Theo watched as realization dawned on your face.

Then, horrified, you wiped at the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand.

“I—” You croaked, then cleared your throat quietly, “I wasn’t… I wasn’t actually asleep.”

Theo raised a brow.

You winced, “Okay. That’s a lie. I was trying not to fall asleep.”

He stayed silent, letting you dig.

“I was pretending,” You continued in a rushed whisper, cheeks warming, “I thought if I stayed really still she’d think it was bedtime and settle down and—well—apparently I fell asleep first.”

Theo huffed out a soft breath that might’ve been a laugh.

You shot him a look, “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

You sighed, rubbing your face with one hand, careful not to jostle Bianca, “This is so embarrassing.”

Theo didn’t respond right away.

Instead, he stood, crossed the room quietly, and took the blanket draped over the chair. His movements were careful—deliberate—as he unfolded it and drew it up over you and Bianca, tucking it in around her small shoulders before letting it settle across your waist.

“You can sleep here tonight,” He said finally, voice low. Then, after a beat, softer, “If you want.”

You blinked up at him, the last of sleep still clinging to you.

“Here?” You asked, whispering like the room might object.

He shrugged one shoulder, “She’s already settled. No point moving her.”

You hesitated.

Then nodded, “Okay.”

Theo’s jaw loosened, just a little.

A few days later, Theo was running on fumes.

The bone-deep exhaustion that settled behind his eyes and refused to leave. The kind that made time blur and thoughts lag half a second behind reality. Between the staggered schedules, half-missed classes, and nights that never quite counted as sleep, he felt like he was permanently five minutes behind himself.

You weren’t doing much better.

The professors still hadn’t found a way to send Bianca back, which meant the two of you had fallen into a strange, grinding rhythm: one of you attending class while the other watched her, trading off half-written notes—if by some miracle you hadn’t fallen asleep mid-lecture. You were grateful the professors were granting you at least that much grace.

The rest of the time was spent cramming together right before bedtime while Bianca threw a tantrum of truly mythological proportions.

It turned out she’d woken up once to find the two of you studying together and had somehow come to the conclusion that whenever she went to sleep, you and Theo threw secret parties without her.

So now—despite being exhausted—she refused to sleep.

You hadn’t known children could get overtired before.

Apparently, it was a thing.

A loud, shrill, nails-on-a-chalkboard thing.

Bianca was a small whirlwind. All limbs and laughter and boundless, feral energy that refused to burn out indoors.

So when you suggested a picnic by the Black Lake, Theo thought you’d finally lost your mind.

“You want to let her run free,” He said flatly, “near a giant squid.”

“She just needs to run,” You insisted, rubbing your temples, “Like—really run. Until her lungs give out.”

Theo stared at you, hollow-eyed.

“…You’re a genius.”

So there you were.

The grass near the lake was warm beneath the afternoon sun, the water dark and glassy, the mountains reflected on its surface like a painting. A blanket was spread out behind you with food you’d asked the house-elves to make—and while it looked incredible, you were deeply offended by the lack of sweets.

Apparently the elves had decided Bianca didn’t need sugar.

Who cared about Bianca?

You wanted a chocolate lava cake, damn it.

Bianca, meanwhile, had already abandoned the blanket entirely.

She shrieked with laughter as Theo lifted her into the air, spinning once before tossing her just high enough to make her squeal—then catching her easily.

“Ancora!” She demanded, breathless. (Again.)

Theo obliged.

He laughed—really laughed. Not the tired, guarded version you’d grown used to, but something lighter, freer. He threw her again, caught her, bounced her once on his hip before setting her down just long enough for her to sprint off in a wild, crooked circle.

You watched from the blanket.

At first, it was just fondness. Relief. Gratitude that she was finally burning off that impossible energy. You couldn’t deny it—the sound of a child laughing so freely tugged a smile from you before you could stop it.

Then your gaze shifted.

Theo crouched when she spoke, his attention completely zeroed in on her. When she stumbled, he steadied her without thinking. When she reached for him, he went instantly—lifting her with an ease that felt instinctive, like muscle memory he’d never known he had.

And something in your chest shifted.

Warm.

Tight.

Soft in a way you hadn’t expected.

He stole your breath.

You stared at him.

At the boy you’d never really noticed. The boy you’d fully expected to graduate without so much as a conversation between you. Someone who, before all of this, would’ve been nothing more than a footnote—if that—in the story of your life.

Not your ending.

And yet the realization hit you so suddenly you almost laughed.

Somewhere—somewhen—years from now, a version of you would love him enough to choose to have a child with this man.

And now?

You got it.

You got the vision your future self must have seen when she decided to lock him down.

You supposed it made sense that you’d never seen Theo like this before. He was just a boy—how could you possibly know whether a teenage boy would grow into someone steady? Someone safe. Someone capable of love that endured, of support that didn’t waver.

A man you could build a life with.

But watching him now—watching him lift Bianca again as she squealed, watching the way his hand stayed firm at her back—your stomach flipped.

Your brain short-circuited.

Your ovaries, traitors that they were, staged a full rebellion.

And for the first time, the future didn’t feel impossible.

It felt inevitable.

You stood abruptly and joined them, brushing grass from your skirt. “Alright,” You said, “My turn.”

You bent to lift Bianca—

“No!” She protested instantly.

She wriggled out of your arms with shocking strength for someone so small and darted straight back to Theo, wrapping herself around his leg like an anchor.

Your smile slipped. Just for a heartbeat.

“Oh—okay,” You said quickly, forcing it back into place, “That’s fine. Totally fine.”

You took a step back, suddenly unsure of where to put your hands, your weight, yourself. The breeze off the Black Lake felt colder now. You stared out at the water instead of them, swallowing the strange tightness in your chest.

Theo noticed.

He frowned, glancing between you and Bianca, then crouched so he was level with her. Gently, carefully, he loosened her grip just enough to look at her face.

“Perché non vuoi che mamma ti prenda?” He asked softly. (Why don’t you want mamma to pick you up?)

The word mamma hit you even before you processed it.

You turned away a little more, heart stuttering. You didn’t understand the rest of what he said, not really. You suddenly felt like you were standing on the edge of something sacred and private, like you’d wandered into a family photograph you didn’t belong in.

Bianca’s face scrunched up, serious in that way only children could be when they believed they were being very reasonable.

“Mamma è troppo malata per portarmi, papà,” She said firmly, “Lo sai.” (Mamma's too sick to take me, papa. You know that.)

Theo froze.

The world seemed to tilt, just slightly.

Theo’s eyes flicked to you slowly.

You tilted your head, not knowing how spines began to claw up his hands and feet, making him feel cold, "What's wrong?"

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[hyuckiefluff]

pairing: brother's best friend!haechan x fem. reader genre: smut, bit of crack wc: 7k summary: you send a spicy photo to the wrong lee and suddenly your brother's best friend is at your door with mulled wine and a space heater talking about "keeping you warm" content warnings: christmas/holidays setting, explicit sexual content, alcohol consumption, accidental sexting, mild language/profanity, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, lingerie kink, references to bruising/scratches from sex, banter & relentless teasing, mild reference to soreness/discomfort, hae is actually a simp and down bad, reader is a bit of a tsundere lowk, the bells stayed ON during sex a/n: merry xmas besties !! accept this last min gift from me because i honestly don’t know how to thank you enough for all the love this year. ngl this was definitely a bit rushed bc i wanted to post it on time for xmas so it is pretty fast paced. also, if you spot any mistakes lmk i will fix them eventually hehe. anyways enjoy!! ps: take a shot for every time you see the words "jingle bells" lol

There is a strange calm that comes over the city on Christmas Eve. Fewer cars line the roads, lights go out behind shop windows, and it seems as though all the apartments in your street have the same deep orange glow, as if the city has put a blanket around itself and turned on a reading light.

Your place is a different story altogether.

The heater has given up on you yet another winter, and you exist in thick socks and oversized sweaters for the duration, fogging the air with your breath as if you’re holidaying in a downbeat ski lodge rather than your zone 2 apartment.

Your mother has already called three times, each a frantic ninety-second sprint through holiday plans: Will you bring the extra chairs? Are you still pescatarian, or just being difficult about red meat? Can you pick up the right cranberry sauce, you know the one in the glass jar, not the jellied monstrosity from the tin?

You agree to everything, phone wedged between your cheek and shoulder, trying to sound composed while your teeth threaten to chatter. You’re still perched on your bed, half-naked except for the red lace and those absurd little bells. Your thighs and shoulders ache with cold, and you’re painfully aware of every square inch of exposed skin.

Not ten minutes ago, you’d spent the better part of an hour contorting into increasingly improbable angles in red lace and utterly humiliating jingle bells, all in the name of looking effortless for Jeno, of course. 

Jeno: there’s a name your pulse seems to know better than your own. Three months of teasing pictures from him post-workout, with nothing but a towel slung over his hips so his abs take center stage. The subtext has never been subtle. Tonight you’d planned to stop being subtle in return.

Now, while your mom lists off a litany of tasks, you’re scrolling through chats ready to finally send the photo that’s taken nearly an hour (and a year’s worth of courage) to create. The cold had made the whole thing an endurance exercise, goosebumps rippling over your arms as you tried to ignore how the bells jingled with every movement. The best photo sits ready on your screen, the last thing you snapped before your mom’s ringtone interrupted.

She’s still talking about napkin colors, whether the buses are still running, and remindng you to bring nice pajamas for the inevitable Christmas morning photos. You’re only half listening as you thumb out a quick “Merry Christmas x”, attach the photo, and press send, so practiced in the gesture you don’t bother double checking.

There’s a satisfying whoosh.

Then your blood runs cold when you read the name at the top of the chat.

Lee Haechan.

Not Lee Jeno.

Not the man with gym selfies who’s been circling your DMs like a hawk.

No. You’ve just sent a very curated, very intimate, very jingling photo of yourself to Lee fucking Haechan—your brother’s best friend. Eternal nuisance. Long-time gremlin. The boy who once told your crush that you still slept with a stuffed animal named Mr. Toast when you were fifteen. 

The phone buzzes in your hand.

Haechan: holy. shit. Haechan: is this what you’re wearing to dinner tomorrow or…?

Your mother's voice becomes white noise as you watch those messages appear. The phone nearly slips from your suddenly nerveless fingers.

"—and don't forget the wine, the Pinot Grigio not the Sauvignon Blanc, you know how your father gets about—"

"Mom, I have to go," you interrupt, voice strangled and hysterical. "Emergency."

"What emergency, dear—"

You hang up. She'll forgive you eventually, probably after three glasses of the wrong wine, but right now you have bigger problems. Catastrophically bigger problems.

You: THAT WASN'T FOR YOU You: DELETE IT You: DELETE IT RIGHT NOW You: HAECHAN I SWEAR TO GOD

The typing bubble appears immediately. 

Haechan: you know, when you said you were bringing dessert tomorrow Haechan: i assumed you meant cookies or something

You're going to die. Actually, physically die. In your freezing apartment, still wearing the stupid lingerie.

You: it was meant for someone else You: obviously You: please just delete it and we never speak of this again

Haechan: someone else??? Haechan: so you’re just spreading holiday cheer randomly Haechan: i'm devastated

Your apartment feels even colder now, or maybe that's just the mortification freezing you from the inside out. You scramble for your oversized sweater, yanking it over your head while trying to type one-handed.

You: this isn't funny

Haechan: it's a little funny Haechan: do i say thank you? is this a secret santa thing?

You: how much

Haechan: ?

You: how much money to pretend this never happened You: name your price

You can practically see him in his apartment, probably sprawled on his sofa in those ratty joggers he refuses to throw away, grinning at his phone in glory.

Haechan: bold of you to assume i can be bought Haechan: but also Haechan: 50 dollars

You: done

Haechan: per day

You: WHAT

Haechan: do you want my silence or not Haechan: this is premium blackmail material Haechan: i could dine out on this story for years

You pull the sweater down properly, the wool scratching against your skin where the lace still sits underneath. He's literally coming to your parents' house tomorrow for Christmas. You'll have to sit across from him at dinner, pass him the potatoes, pretend everything's normal while he knows exactly what you look like under your ugly sweater.

Haechan: although i'm curious Haechan: who's the lucky recipient supposed to be Haechan: anyone i know?

You: none of your business

Haechan: it literally became my business Haechan: when you made it my business

Your phone starts ringing. His contact photo fills the screen with that stupid selfie he'd taken with your phone on Mark’s birthday last year, mouth full of roast potato, eyes crossed. You'd never bothered to change it.

You decline the call.

He rings again immediately.

"What," you answer through gritted teeth, pulling your knees up to your chest, trying to conserve what little body heat you have left.

"You sound cold," is the first thing he says, and you can hear the grin in his voice.

"My heating's broken."

"Again? Y/N, it's literally freezing."

"Yes, well, I've had other concerns tonight."

He laughs and you can tell he’s delighted by the sounds of it. "This is the best thing that's happened to me all year."

"I'm so glad my humiliation brings you joy."

"I wouldn’t call it humiliation," he says. "More like... revelation."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that I didn't know you owned anything that wasn't either stolen from your brother or three sizes too big."

You pull the sweater over your knees. "I contain multitudes."

"Clearly." There's a rustling on his end, like he's shifting position. "So who's the guy?"

"I told you it's none of your business."

"Come on, I'm going to find out anyway. Your mom tells me everything."

He's right, which is infuriating. Your mother treats Haechan like the son she never had, even though she literally has two sons already.

"It's just someone from class," you mumble.

"That Jino guy? The one who looks like he irons his underwear?"

"No." You lie. Another con from knowing Haechan for that long is that he knows most of your situationships.

"Thank god. I was concerned about your taste."

"My taste is fine."

"Debatable, considering you just sent me—"

"That was an accident!"

"A fortunate one," he says.

You're about to respond when your phone buzzes with another message. For one horrible moment you think it's Jeno, somehow cosmically aware of your failure, but it's worse.

Mum: Did you hang up on me? Mum: Haechan says he'll pick you up tomorrow since the buses aren't running Mum: So helpful, that boy

"Did you just text my mother?" you accuse.

"She texted me first. Apparently you're being difficult about the wine."

"I hung up because I was having a crisis!"

"Past tense? Crisis over?"

You look down at yourself in the giant sweater, exposed legs slowly turning blue, hair probably resembling something from a horror film. "No, it's very much ongoing."

"Want me to come over?"

The question catches you off guard. "What?"

"Your heating's broken, it's Christmas Eve, and you sound pathetic. I'll bring mulled wine."

"Absolutely not."

"I'll even delete the photo."

You pause. "Really?"

"I don’t know, but you can try to convince me."

"I hate you." You groan.

"I know," he says, and you can hear keys jingling on his end. "See you in twenty."

"Haechan, no—"

He hangs up.

You gape at your phone in disbelief. This night has already careened so far off the rails that him showing up feels almost inevitable.

You look around your freezing apartment, at the poorly decorated tree leaning precariously in the corner, at the mountain of unwrapped presents for tomorrow, at yourself in your ridiculous combination of grandma sweater and inadvertent festive lingerie.

Your phone buzzes once more.

Haechan: might want to put on some pants before i get there

You pad to your bedroom, feet freezing on the hardwood floors, and catch sight of yourself in the mirror. The sweater hits mid-thigh, the red lace barely visible underneath, and your face has a flush that comes from both the cold and mortification.

The bells jingle mockingly as you search for pants.

You manage to find a pair of shorts and yank them on just as your doorbell rings. The man has never been on time for anything in his life except, apparently, your personal disasters.

You check the peephole and immediately groan. He’s standing there in a perfectly tailored coat, scarf knotted at his throat, holding what looks like two bottles of wine and a carrier bag, looking infuriatingly put-together for someone who just invited himself over at half nine on Christmas Eve. There’s a glint in his eye that you recognize all too well. He’s about to make your life miserable.

“I can see your shadow under the door,” he calls. “Just let me in before your neighbors think I’m casing the place.”

You open the door, and he breezes past you, bringing a swirl of cold air and the scent of cinnamon and clove. He sets everything on your counter, shakes snow from his hair and surveys your living room.

“Christ, it’s colder in here than outside,” he says, setting down the wine. “How are you not dead?”

“Layers,” you mutter, though the truth is you’ve barely stopped shivering since your little photo shoot. He starts unpacking his bag: two bottles of red, a battered thermos emanating the smell of mulled wine, a packet of mince pies, and—

“Is that a space heater?”

“Borrowed it from my next door neighbor.” He’s already crouched by the outlet, plugging it in and aiming it at the sofa. “He has his girlfriend over, so he won’t need this.”

You roll your eyes at his suggestive tone. 

 “Plus he felt bad when I told him about your situation.”

“You told him?”

“Relax, I meant your heating situation. Not your…” He glances at you, eyes skimming a bit too long over your form, “…other situation.”

You tug your sweater lower, warmth prickling up your chest for a different reason now. “Stop saying situation.”

“Would you prefer predicament? Circumstance? Mistake?”

“I’d prefer you forget it ever happened.”

He fiddles with the heater settings, then stands and looks at you.

“Bit difficult, that,” he says.

“Why?”

He turns away, busying himself with the wine. “Because in all the years I’ve known you, that’s the first time you’ve ever texted me something that wasn’t a complaint or a threat.”

“That’s not—” You cut yourself off, frowning. “... True.”

He grins, handing you a mug which you take with a scowl.

“Come on. You’re shivering over there.” He sits, patting the spot beside him.

You hesitate, but the heater and the wine conspire against your self-control, and you find yourself sitting next to him, careful to keep a gap. You wrap your hands around the mug, breathing in the spiced steam as the heat seeps into your frozen fingers.

“So,” he says, pulling out his phone. “Want to see something funny?”

“If it’s the photo—”

“No.” He scrolls. “It’s Jino—”

“Jeno”

“—whatever. His Instagram.” He tilts the screen your way. Row after row of gym selfies, every caption worse than the last.

“‘Grind never stops,’” you read, making a face. “‘Discipline is my love language.’ Oh my god.”

“That’s who you were sending nu—” he gestures, one eyebrow raised.

“Festive greetings. Shut up.”

He grins, holding the phone just out of reach when you lunge. “‘Muscles are built in the kitchen’? Come on, Y/N.”

“He’s nice!”

“He refers to himself as an alpha unironically.”

“How do you even—” You scramble closer, grabbing for the phone, nearly spilling your wine. The movement makes the bells under your sweater jingle faintly, and you freeze, feeling a flush creep up your neck.

“You're still wearing it?” His voice drops half an octave.

You freeze, caught like a goddamn rabbit under a hawk’s shadow. “I forgot it was there,” you lie.

He lets out a soft laugh. Not his usual smug, shit-eating grin. Darker. 

“Yeah?” he says. “You forgot you’re sitting next to me in fucking lingerie?”

You open your mouth. Nothing comes out. There was nothing to say.

He says nothing either, elbow on the back of the sofa, wine in one hand, and staring intently. His eyes drag across your face, your flushed cheeks, down to where your sweater bunches at your thighs, as if he could see the garter strap underneath. Like he remembered exactly what was in that photo, and now he was imagining it all over again—except this time, two feet away.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair and looking away.

You want to make a joke, deflect, do anything besides sit there.

“Stop,” you say quietly, when he tilts his head and opens his mouth again. “Don’t make this into something.”

“Make what into something?” he asks, far too innocent.

“This. The... situation.”

His smile is sharp. “You mean the one you told me to stop saying out loud?”

You put your mug down before your hands could betray how hard they were shaking. “Yes.”

He glances at your knees. Then at your fucking sweater again, and the way you were pulling it lower, as if it could somehow shield you from how naked the air between you had become.

“Okay,” he says, sitting up, setting his own wine down. “Let’s not make it into something. Let’s just sit here, like we’re normal people, sharing some warm wine by a borrowed space heater. Let’s not talk about the fact that you’re wearing lingerie underneath that. Let’s pretend I didn’t spend the entire ride here wondering what the fuck I was walking into.”

You swallow. “You came over to make sure I didn’t embarrass myself further.”

He smiles.

“No,” he says. “I came over because I couldn’t stop picturing it. Because every time I blinked, it was just you, in that red fucking lace.”

A silent gasp leaves your parted lips. What’s with the sudden tension? Why is he saying these things?

“And then I get here,” he continues, “and you open the door like nothing and you’ve got this little sweater on, acting all flustered and innocent. Meanwhile—” his eyes drop again, “—you’re jingling every time you move. Teasing me.”

“Stop,” you say. Your voice doesn’t sound like your own.

“Why?” he asks, leaning forward now, elbows on knees. “You don’t want to talk about it? Fine. But I’m losing my goddamn mind, and you're pretending this is some kind of accident.”

“It was.”

“You didn’t take that picture by accident. You didn’t pick out that set by accident. You didn’t forget to change.”

Haechan's gaze sharpens, pinning you in place as he leans back against the cushions. His eyes flick downward, catching the subtle movement under your sweater, and a smirk curled his lips.

The wine buzzes in your head, turning his words from mortifying to... intriguing. You feel a spark of defiance ignite, the alcohol stripping away your usual hesitation. Instead of shrinking, you meet his stare, tilting your chin up just a fraction. “What if I didn't forget,” you say, your voice steadier than you expected. You uncross your legs, letting the bells chime once more. You watch as his smirk falters for a split second, his pupils dilating.

Before you realize, he’s shifting closer until his knee presses against yours, the heat of his body radiates through his jeans. “Oh yeah?” Haechan's tone dips lower, teasing, turning predatory as his fingers brush the hem of your sweater, tracing the edge where it meets your thigh.

“So you sent me that photo on purpose, so I could what? Imagine peeling it off you all night?” His thumb grazed the skin just above your knee, circling slowly, sending sparks up your leg. 

Emboldened by the alcohol’s warmth spreading through you, you don’t pull away. Instead, you lean in a little, your hand resting on his thigh, fingers pressing into the firm muscle there. 

“Maybe” you whisper, the alcohol making your inhibitions dissolve like sugar in hot liquid. You can feel the dampness building between your folds, the thong growing slick as his words paint vivid pictures in your mind. 

Haechan's eyes darken, his free hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering at the nape of your neck. 

“Then you're playing a dangerous game.” His breath is warm against your skin as he leans closer. He tugs gently at the collar of your sweater, exposing the strap of your bra, the lace edge peeking out. 

The heater drones, the bells jingle, and for a suspended, ridiculous instant you register every outrageous detail at once: Haechan’s palm splayed hot over your ribcage, the hiss of his breath against your sternum, him moving to kneel between your legs.

“Wanna play Monopoly instead then?” you blurt, because your default coping mechanism is apparently panicked jokes while half-naked.

He huffs a laugh against your skin, mouth still hovering indecent inches from your bra. “Pretty sure you I’d bankrupt you in ten moves.” His thumbs stroke slow circles over the lace, coaxing goose-bumps you feel all the way down to your calves. “And I’m more of a chess man anyway. I like long games.”

Long games. Wonderful. 

You plant a shaky hand on his shoulder and manage a breathy, “You’re terrible at chess. You always forget the knights move in L-shapes.”

“Correction.” He kisses the edge of the bra, voice muffled. “I know exactly how the knights move. I just prefer a—” another kiss, lower, “—more aggressive opening.”

God. “Aggressive openings are u-unnecessary.”

“I can be patient.” He nips your sternum lightly, then leans back just far enough that cool air hits the damp spot his mouth left behind. “Though my patience has limits.”

You intend to reply but the sight of him kneeling between your knees steals the alphabet from your tongue. His eyes are half-lidded, pupils blown, but there’s wicked amusement still glinting at the edges.

He runs a fingertip down the center of your stomach, like marking squares on a board. “Here’s the thing… Every time these bells go off”—he flicks one, soft chime echoing—“I’m picturing exactly how you looked in that photo. Except now you’re warm under my hands”

“That’s… not helping,” you manage, hips tipping forward of their own accord. The bell rings again and he hums approval deep in his chest, as if the sound feeds him.

“Wasn’t trying to.” He nudges your knees wider, the gesture almost gentlemanly, except for the promise simmering beneath. “But since you’re so invested in fair play—”

He slips his free hand behind his neck, drags his scarf loose, then shrugs the coat off with theatrical slowness. Button by button, layer by layer, until the sofa swallows the fabric and he’s stripped to a black T-shirt that clings to lean muscle. You swallow. Hard.

“Your move,” he murmurs. “Want me to stop?”

It’s a genuine offer, a clear exit, but you can’t drag your gaze from the vein flexing in his forearm, can’t ignore the ache blooming low every time your garter shifts.

Instead of answering, you hook your fingers under the hem of your sweater and tug. Cool air kisses your ribcage, then warmer air, then Haechan’s stare, molten and adoring all at once. His lips part on a silent expletive.

“Shit—” He runs a hand through his hair. “Okay. Definitely a dangerous game.”

He stares at the red lace hugging your breasts, squishing them together so deliciously they seem about ready to burst from the confinement. The sight is a million times better than in the picture.

He leans in again, one palm settling on your knee, sliding upward with delicious inevitability.

“I thought you were a skilled player, show me then.” You breathe, and if he was restraining himself before, the words shred the leash.

He’s on you in a second, mouth reclaiming your lips, tongue tracing the seam until you open willingly, hungrily. His other hand skates up your spine, pushing you closer to him.

When he pulls back, both of you are gasping.  “You realize,” he says, thumb brushing your kiss-swollen bottom lip, “there’s no walking this back.”

You catch the thumb with your teeth, bite just hard enough to watch his eyes flare. “Then let’s walk it forward.”

His laugh is low, reverent, almost incredulous. “Forward it is.”

He coaxes you onto your back, clothes discarded beside the lingerie, bells chiming faint approval.

“These bells,” he murmurs, thumb dragging against your skin, “are ridiculous.”

Your hand slides up his thigh, brushing the growing bulge in his jeans. “Don’t act like you don’t like them now.” 

He inhales sharply, and his tongue presses to the inside of his cheek like he’s fighting a smile.

“Fuck, look at you,” he growls, voice rough with desire. “Keep that up, and I won't be able to stop at just teasing.” He hooks a finger under the garter, snapping it lightly against your skin.

You press your palm flat against his erection, feeling it twitch under the denim. “Who said I want you to stop?” you shoot back, your words slurring just a touch from the alcohol, but laced with intent.

The bells jingle as you move closer, your free hand tugging at his shirt to pull him toward you.

Haechan's control cracks then. He captures your mouth in a fierce kiss again, his tongue sweeping in to claim yours, tasting of spiced wine.

His hand delves under your sweater, fingers tracing the curve of your waist, then up to cup your breast through the lace bra, thumb rolling over your hardening nipple.

You moan into his mouth, arching into his touch. He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down your neck and nips at the sensitive skin while his other hand plays with the garter belt and the bells that dangle teasingly.

“These are fucking distracting,” he murmurs against your collarbone, his fingers plucking at one bell, making it ring out as he kisses lower, his mouth hovering over the swell of your breast. He tugs the bra cup down, latching onto your nipple with a wet suck that draws a sharp cry from you.

Your hands fumble with his belt. Boldness surges as you pop the button on his jeans and slide your hand inside to wrap around his thickening cock. He feels hot and hard in your grip, the veins pulsing under your fingers. You stroke him slowly, matching the rhythm of his mouth on your breast.

“Shit, yes,” Haechan groans, his hips bucking into your hand. He releases your nipple with a pop, his eyes locking on yours, wild and intense. “You're full of surprises tonight. That wine’s turning my good girl into a tease.”

He pushes you back against the sofa cushions, his body covering yours as he kisses you again, deeper this time, his fingers slipping between your thighs. They brush the edge of your thong, finding the soaked lace clinging to your core.

“So fucking wet already,” he teases, rubbing slow circles over your clit through the fabric. You grind against his hand, feeling bolder still, your free hand tangling in his hair to pull him closer.

“More,” you demand breathily, the wine stripping away any shyness. Haechan chuckles darkly, slipping the thong aside to trace your slick folds with two fingers, spreading your wetness without entering you yet.

He teases your entrance, while his thumb presses firmly on your clit, building the pressure until your thighs quiver. The bells ring out in a frantic melody as you writhe, your strokes on his cock growing faster.

He captures your wrist gently, pulling your hand away just enough to shed his shirt, revealing the lean muscles of his chest. Then he kneels between your legs again, hooking his fingers on the edges of the thong and pulling it properly to the side.

“Let's hear those bells one more time,” he says with a wicked grin, positioning you so your legs drape over his shoulders. His mouth descends, tongue flicking out to lap at your clit in long strokes, while his hands grip your ass, thumbs parting your cheeks slightly for better access.

You cry out, nails digging into the sofa, feeling every wet slide of his tongue, every suck that makes you clench around him. He delves lower, tongue thrusting into your entrance, fucking you with it shallowly as his nose bumps your clit. The tension coils tighter, your boldness shining through as you rock against his face.

“Haechan… don’t stop,” you gasp, one hand reaching down to tangle in his hair.

He growls in approval, the vibration sending jolts through you. Rising up, he frees his cock fully, stroking it once as he lines up with your dripping pussy. “You want this? All of me?” he asks, rubbing the head along your folds, coating himself in your arousal, prolonging the tease.

“Yes, please!” you urge, guiding him in with your hips.

He thrusts forward slowly at first, inch by inch, stretching you until he bottoms out, both of you groaning at the fullness. He pauses there, his hips flush against yours, letting you adjust to the thick length.

His eyes lock on yours, dark and intense, as he rolls his hips in a slow circle, grinding against your inner walls and brushing your clit with his pubic bone.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he murmurs, voice rough, before pulling back almost all the way out, the drag of his cock against your sensitive spots making you whimper.

He slams back in with a sharp thrust, the impact jolting the sofa and setting the bells to a sharp chime. You arch up, meeting him, your hands clutching his shoulders as he finds a steady rhythm of deep, measured strokes that have him withdrawing to the tip before plunging back in.

The pace builds gradually, his hands sliding under your ass to lift you slightly, changing the angle so he hits that spot deeper inside you with every push. You moan loudly, legs wrapping tighter around his waist, urging him deeper. Sweat beads on his chest, glistening under the Christmas lights, and you can’t resist leaning up to lick a stripe across his collarbone, tasting the salt of him. He groans in response and speeds up, his thrusts turning harder, more insistent.

“Like that? Fuck, you take my cock so well,” he pants, one hand moving to pinch your nipple, rolling it between his fingers as he fucks into you relentlessly.

The coil in your belly tightens, pleasure sparking with each grind, but it still isn’t enough. You need more, the edge hovering just out of reach. You buck your hips up to meet his, clenching around him deliberately, drawing a hiss from his lips.

“God, yes—keep doing that,” he demands, shifting his weight to hook one of your legs over his arm, opening you wider. This new position lets him drive even deeper, his cock stretching you to the limit with every brutal snap of his hips.

The sofa creaks beneath you, the bells a constant, erotic soundtrack, and you feel the pressure building, layer by layer, as he alternates between fast, shallow pumps that tease your entrance and long, slow drags that fill you utterly.

Your breaths come in gasps, bodies slick and sliding together, the room filling with the obscene sounds of your coupling, the squelch of your pussy gripping him, his grunts mingling with your cries. He leans down, capturing your mouth in a messy kiss, tongues tangling as he swallows your moans. Breaking away, he nips at your jaw, your neck, marking you with light bites while his free hand slips between your bodies to rub firm circles on your clit.

The dual sensation pushes you closer, your walls fluttering around his pistoning cock. “Haechan, I’m—fuck,” you whine, nails raking down his back and leaving red trails that make him thrust even harder in response.

He is close too—you can tell from the way his rhythm falters, his cock twitching inside you—but he is holding back, drawing it out, wanting to shatter you first.

“Come on, baby, let go for me,” he urges, voice strained, his fingers working your clit faster now, matching the relentless pace of his hips.

The bells chime wildly as your body tenses, the orgasm cresting slowly at first, then exploding in a rush that has you screaming his name. Your cunt clamps down hard, spasming in rhythmic pulses that milk his cock. Waves of ecstasy rip through you, making your vision blur and toes curl.

He follows seconds later, burying himself to the hilt with a final, deep thrust, his release flooding you in hot spurts. “Shit—yes,” he groans, body shuddering as he pumps through it, prolonging both your highs until he has nothing left.

Only then does he collapse beside you, both of you panting, chests heaving. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your thigh, and the bells are finally quiet.

You wake up to several immediate regrets:

1. Your muscles are screaming in an everything-hurts-and-I-know-exactly-why kind of way.

2. Haechan is humming "All I Want for Christmas Is You" in your kitchen way too cheerfully for someone responsible for your inability to sit cross-legged ever again.

3. The bells are still on your floor, glinting like mocking little ghosts of choices past.

"Stop that," you croak from the sofa, your voice demolished. Wrecked. A casualty of making sounds you didn't know you were capable of.

He appears in the doorway holding two mugs, wearing your "Grinch Don't Kill My Vibe" pajama pants that sit criminally low on his hips. "Morning, jingles."

"Do not."

"Bells."

"Haechan—"

"My little Christmas miracle." He's grinning now. "My festive angel. My—"

"I will throw this pillow at you."

"Didn't get enough violence last night?" He sets the mug down, dramatically rubbing his shoulder. "I think you bit me at one point."

You take a shirt from the floor (his shirt, you notice) and put it on, trying to look like someone who isn’t sore in muscles they didn't know existed. "I can't go to dinner. I'll die. I'll burst into flames at the door. My mother will take one look at me and know."

"Know what?"

"That I—that we—" You gesture helplessly between you.

"Had athletic, boundary-destroying sex that made you reconsider your stance on atheism?"

"I hate you."

"You really don't." He sips his coffee. "Your neighbors might, though. Pretty sure Mrs. Chen heard you calling me—"

You slap a hand over his mouth. He licks it. You shriek and wipe it on his chest.

"Also," he adds cheerfully, "I texted your mom. Told her we'd be late because you had a 'wardrobe emergency.'"

"A what?"

"Well, I couldn't say 'your daughter can't walk properly because I rearranged her spine,' could I?" He flops next to you on the sofa, bouncing once to make you wince. "Though technically, the emergency is that you're not wearing much of a wardrobe."

"HAECHAN."

Half an hour later, you’re sitting in his car, gripping the door handle like you're about to jump out at a red light. He's connected his phone to Bluetooth and is purposely playing "Jingle Bell Rock" at low volume.

"I will end you," you mutter.

"You already did. My back looks like I fought a tiger." He shows you a glimpse of the scratches behind his shoulder, looking far too proud. "How do I explain these? 'Oh, these? Y/N just really loves Christmas?'"

"Tell them you fell."

"Into what? A wood chipper?”

You didn’t dignify his attempt at a joke with a response, already feeling less than willing to express any kind of positive emotion in this supposed jolly day.

Truthfully, you were not upset at Haechan. You were upset with yourself for letting things get to this point, and even more for actually enjoying it to the point where you keep replaying every moment of it in your head.

Suddenly you’re pulling up at your parent’s driveway and Haechan is turning to you with dancing eyes. "Here we are! Ready?”

“No.”

“Too bad.” He leans closer. “Try not to make that face when your mother asks how we slept.”

"LALALA CAN'T HEAR YOU." You scramble out of the car.

Your mother opens the door before you reach it, and Haechan immediately transforms into the perfect guest.

"Mrs. Y/L/N! You look radiant! Is that a new apron?"

"Oh, Haechan, you charmer!" She's beaming, completely taken in. "Come in, come in!"

He follows you in, and as you pass, he whispers, "You're walking like a baby giraffe."

"And you're about to die," you hiss back.

Haechan has positioned himself directly across from you at the table, which was a mistake because now he's making eyes at you over the roast potatoes.

"So Haechan," your father starts, "how's work going?"

“Great, sir.” He keeps his voice spotless while rolling a green bean in gravy in the filthiest way imaginable. “Just got promoted.”

Your mother claps. “Y/N, did you know Haechan was promoted?”

“No,” you say flatly. “We don’t update each other on our lives. That would require me speaking to him voluntarily.”

"I don't like to brag," Haechan interrupts smoothly. "Y/N's been very supportive though. Very... hands-on with her support."

You kick him under the table. He catches your foot between his legs and holds it there.

"That's nice," your mother says. "You two have been getting along better lately."

Mark snorts into his wine. "Since when?"

"Oh, we're getting along great," Haechan agrees, running his thumb over your ankle. "Really found our rhythm, haven't we, Y/N?"

You're trying to pull your foot back but he's holding it hostage. "R--right. Yes."

"In fact," Haechan continues, now massaging your foot under the table while maintaining perfect eye contact with your father, the absolute sociopath, "just last night we were discussing how well we work together."

"You were?" Mark asks suspiciously.

"Yes," Haechan continues cheerfully, now eating mashed potatoes in a way that brings back vivid sense memories of his tongue doing things to you, "we had a very thorough discussion. Covered all the angles. Really got into it. Deep into it."

Your wine glass shakes as you set it down.

"Multiple positions," he adds thoughtfully. " I mean on the subject, different positions on the subject."

"What subject?" your father asks, bless his oblivious heart.

"Life," Haechan says philosophically. "Passion. The importance of... tension and release."

You stand so abruptly your chair screeches. "BATHROOM."

You’re standing by your mother’s frost-covered roses, pressing your cold fingers to your burning cheeks, trying to make sense of the last eighteen hours. The marks on your neck throb faintly. Your thighs still ache. And somewhere between last night and this morning, Lee Haechan has completely rewired your brain chemistry.

This is the same boy who put green food coloring in your shampoo and called you “Grinchey” two Christmases ago. Same one you’ve spent years cultivating a careful, sustained annoyance toward, like tending to a particularly bitter garden.

So why can’t you stop thinking about him?

“Plotting your escape?”

You jump. He’s standing there with two pieces of Christmas pudding, looking unfairly good in his stupid Christmas sweater, the one your mom bought him two years ago that he actually kept. You’d made fun of him for it then.

“Plotting your murder, actually.”

“Aw.” He holds out a plate. “Peace offering?”

You take it, careful not to let your fingers touch his. Can’t trust yourself anymore, apparently.

“What was all that ‘we found our rhythm’ crap?”

"We did, though." He takes a bite of pudding, considering. "We should try more next time."

You turn to glare at him, but he’s not looking at you with his usual teasing smirk. Instead, there’s something softer in his eyes that makes your stomach drop in a way that has nothing to do with last night’s activities.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing. Just…” He sets down his plate, runs a hand through his hair. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

“Have sex on my broken sofa? Weird kink, but okay.”

“Y/N.” The way he says your name makes you look back. “I’m being serious.”

“Since when are you serious?”

“Since you walked into your parents’ house freshman year wearing that ridiculous reindeer onesie and told me my haircut looked like a hedgehog had died on my head.”

You blink. “That was ages ago.”

“Four years, three months, and roughly two weeks.” He’s studying the frozen roses now, purposefully not looking at you. “But who’s counting.”

“Why… why do you even remember that?”

He tilts his head, looking faintly amused at your confusion. “Why do you think?”

“…You’ve liked me since then…”

“Liked is a generous word for what I felt when you were being a pain in my ass.” He finally looks at you, and that vulnerability is back, the one that makes him look younger.

“But— but the girls you’ve dated are so different. I mean I’m not your type at all.”

“God you are so blind.” He chuckles incredulously.

Suddenly, you’re thinking about all the moments you’d dismissed. How he always brought your favorite snacks. How he remembered how you take your coffee and always made it better than anyone else. How he terrorized every guy you dated but played it off as "brotherly" concern.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. “You’re in love with me.”

“Yeah, well.” He shrugs, trying for casual but failing entirely. “Surprise?”

“You’re in love with me and you let me send you that photo—”

“I mean it was an accident.”

“—and you came over and you brought wine and you fixed my heating—”

“Technically, I didn’t fix your heating—”

“—and then you fucked me on my sofa knowing you’ve been in love with me for FOUR YEARS?”

He winces. “When you put it like that, it sounds weird.”

“It sounds insane!” You’re pacing now, the pudding forgotten. “Who does that? Who just… sits on feelings for four years?”

“Someone whose best friend would murder them for touching his sister?” He catches your hand, stops your pacing. “Someone who was terrified of ruining the only excuse he had to see you? Someone who was willing to take whatever he could get, even if it was just annoying you at Christmas dinners?”

You stare at him. Past the jokes and the smugness and the playful torture. There’s Haechan, who drove over at 9 PM on Christmas Eve because your heating was broken. Who made sure you were warm and safe and… oh.

“I think I have feelings for you too,” you say, and it comes out accusatory. “Which is frankly inconvenient.”

His whole face changes. “Yeah?”

“I mean, I hated you twelve hours ago.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I strongly disliked you.”

“I don’t even think you believe that.”

“I…” You think about last night, how easy it was to let him in, how right it felt when he kissed you, how you’d wanted him to stay even after the sex. “You’re annoying and insufferable and you eat all my good snacks and—”

He kisses you, cutting off your spiral. Which you were secretly glad for because you were starting to miss his lips when they weren’t on yours. What the hell was happening?

“And?” he prompts against your lips.

“And I can’t stop thinking about you,” you admit. “Last night was… but even before that, you were everywhere. In my head. Under my skin. It’s extremely annoying.”

“Oh no,” he grins, “are you admitting you love me back?”

“I’m admitting you’re less horrible than anticipated.”

“Practically a declaration of love from you.” He pulls you closer, and you realize you’re not cold anymore. Haven’t been since he came outside.

"By the way, I still have your underwear in my bag."

"WHAT—"

He pulls back just enough to see your face. "Mark asked if I had a cat toy in there because of all the jingling."

"I'm taking everything I said back. And moving to Antarctica. I’m gonna be a penguin scientist."

"Penguins mate for life, you know."

"Not the kind I'll study. Mine will be commitment-phobic penguins."

He laughs softly and kisses you again. Soft and sure and nothing like last night's desperate heat. This is a promise kiss. A Sunday morning kiss. A forty-years-from-now kiss.

"Your family's taking bets," he murmurs against your lips, "on how long before we admit we're together. Your dad has Valentine's Day. Your mom's betting on New Year's. Mark, pessimistically, has next Christmas."

"And you?"

He grins, that playful grin that started this whole mess. "Oh, I already won."

"How?"

"Bet on Christmas Eve." He kisses you again softly. "I always had good timing."

From inside, Mark's voice carries: "ARE THEY KISSING?"

Your mother's response: "Leave them alone, they're having a moment!"

"WE'RE NOT HAVING A MOMENT," you shout back.

"Speak for yourself, jingles" He says loudly, "WE'RE HAVING A VERY EMOTIONAL MOMENT!"

"I swear to god—"

"Come on." He tugs you toward the house, fingers laced with yours. "Let's go inside before you freeze. Can't have you catching cold before our New Year's plans."

"We don't have New Year's plans."

"We do now. You, me, and the bells."

"I'm burning those bells."

"Please don't. They're sentimental to me now."

You let him pull you back into the warmth, where your family is pretending very badly not to stare, where Mark looks like he needs several shots of whiskey, where your mother is already planning what is clearly a wedding in her head.

You understand with perfect clarity that you're completely fucked. You're going to fall stupidly in love with Lee Haechan. Probably already have.

thank you for reading! any feedback is greatly appreciated! <3

[starlightkun]

⇢ word count: 12.0k ⇢ genre & warnings: christmas and new year’s-themed, boarding school au, gym teacher!sungchan & history teacher!reader, fluff, some hurt/comfort, coworkers to lovers, almost everyone’s family is dead and/or sucks sorry ⇢ synopsis: in which you and sungchan are tasked with watching over the three students at moorehead prep who aren’t going home for the month-long winter break. while the two of you work together to try to make the best of it for the kids, you can’t help but get even closer than expected ⇢ extra info: this is part of my 2025 hallmark movie marathon, four short, unrelated fics starring sungchan all with cheesy hallmark christmas movie-esque premises. there’s no continuing plotline between fics in this series, they’re all standalone fics ⇢ author’s note: stole the title from the movie with the same premise ⇢ 2025 hallmark movie marathon

“Okay, I definitely feel a lot better knowing I’m not doing this with another rookie.”

“I’ll take you under my wing. Promise.” He grinned, and oddly enough, his confidence actually did calm your anxiety about the whole thing.

“Bye, Ms. Y/L/N!” Your student gave you a cheery wave and goodbye as he climbed into his parents’ car. You fondly waved back to him and his family, watching until the vehicle was out of sight far beyond the school's drive.

Moorehead Prep, the boarding school that you worked and lived at, had released their students for the winter holidays, and he was the last one to be picked up. Almost all of the other staff who lived on-campus had already left as well. Only those who would be staying for the duration of the break remained. You were staying with one other staff member to watch over the handful of students who were not going home.

The empty, silent halls were eerie; you were used to them being filled with the boisterous raucous of young boys. Even on the weekends during term when they were at extracurriculars, playing outside, or visiting nearby family, it was never this quiet. Large swaths of the building had been shut off completely to make it more manageable for you to keep an eye on the children. As you walked by the one common room left open, you spotted two of your three charges reading by the fireplace.

Leaning in the doorway, you watched them for a moment fondly. The eldest, thirteen-year-old Dogyun, was sprawled across an armchair with his favorite graphic novel in hand. He fidgeted with a bandage on his left earlobe from where he’d tried to pierce his own ears just a couple days ago with a sewing needle pocketed from home economics class. Sungmin appeared to be trying to get ahead on the assigned reading for your class for next term, his history textbook propped up against the bricks marking the outer edge of the fireplace and his feet kicked up behind him as he laid on his stomach on the plush rug. Sungmin was also new to the school like you, three grades below Dogyun but four years younger, a bit small for his age and with big eyes that only served to make him look even younger.

“Sungmin,” you announced your presence, walking over towards the boys. Their heads snapped up towards you, and Sungmin gave you a sheepish look as you kneeled down next to him to gesture to his book. “We are officially on break now. This can wait.”

“I tried to tell him,” Dogyun huffed, flipping a page.

“Sorry, Ms. Y/L/N,” Sungmin muttered.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” you assured him. “I just want you to be able to enjoy your time off school, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Also, I know the headmaster said that anytime you’re on school grounds, you have to be in uniform, even on break…” You eyed the tidy uniforms that they were still wearing—although Dogyun’s tie was a little askew as usual. “But I say don’t worry about it for now. It’ll be our little secret, hm?”

Huge grins broke out on both their faces.

“Thank you, Ms. Y/L/N!” “Thanks!”

You glanced around. “Either of you know where Junhyuk is?”

Junhyuk was your third and final student that you were responsible for over the break, a twelve-year-old honor roll student and Dogyun’s roommate and best friend. They were typically fused at the hip and causing trouble, so it was a bit unusual to see them apart unless something like class schedules mandated it. Sungmin’s dorm was in the portion of the school that was closed down for break, so he was temporarily moved into the older boys’ room, taking the vacant bed of one of their dormmates who went home.

“He’s helping Coach Jung put stuff away in the gym,” Sungmin answered.

“Yeah, he said he only needed one person to help,” Dogyun added.

“Thanks.” You got to your feet and brushed off your knees. “You two need anything else from me?”

“Nope!”

“Alright, I’m going to the gym for a minute if you do. Dinner’s at the normal time.”

“Wait!” Dogyun suddenly halted your departure. “Can you tell Junhyuk that we’re gonna play Switch in our room? So whenever’s he’s done helping.”

“I’ll pass the message.”

Each step of your boots clicked and echoed around you, and as you turned down the hallway that led to the gymnasium, you took the opportunity to stop and peer into the trophy cases that lined it. Dazzling trophies and plaques of all shapes and sizes glinted, reflecting your face back at you. The dates stretched back well over a century.

One of the doors to the gym was latched open, and when you couldn’t spot either Coach Jung nor Junhyuk, you ventured in further. Your ears finally picked up distant shuffling sounds, so you followed them down a hall behind the bleachers on the opposite side of the gymnasium where a storage room door was held ajar by a chair. You grabbed the edge of the door to pull it open all the way and step around the chair.

Junhyuk was dutifully restacking cones of various sizes in one corner while Coach Jung seemed to be doing an inspection on a shelf containing every kind of sports ball known to man. He was currently turning a soccer ball over in his hands, carefully eyeing the threads and wear of the material in some areas.

“Hi, Ms. Y/L/N!” Junhyuk greeted you cheerfully.

At the boy’s words, Coach Jung looked up at you attentively, a friendly smile coming to his features. “Oh, hey. What can we do for you?”

“Just wanted to let you know that everyone’s been picked up,” you smiled back hesitantly. Turning to the boy, you continued, “Also, Dogyun asked me to tell you that, once you’re done helping Coach Jung, the other two will be playing Switch in your room if you’d like to join.”

Junhyuk focused wide, hopeful eyes on Coach Jung. “I finished the cones! What else do you need help with, sir?”

“That was the last thing, Junhyuk,” Coach Jung chuckled. “You can go.”

“Thank you!”

You stepped back so he could dart around you out of the room. Leaving just you and Coach Jung. He dropped the soccer ball at his feet, nudged it over to a pile of them that seemed in a similar rough condition, then grabbed another off the shelf to continue his inspection, while you suffered awkwardly in the silence, watching him.

You didn’t know Coach Jung very well. This was your first year at the school, not to mention your classroom was on the opposite side of the school from the gymnasium, and while you both technically lived on the school grounds, only male teachers lived in the dormitories with the students. Female staff had a separate living quarters, so you never crossed paths with him outside typical school hours either. You had only met him in passing at the beginning of the year with the rest of the teachers, and last week in the brief meeting with the headmaster in preparation for your staying through Winter Break. But you’d heard plenty about him. He was beloved by the students both as their physical education teacher and as the coach of several school sports teams. And he was also a regular topic of gossip around the female staff dorms. While you were the youngest in the women’s quarters by at least two decades, the older ladies still enjoyed a good piece of eye candy when he’d lead the running club on a jog around the grounds before breakfast, or help one of them carry something heavy. The delighted tittering when they found out that it would just be you and Coach Jung here for Winter Break was ceaseless until the last of your housemates finally left.

“Did you need something else, Ms. Y/L/N?” Coach Jung asked.

“Oh, I got our keys from the secretary.” You held up the two sets of keys that you’d been given which would grant you access to all the necessary facilities for the next month. “Do you want me to leave your set in your office, or…?”

“I’ll take them now, thanks.” He stepped towards you, hand outstretched.

You dropped the keyring into his palm with a light clink, and he pocketed them. “Also, I uh, I already told the boys they didn’t have to worry about uniform code for the next month. Hope that’s okay with you.”

“Oh, pff, yeah.” He waved a dismissive hand, eyes focused once more on the equipment. “The least of my concerns on any given day is whether or not they’re wearing the right kind of sock, much less on Christmas.”

“That was my thinking!”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

“And, uhm—” You coughed, looking around at anything but him. “You can just call me Y/N when we’re not around the kids.”

He let out an airy chuckle, “Will do. You can call me Sungchan.”

“Oh, right.” You bit your lip to stop from laughing but your nerves still made words pour out, “Please don’t be too offended but I kind of forgot your name. I’m pretty sure you introduced yourself at the beginning of the year all-staff meeting but since then, I’ve really only heard people call you Coach Jung…”

Sungchan laughed loudly, nodding in agreement. “As soon as you came in here, I realized I couldn’t remember your name. I was going to look it up in the staff directory after you left.”

“So we’re really on the same page,” you chuckled. “Is it your first year, too?”

“No, fifth.”

“Okay, I definitely feel a lot better knowing I’m not doing this with another rookie.”

“I’ll take you under my wing. Promise.” He grinned, and oddly enough, his confidence actually did calm your anxiety about the whole thing.

“Well how about, between us, no stupid questions?” You proposed hesitantly. “Instead of looking names up in the staff directory behind each other’s backs or whatever, we just ask? I think it’ll make the next month go much easier, right?”

“I think so too,” he agreed easily. “Just ask.”

“I’ll let you get back to what you were doing.” You gestured vaguely to the storage room. “I’m going to check on the boys and then probably be in the library until dinner.”

“One more thing before you go.” Sungchan brought out his cell phone from his pocket. “Probably be a good idea to have each other’s numbers.”

The kitchen staff were also gone for the holiday break, but had prepared refrigerated and frozen meals. A stipend was also left that could be spent on groceries or off-campus meals if you wanted. The dining hall felt far too large for just the five of you, so you took your reheated food to the common room to eat instead.

“So, what do you boys want to do on break?” You asked as you were all sat around one table together. “Within reason. Give us some ideas, and Coach Jung and I will see what we can do.”

“Right now, we’re looking at one or two off-campus activities a week,” Sungchan added from his seat beside you. “And bringing some fun here if we can.”

“You don’t have to answer now. Think about it.”

“Can we go skating on the pond?” Junhyuk requested.

“Ooh, what about sledding?” Dogyun said.

“We should build igloos on the soccer field!”

“And sleep in them!”

“I bet the Willow Hill is tall enough to ski from!”

“My uncle took me ice fishing one time! Coach Jung, do you think Mr. Suh would mind if we took some tools from woodshop to carve a hole into the pond?”

Both you and Sungchan chuckled, your coworker taking the lead in answering, “He’d probably be more upset that you cut a hole in the pond ice without him.”

“What about you, Sungmin?” You prompted the youngest, who hadn’t joined in the discussion yet.

He looked up from his food, big eyes getting a little bigger. “I thought you said we could think about it…”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” you apologized, patting his head fondly. “I didn’t mean to pressure you. Take your time.”

Upon returning to the female staff dorms, you immediately noticed that something was wrong. You weren’t embraced by warm air after the cold, arduous journey from the main building. The difference in temperature was barely noticeable. Investigating the thermostat, you found that it was set to what should’ve been a toasty temperature.

With a sigh, you dialed the after-hours maintenance line for the school. After three calls going to voicemail, you let out a huff of frustration, which came out as a white cloud in the chilly air. Begrudgingly, you threw a few necessities into a bag, then trudged back to the main building once more.

Spotting light streaming out from under a door at the end of the dorm hall you were in, you shuffled over and knocked. You’ve only been in the dorm halls twice, once on an informal tour during your interview, and the second on a brief tour during your orientation. From what you remembered, the teachers’ rooms were at the beginning and end of each hall.

“Hold on!” Sungchan’s voice called out from within, and after a few moments, he opened the door. He clearly hadn’t been expecting you, blinking down at you. “Y/N. Thought you were one of the boys. Is everything okay?”

“The heat’s out in my dorm,” you explained. “Nobody picked up when I called maintenance.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah, so I was just gonna—”

“Oh, yeah, come on in.” He stepped back and opened the door wider.

You slowly pointed over your shoulder. “—sleep in the common room… on the couch.”

“Right.” He coughed. “I mean, whatever you’re comfortable with. I’ve got an extra bed since Shotaro’s out. Or actually, you can stay in here and I’ll sleep in the common room.”

He was already reaching to grab a blanket off a bed, holding the door open with his foot.

“I didn’t come to take over your room,” you stopped him with a laugh. “You think Shotaro would mind?”

“Nah, I’ll take his bed.” Sungchan threw the blanket back and once again moved out of the doorway for you to go in.

You hesitated in the hallway, however. “Wait—Do you think this is okay? I’m not supposed to even be in your room.”

“Actually, I’m not supposed to be in your room,” he informed you with a grin. “There’s technically no rule against you being here.”

“What? Why wouldn’t they make it the same?”

He shrugged. “They forgot? Figured it’d be harder to have hookups with kids knocking down your door every night? I don’t know.”

“Thanks, Sungchan.” You smiled, ducking into the room. As he closed the door behind you, you took stock of the room. It was a little larger than the student rooms, with an attached bathroom and two beds in opposite corners. Each of them also had a nightstand, desk, chair, and dresser. Sungchan’s roommate was Shotaro, the dance teacher, and you spotted a couple pictures of him and his family on one of the desks.

He fetched a couple more blankets from his under-bed storage and handed them to you. “Just washed these yesterday.”

“I feel so special,” you joked, waiting for him to take the bedding off his bed and toss it onto Shotaro’s.

“Who do you room with?” He made conversation as you settled in, toeing off your winter boots and setting your bag down.

“Oh, nobody. We have individual rooms.”

“Lucky,” he huffed.

“Only two showers, though.”

“In the whole building?”

“Yeah, well, it’s just one of the old headmasters’ houses that they renovated.” You sat down on the edge of the mattress. Pulling out your phone and charging cable, you plugged it into an outlet next to the nightstand. “Ms. Hyesoo is very strict about the shower schedule so nobody uses up all the hot water. When you first start at the school, she times all your showers until she thinks you can be trusted.”

“Wait, seriously?!” Sungchan’s mouth was agape.

“Yup. And if you’re not new and she suspects you’re taking too long, she’ll start timing you again.”

“Who made her president of the shower?”

“I’m pretty sure she did,” you chuckled, scooting up towards the headboard and draping the blanket over your lap. “I mean, I think it is important that nobody hogs all the hot water so everyone can use it. And she’s technically like, in charge of the female staff dorms so I guess if she thinks this is necessary…”

“Okay, well for the next month, take as long as you want,” he scoffed.

You laid down on your side, pulling the blanket up over your shoulder. “I appreciate that.”

He reached up for the lightswitch by the door. “Lights out?”

“Ready.”

With a flick of his fingers, the room was plunged into darkness. You could hear Sungchan settling in on his side of the room. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you called out softly, “Sungchan?”

“Yeah?”

“Seriously, thanks for doing this with me. I already told you it’s my first year here, but it’s also my first year teaching at all. I took all these extra online certification courses, even after they told me I got the job. I just want to be the best for the kids, you know?”

“You know much about Mr. Shin? He used to teach your class.”

“Bits and pieces. He retired, right?”

“Yeah. And this is the first year I actually hear kids excited to go to their history classes. Telling me about the cool stuff they’re learning.”

You smiled to yourself, rubbing your socked feet together under the covers. “Aw, yay.”

“You’ll keep learning. The fact that you want to do all that for them already gives you a good start,” he added.

“Thanks, Sungchan.”

“Anytime.” He yawned, “Mm, goodnight.”

“Night,” you replied, shutting your eyes.

It wasn’t until Monday that you heard back from anybody regarding the heat in the women’s building. The head groundskeeper finally called you back, apologetically informing you that the heat in that building was scheduled to shut off for every winter break and he hadn’t been informed to keep it on this year. He offered to drive in to turn it back on for you, letting you know that it wouldn’t be until this afternoon since he lived several hours away, and you gratefully declined his offer. He was on break, too, and it seemed like far too big of an inconvenience at this point. You would just tough it out in the main building for the month.

The boys had asked to go sledding for their first winter activity, which was an easy enough request. Sungchan dug out a few old snow sleds from an equipment shed on the grounds while you inspected the boys’ gear and gave them a thorough safety lecture before even letting them step foot out of their dorm room. Now, you and Sungchan watched them take off from the top of the Willow Hill, sleds careening down through the snow before skidding to a stop nearby. Then they’d leap to their feet and run all the way back up, dragging the sleds behind them.

“Looks fun,” you commented as the three kids all piled onto one sled together, Sungmin sandwiched between the two older boys.

“You want to go?” Sungchan offered, gesturing to the other two sleds forgotten at the bottom of the hill.

“Last time I was in charge of my own sled, I knocked both my front teeth out,” you admitted sheepishly.

“Ouch,” he chuckled. “How about I drive, then? If you’re cool with that.”

“When’s the last time you drove a sled, exactly?”

“Last winter. Why do you think we have them on campus? We use them for Winter Field Day in January.”

You held up your hands in deference. “My apologies, I shouldn’t have doubted your skills.”

Despite your offer to help, Sungchan hauled the bright orange sled uphill by himself. Willow Hill was named for a willow tree that used to sit at the top of it. All that was left of the tree was a short stump that was now almost completely buried in snow.

“What happened to it?” You questioned, staring at the stump. “The willow?”

“Oh, uhm, it died. They had to cut it down,” he replied, lips pursing in a thoughtful frown. “Can’t remember why it died, though. It was way before I worked here.”

“Huh. I’ll ask Ms. Hyesoo after break. I bet she knows.”

“If anybody is going to know, it’s her or the headmaster,” he agreed with a chuckle. Switching trains of thought, he dropped the sled onto the ground and gestured to it, “So, you’ll be in front and hold onto the tie. Lean when I lean. I’ll tell you which way, okay?”

You nodded. “Seems easy enough.”

He held the sled in place while you got settled into the front, then climbed into the back himself. His long legs stretched forward on either side of you, his chest was nearly flush to your back, and he readjusted to be able to properly see over you.

“Good?” He checked in with you.

“Mhm.” You held on tightly to the rope anchored to the front of the sled.

“Y/N—Sorry—You’ve got to lean back on me. If you’re sitting forward like that and we hit a rock you’re going to go flying.”

“Shit, okay, when you put it like that,” you laughed and did as he instructed. Now fully reclined on him, you looked over your shoulder to ask, “That better?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Much uh, safer.”

“Can you see?”

“Yeah, more than—more than before.”

“Oh, good.”

“Good.”

“So, are we ready to go?”

“What?”

“Go down the hill? Sled?”

Sungchan smiled a little. “Yeah, of course. Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you determined. “Do I get a countdown?”

“Are you holding onto the tie?”

“Well, yeah.”

“One—” And with a great shove, he launched your sled off the top of the hill. The cold air bit at your cheeks and nose as you sped downhill, white flurries of snow flew up on either side of the sled, and abundant, uncontrollable laughter tumbled from your mouth. When you felt one particularly large bump under the sled bottom, you let out a half-yelp half-giggle and clutched Sungchan’s leg, your other hand keeping a death grip on the rope. He let go of his handrail on that side of the sled to hold you down by your arm.

“Left!” He called out, and you could hear the giddiness in his own tone with the command. Both of you leaned left, and the sled successfully veered left away from a small log.

At the bottom of the hill, the sled eventually came to a stop, and you let out a sigh of relief.

“There. Made it in one piece,” Sungchan teased, patting the top of your head.

“That was a lot of fun,” you said through breathless sputters, starting to sit up to get ready to climb up out of the sled.

“Want to go again?”

Before you could answer, Dogyun and Junhyuk swarmed you, clambering trying to call dibs as to who would ride with Sungchan next.

“Hold on, let Ms. Y/L/N and me get up first, okay?” He shooed them back. The coach hauled himself out of the sled, and you suddenly were scrambling to stay upright without him behind you. He didn’t leave you floundering for long, offering two hands to help you up, making sure you were steady on your feet before turning to the boys. “Alright, now, one at a time—”

Having already noticed the distinct lack of Sungmin with the others, you turned around in place, scanning the snowy hills for him. Thankfully he wasn’t very far, at the top of Willow Hill, sitting on the stump and seemingly watching the rest of you at the foot. Dogyun was holding a red sled, and Junhyuk a purple one, so you knew Sungmin didn’t have one. You waved at him. He waved back.

Hiking your way back up, you approached the boy curiously. “Hey.”

“Hi, Ms. Y/L/N,” he peered up at you from under the brim of his beanie.

“You forgot your sled. Unless you were planning on rolling down like a log.” You tucked your arms into your chest and mimicked doing so.

He giggled at you before shaking his head. “No, I just wanted to sit up here.”

“You can see a lot up here,” you commented, appreciating the sports fields, pond, and school buildings all laid out around you. “Mind if I sit with you?”

“You can.” Sungmin scooted over on the wide stump to make room for you.

“Thank you.”

“I’ve been thinking about what I want to do on break. Can we go to a movie theater?”

There was a small town nearby that school personnel would sometimes make trips to, but you didn’t know off the top of your head whether or not it had a movie theater. If it didn’t, the next biggest town was much, much further. But you weren’t going to write off his request so hastily. “I’ll look into it, Sungmin. What kind of movie do you want to see?”

“Mmm… I don’t know. I like all kinds of movies.”

You chuckled a little. “Good point. Movies are cool. I’ll see what our options are. Any other ideas?”

“No. Did you know some fish hibernate?”

“I did not know that.”

He pointed to the pond. “I asked Mr. Lee what happens to the fish when the water freezes and he told me.”

“Very interesting. Thanks for telling me.”

“Did you know that some fish hibernate?”

Sungchan poked his head out of the bathroom to affix you with a confused look, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. “Huh?”

“When lakes and stuff freeze over, some fish will hibernate,” you reiterated seriously from where you were sitting cross-legged on your bed.

He finished brushing, spat out his toothpaste, and rinsed his toothbrush before shutting the lights off. Lumbering back into the bedroom, he stopped next to your bed, arms folded over his chest, head cocked, and face absolutely bewildered as he asked, “What?”

“Sungmin was telling me about it today.” You typed away on your laptop.

“Okay, that makes more sense now.”

“He wants to go to a movie theater, but the closest one is like five hours away,” you huffed.

“…To see a movie about fish hibernation?”

“What? No. I mean, he’d probably like that, but I doubt there’s actually a movie like that showing.”

“Of course, my bad.”

“He said he’d see any movie, but there’s no movie theater in town. Look.” You pushed your laptop to the side, off one leg.

He took the cue and sat down next to you on the mattress, taking your computer into his lap. Two of his long fingers swiped and tapped across the trackpad. He alternated pursing his lips and rolling the bottom one between his teeth as he also evaluated the lack of cinema options in your area. Finally, he clicked his tongue against the back of his front teeth.

“Damn, the Cineplex must have closed down since last year,” he sighed. “There used to be this tiny chain cinema like, an hour from here. Mrs. Kang organized field trips there every semester.”

The mention of Mrs. Kang, the film teacher, gave you an idea. You might not be able to bring the kids to the movies, but you could try your best to bring the experience of the movies to them.

“Hold on—There’s projectors in every classroom,” you started explaining your plan to Sungchan. “Take out the desks and chairs, bring in some pillows and blankets, get some popcorn… We’ve got our own movie theater right here.”

“Yes, that’s perfect!” He held a hand up for you to high-five.

“My classroom is in one of the wings that’s locked up right now, so we’ll need to borrow someone else’s…”

“We can use mine.”

“Wait, you have a classroom?”

“Physical education has a classroom, yes,” he chuckled. “We’ve got pencils and everything.”

You sheepishly tried to backpedal, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine, Y/N,” he reassured you, knocking his knee against yours. “It’s in a random hallway in the gym. Nobody knows it’s there. But it has a projector.”

“Okay, if I take the boys to the store to pick out snacks and stuff, would that be enough time for you to set up your classroom? Or do you need my help?”

“Nah. I’ve got set-up, you’re on snacks.”

The next night, you got back from your short trip into town with all three boys in tow and bags of snacks in hand. You took the snacks with you as you sent them to get changed out of their heavy winter clothes. As you headed off towards your own temporary quarters, you texted Sungchan.

[you: just got back. is everything ready?]

You set the bags of snacks down on your bed before pulling your parka off to hang up. The bathroom door opened then, and your friendly greeting got stuck in your throat. Humid air came out along with Sungchan, a towel tied around his waist and damp hair hanging over his forehead.

He skidded to a stop just past the threshold, alarmed. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t hear you come back.”

“No, it’s fine, I didn’t hear you either, sorry,” you apologized, trying to keep your eyes on anything except the beads of water tracing the contours of his bare chest as they rolled down, down, down, and disappeared into the towel.

“I uh, forgot pants,” he pointed to the dresser on his side of the room—the one you were currently occupying—shuffling his way over there.

Keeping one hand where the towel was tied, he flipped his wet hair out of his eyes with the other before opening a drawer and rifling through it. With him turned away from you, you took the opportunity to look a little more directly at him, at the way his back and shoulders subtly flexed and shifted with every movement. When he righted himself, clothing secured in his hand, you hastily looked away, back down at the bags of snacks as if you had been attending to something important with them the whole time.

Sungchan reemerged from the bathroom fully dressed, toweling off his hair, “Everything go okay when you were out?”

“Yeah, the boys were great,” you told him. “Your room all set up?”

“Yep. You ready?”

“Ready.”

He tilted his head. “…In your snow boots?”

You shook your head, embarrassed. “Right. Uhm, give me a minute to change.”

“I’ll grab the boys and meet you in the hall.”

Sungchan’s classroom was, in fact, in a random hallway in the gymnasium. The hallway outside contained the desks and chairs that used to be inside, and sleeping mats were now spread out on the floor of the small room, pillows and blankets piled up on top of them. You had all each brought your own blankets and other various items for comfort, but this looked plenty cozy on its own. While the kids immediately jumped on the mound of blankets and pillows, you went with Sungchan over to his laptop that was hooked up to the projector.

“You did good,” you complimented him, fondly watching the boys paying around and wrestling. “This is perfect.”

“It was your good idea.” He bumped your hip with his. “I just executed it.”

“This was better than I imagined. A-plus execution.”

“We’re a pretty good team, huh?” Sungchan grinned, pulling up the first movie.

With the first movie started, everyone started actually settling in. You were readjusting pillows and blankets while Sungchan took it upon himself to begin distributing the snacks. “Sungmin…” he held the chocolate covered pretzels out.

“Thanks, Coach Jung,” Sungmin accepted the bag.

“Who got the sour gummy worms?”

“Me!” Dogyun called out. Sungchan tossed them to him.

“Mini peanut butter cups?”

“Me!” Junhyuk answered.

“And these are mine, so this must be yours.” He passed out the final two snacks, his pick and yours.

You accepted it from him graciously. “Thank you.”

Your students all quieted down as the movie started, splitting their snacks between them in quiet agreement. As they readjusted and got comfortable during the course of the movie, you scooted around as well to give them more room. But when you accidentally knocked your hand against Sungchan’s under a blanket, you realized that you had slowly been scooting closer into his personal space in the process.

“Sorry,” you whispered, taking your hand back and preparing to move away.

“It’s fine,” he replied quietly. “You’re fine there, don’t worry.”

Trying to ignore the heat rising on your cheeks, you stared at the screen in front of you, staying put and letting your leg fall and relax against his.

“Hey, you boys almost ready?” You asked into the open door of the boys’ dorm room. Junhyuk and Dogyun were inside lacing up their snowboots.

Junhyuk handed you a pair of small gloves. “Minnie forgot these, can you go give them to him? Dogyun takes forever to get ready.”

“Yeah, because you were hogging—”

“I’ll give them to him,” you cut off the beginnings of their bickering. “Thanks, Junhyuk.”

Snow soccer was on the schedule today—what exactly that entailed, you still weren’t sure, but the boys would apparently explain everything once you started. So you began the trek out to the soccer fields. Fresh snow was beginning to fall, and you wondered if this would benefit or ruin the snow soccer plans. Two others were already there, Sungchan and Sungmin. You had just raised your hand, preparing to wave, when you realized that something was wrong. It sounded like Sungmin was yelling, upset. Your friendly greeting died in your throat as you dropped your hand and picked up your pace.

“I just want you to leave me alone!” He seemed to be yelling at Sungchan, little, bare hands balled into fists at his side. Sungchan, for his part, wasn’t engaging. He didn’t seem to be reacting at all, still as a statue and mouth dropped open. “I never want to talk to you ever again! You’re always doing this! You’re-You’re such a—such a asshole!”

“Jung Sungmin!” You finally stopped him, stepping in between the two. Keeping your voice level but stern, you told him, “That’s enough. Go to your dorm and take a breather. Don’t leave your room until you and I have talked, okay?”

The boy’s face was completely pink, tears welling up in his eyes. But more than anything, he was angry. You’d never seen him more than annoyed, never say anything harsher than ‘dumb,’ so this entire situation was leagues out of your comprehension.

Sungmin didn’t say anything more, turning on his heel and storming off towards the building. You watched him for another minute to make sure he made it inside before pivoting on the adult still with you.

“That’s your idea of deescalation and conflict resolution, Sungchan?” You questioned, eyes wide.

Sungchan was still frozen to the spot, eyes glued to where Sungmin had just been standing. “He…”

Utterly flabbergasted, you looked between Sungchan and the school building. “Sungmin’s the sweetest kid ever, I can’t imagine anything getting him that worked up.”

“It’s my fault.”

“What?”

“It’s his first Christmas without his mom.” He offered an explanation, his voice hollow. “He doesn’t want to be here.”

“He wants to be home with her,” you said softly. Your heart broke with the realization. While the reasons the three students were staying over break hadn’t been disclosed to you, you knew they weren’t going to be good. “No other family?”

Sungchan gestured to himself, the defeat apparent on his face. “You’re looking at it. He’s my nephew.”

That did catch you off-guard. While you were aware they shared a surname, it wasn’t a terribly uncommon one, and definitely not enough to suspect any sort of relation between them. Especially since neither had ever alluded to it. “Why did you stay here with him instead of going home?”

“I don’t have anywhere to take him. I live here during the school year, and I used to stay with my sister and Sungmin for the couple months during the summer in between.”

You nodded, noticing the redness around Sungchan’s eyes too. While there was more that you wanted to say, Dogyun and Junhyuk were coming out of the school building, and you still had to talk to Sungmin. Patting his shoulder, you said, “I’m going to check on Sungmin.”

“Thanks,” he sighed, sniffing and trying to quickly compose himself.

Passing by the older boys, you saw the solemn looks on their faces and figured they had encountered Sungmin. You shook the snow off you as you walked through the empty, quiet halls. The light poured out of the open door to the boys’ dorm room, and you stopped at the threshold. Sungmin was sitting on the bottom bunk of one of the two bunk beds, staring at his feet that were dangling over the edge.

“Hey, Sungmin,” you greeted him calmly. “Are you ready to talk? Or do you need a few more minutes?”

“You can come in,” he mumbled.

“Thank you.” You stepped into the room. “May I sit with you?”

He shrugged, and you took that as a yes, positioning yourself at the foot of his bed. The boy huffed, refusing to meet your eyes as he suddenly began rambling, “I shouldn’t have yelled at him, or said a bad word. He’s my teacher, I should be respectful, I know. I’ll apologize.”

“That’s all true,” you acquiesced. “Are you okay?”

“He told you, didn’t he?” He messed with a loose thread on his sweater. “About my mom… That she…”

“He did. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

Sungmin’s shoulders jumped as he hiccupped, and you could see that tears had finally begun falling down his cheeks, wetting his lap. You stayed put, not wanting to crowd or overwhelm him.

“Where do you feel it? The sadness?” You asked him quietly.

He pointed to the middle of his chest. “H-Here.”

“Good job,” you praised him quietly. Breathing in, you asked, “Can I tell you something?”

He nodded.

“It’s my first Christmas without my mom, too,” you admitted. Sungmin finally looked up at you, his tear-stained face giving you a sinking feeling of déjà vu in the pit of your stomach. You continued, “I miss her all the time. It’s okay to miss her, and feel sad, and all sorts of stuff. It hurts, right?”

“A lot. Right here,” his voice trembled as he patted himself on the chest once more. Then, he curled both of his hands into fists in his lap. “I want it to stop.”

“I know, Sungmin, I know. When you hurt inside, you should talk about it, not try to make somebody else hurt more than you.” You felt for him, terribly. “It won’t make it stop immediately, but it makes it easier.”

“I-I’m also mad. A lot,” he confessed, eyes seeking your face. “A-At him.”

“At Coach Jung?” You were careful to only address Sungchan the way that you’ve heard Sungmin address him.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I mean, like, I was mad because he told me to go back inside and get my gloves but like, I wasn’t really mad because he told me to get my gloves. My hands were cold. I think… maybe I was mad he was telling me what to do. Like he really cares.”

You tilted your head thoughtfully. “You think he doesn’t care about you?”

“…No, I don’t think that,” Sungmin huffed, his shoulders deflating. He was no longer actively sobbing, the odd stray tear slipping down his cheek. “I’m just being mean again.”

“It takes practice.”

“What does? Not being mean?”

“Being a person. You’ll be practicing your whole life,” you informed him. “Everyone else is too. It’s everyone’s first time being a person.”

“He’s my uncle.” Sungmin got up, shuffling over to where a suitcase was sitting atop one of the dressers, opening one of the front pockets. He sat down right next to you to show them to you. They were custom Christmas cards that a family would mass-order every year to send out to their entire address book, each one featuring a big picture of Sungmin, Sungchan, and a woman—Sungmin’s mom. Sungmin pointed to Sungchan in the picture from last year. “Coach Jung. Well, he’s really my Uncle Sungchan. I-I didn’t want anybody to know at school, so I stopped calling him Uncle Sungchan. During the summer he always came and lived with us—me and my mom. He told me stories about the cool school where he worked, and I used to beg Mom to send me here…” His voice cracked, and he snapped his head up to you, eyes wide with panic. “You don’t think that’s why…?”

You couldn’t imagine what came next. “Why what?”

“Because I wanted to come here? And now I am? I didn’t mean it like that, I just—”

“Oh, Sungmin, no, no. Of course not,” you quickly reassured him, rubbing his back to soothe his breathing that had quickened again. “I know sometimes we want to find reasons to blame bad things on ourselves, because it makes it easier to understand, or because then we think maybe we could stop something like it in the future. But this isn’t your fault.”

He visibly relaxed again, but kept staring at the pictures on the cards pensively. As he flipped through them, you saw they went back to his first Christmas, an infant in a candy-cane printed onesie in his mom’s arms as Sungchan happily wrapped an arm around them both, beaming at the camera. It wasn’t professionally taken like the more recent ones, just a selfie taken on a couch.

With an idea forming in your mind, you said, “Every Christmas, I used to help my mom bake cookies to give out to our neighbors. Do you want to make some with me this year?”

Finally, something other than sorrow—interest—flashed across Sungmin’s face. He nodded.

“Perfect, thank you,” you smiled. “I need a taste tester, after all.”

He giggled a little at this.

“Since you’re helping me, is there something you and your mom used to do every Christmas that we can do?”

Sungmin sniffled and nodded. “We-We made Christmas cookies, and would put like, sprinkles and stuff on them.”

“I can totally make that happen,” you promised.

“Junhyuk and Dogyun will want to do it too.” After a beat, he added, “Uncle Sungchan, too.”

“Absolutely. All five of us.”

He rested his head on your shoulder, looking at his pictures again. “Yeah.”

“Yeah…” You echoed, squeezing his shoulder tight, to remind him you were there. Your other hand brought out his gloves that were still in your pocket, handing them over to him, “Your friends wanted to make sure you had these.”

“I’m not ready for snow soccer yet, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Snow soccer can wait for whenever you’re ready. They’ll understand.”

When Sungmin finally felt ready, he tucked his pictures away again, and the two of you set back off outside. The snow hadn’t let up while you were inside, and way out on the soccer field, you saw Junhyuk and Dogyun throwing a soccer ball back and forth while Sungchan watched on from further away.

“Hey!” Sungmin waved a gloved hand at them, jumping up and down.

“Minnie!” Junhyuk waved back.

Sungmin ran ahead of you to his friends, and you made your way over to Sungchan. He watched the kids interacting, and you knew he was desperately looking for any hint as to Sungmin’s mental state.

“He’s okay,” you told him. “I’ll tell you about it after dinner?”

“Good idea.” He nodded. Moving his gaze to you, he added genuinely, “Thanks, Y/N.”

“Let’s play snow soccer!” Dogyun announced loudly, to the cheers of the other two. “We need you guys, too!”

Locking eyes with Sungchan, both of you smiled, before you agreed enthusiastically, “Alright, let’s play snow soccer!”

Snow soccer, it turns out, was soccer that you played in the snow. The biggest difference, perhaps, was that it was harder to kick the ball through the layer of freshly fallen snow, and that the lines on the field were rendered entirely useless by the fact that you couldn’t see them under said snow. But it was fun anyway, the five of you running around until the sun was going down and the lights over the field clicked on. Your nose was frozen off by the time hunger finally pulled the boys off the field and inside. They spent all dinner exchanging ideas about what other sports could be better played in the snow, then it was bedtime.

As soon as the door to your room was shut, the air grew heavy. Sungchan plopped down on his bed—his real one, the one that you had been using. You sat next to him.

“I’m sorry about your sister, Sungchan,” you broached the subject head-on. So far, all of the focus had been on Sungmin’s loss, you wondered if Sungchan had even stopped and let himself grieve too.

“Thanks,” he whispered, wringing his hands together. Clearing his throat, he asked, “You said Sungmin’s good?”

“We talked about how he’s feeling. He showed me pictures of his mom—your Christmas cards.”

“When our parents found out she was pregnant, they disowned her. She wasn’t married.”

“That’s horrible…”

“I was the only one in our whole family who kept talking to her. That’s how he ended up with me. I didn’t think bringing him around to family Christmas now would help any. They’re strangers to him.” His voice was tight, and he let out a shaky breath. Rubbing his face, he continued, “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She wanted to do all this stuff—She was so smart.”

“Sungmin’s really bright,” you commented lightly.

“Yeah, he is.” He smiled faintly. “He called me ‘Uncle Sungchan’ again, just now when we were saying goodnight. Thank you for whatever you said to him. All those online certificates seem to have paid off.”

“Wasn’t exactly in the online trainings…” You confessed hesitantly. “I told him this was my first Christmas without my mom too.”

“Shit, Y/N…” Sungchan breathed out, the bittersweet smile immediately falling from his face. He hugged you. “I’m so sorry.”

“My dad passed when I was a baby. It was just me and my mom for my whole life. Now it’s just me,” you muttered against his shoulder, tears beginning to eke out the corners of your eyes. With a cynical chuckle, you said, “I haven’t told anybody else this, but the reason I volunteered to stay here over break is so I wouldn’t be alone on Christmas. It’s a bit pathetic, isn’t it?”

“No, not at all,” he reassured you, hand cradling the back of your head. “Honestly, I probably could’ve taken him somewhere—rented a place for the month, I don’t know—but I was afraid of it being just the two of us on Christmas. Thought the other boys would give him something else to do than be sad, you know?”

“They’ve kept us pretty busy,” you giggled.

“For sure,” he agreed humorously.

“Sungmin told me that every Christmas, they used to make and decorate cookies. I promised we would all do that.”

“It’s a good idea. Thanks, Y/N.”

You and Sungchan were still hugging each other, and with your tears subsiding, you began pulling away to dab at your eyes with the sleeves of your sweatshirt. “You’re doing really good, Sungchan,” you sniffled, and patted his forearm. “With Sungmin. You’ll keep learning.”

He turned his hand over, catching yours and holding it. “You’re good with them too. All of them.”

Your chest was suddenly too tight around your heart, and you couldn’t say anything, so you squeezed his hand back instead.

“I’m here if you need me, for whatever. Even after break,” he said as he began standing up, still holding onto your hand.

“Of course. You took me under your wing, remember?” You choked out a joke.

He smiled fondly. “Of course.”

Letting your hand slip from his, he crossed over to the other bed and pulled the covers back to get under them. You were oddly cold as you went to sleep that night, blankets tight around you, thinking again about how warm Sungchan’s arms were around you.

The five of you were in the dining hall for the first time that break. The long tables afforded plenty of space to spread out the many, many cookie decorating supplies you’d procured especially for today. Yesterday, you and Sungmin had baked batches and batches of cookies—five people was simply too many to have in the kitchen helping out at once, so you sent the other three to find something to do. Now that the cookies were all cool, it was time to decorate them.

“How’d you do that?” Sungmin gasped, staring at one of Junhyuk’s cookies, which had gel food colorings swirled through the white frosting.

“Here, I’ll show you, Minnie,” Junhyuk offered, putting the cookie he was currently working on down.

You smiled to yourself, continuing to carefully place snowflake sprinkles on your cookie. Sungchan peered over at your work. “What’s going on there?”

“It’s Apollo 8, the first manned mission to the moon.” You gestured to your surprisingly legible rocketship piped on with gel icing, then at the pearl sprinkle you’d put next to it. “That’s the moon.”

He laughed, pointing to the snowflake sprinkles that you were still dutifully adding. “I’m not the science teacher, but I don’t think it snows in space.”

“Neither am I.” You wrinkled your nose at him in jest. “I took creative liberties. It entered orbit around the moon on Christmas Eve.”

“Well when you’re done, I need those sprinkles.” He nudged his work over towards you for you to look. You could parse out a shaky stick figure, and another circle next to one of its feet. “My snow soccer is missing some snow.”

“That looks like a volleyball to me.”

“You’re right, hold on.” He picked the black icing back up, adding a few dots inside the empty white circle. “Better?”

“Much.” You pushed the container of sprinkles over to him. “All yours.”

“You guys made a lot of cookies,” he commented, eyeing the other containers of treats that you still hadn’t decorated. “There’s only five of us.”

“Got a bit carried away,” you admitted sheepishly. “But they’re really good!”

“Ooh, I haven’t tried one yet, hold on.” He grabbed an undecorated cookie and bit into it. His eyebrows shot up, and he nodded appreciatively as he wolfed down the rest of it. “Mm, I don’t think we’ll have any problem finishing these, actually.”

“You’ve got crumbs all over your face now.”

“Oops.” He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You missed some.” You tsked, grabbing a clean napkin and brushing the rest off his cheek.

He beamed. “Thanks.”

With a flutter in your chest, you returned to decorating cookies.

The next day was Christmas Eve, and Dogyun was heading home. This had always been part of the plan, in your briefing from the headmaster. While he was staying at the school for Winter Break as a whole, he’d be with his family on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. They lived in the nearby town and were driving over to pick him up soon.

As you watched over the boy haphazardly throwing things into an overnight bag, you couldn’t help your curiosity, and cautiously asked, “Were they out of town? Your family?”

“Nah,” Dogyun answered bluntly. “We live right there.”

“Oh. Of course.”

“Junhyuk’s dad made him stay here, so I asked my parents to stay too,” he expounded as he dug around in his dresser, occasionally sniff-testing garments of clothing before shoving them in. “They said I could, but I had to come home for Christmas. I wanted him to just stay at our house, since my parents are on his emergency card, but then we heard that Minnie would be here too. Me ‘n Junhyuk.”

You smiled proudly at the boy. “That’s all very nice of you to do for your friends, Dogyun.”

“Why’re you here, Ms. Y/L/N? On Christmas?” Dogyun questioned. “What about your parents?”

“My parents have uhm—they’ve passed.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry, I didn’t know—”

“It’s okay,” you reassured him calmly. “I’m glad I’m spending Christmas—and this whole break—with you guys.”

Dogyun zipped up his duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Hey, can you check on Junhyuk before lights-out? I know you always come say goodnight to us, but look after him a little extra right now? I’m not here, so however much you look after me, give it to him.”

“I’ll look after him double.”

“Thanks, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

Dogyun’s family was already in the drive when you got outside. His parents immediately hugged him, to which he rolled his eyes, but hugged them back nevertheless. You gave all of them your holidays wishes, and waved one final time to your student as he climbed into the car.

That night, before lights-out, you checked on the boys as promised. Sungmin had climbed into Junhyuk’s bottom bunk, watching the older boy play a game on his Switch. You hovered in the doorway for a few moments, just observing them fondly. When it looked like he was between levels, you softly knocked on the open door to announce your presence.

Both of them looked up from the screen, Junhyuk setting the device down on his lap. “Hi, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Hey, guys. How are you?”

“Junhyuk was showing me a really hard level in this game! He’s really good!” Sungmin told you enthusiastically.

“Is it lights-out?” Junhyuk asked.

“No, not yet. Just popping in to say goodnight.”

Sungmin threw the blankets off him to scurry over to you, throwing his arms around your waist. “Goodnight.”

You patted the top of his head. “Night, Sungmin.”

“Can I go see my uncle for a minute?”

“Of course.”

He zipped down the hall, leaving you with the older boy. Junhyuk turned his device off and set it down. After a moment of silence, he hesitantly asked, “Can I hug you too?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” You opened your arms for him, letting him approach you uncertainly, hugging you with much more caution than Sungmin had. You squeezed him tight, patting his back, and felt him relax in your arms. “You know me and Coach Jung are right there if you need anything, right?”

He nodded, retracting from the hug as slow as he’d initiated. You offered one more reassuring smile, already hearing the hurried footsteps of Sungmin returning. The nine-year-old squeezed into the room, launching himself back onto Junhyuk’s mattress.

“One more level, Jun?” He pleaded.

Junhyuk chuckled and started gently pushing him over. “Not if you’re hogging my whole bed, Minnie. Make some room.”

Back in your room, you slowly got ready for bed, Junhyuk’s situation still weighing heavy on your mind. Emerging from the bathroom, you stopped at the foot of Sungchan’s temporary bed, where he was propped up against the pillows reading something.

“Do you know why Junhyuk’s here?” You asked.

Sungchan sighed and nodded. “Yeah, his dad’s shitty. I know we’re not supposed to talk like that about them—”

“I won’t tell.”

“—Absolutely fucking evil son of a bitch,” he groaned, snapping his book shut and mimicking like he was strangling somebody. “He’s leaving Junhyuk here over break to teach him a lesson.”

Your jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Because he wore the wrong color tie to some event.”

“What?!”

“Junhyuk told me the first day, when he was helping me with the equipment. The really sad thing is, he believes that he deserves it.”

“No…”

“Yeah,” Sungchan confirmed. “Poor kid.”

You blood boiled over in record time. “That’s not a fitting punishment at all! Doesn’t even deserve a punishment! That guy’s a dick! He doesn’t even deserve a kid as good as Junhyuk. Oh my god, he shouldn’t even fucking be a parent!”

“I told him that. Well, the first part.” He watched you pace angrily. “Junhyuk say something to you?”

“Dogyun seemed worried about him while he was gone, asked me to take extra care of him. Didn’t say why.” You bit the inside of your cheek. “Dogyun’s a good kid. Despite the…”

“Stealing sewing needles to pierce his own ears?”

“I was going to say general disregard for rules and authority that he doesn’t deem worth his time, but that too,” you chuckled.

“Same thing.”

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were remarkably quiet. Junhyuk and Sungmin mainly kept busy with indoor activities—video games, reading, and playing in the gym. As you bit into a cookie Christmas night, you thought about your mom, letting a few bittersweet tears fall.

Dogyun’s return made the school feel full again, despite the distinct lack of all other students. There was more laughter, more smiles, and more energy. He brought with him extra presents for Junhyuk and Sungmin from his family, as well as an invite for them to stay over at his family’s house for New Year’s Eve. Dogyun’s parents were one of Junhyuk’s emergency contacts alongside his own, meaning that they had pre-approved permission to sign him out. Sungchan gave his permission for Sungmin to go as well. But in the week before New Year’s, they were still yours to entertain.

“Yeti! Mountain! Yeti! Mountain!” The three boys chanted in the backseat as you passed under the sign out front of the amusement park.

Today, the five of you had woken up rather early to make the long trek to Yeti Mountain, a seasonal theme park several towns over. With the cold, dreary weather outside, you were hoping that the lines wouldn’t be too long, despite the fact that it was now just a few days from Christmas, meaning that lots of families would also be looking for something to keep their own children entertained.

“Okay, buddy system,” you reminded everyone as Sungchan passed out tickets out front of the gate. “Nobody goes off by themselves. You’re either with Coach Jung, me, or each other.”

“Yes, Ms. Y/L/N!” They agreed in unison.

The crowd was about as bad as you had imagined, and you were grateful that you had insisted they all wore their school-issued coats today, as it was easier to spot the three little blobs in matching white and maroon striped puffers among the throng of blobs in black puffers.

“Ooh! Let’s do the Polar Plunge!” Dogyun pointed ahead to a ride, and you watched as it took the strapped-in riders straight up in the air, tilted them face-down, let them dangle, then dropped them back down, slowing down just in time to not actually impact.

“Polar Plunge!” Junhyuk cheered, grabbing his friend’s hand. He turned to the other boy. “You’re coming, right, Minnie?”

“Yeah!” He nodded excitedly. “Polar Plunge!”

Junhyuk grabbed his hand too, and they all ran off towards the ride.

“You want to go?” Sungchan asked you, the two of you slowly trailing after the kids.

You wrinkled your nose and shook your head. “Nah. I like rollercoasters. Not that shit.”

“Sensible,” he snickered. “Mind holding my phone?”

Taking your hand out of your pocket, you held it out palm-up expectantly, and he plopped his phone down.

“Thanks!”

You nodded ahead at where the boys had already raced to the back of the line. “I’ll wait in line with you guys.”

“Yes! You guys are riding it too!” Junhyuk pumped his fist in the air.

“Just Coach Jung,” you informed them. “I don’t like this kind of ride.”

“We’re splitting the rides,” Sungchan added. “So if you ever don’t want to go, you’ll have one of us down here. Don’t worry about saying no, okay?”

You squeezed his arm appreciatively at the idea, and he smiled back at you.

The line slowly shuffled forward until it was finally your group’s turn to board. Promising that you’d be watching, you had just started walking away when Sungchan called your name. Turning back around, you saw that Sungmin was being taken aside to have his height measured, and despite stretching his neck out as much as possible, it was clear he wasn’t going to make the height minimum. Sungchan said a couple more words to him, and the other boys patted his back before letting him walk over to you alone, shoulders slumped.

“I wasn’t tall enough,” Sungmin informed you glumly, watching as the other three got on.

“Aw, that’s a bummer,” you led him over to a portion of the fence that surrounded the ride. “There’s more rides, this is just the first one.”

Sungchan, Dogyun, and Junhyuk were seated on the side facing you, and all waved fervently at you and Sungmin as the ride went up and up. The two of you waved back, until they were tilted forwards and could no longer see you. Your boys’ screams were distinct among the chorus of yells when it dropped, and both you and Sungmin laughed at just how loud they were.

The next ride they wanted to go on was a teacup ride modified to look like icebergs. The carts only fit four people, so you sent the kids off in one while you and Sungchan took another. You easily spotted the car with your students in it, Junhyuk and Dogyun doing their best to make it spin as fast as possible while Sungmin was squashed in between them, face absolutely lit up.

“I’m getting sick just watching them,” you snorted, maintaining the lazy pace you had started with the wheel.

“Oh, so you don’t want to…” Sungchan gripped the wheel with two hands, mischievous glint in his eyes.

“No, wait!” You squealed as he whipped the controls around, speeding up your teacup as well. While you were pushed back in your seat, Sungchan apparently hadn’t braced himself for his own act, getting thrown to the side and stumbling into you.

You were laughing as you elbowed him, “Instant punishment.”

He dropped back into the seat where he was, giggling, letting his arm that he’d used to catch himself on the seat back naturally fall to your shoulders. “My bad,” he grinned.

After a few more rides, you stopped at a food stall to get everyone snacks to eat under covered picnic benches. As the boys were engaged in their own chatter about a video game, you happily took a bite of your fresh mini-donut, still warm. Sungchan chuckled and set down the cup of hot chocolate he’d been sipping on.

“Hold on, you’ve got—” He bit the finger of his glove and pulled it off. Gently, he brushed at the corners of your mouth and chin with his fingertips, finishing his sentence, “—powdered sugar all over your face.”

“Oops,” you mumbled, looking away from his eyes, a bit too afraid what you might do if you actually met his gaze right now.

By the end of the day, you were tuckered out, fully ready to utilize the car trip back home to sleep. As your group made your way to the exit, however, you were stopped by the park employee saying goodbye to everyone.

“Hey, you folks drive in from out of town?” He asked.

“Yes, why?” Sungchan responded.

“Avalanche blocked the only road out of here. Afraid it won’t be cleared until tomorrow,” he explained. “We’re offering complimentary accommodations at the resort hotel to ticketholders who can’t leave.”

Sungchan turned to the rest of you, clapping his hands together. “Well, looks like we’re staying, then.”

At the front desk, you kept an eye on the boys as they looked around at the themed hotel decorations in awe, checking out the Christmas tree with ornaments of the titular yeti character and his many wintery friends, pictures of them on many adventures hung around, and general icicle and snow motifs. You were only half-listening to the conversation that Sungchan was having with the desk attendant as he checked you all in.

Then Sungchan was tapping your elbow. “Is that alright, Y/N?”

“Hm?” you lifted your eyebrows questioningly, looking away from your kids for a moment.

“They have two rooms left, one with two queen beds, the other is just a king,” he filled you in. “The boys will need the two beds, are you okay with us in the other room?”

You blinked maybe a little too fast, throwing on a smile and nodding. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

Emerging from your bathroom decked out head to toe in brand-new Yeti Mountain merch courtesy of the lobby gift shop, you immediately burst into laughter upon locking eyes with Sungchan, in a very similar outfit.

“We look like the biggest Yeti Mountain fans ever,” he snickered from his spot reclined on the bed, one leg crossed over the other and an arm behind his head.

“We look like that family with annual passes who take their kids here every day its open,” you snorted, walking over to the window to peer out at the theme park in the distance. Pulling the curtain aside fully, there was a small ledge with a cushion for sitting.

“We probably got married at Yeti Mountain.” Sungchan joined you at your spot, staring outside with you. His limbs were a bit long for both of you to be sharing the nook, but you didn’t complain, letting him squeeze on with you, shoulder-to-shoulder and knee-to-knee.

You laughed. “Do they even do weddings?”

“They should. A wedding reception in the Yeti Cave would be kind of sick.”

“With a disco ball and everything.”

“Now you’re talking.” He look over at you with a grin, and your breath caught in your throat.

Sure, you’d been rooming with Sungchan for almost a month now, but this was different, closer. No ocean of floor between your heads. His hair fell in his eyes, and you watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. Even the silly Yeti Mountain branded t-shirt he was in seemed to fit him remarkably well, longsleeves pushed up to his elbows, revealing the prominent veins that criss-crossed his skin from his hands and up into the sleeves.

Pressure was building up in your head, it was hard to think past the white noise in your ears. You habitually wet your lips, and you didn’t miss how his eyes followed the movement. Then you were kissing him, and he was kissing you back, hand on your waist as yours was carding through his hair.

Sungchan smiled against your lips, breaking the kiss with a chuckle. He covered his face with one hand, then dropped his cheek into his palm, fixing you with a sheepish and tender smile. “Ah, I was trying to wait until spring semester started to ask you out.”

You tilted your head and arched an eyebrow, absolutely bemused at this revelation. “Wait, you were going to specifically wait until we weren’t sharing a room, and everybody in the school was back, to ask me out?”

“Yes, because I’m a gentleman like that.” He was pouting a little bit now.

You giggled, brushing his hair back from his face before cupping his cheek. “Yeah, you kind of are.”

Sungchan leaned forward, bumping your nose with his affectionately. You closed the gap, connecting your mouths once more.

“What are we going to do without them?” You sighed, getting back in the car after dropping the boys off at Dogyun’s family’s house. It was New Year’s Eve, so you would be without them for a whole twenty-four hours, and you honestly didn’t know how you’d fill your time now.

Sungchan started the car, a smirk on his face. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Oh?”

“It’s a surprise.”

You couldn’t help but smile as well. “I’ll just wait and see, then.”

“Why are we going to the gym right now?” You questioned as Sungchan led you down the hall of trophies by the hand.

“What? Late-night one-on-one basketball match wasn’t what you were hoping for?” He teased, bumping your shoulder with his.

“In our pajamas?”

“Just wait,” he hummed, continuing to pull you across the gymnasium, towards another set of double doors.

The two of you ended up outside his classroom, which you hadn’t been in since you set it up for movies with the kids a couple weeks ago. All of the classroom furniture that you swore he, Junhyuk, and Dogyun were supposed to be putting back in the classroom while you and Sungmin baked cookies, was still in the hallway. You gave him a skeptical look, but said nothing further, letting him open the door for you.

The sleeping mats, pillows, and blankets were set up on the floor, illuminated by the blank projector screen and strings of rainbow lights hung from the ceiling. You turned back to Sungchan, jaw dropped in delight.

“So sweet,” you gave your approval, throwing your arms around his neck.

“This time we don’t have to watch a bunch of kids movies,” he chuckled, strong arms holding you tight to him. “It’s just us.”

As you went to settle into the pillows and blanket, you gazed up at the lights thoughtfully. “Did you take these off the Christmas tree in the dining hall?”

“I technically didn’t,” he replied pointedly.

“Dogyun,” you immediately surmised.

“They’ve requested anonymity.”

“Wait, is this what you three were doing while we baked cookies?”

He held his hands up, even as he was smiling mischievously. “I can neither confirm nor deny when the alleged theft took place.”

You shook your head and laughed, pecking his cheek. “Thank you, Sungchan. And your little elves.”

Later on, you didn’t even realize that midnight had already come and gone until Sungchan was switching between movies, and you happened to glance at the time on his laptop, nearly one in the morning.

“Happy late New Year’s,” you snickered, pointing to the clock.

“Happy New Year’s.” He beamed, swooping in to capture your lips with his.

The staff and students began returning to the Moorehead Prep campus on Saturday, and the heat was turned back on in the female staff dorms, meaning that you finally got to go back to your own room. Several ladies were in your room, asking about your break while you folded your laundry that you had done ahead of everyone’s return this morning.

“It was great, the boys didn’t cause us any trouble,” you answered, well aware of what they actually wanted to know. “We went sledding, and baked cookies. We even took them to Yeti Mountain one day.”

“Oh, okay,” one of the ladies sighed, not hiding her disappointment. “Sounds nice, Y/N.”

There was a knock at the front door, and another one of your colleagues peeked out of your second-story window. She gasped and turned back to you with wide eyes. “Coach Jung is here!”

You continued folding your clothes, even as you heard Sungchan’s voice at the front door, then footsteps running up the stairs. Ms. Hyesoo didn’t even bother knocking on your wide-open door, suspicious gaze landing on you as she announced knowingly, “Coach Jung is looking for you.”

“Thanks, Ms. Hyesoo. I’ll be down in a second.”

Ignoring the clamoring around you, you tucked your final article of clothing in your drawer, and grabbed your gloves off your nightstand. You gave them all a goodbye as you hurried down the stairs. Sungchan was waiting for you on the porch, smiling down at you as you shut the door behind you.

He wordlessly took off the scarf that he was wearing, looping it around your own bare neck for you. “Ready for lunch?”

“Starving,” you answered with a grin.

⇢ 2025 hallmark movie marathon

TAGLIST

@annenakamura @bee-the-loser @dejundesign @flooftown @httpsxnox @kirrakira @lotties-readings @pandabunbuns @ppddpjdr @reiofsuns2001 @snowyseungs @tearinka @yoursyuno @yutasputa69 @winkeuu @woozidreams

@classicroyalty @fairvtale @giirlfriendd @jvngw0nlvr @shaqs-oatmeal @sofipolii01 @jjuelly

[choerrypuffs]

masterlist.

(cr.) (cr.)

© choerrypuffs. my work is protected under copyright law. DO NOT repost or claim as your own! please let me know if someone has plagiarized my work in any manner.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒（　♡　）

𓏲  nct 127 𓏲  nct dream 𓏲  wayv 𓏲  timestamps 𓏲  requests 

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒（　♡　）

𓏲  master of all elements | fluff, angst      ❝i am not a little girl. i am the avatar, so it would behoove you to watch what you say to me.❞ // avatar au. 00 line x reader.

𓏲  demigods | fluff, angst      ❝if you say that you’re only half-human because we’re demigods, you’re going to get a pen through the jugular.❞ // camp half-blood au. 00 line x reader.

𓏲  demigods: electric boogaloo | fluff, angst      ❝you’ve never been a particularly violent person, but a serious consideration of murder flashes in your eyes.❞ // sequel to demigods. camp half-blood au. 00 line x reader.

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐒（　♡　）

𓏲  haechan is a ho! ho! ho! | fluff, angst, holiday     ❝celebrate the holidays with haechan as he acts like a ho in three different fics!❞ // luvpuffcore. haechan x reader.

𓏲  𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔲𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 | fluff, angst     ❝there will be no further explanation, there will just be reputation.❞ // luvpuffcore. jaemin x reader.

𓏲  a nonsense christmas: reddit edition | fluff, crack, holiday    ❝AITA for starting a second haechan holiday collab with luvdsc and wincore?❞ // luvpuffcore. haechan x reader.

𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀（　♡　）

𓏲  people like us | fluff, angst, violence      ❝you two are perfect for each other, both so stupidly self-sacrificial and blind to what’s right in front of you.❞ // spinoff to and stupidly, us.

𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐖𝐈𝐍（　♡　）

𓏲  and stupidly, us | fluff, angst, suggestive      ❝i’m sure you’re a very nice girl and you’d be good with him under any other circumstances. but not this one.❞

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐎（　♡　）

𓏲  enchanted | fluff, angst      ❝you may have magic, but no enchantment can overpower your heart.❞

𝐉𝐄𝐍𝐎（　♡　）

𓏲  not another love song | fluff      ❝falling for someone is supposed to be a dazzling experience—not a confused, jumbled mess that’s tearing you apart from the inside.❞

𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍 （　♡　）

𓏲  oh my angel | fluff, angst, holiday      ❝wait, am I really that much of a mess that god has decided I need a guardian angel?❞ // part of the haechan is a ho! ho! ho! holiday collab.

𓏲  fast times | fluff, slight angst      ❝a hot dog and tinky winky the purple teletubby watching twilight, who would’ve thought?❞

𓏲  what the puck | fluff, slight angst       ❝if you hadn’t just almost committed vehicular manslaughter against him, he’d definitely be someone that you would make eye contact with by chance and have delusional fantasies…❞

𓏲  red velvet hearts | fluff, slight angst      ❝ he may look a bit rugged and grimey, bitter like coffee, but in actuality, underneath it all, he’s soft and fluffy (but not too sweet) like a mascarpone filling.❞

𓏲  enemies to lovers: a thesis | fluff, slight angst     ❝ He’s barely a human, simply masquerading as one with his fluffy hair and glowy skin. Rather, he’s just a walking, talking literary reference to the most pretentious authors ever.❞

𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍（　♡　）

𓏲  the chase | fluff, slight angst      ❝you like the fact that i’m resisting you, you like the challenge of it all.❞

𓏲  so this is love | fluff      ❝you wonder what your past self from a year ago would think of you right now.❞

𓏲  the starlet | fluff, angst, suggestive       ❝na jaemin is a very beautiful man, you’ve recently discovered.❞ // part of the 𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔲𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 collab. 

[neogotmycookie]

same page | l.dh

summary: you don’t necessarily mind admiring lee haechan from afar, but when the opportunity for you to get closer presents itself, you grasp it, and eventually you come to the realisation that whilst you’ve been too busy admiring, you’ve failed to notice that he’s been doing exactly the same. pairing: student!haechan x f!reader. mdni! adults only. genre: university!au, fluff, strangers to acquaintances to lovers, smut! word count: 32k (i am sorry) tags/warnings: alcohol consumption, smoking/vaping, swearing, talks of fetishes, explicit sexual content, kissing (a lot), making out, semi-public shenanigans(not sex), spitting (yum), fingering, dry humping, oral (both receiving), multiple orgasms, multiple smut scenes, dirty talk, praise, light chocking, lots of teasing, protected sex, overstimulation, haechan is cocky but also pathetic, haechan being bf material without even being her bf, he calls her a brat like once, petnames (baby, pretty, baby girl, good girl), she calls him “hae”, they’re both down bad, soft dom!haechan, sub!reader, switch!haechan, cumshot oops, aftercare, he’s just a good guy, both are mature but can be too in their head at times, there’s no toxicity or angst in this fic, ✨communication✨, pls let me know if i missed anything! other characters: the whole dream gang, chenle & ningning as oc’s besties a/n: hi all! this is my first ever fic (that I'm posting lol) and I've poured my heart and soul into it so i hope you show some love. it's definitely not perfect and i could keep rereading and finding things that I'd change but I've kept my writing in the dark for long enough and if i don’t post this now i know i never will, so please take it! I do have a part 2 in the works, which will be diving into their feelings and more angsty themes, but for now I hope you lovely people enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it xoxo ps. the idea for this fic blossomed while i was listening to eye candy by justin bieber, so might be worth giving it a listen whilst reading 

It's not like you’re obsessed with Lee Haechan. You just enjoy looking at him. You barely even know the guy, but, annoyingly, he's difficult to ignore. Difficult not to notice. And it’s not like you’ve spoken much to each other either, apart from the rare exchange of a few words here and there or the odd nod of acknowledgement in corridors.  

There was this one time where he sat next to you in class, but that was only because he was late and the seat next to yours was the only empty one that was close to the entrance of the classroom. That was the first time he smiled at you. Nothing more than casual and polite but it still made your heart race.

Then, of course, there was the time where you bumped into him on the street, while you were on your way to a date, which ended up being disastrous, but that didn’t really bother you. What bothered you was the fact that he was also on his way to a date. With a girl. A girl he chose to go on a date with. A girl that he probably found pretty. A girl that wasn't you. Regardless, that didn’t negate the fact that, that night you had your first ever conversation with him. It was brief, but it happened, and it certainly left you with a bittersweet taste in your mouth, which was probably why you later couldn’t focus on the boy you matched with on that godforsaken dating app. And as mean as it sounded in your head, you hoped Haechan’s date went as badly as yours. 

Next time you saw him, was at a campus party you got dragged to by Chenle and Ningning. Mark convinced Chenle, who convinced Ningning, who forced you and it’s not like you don’t enjoy a fun night out with friends and alcohol, you just weren’t in the right mood that night and you were convinced that being in your luteal phase had definitely something to do with it.   

You remember instantly spotting him in the kitchen, leaning lazily against the counter as he was speaking to a girl you didn’t recognise and you could tell just from her side profile that she was nothing but attractive. You watched as she reached and took the drink he was holding, bringing it up to her lips, tasting the contents of the cup but also him, and you decided to look elsewhere before witnessing anything that would (but definitely shouldn’t) ruin your night.   

You were determined to spend the rest of the party as far away from him as possible, forcing poor Chenle to go and refill your drink in the kitchen every time you ran out. You were more than aware it might have sounded silly to anyone else, but you didn’t want to go down the rabbit hole of trying to get someone’s attention, when they were clearly not interested. You’d been that person in the past, and you refused to make the same mistakes again. At the end of the day, it was just a crush. It would go away eventually. Right?  

When the party started to die down, you found yourself in the back garden with no one else other than the lovely Na Jaemin, after you stumbled upon him being sick in a fake plant pot. You could have left him in his own fate, but knowing yourself, you would definitely feel guilty for the rest of the night, if you didn’t make sure he was safe. You started to regret your decision about 10 minutes later, when he had already fallen asleep with his head in your lap and you were sure he was drooling on you, but that was the least of your concerns in that moment. Thankfully, Chenle picked up on the first ring and when you asked him to come outside with reinforcements, he immediately said, “I’ll be there in a sec.”

The reinforcements, of course, being Jeno and Haechan, wasn’t exactly what you had in mind, but you weren’t in a position to be picky. You found out shortly after that Haechan had only stepped outside for a smoke and got dragged into ‘helping’, which he refused to do since, according to him, Jaemin had put him in that position countless of times and he’s sick of looking after a grown ass man who’s got the alcohol tolerance of a twelve year-old. You found his point more than valid, but you didn’t say anything.   

When Chenle and Jeno disappeared back inside, carrying a whiny and barely coherent Jaemin, you found yourself alone with the boy you had initially tried to steer clear of at all costs. Your mission miserably failed that night and at the end of it all you realised one thing; whatever it was that you felt for Lee Haechan, wasn’t just a harmless crush.   

“I gotta admit, that was slightly entertaining.” He said as he took the seat that Jaemin had previously been occupying next to you on the wooden bench.   

You must have sat there with him for about an hour, talking about everything and nothing, while enjoying the early summer breeze and the freedom that came with the end of finals. He insisted on getting you an uber home when you announced that you were going to walk because your phone had died and when you asked if you could pay him back somehow, he said, “Just don't be a stranger next year.”  

Autumn  

You were aware Zhong Chenle was an evil little thing, but you hadn’t pegged him for a traitor. And betrayed is what you felt as you read the message on your screen over and over again.   

@kh1000le: greetings folks, party at my new place this saturday @8 – I'll add the deets later but feel free to invite more people. ps. don’t forget to bring extra booze.  

You look up from your phone, remembering you're still in class and the professor is still talking stats. Your eyes instantly land on Haechan, still sitting two rows ahead of you, between Jeno and Jaemin and you can tell he’s looking down, probably reading the message you were reading just seconds ago. Jaemin shifts closer to whisper something in his ear and Haechan leans in to hear better. He quickly nods his head agreeing to whatever Jaemin says. 

You turn your attention back to your phone again as more notifications flood your screen. Other people in the group chat responding and reacting to messages. Haechan is still silent. No reactions or responses. You wonder what he's thinking. But most of all, you wonder if he's noticed you're also in that group chat. Would he recognise your username? You only started following each other the day after that party before summer, but it’s been almost four months now and there has certainly been no exchange of messages.   

Suddenly, you notice people have started packing up their belongings and you quickly start doing the same, hoping you can flee the scene as fast as possible, before Jaemin comes up to you with questions about the party.   

The second you step outside the doors and into the corridor, you exhale, relieved to have succeeded and as you start walking towards the main building exit you realise you spoke too soon.   

"Y/n, wait up!"

You close your eyes muttering a quiet “shit” to yourself. You put on a smile and turn around, Jaemin quickly approaching you. Haechan, who's trailing a few steps behind him, isn’t really paying attention, already in a conversation with Jeno.   

“Jeez woman, you sure walk fast. You got somewhere to be?” He speaks fast as he tries to catch his breath.  

“Hey Jaemin, yeah, sorry, I'm in a rush, how can I help?" You try and respond as nonchalantly as possible.   

"I just saw you're in that group chat and I'm assuming you'll be there on Saturday?" He asks with eyes full of hope.   

"Yes sir. I'm actually meeting up with Chenle now to talk logistics." You explain quickly, seeing Haechan getting closer from your peripheral.

"Ahhh that makes sense, I just wanted to ask if we should bring anything else other than alcohol?"   

"Just your drink of choice will be enough for you I reckon, don't want you ruining any of his new plants." You say with a teasing tone. 

"Yah!" He complains with a pout that is nothing but laughable. 

"Hey Y/N." Jeno approaches with a smile and joins your conversation. “Is this man bothering you?”   

“Not really, just making sure he doesn't die of alcohol poisoning on Saturday.” You try to keep your eyes on Jeno, avoiding the handsome boy who's also joined your little group. 

”I thought you were a nice one.” Jaemin whines like a little child while a frown adorns his face.   

“You’ve been fooled my friend,” Jeno comes to stand next to you, throwing an arm around your shoulders, shaking you playfully. “She’s evil.”   

You're mid eye roll when Haechan’s voice cuts through. “Seems pretty harmless to me.” He’s standing next to Jaemin now. One hand in his pocket, the other holding the strap of his bag. You notice the two rings adorning his middle fingers. Such a pretty hand, you think, the veins prominent, running down his smooth arm, disappearing underneath an oversized check shirt he's wearing over a white t-shirt. You then notice he's got a pair of jorts on and you can't help but wonder who can even pull off jorts that effortlessly nowadays.   

Your attention drifts back up to his face, the most adorable boba eyes are twinkling as he looks at you and his captivating mouth offers you a cheeky smile. A small dimple appears, barely there for you to see and you think you're on the verge of throwing up. His lips move again and you watch him carefully like he’s moving in slow motion. "Hi." His hand leaving his pocket and raising in the air to offer you a quick wave. It's annoying how such a small and casual gesture makes your heartbeat faster and your cheeks feel warmer. You're pretty sure your eyes are giving you away, showing how affected you are behind the stoic expression you’re struggling to maintain. You never thought you'd be here, but you have Chenle to thank. Or maybe strangle. You haven't decided yet.   

"Hi." You return the smile as calmly as you can, foregoing the wave. You don't think your limbs are working properly right now and you're pretty sure your fingers are slightly shaking by your sides. And you’re now thankful for Jeno’s arm still draped around you, the weight grounding and necessary. You feel your phone vibrate a few times in your back pocket, assuming it's either Chenle or Ning checking if you're alive and that pulls you out of your trance. “Evil is a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?”   

”That’s funny, remember when you told me to go fuck myself and read a book whilst I’m at it?"   

“Oh, I’m sorry,” You shove his arm off you in fake annoyance. “Did I offend you?” You feign concern dramatically. “Remember when you asked me if I’ve got any friends who need, and I quote, an unforgettable dicking down session and then proceeded to say, and I quote again, ‘is Murakami the fella who wrote that book about some Norwegian guy’s dick?’” You get slightly irritated just at the memory. 

"Ahhh that explains it! This guy came back home a few months ago asking if anyone’s got a copy of Norwegian Wood." Jaemin looks at you as he explains, whilst pointing a mocking finger at Jeno. 

"Oh? You actually read it then?" You ask with a hopeful smile and Jeno offers you a shy nod. Maybe there's hope for him after all. 

“Read it? He actually cried when he got to the part where Naoko kills herself.” Haechan snorts at Jeno’s sour expression and reaches out to lightly pinch his cheek. He instantly gets shoved away. “Aw come on, I thought it was endearing.” Haechan turns to look at you now. “I was wondering who made him read that.” He holds your gaze while you hold your breath, and you wish someone could hold your heart as it’s about to beat out of your chest. “I love that book.” He admits with a smile, and you celebrate internally, because you knew he wasn’t just a pretty face, and you feel giddy knowing that you’ve both loved the same thing, even if it’s just a book. 

You picture him sitting in a pink cafe, wearing a cozy sweater, looking all warm and comfy while turning page after page. You find yourself wanting to ask if he’s read it more than once, like you have and what his thoughts are on the ending. But you don’t. Not yet. 

“Well maybe you two nerds should join a book club.” Jeno bitterly says.   

“I mean, I’d be down?” Haechan raises his eyebrows suggestively at you. Mothefucker.   

“I would, but unfortunately I have somewhere to be right now.” Your response causing his tongue to poke in his cheek, trying to fight off a smile. The gesture making him look incredibly handsome and boyish at the same time and if you were a cartoon character, pink heart eyes would be bulging out of your eye sockets. You force yourself to look away from Haechan's face, opting to divert your gaze between the other two boys instead. They're both carrying amused expressions, looking between you and Haechan and you feel like you’re missing something.   

“Ouch.” Jaemin says with a laugh, now mocking Haechan.   

“See?” Jeno looks at both of his friends, crossing his arms over his chest as if proving a point. “Told you she’s evil.” He smiles like he’s proud of you.   

And that’s your queue to escape. ”Right, well, as lovely as this has been, I actually have to go.”   

“Okay, busy queen.” Jaemin snaps his fingers and you can instantly picture him getting along with Chenle. “We’ll see you Saturday then.” He smiles sweetly.   

”You will indeed. Don’t be too late.” You say with a warning, pointing a finger between all three of them.  

”Yes, mam.” Jeno nods in agreement.   

You look at Haechan one last time. His expression contemplative, almost like he's torn between saying something else and keeping quiet. The way he's observing you makes you feel like he's already got you all figured out. Like there's no way he doesn't know you’re having trouble breathing, all because of him.

“See you Saturday.” He says in the sweetest tone, smiling at you like he's done it a million times before.  

You give him a small nod goodbye and when you start to walk away you try your best to do so at a normal speed, not wanting to give away the fact that you're practically running away.   

You hear Jaemin's loud voice again. “Bye Y/N!”   

”Bye Jaemin!” You respond, mimicking his cheerful tone without looking back.   

As you head towards the exit, you've already decided you're going to go with the option of strangling Chenle. Because there’s no way you’re surviving Saturday night without going clinically insane. Not if Haechan holds your gaze the way he did just a few moments ago. Not if he talks the way he talks and certainly not if he looks as good as he always does. 

You’re done for.   

_

You’re baffled as to how and why Chenle knows this many people. You assume majority are friend of friends and acquaintances, because you’ve known the boy for three years now and never has he mentioned more than five names. You’re also starting to get worried he might get a noise complaint from the people occupying the flat downstairs, but you assume he has already warned them about tonight.   

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud exclaim and you feel like laughing when you hear Chenle’s screechy voice shouting Mark’s name excitedly, announcing his drunkenness along with the older boy’s arrival.   

"Lover boy still not here?" Ningning teases you as you check the time on your phone for the umpteenth time that night. She takes a sip from her drink and looks over your shoulder. "Relax, it only 9pm." 

"I'm relaxed." You defend quickly. She takes in your stressed expression and pauses to think for a second. "What?"  

"Nothing, I just realised I haven't seen you so excited about a boy before. It's refreshing." She smiles while trapping the straw between her pearly whites. "Speak of the devil." She jerks her chin towards the direction of the door and you instantly know who she’s referring to, but you don't dare to turn around and look yet. You feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest and Ningning sets her drink down on the kitchen counter before taking hold of both your shoulders. "Y/N, we talked about this. There's literally no reason to freak out. If he flirts, flirt back. Let it happen naturally yeah?" Her tone serious, as if you're both on a mission. 

You widen your eyes comically to match hers, nodding your head quickly while trying not to laugh at her expression. It’s almost as though she’s more anxious than you are. "Ning, I'm good. I got it."  

"Just saying, he'd be a dimwit not to like you." One of her hands pushes a strand of hair behind your ear and the comforting act gives you the reassurance you didn’t know you needed. "Plus, this dress makes your tiddies look yummy." She smirks and you wack her hand away with a laugh when she reaches out to poke into the bit of cleavage that spills from the top of your dress. You can tell she's entered the realms of tipsiness, and you wish you were there with her too, but the tequila shot from earlier definitely didn't do its job. 

"Fuck me, didn’t think this many people would turn up." Jaemin's loud voice startles both of you, making you turn around and you're met with the three boys from your stats class. "Good thing we brought reinforcements, huh?" He says excitedly, shaking a Jack Daniels bottle.   

"Are you a middle aged man by any chance?" Ningning's face scrunched up in disgust as she inspects the whiskey bottle in Jaemin's hands. "What happened to just drinking plain old vodka at parties?"

"Ah, Jeno is your guy." Jaemin points his thumb behind him and Jeno raises the hand holding a vodka bottle.   

Jeno's face lights up when he spots the unused cups and heads over to start making drinks for him and Ningning. "Lemonade?" He asks, looking at her and she nods excitedly. "Same for you Y/N?" His eyes on you now.  

"Nah, I'm on gin tonight, thanks though." You smile appreciatively at him.  

"Guess I'm your guy then."   

Fuck.  

Your eyes instantly meet. He's already smiling down at you, and he looks so good. Too good for your respiratory system to function properly. His dark hair is messily styled, fringe almost covering his eyes. He's got a black button-down shirt on, top three buttons undone, collarbones on display and sleeves rolled up revealing his veiny forearms, all effortlessly combined with dark blue jeans and black converse. Pretty. Perfect.   

Without permission, his hand engulfs yours, wrapping around your drink, bringing the cup to his lips, your own hand slipping down as he downs the liquid in one big gulp. The cooling feeling of his rings lingers, and you can’t help but stare at his neck as he swallows and then his eyes are on you again, his tongue slightly darting out to lick his bottom lip where there's a drop of liquid. His eyebrows furrow and he nods in approval. 

"Lemonade it is." He casually says, like he didn’t almost just cause your heart to fail. He takes your now empty cup with him, joining Jeno at the counter.   

"Well then," Jaemin feigns disappointment, eyebrows furrowing dramatically. "I guess I'm having this whole whiskey bottle to myself."  

"I'm sure Chenle would help you out." Ningning half jokes. "Good luck finding him though." 

"Yeah, what the hell, this place is so crowded." Jeno returns with two drinks and hands one of them to Ningning. "It might be a bit strong, sorry." He warns her.   

Her face grimaces slightly when she takes a reluctant sip, proving Jeno right, making you both laugh. "Eh, it'll do." She says carelessly, "I've had a stressful week."  

"Here to help." Jeno raises his cup, and they do a quick cheers. They start conversing comfortably about why her week was stressful and you're pretty sure they've never met before but that's Ningning. Top yapper, never awkward.   

"Yours might be a bit on the strong side too." Haechan says apologetically as he stands in front of you, handing you back your now full cup. You smile at the sparkly straw he's added. Cute. "Try it."  

And you do. It feels too intense, almost intimate, drinking while holding eye contact with someone, let alone this fine man, so you don't. But you feel his eyes on you as you take a sip. And you really do hope the drink is strong, because if you're going to survive tonight, alcohol will be your savior. He's looking at you, carefully taking in your expression as you taste the drink, almost as if he's sat on the edge of his seat waiting for your reaction.   

"It's good. Thank you." You smile appreciatively as you welcome the slight burn in the back of your throat and he mirrors you excitedly. 

"Good." He nods with a satisfied expression. Then he lets his eyes wander downwards. He takes in your dress in a not-so-subtle way, and you could swear he’s checking you out. You watch his eyes move on you and you love how he's still holding his cup close to his lips, touching the bottom one. You fight against the urge to reach out and drag it down with your thumb. Would he mind if you did that? You reach behind you instead, resting one hand against the counter to somewhat ground yourself, and the action seems to bring him back to reality. Is he always this obvious? 

"Did you also have a stressful week?" He asks casually, like he wasn't just staring at your boobs a second ago. His eyes on yours now.  

"Huh?"  

"Your friend said she's had a stressful week," He explains, chuckling at your confusion. "Was just asking if it was the same for you."  

"Oh right. Umm, I dunno." You shrug. "A little, I guess." 

"How come?" His head tilts to the side slightly.  

"It's always fine until Thursday to be honest." Your admission holds a double meaning and he seems to catch on as the sides of his lips slightly lift amusedly.   

"Really? I thought Thursday was our day, no?" He playfully pouts and you’re trying your best not to let his smooth words affect you. Our day? What a little shit. You notice the silver chain around his neck and you can't help but feel a tinge of shame at the inappropriate thoughts that flood your mind. 

"Just not a big fan of stats." You make up an excuse with a slight delay, hoping that he can't tell you're practically ogling him. 

He nods understandingly. "You and me both. I've been seriously thinking about dropping it next semester."  

"What would you choose instead?" You ask curiously, trying to cover the frown that takes over your face at the thought of not sharing any classes with him. 

"Why, you interested in joining me?" Is he flirting or have you already gone insane?   

"Depends." You shrug, twirling the sparkly straw, eyes not leaving his. 

"I think I'd go for creative writing." He studies your face for a reaction.   

“Oh?” Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “So you really did mean it when you said you wanted to join a book club.” You tease with newfound confidence and he lets out an airy chuckle. 

“That offer's gone now, you turned me down.” He says with a smirk.   

"I'm sure I could convince you to reconsider." You say with a suggestive tone, catching him off guard and before he can retort with a witty response, you return to your initial subject. “So, you wanna be a writer or...?”  

"Well, no, not exactly.” His voice is hesitant, eyes lowering to look at his drink, almost as if he’s embarrassed. Does he think you’ll judge him? You suddenly get the feeling that you might have overstepped.   

“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. You don’t have to-”  

“No, no, you’re good.” His words are rushed, his head shaking quickly, hand reaching to touch your arm reassuringly. It’s light, quick, barely there but his fingers feel hot against your skin. Before you have time to react, he continues. “I just- I don’t really go around talking about personal goals and what not, don’t want you to think I’m flaunting.”  

“Why would I think you’re flaunting?” Your perplexed tone causing him to smile. 

“I wanna make music.” Eyes carefully watch you as he waits for a reaction. When you just nod for him to continue, he almost looks surprised but quickly recovers, clearing his throat. ”So, I thought creative writing would help.”  

"So, you wanna write songs." You state as if to make sure that you heard him correctly and he nods, still watching your face. "Or have you already?" You ask carefully and he chuckles at your attempt to keep your nosiness to a minimum but failing.   

He moves to stand next to you, leaning against the counter. You feel like you can breathe again, now that his eyes aren't on you, but his arm brushes against your shoulder and you almost shiver when you feel the warmth radiating off him. You get a whiff of his scent, subtly inhaling, cologne and detergent mixing into an intoxicating potion that clouds your senses. He's too close but you somehow want him closer. You suddenly wonder where Chenle is and instantly feel bad for threatening to cut his air circulation. This is good. This feels good.   

He looks down at his drink, in thought. "I play the piano, so creating a melody is relatively simple if I really put my mind to it." Oh? He looks at you again and you feel scrutinised under his gaze. Suddenly, your shoes are very interesting to look at. "It's just the words I struggle with." He admits.   

"Maybe you need to find some sort of inspiration?" You suggest.  

"Maybe." He puts his drink down and leans against the counter, crossing his hands on his chest. "Got anything in mind? 

"I mean, it could be a person." You say nonchalantly, without really thinking. "Unless you’ve already got that covered?" The bold question comes out before your brain can process the thought and you internally scream.   

He smiles wide now. Pearly whites on display. His eyes back on yours. "I thought you didn’t mean to pry." He teases and laughs when your eyes widen. “I’m joking.” He elbows your side softly and you almost gasp as the touch. Why does he keep touching you?   

“I tend to get nosy after a couple of drinks, sorry.” You huff a quick laugh before taking another sip of your drink, trying to distract yourself.  

“You can be nosy, I don’t mind.” He says in a more serious tone now and you feel his gaze on you. Choosing to keep your eyes on your drink seems like a wise choice, watching as you swirl the liquid in your cup. "To answer your question though, I currently have no clue what or who I'd write about." He responds indirectly, but the implication is clear. He reaches for his drink again in thought. "Maybe ask me in a year's time? Hopefully I’ve found a source of inspiration by then."   

“That’s fair.” You pick up your phone from the counter and after unlocking it you click on your calendar app. You scroll until you find next year’s October and select today's date. He looks over your shoulder and laughs when he reads 'Ask Haechan about his songwriting' as the reminder's title. You show him your screen and smile when you see the approval on his face.   

"Yeah, that works." He nods.  

You look around and notice that all your friends are now gone. "We should probably mingle." You suggest.   

"Right, yeah." He agrees with a nod, looking around just like you did a second ago. 

When you spot Ningning in the crowd, she's laughing with Jeno and Jaemin. Their attention on Chenle and the girl who's got her tongue down his throat. You and Haechan find the situation just as comical.   

The rest of the night flows smoothly. You get to meet a few more people as well as the other two boys Haechan, Jeno and Jaemin live with and you wonder how all these insanely attractive came to be friends. Renjun and Jisung are both equally as lovely. You find Renjun’s mother figure hilarious and Jisung’s shyness endearing. You don't fail to notice that Haechan always hovers close. Not necessarily standing or sitting next to you, but always close enough that you can see him from your peripheral and you can't help but wonder if it's intentional or just a coincidence. 

You’re mid conversation with Mark when you feel a hand on your lower back. You easily recognise the now familiar scent of his cologne, and you instantly turn your head and look at him. You don’t know if it’s the alcohol deceiving you, but he looks even more irresistible than he did before. His hair slightly stuck to his forehead from the heat surrounding the crowded living room, cheeks and lips a deeper shade of pink now that he’s had his fair share of alcohol. You wonder if his lips taste the same as yours since you’ve been having the same drink all night.

“Shots?” Haechan shouts over the music and you and Mark follow him into the kitchen, where Jaemin and Jeno are preparing tequila shots and you wonder who assigned these two clowns with bartender duties. Chenle is now gulping down a glass of water and you’re thankful to whoever made that decision for him. 

As soon as you’ve downed your shot, you take a sip of your drink as a chaser to minimise the burning sensation in your esophagus. “Wanna go get some air?” Haechan leans in and you almost shiver as his warm breath fans against your naked shoulder and you internally thank Ningning for prompting you to wear a strapless dress.   

You respond with a quick nod and he smiles. “I got you.” He mumbles as he takes hold of your hand and leads you to the big balcony doors. On the way, he grabs a hoodie you assume he dumped earlier on the couch and the second you’re outside and he shuts the door, you feel the ringing in your ears. You’re thankful for the fresh air infiltrating your lungs and brain, feeling a little less intoxicated now. “Maybe that shot was a bad call,” Haechan laughs quietly at your dazed expression. “Didn’t take you for a lightweight.” He teases.  

“Yah!” You elbow him, your voice louder than you intended it to be and he giggles softly, clearly also affected by the drinks he’s had all night. “I’ve had the same amount as you.” You pout drunkenly.   

“I’m just teasing.” His smile soft now.   

“Yeah, you seem to keep doing that.” You say with a complaint in your tone, eyes narrowing.   

“Maybe I wouldn’t if you didn’t keep getting all flustered every single time.” His words take you aback; a surprised laugh escaping your throat at his boldness.   

Before you have time to speak, he notices your arms coming up to conceal a shiver and without a word, he’s closer than he’s ever been before. His arms circle around you, hands hovering just above your shoulders as he holds up the hoodie, waiting for you to slot your arms through the sleeves. You look up at him before you obey, his intense stare not giving much room for any objection.   

Once it’s on you, his hands come to your front to fix the neckline that connects to the hood and when you think he’s about to zip you up, he reaches behind you again, playfully dragging the hood up, over your head, covering most of your face with the thick fabric and you whine loudly, causing him to laugh. You push the hood back down, with a frown.

“Aww, cute.” He coos as he gently tames the mess he created on your head, fingers untangling and smoothing down the strands and he smiles endearingly when he’s happy with his work. "There you go, all done." 

“Thanks.” You say in a bashful tone.   

“For keeping you warm or calling you cute?” He asks with a smirk and you can’t help but scoff, feigning annoyance as you swat away the hand still playing with a strand of your hair.   

Desperately needing to escape his daring eyes, you walk past him and towards the railing as you take in the view of the twinkling city lights and you withhold a smile when you feel him follow after you.  

You feel his stare on you as he leans against the railing, taking a vape out of his pocket. He takes a puff and exhales the smoke through his nose, as he takes in the view himself, before turning to meet your eyes again. The action shouldn’t feel this intimate and it definitely shouldn’t make him look even more attractive than he already is. 

You instinctively reach out and fix the chain that’s somewhat tangled around his neck. He doesn’t flinch, just moves his head to the side to make room for your hand and the sides of his lips twitch, fighting a grin. “What flavour is it?” You drop your hand from his collar and step a little closer to take a look at the fruit-flavoured stick in his hand.   

“Cherry ice.” He holds it out for you. “Wanna try it?”   

When you do, you can't help but scrunch your nose at the sugary taste. “Hmm.” Your uncertainty obvious as you exhale the smoke. “It’s too sweet.” You cringe at the aftertaste, your funny expression making him laugh. And you feel your heartbeat fastening at the sound. Because you're right. It's too sweet. 

“I like sweet things.” He says in a hushed voice, as if he's letting you in on a secret. The dual meaning of his words causes a blush to creep up from your neck to your cheeks. You can tell he notices, but this time he holds back on teasing you and turns to look at the view again, taking another puff.  

You gawk at how handsome he looks from this angle. His long lashes, the slope of his perfect nose, his incredibly kissable heart-shaped lips, his sharp jawline, his neck. Pretty. Everything about him. 

“Yeah, I bet you do.” You mutter in a daze. He looks at you again and you don’t look away this time. His brown eyes sparkle, reflecting the city lights below. You realise that you’ve never actually been around him in a setting like this. It’s always been daytime with him. Always crowded. Always surrounded by noise that you had to block out. But now it’s all new.   

Nighttime. Just you two. Quiet.   

“That dress looks good on you, I like it.” His eyes trail down your form again, a lot quicker this time, but still noticeable and at this point you're convinced he's not even trying to hide it. 

Your face feels warmer than before as you look down at your dress, your hand instinctively smoothing down the material. You can see the smoke he exhales from your peripheral and then you choose your words boldly again. “I know you do.”   

“Really?” He steps closer and his hand comes up, thumb delicately tracing the tiny bow at the centre of your cleavage. “What gave me away?” Your heartbeat increases when his fingers trail upwards, pushing your hair behind your shoulder and settling on the base of your neck, his thumb on your jaw, giving you no option but to look up at him.   

“You’re just-” You pause to inhale sharply when you realise how close he is. Your noses almost bumping into each other. You tip your head back slightly, to look at him properly.  

“I’m what?” He urges you to go on.  

“Not very subtle.” You finally finish your sentence.   

“Y/N-” He says with a breathy laugh and you don’t think you’ve ever liked the sound of your name so much before. The tip of his nose rubs against your own just once and the sweetest smile takes over his features. You feel yourself leaning into him even more. His thumb still caressing your jaw and you know he wants to kiss you, but you wait. You let him take the lead. Because you need him to. “I don’t think I ever intended to be subtle with you.”   

Your gaze drifts down to his lips and you so desperately want them on yours now, you think you might cave and close the gap yourself. One of your hands travels up and your pointer finger curls around his chain, pulling just a tiny bit.  And the second he closes the gap you think you’re going through an out-of-body experience. His lips feel soft, and you can instantly tell he’s a good kisser.   

His mouth slots perfectly against yours, slow at first. But he doesn’t waste time when your lips eagerly part against his. He licks at your bottom lip teasingly before briefly sucking, tongue easily finding its way in and the second it glides against your own, hot and wet, you moan. Both your hands find their way in his hair, slightly pulling, and you feel him sigh against your mouth. The hand on your jaw drags slowly to the back of your neck and into your hair, tilting your head to get the angle he wants. It's filthy, the perfect amount of sloppy and careful. A thousand times better than what you’ve imagined. He sucks on your tongue, forcing another moan out of you.   

You try to pull away for a second to catch your breath but the hand in your hair silently instructs you to stay put. “Mmh-mm.” He protests with a whine and the vibration against your mouth feels delicious. Arousing. And you feel pathetic at how wet you already are just from kissing him. He licks into your mouth one more time before pulling back, allowing you to catch your breath, a string of saliva still connecting your lips as you both breathe heavily and your fingers tighten around the collar of his shirt in desperation.   

“Fuck.” He exhales against your lips, sounding beautifully wrecked, chest moving up and down rapidly against your own and your erect nipples feel so sensitive rubbing on his shirt. Even with your eyes still closed, you can sense him looking at you, making you feel exposed and incredibly turned on at the same time.    

You fully come back to your senses when he starts walking you backwards until you’re eventually backed up against the wall next to the balcony door, suddenly reminding you of your surroundings. You don’t have much time to think before his lips are on yours again and you immediately turn into mush in his arms, mouth pliantly giving him access. The only things audible are your heavy breathing and the wet sounds of your lips smacking. The faint music coming from inside, barely noticeable now.

Haechan wraps a hand around your throat, gentle but possessive and you love the weight of it on your sweaty skin, just resting there with intend. His other hand grabs the side of your thigh, raising your leg to rest on his hip. And that’s when you feel the hardness, grinding slowly against your tummy, testing the waters, and you can’t help but gasp in response. 

His mouth leaves yours, trailing gentle kisses down your jaw and the side of your neck, leaving wet patches of your combined spit on your skin, and when he reaches the dip of your collarbone, he bites gently, soothing the skin with his tongue afterwards. You can’t help but clench around nothing.   

He angles your head to the side, giving himself more space to suck and lick where he pleases as his other hand trails from your thigh to the curve of your ass, squeezing the flesh and bunching up your dress in the process. You whimper at the feeling of his rough hand, your eyes rolling back when he grinds into your front again, with more urgency this time.  

"Fuck." You whisper breathlessly, feeling lightheaded.   

“Yeah?” He mumbles against your sensitive skin, and you cup his face in your hands, guiding him to look at you again. “What do you want?” He gives you a sweet peck and you instantly melt, your insides turning into mush as you hold him there, kissing him deeply again, squishing his cheeks between your hands and he smiles into the kiss, biting your bottom lip playfully, letting lets it snap back into place, making you whine softly. “Talk to me baby.” It’s barely audible, and he says it with ease, like he’s been calling you that for a long time and your eyes almost roll back at the pet name. A few hours ago, you were high on nerves because of him and now you’re just high on him, touching you and kissing you and calling you ‘baby’, like he owns you.   

Your thumbs caress his cheekbones before you trail your hands back up into his hair, nails gently scratching his scalp and he closes his eyes, humming in satisfaction. “Want you,” You murmur and kiss the side of his mouth as you drag a hand down his arm, giving his bicep a squeeze, before sneaking down to his hand that’s casually resting on your ass like it belongs there. You interlock your fingers with his, bringing both your hands between your bodies, guiding him under the front of your short dress, pressing his fingers against the seat of your lacy underwear. “Here.” You whisper against his lips and he inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring and you almost laugh at his reaction. Your leg wraps securely around him urging him closer by pushing the calf into his ass.   

“Jesus Christ.” He whispers and his eyes are on his hand as his fingers now start rubbing slowly against your sensitive clit, the delicate lace somewhat helping with the much-needed friction, but you desperately want to feel his skin on yours with no barrier.   

You kiss him again and he pliantly parts his lips for your tongue to invade, allowing you to taste the remnants of cherry ice. Your wet muscle glides against his slowly, and you moan when he pushes the flimsy material of your panties aside, like he’s read your mind. The moan turns into a whine when his middle and ring fingers make direct contact with your swollen clit, rubbing slow circles around the nub with precision, like he knows exactly what you like and you kiss him harder trying to distract yourself from the sensitivity, because there’s no way you’re cumming just from a few touches like a horny teenager.

You both moan in the kiss the moment his fingers dip lower and drag through your wet slit and he doesn’t waste a second, rubbing up and down slowly, spreading the wetness messily.   

“You're soaked, fuck.” he mumbles in awe and you bask in the feeling of him finally knowing how much you want him; how much you need him to do something about it. “Messy baby.” His filthy words cloud your brain as your head lulls back against the wall to watch his face. He looks so pretty, his bottom lip trapped in his mouth, his glazed eyes focused on his hand still working between your legs. 

He must feel your eyes on him because he looks up at you and watches your reaction with a satisfied expression as the tip of his middle finger catches at your entrance before coming back up to your clit, spreading more of your wetness. He smirks when your jaw drops and your eyes roll back as he starts rubbing the bundle of nerves in firm and quick side-to-side motions with three of his fingers. 

"You're so pretty." He mutters against your lips and your stomach flutters at the words, along with your pussy.

“Fuck.” You whine when you feel him delicately suckle on your bottom lip, his tongue playfully dipping out to lick before he starts kissing down to your neck again and your arms wrap around his shoulders, holding him close, tugging at the fabric of his shirt in desperation. “So good.” You breathe into the night air, relishing in the intense pleasure the pads of his digits are giving you, flicking with just the right amount of pressure, exactly how yours would.   

“Wanna make you cum.” He breathes heavily into your neck, dragging his lips up until he gently bites your earlobe. His fingers move faster now, abusing your poor clit, circling and massaging harder, and you feel a bead of sweat rolling down the back of your bent knee.   

“Yeah, want it.” You nod eagerly, your hips jolting forward and he inhales sharply.   

“Yeah, baby?” His eyes on you now. “Think you can take it?” His fingers now slowing down, teasing.  

“Uh-huh.” You manage to get out in urgency as his fingers dip down again. “Please.” You stare into his eyes, and you feel yours starting to water when his middle and ring fingers slowly slide into you with ease. Your jaw drops, the stretch delicious and so needed, so welcome. Your vision blurs when he slowly starts pumping them in and out, testing the waters first and your eyes roll back in relief. A squeal escapes you when he curls his fingers just the right amount and starts fucking in and out of your pussy at a rapid pace, like he’s on a mission.   

“Oh fuck!” You exclaim in shock, your hand flying to his bicep as you look down at his hand, the veins protruding on his tan arm, the sight so sinful you have to close your eyes again. The heel of his palm rubbing against your clit each time he fucks into you, creates a deliciously warm vibration. The sounds are obscene, your wetness making every thrust loud. 

Another pornographic moan breaks out of you when his pace gets a little rougher and Haechan has to shut you up with a hand on your mouth. Your shaky fingers are clawing at his chest, over his shirt, and he lets out a low grunt against the hand he’s got pressed on your mouth, his forehead resting on yours and his eyes closing when you clench around his fingers. Your legs start shaking from the intense pleasure and he opts to wrapping his arm securely around your waist in order to help you maintain your compromised balance. He doesn’t hesitate to replace his hand with his lips, silencing you with a wet, tongue-filled kiss, swallowing all your noises. You’re not really kissing him back, your lips parted against his at a pathetic attempt of reciprocating, just panting and whining, completely lost in pleasure. 

“I’m so close.” You whisper and you feel like you’re on the verge of crying.   

“I’ve got you, baby, c'mon.” He murmurs into the messy kiss breathlessly, saliva coating both your chins and you love every second of it. The pads of his fingers now abusing the spongy spot at the front of your walls at an intense speed, hitting it just perfectly and you think you might pass out. Your walls flutter around his fingers, sucking him in and you're sure he can tell you're right there. Slick is dripping down his wrist, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. “Fuck yeah, there it is.”  

“Haechan, I'm-“ Your eyes slightly widen, and you can’t even finish your sentence as you stumble over the edge. “Oh my god.” Your voice strained, your lungs struggling to keep up. The heat from where his fingers are burying repeatedly, starts spreading and your stomach clenches. Your walls clamp down on his hand, kneading his fingers and for a second, his eyes close, seeming to enjoy the constricting feeling. Your own eyes roll back at the pleasure, eyebrows creased, jaw dropping in a silent moan, breaths coming out quick and you're sure he can feel your leg shaking uncontrollably against his hip.   

“Fuck, you feel so good.” His words make you smile in your daze, and you bite on your bottom lip knowing he finds pleasure in your own. He doesn’t stop moving his fingers, letting you ride out your high for as long as possible and when your eyes open, you see him watching your face in awe, and ironically, you feel shy.

His fingers slow down when you whine from overstimulation, until he completely halts and buries them inside to enjoy the feeling of your sensitive walls for a little longer. He kisses your cheek sweetly as he carefully pulls out of you, his fingers bumping lightly against your clit, causing you to flinch. He buries his face in your neck to conceal his laugh, hot breath fanning against your damp skin as he scatters little kisses.

You sigh and relax contently when his warm hand cups your soaked centre and he keeps it there in a comforting manner.   

"Good?” He whispers, nose delicately rubbing against your flushed skin and you almost don’t hear him due to the ringing in your ears still lingering after the intense high.  

"Yeah." Your forehead is sweaty; you feel baby hairs sticking to the damp skin and you lazily smile at how fast his heart is beating against your palm. Your eyes are staring dreamily at his face and you rub your nose against his, your hand coming up to stroke his cheek affectionately. Your thumb drags across his bottom lip and he bites on it playfully, his nose scrunching cutely, making you swoon. It scares you how comfortable you already feel around him.   

Your leg drops from his hip, and you wince at the soreness. His hand now trapped between your legs, still cupping your heat. An idea pops into your head, making you smirk and he watches your expression with an inquisitive look, eyebrows raising slightly in question. 

"What?" He asks, eyes innocent, seemingly lost. 

You firmly wrap a hand around his wrist, trying not to whimper when you feel his fingers drag against your sensitive clit and your hold tightens. He lets you lift his hand between both your faces, his eyes inspecting the strings of wetness stretching between his long digits. Without warning you lean forward, wrapping your swollen lips around the two fingers that were inside you just a few minutes ago and Haechan whimpers at the sinful gesture. It’s erotic, filthy and you don’t even know what took over you but you certainly relish in his reaction. Your eyes watching him carefully, his pupils dilated as he watches you hungrily, cheeks flushed, swollen lips parted prettily.   

“Shit, baby.” His voice on the whiny side now, and you feel his other hand tightening on your hip. He’s very clearly turned on and you almost feel bad for torturing him, considering he’s done nothing but please you. He pushes his fingers deeper inside your mouth wanting you to taste yourself and you swirl your tongue around them, harshly sucking, making a mess on purpose. You let a satisfied hum around his digits, closing your eyes as you pull them out with a wet pop.   

“You’re being unfair now.” He grunts and grabs the back of your neck, crashing his lips against yours in an open-mouthed kiss. Teeth clashing and tongues tangling messily as he licks into your mouth obscenely, moaning at the taste of you. You let out a surprised yelp when his fingers find your oversensitive cunt again and he dips them between your puffy lips, rubbing them up and down, like he did before, unforgivingly ignoring your protesting sounds. “Still so wet.” He mutters into the kiss and you whine pathetically.   

“Mmf-, too much.” You force the words out against his mouth and grab his wrist in urgency this time. He laughs meanly but obliges anyway. He brings his soaked fingers up to his own lips this time and you can’t seem to be able to break eye contact as he slowly sucks on them, making a spectacle, the act much more intimate when he’s the one doing it.   

Once he’s done, he drops his hand on your waist, wiping the wetness on the material of his hoodie and kisses you again, this time slow, languidly, wanting to savour your taste and he moans when your hands start unbuckling his belt. “Can I make you cum?” You murmur into the kiss and he’s contemplating but just as he's about to kiss you again, the moment is ruined by a wandering Jaemin, who rolls the doors open and lets out a shocked sound when he steps out.   

“Oh shit, sorry.” His eyes widen when he realises it’s you and Haechan he’s walked in on and not a couple of strangers. “Oh shit.” He says again, with more emphasis this time and you bury your face in Haechan’s shoulder to hide your embarrassment. His arm around your waist tightens in reassurance, sensing your unease and you smile against his neck in silent gratitude. “Yo!” Jaemin says loudly and points an accusatory finger at both of you. "What the fuck? We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”   

“Jaem, read the fucking room.” Haechan’s tone is slightly harsh but his touch feels delicate where his hand strokes gently on your waist. “Go back inside, we’ll join you in a bit.”   

Jaemin grins mischievously. “Well, most people have gone home now, I just came out to have a smoke, but I’ll leave you to it.” He moves to head back inside but before shutting the big glass door he pokes his head out again. “Oh, just fyi, Chenle is passed out on the sofa and Mark is still in there somewhere, just in case you’re planning on fucking out here.” His expression then changes, eyes narrowing as he inspects both of you from head to toe, a look of realisation taking over his face. 

“Unless you already have?” He poses quizzically. 

“You’ll go back inside now, unless you want Jeno finding out about last-“   

”Kay bye!” Jaemin quickly shuts the door, fleeing the scene before Haechan can finish his sentence.  

“Sorry about him.” Haechan mutters, burying his face into your shoulder and lets out a sigh. “Half his brain cells appear to be dead.” You snort at his jokey comment but you can sense the irritation in his voice. You run your fingers through his hair, scratching on the back of his neck and smile to yourself when you feel him shiver against you, his cheek resting on your shoulder.   

He lifts his head, looking down your figure as his hands slide down your hips and onto the tops of your thighs, dipping under the hem of your dress and before you can protest, he slips your underwear back into place. His knuckles drag against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and your breath hitches when you feel him tap his fingers against your core lightly. He laughs when you slap his hand away and you narrow your eyes at him scoldingly. You relax when he smooths over the fabric of your dress to make it look less wrinkled and you find yourself fighting a smile at the sweet gesture. It feels domestic almost. 

“Thanks.” You say softly, eyes locking with his. He smiles and leans down to quickly peck you on the lips. His hands caress your sides one last time and then they slide up, squeezing your tits softly in the process, the pads of his fingers lightly dipping into the flesh that spills over the top of your tight dress.  

”Pretty.” He mumbles almost to himself and if you were under the impression he was an ass man, now you're thinking you might have been wrong. He continues his journey upwards, taming your messy hair, gently combing stray strands behind your ears. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”   

When you step back inside, you both quietly laugh at the sight of poor Chenle sprawled face first on his new sofa and you’re pretty sure he’s drooling on it. Haechan heads into the kitchen and comes back with a glass of water, which he places on the coffee table next to Chenle’s unmoving body. He then maneuvers him carefully, turning him on his side so he doesn’t choke to death in his sleep with his face buried in the cushions. You smile at the thoughtful gesture, and you move to grab your bag from the coffee table to distract yourself from the fluttering in your stomach.   

“’Will he be okay on his own?” A tinge of concern in his eyes.   

“Yeah, he’ll be fine. He always passes out like this when he gets too drunk.” You lean down and leave a small kiss on Chenle’s temple, brushing the hair away from his forehead. “I’d say he looks angelic but he’s actually the devil incarnate.” You whisper, observing Chenle’s cute face, and you can confirm he’s actually drooling on his sofa. 

_

The walk back to your place is mostly quiet but comfortable. Haechan swings your interlocked hands distractedly as you’re both walking at a slow pace, trying to prolong the night for as long as possible. 

“What’s Jaemin’s dirty laundry then? You threatened him you’d tell Jeno earlier.” You break the silence and he chuckles at your question. 

“He had sex in Jeno’s bed last year.” He chuckles as he spills the secret and looks at you, gauging your reaction. 

“Sounds like someone needs to teach that boy a lesson.” You say, and before you can stop the words tumbling out of your mouth, “Maybe we should fuck in his bed.” Your eyes widen at your own words and Haechan’s head snaps up to look you, mirroring your shocked expression. And then he laughs loudly. A kind of laugh you’ve never heard from him. His hand rests on his abdomen as if his stomach is in pain.   

“Alright it’s not that funny.” You pout in embarrassment. “In my head it sounded kind of sexy.”   

His laugh gradually dies down until there’s just amusement written on his face. “I mean, we can do that if you actually want to, but I have other priorities.”   

“Meaning?” 

“Well..” He trails in thought. “Ideally, I'd like to take you out first,” You feel like exploding but you maintain a stoic expression, gesturing him to continue. “And I'd rather fuck you in my own bed before moving on to Jaemin’s or anyone else’s.”   

Your breath catches at his forwardness and you’re suddenly struggling to find the right words. “Umm,” you think carefully. “What about my bed?” You ask innocently.   

"Don't worry, it's up there." His smirk makes you feel weak and you feel him squeeze your hand in his, running his thumb over the back of it.   

“You sound awfully confident.” You say calmly, fighting a smile.  

He pulls you closer by your hand. “What, you think I’m playing?” He almost sounds offended.   

“I dunno, don’t really know much about you.” You shrug. 

“Do you want to?” He asks and for the first time he sounds nervous.   

You squeeze his hand the same way he did with yours, hoping to reassure him. “I think I’ve made it pretty clear that I do.” You halt your movements when you reach your building and look up into his eyes. “A lot.” His fingers stay intertwined with yours lazily. A relieved smile takes over his expression, and you really feel like kissing him again. He looks shy all of a sudden and a giggle escapes your throat. “Cute.”   

He clicks his tongue to show annoyance, and you can see him poking the muscle against the inside of his cheek, trying to hold back a smile when he looks away for a second. Then he steps closer, invading your space again. “You wanna give me your number? I don’t really use instagram.”   

“Okay, green flag.” You say playfully and he snorts. You hold your hand out for him to pass you his phone and when you’ve saved your contact, you text yourself a “hi” so you can save his number too.   

“Cool.” He says casually as he shoves his phone in his back pocket.   

“Cool.” You say back and step closer to him, wanting to feel his warmth one more time before parting ways. He smiles in understanding and pulls you closer, wrapping both arms around your waist to hold your body flush against his. You wrap your arms around his middle and rest your head on his chest. “I had fun tonight.” You murmur.  

He rests his chin at the top of your head. One of his hands sneaks up and holds the back of your neck gently while the other strokes the small of your back. “I did too.” His fingers bury in your hair, gently pulling to make you look at him but you don’t get the chance, because his lips are on yours instantly, dragging slowly, carefully. Both his hands cup your face as he licks your bottom lip for access, which you give without a second thought and his tongue sneaks in to play with yours, letting you taste him. Your body completely relaxes against his, enjoying the warm feeling of his chest against yours.  

You whine when he pulls back to look at you and he smiles when your lips trail after his. He gives in with a smile, chastely kissing you again. No tongue this time, but he playfully sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, and you love how safe you feel in his arms. He trails up, kissing the tip of your nose and back down again as he gives you another wet smooch before creating a tiny bit of distance between your lips while still maintaining the closeness between your bodies.  

You smile against his jaw as you slip your hand into his empty back pocket, lightly squeezing his ass cheek and he laughs at your playfulness.

“Okay, you better go now before I drag you upstairs with me.” You give him a little kiss on the cheek before slipping away from his warmth. You take off his hoodie and hand it back to him.   

"Mmm okay." He moves away reluctantly. “I’ll text you yeah?” He says with a cute smile.  

“I’ll try and text you back.” You tease and he rolls his eyes, his smile not faltering.   

“Night, Y/N.” He quietly says in the night air and you melt at the way your name rolls off his tongue.  

“Night, Haechan.” You give him a small wave goodbye and watch him walk away.   

_

The next morning, you're quietly munching on your cereal, lost in thought, reminiscing last night like it’s a distant memory, when you see a hungover Jeno messily stumbling out of Ningning's room, carrying his shoes in one hand and his jacket in the other. "Didn't care to take off your shoes at the door?" Your voice seems to startle him in the quiet of the morning.   

"Shit!" His reaction making you laugh. "Fuck, Y/N, you scared me."  

"Sorry." You're really not. "Are you pulling a French exit on my friend?" Your serious tone seems to intimidate him.  

"No, she's awake, just snoozing." He says quickly. "I swear." You try not to laugh at the nervousness written all over his face. "Nothing happened, we just cuddled."   

"Relax, I'm just fucking with you." You chuckle at his disheveled state. "Want some breakfast? I can offer three kinds of cereal." You point at your selection of boxes.  

His eyes widen eagerly at that. "Sure, thanks." He walks towards where you're sitting at the kitchen table, dropping his shoes on the floor and his jacket on the back of his chair, before taking a seat across from you. "I'll just have what you're having." He says with a sweet smile, eyes almost disappearing and you realise he sort of looks like a Samoyed puppy but refrain from making a comment. You’re not that close after all.  

You nod and get up to grab him a bowl. He's looking at his phone when he speaks up again. "So, you and Haechan?" You hold back a smile as you pass him a bowl with a spoon and the milk. He looks at you again and he explains when he sees your questioning stare. "Jaemin messaged the group chat."  

"Ah," You nod in understanding. "Of course."  

"So?" He asks expectantly, chewing loudly after he's poured the milk in his cheerios.   

"What, you can't wait until he tells you himself?" You ask sarcastically.  

"Girls' perspectives are always better." He pauses mid munch. "Plus, Haechan is the most private dude when it comes to stuff like that." For some reason that doesn't surprise you.   

"Good for him." You get up to wash your bowl after finishing. "Maybe you're just too nosy."   

"Oh c'mon, it's not that big of a deal, is it?" Your silence seems to intrigue him. "Or maybe it is?"  

You turn to look at him when you're done washing up, leaning next to the sink and you see he's already devoured the contents of his bowl. "Feel free to go for seconds." You say pointing at the box in front of him and his face lights up before he starts pouring more cereal.   

"Do you like him then?" He asks casually as he starts munching again and the question makes you falter. "Because, if you do," He swallows. "I can confirm it's reciprocated." Your eyebrows lift at his confession and Jeno smirks at your shocked expression. "Just spill, I won't tell him." And you trust his words, but you suddenly feel shy, thinking about your intimate moments with Haechan.   

"I'll tell you if you tell me about you and Ning." You like knowing boys' perspectives too.  

"Sounds fair." He nods with his mouth full.   

"You want the TMI or PG-13 version?" You appreciate he's still eating so you don't want to ruin his breakfast.

"TMI, always." He says casually.  

"He fingered me on Chenle's balcony and then said he wants to take me out." Jeno chokes at your confession.  

"Jesus woman!" He coughs lightly and clears his throat before continuing. "No tact whatsoever."  

You snort at his reaction. "You said 'TMI always' no?"  

"Was it good?" He asks in a quieter and more serious tone now. Like he's asking you to share one of your deepest secrets. And here you were thinking you weren’t that close. You can’t help but laugh because that sounds like what Ningning would have asked in a situation like this. Maybe they are a good match after all.   

"The fingering?" He nods at your question, eyes not leaving yours, having paused his eating, spoon still in hand hovering over his bowl. "I mean, I thought I was gonna pass out at some point so, yeah, pretty good."  

An eyebrow raised in fascination. "Damn, go Haechan." Then he asks carefully. "So, I take it you'd go out with him?"  

You shrug. "Maybe, but I don’t think I want a situationship or anything like that."  

"You're in luck, he's not into that shit either." 

"We'll see, he hasn't texted yet." You try to sound casual but you know Jeno can see right through you.   

"Don't worry, he will."   

"Who says I'm worried?" You huff a humorless laugh.   

He rolls his eyes and gets up to walk over to the sink, taking his bowl with him. "If he said he wants to take you out, he meant it. And trust me when I say, that boy has had enough of casual flings. He might be going about it a bit backwards, but he’s definitely interested." He states like it's a fact and you're thankful he's trying to reassure you even though he doesn't owe you anything.   

"How do you know it's reciprocated?" You ask carefully, referring to what Jeno said earlier and he smiles cheekily.   

"I thought you weren't worried." He teases, moving his eyebrows up and down and you flick the back of his head. "Ow! Okay okay, jeez." He rubs the sore spot with the inside of his wrist to prevent his soapy fingers from touching his hair. He then proceeds to dry the clean bowl with the kitchen towel he spots on the counter and hands it to you with a sweet smile on his face.   

"Thanks, you didn't have to wash up." You say, putting the bowl back on its shelf. He waves his hand, gesturing that there's no need to thank him for something so small.  

"He said he thought you were ‘pretty cool’ after we hounded you on Thursday and for the first time in, like, forever, he was stressing about his outfit before a party."  

You give him a pointed look. "How’s that an indication of anything?"  

"Trust me, that's enough indication for Haechan. He's probably already planning your wedding as we speak." You roll your eyes at his exaggeration. "Y/N, he likes you. It was so obvious that both me and Jaem knew he was gonna make a move last night." He sits down again and starts putting his shoes on. "Obviously, I didn't think he was gonna finger you in a public space and what not but-"  

"To be fair, I initiated that." You interrupt him and he snorts.  

"I'm sure he didn't mind." Jeno jokes with a smirk, and you cover your face in embarrassment, earning a chuckle from him. He must be enjoying this because he proceeds to tease even more. "If anything, he probably found that incredibly hot." You groan at his words. "Seriously, there's nothing hotter than a woman who knows what she wants."   

You look at him through your fingers still covering your face, a teasing comment pops in your head. Two can certainly play this game.   

"That explains why you didn't sleep in your own bed last night." You notice the blush that creeps up on his cheeks and you can help but cross your arms over your chest proudly.  

"Yeah, something like that." He says sheepishly, his hand awkwardly scratching the back of his neck and you suddenly can't wait for your debrief with Ningning later. "Anyway, my point is, I think you should give him a chance." He finishes putting his shoes on, both feet on the floor now and he looks at you, his back leaning against the chair and his arms crossing over his chest. "He's a great guy." 

"Alright, enough about me, your turn now."   

_

Haechan likes to think he's a decent guy. He's got his life together; he's on top of his coursework, he gets decent grades, he's got good friends and he's got a part-time job at a record store that pays relatively well. At least well enough to cover his own personal expenses. His parents help him out with rent, but they do appreciate his efforts and he does his best to not feel like a burden. He's a good son and a good big brother to all three of his siblings. 

He's polite to old people and even helps them cross the street when he needs to, he loves his friends and always looks out for them, even if he gets grumpy sometimes, he never holds grudges and is upfront about things that bother him. He likes buying his loved ones presents and not just for special occasions. Not because he's a people pleaser, but because he just likes making them happy whenever he can. He tries not to lie except for the odd white lie here and there.

He doesn't fuck around or date aimlessly. At least not anymore. He went through a phase during his first year of uni but it's been two years since then and he's currently embracing single life. Yes, he sometimes does cave into the temptation of bringing a girl back after a party, but it's a rare occurrence and he's always honest about what he wants. He hates leading people on. It's not that he's afraid of commitment, he often finds himself wanting a girlfriend but he's not actively searching for one either.   

He knows he doesn't lack in the looks department, or in any other department really. Yeah, he's got his silly insecurities like everyone else but he's a confident guy overall. Although, he does admit that he can sometimes be cocky, that's because he knows he's the most mature out of his friends. Yes, Renjun mostly looks after everyone and has a motherly figure, but Haechan gives the best advice when it comes to most serious life dilemmas, and he's aware of that. He might not be the brightest when it comes to academics but he's confident when it comes to navigating life sensibly and responsibly. That's why he was completely and utterly flabbergasted when you came into the picture. His picture.   

He's always noticed you before, yes, and he's always thought you were good looking, but that's about it. He doesn't just go around hitting on every girl he finds attractive. He's more of a 'personality above all else' type of man, so when he first saw you, even though he thought to himself 'wow, pretty', he didn't think it would be appropriate to just come up to you and ask for your number. Plus, you seemed somewhat reserved from the few times you had exchanged words. Not that he didn't like that, because he did, he did find you intriguing, he would get to know you if the opportunity posed itself to him, but he also didn't feel like chasing after you would be something you'd like or even welcome. You didn't seem cold, just indifferent. And so, he kind of just opted to observing you from afar.

Sometimes you were alone, other times you were with a girl whose name he didn't know, others with a boy whose name he couldn't remember. He was sure they'd met before though, maybe at a party around campus or maybe through a friend? He couldn't quite place him. Other times you were with them both, laughing your heart out at whatever you three were talking about and he found himself wondering what makes you laugh that hard.   

He knew you always sat two rows behind him in his stats class every Thursday afternoon, his last class of that day. However, he rarely got to see you on Thursdays, even though you were both in the same room for an hour and a half. You always arrived after him and left before him, so, whenever he turned his head at the end of the lecture to look for you, you were already gone. The times he did get to see you, were the times he would turn up a little later than normal, which was exactly one minute before the professor started speaking. Even then, he wasn't really able to observe you for as long as he'd ideally like. He would just get to see the back of your head for a few seconds before reaching his usual seat. He sometimes would pretend to crack his back, just to turn around twice and look at your pretty face for a few seconds. Your attention was always on the notes in front of you though. One time he did catch you already staring at him. You looked away the second his eyes met yours, almost shy. He found it cute and thought to himself; 'maybe she's not that indifferent after all'.   

He knew you and Jeno were somewhat friendly because you shared a few classes and he was sure he'd caught you speaking with Jaemin a couple times in corridors. He wasn't jealous or anything, but he definitely wouldn't mind being on first name basis with you too. And it's not like he was obsessed with you. He didn't really think about you that much, but his intrigue definitely intensified when he got to speak to you properly for the first time at that party just before summer. He can’t clearly remember what you two exactly talked about, but he does remember not wanting to leave, he remembers thinking you looked unreal and he certainly remembers wishing he could relive that moment sober so he could memorise every word that came out of your mouth.   

Things have changed now though. Drastically and unexpectedly. Because just two days ago he got to speak to you again and his curiosity morphed into excitement.

You pleasantly surprised him. From the way you handled yourself around Jaemin's obnoxiously loud personality to the way you put Jeno in his place like no girl ever has before. You were witty and smart and sweet. Too sweet. And he knows that, because he's quite literally tasted you now. Just a few hours ago he had you pinned against the wall of your friend's new apartment. Just a few hours ago he had you gasping and writhing and pathetically whining his name, simply because his fingers were too much for you. And he loved every second of it.   

Haechan didn't really go to Chenle's party thinking he'd get some. He was just excited to get to know you and speak to you one on one. He went into the situation hoping he could maybe flirt with you and end up with your number in his contact list at the end of the night, which he did. And maybe he was hoping he could get to walk you home and get a kiss from you, which again, he did. But he didn't expect you'd reciprocate his flirting like you were prepared for it. He definitely didn't expect you'd ask him who and what he wants to write songs about and he definitely didn't expect you to kiss him back the way you did.

He's kissed many people before. He's had good kisses, bad ones, a few memorable ones and certainly a lot of forgettable ones. He's never kissed anyone the way he kissed you, though. And he's equally never had anyone kiss him the way you kissed him. Not even ex-girlfriends. Not that he's had many, but the two he's had don't even come close. And that scares him. Because if Haechan thought he wasn't obsessed with you before, he really doesn't know what to think now. But what he does know is that it’s incredibly unfair of you to make him feel and think this much, this soon.

It's still early, the sun barely out. He's maybe managed to get four hours of sleep before getting woken up by the sound of someone retching in the bathroom down the hall. Most likely Jaemin. He almost fell asleep again after that but the sound of a door slamming, completely ruined his slumber. So, now he's just staring at his ceiling, one arm supporting his head on the pillow and the other resting lazily on his naked stomach. He feels tired but he knows he won't be able to go back to sleep now. And that's fine, because he can at least think about you. He can think about your voice and your scent and he can think about how you touched him and how you let him touch you. He can think about how you tried to keep quiet in the midst of pleasure but miserably failed repeatedly. And he's definitely going to think about how good you felt around his fingers. Perfect. There are so many things he can think about when it comes to you and there's not a single bad one. Everything related to you is good.   

You said you wanted to get to know him 'a lot', and that was exactly what he wanted to hear, but he can't help but wonder when you started to feel this way. Not that it matters that much, because, regardless of the timeline, he's going to make it happen. He's going to take you out and he's going to get to know you. He's almost worried that he's going about this in the wrong order, because, ideally, he would have wanted to take you out before any kissing and sexual activities took place. Not because he's old fashioned or some kind of prude, but because he doesn't want you getting the wrong impression. He doesn't want you thinking he's only into you because of the sexual chemistry you share. Of course, he thinks physical intimacy is important, but he's always found that emotional intimacy beats all. And he wants to see if he can get to that level with you. He knows you're compatible sexually, he could tell last night you were on the same wavelength. There was no awkwardness, no uncertainty. 

He could tell you knew your body well, that you knew what you wanted and he liked that you weren't shy about it. And he'd be lying if he said that wasn't one of his favourite parts of the night; the moment you guided his hand where you wanted it. He found that so attractive that he actually thought about it when he got in his bed last night and finally managed to relieve the hardness in his boxers. He loved that you weren't shy about how much you wanted him to touch you. You were the perfect amount of vocal, and your body reacted to his words the way he hoped it would. So, yes, he is positive sexual chemistry isn’t something you two would struggle with, but he also doesn't want it to be the main thing that you connect on. He wants a lot more than that.   

Haechan is self-aware. He's a horny guy and he's not shy about it. He likes what he likes and there's not much he doesn't like when it comes to sex. He's very much open to exploring and what not, but he knows that he's always struggled connecting with people on an emotional level before. Especially people he's dated. He's had flings and he's had casual sexual partners. He's been in a couple of serious relationships, and he's been infatuated with his ex-girlfriends or ex flings, but he knows he’s never been in love with any of them. He remembers thinking he loved his first girlfriend, but he was only 16 back then and when he thinks back to that relationship, he barely sees it as a relationship. All they ever did was go on walks, watch movies, cuddle and make out. Eventually it just fizzled out. 

His second relationship was serious, but toxic. He remembers enjoying the push-and-pull situation initially but when it all became so unbearably exhausting, it put him off relationships for a long time. Now that he's had time to be alone and process his own feelings, he knows he's capable of commitment, but he wants it to be with the right person, and he wants it to be with someone who will accept him for who he is. Haechan knows that if he found the one now, he would commit. And he doesn't know if you're the one, but he wouldn't mind exploring if you would stick around for the long run.   

And so, later in the day, when he's lazily sprawled on the sofa, next to a hungover Jeno, who apparently saw you this morning and reassured him that you're definitely interested, Haechan decides to finally text you like he promised. When he opens your chat, he sees you've already texted yourself to save his number and added a little sunflower emoji next to your name and he smiles to himself. He wonders if you've added an emoji next to his name too and if so, which one?  

20:03 Hae☀️: hey pretty   

20:03 Hae☀️: have any free periods tomorrow?   

20:09 y/n🌻: hii :)  

20:09 y/n🌻: i do 

20:10 y/n🌻: I am free between 1pm-3pm   

20:11 Hae☀️: wanna grab a coffee with me? 

20:12 y/n🌻: i'd love to 

20:13 Hae☀️: woop! 

20:13 Hae☀️: where shall I meet you?  

20:18 y/n🌻: how about the café by the architecture building?  

20:21 Hae☀️: i know the one  

20:21 Hae☀️: i'll be there there at 1pm sharp  

20:22 Hae☀️: don't stand me up 👉🏻👈🏻  

20:24 y/n🌻: i would never 🥺  

20:25 Hae☀️: thought about you a lot today  

20:26 y/n🌻: really?  

20:26 y/n🌻: what did you think about?  

20:28 Hae☀️: yes really  

20:28 Hae☀️: just...things   

20:29 Hae☀️: can't say much more than that   

20:29 Hae☀️: did you not think about me? :( 

20:31 y/n🌻: nah   

20:31 y/n🌻: not really :(  

20:32 Hae☀️: 🙄  

20:32 Hae☀️: ur rude  

20:32 Hae☀️: and a liar    

20:34 y/n🌻: oops  

20:34 y/n🌻: why ask a question you already know the answer to?   

20:35 Hae☀️: smooth   

20:35 Hae☀️: i guess i needed some reassurance  

20:36 y/n🌻: Hae?  

20:36 Hae☀️: yea?  

20:37 y/n🌻: I thought about you  

20:37 y/n🌻: a lot   

20:37 y/n🌻: like and unhealthy amount  

20:38 Hae☀️: fuck   

20:38 Hae☀️: didn't think you'd actually say it  

20:40 y/n🌻: happy?  

20:40 y/n🌻: it appears I can't say no to you  

20:41 Hae☀️: very :)  

20:41 Hae☀️: it appears the feeling is mutual  

The rest of Haechan's evening consists of him pretending he's paying attention to the Netflix show Jeno picked out for them to watch after dinner, when the only thing he's actually interested in are the messages he's exchanging with you. You told him you're also chilling on your couch with Ningning, watching a crime documentary with a bowl of instant ramen.  

"Bruh, you're astronomically whipped." Jeno laughs to himself, the constant buzzing coming from  Haechan's phone making it obvious that he's been messaging you.   

"Yeah, so? Deal with it." Haechan doesn't even lift his head to look at Jeno, just keeps smiling distractedly at his screen.   

Jeno snorts. "At least you're not denying it." He turns his attention back to the show he's practically been watching on his own for the past hour. "I respect that."  

Haechan looks up at Jeno and shrugs. "I'm no fraud, Lee Jeno. You, of all people, should know that." And that earns him laugh with a nod of approval.   

“You asked her out yet?” The question casual. No teasing tone detected, just curiosity.   

"I'm seeing her tomorrow between classes." Haechan's attention back on your chat.   

“Like a coffee date?” Jeno asks cutely and Haechan just responds with a nod, his thumbs hovering over his keyboard as he looks up at Jeno, waiting for some sort of comment.  

“That's a good first date.” Jeno's words of approval offer Haechan a sense of relief he didn't know he needed. "Just good quality time, no pressure."  

“Yeah, that's what I was thinking.” Haechan's eyes are on the tv now, but he isn't really paying attention to the programme.  

Jeno sees right through him. "You nervous?"  

Haechan thinks about his response. Is he nervous? “More excited than nervous, I'd say.” Haechan looks up at him when he's met with silence. "What?" He asks confused when he notices his friend's amused expression.   

“Nothing, just trying to think when you turned into an absolute sap.” And he laughs loudly when Haechan hits him in the face with one of the cushions scattered on the sofa. “Relaaaaax you big baby, I'm just messing with you.” Jeno throws the cushion back at Haechan and he catches is with a grunt. “I actually think this is good. You haven't dated anyone half decent in a long time.”   

Haechan snorts, because Jeno's words hold nothing but the truth. “True.” He states with a purse of his lips.   

“If your first date is casual vibes, you should do something fancy for the second one.” Jeno says in a skeptical tone.  

“Since when are you a dating expert?”  

“Shut up, you've been dying to ask for advice and you know it.” He's right, but Haechan would never admit that. “It should also be on a Friday or Saturday so you don't have to worry about being hungover in class.” Jeno points a finger at Haechan. “Karaoke could be fun!”  

“Where are you taking Ningning?” Jeno's eyes widen at the question and Haechan chuckles triumphantly. "You ever gonna tell me about that or nah?"  

“Your new girlfriend can tell you all about it tomorrow.” Jeno crosses his arms over his chest after pulling the hood of his jumper over his head.   

“Yeah, we're gonna spend the entirety of our first date talking about your sexcapades.” Haechan responds sarcastically.   

“No sexcapades, she said she's not currently dating.” Jeno says quickly with a frown.   

“And that's a problem for you, because..?” Haechan gestures with his hand for Jeno to explain. “Is your ego hurt or something?”  

Jeno shrugs his shoulders like a toddler. “Just a bit disappointing, you know?”  

“Shit.” Haechan says with a tone of fascination. “So, you're into her then.”  

Jeno shrugs with a huff and Haechan almost feels bad.   

“Did you sleep with her or nah?”  

“Nah, just cuddled.” Jeno admits, voice laced with disappointment.   

“Jeno,” Haechan pinches the bridge of his nose to show exasperation. “You're an idiot.”  

“Wha- why?” Jeno's eyes widen at his friend's insult.   

“Are you being daft on purpose? She would've fucked you and chucked you out if she wasn't interested.” Haechan is putting the facts out on the table as if it's going to help Jeno realise what is happening, but to no avail. “She's clearly aware of your reputation.”   

Jeno perks up at that. "What about my reputation?" His eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.   

Haechan kisses his teeth. "You're a certified slut."  

“Yeah and? What am I meant to do?”  

“Well, if you want her, you're gonna have to work for it.” Haechan says like it's self-explanatory.  

"I don't chase." Jeno mumbles stubbornly.   

"No Ningning then." And Jeno scoffs at Haechan's patronising tone. "Sounds like you're in need of advice more than I am."  

_

You can't really wrap your head around the fact that you're currently walking to your favourite café in campus, only this time you're not meeting up with your two best friends, you’re meeting with Haechan instead. Fuck. You're meeting up with Haechan.  

You don't even know if you're supposed to call this a date. He said he wanted to hang out with you and that he can't wait to see you, but people say all sorts of things, and you don't want to get ahead of yourself. You wonder if he's nervous like you are, or if he sees this as a casual coffee break in between his routine. But then again, if it's just that, why ask you and not one of his friends? You told yourself this morning that you wouldn't overthink, but you're now realising that you're miserably failing. Ningning would not be proud.  

You check the time on your phone and that instant it buzzes in your hand. Your heart beats a little quicker.   

12:55 Hae☀️: what do you want?   

12:55 y/n🌻: in life or..?  

12:56 Hae☀️: lmao  

12:56 Hae☀️: to drink silly  

12:56 Hae☀️: we can talk about what you want in life when you get here  

12:57 y/n🌻: caramel iced latte pls and thank you :)  

12:57 y/n🌻: im 2 mins away btw  

12:57 Hae☀️: thought you didn't like sweet things   

12:58 Hae☀️: no rush, just ordering now  

12:58 y/n🌻: i like my coffee sweet  

12:58 y/n🌻: among other things  

12:59 Hae☀️: cheeky   

12:59 y/n🌻: im here   

13:00 y/n🌻: where you at?   

13:00 Hae☀️: you look cute   

13:00 Hae☀️: to your left   

And there he is, sitting at a table by the window, already looking at you, head tilted, eyes pretty, smile saccharine sweet. His phone is still in his hand, thumb hovering over the screen and you notice there's a new ring adorning the digit. His other hand raises and his fingers wiggle, playfully waving at you. You already feel flustered and you think that it should be illegal for a man to be this handsome.  

When you walk over, he stands up and casually lifts an arm for you to slot under. "Hey you." He says quietly and you smile. Your arms instinctively wrap around his middle, and your face buries in his shoulder, taking in his familiar scent. It immediately brings you comfort, your overthinking long forgotten. You feel his arms squeezing around your figure and he playfully rocks you from side to side. You giggle and pull back slightly to look at him.   

“Hey you.” You repeat his words back at him and his smile is nothing short of mesmerising. His lovely doe eyes hold warmth and tiny stars that you feel could burn you if you stare into them for too long, so you decide to look at the table instead. You spot your iced latte, placed opposite what you assume is an iced americano. “Thanks for getting my coffee, you didn't have to.”   

“I wanted to.” He states plainly and unwraps his arms from you, allowing you to sit down before taking his own seat opposite you. It almost feels strange sitting with him like this, seeing him in this light. Not in a lecture hall and not at a party surrounded by your friends. Just the two of you, on a Monday, sitting at your favourite café, in the middle of the day. It’s real. It’s mundane. “Are you hungry? We can get something to eat if you want.” He speaks so fast, one would think he’s trying to cover up nerves.   

You smile at his attentiveness and shake your head. “I’m good for now, thanks.”   

“Okay.” He doesn’t press and you can’t help but think he looks so boyfriend coded. His big forest green jumper makes him look extra cuddly and you want to bury your face in his neck again. “Heard you bumped into Jeno yesterday.” He says, filling the silence before taking a sip of his coffee.   

“Yeah, I interrupted his walk of shame.” You chuckle at the memory. “He looked quite embarrassed, bless him.” You twirl your straw, staring at the condensation dripping down your cup. “Didn’t realise he was that nosy though.” You say with a grin and your eyes move to look at Haechan who’s mirroring you.   

His lips curl into a smirk. “Why, did he ask about-” He pauses for a moment, trying to find the right words. “About Saturday night.” His eyebrow raises inquisitively.   

Your chin rests on your hand. “Mm-hm, apparently Jaemin messaged your group chat.”   

Haechan snorts and you assume he knows which message you’re referring to. “Yeah, if you found Jeno nosy, good luck tolerating Jaemin.”   

“I’m just hoping we didn’t scar him for life.”   

“I mean,” he shrugs, gently tapping his fingers on the table surface. “He didn’t actually see anything.” His tone suggestive, eyes watching you, trying to gauge a reaction. “Had he walked out a few minutes earlier-”   

“Shut up.” You warn and cover your eyes with both hands in embarrassment, smiling against your palms at the sound of his pretty laugh.  

“C’monnnn,” he reaches across the table and takes hold of your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face so he’s able to look at you properly, while holding your hands in his, in the most delicate way. You stubbornly look away, trying to hide the blush that has taken over your face. “Aww don't be embarrassed.” He coos and squeezes your wrists in his hands, his thumbs sneaking under your sweater paws, rubbing gently against your pulse points, causing goosebumps to raise on your arms. “Okay, I’m sorry, I won’t tease anymore today, I promise.” He says in a playful tone but you still don’t look at him and maintain the pout on your face. A quick kiss on the inside of your wrist earns him your attention and then another on the opposite one makes you break your resolve completely, your eyes now on his. “Yay, there she is.”   

“You’re annoying.” You huff and he chuckles again.   

“And you’re still blushing.”   

You retract your hand from his hold and attempt to flick at his forehead, but he grasps it again before you’re able to. He interlocks his fingers with yours and gives you a toothy grin. His perfect teeth showing and his eyes wrinkling at the corners. “How do you expect me to not feel embarrassed when you act like-” You stop yourself from saying what's on your mind and he perks up at your hesitation, eyebrows raised.   

“Like what?” He asks, his voice laced with intrigue.  

“The way you do.” Your gaze moves to your connected hands, taking in the way his fingers look slotted between yours. Perfect. Like they belong there.   

“You don’t like the way I act?” His bottom lip jutting out in a fake pout, gently stroking the back of your thumb with his own.   

“No, I do but-” You observe how his palm opens against your own, fingers extending and yours instinctively mirror the action, elbows pressed on the table and your heart flutters at how big his hand looks compared to yours.   

“But?” He’s also looking at your hands now and slots his fingers between yours again, his grip tight, his palm warm and you worry he can feel how clammy yours is.   

“You’re just too forward.”   

“Is that a bad thing?” His tone more serious now, his eyes observing you. “I told you; I never intended to be subtle with you.” His hold on your hand loosening. “But I can stop if you’re uncomfortable.”  

“No.” Your hand tightening its hold, quietly indicating you don’t want him to let go and he sports a cheeky smile, like he expected you to react that way. “I’m just not used to this.”   

His eyes are curious now. “Used to people being forward?” You nod at his question. He thinks about it for a moment. “You were pretty forward yourself the other night.” 

“That’s different.” You say calmly.   

“How come?”   

“Nights like that don’t happen all the time.” You explain with a shrug, without giving away too much. 

His expression softens, and his nods in understanding. “So, you knew you wanted me before the party then.” He says it like a statement but you know he’s asking as he watches you with expectant eyes. His hand leaves yours momentarily, dropping on the table, palm facing up, waiting for your own hand to drop back into his. And it does. You trace your fingertips from his wrist to the middle of his palm, drawing along the lines there. His own fingers raising slightly to tickle against your palm, tracing patterns and you feel giddy. He’s emitting this softness you’ve never encountered in a romantic partner before and you’re not sure if you can handle it. But you want to be able to.  

“I did, yeah.” You admit with a smile, eyes finding his wide ones. “Why are you so surprised?”   

“I just- I did too.” He bites the inside of his bottom lip in thought. “Just wasn’t sure how to approach you before.” Your own surprise evident. “Why are you so surprised?” He mimics your question with a playful tone.  

“Since when?” You ask, wanting to know more.  

He hums skeptically, and you feel his knee bumping into yours under the small table, “I mean, I’ve always been intrigued.” He moves again and you feel both his knees rubbing against yours now. “But I knew I was into you after we spoke at that party in June.” Both your knees are trapped between his now and you can’t help but feel flustered, your fingers limp in his palm while his index is still tracing the inside of your wrist. It slightly tickles but it’s welcome. “You?”   

You could lie and say it was the same for you. That you realised you were interested when you finally spoke for the first time. But you don’t really want to, and you don’t see the point. “I think- I can’t really place it, but I was definitely interested before June.” You expect him to tease, but he just nods in understanding, gesturing you to continue. “And I could tell you were kind of flirting, when we briefly spoke last week, so, I thought Chenle's party was the perfect time to act on it.”   

“So, you’ve had a crush on me?” He smirks and his knees squeeze yours between them, finally teasing you. "Cute.” He says under his breath, eyes move to your lips for a second and then up to your eyes again. “You should’ve said something sooner.” He raises his drink and his lips wrap around the straw and you can’t help but look, remembering what they felt like on yours, on your skin, what they looked like wrapped around his fingers when he wanted a taste of you.   

“I didn’t think you would’ve reciprocated.” You say bashfully and he looks at you, like he finds your words absurd.  

He puts his drink down again. “I'd be clinically insane.”   

His words emit a small laugh from you. "Well, I'm glad you're somewhat sane."  

"Do you wanna go for a walk?" The question unexpected and your eyebrows raise in surprise. "Sun's out again." He points his chin towards the window and you turn your head to look outside. The autumn leaves are still falling but he's right. The sun is out for the first time in a few days. "Promise I'll have you back by three." He says in a playful tone and you look back at him, pretending to consider his suggestion, even though, you know you won’t decline.

_ 

Haechan isn't really a big fan of autumn. He doesn't hate it, but he certainly likes summertime the most. He likes being able to walk down the beach with no layers on and no worry that it'll get cold late at night. He likes the way the sun feels on his skin and he definitely prefers the way he looks when he's sun kissed. He finds that everyone looks good in the sun.  

He's always associated the idea of falling in love with a nice refreshing summer breeze; not necessary, because he's content in the heat, but definitely not unwanted.   

The thought of summer always makes him miss home and look forward to the next time he's able to visit. If he's completely honest, Haechan always misses home a little bit, it's always occupying the back of his mind. The city; as fun as it is living here, has always felt too different. Too chaotic. Now that you're walking next to him though, he's not missing anything and he thinks it's the first time since he moved here, that he feels absolutely and utterly content. At peace even. Even in the chilly autumn air as you two walk through the park near your campus, surrounded by brown leaf covered trees.   

"What's your favourite time of the year?" He can't help but ask the question when it pops into his head.   

"Hmm I think this one." You lift a finger, gesturing to your surroundings and you pause for a moment skeptically. "I think it’s mostly because I prefer autumn fashion." He chuckles at your reasoning. "Hey, don't laugh," You protest. "I'd like summer more if I could lounge by a pool in a bikini whenever I wanted." You inhale deeply, your eyes briefly closing and he can tell you're enjoying the autumn air. "Autumn is just easier, plus, I love the smell of rain." You turn to look at him before looking ahead of you again. "What's yours? You give off major summer vibes."  

He exhales a laugh through his nose. "Really? What gave it away?" He looks at your side profile as he waits for a response. He thinks you look so pretty in this gloomy setting and wonders if you’d look even prettier during his favourite season.   

"Dunno." You seem to be in deep thought, your lips pursing and your eyes narrowing as you inspect his face carefully. "Maybe your tan?" And he mimics your expression, scrunching his nose too and you gently elbow him. "Did I get it right?" You ask hopefully.  

"You sure did." He confirms, nodding proudly and a cheeky smile makes its way to your lips.   

"Why summer then?" You ask with a curious lilt in your tone.   

"I guess I associate summer with my childhood." He explains with a fond smile. "It reminds me of being-"  

"Carefree?" You finish his sentence and he smiles, nodding slowly in agreement. "That makes sense." You validate his thought process in the sweetest voice and he can't help but feel a certain way that leads him to slip his hand into yours. He senses your hesitation and worries he's overstepped a boundary but instantly relaxes when he feels your fingers take their place between his. You're not looking at him, but he can sense you trying to conceal your flustered state by nonchalantly keeping your eyes on the pavement.

He suddenly remembers you've got a class to attend at 3pm and slips his phone out of his back pocket to check the time. "It's half two, we should probably start heading back." He reminds you, not wanting to be the reason you mess up your schedule for the day.   

"Oh shit." Your eyes slightly widen at the realisation. "That was quick." You admit absentmindedly and he laughs softly.   

"Hmmmm what can I say, time flies when you're with me." He says with a suggestive pointed grin.   

"Didn't realise you were this deluded." You scoff, eyes rolling playfully. 

"Hey now." He warns with a nudge against your shoulder and can't hide the amused grin on his face when you giggle. "You had fun, admit it."  

"Mmmmaybe." You say with a cheeky smile, and he feels his pulse increasing. His chest constricts inevitably at how cute and soft you look. Your chin brushing your shoulder as you turn your head to look at him, batting your lashes seductively. He wonders if you know the effect you have on him.   

“You act all brave now, but -” He stops walking, making you halt, and you turn to look at him. “I bet I could easily make you skip class, if I really wanted to.” He says suggestively, a cocky eyebrow raising when he takes in your surprised expression. He pulls you closer, pulling lightly at your hand that's still in his and you stumble, putting a hand on his chest to regain your balance. You look up at him, and he thinks 'there it is', there's that not-so-innocent look from Saturday night. You don't shy away or get flustered this time, you stand your ground, and he suddenly wants to ruin you. But he knows this is not the time and place and he curses internally for choosing to go on a stupid coffee date. He's definitely taking you out somewhere more intimate and romantic next time, like Jeno suggested.   

"And how exactly would you do that?" You ask, testing his resolve, which, apparently, runs very thin when it comes to you.   

He leans down so his lips are by your ear, the hand that's not holding yours, taking purchase on your waist. "I'd show you but you'd probably get all shy on me." He murmurs and relishes in the way your hand tightens its hold on the fabric of his jumper. He feels your breathing quicken and can't help but laugh at your reaction.   

He moves to pull away and the second his eyes land on yours, your hand grabs the back of his neck and your lips crash on his. His breath hitches and his eyes widen at the impact, before he relaxes against you and kisses you back. He relishes in the feel of your soft lips sliding against his, and the warmth your body radiates when he pulls you closer with his arm around your waist and when he feels you sigh, body pliantly slotting into his, he wonders if someone if playing a prank on him, because there’s no way you’re this perfect for him. You wrap both your arms around his neck securely and he moves a hand to your hip, gently squeezing, his fingers dangerously close to your ass. You whimper when his tongue makes contact with your bottom lip and he feels you tilt your head to the side silently asking him to deepen the kiss, but he decides that the next time he has a full on make out session with you is going to be somewhere private. He bites your bottom lip lightly and gives you a quick peck before breaking the kiss completely and you whine at the sudden loss of contact, making him laugh. The hand on your hip sneakily slides itself into your back pocket, giving your bum a playful squeeze, before letting it rest there lazily, simply because he can't help himself. "You're trouble, Y/N." He mumbles against your lips.  

Your eyes open at that, finding his and your hand caresses the back of his neck while you suck your bottom lip into your mouth and his jeans start to feel constricting at the thought of you doing that so you can taste him again, now that he's no longer kissing you. "I'm trouble?" You ask in disbelief.

"You kissed me." He states in an accusatory tone as if he wouldn't have done it himself anyway.  

"I know." You whisper, your eyes dropping to his lips again. "I wanted to." You mumble and your tone makes his brain overflow with thoughts that revolve around you and his bed, because it doesn't matter that it's Monday afternoon and you're walking around the park. In Haechan’s head, nothing matters in this moment other than the fact that he desperately wants you in ways he hasn’t wanted anyone before and that scares him. Not because he doesn’t want to. But simply because he does. Haechan wants to want you.

_ 

"And with five minutes to spare." Haechan says with a proud smile when you reach the entrance of the building your class is in, still hand in hand and you can't help but smile back.   

“You know you're definitely gonna be late, right?” You say in a scolding tone and he scoffs rolling his eyes.  

“And whose fault is that?” He says playfully, pulling you closer.   

“You should've said you were meeting Jaemin at three, how am I supposed to- mmmf.” He interrupts you with a kiss against your lips, cupping your face in his hands. He pulls away quicker than you'd prefer but you still can't help the surprised laugh that escapes you.   

"I know I’ll see you on Thursday, but can I take you out Friday night?" He asks, eyes wide and hopeful and you smile.   

"You can." You say with a dreamy tone, taking in his pretty brown eyes and the way his smile widens when you accept to go on a second date with him.   

"Good." He kisses you chastely again and rubs his nose against yours before dropping a wet smooch on your cheek, laughing at your reaction.  

"Yah!" You complain cringing at the wet sensation against your skin. "Ewww, you slobbered on meeee." You whine, wiping the wetness off your face with the back of your hand, your nose scrunching in fake disgust but your heart flutters at the sound of his laugh. "Fucking weirdo." You huff, torn between laughter and exasperation.  

"Be a good girl and get to class." He turns you around, putting his hands on your shoulders and guiding you towards the entrance of the building, arms hugging you from behind and the butterflies in your stomach go ballistic. "Also, sit with me on Thursday." He whispers in your ear and you shiver at the feeling of his warm breath on your neck. You turn your head sideways to look at his face and you can't stop your lips from curling into a grin.   

"Be a good boy and don't tell me what to do." You whisper against his jaw, where you press a quick kiss that surprises him, his arms loosening around your shoulders in shock and you take the opportunity to turn around and loosely wrap your arms around his waist. You raise on your tippy toes so you can bring your lips to his ear. “I’ll see you soon, Lee Haechan.” You say with a low tone and to anyone else it might seem like you're just hugging, but you can feel his chest moving shallowly against your own when you give him another gentle kiss, on the cheek this time.  

"What the f-" You walk away with a sweet smile, before he can react or finish his sentence and you couldn't be more satisfied with yourself. You know he's still standing there, looking at you while you walk away from him and you smile to yourself.   

When you take your usual seat next to Chenle, in the back of the big lecture hall, he looks at you with a smirk, arms crossed over his chest. "So? How was it?" He asks and a giggle escapes him when you sigh with a dreamy smile on your face. "That good?"   

“You have no idea.” You feel you phone buzz in your pocket and you already have an idea what to expect.   

15:01 Hae☀️: that was fucked up...  

15:01 Hae☀️️: you're in for a treat next time i see you

_

Thursday rolls around slower than normal this week and you know why it feels that way. You can’t wait to see him.   

It’s the first time you’re running late to class though, and you’re cursing yourself for deciding to take a nap earlier. The bus that would have gotten you there on time is long gone, so your only option was to walk and be ten minutes late. You know it’s not the end of the world, students run late all the time, and it’s not like you’re anal about punctuality. It’s just that you hate being the centre of attention.   

And when you walk in the lecture hall, everything pans out exactly how you had predicted; some people turn their heads to look when you enter the hall as quietly as possible and some couldn’t care less. When you skip past your usual row of seats though, taking a seat two rows ahead instead, next to the handsome boy who’s been lately occupying your thoughts nonstop, more people’s eyes drift to your direction and you’re thankful to your professor, who continues speaking, without batting an eyelid at your tardiness.   

“You okay? I texted you.” Haechan leans into whisper in your ear, voice as quiet as possible. An arm extends behind you, resting on the back of your seat casually and you feel the warmth radiating on your shoulder blades, through the material of your top.   

You look at him for a moment before starting to take out your notes and iPad. “I know, I took a nap and overslept.” You whisper back maintaining the decibels of your voice as low as possible and you can tell he’s holding back a laugh.   

You look past him and you see Jaemin and Jeno both looking at you and waving. You mouth ‘hi’ to both of them offering a smile and your eyes land on Haechan again who’s smiling at you like he’s up to something. He relaxes in his seat, comfortably sinking into it while spreading his legs, his knee now touching yours and you know what he’s trying to do.  

You also lean back and relax in your seat, pretending to finally pay attention to whatever example is being demonstrated on the board. Your knee playfully nudges his.

“Stop manspreading.” Your eyes still on the board but your attention on him.   

“I’d say sorry, but it was intentional.” He states and you hold in your exasperation as well as your laugh. Your amused expression falters when he reaches to take your hand in his and rests them on his thigh. He’s too casual for your liking and too soft for your poor heart.   

When he said that you’re in for a treat he really did mean it.  

He walks you home that day.   

-

“What the actual fuck?” Your voice is high-pitched; eyes so wide, they resemble a cartoon’s.   

“What?” He laughs at your comical expression and places the mic down on the table in the centre of the noraebang room.  

“You made me go first so you could embarrass me!” You loudly accuse with your finger pointing at him.   

“You weren’t bad!” He can’t help the laughter that won’t stop. You’re frowning still and you look so adorable and believably annoyed. He knows it’s all pretend though.   

“You were so good though.” Your frown slowly turns into a pout. “And it was all in Japanese.” Your wide eyes looking up at him from when you’re still sat cross legged on the leather sofa seat. He feels weak. You make him feel weak.   

“I took singing lessons when I was younger.” He explains with a smile. “And that’s my favourite song so I’ve had practice.” He approaches slowly and takes a seat next to you, huffing and spreading his legs slightly to get comfortable while his head rests on the back of the sofa. He’s the one looking up at you now. You look so pretty in the purple and blue hues that light up the room. He definitely made the right choice bringing you here after dinner. He wanted to keep your second date PG but the way you’re looking at him right now makes him contemplate.   

“Ah right. He’s an artist.” A teasing smile takes over your face as you hold his gaze. He groans and you giggle when his hands come up to cover his face in embarrassment. He feels you shift next to him and when he looks at you through the gaps of his fingers you’ve turned your body towards him, still crossing your legs. “You have a pretty voice, Lee Haechan.”   

He knows he’s blushing, but he snorts, trying to feign nonchalance. “Thanks.” his hands drop and rest on his thighs.   

“Did you bring me here to show off then?” Your tone still ever so teasing.  

“No, but I was hoping to impress you maybe.” He admits without realising. Your effect on him frustrates him.   

“By serenading me in a language I can’t understand?” Your smile is so sweet, tooth ache inducing. So sweet it’s contagious. You move a little closer and he can smell your sweet perfume. His eyes drop to your exposed neck and then to the collarbones he’s dying to press soft kisses on. “Consider me impressed.” You say and his eyes come back up to your face. You seem to be fighting your smile now and he’s obsessed with the fact that you don’t want to give away how affected you also are by him.   

“What’s your favourite song?” He asks in a low voice, sitting up a bit and extending an arm along the back of the sofa. Your eyes instantly drop there, and your hand comes up to trace a vein absentmindedly. He manages to contain the shiver that creeps up on him, but he can’t control the goosebumps raising on his skin.   

“Japanese Denim by Daniel Caesar.” You respond, copying his low tone. Your eyes not leaving your fingers gingerly trailing up and down his skin. “You know it?” you look at him in question.   

Haechan is thankful he does. “Myyy blueee jeaaansss.” He sings the start of the chorus playfully and you giggle, pushing his shoulder lightly.   

“Okay r&b king.” You joke with a laugh. He pokes your side and you flinch with a half whine half giggle. He can’t help but smile at the sound.   

“I just think his lyrics are like poetry, you know?” You shrug, explaining why you see the appeal. Your hand is now resting in his arm, no longer tracing and he enjoys the weight of it. The warmth. He wants to reach out and touch you too, but he doesn’t move. The moment feels too precious to ruin.   

“They really are.” He agrees with a small nod. He likes to think that maybe he’ll be able to write lyrics like those one day, but he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t want to talk about himself now. He’s too busy admiring you. “You’re so pretty.” He says softly and he doesn’t even register the words leaving his mouth until he gets the cutest reaction from you. You look away, smiling big and your hands come up to press against your cheeks, attempting to cover what he assumes is a blush. A soft chuckle escapes him and he reaches up with both hands to remove yours from your face. “Blush away, no need to hide.” He teases you. He finds that he’s good at it. He wonders if it’s because you generally get flustered so easily or if it’s just the effect he has on you. He hopes it’s the latter.   

When your hands aren’t in the way, he taps a finger under your chin gently encouraging you to turn your head so he can look at you again. He then instinctively moves closer, craving to feel your warmth better and when your eyes find his again, his chest constricts. He sometimes doesn’t understand how it’s possible that he’s come to feel so attached to you in such a short amount of time, how he so easily gravitates towards you. But then you look at him and he understands. You speak and he understands. You laugh and he understands. You touch him and he understands. It almost feels foreign but never unwelcome. Never forced. And that scares him.   

Haechan trails his fingers from your chin down to your collarbone, tracing softly and he slowly moves the fallen strands of hair behind your shoulder. He feels your gasp when he leans forward to leave a kiss on the curve of it. Then a little lower. And a little lower until his nose nuzzles against the dip of your collarbone. Another kiss. And another. This time his tongue makes contact first, tasting the skin, before his lips pucker on the sensitive surface again. Your breathing has turned shallow and he smiles at the sight of your chest moving up and down. Your fingers thread into his hair, slightly pulling and he sighs against your wet skin. You catch him off guard when your other hand pushes him by the shoulder and he’s about to apologise for crossing a line but then you quickly straddle him and his mind goes blank. This is definitely not PG.   

“Someone could see us, you know.” You whisper against his lips and he almost moans. The hand in his hair pulls again and his head drops against the back of the seat pliantly, eyes closing at the feeling of your lips on his jawline. You scatter small kisses until you reach his ear and lightly bite on his lobe, his breathing quickens and the moan he’s been holding in eventually escapes at your next words. “Bet that turns you on though.” His hands instantly come up to hold onto something, anything. One grabs onto your waist, the other lands on your thigh, just below the hem of your skirt. “Talk to me.” You whisper sweetly in his ear before starting to trail kisses down the column of neck. The further down you travel, the wetter they get and he feels himself getting hard, his hips slightly raising to get some friction, but you don’t budge. “Behave.” You laugh against his neck in a hot puff of air and his voice comes out in a soft whine.   

“Baby,” he breathes out weakly and you coo softly against his neck while gingerly sucking on the delicate flesh. He feels you place a hand on his chest, above where his heart is beating uncontrollably and he knows you can feel it too, your thumb stroking soothingly to comfort him. “Wanna kiss you.” He pleads pathetically and he feels like he might come in his pants when you suddenly grind your hips down. His breath catches in his throat and he trails a hand up your back, between your shoulder blades, to wrap around the base of your neck, pressing you down as he thrusts up into you. He smiles stupidly when you bring up your face, unburying from his neck, to look at him with wide eyes. He thinks you might scold him but instead you just wrap a hand around his neck, pressing your fingers against his pulse points in a possessive manner and he groans. His eyes shut at the dizzying sensation and when he feels your lips press on his, he relishes. His head tilts automatically to deepen the kiss and he sighs into your mouth when your tongue finds its way in. It’s intoxicating and he swears he feels high. Your hand around his neck definitely playing a part but it’s mostly your taste and the way you kiss him exactly how he likes to be kissed. Wet and filthy but still slow, sucking on his tongue to tease him. He feels his heartbeat going wild without permission when you grind down again, just the right way, the perfect amount of pressure to drive him insane.  

His hands trail down to messily bunch up the fabric of your corduroy skirt so he can squeeze the flesh of your ass in his palms, fingers digging into the skin. He’s not gentle with you this time but your moans against his lips encourage him not to hold back.

You’re now grinding down with determined force and he moans into your mouth when his fully hard dick slots between your pussy lips, the only thing separating you, his layers and your underwear. He matches your pace, hips coming up when yours drop down and he realises that you’re no longer teasing him. “Think you can cum like this?” You ask against his lips, the scratch in your voice driving him insane, breathing ragged, hips quickening their eager ministrations. He nods, staring into your eyes. “You want to?” You ask again, keeping your eyes on his as your arms wrap around his shoulders to gain more support and he responds with another nod and a shaky breath. His head dips forward, eyes dropping down to where you’re connected and his hand pushes your skirt up even further, to get a better look. He groans at the sight. Your panties almost trapped between your folds, your pussy leaving a trail of wetness on the front of his jeans whenever you drag your body back and he feels himself twitch in his pants. It’s sinful. It’s perfect. You're perfect.  

“Fuck, hang on.” He whispers suddenly, arm wrapping around your middle to halt your movements and he quickly unbuttons his jeans with one hand. His hips raise a little bit as he clumsily pushes the fabric down, leaving his boxers still on. “Okay.” He exhales and his hands find your hips again, guiding you to resume your work. The friction so much better now that he can properly feel your wetness seeping through the cotton and he loves that he can see the way his fat cock drags between your lace clad pussy lips.

Your whining doesn’t go unnoticed, and he looks up at your face only to find you also looking down dazedly. He relishes in the idea that you can get as dirty as he can and he takes in the sight of you now; lips parted, gasping audibly, your nipples hard and visible through your thin blouse and he’s suspecting that you’ve foregone wearing a bra. 

His hands drag upwards, leaving your hips, trusting you to keep grinding down with no guidance and when he squeezes the flesh of your breasts through the fabric, his suspicions are confirmed. You moan when his thumbs rub on your already sensitive nipples, leaning into his touch and he repeats the action, enjoying the desperate little sounds you let out.

“I’m close.” He announces in a gasp, his balls feel heavy and he knows he’s leaking precum, adding to the wet patch you’ve created on the front of his boxers.   

“Yeah?” Your eyes search his, hands cupping his face and kissing him again, soft this time. “You gonna cum for me, pretty boy?” He feels his eyes roll back at your words and all he can do is nod again. He anchors himself by squeezing your ass in his hands again and he loves the whimpers you let out when his hands get a little rougher, making the flesh ripple. He decides to take matters into his own hands when he feels your thighs shaking around his hips, suspecting the soreness in your muscles and his hold on you gives you no option but to quicken the pace

“Fuck, you feel so fuckin good, baby, please don’t stop.” He exasperatedly begs, his breath shaky and he feels like he’s losing it. Pathetic.   

“Yes, god, m’cumming.” His voice comes out ruined, words muffled against your lips, vision blurring and his jaw drops when he reaches his peak, soaking his boxers like a teenage boy. Your hands slide into his hair when he starts shaking and he basks in the comforting touch. His head drops back on the seat again and he feels dizzy, your hips are still moving, dragging out his high and when it gets too much, he gently taps his fingers on your ass cheek, smiling dumbly. “Mmh, just give me a second.” He sighs as you take a seat, directly on his cock, softly cooing at him and kissing his cheek as you push his fringe back, revealing his damp forehead and he purrs at the gentleness.

“Good?” You ask sweetly and he almost scoffs, because there’s no way you don’t know you’ve just ruined him when he’s pathetically drenched his underwear like a horny teenage boy.

“Intense.” He hums and he feels himself shiver when you let out a breathy laugh against his skin, nuzzling into his temple. He slowly turns his head and catches your lips in a slow kiss. “Wanna make you feel good too.” He murmurs against in the kiss and when he notices the conflicted expression on your face, he doubles down. “I’ll be quick.”

“Confident?” You tease with a smile that he can’t help but return. Your teeth sink on your bottom lip when he cups your pussy and he moans at the feeling of soaked lace.   

“Not like I haven’t done it before.” He teases back and he laughs when you swat at his chest. “Please?” He tries again, tone needy this time and he uses his puppy eyes, smiling when he breaks through your resolve. The second you nod, he wraps an arm around you securely and his other hand grabs at the fleshy bit where your ass meets your thigh. “Lie down for me.” He whispers and helps maneuver you onto your back swiftly.

He can’t help but smirk when your legs instinctively part for him to slot in between, and he does exactly that, coming to position himself above you, supporting his weight on one arm by the side of your head. His lips find yours again, in a hungry kiss and this time it’s his tongue that dominates yours, sliding into your mouth, tasting you just like you did to him earlier. He loves the sigh you let out through your nose when his hand slips into your underwear slowly, sliding his middle finger between your folds but what he loves the most is how wet you are.   

“Can I use my mouth?” He questions mid kiss and you must like the sound of that, because he feels you grind against his palm.   

“You can do anything you want, just no sex.” You say shyly. “Not here.”

“Told you, baby,” He gives your lips another peck before kissing down your neck, giving your tit a tentative squeeze as he moves downwards. “Wanna do that in my bed first.” Your moan at the promise brings a smile to his face as his hands slip into the top of your panties and drag them down your legs hastily, feeling the goosebumps on your skin. He stuffs the flimsy material into his back pocket, earning a questioning look from you and he grins. “Don’t worry, you’ll get them back.” He starts kissing from the inside of your knee to your inner thigh, wet and full of tongue.   

“Stop teasing.” You whine, raising your hips impatiently when he reaches closer to where you want him. And he chuckles against your folds, watching as your legs spread even more for him.   

His head rests on your inner thigh, comfortably and he looks up at your face, gauging your reaction. “What do you say?”   

“Please.” You whisper and he feels his dick harden again at your submissive tone.   

“Good girl.” He mutters and his hands slide up your inner thighs, thumbs pulling your pussy lips apart, revealing your cute swollen nub, all pretty and pink and he can see you’re clenching around nothing. Clear pearls of slick drip from the tiny hole that he can’t wait to lap up. 

You’re more than wet enough but Haechan doesn’t think twice before letting a fat glob of spit slowly drip from his mouth and he feels his dick twitch at the sight. You moan when you feel the extra wetness land on your cunt and he does it again, watching his spit drip down to your asshole, making a mess of you. Nothing but sensual. “Yeah? You like it messy?” He breathes out in admiration and he doesn’t even need an answer, he knows you do.

His hand comes up again, fingers spreading the mixed wetness through your folds. His middle and ring fingers create a v shape around your clit, isolating the nub between them and the tip of his tongue comes out to make contact, flicking gently up and down. You both moan in unison, your hands burying in his hair to keep him where you need him and he loves how ruined you already sound, how your legs part completely, how addictive you taste on his tongue. And he loves that he can’t get enough of you.

“Mmh, fuck.” You moan when his arm wraps around your thigh, bringing his hand to separate your folds from the top, palm pressing against your pubic bone, fingers delicately pulling the hood of your clit up, revealing more of the little nub. His flat tongue licks from your hole to your clit and he repeats the action when he feels your fingers pull at his hair harder. The pink muscle then settles back to delivering quick flicks on your nub, the direct contact making you squeal and he smiles at the adorable sound. “Yes, like that.” You encourage him, the praise making his chest swell with pride. His other hand joins and his middle finger teases your leaking entrance, circling before slowly sliding in until it’s fully buried inside, your soaked walls making the glide so easy, that he’s certain one digit won’t be enough.

When his jaw gets tired, he switches to sucking harshly on your clit, making you groan and he slowly starts to move his finger in and out, curling up slightly, following the curve of your pussy. He knows you want more, your hole dripping even more slick around his finger, so he slows down as he adds a second one. You sigh when you feel the extra stretch and he knows he’s got you where he wants you when you start clenching.   

“Fuck, baby, you’re creaming.” He points out in disbelief when he sees the white substance coating his digits every time they pull out of you and you whine in embarrassment. “I swear to god, I’m gonna fuck you stupid one day.” He promises against your cunt and goes back to sucking, more determined this time. His fingers start pumping quicker into you, the squelching sounds nothing but melodic in his ears and your tight walls nothing but heaven around his fingers. Your whines get louder when his speed increases and he knows he’s hitting your sweet spot every time he thrusts in, the pads of his fingers dragging against your walls. “Right there, hm?” His pace quickens even more and he looks up when he feels your eyes on him. You’re on your elbows now, jaw agape, eyes on his lips, watching him ruin you and his tongue comes out to flick quickly from side to side, his head moving with it, making a spectacle without breaking eye contact.   

“I’m gonna cum.” You warn in a whisper, burying a hand in his hair again and your elbows give out, allowing your body to drop back down. He hums against your cunt, letting you know he’s got you and he feels your legs trembling around his head. “Fuck, yes yes yes.” Your voice sounds broken, your walls are kneading his fingers and he has to put extra effort into sliding in and out due to the restricting tightness.

He doesn’t stop though, even when he knows you’re coming down from your high, he keeps pushing your boundaries. He wants more. “Haechan!” You squeal when he suckles on your clit again and he laughs darkly at the cute sound. Your hand tries to push him away, legs attempting to close around his head but he’s not quite done yet, his hold around your thigh tight enough to keep you open for him.   

He pulls his fingers out slowly and you whine. “Sorry, pretty.” He whispers mockingly against your clit before dipping down to lick at your pulsing entrance, smiling at the mewl you let out. He licks from bottom to top again, gently flicking at your clit when he comes up and he knows it’s too much when your body convulses and you sound like you’re crying. You’re not pushing him away though, which gives him hope. He opts to circling instead of flicking, tongue relaxed now; languid and he feels your legs spread again. “Yeah? Want more gentle?” He coos as his eyes look up and he can see your perky tits moving up and down with your breathing. He trails a hand up your body, squeezing greedily around the flesh and he moans at the feeling of your stiff nipple against his palm.   

“I’m too sensitive.” You sigh and bring a hand above his, squeezing around your own tit with him as you raise on your elbows again. 

“You can give me one more, though, right?” His eyes staring into yours, hopeful.   

“I think so.” You nod tiredly, eyebrows furrowing slightly at the overstimulation, breathing coming out harsh. “I’m still turned on.” You admit shyly, biting down on your bottom lip as you push his fringe away from his damp forehead.   

“Such a good girl.” He says dreamily and his tongue gently circles your clit again, wet hand pressing against the back of your thigh to keep you spread out for him.   

Only after you come again on his tongue, does he stop, moving to kiss on your inner thigh, sucking on the supple skin there, leaving a wet patch behind along with a subtle mark. He leans over you again, taking in the sight under him. Your breathing slowing down as you look up at him, your hair fanned around you and your eyes blinking slowly. You look beautifully and utterly fucked out and so angelic. His heart swells when you reach up, pulling him close to you and he gives in right away, dropping down, resting his weight on you carefully. He kisses you slowly, pushing his tongue past your parted lips, moaning with you, knowing you can taste yourself.   

“You’re hard again.” You whisper against his lips and he laughs, because of course he is.   

“You are not making me cum in my pants again.” He scolds and kisses softly on your cheek as you snort a laugh, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, holding him close.   

“Okay, I won’t.” You say with a smile, leaning in to kiss him again. He lets you.   

—

“Do you guys have any, like, weird fetishes?” Jaemin asks randomly, interrupting your conversation with Ningning and almost causing you to choke on a fry.   

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Haechan pipes up next to you, genuine concern laced in his tone, his hand stroking your back whilst you cough.   

“Yeah, changing the subject from ‘I’m broke’, to that, is slightly worrying to say the least.” Ningning agrees but that doesn’t stop her from laughing. “Look, even Jeno is speechless.” She points at Jeno’s shocked expression and he snaps out of it, taking a sip from his coffee.   

“I was just curious.” Jaemin shrugs as he explains. “I’ve been texting this girl and the other night it turned into sexting and she asked me if I’d be down to piss on her?”   

“Oh wow,” Ningning is suddenly interested. “What did you say?” She asks and he eyes widen as she awaits his response. All eyes around the table are on Jaemin now and he’s clearly thrown off, struggling to find the right words.   

“Wellllll-“   

“Oh my god!” Renjun exclaims and covers his mouth with both hands. “Please tell me you didn’t actually do it.”  

“No, of course not.” Jaemin defends himself quickly. “I haven’t even slept with her.” He steals a fry from your plate. “Yet.” He concludes with a smug smile.   

“Okay, but, let’s say you do sleep with her and she asks you to piss on her.” Haechan interferes. “Would you?” He asks with an amused expression and Jaemin seems to be in deep thought.   

“I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed to it but I’m pretty sure I’d get stage fright.” Says casually and stuffs a few more fries in his mouth. “Also, I don’t think I can pee when I’m hard.”   

”Yeah, I was thinking that.” Jeno says with narrowed eyes. “It’s also a bit weird if you don’t know them that well or if it’s just a one-time thing, no?” He looks around, asking everyone.  

“Yeah, true.” Renjun agrees. “Not that I’ve done it before, but, surely you do those kinds of things with someone you’re in a relationship with or at least someone you’ve been seeing and agreed to experiment with.” He looks at Jaemin. “But then again, you’re a different kind of breed.” Everyone laughs at that.   

“That I am my friend.” Jaemin laughs darkly and leans over to kiss Renjun on the cheek. The latter pushes him away by shoving a hand against his face with a disgusted expression and you snort at the scene.   

“The question is, where did you even meet this girl?” You ask with a wiggle of your eyebrows, not because you care, but because you find it amusing when Jaemin gets flustered.   

His eyes meet yours now and he seems taken aback before he puts on his cheeky grin again. “Oh, I have a better question, miss thing.” His voice laced with nothing but mischief and you’re now scared. “Would you let Haechan piss on you if he asked?” There it is.   

“And I ask again.” Haechan saves you momentarily. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” His voice is calm but there’s definitely an edge to it, a warning even. He doesn’t move from his position next to you. An arm lazily resting on the back of your chair, the warmth certainly comforting on your shoulders. You instinctively lean into him, resting a hand on his thigh and his knuckles rub against your arm soothingly. Your eyes meet Ningning’s who’s watching the whole interaction smiling and you try to contain your own smile.   

“What? It’s a good question, no?” Jaemin says with a shrug and you roll your eyes.   

“Jaemin, I don’t know about you, but I don’t really talk about golden showers at least until after the fifth date.” You say sarcastically and Jeno snorts trying to hold in a laugh. “And that’s besides the point. You asked if we have any fetishes so I think we should all share one.”   

Jaemin smirks and points a finger at you playfully. “I knew you could match my freak.” He says, giggling like a schoolgirl and Haechan’s arm around your shoulders tightens, the act unnoticeable to everyone else but not to you. Your fingers resting on his thigh, tense slightly trying to get his attention as you turn to look at his face and you can’t help but notice the frown on his face while he’s looking at Jaemin. He’s jealous and it’s obvious and you can’t help the warm fuzzy feeling spreading in your belly. When he looks down at you, his expression softens and you feel his arm relax around you. You give him a smile, which he instantly returns. You’re definitely bringing this up later.

“Take your freak elsewhere please.” Renjun says with sass, earning a few laughs around the table.   

“Ugh fine, I’ll start.” Ningning says and all eyes snap towards her. “I’m not opposed to some toe sucking. There you go. Thank you. Let’s move on.” Your laugh is loud and you wish Chenle didn’t have basketball training so he could witness this shit show.   

”Alright, I like sucking on toes.” Jeno confesses and you bury your face in your hand leaning into Haechan’s shoulder to conceal your laugh. You feel him chuckle in your hair as he wraps his arm around you properly and you love the heat radiating off him so much that you wish you could stay there for the rest of the day.   

“Next!” Ningning says exasperatedly, sending Jeno daggers across the table. It wasn’t even his turn but you respect his efforts. Not a lot of men have managed to get Ningning this flustered before and it actually makes you wonder if any toe sucking took place that night they supposedly only cuddled. You make a mental note that this might also be worth bringing up earlier.  

It’s Renjun’s turn and he seems to be in deep thought. “I honestly can’t think of anything, I think I’m pretty vanilla.”   

“Surely there’s something, it doesn’t have to be hardcore.” Haechan butts in. 

“I guess choking?” Renjun’s ears have turned red now and you almost feel bad, because out of everyone around this table, he’s the one that deserves to be embarrassed the least.   

“Ooooh erotic asphyxiation!” Jaemin says feigning a seductive tone. “Okay, so, I may or may not like butt stuff.”   

Everyone’s eyes widen at the confession.   

“As in your butt or the other person’s?” Jeno asks curiously. Jaemin only responds by wiggling his eyebrows and Jeno gasps dramatically. 

“As in you’ve had a finger up y-“   

“Moving on!” Jaemin exclaims loudly, interruptinh Ningning. "Your turn, lover boy." He gestures at Haechan to continue as Jeno’s mouth is still open in shock.   

“Hmm.’ Haechan ponders, his fingers tapping on your shoulder absentmindedly as he thinks. For some reason, even though it’s not your turn to answer, you feel exposed, as though all your friends are watching you both, trying to gauge your reaction at his response. You try to maintain as neutral an expression as possible and you hope he says something you might have already guessed by the times you’ve been intimidate with him. “Maybe the risk of getting caught.” He finally admits and you’re definitely not shocked.   

“That’s boring, everyone likes that.” Jaemin complains.  

“Speak for yourself, sicko.” Renjun defends. “Some of us like total privacy.”   

“Aww you really are vanilla.” Ningning pouts cutely and Renjun scoffs.    

“Y/N?” Renjun says to divert the attention from him and you fear your ears might be as red as his now. Everyone is watching you, including Haechan and you’re starting to regret suggesting this in the first place.   

“Just say it, no one is going to judge.” Jeno encourages and you want to bury your face in Haechan’s shoulder again.   

“Maybe Haechan should try and guess.” Renjun suggests and now you feel like you've underestimated him.  

“Oh yes!” Jaemin quickly agrees excitedly, clapping his hands. “Okay, how about he whispers it to you and if he gets it right, he then has to say it out loud.”   

“What if he gets it wrong?” You ask and Haechan scoffs next to you.   

“He seems pretty confident.” Ningning says, pointing at Haechan’s face and when you look up at him, he’s got a cocky smile plastered on his stupidly pretty face.   

“Alright, Haechanie, make us proud.” Jaemin says while holding a hand to his chest and Haechan rolls his eyes at his friend.   

“Okay,” He leans closer, cupping his hand around your ear to conceal his mouth from the group. “Spitting.” He whispers so that only you can hear and you feel lightheaded for a moment. When he retracts, he gently moves your hair behind your ear and when your eyes find his, he smirks. He’s got you all figured out and he knows it. Bastard. “So?” He asks patiently.   

“Correct.” You say in defeat and everyone cheers a little too loudly around the table.

“So, what is it?” Jaemin asks excitedly.

“Can I?” Haechan asks, eyes still on you, ignoring his friend and you appreciate that he prioritises your comfort. You nod with a smile, giving him permission to say it out loud.

“Spitting.” He says again, out loud this time for all your friends to hear.   

“That’s quite vague, no?” Jeno says. “Who’s spitting and where?”   

You turn in his direction, throwing daggers at him, because there’s no way he’s trying to be a brat. “Oh, would you perhaps like a demonstration? I’ll happily spit in your cute little boba tea right now.” Your sweet tone, insincere and Haechan bursts out laughing, head thrown back, pretty neck on display but you push that thought to the back of your mind.

“Relax woman!” Jeno says with his hands raised in surrender. “No saliva in my drink please.” He takes his drink from the table and covers the top with a hand protectively.   

“You can spit in mine.” Jaemin offers with hopeful eyes, holding up his drink in your direction and you groan at his crassness.   

“Dude, you’re sick.” Renjun says with a shake of his head, judging his friend.   

“No, I’m just versatile.” Jaemin defends with a pout. “No one’s spat in my drink before.”   

“That you know of.” Haechan says with a feigned smile, voice laced with mild irritation.

“Right, well, I hate to ruin the fun, but I have class in fifteen minutes.” Ningning gets up, grabbing her bag and drink. “Bye losers.” She says with a sweet smile and starts walking towards the exit of the cafeteria.   

“Wait!” Jeno’s voice is loud. “I’ll walk with you.” He gets up quickly, clumsily gathering his stuff before following after her like a puppy following his owner, without even looking back at the rest of you. You look at them walk away, already discussing something. You think they look cute together and you wonder what you and Haechan look like to other people.   

“Someone’s toes are definitely getting sucked later.” Jaemin says and you can’t help but laugh at his silly joke.   

Haechan turns to you with a sweet smile. “Are you done with classes for the day?” He asks quietly, leaning his body closer to you and you smile at how comfortable he already acts around you, not caring that his friends are still there.   

“Mm-hmm.” You confirm with a nod, sitting up to stretch your limbs and once the stiffness is somewhat relieved, you sink back into your chair, leaning into his warmth as he wraps his arm around your shoulders again, like it belongs there. “You working this evening?”   

“Nah, I only need to go in on Sunday this weekend.” He says happily as his other hand takes hold of yours, resting limply on his lap. “Wanna come over for dinner?” He asks carefully and your eyes fall on Jaemin and Renjun who are deep in conversation about what jobs Jaemin could look for to earn some extra cash. They’re paying no attention to you and Haechan.   

“Dinner?” You ask with a hopeful smile and turn your head to look up at him, his pretty boba eyes already on you and he nods.   

“Yeah, I could make us something, or we could get takeout.” His cheeks are now pink and you feel giddy at his flustered look. He looks so unbelievably cute and you get the urge to give him kiss, but you don’t. Not here.   

“Sure, I’d like that, but-” Then you look at the two boys sat across the table again, posing a silent question.   

“They’re all out tonight, don’t worry.” He reassures you quietly, reading your mind.   

It’s not that you don’t like being around Haechan’s friends, they’re all lovely and have been nothing but nice to you, but you would appreciate some one-on-one time with him. It’s been exactly a week since your second date and even though you’ve seen him around campus since then, it’s always been with his or your friends around. On the other hand, you’re now realising that neither of you have been over at each other’s places and you feel the nerves as well as the excitement brewing in your stomach.   

You’re aware that both you and Haechan are still navigating the nature of your relationship and even though you know that it’s too soon to tell where it’s going, you’re more than happy to see it through with him. 

You’re also aware that so far, you’ve both made very clear that when you’re left alone, it’s almost impossible to keep your hands off each other. And although, the last thing you want is to keep things between you at a superficial level, you can’t help but wonder what sex with him would feel like. And although, you want things to progress naturally, you have a feeling that if you go over for dinner, you might find out.  

“You sure you don’t wanna go out with them?” You ask, checking that he’s not cancelling any important plans for you.   

“I can’t think of anything worse than going to a frat house filled with a bunch of people I barely know, trust me.” He says with a laugh, his thumb stroking the back of your hand gently. “Plus, I feel like I haven’t properly seen you this week.”   

“Missed me?” You tease him, laughing at his reaction. His eyes roll and he tongues his cheek, trying to conceal his smile.   

“Yeah, and what if I did?” He challenges, his eyes widening, his lips forming a cute pout.   

“If you did,” You trail, leaning closer as you lower your voice, squeezing his hand in yours. “Then that’s great. Because the feeling might be mutual.” You reach up with your free hand to pinch one round cheek and before he has time to react, you lean in, dropping a quick kiss on the other one. “I’d love to come over.” You say with a smile and poke the tiny dimple that’s appeared where you’ve just kissed him.   

“Oh great, so you guys are fucking on our couch.” Jaemin ruins yet another moment and Haechan closes his eyes trying to compose himself. A thought pops into your head and you’re already internally laughing at your own joke.   

”Now, why would we do that, when your bed is available tonight?” You say with a toothy grin and you’re sure Renjun’s loud laugh makes some heads turn, Haechan mimics his reaction, head thrown, hands clapping. “Do not test me Na Jaemin, I will break you.” You point a finger at him with a serious look.   

“You two make a great match, it’s actually scary.” He says in what could be described as amazement or fear, gesturing between you and Haechan.  

_

You wake up confused, looking around and seeing you’re not in the familiar space of your apartment and when you inhale deeply you realise you’re safe. Haechan’s familiar scent helps you relax again and when you move to stretch your legs, you feel a comforting weight on your back, stroking slowly. You nuzzle your face into Haechan’s neck, humming in delight as he pulls the fluffy blanket, which you assume he threw over your figures whilst you were asleep, up to your chin.

“Hey, pretty.” He whispers in your ear, not wanting to startle you, his hand now in your hair, gently scratching your scalp and you purr in delight. “We fell asleep.” His tone still low, voice a little groggy, laced with sleep still.   

”Mmm, what time is it?” You mumble sleepily in his neck and he shuffles around, careful not to move you from where you’re lying comfortably on him, grabbing his phone from the coffee table near the couch you’re both currently cocooned in. Your blink your eyes slowly, thankful that the only thing producing light in the living room area, is the tv screen. Shin-chan still playing on the screen from earlier but the volume is lowered. You assume you must’ve fallen asleep mid cuddling, after dinner. You remember telling him about this crime documentary you watched with Ningning a few nights ago and how you couldn’t sleep after. You also remember him saying that you should’ve called him so he could take your mind off it, and you remember wondering if he really meant that or if he was just being nice.   

“It’s almost nine.” He says quietly after unlocking his phone. “We slept for like two hours.” He yawns cutely while checking any missed notifications and you can see from the corner of your eye, he quickly replies to a message from Jeno. “Seems like Jen convinced Ningning to come out.” He announces with a snort and your ears perk at that, your head slightly raising to look at him in question and he shows you the selfie he’s received from a visibly drunk Jeno, who’s got an arm wrapped around your friend’s shoulders, who’s sticking her tongue out, also visibly drunk.   

“Fuck's sake.” Your head drops on his shoulder again, groaning. “She’s gonna be hungover tomorrow.” You whine and Haechan lets out a laugh, holding you tightly against him, his arm wrapping around your middle. Your hand rests on his chest and you close your eyes, allowing the cosiness to engulf you.  

“It’s fine, I’m sure he’ll look after her.” He places his phone back on the coffee table and wraps his other arm around you, squeezing you like a teddy bear, with a sigh. “Bet my left nut, he’s staying at yours again tonight.” He jokes and you snort at his choice of words.   

“Why the left one specifically?”   

“I’m right-handed so I thought I’d keep the right one.”   

“I’m sure you’ll get to keep both anyway; he’s definitely going home with her.” You agree with his point and tap your hand lightly on his chest, while resting your chin on it to look up at his pretty face. His eyes are closed now and he looks so relaxed, you can’t help but wonder if he’s enjoying the cuddling session as much as you are, but you also don’t want to assume he wants you to stay over. “I can go home, if you wanna go to bed. It’s getting late.”   

His eyes open the moment he seems to have registered your words and he looks down at you. “Or you could stay?” He suggests with hopeful eyes, gauging your reaction. “I have a spare toothbrush, and you can wear something of mine.” He can definitely tell you’re contemplating. “No pressure of course, I get if you wanna be in your own bed.” His fingers comb through your hair soothingly and you close your eyes momentarily.  

"Hmm." You ponder with a smile, letting your hand trail up his chest, fingers absentmindedly stroking along his jaw, feeling the scratch of the light stubble adorning his chin and he tilts his head, leaning into the touch. “I'm sure I won't miss my bed that much.”  

_

After you’ve both brushed your teeth and he’s given you a comfortable big t-shirt of his to change into, you’re ready for bed and when you walk into his room, he’s already turned the main light off and left the bedside lamp on.

He’s lying comfortably under the white covers, back against the headboard while he’s lazily scrolling through his phone. You feel giddy at how soft and warm he looks. Just like a teddy bear you wouldn’t be able to sleep without.

You place your clothes on his desk chair and walk over to the side he’s not occupying, noticing your own phone is placed on the bedside table next to him, plugged in and screen down. You smile at the thoughtful gesture and slowly lift the duvet to get under, instinctively shuffling closer to his side of the bed when he stretches his arm out for you and you place your head on his chest, resembling the position you were in earlier on the couch. His bedsheets are cold and you tangle a leg with his, wiggling your toes against his skin to warm them up, making him flinch and you giggle quietly. “Sorry.”   

He places his phone down, next to yours and moves to get comfortable against the pillows while holding onto your shoulders, bringing you down with him. He maneuvers you so you’re both on your sides facing each other and his arm is still slotted under you, between your head and your shoulder, while yours lazily drapes over his waist. He cups your jaw, gently rubbing his thumb against your skin and when he kisses your forehead gingerly, your eyes close momentarily while your arm tightens around his middle, pulling yourself closer so your chest is touching his. It feels domestic and so comfortable, like you’ve shared a bed with him a million times before.

“You comfy?” He whispers and you nod, the tip of your nose rubbing against his in the process. You see the corners of his lips lifting into a smile that probably mirrors yours. “Are you sleepy?” He murmurs against your lips and you smirk, knowing he’s testing the waters now. His fingers are in your hair and his thigh is resting between your legs, so close to your aching centre that you’re worried he can feel you throbbing through your underwear.   

“Not really.” You breathe against his lips, your hand on his back slipping under the hem of his t-shirt and you feel him shiver when you trail your fingers up, your nails lightly scratching, feeling the goosebumps on his warm skin. “You?” Your breath hitches when his thumb traces your bottom lip, dragging it down and your eyes travel to his heart shaped lips. You instantly wish they were on yours, but you want to let him go at his own pace.   

“What do you think?” He asks rhetorically and you breathe out a laugh, biting down on your bottom lip when his thumb moves to stroke the apple of your cheek.   

“I think,” you pause, lightly dragging your nails down his back, earning a whimper from him. “I’m not really thinking actually.” You confess as your hand travels to his front, fiddling with the strings of his shorts, your fingers catching the elastic band of his shorts and letting it snap against his lower abdomen, earning a gasp from him, which hits your eager lips.   

“Dumb already?” He attempts to tease and the smile dies on his lips, jaw dropping when your hand dips into his slacks and past his underwear, to wrap firmly around him. His eyes close when your thumb rubs under the head and you relish in the fact that he’s almost fully hard. He feels velvet smooth against your palm, thick enough to make you think it will probably sting when he enters you for the first time, slightly curved upwards, length perfect for hitting that sweet spot in your walls. You feel yourself getting wet at the thought and your breathing stutters when his thigh makes contact with your pussy, your hips instantly pushing forward, chasing the stimulating feeling. “Mm fu-“   

His lips are finally on yours, interrupting you and you moan against his mouth in relief, kissing him back like you were made for it. You can’t help but think of that night in the noraebang room; how these very lips completely and utterly ruined you for anyone else. How they devoured you like no one else has before and probably like no one ever will.   

Without breaking the kiss, you push him gently and he rolls onto his back dragging you with him so you can straddle him. He buries his fingers into your hair, deepening the kiss, his tongue gliding against yours and you moan at the taste of him; toothpaste and something uniquely him. Your hands take hold of his, dragging them down your figure and you stop to rest them on your ass, smiling in the kiss when he instantly kneads and pulls at the plush skin. You allow him to lick into your mouth one more time, before breaking the kiss to sit up and take in his dazed expression. Eyes hooded, lips wet and swollen and so irresistible, you feel helpless. Before he can complain, you drop your hands to the hem of the shirt that he let you borrow and slowly start dragging it up your skin, until it’s off you and on the floor.   

“Fuck.” He exhales heavily, the second your tits are free and his hand comes up caressing from your hip up to your ribs until he reaches the underside of your boob and he gently cups, feeling the weight of it in his hand. “You’re fucking unreal.” He whispers and licks his lips before sitting up and wrapping his other arm securely around your waist.

His forehead rests against your chest for a moment, inhaling deeply, almost as if he needs a minute to compose himself while still squeezing your boob in his hand and you let him, threading your fingers through his hair to offer some comfort. His warm breath caresses your nipple and your shiver, the skin around the nub pebbling against his palm. You whine at the sensitivity, pulling at his hair to guide him closer to where you want him.

He gets the message and he kisses across your sternum, his tongue coming out to make contact with your skin before it circles around your areola slowly, teasing you. The pads of his fingers digging into the skin of your boob, squeezing as he sucks the nipple into his mouth and he moans when you whine. He starts flicking his tongue, driving you close to insanity and the wetness in your underwear feels almost unbearable now, but you have other priorities.   

“Hae?” You call out into his hair as he’s still sucking and licking and he hums, indicating that he’s listening, as he scatters more kisses across your chest, moving to wrap his lips around your other nipple. “I wanna suck you off.” You say quickly, before allowing the shyness to infiltrate your brain and he instantly releases the nub, with a wet pop, so he can look up at your face with wide eyes. His mouth is ajar and his lips swollen and wet with his spit. He looks fucked out like this, hair messy and you love it, because you’re the sole reason. You cup his face and he absentmindedly squeezes both your tits in his hands, pushing them together, his eyes not leaving yours.   

“Yeah, baby?” He leans up and kisses you softly. “Wanna make me feel good?” He mumbles seductively against your mouth, and you don’t even think before quickly nodding.   

“Mm please.” You say in a whiny voice, playing along with him, as you pull at the fabric of his top and his hands move to pull at the collar, swiftly removing it. Your hands drag down his naked chest, pushing him to lie against the headboard, continuing their journey down his body, until they reach his shorts. You don’t waste any time, pulling his boxers along with them and he spreads his legs when he’s completely naked, for you to kneel in between them. His hand wraps around his hard cock, resting on his tummy and he whimpers at the needed friction while his eyes are on yours.   

“Tongue out, keep your eyes on me.” He says softly and you clench around nothing, your panties a mess by now, you have to refrain from cringing at the feeling. You instantly obey, leaning closer and sticking your tongue out, millimetres away from where he wants it. He gently taps the head against the centre of your awaiting wet muscle and you moan, fighting to keep your eyes on his, the act feeling intensely intimate. “Suck, baby.” He says, his voice still gentle but more authoritative than before. You wrap your lips around the head and suck softly, tasting his precum and you can’t help but let your eyes close at the taste and weight of him in your mouth. You pull back slightly, swirling your tongue around him and flicking at the underside, causing him to grunt. “Fuck, pretty girl, you’re so good to me, aren’t you.” He says, with a shaky voice in his state of vulnerability, and you moan at the praise as you slap his hand away, replacing it with your own, wrapping your smaller fingers around his thick length and he lets you. You start to move your hand up and down, pumping him at a quick pace while sucking around the tip again, tongue dipping gently in his slit and when his hips buck up, wanting you to take him deeper, you place a hand on his hip as a warning and he grunts. "Fuck baby, please."   

You gather a good amount of saliva in your mouth and when you look up to make sure he's watching you, you let it drip down slowly, watching as it coats his cock and travels down to his balls. You smile when his eyes roll back and you lick from base to top teasingly, surprising him when you take him as deep as you can, with your hand wrapped tightly around the base.

You moan when he reaches the back of your throat, swallowing around him with purpose and you pull back up when you start to gag. Your hand follows your mouth as you slowly start to move your head up and down, trying to give him as much pleasure as you can and you know you're doing a good job when his hands curl in your hair, gathering the strands into a messy ponytail and his moans turn into whines. This time, when his hips start moving, you allow him to fuck up into you, having gotten used to the feeling of him in your throat.

You slacken your jaw, moving your hand from the base to his thigh, and he moans louder when you allow him to go deeper than before. You feel your eyes water and you know you're slobbering around him, making a complete mess as saliva drips from the corners of your mouth, gathering at the base of his cock and balls. Your hand comes up to cup them, rolling gently and he abruptly pulls your mouth off him with a loud groan.

You look at the thick string of spit mixed with precum that’s connecting your lips to his tip, as you gasp for air and then your teary eyes travel up to meet his wild ones. He looks conflicted and his grip on your hair feels tight. "What's wrong?" You ask, your voice comes out hoarse and you feel like coughing to clear your throat, but you just swallow carefully.  

He manages to laugh breathlessly at your confused expression, his breathing shallow and his lips bright pink from all the biting. "I was about to cum." He explains and grabs you by the arms to pull you up.   

"Ain't that the point?" You say as you straddle him again and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, some of the drool smearing on your chin and you internally cringe at the wetness, but his eyes on your mouth tell you he thinks otherwise.   

"Not if you want me to fuck you, no." Your heart jumps at his words and the look on your face must betray you, because he’s smirking. "Unless you don't." He teases, caressing your thighs as you place both hands on his naked chest, your pinky rubbing against his nipple and you giggle when he shudders.   

"No, I do." You confess as you lean down to kiss him but he quickly sits up, meeting you halfway as he wraps his arms around you, maneuvering you onto your back swiftly and you feel yourself bounce on the mattress when he plops you down. He kneels between your legs and without warning, he starts pulling your panties off you. You eagerly raise your hips to help him, bringing your bent legs together, so the fabric doesn't stretch.   

Once the lace is somewhere on the floor, you see his lips curling into a smile as he bites on the bottom one when you mindlessly spread your legs for him again, inviting him to settle between them. He moves closer, dragging his knees on the mattress as his hands take purchase on your hips.   

"Scoot up a bit for me?" He asks sweetly and he helps you move up the bed, so your head rests comfortably on the fluffy pillows, and you feel the butterflies in your stomach causing havoc with no permission, your heart thudding like crazy as your eyes find his and fuck holding back now. You just want him to ruin you.   

You pull at his silver chain, your other hand grabbing the back of his neck and he grunts the second your lips crash, all tongue and teeth with no coordination. You tilt your head to the side to get better access and the wet sound of kissing fills the room. Your clit is throbbing and you desperately need him to do something. Anything. "Please, I'm so wet." You whine against his lips and he moans at your neediness, grinding into your centre. His cock sliding between your folds, the head bumping into your neglected clit and your hips raise searching for more friction.

He leans back on his heels and hunches over you, one hand splayed on your tummy, the other wrapping around his dick as he taps the head against your clit and your legs spread completely, giving him full access as you squeeze around your own tits, needing to hold onto something. Your eyes roll back when he starts firmly rubbing the swollen nub, flicking from side to side and you feel like you're  about to combust, your back arching off the bed as you moan loudly.   

You open your eyes the second the friction comes to a halt, and the complaint dies in your mouth when you're met with the sinful sight of him coating two of his fingers in spit before they disappear between your legs and into your needy hole. "Shit, baby." He says in awe when they easily slide into you and your jaw drops at the fullness, your eyes threatening to shut from the pleasure, but you refuse to stop looking at him. His arm muscles are flexing when he starts fucking you open, instantly finding that sensitive spot that drives you insane, his other hand still, possessively pressing down on your lower abdomen to hold you in place, his hair matted on his damp forehead, his eyes focused on your dripping centre, bottom lip trapped between his teeth in concentration. He looks so hot, you could come just from looking at him and when his thumb comes into the equation, rubbing merciless circles around your clit, you feel yourself getting tighter.   

“You gonna cum?” He asks in a whisper, his eyes meeting yours momentarily and you nod quickly, eyebrows creasing at the intense pressure in your belly.   

"Uh-huh, don’t stop." You respond in a high pitched plea and his pace quickens, creating the filthiest squelching noises around his hand and your eyes close, half in ecstasy half in embarrassment. "Oh my god." Your fingers knead your tits harder when you're on the edge and a moan from him is what topples you over. "Fuck, I'm cumming." Your pussy feels like it's on fire as your walls spasm, your clit throbs like it's about to fall off and your legs can't stop shaking. His fingers are pistoning into you so hard and fast, that it feels like it slightly hurts but it feels so good at the same time. Too good. You sense that you're on the verge of peeing and your voice comes out in a broken squeal. "Shit, ah, stop stop stop!" Your hand grabs his wrist in a desperate state and he looks up at your face with widened eyes, like he's come out of a trance. He stops his ministrations but keeps his fingers buried inside you.   

"Fuck, baby, I'm sorry." The hand on your stomach, moving to your ribs, caressing gently. "Did I hurt you? You- shit, I thought you were gonna squirt for a second so I kept going, I'm really sorry." His pupils are shaking as he explains quickly, taking in your sweaty, disheveled form and you feel so exposed that you make grabby hands at him, wanting him close. He instantly moves, supporting his weight on one arm, careful not to crash you and you sigh when you feel his chest flush against yours, warm and damp.   

"It didn't hurt." You assure him, cupping his cheeks in your hands and he closes his eyes, sighing in relief. "I just felt like I was gonna pee." You confess bashfully and he chuckles, burying his face in your neck, inhaling deeply as you run your fingers through his hair. "I've never squirted before, so I freaked out a bit." You explain quietly. "Plus, I don't wanna ruin your bed sheets before we even get to the sex part."   

He snorts and raises his head to look at you again. "Pretty sure they're already ruined." He says giving you a kiss on the cheek and you move to playfully push him off you, but a gasp escapes you when you feel his fingers slightly move, reminding you they're still buried inside your sensitive walls. "Unclench a little, you're squeezing." He whispers and when he kisses you, you slowly relax your walls around his digits, allowing him to carefully pull out and you whine at the loss, making him smile in the kiss. His hand cups your sensitive core, making you mewl at the comforting warmth. "You sure you still wanna keep going? We don't have to if you're feeling sore."  

"I'm fine." You wrap your legs around his waist, holding him close. “Want you.” You whisper, hands sliding up his chest, coming up to bury in his hair again, as you bring his lips down to yours, urging him to kiss you stupid. And he does. 

It’s slow, steady, passionate and you feel like mush in his arms, numb to the core, your lips moving in sync with his, taking what he’s giving you. You inhale and exhale heavily through your nose, refusing to break the kiss and you moan when he obscenely shoves his tongue into your mouth, licking messily and the conversation from earlier enters your mind suddenly. “Mm- I want mmf-” He interrupts you with another messy kiss before pulling away, allowing you to speak.  

“You want what?” He asks quietly, lips still grazing yours as he catches his breath. Your eyes are on his glistening mouth, and he must sense your hesitation, because he presses again, hand caressing up and down your thigh in encouragement. “Tell me, baby, I’ll give you anything you want.”   

“Remember what we talked about earlier?” You try, too embarrassed to actually say the words.  

“Earlier?” His eyebrows furrow in thought, not catching on straight away.  

“At the café.” You whisper, your eyes drop to his mouth again, slightly hinting and when they find his again, you know he’s caught on.   

“You- fuck.” He falters when your hips raise, the tip of his cock catching at your entrance momentarily before sliding between your folds. “You want me to spit in your mouth?” He asks carefully, after having somewhat collected himself, both arms coming up, trapping your head between them as he rests his weight on them. You nod, holding eye contact, hands traveling down his abdomen, fingers tracing his sides before trailing up his spine, bracing once having reached his shoulders, palms resting on the blades. “You fucking minx.” His hand cups your chin, fingers lightly squishing your cheeks, forcing your lips to pucker as he leans in to press a chaste kiss on them. 

His index taps against your cheek gently, as his hold on your face loosens. “Open up.” He instructs, his voice low, eyes darkening and you feel your cunt fluttering around nothing. “Tongue out.” His fingers lightly shake your face from side to side possessively and your brain stops functioning, tongue sticking out as if on demand and you whine when you watch him gather saliva in his mouth, cheeks hollowing a little, before slowly letting it dribble down your awaiting muscle. Your eyes rolls back when you feel it and your fingernails instinctively dig into his shoulders. “Swallow.” He instructs again, and you obey with a desperate moan, revelling in his dominant demeanour. His hand wraps around your throat, feeling the movement and he kisses you again, grunting against your lips, as you struggle to keep up with him, mouth widening to take his tongue in and you feel the wetness smearing on your chin messily.   

You realise no one has ever kissed you like Haechan, and you wonder if he’s always kissing his sexual partners like this. Has anyone else experienced this level of intimacy with him before? You instantly feel the jealousy brewing at the thought of someone receiving this kind of affection; this kind of pleasure from him and you surprise yourself, never having felt this possessive over someone before. Something switches in you.

“Fuck me.” You breathlessly mumble, not recognising your own voice and he moans in your mouth as your hand reaches down, wrapping around his cock, smearing the shiny drops of precum adorning his tip. His hips thrust forward into your touch and you pump him steadily a couple more times, offering some sort of relief.   

He pulls away slightly, to look at you. “Let me grab a condom.” He says quickly before grabbing your ankles, unwrapping them from his waist.   

“Right, yes.” You nod dumbly, feeling a little silly for having lost all sensibility because of him.   

You watch him as he reaches blindly in the bedside table drawer; his eyebrows furrowing in concentration and his face lights up the second he finds one. You watch him as he sits back on his heels, ripping the foil with his teeth. You watch him as he rolls the latex carefully onto his hard cock, teeth sinking in his bottom lip as he pumps himself a few times, ensuring the condom is on properly, chest moving as he breathes heavily. You watch him as he moves closer, coating two fingers in saliva, before bringing them down to your slit again, rubbing up and down slowly before dipping them in and quickly pumping into you to prep you, even if you really don’t need it. You let him though, because you want to keep watching him for a little longer. 

He looks ethereal, skin glistening in a sheen layer of sweat, his shoulders wide, his chest and arm muscles lean, bicep flexing subtly as he expertly slides his fingers in and out, scissoring them to stretch you for him. He looks like the epitome of sex and you can’t even bring yourself to moan as his palm rubs against your sensitive clit, your jaw dropping with a quiet, trembling breath when he starts jabbing at your already abused g-spot and your hands release the sheets in favour of holding your legs open, when they threaten to close.

“Think I’m gonna cum again.” You mumble in awe, eyes staying on him still.   

“You think?” He asks, voice laced with sarcasm, pace quickening, urging you to unravel around his fingers for the second time tonight. “Go on, baby.” His free hand, presses against the back of your thigh, pushing your leg close to your chest, testing your flexibility and the second his eyes meet yours, you cum. Hard. “Yeah, good girl.” He praises softly and you let out a whine, allowing your eyes to finally shut, not being able to handle his intense stare, your back arching as your fingers dig into the backs of your thighs, legs uncontrollably shaking, walls clenching repeatedly around his hand, clit pulsing against the heel of his palm as he helps you ride out your orgasm.   

He starts kissing up your trembling body, lips wet, tongue lapping up your sweaty skin and he doesn’t even give you the chance to catch your breath when he harshly sucks your nipple in his warm mouth as his fingers leave your heat to wrap around his hard cock, rubbing the head up and down your soaked cunt. Your hands come up to grab onto his hair, as you attempt to anchor yourself and you can’t help but moan loudly when he pushes in. And even though it’s only the tip, it’s enough to drive you close to insanity.   

“Fuck!” You exclaim, forcing his head up so you can kiss him as he slowly bottoms out, distracting yourself from the stinging sensation.   

You both moan when his pelvis meets yours, his pubic bone flush against your hypersensitive clit as he gives you a second to adjust. He slowly pulls out to the tip and thrusts back in, maintaining a slow, careful pace to make sure you’re feeling comfortable.

“Relax for me.” He exhales a shaky laugh against your lips and you squeeze even harder to tease him. “Fuck! Baby, what the f- don’t.” He warns with a grunt as he wraps an authoritative hand around your neck and draws his hips back a little, before slamming in with force, not a second later. 

The loud noise that escapes your throat resembles a scream and your eyes roll back when he starts fucking into you hard and fast, wet slapping sounds echoing and you don’t even feel embarrassed at hearing how wet you are, the intense pleasure taking over your senses, completely clouding any coherent thought.

“Not so bratty now, are we?” He grunts against your jaw as the hand around your neck tightens slightly, causing your ears to start ringing and your eyes to water. He releases you just when you start feeling dizzy, allowing you to catch your breath. He lets out a dark laugh at your loud gasps and buries his hand in your hair instead, pulling at the roots, so your head lolls back on the pillows, giving him access to your neck. 

“So fucking wet, fffuck, so good.” He slurs between sloppy kisses against your sensitive skin as his hips slow down, fucking you nice and deep at a lazy pace, torturing you. “You take me so well, baby.” His crude words causing you to clench around him as his tongue laps from the base of your neck, up to your ear, flicking the lobe playfully.

“Look.” He whispers, moist breath tickling your ear as the hand fisting you hair, forces your head forward and off the pillow, making you look down between your bodies and you obediently open you eyes. You take in the unholy visual of his cock slowly dragging out to the tip, coated in your shiny slick essence, a white ring forming at the base and your eyes threaten to roll back when he so easily slides back in, at the same torturous pace. “See how perfect you are?”

Your nails drag down his back, leaving scratch marks behind and he hums against your neck when they dig into the flesh of his ass. “Faster, please.” You breathe out and he loosens his hold, allowing your head to tip back down, his eyes finding yours as he maintains the slow pace. 

"You sure, baby?" His tone mocking as he sits back up on his knees, looking down at your messy cunt practically sucking him back in every time he slowly pulls out. You reel at the sight of his feral expression, his eyes unfocused as they trail up and down your naked body, like he can’t decide what to focus on. You feel exposed to the core but your arousal wins and you moan loudly, back arching when his thumb slowly circles around your clit twice, stimulating the stiff nub. 

"Hae, please." You're on the verge of tears and he must like the sound of your begging, because he doesn’t hesitate this time.

He leans down again, bringing his lips to yours, thrusts increasing in pace and force significantly but never losing preciseness, giving you exactly what you want. “Yeah, you want it hard? Fuckin take it.” He grunts, kisses turning sloppy, all tongue and teeth and you can’t stop moaning, mouth hanging open against his as he relentlessly slams his hips against yours.

“Yes, oh my god.” You exhale against his mouth, as he changes the angle slightly and starts fucking directly into your g-spot, barely pulling out before thrusting back in, his balls slapping against your ass and you’re pretty sure you’ve never been fucked this good before. “Fuck, Haechan, baby, please please please, don’t stop.” You blabber, completely lost in mind-numbing bliss, your legs spreading as far as they can go, allowing him to thrust as deep as he pleases. 

“Fuck, Y/N, I need you to cum.” He whispers, tone laced with urgency, almost sounding like he’s in pain and he wastes no time; a hand slotting between your bodies, resuming the stimulation on your clit, as he supports his weight on one arm, thrusts unfaltering, unforgiving and just perfect. His fingers start rubbing rough, tight circles around the nub and your toes curl against his sides, arms securely wrapping around his shoulders, as your walls squeeze around him, indicating another orgasm approaching, and when his fingers along with the head of his cock rub against the right spot, you’re gone.

Your moan comes out broken, walls clamping down on him, legs pathetically attempting to close around him but failing as your thighs shake violently and you feel dizzy, a tear rolling down your temple from the intensity of your high.   

He keeps fucking you into the mattress, thrusts turning a little sloppy now that you're squeezing around him, hips losing their steady rhythm and when the pleasure borders overstimulation, causing you to mewl, he abruptly pulls out, kneeling between your legs and over your spent body. He pulls the condom off quickly with trembling fingers and he moans as he starts jerking himself off, aiming for your abdomen as his free hand curls around your ribs, holding you exactly where he wants you.  

“You look so good.” You exhale in awe as you observe him in the midst of his pleasure, his eyes shut, head thrown back, his pretty neck on display as he moans loudly and his hooded eyes find yours again for a second before they roll back into his head. 

“Shit, gonna cum.” He shakily announces, your praise seeming to have worked wonders, as you feel the first spurts of hot liquid landing on your skin. You take in the beautiful sight of his shaking form, chest and neck flushed, drenched in sweat, eyebrows creasing in between, eyes still shut, jaw slack as he releases short breaths.

He’s milking himself when you look down and you can’t help but ogle at the sight of your skin covered in the sticky white mess he’s created, illuminated by the bedside lamp. You notice some of it has landed on your tits, some on your tummy and you’re pretty sure some of it is pooling in the dip of your belly button, causing you to bite back a smile. 

“Fuck.” He breathes in relief as his eyes slowly open to look at you and he looks dazed, fucked out. His tan skin flushed, making him look delicious. Sweat drips down his temple, hands shaking as they rest on your thighs limply. “I think I blacked out for a second there.” He mutters in awe and you giggle at his crazy eyes, while he tries to regulate his breathing.

His cheeky smile has returned, and he leans in, taking a closer look at his work. “Damn, I did a number on you.” He teases, eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in the sinful sight. “Pretty.” He whispers and takes your limp hand in his, lips kissing gently on the back of it, eyes looking up at you innocently, like he didn’t just fuck you stupid.   

When he drops your hand, he leans down with no warning and you panic at his mischievous expression, as his head disappears between your legs.

“What are you doing?” You ask in confusion and he chuckles softly.   

“Shhh.” He breathes against your folds as his hands hold your legs open and the second his tongue swipes against your heat, you squirm, trying to move further up the bed, but he tightens his arms around your thighs, holding you still. “Relax, just take it.” He whispers calmly before gently sucking on your clit. His tongue slides down to lap at your entrance, slightly dipping in, tasting you directly, before flattening and licking up to the bundle of nerves, making you mewl when he swirls around it languidly. He keeps going, alternating between sucking, licking and gently circling until your legs are shaking again. Your hands release the sheets, moving to desperately hold onto his hair, fingers pulling, not knowing whether to push him away or pull him closer and his moan vibrates against your clit, pushing you over the edge once more. You cry out pathetically, not able to form any words, cumming uncontrollably on his tongue as he refuses to let up until your whole body shakes from overstimulation.  

“Please, I- I can’t- can't cum again.” You stumble over your words, as he licks against your entrance, slurping up your juices, the sounds incriminating and you don’t even have the energy to push him away anymore. You just accept that if he tries to make you come again, you’ll probably pass out. To your relief, he thankfully stops once he’s cleaned you up with his tongue.

You blink up at him when you feel his weight on you, his skin feels hot on yours, his cum smearing between you, and he doesn’t seem have a care in the world. The only thing he does seem to care about is shoving his tongue in your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself, kissing you like he owns you and at this point, he might as well spell out his name on your body with his cum, because he has completely and utterly destroyed you and you know you’re irrevocably ruined for anyone else.   

“So good for me, baby girl.” He mutters wetly, mouth open against yours, breathing heavy. “So fucking sweet.” He whispers almost inaudibly and you cup his chin in your hand, squishing his cheeks between your fingers, pecking him on his puckered lips.   

“You’re fucking insane, Lee Haechan.” You weakly chuckle as he tries to kiss you again, his whine childish as your firm hold on his face prevents him from doing so. “Get off me, before I piss myself in your bed, you freak. You’re pressing against my bladder.”  

_

After having gently cleaned you up with a warm hand towel and carried you to the bathroom so you can sort yourself out, he’s got you back in his bed, safely cocooned in his arms and under the covers. His front is comfortably pressed against your back and you’re basking in the warmth and the nakedness.   

“Now I’m definitely sleepy.” You mumble with a content smile and he quietly chuckles in your hair, tightening his arms around you, holding you as close as possible, sighing in delight.  

“Mm same.” He mumbles sleepily against your neck. “You comfortable like this?” He checks, and you feel giddy at his attentiveness.   

“Mm-hmm, more than.” You nuzzle back into him, lazily stroking your fingers up and down the arm that’s wrapped around your middle, his palm casually cupping your boob; not squeezing, just gently holding. You feel him smile as he presses a sweet kiss on your shoulder.

A few moments of comfortable silence pass, and just when you think his breathing has started to slow down, he quietly speaks again.  

“Y/N?” He asks tentatively and his serious tone worries you.   

“Yeah?” You attempt to turn your head to look at him, but his tight embrace holds you in place and you presume he needs to not be looking at you when he says his next words.   

“I think-” He pauses, collecting his thoughts and you have a feeling you know what he’s trying to get at, so you give him time, hand still gently stroking his arm. “Are we on the same page here?”  

“Well,” You sigh, feigning uncertainty and the tensing in his arm almost makes you regret dragging this. “That depends Lee Haechan.” The teasing smile evident in your voice. “What page are you on?”  

© neogotmycookie 2025

[sluttyten]

You In My Arms

full masterlist || haechan masterlist

summary: Haechan doesn’t mind being a background character in someone else’s love story as long as he gets a front row seat to the love scenes. She wants to be the star of her own love story, even if that means that she has to put herself out in the limelight. They’ve been friends since the start of their time at university, and she’s been in love with him since then, but can the love lines of an angel and a pervert ever intersect? (Told in alternating POVs, Haechan’s and Y/N)

tags: slowburn, friends to lovers, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation (public & in private), threesome?, general perversion, smut

💙 Chapter 1: The Tourist

Haechan experiences an awakening, a realization: he likes to watch

💗 Chapter 2: In the Dark

You experience an awakening as well: you would like to be watched

💙 Chapter 3: Temptation

haechan knows that watching is wrong, but he can’t help it when he just stumbles upon it happening right in front of his eyes. and it happens a lot.

💗 Chapter 4: Promises

your time at university is coming to an end, but Haechan isn’t going anywhere, and neither is your long-standing crush on him

💙 Chapter 5: Risk and Reward

Haechan sees lots of things he’s not meant to see, but finally he sees something that has been right in front of him all this time

💗 Chapter 6: Truths Tonight

for so long you and Haechan have each held onto your secrets – your crush, your exhibitionism, his voyeuristic habits – but the time finally comes to bring it all out into the open

💗 Chapter 7: An Eye For An Eye

now that the truth is out in the open, you find it harder than ever to keep yourself from wanting Haechan constantly. But at least now you know that he wants you just as much.

💙 Chapter 8: All I Want

the first date with the girl who reigns in his dreams these days, and Haechan makes a big realization (and a few smaller ones)

💗 Chapter 9: The Moment

the moment finally comes when all the build-up of tension between you and Haechan is released

💗 Chapter 10: I’m Yours

during those first few months of your relationship, you and Haechan explore each other and adventure into new areas with each other. not without some bumps along the way.

💙 Chapter 11: Always, Yours

some things are hard to find the words for, and endings are always the worst. but this isn’t an ending, not really, not for Haechan. He used to be the background character in the love stories of other people, but now it’s definitely his turn to write his own happy ending. 

[lonelyharmonies]

all is fair in love and war

when you meet a guy once and forget his name, the last thing you expect is meeting him again on your new job.

pairing: haechan x fem reader genre: fluff; college!au; (sort of)  coworkers! warnings: suggestive; cursing; and i think that’s it. word count: ~19k a/n.: another repost <3 i love this one very much

"How's the job search?" your roommate asks while putting her earrings on.

Another week of failed attempts of looking for an internship, you think. Maybe you weren’t in your right mind when you decided to quit your job of 2 years at the campu’s café, but it was time for you to start looking for jobs related to your field of study. You want to become a journalist, you need real experience! Did you quit after impulsively screaming at your annoying boss because you were fed up with his rudeness? Yes, but you were unhappy and senior year is getting closer by the minute, you have no time to waste. At first, your parents and friends supported you, but after almost two months of unemployment, you were starting to question your own decision.

"Nothing yet." you mumble, playing a game on your phone.

"Have you thought about what Renjun said?" she turns her head to look at you expectantly. 

"We've already discussed this," you sigh and she turns her head back to the mirror in front of her. "If it was only for the money, I could just go back to 7Dream,” you stubbornly answer.

“And you think they’ll take you back?” your roommate raises an eyebrow at you “I know it’s not the best choice, but listen to Renjun this time. At least it would be something.”

Huang Renjun, your roommate’s boyfriend, is a fairly rich art major and, in your eyes, a very sophisticated person. At least one of the most sophisticated people you know. The only one, actually. But as he comes from such an influential family, you thought he would be able to find you a job at a good newspaper or a famous magazine. You had to ask him for a job recommendation because, hell, if you’re friends with a nepo baby, take advantage of them.

Needless to say you were not expecting to be offered a part-time position at a beaten-up theme park in the city. You obviously declined, being too stubborn to go from one underpaid job that made you miserable to another.

You did accept, however, the invitation to his friend's birthday party. Free food, free alcohol and some socializing, you couldn’t say no to that. That’s how you end up in an overcrowded apartment in the downtown area of the city to celebrate the birthday of Renjun’s friend that you have never seen before.

As soon as you got there, you were introduced to the birthday boy, Lee Jeno, before being ditched by your roommate and her boyfriend. Deciding that it was too awkward to just stand in the kitchen by yourself, you are left with no choice but to choose your drink: cheap vodka with cranberry juice or cheap canned beer? Hard choice.

Your eyes were scanning the alcoholic drinks shoved in the kitchen sink when you felt someone standing right next to you. You cursed silently, too tired to deal with drunk men flirting tonight. You decided to grab a beer and get out of the kitchen as fast as possible, when the person next to you spoke.

"These ones in the sink are always hotter than the ones in the fridge no matter how much ice they put in there," you turn your head to meet the person next to you, beer in your left hand. "If I were you, I wouldn't grab the drinks from there."

"So I should just stay thirsty?" you ask ironically, raising an eyebrow.

"No, you should grab a drink from the fridge," the brown haired boy smirks and goes straight to the kitchen's fridge.

He grabbed an expensive Japanese beer from inside and placed it on the counter between the both of you. Your eyebrow is raised and the boy still has a smirk on his lips. He motions his head towards the bottle, silently telling you to take it.

"How do I know you didn't spike this drink?"

"How do you know the one you just grabbed isn't spiked?" he challenges you, tilting his head to the side. 

"Isn't it a little impolite of you to just open someone's fridge? Especially to grab an expensive drink to give to a stranger?" The beer is long forgotten when you cross your arms and see the boy moving one step closer to you.

"If the stranger is cute it’s fine," he shrugs and you raise an eyebrow, clearly not falling for his attempts at flirting. "Plus, I bought these,” he points at the bottle he put on the counter “And the birthday boy is my best friend and roommate."

Oh, boy, he was bold and you didn’t even need to wonder why: if you looked that hot only in a pair of jeans and a simple Adidas shirt, you would be brazen too. 

"Hm, I believe you," you puckered your lips and looked around the kitchen as if uninterested.

"I'm serious, we've known each other since we were little, I’ve seen Jeno butt naked thousands of times," he blurted out and you stifled your laugh. 

"That's…" you can't really find the words to answer whatever that information meant. “I…I have no words.”

"What? We barely talked and I'm already leaving you speechless?" he got one step closer and you had resist the urge to move away. "Damn, I didn't know I was this good."

"You think you're smooth, but you were just spilling nonsense," you uncrossed your arms and moved to hold the cold bottle of beer he got for you.

"And yet you're still here listening," he moved one step closer, and this time you could even see the small moles spread across his face and neck. 

"I find you really, really annoying," the smile on your face contrasted with the words leaving your lips. 

"I get that a lot." He chuckled and you moved a little bit closer and felt him holding his breath.

"Yeah. We need to do something to shut your mouth for a bit, don’t we?" you were looking straight at his lips and he didn't waste much time, kissing you right after. 

You find yourself in a very complicated situation the following day when the alcohol wears off of your system and it seems like you remember every little detail of that party, except the name of the boy who kissed you all night long.

You don’t really have much time to dwell on the boy’s name because you find yourself getting more desperate thanks to your financial situation, so all Renjun had to do was mention the job one more time.

“The Lee family is very influential in the entertainment business, you know? I’m sure they will transform that place in no time.” He said one night.

“I bet,” you answered uninterested, eating the soup your roommate had made you. 

“It’s a way of having some income while looking for internships,” he reasoned “you can always quit when you find something better.”

“Okay, you’re right,” you sigh defeated “What number should I call?”

Fast forward to three months later: you are working in the job you’ve sworn you wouldn’t take.

That’s the story of how you became a ride operator at Sunny’s Funfair Park and Recreation  last April. It is a very big name for a park that small, though, you have to admit. The Funfair is just as nonsensical as the name, but it’s not the most unpleasant workplace. Plus, you found out it’s a very traditional theme park in the area, the neighbors say it has been around since the 70s (considering how old everything looks, you don’t doubt it). It is like the city’s Disneyland, just dirtier. And smaller. And uglier. And unsafer. But it’s just like the city’s Disneyland. I mean, there’s even a mascot: the brown bear named Sunny who seemed to be fairly popular among children.

"How do these kids seem to like Sunny so much? He’s creepy,” you think out loud chewing the jelly Jisung just gave you.

“He’s like our Mickey Mouse,” Jisung turns his head to look at the bear as well.

“But Mickey is not that creepy.”

“Have you seen him in the 50’s? Girl…”

"Who are you talking about?" Yuta, one of the managers, creeps behind you and your friend.

"Hyung, that’s not cool!” Jisung jumps as he gets startled by Yuta’s sudden presence and you can’t help smiling at how much of a scaredy-cat he is.

“Mickey Mouse” you say, stealing another Jelly from Jisung. “Who do you think is creepier, Mickey or Sunny?” 

In the beginning you were still very reluctant to accept that it was a good idea to take up Renjun’s offer (and your only choice). But the thing is that you need the money and the job is so much easier than working at the café, considering the Funfair is slow basically every single day. So, you adapted to the Funfair in no time and, slowly, started to see how fun it can be to work in a place like that. You have to admit that the job in itself is usually boring, but the people here are the highlight of it all. 

“Sunny’s not that creepy,” Jisung says, making you scoff.

“No, it’s just an old ass costume of an ugly bear wearing a blue overall. Why do kids like it?” You say looking at the semicircle of children cornering the bear near the merry-go-round.

“Who’s Mickey Mouse, though?” Yuta asks you and Jisung.

“Are you kidding me? The Disney rat, hyung,” Jisung looks mildly offended at Yuta’s question.

“He’s not a rat, he’s a mouse. It’s literally his name,” you say, faking interest just to steal one more jelly from Jisung’s bag of candy.

“Never heard of this Mickey guy,” Yuta says with a poker face and you snicker. 

"You don't know… Mickey Mouse?" You think Jisung’s face is priceless. Oh, the ever so sweet and gullible Park Jisung.

"Where is he from?'' he asks again, leaving Jisung even more confused.

“Hm… Hollywood? I don’t know where he’s from,” Jisung fishes for his phone and you are sure he is about to google ‘where is mickey mouse from’. 

“Oh, I’m from Osaka. That’s probably why we never met.” Yuta finishes talking and walks away, leaving a bewildered Jisung behind.

“I don’t know what to do with this information,” you start feeling bad for him, the boy just looks utterly confused. “He’s joking right? They do have Mickey Mouse in Japan, right?” 

“Yes, Jisung he is joking,” you pat his shoulder, but he seems hesitant. “He’s messing with you because you're literally the only one that still believes in any absurdity that comes out of Yuta’s mouth.” 

“It makes me kinda relieved, I'm not gonna lie,” he sighs and you just chuckle. Why are your coworkers so dramatic? “I mean, it’s Mickey Mouse. Everybody likes Mickey Mouse."

“I don’t know about that…” your eyes go back to the weird bear as he starts moving around, now having Taeyong as a bodyguard to protect him from the kids jumping at him. "Wait, I think this is the first time I see someone actually dressing up as Sunny. Is it a new thing now?”

"I don't know, it's my first time seeing it too," Jisung frowns "Should I ask Mina?" you shrug. It didn't really matter, it's just that, working in such an uneventful workplace, anything could be something.

"I think you should start running if you don't want Doyoung beating your ass up," you say leaning on the railing of the bumper cars. 

Jisung turns to look at his back and sees an angry Doyoung coming for him. "Shit."

"PARK JISUNG, DON'T EVEN TRY TO RUN." 

"Serves you right for purposely shutting down the merry-go-round." 

"If you had to stay there, you would understand the stress I go through," he says, handing you his bag of candy and running away from Doyoung.

So much for an uneventful workplace.

After you started working at the theme park, you had less time for parties and pubs and even dates. It was hard to fit in any social interaction in your now tight schedule: your shifts were usually 4 to 10 p.m on weekdays and 6 to 12 a.m on weekends. You never had time to go out to drink with your friends, unless they agreed to go clubbing on Monday. Damn, you didn’t want to go to a club on Monday, you had morning classes.

Juggling your job, your degree and your social life was not easy, and you started realizing that you couldn’t catch up with some of your friends and, eventually, they just stopped inviting you to hang out. Inevitably, you have to start hanging out with your coworkers and that leads you to Jisung’s dorm, a round of cheap beer, spicy snacks and a game of truth or dare in the crack of dawn on a Saturday. You, Jisung, Chenle, Yeri and Mina were all sitting in a circle looking at the bottle that was about to stop. 

Bottom asks, top answers.

“Truth or dare, Mina?” Chenle asks mischievously and she whines. 

“I don’t want Chenle!!! Please, someone else ask me” 

“He got the bottom of the bottle, though,” Jisung smiles apologetically. 

“Okay, truth.”

“Is it true that in middle school you had a crush on Jis-”

“DARE!!!! I WANT DARE!” she stands up on her knees, profusely shaking her arms so Chenle would stop talking.

Funfair might not be too amusing for the customers, but the whole workplace drama is absolutely entertaining to you. Yeri’s family owns the property where the theme park is located, so she (forcefully) works there to help her cousin Taeyong run the place (though she rarely does any actual work). There is an ongoing rumor that, since last year, she was in a love triangle with Taeyong’s accountant, Suh Johnny, and a mysterious guy named Lee. No one knows exactly who the Lee guy is and what happened between them. Chenle says he’s not brave enough to ask, but he thinks “Lee” is the last name of the guy, which also makes it weird because it could be another one of Taeyong’s relatives.

Taeyong is the sweet boss in charge of all of us, including the managers Yuta and Doyoung, although there has always been a suspicion that the latter is his (boy)friend.

Chenle, Jisung and Mina are freshmen that have been friends since elementary school and decided to work together at Funfair because it was their go-to spot to skip classes ever since they were little. You’re sure they chose the park, though, because they wouldn't be allowed to work together in any other environment, they are all just a bunch of kids. Chenle is that outgoing and kind person yet a menace, especially when it comes to Mina, Jisung and their painfully obvious crush on each other. 

After some hair pulling (Mina got really angry after Chenle tried to make her confess to Jisung) and the last rounds of truth or dare, everyone starts to get sleepy. 

“Alright, guys, I think it’s time to go home…” you stand up, but Mina holds your arm to stop you.

“Wait, before we all go, did you guys know about the new part-timer that got hired?” Chenle perks up and Jisung lifts his body from where is laying on the ground to look at Mina.

“What guy?”

“Another part-timer? I thought Taeyong was on a budget considering how slow the business has been since… forever,” you say truthfully and Chenle’s eyes widen .

“Do you think the Funfair is some sort of money laundering scheme?” 

“I don’t think Taeyong would be driving that old ass car if he had a choice,” Jisung says, and you gasp.

“That’s mean, he’s always giving you rides!”

“What are you guys talking about?” Yeri asks, coming back from the bathroom “New part-timer? Oh, you’re talking about Donghyuck.”

You frown, feeling that you know that name, and yet can’t give a face to that name. Do you know anyone named Donghyuck?

“Do you know him?!” Mina exclaims a little too excited for Jisung’s liking, who scoffs.

“Yeah, I asked Taeyong if we could hire him,” she says sheepishly and you and Chenle exchange confused looks “What about him, though?”

“I was just curious,” Mina answers. “I saw this cute boy two days ago near the breakroom and he said ‘hi, I’m the new guy Donghyuck’ and then, never again.” 

“Why are you so curious? Do you wanna see him that bad?” Jisung asks, clearly bothered and the three of you roll your eyes at the sight of a blushing Mina.

“It’s not like that…” she scratches her head “It’s just that I never saw him again. Where is he even working?”

“I think Taeyong put him in the ticket booth or something,” Yeri brushes the girl’s concern off and just grabs her bag.

“No way, I was in the popcorn stall near the entrance today and I haven’t seen him at all,” Mina affirms with wide eyes.

Yeri, tired of all of you and the workplace gossip, just brushes it off by shrugging and wishing everybody a goodnight before leaving Jisung’s dorm.

"What do you guys think of Sunny?" you suddenly ask and your friends make a confused face. "Sunny, the bear, guys."

"Creepy" Chenle says without second thoughts

"Not you again with the mascot rivalry. Be proud of our Mickey," Jisung points at you, making you roll your eyes.

"It's weird looking, but it's a very fun mascot," Mina says, drinking the remaining soju in Jisung's bottle.

"Not like that, guys." You apologize, starting to feel drowsy. "I should've worded it better."

"Are you already drunk?" Chenle scoffs and Mina motions to kick his legs.

"I meant,” you say louder, glaring at Chenle. “What if the new guy is Sunny?" 

"It's plausible considering Mina hasn’t seen him again. Or any of us, really."

"Bear or not, I think he's Yeri's boyfriend." Jisung says as a matter of factly.

"His name is not Lee, though." Mina points out. "Plus, I'm team Johnny."

"You're all so nosy," you make a judging face at them, but giggle right after "I like it."

The four of you there stay there in Jisung's dorm for a couple more hours, conspiring about who was the new part-timer, what he was doing there and creating what had the potential to be the new hot gossip of Sunny's Funfair.

"I can't believe you're here again," you roll your eyes when you see Jisung standing next to the control panel for the bumper cars. 

"Change places with me one day, that's all I ask!" he pleads and you turn away to pay attention to the cars that had just started to move around. 

"Go to work, Jisung. I don't know why Taeyong hasn't fired you yet." 

"Because he knows I'm a valuable addition to the team.” He fights back, making you scoff.

"Nah, it's probably because he has noticed that the high school girls keep coming back to flirt with you." You glare at him when you see him blushing. “Stop with this act, we all know you love it because it makes Mina jealous.”

“What’s with you today, woman?” he raises his hand defensively “I’m just keeping you company.”

“You should be at the merry-go-around. Working.”

“That’s why I always go to Mina,” he complains. “She always talks to me.”

“It’s because she doesn’t like working either,” you say harshly.

It’s Sunday and the park is fairly busier than usual, you think. Not enough to make children line up on the bumper cars, but busy enough to keep running it every three minutes. Suddenly, a stereotypical carnival music starts playing, startling both you and Jisung, who never really noticed there were speakers spread throughout the park. Then, you see Sunny happily walking around greeting small children and their parents. 

“What the fuck is this?” you spit out and look at Jisung who has the same dumbfounded expression as you.

“Our Mickey Mouse is here,” Jisung laughs and you keep staring at the scene in front of you.

“I swear to god if they put this song in a loop I’ll k-”

“Where’s Mickey?” a little girl wearing a Disney t-shirt smiles at the both of you. “I like Mickey Mouse!"

“If you like Mickey so much, where is he from?” Jisung asks and you roll your eyes, going back to the control panel to see how much longer until this round is up.

“Well, I don’t know…” her smile falters and Jisung holds a finger up in the air while saying.

“Well, you can only ride the bumper cars if you know where Mickey Mouse is from-”

“But… I…” you see the girl’s eyes watering and you punch Jisung’s arm 

“No, you don’t,” you say, giving him the stink eye. “But you do need to be old enough to ride it by yourself. How old are you?

“I just turned eight,” she smiles confidently with both hands on her hips.

“Sorry, sweetie, if you are under 12 you need adult supervision,” she deflates so fast that you almost feel bad for her. 

“Can’t he go with me?” she points at Jisung and you scoff.

“He can barely supervise himself,” you smile at her. “Plus, there is no one else to ride the bumper cars, you would be all alone.”

The little girl tries to persuade you to let her go but you can’t. You could bend the rules a little and supervise her in the car, letting Jisung in the control panel, but you didn’t trust Jisung that much. Plus it wasn’t worth it getting in trouble because of a cute little girl. Eventually, you convince her to go talk to the creepy bear, saying he was friends with Mickey Mouse, and she runs to where he is standing.

“By the way, Mickey Mouse is from Mouseton in Calisota,” Jisung says looking at his phone and you groan.

After months working in the same place, with the same people, you are bound to get into a routine. Yours consisted of arriving at the Funfair around 3:50 pm, going to the break room, filling your water bottle, putting your backpack in locker 606 and putting your lunch box with some packed dinner in the fridge. 

Any minor change in this calculated routine could mean something big.

That’s why you are surprised to arrive one day and see a black insulated lunch bag inside the fridge. You were used to see Mina’s green tupperware, Chenle’s half-eaten subway and Yuta’s energy drinks inside the fridge. You were not used to see an insulated lunch bag inside the fridge. You brushed it off as someone changing habits and bringing healthier food to work. It could even be Taeyong packing food for him and Doyoung. 

You should have taken that more seriously, though, because the second change in your routine was much bigger and much more inconvenient than the lunch bag. 

The next day, the lunch bag disappeared, but now, there was a backpack in your locker. It wasn’t that the locker is specifically yours per se, but there is a silent agreement of which locker belongs to whom. There are 9 lockers in total, Jisung and Mina’s are 607 and 604, the top left one and the one right under it. Chenle takes 608 and Yeri takes the one next to yours, 605. The only available lockers, then, are the 609, top one on the right, and the 3 lockers at the bottom, that are rarely used. 606 is an unavailable locker and yet, one day you get there, slightly late, and you see it occupied by a backpack that’s not yours — and locked. 

Differently from the lunch box, the locker issue does not go away. In fact, no matter how early you get there, every other day there is a black backpack locked inside the 606. You aren't tall enough to reach 609, forcing you to use one of the lockers at the bottom. Everytime you try to crouch down to get something from your bag, you curse at the person who’s using your locker.

The last change to the quiet routine you led at Funfair was Sunny, the bear. In three months working there, last week was the first time you started to actually see it walking around. Of course, during your training, Taeyong made sure to give you a very detailed explanation of the origins of Sunny and even let you see the bear costume. Seeing someone wearing it, though, was something completely different. Considering the near-bankrupt financial situation Funfair has been suffering for a while, it is normal that the park is understaffed (and not a real problem because there aren’t many customers, anyways). But, with some many improvements to be done, why did Taeyong decide to hire someone to give life to that creepy looking bear? No one besides Taeyong seemed to care about Sunny’s presence, why is it around now?

You are too focused on your own thoughts to pay attention to Mina and Jisung entering the breakroom. They seem excited about something and trying to speak at the same time.

“Shut up, Jisung, I will tell everybody!” she squeals and Jisung mumbles something along the line ‘I barely breathed’. “Where’s Chenle? I have bombastic news.”

“He texted the group chat saying he will be late,” you answer unamused.

“Girl, cheer up, I have hot gossip.” You hum, more interested in your sandwich than the gossip. 

“We saw the new guy enter Yeri’s car yesterday after work.” Jisung blurts out and Mina slaps his shoulder. “What? Someone can appear in the breakroom any minute.”

“We already know she knows him. Taeyong hired him because of her, remember?” You bite your sandwich and see Jisung deflates, agreeing that it wasn’t the big deal he was thinking.

“Well, she didn’t say that his last name was Lee,” she whispers the last word, making you and Jisung snap your heads to her direction.

“You didn’t tell me-”

“Doyoung told Yuta who told me that the name of the guy is Lee Donghyuck and he works part-time here every other day. That’s why we don’t see him that much.”she says, pulling a chair for Jisung to sit on.

“Do you think he is the Lee in the love triangle?” Jisung whispers, fishing for his phone. “Oh, Chenle’s gonna love this.”

“Have you guys seen this Donghyuck in the breakroom, yet?” you ask, looking at the lockers. “Or coming to work, at least?”

“Nope.”

“Do you think he is the one using my locker?” They look at you confused. “I usually see it locked with a black backpack inside.”

“Well, he works every other day,” Mina starts “I don’t think it’s him, you’re here everyday.”

“Who would do that, though? The managers use Taeyong’s office. I’m sure it’s him. I don’t like him.”

“You don’t even know him,” Jisung reasons, making you glare at him.

“He stole my locker!” you fight back making them shake their heads at you.

Two whole weeks have passed and everybody but you have met the locker thief. It's not that you are obsessed with knowing who the hell this Lee Donghyuck is, especially not after Mina tells you in secret that he is very funny and very hot (and begged you not to tell Jisung that). You are curious to meet the one who is behind the creepy bear that makes children laugh and forces all of you to listen to circus music (Taeyong said it is a new tactic so people can associate the song to Sunny and they will know when he is around. You don’t care, you just hate both the bear and the song).

It is on a Friday evening that you understand why people say “curiosity killed the cat”. You are sent to help Mina in the food stalls because Jisung, being the annoying brat he is, ended up breaking the merry-go-round thanks to his habit of shutting it off to avoid the children. When one of the rides breaks down, it means sending someone to help with the food stalls, but Taeyong knew that between sending Jisung or a lamppost to work with Mina, the lamppost would be more useful. That’s why Jisung is at the bumper cars right now and you are stuck in the food stall, with your hair and clothes smelling like butter and old popcorn. 

"Hey, what's broken today?" she asks, leaning her arms on the counter and bending her body forward.

"The merry-go-round," you roll your eyes. "I bet it's Jisung’s fault for shutting it down on purpose at least three times per shift to avoid the little children."

“I thought they would send you to the haunted house to give Doyoung a break, though.” She hands you wet wipes so you can help her clean the counter.

“Nah, Doyoung has too much fun scaring away the horny teenangers trying to have sex and use drugs in there.”

"Aw, at least you're here with me today!" she smiles and you give her an unamused smile.  "I'll be nice, I know you hate the smell, so I’ll stay here and you can do the stocking tonight!"

Your problem is being a little naive around your friends. Sure, the popcorn smell was bad, but you didn't know that stocking the stalls would mean walking around, back and forth, carrying paper bags, corn bags, cans of soda and even organizing the pantry's shelves. You also didn’t know the stockroom is basically all the way across the park.

"Who knew we sold that much soda here." You murmur after your 5th trip to the pantry to restock soda.

"It's not that we sell a lot, it's just that this mini fridge is too small."

"Yeah, I noticed," you narrow your eyes at your friend who just laughs and talks to a new customer.

After a couple of hours, things start to get slower at the stall, so you have time to organize and store everything in their right place. You were definitely not used to this kind of job, just staying behind the scenes, not dealing with annoying adults and small children, but you seem to enjoy it. You pull out your phone and plug your earphones to listen to some music to pass time. The stockroom was a container that stayed behind the ferris wheel and the walls of the park didn’t allow people to see it.

The songs coming from your headphones distract you so much that you don't notice someone hiding behind the open door of the container. They opened from outside, so they blocked the view of who was behind it, but the lights from the ferris wheel allowed you to see a weirdly shaped shadow. You get closer and jump at the sight of the Sunny, the bear too close to your face.

"What the fuck?" you hear him say and you get so startled that you end up pushing it, almost making it fall on the ground.

"I should be the one saying that, dude," you answer, holding the stack of popcorn bags close to you. "What are you doing here?”

"Hiding," you can faintly hear the person's voice through the gigantic head of the costume.

"What?" 

"I'm hiding from the kids," the bear points to your left, the direction of the park. "There is a little kid today that is just obsessed with kicking my ankle."

You laugh at that and go back inside the stockroom to put the popcorn bags in their place. The bear stays outside and you wonder if this is your chance of finally seeing the mysterious not-so-new guy that has been the hot topic for a while.

"Hey," you lean on the door's frame, calling the bear's attention to you "How long have you been working here?"

"Since the 90's, or something like the story Taeyong told me." you laugh at that, hearing the bear chuckle as well. "I started some weeks ago. Why?"

"I was just wondering, because I’m seeing Sunny around too often," you shrug. "You’re the new guy Donghyuck, right?"

"You have a lot of questions, I see," you hear the teasing tone and just roll your eyes. “Flirty, much? Can’t resist the bear’s charm?”

"I hope you can't see shit with this big ass head in this terrible lighting, and end up falling."

"HEY! I was just kidding, don't be mean," he moves a little bit closer to you. 

“You are very good at being vague and changing the topic, mister Sunny, the bear.”

“What can I say, I like being mysterious,” with the silence between both of you, you can hear Taeyong cursing, which is very unusual of him. "Shit, I think I hear Taeyong." 

"Are you afraid of getting fired?"

"No, I'm afraid he's gonna make me work," he answers and you can't help but laugh, calling Taeyong's attention to you and the bear.

Ever since that shift, you started getting somewhat closer to Sunny, who you are sure is the Lee Donghyuck, even though he didn’t confirm it. You still haven't got the chance to see him without the costume and your interactions are always short, but there is something so familiar about him… 

It is also very fun to see Sunny interacting with the staff. Sometimes, he walks past the food stall and shakes Mina's hand, or hi-five Chenle when he passes by the spinning cups. But your favorite thing is when he stays next to the merry-go-around, right across the bumper cars, and throws flying kisses in your direction. It feels like Donghyuck is showing a little bit of his personality through Sunny and you have to admit that the guy is pretty nice to be around. And just like that, what was once a very creepy looking bear that you avoided at all costs, becomes a very creepy looking bear that you expect to see during your shifts. 

Today, Donghyuck decided to walk past the bumper cars and make a “call me” sign, right after sending you hearts and dancing with little kids. You try not to pay much attention to him, but it’s cute how he never forgets to interact with everybody around him and doesn’t leave until he makes his coworkers smile at least for a few seconds.

There is a particular child giving him a hard time, though. You see the little boy, probably ten, trying to take the bear's head at all costs. It tried climbing on Donghyuck, pulled his arms and even kicked his ankle once. There was usually someone to keep him company to avoid annoying kids like those. Where is Taeyong? 

"Hey," you see a girl getting out of the bumper cars all by herself. "You, pigtail." The girl seems tall and strong enough to win a fight, you think . "I'll give you five bucks if you push that boy over there."

"Make it ten and I'll pull his hair too," she opens her hands, motioning you to give her money.

Eventually, Taeyong ends up putting you in trash duty for three days after finding out that you "incited" a fight in a family friendly environment, even though you will deny it forever. You don't mind it too much, because it allows you to walk around the park and talk to everybody, and whenever Sunny is around, you can get a little bit closer while he sends you flying kisses. 

You don't know why, but having that huge weird-looking bear around has definitely made working here better.

"Well, I have some news," Taeyong says, calling everyone's attention. "We will be shutting down the haunted house, the merry-go-round and the spinning cup."

You shouldn’t be surprised, really. Although you were all expecting that summer break would be a game changer for the business, only a miracle could save the Funfair. To be fair, Taeyong had managed to improve a couple of things here and there: he repainted the front of the park, fixed the broken trash cans and even hired Renjun to make a nice mural at the front (which was really nice for marketing, because teenagers love to take pictures there). There was a general feeling that the business was changing and the summer was a breath of fresh air to everybody, but the summer break wasn’t as miraculous as your hopeful and young minds thought.

"Why the spinning cups? They were fine though," Chenle pouts and Taeyong just shakes his head. 

"I know you like it there, Lele, but a third of the cups aren't spinning properly and there are just so many vomits I can clean up in a day," he sighs and you feel the tense atmosphere in the air. 

“We should have shut down the haunted house a long time ago, in my opinion,” Yeri says, eating a lollipop. “I don’t know how Doyoung endured horny teenangers trying to have sex in there for so long.”

“It was nice staying inside to scare them away,” he shrugged.

“I bet the merry-go-round is Jisung’s fault though,” you say, provoking Jisung, who sticks his tongue out.

“Actually, the engine is heating up so, if anything, Jisung shutting it off every now and then actually helped.” Yuta says besides Taeyong, leaning on the lockers.

“Okay, let’s stop,” he says, visibly stressed. “This is a report, it’s not open for comments, everyone.”

“But, I have ques-”

“Shut up.”

"I know you are all wondering what's going to happen, but don't worry, we got this!” Taeyong starts speaking again, expecting us to be silent. “I have reorganized everybody’s positions: Jisung will take the bumper cars. Y/N and Chenle can decide who will take the ferris wheel and the roller coaster, I just can’t have Jisung on neither because I don’t trust him with the safety procedures. No offense, Jisung." 

“None taken, hyung,” he says, eating a lollipop.

“We don’t have experience in those rides, it was usually the more experienced staff who took care of it,” you raise your hand, worried.

“It’s okay, we’ll train you.”

“What about Doyoung hyung and Yuta hyung?” Chenle asks worriedly.

“Kids, don’t worry about anything else, alright?” Taeyong smiles reassuringly, ending the meeting and sending everybody home. 

A week after the sudden change of positions, everything was running smoothly. Doyoung and Yuta helped you and Chenle and for the first three days, teaching you how to control the rides and slowly letting you do it by yourselves. Despite everything looking almost the same as usual, you couldn’t shake the weird feeling out of your chest. Why did Taeyong suddenly shut down part of the park? It’s not as if there is much of it left anyways. He didn't say much about Yuta and Doyoung after they stopped training us. Did they get fired? You haven’t seen Sunny in a while. Did Taeyong fire Donghyuck too? Will you be next?

The prospect of getting fired makes you realize you haven't really worried about looking for a good internship in a while. You can’t really blame yourself for getting tired of it after the countless no’s. And, honestly, you were comfortable working for Taeyong. Sure, the pay wasn’t great, but the job isn’t demanding and your boss is not pressuring you to do anything more than come to work, press a few buttons, make sure no one gets into an accident, and go home. But your parents had already started to worry about your career, thinking your job at the theme park wasn’t as temporary as they thought it would be. You think it’s time for you to start worrying about it too, so you decide that as soon as the summer break is over, you must find somewhere else to work. 

Even though you know you need to find another job, a tiny little part of your heart hurts at the thought of leaving everyone behind. Would you be able to find such nice and welcoming people anywhere else? You realize your mind has wandered for too long when you see brown paws shaking in front of your face. 

"A penny for your thoughts?" you hear Donghyuck’s voice and smile.

"Sunny does not use human language to communicate. Taeyong will get angry at you," you cross your arms and lean on the railing behind you.

"It's not like there's a lot of people around anyways. The only kid is you" he stands next to you, just looking at the empty park. You slap his arm and he chuckles. "It's almost closing time, I don't know why I'm still wearing this."

"You get more breaks than we do, work for once, please," you joke and hear his sweet laugh muffled by the costume.

"Try walking around with this gigantic stinky head to see if you wouldn't need a break every 30 minutes too." You smile and make your way to the control cabin when you take a look at the time. 

“Time to turn off the lights and go home,” you say, pressing a few buttons on the panel.

“I didn’t know they changed your position,” you hear the boy speaking loudly so you can hear him from the cabin. "I found out the hard way.”

“And what is the hard way?” you scream back, starting to get out of the cabin and heading to the stairs. 

“I can’t really see from afar with this mask on, you know…” He sighs and you frown at him. “Yeri told me today I had spent the past week sending flying kisses to Jisung and not you.” 

You cackle with laughter from the sudden confession. Now it makes sense why you have spent the entire week without seeing a sign of him. You just thought Sunny was one of the things Taeyong was slowly getting rid of.

"You must be completely blind with this head on," you say, walking down the steps and being face to face with the bear. "Can you even see anything now with the lights off?"

"I can figure it out."

You extend your arm, offering it. "C'mon, I'll lead the way."

“The ferris wheel is very far from the breakroom, you know. That’s why I never come here,” he says, locking arms with you.

“Yeah, I know. On the weekend I always have to run if I don’t wanna miss the last bus.”

“Will I have to keep walking all the way down the ferris wheel to see you?”

“Yes,” you laugh wholeheartedly as he groans. You start walking, your arms linked together, and your curiosity perks up. "I have a question," you hear some humming and decide to keep going. "Why have I never seen you, Donghyuck?" 

"It’s because I’m not Donghyuck, I’m Sunny, silly!” you scoff and listen to his cheeky laugh.

"You are a little frustrating, you know that? I like it better when you can't speak." you huff, but keep walking towards the exit of the park. "Should I wait for you outside the bathroom to know who you are?"

"Don't be a creep,” he teases, and you slap his arm covered by the costume.

"I just think it’s unfair how you know who I am and I only know your name because Mina loves gossiping around,” you pout and feel a pet in your head.

"You really have no idea who I am?” he scoffs, sounding disappointed and you get confused. “Yeah, didn’t think you would remember me.”

“What are you talking about?” you frown and he just shrugs it off. “Am I supposed to know you?”

“I don’t know, are you?” 

“Stop it!” you say, slightly frustrated. 

“Okay, okay," you hear him chuckling. "I think our schedules are just incompatible.”

“I think you are just ugly and are embarrassed,” you tease and you hear him gasp. 

“Holy shit, you’re mean,” he pretends to be offended as you laugh. “But, wait, have you been thinking about me and what I look like?”

You can’t see his face, but the smugness you hear in his voice is enough to annoy you (and make you blush, because… yes, you have.)

“If you don’t stop with the nonsense I’ll leave you to walk alone in the dark,” you warn him, passing by the merry-go-round, reaching the middle of the park.

“I think you are the one who doesn’t want to be alone, honey,” he teases you again, and you motion to unlink your arms but he immediately apologizes. “No, no, sorry, sorry. I’ll shut up.”

You keep walking in a comfortable silence until you decide to speak again “Do you think we’re getting fired?”

“Why do you think that?”

“It’s just…” you sigh and Donghyuck starts to slow down your pace. “I mean, we know this business is not flourishing, but I can’t lie, I thought summer break would help. Now with Taeyong shutting down part of the park, summer break is almost over, I don’t know…”

“I think you shouldn’t worry too much about that,” he says sincerely and you scoff.

“Yeah, sure,” you keep silent for a little while, but Donghyuck feels you still have some things to get off your chest. “If I get fired before getting an internship I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ve already disappointed my parents so many times, and I’m so frustrated with myself. I.. Should I even keep trying to become a journalist? I think I should just ask Renjun to set me up with some rich dude. I don’t think he would, though, He was the one that found me this job when his parents are filthy rich and know basically every businessman in the city.”

“Renjun’s parents are not that rich, they just know a lot of people,” he adds, making you sigh again.

“I wish I knew a lot of people. Actually, I wish I knew the right people. I wouldn’t be here struggling to find an internship if I did.”

“Well, I think you shouldn’t worry too much about this.”

“Yeah, easier said than done. I have been trying to get an internship for, what, six months? I must be really bad because I didn’t even get a single interview.”

“I think you shouldn’t worry too much because what is supposed to happen, will happen.” He turns his head to you and tilts it to the right. “Maybe, you won’t find the perfect job you’re looking for right now, but there will be some other opportunities that might help you achieve your goal. Have you ever watched Monsters University?”

“Oh, you are not about to give me advice based on a Pixar movie,” you chuckle and Donghyuck gets defensive.

“Well, if you haven’t seen it yet, you should, because you’re being very Mike Wazowski right now,” you laugh at his comparison, promising him you would see the movie as soon as you got home. 

Even after the heartfelt conversation, you haven’t met Donghyuck as himself yet. You don’t know if your schedules really didn’t align or if he was actively avoiding you after you just spilled your worries out of nowhere. You don’t think it was a reasonable option considering he would still go out of his way to greet you at the ferris wheel, even if it meant cutting his break 5 minutes because it took him longer to get to the breakroom.

But you can’t help but feel weird when you hear Yeri and Mina casually talking about Donghyuck's opinion on the drama they are watching together. How did they even get that close? I mean, there was still the theory that he was Yeri’s boyfriend so you guess that made sense, but why wouldn’t he talk to you about the drama too? You could start watching it. Even Chenle seemed to socialize more with Donghyuck outside work than you, as he constantly mentions how they meet up sometime to go to a cybercafe to play games. Why are you the only one that has short interactions with him dressed up as the fucking creepy bear? Plus, there is the constant feeling of familiarity when you’re around him, but you can’t remember from where you might know each other. It was all driving you really, really mad. 

“Why are you frowning?” Doyoung asks as you’re sitting down in Taeyong's office, waiting for him.

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Your face looks like a raisin.”

“Don’t call me raisin!” You raise your voice, getting angrier by the minute. “Do you know Donghyuck?” 

Doyoung seems startled by your sudden change of subject. “Of course I do, he works here.”

“Have you met him outside work? Like, in normal clothes, not in a bear costume.” 

“Obviously, he’s Jeno’s childhood friend,” he says matter-of-factly. Jeno? You know that name… “Why are you being so-”

“Wait, Jeno? Lee Jeno? As in Huang Renjun’s friend?”

“I don’t know any Huang Renjun, but, yeah, Lee Jeno, he’s like a brother-”

“HOLY SHIT,” you gasp and cover your mouth. “Shit, what the fuck, this is not real.”

“I know you’re off the clock, but it’s sorta rude to curse like that.”

“Doyoung, I know Donghyuck,” you ignore him, standing up and holding his arms with pleading eyes. “I know who Donghyuck is.

“Considering you have been working together for a month or so, that’s… great?” He says cautiously.

“Tell Taeyong I’ll talk to him tomorrow, I have to make a phone call,” You say, grabbing your backpack and bolting out of the room. 

As soon as Doyoung mentioned Jeno, everything clicked together.

You remembered the night at the party, when you met that cute guy and you just decided to kiss all night long, chat about the most random things while you get drunk on the expensive Japanese beer he said he bought, but you find out later that it was Jeno’s. You remember talking about your favorite seasons and him telling you you might be meant to be because you love summer and his gaming nickname meant fullsun. You should have recognized him as soon as you heard him tease you for the first time. Damn, he even mentioned Renjun’s parents as if he knew them personally and you didn’t bat an eye. How could you be so stupid? 

The first problem is not recognizing him. The second problem is how are you going to face him after taking so long to recognize him. Now you understand why he probably didn’t want you to see him without the costume, imagine how embarrassing it will be for you. 

Donghyuck never works two days in a row, so hopefully he won’t be here today, right? Wait, was he here yesterday? You don’t remember. If you don’t remember, he probably wasn’t, so, does that mean you will have to see him today? But maybe it’s just your bad memory. You needed advice about this situation, what would you do from now? You are sprinting to the breakroom, ready to put your things away and call your roommate.

When you get there, you immediately couch down to put your things on the locker, not bothering to look if the 606 locker is available. It hasn’t been ever since Donghyuck started here anyways. As you are having trouble shoving the backpack inside the small locker, you see someone standing behind you, silently opening one of the lockers too.

“Your phone’s on the floor.”

He points out to the bright screen of your phone that has fallen from your hands and is sitting right beside you. You take a glance at the lock screen, seeing Doyoung’s threatening message, and scoff.

[doyoung manager (dangerous)]: If you canceled this meeting to gossip with the other kids, I’ll make Taeyong put you in trash duty for a whole month. 

“Honestly, I’m here having a crisis and Doyoung thinks I’m gossiping,” you grumble while still trying to shove the backpack inside “What’s wrong with this locker tod-”

“Do you need help?” 

You feel like someone has knocked the air out of your lungs when you see Donghyuck crouched down beside you, wearing a cheeky smile. You fall on your butt and he immediately holds your arms to help you stand back to your original position. 

“Do you need help?” he repeats, his head motioning to the lockers and you simply nod. “It can be tricky to fit the whole bag inside these lockers.”

You just nod again, and stand up, letting him put it inside the tiny metal box and close it. “Password?” you look at him confused. “Are you not locking it?”

“No, we never lock it,” you shake your head and gasp. You move a little to the side to see the 606 locker taken, and look back at him angrily. “So it was you this whole time. You stole my locker!”

“I didn’t steal anything, it was there and I took it.”

“It was my perfect little locker, perfect height., perfect size,” you mourn half-jokingly.

“Why don’t you take the other ones?”

He stands up, meeting you face to face and you have to admit that it is a whole new thing to see him in good lighting without his bear costume. He is hotter than you remembered. His hair is also longer and wavy, different from when you first met. Damn you and your thing for boys with long hair.

“They're all taken and I can’t reach the one above yours,” you shrug, avoiding his eyes. “I didn’t know you had work today, Haechan.” You use the nickname he told you back at the party and that makes him smile.

“Oh, so now you remember me?” The smugness of his voice makes you shy and he notices it by the way you smile and starts to move away from him.

“Yeah, about that, I should apologize,” you say, sitting down in one of the chairs. “I should have connected the dots as soon as you told me about Renjun’s parents.”

“Oh,” the smug expression on his face dies as he lets out what seemed to be a disappointed sigh. 

“What?” you ask with wide eyes. “Am I being stupid again?”

“Oh, no,” he chuckles humorlessly as he leans on the lockers and puts his hands inside the pockets of the leather jacket. Be damned the leather jackets, you think. “I thought you were going to apologize for not calling.”

“What?” you let out an airy laugh.

“That night at the party, you said you would call me.”

“I don’t have your number though, how would I call you?” You remember the kissing, and his hands, and his hoarse voice whispering sweet nothings in your ears, but you definitely don’t remember having his number.

Donghyuck takes his hand out of his pocket and stretches it out in front of you, asking for your phone. You give it to him, open it on the keypad, and he gives a few taps before handing it back to you. He didn’t even need to finish typing the whole thing because it was there, on the top of the screen: “Lee Donghyuck” written in bold, with his number right beside it. 

You start to think you don’t remember as much from that night as you thought you did. You grunt and he just chuckles.

“At least now I know I wasn’t rejected, you just forgot” he jokes and sits in front of you, who was hiding your face in your hands. “I just don’t know if that’s better or not.”

“I don’t know what happened, I wasn’t that drunk to forget your name and your number.”

“You forgot my name too?” he says half-offended, now understanding why you didn’t recognize him before. “Damn, were you that cock drunk?”

“Now, don’t cross a line, Lee Donghyuck,” you immediately sit up straight, sending him a glare. “We didn’t go that far.”

“Sorry, bad joke,” He lowers his head, avoiding your eyes, “We could’ve.”

“We could have what?”

“If you had called,” he says, leaning his body on the table as he doesn't break eye contact. “We could’ve gone as far as you wanted.”

“WHAT’S UP!” Chenle says loudly as he opens the door abruptly. “What are you guys talking about?”

You use that as your cue to compose yourself from Donghyuck’s very suggestive words, and point at your own ears, giving Chenle a sign that he needs to lower the volume of his earpods.

“Oh, sorry, was I screaming?” he puts his stuff in his locker and sits between you and Donghyuck, painfully unaware of the tension in the air. “What were you guys- Oh, Y/N, you finally met him!”

Donghyuck snaps his head in Chenle’s direction and you start praying he will not say anything that could embarrass you. “You were so jealous that you were the only one that hadn't met him properly yet.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” you say distressed, stressing your distaste for his choice of words. “It was just weird how-”

“Oh, you so were,” both boys giggled and you rolled your eyes, standing up hastily, making the chair screech. “Please, you got all pouty the day I mentioned we play together.”

“Honey, if you wanted my attention you could’ve just asked.” Donghyuck is clearly having the time of his life with Chenle’s information.

You groan as you leave the breakroom and they keep teasing you. You definitely need better friends.

"Who would have thought that all you had to do to start dating was confessing, right?” Chenle says sarcastically while all of you are hanging out in the breakroom. 

“Wait, so you weren’t dating before?” Taeyong asks the couple sitting in front of him.

“No, they were just very much in love and just as oblivious,” you say, munching on the chocolate chip cookie Taeyong baked for the staff today.

"Well, it’s not like that, I was already planning on confessing…" Jisung scratches the back of his head and Chenle scoffs.

"Yeah, since freshman year… of HIGH SCHOOL," and you see Mina blushing when Jisung giggles and kisses her cheek, giving her a silent confirmation that Chenle's statement was nothing but the truth.

"Oh my god, she still blushes at everything he does!" Yeri exclaims and Chenle gags, muttering 'disgusting'.

Apparently, the past weekend has been full of surprises. Taeyong had a “pressing family matter” to attend to, so he decided to close the park and give everybody the Saturday and Sunday off. Probably not the smartest move for a failing business but who are you to complain? 

With two days off on the weekend, everybody had their own thing: Yeri went to the beach with her boyfriend (Mina is still Team Johnny, but Jisung and I think he is too tall compared to the silhouette photos Yeri showed us). Chenle went to a basketball game and adopted a dog, out of nowhere. He only shut up about the game to show us Daegal’s pictures which we very much appreciated. Jisung had invited Mina on a picnic date, but she accidentally heard him practicing his confession, which led them to, finally, become boyfriend and girlfriend. 

You, well, you had a date with Donghyuck. It was a friendly date, he just asked you out to get some coffee. And have lunch. And you eventually ended up going with him to his friend’s photography exhibition. In your defense, he was very pleasant to be around and it’s always good to be in contact with the arts.

You woke up that Saturday ready to do something fun, but your roommate and her boyfriend already had plans, just like everybody else from work. At first you decided to stay at home and just enjoy your day alone, but then you remembered how long it had been the last time you had a free weekend. Like, the whole weekend. After the whole ordeal with Donghyuck, you became good friends so you thought it wouldn’t hurt if you messaged him to see if he wanted to do something, right? As friends, of course!.

[you - 10:30 a.m]: hey how’s your day off?

[donghyuckie - 10:30 a.m]: damn honey

[donghyuckie  - 10:30 a.m]: not even a whole day 

[donghyuckie  - 10:30 a.m]: miss me already? 

[you - 10:30 a.m]: oh fuck off

[you - 10:31 a.m]: i just wanted to know if you had plans

[you - 10:31 a.m]: because i don’t and i’m bored

[donghyuckie  - 10:32 a.m]: i can be free

[donghyuckie  - 10:32 a.m]: why?

[you  - 10:33 a.m]: wanna get some coffee?

[you  - 10:33 a.m]: u pay

[donghyuckie  - 10:35 a.m]: 🙄

[donghyuckie  - 10:35 a.m]: meet me at 7dream in 10 min

[you  - 10:35 a.m]: i need 30 to get ready tho

[donghyuckie  - 10:35 a.m]: be there in 10 or you pay

You did your best to look as presentable as possible in record time, only for Donghyuck to arrive at the café twenty minutes later, saying he didn’t think you would take him seriously and would just take your time getting ready. He did apologize for being late and after eating breakfast, he waited as you went back home to look more presentable during lunch.

You see, spending time with Donghyuck was very confusing for you because he always made flirty comments and dirt jokes around you, but never really tried to initiate anything. He was pretty hard to read, in your personal opinion, but it was so fun to have him around and he was always so thoughtful and nice, that you never let useless thoughts fill your mind. And what if you made out once in a party months ago? You didn’t remember his name, you never called and you only met again by chance. You could totally be friends, all the “tension” that you once had, if you ever had it, was water under the bridge!

At least that’s what you thought.

"Are you gaslighting me into thinking I don't like you?" Donghyuck asked with a raised eyebrow. 

"I am simply stating the fact that you are most likely only having fun flirting with me," you explained, sipping your drink. "It's like a sport to some people."

It was late, really late. The workers at the diner were probably cursing both of you for getting there as it was about to close, so you just decided to keep drinking your milkshake so you both could leave as fast as possible.

"Well, not to me," he scoffed, leaning back on the couch feeling frustrated at your words.

“Earth to Y/N,” Mina shakes her hand in front of your face, taking you out of your thoughts.

“OH, sorry, what’s up?” 

“What did you do on the weekend?” Yeri asks, and you suddenly feel shy when everybody’s attention is on you. “Wait, are you blushing?”

“No way!” Jisung exclaims and you start to feel your face hotter by the second.

“And just know she was so distracted…” Mina smirks and your eyes widen, shaking your head.

“Y/N’S GOT A BOYFRIEND, Y/N’S GOT A BOYFRIEND,” Chenle sing-songs like a nine year-old and the other ones join him. 

“It’s not-” you try to speak but they just sing louder, making you sigh in frustration.

“Stop, children,” Taeyong calls their attention and you sigh in relief, thinking he is going to scold them. Your peace doesn’t last long, though. “We don’t know if it’s a boyfriend or a girlfriend!”

They all look at each other before Chenle starts singing again:

“Y/N WENT ON A DATE, Y/N WENT ON A DATE.”

“You are all absolutely insufferable,” you say, standing up and pretending you don’t hear how they keep teasing you about your “date”.

Donghyuck opens the break room door right when you are ready to leave. You stop yourself before your bodies collide and he simply smiles. “What’s going on?”

“Noth-”

“Y/N WENT ON A DATE, Y/N WHEN ON A DATE.” Chenle chants again and you turn your body to face him from across the room.

“Shut up, Chenle! Nobody said it’s true.” You don’t have time to lay a guilt trip on Chenle because Donghyuck beats you to it, giving the crowd exactly what they wanted.

“It’s true, though, you went on a date with me,” Donghyuck says seriously and everybody gasps. He walks towards the lockers and smiles when he sees that you took locker 606 before him today. “We spent the whole Saturday together.”

You see Jisung flabbergasted as he lets out “Oh my god, you’re dating Yeri’s boyfriend?”

“Shut up, Jisung,” Mina elbows him at the same time that Yeri, Taeyong and Donghyuck scream a “What???”

“It was a friendly date, I’M NOT DATING ANYBODY!” You scream the last part, storming off the break room and pretending you don’t hear Donghyuck quietly say ‘yet”.

“So you’re telling me you have a boyfriend and his name is Mark?” Mina confirms the information, still not sounding quite sure of it yet.

“Don’t mind her, she was team Johnny.” Chenle tells Yeri, making her look more confused.

“Team who?” Taeyong just stands there, trying to understand the whole situation. “I have so many questions…”

“And you,” Jisung says, turning to Donghyuck. “Met Y/N months ago at Yeri's boyfriend party, fell in love, but she forgot about you, so you had to get this job as Sunny, the bear to make her fall for you again and remember you?” He finishes, leaving Donghyuck absolutely stunned at the boy’s lack of ability to hold a single information in his brain.

“This is not what I said at all, you literally made up 90% of this story.”

After you stormed out, you went outside some of the opening tasks for today and you were hoping someone would come to help you out soon, but twenty minutes later, only Doyoung appeared, asking where the others were. After not having any answer from you, he calls Taeyong who just says ‘wait 10 more minutes and we’ll have so much to talk about’. He decides to go to the breakroom and see for himself what on earth is going on in the park today, only to find the boss, one of the managers and all the other workers sitting around the table, gossiping.

“She does seem a little silly, I have to admit,” Yuta says nonchalantly.

“She’s worse than Mina and Jisung together, honestly,” Chenle shakes his head, “Dumb as a door.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Doyoung says in a serious tone, startling everybody.

“I told you to wait 10 minutes, Hyuck is about to finish his story,” Taeyong shakes his head, shooing Doyoung away. “Someone needs to be in charge. Go, go, I’ll tell you later.”

“YOU are the one in charge.” Doyoung scoffs, but goes anyway, someone should be helping you. 

Donghyuck retells the whole story of how you met and how disappointed he was when you didn’t call. He told everyone about how he got this job because his friend’s girlfriend, who is Yeri, knew he needed a part-time job. He got to the Funfair having no idea what he was going to do, much less knowing that you worked here too. He told them how happy he got the first time he saw you helping Mina at the food stalls, and how he recognized you by your voice, because he couldn’t really see much when he was wearing the costume. 

He told them all about how he tried getting your attention as Sunny when you didn’t seem to recognize him, but it backfired because you couldn’t remember him and he was starting to get sad. He told them that he actively avoided you when he wasn’t wearing his costume to avoid the embarrassment of you not knowing who he was. Then, he said how you accidentally found out who he was, how he got closer to you each day and how it all backfired when he confessed last Saturday and you rejected him. 

"Are you gaslighting me into thinking I don't like you?" Donghyuck asked with a raised eyebrow. 

"I am simply stating the fact that you are most likely only having fun flirting with me," you explained, sipping your drink. "It's like a sport to some people."

"Well, not to me," he scoffed, leaning back on the couch feeling frustrated at your words.

"Either way, it's probably not real feelings. At least not towards me." you said, not looking in his eyes.

"You are unbelievably stubborn, blind and borderline rude," he spitted out, feeling the anger building up. How dare you have a say on what he feels about you? 

"See? Why would you like someone with a nasty personality like that?" your arms moved around excitingly, as if you were proving your point. "You like the chase, not me!" 

And then, Donghyuck confessed how he was ready to look you in the eyes and fight back, but the words died on his throat when he saw the huge smile on your face. He paid attention to the way your palms were open in front of you, arms stretched towards him, the way that wrinkles were all around your eyes from how much you were smiling and how excited you looked. He admitted that it dawned upon him that he likes you to the extent that he could let you keep thinking, for a moment, that he's not absolutely in falling for you if it meant that you would keep smiling like that. 

Donghyuck understands that he can't always win. So, he gave you that one, letting you think you were right. He let you go back to your milkshake and your pancakes tasting of syrup and the satisfaction of being on the winning end of an argument. 

He let you win that battle so he could win the war. Eventually.

“How will you win her over, then?” Mina looks at him curiously.

“I don’t have a plan,” Donghyuck sees the disapproving look on their faces and quickly adds. “Yet.” They all look at him suspiciously, and he can see Taeyong’s amused face. “Can’t you guys help me? You’re all her friends.”

"Oh, no," Chenle clicks his tongue while excessively shaking his index finger "No, no."

"We're here to judge not to meddle," Jisung says and all of them start moving around, getting ready to go to work.

"Yeah, take Jisung and Mina as an example, they got together by themselves. We never helped, only judged.” Yeri complements, making Jisung agree with a sad ‘yeah’.

"That's so messed up," Donghyuck shakes his head in disbelief. "You are all insane."

"Well, I can call her a coward if it helps you," Chenle. "It's what I did to Mina all these years."

"That's mean, Chenle,” Taeyong says disapprovingly. 

"Frankly, it worked eventually," Mina replies as she stands up from the seat and stretches. 

She kisses Jisung cheek and heads out, and, slowly, everybody goes to their normal, uneventful job at Sunny’s Funfair Park and Recreation.

After the eventful Saturday when Donghyuck confessed, you never touched the “feelings” subject anymore. He is still Lee Donghyuck, your friend and coworker whom, sometimes, you go out with. Nothing more, nothing less. And on days like today, when it has been raining non stop since 10 a.m, it was amazing having an energetic friend like him. 

You don’t know how he did it, really. The rain caught you all by surprise, so Donghyuck, who works outside, had to stay in the breakroom until the rain stopped, and that only happened around 9 p.m. There were no customers at all, the park was empty and even though you were supposed to stay open until midnight today, Taeyong decided to let you all go home early. 

Chenle was complaining how the last hangout had been the one at Jisung’s house before Mina and him were even dating, and just like that, all of you end up in Donghyuck’s apartment drinking hot chocolate and playing card games.

It’s time for all of you to show your cards and you hear Chenle groan as Donghyuck smirks and gets all the tokens from the table.

“It’s rigged, he got a full house twice and then royal flush right after,” Chenle scoffs and Donghyuck just laughs.

“Damn, he really won three times in a row?” Mina says and you and Jisung just exchange confused looks, having no idea what had happened.

“Poker is a very confusing game,” you think out loud and Donghyuck smiles sweetly at you.

“Lucky at cards, unlucky in love,” he mumbles, shuffling the cards. “Do you wanna play again or will you keep crying?”

You look at the empty popcorn bowls and mugs beside you and look at Jisung who is just as confused as you. Tired of playing a game you can barely understand, you just shake your head. “You can keep playing, I’ll wash the dishes.”

Before you can even get all of the mugs around you, Donghyuck is standing up, holding the popcorn bowls and a few mugs. You don’t have time to tell him to keep playing because he just goes straight to the kitchen, making you follow him. When you get there, he already has the gloves and the sponge on his hand. 

“I thought I said I’d do it,” you angrily put your hands on your hips, scolding him with your eyes.

“I’m sorry it’s against the house rules to have a beautiful lady washing the dishes,” he bumps his hips with yours, making you scoff as you try to hide your smile.

“Where’s Jeno, by the way?” you say, leaning your back on the kitchen sink, right next to him. “You invited us over before telling him, didn’t you?”

“Nah, it’s cool.” He shrugs. “He told me he wasn't going to spend the night here today anyways.” 

“Girlfriend?” You raise an eyebrow, leaning a little to his side, almost brushing your shoulders together.

“Why are you so curious? Do I have to compete with Jeno?” He asks playfully and you just push his shoulder.

“I was just asking.” You mumble, moving back to your original position. “By the way, Doyoung told me the other day that Jeno is like his brother? And Yeri gave you this job? Your relationships are so confusing.”

He laughs looking at you fondly. “What do you wanna know? Ask away.”

“Hm, how do you know Doyoung? And Yeri? And Jeno?” 

“Do you want to know my family tree too?” He jokes and you show him your tongue. “Jeno, Mark and I are childhood friends, Doyoung hyung’s family is really close to Jeno’s, so we all just know each other from birthday parties and stuff. We are not that close though.”

“Oh.” You mumble nodding. “Yeri told us she got you the job though?”

“Yeah, she's been dating Mark for like a year?” He says, shrugging. “Either way, that was a coincidence, I didn’t know she knew Doyoung hyung. Actually, I thought he was working at his father’s law firm? I don’t know what happened, his family is weird.”

“Damn, I was here waiting for the tea and you don’t know anything!” You huff, faking annoyance. “You’re really bad at gossiping.” You notice he is starting to rinse the dishes in the sink, so you grab the towel that’s on the counter. 

“And you’re really bad at poker.” He fights back, giving you some mugs to dry and put away. “Why did you say you liked playing cards if you’re bad at it?”

“It’s because I don’t know how to play poker,” you answer, lining up the dry mugs on the counter. “I like to play rummy, not poker.”

“You should have said so.” He gently places the two big popcorn bowls and closes the faucet. “We could have played that instead.”

“It’s okay, I just wanted to hang out with you.” You confess, hoping he understands you weren’t using the plural form of the pronoun. “I didn’t know you were that good at poker, though, I thought you only played League of Legends or whatever.”

“I’m not good, it was rigged,” He leans to whisper in your ears and you feel your pulse hammering on your neck. He chuckles at your startled expression, thinking you’re reacting to his confession, not to his proximity. “I’m joking, don’t be that shocked. Jeno and I just play a lot.”

“What about your other friend?” you ask, not really minding his proximity.

“Mark?” He scoffs when you nod. “He can’t bluff to save his life.”

“You smell nice,” you blurt out and his eyes go wide at your sudden confession. “I- I meant your house.” You use this moment as an opportunity to slide away from him. “Your house smells nice, do you use scented candles?” He chuckles, ready to tease you, but lets it slide. 

In the living room, Jisung is sleeping like a rock on Mina’s lap, who is starting to doze off as well. Chenle pokes his friends' arms, saying he has to go because his mom is already worried about his whereabouts. Slowly, they all start to collect their belongings and when you and Donghyuck are back from the kitchen, they are all ready to go. The two of you are taken aback as they bid their goodbyes and thank Donghyuck for being the host for the night.

You decide to stay a little longer to help the owner of the apartment to put everything back in place, when he suddenly asks you to stay the night.

“It’s late, I’ll worry if you go back now,” he pouts. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, I’m serious.”

“I go home late everyday, it’s fine.”

“You have 2 choices,” he raises his index and middle finger in front of you. “Either I take you home or you stay the night.”

“Why didn’t you suggest taking the others home too?” you cross your arms in front of him, clearly challenging Donghyuck. Oh, he is so ready for another battle, but this time he won’t bend.

“Because Jeno has the car.”

“Then how are you taking me home?” you tilt your head playfully. 

“I’ll get an uber,” he shrugs, making you laugh. 

“I was already gonna do that, silly,” you fish your phone out of your pocket to open the app, but Donghycuk steals the phone from your hands. “Donghyuck!”

“I’ll get an uber,” he says, locking your phone and putting it in the front pocket of his sweatpants. “And go with you to drop you off.”

You laugh, clearly amused at his absurd suggestion. “There is no way I’ll let you do that.”

“There is no way I’ll let you get inside a stranger's cars by yourself at 1 a.m.” The firm tone of his voice was enough to let you know he was not dropping this argument like he did last time.

“And how will you get back to your apartment?” 

“It doesn’t matter, it’s none of your-” you get too close to him and he feels the words dying in his throat at the thought of you hugging him. Donghyuck quickly reacts, though, when he feels you putting your hands inside the left pocket of his sweatpants, making him hold your arms to keep you in place. “HEY. Bad girl.”

“Don’t say that, I’m not a dog.” You grunt, trying to break free from his hold. “Give me my phone, back Hyuck.” 

Your whines don’t affect him too much, as he keeps his strong hold on you. You start to take a few steps around the living room, shaking your arms as you try to make him let go. Picturing this scene in your head, you start laughing at how ridiculous the whole thing must look. 

“Good girls don’t fight with daddy!” He forces a mocking sexy voice, making you laugh even harder. “Damn, I love you laugh.”

You are still giggling when you turn to look at his face. Donghyuck is already staring at you with utmost adoration and slightly curved lips. Your heart skips a few beats when your eyes lock and he bites his lips to hold his ever growing smile. 

“I really love the sound of your laugh.”

His face is closer to yours than you remember, and it’s when he loosens the hold on your arms, only to slide his hands to hold yours, that you realize you have been holding your breath.

“If you don’t want me to go with you, then, stay.” He whispers, using your interlocked hands to pull you closer to him. “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“You suggested riding the uber with me,” you smile shyly, slightly moving your head to the side, giving him the space he wanted to pull you closer and nuzzle up against your neck. “Aren’t you being overprotective?”

“Is it a crime, now?” you get goosebumps when you feel him mumbling against your neck.

“It’s toxic,” you joke, taking your hands out of his grasp and raising your arms to place them around his neck. “You smell really good,” you whisper again and feel him taking a deep breath, before wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Stay, please.”

Donghyuck may have not convinced you the first time he confessed because he had been too straightforward, too casual about it. He should have known better than that. Casual flirting and occasional dates weren’t enough to win you over. That’s why he lost the first battle. But when he wakes up in the middle of the night to turn his AC on because even though you’re both sweating, you don’t let him get out of your arms, he knows he’s one step closer to winning the war. 

The first thing you do when you open your eyes the following morning is wonder what time it is. You palm the side of the bed to look for your phone, only to feel a human arm. You open your eyes, recognizing Donghyuck’s room. He has one of his arms under your neck, the other one is lazily around your waist and his head nuzzled against your nape. You smile, dreading the moment he wakes up and starts teasing you for staying the night and sleeping on his bed holding him.

You consider calling out today, because you are almost sure that by the time you get there, everybody will be aware that you and Donghyuck cuddled all night long.

Carefully, you get out of bed and go straight to the kitchen to get a cup of water. You shouldn’t feel as comfortable at somebody else’s house as you are right now. When you were about to head back to Donghyuck’s room, Jeno entered the kitchen, with damp hair and wearing only gym shorts. The boy stops on his tracks and you two stare at each other, frozen.

“Hello?” The boy greets you with a frown and closed fists, and you give him an apologetic smile.

“Hey. Hi. Good morning.” You answer avoiding eye contact, completely mortified of the encounter. “I-I just- Hyuck told me-”

“Oh, you're with Hyuck?” he acknowledges, smiling at you. “I thought somebody had broken in.”

“Yeah, sorry. I thought he had let you know I was staying the night.” You apologize again, and suddenly feel self-aware of your outfit consisting of Donghyuck clothes. “I’ll go back-”

You hear a door opening and steps heading towards the kitchen, and, suddenly, Donghyuck appears. Swollen face, bed hair and shirtless… you feel like melting right there. 

“It’s not even 11 yet, why did you-” He looks at Jeno with his squint eyes and then back at you, only to gasp and slap his friend’s chest. “JENO? BE DECENT, GO PUT ON A SHIRT.”

“OUCH, THAT HURTS, ASSHAT!” The boy soothes the place where he was slapped, looking angrily at his friend. “You’re shirtless too!”

“I JUST WOKE UP!” He slaps his friend again, now getting in front of him to block your view. “HONEY, DON’T LOOK!”

“AND I WAS JOGGING?” Jenos slaps Donghyuck Back and you just laugh at how childish they look. “Oh, wait, honey?” He moves to the side to look at you again, but Donghyuck stays in his way. “Dude?”

“Stop moving around, she doesn’t need to see how ripped you are.” Donghyuck bites back and you chuckle. 

Jeno shoves Donghyuck to the side and waves at you. “Sorry, he’s very impolite and didn’t think about introducing us. I’m Jeno.” 

“SHIRT, JENO. SHIRT.” Donghyuck shouts, as he pushes his friend towards the hallway.

You stay there in the kitchen, holding your laugh, because of course you couldn’t have a nice and calm morning with Lee Donghyuck. 

“Hey. Hi. How are you?” Donghyuck comes back a few seconds later, panting. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah.” You nod, biting your lips to hold your laugh while Donghyuck just walks towards you very, very flustered. “Why are you shirtless? I clearly remember you going to sleep fully clothed.”

“Well, if only someone wasn’t holding me so damn tight the whole night…” He grabs you by the waist, making you yelp in surprise. “When did you wake up?” 

“Not long ago.” You answer as he nuzzles your neck and hums.

“What about Jeno?” He asks again, pressing you closer to him, making you involuntarily put your hands on his shoulder to keep your balance. “Did you stare at his ripped abs and toned arms for a long time or did he just get here?”

“You’re so annoying.” You cackle at his question, which only makes him hug you tighter. “Why? Are you jealous?” He tightens his hold on you even more, making you let out chuckles and whines “OUCH, you’re hurting me.”

“I’m holding you.” He answers, walking with you further down the kitchen. “I know the competition is strong, but, come on, I’m hot too, right?” He creates some space between you, just enough to look at you, pouting.

“Donghyuck,” you start and he hums, telling you to keep going. “Do you think you could set me up with Jeno?” You say mischievously, making him squint his eyes angrily at you. 

He pokes his cheek with his tongue and rolls his eyes at you. Before you can see it coming, he presses you against the kitchen counter and starts tickling your sides, making you squirm and beg him to stop, but having fun nonetheless. 

You can’t say you didn’t see it coming. After that night in Donghyuck’s house, it was getting harder and harder to ignore the butterflies in your stomach each time he did something for you. 

You really try to restrain yourself as much as possible, but there is so much a human being can resist when Lee Donghyuck comes out of nowhere and slides his hands from your nape down to your lower back and kisses your cheeks right after. Or when you’re sitting next to each other in the break room and he plays with your fingers under the table. Or when you’re eating out and he makes sure to keep your hair out of the way for you. Or when he takes Jeno’s car and picks you up late at night from your shifts, even when it’s his day off. Or when-

“Hey, pay attention,” Mina nudges you as Taeyong enters the room, followed by Doyoung, Yuta and a panting Donghyuck, who’s late.

“Sorry, I’m late, I had-”

“Just sit down, Hyuck.” You have never heard such a serious grave tone coming out of Taeyong's mouth before. “Please.”

You all look at each other worried about what is about to happen. When the words leave Taeyong’s mouth, you shouldn’t be as surprised as you all are, though. It’s still shocking, though. From the moment you started, you knew this job wouldn’t last. 

“You’re closing forever?” Jisung asks cautiously, making Yuta look at him fondly.

“Yeah, buddy. My parents decided to sell it.” Taeyong smiles apologetically at the three best friends. Chenle is frozen, staring at the managers with his mouth agape. “I know how Sunny’s Funfair is special for the three of you, I’m sorry, Lele, Ji, and Min. I wish I had something else to say, but I can only apologize for this news.”

“Don’t make a speech or else Jisung’s gonna cry.” Chenle tries to joke to lighten up the mood, but his friend only reacts by giving him a light tap on the shoulder.

“In the meantime, we will keep working.” Doyoung moves around the break room and hands us a sheet of paper. “Opening tasks, everybody! Let’s do our best during the time that’s left.”

You take a glance at Donghyuck who looks at you worriedly. You offer him a sad smile and shrug, which he mimics, making you smile wider. 

“Hey, you two, did you hear Doyoung?” Yuta points at you and Donghyuck. “Stop flirting, go back to work!” 

The gloomy vibes don’t go away for at least four days, when Taeyong appears with a cake and a box full of old pictures. The park was closed, but he asked us to stay, telling us it would be worth it and promising to give us a ride home. 

We are all seated around the table, eating cake, with taeyong in the middle seat showing us old pictures of the park. There were pictures of families, of former employees, and even of Taeyong and his family. You could see from the first day at the job how much he liked being Sunny’s Funfair Parks and Recreation. It was more than an old park that he had to manage because it’s what his parents told him to do. He actually believed that this small, beaten up amusement park could serve as a way of bringing happiness to the community and help families build cheerful memories together. But there is only so much one can do. You could see that this moment of bringing together the staff and encouraging us to share our best memories of the park is a way of giving Taeyong some comfort. 

You sigh, looking sadly at your boss as he rummages through the box of pictures and feel Donghyuck’s arm resting on your shoulder, slightly bringing you closer to his side.

“A penny for your thoughts?” He whispers in your ear and you just turn your head to look at him. Oh, you owed Sunny’s Funfair so much.

“Just thinking.” You lower your head to look at the piece of cake in front of you. “Taeyong did a great job.”

“Hey, you two lovebirds, stop flirting,” Taeyong says, quickly standing up. 

“When did I become the butt end of your teasing and not Jisung and Mina?” You ask no one in particular, but Chenle replies.

“Ever since you and Donghyuck started dating.”

“We are not-”

“I have THE ultimate picture here in my hands.” Taeyong interrupts you, as he holds one picture close to his chest, with the back facing us. There is something written behind it and you squint to try to read it, but he is too far from you. “This one here is our most prized possession as a team. We have to cherish this picture.”

“Show us this damn picture.” Chenle’s impatient demeanor falters when Taeyong turns the picture and we see three little children holding hands at the entrance of the park. “What the-”

“How did you get that picture?” Mina tries to take it from Taeyong, but fails.

“Is that us?” Jisung asks dumbfounded.

“There’s a note too.” Taeyong flips the picture and reads the note. “ ‘Today is the day where our Chenle is celebrating his sixth birthday. Thank you so much for the fun memories, Sunny!’ and it’s signed by Mrs. Zhong.” 

After their initial shock, you start analyzing the picture, looking at the details: the birthday hat on Chenle’s chubby face, Jisung’s missing teeth and Mina’s ice lolly that was melting in her hands as they were taking the pictures. Then, you see dozens of other pictures, all sent by Chenle’s mom with a note, thanking the staff for the happy memories they created with the children. Taeyong says that his mom was one of the people who used to send messages and pictures to the administration, back when the park was a little more lively. 

When you get home, almost ready to go to bed, you reflect on how that place has meant so much for some people, how it is full of memories and how it holds stories from the entire neighborhood. You think about how that was supposed to be only a job, and yet, it is the place that has brought amazing people to your life. You know Funfair’s closing is inevitable, but you finally understood what Taeyong was trying to do that night: closure. He doesn’t want to shut it down and just let everyone move on with their lives as if it didn’t matter, because, for many people, like Chenle, Jisung and Mina, it mattered. 

Sunny’s Funfair Parks and Recreation holds stories and you might not be able to save it, but you are ready to tell them.

“Shouldn’t you be looking for another job?” Donghyuck asks as he enters the parking lot. “I mean, I think it’s a nice idea, I really do. But…”

“I am looking, I just haven’t found anything yet.” You say, taking the parking ticket from his fingers and putting it inside your bag.

“I know you’re lying because you've been saying this for three weeks.” He parks the car and turns off the engine, but doesn’t open the doors. “Have you at least applied to anything?”

“Look,” you sigh and hold his face in your hands. “You don’t need to worry about me, I’ll figure it out.”

He sighs as he sees you unbuckling your belt and unlocking the door. “I hope you know you can’t be my trophy wife yet, I don’t have enough money to pay both of our bills.”

“To be your trophy wife, first and foremost, I need to be married to you.” You turn around to see him leaning on the car with the door open. “We’re not even dating yet.” 

“Because you rejected me when I asked you out.” He closes the car’s door and reaches for your hand.

“Ask me again, then.” You say raising an eyebrow at him.

“Will the answer be different?

“I don’t know. Ask me out again.” you shrug and interrupt him when you see Donghyuck opening his mouth. “Properly.”

“Damn.” He sighs and you chuckle at him. “Why me? The world is female, you can ask too, you know?”

You enter the building, telling Donghyuck to wait while you talk to the receptionist. A few minutes later, a very stressed Renjun appears to talk to you. From afar, Donghyuck can see that the boy seemed frustrated at whatever you were arguing, glaring at you and sighing a lot. He knows Renjun was forced by his parents to drop out of art school and start business so he could work in his family company, so the least he needed right now was a very stubborn you adding to his stress. 

At some point, he sees Renjun grabbing his phone from the inside pocket of his blazer and making a phone call. Donghyuck starts to think that it was better if you went to a more private place, but you seemed adamant about cornering Renjun in public. Not even two minutes later, he finishes the phone call and tells you something that makes you hug him and Donghyuck sees how his angry demeanor falters. You bid him goodbye and wave at Donghyuck so you can both go.

“What was that?” He asks as you hand him the parking ticket.

“I just needed one last favor from him.” You simply say, reaching for his hands.

“And that is…”

“You’ll see.”

It’s when you intertwine your fingers with Donghyuck and beams at him, that he knows he’s ready to confess again. 

You did promise that he would see. Well, not only Donghyuck but the whole student body as well. A week after that weird interaction with Renjun, there is an article about you in the school’s official website, first page. It was also mentioned on the school’s newsletter and official social media pages. It was not only an article about you, but about Chenle, Jisung, Mina, Taeyong… All of you at the Funfair. 

Donghyuck had to admit that when you told him your idea at first, he didn’t think you would go through with that. You wanted to tell the others the stories that the Funfair had seen throughout the years throughout an article and later, compile them in a book of memories, with pictures, messages, notes, stories about the place. He really didn’t think you would go through with that considering how much time and planning something like that takes, but, somehow, you did it.

It’s your last day. You spent the past month talking to people, curating pictures, writing, organizing schedules… you were tired, but it was all worth it. You wanted to let this old beaten up park tell the stories it held, even if it was gone. That’s why now, when the lights are already off and Taeyong is only waiting for you to come outside and lock the side door for one last time, you hand him a book with a small bow on top. You see, a little far from where you stand, your friends looking at each other confused, Yeri particularly impatient to go home.

“I want you to have this.” Taeyong looks at you confused. “It was a lot of work to get this done, especially because I’m not very artsy, but I think I owe you this one.”

He opens the book only to find, in a very neat handwriting, the words “Sunny’s memories” written. He looks between you and the book, slightly confused about what it is about, but when he flips the next page, he smiles. He finds a picture of him, Doyoung and Yuta taken many years ago. There were a few arrows connecting their faces to the words “boss”, “manager #1”, “manager #2”.

On the side, there was a small text about each one of them, how they ended up working there, what were their thoughts about the job and their favorite memory there. Every piece of information you gathered in these months working at the park was there, even some of the stories your boss has told you. Taeyong keeps flipping the pages, only to find more pictures of each one of you working there, your names, your thoughts, your memories, all written as if it was from Sunny’s perspective. He looks at you with watery eyes and pulls you to a hug.

“What it’s all this?” He sniffs.

“That day, when you showed us the pictures, I realized places hold stories and this one had many to tell.” You smile and he pats your head. “I know you didn’t want to close the park and let everybody move on as if it never mattered to anyone because it did. To some of us, at least. You did a great job, boss.”

“Oh, kid.” He sniffs and once again hugs you. “It’s perfect!” Taeyong said happily, taking you and his present towards the others. “Everybody, you need to see this!”

Now, after Sunny closed down, you are back to square one.

It’s a Friday night and you were invited to a party, but you managed to convince Donghyuck to stay at his apartment with you. You certainly needed a distraction after another week of failed attempts at getting a job and you know Donghyuck is much more entertaining than any party.

Your relationship status is still pretty much complicated. Even though it was already clear that you both liked each other, Donghyuck still hasn’t asked you the question, waiting for the right moment. It was really hard for him not to cross the friendship line, though, especially when, more often than not, he has make out sessions with you on his couch.

The worst for Donghyuck is how your friends have been keeping their promise of not meddling, but making sure of judging the both of you each time you deny you’re dating while Donghyuck’s hands are intertwined with yours. Tonight, with Jeno away at a party, you have his apartment all to yourselves and Donghyuck decides to make the most out of it. He needs to confess today. 

“Hi.” You smile, showing him the take out bag you’re carrying when he opens the door. Your smile falters when you see him frown. “Am I too early? I can-”

“I thought I was supposed to pick you up.” He pouts, moving to the side to let you go inside. “And you shouldn’t have brought take out, I told you I could cook for us.”

“Oh my god, I barely got here and you’re complaining already?” You put the take out on the kitchen counter and go wash your hands. 

“It’s just that you’re ruining my plans.” Donghyuck says while peeking inside the bag. “Is this…”

“Yeah, your favorite, kimchi-jjigae.” You turn around to look at him when you hear his groan. “What, now?”

“I had the whole thing planned, you just-” 

“Well, maybe you should have told me then!” You scoff. “I just wanted to make something nice for you because I know your new job at the office is killing you, but I’m sorry I guess?”

You start to feel frustrated at his reaction. You were expecting tight hugs, warm smiles and maybe some cuddles, but all Donghyuck has done in the past few minutes is complain and blame you for ruining something you didn’t even know that existed. He senses your frustration and sadness and just quietly holds your hand.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles, not really looking at you. “It’s just that I really wanted to do something nice for you too.”

“You always do nice things for me. You’re too nice to me.” You say, turning around to grab bowls to pour the food in. “I got this one.”

Despite Donghyuck’s plan of picking you up, bringing you to his apartment, cooking your favorite food and confessing the words that he has been dying to say failed, he still needs to do it tonight. Well, after months of pining, it was now or never. If you reject him again, he needs to be ready to move on. 

“How’s the job?” You ask before taking a bite of your food.

“Hell.” He answers, groaning. “I don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea to study business. I hate that job.”

“Do you really hate the job or do you just hate the boss?” You raise an eyebrow, knowing fully well that Donghyuck doesn’t really hate what he does, he just can’t stand the presumptuous guys in his office, treating him like garbage just because he’s an intern.

“What about you?” He frowns when he sees you pouting at your food. “I don’t like this face.”

“Yeah, me neither.” You laugh humorlessly. 

“I told you, give me five years and you can be my trophy wife.” He jokes, knowing how much you hate the idea.

“Wow, five? That much?”

“I can compromise and make it three if you don’t want kids in the future.” You laugh at his words and try to kick his leg from under the table, but he traps you.

You keep moving between topics because it was just that easy to talk to him. You mentioned how you had seen Mina and Jisung at the campus the other day and Donghyuck points out how he thinks they’re going to get married before graduation. You disagree, Jisung is still a kid. Then, he mentions how he had often seen Chenle around his office, only to find out later that the company he worked at was his grandfather’s. After the Funfair closed, he started working at the family’s company, but Donghyuck says that they are in different departments. You asked about his family that you haven’t met yet, but always heard stories about, and he tells you everything about his younger brother’s record card and his middle sister’s new boyfriend. He doesn’t forget to mention Jeno’s friends with benefits situation, and that he only found out after finding lingerie lost in the washing machine. 

After dinner, Donghyuck suggests teaching you poker for the tenth time, which makes you slightly annoyed because, at this point, you just hate the game. You are both sitting on the floor and he is leaning his back on the couch while you are seated between his legs. He says the proximity is for “pedagogical purposes”.  

“No, honey,” He stops your movement by putting his arm around your body and pulling you closer to him. “Look at my cards! I’m showing you my cards!”

“I don’t know what your cards mean!” You groan as you throw your cards on the pile in front of you and lean your head on his shoulder. “I wanna play rummy.”

“It's a children's game.”

“Well, it’s the only one I know how to play!” you exclaim, easily convincing him with a kiss on his cheek. 

You realize playing games is not working very well because you shouldn’t see each other's cards, but that’s a very hard feature to achieve when you don’t want to move away from each other. Eventually, you also get tired of Donghyuck constantly cheating and just suggest that you watch a movie instead.

“Should we watch Monsters University?” you ask, leaning your head on his shoulder and he nods.

“Let’s go, Mike Wazowski!” 

You move to the couch, complaining about being too uncomfortable for your butt, and at the end of the movie, you are both sprawled on his couch, with a blanket over you and your legs tangled. You see his eyes closed and smile at how tired he must be, but still chose to spend the night with you. He is close enough for you to nuzzle against his neck, making him stir at the sudden contact. You don’t smell his cologne, but the faint smell of your favorite lavender soap is there, making you smile against his neck. 

“A penny for your thoughts?” He asks, running his hands from your nape down your spine. 

“You owe me so many pennies.” You joke and he smiles. “I’m just thinking that I’m happy.”

Things didn’t happen the way you wanted from the beginning. You still feel like your life is a mess and sometimes you really think it will be the end soon. But you don't need to think that you’re alone anymore. Not when you have your friends. Not when you have him. 

“I’m happy too.” He hums and a comfortable silence rests between you, the only sound is the music from the movie credits on the TV. 

You think you are about to drift off to sleep, when Donghyuck stops his hands on the middle of your back and, because you're still nuzzled around his neck, you feel his pulse quickening. You hear him gulp a feel times before he has the courage to speak.

“There’s something that would make me happier.” He cautiously changes your positions, so he can face you when whispering the question he has been dying to ask and you have been dying to hear. “Do you wanna date me?”

“Do you know how impossible it is to say ‘no’ to you?” You kiss his cheek and he closes his eyes, feeling relieved already. “It’s especially unfair when you keep me so close like this.” 

When you close the gap between you, holding his face tenderly and giving him the sweetest kiss he has ever tasted, he knows he has won. He definitely has. He moves, making you lie down under him, and as he kisses your neck, he says: 

“All is fair in love and war, honey.”

Donghyuck has always tried to communicate with Jeno not only because they are childhood friends and roommates but because they also need privacy. Everybody does. So when Donghyuck tells his friend that he will be away for two days because of a conference, Jeno understands that he will have the apartment all to himself. 

What Donghyuck doesn’t expect is to get an email as soon as he arrives at the airport telling him that the conference was canceled and he should head back to the office. He gets so mad that nothing would make him more happy than just killing his boss. He shouldn’t though, because he had promised to make you his trophy wife in five years, so he needs to get a promotion soon. He smiles, thinking of you, and decides to pick you up today.

Even after months of dating, he was still pretty much elated to say that he could pick up his girlfriend at work. His girlfriend. As soon as he pulls up in front of the office’s building, you send him a message.

[mike wasowski - 5:35 p.m] are you here already?

[donghyuck - 5:35 p.m] just got here babe.

[donghyuck - 5:35 p.m] ready?

[mike wasowski - 5:36 p.m] can you give me 15 more minutes?

[donghyuck - 5:36 p.m] i’ll be in the parking lot.

He smiles as he sees you exiting the building wearing a scowl. Oh, he was so ready for your work gossip. Your scrunched up face doesn’t last long, because you can’t help but smile when you see him waving at you. You run to him, hugging him tightly and kissing his lips tenderly, which is his favorite part.

“Hi, girlfriend.” He steals one more kiss from you, making you smile. 

“Hi, boyfriend.” You smile, pushing him away from you and opening the car’s door. “Let’s go, I need to tell you what that bitch made me do today.”

That's how you spend the whole drive to his apartment, complaining about one of the managers that keeps making redo things, only to say that you’re slacking off and never get things done. ‘I could get things done if she didn’t keep asking me to solve problems that don’t even exist’, you would always say. He let you vent your pent up anger, so he would do the same about his coworkers.

You had finally found a job at a publishing house, a small one, and it wasn’t exactly the experience as a journalist that you wanted to have, but learning about publishing and editing is surely something positive and way more useful than working at a café like you used to. When life closes a door, it opens a window. 

And your boyfriend is very proud of you not only for taking his advice and applying for your current job, but also for admitting that he is very smart. Donghyuck is smart in a lot of areas, it’s just that when it comes to you, he gets a little stupid. That’s why you get to his apartment and see something both of you shouldn’t. You really, really shouldn’t.

“WHAT THE FUCK, JENO?” Donghyuck screams and you run to the kitchen, thinking something bad happened. “NO BABE, DON’T COME, CLOSE YOUR EYES!” He puts his hands on your face before you can even understand what’s going on.

“WHAT THE FUCK, DONGHYUCK? YOU TOLD ME YOU’D BE AWAY FOR TWO DAYS.” Jeno screams back, hurriedly looking for his shirt to cover himself. 

“I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WOULD BE BALLS DEEP INSIDE SOMEONE ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER!” You fight him, trying to take his hands off your face, but Donghyuck is faster than you. “Don’t try to look, what are you trying to look at?” 

“Jeno, I-” The girl sitting on the counter looks mortified.

“I’m not trying to see anything, I’m trying to set free because you’re crushing my skull.” You keep moving, trying to fight him while Jeno and the girl are putting their clothes on.

“I know you’re tryna see Jeno naked. I’m your boyfriend, the only dick you’re allowed to see is mine.”  He keeps his hand pressed against your eyes making you whine even more.

“Stop being a freak! You’re just pressing my eyes too aggressively.” You reach forward, trying to find his face. “And what about you? Uh? Are you trying to see Jeno’s girlfriend naked? I’m the only one you’re allowed to see naked.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” “She’s not my girlfriend.” Both of them say at the same time, looking at each other sheepishly, while you and Donghyuck keep bickering at the kitchen's door.

“IF I CAN'T SEE JENO’S DICK, YOU CAN’T SEE HIS GIRLFRIENDS BOOBS!” You say, accidentally slapping his face as you try to cover his eyes as well.

“Are you SLAPPING me because I won’t let you see JENO’S DICK?” Donghyuck complains.

“I SLAPPED YOU BECAUSE I CAN’T SEE SHIT, YOU MOTHERFUC-” 

He cuts you off by kissing your lips and pushing you to the hallway, warning the ones left behind: “JUST CLEAN EVERYTHING WHEN YOU’RE DONE!”

Donghyuck thinks that the first step before turning you into his trophy wife is buying his own place.

[neogotmycookie]

same page | l.dh

summary: you don’t necessarily mind admiring lee haechan from afar, but when the opportunity for you to get closer presents itself, you grasp it, and eventually you come to the realisation that whilst you’ve been too busy admiring, you’ve failed to notice that he’s been doing exactly the same. pairing: student!haechan x f!reader. mdni! adults only. genre: university!au, fluff, strangers to acquaintances to lovers, smut! word count: 32k (i am sorry) tags/warnings: alcohol consumption, smoking/vaping, swearing, talks of fetishes, explicit sexual content, kissing (a lot), making out, semi-public shenanigans(not sex), spitting (yum), fingering, dry humping, oral (both receiving), multiple orgasms, multiple smut scenes, dirty talk, praise, light chocking, lots of teasing, protected sex, overstimulation, haechan is cocky but also pathetic, haechan being bf material without even being her bf, he calls her a brat like once, petnames (baby, pretty, baby girl, good girl), she calls him “hae”, they’re both down bad, soft dom!haechan, sub!reader, switch!haechan, cumshot oops, aftercare, he’s just a good guy, both are mature but can be too in their head at times, there’s no toxicity or angst in this fic, ✨communication✨, pls let me know if i missed anything! other characters: the whole dream gang, chenle & ningning as oc’s besties a/n: hi all! this is my first ever fic (that I'm posting lol) and I've poured my heart and soul into it so i hope you show some love. it's definitely not perfect and i could keep rereading and finding things that I'd change but I've kept my writing in the dark for long enough and if i don’t post this now i know i never will, so please take it! I do have a part 2 in the works, which will be diving into their feelings and more angsty themes, but for now I hope you lovely people enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it xoxo ps. the idea for this fic blossomed while i was listening to eye candy by justin bieber, so might be worth giving it a listen whilst reading 

It's not like you’re obsessed with Lee Haechan. You just enjoy looking at him. You barely even know the guy, but, annoyingly, he's difficult to ignore. Difficult not to notice. And it’s not like you’ve spoken much to each other either, apart from the rare exchange of a few words here and there or the odd nod of acknowledgement in corridors.  

There was this one time where he sat next to you in class, but that was only because he was late and the seat next to yours was the only empty one that was close to the entrance of the classroom. That was the first time he smiled at you. Nothing more than casual and polite but it still made your heart race.

Then, of course, there was the time where you bumped into him on the street, while you were on your way to a date, which ended up being disastrous, but that didn’t really bother you. What bothered you was the fact that he was also on his way to a date. With a girl. A girl he chose to go on a date with. A girl that he probably found pretty. A girl that wasn't you. Regardless, that didn’t negate the fact that, that night you had your first ever conversation with him. It was brief, but it happened, and it certainly left you with a bittersweet taste in your mouth, which was probably why you later couldn’t focus on the boy you matched with on that godforsaken dating app. And as mean as it sounded in your head, you hoped Haechan’s date went as badly as yours. 

Next time you saw him, was at a campus party you got dragged to by Chenle and Ningning. Mark convinced Chenle, who convinced Ningning, who forced you and it’s not like you don’t enjoy a fun night out with friends and alcohol, you just weren’t in the right mood that night and you were convinced that being in your luteal phase had definitely something to do with it.   

You remember instantly spotting him in the kitchen, leaning lazily against the counter as he was speaking to a girl you didn’t recognise and you could tell just from her side profile that she was nothing but attractive. You watched as she reached and took the drink he was holding, bringing it up to her lips, tasting the contents of the cup but also him, and you decided to look elsewhere before. witnessing anything that would (but definitely shouldn’t) ruin your night.   

You were determined to spend the rest of the party as far away from him as possible, forcing poor Chenle to go and refill your drink in the kitchen every time you ran out. You were more than aware it might have sounded silly to anyone else, but you didn’t want to go down the rabbit hole of trying to get someone’s attention, when they were clearly not interested. You’d been that person in the past, and you refused to make the same mistakes again. At the end of the day, it was just a crush. It would go away eventually. Right?  

When the party started to die down, you found yourself in the back garden with no one else other than the lovely Na Jaemin, after you stumbled upon him being sick in a fake plant pot. You could have left him in his own fate, but knowing yourself, you would definitely feel guilty for the rest of the night, if you didn’t make sure he was safe. You started to regret your decision about 10 minutes later, when he had already fallen asleep with his head in your lap and you were sure he was drooling on you, but that was the least of your concerns in that moment. Thankfully, Chenle picked up on the first ring and when you asked him to come outside with reinforcements, he immediately said, “I’ll be there in a sec.”

The reinforcements, of course, being Jeno and Haechan, wasn’t exactly what you had in mind, but you weren’t in a position to be picky. You found out shortly after that Haechan had only stepped outside for a smoke and got dragged into ‘helping’, which he refused to do since, according to him, Jaemin had put him in that position countless of times and he’s sick of looking after a grown ass man who’s got the alcohol tolerance of a twelve year-old. You found his point more than valid, but you didn’t say anything.   

When Chenle and Jeno disappeared back inside, carrying a whiny and barely coherent Jaemin, you found yourself alone with the boy you had initially tried to steer clear of at all costs. Your mission miserably failed that night and at the end of it all you realised one thing; whatever it was that you felt for Lee Haechan, wasn’t just a harmless crush.   

“I gotta admit, that was slightly entertaining.” He said as he took the seat that Jaemin had previously been occupying next to you on the wooden bench.   

You must have sat there with him for about an hour, talking about everything and nothing, while enjoying the early summer breeze and the freedom that came with the end of finals. He insisted on getting you an uber home when you announced that you were going to walk because your phone had died and when you asked if you could pay him back somehow, he said, “Just don't be a stranger next year.”  

Autumn  

You were aware Zhong Chenle was an evil little thing, but you hadn’t pegged him for a traitor. And betrayed is what you felt as you read the message on your screen over and over again.   

@kh1000le: greetings folks, party at my new place this saturday @8 – I'll add the deets later but feel free to invite more people. ps. don’t forget to bring extra booze.  

You look up from your phone, remembering you're still in class and the professor is still talking stats. Your eyes instantly land on Haechan, still sitting two rows ahead of you, between Jeno and Jaemin and you can tell he’s looking down, probably reading the message you were reading just seconds ago. Jaemin shifts closer to whisper something in his ear and Haechan leans in to hear better. He quickly nods his head agreeing to whatever Jaemin says. 

You turn your attention back to your phone again and more notifications are flooding your screen. Other people in the group chat responding and reacting to messages. Haechan is still silent. No reactions or responses. You wonder what he's thinking. But most of all, you wonder if he's noticed you're also in that group chat. Would he recognise your username? You only started following each other the day after that party before summer, but it’s been almost four months now and there has certainly been no exchange of messages.   

Suddenly, you notice people have started packing up their belongings and you quickly start doing the same, hoping you can flee the scene as fast as possible, before Jaemin comes up to you with questions about the party.   

The second you step outside the doors and into the corridor, you exhale, relieved to have succeeded and as you start walking towards the main building exit you realise you spoke too soon.   

"Y/n, wait up!"

You close your eyes muttering a quiet “shit” to yourself. You put on a smile and turn around, Jaemin quickly approaching you. Haechan, who's trailing a few steps behind him, isn’t really paying attention, already in a conversation with Jeno.   

“Jeez woman, you sure walk fast. You got somewhere to be?” He speaks fast as he tries to catch his breath.  

“Hey Jaemin, yeah, sorry, I'm in a rush, how can I help?" You try and respond as nonchalantly as possible.   

"I just saw you're in that group chat and I'm assuming you'll be there on Saturday?" He asks with eyes full of hope.   

"Yes sir. I'm actually meeting up with Chenle now to talk logistics." You explain quickly, seeing Haechan getting closer from your peripheral.

"Ahhh that makes sense, I just wanted to ask if we should bring anything else other than alcohol?"   

"Just your drink of choice will be enough for you I reckon, don't want you ruining any of his new plants." You say with a teasing tone. 

"Yah!" He complains with a pout that is nothing but laughable. 

"Hey Y/N." Jeno approaches with a smile and joins your conversation. “Is this man bothering you?”   

“Not really, just making sure he doesn't die of alcohol poisoning on Saturday.” You try to keep your eyes on Jeno, avoiding the handsome boy who's also joined your little group. 

”I thought you were a nice one.” Jaemin whines like a little child while a frown adorns his face.   

“You’ve been fooled my friend,” Jeno comes to stand next to you, throwing an arm around your shoulders, shaking you playfully. “She’s evil.”   

You're mid eye roll when Haechan’s voice cuts through. “Seems pretty harmless to me.” He’s standing next to Jaemin now. One hand in his pocket, the other holding the strap of his bag. You notice the two rings adorning his middle fingers. Such a pretty hand, you think, the veins prominent, running down his smooth arm, disappearing underneath an oversized check shirt he's wearing over a white t-shirt. You then notice he's got a pair of jorts on and you can't help but wonder who can even pull off jorts that effortlessly nowadays.   

Your attention drifts back up to his face, the most adorable boba eyes are twinkling as he looks at you and his captivating mouth offers you a cheeky smile. A small dimple appears, barely there for you to see and you think you're on the verge of throwing up. His lips move again and you watch him carefully like he’s moving in slow motion. "Hi." His hand leaving his pocket and raising in the air to offer you a quick wave. It's annoying how such a small and casual gesture makes your heartbeat faster and your cheeks feel warmer. You're pretty sure your eyes are giving you away, showing how affected you are behind the stoic expression you’re struggling to maintain. You never thought you'd be here, but you have Chenle to thank. Or maybe strangle. You haven't decided yet.   

"Hi." You return the smile as calmly as you can, foregoing the wave. You don't think your limbs are working properly right now and you're pretty sure your fingers are slightly shaking by your sides. And you’re now thankful for Jeno’s arm still draped around you, the weight grounding and necessary. You feel your phone vibrate a few times in your back pocket, assuming it's either Chenle or Ning checking if you're alive and that pulls you out of your trance. “Evil is a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?”   

”That’s funny, remember when you told me to go fuck myself and read a book whilst I’m at it?"   

“Oh, I’m sorry,” You shove his arm off you in fake annoyance. “Did I offend you?” You feign concern dramatically. “Remember when you asked me if I’ve got any friends who need, and I quote, an unforgettable dicking down session and then proceeded to say, and I quote again, ‘is Murakami the fella who wrote that book about some Norwegian guy’s dick?’” You get slightly irritated just at the memory. 

"Ahhh that explains it! This guy came back home a few months ago asking if anyone’s got a copy of Norwegian Wood." Jaemin looks at you as he explains, whilst pointing a mocking finger at Jeno. 

"Oh? You actually read it then?" You ask with a hopeful smile and Jeno offers you a shy nod. Maybe there's hope for him after all. 

“Read it? He actually cried when he got to the part where Naoko kills herself.” Haechan snorts at Jeno’s sour expression and reaches out to lightly pinch his cheek. He instantly gets shoved away. “Aw come on, I thought it was endearing.” Haechan turns to look at you now. “I was wondering who made him read that.” He holds your gaze while you hold your breath, and you wish someone could hold your heart as it’s about to beat out of your chest. “I love that book.” He admits with a smile, and you celebrate internally, because you knew he wasn’t just a pretty face, and you feel giddy knowing that you’ve both loved the same thing, even if it’s just a book. 

You picture him sitting in a pink cafe, wearing a cozy sweater, looking all warm and comfy while turning page after page. You find yourself wanting to ask if he’s read it more than once, like you have and what his thoughts are on the ending. But you don’t. Not yet. 

“Well maybe you two nerds should join a book club.” Jeno bitterly says.   

“I mean, I’d be down?” Haechan raises his eyebrows suggestively at you. Mothefucker.   

“I would, but unfortunately I have somewhere to be right now.” Your response causing his tongue to poke in his cheek, trying to fight off a smile. The gesture making him look incredibly handsome and boyish at the same time and if you were a cartoon character, pink heart eyes would be bulging out of your eye sockets. Your force yourself to look away from Haechan's face, opting to divert your gaze between the other two boys instead. They're both carrying amused expressions, looking between you and Haechan and you feel like you’re missing something.   

“Ouch.” Jaemin says with a laugh, now mocking Haechan.   

“See?” Jeno looks at both of his friends, crossing his arms over his chest as if proving a point. “Told you she’s evil.” He smiles like he’s proud of you.   

And that’s your queue to escape. ”Right, well, as lovely as this has been, I actually have to go.”   

“Okay, busy queen.” Jaemin snaps his fingers and you can instantly picture him getting along with Chenle. “We’ll see you Saturday then.” He smiles sweetly.   

”You will indeed. Don’t be too late.” You say with a warning, pointing a finger between all three of them.  

”Yes, mam.” Jeno nods in agreement.   

You look at Haechan one last time. His expression contemplative, almost like he's torn between saying something else and keeping quiet. The way he's observing you makes you feel like he's already got you all figured out. Like there's no way he doesn't know you’re having trouble breathing, all because of him.

“See you Saturday.” He says in the sweetest tone, smiling at you like he's done it a million times before.  

You give him a small nod goodbye and when you start to walk away you try your best to do so at a normal speed - not wanting to give away the fact that you're practically running away.   

You hear Jaemin's loud voice again. “Bye Y/N!”   

”Bye Jaemin!” You respond, mimicking his cheerful tone without looking back.   

As you head towards the exit, you've already decided you're going to go with the option of strangling Chenle. Because there’s no way you’re surviving Saturday night without going clinically insane. Not if Haechan holds your gaze the way he did just a few moments ago. Not if he talks the way he talks and certainly not if he looks the way he looks. 

You’re done for.   

_

You’re baffled as to how and why Chenle knows this many people. You assume majority are friend of friends and acquaintances, because you’ve known the boy for three years now and never has he mentioned more than five names. You’re also starting to get worried he might get a noise complaint from the people occupying the flat downstairs, but you assume he has already warned them about the noise.   

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud exclaim and you feel like laughing when you hear Chenle’s screechy voice shouting Mark’s name excitedly, announcing his drunkenness along with the older boy’s arrival.   

"Lover boy still not here?" Ningning teases you as you check the time on your phone for the umpteenth time that night. She takes a sip from her drink and looks over your shoulder. "Relax, it only 9pm." 

"I'm relaxed." You defend quickly. She takes in your stressed expression and pauses to think for a second. "What?"  

"Nothing, I just realised I haven't seen you so excited about a boy before. It's refreshing." She smiles while trapping the straw between her pearly whites. "Speak of the devil." She jerks her chin towards the direction of the door and you instantly know who she’s referring to, but you don't dare to turn around and look yet. You feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest and Ningning sets her drink down on the kitchen counter before taking hold of both your shoulders. "Y/N, we talked about this. There's literally no reason to freak out. If he flirts, flirt back. Let it happen naturally yeah?" Her tone serious, as if you're both on a mission. 

You widen your eyes comically to match hers, nodding your head quickly while laughing at her expression. It’s almost as if she’s more anxious that you are. "Ning, I'm good. I got it."  

"Just saying, he'd be a dimwit not to like you." One of her hands pushes a strand of hair behind your ear and the comforting act gives you the reassurance you didn’t know you needed. "Plus, this dress makes your tiddies look yummy." She smirks and you wack her hand away with a laugh when she reaches out to poke into the bit of cleavage that spills from the top of your dress. You can tell she's entered the realms of tipsiness, and you wish you were there with her too, but the tequila shot from earlier definitely didn't do its job. 

"Fuck me, didn’t think this many people would turn up." Jaemin's loud voice startles both of you, making you turn around and you're met with the three boys from your stats class. "Good thing we brought reinforcements, huh?" He says excitedly, shaking a Jack Daniels bottle.   

"Are you a middle aged man by any chance?" Ningning's face scrunched up in disgust as she inspects the whiskey bottle in Jaemin's hands. "What happened to just drinking plain old vodka at parties?"

"Ah, Jeno is your guy." Jaemin points his thumb behind him and Jeno raises the hand holding a vodka bottle.   

Jeno's face lights up when he spots the unused cups and heads over to start making drinks for him and Ningning. "Lemonade?" He asks, looking at her and she nods excitedly. "Same for you Y/N?" His eyes on you now.  

"Nah, I'm on gin tonight, thanks though." You smile appreciatively at him.  

"Guess I'm your guy then."   

Fuck.  

Your eyes instantly meet. He's already smiling down at you, and he looks so good. Too good for your respiratory system to function properly. His dark hair is messily styled, fringe almost covering his eyes. He's got a black button-down shirt on, top three buttons undone, collarbones on display and sleeves rolled up revealing his veiny forearms, all effortlessly combined with dark blue jeans and black converse. Pretty. Perfect.   

Without permission, his hand engulfs yours, wrapping around your drink, bringing the cup to his lips, your own hand slipping down as he downs the liquid in one big gulp. The cooling feeling of his rings lingers, and you can’t help but stare at his neck as he swallows and then his eyes are on you again, his tongue slightly darting out to lick his bottom lip where there's a drop of liquid. His eyebrows furrow and he nods in approval. 

"Lemonade it is." He casually says, like he didn’t almost just cause your heart to fail. He takes your now empty cup with him, joining Jeno at the counter.   

"Well then," Jaemin feigns disappointment, eyebrows furrowing dramatically. "I guess I'm having this whole whiskey bottle to myself."  

"I'm sure Chenle would help you out." Ningning half jokes. "Good luck finding him though." 

"Yeah, what the hell, this place is so crowded." Jeno returns with two drinks and hands one of them to Ningning. "It might be a bit strong, sorry." He warns her.   

Her face grimaces slightly when she takes a reluctant sip, proving Jeno right, making you both laugh. "Eh, it'll do." She says carelessly, "I've had a stressful week."  

"Here to help." Jeno raises his cup, and they do a quick cheers. They start conversing comfortably about why her week was stressful and you're pretty sure they've never met before but that's Ningning. Top yapper, never awkward.   

"Yours might be a bit on the strong side too." Haechan says apologetically as he stands in front of you, handing you back your now full cup. You smile at the sparkly straw he's added. Cute. "Try it."  

And you do. It feels too intense, almost intimate, drinking while holding eye contact with someone, let alone this fine man, so you don't. But you feel his eyes on you as you take a sip. And you really do hope the drink is strong, because if you're going to survive tonight, alcohol will be your savior. He's looking at you, carefully taking in your expression as you taste the drink, almost as if he's sat on the edge of his seat waiting for your reaction.   

"It's good. Thank you." You smile appreciatively as you welcome the slight burn in the back of your throat and he mirrors you excitedly. 

"Good." He nods with a satisfied expression. Then he lets his eyes wander downwards. He takes in your dress in a not-so-subtle way, and you could swear he’s checking you out. You watch his eyes move on you and you love how he's still holding his cup close to his lips, touching the bottom one. You fight against the urge to reach out and drag it down with your thumb. Would he mind if you did that? You reach behind you instead, resting one hand against the counter to somewhat ground yourself, and the action seems to bring him back to reality. Is he always this obvious? 

"Did you also have a stressful week?" He asks casually, like he wasn't just staring at your boobs a second ago. His eyes on yours now.  

"Huh?"  

"Your friend said she's had a stressful week," He explains, chuckling at your confusion. "Was just asking if it was the same for you."  

"Oh right. Umm, I dunno." You shrug. "A little, I guess." 

"How come?" His head tilts to the side slightly.  

"It's always fine until Thursday to be honest." Your admission holds a double meaning and he seems to catch on as the sides of his lips slightly lift amusedly.   

"Really? Thursday is our day, no?" He playfully pouts and you’re trying your best not to let his smooth words affect you. Our day? What a little shit. You notice the silver chain around his neck and you can't help but feel a tinge of shame at the inappropriate thoughts that flood your mind. 

"Just not a big fan of stats." You make up an excuse with a slight delay, hoping that he can't tell you're practically ogling him. 

He nods understandingly. "You and me both. I've been seriously thinking of dropping it next semester."  

"What would you choose instead?" You ask curiously, trying to cover the frown that takes over your face at the thought of not sharing any classes with him. 

"Why, you interested in joining me?" Is he flirting or have you already gone insane?   

"Depends." You shrug, twirling the sparkly straw, eyes not leaving his. 

"I think I'd go for creative writing." He studies your face for a reaction.   

“Oh?” Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “So you really did mean it when you said you wanted to join a book club.” You tease with newfound confidence and he lets out an airy chuckle. 

“That offer's gone now, you turned me down.” He says with a smirk.   

"I'm sure I could convince you to reconsider." You say with a suggestive tone, catching him off guard and before he can retort with a witty response, you return to your initial subject. “So, you wanna be a be a writer or...?”  

"Well, no, not exactly.” His voice is hesitant, eyes lowering to look at his drink, almost as if he’s embarrassed. Does he think you’ll judge him? You suddenly get the feeling that you might have overstepped.   

“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. You don’t have to-”  

“No, no, you’re good.” His words are rushed, his head shaking quickly, hand reaching to touch your arm reassuringly. It’s light, quick, barely there but his fingers feel hot against your skin. Before you have time to react, he continues. “I just- I don’t really go around talking about personal goals and what not, so I don’t want you to think I’m flaunting.”  

“Why would I think you’re flaunting?” Your perplexed tone causing him to smile. 

“I wanna make music.” Eyes carefully watch you as he waits for a reaction. When you just nod for him to continue, he almost looks surprised but quickly recovers, clearing his throat. ”So, I thought creative writing would help.”  

"So, you wanna write songs." You state as if to make sure that you heard him correctly and he nods, still watching your face. "Unless you already have?" You ask carefully and he chuckles at your attempt to keep your nosiness to a minimum but failing.   

He moves to stand next to you, leaning against the counter. You feel like you can breathe again, now that his eyes aren't on you, but his arm brushes against your shoulder and you almost shiver when you feel the warmth radiating off him. You get a whiff of his scent, subtly inhaling, cologne and detergent mixing into an intoxicating potion that clouds your senses. He's too close but you somehow want him closer. You suddenly wonder where Chenle is and instantly feel bad for threatening to cut his air circulation. This is good. This feels good.   

He looks down at his drink, in thought. "I play the piano, so creating a melody is relatively simple if I really put my mind to it." Oh? He looks at you again and you feel scrutinised under his gaze. Suddenly, your shoes are very interesting to look at. "It's just the words I struggle with." He admits.   

"Maybe you need to find some sort of inspiration?" You suggest.  

"Maybe." He puts his drink down and leans against the counter, crossing his hands on his chest. "Like what though? 

"I mean, it could be a person." You say nonchalantly, without really thinking. "Unless you already have that?" The bold question comes out before your brain can process the thought and you internally scream.   

He smiles wide now. Pearly whites on display. His eyes back on yours. "I thought you didn’t mean to pry." He teases and laughs when your eyes widen. “I’m joking.” He elbows your side softly and you almost gasp as the touch. Why does he keep touching you?   

“I tend to get nosy after a couple of drinks, sorry.” You huff a quick laugh before taking another sip of your drink, trying to distract yourself.  

"Nah, you're right. I have no clue what or who I'd write about." He answers your question indirectly, implying that there's no one significant who could inspire him. He reaches for his drink again in thought. "Maybe ask me in a year's time? Hopefully I’ve found a source of inspiration by then."   

“That’s fair.” You pick up your phone from the counter and after unlocking it you click on your calendar app. You scroll until you find next year’s October and select today's date. He looks over your shoulder and laughs when he reads 'Ask Haechan about his songwriting' as the reminder's title. You show him your screen and smile when you see the approval on his face.   

"Yeah, that works." He nods.  

You look around and notice that all your friends are now gone. "We should probably mingle." You suggest.   

"Right, yeah." He agrees with a nod, looking around just like you did a second ago. 

When you spot Ningning in the crowd, she's laughing with Jeno and Jaemin. Their attention on Chenle and the girl who's got her tongue down his throat. You and Haechan find the situation just as comical.   

The rest of the night flows smoothly. You get to meet a few more people as well as the other two boys Haechan, Jeno and Jaemin live with and you wonder how all these insanely attractive came to be friends. Renjun and Jisung are both equally as lovely. You find Renjun’s mother figure hilarious and Jisung’s shyness endearing. You don't fail to notice that Haechan always hovers close. Not necessarily standing or sitting next to you, but always close enough that you can see him from your peripheral and you can't help but wonder if it's intentional or just a coincidence. 

You’re mid conversation with Mark when you feel a hand on your lower back. You easily recognise the now familiar scent of his cologne, and you instantly turn your head and look at him. You don’t know if it’s the alcohol deceiving you, but he looks even more irresistible than he did before. His hair slightly stuck to his forehead from the heat surrounding the crowded living room, cheeks and lips a deeper shade of pink now that he’s had his fair share of alcohol. You wonder if his lips taste the same as yours since you’ve been having the same drink all night.

“Shots?” Haechan shouts over the music and you and Mark follow him into the kitchen, where Jaemin and Jeno are preparing tequila shots and you wonder who assigned these two clowns with bartender duties. Chenle is now gulping down a glass of water and you’re thankful to whoever made that decision for him. 

As soon as you’ve downed your shot, you take a sip of your drink as a chaser to minimise the burning sensation in your esophagus. “Wanna go get some air?” Haechan leans in and you almost shiver as his warm breath fans against your naked shoulder and you internally thank Ningning for prompting you to wear a strapless dress.   

You respond with a quick nod and he smiles. “I got you.” He mumbles as he takes hold of your hand and leads you to the big balcony doors. On the way, he grabs a hoodie you assume he dumped earlier on the couch and the second you’re outside and he shuts the door, you feel the ringing in your ears. You’re thankful for the fresh air infiltrating your lungs and brain, feeling a little less intoxicated now. “Maybe that shot was a bad call,” Haechan laughs quietly at your dazed expression. “Didn’t take you for a lightweight.” He teases.  

“Yah!” You elbow him, your voice louder than you intended it to be and he giggles softly, clearly also affected by the drinks he’s had all night. “I’ve had the same amount as you.” You pout drunkenly.   

“I’m just teasing.” His smile soft now.   

“Yeah, you seem to keep doing that.” You say with a complaint in your tone, eyes narrowing.   

“Maybe I wouldn’t if you didn’t keep get all flustered every single time.” His words shock you; a surprised laugh escapes your throat at his boldness.   

Before you have time to speak, he notices your arms coming up to conceal a shiver and without a word, he’s closer than he’s ever been before. His arms circle around your shoulders, hands hovering just above your shoulders as he holds up the hoodie, waiting for you to slot your arms through the sleeves. You look up at him before you obey, his intense stare not giving much room for a refusal.   

Once it’s on you, his hands come to your front to fix the neckline that connects to the hood and when you think he’s about to zip you up, he reaches behind you again, playfully dragging the hood up over your head, covering most of your face with the thick fabric and you whine loudly, causing him to laugh. You push the hood back down, with a frown. “Aww, cute.” He coos as he gently tames the mess he created on your head, fingers untangling and smoothing down the strands and he smiles endearingly when he’s happy with his work. "There you go, all done." 

“Thanks.” You say in a bashful tone.   

“For keeping you warm or calling you cute?” He asks with a smirk and you can’t help but scoff, feigning annoyance as you swat away the hand still playing with a strand of your hair.   

Desperately needing to escape his daring eyes, you walk past him and towards the railing as you take in the view of the twinkling city lights and you withhold a smile when you feel him follow after you.  

You feel his gaze on you as he leans against the railing, taking a vape out of his pocket. He takes a puff and exhales the smoke through his nose, as he takes in the view himself, before turning to meet your gaze. The action shouldn’t feel this intimate and it definitely shouldn’t make him look even more attractive than he already is. 

You instinctively reach out and fix the chain that’s sort of tangled around his neck. He doesn’t flinch, just moves his head to the side to make room for your hand and the sides of his lips twitch, fighting a grin. “What flavour is it?” You drop your hand from his collar and step a little closer to take a look at the fruit-flavoured stick in his hand.   

“Cherry ice.” He holds it out for you. “Wanna try it?”   

When you do try it, you can't help but scrunch your nose at the sugary taste. “Hmm.” Your uncertainty obvious as you exhale the smoke. “It’s too sweet.” You cringe at the aftertaste, your funny expression making him laugh. And you feel your heartbeat fastening at the sound. Because you're right. It's too sweet. 

“I like sweet things.” He says in a low voice, as if he's letting you in on a secret. The meaning of his words dual and you feel the blush creeping from your neck up to your cheeks. You can tell he notices, but this time he holds back on teasing you and turns to look at the view again, taking another puff.  

You gawk at how handsome he looks from this angle. His long lashes, the slope of his perfect nose, his incredibly kissable heart-shaped lips, his sharp jawline, his neck. Everything about him. 

“I’m sure you do.” You mutter in a daze. He looks at you again and you don’t look away this time. His brown eyes sparkle, reflecting the city lights below. You realise that you’ve never actually been around him in a setting like this. It’s always been daytime with him. Always crowded. Always surrounded by noise that you had to block out. But now it’s all new.   

Nighttime. Just you two. Quiet.   

“That dress looks good on you, I like it.” His eyes trail down your form again, a lot quicker this time, but you still see it and at this point you're convinced he's not trying to hide it. 

Your face feels even warmer than before as you look down at your dress, your hand instinctively smoothing down the material. You can see the smoke he exhales from your peripheral and then you choose your words boldly again. “I know you do.”   

“Really?” He steps closer and his hand comes up, thumb delicately tracing the tiny bow at the centre of your cleavage. “What gave me away?” Your heartbeat increases when his fingers trail upwards, pushing your hair behind your shoulder and settling on the base of your neck, his thumb on your jaw, giving you no option but to look up at him.   

“You’re just-” You pause to inhale sharply when you realise how close he is. Your noses almost bumping into each other. You tip your head back slightly, to look at him properly.  

“I’m what?” He urges you to go on.  

“Not very subtle.” You finally finish your sentence.   

“Y/N-” He says with a breathy laugh and you don’t think you’ve ever liked the sound of your name so much before. The tip of his nose rubs against your own just once and the sweetest smile takes over his features. You feel yourself leaning into him even more. His thumb still caressing your jaw and you know he wants to kiss you, but you wait. You let him take the lead. Because you need him to. “I don’t think I ever intended to be subtle with you.”   

Your gaze drifts down to his lips and you so desperately want them on yours now, you think you might cave and close the gap yourself. One of your hands travels up and your pointer finger curls around his chain, pulling just a tiny bit.  And the second he closes the gap you think you’re going through an out of body experience. His lips feel soft, and you can instantly tell he’s a good kisser.   

His mouth slots perfectly against yours, slow at first. But he doesn’t waste time when your lips eagerly part against his. He licks at your bottom lip teasingly before briefly sucking, tongue easily finding its way in and the second it glides against your own, hot and wet, you moan. Both your hands find their way in his hair, slightly pulling, and you feel him sigh against your mouth. The hand on your jaw drags slowly to the back of your neck and into your hair, tilting your head to get the angle he wants. It's filthy, the perfect amount of sloppy and careful. A thousand times better than what you’ve imagined. He sucks on your tongue, forcing another moan out of you.   

You try to pull away for a second to catch your breath but the hand in your hair silently instructs you to stay put. “Mmh-mm.” He protests with a whine and the vibration against your mouth feels delicious. Arousing. And you feel pathetic at how wet you already are just from kissing him. He licks into your mouth one more time before pulling back, allowing you to catch your breath, a string of saliva still connecting your lips as you both breathe heavily and your fingers tighten around the collar of his shirt in desperation.   

“Fuck.” He exhales against your lips, sounding beautifully wrecked, chest moving up and down rapidly against your own and your erect nipples feel so sensitive rubbing on his shirt. Even with your eyes still closed, you can sense him looking at you, making you feel exposed and incredibly turned on at the same time.    

You fully come back to your senses when he starts walking you backwards until you’re eventually backed up against the wall next to the balcony door, suddenly reminding you of your surroundings. You don’t have much time to think before his lips are on yours again and you immediately turn into mush in his arms, mouth pliantly giving him access. The only things audible are your heavy breathing and the wet sounds of your lips smacking. The faint music coming from inside, barely noticeable now.

Haechan wraps a hand around your throat, gentle but possessive and you love the weight of it on your sweaty skin, just resting there with intend. His other hand grabs the side of your thigh, raising your leg to rest on his hip. And that’s when you feel the hardness, grinding slowly against your tummy, testing the waters, and you can’t help but gasp in response. 

His mouth leaves yours, trailing gentle kisses down your jaw and the side of your neck, leaving wet patches of your combined spit on your skin, and when he reaches the dip of your collarbone, he bites gently, soothing the skin with his tongue afterwards. You can’t help but clench around nothing.   

He angles your head to the side, giving himself more space to suck and lick where he pleases as his other hand trails from your thigh to the curve of your ass, squeezing the flesh and bunching up your dress in the process. You whimper at the feeling of his rough hand, your eyes rolling back when he grinds into your front again, with more urgency this time.  

"Fuck." You whisper breathlessly, feeling lightheaded.   

“Yeah?” He mumbles against your sensitive skin, and you cup his face in your hands, guiding him to look at you again. “What do you want?” He gives you a sweet peck and you instantly melt, your insides turning into mush as you hold him there, kissing him deeply again, squishing his cheeks between your hands and he smiles into the kiss, biting your bottom lip playfully, letting lets it snap back into place, making you whine softly. “Talk to me baby.” It’s barely audible, and he says it with ease, like he’s been calling you that for a long time and your eyes almost roll back at the pet name. A few hours ago, you were high on nerves because of him and now you’re just high on him, touching you and kissing you and calling you ‘baby’, like he owns you.   

Your thumbs caress his cheekbones before you trail your hands back up into his hair, nails gently scratching his scalp and he closes his eyes, humming in satisfaction. “Want you,” You murmur and kiss the side of his mouth as you drag a hand down his arm, giving his bicep a squeeze, before sneaking down to his hand that’s casually resting on your ass like it belongs there. You interlock your fingers with his, bringing both your hands between your bodies, guiding him under the front of your short dress, pressing his fingers against the seat of your lacy underwear. “Here.” You whisper against his lips and he inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring and you almost laugh at his reaction. Your leg wraps securely around him urging him closer by pushing the calf into his ass.   

“Jesus Christ.” He whispers and his eyes are on his hand as his fingers now start rubbing slowly against your sensitive clit, the delicate lace somewhat helping with the much-needed friction, but you desperately want to feel his skin on yours with no barrier.   

You kiss him again and he pliantly parts his lips for your tongue to invade, allowing you to taste the remnants of cherry ice. Your wet muscle glides against his slowly, and you moan when he pushes the flimsy material of your panties aside, like he’s read your mind. The moan turns into a whine when his middle and ring fingers make direct contact with your swollen clit, rubbing slow circles around the nub with precision, like he knows exactly what you like and you kiss him harder trying to distract yourself from the sensitivity, because there’s no way you’re cumming just from a couple fingers like a horny teenager. You both moan in the kiss the moment his fingers dip lower and drag through your wet slit and he doesn’t waste a second, rubbing up and down slowly, spreading the wetness messily.   

“You're soaked, fuck.” he mumbles in awe and you bask in the feeling of him finally knowing how much you want him; how much you need him to do something about it. “Messy baby.” His filthy words cloud your brain as your head lulls back against the wall to watch his face. He looks so pretty, his bottom lip trapped in his mouth, his glazed eyes focused on his hand still working between your legs. 

He must feel your eyes on him because he looks up at you and watches your reaction with a satisfied expression as the tip of his middle finger catches at your entrance before coming back up to your clit, spreading more of your wetness. He smirks when your jaw drops and your eyes roll back as he starts rubbing the bundle of nerves in firm and quick side-to-side motions with three of his fingers. 

"You're so pretty." He mutters against your lips and your stomach flutters at the words, along with your pussy.

“Fuck.” You whine when you feel him delicately suckle on your bottom lip, his tongue playfully dipping out to lick before he starts kissing down to your neck again and your arms wrap around his shoulders, holding him close, tugging at the fabric of his shirt in desperation. “So good.” You breathe into the night air relishing in the intense pleasure the pads of his digits offer, flicking with just the right amount of pressure, exactly how yours would.   

“Wanna make you cum.” He breathes heavily into your neck, dragging his lips up until he gently bites your earlobe. His fingers move faster now, abusing your poor clit, circling and massaging harder, and you feel a bead of sweat rolling down the back of your bent knee.   

“Yeah, want it.” You nod eagerly, your hips jolting forward and he inhales sharply.   

“Yeah, baby?” His eyes on you now. “Think you can take it?” His fingers now slowing down, teasing.  

“Uh-huh.” You manage to get out in urgency as his fingers dip down again. “Please.” You stare into his eyes, and you feel yours starting to water when his middle and ring fingers slowly slide into you with ease. Your jaw drops, the stretch delicious and so needed, so welcome. Your vision blurs when he slowly starts pumping them in and out, testing the waters first and your eyes roll back in relief. A squeal escapes you when he curls his fingers just the right amount and starts fucking in and out of your pussy at a rapid pace, like he’s on a mission.   

“Oh fuck!” You exclaim in surprise, your hand flying to his bicep as you look down at his hand in surprise, the veins protruding on his tan arm, the sight so sinful you have to close your eyes again. The heel of his palm rubbing against your clit each time he fucks into you, creates a deliciously warm vibration. The sounds are obscene, your wetness making every movement of his loud. 

Another pornographic moan breaks out of you when his pace gets a little rougher and Haechan has to shut you up with a hand on your mouth. Your shaky fingers are clawing at his chest, over his shirt, and he lets out a low grunt against the hand he’s got pressed on your mouth, his forehead resting on yours and his eyes closing when you clench around his fingers. Your legs start shaking from the intense pleasure and he opts to wrapping his arm securely around your waist in order to help you maintain your compromised balance. He doesn’t hesitate to replace his hand with his lips, silencing you with a wet, tongue filled kiss, swallowing all your noises. You’re not really kissing him back, your lips parted against his at a pathetic attempt of reciprocating, just panting and whining, completely lost in pleasure. 

“I’m so close.” You whisper and you feel like you’re on the verge of crying.   

“I’ve got you, baby, c'mon.” He murmurs into the messy kiss breathlessly, saliva coating both your chins and you love every second of it. The pads of his fingers now abusing the rubbery spot at the front of your walls at an intense speed, hitting it just perfectly and you think you’re going to pass out. Your walls flutter around his fingers, sucking him in and you're sure he can tell you're right there. Slick is dripping down his wrist, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. “Fuck yeah, there it is.”  

“Haechan, I'm-“ Your eyes slightly widen, and you can’t even finish your sentence as you stumble over the edge. “Oh my god.” Your voice strained, your lungs struggling to keep up. The heat from where his fingers are burying repeatedly, starts spreading and your stomach clenches. Your walls clamp down on his hand, kneading his fingers and for a second, his eyes close, seeming to enjoy the constricting feeling. Your own eyes roll back at the pleasure, eyebrows creased, jaw dropping in a silent moan, breaths coming out quick and you're sure he can feel your leg shaking uncontrollably against his hip.   

“Fuck, you feel so good.” His words make you smile in your daze, and you bite on your bottom lip knowing he finds pleasure in your own. He doesn’t stop moving his fingers, letting you ride out your high for as long as possible and when your eyes open, you see him watching your face in awe, and ironically, you feel shy. His fingers slow down when you whine from overstimulation, until he completely halts and buries them inside to enjoy the feeling of your sensitive walls for a little longer. He kisses your cheek sweetly as he carefully pulls out of you, his fingers bumping lightly against your clit, causing you to flinch. He buries his face in your neck to conceal his laugh, hot breath fanning against your damp skin as he scatters little kisses. You sigh and relax contently when his warm hand cups your whole pussy and he keeps it there in a comforting manner.   

"Good?” He whispers, nose delicately rubbing against your flushed skin and you almost don’t hear him due to the ringing in your ears still lingering after the intense high.  

"Yeah." Your forehead is sweaty; you feel baby hairs sticking to the damp skin and you lazily smile at how fast his heart is beating against your palm. Your eyes are staring dreamily at his face and you rub your nose against his, your hand coming up to stroke his cheek affectionately. Your thumb drags across his bottom lip and he bites on it playfully, his nose scrunching cutely, making you swoon. It scares you how comfortable you already feel around him.   

Your leg drops from his hip, and you wince at the soreness. His hand now trapped between your legs, still cupping your heat. An idea pops into your head, making you smirk and he watches your expression with an inquisitive look, eyebrows raising slightly in question. 

"What?" He asks, eyes innocent, seemingly lost. 

You firmly wrap a hand around his wrist, trying not to whimper when you feel his fingers drag against your sensitive clit and your hold tightens. He lets you lift his hand between both your faces, his eyes inspecting the strings of wetness stretching between his long digits. Without warning you lean forward, wrapping your swollen lips around the two fingers that were inside you just a few minutes ago and Haechan whimpers at the sinful gesture. It’s erotic, filthy and you don’t even know what took over you but you certainly relish in his reaction. Your eyes watching him carefully, his pupils dilated as he watches you hungrily, cheeks flushed, swollen lips parted prettily.   

“Shit, baby.” His voice on the whiny side now, and you feel his other hand tightening on your hip. He’s very clearly turned on and you almost feel bad for torturing him, considering he’s done nothing but please you. He pushes his fingers deeper inside your mouth wanting you to taste yourself and you swirl your tongue around them, harshly sucking, making a mess on purpose. You let a satisfied hum around his digits, closing your eyes as you pull them out with a wet pop.   

“You’re being unfair now.” He grunts and grabs the back of your neck, crashing his lips against yours in an open-mouthed kiss. Teeth clashing and tongues tangling messily as he licks into your mouth obscenely, and he moans at the taste of you. You let out a surprised yelp when his fingers find your oversensitive cunt again and he dips them between your puffy lips, rubbing them up and down, like he did before, unforgivingly ignoring your protesting sounds. “Still so wet.” He mutters into the kiss and you whine pathetically.   

“Mmf-, too much.” You force the words out against his mouth and grab his wrist in urgency this time. He laughs meanly but obliges anyway. He brings his soaked fingers up to his own lips this time and you can’t seem to be able to break eye contact as he slowly sucks on them, making a spectacle, the act much more intimate when he’s the one doing it.   

Once he’s done, he drops his hand on your waist, wiping the wetness on the material of his hoodie and kisses you again, this time slow, languidly, wanting to savour your taste and he moans when your hands start unbuckling his belt. “Can I make you cum?” You murmur into the kiss and he’s contemplating but just as he's about to kiss you again, the moment is ruined by a wandering Jaemin, who rolls the doors open and lets out a shocked sound when he steps out.   

“Oh shit, sorry.” His eyes widen when he realises it’s you and Haechan he’s walked in on and not a couple of strangers. “Oh shit.” He says again, with more emphasis this time and you bury your face in Haechan’s shoulder to hide your embarrassment. His arm around your waist tightens in reassurance, sensing your unease and you smile against his neck in silent gratitude. “Yo!” Jaemin says loudly and points an accusatory finger at both of you. "What the fuck? We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”   

“Jaem, read the fucking room.” Haechan’s tone is slightly harsh but his touch feels gentle where his hand strokes gently on your waist. “Go back inside, we’ll join you in a bit.”   

Jaemin grins mischievously. “Well, most people have gone home now, I just came out to have a smoke, but I’ll leave you to it.” He moves to head back inside but before shutting the big glass door he pokes his head out again. “Oh, just fyi, Chenle is passed out on the sofa and Mark is still in there somewhere, just in case you’re planning on fucking out there.” His expression then changes, eyes narrowing as he inspects both of you from head to toe, a look of realisation taking over his face. 

“Unless you already have?” He poses quizzically. 

“You’ll go back inside now, unless you want Jeno finding out about last-“   

”Kay bye!” Jaemin quickly shuts the door, fleeing the scene before Haechan can finish his sentence.  

“Sorry about him.” Haechan mutters, burying his face into your shoulder and lets out a sigh. “Half his brain cells appear to be dead.” You snort at his jokey comment but you can sense the irritation in his voice. You run your fingers through his hair, scratching on the back of his neck and smile to yourself when you feel him shiver against you, his cheek resting on your shoulder.   

He lifts his head, looking down your figure as his hands slide down your hips and onto the tops of your thighs, dipping under the hem of your dress and before you can protest, he slips your underwear back into place. His knuckles drag against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and your breath hitches when you feel him tap his fingers against your core lightly. He laughs when you slap his hand away and you narrow your eyes at him scoldingly. You relax when he smooths over the fabric of your dress to make it look less wrinkled and you find yourself fighting a smile at the sweet gesture. It feels domestic almost. 

“Thanks.” You say softly, eyes locking with his. He smiles and leans down to quickly peck you on the lips. His hands caress your sides one last time and then they slide up, squeezing your tits softly in the process, the pads of his fingers lightly dipping into the flesh that spills over the top of your tight dress.  

”Pretty.” He mumbles almost to himself and if up until now you were under the impression he was an ass man, now you're thinking you might have been wrong. He continues his journey upwards, taming your messy hair, gently combing stray strands behind your ears. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”   

When you step back inside, you both quietly laugh at the sight of poor Chenle sprawled face first on his new sofa and you’re pretty sure he’s drooling on it. Haechan heads into the kitchen and comes back with a glass of water, which he places on the coffee table next to Chenle’s unmoving body. He then maneuvers him carefully, turning him on his side so he doesn’t choke to death in his sleep with his face buried in the cushions. You smile at the thoughtful gesture, and you move to grab your bag from the coffee table to distract yourself from the fluttering in your stomach.   

“’Will he be okay on his own?” A tinge of worry in his eyes.   

“Yeah, he’ll be fine. He always passes out like this when he gets too drunk.” You lean down and leave a small kiss on Chenle’s temple and brush the hair away from his forehead. “I’d say he looks angelic but he’s actually the devil incarnate.” You whisper, observing Chenle’s cute face, and you can confirm he’s actually drooling on his sofa. 

The walk back to your place is mostly quiet but comfortable. Haechan swings your interlocked hands distractedly as you’re both walking at a slow pace, trying to prolong the night for as long as possible. 

“What’s Jaemin’s dirty laundry then? You threatened him you’d tell Jeno earlier.” You break the silence and he chuckles at your question. 

“He had sex in Jeno’s bed last year.” He chuckles as he spills the secret and looks at you, gauging your reaction. 

“Sounds like someone needs to teach that boy a lesson.” You say, and before you can stop the words tumbling out of your mouth, “Maybe we should fuck in his bed.” Your eyes widen at your own words and Haechan’s head snaps up to look you, mirroring your shocked expression. And then he laughs loudly. A kind of laugh you’ve never heard from him. His hand rests on his abdomen as if his stomach is in pain.   

“Alright it’s not that funny.” You pout in embarrassment. “In my head it sounded kind of sexy.”   

His laugh gradually dies down until there’s just amusement written on his face. “I mean, we can do that if you actually want to, but I have other priorities.”   

“Meaning?” 

“Well..” He trails in thought. “Ideally, I'd like to take you out first,” You feel like exploding but you maintain a stoic expression, gesturing him to continue. “And I'd rather fuck you in my own bed before moving on to Jaemin’s or anyone else’s.”   

Your breath catches at his forwardness and you’re suddenly struggling to find the right words. “Umm,” you think carefully. “What about my bed?” You ask innocently.   

"Don't worry, it's up there." His smirk makes you feel weak and you feel him squeeze your hand in his, running his thumb over the back of it.   

“You sound awfully confident.” You say calmly, fighting a smile.  

He pulls you closer by your hand. “What, you think I’m playing?” He almost sounds offended.   

“I dunno, don’t really know much about you.” You shrug. 

“Do you want to?” He asks and for the first time he sounds nervous.   

You squeeze his hand the same way he did with yours, hoping to reassure him. “I think I’ve made it pretty clear that I do.” You halt your movements when you reach your building and look up into his eyes. “A lot.” His fingers stay intertwined with yours lazily. A relieved smile takes over his expression, and you really feel like kissing him again. He looks shy all of a sudden and a giggle escapes your throat. “Cute.”   

He clicks his tongue to show annoyance, and you can see him poking the muscle against the inside of his cheek, trying to hold back a smile when he looks away for a second. Then he steps closer, invading your space again. “You wanna give me your number? I don’t really use instagram.”   

“Okay, green flag.” You say playfully and he snorts. You hold your hand out for him to pass you his phone and when you’ve saved your contact, you text yourself a “hi” so you can save his number too.   

“Cool.” He says casually as he shoves his phone in his back pocket.   

“Cool.” You say back and step closer to him, wanting to feel his warmth one more time before parting ways. He smiles in understanding and pulls you closer, wrapping both arms around your waist to hold your body flush against his. You wrap your arms around his middle and rest your head on his chest. “I had fun tonight.” You murmur.  

He rests his chin at the top of your head. One of his hands sneaks up and holds the back of your neck gently while the other strokes the small of your back. “I did too.” His fingers bury in your hair, gently pulling to make you look at him but you don’t get the chance, because his lips are on yours instantly, dragging slowly, carefully. Both his hands cup your face as he licks your bottom lip for access, which you give without a second thought and his tongue sneaks in to play with yours, letting you taste him. Your body completely relaxes against his, enjoying the warm feeling of his chest against yours.  

You whine when he pulls back to look at you and he smiles when your lips trail after his. He gives in with a smile, chastely kissing you again. No tongue this time, but he playfully sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, and you love how safe you feel in his arms. He trails up, kissing the tip of your nose and back down again as he gives you another wet smooch before creating a tiny bit of distance between your lips while maintaining the closeness between your bodies.  

You smile against his jaw as you slip your hand into his empty back pocket, lightly squeezing his ass cheek and he laughs at your playfulness. “Okay, you better go now before I drag you upstairs with me.” You give him a little kiss on the cheek before slipping away from his warmth. You take off his hoodie and hand it back to him.   

"Mmm okay." He moves away reluctantly. “I’ll text you yeah?” He says with a cute smile.  

“I’ll try and text you back.” You tease and he rolls his eyes, his smile not faltering.   

“Night, Y/N.” He quietly says in the night air and you melt at the way your name rolls off his tongue.  

“Night, Haechan.” You give him a small wave goodbye and watch him walk away.   

_

The next morning, you're quietly munching on your cereal, lost in thought, reminiscing last night like it’s a distant memory, when you see a hungover Jeno messily stumbling out of Ningning's room, carrying his shoes in one hand and his jacket in the other. "Didn't care to take off your shoes at the door?" Your voice seems to startle him in the quiet of the morning.   

"Shit!" His reaction making you laugh. "Fuck, Y/N, you scared me."  

"Sorry." You're really not. "Are you pulling a French exit on my friend?" Your serious tone seems to intimidate him.  

"No, she's awake, just snoozing." He says quickly. "I swear." You try not to laugh at the nervousness written all over his face. "Nothing happened, we just cuddled."   

"Relax, I'm just fucking with you." You chuckle at his disheveled state. "Want some breakfast? I can offer three kinds of cereal." You point at your selection of boxes.  

His eyes widen eagerly at that. "Sure, thanks." He walks towards where you're sitting at the kitchen table, dropping his shoes on the floor and his jacket on the back of his chair, before taking a seat across from you. "I'll just have what you're having." He says with a sweet smile, eyes almost disappearing and you realise he sort of looks like a Samoyed puppy but refrain from making a comment. You’re not that close after all.  

You nod and get up to grab him a bowl. He's looking at his phone when he speaks up again. "So, you and Haechan?" You hold back a smile as pass him a bowl with a spoon and the milk. He looks at you again and he explains when he sees your questioning stare. "Jaemin messaged the group chat."  

"Ah," You nod in understanding. "Of course."  

"So?" He asks expectantly, chewing loudly after he's poured the milk in his cheerios.   

"What, you can't wait until he tells you himself?" You ask sarcastically.  

"Girls' perspectives are always better." He pauses mid munch. "Plus, Haechan is the most private dude when it comes to stuff like that." For some reason that doesn't surprise you.   

"Good for him." You get up to wash your bowl after finishing. "Maybe you're just too nosy."   

"Oh c'mon, it's not that big of a deal, is it?" Your silence seems to intrigue him. "Or maybe it is?"  

You turn to look at him when you're done washing up, leaning next to the sink and you see he's already devoured the contents of his bowl. "Feel free to go for seconds." You say pointing at the box in front of him and his face lights up before he starts pouring more cereal.   

"Do you like him then?" He asks casually as he starts munching again and the question makes you falter. "Because, if you do," He swallows. "I can confirm it's reciprocated." Your eyebrows lift at his confession and Jeno smirks at your shocked expression. "Just spill, I won't tell him." And you trust his words, but you suddenly feel shy, thinking about your intimate moments with Haechan.   

"I'll tell you if you tell me about you and Ning." You like knowing boys' perspectives too.  

"Sounds fair." He nods with his mouth full.   

"You want the TMI version or PG-13?" You appreciate he's still eating so you don't want to ruin his breakfast.

"TMI, always." He says casually.  

"He fingered me on Chenle's balcony and then said he wants to take me out." Jeno chokes at your confession.  

"Jesus woman!" He coughs lightly and clears his throat before continuing. "No tact whatsoever."  

You snort at his reaction. "You said 'TMI always' no?"  

"Was it good?" He asks in a quieter and more serious tone now. Like he's asking you to share one of your deepest secrets. And here you were thinking you weren’t that close. You can’t help but laugh because that sounds like what Ningning would have asked in a situation like this. Maybe they are a good match after all.   

"The fingering?" He nods at your question, eyes not leaving yours, having paused his eating, spoon still in hand hovering over his bowl. "I mean, I thought I was gonna pass out at some point so, yeah, pretty good."  

An eyebrow raised in fascination. "Damn, go Haechan." Then he asks carefully. "So, I take it you'd go out with him?"  

You shrug. "Maybe, but I don’t think I want a situationship or anything like that."  

"You're in luck, he's not into that shit either." 

"We'll see, he hasn't texted yet." You try to sound casual but you know Jeno can see right through you.   

"Don't worry, he will."   

"Who says I'm worried?" You huff a humorless laugh.   

He rolls his eyes and gets up to walk over to the sink, taking his bowl with him. "If he said he wants to take you out, he meant it. And trust me when I say, that boy has had enough of casual flings. He might be going about it a bit backwards, but he’s definitely interested." He states like it's a fact and you're thankful he's trying to reassure you even though he doesn't owe you anything.   

"How do you know it's reciprocated?" You ask carefully, referring to what Jeno said earlier and he smiles cheekily.   

"I thought you weren't worried." He teases, moving his eyebrows up and down and you flick the back of his head. "Ow! Okay okay, jeez." He rubs the sore spot with the inside of his wrist to prevent his soapy fingers from touching his hair. He then proceeds to dry the clean bowl with the kitchen towel he spots on the counter and hands it to you with a sweet smile on his face.   

"Thanks, you didn't have to wash up." You say, putting the bowl back on its shelf. He waves his hand, gesturing that there's no need to thank him for something so small.  

"He said he thought you were ‘pretty cool’ after we hounded you on Thursday and for the first time in, like, forever, he was stressing about his outfit before a party."  

You give him a pointed look. "How’s that an indication of anything?"  

"Trust me, that's enough indication for Haechan. He's probably already planning your wedding in his sleep as we speak." You roll your eyes at his exaggeration. "Y/N, he likes you. It was so obvious that both me and Jaem knew he was gonna make a move last night." He sits down again and starts putting his shoes on. "Obviously, I didn't think he was gonna finger you in a public space and what not but-"  

"To be fair, I initiated that." You interrupt him and he snorts.  

"I'm sure he didn't mind." Jeno jokes with a smirk, and you cover your face in embarrassment, earning a chuckle from him. He must be enjoying this because he proceeds to tease even more. "If anything, he probably found that incredibly hot." You groan at his words. "Seriously, there's nothing hotter than a woman who knows what she wants."   

You look at him through your fingers still covering your face, a teasing comment pops in your head. Two can certainly play this game.   

"That explains why you didn't sleep in your own bed last night." You notice the blush that creeps up on his cheeks and you can help but cross your arms over your chest proudly.  

"Yeah, something like that." He says sheepishly, his hand awkwardly scratching the back of his neck and you suddenly can't wait for your debrief with Ningning later. "Anyway, my point is, I think you should give him a chance." He finishes putting his shoes on, both feet on the floor now and he looks at you, his back leaning against the chair and his arms crossing over his chest. "He's a great guy." 

"Alright, enough about me, your turn now."   

_

Haechan likes to think he's a decent guy. He's got his life together; he's on top of his coursework, he gets decent grades, he's got good friends and he's got a part-time job at a record store that pays relatively well. At least well enough to cover his own personal expenses. His parents help him out with rent, but they do appreciate his efforts and he does his best to not feel like a burden. He's a good son and a good big brother to both his siblings. He's polite to old people and even helps them cross the street when he needs to, he loves his friends and always looks out for them, even if he gets grumpy sometimes, he never holds grudges and is upfront about things that bother him. He likes buying his loved ones presents and not just for special occasions. Not because he's a people pleaser, but because he just likes making them happy whenever he can. He tries not to lie except for the odd white lie here and there. He l doesn't fuck around or date aimlessly. At least not anymore. He went through a phase during his first year of uni but it's been two years since then and he's currently embracing single life. Yes, he sometimes does cave into the temptation of bringing a girl back after a party, but it's a rare occurrence and he's always honest about what he wants. He hates leading people on. It's not that he's afraid of commitment, he often finds himself wanting a girlfriend but he's not actively searching for one either.   

He knows he doesn't lack in the looks department, or in any other department really. Yeah, he's got his silly insecurities like everyone else but he's a confident guy overall. Although he does admit that he can sometimes be cocky, that's because he knows he's the most mature out of his friends. Yes, Renjun mostly looks after everyone and has a motherly figure, but Haechan gives the best advice when it comes to most serious life dilemmas, and he's aware of that. He might not be the brightest when it comes to academics but he's confident when it comes to navigating life sensibly and responsibly. That's why he was completely and utterly flabbergasted when you came into the picture. His picture.   

He's always noticed you before, yes, and he's always thought you were good looking, but that's about it. He doesn't just go around hitting on every girl he finds attractive. He's more of a 'personality above all else' type of man, so when he first saw you, even though he thought to himself 'wow, pretty', he didn't think it would be appropriate to just come up to you and ask for your number. Plus, you seemed somewhat reserved from the few times you had exchanged words. Not that he didn't like that, because he did, he did find you intriguing, he would get to know you if the opportunity posed itself to him, but he also didn't feel like chasing after you would be something you'd like or even welcome. You didn't seem cold, just indifferent. And so, he kind of just opted to observing you from afar. Sometimes you were alone, other times you were with a girl whose name he didn't know, others with a boy whose name he couldn't remember. He was sure they'd met before though, maybe at a party around campus or maybe through a friend? He couldn't quite place him. Other times you were with them both, laughing your heart out at whatever you three were talking about and he would find himself wondering what makes you laugh that hard.   

He knew you always sat two rows behind him in his stats class every Thursday afternoon, his last class for that day. However, he rarely got to see you on Thursdays, even though you were both in the same room for an hour and a half. You always arrived after him and left before him, so, whenever he turned his head at the end of the lecture to look for you, you were already gone. The times he did get to see you were the times he would turn up a little later than normal, which was exactly one minute before the professor started the class. Even then, he wasn't really able to observe you for as long as he'd ideally like. He would just get to see the back of your head for a few seconds before reaching his usual seat. He sometimes would pretend to crack his back, just to turn around twice and look at your face for a few seconds. Your attention was always on the notes in front of you though. One time he did catch you already staring at him, you looked away the second his eyes met yours, almost shy. He found it cute and he thought to himself; 'maybe she's not that indifferent after all'.   

He knew you and Jeno were somewhat friendly because you shared a few classes and he was sure he'd caught you speaking with Jaemin a couple times in corridors. He wasn't jealous or anything, but he definitely wouldn't mind being on first name basis with you too. And it's not like he was obsessed with you. He didn't really think about you that much, but his intrigue definitely intensified when he got to speak to you properly for the first time at that party just before summer. He can’t clearly remember what you two exactly talked about, but he does remember not wanting to leave, he remembers thinking you looked unreal and he certainly remembers wishing he could relive that moment sober so he could memorise every word that came out of your mouth.   

Things have changed now though. Drastically and unexpectedly. Because just two days ago he got to speak to you again and his curiosity morphed into excitement. You pleasantly surprised him. From the way you handled yourself around Jaemin's obnoxiously loud personality to the way you put Jeno in his place like no girl ever has before. You were witty and smart and sweet. Too sweet. And he knows that, because he's quite literally tasted you now. Just a few hours ago he had you pinned against the wall of your friend's new apartment. Just a few hours ago he had you gasping and writhing and pathetically whining his name, simply because his fingers were too much for you. And he loved every second of it.   

Haechan didn't really go to Chenle's party thinking he'd get some. He was just excited to get to know you and speak to you one on one. He went into the situation hoping he could maybe flirt with you and end up with your number in his contact list at the end of the night, which he did. And maybe he was hoping he could get to walk you home and get a kiss from you, which again, he did. But he definitely didn't expect you'd reciprocate his flirting like you were prepared for it. He definitely didn't expect you'd ask him who and what he want to write songs about and he definitely didn't expect you to kiss him back the way you did. He's kissed many people before. He's had good kisses, bad ones, a few memorable ones and definitely a lot of forgettable ones. He's never kissed anyone the way he kissed you, though. And he's equally never had anyone kiss him the way you kissed him. Not even ex-girlfriends. Not that he's had many, but the two he's had don't even come close. And that scares him. Because if Haechan thought he wasn't obsessed with you before, he really doesn't know what to think now. But what he does know is that it’s incredibly unfair of you to make him feel and think this much, this soon.

It's still early, the sun barely out. He's maybe managed to get four hours of sleep before getting woken up by the sound of someone retching in the bathroom down the hall. Most likely Jaemin. He almost fell asleep again after that but the sound of a door slamming, completely ruined his slumber. So, now he's just staring at his ceiling, one arm supporting his head on the pillow and the other resting lazily on his naked stomach. He feels tired but he knows he won't be able to go back to sleep now. And that's fine, because he can at least think about you. He can think about your voice and your scent and he can think about how you touched him and how you let him touch you. He can think about how you tried to keep quiet in the midst of pleasure but miserably failed repeatedly. And he's definitely going to think about how good you felt around his fingers. Perfect. There are so many things he can think about when it comes to you and there's not a single bad one. Everything related to you is good.   

You said you wanted to get to know him 'a lot', and that was exactly what he wanted to hear, but he can't help but wonder when you started to feel this way. Not that it matters that much, because, regardless of the timeline, he's going to make it happen. He's going to take you out and he's going to get to know you. He's almost worried that he's going about this in the wrong order, because, ideally, he would have wanted to take you out before any kissing and sexual activities took place. Not because he's old fashioned or some kind of prude, but because he doesn't want you getting the wrong impression. He doesn't want you thinking he's only into you because of the sexual chemistry you share. Of course, he thinks physical intimacy is important, but he's always found that emotional intimacy beats all. And he wants to see if he can get to that level with you. He knows you're compatible sexually, he could tell last night you were on the same wavelength. There was no awkwardness, no uncertainty. 

He could tell you knew your body well, that you knew what you wanted and he liked that you weren't shy about it. And he'd be lying if he said that wasn't one of his favourite parts of the night; the moment you guided his hand where you wanted it. He found that so attractive that he actually thought about it when he got in his bed last night and finally managed to relieve the hardness in his boxers. He loved that you weren't shy about how much you wanted him to touch you. You were the perfect amount of vocal, and your body reacted to his words the way he hoped it would. So, yes, he is positive sexual chemistry isn’t something you two would struggle with, but he also doesn't want it to be the main thing that you connect on. He wants a lot more than that.   

Haechan is self-aware. He's a horny guy and he's not shy about it. He likes what he likes and there's not much he doesn't like when it comes to sex. He's very much open to exploring and what not, but he knows that he's always struggled connecting with people on an emotional level before. Especially people he's dated. He's had flings and he's had casual sexual partners. He's been in a couple of serious relationships, and he's been infatuated with his ex-girlfriends or ex flings, but he knows he’s never been in love with any of them. He remembers thinking he loved his first girlfriend, but he was only 16 back then and when he thinks back to that relationship, he barely sees it as a relationship. All they ever did was go on walks, watch movies, cuddle and make out. Eventually it just fizzled out. 

His second relationship was serious, but toxic. He remembers enjoying the push-and-pull situation initially but when it all became so unbearably exhausting, it put him off relationships for a long time. Now that he's had time to be alone and process his own feelings, he knows he's capable of commitment, but he wants it to be with the right person, and he wants it to be with someone who will accept him for who he is. Haechan knows that if he found the one now, he would commit. And he doesn't know if you're the one, but he wouldn't mind exploring if you would stick around for the long run.   

And so, later in the day, when he's lazily sprawled on the sofa, next to a hungover Jeno, who apparently saw you this morning and reassured him that you're definitely interested, Haechan decides to finally text you like he promised. When he opens your chat, he sees you've already texted yourself to save his number and added a little sunflower emoji next to your name and he smiles to himself. He wonders if you've added an emoji next to his name too and if so, which one?  

20:03 Hae☀️: hey pretty   

20:03 Hae☀️: have any free periods tomorrow?   

20:09 y/n🌻: hii :)  

20:09 y/n🌻: i do 

20:10 y/n🌻: I am free between 1pm-3pm   

20:11 Hae☀️: wanna grab a coffee with me? 

20:12 y/n🌻: i'd love to 

20:13 Hae☀️: woop! 

20:13 Hae☀️: where shall I meet you?  

20:18 y/n🌻: how about the café by the architecture building?  

20:21 Hae☀️: i know the one  

20:21 Hae☀️: i'll be there there at 1pm sharp  

20:22 Hae☀️: don't stand me up 👉🏻👈🏻  

20:24 y/n🌻: i would never 🥺  

20:25 Hae☀️: thought about you a lot today  

20:26 y/n🌻: really?  

20:26 y/n🌻: what did you think about?  

20:28 Hae☀️: yes really  

20:28 Hae☀️: just...things   

20:29 Hae☀️: can't say much more than that   

20:29 Hae☀️: did you not think about me? :( 

20:31 y/n🌻: nah   

20:31 y/n🌻: not really :(  

20:32 Hae☀️: 🙄  

20:32 Hae☀️: ur rude  

20:32 Hae☀️: and a liar    

20:34 y/n🌻: oops  

20:34 y/n🌻: why ask a question you already know the answer to?   

20:35 Hae☀️: smooth   

20:35 Hae☀️: i guess i needed some reassurance  

20:36 y/n🌻: Hae?  

20:36 Hae☀️: yea?  

20:37 y/n🌻: I thought about you  

20:37 y/n🌻: a lot   

20:37 y/n🌻: like and unhealthy amount  

20:38 Hae☀️: fuck   

20:38 Hae☀️: didn't think you'd actually say it  

20:40 y/n🌻: happy?  

20:40 y/n🌻: it appears I can't say no to you  

20:41 Hae☀️: very :)  

20:41 Hae☀️: it appears the feeling is mutual  

The rest of Haechan's evening consists of him pretending he's paying attention to the Netflix show Jeno picked out for them to watch after dinner, when the only thing he's actually interested in are the messages he's exchanging with you. You told him you're also chilling on your couch with Ningning, watching a crime documentary with a bowl of instant ramen.  

"Bruh, you're astronomically whipped." Jeno laughs to himself, the constant buzzing coming from  Haechan's phone making it obvious that he's been messaging you.   

"Yeah, so? Deal with it." Haechan doesn't even lift his head to look at Jeno, just keeps smiling distractedly at his screen.   

Jeno snorts. "At least you're not denying it." He turns his attention back to the show he's practically been watching on his own for the past hour. "I respect that."  

Haechan looks up at Jeno and shrugs. "I'm no fraud, Lee Jeno. You, of all people, should know that." And that earns him laugh with a nod of approval.   

“You asked her out yet?” The question casual. No teasing tone detected, just curiosity.   

"I'm seeing her tomorrow between classes." Haechan's attention back on your chat.   

“Like a coffee date?” Jeno asks cutely and Haechan just responds with a nod, his thumbs hovering over his keyboard as he looks up at Jeno, waiting for some sort of comment.  

“That's a good first date.” Jeno's words of approval offer Haechan a sense of relief he didn't know he needed. "Just good quality time, no pressure."  

“Yeah, that's what I was thinking.” Haechan's eyes are on the tv now, but he isn't really paying attention to the programme.  

Jeno sees right through him. "You nervous?"  

Haechan thinks about his response. Is he nervous “More excited than nervous, I'd say.” Haechan looks up at him when he's met with silence. "What?" He asks confused when he notices his friend's amused expression.   

“Nothing, just trying to think when you turned into an absolute sap.” And he laughs loudly when Haechan hits him in the face with one of the cushions scattered on the sofa. “Relaaaaax you big baby, I'm just messing with you.” Jeno throws the cushion back at Haechan and he catches is with a grunt. “I actually think this is good. You haven't dated anyone half decent in a long time.”   

Haechan snorts, because Jeno's words hold nothing but the truth. “True.” He states with a purse of his lips.   

“If your first date is casual vibes, you should do something fancy for the second one.” Jeno says in a skeptical tone.  

“Since when are you a dating expert?”  

“Shut up, you've been dying to ask for advice and you know it.” He's right, but Haechan would never admit that. “It should also be on a Friday or Saturday so you don't have to worry about being hungover in class.” Jeno points a finger at Haechan. “Karaoke could be fun!”  

“Where are you taking Ningning?” Jeno's eyes widen at the question and Haechan chuckles triumphantly. "You ever gonna tell me about that or nah?"  

“Your new girlfriend can tell you all about it tomorrow.” Jeno crosses his arms over his chest after pulling the hood of his jumper over his head.   

“Yeah, we're gonna spend the entirety of our first date talking about your sexcapades.” Haechan responds sarcastically.   

“No sexcapades, she said she's not currently dating.” Jeno says quickly with a frown.   

“And that's a problem for you, because..?” Haechan gestures with his hand for Jeno to explain. “Is your ego hurt or something?”  

Jeno shrugs his shoulders like a toddler. “Just a bit disappointing, you know?”  

“Shit.” Haechan says with a tone of fascination. “So, you're into her then.”  

Jeno shrugs with a huff and Haechan almost feels bad.   

“Did you sleep with her or nah?”  

“Nah, just cuddled.” Jeno admits, voice laced with disappointment.   

“Jeno,” Haechan pinches the bridge of his nose to show exasperation. “You're an idiot.”  

“Wha- why?” Jeno's eyes widen at his friend's insult.   

“Are you being daft on purpose? She would've fucked you and chucked you out if she wasn't interested.” Haechan is putting the facts out on the table as if it's going to help Jeno realise what is happening, but to no avail. “She's clearly aware of your reputation.”   

Jeno perks up at that. "What about my reputation?" His eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.   

Haechan kisses his teeth. "You're a certified slut."  

“Yeah and? What am I meant to do?”  

Well, if you want her, you're gonna have to work for it.” Haechan says like it's self-explanatory.  

"I don't chase." Jeno mumbles stubbornly.   

"No Ningning then." And Jeno scoffs at Haechan's patronising tone. "Sounds like you're in need of advice more than I am."  

_

You can't really wrap your head around the fact that you're currently walking to your favourite café in campus, only this time you're not meeting up with your two best friends, you’re meeting with Haechan instead. Fuck. You're meeting up with Haechan.  

You don't even know if you're supposed to call this a date. He said he wanted to hang out with you and that he can't wait to see you, but people say all sorts of things, and you don't want to get ahead of yourself. You wonder if he's nervous like you are, or if he sees this as a casual coffee break in between his routine. But then again, if it's just that, why ask you and not one of his friends? You told yourself this morning that you wouldn't overthink, but you're now realising that you're miserably failing. Ningning would not be proud.  

You check the time on your phone and that instant it buzzes in your hand. Your heart beats a little quicker.   

12:55 Hae☀️: what do you want?   

12:55 y/n🌻: in life or..?  

12:56 Hae☀️: lmao  

12:56 Hae☀️: to drink silly  

12:56 Hae☀️: we can talk about what you want in life when you get here  

12:57 y/n🌻: caramel iced latte pls and thank you :)  

12:57 y/n🌻: im 2 mins away btw  

12:57 Hae☀️: thought you didn't like sweet things   

12:58 Hae☀️: no rush, just ordering now  

12:58 y/n🌻: i like my coffee sweet  

12:58 y/n🌻: among other things  

12:59 Hae☀️: cheeky   

12:59 y/n🌻: im here   

13:00 y/n🌻: where you at?   

13:00 Hae☀️: you look cute   

13:00 Hae☀️: to your left   

And there he is, sitting at a table by the window, already looking at you, head tilted, eyes pretty, smile saccharine sweet. His phone is still in his hand, thumb hovering over the screen and you notice there's a new ring adorning the digit. His other hand raises and his fingers wiggle, playfully waving at you. You already feel flustered and you think that it should be illegal for a man to be this handsome.  

When you walk over, he stands up and casually lifts an arm for you to slot under. "Hey you." He says quietly and you smile. Your arms instinctively wrap around his middle, and your face buries in his shoulder, taking in his familiar scent. It immediately brings you comfort, your overthinking long forgotten. You feel his arms squeezing around your figure and he playfully rocks you from side to side. You giggle and pull back slightly to look at him.   

“Hey you.” You repeat his words back at him and his smile is nothing short of mesmerising. His lovely doe eyes hold warmth and tiny stars that you feel could burn you if you stare into them for too long, so you decide to look at the table instead. You spot your iced latte, placed opposite what you assume is an iced americano. “Thanks for getting my coffee, you didn't have to.”   

“I wanted to.” He states plainly and unwraps his arms from you, allowing you to sit down before taking his own seat opposite you. It almost feels strange sitting with him like this, seeing him in this light. Not in a lecture hall and not at a party surrounded by your friends. Just the two of you, on a Monday, sitting at your favourite café, in the middle of the day. It’s real. It’s mundane. “Are you hungry? We can get something to eat if you want.” He speaks so fast, one would think he’s trying to cover up nerves.   

You smile at his attentiveness and shake your head. “I’m good for now, thanks.”   

“Okay.” He doesn’t press and you can’t help but think he looks so boyfriend coded. His big forest green jumper makes him look extra cuddly and you want to bury your face in his neck again. “Heard you bumped into Jeno yesterday.” He says, filling the silence before taking a sip of his coffee.   

“Yeah, I interrupted his walk of shame.” You chuckle at the memory. “He looked quite embarrassed, bless him.” You twirl your straw, staring at the condensation dripping down your cup. “Didn’t realise he was that nosy though.” You say with a grin and your eyes move to look at Haechan who’s mirroring you.   

His lips curl into a smirk. “Why, did he ask about-” He pauses for a moment, trying to find the right words. “About Saturday night.” His eyebrow raises inquisitively.   

Your chin rests on your hand. “Mm-hm, apparently Jaemin messaged your group chat.”   

Haechan snorts and you assume he knows which message you’re referring to. “Yeah, if you found Jeno nosy, good luck tolerating Jaemin.”   

“I’m just hoping we didn’t scar him for life.”   

“I mean,” he shrugs, gently tapping his fingers on the table surface. “He didn’t actually see anything.” His tone suggestive, he’s eyes watching you, trying to gauge a reaction. “Had he walked out a few minutes earlier-”   

“Shut up.” You warn and cover your eyes with both hands in embarrassment, smiling against your palms at the sound of his pretty laugh.  

“C’monnnn,” he reaches across the table and takes hold of your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face so he’s able to look at you properly, while holding your hands in his, in the most delicate way. You stubbornly look away, trying to hide the blush that has taken over your face. “Aww don't be embarrassed.” He coos and squeezes your wrists in his hands, his thumbs sneaking under your sweater paws, rubbing gently against your pulse points, causing goosebumps to raise on your arms. “Okay, I’m sorry, I won’t tease anymore today, I promise.” He says in a playful tone but you still don’t look at him and maintain the pout on your face. A quick kiss on the inside of your wrist earns him your attention and then another on the opposite one makes you break your resolve completely, your eyes now on his. “Yay, there she is.”   

“You’re annoying.” You huff and he chuckles again.   

“And you’re still blushing.”   

You retract your hand from his hold and attempt to flick at his forehead, but he grasps it again before you’re able to. He interlocks his fingers with yours and gives you a toothy grin. His perfect teeth showing and his eyes wrinkling at the corners. “How do you expect me to not feel embarrassed when you act like-” You stop yourself from saying what's on your mind and he perks up at your hesitation, eyebrows raised.   

“Like what?” He asks, his voice laced with intrigue.  

“The way you do.” Your gaze moves to your connected hands, taking in the way his fingers look slotted between yours. Perfect. Like they belong there.   

“You don’t like the way I act?” His bottom lip jutting out in a fake pout, gently stroking the back of your thumb with his own.   

“No, I do but-” You observe how his palm opens against your own, fingers extending and yours instinctively mirror the action, elbows pressed on the table and your heart flutters at how big his hand looks compared to yours.   

“But?” He’s also looking at your hands now and slots his fingers between yours again, his grip tight, his palm warm and you worry he can feel how clammy yours is.   

“You’re just too forward.”   

“Is that a bad thing?” His tone more serious now, his eyes observing you. “I told you; I never intended to be subtle with you.” His hold on your hand loosening. “But I can stop if you’re uncomfortable.”  

“No.” Your hand tightening its hold, quietly indicating you don’t want him to let go and he sports a cheeky smile, like he expected you to react that way. “I’m just not used to this.”   

His eyes are curious now. “Used to people being forward?” You nod at his question. He thinks about it for a moment. “You were pretty forward yourself the other night.” 

“That’s different.” You say calmly.   

“How come?”   

“Nights like that don’t happen all the time.” You explain with a shrug, without giving away too much. 

His expression softens, and his nods in understanding. “So, you knew you wanted me before the party then.” He says it like a statement but you know he’s asking as he watches you with expectant eyes. His hand leaves yours momentarily, dropping on the table, palm facing up, waiting for your own hand to drop back into his. And it does. You trace your fingertips from his wrist to the middle of his palm, drawing along the lines there. His own fingers raising slightly to tickle against your palm, tracing patterns and you feel giddy. He’s emitting this softness you’ve never encountered in a romantic partner before and you’re not sure if you can handle it. But you want to be able to.  

“I did, yeah.” You admit with a smile, eyes finding his wide ones. “Why are you so surprised?”   

“I just- I did too.” He bites the inside of his bottom lip in thought. “Just wasn’t sure how to approach you before.” Your own surprise evident. “Why are you so surprised?” He mimics your question with a playful tone.  

“Since when?” You ask, wanting to know more.  

He hums skeptically, and you feel his knee bumping into yours under the small table, “I mean, I’ve always been intrigued.” He moves again and you feel both his knees rubbing against yours now. “But I knew I was into you after we spoke at that party in June.” Both your knees are trapped between his now and you can’t help but feel flustered, your fingers limp in his palm while his index is still tracing the inside of your wrist. It slightly tickles but it’s welcome. “You?”   

You could lie and say it was the same for you. That you realised you were interested when you finally spoke for the first time. But you don’t really want to, and you don’t see the point. “I think- I can’t really place it, but I was definitely interested before June.” You expect him to tease, but he just nods in understanding, gesturing you to continue. “And I could tell you were kind of flirting, when we briefly spoke last week, so, I thought Chenle's party was the perfect time to act on it.”   

“So, you’ve had a crush on me?” He smirks and his knees squeeze yours between them, finally teasing you. "Cute.” He says under his breath, eyes move to your lips for a second and then up to your eyes again. “You should’ve said something sooner.” He raises his drink and his lips wrap around the straw and you can’t help but look, remembering what they felt like on yours, on your skin, what they looked like wrapped around his fingers when he wanted a taste of you.   

“I didn’t think you would’ve reciprocated.” You say bashfully and he looks at you, like he finds your words absurd.  

He puts his drink down again. “I'd be clinically insane.”   

His words emit a small laugh from you. "Well, I'm glad you're somewhat sane."  

"Do you wanna go for a walk?" The question unexpected and your eyebrows raise in surprise. "Sun's out again." He points his chin towards the window and you turn your head to look outside. The autumn leaves are still falling but he's right. The sun is out for the first time in a few days. "Promise I'll have you back by three." He says in a playful tone and you look back at him, pretending to consider his suggestion, even though, you know you won’t decline.

_ 

Haechan isn't really a big fan of autumn. He doesn't hate it, but he certainly likes summertime the most. He likes being able to walk down the beach with no layers on and no worry that it'll get cold late at night. He likes the way the sun feels on his skin and he definitely prefers the way he looks when he's sun kissed. He finds that everyone looks good in the sun.  

He's always associated the idea of falling in love with a nice refreshing summer breeze; not necessary, because he's content in the heat, but definitely not unwanted.   

The thought of summer always makes him miss home and look forward to the next time he's able to visit. If he's completely honest, Haechan always misses home a little bit, it's always occupying the back of his mind. The city; as fun as it is living here, has always felt too different. Too chaotic. Now that you're walking next to him though, he's not missing anything and he thinks it's the first time since he moved here, that he feels absolutely and utterly content. At peace even. Even in the chilly autumn air as you two walk through the park near your campus, surrounded by brown leaf covered trees.   

"What's your favourite time of the year?" He can't help but ask the question when it pops into his head.   

"Hmm I think this one." You lift a finger, gesturing to your surroundings and you pause for a moment skeptically. "I think it’s mostly because I prefer autumn fashion." He chuckles at your reasoning. "Hey, don't laugh," You protest. "I'd like summer more if I could lounge by a pool in a bikini whenever I wanted." You inhale deeply, your eyes briefly closing and he can tell you're enjoying the autumn air. "Autumn is just easier, plus, I love the smell of rain." You turn to look at him before looking ahead of you again. "What's yours? You give off major summer vibes."  

He exhales a laugh through his nose. "Really? What gave it away?" He looks at your side profile as he waits for a response. He thinks you look so pretty in this gloomy setting and wonders if you’d look even prettier during his favourite season.   

"Dunno." You seem to be in deep thought, your lips pursing and your eyes narrowing as you inspect his face carefully. "Maybe your tan?" And he mimics your expression, scrunching his nose too and you gently elbow him. "Did I get it right?" You ask hopefully.  

"You sure did." He confirms, nodding proudly and a cheeky smile makes its way to your lips.   

"Why summer then?" You ask with a curious lilt in your tone.   

"I guess I associate summer with my childhood." He explains with a fond smile. "It reminds me of being-"  

"Carefree?" You finish his sentence and he smiles, nodding slowly in agreement. "That makes sense." You validate his thought process in the sweetest voice and he can't help but feel a certain way that leads him to slip his hand into yours. He senses your hesitation and worries he's overstepped a boundary but instantly relaxes when he feels your fingers take their place between his. You're not looking at him, but he can sense you trying to conceal your flustered state by nonchalantly keeping your eyes on the pavement.

He suddenly remembers you've got a class to attend at 3pm and slips his phone out of his back pocket to check the time. "It's half two, we should probably start heading back." He reminds you, not wanting to be the reason you mess up your schedule for the day.   

"Oh shit." Your eyes slightly widen at the realisation. "That was quick." You admit absentmindedly and he laughs softly.   

"Hmmmm what can I say, time flies when you're with me." He says with a suggestive pointed grin.   

"Didn't realise you were this deluded." You scoff, eyes rolling playfully. 

"Hey now." He warns with a nudge against your shoulder and can't hide the amused grin on his face when you giggle. "You had fun, admit it."  

"Mmmmaybe." You say with a cheeky smile, and he feels his pulse increasing. His chest constricts inevitably at how cute and soft you look. Your chin brushing your shoulder as you turn your head to look at him, batting your lashes seductively. He wonders if you know the effect you have on him.   

“You act all brave now, but -” He stops walking, making you halt, and you turn to look at him. “I bet I could easily make you skip class, if I really wanted to.” He says suggestively, a cocky eyebrow raising when he takes in your surprised expression. He pulls you closer, pulling lightly at your hand that's still in his and you stumble, putting a hand on his chest to regain your balance. You look up at him, and he thinks 'there it is', there's that not-so-innocent look from Saturday night. You don't shy away or get flustered this time, you stand your ground, and he suddenly wants to ruin you. But he knows this is not the time and place and he curses internally for choosing to go on a stupid coffee date. He's definitely taking you out somewhere more intimate and romantic next time, like Jeno suggested.   

"And how exactly would you do that?" You ask, testing his resolve, which, apparently, runs very thin when it comes to you.   

He leans down so his lips are by your ear, the hand that's not holding yours, taking purchase on your waist. "I'd show you but you'd probably get all shy on me." He murmurs and relishes in the way your hand tightens its hold on the fabric of his jumper. He feels your breathing quicken and can't help but laugh at your reaction.   

He moves to pull away and the second his eyes land on yours, your hand grabs the back of his neck and your lips crash on his. His breath hitches and his eyes widen at the impact, before he relaxes against you and kisses you back. He relishes in the feel of your soft lips sliding against his, and the warmth your body radiates when he pulls you closer with his arm around your waist and when he feels you sigh, body pliantly slotting into his, he wonders if someone if playing a prank on him, because there’s no way you’re this perfect for him. You wrap both your arms around his neck securely and he moves a hand to your hip, gently squeezing, his fingers dangerously close to your ass. You whimper when his tongue makes contact with your bottom lip and he feels you tilt your head to the side silently asking him to deepen the kiss, but he decides that the next time he has a full on make out session with you is going to be somewhere private. He bites your bottom lip lightly and gives you a quick peck before breaking the kiss completely and you whine at the sudden loss of contact, making him laugh. The hand on your hip sneakily slides itself into your back pocket, giving your bum a playful squeeze, before letting it rest there lazily, simply because he can't help himself. "You're trouble, Y/N." He mumbles against your lips.  

Your eyes open at that, finding his and your hand caresses the back of his neck while you suck your bottom lip into your mouth and his jeans start to feel constricting at the thought of you doing that so you can taste him again, now that he's no longer kissing you. "I'm trouble?" You ask in disbelief.

"You kissed me." He states in an accusatory tone as if he wouldn't have done it himself anyway.  

"I know." You whisper, your eyes dropping to his lips again. "I wanted to." You mumble and your tone makes his brain overflow with thoughts that revolve around you and his bed, because it doesn't matter that it's Monday afternoon and you're walking around the park. In Haechan’s head, nothing matters in this moment other than the fact that he desperately wants you in ways he hasn’t wanted anyone before and that scares him. Not because he doesn’t want to. But simply because he does. Haechan wants to want you.

_ 

"And with five minutes to spare." Haechan says with a proud smile when you reach the entrance of the building your class, still hand in hand and you can't help but smile back.   

“You know you're definitely gonna be late, right?” You say in a scolding tone and he scoffs rolling his eyes.  

“And whose fault is that?” He says playfully, pulling you closer.   

“You should've said you were meeting Jaemin at three, how am I supposed to- mmmf.” He interrupts you with a kiss against your lips, cupping your face in his hands. He pulls away quicker than you'd prefer but you still can't help the surprised laugh that escapes you.   

"I know I’ll see you on Thursday, but can I take you out Friday night?" He asks, eyes wide and hopeful and you smile.   

"You can." You say with a dreamy tone, taking in his pretty brown eyes and the way his smile widens when you accept to go on a second date with him.   

"Good." He kisses you chastely again and rubs his nose against yours before dropping a wet smooch on your cheek, laughing at your reaction.  

"Yah!" You complain cringing at the wet sensation against your skin. "Ewww, you slobbered on meeee." You whine, wiping the wetness off your face with the back of your hand, your nose scrunching in fake disgust but your heart flutters at the sound of his laugh. "Fucking weirdo." You huff, torn between laughter and exasperation.  

"Be a good girl and get to class." He turns you around, putting his hands on your shoulders and guiding you towards the entrance of the building, arms hugging you from behind and the butterflies in your stomach go ballistic. "Also, sit with me on Thursday." He whispers in your ear and you shiver at the feeling of his warm breath on your neck. You turn your head sideways to look at his face and you can't stop your lips from curling into a grin.   

"Be a good boy and don't tell me what to do." You whisper against his jaw, where you press a quick kiss that surprises him, his arms loosening around your shoulders in shock and you take the opportunity to turn around and loosely wrap your arms around his waist. You raise on your tippy toes so you can bring your lips to his ear. “I’ll see you soon, Lee Haechan.” You say with a low tone and to anyone else it might seem like you're just hugging, but you can feel his chest moving shallowly against your own when you give him another gentle kiss, on the cheek this time.  

"What the f-" You walk away with a sweet smile, before he can react or finish his sentence and you couldn't be more satisfied with yourself. You know he's still standing there, looking at you while you walk away from him and you smile to yourself.   

When you take your usual seat next to Chenle, in the back of the big lecture hall, he looks at you with a smirk, arms crossed over his chest. "So? How was it?" He asks and a giggle escapes him when you sigh with a dreamy smile on your face. "That good?"   

“You have no idea.” You feel you phone buzz in your pocket and you already have an idea what to expect.   

15:01 Hae☀️: that was fucked up...  

15:01 Hae☀️️: you're in for a treat next time i see you

_

Thursday rolls around slower than normal this week and you know why it feels that way. You can’t wait to see him.   

This is the first time you’ve running late to a class though and you’re cursing yourself for deciding to take a nap earlier. The bus that would have gotten you there on time was already gone, so your only solution was to walk and be ten minutes late. It wasn’t the end of the world, students walked late into classes all the time, and it’s not like you’re anal about punctuality. It’s just that you hate being the centre of attention.   

And when you walk in, everything pans out exactly how you predicted; some people turn their heads to look when you enter the hall as quietly as possible and some couldn’t care less. When you skip past your usual row of seats though, taking a seat two rows ahead, next to the handsome boy who’s been lately occupying your thoughts, more people’s eyes drift to your direction and you’re thankful to your professor, who just continues speaking, without batting an eyelid at your tardiness.   

“You okay? I texted you.” Haechan leans into whisper in your ear, voice as quiet as possible. And arm extends behind you, resting on the back of your seat casually and you feel the warmth radiating on your shoulder blades, through the material of your top.   

You look at him for a moment before starting to take out your notes and iPad. “I know, I took a nap and overslept.” You whisper back maintaining the decibels of your voice as low as possible and you can tell he’s holding back a laugh.   

You look past him and you see Jaemin and Jeno both looking at you and waving. You mouth ‘hi’ to both of them offering a smile and your eyes land on Haechan again who’s smiling at you like he’s up to something. He relaxes in his seat, slightly sinking into it and slouching while spreading his legs, his knee now touching yours and you know what he’s trying to do.  

You also lean back and relax in your seat, pretending to finally pay attention to whatever example is being demonstrated on the board. Your knee playfully nudges his. “Stop manspreading.” Your eyes still on the board but your attention on him.   

“I’d say sorry, but it was intentional.” He states and you hold in your exasperation as well as your laugh. Your amused expression falters when he reaches to take your hand in his and rests them on his thigh. He’s too casual for your liking and too soft for your poor heart that’s about to beat out of your chest.   

When he said that you’re in for a treat he really meant it.  

He walks you home that day.   

-

“What the actual fuck?” Your voice is high-pitched; eyes so wide, they resemble a cartoon’s.   

“What?” He laughs at your comical expression and places the mic down on the table in the centre of the noraebang room.  

“You made me go first so you could embarrass me!” You loudly accuse with your finger pointing at him.   

“You weren’t bad!” He can’t help the laughter that won’t stop. You’re frowning still and you look so adorable and believably annoyed. He knows it’s all pretend though.   

“You were so good though.” Your frown slowly turns into a pout. “And it was all in Japanese.” Your wide eyes looking up at him from when you’re still sat cross legged on the leather sofa seat. He feels weak. You make him feel weak.   

“I took singing lessons when I was younger.” He explains with a smile. “And that’s my favourite song so I’ve had practice.” He approaches slowly and takes a seat next to you, huffing and spreading his legs slightly to get comfortable while his head rests on the back of the sofa. He’s the one looking up at you now. You look so pretty in the purple and blue hues that light up the room. He definitely made the right choice bringing you here after dinner. He wanted to keep your second date PG but the way you’re looking at him right now makes him contemplate.   

“Ah right. He’s an artist.” A teasing smile takes over your face as you hold his gaze. He groans and you giggle when his hands come up to cover his face in embarrassment. He feels you shift next to him and when he looks at you through the gaps of his fingers you’ve turned your body towards him, still crossing your legs. “You have a pretty voice, Lee Haechan.”   

He knows he’s blushing, but he snorts, trying to feign nonchalance. “Thanks.” his hands drop and rest on his thighs.   

“Did you bring me here to show off then?” Your tone still ever so teasing.  

“No, but I was hoping to impress you maybe.” He admits without realising. Your effect on him frustrates him.   

“By serenading me in a language I can’t understand?” Your smile is so sweet, tooth ache inducing. So sweet it’s contagious. You move a little closer and he can smell your sweet perfume. His eyes drop to your exposed neck and then to the collarbones he’s dying to press soft kisses on. “Consider me impressed.” You say and his eyes come back up to your face. You seem to be fighting your smile now and he’s obsessed with the fact that you don’t want to give away how affected you also are by him.   

“What’s your favourite song?” He asks in a low voice, sitting up a bit and extending an arm along the back of the sofa. Your eyes instantly drop there, and your hand comes up to trace a vein absentmindedly. He manages to contain the shiver that creeps up on him, but he can’t control the goosebumps raising on his skin.   

“Japanese Denim by Daniel Caesar.” You respond, copying his low tone. Your eyes not leaving your fingers gingerly trailing up and down his skin. “You know it?” you look at him in question.   

Haechan is thankful he does. “Myyy blueee jeaaansss.” He sings the start of the chorus playfully and you giggle, pushing his shoulder lightly.   

“Okay r&b king.” You joke with a laugh. He pokes your side and you flinch with a half whine half giggle. He can’t help but smile at the sound.   

“I just think his lyrics are like poetry, you know?” You shrug, explaining why you see the appeal. Your hand is now resting in his arm, no longer tracing and he enjoys the weight of it. The warmth. He wants to reach out and touch you too, but he doesn’t move. The moment feels too precious to ruin.   

“They really are.” He agrees with a small nod. He likes to think that maybe he’ll be able to write lyrics like those one day, but he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t want to talk about himself now. He’s too busy admiring you. “You’re so pretty.” He says softly and he doesn’t even register the words leaving his mouth until he gets the cutest reaction from you. You look away, smiling big and your hands come up to press against your cheeks, attempting to cover what he assumes is a blush. A soft chuckle escapes him and he reaches up with both hands to remove yours from your face. “Blush away, no need to hide.” He teases you. He finds that he’s good at it. He wonders if it’s because you generally get flustered so easily or if it’s just the effect he has on you. He hopes it’s the latter.   

When your hands aren’t in the way, he taps a finger under your chin gently encouraging you to turn your head so he can look at you again. He then instinctively moves closer, craving to feel your warmth better and when your eyes find his again, his chest constricts. He sometimes doesn’t understand how it’s possible that he’s come to feel so attached to you in such a short amount of time, how he so easily gravitates towards you. But then you look at him and he understands. You speak and he understands. You laugh and he understands. You touch him and he understands. It almost feels foreign but never unwelcome. Never forced. And that scares him.   

Haechan trails his fingers from your chin down to your collarbone, tracing softly and he slowly moves the fallen strands of hair behind your shoulder. He feels your gasp when he leans forward to leave a kiss on the curve of it. Then a little lower. And a little lower until his nose nuzzles against the dip of your collarbone. Another kiss. And another. This time his tongue makes contact first, tasting the skin, before his lips pucker on the sensitive surface again. Your breathing has turned shallow and he smiles at the sight of your chest moving up and down. Your fingers thread into his hair, slightly pulling and he sighs against your wet skin. You catch him off guard when your other hand pushes him by the shoulder and he’s about to apologise for crossing a line but then you quickly straddle him and his mind goes blank. This is definitely not PG.   

“Someone could see us, you know.” You whisper against his lips and he almost moans. The hand in his hair pulls again and his head drops against the back of the seat pliantly, eyes closing at the feeling of your lips on his jawline. You scatter small kisses until you reach his ear and lightly bite on his lobe, his breathing quickens and the moan he’s been holding in eventually escapes at your next words. “Bet that turns you on though.” His hands instantly come up to hold onto something, anything. One grabs onto your waist, the other lands on your thigh, just below the hem of your skirt. “Talk to me.” You whisper sweetly in his ear before starting to trail kisses down the column of neck. The further down you travel, the wetter they get and he feels himself getting hard, his hips slightly raising to get some friction, but you don’t budge. “Behave.” You laugh against his neck in a hot puff of air and his voice comes out in a soft whine.   

“Baby,” he breathes out weakly and you coo softly against his neck while gingerly sucking on the delicate flesh. He feels you place a hand on his chest, above where his heart is beating uncontrollably and he knows you can feel it too, your thumb stroking soothingly to comfort him. “Wanna kiss you.” He pleads pathetically and he feels like he might come in his pants when you suddenly grind your hips down. His breath catches in his throat and he trails a hand up your back, between your shoulder blades, to wrap around the base of your neck, pressing you down as he thrusts up into you. He smiles stupidly when you bring up your face, unburying from his neck, to look at him with wide eyes. He thinks you might scold him but instead you just wrap a hand around his neck, pressing your fingers against his pulse points in a possessive manner and he groans. His eyes shut at the dizzying sensation and when he feels your lips press on his, he relishes. His head tilts automatically to deepen the kiss and he sighs into your mouth when your tongue finds its way in. It’s intoxicating and he swears he feels high. Your hand around his neck definitely playing a part but it’s mostly your taste and the way you kiss him exactly how he likes to be kissed. Wet and filthy but still slow, sucking on his tongue to tease him. He feels his heartbeat going wild without permission when you grind down again, just the right way, the perfect amount of pressure to drive him insane.  

His hands trail down to messily bunch up the fabric of your corduroy skirt so he can squeeze the flesh of your ass in his palms, fingers digging into the skin. He’s not gentle with you this time but your moans against his lips encourage him not to hold back.

You’re now grinding down with determined force and he moans into your mouth when his fully hard dick slots between your pussy lips, the only thing separating you, his layers and your underwear. He matches your pace, hips coming up when yours drop down and he realises that you’re no longer teasing him. “Think you can cum like this?” You ask against his lips, the scratch in your voice driving him insane, breathing ragged, hips quickening their eager ministrations. He nods, staring into your eyes. “You want to?” You ask again, keeping your eyes on his as your arms wrap around his shoulders to gain more support and he responds with another nod and a shaky breath. His head dips forward, eyes dropping down to where you’re connected and his hand pushes your skirt up even further, to get a better look. He groans at the sight. Your panties almost trapped between your folds, your pussy leaving a trail of wetness on the front of his jeans whenever you drag your body back and he feels himself twitch in his pants. It’s sinful. It’s perfect. You're perfect.  

“Fuck, hang on.” He whispers suddenly, arm wrapping around your middle to halt your movements and he quickly unbuttons his jeans with one hand. His hips raise a little bit as he clumsily pushes the fabric down, leaving his boxers still on. “Okay.” He exhales and his hands find your hips again, guiding you to resume your work. The friction so much better now that he can properly feel your wetness seeping through the cotton and he loves that he can see the way his fat cock drags between your lace clad pussy lips. Your whining doesn’t go unnoticed, and he looks up at your face only to find you also looking down dazedly. He relishes in the idea that you can get as dirty as he can and he takes in the sight of you now; lips parted, gasping audibly, your nipples hard and visible through your thin blouse and he’s suspecting that you’ve foregone wearing a bra. His hands drag upwards, leaving your hips, trusting you to keep grinding down with no guidance and when he squeezes the flesh of your breasts through the fabric, his suspicions are confirmed. You moan when his thumbs rub on your already sensitive nipples, leaning into his touch and he repeats the action, enjoying the desperate little sounds you let out. “I’m close.” He announces in a gasp, his balls feel heavy and he knows he’s leaking precum, adding to the wet patch you’ve created on the front of his boxers.   

“Yeah?” Your eyes search his, hands cupping his face and kissing him again, soft this time. “You gonna cum for me, pretty boy?” He feels his eyes roll back at your words and all he can do is nod again. He anchors himself by squeezing your ass in his hands again and he loves the whimpers you let out when his hands get a little rougher, making the flesh ripple. He decides to take matters into his own hands when he feels your thighs shaking around his hips, suspecting the soreness in your muscles and his hold on you gives you no option but to quicken the pace

“Fuck, you feel so fuckin good, baby, please don’t stop.” He exasperatedly begs, his breath shaky and he feels like he’s losing it. Pathetic.   

“Yes, god, m’cumming.” His voice comes out ruined, words muffled against your lips, vision blurring and his jaw drops when he reaches his peak, soaking his boxers like a teenage boy. Your hands slide into his hair when he starts shaking and he basks in the comforting touch. His head drops back on the seat again and he feels dizzy, your hips are still moving, dragging out his high and when it gets too much, he gently taps his fingers on your ass cheek, smiling dumbly. “Mmh, just give me a second.” He sighs as you take a seat, directly on his cock, softly cooing at him and kissing his cheek as you push his fringe back, revealing his damp forehead and he purrs at the gentleness.

“Good?” You ask sweetly and he almost scoffs, because there’s no way you don’t know you’ve just ruined him when he’s pathetically drenched his underwear like a horny teenage boy.

“Intense.” He hums and he feels himself shiver when you let out a breathy laugh against his skin, nuzzling into his temple. He slowly turns his head and catches your lips in a slow kiss. “Wanna make you feel good too.” He murmurs against in the kiss and when he notices the conflicted expression on your face, he doubles down. “I’ll be quick.”

“Confident?” You tease with a smile that he can’t help but return. Your teeth sink on your bottom lip when he cups your pussy and he moans at the feeling of soaked lace.   

“Not like I haven’t done it before.” He teases back and he laughs when you swat at his chest. “Please?” He tries again, tone needy this time and he uses his puppy eyes, smiling when he breaks through your resolve. The second you nod, he wraps an arm around you securely and his other hand grabs at the fleshy bit where your ass meets your thigh. “Lie down for me.” He whispers and helps maneuver you onto your back swiftly. He can’t help but smirk when your legs instinctively part for him to slot in between, and he does exactly that, coming to position himself above you, supporting his weight on one arm by the side of your head. His lips find yours again, in a hungry kiss and this time it’s his tongue that dominates yours, sliding into your mouth, tasting you just like you did to him earlier. He loves the sigh you let out through your nose when his hand slips into your underwear slowly, sliding his middle finger between your folds but what he loves the most is how wet you are.   

“Can I use my mouth?” He questions mid kiss and you must like the sound of that, because he feels you grind against his palm.   

“You can do anything you want, just no sex.” You say shyly. “Not here.”

“Told you, baby,” He gives your lips another peck before kissing down your neck, giving your tit a tentative squeeze as he moves downwards. “Wanna do that in my bed first.” Your moan at the promise brings a smile to his face as his hands slip into the top of your panties and drag them down your legs hastily, feeling the goosebumps on your skin. He stuffs the flimsy material into his back pocket, earning a questioning look from you and he grins. “Don’t worry, you’ll get them back.” He starts kissing from the inside of your knee to your inner thigh, wet and full of tongue.   

“Stop teasing.” You whine, raising your hips impatiently when he reaches closer to where you want him. And he chuckles against your folds, watching as your legs spread even more for him.   

His head rests on your inner thigh, comfortably and he looks up at your face, gauging your reaction. “What do you say?”   

“Please.” You whisper and he feels his dick harden again at your submissive tone.   

“Good girl.” He mutters and his hands slide up your inner thighs, thumbs pulling your pussy lips apart, revealing your cute swollen nub, all pretty and pink and he can see you’re clenching around nothing. Clear pearls of slick drip from the tiny hole that he can’t wait to lap up. You’re more than wet enough but Haechan doesn’t think twice before letting a fat glob of spit slowly drip from his mouth and he feels his dick twitch at the sight. You moan when you feel the extra wetness land on your cunt and he does it again, watching his spit drip down to your asshole, making a mess of you. Nothing but sensual. “Yeah? You like it messy?” He breathes out in admiration and he doesn’t even need an answer, he knows you do. His hand comes up again, fingers spreading the mixed wetness through your folds. His middle and ring fingers create a v shape around your clit, isolating the nub between them and the tip of his tongue comes out to make contact, flicking gently up and down. You both moan in unison, your hands burying in his hair to keep him where you need him and he loves how ruined you already sound, how your legs part completely, how addictive you taste on his tongue. And he loves that he can’t get enough of you.

“Mmh, fuck.” You moan when his arm wraps around your thigh, bringing his hand to separate your folds from the top, palm pressing against your pubic bone, fingers delicately pulling the hood of your clit up, revealing more of the little nub. His flat tongue licks from your hole to your clit and he repeats the action when he feels your fingers pull at his hair harder. The pink muscle then settles back to delivering quick flicks on your nub, the direct contact making you squeal and he smiles at the adorable sound. “Yes, like that.” You encourage him, the praise making his chest swell with pride. His other hand joins and his middle finger teases your leaking entrance, circling before slowly sliding in until it’s fully buried inside, your soaked walls making the glide so easy, that he’s certain one digit won’t be enough.

When his jaw gets tired, he switches to sucking harshly on your clit, making you groan and he slowly starts to move his finger in and out, curling up slightly, following the curve of your pussy. He knows you want more, your hole dripping even more slick around his finger, so he slows down as he adds a second one. You sigh when you feel the extra stretch and he knows he’s got you where he wants you when you start clenching.   

“Fuck, baby, you’re creaming.” He points out in disbelief when he sees the white substance coating his digits every time they pull out of you and you whine in embarrassment. “I swear to god, I’m gonna fuck you stupid one day.” He promises against your cunt and goes back to sucking, more determined this time. His fingers start pumping quicker into you, the squelching sounds nothing but melodic in his ears and your tight nothing but heaven around his fingers. Your whines get louder when his speed increases and he knows he’s hitting your sweet spot every time he thrusts in, the pads of his fingers dragging against your walls. “Right there, hm?” His pace quickens even more and he looks up when he feels your eyes on him. You’re on your elbows now, jaw agape, eyes on his lips, watching him ruin you and his tongue comes out to flick quickly from side to side, his head moving with it, making a spectacle without breaking eye contact.   

“I’m gonna cum.” You warn in a whisper , burying a hand in his hair again and your elbows give out, allowing your body to drop back down. He hums against your cunt, letting you know he’s got you and he feels your legs trembling around his head. “Fuck, yes yes yes.” Your voice sounds broken, your walls are kneading his fingers and he has to put extra effort into sliding in and out due to the restricting tightness. He doesn’t stop though, even when he knows you’re coming down from your high, he keeps pushing your boundaries. He wants more. “Haechan!” You squeal when he sucks on your clit again and he laughs darkly. Your hand tries to push him away, legs attempting to close around his head but he’s not quite done yet, his hold around your thigh tight enough to keep you open for him.   

He pulls his fingers out slowly and you whine. “Sorry, pretty.” He whispers mockingly against your clit before dipping down to lick at your pulsing entrance, smiling at the mewl you let out. He licks from bottom to top again, slightly flicking at your clit when he comes up and he knows it’s too much when your body convulses and you sound like you’re crying. You’re not pushing him away though, which gives him hope. He gently circles your clit, tongue relaxed now; languid and he feels your legs spread again. “Yeah? Want more gentle?” He coos as his eyes look up and he can see your perky tits moving up and down with your breathing. He trails a hand up your body, squeezing greedily around one of your perky mounds and he moans at the feeling of your stiff nipple against his palm.   

“I’m too sensitive.” You sigh and bring a hand above his, squeezing around your own tit with him as you raise on your elbows again. 

“You can give me one more, though, right?” His eyes staring into yours, hopeful.   

“I think so.” You nod, eyebrows furrowing slightly at the overstimulation and your breathing comes out harsh. “I’m still turned on.” You admit shyly, biting down on your bottom lip as you push his fringe away from his damp forehead.   

“Such a good girl.” He says dreamily and his tongue gently circles your clit again, wet hand pressing against the back of your thigh to keep you spread out for him.   

Only after you come again on his tongue, does he stop, moving to kiss on your inner thigh, sucking on the supple skin there, leaving a wet patch behind along with a subtle mark. He leans over you again, taking in the sight under him. Your breathing slowing down as you look up at him, your hair fanned around you and your eyes blinking slowly. You look beautifully and utterly fucked out and so angelic. His heart swells when you reach up, pulling him close to you and he gives in right away, dropping down, resting his weight on you carefully He kisses you slowly, pushing his tongue past your parted lips, moaning with you, knowing you can taste yourself.   

“You’re hard again.” You whisper against his lips and he laughs, because of course he is.   

“You are not making me cum in my pants again.” He scolds and kisses softly on your cheek as you snort a laugh, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, holding him close.   

“Okay, I won’t.” You say with a smile, leaning in to kiss him again. He lets you.   

—

“Do you guys have any, like, weird fetishes?” Jaemin asks randomly, interrupting your conversation with Ningning and almost causing you to choke on a fry.   

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Haechan pipes up next to you, genuine concern laced in his tone, his hand stroking your back whilst you cough.   

“Yeah, changing the subject from ‘I’m broke’, to that, is slightly worrying to say the least.” Ningning agrees but that doesn’t stop her from laughing. “Look, even Jeno is speechless.” She points at Jeno’s shocked expression and he snaps out of it, taking a sip from his coffee.   

“I was just curious.” Jaemin shrugs as he explains. “I’ve been texting this girl and the other night it turned into sexting and she asked me if I’d be down to piss on her?”   

“Oh wow,” Ningning is suddenly interested. “What did you say?” She asks and he eyes widen as she awaits his response. All eyes around the table are on Jaemin now and he’s clearly thrown off, struggling to find the right words.   

“Wellllll-“   

“Oh my god!” Renjun exclaims and covers his mouth with both hands. “Please tell me you didn’t actually do it.”  

“No, of course not.” Jaemin defends himself quickly. “I haven’t even slept with her.” He steals a fry from your plate. “Yet.” He concludes with a smug smile.   

“Okay, but, let’s say you do sleep with her and she asks you to piss on her.” Haechan interferes. “Would you?” He asks with an amused expression and Jaemin seems to be in deep thought.   

“I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed to it but I’m pretty sure I’d get stage fright.” Says casually and stuffs a few more fries in his mouth. “Also, I don’t think I can pee when I’m hard.”   

”Yeah, I was thinking that.” Jeno says with narrowed eyes. “It’s also a bit weird if you don’t know them that well or if it’s just a one-time thing, no?” He looks around, asking everyone.  

“Yeah, true.” Renjun agrees. “Not that I’ve done it before, but, surely you do those kinds of things with someone you’re in a relationship with or at least someone you’ve been seeing and agreed to experiment with.” He looks at Jaemin. “But then again, you’re a different kind of breed.” Everyone laughs at that.   

“That I am my friend.” Jaemin laughs darkly and leans over to kiss Renjun on the cheek. The latter pushes him away by shoving a hand against his face with a disgusted expression and you snort at the scene.   

“The question is, where did you even meet this girl?” You ask with a wiggle of your eyebrows, not because you care, but because you find it amusing when Jaemin gets flustered.   

His eyes meet yours now and he seems taken aback before he puts on his cheeky grin again. “Oh, I have a better question, miss thing.” His voice laced with nothing but mischief and you’re now scared. “Would you let Haechan piss on you if he asked?” There it is.   

“And I ask again.” Haechan saves you momentarily. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” His voice is calm but there’s definitely an edge to it, a warning even. He doesn’t move from his position next to you. An arm lazily resting on the back of your chair, the warmth certainly comforting on your shoulders. You instinctively lean into him, resting a hand on his thigh and his knuckles rub against your arm soothingly. Your eyes meet Ningning’s who’s watching the whole interaction smiling and you try to contain your own smile.   

“What? It’s a good question, no?” Jaemin says with a shrug and you roll your eyes.   

“Jaemin, I don’t know about you, but I don’t really talk about golden showers at least until after the fifth date.” You say sarcastically and Jeno snorts trying to hold in a laugh. “And that’s besides the point. You asked if we have any fetishes so I think we should all share one.”   

Jaemin smirks and points a finger at you playfully. “I knew you could match my freak.” He says, giggling like a schoolgirl and Haechan’s arm around your shoulders tightens, the act unnoticeable to everyone else but not to you. Your fingers resting on his thigh, tense slightly trying to get his attention as you turn to look at his face and you can’t help but notice the frown on his face while he’s looking at Jaemin. He’s jealous and it’s obvious and you can’t help the warm fuzzy feeling spreading in your belly. When he looks down at you, his expression softens and you feel his arm relax around you. You give him a smile, which he instantly returns. You’re definitely bringing this up later.

“Take your freak elsewhere please.” Renjun says with sass, earning a few laughs around the table.   

“Ugh fine, I’ll start.” Ningning says and all eyes snap towards her. “I’m not opposed to some toe sucking. There you go. Thank you. Let’s move on.” Your laugh is loud and you wish Chenle didn’t have basketball training so he could witness this shit show.   

”Alright, I like sucking on toes.” Jeno confesses and you bury your face in your hand leaning into Haechan’s shoulder to conceal your laugh. You feel him chuckle in your hair as he wraps his arm around you properly and you love the heat radiating off him so much that you wish you could stay there for the rest of the day.   

“Next!” Ningning says exasperatedly, sending Jeno daggers across the table. It wasn’t even his turn but you respect his efforts. Not a lot of men have managed to get Ningning this flustered before and it actually makes you wonder if any toe sucking took place that night they supposedly only cuddled. You make a mental note that this might also be worth bringing up earlier.  

It’s Renjun’s turn and he seems to be in deep thought. “I honestly can’t think of anything, I think I’m pretty vanilla.”   

“Surely there’s something, it doesn’t have to be hardcore.” Haechan butts in. 

“I guess choking?” Renjun’s ears have turned red now and you almost feel bad, because out of everyone around this table, he’s the one that deserves to be embarrassed the least.   

“Ooooh erotic asphyxiation!” Jaemin says feigning a seductive tone. “Okay, so, I may or may not like butt stuff.”   

Everyone’s eyes widen at the confession.   

“As in your butt or the other person’s?” Jeno asks curiously. Jaemin only responds by wiggling his eyebrows and Jeno gasps dramatically. 

“As in you’ve had a finger up y-“   

“Moving on!” Jaemin exclaims loudly, interruptinh Ningning. "Your turn, lover boy." He gestures at Haechan to continue as Jeno’s mouth is still open in shock.   

“Hmm.’ Haechan ponders, his fingers tapping on your shoulder absentmindedly as he thinks. For some reason, even though it’s not your turn to answer, you feel exposed, as though all your friends are watching you both, trying to gauge your reaction at his response. You try to maintain as neutral an expression as possible and you hope he says something you might have already guessed by the times you’ve been intimidate with him. “Maybe the risk of getting caught.” He finally admits and you’re definitely not shocked.   

“That’s boring, everyone likes that.” Jaemin complains.  

“Speak for yourself, sicko.” Renjun defends. “Some of us like total privacy.”   

“Aww you really are vanilla.” Ningning pouts cutely and Renjun scoffs.    

“Y/N?” Renjun says to divert the attention from him and you fear your ears might be as red as his now. Everyone is watching you, including Haechan and you’re starting to regret suggesting this in the first place.   

“Just say it, no one is going to judge.” Jeno encourages and you want to bury your face in Haechan’s shoulder again.   

“Maybe Haechan should try and guess.” Renjun suggests and now you feel like you've underestimated him.  

“Oh yes!” Jaemin quickly agrees excitedly, clapping his hands. “Okay, how about he whispers it to you and if he gets it right, he then has to say it out loud.”   

“What if he gets it wrong?” You ask and Haechan scoffs next to you.   

“He seems pretty confident.” Ningning says, pointing at Haechan’s face and when you look up at him, he’s got a cocky smile plastered on his stupidly pretty face.   

“Alright, Haechanie, make us proud.” Jaemin says while holding a hand to his chest and Haechan rolls his eyes at his friend.   

“Okay,” He leans closer, cupping his hand around your ear to conceal his mouth from the group. “Spitting.” He whispers so that only you can hear and you feel lightheaded for a moment. When he retracts, he gently moves your hair behind your ear and when your eyes find his, he smirks. He’s got you all figured out and he knows it. Bastard. “So?” He asks patiently.   

“Correct.” You say in defeat and everyone cheers a little too loudly around the table.

“So, what is it?” Jaemin asks excitedly.

“Can I?” Haechan asks, eyes still on you, ignoring his friend and you appreciate that he prioritises your comfort. You nod with a smile, giving him permission to say it out loud.

“Spitting.” He says again, out loud this time for all your friends to hear.   

“That’s quite vague, no?” Jeno says. “Who’s spitting and where?”   

You turn in his direction, throwing daggers at him, because there’s no way he’s trying to be a brat. “Oh, would you perhaps like a demonstration? I’ll happily spit in your cute little boba tea right now.” Your sweet tone, insincere and Haechan bursts out laughing, head thrown back, pretty neck on display but you push that thought to the back of your mind.

“Relax woman!” Jeno says with his hands raised in surrender. “No saliva in my drink please.” He takes his drink from the table and covers the top with a hand protectively.   

“You can spit in mine.” Jaemin offers with hopeful eyes, holding up his drink in your direction and you groan at his crassness.   

“Dude, you’re sick.” Renjun says with a shake of his head, judging his friend.   

“No, I’m just versatile.” Jaemin defends with a pout. “No one’s spat in my drink before.”   

“That you know of.” Haechan says with a feigned smile, voice laced with mild irritation.

“Right, well, I hate to ruin the fun, but I have class in fifteen minutes.” Ningning gets up, grabbing her bag and drink. “Bye losers.” She says with a sweet smile and starts walking towards the exit of the cafeteria.   

“Wait!” Jeno’s voice is loud. “I’ll walk with you.” He gets up quickly, clumsily gathering his stuff before following after her like a puppy following his owner, without even looking back at the rest of you. You look at them walk away, already discussing something. You think they look cute together and you wonder what you and Haechan look like to other people.   

“Someone’s toes are definitely getting sucked later.” Jaemin says and you can’t help but laugh at his silly joke.   

Haechan turns to you with a sweet smile. “Are you done with classes for the day?” He asks quietly, leaning his body closer to you and you smile at how comfortable he already acts around you, not caring that his friends are still there.   

“Mm-hmm.” You confirm with a nod, sitting up to stretch your limbs and once you get comfortable, you sink back into your chair, leaning into his warmth as he wraps his arm around your shoulders again, like it belongs there. “You working this evening?”   

“Nah, I only need to go in Sunday this weekend.” He says happily and his other hand takes hold of yours, resting limply on his lap. “Wanna come over for dinner?” He asks carefully and your eyes fall on Jaemin and Renjun who are deep in conversation about what jobs Jaemin could look for to earn some extra cash. They’re paying no attention to you and Haechan.   

“Dinner?” You ask with a hopeful smile and turn your head to look up at him, his pretty boba eyes already on you and he nods.   

“Yeah, I could make us something, or we could get takeout.” His cheeks are now pink and you feel giddy at his flustered look. He looks so unbelievably cute and you get the urge to give him kiss, but you don’t. Not here.   

“Sure, I’d like that.” Then you look at the two boys sat across the table.   

“Everyone is out tonight, don’t worry.” He reassures you, reading your mind.   

It’s not that you don’t like being around Haechan’s friends, they’re all lovely and have been nothing but nice to you, but you would appreciate some one-on-one time with him. It’s been exactly a week since your second date and even though you’ve seen him around campus since then, it’s always been with his or your friends around. On the other hand, you’re now realising that neither of you have been over at each other’s places and you feel the nerves as well as the excitement brewing in your stomach.   

You’re aware that both you and Haechan are still navigating the nature of your relationship and even though you know that it’s too soon to tell where it’s going, you’re more than happy to see it through with him. You’re also aware that so far, you’ve both made very clear that when you’re left alone, it’s almost impossible to keep your hands off each other. And although, the last thing you want is to keep things between you at a superficial level, you can’t help but wonder what sex with him would feel like. And although, you want things to progress naturally, you have a feeling that if you go to his tonight, you might find out.  

“You sure you don’t wanna go out with them?” You ask, checking that he’s not cancelling any important plans for you.   

“I can’t think of anything worse than going to a frat house filled with a bunch of people I barely know, trust me.” He says with a laugh, his thumb stroking the back of your hand gently. “Plus, I feel like I haven’t properly seen you this week.”   

“Aww you missed me?” You tease him, laughing at his reaction. His eyes roll and he tongues his cheek, trying to conceal his smile.   

“Yeah, and what if I did?” He challenges, his eyes widening, his lips forming a cute pout.   

“If you did,” You trail, leaning closer as you lower your voice, squeezing his hand in yours. “Then that’s great. Because the feeling might be mutual.” You reach up with your free hand to pinch his round cheek and before he has time to react you drop lean in, dropping a quick kiss on his cheek, before anyone sees. “I’d love to come over.” You say with a smile and poke the tiny dimple that’s appeared where you’ve just kissed him.   

“Oh great, so you guys are fucking on our couch.” Jaemin ruins yet another moment and Haechan closes his eyes trying to compose himself. A thought pops into your head and you’re internally laughing at your own joke before even saying it.   

”Now, why would we do that, when your bed is available tonight?” You say with a toothy grin and you’re sure Renjun’s loud laugh makes some heads turn, Haechan mimics his reaction, head thrown, hands clapping. “Do not test me Na Jaemin, I will break you.” You point a finger at him with a serious look.   

“You two make a great match, it’s actually scary.” He says in what could be described as amazement or fear, gesturing between you and Haechan.  

You wake up confused, looking around and seeing you’re not in the familiar space of your apartment and when you inhale deeply you realise you’re safe. Haechan’s familiar scent helps you relax again and when you move to stretch your legs, you feel a comforting weight on your back, stroking slowly. You nuzzle your face into Haechan’s neck, humming in delight as he pulls the fluffy blanket, which you assume he threw over your figures whilst you were asleep, up to your chin. “Hey, pretty.” He whispers in your ear, not wanting to startle you, his hand now in your hair, gently scratching your scalp and you purr in delight. “We fell asleep.” His tone still low, voice a little groggy, laced with sleep still.   

”Mmm, what time is it?” You mumble sleepily in his neck and he shuffles around, careful not to move you from where you’re lying comfortably on him, grabbing his phone from the coffee table near the couch you’re both currently cocooned in. Your blink your eyes slowly, thankful that the only thing producing light in the living room area, is the tv screen. Shin-chan still playing on the screen from earlier but the volume is lowered. You assume you must’ve fallen asleep mid cuddling, after dinner. You remember telling him about this crime documentary you watched with Ningning a few nights ago and how you couldn’t sleep after. You also remember him saying that you should’ve called him so he could take your mind off it, and you remember wondering if he really meant that or if he was just being nice.   

“It’s almost nine.” He says quietly after unlocking his phone. “We slept for like two hours.” He yawns cutely while checking any missed notifications and you can see from the corner of your eye, he quickly replies to a message from Jeno. “Seems like Jen convinced Ningning to come out.” He announces with a snort and your ears perk at that, your head slightly raising to look at him in question and he shows you the selfie he’s received from a visibly drunk Jeno, who’s got an arm wrapped around your friend’s shoulders, who’s sticking her tongue out, also visibly drunk.   

“Fuck's sake.” Your head drops on his shoulder again, groaning. “She’s gonna be hungover tomorrow.” You whine and Haechan lets out a laugh, holding you tightly against him, his arm wrapping around your middle, your hand resting on his chest and you close your eyes, allowing the cosiness to engulf you.  

“It’s fine, I’m sure he’ll look after her.” He places his phone back on the coffee table and wraps his other arm around you, squeezing you like a teddy bear, with a sigh. “Bet my left nut, he’s staying at yours again tonight.” He jokes and you snort at his choice of words.   

“Why the left one specifically?”   

“I’m right-handed so I thought I’d keep the right one.”   

“I’m sure you’ll get to keep both anyway; he’s definitely going home with her.” You agree with his point and tap your hand lightly on his chest, while resting your chin on it to look up at his pretty face. His eyes are closed now and he looks so relaxed, you can’t help but wonder if he’s enjoying the cuddling session as much as you are, but you also don’t want to assume he wants you to stay over. “I can go home, if you wanna go to bed. It’s getting late.”   

His eyes open the moment he seems to have registered your words and he looks down at you. “Or you could stay?” He suggests with hopeful eyes, gauging your reaction. “I have a spare toothbrush, and you can wear something of mine.” He can definitely tell you’re contemplating. “No pressure of course, I get if you wanna be in your own bed.” His fingers comb through your hair soothingly and you close your eyes momentarily.  

"Hmm." You ponder with a smile, letting your hand trail up his chest, fingers absentmindedly stroking along his jaw, feeling the scratch of the light stubble adorning his chin and he tilts his head, leaning into the touch. “I'm sure I won't miss my bed that much.”  

_

After you’ve both brushed your teeth and he’s given you a comfortable big t-shirt of his to change into, you’re ready for bed and when you walk into his room, he’s already turned the main light off and left the bedside lamp on.

He’s lying comfortably under the white covers, back against the headboard while he’s lazily scrolling through his phone. You feel giddy at how soft and warm he looks. Just like a teddy bear you wouldn’t be able to sleep without.

You place your clothes on his desk chair and walk over to the side he’s not occupying, noticing your own phone is placed on the bedside table next to him, plugged in and screen down. You smile at the thoughtful gesture and slowly lift the duvet to get under, instinctively shuffling closer to his side of the bed when he stretches his arm out for you and you place your head on his chest, resembling the position you were in earlier on the couch. His bedsheets are cold and you tangle a leg with his, wiggling your toes against his skin to warm them up, making him flinch and you giggle quietly. “Sorry.”   

He places his phone down, next to yours and moves to get comfortable against the pillows while holding onto your shoulders, bringing you down with him. He maneuvers you so you’re both on your sides facing each other and his arm is still slotted under you, between your head and your shoulder, while yours lazily drapes over his waist. He cups your jaw, gently rubbing his thumb against your skin and when he kisses your forehead gingerly, your eyes close momentarily while your arm tightens around his middle, pulling yourself closer so your chest is touching his. It feels domestic and so comfortable, like you’ve shared a bed with him a million times before.

“You comfy?” He whispers and you nod, the tip of your nose rubbing against his in the process. You see the corners of his lips lifting into a smile that probably mirrors yours. “Are you sleepy?” He murmurs against your lips and you smirk, knowing he’s testing the waters now. His fingers are in your hair and his thigh is resting between your legs, so close to your aching centre that you’re worried he can feel you throbbing through your underwear.   

“Not really.” You breathe against his lips, your hand on his back slipping under the hem of his t-shirt and you feel him shiver when you trail your fingers up, your nails lightly scratching, feeling the goosebumps on his warm skin. “You?” Your breath hitches when his thumb traces your bottom lip, dragging it down and your eyes travel to his heart shaped lips. You instantly wish they were on yours, but you want to let him go at his own pace.   

“What do you think?” He asks rhetorically and you breathe out a laugh, biting down on your bottom lip when his thumb moves to stroke the apple of your cheek.   

“I think,” you pause, lightly dragging your nails down his back, earning a whimper from him. “I’m not really thinking actually.” You confess as your hand travels to his front, fiddling with the strings of his shorts, your fingers catching the elastic band of his shorts and letting it snap against his lower abdomen, earning a gasp from him, which hits your eager lips.   

“Dumb already?” He attempts to tease and the smile dies on his lips, jaw dropping when your hand dips into his slacks and past his underwear, to wrap firmly around him. His eyes close when your thumb rubs under the head and you relish in the fact that he’s almost fully hard. He feels velvet smooth against your palm, thick enough to make you think it will probably sting when he enters you for the first time, slightly curved upwards, length perfect for hitting that sweet spot in your walls. You feel yourself getting wet at the thought and your breathing stutters when his thigh makes contact with your pussy, your hips instantly pushing forward, chasing the stimulating feeling. “Mm fu-“   

His lips are finally yours, interrupting you and you moan against his mouth in relief, kissing him back like you were made for it. You can’t help but think of that night in the noraebang room; how these very lips completely and utterly ruined you for anyone else. How they devoured you like no one else has before and probably like no one ever will.   

Without breaking the kiss, you push him gently and he rolls onto his back dragging you with him so you can straddle him. He buries his fingers into your hair, deepening the kiss, his tongue gliding against yours and you moan at the taste of him; toothpaste and something uniquely him. Your hands take hold of his, dragging them down your figure and you stop to rest them on your ass, smiling in the kiss when he instantly kneads and pulls at the plush skin. You allow him to lick into your mouth one more time, before breaking the kiss to sit up and take in his dazed expression. Eyes hooded, lips wet and swollen and so irresistible, you feel helpless. Before he can complain, you drop your hands to the hem of the shirt that he let you borrow and slowly start dragging it up your skin, until it’s off you and on the floor.   

“Fuck.” He exhales heavily, the second your tits are free and his hand comes up caressing from your hip up to your ribs until he reaches the underside of your boob and he gently cups, feeling the weight of it in his hand. “You’re fucking unreal.” He whispers and licks his lips before sitting up and wrapping his other arm securely around your waist.

His forehead rests against your chest for a moment, inhaling deeply, almost as if he needs a minute to compose himself while still squeezing your boob in his hand and you let him, threading your fingers through his hair to offer some comfort. His warm breath caresses your nipple and your shiver, the skin around the nub pebbling against his palm and you whine at the sensitivity, pulling at his hair to guide him closer to where you want him.

He gets the message and he kisses across your sternum, his tongue coming out to make contact with your skin before it circles around your areola slowly, teasing you. The pads of his fingers digging into the skin of your boob, squeezing as he sucks the nipple into his mouth and he moans when you whine. He starts flicking his tongue, driving you close to insanity and the wetness in your underwear feels almost unbearable now, but you have other priorities.   

“Hae?” You call out into his hair as he’s still sucking and licking and he hums, indicating that he’s listening, as he scatters more kisses across your chest, moving to wrap his lips around your other nipple. “I wanna suck you off.” You say quickly, before allowing the shyness to infiltrate your brain and he instantly releases the nub, with a wet pop, so he can look up at your face with wide eyes. His mouth is ajar and his lips swollen and wet with his spit. He looks fucked out like this, hair messy and you love it, because you’re the sole reason. You cup his face and he absentmindedly squeezes both your tits in his hands, pushing them together, his eyes not leaving yours.   

“Yeah, baby?” He leans up and kisses you softly. “Wanna make me feel good?” He mumbles seductively against your mouth, and you don’t even think before quickly nodding.   

“Mm please.” You say in a whiny voice, playing along with him, as you pull at the fabric of his top and his hands move to pull at the collar, swiftly removing it. Your hands drag down his naked chest, pushing him to lie against the headboard, continuing their journey down his body, until they reach his shorts. You don’t waste any time, pulling his boxers along with them and he spreads his legs when he’s completely naked, for you to kneel in between them. His hand wraps around his hard cock, resting on his tummy and he whimpers at the needed friction while his eyes are on yours.   

“Tongue out, keep your eyes on me.” He says softly and you clench around nothing, your panties a mess by now, you have to refrain from cringing at the feeling. You instantly obey, leaning closer and sticking your tongue out, millimetres away from where he wants it. He gently taps the head against the centre of your awaiting wet muscle and you moan, fighting to keep your eyes on his, the act feeling intensely intimate. “Suck, baby.” He says, his voice still gentle but more authoritative than before. You wrap your lips around the head and suck softly, tasting his precum and you can’t help when your eyes close at the taste and weight of him in your mouth. You pull back slightly, swirling your tongue around him and flicking at the underside, causing him to grunt. “Fuck, pretty girl, you’re so good to me, aren’t you.” He says, with a shaky voice in his state of vulnerability, and you moan at the praise as you slap his hand away, replacing it with your own, wrapping your smaller fingers around his thick length and he lets you. You start to move your hand up and down, pumping him at a quick pace while sucking around the tip again, tongue dipping gently in his slit and when his hips buck up, wanting you to take him deeper, you place a hand on his hip as a warning and he grunts. "Fuck baby, please."   

You gather a good amount of saliva in your mouth and when you look up to make sure he's watching you, you let it drip down slowly, watching as it coats his cock and travels down to his balls. You smile when his eyes roll back and you lick from base to top teasingly, surprising him when you take him as deep as you can, with your hand wrapped tightly around the base.

You moan when he reaches the back of your throat, swallowing around him with purpose and you pull back up when you start to gag. Your hand follows your mouth as you slowly start to move your head up and down, trying to give him as much pleasure as you can and you know you're doing a good job when his hands curl in your hair, gathering the strands into a messy ponytail and his moans turn into whines. This time, when his hips start moving, you allow him to fuck up into you, having gotten used to the feeling of him in your throat.

You slacken your jaw, moving your hand from the base to his thigh, and he moans louder when you allow him to go deeper than before. You feel your eyes water and you know you're slobbering around him, making a complete mess as saliva drips from the corners of your mouth, gathering at the base of his cock and balls. Your hand comes up to cup them, rolling gently and he abruptly pulls your mouth off him with a loud groan.

You look at the thick string of spit mixed with precum that’s connecting your lips to his tip, as you gasp for air and then your teary eyes travel up to meet his wild ones. He looks conflicted and his grip on your hair feels tight. "What's wrong?" You ask, your voice comes out hoarse and you feel like coughing to clear your throat, but you just swallow carefully.  

He manages to laugh breathlessly at your confused expression, his breathing shallow and his lips bright pink from all the biting. "I was about to cum." He explains and grabs you by the arms to pull you up.   

"Ain't that the point?" You say as you straddle him again and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, some of the drool smearing on your chin and you internally cringe at the wetness, but his eyes on your mouth tell you he thinks otherwise.   

"Not if you want me to fuck you, no." Your heart jumps at his words and the look on your face must betray you, because he’s smirking. "Unless you don't." He teases, caressing your thighs as you place both hands on his naked chest, your pinky rubbing against his nipple and you giggle when his shudders.   

"No, I do." You confess as you lean down to kiss him but he quickly sits up, meeting you halfway as he wraps his arms around you, maneuvering you onto your back swiftly and you feel yourself bounce on the mattress when he plops you down. He kneels between your legs and without warning, he starts pulling your panties off you. You eagerly raise your hips to help him, bringing your bent legs together, so the fabric doesn't stretch.   

Once the lace is somewhere on the floor, you see his lips curling into a smile as he bites on the bottom one when you mindlessly spread your legs for him again, inviting him to settle between them. He moves closer, dragging his knees on the mattress as his hands take purchase on your hips.   

"Scoot up a bit for me?" He asks sweetly and he helps you move up the bed, so your head rests comfortably on the fluffy pillows, and you feel the butterflies in your stomach causing havoc with no permission, your heart thudding like crazy as your eyes find his and fuck holding back now. You just want him to ruin you.   

You pull at his silver chain, your other hand grabbing the back of his neck and he grunts the second your lips crash, all tongue and teeth with no coordination. You tilt your head to the side to get better access and the wet sound kissing fills the room. Your clit is throbbing and you desperately need him to do something. Anything. "Please, I'm so wet." You whine against his lips and he moans at your neediness, grinding into your centre. His cock sliding between your folds, the head bumping into your neglected clit and your hips raise searching for more friction.

He leans back on his heels and hunches over you, one hand splayed on your tummy, the other wrapping around his dick as he taps the head against your clit and your legs spread completely, giving him full access as you squeeze around your own tits, needing to hold onto something. Your eyes roll back when he starts firmly rubbing the swollen nub, flicking from side to side and you feel like you're  about to combust, your back arching off the bed as you moan loudly.   

You open your eyes the second the friction comes to a halt, and the complaint dies in your mouth when you're met with the sinful sight of him coating two of his fingers in spit before they disappear between your legs and into your needy hole. "Shit, baby." He says in awe when they easily slide into you and your jaw drops at the fullness, your eyes threatening to shut from the pleasure, but you refuse to stop looking at him. His arm muscles are flexing when he starts fucking you open, instantly finding that sensitive spot that drives you insane, his other hand still, possessively pressing down on your lower abdomen to hold you in place, his hair matted on his damp forehead, his eyes focused on your dripping centre, bottom lip trapped between his teeth in concentration. He looks so hot, you could come just from looking at him and when his thumb comes into the equation, rubbing merciless circles around your clit, you feel yourself getting tighter.   

“You gonna cum?” He asks in a whisper, his eyes meeting yours momentarily and you nod quickly, eyebrows creasing at the intense pressure in your belly.   

"Uh-huh, don’t stop." You respond in a high pitched plea and his pace quickens, creating the filthiest squelching noises around his hand and your eyes close, half in ecstasy half in embarrassment. "Oh my god." Your fingers knead your tits harder when you're on the edge and a moan from him is what topples you over. "Fuck, I'm cumming." Your pussy feels like it's on fire as your walls spasm, your clit throbs like it's about to fall off and your legs can't stop shaking. His fingers are pistoning into you so hard and fast, that it feels like it slightly hurts but it feels so good at the same time. Too good. You sense you're on the verge of peeing and your voice comes out in a broken squeal. "Shit, ah, stop stop stop!" Your hand grabs his wrist in a desperate state and he looks up at your face with widened eyes, like he's come out of a trance. He stops his ministrations but keeps his fingers buried inside you.   

"Fuck, baby, I'm sorry." The hand on your stomach, moving to your ribs, caressing gently. "Did I hurt you? You- shit, I thought you were gonna squirt for a second so I kept going, I'm really sorry." His pupils are shaking as he explains quickly, taking in your sweaty, disheveled form and you feel so exposed that you make grabby hands at him, wanting him close. He instantly moves, supporting his weight on one arm, careful not to crash you and you sigh when you feel his chest flush against yours, warm and damp.   

"It didn't hurt." You assure him, cupping his cheeks in your hands and he closes his eyes, sighing in relief. "I just felt like I was gonna pee." You confess bashfully and he chuckles, burying his face in your neck, inhaling deeply as you run your fingers through his hair. "I've never squirted before, so I freaked out a bit." You explain quietly. "Plus, I don't wanna ruin your bed sheets before we even get to the sex part."   

He snorts and raises his head to look at you again. "Pretty sure they're already ruined." He says giving you a kiss on the cheek and you move to playfully push him off you, but a gasp escapes you when you feel his fingers slightly move, reminding you they're still buried inside your sensitive walls. "Unclench a little, you're squeezing." He whispers and when he kisses you, you slowly relax your walls around his digits, allowing him to carefully pull out and you whine at the loss, making him smile in the kiss. His hand cups your sensitive core, making you mewl at the comforting warmth. "You sure you still wanna keep going? We don't have to if you're feeling sore."  

"I'm fine." You wrap your legs around his waist, holding him close. “Want you.” You whisper, arms sliding up his chest, coming to wrap around his neck as you once again bring your lips to his, urging him to kiss you stupid. And he does. 

It’s slow, steady, passionate and you feel like mush in his arms, numb to the core, your lips moving in sync with his, taking what he’s giving you. You exhale heavily through your nose, refusing to break the kiss and you moan when he obscenely shoves his tongue into your mouth, licking messily and the conversation from earlier enters your mind suddenly. “Mm- I want mmf-” He interrupts you with another messy kiss before pulling away, allowing you to speak.  

“You want what?” He asks quietly, lips still grazing yours as he catches his breath. Your eyes are on his glistening mouth, and he must sense your hesitation, because he presses again, hand caressing up and down your thigh in encouragement. “Tell me, baby, I’ll give you anything you want.”   

“Remember what we talked about earlier?” You try, too shy to actually say the words.  

“Earlier?” His eyebrows furrow in thought, not catching on straight away.  

“At the café.” You whisper, your eyes drop to his mouth again, slightly hinting and when they find his again, you know he’s caught on.   

“You- fuck.” He falters when your hips slightly raise, the tip of his cock catching at your entrance momentarily before sliding between your folds. “You want me to spit in your mouth?” He asks carefully, after having somewhat collected himself, both arms coming up, trapping your head between them as he rests his weight on them. You nod, holding eye contact, hands traveling down his abdomen, fingers tracing his sides before trailing up his spine, bracing once having reached his shoulders, palms resting on the blades. “You fucking minx.” His hand cups your face, fingers lightly squishing your cheeks, forcing your lips to pucker as he leans in to press a chaste kiss on them. His index taps against your cheek gently, as his hold on your face loosens. “Open up.” He instructs, his voice low, eyes darkening and you feel your cunt fluttering around nothing. “Tongue out.” His fingers lightly shake your face from side to side possessively and your brain stops functioning, tongue sticking out as if on demand and you whine when you watch him gather saliva in his mouth, cheeks hollowing a little, before slowly letting it dribble down your awaiting muscle. Your eyes rolls back when you feel it and your fingernails instinctively dig into his shoulders. “Swallow.” He instructs again, and you obey with a desperate moan, revelling in his dominant demeanour. His hand wraps around your throat, feeling the movement and he kisses you again, grunting against your lips, as you struggle to keep up with him, jaw widening to take his tongue in and you feel the wetness smearing on your chin messily.   

You realise no one has ever kissed you like Haechan, and you wonder if he’s always kissing his sexual partners like this. Has anyone else experienced this level of intimacy with him before? You instantly feel the jealousy brewing at the thought of someone receiving this kind of affection; this kind of pleasure from him and you surprise yourself, never having felt this possessive over someone before. Something switches in you.

“Fuck me.” You breathlessly mumble, not recognising your own voice and he moans in your mouth as your hand reaches down, wrapping around his cock, smearing the shiny drops of precum adorning his tip. His hips thrust forward into your touch and you pump him steadily a couple more times, offering some sort of relief.   

He pulls away slightly, to look at you. “Let me grab a condom.” He says quickly before grabbing your ankles, unwrapping them from his waist.   

“Right, yes.” You nod dumbly, feeling a little silly for having lost all sensibility because of him.   

You watch him as reaches blindly in the bedside table drawer; his eyebrows furrowing in concentration and his face lights up the second he finds one. You watch him as he sits back on his heels, ripping the foil with his teeth. You watch him as he rolls the latex carefully onto his hard cock, teeth sinking in his bottom lip as he pumps himself a few times, ensuring the condom is on properly, chest moving as he breathes heavily. You watch him as he moves closer, coating two fingers in saliva and bringing them down to your slit again, rubbing up and down slowly before dipping them in and quickly pumping them to prep you, even if you really don’t need it. You let him though, because you want to keep watching him for a little longer. 

He looks ethereal with his messy fringe stuck to his sweaty forehead, his shoulders wide, his chest and arm muscles lean, bicep flexing subtly as he expertly slides his fingers in and out, scissoring them to stretch you for him. He looks like the epitome of sex and you can’t even bring yourself to moan as his palm rubs against your sensitive clit, your jaw dropping with a quiet, trembling breath when he starts jabbing at your already abused g-spot and your hands release the sheets in favour of holding your legs open, when they threaten to close.

“Think I’m gonna cum again.” You mumble in awe, eyes staying on him still.   

“You think?” He asks, voice laced with sarcasm, pace quickening, urging you to unravel around his fingers for the second time tonight. “Go on, baby.” His free hand, presses against the back of your thigh, pushing your leg close to your chest, testing your flexibility and the second his eyes meet yours, you cum. Hard. “Yeah, good girl.” He praises softly and you let out a whine, allowing your eyes to finally shut, not being able to handle his intense stare, your back arching as your fingers dig into the backs of your thighs, legs uncontrollably shaking, walls clenching repeatedly around his hand, clit pulsing against the heel of his palm as he helps you ride out your orgasm.   

He starts kissing up your trembling body, lips wet, tongue lapping up your sweaty skin and he doesn’t even give you the chance to catch your breath when he harshly sucks your nipple in his warm mouth as his fingers leave your heat to wrap around his hard cock, rubbing the head up and down your soaked cunt. Your hands come up to grab onto his hair, as you attempt to anchor yourself and you can’t help but moan loudly when he pushes in. And even though it’s only the tip, it’s enough to drive you close to insanity.   

“Fuck!” You exclaim, forcing his head up so you can kiss him as he slowly bottoms out, distracting yourself from the stinging sensation.   

You both moan when his pelvis meets yours, his pubic bone flush against your hypersensitive clit as he gives you a second to adjust. He slowly pulls out to the tip and thrusts back in, maintaining the slow, careful pace to make sure you’re feeling comfortable.

“Relax for me.” He exhales a shaky laugh against your lips and you squeeze even harder to tease him. “Fuck! Baby, what the f- don’t.” He warns with a grunt as he wraps an authoritative hand around your neck and draws his hips back a little, before slamming in with force, not a second later. 

The loud noise that escapes your throat resembles a scream and your eyes roll back when he starts fucking into you hard and fast, wet slapping sounds echoing and you almost feel embarrassed at hearing how wet you are, but the intense pleasure takes over your senses, completely clouding any coherent thought.

“Not so bratty now, are we?” He grunts against your jaw as the hand around your neck tightens slightly, causing your ears to start ringing and your eyes to water. He releases you just when you start feeling dizzy, allowing you to catch your breath. He lets out a dark laugh at your loud gasps and buries his hand in your hair instead, pulling at the roots, so your head lolls back on the pillows, giving him access to your neck. 

“So fucking wet, fffuck, so good.” He slurs between sloppy kisses against your sensitive skin as his hips slow down, fucking you nice and deep at a lazy pace, torturing you. “You take me so well, baby.” His crude words causing you to clench around him as his tongue laps from the base of your neck, up to your ear, flicking the lobe playfully.

“Look.” He whispers, moist breath tickling your ear as the hand fisting you hair, forces your head forward and off the pillow, making you look down between your bodies and you obediently open you eyes. You take in the unholy visual of his cock slowly dragging out to the tip, coated in your shiny slick essence, a white ring forming at the base and your eyes threaten to roll back when he so easily slides back in, at the same torturous pace. “See how perfect you are?”

Your nails drag down his back, leaving scratch marks behind and he hums against your neck when they dig into the flesh of his ass. “Faster, please.” You breathe out and he loosens his hold, allowing your head to tip back down, his eyes finding yours as he maintains the slow pace. 

"You sure, baby?" His tone mocking as he sits back up on his knees, looking down at your messy cunt practically sucking him back in every time he slowly pulls out. You reel at the sight of his feral expression, his eyes unfocused as they trail up and down your naked body, like he can’t decide what to focus on. You feel exposed to the core but your arousal wins and you moan loudly, back arching when his thumb slowly circles around your clit twice, stimulating the stiff nub. 

"Hae, please." You're on the verge of tears and he must like the sound of your begging, because he doesn’t hesitate this time. He leans down again, bringing his lips to yours, thrusts increasing in pace and force significantly but never losing preciseness, giving you exactly what you want. “Yes, oh my god.” You exhale against his mouth, as he changes the angle slightly and starts fucking directly into your g-spot, barely pulling out before thrusting back in, his balls slapping against your ass and you’re pretty sure you’ve never been fucked this good before. “Fuck, Haechan, please please please, don’t stop.” You blabber, completely lost in mind-numbing bliss, your legs spreading as far as they can go, allowing him to thrust as deep as he pleases. He groans, kisses turning sloppy, all tongue and teeth and you can’t stop moaning, mouth hanging open against his.   

“Fuck, baby, I need you to cum.” He whispers, tone laced with urgency, almost sounding like he’s in pain and he wastes no time; a hand slotting between your bodies, resuming the stimulation on your clit, as he supports his weight on one arm, thrusts unfaltering, unforgiving and just perfect. His fingers start rubbing rough, tight circles around the nub and your toes curl against his sides, arms securely wrapping around his shoulders, as your walls squeeze around him, indicating another orgasm, and when his fingers along with the head of his cock rub against the right spot, you’re gone. Your moan comes out broken, walls clamping down on him, legs pathetically attempting to close around him but failing as your thighs shake violently and you feel dizzy, a tear rolling down your temple from the intensity of your high.   

He keeps fucking you into the mattress, thrusts turning a little sloppy now that you're squeezing around him, hips losing their steady rhythm and when the pleasure borders overstimulation, causing you to mewl, he abruptly pulls out, kneeling between your legs and over your spent body. He pulls the condom off quickly with trembling fingers and he moans as he starts jerking himself off, aiming for your abdomen as his free hand curls around your ribs, holding you exactly where he wants you.  

“You look so good.” You exhale in awe as you observe him in the midst of his pleasure, his eyes shut, head thrown back, his pretty neck on display as he moans loudly and his hooded eyes find yours again for a second before they roll back into his head. 

“Shit, gonna cum.” He shakily announces, your praise seeming to have worked wonders, as you feel the first spurts of hot liquid landing on your skin. You take in the beautiful sight of his shaking form, chest and neck flushed, drenched in sweat, eyebrows creasing in between, eyes still shut, jaw slack as he releases short breaths.

He’s milking himself when you look down and you can’t help but ogle at the sight of your skin covered in the sticky white mess he’s created, illuminated by the bedside lamp. You notice some of it has landed on your tits, some on your tummy and you’re pretty sure some of it is pooling in the dip of your belly button, causing you to bite back a smile. 

“Fuck.” He breathes in relief as his eyes slowly open to look at you and he looks dazed, fucked out. His tan skin flushed, making him look delicious. Sweat drips down his temple, hands shaking as they rest on your thighs limply. “I think I blacked out for a second there.” He mutters in awe and you giggle at his crazy eyes, while he tries to regulate his breathing.

His cheeky smile has returned, and he leans in, taking a closer look at his work. “Damn, I did a number on you.” He teases, eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in the sinful sight. “Pretty.” He whispers and takes your limp hand in his, lips kissing gently on the back of it, eyes looking up at you innocently, like he didn’t just fuck you stupid.   

When he drops your hand, he leans down with no warning and you panic at his mischievous expression, as his head disappears between your legs.

“What are you doing?” You ask in confusion and he chuckles softly.   

“Shhh.” He breathes against your folds as his hands hold your legs open and the second his tongue makes contact with your heat, you squirm, trying to move further up the bed, but he tightens his arms around your thighs, holding you still. “Relax, just take it.” He whispers calmly before gently sucking on your clit. His tongue slides down to lap at your entrance, slightly dipping in, tasting you directly, before flattening and licking up to the bundle of nerves, making you mewl when he circles around it languidly. He keeps going, alternating between sucking, licking and gently circling until your legs are shaking again. Your hands release the sheets, moving to desperately hold onto his hair, fingers pulling, not knowing whether to push him away or pull him closer and his moan vibrates against your clit, pushing you over the edge once more. You cry out pathetically, not able to form any words, cumming hard against his tongue as he refuses to let up until your whole body shakes from overstimulation.  

“Please, I- I can’t- can't cum again.” You stumble over your words, as he licks against your entrance, slurping up your juices, the sounds incriminating and you don’t even have the energy to push him away anymore. You just accept that if he tries to make you come again, you’ll probably pass out, but to your relief, he thankfully stops once he’s cleaned you up with his tongue.

You blink up at him when you feel his weight on you, his skin feels hot on yours, his cum smearing between you, and he doesn’t seem have a care in the world. The only thing he does seem to care about is shoving his tongue in your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself, kissing you like he owns you and at this point, he might as well spell out his name on your body with his cum, because he has completely and utterly destroyed you and you know you’re irrevocably ruined for anyone else.   

“So good for me, baby girl.” He mutters wetly, mouth open against yours, breathing heavy. “So fucking sweet.” He whispers almost inaudibly and you cup his chin in your hand, squishing his cheeks between your fingers, pecking him on his puckered lips.   

“You’re fucking insane, Lee Haechan.” You weakly chuckle as he tries to kiss you again, his whine childish as your firm hold on his face prevents him from doing so. “Get off me, before I piss myself in your bed, you freak. You’re pressing on my bladder.”  

_

After having gently cleaned you up with a warm hand towel and carried you to the bathroom so you can sort yourself out, he’s got you back in his bed, safely cocooned in his arms and under the covers. His front is comfortably pressed against your back and you’re basking in the warmth and the nakedness.   

“Now I’m definitely sleepy.” You mumble with a content smile and he quietly chuckles in your hair, tightening his arms around you, holding you as close as possible, sighing in delight.  

“Mm same.” He mumbles sleepily against your neck. “You comfortable like this?” He checks, and you feel giddy at his attentiveness.   

“Mm-hmm, more than.” You nuzzle back into him, lazily stroking your fingers up and down the arm that’s wrapped around your middle, his palm casually cupping your boob; not squeezing, just gently holding. You feel him smile as he presses a sweet kiss on your shoulder.

A few moments of comfortable silence pass, and just when you think his breathing has started to slow down, he quietly speaks again.  

“Y/N?” He asks tentatively and his serious tone worries you.   

“Yeah?” You attempt to turn your head to look at him, but his tight embrace holds you in place and you presume he needs to not be looking at you when he says his next words.   

“I think-” He pauses, collecting his thoughts and you have a feeling you know what he’s trying to get at, so you give him time, hand still gently stroking his arm. “Are we on the same page here?”  

“Well,” You sigh, feigning uncertainty and the tensing in his arm almost makes you regret dragging this. “That depends Lee Haechan.” The teasing smile evident in your voice. “What page are you on?”  

[rrradduh]

Of Course

NCT Haechan x f!reader | 5.6k words

Synopsis: You've been studying abroad for the last 3 months, and it's finally time to fulfill your promise of finding Haechan one more time. What's better than coming home, you ask? Surprising him a few days early. Or so you thought...

Themes/ Elements: Angst!, tension, fluff (if you squint), college au, situationship au, party, alcohol, reader studied in France, cursing, humor?, little kissing, lot of skinship, mentions of 18+ suggestive themes, mention boner/ 'stiffy', themes of substance abuse (alcoholism), & not quite cheating?

A/N: Back due to popular demand :D Took forever 4real. I swear I wanted fluff, but the plot demons took over... happy-ish ending tho (imo)! If you read the preludes, you can see his improvement lol

ft. Jeno (NCT Dream), Chenle (NCT Dream), Jaemin (NCT Dream), Jungwoo (NCT 127), & Sion (NCT Wish)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

--------------------------------------------------------------

Your back leans against the cool, smooth surface of the hallway walls. The neutral paint job surrounds you as you wait impatiently to be met by someone. You stand to the left of a very familiar apartment door, as booming bass and colorful lighting spill through the cracks. A mildly worn doormat sits on the ground near your feet. It has the text “nice underwear” printed on it. You scoff. It’s the same one from before; it’s just as dumb as it’s always been. 

It’s December now, and the air is a lot colder than it was when you left it. A thin, insulated jacket lies thrown over your arm. It took you forever to get dressed this evening, but you settled on a well-fitting sweater, a skirt, and some boots. You ditched your stockings, accepting the chilly night air since most of the night would be spent indoors anyway. 

You check your phone: it’s just past midnight. Where is he? 

Voices are clear from the other side of the door, but your instructions were direct: Text me and wait. Do not knock. So you just look at the neutral paint on the walls and wait, the anxiety of the situation catching up to you. 

Suddenly, a set of dark brown eyes pokes its head outside of the doorframe, immediately noticing you off to the side. You perk up. Jeno exits the apartment, those same eyes turning into crescents as he engulfs you in a giant bear hug.

“Took you long enough.” You muffle into his chest, arms wrapping around his lean figure. He rocks you from side to side in his embrace.

“Sorry, I was getting my ear talked off in there. Could barely leave for a bathroom break.” He mutters into your hair, then pulls away from you. He glances at you from head to toe. “You look good. Healthy,” he adds.

“Thanks. I feel good, I think.” You smile, still taking in the fact that you’re seeing your friend again after such a long while. “You look good, too.”

He shrugs off your compliment. “How was it?”

“It was hard, but it was good.” You say firmly.

He nods, eyes still small slivers on his face. “You know,” He starts. “It was hell trying to convince him to throw this. He only did it because we lost the championships and our buddy Sion on the team got really bummed out.”

“Oh yeah, I think I heard about that. Hashtag go Tigers.” You throw on your best school spirit act. 

Jeno snorts. “You mean go Bears.”

You grimace. “I guess it’s been a while.”

Jeno smiles down at you, messing up your hair with an outstretched hand. You whince, pulling his hand from the style you worked so hard. “Not the hair,” you insist. 

“Sorry, the cuteness aggression overpowered me.” He laughs to himself. He seems to have had a drink or two, from the small glow on his cheeks.

“Well, fight back.” You chide, trying to undo his doings. Surely a few strands out of place wouldn’t be a problem. 

“Come on.” He nods toward the slightly ajar apartment door. “I’ll sneak you into his room.” He whispers the last part, and he unzips his hoodie. A thin black shirt lies underneath. He slides it off his shoulders, then tosses it to you. 

You hand him your jacket, and slip into the dark colored hoodie. 

He tucks your jacket under his arm and zips you up with one swift motion. He throws the hood over your head and tugs on the drawstrings until your face is nearly covered. He laughs. 

“Shut up.” You say from behind the fabric. You can hardly see. 

“Hold my arm and keep your head down.”

You do as you're told, grabbing onto Jeno’s firm bicep and tucking your chin to your chest. You can’t see anything, but you can hear the door is open now from the instant increase in volume. Your shoulders grow tense. If Jeno notices, he doesn’t say anything.

Bodies brush against you at both of your sides. It still smells like cheap booze and smoke, but something new is in the mix. Something fresh. Like laundry detergent. A whisper of positivity in the thick airscape. 

Your feet stumble blindly through the space. Red light spills through the small opening in the hood that allows you to see. Everything feels blurry and indistinct due to Jeno’s fast strides across the space. The bass rattles your bones.

Jeno freezes abruptly, swiveling you so you’re behind him now. “Yeah, I’ll be over in a sec!” He shouts at someone far away. 

When he starts walking again, it’s much quicker. Before you know it, you hear the click of a doorknob. He positions you in the room and closes the door behind himself. Aside from the warm street lamps spilling in through his curtains, it’s completely dark.

Jeno huffs. “Someone saw me.” 

You pull off the hood, assuming you’ve reached safety. “Who?”

“Jaemin.” Jeno puts his hand to his face, overcome with distress. 

“It’s fine- Jaemin is cool, that’s not too bad.” You unzip your outer layer. 

“Right.” He doesn’t sound convinced.

“Just act cool.” 

Jeno furrows his brows, offended. “I am cool.” 

“Exactly.” You hand the sweater back to Jeno, and he puts it on, zipping it up halfway like it was when you first saw him. 

“Promise you’ll update me?” Jeno asks, adjusting the uneven strings of his hoodie.

“Of course, you’re the hero who made it happen.” You pinch his cheek affectionately. 

“I guess I’ll go before someone starts bitching.” He places a hand on the doorknob. “Glad to have you back, Y/N.” He smiles one last time, leaving you all alone in Haechan’s room.

It’s cleaner than you remember. He has a couple more shelves on his walls, and his bed is made. The comforter is new, but the color is dark and familiar. It’s black like half of his other duvets. There’s a book on his bedside table. A laugh escapes you, imagining him reading with his thick black glasses on before bed. 

The laughter feels refreshing in your chest. Your nerves were going insane. Was a surprise really a good idea? What if he was seeing someone else? What if he wasn’t excited to see you? The possibilities were giving you a headache.

Haechan had kept in contact vaguely throughout your time abroad, falling back into the dynamic you maintained as friends before things got complicated. A call every few days or a text about something funny. You never discussed expectations, because nothing could really be expected. Nothing was tying the two of you together besides a few big feelings and a couple of mutual friends. 

Toward the end of the semester, your schedule filled up, making the calls a lot less frequent and the text messages less funny. You thought a surprise would be a good way to make up for everything. Now it’s time to figure out if you’re right.

…

In the living room, Haechan stands in a group with a few other guys, nursing his second beer of the night. A beer that he’s mostly drinking to be polite and partially drinking because he’s bored. His friends Jaemin, Chenle, and Jungwoo surround him. The conversation is light and humorous. Jungwoo talks about something absurd that happened in class this week, while Chenle eggs him on with rapid-fire questions.

Haechan checks his phone for the time. Part of him wanted to get a jump on a paper tonight, but he doubts he’ll get to it now. He was having fun, but socializing was starting to wear him out. 

Jeno bumps into the drowsy boy’s shoulder, obviously not looking where he was going. “Sorry.”

Jaemin’s eyes travel to the boy instantly. “Where’d you go?”

“To piss.”

“Liar. I saw you with someone.” Jaemin raises a brow, smirking.

“What can I say? I’m a popular guy.” Jeno shrugs, feigning confidence. His heart races in his chest.

Jaemin scoffs, preparing to tease. “Since when?”

As Jeno attempts to retort, Haechan cuts in. “What the fuck is that smell?” He stands with his face twisted, brows knitted together, and his eyes shifting around the room. He could barely follow the conversation with that familiar looming scent floating around Jeno’s head. It smelled like you. He sniffs the air in disbelief.

“I don’t smell anything,” Jaemin says, clearly confused.

Haechan gawks at the young man. How could he not smell it?

“Like a good smell of a bad smell?” Jeno asks as innocently as possible. He mentally scolds himself for having you wear his sweater. 

“You’re making a face like it’s a bad smell,” Jaemin adds, amused.

“No,” Haechan blinks. “Perfume. Women’s perfume.” Hachan’s eyes scan the room skeptically. “Like—“

“Can you shut up. I’m trying to tell a story.” Jungwoo glares at Haechan.

“Yeah, ssshhhhhh.” Chenle presses a finger to his lips and shushes them loudly. 

Haechan pokes his tongue at his cheek. “Of course. Just gang up on the host that worked so hard to make this party happen.” He tsks, walking backwards, away from the others.

“Where are you going?” Jaemin smirks.

“Somewhere I’m appreciated.” Haechan sasses. He’d been getting bored for a while anyway. 

“Like your bedroom?” Jeno’s voice is a bit too hopeful. He whips out his phone, shooting you a quick message. 

Chenles huffs a dry laugh. “I don’t think anyone’s appreciated Haechan in a bedroom in months.”

“Fuck you.” Haechan scowls at him, disappearing into the crowd of bodies. He makes his way to the kitchen, walking past a dancing Sion, and smiles to himself. He’s glad he’s at least having a good time. 

…

You stand stiffly in Haechan’s closet. You left the door open slightly, so you could see. It became easy to want to chicken out once Jeno texted you a simple “on the move.” You felt like a sitting duck standing in the center of his room. It felt vulnerable. You decided it might be funnier if he found you in his closet.

When you hear the click of his bedroom door opening, you stop breathing. It’s just for a second, but you’re certain your lungs run empty. You watch through the sliver of the door.

Haechan enters the room with a sigh and a half-empty bottle of beer. He walks across the room with heavy footsteps, low thuds against the floor. A warm lamp turns on near his bedside, illuminating the room. 

You blink at the sudden light.

“Story my ass,” he mumbles to himself, grabbing his laptop. He plops down onto the edge of his springy mattress, resting the computer on his lap. The cool light from the screen contrasts with the warmth engulfing the room. 

You can see now that he’s in a T-shirt and some jeans with a flimsy pair of slides on his socked feet. You listen as he clicks around on the device, suddenly feeling creepy. You bang your elbow into the wall, purposely causing some noise. 

He jolts, turning toward the closet. “Hello?”

It feels like he can see you. You step back, your shoulder blades colliding with a few hangers. 

Haechan sucks his teeth, standing and walking to the closet. 

You shrink into yourself, your heart beating like you're running a marathon. 

“Fucking in someone’s personal closet is nasty.” Haechan delivers as if this specific circumstance has happened before. “Get dressed and get out.” He puts a hand on his hip, waiting. 

When he doesn’t hear any movement, he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He grabs the knob, “I said get o—“ He swings the door open, freezing in place the moment he meets your gaze. 

You stand wedged between the clothes on his clothing rack, jacket still in your hands. It’s silent aside from the muffled hum of music past his bedroom door. 

He takes a step back, his gaze runs up and down the entirety of your body, stopping on your face. When he meets your eyes again, he closes his own. A small laugh escapes him, and he covers his mouth. He angles his body away from you, succumbing to laughter.

“You scared the shit out of me.” He sounds out of breath. 

You soften, shoulders finally sinking into a relaxed position. “Are you surprised?” You take a delicate step outside the closet. 

“I feel like I could throw up.” He thinks aloud.

You shudder, thinking about one of your last nights with him a few months ago. “Please don’t do that again.”

He laughs again, all of this feeling like a weird dream. “I can’t even look at you, right now.” He opens his eyes, focusing on his dingy white socks. 

“Why not?” You stalk toward him, a knowing smile on your face. Seeing him flustered was igniting a small fire in your chest.

He peeks at you and immediately covers his face with his hands. A low whine slips past his lips. “This isn’t happening. How is this happening?” 

“I came back a few days early.”

He gasps, speaking through his hands. “You lied to me.”

You hum apologetically. “So did Jeno, actually.”

He whines even louder this time, reeling from the new information. He knew he had recognized your perfume earlier. “This is…” His voice dies off as he peeks at you through his hands. You’re a lot closer now, close enough for him to reach out and touch you. Close enough to see the shine on your lips, and the necklace hiding under your shirt. He stops breathing. 

You stare at him. His hair is messy, and his shirt is a tad wrinkled. His alert eyes stare back at you from behind the shield of his hands. He looks sober. How is that possible at this point in the night? Perhaps you lost the ability to notice his tells. The thought makes your heart sink. 

“Can I touch you?” You reach out for him, stopping your hand a hair away from his. 

He nods wordlessly.

You place your hands over his and slowly drag them down away from his face. You watch his Adam’s apple bob. “Hi,” you whisper, suddenly a little out of breath. 

“Hi.” He whispers back. He looks from your left eye to your right eye, to your lips. 

You laugh lowly, noticing where his attention was being held.

He looks back at your eyes, releasing a heavy breath. His hands slither around your waist, pulling you closer. His fingertips feel like feathers against your skin through your shirt. He glances at his hands, amazed that you were real and warm and right in front of him. He hugs you, his head digging into the crook of your neck.

“I hope I’m not messing anything up by being here tonight.” You tread lightly, trying to pry information from the boy as inconspicuously as possible.

He violently shakes his head against you before you even get the chance to finish talking. “No, not at all.” 

“You sure?” You tease. You could feel his earnestness, but teasing is more fun. Your hand plays with the hair at the nape of his neck. The fresh linen scent from earlier is definitely from him. You’re sure of it now. 

He tsks. “Actually, I’m not.” He squeezes your hips, contradicting his words. “You should probably leave for another four months.”

“It was three.” You scoff, pulling away from him.

“Do you think I’m an idiot or something?” He draws away from you to look you in the eye.

“What? No—“

He buries his nose in the crook of your neck again. “You were gone for three months and like 24 days. Round up and that’s four months.” He punctuates his words by pulling you impossibly closer.

Your thoughts stutter at the implication of his words. He counted. And he was right.

The pressure from his closeness is almost uncomfortable. You cough, he’s crushing your lungs. “Okay, I need to breathe, Haechan.” You let out a dry laugh. 

“Sorry.” His grip loosens gradually until his hands are the only thing connecting the two of you. He holds you in place with a grip on your arms. He looks at you like he can’t get enough. Like, there’s something new to see every second. “Your hair’s longer.”

“Maybe a little.” You feel shy under his gaze.

“I like it.”

“Thank you.” 

A knock on the door pops the bubble of tension surrounding the two of you. You look to the sound, but he remains locked on you. 

“What?” An edge to his voice. 

“Lia’s here. She wants to talk to you.” Chenle says from the other side of the door

Your heart drops to your ass, but Haechan doesn’t falter at all.

“Tell her not now. I’m busy.” Haechan yells at the door.

“How the hell are you busy in your room by yourself?” Chenle barks.

“I’m masturbating,” Haechan says flatly, his voice loud enough to fight the music. 

You hit his shoulder, and your jaw drops. “Wha—“ 

Haechan places a hand over your mouth with a pleased smirk.

“Right now?” Chenle’s voice rises by three octaves. When he doesn’t get a response, he makes a disturbed sound. “You’re disgusting. I hope you're kidding.” His stomps grow distant as he walks away.

You lick Haechan’s hand, trying to get him to remove it. 

His smirk deepens. “You can lick my hand all you want. You know I don’t care.”

You furrow your brows, playfulness void from your body at the mention of someone else. 

He blinks at your tense expression and scoffs. “She’s my lab partner, Sherlock. Stop jumping to conclusions.” He removes his hand, looking at the streak of saliva on his palm. He rolls his eyes and swipes his palm against his jeans. 

“I wasn’t assuming anything.” You turn your nose up at him, unwilling to admit defeat. In all honesty, you felt your body lighten at his words. 

“You got any lab partners I should be worried about?” 

“Even if I did, they’d be back in France.” You mean it to come across as teasing, but you can see hurt flash across Haechan’s face.

“So you do…” His eyes narrow at you.

“I don’t.”

He stares, unconvinced. 

“I don’t.” You repeat, firmer this time. You’d kissed a few people at clubs, but you haven’t really been with anyone while you were away. There wasn’t much of a point to you when you knew there was someone at home who plagued your dreams from miles away. 

He doesn’t say anything as he walks over to his bed and takes a seat. He sits next to where his laptop was abandoned earlier. Leaning back on the palms of his hands, he looks up at you. He hums, contemplatively. 

You look at his soft features, struggling to string together what he’s feeling at the moment. It makes you nervous; something in your chest feels unimaginably heavier. You wrap your arms around your torso. 

Old habits begin to fester between the two of you. If you’re going to be here now, he’s going to have to communicate. It’s non-negotiable. Things can’t be like last time. 

“What’re you thinking about right now?” You ask lightly.

He looks off into space. 

“Haechan?” Your tone is heavier this time.

A long exhale huffs out his nose. “I want to ask you if you saw anyone else out there, but I know it’s stupid.” He sighs. “And I don’t know if I’m even allowed to ask it—“

“Ask me whatever you’d like.” You take a step toward him. 

He bites his lip. For a moment, he listens to the music. It grounds him, but the bitterness of his curiosity gets the best of him. “Did you sleep with anyone out there?”

“No.” 

“Oh.” He avoids your gaze, looking shy all of a sudden.

You laugh. “Are you surprised?”

“A little.” His voice is small as he scratches the nape of his neck.

“So I guess I’m 2 for 2 then.” You joke, trying to ease the tension.

It’s quiet for a while. Almost… awkward? This is rare, but it should be expected after months apart. You’d never been away for this long, so it’s hard to know what’s normal.

“Did you?” You ask quietly, cautiously even.

Haechan presses his lips together and nods. His brows tense, and his gaze is still on his socks. “I um, I guess I assumed you were.” 

You swallow, the spit heavy like a rock as it travels down your throat. 

“It was one girl, after you first left. I slept with her once and gave her head like twice.” The longer he spoke, the lower his voice got. 

“You can spare me the details.” You look away from him, and Haechan wishes he could just die. Straight up sink into the mattress and suffocate.

“I didn’t—“ He bites his lip. “I was angry when you left. It didn’t mean anything, I swear-“

“I’m not the boss of you, Haechan, you can do what you want.” You fold your arms.

“That’s the thing, it wasn’t what I wanted. I need you to know that.”

You scoff. “You’re ridiculous.”

He stands, walking around the room to meet your line of sight. “I’m so serious right now. I did not want to fuck her.”

“Whatever. It’s fine.” You look past him as he searches for your eyes. You feel silly; the effort you put in feels embarrassing. 

“It’s not fine. You’re upset.” His voice is firm for the first time tonight.

“I—“ You huff, recollecting yourself. “I’m not upset. We weren’t exclusive before I left anyway. Why should I be mad?”

“Because I hurt you.”

“If you knew it would hurt me, then why did you do it?” You snap your head at him, finally meeting his eye.

“Because I wanted to hurt you…” His eyes bounce around the room, looking at the shelves on his walls. His room felt ugly now. “At the time, I did. I regretted it immediately after, but she kept hitting me up. I gave her head because she wouldn’t stop bothering me. I know I shouldn’t have done it.”

You don’t know what to say, so you stand there wordlessly playing with your fingers. The music is your only sense of distraction. 

“If you’ll have me,” he delivers cautiously. “I want to start things off right. That’s why I’m telling you.” He pauses, biting his lip. “Even if it makes you not want me anymore.”

You look at him, taking in the beauty marks on his face and the sincerity behind his eyes. His hands twitch at his sides like they want nothing more than to reach out and touch you. The old Haechan would’ve been teary-eyed and halfway through another hard lemonade by now. Wait— the old Haechan wouldn’t have told you. 

There had been countless times when you’d seen him with a girl, and he’d lie. His hand loosely on another woman’s hip, and he’d look you square in the face and say, ‘she’s just a classmate’. The Haechan you knew was a bold-faced liar—a cynic. Yet he stands in front of you, choosing honesty. 

“Haechan?” You look to him, still judging, but not as harshly. 

He hums a small sound, nodding for you to continue.

“What did you think when you first saw me?”

He blinks, mouth opening and closing without any sound. “Like ever?”

You nod at him with a blank stare.

The first time the two of you met was freshman year. It wasn’t at a party. It was at the quad on campus. He was sitting on a bench with some friends. You had walked up to him with your friend, who was dating Jeno at the time. You were a lot shyer then, so you hid behind her as much as possible, like a shadow. Regardless, Haechan kept peeking around her to see you as if to prove you weren’t invisible. He singled you out loudly, pointing his finger and inviting you to a party that weekend.

“I thought you were a little weird— or um. A little too shy, I mean. You were fun to mess with. I liked that.” He clears his throat after he speaks as if he’s embarrassed.

“What about when you saw me in the closet just now?”

He laughs, confusion written across his face. “I already told you, I thought I was going to throw up.”

“That's it?” You watch him shrink slightly under your gaze.

He clears his throat again, waiting a second to speak. “I thought I was dreaming. Then I got this feeling in my chest,” he places a hand over his heart, rubbing soothingly. “So I knew it was real.” His voice trails off with thought.

Your eyes travel to the still open closet door. There’s a little gap between his hangers from where you were standing. You can remember how big his eyes were when they first landed on you. 

“It was really scary. I had a plan for the day you were supposed to come back. I was going to send flowers to your apartment, was gonna make it a whole thing.” He laughs humorlessly. “But now, you’re here and I can’t do that, so I’m just trying not to fuck things up again.”

The weight of his words stretches a cloak over both of you. The heaviness of all the words unsaid. The room feels bigger, like he’s further away. 

“You fucked things up a little when you chose to sleep with that girl.” Your voice a mere mumble over the music.

“I know.” He exhales, nodding. 

Your fingers twist a loose thread on your sweater, making it worse than before. “You can still send me flowers.”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

You turn to the door where the intimacy-killing sound originated, but Haechan looks at you like there’s a million words he wants to say and he doesn’t have the time.

“Busy,” Haechan shouts, unfazed.  

Then, your phone starts buzzing. You reach into your pocket to see a picture of Jeno lighting up the vibrating device. Sighing, you pick up. “Hello?… We’re kind of in the middle of— Okay, okay… Fine. I’ll tell him.” 

You end the call and look to Haechan, who stares at you with tightly pressed lips and furrowed brows. “Jeno says open the door.” You deliver awkwardly. 

Haechan blinks. That’s not what he was expecting. “Yeah, no.” 

As if Jeno could hear him, Haechan’s phone started buzzing in his pocket. Reaching into his jeans, he sees it is indeed his roommate, Jeno. He looks to you like it’s your fault before walking to the door and opening it.

The party is in full swing behind the haven that is Haechan’s room. Everyone’s out there drunk-kissing strangers and dancing while you’re arguing in the dark. 

Jeno stands with a hand on his hip and his phone in the other. “No text, no nothing? I helped you plan this for weeks, and you just disappear when you get here?”

“Sorry, I lost track of time.” You explain guiltily. 

Jeno takes in your timid demeanor and sighs. “It’s none of my business, but this is… sad.” His neck is a little red; he’d been drinking, so the words are flowing a bit more honestly. “I wanted to see a happy couple, so kiss and make up or find someone else. I’m sick of this shit.” He stomps off mumbling something about bad vibes and needing a shot. 

Jeno doesn’t usually lash out, so you’re kind of in shock. He leaves the bedroom door open, so music spills in unfiltered.

Again, Haechan looks to you with his mouth agape like you know something he doesn’t. “Where did that come from?” He closes the door.

“I promised to update him.” 

“Oh.” He walks to his laptop on the bed and puts it on his nightstand. He glances at you as he plops down on his mattress. He looks at a chip in the paint on his walls. 

“I’m sorry I made you stand around holding your jacket for so long.”

“It’s whatever.” You shrug, looking at your feet.

“And I’m sorry for hurting you.” His eyes are intense when he looks at you.

Caught off guard, you blink. Once, twice, three times. You’re still as a block of ice. After a moment, he looks away, not wanting to apply too much pressure.

He leans back until his shoulders hit the plush duvet. “You don’t have to forgive me.” He says, rolling over and muffling his voice in a pillow. He lies with his face buried for a minute or so. 

You wander over to his bed, taking a seat. You stare at the flashing lights peaking in from the cracks in the door. 

“I can call you a cab.” He says, sitting up with a messy head of hair. 

You smile to yourself, that’s how you like him. Messy and a little vulnerable. For the first time, it didn’t take an excessive amount of alcohol to see him like this. 

His hands fold in his lap, patiently waiting for an anticipated ‘yeah, that’d be great’.

“Can I say here tonight?” Your eyes land on the jacket resting in your lap. The night didn’t go how you planned, but that doesn’t mean you want to leave. 

“If that’s what you want.” His eyes cast down. 

“I want to fix this.” You turn to meet his eye. Timidly, he gives in. “I’m giving you a chance to.”

He swallows heavily as his mouth runs dry. Biting his lip, he stands and sits before you on the floor. His hands rest on your knees. “Is this okay?”

“Depends on what you’re doing.” You glance between his hands and his face.

His fingers tap and draw circles into your skin. “I’m getting you ready for bed.”

All you do is lend him a small nod. It's barely noticeable, but he sees it and begins to slide off your boots. He starts with the left foot and leisurely moves to the right, lightly rubbing your calf each time a shoe is fully removed. He kisses your kneecaps before placing the shoes to the side.

“Hold on.” He calls as he stands, moving to his dresser. You watch as he grabs one of his favorite old Michael Jackson shirts and a pair of lounge shorts. He walks back, tossing the shirt over his shoulder and placing the shorts on the bed beside you. 

He reaches both hands out to pull you up. Then he starts to play with the hem of your shirt. 

It feels like your lungs can’t get enough air when he’s this close. Your hands ball up in the sleeves of your sweater as his snake under the fabric and around your waist. 

With a sigh, he closes his eyes and rests his head on your shoulder, drawing you in enough to feel your body heat. His hands roam as he tries to will away his own thoughts. Squeezing, he draws back far enough for him to remove your top. He smooths your hair down when it’s fully off. 

A hand slides around you to unhook the last layer. His eyes glance around the room and across your face as he tries to behave like a gentleman. He fails, peeking a few times as the straps fall off your shoulders. Grabbing the graphic tee he selected, he drags it over your head as gently as possible. 

You decide to help him out by slipping your arms through the sleeve holes. You run a hand over your hair, confirming that nothing's overly out of place.

He smooths the shirt down, hands landing on your hips. Without missing a beat, he unzips the back of your skirt and slides it down your legs. When he comes back up, he can hardly look at you. “Short or no shorts?” His chest somewhat heaving, and his face a little red. 

“No shorts,” your voice a huff of air. You feel warm and tingly, like all the energy in the room is bouncing off your skin. You step out of the skirt around your ankles. 

“Okay.” He inhales deeply, grabbing the pair of shorts. “Turn around.”

“Why?” You almost laugh. 

“I’m changing.” He rotates your body away from him.

The laugh escapes you this time. “Are you serious?” 

“I’m shy.” Really, he just wants a chance to hide the unfortunate stiffy in his pants.

“No you’re not.” Rolling your eyes, you crane your neck to face him.

“It’s been a while.” Is all he says as he faces you, back away from him. He runs a finger down your spine through your shirt. 

Shivering, you give in, your shoulders slump. “Fine.”

The zipper of his jeans is loud as he drags it down. Fabric rustling loudly against his body as he changes into the shorts. When he’s done, he leads you onto the bed and under the covers. The music still thumping past the bedroom door. He turns off the lamp, darkness overtakes the room as your limbs tangle together. 

“Haechan.” 

He hums in response.

“I still have to take off my makeup and—” 

“In a little bit.” 

He nuzzles into your hair as your head rests against his chest. Your lashes tickle him through the thin material of his shirt. Neither of you had realized how tired you were until you fell into each other's arms. Your legs are dead weight on top of each other. 

“I really must be an idiot.” He sighs, closing his eyes.

“Of course you are.” You tuck deeper into him, gaining his attention. “But I like you, so it’s okay.” Your voice is small.

“You like me?” He lets out a shy laugh, looking away from you. 

“Shut up. I could change my mind in an hour.”

“Then I guess I'd better really appreciate the next forty minutes.” He squeezes you closer to him. 

“What about the last twenty?” You look up at him to see he’s already smiling.

“Those are to remind you why you liked me all over again.” His eyes close peacefully. 

You adjust so you can see him, placing a hand on his chest. The stable drum of his heartbeat works as a lullaby. “And if it takes more than twenty minutes?”

“Then I’ll wait. I already did for 3 months and 24 days, remember?” 

With that, you simmer, blinking into the darkness. The Haechan you left isn’t the one you’re returning to now. Sure, he has some rough spots, but the warmth in your chest won’t let him go. That’s why you grow sleepy in his hold and you trust that somehow, he’ll prove himself to you. Even if it does take another 3 months and 24 days.

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A/N: I wanted this to be out so much sooner, but the odds were against me :<. Hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, & reblogs much appreciated <3

[domjaehyun]

match my freak (l.dh)

PAIRING. sure thing!haechan x sure thing!fem!reader GENRE. smut, mild humor CONTENTS. oral (receiving), overstimulation, creampie, breast play, nipple sucking, dirty talk, ear play WORD COUNT. 9.3k  SUMMARY. after the events of sure thing, you and Haechan proceed to dance around each other, with you getting into a small number of situationships and flings in the meantime. however, you’ve always known that you and Haechan could be something real, and you’re not in the mood to deny it for any longer. 

“I know you kinda can’t help it, but can you take it easy on the turns? Haechan’s drink is lowkey dripping and I’m sure you don’t wanna ruin your upholstery.” you call out from the backseat, and Jeno nods, shooting you a thumbs up. upon further inspection of you from the rearview mirror, Jeno sighs.

“you’re gonna show up at Haechan’s house like something out of a wet dream with that little skirt of yours and a complimentary Baja Blast and we’re gonna sit there and watch him paw at you like an animal until someone caves and we witness the beginning of a softcore porno. yippee. fun times with friends.” Jeno mumbles, and you freeze, looking at Jaemin for support, but Jaemin’s just as stunned as you are, mild amusement on his face as he regards your now suddenly candid friend.

“I don’t even know where to start…” you stammer, blindsided. “we were twenty minutes late to see him because of the Taco Bell fiasco, so the Baja Blast was like an apology… and he does not paw at me like an animal—”

“he definitely does when he thinks we’re not looking.” Jaemin interjects, and you wince.

“okay, fine.” you relent. “but I attempt to use discretion!”

“I’m sure you do,” Jeno says with a heavy sigh. “he’s just… whipped.”

“don’t say that like it’s a bad thing!” you retort defensively, and Jeno rolls his eyes.

“of course you don’t think it’s a bad thing. you wear short skirt, Haechan glitches and does whatever you want.”

“what is it with you and my skirts, sir?” you laugh. “this is the second time you mentioned it!”

“it’s tempting! how’s the poor guy gonna keep his head on straight if you’re not even gonna give him a fighting chance?” Jeno exclaims incredulously, and you roll your eyes. “plus, it’s summer, but the night time is not as warm as the daytime… the sun is gone.”

“I’m not, like, dumb, Jeno,” you scoff with a roll of your eyes. “I’m not cold, and Haechan has heating in case I do get chilly.”

“of course he’ll turn the heat on for you in the middle of the summer. but I almost freeze my ass off in december, and he leaves me for dead! I had to huddle my bong for warmth!” Jeno mutters huffily, and Jaemin sighs sympathetically.

“he’s whipped for her; what do you expect?” Jaemin says, and you splutter, turning to Jaemin.

“it’s sweet!” you argue.

“‘it’s sweet,’ she says,” Jeno remarks bitterly. “the man’s down bad with no chance of recovery, and she thinks it’s sweet.”

“hey! stop that, I think it’s really cute that he’s so attentive.” you grouch, and Jaemin rolls his eyes pointedly, turning to look at you fully.

“he’s basically professing his love to you with every little privilege you get, you know that, right?” Jaemin says plainly, and you balk.

“well…”

“well?” he presses with a raised eyebrow.

“I mean, it may have crossed my mind that there’s a reason for the special treatment.” you say slowly, and Jaemin nods just as slowly, making you feel a bit like he thinks you’re dumb.

“so are you gonna stop messing with his mind and give him a chance? or are you gonna let some loser like Jason come in again and prolong the inevitable?” Jaemin says, again, just as slowly and with the patronizing hypnotic nod, but stops at the last question, chin tucked down to regard you through his impossibly long lashes.

“the inevitable is crazy,” you mutter to yourself, but Jaemin hears you. and he is not amused.

“were you gonna lead him on forever? that’s what that’s called, you know.” he scolds you with all the gentle firmness of a friend advocating for both sides.

you frown deeply. “I’m not leading him on.”

“so you like him?” 

“well, yes.” you reply bluntly, as if it was obvious; because, frankly, you thought it was. “why do you two think I keep wearing the short skirts? he loves them.”

“aha!” Jeno exclaims triumphantly. “man, I wish we recorded that.” 

“second time today you boys should’ve been filming,” you remark drily, inspecting your reflection in your phone and fiddling with a stray lash. “can’t keep lobbing you easy ones like this, fellas, you gotta start catching ‘em.”

“you’re really a piece of work,” Jaemin sighs with a fond chuckle. “well, your backseat intervention has come to an end; we’re here.” 

“oh, yes!” you hiss victoriously, moving to exit the vehicle as soon as Jeno parks. Jaemin calls out loudly and sternly, and you freeze, frowning in confusion until he exits the car and opens your door to help you out. “oh. thank you.”

“I’m not your man, but my mother did raise me right, and Haechan’s not here, so.” Jaemin says with a shrug, and you nod slowly, mildly impressed.

“ladies should be beating down your door.” you remark, confused.

“I have high standards… and none of them pass the cat test.” Jaemin explains, and you nod again, now with more understanding.

“I see. well, we’re wasting time out here; let’s go.” you announce before marching into Haechan’s apartment complex and making a beeline for the elevator, pressing the button and waiting with your foot tapping impatiently.

“you’re definitely the ‘he asked for no pickles’ go-getter queen Haechan always dreamed of having,” Jeno chuckles as they come up beside you, and you chuckle.

“are you trying to let me know I’m his alpha?” you joke, and Jeno scowls.

“that… is cursed. don’t ever say that again.” he says sternly, and you frown.

“tough crowd, damn.” you mutter petulantly, and Jaemin rubs your arm comfortingly as the elevator door opens.

“I thought it was funny,” he assures you, and Jeno huffs as you perk up.

“don’t encourage her,” Jeno chides Jaemin, and Jaemin shrugs indifferently.

“I’m on the side of the funniest bit in the room.” he announces plainly, and there’s a moment of silence as the three of you let that sit.

“so if I’m his alpha, should I be pegging him and stuff? I don’t know if I’m into that.” you remark curiously, and Jeno chokes violently on what you would presume to be air or spit while Jaemin bursts into laughter and doubles over in delight. 

“that was so deeply unhinged, I’m not sure if we should even tell Haechan you said it.” Jeno mutters, massaging the spot between his brows.

“you have a headache? I have Advil in my bag.” you supply helpfully, and the doors open just in time for you to dodge Jeno’s lunge for you with a tickled yelp of surprise and glee. “my favorite thing about pissing Jeno off is that I know some part of him wants to try and ground me so bad, but he can’t.” you sing to Jaemin, and he just chuckles, shaking his head.

“you’re a brat. Haechan’s got his hands full.” he confirms, and you smile sweetly as you all come to a stop in front of Haechan’s door. Jaemin reaches out and knocks, and there’s a faint rustling from inside before footsteps get closer to the door and it opens to reveal Haechan standing there, looking delectable and tan in his white t-shirt and gray sweats. “hey, man.” Jaemin greets, and Haechan grins at him, pulling him into a hug before letting him inside.

Jeno steps up next and he and Haechan stare each other down before cracking grins and hugging each other briefly. “get your brat,” Jeno remarks over his shoulder with a thumb jab in your direction as he heads inside, and you gasp in offense.

“I don’t need ‘getting,’” you huff, and Haechan nods in agreement.

“you don’t.” he says sincerely, and you smile, already comforted by his words because you can tell he means them. “you look gorgeous, as usual.” he compliments, and you smile wider, doing a little twirl at Haechan’s behest, and he lets out a wolf-whistle that makes you giggle, Haechan grinning at the sound.

“I got this for you.” you say, handing him the Baja Blast, and his brows raise before he reaches out and takes it, your fingers brushing lightly. 

“I was wondering what took you guys so long to come,” Haechan laments, ushering you inside with a hand resting on the small of your back. “I saw your stories on Instagram about Taco Bell.” he pouts.

“I was craving a Baja Blast,” you say apologetically, and Haechan waves you off immediately.

“that’s totally valid,” he agrees. “one, because you wanted it. and you should get everything you want.” (you refrain from jumping his bones right then, impressively enough.) “two, because it was a Baja Blast, and, three, because you got me one, too.” he finishes, and you nod, pleased, wrapping your arms around his neck for a hug. he wraps his around your waist and you two just stand there for a moment, letting the other’s scent and aura envelop you both until a sense of serenity overtakes you and you gently extract yourself from him.

“see! Jeno lectured me for the sudden detour,” you pout. “I can’t stress how important it is to find people that match your energy,” you state, and Haechan nods firmly in agreement, shooting a glare at an unbothered Jeno who is more focused on his phone than the conversation at hand.

“and your freak.” Haechan adds, and you nod without really hearing him.

“right! and your— excuse me?” you say, blinking rapidly and turning to look at him, and he and Jaemin laugh.

“speaking of freaks,” Jaemin pipes up, “do you want to share the exciting life update that happened before we got here?”

“well, now I have to, because you spoiled it.” you huff, and Jaemin snorts.

“it would’ve come out eventually.” he replies with a shrug.

“what would’ve come out?” Haechan asks, confused as he looks between the two of you.

“yeah, speaking of freaks and relevant life updates,” Jeno chimes in, “Jason just swiped up on my story to tell me that he misses you and to please unblock him.”

“Jason, this, Jason, that; when are you gonna dump that schmuck and get with me?” Haechan huffs, and you laugh but find it more pressing to address Jeno’s statement.

“wh— how did he know I was with you?” you ask, bewildered, barely registering Haechan’s groan of irritation and frustration to your left. 

“he recognized your nail set in the background.” he replies, and you roll your eyes.

“he’s pathetic? I’d pray for him but frankly I don’t care to find the time.” you sigh, and Haechan turns to look at you with growing realization.

“are you two on the outs again? is it my lucky day?” he asks hopefully, and you snort loudly in amusement.

“yes, today’s your lucky day, apparently,” you answer casually and relish in the comical way that Haechan freezes and fixes his gaze on you. “we broke up before I got here.” 

for once too stunned to speak, Haechan forms half words and introductory syllables before finally spluttering out, “you–?”

“well, I dumped him. loudly.” you explain, and his eyes flash with glee.

“truly a spectacle, actually. I think you should have recorded it.” Jaemin chimes in.

“someone did. like 3 different people were filming.” Jeno pipes up, and Jaemin winces while Haechan sits forward in his chair. 

“that’s incredible—that’s so hot—he—people filmed—?” Haechan stammers, and you shrug indifferently, inspecting your nails.

“I have a natural dramatic flair,” you explain naturally, patting Haechan’s knee before standing up. “it tends to turn heads.” you finish with a lingering glance at Haechan over your shoulder before heading to the kitchen to get some water.

from inside of the living room, you can hear Jaemin and Jeno intermittently filling Haechan in on the dramatic breakup speech you delivered to your ex-boyfriend, and Haechan’s cackles of glee with each brutal line delivery. it’s not long before you hear Haechan mutter something about hearing from you, the sound of furniture rustling, and footsteps approaching before you sense him watching you from the doorway of the kitchen. he doesn’t speak for a while, and you’re not even sure he knows you’re aware he’s watching you.

“you having fun staring from over there?” you call out with a small chuckle, setting your glass down before turning to face him.

“time of my life, actually,” he calls back, and you snort. “would love if I could get a little closer, though.” 

“no one’s stopping you,” you say with a playful shrug and a glint in your eye that doesn’t go unnoticed. 

immediately drawing closer, Haechan drums his fingers on the countertop before he speaks. “you know, it’s not easy to get rid of a leech like that,” he remarks matter-of-factly, and you shake your head slowly in agreement.

“you’re right. he started crying.” you reply off-handedly, and Haechan’s eyes look like they might bulge out of his head. 

“what did you do to him?” 

“things I will not repeat because I am a lady first and a crashout second.” you reply demurely, and he snickers loudly with a respectful nod.

“I see. well, for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.” he says sincerely, and you blink up at him with a sweet smile, making him wince and grip the countertop. “careful, now.”

“what do you mean?” you ask, brows furrowing in confusion. 

“Jaemin has so unkindly informed me that we’ve received one of three possible strikes for fucking during the hangout.” Haechan murmurs with a small scoff, and you bite your lip to suppress a laugh. “so we need to be on our best behavior.”

“did they really say that? he was behind the first one, really.” you remark, surprised, and Haechan scoffs.

“I know; he’s such a hypocrite.” Haechan huffs, and you snicker, patting his cheek gently.

“noted. so we need to really mind our p’s and q’s.” you say with a curt nod and a stifled giggle that has Haechan focusing in on you. “well, you, specifically, given that you got the warning and I didn’t.” 

“mhm,” he agrees, eyes drifting to your chest.

“Haechan?”

“minding my p’s,” he mumbles, winding an arm around you and pulling you closer. 

“alright…”

“and my q’s,” he murmurs, trailing his free hand down from your cheek to your chest. 

“you’re so strange,” you chuckle to yourself, but the stirring sensation you feel in your abdomen has always been better at telling the truth than you.

“and dotting my t’s,” haechan mumbles softly, finger now reaching out to press against both of your hardening nipples, persisting past your gasp of surprise to say, “and cross my i’s,” his finger dragging down towards your belly button with intent to venture lower before you stop him with a hand gently wrapped around his wrist. he blinks up at you slowly with an air of impatience and you damn near forget what you were going to say in the first place. 

“you said it backwards,” you point out stiltedly, and he arches an eyebrow in amusement, slowly and subtly moving to cage you against the counter.

“did i?” he muses, eyes flashing with triumph when you move to wiggle free slightly and finally realize you’re pinned in place. “how’s it supposed to go?”

“um, you’re supposed to cross your–” you start, words trailing off as Haechan leans in to tuck his nose between your ear and shoulder, inhaling so deeply, so indulgently, you’d almost swear he was getting another type of high from it. 

“my what?” he mumbles, lips grazing your shoulder, and your responding whimper makes a wicked little chuckle leave his lips before he tilts your head out of the way with gentle nudges to allow himself better access to your neck. “c’mon,” he teases, tapping your thigh gently, “talk to me, baby.”

“cross your t’s,” you mutter out, words twisting into a gasp of surprise when Haechan’s hand slides to your inner thigh, your legs reflexively closing around his hand in response. 

“mhm?”

“and dot your i’s,” you finish, giggling slightly when Haechan wiggles his fingers stuck between your legs. 

“okay, but didn’t you say ‘cross your t’s’?” he asks curiously, and you pause to think before nodding in confirmation. “right, yeah… so why are these crossed now, hm?” he murmurs, twisting his hand between your legs so they’re separated by the width of his palm—simultaneously letting you know that your little leglock had no effect on him—and looking pointedly from his hand up to your eyes. “uncross your legs.”

“you don’t need me to do that,” you point out, gesturing to where his hand has forced your legs apart slightly. “you could uncross them yourself.”

“well, that wouldn’t be very polite, would it, baby?”

“since when are you worried about manners?”

“since a very pretty girl told me to cross my t’s and dot my i’s,” he replies smoothly, and you snort in amusement, pushing at his chest as you both laugh. “and mind my p’s,” he continues, lips back at your ear with such a resonance from the sudden proximity that it makes a shudder travel down your spine, your gasp of surprise ragged with desire as he trails his unencumbered hand up your body to wrap gently around your throat. “and my q’s,” he breathes, tilting your head out of the way to allow him space by your neck as the hand between your legs twists back to being “trapped” between your legs.

“damn, she must be real pretty, then, if she’s turned you into such a gentleman.” you chuckle, but it’s a thin veil obstructing your blatant need for him.

Haechan doesn’t care about any of that. he never has.

“mhm,” he moans against your neck, and the sound alone has you about to cave, unbridled lust turning his mannish groan into a whimper at the end. “so fucking pretty,” he mumbles, pressing heated, heavy kisses down your neck and chest. “and…”

“...and?”

“and I heard she just broke up with the last loser to ever get in my way.” he finishes, pulling back to look at you. 

“wh– huh?” you stammer out, voice raspy and confused, and he just chuckles fondly, brushing hair out of your face.

“you think I enjoyed seeing you date those idiots? liked seeing you tote them around like your charity case of the season—”

“hey!”

“don’t ‘hey’ me when you know good and well I could have been better to you from the beginning.” he huffs, and you roll your eyes but remain silent. “right. I don’t come with nearly as much emotional baggage as those guys did, and you know that.”

“well, no, but–”

“but?” he arches an eyebrow with a devastatingly handsome expression daring you to prove him wrong.

“but you come with the risk of fucking up our friend group if we started and ended anything.”

“who says it’d end?” he blinks at you, on the brink of bewilderment and slightly offended.

“haechan.” your response is flat but amused.

“yes?” he fails to see the humor in it all, actually, now eyeing you expectantly as if waiting for you to explain what seems very obvious to you.

“do not make a marriage joke to me. i just got out of a relationship and getting married would be the wildest—”

“revenge story? comeuppance? you dumped that loser and got married in less than 12 hours.” he points out, and you snicker.

“well, I’m a semi-traditional girl,” you huff, pouting slightly.

“yeah?” he chuckles.

“yeah. I want a ring. and a proposal, and a bridal shower, and a pretty wedding and reception—I want the fanfare of it all.” you sigh dreamily, and Haechan doesn’t say anything for a moment, prompting you to look over at him in confusion that only doubles when he’s just gazing fondly at you, eyes soft and warm. “why are you looking at me like that?”

“because I wanna give you all of that, baby.” he says sincerely, and you blink in surprise, shifting so you can observe him carefully. “the ring, the dress, the wedding, the reception—I could make that happen.”

“in less than 12 hours?” you snort in disbelief, and he narrows his eyes at you but chuckles.

“hey—if you needed it that quickly, I’d move the stars myself to make it happen.” he promises, and your gaze softens when you see nothing but sincerity twinkling in his eyes.

“yeah?” you say, voice soft, coy, and teetering on playful.

“yeah.” he affirms, nodding as he winds his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to gaze into your eyes openly. “but you’re also the type of girl that deserves to get to take her time.”

“most definitely,” you agree, a smile playing at the corners of your lips as your hands stroke up and down his arms and chest. 

“and before I make all of that happen, I’m gonna prove to you that you should have been with me from the beginning.”

“oh, are you?” you’re toying with him verbally, but truthfully, you’re falling, fast, and you hope he can’t see just how hard.

“absolutely. and when I propose, you’re gonna have the prettiest tears twinkling in those eyes, but I won’t be able to wipe them until you say ‘yes,’” he says gently, and your heart clenches with a longing you’ve been ignoring for far too long.

“you…” you say carefully, taking in a deep breath to calm yourself. “are too smooth for my own good.”

“oh, yeah?” he chuckles, a shy smile pulling at the corners of his lips that makes your heart lurch with the exciting realization that his words were a beautiful display of sincerity and vulnerability. 

“yeah,” you confirm with a giggle. “you could be a real ladies’ man.”

“i’m trying to be one specific lady’s man, if you catch my drift.” he says with a playful wiggle of his brows.

“I do, and that was a test, and you passed.” you laugh, delighted, and his face lights up. 

“so you’ll go out with me?” 

“I might if you ask me better than that.” you say with a playful shrug. 

“you’re on.” he murmurs, leaning in close so his forehead presses to yours, nose bumping against yours gently. 

there’s a moment, a breath, maybe, but you two just exist in the space it provides, not kissing, barely moving, just… being. and Haechan almost seals the moment with a kiss, the male looking at your lips for a moment before leaning in, but—

“are you both aware of the implications posed upon you two when you exit our sight and get very, very quiet?” Jaemin’s voice calls from the living room, and you snort loudly as Haechan sucks his teeth. 

“we’re coming out!” you call back, and Haechan grumbles indistinctly under his breath.

“they’re no fun,” Haechan mutters, and you laugh, gently pushing him back. “don’t know why we hang out with them anyway.”

“free weed and camaraderie.” you reply succinctly, and he barks out a laugh, allowing you out of his embrace long enough to maneuver himself behind you with his hands on your hips. “um?”

“lead the way, pretty girl.” he murmurs in your ear from behind, and the surprise of his words and sensation of him being so close has you reacting before you know it, your body leaning into his and your back arching in arousal with a gasp which only makes him slip an arm around your waist and pin you to him, whispering in your ear, “actually, I think we should get out of here before you get us in trouble.”

you can barely hide the sheepish giggle that bubbles in you as you feel his length pressing against your ass, a clear sign of your effect on him.

“I think you already are,” you tease with a sing-song lilt before leaning back and pressing a kiss to his cheek, lunging forward just quickly enough to dodge Haechan’s anticipated attempt to grab you and rushing into the living room with a laugh.

as you take your spot on the couch with a secretive series of giggles bubbling out of you, Jeno clears his throat pointedly, drawing your attention.

“you are incredibly giggly for someone who just got out of a relationship.” Jeno remarks suspiciously, and you roll your eyes but Jaemin beats you to a response.

“I’d argue she’s incredibly giggly because she just ended that relationship.” he counters, and you nod emphatically.

“period.” you agree, and Haechan plops down beside you—if you can even call it that. “sir.”

“hm?”

“...must you sit right in this very position. on me and my leg?”

“I mean, I wanna sit right here.” he says, with that twinkle in his eye that tells you he’s about to be so difficult about this. 

but you are too. “I am not moving and that is on feminism.”

“on feminism?” Haechan’s eyes practically bulge out of their sockets, and you grin, pleased you caught him.

“you’re manspreading!”

“oh, he definitely is, actually.” Jeno remarks.

“full on manspreading techniques being deployed right there, folks.” Jaemin comments, and Haechan huffs, glowering at your friends.

“whose side are you all on, anyway?” he asks gruffly.

“the bit.” Jaemin answers, Jeno nodding in agreement.

“fine! we can share.” Haechan grumbles before moving you around—so quickly and firmly that it’s a bit arousing—so he’s sitting on the couch and you’re perched on his lap. 

all you can do is blink several times in surprise. “oh.”

“that was my goal, by the way, but thank you for putting your little bratty spin on it as usual.” he murmurs in your ear, and you snicker mischievously. 

“you’re welcome.” 

the responding growl he lets out in your ear sets your body alight with desire, and you curl back to get more comfortable in his embrace, trying to hide that some part of you is now craving more of his touch. 

whether he sees your need or not, he meets it head on, pulling you closer until your ass is directly on his lap, his length stirring in its confines at the sudden stimulation. the sigh of contentment you let out sounds dangerously like a purr and it’s almost like it awakens something in Haechan, the male humming lowly in his chest, almost like a warning to you, and the message is clear—don’t push it.

but you love to push it. so much so that every time you or Haechan shift or move in any way, you subtly shift or roll your hips downward so you rut against him in the most agonizingly miniscule way possible. and it only takes about four or five of these before Haechan’s fingers are digging into your hips as yet another warning grunt sounds from his throat, your toes curling at the danger laced in the sound.

“what do you think you’re doing?” he murmurs in your ear slowly, carefully.

“getting comfortable.” you reply as innocently as possible. “why, are you not comfortable?”

“you could say that,” he grunts before—

“did you make it twitch like that?” you gasp softly, and he nods, grinning.

“it does other tricks too. wanna see?” he wiggles his brows and you gasp, smacking his chest and falling into laughter. 

“you’re unwell.” you snicker, rolling your eyes.

“at least i tried to behave. you’re on straight demon time.” he grouches, and you shrug with a soft hum. “look at you—not even trying to deny it.”

“in my defense, you started it in the kitchen.”

“you started it when you said you dumped that schlep.” 

“you started it when you said to get with you instead.”

“you started it when you walked in my life looking and talking all sweet like you do.” he snaps back, and you’re stunned into momentary silence, blinking rapidly as you try to come up with a response. “right.” he finishes with a know-it-all smirk, and you huff, frowning.

“it’s not my fault; I didn’t do it on purpose.” you complain, and he purses his lips in a sympathetic pout that mirrors your own before he chuckles and shakes his head in defeat.

“you’re right, baby, it’s not your fault. you’re too sweet for our own good.”

“our?”

“mine because I can’t help but want a little taste every time you’re nearby,” he purrs in your ear, and delight drips down your back, tingles and tremors following in its wake. “and yours because you’re gonna have to put up with me all over you,” he stresses the syllable so deliciously that your eyelids flutter, “just for being so damn sweet.” he finishes with a patronizing pout in his voice that both thrills and instills challenge in you.

“fuck,” you breathe out weakly, and you hear his grin before he laughs, teeth playfully nipping at your earlobe.

“you good?” he teases, and you narrow your eyes slightly in challenge before nodding resolutely.

“never better.” you reply back in a murmur.

“we’ll see about that,” he says in a half-grunt, half-chuckle. “you know I love a challenge.”

“do you, now?” you hum softly.

“mhm,” he sighs dreamily in your ear, fingers fluttering gently up and down your side, not to tickle but to tease. “love when my pretty girl gives me a hard time.”

“yeah?” you ask, half-goading him on, half-engrossed in the melodic, sultry cadence of his voice.

“yeah,” he agrees with a breathy chuckle. “makes it even better when I make you fall apart.” his voice shifting towards the end to a slight rasp, you breathe in sharply in surprise, and he licks his lips. “on my fingers… on my tongue… on my c–”

“say no more words right now!” you whisper-yell, eyes wide as you cover his mouth. “at once!” you urge when he pushes past your hand to speak, eyes bright and glinting with mischief. “you’re crazy for that.” you mutter, cheeks aglow with heat. he wiggles his brows at you playfully before he moves to speak again and you point a stern finger at him. “behave.”

he rolls his eyes but nods, prompting you to drop your hand from his mouth. “all I know is you loved that.” 

“you don’t—what do you—how could you possibly know that?” you splutter, and he just shoots you a smug little grin in response. “say more words! right now!”

“it’s all in your eyes, baby. they never lie to me.” he informs you, and you balk, blinking rapidly to collect yourself. “the way they widen when I say something that shocks you, the little glint of excitement when it turns you on, and the way your eyes focus on my lips after—like you don’t even know you’re doing it.” he says slowly, speaking with clear lip movements. “like right now.”

you sit up straight in a huff and cross your arms, turning to face Jaemin and Jeno, who have thankfully taken up conversation amongst themselves in the meantime.

“hey, friends, what are we talking about over here?” you ask. 

“Jeno got a delivery order just now and it’s from his little boo thing—ow!” Jaemin blurts out before Jeno smacks him on the arm.

“Boo thing? Jaemin, say more right now.” you press, and Jaemin rubs his arm while glowering at an equally sulky Jeno.

“Jeno’s totally into this girl; friend of a college friend, they work together, yadda, yadda. She always hits him up super late and they smoke some of the stash together and flirt it up—oh, shut up, there’s no way she’s not flirting, dumbass.” Jaemin elaborates.

“Yeah, it definitely sounds like she’s flirting.” you agree, and Jeno perks up hopefully.

“or she’s in it for free weed.” Haechan counters, and you turn and glower at him. “I’m just saying!”

“does she get free weed?” you ask Jeno, and he frowns slightly.

“she gets a discount.” he answers slowly, and Haechan groans while you and Jaemin nod encouragingly.

“that’s good! that’s promising,” you assure him. “do you guys talk about, like, regular stuff when you smoke?”

“well, it always starts out regular and then it gets deeper; I don’t know if it’s the weed or the fact that it’s at night or that I just feel so comfortable with her, but we start talking about the craziest, deepest shit.” Jeno sighs, and you coo fondly.

“that’s so sweet,” you lilt, and Haechan chuckles. “hush, you. Jeno, you should ask if she wants to hang out sometime. do the delivery tonight and ask her!”

“you think so?” Jeno says, eagerness creeping into his voice, and you nod encouragingly.

“definitely. when you guys get hungry, offer to take her somewhere to eat; your treat.” you suggest, and he nods slowly, eyes rapidly moving like he’s committing your words to memory. 

“okay… okay. I got this.” he mutters nervously, quickly sending off a message in his phone before locking it and standing up, tucking his phone in his back pocket.

“good luck! let me know how it goes!” you cheer excitedly as he heads out the door and he shoots you a brief thumbs up as he grabs his jacket before the door shuts behind him. 

“and then there were three.” Jaemin remarks slowly. 

“then there were three.” you echo, and Haechan whistles awkwardly, only stopping with a wince when you pinch his leg.

“I can read the room; Haechan wants me to leave so you two can suck face and do all sorts of things I don’t want to think about because it would defile my memory of you both.” Jaemin sighs dramatically, and when you go to speak to comfort him, Haechan shushes you, gesturing for you to let him continue. “I just realized I need papers for my shit anyway, so maybe Jeno can give me a ride to the smoke shop where I get deals.”

“I’m sure Haechan has papers here—” you start.

“I have none; I’ll call Jeno right now and tell him to come get you.” Haechan interjects, his finger already pressing the dial button on Jeno’s contact page. 

you look over at Jaemin, who has a knowing smirk on his face that lets you know that he’s very aware of what’s occurring right now, even if you previously weren’t.

“...okay, great. he’ll be out in a second.” Haechan finishes the call with Jeno and looks at Jaemin expectantly. “he’s downstairs.”

“thanks,” Jaemin chirps, waving goodnaturedly. “now you two can suck face without assaulting my eyes and getting a second strike.” 

“thanks,” Haechan drawls with a roll of his eyes. 

“good night, Jaemin.” you say sweetly, and he grins at you.

“have a good night,” he says in a playful lilt. as he’s exiting, he calls out, “don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” before the door shuts behind him.

“y’know what’s funny?” you chuckle, and Haechan hums distractedly but attentively enough to let you know he’s listening. “I don’t think there’s much Jaemin wouldn’t do.”

“yeah, he basically just told us to go crazy.” Haechan muses, and when you look over at him, he seriously looks like he’s considering it.

“don’t get any ideas?” you laugh incredulously, and his gaze shifts to you so slowly, predatory, almost, that a chill runs down your spine in a deliciously tingling sensation.

“can’t help it. we’re all alone, finally… and you look as good as you do… and you’re all pretty sitting here on my lap… I could just do this,” he murmurs, tilting your chin down to ghost his lips against yours. “or this,” he hums, dotting soft kisses down your jaw to your neck.

you sigh, content, and tilt your head to allow him better access. he wastes no time kissing as much of your neck as you’ve revealed to him, lips reverently tracing patterns over your skin that his tongue brings to life. 

“what if I did this?” he murmurs, one hand moving to your lap to slip between your thighs, and he chuckles when your knees shift to part instantly, his fingers venturing further to stroke at the dampening seat of your tights and underwear. “you know something?”

“hm?” your voice barely squeaks out in time, but you need to hear him speak, so you persist until it does.

“I love when you’re a little challenge for me,” he muses softly, fingers rhythmically stroking against the seat of your tights. “but I love just as much when my pretty baby just offers herself to me.”

your breathing quickens when you look up at him to see he’s already watching you, eyes intense and fixated on your expression. 

“so difficult to get ahold of, so tricky to pin down, but when you finally give in just a bit and give me a little taste?” he pauses, looking down at the space between your bodies and, when you follow his gaze, you’re surprised to see your hand clutching at his shirt to pull him closer, the body part seemingly having acted on its own. you look up from your hand to meet his gaze at the same time that he looks up at you, and the fire blazing in his eyes has a heat of your own brewing in your cheeks. 

he leans closer, head tilting slowly to the side, lips gently parting to whisper, “why would I ever stop?” before your lips connect. a small whimper of relief sounds out when your lips part to take his tongue between them, the muscle stroking into your mouth gently and playfully with lingering flicks and pulling back to trace and lick at your bottom lip. he groans, the sound laced with desire, and pulls you to him, gripping you firmly enough to maneuver you so that you’re straddling his lap, and his hands drop down to where your ass and your thighs meet, cupping the flesh there and kneading with an intentionality bred from reverence.

he pulls you back down for a kiss by yanking your body forward, letting you topple clumsily onto his waiting lips, the both of you giggling on impact, but his hands move up your body slowly to caress your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks fondly as he deepens the kiss, a soft sigh leaving him as his fingers curl at the back of your neck and pull you closer to him, his lips devouring every moan and whimper that you let out with insatiable greed, an almost blinding need to consume, to indulge in the taste of you.

you let him indulge, of course, and you do so happily, as every kiss, every breath he steals from you adds fuel to the flame burning bright in your belly. he pulls you in endlessly, even when you think you might not be able to breathe—his kisses are ensnaring, all-consuming, mind, body, spirit, and you’re wound up helplessly at his mercy, but you can’t say you mind.

he’s just begun kissing down your neck when a moment of clarity hits you, and you have to make something clear.

“I just realized something.” you say, sitting up and looking at Haechan. with his desire-driven dizzy expression, it almost breaks your heart to shift his gears like that, but he recovers quickly, blinking several times before speaking.

“shoot.” his voice is bordering on husky, unused from the time spent kissing, and almost too arousing to continue with the initial line of questioning.

“you said it was lame that Jeno gave his boo thing a discount on weed.”

“I did, yes.” he says, nodding.

“but, Haechan… you gave me free weed. literally every time.” 

“well, yeah, but guys typically aren’t supposed to be that down bad in the plug industry. it could have been really bad for business so it was actually a personal testament to how whipped I am for you.” he explains casually, and you can’t help but giggle, tickled by his candor.

“as well as to my personal integrity that I didn’t take advantage of the free weed or the adorable bleeding heart that came with it, free of charge.” you reply playfully, and he laughs, nodding before his gaze drops to your lips and he wets his own slowly, leaning in just a bit closer. 

“aren’t you just the sweetest?” he muses.

“you know I am,” you reply, feigning confusion. “why even ask me that?”

“mm, maybe I need a little reminder,” he murmurs, hands moving to your hips and repositioning you faster than you can process; one moment you were on his lap, and the next, your back is against the arm of the couch, your legs are splayed apart on the cushions, and Haechan is seated perfectly between your knees.

“oh, shit.” you mumble, dazed, and he lets out a low chuckle as he gazes up at you.

“why don’t we get these out of the way, hm? as sexy as they are, I think you’d hate if I ripped them.” Haechan says, pinching at your decorative fishnet tights, and you snicker with a nod.

“I would definitely hate that.” you agree, shifting to lift your hips, and Haechan pulls them down and off, turning the fabric over in his fingers curiously. 

“you sure? I think they’d look kinda sick.” he remarks thoughtfully, and you suck your teeth in amusement and mild impatience. 

“we can play Fashion Designer later,” you say with a patronizing pat on his cheek, and his eyelids flutter closed before they reopen to reveal his darkened gaze trained intently on you. 

“I think we’ll be busy later.” he dismisses you offhandedly and settles onto his stomach, tucking your thighs over his shoulders. 

“busy doing wha—oh.” you ask, voice cutting off into a gasp as his tongue swipes over your puffy lips through the thin fabric of your underwear. 

“guess.” his reply is throaty but clear all the same, all authoritative, barely any teasing lilt; this was no playful remark—it was an order. his lips attach themselves to your clit through the fabric, sucking and kissing and nipping, and your moan catches in your throat, a choked gasp emitting from you instead as his tongue enters the mix, swirling and flicking at the perking button.

“shit, Haechan—” you swear under your breath in surprise, propping yourself up on your forearms to watch him better.

“yeah, you like that, baby?” he grunts, looking up at you before flicking at your clit rapidly with his tongue and laughing wickedly when you cry out. “mm, yeah? feels good when I flick it like that?”

“yeah,” you whimper, and he grins.

“I should do that again, then, huh?” he muses, and before you know it, he’s pinning you down to the couch with a forearm braced over your hips and his tongue is ravishing your core, effortlessly teasing and touching your clit so much through the thoroughly damp fabric of your underwear that a climax bubbles in your abdomen surprisingly quickly. 

“holy–I think I’m close,” you gasp out in a warning, and he looks up at you, eyes alight with desire.

“come on, baby.” he urges you gently before returning his mouth to your core with a muffled, “I know you wanna.” 

with your climax building to a crescendo of ocean waves in your ears, you let go, the dam bursting, the coil springing loose—and Haechan rides with you through every wave, every undulation of ecstasy, mouth held fast on your core and tongue flicking so rapidly, so incessantly, that you barely get a moment of reprieve. it’s not until you’re shoving him off with a shudder of overstimulation that you get a second to breathe, throwing an arm over your face and sucking in large gulps of air.

in your recovery, you fail to notice Haechan gently—or surreptitiously—lifting your hips to pull your underwear, now soiled with arousal and spit, off of your legs and drop them beside you two on the floor. it takes Haechan kissing up from your inner knee to your core once more and feeling the unhindered warmth of his breath on your slick folds to realize the layer’s been removed, and by then, Haechan’s mouth is exploring your bare core and you can’t seem to think about much else.

“fuck—Haechan, not there—!” you cry out as he teases your clit again with the tip of his tongue. 

“mm, no? thought you liked that,” he mumbles back cheekily, words muffled with a mouthful of you.

“not right now!” you half-whisper, half-shudder, and he laughs.

“want more gentle?” he hums patronizingly sweetly, and you nod. he stops flicking at your clit and lies his tongue flat on your clit, gently rolling it around and massaging it. 

you let out a shaky sigh of relief and nod in approval, the tensing in your abdomen lessening somewhat. his tongue keeps massaging at your clit, taking small breaks to drag up and down your folds with heavy, wet strokes, keeping your core slick with a mix of your arousal and his saliva, and to top it all off, he’s groaning and moaning into your folds like he’s getting closer to cumming than you are from all of this.

slowly, your body gets accustomed to the pleasure and starts to match his rhythm, your hips rolling down just as Haechan’s tongue pushes up to make a kaleidoscopic burst of pleasure streamline through your body. “that’s it, baby,” he urges you. “ride my tongue, pretty girl.”

“fuck, baby, I’m gonna—again—” you gasp out, and he nods eagerly, arms locking around your thighs in preparation.

“that’s what I want, baby, give it to me.” he grunts, and a crescendo of breathy moans and desperate pants fills the room as your next high builds to a peak. “fuck, all of it, baby, keep going—” he urges you, coaxes more from you as your hips lift off of the couch and your fingers curl around the nearest pillow. “don’t hold back—”

“can’t—”

“don’t say that, baby, you can give me a little more—” 

“can’t—”

“yes, you can—”

and it’s not long after when you tap out, but it is after your body slumps to your legs dangling off of the couch haphazardly as Haechan shifts to his knees on the floor to continue. 

and it is shortly after you proceed to release all over Haechan’s tongue in a gush of arousal (which Haechan will later proudly coin “your first squirt”).

your body lies immobile, legs slumped and chest heaving as Haechan licks his lips slowly, indulgently, and far too sinfully for you to lay eyes on without having to look away.

“think you can give me one more?” he asks hopefully, but the way his brow raises in challenge as he palms at his length tells you he fully intends to find out.

“yeah, I can,” you exhale slowly, a breathless laugh leaving you as you push yourself up to prepare yourself for the next round. you stop when you realize Haechan’s staring at you with a shy-bubbly-feeling of awe and admiration that makes you falter, looking at him in confusion “why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m trying to figure out if it’s too early to say I love you.” he admits plainly, and you gasp in surprise, eyes widening. “too soon?”

“Haechan—we didn’t even start dating—” you can’t help but laugh, the dizzying post-climax high making it all funnier than it is.

“I’ve known you well before we started dating, though,” he points out in a huff, and you pause, your brain struggling to process his words fast enough to respond. 

“baby, we haven’t actually started dating, though.” you say gently. “I told you I might say yes if you asked me better than the first time you half-asked, half-assumed.”

“well, damn.” he frowns. “I don’t take it back, though. I meant it and I’ll say it again when I think you’re ready to hear it.”

“that’s a good plan,” you assure him, and you pull him down to face level to press a kiss to his forehead. when you release him, his cheeks are a lovely shade of red, and a sweetly dumbfounded look is on his face. “you’re so cute when you blush.” you say fondly, and he rolls his eyes with a scoff that fails to hide his bashful laugh.

“don’t call me cute, I just made you squirt.” he mumbles petulantly, and you barely stifle your chuckle in time.

“my bad,” you concede, hands up in surrender. “I’m excited to say it back one day.” you say sincerely, and he blinks at you, momentarily stunned. “what?”

“you can’t just say things like that,” he mutters under his breath as he pulls you closer, lower bodies entwining eagerly as his tip meets your folds and, with gentle probing, your arousal-slicked entrance. “fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“that’s rich coming from the guy who just dropped the L bomb real early in the almost-a-relationship stage.” 

“I can’t wait to wipe that little smirk off your face,” he groans with a little growl of frustration that has you fluttering internally.

“yeah?” you taunt him, and he chuckles, locking his eyes on you as he slowly pushes into you, a wicked grin on his face as your jaw drops open and you gasp loudly.

he leans over you, lips pressed to your ear to grunt, “yeah,” with all the smug confidence and audacity of someone who just proved their point. “now be good and take this dick, alright?”

“uh-huh—” you manage to get out as he builds up a rhythm of deep, fluid strokes into you. 

“that’s right,” he coos sweetly, chuckling darkly. “just take it.” his thrusts speed up slightly until his hips are slapping against yours at a rapid pace that has your head spinning with each inward thrust, and all you can do is hold on for dear life.

his hands roughly jerk up your body, shoving your shirt out of the way to reveal your breasts and he groans at the sight of them in your lacy black bra. “god, I love these,” he grunts, thrusts slowing as he lowers his head to shower the swell of your breasts and your cleavage in heated, sloppy kisses. 

you hum softly, pleasantly surprised by the attention. “they love you, too.” you say playfully, and he looks up at you with a brow raised. 

“yeah?” he asks, and by the way his chest starts to rise and fall deeper and more heavily, you suspect your comment was far from innocuous and playful to him.

“mhm,” you say with a small nod, and his eyes flash with something that stirs excitement in your belly. 

“then maybe I should give ‘em a kiss, don’t you think?” his voice is almost husky with desire, and you’re momentarily stunned into silence by how quickly his words stir something in your core, your walls clenching around him so forcefully that he hisses in surprise before chuckling darkly. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

he pulls your breasts out of the cups and immediately latches onto one nipple, swirling his tongue around the bud slowly while looking up at you with an intent gaze. you whimper softly and shift under him, and his free hand finds your clit, starting to toy with the button as he sucks and licks at your breasts. 

even through the occasional jolts of sensitivity when Haechan’s fingers hit your clit just the too-familiar way from a couple of minutes ago, you feel more pleasure building in your abdomen and tensing throughout your body. his tongue laps and flicks at your nipples in the most ravenous, lewd way and something about his raw unbridled attraction to you has you at the edge before you expect it.

“oh, shit, I’m close—” you whisper, surprised, and he chuckles, following after you as you reflexively start to shy away from his touch. 

“where you going, baby? don’t you wanna cum?” he teases, body pinning yours in place as you cry out weakly as the pleasure builds.

“yes, but—” you start to babble, but Haechan kisses you, lips stealing the words from your mouth and distracting your mind completely.

“before I make you cum, answer this for me,” he proposes, and at your sound of coherent confusion, he looks you directly in the eyes and says, “will you be my girlfriend?”

your jaw drops, and your eyes widen, your brain blanking so suddenly that words completely fail you, a giddy smile overtaking your face as you nod eagerly.

“yeah?” he says with a grin, fingers still working at your clit in that mind-melting manner that makes it hard for you to string words into proper sentences. “need to hear you say it, baby.”

“yes,” you gush immediately, and he nods encouragingly, still looking at you expectantly. “yes, I’ll be your girlfriend.” 

“again,” he insists, “just the ‘yes,’ part.” 

“yes,” you cry out when his lips latch onto your neck. “yes, yes, yes, right there, yes—”

“you’re mine?”

“yes—”

“all mine?”

“yes, fuck, fuck—!”

“you gonna cum all over my fingers?”

“mm—fuck—yes—shit, I’m gonna—”

“cum, baby, let it go.” he urges you as you fall apart around him, body melting into a puddle of pleasure that he continues to lap at like you’re made of ambrosia and nectar. dotting kisses up from your belly button to your chest to your neck and jaw and then, persisting past a very ticklish giggle from you, your ear. 

“stop—it tickles—” you attempt to squirm away, but he holds you in place with a low chuckle that has your toes curling.

“yeah, but it feels good, doesn’t it?” he teases before flicking his tongue over your ear. you squeal and wriggle away to the best of your ability, but he holds your jaw in place and brings his lips to your ear before starting to resume slow strokes into you. “I know it does,” he coos teasingly.

“shut up, fuck—” you cry out, and he laughs, trailing his tongue along the shell of your ear. “a fucking menace.”

“takes one to know one.” he retorts, and you gasp, surprised but amused. “you’re my menace and I’m yours.”

“mm, I like the way that sounds.” you coo sweetly, and he groans, his head tipping forward to rest on your shoulder. “you’re mine, and I’m yours.”

“fuck, say that again.” he all but whimpers, and you nod immediately.

“you’re all mine, and I’m all yours.” you say slowly so he can hear every syllable, and his thrusts speed up inside of you as he starts to chase his high. “you can fill me up, baby,” you assure him, and he lets out a choked cry of pleasure before biting down on your neck and pistoning his hips into yours quicker. 

“shit—fuck, you’re perfect—shit—gonna fill you up, baby—” he groans, and you nod encouragingly, tracing patterns on his back with your nails. 

“mhm,” you hum sweetly, “it’s okay, baby, go ahead.” his thrusts slowly come to a stop as he stiffens inside your walls and releases into you. his mouth finally seems to remember what to do, teeth releasing your skin and instead pressing loving kisses along your neck and shoulder. 

“y’know something?” Haechan mumbles against your skin. “if Jeno and Jaemin got girlfriends, maybe they wouldn’t be so miserable and up our asses all the time.”

“Haechan!” you laugh, surprised. “why would you say that?”

“because now that you’re my girlfriend, I can’t imagine ever wanting to be a dick again.” he admits, and you burst out laughing.

“so, before we started dating—”

“I was voluntarily a dick at times to people, yes.” he nods, and you laugh harder, pushing at his chest to let you up for air. “I was yearning, it’s not my fault!”

“everyone knows you can’t be held legally reprehensible for anything that occurs while yearning.” you say matter-of-factly, and Haechan looks at you with wonder in his eyes. “what?”

“you make me sound smart.” he says happily. “you’re so hot and I’m the luckiest boyfriend in the world.”

“either you’re lovebombing me or I just stumbled into the best relationship of my life.” you chuckle, and he grins.

“definitely the second one.” he agrees, and you smile widely as you meet his lips for a kiss.

—

ta da! hope you enjoyed!! please consider supporting my work by leaving feedback, joining my patreon family, or tipping via KF, CA, VM, or my amazon wishlist!

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[11:57 am]

(cw: f!reader, profanity, mentions of sex and other heated scenarios, spin off of this)

Realistically, the last thing you'd expected from a Halloween make out with your best friend, fratboy!Haechan, was a friends with benefits situation. Especially after you both confessed your feelings for each other. You didn't feel like you should be the one to initiate the conversation about being official either. Like, hello?! You'd been the one to start the actual physical intimacy! You weren't the type of girl to go around and make out with just anyone!

You figured you were at least a little bit, the very slightest bit, also guilty for how long this... arrangement was going on. Could you really help it when he was just so eager to be affectionate? You were weak to his whining and begging. Your excuses for coming over to play video games or study weren't even actually believable anymore. Really, it was more like you were trying to convince yourself.

And that was the reason today. When you'd ducked upstairs without so much as a "hi" sent to the guys that were downstairs. An hour later when you both emerged from his room with swollen lips, wrinkled clothes, and messy hair, it became very obvious that no studying was going on at all.

Not that any of the guys ever believed it anyway. Sure, there was no shame behind closed doors. They guys know there's no shame. At all. You two passionate freaks are never quiet. Never. Even in front of them, Haechan never shies away from incessantly flirting or kissing you. So yeah, those excuses are really just for you.

Now though, you're leaned against the kitchen island, snacking on some chips and sipping on water after a very long and heated session of... whatever it was that happened in Haechan's room. To be honest, the second his lips touched your own, your brain melted and your sole purpose became to follow wherever he led you.

He was glued to your back, body pressed closely against your own as he slumped against you and blinked slowly, opening his mouth for you to feed him with a soft, "ahh" right in your ear when he wanted more. When his mouth wasn't busy with chewing, he was pressing soft, wet kisses on the side of your neck shamelessly.

"What the hell is going on in here?" You hear someone ask.

Slowly, probably because your mind isn't working to its full ability yet, you turn your head to find Johnny standing in the doorway with a look of disgust. You pop another chip between your lips before very casually asking, "we're snacking. Do you want some?"

"Yeah, he's snacking on your neck right now. I'm so confused right now," Johnny sighs with a shake of his head. He walks over to the fridge and gets himself his own water before leaning on the opposite end of the counter with a scrutinous gaze. He shakes a pointed finger between you and Haechan, "so what is this?"

Haechan gently sinks his teeth into the slope of your shoulder to draw a shiver from you before pulling away with an annoyed sigh, "bro, can my smoking hot girlfriend and I get some peace or are you going to stand there and judge like a freak?"

Your brain finally starts to catch up right then and it shows on your face as your brows furrow with confusion, "I'm not your girlfriend."

Haechan freezes, turning your body so you can meet his confused gaze. "Uhhh yes you are, that's why we just had sex in my room," Haechan points out.

"You never asked me to be your girlfriend!" You argue.

"So what happened on Halloween when we made out in my room? I told you I liked you and had a crush on you since I first saw you so what the hell was that to you then?"

"That was you telling me you liked me and me showing you I liked you too, but you have never asked me to be your girlfriend!"

"Was that not implied?! We literally make out, we have sex, we go on dates. I send you pictures of be in the shower-"

Johnny chokes on his water, "oh, gross dude."

Haechan's scream of, "why are you still here?" overlaps your voice as you explain, "he sends me selfies of his shampoo mohawk."

Johnny can only laugh to himself as he leaves the kitchen. Haechan is left to cup your cheeks with a grip that expresses his absolute desperation, "are you doing this with other people? Please say no."

"No!" you exclaim, "are you?"

"I thought you were my girlfriend, I'm not a cheater, so no. I'm not doing what we do with anyone else," Haechan tells you exasperatedly.

"So in your head, we've been dating for like two months now?" You ask, leaning into his hold to rest your head against his chest.

"Well, no, in my head we've been dating since we first met. I've been telling everyone that we've been dating for two months, yeah," you feel him nod.

"Are you going to ask me now then?" you drawl out, looking up at him to meet his eyes.

He groans playfully before leaning down so his forehead is pressed against yours, "will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yes!" You exclaim excitedly.

"Even though you basically already were. Geez, woman, you're a spoiled girl."

[kongjjen]

threatened ⋆☀︎. lee haechan

SYNOPSIS: captain of the football team, lee haechan claims he has it all. but he doesn't have you, who's always been so unattainable, yet somehow you still end up dating the student body president and his rival. but he's not one to give up easily because he knows he always gets what he wants, and your boyfriend should definitely feel threatened by him.

PAIRING: athlete!haechan x female reader

GENRE: college au, enemies to ? au, love triangle!au, angst, smut, cheating!au

WORD COUNT: 23.5k

CONTAINS: riize's sungchan (im sorry once AGAIN). psychological negligence, jealousy, one sided rivalry (for the most part). love triangle of sorts, cheating, smut (only between haechan and reader). unprotected penetrative sex, cream pie, fingering and oral (female receiving), public sex, big dick!haechan, emotional distance. author's note at the end.

inspired by michael jackson's song threatened.

read more of TASTE OF SUN HERE

©️ KONGJJEN 2025. all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or repost any of my works.

Lee Haechan claims he has it all. 

He’s a twenty-something year old, good looking guy, he has the charms, he has the smile. His eyes hold an immense power that could seduce even a blind person, and his voice could lull and enamour the deaf. 

He’s an excellent presence around campus, everybody knows him. And how could they not, when he’s the captain of the football team? The only team in the entire college that made it out of local matches against other local teams, the NCIT Bears Football Team made it big thanks to Lee Haechan’s tenacity and raw talent.

He’s a leader, he leads. He never follows, not even when it’s about his academic wellbeing and following his professors. He’s surrounded by people who look up to him, and he thinks there isn’t one single person who doesn’t know who he is, in this whole campus. 

Heads turn and mouths start whispering as soon as he passes people on corridors, in the parking lot, even at the coffee shop at the corner just outside of campus. He lives and thrives off the attention, and he’s well aware of it.

His friends think he’s a showoff and sometimes he exaggerates, taking things to next level or making situations escalade when there’s no need to do so, but he doesn’t care. And as much as he loves his friends and cherishes whatever it is they have to say about anything he does, Lee Haechan has a big pride and ego. He’s proud, nothing goes unnoticed and words will start stinging as soon as they leave his mouth when he’s not happy. He’s proud, his ego drips with self love and shameless confidence, which leads to him not taking challenges lightly — ever.

Lee Haechan claims he has it all. But he knows that’s not true — he doesn’t have you.

The reality stings every single time he sees you around campus, with friends or that monstrosity you introduce to everyone as your boyfriend — Jung Sungchan. What does that loser have, that he doesn’t? What exactly did you see in him that made you think ‘Wow, he might just be the one for me,’? Lee Haechan wonders. Because you could have gone for anyone else in this campus and he wouldn’t have cared this much, but you’re literally in this supposed romantic relationship with his rival, out of all people.

What exactly do you see in him? What does Jung Sungchan have, that Haechan doesn’t? Is it because he’s the Student Body President? Haechan swears he’ll call for an impeachment and he’ll steal his spot, if that’s the case. 

Do you like smart guys? Haechan never picked you to be one going after big brains instead of good looks — but he swears he’ll do anything to get even better grades than he already does, if it means you’ll spare him a look.

Because each and every interactions the two of you had so far, they have been disastrous. With you avoiding him, not replying to him or to anything he has to say, it took you a few months before you actually started fighting back. And that’s precisely the problem. If you just shut up for a bit longer, Haechan would have given up eventually, and he’s well aware of this fact, as well as his closest friends who have literally begged him to stop losing his mind over you, since you were obviously uninterested. 

But then you snarled back at him, and Haechan felt like an angel just spoke to him words of love and encouragement to go on professing his interest — even if said angel literally told him to ‘fuck off and die’.

It was enough of a sign for Haechan to go on, to make it obvious to everyone around him that he wanted you in all the ways possible. From literally staring at you with heart shaped eyes as you took a sip of your coffee and literally spilled it on your cream coloured hoodie, to doing everything in his power for your paths to cross coincidentally, it was obvious to everyone witnessing that you poked Haechan’s interested.

And seeing your boyfriend walking hand in hand with you hasn’t ever discouraged him. Because one thing is certain — Lee Haechan’s ambition knows no limits, and he eventually gets what he wants. And Jung Sungchan should definitely feel threatened.

There’s something tugging at his chest every single time he looks at you, and then he feels like he’s been hit with a brick when he sees you holding hands with Slanderman’s cousin.

You hear him before you can see him, because he’s always been obnoxiously loud — during classes, on hallways, in the cafeteria on the fourth floor that you used to pick just so you could avoid seeing him.

Sharing a class with Lee Haechan has always felt like a grieving experience. He’s terribly nosy, incredibly noisy for a man, but you can’t deny the way he never lacks. He’s always sporting that insufferable grin when he sees he got an excellent mark, he’s always doing that arrogant poking the cheek with his tongue he always does when someone retorts something back to him, he has the cockiness of a thousand peacocks when he scores a goal.  

Granted that he has something to be cocky about, especially when it comes to his abilities and achievements as the captain of the football team, you still really can’t stand him. You’re also not sure where his sick obsession with driving you insane comes from, but you don’t want to find out either. You just want to be left alone.

“And then I told this girl that I will try making female hygiene products free for all female students across the entire campus,” your boyfriend bit into his own sandwich after explaining the brief meeting he had with student representatives this morning. 

Sitting in the bleachers of the football field, you enjoy lunch while the sun kisses both of your faces after a long and busy morning. He’s had meetings on top of courses, and you just finished a cramming session in the most secluded spot of the library, where you knew no one was going to find you. No one, not even him.

“You can do that?” You ask, mouth half full with your own sandwich that he so carefully and lovingly made for you today.

He nods, chewing and looking you straight in the eye, “As a matter of fact, I can,” his eyes sparkle in the sunlight as he looks at you, “As the President of the student body, I can at least bring it up and fight for it,”

This is exactly why you love him. Sungchan has never been selfish, deciding to run for president of the student body so he could cater to the real needs of student, and not just asking for funding for the university’s sports teams and for useless appliances. He’s kind, he stands up for what he believes in, and doesn’t let a certain asshole demoralise him. 

“I want to help you out, I can go around and get people to sign your petition or something…” You propose, feeling the crazy need to be as involved in this as he is. You can learn a thing or two about kindness, especially from your boyfriend, who’s the salt of the earth. 

“You would do that?” He asks with his mouth full, and the expression he’s sporting makes warmth spread all throughout your chest, “For me?” He points at himself, and you can’t resist the urge to kiss him.

You lurch towards him, grabbing his face with your free hand to bring him closer to you, and you peck his lips in a repeated motion a few times.

“Not for you,” you whisper, letting him go, “For women,” you correct him, and he fights the urge to laugh.

He clears his throat, “Right, my bad! What was I even thinking?” His tone drips with sarcasm, and he slaps a hand across his forehead in a joking manner.

His gesture makes you burst out laughing, and the sound is so sweet and crystalline to Sungchan’s ears, that he pulls you in for a sweet kiss. You feel him smiling as your lips press against his, responding to his kiss even if his gesture took you by surprise.

But the moment is suddenly interrupted when a ball hits Sungchan’s shoulder, making him stand up to catch the ball that had landed just a few feet away from you after hitting him, and making a screech escape you. 

Sungchan spins the ball between his fingers, looking at you, “Are you okay?” He asks all worried, but you know he’s the one who took the hit, the ball didn’t even touch you. 

You nod, the erratic beating of your heart making your ears ring. You see Sungchan turning his head to the side, prompting you to do the same. Your blood starts boiling when you see the culprit running towards you, bright smile on display like he’s ready to frolic in a field of daisies.

You should have known Lee Haechan was going to ruin your lunch, because somehow he always ends up ruining your mood by appearing out of nowhere when you’re in public, walking or just simply chilling with your boyfriend. 

And you know that this one sided rivalry he has with your boyfriend started the moment they both ran to become President of the student body, but ultimately Sungchan won. And what did he expect? He already was the captain of the football team, had girls lined to get to please and know him, he already had everything he wanted and anything imaginable lined in orderly manner at his feet. His greed knows no bounds, you’re now aware of it, because what was he even thinking, trying to monopolise this entire campus? Ever since your boyfriend won the race to becoming president, Haechan has made it known that he hates him, and tried numerous times to make his life a living hell — apparently even trying to hit his head with a ball just because he’s sitting somewhere in the bleachers.

“Sorry guys!” He screams as he jogs leisurely towards you. His fake smile still plastered on his face, his hair bounces around like he’s the embodiment of innocence. Why is he even here? You made sure the football team didn’t have practice when you decided you were going to have lunch here, “Didn’t mean to hit you,” 

You scoff, “Are you sure about that?” You retort, jumping to your feet as soon as he gets closer enough for you to see the shadow of a smug smile in the corner of his mouth, like he’s fighting for his life not to give himself away. 

“Well, I didn’t mean to hit you,” he accentuates the word, making sure that this time you’ll understand what he means, “And I didn’t, didn’t I?” He finally breaks in a smile, throwing a lazy glance towards your boyfriend. You know he did this on purpose — damn this man’s perfect aiming.

“What if you actually hit her, though?” Sungchan asks calmly, and you don’t understand how it’s possible for him to always be this calm. With Lee Haechan showing how much he despises him, and with you getting hot headed every time this nuisance of a man is brought up, you wonder how he’s still so cool. 

That’s why you love and admire him, he’s always so collected, so gentle, and even when he’s well aware that Haechan’s ball was aimed at him, he still doesn’t mind. You are his main concern, because he knows he can take physical hits and insults, but you shouldn’t be in this position, you should never have to go through something like this.

“But I didn’t,” Haechan shrugs, uninterested, and his gaze falls once again on your figure. You’re nearly trembling with anger, and your fist is literally begging to be shoved down his throat — but knowing him? You think he’d like it. “I never meant to hurt her. You on the other hand…” Haechan tsks, shrugging again like he’s absolutely innocent, even if he just admitted to purposefully aiming at Sungchan.

You don’t allow Sungchan to reply back, because you know he’s probably going to bring up Haechan’s behaviour and trying to talk things through, or maybe he’s going to bring up the fact that he could denounce Haechan to the dean — so you take matter into your own hands, literally. 

Snatching the ball from Sungchan’s hands, you throw it at Haechan’s head with all the force you could muster up, but your attempt fails miserably when the ball lands on his chest and he blocks it with his arms, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“It’s almost as if you didn’t wanna hurt me…” he lets a daydreaming sigh escape past his lips, and he looks at a spot behind you with a glimmer in his eyes.

This is another thing you hate about him. He doesn’t take anything seriously, and there’s just no way for anyone to win against him when he’s involved, be it a nerve wrecking situation, a mocking, or a fun one. 

“I will take that ball and shove it up your ass,” you say through gritted teeth, and you hear Sungchan sighing, moving beside you to gather all your things, including the leftover sandwiches scattered to the side — because he hates littering. 

He mumbles a ‘Let’s go,’ in your ear, knowing you’re going to start to verbally abuse Haechan if he doesn’t take you far away from said man soon, but you don’t hear him or anything else he might have added, too busy being focused on Haechan and the crystalline and amused laugh that escaped him as he plays with the ball in his hands.

“Well, baby, don’t threaten me with a good time!” He rasps amused when he’s done laughing, and it only makes your blood boil even more, but Sungchan’s arm is draped around your shoulders, guiding you away from the bleachers and consequently away from the football field.

And just one look back to where Haechan is still standing, just to see him throwing you heart fingers as you walk away with your boyfriend, and you raise your middle finger for him to see. But it does nothing to irritate Haechan, on the contrary — you hear him mumble a ‘cute’ before he walks backwards towards the empty football field.

Lee Haechan might not have it all right now, but he knows that everything is going to change at some point. Everything will be his.

Your leg bounces as you feel like you’re being kept on pins and needles. The cool air of the night gives your bare thighs goosebumps, your skirt too flimsy to keep you warm as you totally ignored the weather forecast that called for a windy evening. 

The autumn air is setting on everything around you, the falling leaves, the cool wind that blows in random and powerful gusts, the unpredictable weather that doesn’t give anything away — not even the fact that tonight you should have put on a pair of jeans instead of a skirt. 

You’re growing cold, and more impatient as the time passes without receiving a sign from your boyfriend. You’re standing right outside the theatre’s doors, ready to go in and relax while the warm air engulfs you, yet instead you’re still left outside hoping you’ll get a sign that he’s close to getting here. 

It’s date night, you’re about to go watch a revival screening of one of your favourite films ever — Bridget Jones’s Diary — something that Sungchan came up with in the first place, yet you still didn’t get a text back from him. But you know he’s not to blame for the lack of communication, not tonight, because he told you he was going to be in a meeting with the dean and the university’s board members to try and fight for that one project involving the feminine care products, telling you that he’ll join you for date night straight out of the meeting. 

But his tardiness is what’s making your leg bounce. Will he make it? You don’t like spending date nights by yourself, even if it’s a film you hold so dear to your heart thanks to the romantic comedy excellency. And while you’re anxious about him missing date night and the lack of communication from his part, you also want his meeting to go well. 

Sungchan’s kindness and heartwarming personality knows no bounds, and if he succeeds and his project is approved, everyone around campus is going to truly love him. You can’t imagine what the student body could have become if the other candidate won this race — you guess it was all going to be about his team getting financing for some new equipment and a ton of balls they can kick. 

You drape your leather jacket around yourself, trying to overlook the cold that’s starting to seep through your sweater, and you just as you start thinking you should probably go in and buy tickets for whenever Sungchan is going to get here, your phone buzzes in the pocket of your jacket.

‘So sorry Y/n, I’m still in the meeting,’ you read Sungchan’s text, and you see the three dots appearing right after he sees you’ve seen the text, ‘Let’s go to the next revival’ . 

You sigh, and as much as you try remaining positive, you can’t help the disappointment filling you, your heart feeling heavy with guilt and selfishness as you try to decide what you should or should not feel in this moment. 

You feel so incredibly selfish for wanting to spend time with your boyfriend right now, like it doesn’t even matter that he’s away for a good cause, and you feel like you’re contradicting yourself. You claimed you’re happy he’s doing a good thing for the student body, yet you’re disappointed this meeting is happening tonight of all nights — and that date night is completely ruined. 

You know it isn’t his fault and that there was nothing he could have done to accelerate the meeting, especially because he’s not as important as the other people in that room, so negotiations must have felt nerve wrecking to him. Yet you’re here bouncing your leg — in anger, this time. 

You reply curtly to his text, also sending an emoji so his positivity doesn’t deflate but also because you don’t want to make him overthink this whole situation and make him feel bad, especially now, and you start walking back to the dorms. 

Your inner emotional turmoil helps you with ignoring the cold, or the growing speed of the gusts of wind that feel like a slap against your delicate cheek. The disappointment takes over the selfishness and guilt, and your thoughts start battling against each other once again. 

There’s a honk that makes your heart suddenly skip a beat, and you look to your left out of reflex, trying to see where the loud noise comes from. 

Driving at a slow speed as close to the curb as physically possible, the window rolls down with an electric grinding sound, “Y/n! What are you doing in the rain? Get in!” 

You roll your eyes, immediately recognising whose voice it is, and you just go on walking faster. You were so deep into your own head that you didn’t even notice the big droplets coming down on your forehead, already starting to wet your hair.

“You’re gonna catch a cold!” He insists, speeding up a bit when he sees you picking up your pace — nearly running, “Hey! Don’t ignore me!” 

As if I ever could, you think to yourself. You always hear him before you see him, the timbre of his voice so unmistakably him that it’s absolutely painful to try and ignore. You always end up hearing stuff you couldn’t care less about, but still unable to block out his voice and the words he articulates. 

And then you flinch hearing his prolonged honking, that you try to ignore as you try to look at the path ahead of you through all the rain coming down and straight into your face. He keeps honking, at some point picking an annoying rhythm before returning to the usual prolonged one, and it becomes clear to you that he won’t stop until you get into his car. 

The fact that it’s evening and it might become a disturbance to the people around, especially to those who live in the area, and you really don’t want to be accused of enabling this behaviour, you decide to give in — just this once.

You lurch towards his car, opening the door and getting in before he could blink twice. One more honking and you were going to flip his car off the road, you’re sure. You slam the door after yourself, making him suck air through his teeth as he picked up a normal speed.

“Jesus, Y/n, whatever did that door do to you…” he comments stopping at a red light, and you scoff while fastening your seatbelt. 

But you ignore his comment, throwing him a quick look, only to find him already looking at you. Lee Haechan’s features are sparkling in the red hue of the traffic lights, damp locks covering the sides of his face after being rained on as well, most probably. 

“What?” You sigh, averting your gaze from his piercing one.

“What were you thinking, walking in the rain?” He nags, and by the way he’s not adding anything else, you can deduce he’s actually waiting for an answer instead of being sarcastic and a nuisance like he always is.

“Like you even care?” You laugh, but it lacks amusement. As creepy as it might seem to actually think of it, Haechan knows your real laugh. He’s heard it numerous times, when you laughed at something your friends told you, or during your shared class when your professor made a joke. Your laugh rings louder and brighter than all, and Haechan knows something’s off right now. “As if you didn’t throw a ball at my head last week,”

He clicks his tongue after hearing your smart mouth, “I didn’t throw a ball at your head last week. But I did throw it at your boyfriend’s,” he corrects you, eyes back on the road as you’re stuck in traffic. 

“So now you admit you wanted to hit him,” you turn around a bit in your seat, and you see a shadow of a cocky smirk.

“Baby,” he turns around to look at you, black irises glinting in the red lights, “I admitted to it already, straight to his face,”

“What exactly is your problem with Sungchan?” You’re getting worked up, not liking how relaxed he’s being with admitting to committing aggravated assault.

“Where is he, by the way?” He asks as matter-of-factly, still looking at you to see your reaction to his words, “Why did he leave his girlfriend alone in the cold rain?” He goes on, but his tone is light — and it doesn’t have to be an accusing or mocking one to annoy you, “Did he ditch you?”

Your eyebrows furrow, scoffing, “He did not ditch me!” You lie, shaking your head at him, “He’s busy with presidential tasks,” 

“Yeah, right,” He laughs, and moves his other hand on top of the steering wheel to rest, “That’s why you were waiting in the cold and then you left when it started raining. He didn’t ditch you like, at all,” He’s ridiculing you, because he knows the truth — even if you’re not sure of how or why he does.

“Do you believe the lies you’re telling?” You try to defend your honour once again, because Haechan really doesn’t need to get an insight into your relationship with Sungchan. 

He lets a huff of laughter escape him, “No,” he shakes his head, and the car finally starts moving, “Do you believe the lies you’re telling?” He accentuates the word, and it hits a nerve. How can he know so many things about you, even when you’re trying your best to keep a mask on? 

“Where am I taking you?” He asks as he didn’t just read you like an open book.

You shrug, “Sure, wouldn’t you like to know where I live? So you can stalk me, most probably,” you accuse, looking out the window. You try to keep your usual mocking tone, the one you always use on him, and you really hope he doesn’t pick up how shaken you are by the whole thing. You’ll have to do some serious introspection when you get home.

“Okay,” he claps his hands quickly, startling you, before placing them back on the steering wheel, “Maybe I should just take you to my place instead,”

You panic, straightening into your seat, “Just turn right after the lights,” You point, sighing defeated, and he bursts out laughing.

For some reason, your attitude is easily deflected tonight, and Haechan doesn’t find it as enjoyable to tease you. Maybe it’s because your boyfriend isn’t here to be his own personal punching bag, receiving mockery and insults and multiple balls across his head, or maybe it’s just that he sees you’re not really in the right mood for your usual back and forth. So he drops all banter, he doesn’t open his mouth for the rest of the drive, and only listens to your soft breathing and the quietness of your voice as you tell him whether he needs to take a turn to the right or a turn left.

He knows where you live already, and not because he stalked you or anything. He swears he hasn’t gone that far, but because he once hooked up with a girl living in your same hall, and coincidentally on your same floor too. So when he tried quietly sneaking out in the middle of the night, you were just coming home, too drunk to even acknowledge that he was a few feet away from you.

“Thanks… I guess,” You thank him before getting out of his car, but you don’t wait to hear his reply, running to the entrance to your building. 

And Haechan should feel ecstatic that he’s managed to have this interaction with you. While every other time he’s ever talked to you, you snarled back at him or straight up ignored him, tonight you gave in a little. For fucks sake, you even asked him what his problem with your boyfriend was, and what exactly were you expecting him to say? That this isn’t actually about the fact that he won the election over him with so many more votes than expected, because he actually didn’t really care — because it was more like an extracurricular activity he wanted to pick up, but wasn’t dying to actually win the election; or should he have told you that it all comes back to when he realised he liked you after sharing a class, but took your rejection lightly because he thought it was only going to be a matter of time until you gave in to his charms, only to then see you holding hands with his rival?

So you, the one who was so hard to get, so hard to get past the high walls you had built around yourself, you actually gave in and started dating Jung Sungchan, out of all people?

Haechan couldn’t let that slide, couldn’t live with the thought that the girl he has always wanted was now under the spell of his rival’s charms. And what charms, exactly? Does he talk to you about how he excels in his statistics class? Does he rizz you up by talking about numbers? 

Out of all the people you could have gone public with, Sungchan being the one you chose really hurt Haechan’s ego. And from being hard to get and unattainable, you started holding hands and kissing that man in public for everyone to see. So you weren’t that unattainable, after all. And by the way Haechan has picked your mood tonight, he knows that your mask is not that hard to crack.

The amount of greetings you went through today has you genuinely concerned. You never knew how many students this university has, you never knew that there are about a gazillion people roaming the hallways and the public spaces of this campus, yet here you are.

Faces that you’ve absolutely never seen before, faces that seemed so happy to see you even if you didn’t know who they were. People who seemed to know you, yet you don’t remember ever seeing them around. 

That’s how your day went, at least for the first part of it. Running around campus to gather signatures on your boyfriend’s petition, and there haven’t been many people refusing to sign it. Because Sungchan actually did it — he managed to get the approval from the dean and the board if he could gather enough signatures, from females and males alike, and like the good girlfriend you are — and because you promised him — you split his forms in two and started roaming around different parts of campus. 

And unfortunately, no amount of happy faces and chatting about your boyfriend’s initiatives and feeling so proud of him could preserve the good mood you had until you reached a certain part of campus. The football field — where Haechan and his team are practicing right now. 

You guess you could spend some more time trying to find others who still haven’t signed your — or Sungchan’s papers yet, or you could get the football team’s ones easily and on the spot. 

So you walk over to the group of men running around like a herd of sheep, and your walk is determined. Some might think that you’re determined to burn the whole zone down to the ground, but you give everyone small smiles as they look at you confused.

Even them are freaked out about seeing you close to their captain — such a dangerous thing to witness. And then you hear him, telling them to go on with practicing, and he runs over to the spot you’re waiting in. 

“Isn’t this a nice surprise?” His tone is saccharine sweet, panting a little from all the running around. You can’t believe people actually enjoy this sport, “What can I-”

“Please sign this. Here, and write your full name down here,” you interrupt him, instructing him about what he needs to do by pointing the pen on the blank box top of the list.

“What’s this?” He furrows his brows at you, throwing you a confused look. You take a good look at him, he’s breathing heavily through his small nose, confused eyes scanning the front introductory page of the form. There’s sweat glistening his forehead, his cheeks are hot and rosy from being so active, and his fringe is damp with sweat, combed back and away from his forehead as he tries getting some cool air on his heated skin. There’s something about the way he’s so focused, so lost into thought that he brings his tongue out to dampen his bottom lip, something that makes your insides churn. Has his profile always been this good-looking? 

“Nah, no way,” he pushes the form back into your hands when he sees your boyfriend’s name on the front page, “I’m not signing this,”

“What?” You bark, thinking your ears are deceiving you.

“Good initiative, but I won’t sign your boyfriend’s petition,” he explains, shrugging, turning his back to you as if the conversation is really over.

But it really isn’t, not until you say otherwise.

You grab him by the forearm before he can leave your side, “If it’s a good initiative, then why don’t you sign it?” You push, tone high with irritation, because he’s really pushing your buttons. Does a small disagreement between him and your boyfriend mean he’s going to overlook the needs of an entire — and important part of this community?

“I won’t do your boyfriend any favours,” he explains apathetically, looking at you briefly before his eyes land on your hand still squeezing his forearm. Your palm is tight around his tensed muscles, his skin is covered in a light sheer layer of sweat, and you feel like the skin of the palm of your hand is burning as you’re keeping him into place.

“But you won’t be doing him a favour now,” You explain, and you fail to notice the way Haechan’s eyes soften while looking at you. You’re still so upset that he doesn’t want to help you, you know threats and verbal abuse do nothing but turn him on so it’s of no use right now.

“Oh, is that so?” He relaxes, or so you think — or feel, as you feel him relaxing his arm. He leans a bit closer to you, but he really can’t help it. You’re so upset that your smart mouth doesn’t make any comments right now, doesn't insult him or his sport, and you don’t even notice how his chest is almost touching your arm.

Except you do pick up on his proximity to you, you pick up on the heat that comes out of his body — or maybe it’s just the sun and whatever’s making your insides churn that makes you feel this hot all of a sudden; you pick up on his faded perfume mixed with a light smell of sweat, you pick up on the way he’s looking down at you right now, even if your gaze doesn’t meet his, even if you don’t find it in yourself to move your eyes away from a spot on his jersey.

You gulp as discreetly as possible, pointing the pen at the empty box designed for his name, “You would be helping me,” Your voice is small, almost as if you never wanted him to hear you, to let him hear those words come out of you. 

Usually you’d tell him to fuck off and die — comeback that he claims he loves and never wants you to stop saying, to the point that he thinks you’re doing it on purpose just to rile him up because there’s no way you don’t know how much he loves it — but not right now. There’s something, a force, something that’s unconsciously pulling you in and keeping your feet glued to the grass of the football field.

“What is it? Didn’t catch what you said,” He mocks you, touching his ear.

“You’d be helping me, not him,” Your words are music to Haechan’s ears, especially after not using the term boyfriend or his government name either, just a simple pronoun — but enough to have a smirk forming in the corner of Haechan’s mouth, that he’s hardly trying to hide, or barely even trying.

He tries concealing his smirk, pushing the tip of his tongue in the inside of his cheek as he turns his head a bit to the side. 

“Well, in this case, let me sign this for you only, baby,” He rasps, and you recognise he’s using his full of shit tone on you, but you look at his face as he snatches the pen out of your hands to write his name down messily in the empty box, “Guys! Get here,” He shouts so everyone on the field can hear him, “C’mon, all of you!” He shouts once again, this time towards a couple of players that you know are his friends.

Once everyone gathers around you, he snatches the form from your hands, and points his finger towards one of the players, “All of you, sign Y/N’s petition,” he hands the pen to one of the players, “It’s for a good cause,” he completes, and no one actually questions him or his instructions, not caring enough to even ask you.

You’re not sure what’s going on, how you managed not to blow up from all the anger inside you. But you realise that this time there is none, not even a shadow of it. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have made it out of this place without at least one popping vein in your temple, and the only heavy feeling inside of you was caused by the anger the nuisance of a man caused you. 

But now it’s really not the case. One more look at him, at the way he’s looking over his players making sure everyone signs your papers, authority spilling out of every single pore of his tanned skin, and you wonder if he’s ever been this way. Has he always been this tanned? Or is it just the burning sun getting to you for staying out in the field for too long? Or maybe it’s his glistening forehead that’s what’s bringing a certain hue to his skin. 

And it doesn’t even matter right now, what could have been or what is the cause. You know that your stomach feels weird, and that you can’t really explain it. And most importantly, you can’t explain why it’s difficult to leave his side right now.

You don’t see Haechan for a bit over a couple of weeks after he signed the petition, which is weird and totally uncharacteristic of him. He was all up in your business, if he heard you laughing he’d pop off laughing even harder just to get your attention or get a reaction out of you — even if a bad, annoyed one. You swear he had a sensor for every time you were out enjoying your free time with your boyfriend. 

Like that one time he popped out of nowhere when you were having lunch sitting in the bleachers, only to proceed going for your boyfriend’s head. Or that other time when you were studying with Sungchan at one of the tables in the communal areas and he popped up, once again from nowhere, to ask you for your ‘notes’ from a class you remembered he totally attended. 

And not having him around felt off, felt like there was something missing, like the gusts of wind weren’t cool enough and like the leaves didn’t actually crunch under the soles of your shoes as you walked around. 

You’re not sure what was going on, but you stopped seeing him during classes too, and that’s when things became suspicious. What had happened to Lee Haechan? But most importantly, what was wrong with you? 

While you felt a dark cloud on top of your head, looming and inducing anxiety like you’ve never felt happiness ever before, you looked at Sungchan and tried to let everything behind. Nothing really mattered, and the cloud you felt looming was probably due to the pressure of overachieving you always felt. Maybe you were just burned out. 

But then things felt like they were shifting, and not in the right direction. Everything felt off, like there was a cosmic imbalance that your mood picked up on, like the food was insipid, like the water wasn’t thirst-quenching enough, or like your boyfriend started being too busy around campus with all his responsibilities.

If before you spent every day with Sungchan, both around campus and free time after courses were done for the day, you are now aware of the fact that these meetups have come down to one every two, three days. 

You know he has so many more responsibilities now, trying to keep up with his studies, his hobbies, his responsibilities as the rep of the student body. Too many things to do and so little time to take care of all. And you are his girlfriend, so who else could understand him better, if not you? Who’s going to be there for him when he falls asleep, exhausted from all the work he’s doing just to make everyone who trusts him happy, if not you?

At times you fail to understand, like those times when he falls asleep with the lights on at eight in the evening after getting out of the shower at your dorms, when you want to spend some alone time with him. Not even intimate times, it doesn’t have to be all that, always, because you enjoyed your time with Sungchan doing absolutely nothing even before — like eating lunch on the bleachers, or sitting on a bench outside of campus to look at people and their dogs passing you by, making up scenarios about what their lives could be like, and seeing if the dogs looked like their owners.

The small things, the real intimacy. The watching films on a random tuesday afternoon, or feeding him cereal as he speeded through a three thousand-word essay he had a deadline for at midnight that same day.

But now Sungchan tries compartmentalising his time, getting his coursework done for the whole week during weekends, and tuesday afternoon he has meeting with professors about any complains brought up to him by fellow students. And the monotony, but especially the loneliness you feel while also being surrounded by people — including your boyfriend, are literally destroying you.

Did you already notice that the leaves don’t make the crunchy sound anymore as you step on them?

“You okay?” Sungchan asks, paper cup in his hand as he takes a sip from it. You barely register his question, but you know that your repeated sighs have prompted him to bring this up.

You hum, giving him a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes, doesn’t even make your cheeks full like it always does. Even if he notices, Sungchan doesn’t bring it up, and while strolling together around the streets, a huge paper cup — full of hot chocolate enough for the both of you — in hand, he hopes your sighs are just a momentary and general discontent you’re feeling. Because everyone is allowed to have those.

“Saw there’s a revival tomorrow night, for Bridget Jones, the edge on reason,” He brings it up, hoping your mood will improve after knowing one of your favourite film franchises are slowly becoming once again available on the big screens, “Wanna go together?” He proposes, giving you one of his most genuine smiles, and seeing it plastered on his face makes your heart stop.

You missed seeing your boyfriend so relaxed, so easy going for the first time in nearly a month. Autumn has already settled, and hot chocolate, popcorn, and a viewing on the big screen of Bridget Jones are the perfect anecdote to dullness and apathy. 

But maybe you’re not ready to get rid of this dull feeling that’s making your insides churn with graveness.   Maybe you’re not supposed to go through with the disappointments and unhappiness you feel at times, because not even your boyfriend can help you get out of it. And in all honestly, how could he even do it, if he can’t be punctual to the date he organised? 

Bridget Jones, a nice outfit and your favourite perfume, and then maybe making out at the movies like they used to do a long time ago — and your boyfriend is nowhere to be found. You can’t even reach him, knowing his phone is on dnd mode, you can’t reach him not even in case of an emergency. 

Frustrated out of your mind, and determined not to let your boyfriend’s missing date night ruin tonight completely, you decide to walk into the theatre, letting the warmth of the ambience engulf you. The typical smell of the old leather seats tickle your nose, and the velvet drapes around the entrance leading up to the ticket booth making you feel so calm, so at home, so excited that you finally decided not to be so dependable  on someone you relied on for so long. 

And being an old theatre, your ticket shows no seat. The film has just started, barely five minutes in, and you struggle to make your way through the dark as you try to find an empty seat to also please your needs as a viewer. 

You hear some shuffling of clothes, and then a piercing whisper, cutting through the silence coming from the other viewers, “Psssst, Y/n!” Someone calls your name, but your ears seem to perk up at the whisper, somehow recognising the voice, “Here!” The person whispers once again, this time also waving their phone’s screen your way.

Someone else shushes the person talking to you, and you hear your caller apologise, only that this time the low timbre of his voice too grave to be concealed by a flimsy whisper, and you would recognise that timbre anywhere. You squint your eyes through the dark, making your way towards the person, and you smile when you enter the last row,

“Haechan!” You whisper back, and you see him giving you a cheesy smile. He looks cozy, wearing a large sweater, you know he’s here to relax. “What are you doing here?” You frown at him, not thinking you’d finally find the Lee Haechan at a revival screening of Bridget Jones, while wearing cozy clothes and ruffled, unkept hair. It’s an image you never thought you’d ever see, “Where the hell have you been? It’s been such a long time-”

“Whoa, seems like someone missed me,” he bats his eyes at you, and his irises sparkle in the dark thanks to the white on the big screen.

You punch him, “Don’t flatter yourself, I was worried no one would be there to throw a ball at my head like, ever again,”

He rolls his eyes at you, clicking his tongue but pressing his lips in a tight line as he realised the noise he made might earn him another scorning look and a series of shushes from other people. 

“Again, for the hundredth time, I didn’t throw it at your head,” he tries to keep his voice down, but you see his mocking expression.

‘I know, I know,’ you mouth for him to see, moving your hand as if to dismiss him. There’s something endearing about him in the dark, when his features blend and make him look like he’s never wronged you in his entire life. The crimson sweater he’s wearing makes him look like the perfect geek who leads a double, more exciting life out of his studies. Funnily enough, in real life he’s the jock — but not right now. Right now, he’s just Haechan, who’s never really wronged you.

Haechan looks at you, at the way you pause to look at the screen. You’re not sitting comfortably like he is, you’re seating on the edge of the seat like you’re impatient to talk to him, fully turned towards him so he can hear your whispers. 

Your eyes are beautiful, sparkling with every flashing on the big screen, you try to suppress a smile when you hear one of the lines. He looks at the way you’re dressed — you look like you’re ready to go on a date, and a lump sets in his throat, even if he tries gulping it away as soon as possible. Just for a few minutes, he’ll imagine he’s your date, and that you’re actually excited to see him tonight.

You suddenly turn around to look at him once again, and Haechan is caught off guard, caught staring, and it’s not like he hasn’t been caught doing it before. But up until this moment, his staring was intentional, deliberate so as to get a reaction out of you — be it even anger. It didn’t matter to Haechan, as long as he could have a bit of attention coming from you, straight directed to him, he was happy.

But now you look at him. You don’t roll your eyes, you don’t scream at him, you don’t threaten to run him over with one of the electric bikes around campus. You’re looking at him like you’re enjoying this moment, like you’re happy to actually see him, like there are so many things you want to ask him but don’t know where to start — and Haechan is confused. What changed in the last weeks, so drastically that he doesn’t have to jump through loops and do backflips into a pool full of sharks just to get your attention?

“Why did you disappear? Where did you go?” You ask him, and Haechan’s ears perk up at your question. You seem sincere, like you actually care.

“I had a few matches out of town, with the team you know?” He tries whispering, but looks around himself to see if he’s bothering anyone around the two of you — knowing that sometimes whispering can be such a hard thing for him to do, “Then I fell ill and my parents insisted on going home to get back on track,”

Someone turns around to look at the two of you, but clearly eyeing Haechan to send a message, then turning back to look at the screen once again. 

Haechan rolls his eyes, showing the back of the man’s head a clear middle finger, even if you’re the only one who can see his gesture, and it makes you snort.

He turns around to look at you once again, ears delighted after hearing your reaction, “All the boys were away, you really didn’t notice anyone missing?” He inquires, talking about his players.

You shake your head, looking at him confused, “I don’t care about the boys,” You admit, and you see he takes a few seconds to process your words before that usual smug smirk makes an appearance in the corner of his mouth.

“So do you finally admit you care about me?” His voice is just a bit above a whisper, raw, teasing, and his words make you roll your eyes at him. You see him laughing quietly, then looking you up and down with a teasing smile, “Date night? Where’s that fuc-” 

But you interrupt him, placing two fingers on his lips in order to shut him up.

It takes him by surprise. Not only are you kind to him, and excited to see him, but you’re also touching him in a delicate way. His gaze finally meets yours, and you shake your head, giving him a sad smile.

Did your boyfriend start fumbling you? Has Haechan been away for that long?

The way you keep your cold fingers on his lips, and the way your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, doesn’t even reflect a gram of happiness coming from you, and the way you shake your head at him asking him to stop talking about your boyfriend makes Haechan wonder — are you asking him not to denigrate your boyfriend for the nth time, or are you asking Haechan to stop talking about him because you’d rather not hear about him right now?

Haechan decides to take his chances, hoping it’s the latter option, but it makes him curious, it makes him wonder how bad it is. Is this why you’re being so kind to him right now? 

Your fingertips are cold yet velvety on his lips, and he grabs your hand away from his face, squeezing it gently in his. He looks at you, looks for any sign of repulsion or hatred in your eyes, and there’s none.

Lee Haechan’s ambition has always been his biggest and best trait. One jump and he could reach the stars, if that’s really what he wanted. Lee Haechan has never been known to be one gifted with patience, but when it came down to you, he thinks he’s been rather good with the whole waiting for you — even if it took you long to finally give in, and even if he made it his personal mission to get on your nerves. But what was he supposed to you? Getting on your nerves was the only guarantee he had that you would never forget him, his face, his voice, or his antics. He thinks he’s done a pretty good job at that.

He lets your now warm hand go, and he grabs your chin. His touch is delicate on your face, almost as if he’s fearing to touch you, but you don’t move. Right this moment, this is the most excitement you’ve felt in weeks, a month even — and you indulge into his touch. You need this moment to ground you, to bring you back from the uncertainties and the dark pits where your thoughts have taken you lately. 

So when he gets closer to you, tentatively inching closer to you, you don’t pull back. His cologne fills your senses when he gets closer to you, inebriating you, making you totally ignore the alarm going off in your head. You’re about to kiss Lee Haechan. 

“Stop me if this isn’t something you want,” he instructs, his voice laced with reassurance, warmth, still giving you full control of the situation. He’s dying to kiss you, but if you’d rather insult him and go back to your usual back and forth banter, that’s fine for him still.

But you don’t oppose, you don’t turn him down, you don’t stop him when his thumb caresses under your bottom lip, just enough to feel a bit more of you without inching in closer to you, without going directly for your tempting lips.

And seeing as you grab his wrist, as if you hold onto it to ground you and brace you for what’s to come, Haechan doesn’t hold back anymore. 

His lips touch your slowly, sweetly, taking his sweet time savouring this moment that he wasn’t sure was ever going to happen. Because as much as Haechan has always stroked his own ego about getting you one way or another, sometimes doubts flooded his brain as well, fogging his judgement and leading to a jealousy that he’s never experienced before — not when he dated, not when he wanted something — or someone, badly. 

But then again, Haechan has never wanted to be with someone as badly as he wanted to be with you — all unattainable and carrying yourself majestically like no man was ever good enough for you, not even him, and then you ended up dating someone that Haechan thought could have been the last man on earth before he got with a woman. And irony made it so that that man got with you.

Irony was crude, the facts laid in front of him were like a cold slap against his face, and it only fuelled his desire to break you even more. 

Lee Haechan finally feels like he has it all — now that you’re reciprocating his kiss with ardour, now that you’re still holding onto his wrist for comfort, now that your lip balm is smeared against his own lips. And it is exactly like he imagined it would be.

You place your other hand on his chest, pushing him away from you slightly, “Stop,” you mumble trying to catch your breath, and he pulls back to search your gaze. It’s not remorseful, it’s not bashful either, but you still take a few moments to search his eyes before making a decision that could alter the way your life is going to be from now on. 

But you’re willing to take the risk, especially after getting a taste of what the man in front of you is promising you, after getting a taste of the thrill that crosses all throughout your body — a feeling that you never realised was missing from your life, until now.

Haechan looks at you concerned, or so you think, “Lets just go somewhere else,” You whisper to him, looking around yourself hoping no one else has caught up on the activities going on in the last row of seats while the film is loud and rolling. 

Haechan can’t believe your words, but he doesn’t take more than a few seconds before he stands to his feet. He doesn’t want to waste time, he doesn’t want you to overthink this.

Is this right on his part — to knowingly mess with someone’s feelings? No, it totally isn’t. But Sungchan’s a big boy, and he’ll learn to cope. Or at least that’s what Haechan hopes.

He hopes your mind won’t travel back to your boyfriend, that you won’t care about him when Haechan is the one here with you. Haechan wants to be selfish until the end, and he really wants you. He’s ready to put his reputation on the line if that means he’s finally getting you to be his — or with him.

Haechan can’t keep his hands away from you, not as you make your way out of the screen room, not as you make your way out, stepping onto the carpeted hallways of the theatre. 

You turn around to look at him as he follows your steps, and Haechan doesn’t waste any more time. He grabs both sides of your face and brings you closer to him, lips crashing against yours in a hungry, desperate kiss. You struggle to keep up with his rhythm, and you think he’s literally trying to devour your lips, wet tongue playing with your bottom lip in a nasty and hot game of dominance. 

But you don’t mind the messiness, you don’t mind the desperation — you’re rather glad that it’s happening this way, because you never thought you’d be able to rile someone up this way, specifically him out of all people. 

You catch up to his rhythm when your lips finally grant him access, and he gets lost in the heat of the moment while sucking slightly on your wet muscle, getting a small whimper out of you that has the corner of his mouth raise with that cocky satisfaction that you’ve always wanted to wipe off his face.

Your insides tingle with anticipation, and you squeeze your thighs, hoping to get at least a bit of relief in the heat of the moment. And being the smug and annoying man he always is, Haechan notices immediately. Notices the shift of weight from one leg onto the other, notices the way you’re starting to reciprocate his desperation. 

He grunts the moment his lips have to leave yours, and his hands finally let your face go, “My place or yours?” He rasps, and the sound of his voice sends another wave of tingles straight between your thighs.

You bite your lip, looking up at him. Your place or his? You shake your head, thinking of all the indiscreet people living in your hall, and that’s the last thing you want right now — to be seen hand in hand with another man, who also happens to be famous around campus, while your own boyfriend is still slaving himself to the presidency tasks he has to put up with. Not to mention that he’s quite popular himself. 

And the prospect of not going to either one of your places sounds so much better to you right now, especially with how impatient you’re feeling — and you’re sure Haechan feels the same, judging by the look in his eyes, only that he’s letting you decide whatever works best for you right now.

You look around yourself, trying to get inspiration from literally anything that might remind you of a place you could go to. And then Haechan sees a sneaky smile spreading across your face as you look somewhere behind his figure, at the end of the hallway.

Lounging your arms around his figure, hands reaching for his nape where your fingers touch the strands of hair, you bring him towards yourself, catching his lips in a feverish kiss that you initiate this time, and you drag him after yourself.

Neither one of you deepens the kiss, and he follows your lead like a lost puppy that doesn’t know better. He grunts against your lips, feeling your fingers still playing with his hair, and this time you’re the one smiling into the kiss.

Walking backwards and dragging him after yourself, your back touches a door, and you push it open, snatching Haechan by the collar of his leather jacket.

Haechan huffs the moment you lock the door after him, finally letting your lips go, and he looks around himself to gather his bearings. 

He turns around to throw you a bewildered look, he’d have never picked you to be into public sex. 

“Never had sex into a public restroom before,” You tell him, as if you could actually read his mind.

He cocks an eyebrow, “I guess there’s always a beginning, right?” He rasps, picking a strand of hair to fix behind your ear, right before he touches the velvety skin of your face, fingers gentle against the plush of your cheeks as they travel down to your neck, “Are you sure about this, baby?” He asks, because he doesn’t care if things are at stake once you two seal the deal, but he still wants you to be sure of this.

And when you nod, there’s nothing holding Haechan back. With your back still against the door, he picks you up into his arms, and places you on top of the sturdy sink just a few inches away from the two of you.

His hips sway to make room between your thighs, and his lips find yours like that’s routine for him, like it’s just so normal to be able to get to kiss you even if he had his eyes closed. 

Lee Haechan feels insane. Like a mighty power has just sent him a sign, a blessing, like he’s able to kiss and cherish and feed off the sun itself. Your mini skirt moves up your thighs, and his fingers touch you, your cold skin, travelling under the hem of the skirt to push it out of his way.

He finally lets your lips go, and your panting fills the room. The anticipation is making your insides melt, and you don’t think you’ll be able to wait much longer. But luckily for you, Haechan seems to be just as impatient as you are, and his mouth travels to your neck, kissing the pulse line down to your collarbones.

“No marks, please,” you whimper when you feel his teeth grazing the frail skin of your neck. Him marking you is the last thing either one of you needs right now. 

And surprisingly enough, Haechan actually listens to your plea, making sure he comes right up to catch your lips once again — because if he can’t bite and mark you, he still needs to keep his mouth busy someway. 

Haechan’s fingers slide up your thigh, making their way to your panties, and he’s actually surprised at how soaked they are once his digits make contact with the drenched fabric covering your core.

Do you want this just as much as he does? He wonders. Apparently so, he concludes once one of his finger slides under the front of the panties in order to set them to the side, and it glides inside of your wet core with ease.

Both of you moan at the same time — you because of the slight relief his hand is bringing you, and him because he’s literally getting drunk on you. You’re here, basically at his mercy, trembling for him to touch you, and there’s nothing that can impede him not to do as you wish. 

You’re wet, your core is burning, and Haechan slides a second finger inside of you, making you moan into his mouth once again. His lips try to muffle your panting and noises you make, because you need to keep quiet if you don’t want to get caught, and even if Haechan would love to hear you scream his name, he knows neither of you can afford being caught having sex in a public restroom. 

Your hand travels in between you bodies, tentatively touching his crotch — and you’re not surprised to feel him hard as a rock under the palm of your hand. A little pressure, and the friction you apply against his groin has him sucking air through his teeth, tilting his head back and biting on his lip as to not moan your name loud enough for the entire floor to hear. 

“Need you,” he mumbles as he removes his fingers from your underwear and slaps your hand away.

He sees your eyes sparkling with anticipation, and if he weren’t a fucking frenzied loser whose dick throbs in his pants with every little pant and whimper you let past your lips, he’d have taken his sweet time teasing you.

But he’s just as eager for this as you are, if not more. He’s sure the sparkle in your eyes can’t even compare to the pathetic look on his face, yearning to finally have you, and maybe show you that he’s not as bad as you have always thought of him.

You hold onto the sink as you wait for him to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants, and just the pure sight of how heavy he looks and the colour of his glistening tip has your mouth watering. But you have to gulp it down, because you’re far too turned on right now, and indulging into sucking Haechan off isn’t really an option right now. Not with how you feel, and you know it’s out of the question for him as well, judging by the look he’s giving you when you bring your gaze back up to meet his.

You nod, biting your lip with anticipation. He slides the tip of his cock up and down your glistening slit a few times before lining himself up to your entrance. The moment he slides inside of you, a sigh leaves the two of you at the same time, and Haechan patiently waits for you to adjust to the stretch.

The sting of the stretch feels deliciously satisfying, and your nails dig into his covered biceps for comfort. You feel so full, and the sensation has you inebriated, waiting for Haechan to properly move inside of you.

And when he actually starts moving, giving both of you the friction you need, his lips clash on top of yours once again, trying to eat up all the sounds you’re unable to keep to yourself. The squelching of your pussy already echoes throughout the restroom, and Haechan can’t risk it and have anyone hear the sinful sound you’re making — albeit you’re really trying your best to keep it down.

Haechan is holding onto you like his life depends on it, his hand keeping your body close to him as he pounds into you with a steady rhythm, and you fear the print of his hand will be left behind on your skin as a souvenir of the indiscreet activity involving you two.

But it feels to ecstatic, too good to care. Your blood feels like it’s boiling with the rush of adrenaline you’re feeling right now, your cheeks are dusted with a tinge of red tint, and one look at Haechan’s face lets you know he’s trying his best to keep it down as well. Biting his lip like he’s about to rip it off, with eyebrows furrowed — it’s a clear sign that even if he’s keeping it down, it does’t mean that he’s feeling less good, and the thought is driving you insane.

If the shushed grunts, the panting and huffing are already enough of an indicator of how good he’s feeling, but clearly kept down due to the location you’re in right now, just the mere thought of what he’d sound like if there was nothing restricting him makes your walls throb around him.

His head falls in the crook of your neck, and your perfume inebriates him even more, “You have no idea for how long I’ve wanted you,” he rasps against your neck, lips leaving a trail of kisses up to your lips, and it feels like the words of affirmation he’s leet past his lips are what’s getting you to reach your climax. 

“I’m so close,” you cry, but Haechan already knew. You feel so tight around him and he’ll be damned if you leave this restroom without being the first to climax, “Haechan I-”

“That’s it,” he grunts, pelvis hitting the plush of your inner thighs as he starts making fast, erratic movements, and you recognise he’s close too, “Right there, baby,” 

And the pet name is enough to make the buildup pressure in your pelvis finally snap, with your thighs trembling around Haechan’s waist as he starts kissing your neck to help you ride your orgasm properly until the end. Every little spot he kisses becomes sensitive under the pressure of his flaming lips, moist pecks left behind in a trail up to your ear, and then the overstimulation becomes too much — for both of you.

The pulsing of your walls around his dick are becoming too much for Haechan to bear, and you hear a grunt and what you think is a muffled version of your name said against your shoulder, as you milk him for all his worth.

He stays inside of you a bit longer, panting against your neck as he tries to gather his bearings, and you take a sharp breath as you feel suddenly so empty once he pulls out of you. 

He gives you a kiss before he takes a few steps back and starts arranging his clothes, pulling his pants and jeans back up like before.

You jump off the sink, and you’re glad your wobbly feet did not fail you, because they certainly feel like jelly right now, especially after experiencing one of the most intense orgasms ever. You arrange your panties as they were before Haechan set them to the side, and you turn around to fix your makeup in the mirror.

“Let me give you a ride home,” he proposes, but it comes out more as a question. You look at his reflection in the mirror as you get rid of the faintest smudges of mascara under your eyes, and you see him looking right back at you in the mirror, while buckling his belt and arranging the clothes around his waist.

Your gaze falls on his waist, and you hate to admit that you were too busy bickering with this man to notice that he’s incredibly gorgeous and with a perfect body. Or maybe you’ve always known, and that’s what made you dislike him, plus the arrogance and talking back that added to the whole thing.

Stupid, stupid girl, you think to yourself as you look him in the eyes as he’s standing behind you, waiting for your answer.

You turn around, giving him a small smile as you take a few steps towards him, “I think I’ll just walk,” you tell him, and God knows you need it right now, “I’ll see you around, Haechan,” you get on the tip of your feet to reach for his lips, only giving him the shadow of a peck, with your lips barely touching.

And then you walk out the restroom, leaving him behind, but you can hear an incredulous huff escape him right before you close the door shut behind you.

What happened tonight doesn’t really hit you until you’re into the elevator of your student hall. After the cool air you endured on your walk home, the warmth of the elevator — and the typical smell of the student hall’s hallways that you associate with the smell of home — is making you come to your senses.

You cheated on Sungchan. You actually did it, and thinking about it right now makes you realise you didn’t think twice before doing it. You cheated on your boyfriend, so why do you feel so fulfilled right now?

But it doesn’t last long, because the moment you open the door to your room, you immediately notice the lights on. Sungchan jumps off your bed to come straight to the door, pushing it closed as he drags you inside to take a good look at you. You know he got in by using your spare key, like he always does.

“Oh my god, Y/n, where have you been?” You can see he’s worried, and you know him well enough to know there are a few things weighting on his mind right now, “I’m so sorry for earlier, I should have put on a reminder and then when I looked at my phone I remembered date night,” he squeezed your arms, and you feel the emotions weighting in his voice, “I came to the theatre but it was too late into the screening and the staff didn’t let me in so I came here to wait for you,”

You blink a few times, looking up at him and his panicked state, and you place your hands on his chest, “Why are you so worried?” You ask him, and you see him inhaling through his nose like he’s trying to calm himself down from having a panic attack.

“You didn’t answer your phone so I was very worried, I guess you finally put it on dnd,” he hints at all the times your phone rang with notifications, waking him up when you two spent the night at either one’s place, and he literally begged you to put it on dnd so as not to wake him up, “I feel so bad for missing date night and being away all the time, I’m so, so sorry Y/n,” he breathes out, and a lump forms in your throat.

He crouches down, engulfing you in a hug and actually picking you off the ground, squeezing you into his arms as he hugs you, “Did you have fun watching Bridget Jones?” He asks, voice muffled into your shoulder.

Guilt starts pooling in the pit of your stomach, and you feel like you’re about to hurl when the events of tonight replay into your head. You cheated on Sungchan. 

“Yes,” you gulp, trying to get rid of the lump, “I had a lot of fun,”

And the worst thing is, that besides the guilt you feel about cheating on your boyfriend, you actually had a lot of fun, indeed.

A few days ago, you made a few grave mistakes.

Mistake number one, you cheated on your boyfriend. Event that literally induces the worst case of guilt and anxiety you’ve ever experienced in your life.

Then, there’s mistake number two, which basically revolves around who you cheated with. Because he’s been the worst thing that has ever happened to you — but also the best. 

Moving on, mistake number three, the fact that you’ve found yourself thinking about Haechan in all the ways you really shouldn’t be thinking of right now, not when there’s a whole other man sending you ‘I love you’ texts every night before bed. 

And finally. Mistake number four, setting your phone on dnd. Because you reflected on this, and the fact that Sungchan couldn’t reach you and no notifications made it onto the screen of your phone the whole night, might have added to the out of character behaviour you have shown a few nights ago. Because you’re sure that seeing his name would have grounded you somehow, would have made you remember that you’re into a committed relationship.

The only problem? You started doubting yourself and all the bullshit you tried selling yourself about the whole remembering your boyfriend, when you realised you replaced the thought of him with actually thinking about Haechan. 

Right after you arrived back from the theatre, right after your boyfriend calmed down and decided to spend the night and sleep over, right after you heard his breathing even out after falling asleep — you fell victim to Lee Haechan once again. You tossed and turned in bed while thinking about him, about his lips on yours, about his lips on your skin, the impatient fingers that caressed your thighs and core, the whining and grunting and whispering, the way he made you feel. It all drove you insane. 

For days and nights, and it’s like this man has casted a spell on you, because you think about him permanently. And it only makes you feel frustrated and guilty, especially because you’re in a committed relationship. 

But you came to the conclusion that you need to talk to him, sort things out, and try to get him to understand that no one has to ever know about the indiscreet actions that took place a few nights ago.

You learned at what hours the football practice takes place, and you waited for everyone to leave, thus granting you the opportunity to be left alone with their captain. 

Guilt starts pooling in the pit of your stomach once again, when you remember that you lied to Sungchan once again, just a bit earlier — telling him your afternoon classes were postponed and that you’d be home studying. Technically, you didn’t really lie, because your classes have been postponed and he could check if he really wanted to — although you know Sungchan is not that kind of person. But worst thing of all is the fact that you knew he’d be away until late at night and he won’t be even thinking about you today, or crashing over to your place anytime soon either, given the fact that he is back to being busy. His worrying and guilt from that night have done absolutely nothing to change that aspect of your relationship, for he was back to being busy every day, and you were back to feeling alone and neglected. 

You finally straighten your back, sitting up in your seat when you notice Haechan’s team leaving the locker room. You count them, noticing that Haechan is not walking along with them, so you move as discreetly as possible towards the locker room, light steps not making one sound as you move closer to the door, and only one other voice can be heard on its other side — a light melodic humming.

You slowly push the door open, peaking inside to see an empty room, and you lock the door behind you — not risking being caught in the locker room with the captain of the football team by anyone, not even by his bobblehead team players.

You follow the humming, and you recognise the timbre of his voice, even if it takes you aback. You never picked singing to be another addition to Haechan’s long list of skills, and you hate that he’s good at literally everything, even the weirdest or most unimaginable things, you could find out one day that he’s a master at those as well. 

The room smells like sweat and old leather, and the humid air coming from the showers in the other room tickles your nose.

You can’t help but sneeze, and Haechan flinches in front of his locker, turning around to look at you like a deer in highlights. He’s freshly out of the shower, with a towel hanging low on his hips — too low, so dangerously low that it has you gulping, making you avert your gaze as soon as possible before all the thoughts you’ve had lately come back to you right now.

His face lights up after seeing you standing in the middle of the room, “Ah yes,” he sighs dreamily, “They always come back for more,”

“Don’t compare me to one of your skanks,” You roll your eyes, scoffing after hearing his words, “We need to talk,”

He gives you a smile, dragging his shower flip flops as he moves around the room, getting closer to where you’re standing. His towel is still hanging dangerously low on his hips, droplets of water still on his skin, sliding down his torso. 

He snaps his fingers in front of your nose, “Then maybe you should stop eyeing me, and start talking,” he retorts, placing his hands on his hips, waiting for you to snap out of your reverie.

“What?” You gulp, looking at him confused, too busy looking at the tanned skin of his torso to remember what you were saying.

“You said we need to talk. What I have to say might anger you, so you should go first,” he explains, and what he’s implying is unsettling to you. 

“What happened the other day can’t happen again,” you start, not willing to waste time, especially because Haechan seems to be back to his old ways — doing whatever he can to disturb your peace of mind.

“The other day?” He repeats, looking at you confused, “What happened the other day? I think you’ll have to remind me,” he shrugs, pouting with fake innocence.

“Can you stop acting this way for just one minute? This is serious!” You push at his chest, yet he doesn’t flinch. His skin is still wet and so incredibly smooth to the touch, and your hands are begging for you to keep them on his chest — maybe even slide down on his torso. You shake your head slightly, trying to shake the thoughts away and snatching your hands away form his figure, “This has to remain between the two of us, and it won’t happen again,”

“It won’t?” He pouts, and starts inching dangerously closer to you.

You hate his mocking, patronising tone, but you don’t have it in you to fight back, not when you can literally smell the scent of his shower gel on his skin.

He’s getting so dangerously close to you, and you try stepping back. His steps are slow, calculated, a small smirk of victory plastered on his face when your back touches one of the lockers, and he brings one arm up, placing the palm of his hand on the locker behind you, nearly caging you.

And you’re once again at his mercy.

“Oh, poor baby,” He pouts once again, tone light and sarcastic like he knows you’re about to be putty in his hands, “Is this about your boyfriend?” He asks, not dropping the mockery in his tone. His index travels on your skin, and you swear you feel goosebumps forming all the way down your back, “Do you feel sorry for him? After I fucked you in the restroom the other night?”

Your cheeks grow hot after hearing his words, and he notices them immediately, pinching your left cheek lightly with his fingers. 

“Answer me baby,” He rasps, and you hate the way his voice is making your insides tingle once again, “Is this about your boyfriend?”

“No,” you lie, but he doesn’t buy it — you know this by the way he lets a huff of laughter escape past his lips, and he looks down at you as if he’s deciding wether to let it go or just go on with his act. 

He wets his lips, “Are you sure baby, that this isn’t about him? That you don’t actually care about him?” 

You shake your head, finally raising your gaze to properly look into his eyes, “That’s precisely the point!” You retort, shaking your head at him, like he’s stupid and he just can’t understand your words — but he does, he understands too well, and he can’t let it happen, “I care about him and want to protect him!”

“Oh,” He scoffs, mocking you, “Is that right?” He raises his brows, not buying a single word that you’re so adamant to make him believe, “You cared about him when you were moaning my name? Or when you let me cum inside you?” He mocks you, an incredulous sigh leaving him as he look down at you.

Your body feels on fire — out of shame, but also because you know he’s right. But you can’t let him win, you can’t let him know that you agree with every single word he’s saying. The truth stings, and the truth is that you blatantly cheated on Sungchan with someone you never even thought you had it in you to stand.

“He can’t know,” Your voice is small, and you look down to his V line just to escape his piercing and mocking gaze. Your cheeks are on fire as you feel like you’ve been caught red handed and put to shame.

“Oh, poor baby,” He pouts again, his tone babying you around. He grabs your chin between his fingers, slowly pushing it upwards so he can take a good look at your eyes, and you don’t fight it, “He doesn’t have to know,” He concludes, caressing your bottom lip with his thumb.

His words feel heavy with implications that you’re not willing to desiccate right now, not when his gaze is  this intense. Your breath catches in your throat and you feel so small under his gaze, but you honestly can’t believe the amount of feelings that come crashing onto you violently — too hard to navigate right now when you feel like he’s a predator waiting to take a bite out of you. 

Haechan doesn’t let go of you, and you don’t make a move to get away from him. You genuinely feel trapped — trapped between his body and the way out of the locker room, and trapped between your boyfriend and the man in front of you, who’s been on your mind more than you’d like to admit.

Why is it so hard for you to push him away and leave? It’s like his gaze and allure is keeping you here, glued to the lockers and doomed to be impossibly close to his half naked body. Your eyes fly over to his defined bicep, that he’s not even flexing to show off, yet the outline of his muscles makes your stomach flutter. 

“Eyes up here, baby,” He commands, and your eyes follow his instructions as soon as the words leave his mouth. He crouches down a little, lips close to your ear, “What would he do if he knew about us?” His whispering gives you goosebumps, and you gulp as discreetly as possible, “Would he come for me? Would he cry?” He lets a deep giggle escape him, and warm breath fans down on the skin of your neck as he moves his mouth just below your ear.

“You wanna protect him, or us? Hmm?” He goes on, rasping down your neck as his nose nuzzles your pulse line, “Did you feel good the other night, baby?” 

You inhale deeply when you feel his free hand playing with the hem of your shirt. His fingers travel under your shirt, and he caresses your abdomen from your navel all the way to the plush of your sides, that he squeezes gently as a warning for you to answer to him, and you can’t find the words to answer him, instead just nodding slightly. 

He hums once again after feeling your almost imperceptible nodding, and he starts playing with the button of your jeans. 

“I can give you so much more baby, if you’d allow me,” He picks at your jeans, fingers lingering for far too long on your skin. His digits leave you burning, and your insides start tingling once again with anticipation, “Only between us,”

He doesn’t need to tell you anything else, because the way you grab his hand so gently, as if you’re doing it to try and stop him but he knows you’re only holding onto him because you need him just as much as he needs you. Just the thought of him corrupting you into giving in to your deepest desires and overlooking all the lies you just told him, is making his cock twitch with excitement.

He grabs your hips, moving his fingers under the waistband of your jeans, trying to get to touch as much skin as possible. Haechan shows his affection through actions, gestures, touches, and to actually get to touch your soft and velvety skin makes it hard for him to refrain from letting a whimper escape past his lips.

He drags you after himself, moving you around like you’re putty in his hands, fingers still massaging your waist. He drags you to the nearest seating spot in the room, a medical bed in the corner and the mere sight of it has your skin burning with anticipation. Your oversized shirt feels too tight on you all of a sudden, like it’s burning your skin, like it’s suffocating you. 

“Will you allow me, baby?” He rasps, voice raw and low, that sends waves of excitement straight in between your thighs. 

You nod immediately, not sparing it much thought. Your thinking process needs to be studied, you think, because how has your attempt to shut Haechan up about your indiscretions turned up to have him with a hard on on him that has you gulping, and you feeling helpless as you get enticed to actually do anything for the man in front of you? Like he has some sort of power over your mind and body.

Haechan doesn’t need to be told — or shown — twice, pushing your jeans down your hips, letting them fall to the ground before he helps you out of them. 

“Take this off,” He commands, slightly pulling at your shirt, and you discard of it as instructed. He doesn’t waste any time, immediately handling you around, grabbing you by the waist to place you on top of the medical bed. 

He looks at you briefly. Your pupils are blown out with anticipation, cheeks burning even before he’s even started his ministrations on you. He wishes he could kiss the pout on your lips away, help you discard all thoughts and worries, and then it hits him — he doesn’t have to wish for it, because you’re almost naked in front of him and he can do whatever he wants.

So he kisses you, he catches your lips in a sweet, slow and anticipatory kiss that promises you you’ll be taken care of. That’s all he ever wanted, and he’s so glad you’re finally here, allowing him to do all this — agreeing to let him past your barriers even if you tried your best to stand true to your supposed principles. Yet here you are, barely covered in front of him, ready to actually give yourself to him once again. 

Haechan looks at you once again, right before he bends down to give you small kisses all across your neck — his favourite part on you, due to your intoxicating scent, — and your collarbones. His fingers start playing with the strap of your bra, finally pushing it down, taking the garment fully off you to leave you in all your glory, and finally and fully at his mercy.

“Lay down,” his tone is full of authority, and you don’t think twice before following his commands, laying your almost bare self on the bed.

Haechan looks at you from head to toe, laying so prettily for him to finally touch you. Your blown out pupils are adorable, and it’s so hard for him not to make a comment about it. Yet he refrains, because he sees you’re wearing a pretty matching set, and he knows what this means.

You can lie to yourself all you want, but you can’t lie to him. Not when the signs are laying bare in front of him, not with the matching set, the hard nipples poking through the lace of your pretty bra, and the goosebumps covering your skin.

“Spread your legs for me, baby,” he rasps, getting on top of the bed with you, settling at the foot of the bed right in between your open thighs. He bends over your figure, leaving open kisses over the waistband of your panties, “Such a good girl for me,” He rasps, and the pet name has you whimpering, hips bucking with anticipation, and a devious smile appears on his face, “So impatient,” He tsks, placing the palm of his hand on your lower abdomen, a clear sign to make you relax back down. 

His fingers slide under the waistband of your panties, pulling them down and tossing them somewhere behind himself, right before he comes up to look at you in all your glory.

“Such a pretty baby,” he comments more to himself, but you hear him nonetheless, and his fingers tentatively move up and down your slit, between your folds, down to your entrance and then up to your clit.

The moment his digits find your bundle of nerves your hips buck up once again, and you gasp when he takes his hand away, suddenly too disappointed not feeling his touch anymore. 

He gets comfortable at the foot of the bed, laying on his stomach, and he doesn’t waste time before his face settles between your spread thighs. Breath fanning hot on your glistening core, you feel like you might be going insane when you see him only looking at you, like he’s savouring every bit of the torture he’s subjecting you to. Is this his punishment for you? For coming by today and bringing up what happened between the two of you, so he makes sure you can’t run away and forget about him? It sure seems like that’s exactly what he’s doing, and you feel strangely aroused by it. 

And like he knows what’s going on inside your mind, he starts leaving open mouth kisses on your inner thighs, like he’s asking you to be patient just a bit longer, but also testing your limits. The trail of kisses travel across your thighs, and you bring your hands up to your hair, slightly pulling at it out of exasperation.

And that’s exactly when you least expect it, that’s when Haechan’s mouth finds your core, plump lips settling directly around your clit, latching onto it before his tongue twirls around it.

“Fuck, Haechan,” you moan his name, and slam your hands on the bed to your sides, fingers fast with grabbing the edges of the mattress and holding onto it like that’s going to prevent you from making any more noises and losing your sanity.

Haechan chuckles, bringing a hand to push your leg upward, making space for him to have you at his mercy. His tongue swirls, his lips slurp, and his nose bumps your clit with every movement his tongue makes to your entrance, teasing it. 

“Keep it down baby, if you don’t wanna get caught,” he grunts, words muffled with his mouth still latched onto your core, and the vibrations are almost too much for your aroused self. 

He lays on one elbow, head resting on the plush of your inner thigh, and he brings your free hand down, placing it on top of his head. Your fingers move out of instinct, taking his still damp fringe away from his tanned forehead, one of your favourite features of his, now in all his glory as he looks up at you with dark eyes, mouth still working around your clit.

He brings a hand up, and slides two fingers inside if you. You’re aroused and dripping, enough for him to slide in and out of you easily — way too easily. The stretch feels good, but it’s almost not enough, and he scissors his fingers inside of you, with his tongue working relentlessly around your clit, and the sensation and his unpausing ministrations make that specific pressure build up faster than you’d have ever expected to happen.

He moans when your fingers scratch his scalp, as you move his hair away from his eyes, and his fingers slide in and out of you at a faster pace.

He whimpers at the feeling, hips rutting onto the harsh fabric of the towel, bringing his hard on a bit of relief. “Pull my hair,” He pleads, and it doesn’t take you more than two seconds to follow his instructions. Haechan’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he lets a moan escape him, so loudly that it echoes throughout the entire emptiness of the locker room, and you hope no one’s outside to hear the lewd noises both of you are making. 

But the pleasure feels like it’s just too much, and you forget about any last bit of shame you might feel if there was anyone outside hearing you. Your insides are burning, and the view between your legs does nothing but build up the pressure in your lower stomach an unbearable amount.

“Fuck, Haechan I’m- I’m so close,” but he does nothing but hum against your almost throbbing clit, and you pull his hair, trying to unglue his head from between your thighs, “I don’t wanna cum like this,” 

And that’s enough for Haechan to stop, unlatching his lips away from your clit and taking his fingers out of you. He was going to have you melting on his tongue, but he’s willing to do anything for his baby — anything his baby wants. And if you need to have him fucking you through your orgasm, who is he to deny it to you?

You look at him, at how his chin is glistening with your arousal yet he doesn’t seem to care, and frankly neither do you. He jumps right up on his knees, and gets rid of his towel from around his waist, and the sight of his V line leading right down to his perfect, girthy cock is making your walls clench around nothing.

He moves his cock up and down your slit, but he doesn’t move forward. He bends down, peppering kisses across your abdomen all the way up to your breasts, and his tongue traces your chest, the curve of your breasts as his hands squeeze them, keeping them together for him to nuzzle into them, plump lips soon latching onto your nipples like he’s a dying man and that’s the last thing he’ll ever do. 

You cuss under your breath, and you move your hips around, lining his cock to your entrance — and you hope he gets the message. And he does, but being the ever so insufferable being, he still chooses to ignore you. The corners of his mouth curl up into a cocky smirk, and the fact that it’s arousing you even more doesn’t help.

Finally coming up to your level to catch your lips with his, he kisses you. He’s wanted to do it ever since you laid down on this bed, ever since you bit your lips so much in order not to let out all the sounds he was trying to get out of you — making them plump and calling for him. You’re so sweet, and he can’t get enough of you.

He bites down on your bottom lip, playfully, and breaks the kiss, “Tell me what you want,”

“You,” Your reply is curt, cut to the chase. You’re willing to scream it for him if it meant he’d stop playing around and would just fuck you already. 

“Who?” He raises one brow, looking down at you. But he can’t resist the way you look, and the realisation that he’s once again about to fuck you hits him, so he bends down to give you another kiss. 

It isn’t desperate, but it doesn’t make it less hungry. He lets you decide the pace of it, and the moment you feel you’re in control of the whole situation, you wrap your legs around his waist. You suck on his tongue, gently biting the tip an making his whimper.

He breaks the kiss, throwing you a smirk, “Are you sure you want me? I thought this couldn’t happen again,”

Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire once again, and he takes mercy on you this once, finally choosing to both end your suffering and stop you from trying to come up with a smart reply to what he just said. He pushes into you, and you grab him, latching onto his biceps. 

Gasps of relief escape both of you, because to put it frankly, Haechan felt like he was going insane just as much as you. The warmth of your pussy welcomes him, while his girth stretches you deliciously, and Haechan’s hips freeze as he bottoms out into you, allowing you to adjust to him. It take him all the self control he can muster not to move right now, and the way your walls are throbbing around him it’s making him almost ready to spill into you. 

He kisses your neck, trying to make you relax, he soothes your waist, caressing your middle up to your breast. His lips travel all the way to your jaw, finally reaching your lips, and he focuses on the softness of them, the rhythm you pick up as they sync with his, the way your hands grab each side of his face, bringing him closer — as if that was physically possible. 

And then Haechan feels you relaxing a bit around him, and his hips starts moving slightly. The friction feels too good, and he’s filling you fully, making you feel so drunk on him and everything he has to offer. 

“Fuck, baby,” A low grunt escapes him, and he pushes up and away from you, moving your legs around so he can get to a new angle, “You feel so good,” 

He tilts his head, relishing into the feeling of your warmth and wetness welcoming and taking him so well. You’re so eager for him, so ready to take him all. And the picture painted in front of you makes your walls clench around him. The way he’s holding your legs apart, head tilted on his back — neck exposed and asking for you to mark his tanned skin — his entire body that looks like the best artist has spent the longest time meticulously sculpting him to make him perfect. 

You see droplets of sweat on his chest, and you claw at his navel in a pathetic attempt to ground yourself. He’s moving inside of you with ease, setting a delicious pace that makes your insides burn and the pressure inside your lower tummy building up once again, this time at an alarming pace.

It feels insane when you think that Haechan turns you on to this extent, but one more look at the man moving in and out of you right now makes it more believable, understandable.  

“You want to protect him, huh?” He growls, moving one hand to your stomach to keep you under his control, “I’m the only one you need,” 

It feels like a threat, the echo of his grunting repeating into your head even through all the inevitable noises the both of you let out. A threat that no man is ever going to be enough for you ever again, a threat that no one will do it like he does. 

And the worst part of all is that you actually believe his words right now.

“Oh my- Fuck, Haech-” You don’t have the time to finish, interrupted by the climax hitting you out of nowhere, and he comes down once again, caging you between his arms as he kisses you, trying his best to muffle the sinful sounds you’re making.

“I know, baby,” He tries to reassure you once your legs start trembling from all the overstimulation, and his own climax hits him when your legs wrap around his waist tightly, caging him.

He falls on top of you, mouth latching onto your nipple once again just so that he can keep it busy somehow, otherwise he knows he could wake the dead with how obnoxious his sounds can get.

And when he finally lets go, he relaxes on top of you, staying close to your chest, panting down on your breasts as he tries to catch his breath. 

You bring your hands up out of instinct, fingers playing with his hair in order to soothe him, and you swear you can nearly hear him purr as he relaxes under your touch, cheek glued to your hot skin.

You gulp, thoughts once again flooding your mind.

This can’t happen again. 

It happened again. 

And again, and again. And again. You lost count of how many times it kept happening.

Your little arrangement with Haechan came up to last for a few months, all the way through autumn, up to nearing Christmas. Sneaking around, Haechan spent the nights with you more than you’d like to admit. Either at your dorms or his apartment, Haechan knew how to take care of you, spending every other night together like it was routine already, like he was your boyfriend, the one meant to sleep on your pillows and use your expensive shampoo, like he was the one meant to get to kiss you every time he felt like doing it, like he was the only one meant to witness you at your most intimate and vulnerable state.

Haechan’s greed knows no bounds, he wants to have it all with you, even if it means the two of you have to hide for a while. Haechan wants it all — the kisses, the cuddles, the moans, the holding of hands, the intimacy. He wants it all with you, and the fact that he knows you’re not committed to him like he is to you literally kills him.

He doesn’t mention it anymore, he just lives in the moment, but one thing is for sure — he doesn’t let you get away from him. When your boyfriend is busy with tasks, which means about five nights a week, Haechan would be there with you. When your boyfriend is too tired to be spending time with you, Haechan’s there for you. Sure, he can’t take you out, he can’t hold your hand, he can’t kiss in you in public whenever he feels like it, but he can do it in the privacy of your dorm that has almost become his space too, that has almost started smelling like him too. 

Haechan loves loving you, loves pleasuring you, loves being devoted to you, but he can’t help but wish that things were different, to the point that he started suggesting outing yourselves to everyone — even suggested talking to Sungchan about it.

You always picked a fight with him, telling him he’s insane for even thinking you could do it or even thinking that the two of you could ever be together like that, for the whole world to see. Fights and arguments that hurt him, your words piercing through his chest and ego as if you never actually chose to be actively involved with him, like you never call him even to ask what he’s doing or what he’s eaten for the day. Fights that always end with him leaving you behind, but always coming back to you at some point because he can’t seem to be able to go on without you in his life.

As much as your words sting, and your actions infuriate him, Haechan knows he has developed a real dependency when it comes to you. And he loves it when you don’t seem to mind him being all up into your personal space, into your life. Sure, you seem to be worried about your boyfriend finding out, but Hacehan doesn’t really care. Haechan want to be able to tell the entire world that he’s obsessed with you, that he’d give up his reputation he so carefully worked on just to be with you. The heart wants what it wants, and his heart wants you.

He doesn’t care about Sungchan at all, no remorse, nothing that can make him feel guilty about it. But he sees how guilt gets to you out of nowhere, ruining your night — thoughts flooding your head and making it unbearable for you to live peacefully.

“Maybe you should tell him,” Haechan suggested one night, right after you ended a call with a very exhausted Sungchan who told you he couldn’t see you that night. You already knew that, and that was precisely why you were already spending it with Haechan.

You turned to look at him, “What?” You barked, shaking your head, “Are you insane?”

He shrugged looking down to his bowl of ramyeon, “I’m just saying that it might help you ease your mind,” He slurped his ramyeon like he didn’t just stir the internal conflict going on inside of you.

“What do you mean?” You asked, keeping your voice down, not wanting to cause a scene before he actually explained himself.

“I mean that he’s always so fucking busy that he won’t mind you breaking up with him anyway, or the other way ‘round,” His words felt like a slap to your face, and you set your own bowl of ramyeon aside.

“Are you implying that he doesn’t care about me? Or that I don’t care about him?” Your voice started raising in volume, and Haechan could tell by the crease between your eyebrows that you were about to go ballistic on him.

“Does he care about you? Not even bothering to call you or make some time to be with you,” He spat, tone venomous, but he didn’t stop there, “And you? Do you care about him like you claim you really do? It’s only Wednesday and I already fucked you four times this week,”

You picked your bowl, standing to your feet and walking towards his kitchen, “I’m leaving,” you threw the bowl in his sink, too upset to stay in the same space as him. 

Exactly like he thought you would do, escaping him and his trying to just talk with you, you decided it’s best to leave instead of listening to him.

“Mmhh-mhm,” You heard him humming right before you slammed his door. 

But Haechan really hates seeing you so miserable, and most of all hates when you dismiss him. When will you see that he’s the one for you? When will you see that he has all the answers to your questions? When will you see that he cares about you, and that he actually has feelings for you?

You’re so blind — blinded by the guilt eating at you every single day. You’re scared, having to confront your boyfriend and come clean to him, hurt him, only because you felt neglected a while ago and you fell for somebody else in the meanwhile? Isn’t it such a diabolical thing to do to the one you’re supposedly in a committed relationship with? That’s precisely why you chose to postpone the talk you needed to have with Sungchan a while ago, now long overdue.

But at the same time, while postponing such an important thing, you never declined yourself the pleasures of being with Haechan. 

And your poor boyfriend, bless his heart, he has absolutely no idea what’s going on. You see him so rarely, even when you’re both on campus, and you haven’t been intimate in months — with him being too busy and tired to pay attention to you, and with you being too into whatever you have going on with Haechan. 

The relationship status shifted, you almost felt like Haechan took Sungchan’s place into your life without too much difficulty, and the worst part of all was still not having your boyfriend by your side. Because if you did, you could have dismissed Haechan properly, but you knew Sungchan wasn’t present and certainly the doubts and guilt ate at you every single day of the past few months.

Yet Haechan has always been there to soothe it all, even if he had to wait to be at home in order to take care of you and show you just how much he wants to be in your life. You slowly came to realise that Haechan might be everything you’ll ever want and need into your life, and the thought of it scared you. 

You felt protected, at ease, you felt appreciated, taken care of. But the thought that you might be ruining someone else’s life because of your reckless behaviour eats at your chest like a disease.

You were sure Sungchan was about to find out about your affair with Haechan, during the last game you attended. 

Sungchan’s love for sports was a given, and the so called rivalry between him and Haechan has never stopped him from being present in the bleachers for some games. With you sitting next to him, your insides churning with anxiety at the thought of Sungchan catching on what was going on based on the location and your behaviour alone.

And you felt like the sky fell on you when Haechan looked through the bleachers as he was roaming around the field. He’d never done that, it was so uncharacteristic and it sparked debates among the sea of people watching the game. A new girlfriend, a special someone, a friend — he had to be looking for someone.

And then the idiot pointed at you right before a penalty kick. Your breath stopped seeing him pointing towards where you were sitting — granted that you knew everyone saw the area and not the direct spot you were in, thanks to the distance. And then you felt on the brink of passing out when you saw Sungchan straightening his back, and then his gaze landed on you.

“Y/n…” He started, and your heart nearly stopped. You swear your ears were ringing and your head spinning terribly, “Babe do you think he’s going to aim at my head again?” He sighed, looking at Haechan, “I feel like he’s going to do it,” He kept going, and you would have laughed if it weren’t for your panicked state.

It’s been two weeks since, and everything that happened on that day goes on haunting you. To the point you can’t deal with it anymore, because it’s consuming you in the worst of ways. You can’t sleep, you can’t eat properly, you can’t focus on your tasks and studies, and you definitely can’t be intimate with Haechan.

Well thank God, you’d think that getting laid was the last of your worries, but you still chase the high and the feelings you feel when you are with Haechan, and not being able to climax because of all the stress you are being subjected to is a pretty big deal to you, a question mark that you certainly know the answer to — and it is long overdue.

That’s why you’re right in front of Sungchan’s door, knocking twice instead of using your key he’s given you. You feel like you’re visiting an old friend you love and care for, instead of your boyfriend, and using your key feels absolutely wrong to you.

“Y/n? Babe, what are you doing here?” He asks, opening the door to let you in. 

He is busy as always, and he already told you he’d be calling it a night very early. He’s still studying, books and papers scattered around the wooden floors of his place, and you feel so out of place in his small studio. 

“Is everything alright? I thought we talked on the phone about this but I think we should actually order something to eat?” He rambles, and you know he’s doing it out of excitement that you’re there with him, despite telling you he’s too tired to entertain you tonight. 

“Would you like pad thai or maybe mandu?” He pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose as he thinks of all the things he’d like for you to have, “Or maybe we can have pho? But that’s best if we have it fresh and it’s more lik-,”

“Sungchan I slept with Haechan!” You burst suddenly, closing your eyes at the outburst and word vomiting. He was getting too cheery and too talkative and it didn’t help with the internal and mental turmoil going on inside of you.

Your world stills, and you’re sure his does as well, with the way his excited words are left hanging in the air. Silence settles, and you wish you could tell you feel a bit better after telling the actual words, but it’s really not the case.

“What?” He whispers, squinting his eyes incredulously.

“I slept with Haechan,” You confess once again, this time calmly, but it doesn’t mean that you feel less guilty about it. You look into his eyes, and you see the sparkle fading.

He inhales sharply, straightening his back, “How many times? One?” He tries, exhaling when you don’t give an answer, not even a nod or a shake of your head, “Two?” He touches his stomach, and you know his very anxious self feels like throwing up right now.

He might just throw up on you right now. You know you deserve it.

You shake your head imperceptibly, lips forming a straight line as your gaze bores into his, “More than twice,” you confirm to him, not having it in you to tell him more details of the ordeal you committed, “I felt so out of place and alone and I don’t even want to find an excuse for it, but it happened and I’m sorry for it,” you have another bad case of word-vomiting when you see him keeping his mouth shut.

He sighs, taking his glasses off and throwing them tiredly on top of the table nearby, “I think you should go now, Y/n,” He mumbles, averting his gaze, and you wish you could talk things through with him, apologise profusely about everything you’ve done to him, but you know that you staying here for longer might hurt him even more.

You nod, walking past him and going straight up to the front door, and you only look back once before exiting. 

Sungchan doesn’t turn around to look at you. 

You were hoping that coming clean to Sungchan was going to help with your anxiety and feelings pooling in the pit of your stomach, but you guessed wrong.

What the fuck is wrong with you? You cry, barely seeing where your steps are taking you. The look in his eyes still haunts you, and that unbearable feeling of being the scum of the earth follows you around like a shadow. 

Will Sungchan be ok? But you also can’t help but wonder if you will be as well, at least at some point. You deserve to know no happiness, because you hurt one of the most amazing guys you’ve ever met, and for what? For sneaking around and playing house with the man you once thought you hated?

Oh, and Haechan. What are you supposed to do now? Go on happily with your life with Haechan after breaking another man's heart? What even were you thinking? What are you supposed to tell Haechan now? That you want to be with him and act as if you didn’t just exit a relationship? 

The thought somehow repulses you, because you know you’ve been selfish up to today — giving into your pleasures after feeling lonely, liking Haechan’s attention, developing feelings for him. That’s right, developing feelings for Haechan seems an insane thing to do or even think about. But it happened, you realise it now that you somehow put an end to your relationship with Sungchan, and the fact that someone had to suffer just so you could feel a bit better about what you were doing — by postponing the inevitable talk — only makes you think that you have to be punished somehow, for the way you played around with people’s feelings.

Are you supposed to live your life as Haechan’s girlfriend now? Freshly out of another relationship? Yet there’s a thought looming over your head like a dark cloud. What if you just played yourself? What if this was never meant to be something genuine, what if it was just Haechan’s sick and twisted way of showing you that he always wins and always gets everything he wants?

You can’t stand the thought of it. And there’s only one solution to alleviate at least a bit of all your worries and the guilt you’re feeling like it’s eating at your chest from the inside.

The football field is loud as you see Haechan’s team running around during their practice, and somehow he sees you as soon as you set foot into the lightened side of the bleachers. 

It’s cold outside, you see their breaths in the air as they exhale, and you still can’t understand why this sport exists. You put your nose down, covering it with your scarf, and you see Haechan’s fluffy hair bouncing around as he runs towards you, after telling everyone to take a break. 

He’s certainly surprised to see you here, because everyone needs to be under the impression he doesn’t even exist and you don’t know anything about his existence — or so you’ve told him before. But you’re here, and besides the initial excitement he felt when he saw you coming to one of his practice games, Haechan’s stomach now drops instantly to his ass when he notices you cried.

Panic sets into his bones when he gets closer to you, and your beautiful eyes are bloodshot, you’re literally trembling as you’re sitting on the bleachers, nose and chin deep into your fluffy red scarf, but you feel off. He knows it, he doesn’t need to ask you if anything’s wrong, because he already knows you’re not feeling like yourself right now.

“What’s wrong,” He rasps worriedly as soon as he reaches you, and you don’t bother moving from your spot on the seat. He’s standing in front of you, seemingly patient, but he’s literally boiling on the inside.

You raise your chin, so he can hear you clearly, “I told Sungchan,” You mumble, and your bottom lip quivers, making his heart break for you. 

Are you crying because he hurt you? Did Sungchan tell you hurtful things? Is this the cause of all the distress you’re feeling right now?

“Oh,” Haechan mumbles in understanding, and he fights the urge to ask anything because he knows he might anger you with his irreparable humour. 

“Yeah… oh,” you repeat after him, voice heavy with emotion. Haechan never wanted to see you cry, he never wanted for anything of what you’ve been doing to lead to any of this.

In his defence, he warned you. You should have put a stop to your relationship with Sungchan a while ago, when things weren’t as complicated and entangled as they are now.

“Is he… is he okay?” Haechan doesn’t really care, but he sees how affected you are, so he thinks things might have been bad and heavy while you talked to your now ex-boyfriend. 

Or is he not your ex boyfriend? Haechan’s stomach drops at the thought of this being a possibility.

You shrug, exhaling a shaky breath. 

Haechan isn’t one compatible with anxiety, the term isn’t even part of his vocabulary. But right now Haechan feels anxious as hell, and his leg starts bouncing — not from the cold outside, rather from the cold feeling settling through his bones at all the thoughts racing inside his head.

“Then… what’s wrong?” He tries once more, and you finally break.

“You don’t understand!” You have a sudden burst, getting to your feet in a millisecond, “We ruined everything, and you still don’t understand!”

Haechan doesn’t understand, indeed. 

“I was happy, you were just someone I couldn’t stand, and I was in a happy relationship with my boyfriend. And then you ruined everything,” you cry, trying to keep your voice down.

Haechan can’t believe what he’s hearing. Are you accusing him of ruining your life — and consequently Sungchan’s as well?

He scoffs, no shadow of any smirk or grin on his face, “It takes two to tango, Y/n!” He bursts as well, tone impatient, “Are you blaming it on me? After the last months spent together?” He’s in disbelief, and the look in his eyes is a raging one, nostrils flaring trying to even his breathing.

“We are both equally responsible for it,” you nod, knowing that it’s the truth, “But it was a mistake, and I’ll pay for it for the remainder of my days here at this campus,”

“What the fuck are you implying right now?” He barks, trying to get closer to you, yet you move out of reach, away from the bleachers.

“This,” you move your hand between your figure and his, “Shouldn’t have happened! What the fuck were we even thinking?” You ask, but it sound more like a monologue, to which he’s only a spectator.

But Haechan’s chest feels heavy all of a sudden, because he knows you. He knows who you are, what and how you are, what goes on inside your mind at all times, and this moment doesn’t look good to him. 

It all becomes more real when he sees you taking a few steps back, and he feels like his heart is ready to lurch out of his chest.

He shakes his head, “Whatever it is you think it’s the best choice right now, it really isn’t, Y/n,” he tries, but you shake your head at him, not wanting to hear a word of it, “It’s not the best choice for us right now,”

“There is no us! How can you even think that there can ever be?” You cry once again, tears staining your cheeks, already red from the cold.

“Don’t,” he warns, trying to stop you by walking towards you, and you take a few steps back.

“Remember what you said to me? No one has to know. Let’s just keep it this way,” You walk away, but Haechan stays still, too in shock to even process what just happened.

Tonight, you broke up with him as well, and you weren’t even together — and the fact that Haechan has absolutely no idea why you did it is making him want to hurl.

“Y/n!” He screams after you, but your feet are quick to take you as far away from his as possible. 

Haechan’s stomach feels funny, like it’s boiling over, and he bends down a second before hurling. He can’t believe what just happened, and everything feels too hard to digest right now — but one thing is certain, Haechan feels like he might hurl his heart out next.

For the remainder of the time before your Christmas break, you spend your time laying low. In and out of lectures, you skip the one you share with Haechan. You skip the place where you know Sungchan spends his time, and if there’s even remotely the slightest of hints that he’s around, you pack your things and go.

Sungchan never approached you, and to be completely honest and true to yourself, you don’t feel like much has changed in your life. With him being away all the time even when you were together, sometimes only speaking on the phone and through texts, you feel like only that small part has changed now that it’s completely lacking. 

There’s still the burden you have to carry around with yourself — the thought that you played with Sungchan and behaved like an idiot. Nothing is ever going to fix this, the anxiety you’re feeling when you see or hear something about him around campus. The shame, the guilt, the sleepless nights spent being haunted by the last conversation you had with him.

And there’s Haechan, and the thought of him devastates you, because you know you got used to life with him and now you have absolutely no one left to rely on, or be with. You lost Sungchan to the role of President of the student body but it wasn’t always like this — yet as he advanced through the years of study, his responsibilities only grew and so did whatever was demanded of him. The last year in this position is what stole him away from you, and you found yourself to be lonelier than ever without even realising it in the first place.

And then you lost Haechan to the unbearable feeling of betrayal you felt, only that the one betraying was you and no one else. You betrayed Sungchan and that was the worst you could have done to someone you claimed you loved — and worst thing of all, you did it with Haechan.

Haechan made you feel like you were reborn. Besides the initial bickering that subsided as you and him started seeing each other more regularly, you felt seen and appreciated, and you’d go as far as to say that you felt loved.

Crazy, you think to yourself, but that’s genuinely what you felt. He drove you insane, literally. Between always getting down and busy and get you into bed, putting your pleasure first absolutely every single time, he spent time with you — seeing you, supporting you, being there for you. 

But that’s also out the window, because you refuse to open up to him about your expectations and how you felt about him — in fear of being seen as silly, stupid even.

You wish you could tell if everything you went through with Haechan has been genuine, but there really isn’t a way to tell it. You know it has been, at least from your part, but who can vouch for him? He’s never really liked Sungchan, and he loved riling you up at any given opportunity, so what if he just wanted to prove a point?

Haechan tried crossing paths with you a few times, but you either changed directions, or you found friends you could talk around with. This way you knew he could never approach you to talk about absolutely anything.

You’re sure that you’ll mend, both in relation to what you’ve done to Sungchan and to come to terms with the reality after going through the whole Haechan situation. You know you’ll learn to forgive yourself one way or another, even if it might take time, even if you’re aware of the fact that no man can ever compare to Haechan.

He’s turned your world upside down, he’s made it a mess. Every bit of integrity and everything you believed in destroyed by a simple scoff and plump lips pouting and reaching for yours.

You’ll be fine. You’ll have to be.

Keeping to yourself in your secluded spot at the library has become your salvation, besides the comfort of your dorms. No one can ever find you here, no one besides Sungchan, because he used to hide here with you all the time whenever he felt overwhelmed by his duties.

And you flinch when you feel someone setting a backpack on your table, right in front of you. You raise your eyes, and your heart nearly stops when you see Sungchan standing right at the opposite end of the table. 

“You look like you haven’t slept in a while,” he whispers, sparkly eyes scanning your face,

You show him a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes, “That’s because I haven’t slept in a while,” You confirm.

He bites on his bottom lip, and he touches one of the chairs, “Can I sit down with you?”

You nod, and you take a good look at him. Tall, tidy, handsome as ever, wearing one of the sweaters you got him for Christmas your first year of dating each other. 

“Did he fuck up already?” He asks you, and you furrow your eyebrows, not understanding who’s he talking about. “Haechan,” he clarifies for you to understand, and your lips form an ‘oh’ of understanding.

“I have no idea what he’s doing, but knowing him you’re probably right. He must have fucked up someway,” you gulp, not knowing what you should say to your ex boyfriend, about the guy you cheated on him with. 

“He’s fucking up in a lot of ways,” he plays with his bottom lip, “He’s fucking up the team, he’s fucking up his reputation, he’s fucking up your relationship,” everything Sungchan says feels like a big question mark, but especially the last part.

“Our relationship? There’s no relationship,” you shake your head, confused, “I actually want to give you a proper apology about everything,”

He stops you before you can continue, “I actually want to give you a proper apology, myself,”

You look at him confused, but he goes on before you can ask him anything, “I realised that I kept you hostage in a relationship that didn’t work out. I know you were unhappy, I realised this after you left that night and I came to terms with the fact that it was my fault in the first place,” he explains, looking you straight into the eyes.

You gulp, and there’s a splitting headache taking over you.

He clears his throat, “I should have set you free instead of keeping you in a relationship that didn’t feel as rewarding as our first year and a half together. I’m so sorry for being selfish and overlooking your needs,” 

You can’t believe your ears. You should be the one apologising right now, instead he’s here doing it and basically understanding you and why you did it? You’re in utter disbelief.

“Still, that doesn’t change the fact that I betrayed your trust,” you whisper, almost on the verge of tears.

“That’s right,” he concludes, completely agreeing with you, “But I’m here saying that I wasn’t the best boyfriend either, so I’m choosing to give you the benefit of the doubt. It took me a while to understand this, that’s why I’m here only now,”

Your eyes brim with tears while looking at him, at his composed self, and the little smile he’s throwing your way just so he can reassure you. Your heart breaks once again realising what you have lost with him, or what you never actually had to the fullest.

“You said no relationship?” He asks confused, and it doesn’t click right away that he’s talking about Haechan, “Is this why I saw him around campus wearing flip flops through the snow?” He asks curiously, throwing a thumb behind his shoulder to indicate the campus, “Is this why he’s acting this way?” 

“What way?” You’re not sure what he’s expecting from you. You really haven’t kept up with Haechan ever since you left him behind on the football field a while ago.

“He’s destroying the team and university’s reputation. He doesn’t go to practice, doesn’t show up for important stuff… I think I have a few students complaining about his behaviour around campus too,” he explains, and he seems surprised seeing how you don’t know any of this. 

You seem to have done a perfect job at protecting your peace. 

“Na Jaemin called me earlier, telling me Haechan is refusing to play today, and the disciplinary committee is sitting in the bleachers,” He just keeps going, and you’re sure that if you let him, he’ll have a dozen other things to add to the list of problematic things Haechan has done lately.

“That can’t be good,” you mumble worriedly, and he nods at you.

“It isn’t. Trust me. That’s another reason why I’m here now,” he sees you cocking a brow, so he goes on, “I know you’re the one who can make him get back on track. Go get him,” and the moment he sees you looking at him like he’s kidding, he snaps his fingers a few times, “Go, Y/n!”

You jump to your feet, trying to pack all your stuffs, and Sungchan’s hand slaps yours, “I’ll take these for you and I’ll come see the game. I’ll see you there,” he grabs you by the arms, manhandling you and pushing you away towards the library’s exit, “And please tell that fucker I placed good money betting he’ll win, so he’d better not let me down,” 

“What?” You bark, outraged, totally forgetting where you are right now and the fact that you need to keep it down, “You bet on him? Money?”

Sungchan rolls his eyes at you, “Go!” 

And you sprint away, leaving Sungchan to deal with a wave of shushes coming from everyone sitting quietly in the library, and with your things.

Your heart is racing, mostly after finding a gram of piece after seeing Sungchan and talking to him, but also because you know what your destination is. Now there’s only one more person you have to talk to.

You reach the locker room in record time, and honestly you don’t even know how you made it seem physically possible to run all the way over here in such short time. You open the door to the locker room, and the atmosphere feels heavy. 

You recognise the team, you look around the room to see Haechan’s friend and roommate, Na Jaemin — and he jumps to his feet to reach you, dragging you just outside. 

“I could honestly kiss you right now,” he tells you, eyes big as saucers.

“I’d rather you didn’t do that,” you warn him, looking up at him. You’ve always had a suspicion that Jaemin knew what was going on behind closed doors between you and Haechan, but he never made comments. 

“I’m scared shitless, Y/n, please do something,” he shakes you by the arms, and you nod, pointing your head at the door to the locker room, signalling him to open it for you.

He does it in a millisecond, pulling it wide open, “Everyone get out, now!” He rasps, his voice echoing throughout the otherwise silent room, and everyone obeys.

You go in, inspecting the place. You suppose he’s here somewhere, and then your eyes look for the familiar medical bed you and Haechan put to use a few times after his practice, sneaking around.

And there he is, sitting on his side, his back facing you, not even realising you’re there with him. You pull up next to the bed, shaking him, and he snatches his arm right out of your grasp as soon as you try to get his attention on you.

“Haechan!” You warn, pinching him, and he lets out a whine of pain before turning around to look at you.

“What- How?” He asks confused, turning his body so he can face you. “What are you doing here?” 

“What are you doing here?” You accentuate the word, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Fucking around with your reputation as well as the team’s?”

He shrugs, looking up at you, “I don’t care. I don’t care about anything anymore,” 

You slap his chest, “Oh my god stop whining, you sound so depressing!”

“I am depressed!” He fights back, lips pouting, “I shouldn’t even be here right now, but Jaemin did scare me into getting into his car…”

The implication of Jaemin scaring the man that cannot be scared of or threatened by anything is making you fight back a snort. 

“Why are you depressed? You have it all, and the disciplinary committee is also attending,” you explain like he’s five years old.

“I don’t have it all!” He sits up, raising his voice with a whine, “I don’t have you! And I want you! I’ve wanted you from the very beginning and you just ended up with Slanderman himself!”

“Hey!” You retort, pinching him once again, “Be nice! I wouldn’t be here to tell you that I love you if it weren’t for him,”

“Oh my god, you met up with him before me? Just kill me now,” he whines, throwing himself back down onto the bed. It takes him a few seconds to go through the words you spoke, now echoing in his head.

He pushes right up, blinking at you. You blink right back at him a few times, and his gaze doesn’t falter, instead there’s a sparkle settling in.

“Do you mean it?” He sits on the edge of the bed, and you get closer to his figure.

You peck his lips, “I mean it, and we should have a proper conversation later,” you peck his lips again, this time moving to pepper some kisses in the corner of his mouth as well, “But Sungchan told me to let you know he bet serious money on you losing tonight, so wouldn’t it be nice to show him he’s wrong?”

Haechan’s lips are immediately on yours, yet you don’t fight back. The moment you saw him pouting with despair you knew you wanted to kiss him. He holds you still by placing his hands on both sides of your face, and you give into his pace, rhythm — his hunger making the kiss incredibly messy and desperate. 

“Don’t talk dirty like that, my dick is getting hard as we speak,” He jumps off the bed after letting you go. 

Your chest blooms with pride after lying to him, remembering how Sungchan placed a bet on Haechan winning, but you know that twisting it a bit to make your own version would have stirred the ever so competitive Haechan to prove Sungchan wrong — and you’re extremely happy, even if you’ll have to tell him the truth later after the game.

Haechan gets ready at the speed of lightning, while also stealing quick kisses from you. Pecks all over your face, neck, playfully pulling at you hoodie, everything he can do while still getting ready to go out on the field on time.

And eventually he joins the game, and of course the Lee Haechan wins — but because he has something, or someone to fight for. 

His ego is big, his chest blooms with pride because he knows what he’s capable of. And Lee Haechan can proudly claim he does have it all right now — because he has you, yet everyone should still feel threatened by him.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: to everyone who read who is it... im sorry it had to be sungchan once again </3333 this fic was supposed to be up around his birthday and i couldn't allow it (◞‸◟,) i want to thank my sam @taeeflwrr for helping and putting up with me and my endless talks about this series and the songs chosen (ily!) but also for making the banner for this fic! <3<3<3 and thank you to everyone who read, i appreciate and love every single one of you! i hope you enjoyed and i'll see you for the next one ໒꒰ྀི˶˃ᆺ˂˶ ꒱ྀིა

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