hc.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞ my kind of underworld among the stars 𖤐₊⋆˚ · rae, 25, she/her ·

[haecastor]

Title: Tangled in Our Orbits (PREVIEW)

Pairing: lee donghyeok x afab!reader

Genre: college!au, fluff, smut, explicit sexual content, mutual friends to lovers, fwb to lovers ?, mention of ex (not hyeok), slight hurt comfort, music major!donghyeok, art major!reader

Warnings: MATURE|MDNI, smut, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, mirror sex, dom!hyeok (he is soft most time), possessive!hyeok (kinda), oral (receiving), dirty talk, marking/biting, overstimulation, riding, mating-press/prone bone/flatiron, creampies (implicit), cheating, pet names (princess, baby, love – reader; hyeokie, babe, sunshine – donghyeok), spreading my thick!hyeok agenda, and… i think cringe moment when they’re alone, not shoving into each other mouths (pls let me know if i missed any!) (DO NOTE: it is a preview, not everything will be in)

More Characters: Yangyang, Jaemin, Shotaro, Sungchan, Ningning, Giselle, Yeri

Word count: 11k+ (full fic, for now) | preview: 2380 words (scene #2 , non-linear timeline)

a/n: um, hi~ this is my first writing here. i actually don’t know how this work (i hope it works) im gonna post the preview of what im working on, which idk when it gonna finish, but i feel like posting to get readers’ opinion. there’s no summary (simply bc i think the idea will be splayed out even before the full fic is out if i include the summary) but the warnings do contain everything for the full fic, i hope it give a gist of what im writing. and i hope you like it! (please let me know your thoughts!)

The air was still with a comfortable silence as you lay on your stomach on Donghyuck's bed, the book you'd picked earlier captivating your attention. The others had left a while ago, leaving behind a teasing comment from Shotaro about you and Donghyuck looking like newlyweds and you’d brushed it off with a sarcastic retort.

The next hour passed quietly. Donghyeok focused on his work, the soft clatter of his keyboard and occasional scribbling of notes filling the air. Meanwhile, you were fully absorbed in your book, the words pulling you deeper into their world. As time passed, you sprawled out on the bed, shifting positions until you found your perfect spot—lying on your stomach with your legs bent at the knees, feet swaying gently in the air.

Donghyeok, seated at his study table, had finished his assignments but didn’t seem inclined to disturb your peace. He had stolen occasional glances at you, a faint smile tugging at his lips each time. There was something about the sight of you on his bed, utterly at ease in his space, that felt oddly domestic. Like you belonged there.

The room hummed with a comfortable stillness until Donghyeok finally broke the silence. “Are you seriously just gonna read?” he asked, spinning his chair to face you, a playful glint in his eyes. “I’m done with my assignments, you know.”

You glanced up from your book briefly, offering him a half-hearted smile. “Oh,” was all you said before your attention drifted back to the pages.

Donghyeok chuckled, shaking his head as he stood up and walked out of the room. When he returned, he found you in the exact same position, lost in the world of the novel. He leaned against his desk, watching you for a moment longer before making his way to the bed. Without warning, he grabbed your ankles gently, parting your legs slightly as he pulled you closer to the edge of the bed.

“Hyeok!” you yelped, twisting to look at him over your shoulder, but he was already on his knees, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Don’t mind me,” he said casually, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh while his hands bunched up the hem of your skirt. “Continue where you left.”

You froze, the book slipping slightly from your grasp as you processed the situation. His lips trailed along your skin, leaving a burning path of sensation in their wake.

“Hyeok…” you breathed out, your voice shaky as his finger moving to the edge of your underwear. Your breath hitched the moment when his fingers started tracing lazy patterns along the edge of your underwear but never get to the place where you can already feel it starts to drip.

He glanced up at you with a smirk, the pad of his thumb grazing the center of your panties, earning your short response, before pulling away just as quickly. “I said, keep reading.” His tone was firm but playful, a challenge in his sharp gaze. Swallowing hard, you obediently opened the book again, trying to focus on the words in front of you. But it was impossible. His mouth returned to your thighs, his kisses deliberate and maddeningly slow.

Then, he used your feet to press against the bulge in his jeans, grinding against you with a low groan. The friction made your heart race, and you couldn’t hold back a whimper.

“Hyeok,” you whined again, looking down at him.

He didn’t respond, only humming in satisfaction as his hands gripped your thighs tighter. His finger brushed against the fabric between your legs, a ghost of a touch that made you squirm, desperate for more.

“Aren’t you going to read?” he murmured again, his voice low, and instead of asking, it’s more like he’s commanding.

You tried to obey, forcing your eyes back to the page, but the words blurred together as his lips finally moved to where you needed him. A gasp tore from your throat when he pressed a kiss to your most sensitive spot, his tongue darting out to taste you through the thin fabric.

The position and your hazy eyes might not let you see his entire face, but you think you know what kind of expression he is wearing at the moment. And you are right when he looked up at you briefly, his smirk widening as he saw the effect he had on you. “Hmm? I thought the book is more entertaining, but why aren’t you reading?”

“I-I can’t…” you stammered, your voice barely a whisper.

“Then… Guess I’ll just have to keep you entertained,” he said, his tone teasing, but his action is not. He pulled your underwear aside and dove in fully. Your head fell back onto the bed, the clutch of your fingers on the the sheets tighten as he worked his magic.

Every flick of his tongue sending shivers down your spine. Donghyeok’s hands held you firmly in place, his mouth worshipping you as if this moment was all he’d ever wanted. Changing between flicking and sucking your bundle, drawing your moans spilling out of your mouth. The man in between your thighs really knows how to make use of that pretty mouth of him. You could feel the coil in your stomach grow heavy, tightening with every flick of Donghyeok’s tongue.

You let out a breathy scream when he pushes a finger into you, the sudden intrusion sending sparks through your body. Donghyeok smirk when your wall fluttering as he slides his finger in and out of you. He sucks your clit and make a ‘pop’ sound when he lets it go. Giving it a kitten licks causing your legs to flap up before Donghyeok pushed one of them down which the other one instinctively follows too. Kicking the bed as it’s the only farthest action you could do. You’re trembling as he adds another finger in, you began to squirm again, wanting to close your thighs, but his free hand stops you, not letting you shy away from the overwhelming sensations he’s giving you.

“Come for me, baby,” he says, his voice low and commanding, the sound reverberating through your very core. His lips descend back to your sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking hungrily as his fingers curl just right, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur.

Your body trembles, the coil in your stomach tightening until it finally snaps. With a strangled cry, you give in, the waves of your release crashing over you as your thighs clamp around his head. Donghyeok doesn’t relent; he stays there, his tongue lapping up every bit of you, savouring you like his favourite dessert.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with pride as he pulls back slightly to look at you. Your face is buried in the bed, but you glance at him from the corner of your teary eyes, your body curling in on itself as you try to catch your breath. He rises slowly from his spot, his lips and chin glistening. He licks his lips leisurely, his dark eyes fixed on your flushed face. Your chest rises and falls as you come down from the high, your body still tingling with the aftermath.

He crawls up the bed, leaning over you with that smug grin you both love and hate. “You taste so sweet,” he says, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You wanna taste it?” he asks, his tone dripping with mischief. You blink at him, still processing, and he chuckles before capturing your lips in a deep kiss, pushing his tongue into your mouth so you can taste the remnants of yourself.

His hand finds yours, his fingers intertwining as he slowly pulls you up, his grip firm yet gentle. Confused, you follow his lead, even when you feel like you almost slip due to your unsteady legs, letting him wrap his arms around your waist as he presses your back to his chest. You’re standing now at the edge of the bed, and he guides you both to stand in front of his full-length mirror.

Your gaze catches your own reflection—your dazed expression, your dishevelled hair, dried tears on your cheeks and the way his presence behind you looks so possessive and intimate. His lips find the side of your neck as he kisses you deeply, his hands undoing the buttons of your blouse with practiced ease. You shudder as his hands roam over your exposed skin, pausing to cup your breasts over the fabric of your bra, his touch igniting a fresh wave of heat. Overwhelmed, you try to bury your face in his chest, but he clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“No, princess, I want you to look at yourself,” he murmurs, his voice firm yet gentle. He tilts your face back toward the mirror by holding your jaw, forcing you to focus on the image in front of you. Your eyes roll back momentarily before you try to ground yourself, your gaze settling on the reflection once more. Somewhere along the way, he’s already rid you of your skirt, leaving your soaked underwear clinging to you in a way that seems out of place—no longer serving any purpose.

His hands trail lower, his fingers brushing over the damp fabric teasingly. “Look how beautiful you are,” he whispers against your ear, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror. “All this just for me.” His intense glare make you nod your head, confirming his claim on you. His hands went up to play with your boobs. Kneading them fully and grazing on your perking tits, one hand went to your back, expertly undid your bra and pull it off of you. He turns your upper body a little to the side as he litters the kisses down to your boob, swirling his tongue around your tit before sucking it. He groans when you tread your finger in his locks, moaning against the sensation. He gives the same attention to your other tits with his fingers, pinching and pulling, just to hear more of your melodious moans. When he is done, he turns your body straight facing the front again.

“So perfect, so good for me,” he murmured, sucking another mark onto your neck. You couldn’t help but fall apart even more, your legs turning into jelly as he held you firmly, giving your breasts a last squeeze before he grips you on your sides, preventing you from crumbling. Your eyes were still locked on the mirror, but it was becoming harder to focus. You wanted to close your eyes, to savour his touch, but you knew Donghyeok would stop if you didn’t listen to him.

“You’ve belonged to me since the first moment I laid eyes on you. This belongs to me,” he said, his hand slapping lightly against your center, making you moan helplessly. He touches and rub your slit over the damp, poor sad looking panties. The fabric now stuck between of your glistening lips as Donghyeok did not stop touching you there.

“Please, Donghyeok...” you whispered, your voice breaking as you teetered on the edge of tears.

“Hm? What do you want, princess?” he teased, his hands continuing to mold your swollen pussy, feeling the heat of your body react to him.

“I need you,” you breathed out, struggling to get the words out.

“You have me...” His eyes met yours through the mirror, his gaze dark and intense. “Be specific,” he demanded in that husky tone that made you shiver.

A strangled cry escaped you, and you forced the words out, finally able to say it. “I need you... need you... Hyeok—need you in me.”

“As my princess wishes,” he said, his voice thick with desire. He pulled your hands up, guiding them around his neck as he positioned you, preparing your body to take him. He quickly pushes down his sweatpants along with his boxer and you can feel the outline of his hard shaft poking you from behind. Donghyeok then pull the clinging wet underwear of yours to pool around your ankles before he opens your pussy lips, teasing you one last time. Your mouth, which you had opened to complain, now let out a breathless gasp as he pushed his dick fully into you. The outline you had felt earlier now formed a complete picture in your mind—thick, filling you completely.

Minutes passed as he kept his relentless pace, the room filled with the sound of your labored breaths and skin meeting skin. The mirror in front of you reflected every moment, forcing you to meet his intense gaze as he towered behind you. The knot in your stomach grew tighter with every thrust, threatening to unravel as his hands gripped your hips firmly, keeping you grounded in the moment.

His name spilled from your mouth like a prayer, your walls clenching around him more frequently as your climax drew near. Your nails clawed at his chest, sobbing as you struggled to tell him you were close.

“I know, baby, I know,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. His fingers moved to toy with your swollen clit, quickening your release and urging you to come all over him.

“Let it go, princess. Cum all over me,” he whispered in between his groans, nipping and licking your ear as he is working on you to finish.

You came undone, sliding from his grasp, your body shaking from the overstimulation, head falling forward as you desperately hoped your trembling arms could hold you up. But as Donghyeok knelt tall behind you, his upper body towering over your fragile form, he slid back in, the sudden stretch making you jolt.

“Just take it,” he growled, his hands massaging your sides as if coaxing your body to comply with his unrelenting pace. His touch was firm but not harsh, grounding you even as you trembled beneath him.

His pace quickened, each thrust deliberate and sharp, his movements stuttering as you clenched around him. “Keep doing that, baby. I’m close,” he groaned against your lips, the sound rumbling through you as his drool mixed with yours at the corner of your mouth.

He pulled back, his voice breaking as he gasped, “I’m coming—Princess, oh—!” His breath hitched as he stilled, trembling against you. You feel him release deep inside you, his movements slowing as he slides in and out. Your walls clench around him, coaxing him through every last pulse, milking him dry. Pressing soft kisses to your bare shoulder, he took a moment to gather himself, his hands smoothing over your sides as if to calm you both.

Then, with surprising gentleness, he pulled you upright, your back flush against his chest. “Baby, can you give me one more?” His voice was honeyed, a sharp contrast to the demand hidden beneath the sweetness. His fingers caressed your cheek, brushing strands of hair damp with sweat away from your forehead. Your eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion overtaking you, but he wasn’t deterred. “You can do that for me, right?” he murmured, coaxing you with a soft stroke of his fingers through your hair. His tone was so sweet, so disarming, you found yourself nodding despite the tremble in your limbs.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆ ｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆

[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

[haecastor]

maybe im glad im keeping only read this now because what the HELL 😩😩😩✋🏻✋🏻✋🏻✋🏻 BEST FIC I KID YOU NOT I LOOOOOVVEEEEE LONG FICS AND THIS IS WHAT I LIVE FOR sigh i love love love love loveeeee cute soft dom and boyfriend coded haechan that always raise the bars so high like YESSSSS 😭😭😭😭 thank you for writing this long and sharing it free i cant believe im reading this free IM GONNA SMOOCH YOU AAAAAA

[sincerelyneo]

cursing the daylight | l.hc

“you got me calling at all times”

📀now playing: daylight by harry styles

❯ summary: Long-distance relationships suck. Hyuck spends his days wishing time would hurry up just so he can talk to you all night. But hey—at least he gets to have filthy phone sex with you once a week. Imagination is good for the brain.

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, smut

❯ words: 3.5k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni, phone sex, male/female masturbation, explicit and descriptive sexual fantasies, dirty talk, slight fluff, pet names, literally just hyuck coaxing you through orgasm

The worst thing about Hyuck’s job—besides the long hours and occasional nagging from choreographers—is that for a quarter of the year, he has to do long-distance with you. He hates it. Viscerally. 

If he could quit and retire tomorrow, he would. No questions. He could afford to, actually. But you work just as much—if not more—across time zones, on red-eye flights, covering countless cities. You love it. You're brilliant at it. And he’d never dare ask you to slow down.

You wouldn’t let him, anyway. You don’t rely on men. Not even him. So that’s another twenty-five per cent of your relationship, spent apart.

And during that fifty per cent—the half of your lives lived out of sync—he used to get one call a day. That was the routine. No matter how tired, how loud the rehearsal room or late the flight, there’d be one call. A tether.

But now, after years of this—missed connections, dropped signals, and love stretched thin across continents and telephone wires—it’s more like one call a week. A text a day, if he’s lucky.

It has him wishing the days away. Counting down to night, or early morning, or whatever brief sliver of time you can spare. Just to hear your voice.

He thinks the boys are starting to resent him for it. The way he lingers by his phone like it’s stuck to him. The way he drags his feet when they try to pull him out to explore the cities they’ve landed in on tour—because God forbid he’s up on some rooftop taking thirst traps of Renjun for Instagram when your name finally lights up his screen.

Like right now—they’re all out at some fancy restaurant Chenle hasn’t shut up about since they landed. Mood lighting, velvet seats, overpriced wine. And he’s here. In his hotel bed, phone on his chest, staring at the ceiling. Waiting for the clock to hit 8 p.m. his time. Because that’s the time you scheduled.

And he doesn’t mind. Not even slightly.

He scrolls through his camera roll while he waits, thumb moving slow, as he takes in each pixel. A blurry photo of you in his hoodie, making a dumb face at him from across his kitchen counter. A candid you didn’t know he took, where you're reading with your legs tangled in his, sunlight streaking across your face. A video—his favourite—where you’re laughing so hard you snort, and then immediately hide your face in his chest, mortified.

God, he loves you. Like, embarrassingly so.

He thinks about the other fifty per cent of this relationship—the part where you’re home, or he is, or maybe neither of you are, but you’re in the same place at the same time, and that’s all that matters. The mornings when your cold feet find him under the covers. The way you hum when you’re brushing your teeth. How you started putting honey in your coffee because he does, even though you once called it disgusting. 

The way you kiss him. 

He is helpless. Hopeless. So gone for you, it’s borderline pathetic.

So much so, he doesn’t notice the clock turn 8:01. Doesn’t register your name lighting up the screen because he’s too engrossed in the memories he misses making. Still—his thumb moves. Manages to answer before the last ring finishes curling through the room.

“Hey, baby,” he mumbles, voice all honey and static from his end of the line.

On your end, you sound wrecked. Tired and stretched thin, as you sigh out a soft: “Hi.”

His brows knit together instantly. “You okay? You sound tired, baby. What time is it there?”

“It’s midnight,” you murmur. “Long day. But I didn’t want to sleep.”

He exhales through his nose, rubs a hand down his chest. Guilt blooms in his ribcage like rot. “You didn’t stay up for me, did you? Babe, I would’ve waited. I could’ve waited until tomorrow.”

And he means it. He’d wait forever if you asked him to. He still will. He’ll bury the ache, pretend the distance isn’t currently crushing him nightly, just for you to get a few more hours of rest if you want. Because hearing you sound like this—exhausted and frayed—hurts him more than going without you ever could.

But then you hum. “No. I just... I couldn’t sleep without speaking to you.”

His breath catches. He shifts on the bed, rolling fully onto his back, heart racing in that stupid, boyish way it always does when you say shit like that. When you remind him, he’s not the only one losing sleep because of the other.

“Seriously, baby,” he says, voice dipped now. “Is everything okay? What’s going on in that head of yours? Why can’t you sleep?”

There’s a pause. A heartbeat.

“I’ve just had a lot on my mind.” You say on barely a breath. “I’ve missed you. Missed us.”

He closes his eyes, head tilted back into the pillows, because fuck—he’s missed you too.

He swallows hard. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

And suddenly the distance feels unbearable. Because he can’t crawl through the phone. Can’t cup your jaw in his hand and kiss you until the missing parts stop hurting. All he can do is listen. And wait. And want you.

“I’ve missed you too,” he offers.

You shake your head where it rests on the pillow—not that he can see, but he hears it. Hears it in the tiny, frustrated whimper you let slip.

“No,” you breathe, voice all silky. He’s certain that if he were there beside you, you’d have that bratty pout on your lips he loves. “I’ve missed you. Missed you, Hyuckie.”

Hyuckie.

God help him.

He knows that voice. Knows what that nickname means when it spills out like that, sweet and drawn and ruined.

You only call him that when you’re horny and want something. When your skin is hot and your thoughts are messy and your legs won’t stay still under the sheets. He can tell you’re turned on right now. Your voice is dipping into that breathless, desperate place—and fuck, it lights him up.

He shifts slightly, letting his free hand drift lower, just over the waistband of his sweats, eyes fluttering shut. Because he can feel it now. The arousal. The irritation. Because now he’s hard and there’s too much distance between the two of you for him to have you beneath him. 

He misses the way you sound when you fall apart for him. Misses your little gasps, the way your breath catches when he tells you how pretty or naughty you are. He misses your noises. Your pouty mouth. Your wet eyes. Your pussy. All of you.

“I want you right now, Hyuckie,” you whisper. “I’m wet and needy and I miss you and I can’t sleep.”

Fuck.

His jaw clenches. His stomach twists. There’s a growl of something primal at the back of his throat before he exhales slowly. He keeps his head pressed to the pillows, eyes burning holes into the ceiling, the grip on his phone tightening.

“Mmm. That sounds awful, baby,” he says, voice low and thick with sleep. The kind of thick that drips. “You want me to help you take care of it?”

“Mhm,” you hum, all soft and breathy and a little whiny—just the way he likes you. “Only if you’re not too tired?”

His lips twitch at the edges. His sweet, delusional girl—like he wouldn’t peel his eyelids open with toothpicks if it meant he got even the tiniest, fleeting sliver of hearing you get yourself off. Helping you get yourself off. He wants nothing more.

“Don’t be silly, baby. I’d do anything for you.” A pause. “Tell me what you’re wearing.”

“A t-shirt,” you murmur, and he can hear the smile curling around your mouth. “Your t-shirt.”

He groans. “Yeah? What else?”

You go quiet. Barely a pause, but it’s enough to drive him crazy. He needs to know.

“Nothing else,” you say finally. “Told you I was wet and needy.”

His eyes screw shut. Like tightly. Like he’s in pain. “Y/N,” he says, all breathless and wrecked, “put me on video now.”

“I can’t.” You sound almost apologetic. Almost. “My co-worker’s asleep across the room. We have to be quiet. I just want your voice in my ear. Want you to talk me through it.”

He laughs. Sort of. It’s more like a broken sound clawing its way out of his throat. “Jesus fuck, baby. You’re so desperate, you’re getting off to my voice with someone in the room?”

Another beat.

“You’re so fucking naughty,” he says. He’s not even teasing anymore—just undone. Horny and helpless. “Are you in bed right now?”

“Mhm.”

“Door locked?”

“Mm-hmm.” That tiny, swallowed breath feels loud in his ear. “I wish you were here with me,” you whisper.

“Me too, baby. You have no fucking idea,” he groans, rolling to his side, pressing the phone tighter to his ear like it’ll somehow pull you closer. “Now put those pretty little fingers on our pussy and pretend they’re mine.”

You make this low, humming noise in your throat—halfway between shy and shameless—and it goes straight to his spine.

“Slide your hand down,” he commands. “Open your legs. Slip your fingers between them—nice and slow.

Hyuck waits. Listens for your obedience. It's torture—the good kind, the kind that drags across his nerves and settles somewhere low and unbearable on his skin. All he gets are the faint sounds: rustling sheets, a breath you don’t mean to let go of. He imagines it all. Has to. Because he can’t see you. Can’t touch you.

So instead, he reaches down and touches himself. Palm dragging along his length, over his sweatpants, gentle and testing. He’s hard already. Of course he is.

Then—you breathe in. And he knows. Yeah. You’re doing it too.

“Remind me how wet you are right now?” 

You whimper. “Dripping.”

“Fuck. Good girl,” he murmurs, stroking himself over the fabric. “Now rub slow circles over your clit. Just how you like it. Let it feel good, baby. Let it feel like me.”

You moan softly—entirely for him. Because you know he loves it. And he does. Loves it so much it actually hurts.

“You sound so pretty, Y/N. Keep doing that.”

“Are you touching yourself, too?”

Hyuck glances down, finding his cock already bulging beneath his sweats—obvious, obscene. He’s solid. Already leaking. He’s allowed himself the tease, sure. But not the payoff. Not yet. Because you called. Because you needed him.  He wants this to be about you. Always about you.

“Would you be disappointed if I said no?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Touch yourself with me, Hyuck. Please.

He chuckles as he pushes his sweatpants down, hips lifting off the bed to free himself. His cock springs forward, flushed and heavy, already twitching in his hand.

“Trust me, babe,” he groans, giving himself one slow stroke. “There’s not a world where you’d have to beg me to get off with you.”

You laugh, this soft little thing on the other end of the line. 

He strokes his cock in one long slide. Palm moving up and down his shaft, slow and mean. The head’s already swollen, veins angry and raised, leaking just from the sound of your voice. From the image of you on the other end, legs spread, fingers between them, thinking about him.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, breath catching. “I wish I were there right now.”

“And what would you do if you were?” you ask. 

He smirks. “Do you really want to do this?” he murmurs. “Last I checked, you’ve got company. You sure you want my mouth?”

“Yes. Always want your mouth,” you breathe. “Don’t be shy, Hyuckie—I know how awfully good you are at making me cum over the phone. I know it’s been a while with our schedules. Do you still remember how?”

His chest tightens at that. At the way you say it. The way you test him.

You’re grinning, probably—he can see it. Can feel it. You’re definitely lying there smug and sweet, knowing exactly what you’re doing. Knowing you’ve lit a match of a challenge beneath him. Knowing the minute he caves and starts painting a picture of all the filthy things running through his mind, he won’t be able to stop. 

“Do I remember how,” he echoes, but it’s not a question. It’s a scoff. He’s laughing low, under his breath. He pumps himself again—firmer this time, chasing the pressure, the heat, you. “Are you still touching yourself, Y/N?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” A pause. “You wanna know what I’d do if I were there right now?”

“Please tell me, Hyuck.”

“If I were there,” he murmurs, eyes flitting shut as he pictures it, “I’d rest behind you, wrap an arm around your waist, and pull you back against my chest. I’d let you feel how hard my cock is for you, while it slides against your perfect ass—let you grind on it a little. Tease us both a bit.”

You let out another whimper that he wants to bottle. Frame. Tattoo on his fucking brain.

“Then I’d replace your fingers with mine. And I’d make you look down between your legs—make you watch what my hands can do to you. How well I know your body.”

“Hyuck…”

“I’d rub tight little circles on your clit,” he says, voice dropping, “just like you’re doing right now. You’re doing that, right?”

“Yes,” you whisper. “Exactly like that.”

“I’d play with you just like I always do. Get you right to the edge and then tip you over it. Make you cum on my fingers, over and over, until I’m ready to throw you on your back and devour you. Bury my face between your thighs and taste you.”

Your breath quickens. “You’re obsessed with giving head.”

“No, baby,” he groans. “I’m obsessed with giving you head. I fucking love eating your pussy. Only you.”

You moan. “Fuck.”

Hyuck feels his muscles coiling at the sound of you cursing, a delicious heat licking under his skin. His pace on his cock moves faster, grip tightening, chasing the edge of the fantasy he’s playing out in his head. 

“I’d suck on your clit until you were twitching—until you were begging me to stop. And then I’d pin your legs to the mattress and make you cum again. Tongue deep. Slow and filthy. And while your pussy was still cumming, I’d slide my fingers inside you. Just so I could feel how insanely tight you’d be when I finally gave you my cock.”

“Hyuck, I need you inside me again.”

His jaw clenches. His whole body stills for half a second, then he’s fucking into his hand with a curse.

“Yeah?” he grits out.

You whimper. “I wish you were fucking me right now. Miss your cock so much.”

Running a hand over his shaft, Hyuck grips his cock so tight it’s almost brutal. “Keep rubbing your pussy, baby. Pretend your fingers are mine.”

“I wish they were,” you breathe.

And God, he wishes that too.

His hips move in rhythm, meeting his fist like he’s fucking you, not air.

“I’d open your legs even wider,” he pants, “and slowly climb over you. So slow, you’d feel me every fucking where.”

“Mmhmm,” you breathe, already gone.

“It’s been so long since I got to touch you, baby,” he groans. “Missed your legs wrapped around me. You feel like fucking heaven under me.”

Your breathing is quick, short, and shaky. “Miss having you close, Hyuck. Need to touch you. Feel you. Haven’t had you inside me in so long.”

“I know,” he grits. “Fuck.”

His hand jerks himself faster now, rougher. Desperate. Chest heaving. 

“I think about it all the time. Think about you all the time. My pretty fucking girl.”

“I need to cum so badly, Hyuck.”

“Fuck, baby. Me too. You have no idea.”

“Then do it,” you whisper. 

His eyes screw shut. And suddenly he’s there—sees you in his mind, back arched, legs spread, that swollen, perfect pussy slick and ready just for him. He’s hanging by a fucking thread.

“I’d suck on your neck,” he growls. “I’d kiss you so deep, my tongue slips into your mouth, and you taste yourself. See how this pretty cunt tastes like honey. My favourite. I’m fucking addicted to you, Y/N.”

“Hyuck,” you exhale. “I’m so close.”

“I’d slide my cock over your clit, slow,” he pants. “I’d make sure I was covered in you, your pussy would be so wet I’d be soaked. And while you squirmed underneath me, begging me to just hurry up and fuck you, I’d purposefully draw it out. Torture you with it. Make you understand how fucking painful it is to want something and not have it because we’re always miles apart.”

You cry out, completely undone. “Fuck, Hyuck. I’m sorry. I want it. I want you.”

A smirk ticks on his lips.

“So fucking predictable,” he muses, chuckling. “And then—when you’re desperate, like right now—I’d press the head of my cock right against you and just slide inside your perfect fucking body.”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Yes. Please. I want it.”

His hand works in quick, short strokes now, no patience left in him. Just need.

“And you’d be warm. So wet. So fucking tight. Like always. Like you were made for me.” His voice breaks a little. “You take me so well, baby. Don’t you?”

“Mhm,” you breathe.

“I’d fuck you deep,” he says. “I’d fuck you into the fucking mattress while holding your hand. Because I love you. I love you so much, Y/N.”

“Love you too, Hyuck,” you whisper. And he feels it. In his chest. Down his spine. Straight to his cock.

“Are you going to cum for me, baby?”

You whimper, unable to fill your lungs with air. And that tells him everything he needs to know. That you’re right fucking there.

“Be a good girl and cum for me, Y/N. Please. I need it. You’re doing so good. You always do so good for me. If you cum, I’ll cum. You know that, right?”

“I want you to cum inside me,” you beg, voice crumbling. “Please, Hyuck. Please.”

“Fuck—”

Your moans tear through the line—small, breathless cries of his name like it’s the only word left in your vocabulary. And then he hears it: the raw, unfiltered sound of you falling apart mixed with the sound of you rustling against the mattress. It pushes him over the fucking edge.

He cums with a curse and your name in his mouth, body curling in on itself. It's blinding. Like being ripped open and put back together in the same second. In his mind, he sees it—the way you’d pull him deeper, thighs trembling, your fingers sinking into his back as he cums inside you. Your body soft, sated, spent, whispering quiet ‘love yous’.

His orgasm drags out—messy and hot and so much—painting his abdomen in thick streaks of cum. He pants, eyes squeezed shut, chest heaving. From your end of the phone, you breathe in. Shaky. Like your lungs have finally remembered how to work. He mirrors you. Completely fucking wrecked.

“Christ, baby,” he breathes, running a forearm across his forehead.

You giggle. “That was fun.”

He glances down at the thick mess on his stomach and groans. “I’m covered.”

You laugh again. Then, quieter, “I miss you, Hyuck.”

His eyes flutter closed again. “I miss you more.” 

“You might not have to feel that way for long. My boss is thinking of offering me a permanent base back home in the new year.”

If this were Hyuck a year ago, he would’ve beamed. Would’ve already filed to terminate his own contract. But two years into this long-distance purgatory, he knows better than to let hope bite too hard.

You’re always almost coming home. Always nearly unpacking for good. Always close. But then the deal falls through. A paper doesn’t sign. A higher-up changes their mind. And he’s left again—wide awake at four in the morning, staring at the ceiling, waiting for a phone call from you, wherever you are in the world that week. 

He stands from the bed, takes his naked, spent body to the sink, and wets a washcloth, wiping himself off with one hand while keeping the phone pressed to his ear with the other. He makes his voice sound light.

“That’s great news, babe,” he says. “Are you feeling better now?”

He hears the smile in your voice before you even answer. “You know I am. Maybe I’ll actually sleep now.”

Chuckling, he tugs his sweatpants back up and collapses onto the mattress. But the thought of hanging up makes his throat close.

He wants more. Always wants more. Wants to fall asleep to the sound of you breathing. Wants to wake up with the call still going. Wants your voice, your snores, your silence. Wants the illusion of closeness, even if it's just a tiny echo through the speaker.

“I don’t want you to sleep,” he blurts out, too fast. “I mean, if you’re not too tired, obviously. Do you want to stay on the phone for a while?”

You giggle. “Of course I do. As much as I love having phone sex with you,” you tease, “I do actually like talking to you, you know. Boyfriend.”

He smiles, big and stupid, and tosses the comforter over himself again. He switches to speaker, sets the phone beside his head on the pillow, and settles beside it like you’re next to him in bed again. 

“Good,” he says. “Now tell me all about this long day you’ve had, baby.”

[haecastor]

god i do want him 😔😔 LIKE A LOT.

[vnti-vnxiety-recs]

Blood Moon (M)

★ PAIRING: Werewolf!Haechan x Vampire!Reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 16K

★ GENRE(S): Smut, Angst, Forbidden Love, Dark Fantasy, Mortal enemies, Slightly melodramatic lol, Haechan is a real yearner in this.

☆ SUMMARY: Your boyfriend is in an accident that leaves him in critical condition. You wanted to be the one to save him, to turn him, but his best friend beats you to it. How will your relationship change now that you’ve become immortal enemies? ★ ☆ WARNINGS: Minor character death, mentions of grieving and loss, blood, mentions of torture, reader has a messed up backstory,dry humping, rough supernatural sex hehe, rimjob, cunnilingus, knotting, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, drug use in the form of pixie dust, Its freaky asl idk, mature, MDNI

☆★ NOTES: Might have got carried away on this one whoops. I love fantasy so excuse the lore but enjoy this porn with plot!

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Your heart was in the pit of your stomach. You'd always known this day would come eventually, but you'd been foolish to think you would ever be ready. The call from the hospital had come 10 minutes ago, and traffic crawled by like a sluggish beast. You wondered why you'd gotten behind the wheel, when you knew you were faster on foot.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the busy streets. Your veins thrummed with a restless energy as you tried to sit still. You would make it. You had to.

Your heels clicked against the tile of the hospital floor as you darted down the corridor, your head whipping in every direction for the room the receptionist had told you was Donghyuck’s. The scent of disinfectant and sterile air filled your lungs, but beneath it, you caught a whiff of something else – a faint hint of his presence.

Finally, your eyes found the room number, and as you approached the door, your gaze fixed on the whiteboard attached to it:

 Patient: Lee Donghyuck

As you entered the room, you didn't notice the strain in your shoulders or the way your breath caught in your throat until you almost yanked the door off its hinges. The bed was empty and cold, but his scent lingered. It hadn't been long since they'd moved him.

Your mind reeled with worst-case scenarios. You patted your pocket for your phone, but it wasn't there – you must have left it in the car in your panic.

You hear footsteps approaching, and they come to a stop outside the door. When you turn around, you see a nurse wiping the whiteboard clean.

“Where is he?” The harshness in your voice surprises you.

“If you’re asking about the patient who was in here, you just missed him. He was checked out a little while ago,” she replies, not looking up from her task.

You finally exhale, your legs growing weak beneath you as relief floods through you. He was okay. But then a flicker of confusion crosses your face, causing your slight smile to falter.

“Is something wrong?” the nurse asks, finally looking at you.

“I’m sorry, it’s just... his condition. I was told it was critical.”

The nurse nods, concern creasing her brow. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure he’d pull through. He was hit by a drunk driver. He broke several bones, and we thought there was internal bleeding. There should have been, at least.” She pauses, her expression turning puzzled the more she thinks about Donghyuck’s case.

“Where is he now? How could he just get up and leave after all that?” Panic begins to rise within you. He was human; you were certain of that. Humans don’t just bounce back like that, do they? Questions and doubts swirl in your mind.

“A few friends visited him about thirty minutes before you got here. One of them came to find me and said he needed to be checked out. I was just as shocked as you when I walked in and found him standing there, all his vitals normal. The doctor wanted to keep him for more tests, but the guys insisted on taking him home. Honestly, there wasn’t much we could do since he appeared fine.” The nurse shrugs, her confusion mirroring yours.

Just then, her pager buzzes, breaking the tension. “I’ve got to run. Sorry!” She glances at the notification before hurriedly excusing herself.

You start piecing things together, and the outcome doesn't sit well with you. You walk back into the room and focus. Your senses aren’t as sharp as usual, you’re due for another recharge soon. You sift through the scents in the hospital: sterile, metallic, but then you catch a whiff of something you missed earlier. It confirmed the nurse's story. They had been here.

Irritation bubbles up as you stride out of the hospital. You could leave a trail of fire in your wake with the heat radiating off you in fury. They had reached him first. They had taken him. You grind your heels into the pavement as you run. You’d worry about your car later; moving on foot is your best bet now. Better they didn’t see you coming.

The cold night air bites at your skin as you fly through the darkness, few cars passing you on the back roads. At this speed, they wouldn’t even catch a glimpse of you. The trees blur into shadows as you sprint toward your destination, buried deep in the forest. You split from the main highway to a side road, blocked by rusting barriers, stretching out for miles. its cracked and overgrown pavement leading to a half-built freeway that drops off into thickets of bushes and trees. No one comes this way; not many even know it exists. The only souls who dare venture down this path are high schoolers or college kids looking for thrills at night, chasing highs.

As you round a bend, your destination comes into view: a rundown motel, overtaken by moss and vines. It stands as the sole remnant for miles, until you reach the unfinished freeway. There's nothing else out here but forest. 

You slow your pace, taking in the scene; it feels like stepping back in time. The once flickering neon sign, long burned out, hung tilted above the entrance, and the peeling paint on the walls had seen better days. The only thing guiding you through the darkness is the moonlight and your own keen night vision. Without them, it would be pitch black—no lights for miles. 

Even before you see them, the smell hits you first: a wet, dog-like odor that makes your nose scrunch up in distaste. The moment you step onto the property, yellow eyes appear in the dark, and low snarls echo through the night. You’re in werewolf territory, and they’re just seconds away from ripping you apart. In an instant, you’re surrounded, their numbers closing in like a tightening net. Your own eyes flash red as you bare your fangs in warning, a growl rumbling in your throat. Teeth clash around you, spit flying as they display their own teeth.

“Where is he? I know you took him!” you shout, your voice carrying through the crowd. “I’m just looking for my boyfriend! I’m not here to fight!”

You took a gamble coming here unprepared. In the wild, they predominantly favored their wolf forms. The hairs along their necks and backs bristle, ears perk up, and they crouch low, ready to pounce. In this state, instinct reigns supreme; reason and negotiation was unlikely.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, preparing to unleash your own claws when a voice suddenly cuts through the chaos.

“Stand down,” an older voice commands as two familiar figures emerge from the pack.

One of the pack members howls, calling the others to attention. The wolf shakes violently, as if shrugging off water, before morphing into a human—a few others follow suit. The rest bound off into the dense forest.

“You shouldn’t be here. This is our territory,” the first transformed wolf says, a warning etched across his features. He stands before you, his human form unapologetically naked.

“Jeno, enough!” the old man insists, his presence commanding.

“She’s a vampire! She’s breaking treaty by being here without permission!” Jeno, points accusingly at you.

“He’s here, isn’t he? There’s no way you haven’t heard about the accident. He wasn’t at the hospital.” Your frustration boils over, almost uncontrollable. “You turned him into one of you, didn’t you? Answer me Jeno!”

He meets your gaze with a snarl at the mention of his name.

“I said enough! We don’t need to escalate this,” the old man interjects firmly.

“Dad!” Jeno says in disbelief.

“Follow me,” Jeno’s father commands, brushing aside his son’s fury with practiced ease.

You glower at Jeno as you follow his father deeper into the property. Your scowl is met with silent glares from the others, who stand in their human forms, their eyes watching intently. The chief has spoken. it’s clear—no one is to touch you.

You recognized Ten, Johnny, Kun, Xiaojun, Yangyang, and a few other familiar faces among the pack. Your boyfriend, Donghyuck, had grown up with them. His dad was friends with Jeno’s, so he and Jeno had played  together since diapers. They were the ones who had given him the nickname Haechan. You always hated how close he was to the pack. He always carried a trace of their scent and there was a time you were fully convinced he might be one of them.

Donghyuck had been blissfully unaware of the supernatural world around him. When he introduced you to a few of his friends one day, you had to fight the instinct to bare your fangs. That night had been tense and awkward. You had learned to play nice while Haechan was around, but the moment he left the room, you were at each other's throats. 

They guide you into one of the rooms. Despite the rundown exterior of the motel, the inside was meticulously restored, almost like an oasis in this forgotten wilderness. As soon as you step inside, your breath catches in your throat. The sight of Haechan makes your heart swell and break all at once. 

At first glance, he seems fine—lying on a bed in the center of the room, his chest rising and falling gently. Sweat beads at his temples, and his brows are furrowed in a way that sends a rush of alarm through you. A slight grimace crosses his lips, hinting at discomfort or pain making your heart sink.

"What’s wrong with him?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, fear creeping in.

“It’s part of the process,” Jeno says from near the door. “He’s adjusting. It’s a lot for him to handle.”

“Why would you allow this?” you target the chief. Jeno pulls you back by the arm before you can get to him, his claws digging into your skin. 

“He didn’t know! I did this,” Jeno interjects.

Your anger shifts to Jeno, a growl escaping your lips. “You,” you spit, eyes glowing red again. “You know the risk of turning him, and yet you still did it!”

“He’s my best friend! I wasn’t going to let him just die!” Jeno’s voice rises with frustration and pain. “What were you planning to do when you got there? Watch him die?” He laughs cruelly, which only fuels your fury. “You’re just mad I beat you to it.”

The air is thick with tension, and you prepare to lunge at him when growls break the silence from behind you. Turning around, you see some of the pack entering the room. You lock eyes with Ten, Johnny, and Jaehyun, their expressions unreadable but serious. You sense their protectiveness over Jeno and reluctantly ease your stance, frustration boiling over in a huff of air. “Ughh!” You clench your fists, willing yourself to calm down as your chest rises and falls harshly.

“What’s going to happen to him?” you ask, looking towards the chief.

“He’s going to change,” he replies, his gaze steady. “He’s taking the bite well. There shouldn’t be any complications, but he needs rest. He’s been through a lot today.”

“How long will it take?” You say. You move carefully to sit at Haechan’s side and brush the hair from his forehead.

“It varies from person to person,” He says, pulling your attention away from haechan. “It can be a few hours to a couple of days. But he’s resilient, and he’s strong.” 

You turn back to Haechan, your heart aching as you scan his form. The covers are thrown aside, exposing his chest, bare except for the sweat glistening on his skin. He looks different—his shoulders broader, muscles more defined, and his face sharper than before. He was still your Haechan, but you realize with dread that there’s one detail you’ll have to adjust to.

That smell. The unmistakable scent of a werewolf—stronger and more pungent than the subtle hint he carried before. He reeked of mutt.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Past

You hadn’t told Haechan you were a vampire. It was safer that way or perhaps you were deluding yourself, too afraid to face the truth. As a vampire, dating humans was frowned upon. Humans were considered nothing more than food, meant to be consumed or else they’d spoil. Vampires, on the other hand, were the undead, nightwalkers who defied mortality and the passage of time. You didn't age, and You didn't die. Vampires were superior to humans in every way. It was common manners not to play with your food but eat it. You had sworn you would never date a human. Loving a human was dangerous but despite everything you couldn’t stop yourself from loving Haechan.

There was an abandoned cemetery just outside the city where you lived. Cliché as it might be, you loved the cemetery; it was one of the few places you felt truly at peace. You often found yourself wandering there, even outside of your biweekly recharging rituals. 

Living amongst humans was difficult for most vampires, but those who tried had to make accommodations. Unlike some legends you could bask in the sunlight without fear of turning to ash under the sun or sparkling like diamonds. But there was a trade-off—when exposed to the sun, you were stripped of your immortality. You were the most vulnerable during the day. You’d still retain your speed, hearing, and agility, but you felt as fragile as a human. Many were terrified of this weakness, so they hid away until nightfall when they were the most powerful. 

At night you were untouchable. Not even a stake through the heart, garlic, or silver bullets could kill you. Still, prolonged exposure to the sun would gradually drain your energy, weakening you until you were left with nothing if you didn’t recharge. Bathing in moonlight was one solution, but the quickest way to recuperate your strength was resting in a specially inscribed coffin. That kind of sleep rejuvenated you, allowing you to regain your vitality and power.

You had stumbled upon an unburied coffin in that cemetery long ago and inscribed it with runes of protection and rejuvenation. It became your perfect charging station. Tucked away from the bustling city, it was very rare that someone came here due to the cemetery's extremely run down appearance.

You thought it was perfect. The quiet stillness allowed you to gaze at the stars, and it was beneath that vast, twinkling sky that you first met Haechan.

You had spent an entire day in your coffin, allowing the darkness to wrap around you like a comforting blanket. As you pushed against the stone lid, it slid aside with ease, and you sat up, yawning and stretching your limbs. Blinking a few times, you find the moonlight spilling into the  space and filling you with its magic. You bask in it as it dances against your skin. After resting you always got the zoomies, a few laps around the forest would do just fine before heading home.

Sliding out of the grave, you dusted off the dirt and debris from your clothes. Just as you began to shake off the remnants of your rest, a shuffle caught your attention a few yards away. Instinct kicked in, and your senses sharpened. The sweet, tempting scent of human filled your nose, and a smile crept across your face. You were starving and could go for a little snack, especially if some careless drunk college kid had stumbled their way here. You’d never understood why freshmen chose this spot to get wasted, but at that moment, you silently thanked whichever god had sent them your way. You were tired of dealing with the trash and beer bottles they left behind anyway.

You're naturally light footed so you don't have to sneak up on the hunched figure in front of you. Just as you were about to attack, a small sniffle stopped you in your tracks. You took a moment to observe the young man kneeling in front of a grave, fresh pink camellias in his hand. He was crying, and his tears sparkled in the moonlight as they fell, unknowingly watering the flowers. There was something ethereal about him, reminiscent of a fairy. For a moment, you could have sworn the flowers bloomed brighter with each teardrop, but perhaps that was just your imagination running wild. Taking a deep breath to better understand this mysterious figure. His scent confirmed he was undeniably human, tinged with a hint of canine—perhaps he was a dog owner.

You may be a creature of the night, but you weren't heartless. 

As you gazed at the young man, you couldn't bring yourself to disturb him while he was grieving. Your voice, barely above a whisper, broke the silence. "I'm sorry for your loss."

He jumped, startled, and clutched his chest with his free hand. "You scared me," a nervous chuckle escaped his lips as he tried to calm his racing heart. "I didn’t think anyone else was here" he said, wiping his tears and clearing his throat. He gently set the flowers down beside him.

You offered him a soft, gentle smile and settled in beside him, your eyes drifting to the tombstone. "Who was she to you?" You asked, nodding toward the name etched into the stone. Your gaze flickered to his.

The young man stared at you, his mouth agape, his eyes wide with wonder. You couldn't help but giggle at his adorable expression – he reminded you of a baby bear, innocent and endearing. It's like he finally remembers you asked him a question and his mouth snapped shut, and he cleared his throat. His eyes refocusing on the grave and a fond smile spread across his face, and you could almost see the memories dancing across his features.

"She was my grandma," he said, his voice cracking slightly. You hummed softly, indicating you were listening, and he continued.

"She took care of me when my dad would leave on business trips when I was a kid. She got sick after I'd left the city, and I couldn't find the time to come see her... and now it's too late." Tears began to well up in his eyes. “She wanted to be buried by her mother but…” He trailed off. His eyes flit around the abandoned graveyard and its crumbling tombstones, their inscriptions faded and obscured by moss and creeping ivy. The path leading through the graveyard was overgrown with wild grasses hinting at years of neglect. 

You smiled, understanding where he was coming from. This wasn't the most ideal place to lay a loved one to rest anymore. 

"It's not your fault, you know. I'm sure you wanted to be there for her, and I'm sure she knew that too."

His eyes remained fixed on the grave as he traced the name engraved in stone with his fingers, a faint smile breaking through his sorrow. "Thank you," he replied, but you sensed it would take time for him to truly believe your words.

Suddenly, he turned to you with a new intensity. "I'm sorry I've been rambling about myself. Did you lose someone, too?"

His question caught you off guard. You had nearly forgotten that people came here to grieve, as you had your own reasons. You paused for a moment, scrambling to conjure a lie. But after the heartfelt story he had shared, you didn't feel that it was right to lie about visiting a loved one.

"I just come out here sometimes because it's quiet," you admitted, which wasn’t entirely untrue; sometimes the chaos of the city was overwhelming, and you needed a break from the noise.

Haechan looked at you as if you were crazy. "You're crazy."

You couldn't help but laugh at that. "I guess I am. But look," you said, pointing toward the stars. "They look so pretty out here."

His gaze flickered upward, captivated by the night sky. 

"That one's Ursa Major," you said with a smile. "It's my favorite." You reached out, taking his hand to trace the constellation. "Do you see it?"

"What's it supposed to look like?" he asked, frowning slightly.

"It's a bear! You see the Big Dipper? That's part of the constellation, and all together it’s supposed to resemble a bear." You released his hand and used your own to outline the Big Dipper in the sky.

His eyes lit up as he stared at the stars, and you found yourself captivated by him. The way the starlight shimmered in his gaze was enchanting.

"I see it!" he exclaimed happily, turning to share the joy with you, but when he looked back, you had vanished.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Your skin was cold to the touch and you were gone so suddenly he had almost written you off as a ghost that night. He had nearly forgotten about that night until you appeared before him again. A month later, he saw you in the library, and he was certain you were real. 

After his grandmother's passing, Haechan had moved back home. He was entrusted with managing a significant part of her affairs, leading to weeks of sleepless nights spent sorting through her accounts and handling paperwork. Juggling family responsibilities and his classes at the nearby community college had left him utterly exhausted.

When he first saw you he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. He rubbed his eyes tiredly but there you remained.  You were just down the aisle, and he hurriedly packed his things, eager to follow you. When he turned the corner just a few seconds later, you had vanished again. His shoulders slumped in defeat.

“I’ve gotta get some sleep,” he murmured, shaking his head as he pulled his backpack higher up on his shoulders, preparing to leave.

“You probably should,” you said with a smile, making him jump back in fright, letting out a startled yell.

A few patrons shush the two of you. “I’m sorry. I should really stop sneaking up on you,” you said, a playful grin on your face.

“You think?” he whispered back, but a smile finally broke through his fatigue. “So you really are real,” he mused more to himself than anyone else.

Your smile widened at his revelation, and you nodded.

“What's your name?” 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Present day

A week had passed since you'd last seen Haechan. You hadn’t gone back to see him and honestly you weren’t sure if you ever would. Dating a werewolf? It seemed even more complicated than a relationship with a human. Your mind was reeling, and you were still struggling to wrap your head around the reality of it all.

You sat on your balcony that overlooked the forest behind your apartment. Sipping hot chocolate and watching the full moon, you couldn't help but think of him. You wondered how he was coping with his first full moon. Having his first full moon so close to his initial change must be tough. With a sigh, you tried to shake off the thoughts. It would be safer for both of you if you stayed away from each other.

You moved back inside. You were walking into the kitchen to wash your cup when you felt a sudden draft as the wind blew in through the double doors leading to your balcony. You must have forgotten to close it all the way. You walked back over to close them, ensuring they were locked before returning to the kitchen. 

You freeze when you spot the ash-grey wolf standing on your kitchen island. You couldn’t suppress the scream that escaped your lips. How the hell had it gotten in here without you noticing? Your senses were dulled, and you knew you were due for a much-needed recharge.

You cursed under your breath, taking in the beast before you. Its yellow eyes glowed, and saliva dripped onto your kitchen island, making you recoil in disgust. This wolf was not acting normal. Its shoulder heaved as it took ragged breaths, almost rabid in appearance. You instinctively put your guard up, creating distance between the two of you. You couldn’t fight it—not in your current state.

As you slowly began to back away, there was something in the wolf's eyes that halted you in your tracks. It couldn't be him.

“H-Haechan?” you called out, bending your knees to appear smaller so as not to frighten him. You wondered how he had ended up here. He looked scared.

“It's me, Haechan,” you said softly, hands extended in a non-threatening manner. You understood he was running purely on instinct. Perhaps he had sought out a place where he felt safe.

Now you stood just in front of him causing him to growl and bare his teeth. His body was rigid, and his ears were flattened against his head. Every sign warned you to stay back, yet you ignored them all as you reached out to touch him.

In an instant, it happened. One moment you were standing, and the next, he had pinned you to the floor, his powerful paws digging into your shoulders. He snarled, but you remained calm. He couldn’t kill you but healing would take days in this state if he did enough damage.

You looked into his eyes and took a deep breath. “Haechan, you need to calm down. It’s me. If you don’t find control, you’ll do something you’ll regret.”

He growls in response.

“Donghyuck!” you yelled sternly. “Snap out of it!” You scolded him as his claws dug deeper into your shoulders.

He flinched and whined, stepping off you reluctantly. His head hung low, and his tail tucked between his legs as he made a small circle before plopping down a few feet in front of you.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you realized he had regained some sense of awareness. Keeping your voice steady, you knelt beside him and tentatively reached out. When he allowed you to get close, you gently patted him. “You need to change back, baby. I know you're scared, but you have to. You can do this. You're stronger than this,” you whispered reassuringly.

He stood up, and you did too, backing away to give him space. He stretched into a downward dog and shook himself off, and to your amazement, his body morphed before your eyes. Finally, the Haechan you knew and loved stood naked before you, looking horrified as he took in the damage done.

“I’m sorry.” 

Following his gaze to your shoulders, you smiled. “This is nothing; don’t worry about it,” you said, trying to comfort him.

He backed away slightly, shaking his head. “Don’t come near me!” he yelled, and you flinched. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he added, his voice softer this time.

Ignoring his plea, you walked toward him anyway. “You could never hurt me, love,” you replied, offering him a reassuring smile.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he sank to his knees. “I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t remember anything. Jeno and the others came for me and then turned me into… this.” He gestured to his hands, which hadn't fully reverted, his claws still bared.

Kneeling in front of him, you took his hands in yours. He tried to pull away, but your grip was firm enough to keep him in place. He looked at you in shock but before he could question your strength you spoke.

“Is that why you ran?” you asked gently.

“They turned me into a monster. How can I live like this?” His eyes searched your face for answers. Your heart ached at the fear reflected in his gaze. You felt a wave of shame wash over you; Jeno was right. If you’d gotten to him first, you would have changed him but that wasn’t what Haechan wanted. Jeno had acted selfishly, and so had you for even contemplating it.

“He was just trying to help,” you found yourself defending Jeno unexpectedly. Maybe you were subconsciously defending yourself. “You have to go back to them, Haechan. They’re the only ones who can teach you how to control yourself.”

“So I don’t hurt more people,” he scoffed, humorlessly. “How can you even look at me right now?”

“You’re not a monster, do you hear me?” you replied sternly.

“I AM! LOOK AT ME!” he yelled, his eyes glinting yellow as he finally found the strength to yank his hands away from yours. He stood and walked toward your room, rummaging through your drawer until he found a pair of pants he’d left behind. You stand in the doorway, watching him dress with your arms crossed.

“Haechan I'm fine,” you called out.

“Don’t lie to make me feel better!” he shouted back.

Frustration surged within you as you pulled your shirt over your head, exposing your already healed skin. “LOOK!” you yelled.

He halted, his eyes widening as he examined you. Your skin was unmarred, untouched by his claws. He dashed toward you, grabbing your shoulders and twisting you this way and that, searching for any signs of injury. “Wha—” he stuttered. “How did you do that?”

Closing your eyes, you remembered your true self. When you opened them, they glowed crimson. “You’re not a monster, Haechan. Unless you consider me one too,” you told him.

His eyes widened in astonishment, but he stood rooted in place, shock holding him there. “What are you?”

You hissed softly, revealing your fangs. "I'm a vampire," you stated simply.

You could see the gears turning in his head as he connected the dots: why you were always so cold to the touch, how you could sneak up on him silently, how you exhibited unnatural strength just moments ago.

Finally, his body relaxed, and he sank onto your bed, looking lightheaded. “So you’re a vampire,” he repeated, almost incredulously, as if trying to grasp everything that had just unfolded.

“Yes,” you said, sitting next to him.

“And I’m a werewolf.”

“Correct again,” you replied, resting your head on his shoulder.

“How old are you?” he asked next, genuinely curious.

You fought back a smile. “How rude!” you joked, shoving him lightly.

“Wait, no, I didn’t mean it like that!” he replied apologetically, running a hand down his face in embarrassment. “I mean, when did you become a vampire? Has it been a long time? Your family…” He trailed off, the gravity of the conversation settling in the atmosphere.

“They’re probably dead by now,” you replied, your voice softening.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and you could hear the sincerity in his tone.

“It’s okay. I don’t remember my human years; most vampires don’t,” you explained. “I was 24 when I turned. The one who turned me was the closest thing to a father I had, and he was cruel.” You bristled at the memories of your past.

Haechan stayed quiet, allowing you to open up if you wanted. You took a deep breath before continuing, "He kept me locked away and taught me how to survive, but the punishments were brutal. I knew I had to get away from him eventually."

You told Haechan everything…

You don’t remember how you ended up there, but when you awoke that night, a man in his late forties stood before you. He had dark hair and striking blue eyes. Now that you’re older, you realize blue eyes belong to ancient vampires, beings that had survived since the dark ages. With a voice like dark velvet, he taught you how to harness your powers and you learned the art of inscribing. His teachings also instilled in you a deep-seated fear of the sun. He spun tales of scorched skin and searing pain, convincing you that to step into its light would mean certain death.  He taught you other things too, like to despise humans. He taught you humans were to never be trusted and that one day they would betray you.

He kept you locked away underground in an old tower, isolated from the world above. The room where you stayed contained only a coffin. You were tasked with maintaining the underground floors, ensuring they remained orderly. You weren’t allowed to venture beyond the floors beneath ground level. He treated you like a slave, proclaiming that you belonged to him in exchange for granting you eternal life. It was a twisted bargain that felt more like a curse. 

You had been above ground only once, it was a rare and seemingly indulgent gift from your master. He would normally bring you his kills to feed on but that night he had taken you out into the world, to teach you to hunt. It was exhilarating to experience the raw, primal instincts that surged within you. You hunted until dawn, the sun creeping up threateningly beyond the horizon.

The night had ended all too soon and you headed back home. You made it to the front of the tower, and just seconds before you were ushered inside, the sun rose, spilling soft gold and pink across the sky. You had caught your first glimpse of its light, radiant and breathtaking. It painted the world warm hues, something you had never seen in the cold tower. 

Your master’s hand gripped your shoulder. “We must return,” he said, his voice laced with authority as he ushered you back into the shadows. Since that one fateful night, you have never been allowed to see the surface again.

One night, curiosity got the better of you, and while your master was absent, you explored the tower. You snuck into the library and read until dawn. When the sun rose, you raced to the top floor and gazed out at the sunrise. You longed to bathe in its light, fully aware that it would be fatal. Your master had warned you that direct sunlight could kill you, only safe within the tower's shadows.

Everything changed one fateful night. You had taken a book from the library but your master returned sooner than you had expected. Despite the risks, you knew you had to return the book before he noticed. 

It was through the pages of his books that you discovered the truth. You were taught many things, but after reading his books how many of them had been true? The books told you stories about humans, the outside world, and important history. It revealed that while the sun wouldn’t kill you, it could weaken you, and that to regain any lost power, you must sleep. He had kept secrets from you, you couldn’t trust him. Maybe if you could escape, you could live among humans without fear? You’d never find out unless you returned the book. If your master discovered you had sneaked upstairs, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill you.

The halls were quiet, and slipping the book back into place was easy. You were making your way back, using an old passageway you had stumbled across, when a flickering light caught your eye. The corridor was lined with doors, each one leading to a different part of the tower. Peeking through a crack in one door, you saw something chilling.

Your master stood in the center of a gathering room, surrounded by chained and shackled humans. An entire council of vampires filled the room, and the sight of the horrific treatment inflicted on the humans made you nauseous. They were beaten and tortured cruelly. Their screams echoed in your mind, and that night, you swore to escape. The humans you had read about had their faults but they did not deserve that. 

You thought you had everything figured out until three days later, when your master visited with a human man around your age. He offered no explanation, only instructing you to take care of him. You soon grew close to the human, who introduced himself as Kun. He quickly became your only friend, sharing stories about the outside world and his family. For two years, he stayed with you, working alongside you as a fellow slave. At first, you worried that your master would eat him, as it wasn’t like him to let food spoil. Eventually you stopped worrying about it and just learned to enjoy Kun’s company.

You showed Kun everything: the hidden passageways, the library, and the sunset whenever your master was away. You promised each other that when the time was right, you would escape together.

Then one night, your master woke you from a rare period of recharging. He had previously insisted you slept. You found it strange but you hadn’t argued. There was no reason for you to recharge, you spent most nights watching Kun sleep.

You instinctively turned towards his cot but it was empty. Before you could voice your concern, your master ushered you out of your room and upstairs to the gathering room you had once watched from the shadows. Ancient vampires surrounded the area, their underlings present as well.

In the middle of the room was Kun. He was stripped bare, bruises, scars and welts were painted across his once beautiful skin.  

“KUN!” you shouted, trying to rush to him, but your master’s voice stopped you in your tracks. He had the ability to compel, a power only ancient vampires possessed. You had read that the only way to break it was to call him by his true name, a name you didn’t know since you had only ever addressed him as “Master.” 

“MASTER!” you screamed, desperation rising in your voice. “PLEASE, STOP THIS!” 

Tears welled up in your eyes and you could feel yourself die. You knew you were already dead but this pain in your chest would have been fatal if you were moral.

“You brought this upon yourself, foolish girl,” he sneered. 

The other ancient vampires laughed at your distress, their underlings at their side, made to watch to teach them what would happen if they disobeyed their master.

“Make her suffer!”

“Look how she cares for that wretched human!” one of them jeered.

“Kill them both!” shouted another.

They hurled insults your way while you trembled under your master’s control.

“Did you think I was a fool? I knew what you were up to. I could smell you in the walls, you little rodent.”

“Please, Master, I’m sorry! Forgive me!” you begged.

“It’s not me you need to ask for forgiveness. It is him,” he said, gesturing a long finger at Kun. “Because of you, this is his fate.”

With an audience of ancient vampires, he turned to them proudly and declared, “Nothing but ruin can come from loving a human. Witness now the consequences of defying tradition. Drink from him!” he ordered.

Your body moved against your will. You fought against his compulsion with every ounce of strength, but each step felt heavier. Standing before Kun, you could see that he was barely breathing.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault,” he managed to whisper. With the last of his strength, he smiled weakly. “Don’t let him break you.”

Tears streamed down your face as you bared your teeth and sank them into him. You could feel his life slipping away, and as you drank, your heart shattered in silence.

Later that night, you were thrown back into your room. You didn't move for months. Staring blankly at the wall, you cried until the hunger became overwhelming. Your master hadn’t brought you any food, likely leaving you there to die. You couldn’t let that happen; you had promised Kun. 

Eventually, you found a way out. You fled during daylight, running until you could run no more. You felt the grass beneath your toes and the sun on your face. You ran so hard you broke your ankle in the process but by nightfall, it had healed. You lived as a nomad for years until you rolled into the city you now call home. Adjusting to your new life was a challenge at first, but eventually, you met a city vampire who taught you how to navigate life among humans.

Haechan listened intently, not interrupting once.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all of this sooner; it was easier if you didn’t know,” you confessed.

“I’m sorry you had to carry all that alone," he replied gently. "I promise, you won’t have to go through that again. We’re stronger now.”

“That's it though,” you began, gathering your thoughts. “We’re not strong enough. You need to go back to your pack, Haechan. You can’t come back here. There are rules, and we have to uphold them.”

“I don’t see why we can’t see each other. I know you’re afraid, but you can’t just push me away.”

"You can’t just do whatever you want! This isn’t a game, and those rules are there for a reason—to keep people alive!" You didn’t want to sound harsh, but the history between wolves and vampires was too complicated to explain right now. “The others are probably already looking for you. I can’t have a fight breaking out if they catch you here.”

“So that’s it? I’m nothing to you now?” Haechan stood up, frustration etched across his face.

“That's not—” You take a deep breath. “I didn’t say that. It’s just… complicated.”

You heard a howl echo in the distance, and your heart sank. “We don’t have time to talk about this. You need to leave. Now!” You turned and headed toward your balcony; it was safer for him to leave the way he came. He wouldn’t run into anyone and he could head straight into the forest. You swung open the doors, only to be greeted by the last person you wanted to see.

“Where is he?” Jeno demanded.

You sighed, trying to keep your attitude in check. “He was scared.”

“I don’t know if you’ve understood this yet, but he’s one of us now. You need to stay away from him. I’m running out of warnings,” he snarled.

Haechan rounded the corner and met Jeno’s gaze. “Jeno, relax! You know her,” he said defensively.

Johnny chimed in, “you don’t understand, just stay out of this.”

Haechan stepped in front of you, shielding you. “Guys, seriously! We’ve hung out together plenty of times. Why is everyone suddenly so defensive?”

“I told you, Haechan, it’s different now. New rules apply because you’re different. You’re part of their pack, and I’m a vicious vampire,” you replied, your sarcasm biting.

“Sorry, dude, but that’s just the way things are,” Mark added.

“This is so stupid! I didn’t ask for this life, and now everyone’s trying to tell me what’s best for me!” Haechan yelled, frustration boiling over.

You took his face in your hands, forcing him to look into your eyes. “I know it’s unfair, love, but you have to go. I’ll see y—” You paused, stopping yourself from making any false promises. “Just… go with them, for me. Please?” You gave him your best pleading look, and slowly, he calmed down. Then he pulled you into a kiss. Neither of you wanted to pull away, but when he finally did, he turned away before you could see the tears threaten to fall. 

He walked toward Jeno and the others, but when Jeno reached out to put a comforting hand on Haechan's shoulder he shrugged it off with a low growl. They all jump from your balcony and when you look down below to where they land a pack of wolves stare back up at you before running off into the forest.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

A year passed, and you hadn’t seen Haechan again. You were the one who had told him to stay away, but still, there were moments when you couldn't help but ask Mark about him. Mark was the most reasonable of their pack; you wouldn’t quite call him a friend, but you could manage more than a few words with him without the threat of a fight looming over you. The city was considered neutral territory, so running into a member of the pack while out and about was not uncommon.

“Mark told me Haechan is adjusting fine,” you shared with your friend Sooyoung as you leaned against your kitchen counter. “It took him a while, but he can control his powers now. Apparently, it took longer than usual because Haechan was still mad at them and refused to learn, but they’re on better terms now.”

“You’re living in a soap opera,” Sooyoung huffed, plopping down on one of your barstools, resting her head in her palm as she slouched over your countertop. “Are you really not going to see him?” she asked, lifting her head slightly.

“I can’t. I really can’t,” you stressed.

“Well then I’m tired of hearing about him,” she replied through a yawn. There were many myths about fairies, and one was that they couldn’t lie. While that wasn’t entirely true, they preferred not to, which made them incredibly blunt.

“Wow! What a great friend you are!” you said, rolling your eyes playfully.

Sooyoung straightened up a bit as you focused on making dinner for the two of you. “I’m sorry,” she whined, “it’s not that I don’t care; it’s just that you clearly still care about him. I can’t watch you torture yourself like this. As your friend, I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy!” you shot back defensively.

“Not if all you talk about is your stupid wolf-turned-ex-boyfriend that you miss!” she countered.

“I don’t miss him!” you insisted.

“Do you think about him?” she asked knowingly.

“I do,” you admitted.

“And I have to hear about it all the time, every day, every minute.” she pointed out.

“I'm sorry.” You cringed.

“Why don’t you just go see him? Just once, for closure,” she added, trying to be convincing.

“But what if he’s moved on?” The thought plagued you, an echo in your mind. “He hasn’t come to see me at all.”

“He has his reasons, just as you’ve had yours,” she reminded you. You considered this as you took the dinner off the stove and plated it.

“Let’s just eat,” you said, setting the conversation aside for now. 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You could feel eyes on you from the moment you woke from your slumber. The scent was unmistakably his—Haechan. Rising from your grave, you sensed his presence pulling away, retreating into the nearby woods. You knew you should let him go, but you couldn’t. Sooyoung was right; maybe you needed closure.

You followed him. His figure dashed gracefully through the undergrowth, and moonlight danced off his ash-grey fur, illuminating the way. He eventually led you into a clearing, where the moon cast a spotlight on him before he turned to face you. With a shake of his fur, he began the transformation you had seen so many times before. It unsettled you how his bones shifted and reshaped, until he stood before you—bare and vulnerable, yet undeniably Haechan.

“Why are you here?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I missed you,” he replied, his eyes earnest.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I needed to see you,” he said, dismissing your warning. “I never stopped thinking about you.”

“That's enough!” you yelled, emotions welling up inside you.

“I know you’ve been asking Mark about me. I know you still love me,” he said, stepping closer.

“Stay away from me!” you shouted. If he came any closer…

“That’s why you followed me here. Admit it,” he pushed, standing a breath away. He searched your eyes, as if looking for the truth that lay hidden in your heart. “Admit it.”  He says almost like he's trying to convince himself as well.

You didn’t stop him when his lips met yours. It was a desperate kiss, and you found yourself kissing him back instinctively. His hands found their way around your waist, pulling you tight against his chest, as if he feared you would slip away again. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him just as tightly. But before he could deepen the kiss, you pulled away suddenly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, brows furrowed as he reached out to pull you back into his embrace.

“You know what's wrong.” you managed to say, your mind racing. “We can’t.”

Haechan ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “What’s your issue?! I can see it all over your face. You still love me; why are you fighting it? What are you so afraid of?”

“Losing you!” you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks as you finally let the walls come crashing down. “You’re so damn stupid!” You closed the distance once more, pounding your fists against his chest. “Why couldn’t you just stay away?” 

He let you unleash your anger, waiting patiently until you had calmed down. Then, he wrapped you in his arms again, grounding you as your knees wobbled. You buried your face in his chest with a sob.

Haechan wasn't as ignorant as he was in the past. He knew the history between werewolves and vampires but eons of bad blood wasn't enough to keep him from you. He was fully aware of the dangers that came with being with you but he would rather die fighting for you than to do nothing at all. 

Vampires had a long history of hunting werewolves. They were the only creature that could rival their speed and strength. It was a sport, a display of dominance, to show that they were the apex predator. Treaties were signed but broken, territories marked, and warnings sent. Vampires and werewolves had learned that the best way to keep the peace was to stay far apart from one another. Most city vampires were progressive, they partied with elves, drank with werewolves, and got high off pixie dust. They mingled across species, but such alliances were frowned upon by the more traditional clans. Any love across species was seen as a betrayal, deserving of the fiercest punishment—blood spilled in the name of ancient grudges. You could be branded a traitor just for showing kindness to a werewolf.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, and you won’t let anything happen to me. We were together when I was human, and that was probably more dangerous,” he pointed out.

“I know, and I was selfish,” you admitted.

“Well, now it’s my turn to be selfish. Just let me see you,” he said earnestly.

“This is not a good idea,” you warned, but his pleading gaze softened your resolve.

He must have sensed your wavering will, as he pulled out the puppy-dog eyes. “Please,” he begged.

“Fine,” you said with an exaggerated roll of your eyes.

Just as he was about to celebrate and pull you into another kiss, you raised a finger to his lips. “But that doesn’t mean we’re dating! And the moment your pack finds out about this…” You gestured between the two of you with your free hand, “whatever this is, it’s done.”

“Deal,” he mumbled against your finger before you pulled it away.

You turned to walk away, glancing back over your shoulder before disappearing behind the trees. Haechan stood there, wearing the dopiest smile you had ever seen. “Stop looking at my ass, Haechan. Go home!” you shouted.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You and Haechan had been stealing moments together ever since that night. You found eachother in the dark corners of clubs, had picnics on abandoned rooftops under the moon, and shared intimate conversations beneath the ancient canopy of trees in the depths of the forest

Tonight you texted Haechan to meet you at an abandoned amusement park in the next city over. It took a few hours to run there, but you loved the freedom of it—being stuck in a car always felt so suffocating.  When you arrived you settled into one of the old, rusted teacups.  You heard rustling from the trees behind you and Haechan emerged in his wolf form, a backpack clamped between his teeth. When he shifted back to his human form, you instinctively looked away. The brief glimpse of his bare skin sent your mind racing with thoughts that definitely crossed the line of friendship. You reminded yourself for the hundredth time that you were just friends and friends don’t think about their friends like that. The sound of him unzipping his backpack and rummaging through clothes broke your train of thought as he started getting dressed.

“You can turn around now, darling,” he said, his voice teasing.

You hopped out of the teacup and ran right into him, relief washing over you. You’d missed him so much, and honestly, you didn’t even care that he smelled like a puppy—you buried your face in his neck.

“Hey hey, watch those teeth,” he joked.

You pulled away and playfully shoved him. “Shut up,” you said, rolling your eyes. “How have you been?”

“Terrible. We took in a stray recently,” he replied, a hint of irritation in his voice. “His name’s Jisung. We found him while traveling. Total troublemaker, so they dumped him on me. Ugh, he’s been giving me a headache! I was lucky to sneak away tonight.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” you said, your voice playful as you both started to walk deeper into the amusement park. 

“No way! I was not like that! He’s just so moody sometimes, such a teenager,” Haechan replied, shaking his head.

“I forgot, you had a valid reason for being so angsty.”

“Yeah, she’s standing right in front of me,” he said, then playfully tickled your sides, making you giggle.

You and Haechan were in a good place now, able to joke about the past without any hard feelings. You cherished these moments together and loved being with him.

“How did you find this place anyway?” he asked as you passed a distorted funhouse, a shiver running down his spine. “It’s creepy.”

“Is my puppy scared?” you mocked.

“I’m not scared!” he insisted with an annoyed tilt of his head.

You skipped a few steps ahead before turning around to face him. “Oh yeah? And what if I just left you right here?”

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Very funny, but I’m faster than you now.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenged.

“Yeah.” He says confidently. 

“Race you to the top of the Ferris wheel then!” you exclaimed and took off.

You sprinted toward the Ferris wheel on the other side of the park, Haechan hot on your heels. As you dashed past a few booths, you grabbed some old, soggy plushies and hurled them at him.

“That’s so gross!” he yelled, dodging them with ease.

Determined to leave him in the dust, you picked up speed. You leaped over old concession carts and swung through the spider ride, with its twisting central column and spinning arms. With a laugh, you propelled yourself off its arms, feeling the rush of adrenaline. Haechan dropped down onto the car behind you before launching himself off to chase you.

“Catch up, slowpoke!” you called, glancing back as the Ferris wheel loomed closer.

Tension built in your legs, and you sprang forward, grabbing one of the metal bars of the ride and climbing higher. It was massive, and when you looked down, you were surprised to see Haechan close behind, springing off each bar with the agility of a cat. You swung from bar to bar, pulling yourself up and up. There was a car waiting at the top, and that was your goal.

As you climbed, you glanced down to gauge how far Haechan was, but he was suddenly nowhere to be seen. You froze for a moment, scanning the ride. 

Your breath caught—though you didn't technically need to breathe, the habit was hard to shake. From this height, he could’ve easily fallen and gotten hurt. Werewolves were resilient, but they weren't immortal. They could almost live forever with how slowly they aged, as long as they weren’t mortally wounded. 

“HAECHAN!” you called out worriedly. “THIS ISN'T FUNNY! WHERE ARE YOU?” Your voice echoed in the stillness of the night.

Just then, a laugh rang out. “Who’s scared now?” He called down to you from the passenger car at the very top.

A wave of relief washed over you. In no time, you reached the top and stood on the outerrail of the car while he lounged in the seat. The sides of the car weren't enclosed, allowing you to lean in and meet his gaze with a glare. “I thought you fell!” You grumbled.

“Sorry, babe. Couldn't let you win,” he said, patting the seat next to him. “Sit down.”

You ambled into the car and sat down across from him. “Don’t be mad,” he smiled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Come sit by me.”

You uncrossed your arms, giving up the act; it had been too long since you last saw him. You slid over, the seat snug but cozy enough for both of you. It was probably intended for moments like this—everyone knew that when you reached the top of the Ferris wheel you were supposed to kiss.

He nudged you playfully, and you met his gaze. “I was counting down the days until I saw you again,” he confessed softly.

You returned his smile, warmth blooming in your chest. “I missed you too.” He took your hand in his and pressed a gentle kiss to your palm, his lips lingering longer than necessary before he pulled away.

He intertwined your fingers and looked up to the night sky. “You can see The Great Bear from here,” he remarked.

Following his gaze, you noted how Ursa Major shone brightly against the dark canvas of the sky. “Have I ever told you the story behind that constellation?” you asked, curiosity flickering in his eyes as he shook his head.

With a grin, you turned to him, relishing the moment. “In Greek mythology, Zeus once fell in love with a nymph named Callisto. When his wife Hera found out, she turned her into a bear.”

“Sounds like something you would do,” Haechan snickered.

“Except I would turn you into the bear,” you elbowed him playfully.

“Oww!” he laughed, rubbing his side dramatically.

A comfortable silence settled around you as you enjoyed each other’s company. Leaning against him, you closed your eyes, letting the peaceful moment wash over you.

“I love you,” he whispered, a soft vulnerability in his voice. Sitting up, you looked at him, his expression revealing that he was about to say something that he shouldn’t. You could see the longing in his eyes, how he yearned for you. He still wanted more.

Before he could voice his feelings, before he could reopen the wounds you both had worked so hard to heal, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his. The kiss was electric, you knew you couldn’t say it out loud so you put all your love and heartache into the kiss.

His hands held the sides of your face firmly, anchoring you in place as he refused to let you pull away. With a fervor you had almost forgotten, he deepened the kiss, a low moan escaping him as your tongues danced together. It was a sound so full of desire it sent heat pooling low in your belly. You couldn't help the slickness that dripped into your underwear.

You found yourself whining into his mouth, and the low growl that rumbled from his chest only encouraged you further. You fought to maintain control, willing your hands to stay in your lap. You knew the moment you touched him you wouldn’t let him go. 

His fingers found their way to your waist and pulled you onto his lap. Your hands scramble to grip onto the rail behind him. The car swayed wildly with the motion of your bodies. A part of you tried to speak, to remind him that this was dangerous but he only pulled you back into the searing kiss in response. You didn’t complain when he started grinding you down against him, you had forgotten how well you fit together. You could feel his hard length pressed against you, and the realization made your head swim. You hadn't been touched like this in what felt like an eternity, and the sensation was overwhelming.

His hands began to roam your body, mapping out every curve. When he cupped your breast, a soft moan escaped your lips making him shudder. The world around you disappeared, and all that mattered was the way his hands trailed down your waist, gripping your ass possessively. The way his hips began to thrust up in desperation had you seeing stars. He held you there, utterly lost in the way you felt pressed against him. You gripped the railing tighter, your fingers bending the metal beneath your grasp. You had to stay in control.

You managed to whisper a single word against his lips, "fuck." His hand had trailed under your shirt, sending shivers of delight down your spine. But as much as you wanted to continue, the way the passenger cart was creaking was starting to worry you. You pulled away, using your strength to push his chest. You had him pinned, his back against the seat. For a fleeting moment, his eyes flashed a deeper shade of red, a hint of a growl forming on his lips, raw desire evident in his gaze.

You stood your ground, a playful smirk on your face. "Down, boy," you said with a raised eyebrow.

"This thing is old, it's too dangerous to stay up here. Come on, we need to get down," you said firmly, the reality of the situation snapping him back to attention.

“Alright, alright, I get it,” he replied, trying to mask his frustration with a hint of amusement. 

You sit still in haechans lap until the cart stops moving. When the cart slowly ceased its swaying you sighed in relief, grateful that the groaning of the rusted cart had silenced. However, just as you began to relax, a sudden crash startled you—the door fell off its hinges, clattering loudly as it hit everything in its path on its way down to the ground.

You jumped at the sound, heart racing, and exchanged a panicked look with Haechan. The spell of the previous excitement diminished, and you both burst into laughter.

“See what I mean?” he said. “This place is a death trap!”

“Yeah, but it’s kind of thrilling, don’t you think? A little dangerous excitement?” 

"You're crazy," he teased, helping you off his lap as you two made your way down.

“You loved every second of it.” 

You made it to the ground safely, and as you turned to Haechan, curiosity etched on your face, "Hey, have you presented yet?" you asked. As a golden-eyed wolf, Haechan held a neutral status, but it was possible for his eye color to shift to either red or blue once he presented - red for an alpha, blue for an omega.

He looked at you with a questioning expression, "No, why?" he asked.

You teased, "No reason, I just thought it would be cute if your eyes matched mine."

“Ah, like a couple's item,” he said, a grin breaking across his face.

“More like a friendship bracelet,” you corrected.

“Or like matching wedding rings,” he countered, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Like matching t-shirts,” you playfully curved him again.

His expression shifted slightly, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “You want me to be your alpha, is that it? Want me to dominate you?” His words hung in the air, full of just the right amount of flirtation.

You knew he was joking, but the way he said it stirred something deep within you. 

Desperate to regain your composure, you shot him a playful glare, trying to mask your reaction. "Very funny, Haechan," you replied, rolling your eyes, though the grin tugging at your lips betrayed you. The tension between you was thick, a swirl of playful teasing and underlying desire, and you both seemed acutely aware of it.

“Just imagine it,” he continued, leaning closer with mock seriousness. “Matched for life. You, me, and our golden-eyed offspring.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Keep dreaming.” Even though you tried to shake off the feeling, you could sense your face getting hot. 

 Noticing your reaction, Haechan's eyes crinkled at the corners, and he looked at you with a pleased smile. “Oh? You like that idea, huh.” He teases.

You stalked off, leaving him to follow beside you with a knowing smirk. "Shut up or I will kill you," you threatened, trying to mask your emotions.

"That's against the rules, you know that, babe," he tuts.  "Besides, I'd like to see you try. You vampires aren't so scary, you know."

"Another challenge? You don't get sick of losing, do you?"

"I won the first one," he shot back, a flicker of pride in his voice.

"I let you win," you replied.

A fire ignited behind his eyes. "You did not let me win."

"If that's what helps you sleep at night," you teased, pushing all the right buttons to rile him up. He was super competitive so it was easy.

He leaned in closer, the intensity of his gaze sending shivers down your spine. "Okay, fine, you wanna play like that? I got a game for you. We have a few more hours before sunrise. You down?" The devilish smile on his face was one you knew better than to trust.

"Depends on what it is," you replied, crossing your arms defiantly.

"You think you’re faster and stronger than me, so let's put it to the test," he proposed, his grin broadening. "If I manage to rip your shirt off, I win. If you can evade me for a full hour, you win. Like that running man show we always watched." 

Your jaw dropped in disbelief. "What the hell? You just want to take my shirt off!" you argued.

"Then you better not let me catch you," he shrugged.

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide the challenge that sparked within you. "Fine, it will be fun knocking you down a few pegs anyway." 

He gave you a minute head start, and without hesitation, you took off, the ground fading beneath your feet as you covered hundreds of yards in no time. The scent of pine and damp earth filled your senses, and with every stride, you pushed yourself to create as much distance as possible.

But even with your impressive speed, you knew you couldn’t hide your scent from him; the bloodhound instincts of a wolf would always lead him straight to you. You would have to rely on your speed if you wanted to win, there was no point in hiding. You listened intently to the sounds of the night, and soon enough, the heavy gait of Haechan, now in his wolf form, reached your ears. He was fast, closing the gap between you with each passing second. You continue running. You fly through the trees, running, jumping and swinging between the branches. You propelled yourself farther and farther, you had been running at full speed for 30 minutes just to keep him off your heels and it was starting to annoy you how easily he was able to keep up. You had 30 more minutes and you were sick of running. You had to outsmart him if you wanted to win.

With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you decided to lead him to the place where you knew you could gain the upper hand: the fun house. You had been there before, giggling and disoriented off pixie dust during a fairy rave.You got trapped in the funhouse for hours. 

You circled back, running until you were back at the amusement park. The giant tattered circus tent of the fun house comes into view and you look behind your shoulder to make sure Haechan was following. He was close, a few yards back. 

As you rounded the corner into the funhouse, you felt a surge of confidence. With your last burst of energy, you darted through the maze of mirrors, instinctively weaving and dodging obstacles while leaving your scent against every reflective surface. The idea was solid; if you covered the place with your scent, he wouldn’t be able to pinpoint where you were. You hid at the end and waited.

A soft growl echoed through the maze, and the sound of Haechan's frustration made you suppress a giggle. When he entered the mirror maze, it was as if the walls began to close around him, reflecting his struggling figure infinitely. You could hear him bumping into the mirrored walls and howling in annoyance. He's about half way through when he gives up and decides he wants to go back before he realizes he can't. He's too deep inside now and he's stuck. 

“Stuck already, big bad wolf?” you thought, grinning to yourself.

He lets out a howl when he bumps into another mirror. You have to hold in your laughter. Time began to slip away, and after about twenty minutes of him navigating the maze, he finally broke through to the exit. 

When he finds you waiting at the exit he speeds towards you. You curse under your breath, you only had a few minutes left now but you couldn't outrun him. You're able to get back to the forest, hoping the natural obstacles of trees and bushes might buy you the time you need but it doesn't. 

He charged at you, and with a yelp, he tackled you to the ground. You laughed uncontrollably when he shifted back to human, completely naked and utterly unbothered by his state.

The forest floor was cool beneath your back, the damp moss pressing into your skin as you struggled against him. It was chaos, a tangle of limbs and breathless laughter, one moment he was on top, and the next, you had somehow reversed your positions. The thrill of victory rushed through you as you caught his hands, using your strength to roll him onto his back while you straddle his waist.

A triumphant smile spread across your face as you taunted him, “Give it up. Only a minute left.”

His lips curled into a sly smirk, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. “I’m letting you win,” he insisted, echoing your earlier words with a gleam of defiance in his eyes. 

You leaned down, your hair brushing against his cheeks as you whispered in his ear, “Oh, is that why you’re under me? What happened to dominating me?”

 His gaze flickered, a flash of something feral erupting within their depths. Before you could react, he was moving—too fast, too strong. In an instant, he flipped you onto your back, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand. The other tore at your shirt, you gasped as he ripped your shirt from your body.

“Not so tough now are you?” he says, his smirk widening.  But there's a flicker of something else in his eyes as they roam down to your chest. “Looks like I win.” His voice drifts away, leaving a thick silence between you. 

You lie beneath him in the tatters of your shirt, your bra and a pair of low-rise skinny jeans. You can’t help but notice how hard he’s becoming against you. Your gaze trails over his exposed skin and lingering on the hard lines of his muscles until they reach his length. You bite your lip at how red the tip of his dick was. 

“I guess you did win,” you breathe out, your voice heavy with tension. You can see the conflict in his eyes, the raw effort it takes for him to hold himself back. “But I think a victory like this deserves a prize.”

And then his mouth was on yours, fierce and demanding, stealing the air from your lungs. You moaned into the kiss, your hands tangling in his hair as he pressed his body against yours. Twigs and leaves tangle in your hair but you didn’t care. You needed him—needed this—more than anything. He broke the kiss abruptly to undress you, his lips trailing down your neck, teeth grazing your collarbone before sinking in just enough to make you gasp. A shiver ran down your spine as his claws pricked at your skin, trailing down your side before retracting, leaving only the warmth of his palm groping your breast roughly.

“Haechan,” you whimpered, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer.

He breathed you in deeply. “I could smell you,” he murmured, his voice raspy. “The moment you saw me, I could smell how much you wanted me. But you always want to play the good girl, don’t you? The rule-follower.” His lips found your ear, teeth nipping at the lobe as he added, “Want to act like you don’t like me… but look at you now.”

You whined again, your nails digging into his shoulders as his mouth moved lower, kissing, licking, biting—claiming every inch of your body as his. He wasn’t gentle, but you didn’t want him to be. His tongue traced the curve of your breast, sucking and teasing until you were writhing beneath him, begging for more.

He trails his kisses down your body until his head is between your thighs. He lifts your legs over his shoulders and got comfortable. You see it for certain this time, his eyes glow crimson. His gaze stays locked on you the entire time as he works his tongue between your folds, collecting your slick and slurping noisily on your juices. He sucks ruthlessly at your clit and you're no match for his strength when you try to close your legs around his head. His claws dig into the skin of your thighs as he holds you open. His tongue is so slick and he's basically drooling as he devours you. The entire lower half of his face is soaked. You throw your head back in pleasure and claw at the ground beside you. 

“Yes Haechan!” You moaned as your hips kicked up and grind against his tongue. You chase your release unashamed. 

You were always weak to his touch but there was something about him now that just made you want to submit to his every order. 

When he sat up, plunging two fingers deep inside you, you rode your high out on his fingers, your legs trembling with the force of your release. You lay there, spent and shuddering. Your legs are shaking pathetically when he sits up. The moon behind him shines its light down on him. He obscures the view enough for it to look like a halo above his head. 

The red in his eyes is nothing but devilish as he licks his lips. “Turn over.” He commands. 

You didn’t hesitate, rolling onto your hands and knees as he positioned himself behind you. His hands gripped your hips, claws pricking at your skin as he pulled you back against him. 

He was everywhere—his hands gripping your hips, your hair, your throat—filling you completely, stretching you in ways that made your vision blur. Each thrust was punishing, driving the air from your lungs and drawing a symphony of moans and gasps from your lips. You were certain he would have broken you if you were human.

This was exactly what you had needed. You liked it rough, and in the past, while Haechan did his best to indulge you, he was afraid of hurting you. He didn't know you were a vampire; he didn’t know you could take it.

You could feel the same doubt begin to cloud his judgment as his touch became lighter and his thrusts shallower as he noticed just how rough he had been. In a sudden surge of frustration, you whipped your head back, baring your fangs to make it unmistakably clear what you were and what you could handle. “Do I need to remind you of what I am?” you hissed, your voice low and thick with desire. “Don’t hold back.”

The last remnants of his control snap, and he thrusts into you roughly. A heavy hand pushes your skull down into the damp moss while the other maintains the perfect arch in your back, elevating your hips as he fucks into you. Your eyes roll back, lost in pleasure as he mounts you, his hips snapping relentlessly against you over and over again.

His grip tightens, pulling you back to meet each primal thrust. He was treating you like a rag doll, and you loved every minute of it. It hurt good, the pain reminding you of what it felt like to be alive. 

With a fierce handful of your hair, he pulls you up, leaning down to press hot, wet kisses against the side of your mouth. His grip moves from your hair to your neck, his fingers constricting around your throat choking you. You smile up at him, your expression wild and hungry as he takes you. 

He was so deep, you could feel the delicious ache of him inside you, as if he were going to tear you apart. You haven't been to recharge so you know that the marks he left wouldn’t fade immediately. You wanted to admire the bruises on your skin for days, to remember him long after he had pulled away.

You don’t think there’s a single coherent thought behind his eyes, just a primal urge to stuff you full. He’s mumbling into your shoulder, biting the skin there before sinking his teeth in, and you whine, clenching down hard around him. His eyes roll back in ecstasy as he releases deep inside you, his body seemingly on autopilot, his hips continuing to thrust rhythmically as if driven by instinct. He pushes deeper and deeper, fucking you until the mixture of your combined release seeps out around his thick cock. With a violent shudder, you cum so hard your cunt pushes him out momentarily but he’s back inside you in seconds, helping you ride your high.

“Stupid puppy, fucked himself dumb?” you tease with a smile.

He's too far gone to register your insult. He pulls out, flipping you onto your side, sliding himself in between your legs, straddling one while throwing the other over his shoulder. He grips your thigh tightly and fucks into you again, still impossibly hard. You could never get enough of him. He hugs your leg as he thrusts, and you reach down, circling your clit, the pressure building again as his breath comes out in ragged gasps.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so fucking good. I don’t think I can stop. Please, don’t make me stop,” he whines, the desperation in his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You pull him down to connect your lips. The kiss is raw and hungry, filled with teeth as you try to kiss him but every thrust that jolts your body upward makes it difficult. You could feel yourself growing closer and you cum again, soaking his length even more. He follows soon after, burying himself deep within you as he releases his hot cum, his body twitching with the force of his release.

Hours slip by in the haze of pleasure, the sun beginning to rise by the time he finally pulls out. He’s out cold, and the fangs and claws that once decorated him are nowhere to be seen; he looks entirely human now, vulnerable and peaceful.

Whatever power he had, he’s completely drained himself of it. You’re spent too, but you gather just enough strength to stand. The sun is creeping higher and you have to get home before it fully rises, or you risk losing the last remnants of energy you have left to make the run. You consider waking him to say goodbye but he looks too peaceful. You prayed he would understand your reasoning.

Ultimately, you slip away, making it home just before the sun breaks the horizon.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The past couple of weeks have left you feeling rejuvenated, like there’s a hidden spring in your step that wasn’t there before. Sooyoung, your ever-observant best friend, quickly pieces things together. You haven't mentioned your encounter with Haechan at the amusement park yet—mostly because you know she would freak out and bombard you with a million questions. Honestly, you didn’t need your best friend knowing just how much of a slut you were for your self-proclaimed mortal enemy.

Sooyoung's knowing smile has been ever-present, and you glare at her from across the couch while she takes a sip from her coffee mug. “What?” you ask, feigning annoyance.

“Nothing. Nothing,” she replies, her eyes flickering back to the movie, but you can sense her amusement. A few moments pass, and, unable to contain her excitement, her gaze shifts back to you, her smile widening. 

“Okay, seriously, what is it?” you exclaim, shoving her playfully.

Sooyoung shrugs, taking a long sip before speaking. “That’s a nice mark you’ve got there on your shoulder. Who’d you get that from?” she asks pointedly.

Your expression falters as you realize that your shirt has slid off your shoulder, revealing the bruise he left behind, the one you had tried to cover with makeup. You curse under your breath.

“No need to be ashamed, girl. I knew the day was coming sooner or later!” she laughs. “But if you think you’re leaving without telling me what happened, you’re high off pixie dust.”

You bite your lip, a smile breaking through. Before you know it, you’re giggling and screaming, overwhelmed with excitement. Sooyoung smacks you lightly on the arm, her own laughter ringing out. “No way, tell me! He got you kicking your feet like that?”

You spill everything that happened and by the end of it, Sooyoung is standing up from the couch. “We need to go out! He broke your dry spell, this calls for a celebration!”

You playfully smack her on the butt as she turns toward the remote to switch off the TV. “Shut up,” you laugh.

You can hear the bass thumping even before you step into the old, abandoned church. City vampires know how to throw the best raves, and you’re not surprised to see half of the city’s paranormal packed inside. 

Sooyoung drops her cloak, her wings unfurling gracefully across her back as she shrinks down a few sizes. At parties like this, no one bothers to cloak. Within the weathered walls of the church, every supernatural creature is free to shed their human facades and embrace their true forms. You allow your eyes to gleam a deep crimson, fangs brushing your bottom lip as you lose yourself to the pulsating rhythm of the music. 

Hours slip by before you even realize it. The music here is enchanted—not so overwhelming that it would keep you dancing to the brink of exhaustion, but just enough to carry good vibes throughout the crowd. It also amplifies the high from the pixie dust, ensuring that everyone who joins in the dance has a good trip.

“I'm gonna go find a pixie! Want to come?” Sooyoung asks over the pulsating beats.

“Nah, I’m good,” you say, waving her off. She nods and heads off into the crowd while you make your way out back to get some fresh air.

Stepping outside, you spot a few couples making out against the building while others drift in quiet conversation. One familiar figure catches your eye. Jeno was leaning against a tree smiling at something on his phone.

Curiosity piqued, you walked up to him. “What are you doing here?” you ask.

“Looking after my pack. Why are you bothering me?” he replies, not bothering to look up.

“Just making small talk, you infuriating mutt,” you roll your eyes.

“Your boyfriend’s also a mutt, so how’s that make you feel?” He shoots back.

You glare at him, feeling a pang of irritation. “He’s not my boyfriend anymore,” you snap, afraid the wrong crowd might overhear.

“Right, that’s too bad,” he smirks, finally looking at you.

“And why is that?” you grit your teeth.

“You didn’t know? He presented. He’ll be going into rutt soon and he’s gonna need a mate if he wants to survive it.”

Your stomach drops. You didn’t need to ask what he presented as, it was obvious.

“You know, my dad’s been trying to find someone compatible with him.” Jeno says, an edge of satisfaction in his tone.

“And that’s probably going as well as it did for you,” you shot back. “Your sorry self is still alone. What, are you jealous that you'll have to jerk it solo during your rutt?” Venom laced your words.

Jeno’s smile grows wider, and he knows he's hit a nerve. “Don’t be too sad when he stops coming around. I warned you,” he says, shoulder checking you and heading back into the party.

You felt sick. If what jeno said was true Haechan would be looking for a mate to satisfy his rutt. Just like that your world crashes down around you. You go back inside and look for Sooyoung. When you finally locate her, it’s in the storage room, where she’s wrapped up in a makeout session with Renjun, a pixie you recognize as her casual fling.

“We need to go,” you insist, cutting right through their moment.

Renjun pressed a lingering kiss to her neck as she glanced past him at you, surprise flickering across her face. “Aww, but it was just getting fun,” she pouted.

“Well, I’m heading home,” you state flatly. “I don’t feel good.” Without waiting for her to pull herself from Renjun's embrace, you race home

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

It had been days since you heard from Haechan; he wasn’t answering your texts or returning your calls. It was rare for him to be home anymore, so you weren’t surprised to find his place empty when you went to check on him. Had his rutt already begun? You cringed at the thought and quickly shook it from your mind. If he were in rutt, they would have found him someone to lay with by now.

You realized that constantly thinking about him was driving you crazy. You needed a distraction. You left your home and headed to the library, but all you could think about were those late nights helping him study within those four walls. You decided to visit Sooyoung, hoping she could take your mind off things, but  she had taken too much pixie dust at the last party and was still coming down from the high. 

There was only one place you knew where you could silence your thoughts. You needed to recharge. Maybe if you slept long enough, you could forget about what Jeno had told you, maybe even forget about Haechan.

It wasn’t until you reached the cemetery that you realized tonight was a full moon. If Haechan had truly gone into rutt, it would officially begin tonight. A wave of bloodlust washed over you as tormenting images of Haechan with someone else flooded your mind. Maybe he was right; perhaps you and Hera did share some traits after all.

You could become deadly when you were jealous.

You locked yourself in your coffin, fighting the urge to storm into werewolf territory and tear them all apart. They weren’t the only ones who became stronger under a full moon.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The lid of your casket slid open, and when you locked eyes with the person who dared to interrupt your sleep, a primal urge to rip his throat out surged through you.

“Whoa, whoa! Hey, wait!” Mark shouted, jumping back several feet. You rose from your coffin, the scent surrounding you immediately igniting a rage.

The last thing you wanted to smell upon waking up was mutt.

“What the hell are you doing in my territory?” you snapped, your voice icy cold. “This breaks the treaty, and I have free rein to murder all of you.”

You scanned the graveyard, spotting Ten, Johnny, and Yangyang standing several yards away. Jeno and Jaehyun were closer, but not close enough to be within your reach, unlike Mark—who was either brave or incredibly stupid for waking you.

“Guys, I told you this was a bad idea,” Mark whined.

“She likes you the most; she would have killed me already if I'd woken her up,” Jeno replied, arms crossed.

“You have five seconds to explain what’s going on before I use your hide to make myself a coat,” you threatened, your patience wearing thin.

“It’s Haechan! He needs you!” Mark exclaimed, hands raised defensively.

You dropped your guard. “What? What happened?” You asked, stalking closer and gripping him by the front of his shirt.

“He’s in rutt. We tried to find him a partner to help him through it, but he refused. He’s getting more and more agitated as the days pass, and usually, the rutt would be dying down by now, but it isn’t,” Mark huffed, worry etched on his face as he recalled the events.

That idiot—what did he think he was doing?

“Dad thinks he’ll drive himself insane if he keeps refusing his urges,” Jeno butts in.

“How long has he been like that?” you demanded.

“Three days,” Jaehyun spoke up. “As much as we don’t like it, he’s our brother, and we can’t lose him. You need to go to him.”

“You waited three days to find me?” you yelled, incredulous.

“We thought he would break eventually, but now he just becomes aggressive if an omega tries to come near him,” Johnny explained, cautiously stepping closer now that he was certain you wouldn’t try to kill anyone.

“Well, let’s go,” you said, preparing to run off, until Jeno stepped in front of you. “If you like your head being on your shoulders, I’d move.” 

“Are you sure you’re ready for this? If he hurts you, he’ll never forgive us for bringing you to him in this condition,” Jeno continued, his concern evident.

You flashed him a confident smile. “Fully charged.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

This time, when you crossed into werewolf territory, the atmosphere was far less hostile. Jeno and Jaehyun led the way and eventually brought you into a secluded room where a heavy door stood, carved with symbols that seemed to pulse with a life of their own. You could feel the whispers of magic, familiar and foreign all at once. To the side, a hidden passageway led down a narrow set of stairs, the faint echo of your footsteps reverberating off the stone walls as you descended.

“You’ve been keeping him locked up underground?” you questioned, a wave of memories from your past life flashing before your eyes. 

“This is where we all go during the first rut. It can be dangerous,” Jaehyun explained. “The same goes for newly turned werewolves. If they can’t find control, the only way to keep everyone safe is to let them weather the storm down here.”

You finally reached a door at the end of the hallway. Jaehyun paused, the concern etched on his face deepening. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m not scared, if that’s what you’re asking,” you replied, rolling your eyes.

“Well, we’ll be out here if you need us. Just yell,” Jeno said. He handed you a key, it's cold metal feeling heavy in your palm.

The door loomed before you, heavy and imposing, its surface cool to the touch as you reached for the handle. You stepped into the room, and your heart sank at the sight of Haechan. He was lying on the bed, shackled to the floor, but the chains were long enough to allow him some space to move around. 

His red eyes snapped to you the moment you entered, studying your figure in the middle of the room. He was barely dressed, clad in nothing but a pair of briefs, and the covers beneath him were shredded to pieces. The remnants of furniture lay scattered around, completely demolished, and the walls bore deep, angry scars. Some looked like old wounds, while others appeared fresh, no doubt done by Haechan.

A sheen of sweat coated his tan skin, his hair matted to his forehead. Before you could process it, he was in front of you, moving faster than you’d ever seen him. If you had been any closer, he might have reached out to grab you. He thrashed against his restraints, hands straining towards you in desperation.

You weren’t afraid; there was no hesitation as you stepped into his embrace.

He pulls you close against his chest, his grip possessive and strong. He was burning like a furnace against you. “I missed you,” he murmurs, his voice low and almost unrecognizable. “I’ve been waiting, holding on for you.” You can feel his arousal pressing stiff against your stomach. Your body reacts immediately to him, your nipples harden and you can feel yourself getting wet.

“It’s okay, let go,” you reassure him, using the key Jeno had given you earlier to unbind him. “I trust you.”

As the last of his shackles clatter to the floor, he lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he slams you against the nearest wall. He bites your lip before he rips your shirt down the middle, pulling away just enough to attach his mouth to one of your breasts, his other hand eagerly exploring your body. He humps at your leg pathetically, dragging his cock over the rough fabric of your jeans.

You fumble with your pants, realizing too late that you should have chosen something with easier access. His patience wears thin, and with a flash of claws, he impatiently rips the crotch from your jeans. The cold air immediately hits your wet core, and Haechan inhales deeply. He drops to his knees in seconds, shoving his nose deep in your cunt, he wanted to drown in your scent.

“Haechan,” you gasp, instinctively pushing his head away.

One of his hands grips both your wrists tightly, pinning them against your lower stomach as he leans in closer, inhaling your scent like it’s the sweetest perfume. You glance down to find him stroking himself, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

He buries his face deeper, forcing his tongue between your legs. You can feel the tip of his tongue prod at the tight rim of your asshole. Heat rushes to your face as you try to close your thighs, but he pulls back only to bite your thigh in warning.

“Don’t fight me. You’re going to lose,” he huffs.

You shiver at his command, surrendering as you throw a leg over his shoulder. He instantly resets his focus, lapping at you while moaning in appreciation. 

“God,” he exhales, the muscles in his arms straining as he grips himself tighter, strokes growing rough and desperate. His eyes screw shut in frustration. “Not enough, I need you.” 

He manhandles you, turning you to face the wall and pressing you firmly against it. Your jeans cling uncomfortably to your skin as he grips your hips tightly. In one deep thrust, he’s inside you, and it feels like he’s rearranging your guts. He feels different from before—thicker—and you can’t help but rise onto your tiptoes with every deep thrust. You brace yourself against the wall, palms flat against the surface.

“You don’t know how bad I wished you were here. I needed you,” he grunts. His thrusts grow more aggressive. “Where the hell were you? Huh?” His grip tightens in your hair, forcing you to look back at him.

You whimper, brain fogging as he stretches you open. “I’m here, Haechan. I’ll always be right here.

You feel the familiar heat building within you, and his fingers find your clit, rubbing in tight circles. “That’s right, baby. Give it to me.”

You come hard and he pulls out, dropping to his knees to lick deep inside you as he ate you out from the back. He wanted to taste every last drop of you and you would let him suck you dry.

You don't realize he's thrown you on the bed until you're staring at the ceiling, the tattered sheets beneath you. He crawls towards you, like a predator about to catch his prey. Gripping your ankle, he pulls you closer, ripping your pants off.  When he kisses you, you can taste yourself on his lips. 

He sinks back into you, and you wrap your legs around his waist, rolling your hips against him, your nails raking down his chest as he takes you. 

“Mmh fuck.” He whines.

His mouth drops open in pleasure and you can tell he appreciates the way your pussy grips him. He looks like hes on cloud nine as he fucks you into the bed. You were exactly what he had been needing these past few days. You grip the hair at the back of his nape and pull. He moans breathlessly and his next thrust is so sharp it knocks you up the bed a few inches.

“Alpha,” you moan.

He grips your thighs, pressing them against your chest, holding you in place as he ravages you. The sound of the bed creaking fills the room with each thrust, the headboard connecting rhythmically with the wall. He doesn’t relent, his hand gripping your chin to make sure you’re looking at him. “Say it again.”

“Alpha!” you scream as he abuses your cunt. 

“You’re mine,” he growls, capturing your lips in a quick messy kiss. “Say it.”

“I'm yours, only yours.”

As he releases his grip on your face, he pulls your hair, making you watch as he thrusts between your legs. “Look at how you take me. So fucking beautiful.” He growls.

He quickened his pace, raw and desperate, and the bed shakes beneath you.

“Shit” you scream.  You dig your nails into his shoulder and take it. You cling to him, your breaths coming in short gasps as pleasure builds low in your belly. His lips find yours again, silencing your moans as he fucks you with an intensity that borders on pain. But it’s perfect—it’s everything you both needed.

You don't even get the chance to warn him when you come around him, clamping down impossibly tight. He fucks you into the mattress, unable to hold back and the bed shakes so forcefully it gives out under you, collapsing to the ground with a loud creak. He doesn’t look up, he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t care.

He buries his face into your neck and chants your name. You could feel him swelling inside of you and he bites down hard onto your shoulder hips stilling as he spills into you. 

He rolls you on top of him but stays buried inside of you. Knotting you to make sure not a drop of his cum spills out. You take a look around the room, your shredded clothes lay haphazardly on the ground and the bed lies in splinters below you. You laugh breathlessly before snuggling closer to him.

“I'm sorry I was so late,” you say. “When they told me you were in rutt I thought you would take someone else.”

“Never. You’re the only one I want. The only one I’ll ever want.”

You smile, tracing patterns on his chest. “Good. Because I’m not sharing.”

He laughs, the sound warm and rich. He looks at peace, his eyes no longer clouded with desperation.

A loud knock echoes through the room.

“Haechan!” Jeno’s voice calls from outside the door. “If you're back to normal We need to talk. Now.”

Your body stiffens at his voice. You had forgotten they were out there.

You feel Haechan’s body stiffen as well, his grip on you tightening. “What is it?” he barks, clearly annoyed at the interruption.

“It’s serious. Dad found out about her being here. He’s ordered everyone to the meeting hall… including her.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

It isn’t until much later that you and Haechan muster the energy to finally roll out of the bed, or what’s left of it. You find yourself dressed in his clothes, feeling a little shy. The walk to the meeting hall is quiet, but Haechan’s hand remains firmly intertwined with yours, offering a sense of strength and support.

At the head of the room stands jeno’s father, the pack leader.

 His eyes shift from Haechan to you, studying you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. You had assumed it was his orders that brought you here, but maybe not.

“You,” he says, his voice low and measured. “Come closer.”

Hesitant, you move forward, Haechan’s hand reluctantly releasing yours. The alpha steps down from his platform, circling you slowly. 

“Do you know,” he begins, stopping in front of you, “how rare it is for a werewolf in rutt to resist an omega’s scent? Even more so for three days?” His tone isn’t accusatory, it’s almost… impressed.

You swallow hard, unsure of how to respond. “I… I didn’t realize…”

“And yet,” he continues, ignoring your stammering, “he endured it. Refused every omega offered to him, tore himself apart fighting his instincts—for you.” He pauses, his gaze piercing. “Do you understand what that means?”

Your breath catches. 

“It means,” he says, his voice softening ever so slightly, “that you mean more to him than anything else. More than his instincts. More than his own survival.” He turns to Haechan, who’s standing rigidly nearby. “Isn’t that right, son?”

Haechan doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.” His voice is steady, unwavering. “She’s mine. And I’m hers.”

The alpha stares at him for a long moment before nodding, almost imperceptibly. Then, he turns back to you. “If one of my sons is willing to endure hell for you, then I can see no reason to stand in the way of this bond. I give you both my blessing.”

The room erupts into murmurs, shock rippling through the pack. But the alpha silences them with a single raised hand. “Anyone who challenges this decision will answer to me directly.” His gaze sweeps across the room, daring anyone to speak against him. No one does.

Haechan steps forward.  “Thank you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

The alpha nods again, his expression unreadable. “Take care of her,” he directs towards Haechan before turning back to you. “And take care of yourself. If this is the path you choose, then make sure you’re strong enough to walk it.”

You nod at him, still in shock as haechan picks you up off the ground in a tight hug.

Mark and Ten approach, clapping Haechan on the back. “Guess you’re part of the pack now,” Ten teases you playfully.

Jeno steps forward too. “Don’t think just because my dad likes you that I do.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around Haechan’s neck. “It will be a cold day in hell before we’re friends.”

“Just ignore him,” Johnny says with a chuckle. “If the chief says so then you’re family. We’ve got your back whether he likes it or not.”

Jaehyun nods in agreement, a reassuring smile on his face. “If anyone tries to come between you two, you can rely on us.”

A smile blooms across your face. All the fear and worry you once carried begins to lift. You felt safe knowing they had your back.  Vampire or werewolf—let them come. You’re not fighting by yourself anymore. 

[haecastor]

i have always loved the opposite pairing partner AND YOU ATE THIS!!! WE LOVE A YEARNER AND WHAT MORE, THE YEARNER IS A WEREWOLF 😋😋

[smileysuh]

princess & kingpin

🌙 starring. Lee Donghyuck x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. Donghyuck might have a reputation to uphold in the darker world he inhabits with his family, but with you, this is Hyuck, the rascal ward who’d stolen your heart when you were children. Right now, he’s not a future Kingpin, nor are you a Princess. Instead, you’re man and wife, and you intend to reap the new benefits these connected titles give you.

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, arranged marriage, virgin!reader, thick dick!Donghyuck, first-time sex, wedding night sex, body worship, wedding garter, fingering, pussy eating, lots of foreplay, pussy stretching, dirty talk, praise, good first-time communication, lots of kissing, gentle/hand holding sex, talks of ‘consummation/duty’, Hyuck uses a knife to cut open her intricate laced wedding gown, etc… I pet names: (hers) Princess.  

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 5.7k

🍭 aus.  Modern royal au, mafia au, childhood friends to lovers, strategically arranged marriage, princess! y/n, future kingpin!Haechan

☀️ mlist + an. i had a field day with the au selection for this one haha

Prologue:

There was never any doubt when Donghyuck was born, that he was his father’s son. He’d come out of the womb punching, and despite his mother being a mistress, the renowned weapons dealer had claimed Donghyuck as his own, as he’d claimed other illegitimate would-be heirs. 

The blood of the mother was redundant in Donghyuck’s father’s eyes, all that mattered, was that he was a Lee. This mentality had stayed with Donghyuck in his early childhood, growing up amongst other half-siblings. Mark, for example, was slightly older, and although he had more of his mother’s gentle temperament, he knew how to live up to his name when it mattered. Jeno, in contrast, was very much another mini-me to their father, very bold, very aggressive. 

When Donghyuck was ten, something happened that would change the entire course of his life. 

Having lived in a corrupt monarchy for the entirety of his existence, and having a father who was somewhat of a Kingpin in the shady world of weapons, Donghyuck grew to have a disdain for the King, who was always meddling, always making choices that had negative effects on his people.

The Lees weren’t the only clan who hated the King, in fact, the head royal’s choices were so bad, that he gained the moniker ‘The Mad King.’ His own family had turned against him, and when he would not willingly relinquish his power it was decided that for the first time in a very long time, an internal assassination would be the best choice for the entire realm.

When Donghyck was ten, his eldest half-brother, Lee Taeyong, assassinated The Mad King, thus making way for the thrown to be usurped by the King’s own younger brother, a younger brother who now had ties, and a debt to settle, with Donghyuck’s family.

The first year after The Mad King’s death saw more reform for the better than perhaps ever in the history of the kingdom. There were some who were unhappy with a militia-style arms dealer family injecting themselves into the court through a blood favor, but others understood that sometimes, this type of brute force is necessary for positive change. Besides, the new King understood, as the King before him had not, that having the raw power of the Lees backing him up would be the safest choice of all.

At eleven, Donghyuck was sent to the castle to be a ward for the royal family. He would spend six months of the year learning the ins and outs of the court. This was the first time Donghyuck had felt like a half-son, like the birth of his mother had reflected negatively on him. He didn’t want to be in the libraries studying, or learning how to make diplomatic concessions- that wasn’t who he was. Lee Donghyuck was not a royal, and in the mind of his eleven-year-old self, he never would be.

Donghyuck would spend seven years in between the castle and his family home, feeling torn, feeling less than his half-brothers, who were gaining the benefit of a full-time life with his father. There were a few bright moments with the royals, bright moments when he’d first met you, the Princess. The two of you became fast friends, both sharing a common feeling of dissatisfaction with your fathers’ treatment, both feeling like being the youngest in a large clan had its downsides.

At eighteen, Donghyuck was no longer forced to be a ward. He was a full member of the Lee’s now, and he’d spent all his time in the castle working to be the best asset to his father that he could be, desperately wanting to prove to his father that he could be the best of all his sons, maybe even better than Taeyong, who had been the tool used to secure their spot as royal-adjacents. 

It wasn’t until Donghyuck was twenty that he learned the truth of why he had been the one chosen to go to the castle. He, out of all his siblings, of age, and of sharp mind, was determined to be the most useful plant within the marble walls of royalty.

After he’d found out how his father truly saw him, Donghyuck became a fully unstoppable force, and he never looked back.

One:

“It’s been a long time,” the old advisor to the King says as he takes a seat, staring at Donghyuck from behind his large office desk. 

“It has,” Donghyuck agrees, eying all the official papers that still scatter Seunghyun’s space. 

“I received the letter from your father,” the advisor continues, reaching for the document in question to hold it up. “I suppose I always knew this day was coming, especially after what your family did for our King.”

Donghyuck nods. It would seem to him that the notion of an arranged marriage had likely always been in his father’s back pocket, but of course, when Donghyuck was younger, he hadn’t realized he would be the intended Lee to join the royal family. Now, as a man, the entire play makes sense. He’s not a complete stranger to the princesses, nor is he unfamiliar with the court and the way the royals conduct themselves.

No, Donghyuck was purposefully sent here by his father to infiltrate, to make the exact move that he’s attempting to make right now. 

Lee Donghyuck will marry into the royal family, forever securing an unbreakable bond between them, and it is this mission, that Donghyuck has unknowingly spent over ten years trying to achieve. 

“I have discussed this letter with the King,” Seunghyun continues, “and we assume there is no guess as to whom you would like as your bride.”

“No guess,” Donghyuck responds with a chuckle, looking down at the Lee family ring on his pinky. 

“You always did have a connection with the youngest princess. If it would be amenable to your father… If he has no other specifications as to which Princess you are to be wedded to, the King agrees that you and Princess y/n can be wed within a week’s time.”

Donghyuck can’t help the way his heart thumps in his chest. His father had made him aware of this royally arranged marriage a month ago, but he’s still not quite used to the idea that you’ll be his wife.

He’d always had an attraction to you, an attraction to your body, mind, and spirit- but as a teenager, he’d done his best to push those thoughts aside. He’d been acutely aware that your differing situations in life would most likely keep you from ever being in a union- 

In some ways, Donghyuck feels like he’s entered a very good dream, but there are some anxieties that come with it. After all, he hasn’t seen you in years… what if your opinion of him has changed?

“That timeline works for the Lee clan,” Donghyuck says smoothly, “as does the Princess in question.”

It’s funny how easily Donghyuck slips back into the diction of the castle, the ‘proper’ way of speaking. it’s been years since he’s been here, but in some odd way, it’s as if he never left.

Two:

“The two of you always had a connection,” your older sister Jenni concedes as you sit in front of your vanity, an artist working on your makeup. “But you haven't seen him in years.”

“He can’t have changed that much, right?” you ask, looking between your siblings.

Hwasa exchanges a glance with Jenni. As the second oldest, Hwasa is married already, however, in contrast to your arranged match, she’d been wed to a Prince and is now next in line for a throne half a continent away.

“Certain qualities are bound to stay the same,” Hwasa says diplomatically. “However… I have heard about his more recent reputation.”

You’ve all heard about it. Once upon a time, Taeyong had been the prodigal son of the Lee clan, he’d even overthrown a whole kingdom for the chance to strengthen family ties, but in recent years, the story goes that the eldest Lee boy had become timid, less so like his father. Donghyuck, in contrast, has supposedly risen in the ranks, working all the way up to somewhat of a right-hand man figure, despite him being one of the younger members of the halfling brood. 

“He’ll still be the same boy who wanted to skip lessons to play in the park,” you insist. “The same boy who got high marks without studying.”

“Intellect is an attractive trait,” Hwasa concedes, “however, I seem to remember his reckless disdain for rules got you in trouble a number of times as well.”

“She was always following him into bad situations,” Jenni agrees with a laugh. “It was charming when they were young. A twelve-year-old kingpin’s son, corrupting a princess to go on ‘dangerous’ quests, playing pretend in the castle park.” 

“I guess neither of us thought we’d ever be very important to our families,” you sigh. “I’m the youngest daughter. Sure, I was expected to marry well, but I think we all knew I’d never be more than a princess. I’m no Queen.”

“Maybe not one in name,” Hwasa says, cocking her head to the side as she plays with your veil. “But someone has to run the Lee empire when the kingpin dies, and many sources are pointing toward Donghyuck as being the next in line. Securing you as a match would definitely add some… legitimacy, considering the fact that he’s a half-blood.”

“His father’s wife never bore children,” you point out, feeling defensive. “It made sense for him to have mistresses, children born out of wedlock. He kept his wife, whom he loved, but still needed a line to inherit his work. It’s an arrangement they had.”

“I’ve heard conflicting reports on whether Mrs. Lee was very agreeable to the situation, having a host of children calling your husband father while she herself was not a birth mother,” Hwasa sighs.

“I don’t want to hear about this anymore,” you declare. “I’m getting married today, and these politics and talks of family lines and legitimacy are dampening my mood.”

Your sisters exchange one last look, but then they bow their heads to you, a sign of submission.

You know they’re just protective, that they’re not the only ones dissecting the arrangement with your fiance. 

Having spent your life in a castle, you’re used to gossip. The only person who never truly cared about what others thought was Donghyuck, and you’re eager for the strength he provided you when you were young.

Three:

Donghyuck can hardly breathe when the church doors open and you begin to walk through. Your veil obscures your face, your chin dipped down to pay attention to the floor as your father slowly escorts you up the aisle. Even without being able to fully see you, Donghyuck can tell you’ve only grown more beautiful in the years since he’s seen you, and his heart begins to thump wildly in his chest.

Jeno and Mark are his groomsmen, and he can feel them shifting behind him, clearly reacting to your beauty, as everyone in the House of God is. 

Things seem to move incredibly slowly, and also incredibly fast. The King is handing you off to Donghyuck, and he’s taking you by the hand, marveling at the scar on your palm that you’d gotten from slipping on a rock when you were both fifteen. God, the castle physician had had a field day with Hyuck when that happened-

He can feel your eyes on him, and soon, he’s lifting your veil to see your face.

Donghyuck can feel the smile that appears on his lips, and you shyly beam back, downcasting your gaze. The Lee can hardly hear the minister as he goes through a useless traditional ceremony, it’s all business after all.

The only things that matter are the ‘I do’s’ and the kiss, and when that happens, Donghyuck is fully present. He wets his lips, squeezing your hand gently. You give him a small nod, a wordless show that it’s okay, that he can move forward and solidify the future you’ll now have together, the future that, in some ways, was always meant to be. 

He wants to be gentle with you, cupping your face and watching you intently as you both move in. At the last moment, your eyes flutter closed, and he mirrors the action, pressing his lips to yours.

It’s the most chaste kiss Donghyuck’s ever had, but at the same time, nothing in the world has ever excited him more.

You taste like mandarine oranges and springtime, and a familiar feeling that has been buried for years begins to bubble up in the young man’s chest like the blossoming of a cherry tree. You’re his future, and he can feel it in his very soul.

Four:

You’ve felt as if things had progressed quite naturally at the wedding and reception, but now, going with Donghyuck to his home and finally getting some alone time- well, you’re beginning to feel twinges of anxiety.

This man, who you’d known years ago, has grown up. His hair is a little longer, and his hands bear the marks of an everlasting fighter’s soul, but despite these changes, his smile is still the same, as is the soft way he gazes at you.

“How are you feeling?” Donghyuck asks, walking around his large master bedroom to retrieve some water for you.

“I’m alright, and you?” 

“Never been better,” your husband grins, handing you a cup and sitting across from you in the small seating area of his room by the fire. “Were you surprised by this whole arrangement thing?”

You cock your head to the side, considering the question. “Yes, and no. I hadn’t expected a marriage connection between our families, but once I was made aware of it, it felt like I was stupid for never seeing the intention before. And when I found out it would be you marrying someone from my family, I knew you would choose me.”

“We always got along.”

“We did more than get along,” you laugh, feeling your skin flush. You take a sip of water to steady yourself. “I’d always had a crush on you, Donghyuck, following you around like a lost puppy-”

“You never felt like a lost puppy to me. You were just my best friend six months of the year.”

You can’t help but smile. “Best friend,” you repeat, releasing a sad breath. “I was upset when you turned eighteen and stopped coming. I never heard from you.”

“Life got busy,” Donghyuck frowns. 

“I’ve heard,” you nod.

You can feel him studying you, and he leans forward. “I’m sorry. I should have contacted you.”

“It’s alright,” you wave your hand. “We’re here now.”

“We are,” he agrees. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve been thinking about you.”

“You have?”

“I uh…” He rubs the back of his neck shyly, “I always had a crush on you too, but I figured it would never work out, so…”

“It’s funny how life has a way of bringing people together again,” you muse. “As if our fates were always set in stone, always meant to be…” you search for the right word, and it comes to you both in unison: “aligned.” 

You both laugh, looking down, and it’s as if you’re shy teenagers again, teasing with the idea of a forbidden romance that has now come to fruition, with the full backing of both of your families.

“You look very beautiful,” Donghyuck muses, eyes raking over your wedding dress.

“I thought you might like this one,” you smile, also looking down at yourself. “I remember you used to like the bows I’d wear in my hair, always tugging on them-”

“So you wrapped yourself up like a pretty present for me,” Donghyuck deduces. “How very generous of you, Princess.”

A giddy tingle erupts up your spine. While everyone calls you Princess - as it is your title - it feels different coming from Donghyuck’s lips, and it always has.

“It’s our wedding night…” you point out, “I wanted to gift you something, give you something to unwrap.”

Donghyuck swallows thickly, a motion you don’t miss. “Princess… you’ve gotten… bold since we last met.”

“You’re my husband, can’t I be bold with you, Hyuck?”

He takes a deep breath. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to be… I mean, I’m willing to give you time-”

“Consummation is a time-honored tradition,” you point out, only half teasing. “It’s our wedding night, and I’m not the only person with expectations.”

“I doubt your family expects me to give you an heir, Hwasa and your eldest brother have more than delivered in that area,” Donghyuck laughs. “But I see your point.”

“Do you?” You set your water down, standing. Turning your back to Donghyuck, you approach the large bed before looking over your shoulder at him. He’s taking in the bows that make the length of your corsetted back, and you can see his mind working to figure out how he’s going to undo everything in a timely manner. “Come, husband, unwrap your wedding present.”

You’ve been dreaming about this night all week- in fact, you’ve been fantasizing about this since you were sixteen. 

Donghyuck might have a reputation to uphold in the darker world he inhabits with his family, but with you, this is Hyuck, the rascal ward who’d stolen your heart when you were children. Right now, he’s not a future Kingpin, nor are you a Princess. Instead, you’re man and wife, and you intend to reap the new benefits these connected titles give you.

You can sense Donghyuck hesitate as he approaches you, coming to a stop just at your back. His hands gently smooth up your arms, and he leans forward to press his lips to your shoulder. “Are you sure about this?” he asks.

“I’ve never been more sure,” you respond, arching your neck to look back at him. 

Donghyuck reaches up to pinch your chin, and then he kisses you.

It’s a soft kiss like you’d shared at the alter just hours ago, but you have no need to put on a chaste show for royals, there’s no one currently in attendance at this special moment. It’s just you and him, and you’re quick to turn things deeper, releasing a small moan of pleasure as you turn in his arms, threading your fingers through his silky hair.

He grabs your waist, but as you kiss, you can feel his palm smoothing to the small of your back. He begins to pluck loose all the intricate bows, not missing a beat as he does so.

You tug at his suit and Donghuck concedes to you just long enough to get his jacket off before he returns to his task. The kiss is turning heated very quickly, and your skin is tingling with excitement, your heart racing like a wild bird in your rib cage.

Donghyuck begins to kiss down to your throat, licking and sucking on the skin while you gasp and whimper. He’s all-consuming, and you don’t know where to focus as he worships you while simultaneously undoing the bows on the back of your dress. 

His lips ghost by the swell of your breasts, pushed up by the corsetted structure in your wedding gown. God, it feels amazing, and you throw your head back, panting deeply.

“Being so good for me, Princess,” Donghyuck muses, his lips trailing back up your throat. He pulls away, looking down at you. “I want you to know- you can change your mind at any time and I won’t hold it against you-”

“Hyuck,” you groan. “Can you just let me want you?” You bunch your hands up in his suit. “Can you accept that I need you? That I’m not being forced, or coerced- that this ‘arranged’ marriage isn’t even really that ‘arranged’ because, for me, it’s always been you?” 

He’s staring at you in shock, and you decide to take matters into your own hands. You muster up all your strength and push him onto the bed before confidently mounting him. You gather up the poofy skirts of your dress, getting comfortable so you can grind down on him despite all the fabric in the way.

“I didn’t expect this,” Donghyuck admits, swallowing thickly.

“Get used to it,” you fire back, leaning down to cup his face, pressing your lips against his with a newfound passion.

He quickly gets to work on the back of your dress again, and now you’re both moaning at the feeling of you grinding down on top of him. 

Something hard is pressing up against your core, and the knowledge that he’s already hard has you feeling feverish in the best possible way. He wants you the way you want him, and you’re starting to regret wearing such an intricate dress.

“Fuck this,” Hyuck groans, pushing you off of him and onto the bed. He grabs you next, flipping you onto your stomach. When you look over your shoulder, you realize he’s produced a knife - had he been hiding that in a clip on the back of his pants this whole time?

With one rough stroke, he cuts through all the ribbons and the lace along the back of your dress, ruining it in an effort to get to you quickly.

“I never had much patience for presents or keeping wrapping paper intact,” Donghyuck muses, leaning over to set his knife on the bedside table. “Let's get you out of this fucking gown.”

He flips you again, and you release a giggle at the manhandling, loving this new side of your husband. He’s clearly insatiable, and it sets your entire body on fire as he grips your dress and practically tears it from your form. 

You’re in undergarments, and unlike your dress, there hadn't been any royal and historical specifications about the details, so the thong and garter are very much a contrast to the now-destroyed gown that’s been tossed aside. 

The corset on the dress has been enough to not merit a bra of any sort, so now, looking up at Donghyuck, you’re already half naked, and it’s clear that he’s taken aback from the view.

He stops, just staring at you, his lips parted in disbelief. 

“Wow,” he breathes.

“Like what you see?”

“Yes, Princess.” He swallows thickly, gaze finally dipping to take in your thong and the wedding garter on your thigh. “This is pretty.” Donghyuck grabs at the lacey strap, pulling it away from your skin to let it gently snap back.

“It’s not the most traditional thing in the world for royals to wear one, but I thought you might enjoy it,” you muse.

“What do I do with it?”

“I was thinking… you could take it off with your teeth.”

“My teeth?” Donghyuck looks up at you with surprise.

“Your teeth,” you confirm, “but… maybe also take your shirt off first.”

“Is this tradition?” your husband asks as he begins to unbutton his top.

“Not entirely,” you giggle, enjoying the look of his tanned skin as more and more of it is revealed.

When you’d known Donghyuck before, he’d always been a little scrawny, but in his years away, he’s built muscle, and the sight of it is making you drool.

There are a few scars that litter his skin as well, scars that likely have stories you’ll have to ask about later, but right now, your focus is of a more primal nature.

Donghyuck shrugs his shirt to the floor, then he gets down on the bed between your legs. He starts peppering your calf in kisses, slowly ascending to your knee, then your thigh.

The feeling of his breath makes you groan and he looks up at you with dark eyes. 

“Keep going,” you urge, grabbing at the bed sheets. 

His teeth tease along the flimsy garter, and once he has an acceptable grip, he begins to tug it down your leg. Donghyuck moves slowly, toying with you and building the suspense. 

You can feel your pussy beginning to throb with need already, and when the garter is discarded, Donghyuck’s lips take the same path up your leg again, but this time, he doesn’t stop where the material had just been.

He continues until his breath is fanning across your covered core, and it makes you whine, gripping the sheets tighter.

“Can I take these off too?” Donghyuck asks, voice low as one of his fingers teases the waistband of your thong.

“Please,” you whimper, lifting your hips a little to help him remove the only piece of clothing still standing between your husband and what you both want most.

Your panties are gone in a flash, and then two hands are snaking under your thighs, adjusting your core. Donghyuck licks his lips, looking up at you. 

You expect him to say something, but he doesn’t, instead, he dives in, licking your pussy and sucking your clit into his mouth while you release a strangled cry. One of your hands flies down to tangle in his hair, and Donghyuck groans deeply, sending a vibration through your core that lights up your entire form.

As a Princess, your virtue has always been protected. You’re a virgin, and while you know about sex, you’ve never known what it is to experience it with another.

Nothing could have prepared you for this, for the way your entire body tingles with pleasure so all-consuming that you can’t help but moan desperately. 

Donghyuck eats you like he’s been a man starved, unashamed to be a little messy. 

There’s something sinful about it, but something that also feels so right- so correct.

Donghyuck adjusts slightly, and you feel a finger begin to gently circle your wet hole. He pushes just the tip in and you mewl from the sensation. Your husband takes your sound as an affirmation to continue, so he presses further inside of you, still moving slowly and gently to allow your body to adjust to the foreign intrusion.

You love how he’s taking his time with you, listening to your body and your cues.

It seems clear that he’s aware this is your first time with a man, and he’s not in some eager, self-gratifying rush to get to the part where he’s the one feeling good. 

Soon he has a whole finger inside of you while he continues to suck on your clit, and he pumps the digit slowly, working you open in the most delightful way.

“Can I add another?” he asks, gently kissing your sensitive bud as he looks up at you.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” you nod, swallowing thickly.

Donghyuck returns to his task, licking at your clit to distract you from the stretch that comes with two fingers now slowly working into you.

He adjusts his hand again, crooking the digits up to hit a sweet spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.

“Oh my God-” you whimper, clutching at the sheets again.

“Feels good?” he asks.

“Feels amazing,” you confirm, eyes shut as you can enjoy the pleasure that’s coursing through you.

Donghyuck applies more pressure to the sweet spot inside of you, thrusting in an almost rhythmic fashion as he sucks harder on your clit. 

You’re all consumed by the throbbing ecstasy that’s bubbling out from your core and into the entirety of your body. 

“Do you think you might cum for me soon, Princess?” Donghyuck asks.

“I… I think so,” you nod, swallowing thickly.

“Take your time,” he assures you, “when the feeling hits, just let go for me.” 

He continues to worship your pussy, licking and sucking and stroking and fingering- your toes begin to curl from the pleasure, and the feeling is building quickly in your abdomen. 

You’re gasping now, panting and moaning, clutching at the bed desperately. “Hyuck-” you whimper.

He responds by sucking your clit even harder and your thighs move to close around him, but your husband pushes them open with his free hand. He finger fucks you even harder, and before you know it, the tension in your stomach is snapping.

A wave of euphoria unlike anything you’ve ever felt washes over you like a warm summer rain. You gasp loudly, pleasure throbbing out from your core and engulfing you.

Donghyuck doesn’t stop, he works you through it, ignoring the way your thighs are shaking around him, the way you’re clawing at the bed and crying out.

“Hyuck!” you whimper, finally unable to take any more of the pleasure-

Your husband pulls away from your core, and you hear him lick his lips, but you’re too exhausted to open your eyes.

He pulls away from your core. “You look good like this, Princess.” 

You don’t even have the words to respond, chest heaving, heart racing-

The bed dips as he lays down next to you, and you feel him push some hair away from your face. His lips brush your cheek, his hand moving down to your breast, where he begins to massage your flesh.

“That might be enough for tonight,” he muses softly.

“What?” Your eyes snap open.

“You look pretty tired.”

“Hyuck,” you take a deep breath, “I… I need you to fuck me.”

He stares at you in shock. “I’ve never heard that word come from your mouth before, Princess, this must be pretty serious.”

“It is,” you insist, cupping his cheek. “Please.” 

“If that’s what my Princess wants,” Donghyuck concedes with a grin. “I’ll go slowly, I promise.”

He gets up again, and you watch him take off his pants.

You’ve never seen a cock in real life before, and the way his springs up makes your mouth water.

He’s thick, and a decent size too, or so you assume. You lick your lips in anticipation as he gets back onto the bed with you.

He moves between your thighs, and your legs wrap around him instinctively, your hand cupping his cheek again.

You draw your lips to his as he begins to gently rut, his cock gliding between your soaked pussy lips with easy, teasing by your clit, but not entering you.

It’s as if he’s toying with you, and your patience runs thin very fast. “Please,” you whimper again.

“You got it, Princess.”

He grabs the base of his cock, adjusting so his tip can fully tease your hole now. He pushes in slightly and you grab his shoulders, squeezing and making him stop.

You can feel him watching your facial expressions as you get used to the largest intrusion you’ve ever had inside of you. 

“Just breathe,” he tells you, bringing his lips to your throat in an effort to soothe.

“Okay,” you nod, “okay, deeper.”

He follows your instructions, gently pushing in another inch only to pause and wait for your affirmation to continue.

This continues for a few minutes, Donghyuck diligently taking his time and allowing you to acclimatize to his cock until he’s fully sheathed in your wet and throbbing core. 

“Okay, okay,” you nod, breathing heavily. “You can move now.”

Donghyuck cups your cheek, kissing you softly as he begins to gently rock back and forth. Your pussy walls are getting used to the sensation, and the slick from your orgasm makes things very smooth as he gradually increases the intensity.

You begin to moan from the feeling of him, clawing at his shoulders again, kissing him desperately as he makes love to you in your wedding bed.

One of Donghyuck’s hands moves down to your thigh, hiking it higher on his hip. Suddenly he’s hitting a deep spot inside of you, making you cry out as your toes curl with pleasure.

“Good?” he asks, pressing kisses along your throat.

“Good,” you confirm, whimpering desperately.

“You’re so tight,” Donghyuck groans.

“Maybe you’re just big,” you counter, stifling a giggle.

It’s shocking how natural this feels- there’s no awkwardness with Donghyuck, after all, you might be newlyweds from an arranged marriage, but you’ve been friends for most of your lives. You couldn’t imagine a better man to be with, a better man to be taking care of you for your first time.

“Princess,” Donghyuck moans, “I… I don’t think I’m going to last very long.”

“How… how long do men usually last?” you ask.

Donghyuck chuckles. “It all depends, but- eating you out got me pretty worked up, and now your pussy is gripping me so fucking well-”

God, his words are sinful to a Princess like you, but they’re sinful in the best possible way, making your pussy flutter with pleasure.

You’re making this man come undone, as he’d made you cum, and that knowledge makes pride burn through you.

“Don’t try to last,” you tell him, cupping his face. “Let go.”

Donghyck stares at you for a moment before smashing his lips to yours. He grabs one of your hands and intertwines your fingers, pressing it to the pillow to use as leverage as he begins to fuck you even harder.

The whole bed is rocking by now, each powerful thrust making you mewl and whimper.

“Fuck, fuck-” Donghyuck groans, burying his face against your throat again. “Shit, I’m gonna cum-” 

You hold him tightly, stroking his hair as his thrusts falter, a deep moan escaping his lips.

You can feel the unfamiliar sensation of something filling up your core, and you wrap your legs tighter around his hips, keeping him locked inside of you as he fills you with his release.

He’s groaning and gasping in your ear and it’s one of the most erotic sounds you’ve ever heard.

You can sense when he’s come down from his high, but you continue to hold him, your chests pressed together, racing hearts beating as one.

This man is your husband, and you know he’ll take care of you. It’s a different life path laid out before you than you’d perhaps imagined when you were younger, but you know that as long as you’re with Lee Donghyuck, everything will be just fine.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! Short but sweet this month, longer things to come for nct in February :)

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. In the five years you’ve been married to Donghyuck, he’s helped you come out of your sexually repressed shell. You’ve even tried things with him that you never even thought you’d be interested in. While Donghyuck can be soft and gentle for you, as he was on your wedding night, he’s still a Lee, and that factor comes with its fair share of darker tastes.

cw/ tw. cw/ tw.  Unprotected sex, squirting, bondage, use of toys (vibrator), impreg/breeding kink, multiple positions, dirty talk, praise, fingering, breast worship, body worship, etc…   I petnames. (hers) princess

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.3k I teaser wc. 120

🌙 starring. Haechan x afab!Reader

bonus

“Happy anniversary,” Jeno grins as he shows up at your compound, with Mark in tow. 

“Thank you,” you smile, welcoming them into the house.

Jeno is the favorite uncle of your two children, and it’s clear that he feels his congratulatory diligence is done, as he rushes past you to pick up your son and daughter, one for each arm. Mark, in contrast, bears some of the manners that you were used to much of your life, and he steps into your home. “Did you have a nice day?” he asks.

“A lovely family day,” you nod, stepping closer to Mark and lowering your voice, “but between us, I think Hyuck and I are both ready for some alone time.”

☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.3k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or check out what else is on my patreon here

🔮if nothing strikes your fancy, check out my m.list

general taglist

@gotshinct - @subhyuck - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling

@runahways - @d-abin - @milkteade - @woogyuhae 

@anothershorthuman - @nihxxy - @vantxx95 - @bangshii

@poutypoutybin - @notbeforelong - @creepybakeoven

@ninetechculture - @yungiland - @suhsfam - @binchangf

@chogiwapadada - @librarian-stacks - @meowniee

@learnthisfeeling - @gigilame - @cumtrov3rsy

@mocha000 - @darthlunaa​ - @just-here-to-read-01​ - @shiningnono

@lovelyhan - @grilledbananas - @sourkimchi

As I was short on time this month and unable to do a teaser, here's another shout out to some of my favourite blogs who interact with my work, I love you guys endlessly

@bobathi - @amazinggraxia - @bluempire425-blog -

@twililty - @cheolaholic - @babieculture

@meowniee - @ridenotpark - @ollieollieoctopus

@axo-l0tl - @blspphr3 - @roseandpeaches

[haecastor]

im gonna cry actually omg thank you for the cute romantic hyuck fic in the first month of the year! what a fic to start my year actually 😭😭😭❤❤❤❤

in this THICK!HYUCK agenda for life i fear ✊🏻😩

[haecastor]

Title: Tangled in Our Orbits (PREVIEW)

Pairing: lee donghyeok x afab!reader

Genre: college!au, fluff, mutual friends to lovers, fwb to lovers, slight hurt comfort, music major!donghyeok, art major!reader

More Characters: Yangyang, Jaemin, Shotaro, Sungchan, Ningning, Giselle, Yeri

Word count: 11k+ (full fic, for now) | preview: 604 words (scene #5 , non-linear timeline)

a/n: second preview, focusing on the tooth rotting-scene >< i really tried my best and enjoyed writing this part, i just love bear haechan so much :(( so i hope the ones that found this preview would love it too!! (i didn't put a warning here but the full fic will contain smut/explicit contents)

btw keep streaming haechan's solo cover!! first love

first preview (mature content | mdni)

“Ahh, cuteee,” you muttered, scrolling through videos of bears on your phone. The way they moved, their roundness, their little quirks—it was impossible not to gush over them.

Donghyeok emerged from his room, fresh from a shower, his hair still damp, and a towel slung over his shoulders. He shook his head lightly, ruffling his hair as droplets of water sprinkled about. You couldn’t help but put your phone down and smile as you watched him. Something about the way he looked, all fresh and fluffy, reminded you of the bears in the videos you’d just been admiring. But you decided to keep that observation to yourself for now.

“Babyyyy, I missed you,” he whined, his pouty lips exaggerating the syllables as he made his way to the couch. Without hesitation, he plopped down next to you, leaning his head on your shoulder like a needy puppy—or in this case, an affectionate bear.

You chuckled softly, taking the towel from his hands to help dry his hair. He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as you gently tousled his locks, soaking up the moment like he’d been craving it all day. When his hair was no longer dripping, Donghyeok shifted quickly, laying his head on your lap with a contented sigh.

“Perfect,” he murmured, already making himself comfortable.

Looking down at him, you couldn’t resist. He looked exactly like the bear in the video that had been lounging so lazily while its caretaker rubbed its belly. Your hand drifted down almost instinctively, lightly rubbing over his stomach.

Donghyeok’s eyes shot open, a surprised laugh escaping his lips. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, grinning up at you as though you’d lost your mind.

“What? I thought bears liked it when humans rubbed their bellies,” you said, your voice teasing, but your hand still gently tracing circles on his hoodie-covered stomach.

He stared at you for a moment, mouth slightly agape, then closed it, as if trying to process what you’d just said. After a beat, he opened it again, eyebrows furrowed in mock confusion. “Wait. I’m a bear?”

You tilted your head, looking at him seriously as if the answer was obvious. “Aren’t you? Look at you right now. All clingy and cute, lying there like you own the place. You even have your brown hoodie on! You’re totally a bear.”

Donghyeok sat up slightly, propping himself on one elbow, his lips curling into an amused smirk. “So, I’m a bear because I’m clingy and cute?”

“Exactly,” you said with a playful grin. “You’ve got bear energy. Fluffy, cuddly, and just a little bit demanding.” Donghyeok rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the smile spreading across his face. “Do I get bear treats too?” he asked, plopping his head back onto your lap, this time facing you—or more specifically, your tummy.

He nuzzled into the soft fabric of your shirt, his nose brushing against your skin as he exhaled contentedly. Without a word, he took your hand resting on his stomach and guided it upward, silently asking you to play with his hair instead. You chuckled, obliging as your fingers began threading through his soft locks. His hum of satisfaction was low and contented, vibrating against your lap like a pleased purr.

Before long, the comforting rhythm of your fingers and the warm, quiet atmosphere had him drifting off. He fell asleep to the gentle motion of your hand. His features softened in sleep—the rise and fall of his chest became steady, his breaths deep and even, and you couldn’t help but smile at how peaceful he looked.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆ ｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆

[haechuw]

i’m going insane, i need to be sedated

[mejaemin]

caramel - lee donghyuck

+18 mdni !!

wc: 2.8k

summary: donghyuck’s summer tan is just tewww sexy !! and spending your time with him and ilichil at the beach has you appreciating it just a little more

warnings: established relationship, fem reader, reader wears bikini, beach sex, exhibitionism, dry humping, nipple play, unprotected sex, pet names (mama, baby girl, baby), ft. taeyong, yuta, jungwoo, johnny, mark briefly

an: sm you will NEVER be able to keep tan donghyuck from me !!! do not play w me

(caramel masterlist here! ʕ ᵔⰙᵔ⠕ʔ )

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

the evening sun leaves a comfortable blanket of heat on your skin. yuta and jungwoo are controlling the aux from the condo just above your heads, jumping from smooth to chaotic music. the volume is low, so it doesn’t bother you. the waves crashing against the rocks overpower whatever’s playing anyway. mark and johnny have finally finished flailing in the ocean, and are now running back inside with everyone else. the newfound silence feels so comfortable that you turn on your side to nap atop your beach towel. when you do so, you’re met with your boyfriend, who appears to have the same plan.

donghyuck’s caramel skin shines beautifully under the sun, shimmering due to a combination of sweat and sunscreen. his arms are crossed over his stomach, lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he soaks in the sun. laying on the beach just before the evening came definitely did him justice. unfortunately, your adoration is cut short when one of his eyes opens.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer.” his voice deepened and is a little croaky after resting.

“okay.” you respond, knowing he was teasing, but still following through.

you sit up, leaning over donghyuck’s face to reach your beach bag and pull out your digital camera. after sitting back down, you turn it on and point it at him, snapping a few pictures. despite pouting and mumbling an ‘i was joking’, he returns to his original pose for you. when you play them back, they’re beautiful. the filter on the camera makes him seem almost ethereal, his tanned skin glittering in the sunset. upon further inspection his cheeks are pink, so you call him out, intending to scold him for not applying enough sunscreen.

“okay, first of all, you can’t just lean over me and put your tits all in my face and not expect me to be flustered..” he turns his back to you to be sulky, especially when you stay silent after his confession.

the first thing to break the silence was a snort. your struggle to hide your amusement ends when donghyuck turns to look at you and you collapse onto his chest in a fit of laughter. at this he wraps you in his arms and pulls you to straddle his lap. all your giggles fade to silence when you feel his length poke at your ass. it’s now your turn to be flustered when his hands glide over your curves, stopping just under your breasts to rub a thumb over them.

“see what you’re doing? you’re just so pretty.” he grabs the string holding your bikini top against your neck and pulls, letting it fall forward. he undoes the second string behind your back and then holds out the top to you. “who bought this for you?” he asks, tilting his head innocently.

your thighs squeeze gently around his waist. “hyuck..” you whimper.

he brings you forward to press a kiss to your lips, hissing when it causes you to bump against his erection. when you pull away his gaze softens as he tucks a hair behind your ear. “it’s okay, baby, everyone’s inside.” he looks at you expectantly, waiting for your approval. when you nod, he kisses you again before his demeanor returns to how it was. “now, answer me.”

when you push your hips down into his, seeking friction, he puts a hand on your hip to stop you and raises an eyebrow. your cue to respond.

“y- you did..” you reply, looking down at your hands, planted on his chest.

“yeah.” he pulls you flush to his body, pressing kisses to your jawline. one of his hands leaves its home at your hips and begins gliding up and down your body. “cause i knew you would look so good in it..” his kissed travel downward to your neck, where he gets a little rougher and leaves marks as his teeth nip at your neck. “and look where that’s gotten us.” he gestures down to his lap, where you’ve begun grinding yourself into him.

“please, hyuck..” you whine, pushing yourself into him a little harder.

“go ahead, baby. get yourself off. i’m busy.” he replies before pulling you closer by your hips and attaching himself to your breasts.

a whine immediately escapes your lips at the sensation of his hot tongue against your nipple. one hand leaves your hip to hold the other, pinching and pulling at it as you rut against him. when you look down at him, his glimmering eyes stare back up at you. his tongue glides over your nipple and the surrounding marks he’s leaving, all the while maintaining eye contact with you. the way he stares at you, in an almost innocent manner, has you keening and dragging your hips against him a little rougher.

for the first time since you began, donghyuck finally expressed his pleasure and groaned, sitting up while keeping you in his lap. he pulled your nipple between his teeth, seemingly grounding himself as he began moving his hips in sync with your own.

“fuck, mama.. keep going.” he breathes, before snaking a hand behind your neck to pull your lips to his. the nickname has you throbbing against him, which didn’t go unnoticed when he twitched against you in response.

as soon as your mouth comes into contact with his, your hips start moving with a little more purpose. your boyfriend pushes his tongue into your mouth, swirling it around your own. neither of you are holding your voices back as you rut against each other. with each drag of your hips, donghyuck’s tip rubs against your clit in a way that sends waves and waves of pleasure through your body, stronger than the ocean’s.

with great reluctance you begin pulling away from his kisses, not without biting at his lip and letting it snap against his teeth. “i’m so close…” you whine, slowing your hips down while you wait for his response.

he pulls you forward, bringing you into another wet kiss before pulling away again. “i know baby girl, it’s okay. you can do it, cum in my lap.” he encourages.

as soon as the words come out of his mouth, you start up again. your hips glide against his clothed cock at a speed that has you nearly bouncing on his lap, all in an attempt to chase the high that approaches you slowly.

donghyuck’s arms wrap around your waist, holding you tight to his body as he begins chasing his own orgasm. you feel a little silly getting off like this, almost like a teenager. you’re sure that if someone saw you two right now you’d be compared to animals. however, you don’t pay the thought any mind. the subtle ache against your folds from your bikini bottom and your boyfriend’s coarse swim trunks is enough to make your body flare up in heat and make your thighs tense.

the fear of being heard, or even caught by the others turned into pure adrenaline. you put a hand on hyuck’s shoulder, leaving scratch marks as you rode his bulge, your other hand pulling at his soft brown hair. he moaned softly into your mouth at the feeling. you clenched around nothing, moaning desperately into the air. donghyuck has never been afraid to let you know how he feels, and the way his voice sounds so angelic in moments like these is what brings you to the edge.

“hyuck, i- fuck!“ your back arches, pushing your weight into him as far as possible as your body tenses. your eyes clamp shut and your pulse is all you can hear as your pleasure overcomes you.

donghyuck doesn’t stop, continuing to roll his hips into your clothed cunt until he finally comes, whining into your ear. as you both come down, he runs a hand through your hair to keep you grounded. when you finally come to, you pull away from the crook of his neck to see him smiling at you.

“hi.” he presses a kiss to your lips, followed by one (or ten) to the rest of your face.

you weren’t quite ready to come back to earth yet, so you just respond with a ‘mm’ before kissing him and resting your head on his shoulder once again. he chuckles, idly playing with the ends of your hair before speaking again.

“wanna keep going? or should we go inside?” he asks, leaning back so you both were laying on the towel.

“stay.” you mumble into his neck, tightening the grip your legs have on his waist. he shudders at the sensation.

”oh yeah? is that what you want? you wanna fuck on the beach?” he gently grips your hair, pulling you back to look at him. you moan breathily, nodding in response.

”use your words, mama.” he looks at you expectantly as his hand inches closer to the knot on the bottom of your swimsuit.

“yes, yes, please.. i want you so bad..” you respond, pouting and pushing your chest into him for emphasis.

as always, your body compels him to listen to your requests. his eyes flicker down to your cleavage and in the blink of an eye you’re now under him, completely bare. the sun has gone far enough under the horizon for your eyes to need adjusting before you can see your boyfriend again. once you can finally make out his features, it sends a whole new wave of heat through your body.

donghyuck’s face is perfectly dewy, from the heat and exertion. his brown hair is completely dry but still slightly clumpy from the ocean water. it hangs over your face and creates a nearly perfect cage that tickles your cheeks when he leans down to kiss you. immediately, your hand goes to the back of his head and pushes him closer. you let his tongue enter your mouth without a fight, desperately swirling it with your own in an attempt to get closer to him.

with an obnoxious smacking noise, your boyfriend pulls away from your mouth. he purposely pauses to laugh at the string of saliva connecting the two of you before you swat it away in annoyance. for once he decides against pouting at you and instead sits up to pull his swim trunks down just enough to be able to pull his cock out. his eyes squeeze shut as he pumps it one, two times before trapping your head between his arms once again. he presses a quick kiss to your lips before falling to rest on his elbows, leaning on one to use his now free hand to ease himself into your entrance.

when a whimper left your lips at the stretch donghyuck leaned down and pressed one of many kisses to your lips, followed by two times the amount to your cheek and jaw. with a harsh nip to the sweet spot of your neck, he pulls away.

“are you enjoying this, baby? do you like knowing that someone might come and see us? hear us?” he eggs you on, although he knows that this is a private beach connected to the condo taeyong rented for their off season. if you’re aware of it, you’re certainly too far gone to remember because you immediately get wetter, nodding your head with a moan as he pushes himself the rest of the way in.

“yes, hyuck, fuck- it’s so good..” you whine, already arching your back into him.

he begins picking up his speed now that you’ve adjusted and brings a hand to your cheek, pressing his thumb between your lips to keep you quiet. his other hand holds your hip and helps to pull you back and forth on his cock, wet noises erupting from between you two with each thrust.

donghyuck’s head is thrown back and he bites back a groan. the sight of his eyes pinched shut and his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows his sounds of pleasure has you wrapping your legs tight around his waist and subtly moving your hips to meet his own. he abruptly begins to slow his movements and you’re about to yell at him when you realize he’s looking in the direction of the beach house’s back porch, having a conversation with someone.

you can’t really turn to look at who’s there because the porch is behind you, so you let yourself slip slightly back into your normal consciousness to hear that yuta is yelling out to you both.

he calls out your names, “are you coming in yet? we’re about to eat!” he yells.

you look at your boyfriend and he briefly looks at you to press a finger to his lips before addressing the elder. “we’re relaxing! call us when it’s actually done!” he replies.

unintentionally, you twitch around his dick and his hips stutter before subtly pushing into you once again. you lay your head back down and are about to let yourself return to being blissfully unaware when yuta begins cackling.

”don’t be too long!” he sing-songs, nearly out of breath as he laughs his way back inside the house.

donghyuck looks back at you and huffs, rolling his eyes. “what a turn off.” he mumbles.

your legs tighten their grip on his hips. “you’re about to be even worse of a turn off if you don’t hurry the fuck up.” you whine.

immediately he begins increasing his speed.

“chill, chill… might as well leave you here if you rush me…”

he falls forward on his elbows. his face right above yours as he now rolls his hips deeper, aiming for your most sensitive parts in an attempt to speed up the process. each time he pushes himself back in, you can feel his dick poking at your insides so deliciously that each thrust has a familiar kind of heat flooding through your legs up into your whole body. with one hand leaving a bruising grip on your hip, the other resting next to your head, donghyuck licks a fat stripe up your neck, biting and sucking at the spot that always has you folding for him. your back immediately arches into him at the sensation, a series of pleas falling from your lips.

donghyuck pulls away, fake cooing at you. “aww baby, do you want to cum now?” he rests a hand on your cheek, his hips never stopping as he waits for your answer.

“yes, fuck- please, hyuck, please..” you whine, running your tongue along his thumb appreciatively when he pushes it into your mouth.

“of course, mama. anything you want.” he smiles, dropping his head back down to your neck to press wet kisses to it as he pushes you towards your orgasm.

at this point, you're so close to the edge that all it takes is your boyfriend’s hand slipping its way in between your bodies, rubbing vigorously at your clit to push you over. combined with his rough thrusts, your body tenses, hips shaking as white hot pleasure courses through you. shortly after, donghyuck gets there too, hips stilling as he moans softly in your ear. a whimper escapes your lips as his hot cum spills inside of you. you feel slightly overstimulated, but it’s so worth it.

after a few minutes of sitting in your afterglow, you hear the door above you slide open once again. this time it’s taeyong, calling your name before addressing your boyfriend.

“donghyuck! let’s go, we’re eating now!” he calls out, not wasting any time before going back inside. you flush, knowing that they’re more than likely aware that you weren’t just ‘resting’.

the man on top of you groans, sitting up and pulling out of you. he looks as if he’s half asleep, staring at the spot where his cum seeps out of you with heavy lidded eyes. when you sit up, his trance breaks and he sighs, getting himself together and packing up your towel. next to him you put your swimsuit back on followed by your shorts before folding up donghyuck’s and standing up. he takes your hand, making his way back up to the condo with you in tow.

as soon as you walk in the back door, everyone’s eyes are on you both. once again, yuta begins cackling, nearly choking on his food at the sight. donghyuck pulls your chair out at the table and helps you sit down before going to your room and putting your belongings away. when he comes back and sits with you, johnny is the first to speak up.

“so, uh, hyuck.. i’m assuming you’re not hungry?” he laughs.

you immediately cover your face in embarrassment, however you can’t laugh for long because you hear the word ‘actually’ leave his lips and immediately have to smack a hand over his lips to avoid everyone hearing about yours and his sexual endeavors. regardless, the night is full of laughter and strays away from the subject that they hopefully forgot about. until you do it again.

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

[haecastor]

most of time i dont really enjoy the public sex setting but this... THIS ONE RIGHT HERE!! i rest my case

[holokitti]

blood moon — ldh

‧˚⭒ pairing: lee donghyuck x afab!reader. 18+MDNI ‧˚⭒ genre: thriller!au, horror!themes, smut. ‧˚⭒ word count: 9.2k ‧˚⭒ warnings: mentions of death, blood, magic, sharp objects, dark entities, clowns, smut. ‧˚⭒ starring: haechan, jihyo, ningning, chenle, jeno, jaemin, jisung, mark. ‧˚⭒ summary: in the middle of nowhere where shadows lie beneath the surface, you're led back to a place that unravels your past. in this cursed place, time is of the essence, only to meet donghyuck, the one capable of setting you free.

The small, dimly lit room feels suffocating, the walls pressing in on you with an almost deliberate weight. You draw your knees up to your chest, sitting on the edge of the creaky bed, your head lightly resting against the cold glass of the window. Tonight was supposed to be perfect, yet an invisible unease clings to you, wrapping itself around your thoughts.

You were back at your family’s old cabin, surrounded by friends who had come to this remote countryside to celebrate the annual festival. This land, once the backdrop of your childhood, was now a nostalgic glimpse into a life you hadn’t revisited in years. Sharing this piece of your past with the people closest to you had felt like a good idea. Yet, something about being here again unsettled you in ways you couldn’t explain.

Earlier in the day, the town had been alive with energy. Crowds of locals and visitors had flooded the streets, some dressed up to honor the town’s peculiar traditions. There were games, horse rides, and even the timeless festival classic: bobbing for apples—though you’d never been a fan. Watching your friends laugh and immerse themselves in the festivities had been enough to keep a smile on your face. But beneath the surface, an inexplicable weight lingered, heavy and persistent.

The cabin creaked softly in the night breeze, the faint smell of aged wood and pine wafting through the air. Outside, the dense woods stood like silent sentinels, their gnarled branches clawing at the smoky sky. The moon hung low, its hue casting an eerie glow over the landscape. Somewhere in the distance, the faint sound of music drifted through the trees—a melody so soft it felt more like a memory than reality.

A soft knock at your door broke the silence, making you flinch.

“You doing okay?” Jihyo asked, leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed.

Her presence immediately comforted you. Something about the way she stood reminded you of your mother, a bittersweet memory you hadn’t expected to surface tonight.

“I’m okay, Jihyo,” you replied softly, your gaze distant. “Just… taking it all in.”

She gave you a gentle smile and stepped into the room. The matching flannel pajamas she wore, along with the rest of your group, brought a sense of warmth to the chilly evening. A cool breeze slipped through the cracked window, brushing against your skin like a ghost of the past.

“We had so much fun today,” she said, sitting beside you on the bed, the old frame groaning under her weight. “Ningning won’t stop talking about the horseback dude who asked for her number.” She rolled her eyes playfully, letting out a small laugh.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head. “Sounds like Ningning.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, your eyes drawn to the window. The night sky stretched endlessly, the moon casting a faint, eerie glow over the land.

“Take a look at that,” Jihyo said suddenly, her voice filled with awe. “It’s a blood moon.”

Your gaze shifted upward, and there it was—a smoky red orb suspended in the heavens. Its haunting beauty mesmerized you. For a moment, you thought the light seemed to pulse, almost beckoning, though you dismissed it as a trick of your mind.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jihyo smiled and pulled you into a gentle hug. “I know how much this place means to you,” she began softly, her words carrying a rare tenderness. “And I know how hard this time of year must be, especially being back here. I can’t pretend to know what it’s like to lose both parents, but I want you to know I care about you. We all do. And if it helps, we can make this a yearly thing—just us, with good food and drinks, hanging out in the countryside. How does that sound?”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You nodded instead, swallowing the lump in your throat. “That sounds really nice. Thank you, Ji. I appreciate it.”

She hugged you one last time before standing and heading for the door. “Goodnight,” she said, smiling back at you as she closed the door behind her.

Exhaustion crept over you like a heavy blanket as the house settled into stillness. You slipped under the covers, the warmth lulling you into a dreamless sleep.

A soft whisper cuts through the silence.

“Come…”

Your eyes fluttered open, disoriented. The room was bathed in shadow, the faint glow of the moon casting eerie streaks of red across the walls. You sat up, straining to hear, and rubbing your eyes. The whisper came again, louder this time.

“Come find us…”

It was faint but unmistakable, the voice achingly familiar. Your heart skipped a beat as chills raced down your spine. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, every nerve in your body on high alert.

The red light outside pulsed faintly, casting the woods in an otherworldly glow. The whispers seemed to wrap around you, tugging at your very soul. You glanced toward your now opened door, the adjoining guest room, where your friends were fast asleep. Their soft snores and murmurs reassured you they were blissfully unaware of the eerie disturbance.

Your feet moved almost of their own accord as you slipped on a pair of shoes and grabbed a sweater. The wooden floor creaked under your weight as you tiptoed out of the room, careful not to wake anyone. The cabin door groaned softly as you eased it open, the cool night air biting at your skin.

The whispers grew louder, clearer, as if guiding you.

“Come find us… we’re waiting.”

With one last glance at the cabin, you stepped into the woods, the pulsing red light ahead of you like a beacon.

You didn’t look back.

The whispers grew louder, drowning out the crunch of leaves beneath your hurried steps. The pulsating red light loomed closer with every breath, an unnatural urgency filling the air and compelling you forward.

“Sweetheart…” The familiar voice reached your ears, tender yet chilling, like a memory resurrected from the depths of your mind.

“M-Mom?” Your voice cracked, trembling as you stumbled forward, breaking into a run.

This couldn’t be real. It was impossible. Your mind grappled for an explanation. Was this a dream—a vivid, warped projection of your subconscious? Maybe you were caught in a lucid nightmare, wandering through some uncharted corner of your own mind. Yet, the cold air stung your skin, and the steady thudding of your heart told you otherwise.

Finally, you stopped, your breath catching as you stared, wide-eyed, at the scene unfurling before you.

A carnival.

Towering red-and-white-striped tents stretched high into the night sky, glowing unnaturally under the moon’s light. Flashing bulbs blinked erratically, casting shadows that danced with unsettling energy. The air was thick with the syrupy scent of popcorn and candied apples, mingling with the faint metallic tang of something unrecognizable. Strangers in capes and masks strolled arm in arm, their laughter melodic and strangely distorted.

Something about the place was deeply, fundamentally wrong.

“What… is this?” you murmured, your voice breaking as you took in the chaos. You stood frozen, painfully aware of how your pajama-clad form stood out against the surreal revelry of the carnival-goers. Their gazes lingered too long, curious and invasive, making your skin crawl.

“WELCOME IN, FOLKS!” boomed a voice from above. You jumped, startled, and turned to see a figure perched impossibly high on stilts, towering over the crowd. His face was a riot of bright, garish paint, his grin stretched unnaturally wide across his face.

“I, Chenle, your gracious host, welcome you to the annual Blood Moon Celebration! Grab your tickets and make your way to the freak show!” His voice rose and fell theatrically, delighting the crowd with every exaggerated gesture.

The air buzzed with cheers and applause as he gestured grandly toward a smaller, dimly lit tent behind him. Then, as if drawn by some unseen force, his gaze locked on you. His grin faltered for the briefest moment, a flicker of something—recognition?—flashing in his sharp eyes.

He tilted his head, studying you with unnerving intensity, before his grin reappeared, wider and more calculated than before.

Balancing with ease, he descended his stilts, each movement precise and deliberate as he made his way toward you. His painted face loomed closer, his sharp eyes scrutinizing every detail of your appearance.

“You…” His voice was quieter now, almost a whisper, laced with something unreadable. “I’ve never seen you here before, Miss. Do you have your ticket?”

The weight of his gaze was suffocating, like a spotlight trained on you. You swallowed hard, your voice faltering. “N-No. I’m visiting my hometown with my friends. I don’t remember there ever being a carnival… especially not during this time.”

His sharp eyes raked over you once more, his painted grin frozen in place. For a moment, you thought he might dismiss you—or worse, see right through you; but then, like a switch had been flipped, his grin stretched impossibly wider, his painted cheeks crinkling unnaturally.

“Well, well,” he said, voice bubbling with false cheer, “I’m sure the ringmaster will make an exception for you and your friends. Speaking of which…” His gaze darted past you, his grin unwavering. “Where are the rest of the bunch?” His voice dipped lower, feigning casual curiosity while his eyes scanned the shadows behind you.

A chill ran down your spine as you realized you hadn’t even thought about your friends. “I… I’m here alone,” you admitted, unsure if that was the right answer. Every instinct screamed at you to turn back, but his painted face held you in place, a sinister magnetism radiating from him.

For a moment, Chenle’s body stilled, his movements unnaturally controlled. Then, his eyes widened with exaggerated excitement, and he gasped loudly, clasping his hands together in delight. “Even better!” he exclaimed, voice rising with manic glee. “Come on in and enjoy the show!”

With a grand sweep of his arm, he gestured toward the main tent, the light inside pulsating like a beating heart.

You hesitate before stepping forward, Chenle’s lingering gaze burning into the back of your head. A chill creeps down your spine, but you shake it off, convincing yourself this must all be a dream—nothing more than a figment of your imagination.

As you step into the tent, the world transforms into a chaotic burst of color and sound. Confetti rains down from above, swirling through the air like a storm of celebration. A thick rope stretches across the audience, separating them from the performers. Jesters glide effortlessly on unicycles, their painted faces lit by flickering stage lights. Clowns honk their oversized noses, their wide, artificial grins aimed directly at you as you pass.

Your eyes dart nervously around the space, searching for an escape or a distraction. The only open seat is at the very front of the stage, directly under the spotlight. Swallowing hard, you make your way toward it, each step weighted with unease. As you sit, you sense every pair of eyes in the room shifting toward you, an unspoken curiosity in their stares.

Beside you, a cloaked figure sits unnaturally still, his face hidden beneath a stark white mask. Slowly, almost too slowly, he turns his head to look at you. Without saying a word, he raises a hand and waves.

Your stomach twists, but you manage to lift your hand in return, offering a weak, trembling wave. A strange weight settles over you—a pull, almost magnetic, keeping you rooted to your seat. Every instinct screams at you to leave, to run back to your friends and the safety of the cabin, but your body refuses to move. It’s as though the air itself has wrapped around you, binding you in place.

“You must be new,” the masked figure says suddenly, his voice muffled but friendly.

Before you can respond, he lifts the mask, revealing a strikingly handsome face. His dark eyes are sharp yet cheery, his smile so charming it feels out of place in the eerie setting. The sight of him loosens some of the tension in your chest—he looks normal. Safe.

“I’m Jeno,” he says, extending a hand.

You hesitate before shaking it, introducing yourself. You study his features closely. There’s something oddly familiar about him, but you can’t place it. “You look… familiar.”

He chuckles softly, his laugh low and pleasant. “I think I’d remember a pretty face like yours.”

Your cheeks flush as you quickly glance away. The compliment feels genuine, but it catches you off guard, especially in such a surreal environment. “So, what is this place?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jeno leans back in his seat, a casual confidence in his posture. “It’s a late-night tradition that started a few years back,” he explains.

The timeline aligns with when you left for university, but unease creeps back into your chest. The way he speaks about the carnival feels rehearsed, as though he’s said these words to countless others before.

“The circus only comes around for special occasions,” Jeno continues, his voice steady but laced with something you can’t quite name. “This year’s theme is the blood moon. Guess they wanted to add a little extra mystery to the usual town festivities. This is my third year here. It’s funky, but fun.”

As he speaks, something clicks in the back of your mind. You’ve seen him before—or someone who looks like him. The memory is hazy, but it sharpens with every passing second. It was in a news article years ago, about a man who had gone missing from the area. The resemblance is uncanny.

Your throat tightens as you glance at him again, searching for any sign that he recognizes you, too. Jeno’s expression remains calm, unreadable. Maybe it’s just a coincidence, you tell yourself. Maybe the lights and the atmosphere are playing tricks on your mind.

“The show’s about to start,” Jeno says suddenly, breaking the silence. His lips curl into a sly smirk as he adjusts his mask back into place. “You don’t want to miss this.”

His words send a shiver through you. There’s something unsettling about the way he says it—playful, yet cryptic. Before you can respond, the stage lights dim, and the crowd erupts into cheers.

The curtains rise, revealing a kaleidoscope of performers in elaborate costumes. A dancer twirls at the center, her movements hypnotic under the spotlight. The air fills with a haunting melody, each note wrapping around you like a spell.

Jeno leans slightly closer, his mask glinting in the dim light. “You’ll want to pay attention to this part,” he whispers, his tone carrying an edge of excitement.

Your hands grip the edge of your seat as the performance unfolds, a sense of foreboding settling deep in your chest. Whatever this is, it’s far from ordinary.

The performance was truthfully very entertaining. You were engrossed by all the acts—the dances, the daring stunts, and even the silly little fights between the clowns. It wasn’t until the end of the performance that the spotlight shined on a few new faces standing at the center of the stage.

There were two men; the one on the right with striking white hair wore a tag that read “JAEMIN”, but it was the man in the center who immediately caught your eye.

He stood with an aura of confidence, his movements deliberate and captivating. The light reflected off his beautifully tan skin, and his black, slicked hair glistened under the stage lights. His dark eyes carried a heavy intensity, as though they could pierce right through you. He was dressed in all black, his fitted attire complemented by gloves and a cane, which seemed purely for dramatic flair. His name tag simply read, “HAECHAN.”

"As for the grand finale!" Haechan’s unique, rich voice echoed through the tent, pulling everyone into his gravity.

That voice. It sent a chill down your spine. Despite being front row, you found yourself leaning forward, desperate for a closer look. You cursed yourself for how intoxicating you found him, annoyed by your own curiosity and attraction.

Two assistants wheeled out a young man strapped to a table, his torso encased in a box, his face carried a nervous smile, betraying his unease.

“My lovely assistant here—” Haechan gestured toward Jaemin, whose smirk was both charming and sinister. “Will perform our infamous sword box trick on the ever-so-gracious volunteer, Jisung.”

The crowd cheered wildly as Jaemin stepped forward, dramatically unsheathing a long, gleaming sword. He spun it in his hands with practiced precision, earning gasps and applause.

You, however, felt an unease prick at the back of your mind. Something about this didn’t feel like an ordinary performance.

Jaemin’s grin widened as he lined the sword up with the box. Haechan raised his arms dramatically, rallying the audience with his booming voice, “Ladies and gentlemen, I assure you, this is an illusion of the highest skill. Prepare yourselves for the impossible!”

Jaemin plunged the sword into the box with terrifying speed.

At first, you expected silence. For Jisung to feign a scream, for the illusion to go off without a hitch, but the sound that filled the tent wasn’t pretend.

Jisung’s screams were gut-wrenching, his body convulsing as blood spilled over the edges of the box.

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, but you couldn’t move. The scene felt wrong—too real, too visceral.

You ran toward the stage, desperate to stop the performance. “Stop! He’s hurt! This isn’t a trick!”

The audience’s laughter turned into a low murmur, but Haechan’s gaze snapped to you like a predator locking onto prey. His lips curled into a grin, dark and calculating, his piercing eyes gleaming under the crimson light.

“You…” he murmured, almost inaudibly.

Jaemin, unfazed by the chaos, twirled another sword in his hand with eerie precision. “Time for the finale!” he announced, his voice dripping with showmanship.

“No!” you screamed, trying to climb over the rope line to reach the stage, but a pair of clowns grabbed your arms, pulling you back into the crowd.

Jaemin plunged the final sword into the box. Jisung’s screams echoed through the tent, chilling you to your core. Blood pooled from the base of the box, the metallic scent thick in the air.

Your heart pounded as tears pricked your eyes. “He’s dying!” you shouted, thrashing against the clowns holding you. “Somebody stop this!”

But the crowd roared with laughter and applause, cheering louder than ever as if nothing was wrong.

The lights flickered once, twice, and then everything went dark. Gasps rippled through the audience, and you froze in the suffocating darkness, your breath caught in your throat.

A single spotlight blazed back on, illuminating the stage.

Jisung was standing. His body was whole, unharmed, not a single trace of blood in sight. He stood beside Haechan and Jaemin, both of whom bowed deeply to the roaring crowd. Confetti rained down as if nothing had happened.

Your stomach churned. Your eyes darted between the three men on stage, your mind screaming at you that this wasn’t just a trick. You had seen the blood, heard the screams. It was real.

You shoved your way through the sea of clapping hands, panic and confusion clouding your thoughts. You needed to get out, to breathe, to make sense of this.

As you stumbled through the tent flap and into the night air, you collided with something—or rather, someone.

“Whoa there,” a smooth voice said. Strong hands steadied you, keeping you upright.

You looked up, your breath catching as you met Haechan’s intense gaze. His face was just as captivating up close, his dark eyes glittering with something unreadable.

“Leaving so soon?” he asked, his tone dripping with amusement. “The show’s only just begun.”

You took a step back, your body trembling. “What… What was that? That wasn’t a trick. I saw—”

“Blood?” he interrupted, his grin widening. “You must be mistaken. Our performers are highly skilled. It’s all an illusion.”

“No,” you said firmly, your voice shaking. “I know what I saw. That man—he was screaming—”

“Perhaps your imagination got the better of you,” he said, his tone smooth and condescending.

The way he stared at you, like a cat toying with a mouse, sent a wave of unease through you. You shook your head, taking another step back. “I need to leave.”

Haechan tilted his head, his grin never faltering. “Go ahead, but you’ll be back.”

His words clung to you like a curse as you turned and bolted, the sound of his low chuckle echoing behind you. You ran as far as your legs could carry you, not daring to look back. Dream or not, everything about this place felt wrong. Your chest heaved as you made it past the stand where Chenle once stood, and without a second thought, you made a beeline straight toward the exit.

Only to find yourself… entering again?

“W-What… No, no, no,” you stammered, panic settling deep in your bones. You turned and tried again, running faster, more desperately, but every time you crossed the threshold, you were spat back to the same spot.

It was like a cruel loop, trapping you in its surreal embrace.

“Stuck?” a smooth voice startled you.

You whipped around to find Haechan standing a few steps away, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. His gaze was dark and amused as he watched you, your chest rising and falling with frantic breaths.

“Let me out,” you demanded through gritted teeth, the fire in your voice masking the growing unease in your chest.

“Perhaps it’s best if you follow me,” he said, extending his arm toward you in an oddly polite gesture. “That’s if you truly wish to leave.”

You eyed him warily, your heart racing. There was something disarming about his charm, but every instinct screamed at you not to trust him. Still, what choice did you have? You nodded slowly, stepping toward him but ignoring his offered arm.

“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug, his grin unwavering. He turned and began walking, and you hesitated for a moment before falling into step beside him.

The two of you weaved through the bustling carnival crowd. Strangely, people seemed to part like the sea as Haechan walked by. Some stopped to bow at him, their faces expressionless, while others whispered in hushed tones or pulled their companions out of his path.

You couldn’t ignore the growing question in your mind. Who is this man?

The further you walked, the quieter the carnival became. The music and laughter faded into an eerie stillness as Haechan led you away from the chaos and toward a secluded area far from the lights and festivities. Finally, you stopped in front of a large, ornate tent, its fabric shimmering under the crimson light of the blood moon.

“This is my home,” Haechan said, gesturing for you to step inside. “It’s quieter here. We can talk.”

You hesitated at the entrance, your gaze darting between him and the ominous structure. “What are you going to do?”

“Talk,” he repeated, his tone calm yet laced with impatience. “Unless you’d rather keep running in circles.”

Swallowing your fear, you stepped inside. The interior was surprisingly luxurious, adorned with plush velvet seating, velvet bedding, golden trinkets, and flickering candles that cast long shadows across the walls. It felt strangely intimate, though the air carried an unshakable sense of foreboding.

Haechan walked past you, settling into a chair and gesturing for you to sit across from him. Reluctantly, you obeyed.

“So,” you began, your voice shaky, “what is this place? Why can’t I leave?”

Haechan leaned back, resting his chin on his hand as he studied you. “You’re stuck here,” he said simply. “Just like the rest of us.”

His nonchalance sent a chill down your spine. “Stuck? What do you mean?”

“This carnival isn’t what it seems,” he said, his tone growing somber. “Everyone you’ve seen tonight—the performers, the guests, even me—aren’t alive in the way you understand. We’re spirits, cursed to live in an endless cycle.”

Your heart sank as his words sank in. “Why? Why are you cursed?”

Haechan’s smirk faltered for the first time, replaced by a distant, pained expression. “Because of me,” he admitted. “Years ago, I made a mistake. I was desperate to save someone I loved, my best friend Mark. He… died too young, too tragically. I couldn’t accept it.”

Your breath caught. “What did you do?”

“I summoned something,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “A dark entity, one that promised to bring Mark back in exchange for a price. I thought it would be something simple. I was wrong.”

His jaw tightened, and his hands curled into fists. “The price was this carnival. My soul, and the lost souls of those who entered, would belong to the entity. We would perform endlessly, night after night, to entertain it. As long as Mark remains alive, this cycle continues.”

Your stomach churned. “If Mark is alive after all these years, can’t you stop? Can’t you break the cycle?”

Haechan shook his head. “Mark probably doesn’t remember me, his soul is forever immortal, and I can’t leave. The demon made sure of that. I’m trapped here, forever watching over this hellish spectacle.”

His words hung heavy in the air, the weight of his confession suffocating. You stared at him, trying to process everything. The charming, confident man you had seen earlier now looked vulnerable, haunted by centuries of regret.

“But why me?” you asked. “Why am I stuck here?”

“I don’t know,” Haechan admitted, his gaze locking with yours. “But the fact that you’re here, that you can see through the glamour, means you’re different— and that terrifies me.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. You couldn’t deny the pull you felt toward him, the way his pain resonated with you. Yet, the thought of being trapped here forever sent shivers down your spine.

Haechan’s voice softened. “I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this, but if you want to survive here, or at least find a way out before sunrise, you’ll need to trust me.”

His words left you conflicted. Trust him? The man who admitted to summoning a dark entity and cursing countless lives? Yet, as his dark eyes searched yours, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was your only ally in this twisted nightmare.

Haechan sat across from you in the quiet solace of his tent, the air heavy with the weight of the truth he’d just revealed. His expression softened as he leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly together.

“This tent has been glamoured,” he explained. “No spirit, entity, or curse can touch us here. It’s the only place where you’re safe.”

You glanced around the dimly lit space, noticing the intricate symbols etched into the canvas walls. A faint hum seemed to vibrate through the air, a quiet magic you couldn’t quite grasp. Though his words were meant to reassure you, they only deepened your confusion.

“You’re telling me this whole carnival, everyone here… they’re lost spirits?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He nodded solemnly. “Every single one. Bound here to perform endlessly. Now, you’re a part of it, only you’re alive.”

The words hit you like a punch to the chest. You were desperate to find an answer, to find a way out, but as your thoughts spiraled, flashes of your past came unbidden; your mother’s gentle voice as she read you bedtime stories, the warm glow of your father’s laugh as he told you tales of old, and the cryptic conversations you’d had with them before they passed.

“Sweetheart, you have a light in you,” your mother had once said, her hand brushing against your cheek. “One day, that light will guide you somewhere important.”

“But why me?” you whispered to yourself, the memory blurring into the present.

Haechan’s voice broke through your reverie. “You’re holding something back. What is it?”

You hesitated, unwilling to share the lingering suspicion that your parents had somehow lured you here. Instead, you shook your head. “Nothing… I just—this doesn’t make sense.”

Haechan frowned but didn’t press further. “There’s one place that might help you understand,” he said after a pause. “The Mirror Maze.”

“The Mirror Maze?” you repeated, the name alone sending a chill down your spine.

He nodded, his tone more serious now. “It’s where no performer dares to go. The maze reveals the deepest fears and memories of anyone who steps inside. It’s dangerous, unpredictable. Even I can’t enter, it’s the one place my spirit doesn’t have power.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “So, you think it might help me?”

“I’m not completely sure,” he admitted. “But if there’s a clue about why you’re here—or how to break the curse—it might be there, and as someone whose still alive, you’re the only one who can find out.”

You felt a lump form in your throat but nodded, “Take me there.” 

The entrance to the Mirror Maze loomed before you, a twisted archway draped in dark velvet, the words “Face Thyself” etched ominously above it. Haechan stopped at the threshold, his expression grim.

“This is as far as I can go,” he said quietly, his eyes locking onto yours. “Be careful. The maze doesn’t lie, and it doesn’t show mercy.”

You swallowed hard, stepping through the archway. Instantly, the air grew cold, the dim light of the carnival fading behind you. The mirrors stretched endlessly in every direction, reflecting distorted versions of yourself—some familiar, some eerily foreign.

“Hello?” you called out, your voice echoing.

The reflections shimmered, and suddenly, the maze came to life.

One mirror glowed brighter than the rest, drawing your attention. In its reflection, you saw Haechan, but not as you knew him. His black suit was replaced with simple, worn clothes. His laughter rang out as he was with a younger man, under a summer sun.

“Donghyuck, don’t go!” His voice echoed through the maze, his fragile frame chasing after him.

“Mark…?” you gasped, recognizing the younger version of the name Haechan had mentioned.

The scene shifted, they’re older now. Mark was lying in a clearing, blood staining his clothes. Haechan kneeled beside him, his hands shaking as he tried to stop the bleeding. Tears streaked down his face as he begged, “Don’t leave me. Please, I’ll do anything.”

The air grew colder as the mirror rippled, revealing Haechan standing alone in the same clearing. His expression was hollow as he held a weathered book, its pages inked with symbols that seemed to crawl across the surface. His voice was shaky, desperate.

“I’ll give anything,” he whispered into the void. “Bring him back.”

A dark figure emerged from the shadows, its form obscured by smoke and tendrils of darkness. Though its face was hidden, the presence was suffocating. The entity’s voice slithered through the air, low and haunting.

“Anything, you say?” it hissed. “Love, devotion, life—pour it all into this wish, and you shall have what you desire.”

Haechan didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Take it all. Just bring Mark back.”

The scene shifted again, and you watched as the entity consumed Haechan’s love, twisting it into a curse. The same love that fueled his wish now tethered him to the carnival, an eternal performer trapped in a cycle to entertain the entity.

The mirror rippled once more, and your reflection appeared. Only, it wasn’t just you. Your parents stood beside you, their faces hollow and eyes void of life.

“You let us go,” your mother’s voice accused. “You couldn’t save us.”

“Stop!” you cried, reaching for the reflection, but the glass was cold and unyielding.

“Your light is fading,” your father added, his voice cruel and distant. “Now, you’ll be trapped here forever.”

The reflection twisted, and suddenly, you were staring at yourself—alone, aged, and hollow-eyed, forever wandering the carnival grounds.

“No!” you screamed, stumbling backward. The surrounding mirrors cracked with a deafening noise, sending you into a panic.

You bolted through the maze, desperate to escape. At last, you stumbled out of the exit, gasping for air as you collapsed onto the grass.

“Breathe,” Haechan’s voice said urgently as he crouched beside you, his hands steadying you. His palm rubbed circles on your back, and the sensation sent a jolt through you—a feeling almost electric. Your skin buzzed where he touched you, and a strange familiarity bloomed in your chest.

He felt it too. His hand froze for a split second before he continued, brushing it off as you did. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Your chest heaved as you clung to him, the images still flashing in your mind. “I saw you. I saw your past—Donghyuck.”

Haechan froze, his grip on you tightening. “How do you know that name?”

“It was in the maze,” you whispered. “That’s your real name, isn’t it?”

He nodded slowly, his eyes dark and unreadable. “It is.”

“What happened?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He hesitated, but then his shoulders sagged, and he looked at you with a vulnerability you hadn’t seen before. “I made a mistake—a terrible one. And now we’re all paying the price for it.”

Your breaths had finally steadied, but the weight of what you'd just seen pressed heavily on your chest. The air around him seemed heavier now, his usual confidence dimmed by the vulnerability in his expression. His hand lingered on your back, as though grounding both himself and you.

"Donghyuck," you began softly, "how did Mark really die? And why did you have that book?"

His body stiffened, and for a moment, you thought he might brush off the question. Then his hand fell away, and he exhaled deeply, running a hand through his dark hair.

"I guess you deserve to know," he muttered, his voice thick with regret. "Mark... he wasn't just my best friend. He was like a brother to me. We did everything together-built dreams, made plans, fought over stupid things, but one day, everything changed.”

You stayed silent, giving him space to continue. He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes fixed on a spot on the ground, as if he couldn't bear to meet your gaze.

"I found this book," he said finally. "It was old, leather-bound, and covered in strange symbols. It looked like something out of a bad horror movie. I thought it was a joke-a prop someone left behind in a dusty attic, but the more I read, the more... real it felt. The spells in it, they worked.”

"Spells?" you echoed, your heart pounding.

He nodded. "At first, it was little things. Moving objects, changing the weather, making small things happen that shouldn't have been possible. I didn't think about the consequences—was too caught up in the power. I thought I could do anything. Be anything."

He paused, his jaw tightening. "Then... one day, Mark and I got into a fight. It was over something so stupid I can't even remember it now—but I was angry-so angry.

I let the power go to my head. I used the energy l'd built up from practicing the spells.

I wanted to scare him, to make him stop yelling. I didn't realize how strong l'd gotten.

He swallowed hard, his voice breaking. "The energy hit him full force. It wasn't just a scare—it... It killed him. Right there in front of me.”

Your breath hitched. "Oh my god..."

Haechan's hands trembled as he continued.

"I was devastated. I didn't mean to-he was my best friend. I'd do anything to take it back. That's when the book showed me something else; a way to bring him back."

He glanced at you, his dark eyes filled with shame. "I didn't care about the cost. I summoned... something. An entity. It promised to bring Mark back, but l'd have to trade my soul and spend eternity entertaining it."

"And Mark?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"He was brought back... somewhere," Haechan said, his voice hollow. " I haven’t seen him since. It's like he exists in the world, but I can't reach him. I've been stuck here ever since, performing for the entity that cursed me. Reminding me of my past and reminding me I can never get my best friend back.”

You look at Donghyuck, his eyes reflecting the faint glow of the carnival’s lights, and feel a knot tighten in your chest. The pieces are starting to come together, though they’re jagged and painful to hold. “My parents,” you say hesitantly, your voice low but steady. “They died so suddenly. It never made sense. Now… Now I think their souls are tied here, just like the others. Maybe that’s why I was lured here. Maybe it wasn’t just this place calling to me—it was them.”

Donghyuck’s expression falters, the angry glint in his eyes replaced by something more somber. He doesn’t speak right away, and you press on, needing him to confirm what your heart already knows. “You knew them, didn’t you?”

He shakes his head, his gaze steady but solemn. “No,” he says firmly. “I didn’t know your parents, but if their souls really are tethered to this place like we think they are, then we need to break the curse now. We can’t waste any more time.”

The air feels heavy, almost suffocating, as the truth settles over you. All this time, the whispers had felt familiar, like the voices of the people you’d lost. Now you understand why—they weren’t just figments of the curse. They were real. “So, if I help you break the curse…” You look at him, your voice tightening with emotion. “I can free them too?”

He meets your gaze, the vulnerability in his eyes raw and unguarded. “If we do this right, yes. You can free them. The others too. All of us.”

The thought of freeing not just your parents, but every soul trapped in this wretched carnival, stirs something fierce inside you. “Then I’ll help you,” you say, the words firm and sure. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Donghyuck’s eyes widen, and for a moment, he looks like you’ve spoken a foreign language. “You’d really want to help me?” he asks, his voice tinged with disbelief and something else—hope.

“Yes,” you say, stepping closer. “We don’t have much time. This place resets at dawn, right? We need to get to your tent and find that spell book.”

He nods, snapping out of his shock. “Follow me,” he says, leading you through the twisting paths of the carnival. The whispers grow louder as you walk, almost guiding your steps. Despite the danger ahead, you feel a strange sense of clarity. This is where you’re meant to be, and for the first time, you believe you have the power to change how this story ends.

The weight of the spell book feels heavy in your hands, its leather cover pulsating faintly with an eerie warmth, as if alive. You stare at it, your mind racing with the realization that has gripped you. The darkness that spurs out of it. The book itself—this cursed, vile object—has been the entity all along. It’s not just a tool; it’s the root of everything. The curse. The carnival. The cycle. The deaths. It’s a trap.

Donghyuck stands frozen, his dark eyes widen with fear, realizing your intentions. “Stop— you can’t destroy it,” he says, his voice trembling. “If you do that, there’s no way out. No way to help me. No way to help Mark. No way for us to ever—” His voice cracks, and for the first time, you hear true desperation in his tone. “Please.”

You step closer, gripping the book tighter. “Donghyuck, I know this is hard. But this—this thing—it’s been keeping all of us trapped. You, Mark, my parents, everyone. If we don’t destroy it, the cycle will just keep going.”

His hands shake as he runs them through his hair, pacing frantically. “You don’t understand,” he mutters. “Without it, I’ll lose everything. I won’t even get to know what’s next. What if this—this emptiness—is all that’s waiting for me? What if I can’t see you or Mark again?” His voice softens, breaking under the weight of his words. “I’m scared.”

You reach out, your hand brushing his arm, and the familiar electric spark flickers between you. “Donghyuck,” you say, your voice steady. “I don’t know what’s waiting for you, either, but isn’t that better than this? Better than being stuck in a place that’s killing you over and over again? You have to give it some faith. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

His gaze meets yours, the walls he’s built around himself crumbling as tears well in his eyes. Slowly, he nods, swallowing hard. “Okay,” he whispers. “Okay. Do it.”

You take a deep breath and open the book. The pages are stiff, almost glued together by some unseen force. You try pulling at one, but it doesn’t budge, no matter how hard you tug. A frustrated sob escapes you as you glance back at Donghyuck, his expression torn between fear and hope.

Closing your eyes, you think about your parents—the love they had for you, their unwavering belief in doing what was right. You think about Mark and the unyielding bond he shared with Donghyuck, the lengths Donghyuck went to for him. Love, in all its forms, floods your chest, and with it comes strength. When you pull again, the page tears free with an audible crack, bursting into flames before disintegrating into dust.

One by one, you tear the pages. Each piece of paper ignites, dissolving into nothingness. The room grows heavier with every rip, the air charged with an otherworldly energy. Donghyuck watches, his breath hitching, his body tense. When the last page burns away, the book’s cover collapses into ash in your hands, leaving only silence behind.

“What have you done?” Donghyuck whispers, his voice shaking. “What if it didn’t work?”

Before you can respond, a soft glow fills the tent. You turn to see a figure stepping through the curtain, translucent but unmistakably familiar. “Mark…” Donghyuck breathes, his voice cracking as tears spill down his cheeks.

The two of them stare at each other for a moment that feels eternal, before Donghyuck stumbles forward, wrapping Mark in an embrace that somehow feels real despite the faint shimmer of his form. “I’m so sorry,” Donghyuck sobs. “For everything. I was selfish. I—I ruined everything.”

Mark smiles gently, his own voice thick with emotion. “You did what you thought you had to, Hyuck. I was never angry. I just wanted you to be okay.” He pulls back slightly, his hand resting against Donghyuck’s shoulder. “You saved me, you gave your life for me.”

The glow around Mark intensifies as his spirit begins to fade. Donghyuck chokes on a sob, whispering a tearful goodbye as Mark disappears into the light.

Then, more figures appear. Your parents. Their familiar faces send a fresh wave of tears streaming down your cheeks. They smile warmly, pride shining in their eyes. “You’ve done it,” your mother says, her voice soft but steady. “We’re so proud of you.”

“We can finally rest now,” your father adds, his hand reaching out as if to brush your cheek. “We love you. Thank you, sweetheart.”

You try to speak, but all that comes out is a choked sob. They give you one last look, filled with love and peace, before their forms dissolve, leaving you standing in the silence of Donghyuck’s tent.

Donghyuck steps forward, his arms wrapping around you in a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispers, his voice raw. “For everything.”

For a moment, the spark between you flickers, faint but unmistakable. You feel his warmth, his touch, and for a fleeting second, you wonder how it’s possible. As the weight of the moment settles, you let it go, clinging to the sense of hope that remains. Together, you’ve broken the cycle—and for the first time, the future feels like your own.

“Will I ever get to see you again?” you ask, your voice trembling as you look up at him, your eyes pleading for an answer you’re not sure whether you’re ready to hear.

Donghyuck’s breath hitches, and for a moment, he just stares at you, his golden eyes shining with a mix of longing and sorrow. Slowly, he steps closer, his hands trembling as they come up to cradle your face. His touch is warm, grounding, and for the first time, it doesn’t spark—it burns, searing this moment into your soul.

“I don’t know,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “But I wish I could stay here with you. For just a little longer.”

Before you can respond, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that feels like both a goodbye and a desperate plea to hold onto the moment. His hands tighten slightly, as though he’s afraid you’ll slip away, and you can feel the raw emotion pouring from him—fear, gratitude, and a deep, unspoken connection that neither of you can fully explain.

The world seems to fall away around you, the weight of the carnival, the curse, and the souls you’ve freed fading into the background. All that matters is him—the warmth of his lips, the way his fingers gently press against your skin, and the silent promise you feel between you.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath shallow and uneven. “Thank you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “For saving me. For saving all of us.”

Your hands rest over his, still cupping your face, and you close your eyes, letting the moment linger even though you know it can’t last forever. “We’ll find a way,” you murmur. “I don’t know how, but we’ll find a way.”

His lips curve into the faintest, bittersweet smile. “If anyone could, it’s you.”

You smile up at him, unable to resist the pull any longer. Giving in to your temptations, you grab him by the collar and tug him down into another kiss, this one more fervent, more consuming. His lips crash against yours with a desperation that matches your own, as though you're both trying to cling to the moment, to each other, for as long as the universe will allow.

Everything had worked out—Mark was free, your parents had moved on—yet he was still here. Still with you. You both knew this borrowed time wasn't guaranteed, but that only made it more precious. You kissed through gasping breaths, every exhale mingling with his as the burning connection between you grew hotter, fiercer.

It was now or never.

The kiss deepens suddenly, urgency overtaking the both of you. He presses you back, guiding you until you stumble against the velvet bed in the center of the room. His hands trail along your body, tentative at first but quickly growing bolder as you pull him closer, refusing to let even a sliver of space come between you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, your touch setting every nerve alight as that fire you've felt since the beginning roars to life.

The world outside the tent fades entirely. All you can feel is him-his lips, his hands, the way his heart ironically pounds against yours. That burning sensation builds, but it isn't just desire-it's something deeper, something ancient. This feeling, this moment, is what you were meant for. It's as though your very soul recognizes his, as though you've been tethered together through time and fate and whatever lies beyond.

This is where you belong. This is who you belong with, and you're both finally allowing yourselves to embrace it. 

Your body sinks into the mattress as he hovers over you, his eyes roaming over you with an intensity that makes it feel like he can see straight through your clothes. The weight of his gaze causes heat to rise in your cheeks, and you turn your head slightly, unable to meet his eyes. He notices instantly.

"Hey, it's okay," he murmurs softly, his voice low and reassuring. "You're safe with me. I'll take good care of you tonight, the way you did for me."

His words, gentle but filled with conviction, send a shiver down your spine. His voice alone stirs something deep inside you, and the heat pooling between your legs grows unbearable. You press your thighs together instinctively, seeking any kind of relief.

"Dong...hyuck..." you whimper, his name falling from your lips like a plea.

The sound draws a heavy grunt from his throat, primal and raw. Hearing his real name come from you like that seems to undo something in him, fogging his mind completely. He leans closer, his hands moving to the edges of your clothes. Slowly, almost reverently at first, he begins to slide them off, tossing each piece aside with little care for where they land. His focus is entirely on you, the fire between you growing with every passing second.

You join him, a soft moan escaping your lips at the sight of his unbuttoned dress shirt slipping off to reveal his golden-toned torso.

The way the red moon light dances across his skin makes your breath hitch. Without hesitation, he yanks the shirt off completely, quickly discarding his pants as well, leaving the both of you in nothing but your undergarments.

He notices the dazed look in your eyes and takes advantage of the moment, gently lifting one of your legs. The movement exposes the damp patch at your clothed core, and his breath hitches audibly. A low moan escapes his throat as he lowers his head closer, his lips just brushing against the fabric.

"So desperate for me, aren't you?" he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Fuck, you're so beautiful." His breath fans over the dampened spot, which only grows darker with every passing second, his words and closeness pushing you further into blissful surrender.

He starts kissing over it, his lips applying pressure exactly to where your clit is, causing you to squirm around.

“Please… I want more,” you beg desperately, looking down at the sight of him teasing you.

Locking eye contact together, he rips off the last piece of your clothing, he starts licking up every bit of your juices that started leaking out of you. Your hand immediately reaches for his hair like a reflex, and you push his head closer to you, not wanting a split second of separation.

Donghyuck moans against your cunt, bringing his fingers to your entrance, and plunging them inside of you while his mouth starts playing with your clit.

He releases his mouth, a popping sound echoing throughout the tent when he does so. His fingers still working on your insides—he refuses to take his eyes off your face as it scrunches in pleasure.

“My own personal heaven,” he whispers to himself.

He feels your insides squeezing around his fingers, reaching your climax.

“Hold it for me baby, I want you to cum around my cock,” he whines, that alone nearly causing you to finish.

He slides his fingers out of you, and your eyes start to water—missing the feeling of him so close to you. You didn’t realize your tears were starting to trickle down your face until he kissed them away, adjusting your hair out of your face as he positioned you up.

“It’s okay baby, shhh, it’s all going to be okay,” he holds you gently, flipping you over so this time you were arching right into his tip, your head pressing against the pillow now damp from your previous tears.

“I know you want this as badly as I do, isn’t that right, babe?” He snickers, teasing the both of you as he continues to only insert his tip in and out of you.

An almost animalistic groan escapes your lips as you cry out, “I can’t take it… Please, Donghyuck, I’m begging you!”

“Begging me to do what?” he teases, his voice low and challenging as he tests your resolve.

“Fuck me—Please Hyuck just please—Fuck!” You scream as he plunges his full length into you.

His grip tightens on your ass as he yanks you closer, pounding into you harder by the second.

“Acting like such an angel, but look at you. You like it rough, don’t you? Drooling everywhere all because of me,” he grunts through each thrust.

He grabs your hand and guides you to your clit, making you rub it in circles while he continues to go deeper.

“Donghyuck… I’m going to…” your voice shakes.

“Do it. Cum all over me baby, I’m so close,” he demands.

In a blink of an eye, you’re now squeezing all over his length, chasing your high. Your eyes completely roll back as you continue to scream his name, your voice echoing.

Soon after, he follows you, releasing himself inside you with a deep groan, his movements slowing but never stopping, even as the two of you grow sensitive. It's as if he can't bear to let even a single part of himself go to waste.

Finally, he collapses beside you, both of you turning to face the pointed ceiling of the tent. Your breaths are ragged, your chests rising and falling in unison, but slowly, they begin to even out.

Suddenly, you feel his arms wrap tightly around you, his breath warm against your ear. "That was perfect," he murmurs, his voice husky and satisfied.

You let out a soft chuckle, a hum of contentment escaping your lips. "Yeah, it was." For a fleeting moment, you allow yourself to bask in the warmth of his embrace, but the growing light filtering into the tent pulls you back to reality. The sun is rising, its golden rays piercing through the fabric, and with it comes a sinking realization: this might be the last time you see him.

You turn to him, your heart clenching with fear and sadness. He notices instantly, his eyes meeting yours, reading the emotions written plainly across your face.

Without a word, he places a tender kiss against your forehead, his lips lingering there as though trying to reassure you.

When he pulls back, his voice is clear, steady, and almost too calm. "Don't worry, love. It's just the two of us now. Just us, forever."

Your breath catches in your throat, and your eyes widen. You push yourself up, staring at him with growing dread. "What do you mean, forever?" you ask, your voice trembling as you swallow hard.

An eerie yet soft grin spreads across his face, a look that chills you to your core. “I made one last wish before you tore the book," he says, his tone light but filled with something darker beneath the surface.

The color drains from your face as his words sink in, dread washing over you in waves.

"What... what did you wish for?" you whisper, though part of you already knows.

"I didn't need the power, the magic, or even my friendships to set me free," he continues, his gaze never leaving yours. "I needed you. Now that I have you, I'm never letting you go."

The sun streams through the tent, lighting up his features in a way that should be comforting, but instead fills you with icy terror. His eyes glint with yearning, his arms tightening around you as though he's afraid you'll disappear. You lie there frozen, realization dawning like the sunrise breaking across his face.

You'd set everyone else free, but in doing so, you'd unwittingly trapped yourself.

He was the real entity all along—and now, you belonged to him. Your soul tied to his, forever.

[haecastor]

why did i take so long to finally read this???

IT'S SO GOOD???? 😭😭🙏🏻🙏🏻 and the twist omg the way now im aching for more but 😔😔😔

[leejenowrld-deactivated20260419]

falling for you

pairing — lee donghyuck x reader 

word count — 5.8k

genre — smut, explicit sexual content, rough sex, strangers to lovers. this is not proofread. 

synopsis — at a crowded christmas party, the air buzzing with laughter and music, you and donghyuck can’t stop locking eyes, the tension between you thick and impossible to ignore. it snaps when he grabs your hand, dragging you into a dark, empty room, the door clicking shut as he presses you hard against it. his breath is hot against your ear, his voice low and filthy as he murmurs all the things he’s been dying to do to you. his hands move with purpose, peeling away your clothes like wrapping paper, unwrapping you as though you’re the only gift he wants. the distant hum of the party fades as he fucks you with rough, desperate strokes, your moans swallowed by his mouth, the risk of being caught only making it hotter.

[fic ml]

The house reeked of spilled beer and sweat, the faint tang of weed curling through the air where the windows hadn’t been cracked open enough. The sharp, heady scent of cheap bourbon clung to sticky tabletops littered with solo cups, beer cans, and the occasional forgotten vape. Christmas lights were draped haphazardly across the bannisters, blinking erratically like they were moments from burning out, their warm glow catching on the glossy sheen of alcohol pooled in forgotten corners.

The music was loud enough to drown out most conversations—a heavy bassline shaking the floors and blending with the chaotic medley of overlapping laughter, flirtations, and half-shouted arguments. The living room was packed, bodies pressed together in a way that felt both suffocating and electric. Someone’s Santa hat had been abandoned on the couch, crushed beneath a pair of legs tangled in what was clearly the beginning—or middle—of something less than festive.

People spilled from the kitchen to the hallway, a constant churn of movement as groups rearranged, reconnected, or stumbled over each other in their drunken haze. The dining table had been turned into an improvised beer pong arena, cheers erupting every few minutes when someone managed to sink a cup. Somewhere in the background, someone was singing—badly, off-key, and completely oblivious to the fact that no one was paying attention.

You felt the weight of being new here, standing just on the edge of the chaos with a drink in hand that you weren’t entirely sure you’d wanted. Chaewon had disappeared almost immediately after dragging you through the front door, her gold dress shimmering as she threw herself into the crowd with a confidence you envied. You’d only moved to this college a few months ago, still fumbling through introductions and awkward smiles, and now you were at a party where you didn’t know a single person.

“Trust me, you’ll love it,” Chaewon had insisted earlier, shoving a glittery red crop top at you before you’d protested. She’d rolled her eyes and swapped it for a green velvet dress she’d been saving for herself. “Here, this’ll be even better on you. You shouldn’t be worried! This is college and Christmas, and everyone’s gonna be happy! You don’t need to stress about anything. Just… exist, and they’ll love you.”

Now, though, as you glanced around the party, you felt far from confident. You, on the other hand, felt like an imposter. The green velvet dress Chaewon had insisted you wear clung to you in ways that left you hyper-aware of every glance, the low neckline and teasing slit down one thigh feeling scandalous even in the dim, forgiving light. You couldn’t count the number of times you’d tugged at the fabric, only for Chaewon to swat your hands away with an exaggerated sigh.

“Stop it,” she’d said, swatting your arm as you’d fidgeted with the neckline before you walked out the door. “You look so fucking hot. I wish I could pull that off like you do.”

But now, as you sipped at your drink—some vaguely fruity, overly sweet concoction that burned faintly at the back of your throat—you couldn’t shake the feeling of sticking out. You shifted your weight from one heel to the other, scanning the room for Chaewon, but she was nowhere to be found.

Someone brushed past you, close enough that you felt the heat of their body as they slipped through the crowd, and your eyes darted to the bannisters where a guy was laughing too loudly, his arm draped over a girl who looked just as drunk as he was. Near the stereo, a couple was making out with reckless abandon, the music shifting to something bass-heavy and sultry as their hands roamed each other shamelessly.

It was messy. Unapologetically so. And you couldn’t decide if you hated it or if there was something strangely intoxicating about being surrounded by so much noise, so much life.

Chaewon hadn’t given you much choice. She’d shown up at your dorm hours earlier, her dress glittering like something out of a fairy tale, her energy relentless as she shoved the velvet emerald dress into your hands with a no-nonsense look. “If you don’t wear this,” she’d said, planting her hands on her hips, “I’m going to spend the entire party mourning your lack of holiday spirit instead of enjoying my drinks. Don’t ruin this for me.”

When you’d hesitated, she’d softened, taking a step closer to meet your eyes. “You shouldn’t be worried,” she said, her voice warmer now, persuasive. “This is college and Christmas, and everyone’s going to be happy. You don’t need to stress about anything. Just… exist, and they’ll love you.”

Now, here you were, the dress clinging to your every curve in a way that felt impossibly scandalous. The neckline dipped lower than you were used to, and the slit along your thigh seemed almost criminal with every step you took. You’d lost count of the times you’d tried to tug it into place, only for Chaewon to slap your hand away.

“You look like a fucking goddess,” she said for the hundredth time as she pulled you through the throng of bodies. Her hand was a vice around your wrist, steering you past clusters of people who greeted her like an old friend. Chaewon belonged in this kind of environment—bright and dazzling, magnetic in a way that drew attention without her even trying.

“I look like I’m trying too hard,” you muttered under your breath, but she ignored you, her energy buzzing as she pushed through the crowd.

“Stop sulking,” she said over her shoulder. “You’re about to have the time of your life.”

The bass-heavy music thudded through the walls, shaking loose strings of lights draped across the ceiling, the crowd moving like one fluid, writhing body. You were halfway through another sip of your drink, the too-sweet tang clinging to your tongue, when Chaewon suddenly straightened, her grin sharp and immediate.

“Jeno!” she called, her voice cutting through the noise, dripping with something between excitement and familiarity.

You turned just in time to see him, and the sight of him stopped you short.

Jeno had the kind of presence that turned heads without effort, his movements lazy but deliberate as he wove through the crowd. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his black jeans slung low on his hips and his dark sweater stretched perfectly across his chest. The sleeves were pushed up, revealing the kind of forearms that seemed designed to make people stare. His hair fell messily over his forehead, just disheveled enough to look effortless but intentional. And then there was his face—sharp, devastating, his full lips curving into an easy smirk as he approached.

Chaewon didn’t wait for him to reach you. She stepped into his space like she belonged there, throwing her arms around his neck in a way that made her gold dress shimmer under the string lights.

His laugh was low, rich, and warm as he hugged her back, his large hands resting lightly at her waist before letting her go.

“You brought her out,” he said, his gaze flicking briefly to you before returning to Chaewon, something knowing and amused in his tone.

“I did,” Chaewon said, looping her arm through yours and pulling you forward. “Jeno, meet my best friend. She’s new, so don’t scare her.”

His attention shifted fully to you now, and you felt the weight of his gaze like a physical thing. His eyes dragged over you—not rudely, but boldly—his lips twitching into something softer, lazier as his hand came up to shake yours.

“Welcome,” he said, his voice smooth and warm, the kind that made you feel like he actually meant it. “Make yourself at home.”

His grip was firm, his palm warm against yours, and you swore you could still feel the ghost of his touch even after he pulled away.

“Thanks,” you managed, your voice steadier than you expected. “It’s… a great party.”

“Chaos,” he corrected, the corner of his mouth curving upward. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

And just like that, he was gone, blending seamlessly back into the crowd, his laugh low and easy as someone else drew his attention.

You turned to Chaewon, your brows raised. “Is he…?”

Chaewon’s cheeks flushed, her lips pressing together in an attempt to feign innocence.

You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Is he the one you kept moaning about a few nights ago?”

Her eyes widened before she slapped your arm. “Oh, my God, shut up,” she hissed, but the redness in her face gave her away.

You grinned, your tone teasing. “So, that’s a yes?”

“I’m not answering that,” she muttered, grabbing your drink and taking a sip like she needed it to recover. “Anyway,” she said, clearly desperate to change the subject, “let me give you the rundown of who’s who.”

She gestured toward the stereo, where a group of guys were laughing, their energy loud and infectious. “Renjun’s the one on the left, the sarcastic one who’s always overthinking everything. Don’t let his permanent scowl scare you off—he’s actually nice. Kind of.”

She pointed toward the middle of the room, where Jaemin was sprawled on the couch, his arm draped casually around a girl who looked completely smitten. “That’s Jaemin. Resident flirt. If he talks to you, don’t take it seriously—he flirts with everyone.”

Your gaze shifted to the beer pong table, where Shotaro was grinning like he’d just won the lottery, his enthusiasm infectious. “Shotaro. Literal golden retriever energy. You’ll love him.”

Chaewon’s voice dropped slightly as she gestured toward the far corner of the room, where the crowd thinned and the lights dimmed. “And lastly… there’s Donghyuck.”

You followed her gaze, and your breath caught.

He was leaning against the wall, a cigarette balanced between his fingers, the faint orange glow illuminating the sharp angles of his face. His black turtleneck clung to his lean frame, the sleeves pushed up just enough to show his forearms, veins faintly visible beneath the skin. His posture was relaxed, almost lazy, but there was an intensity in the way he held himself, his dark eyes scanning the room with quiet calculation.

When his gaze landed on you, it didn’t move.

It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t polite. It was deliberate, his eyes dragging over you like he was stripping away the layers of your skin, searching for something hidden. The weight of it sent a shiver racing down your spine, heat blooming in your chest as you quickly looked away.

Chaewon smirked, leaning closer so only you could hear. “Good luck with that one.”

There was something about him that demanded attention. It wasn’t loud or obvious—he wasn’t trying to dominate the space—but there was a quiet pull in the way he carried himself, his presence electric in its stillness. His posture was almost lazy, his shoulder propped against the wall near the patio door, the faint glow of his cigarette tracing the sharp angles of his face. His eyes scanned the room like he was taking inventory, flicking over the crowd as though none of it mattered.

Until they landed on you.

Your stomach twisted, the room tilting slightly under the intensity of it. He didn’t bother with a smile or a nod—didn’t try to soften the blow. He just stared, unblinking, his gaze heavy and unrelenting, pinning you in place like a butterfly beneath glass.

For a moment, you couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, the force of his attention making you feel exposed in a way that was impossible to explain. You forced yourself to look away, focusing intently on the too-sweet drink in your hand, but it didn’t help. You could still feel him.

The night blurred on, the buzz of alcohol loosening your nerves as Chaewon introduced you to one person after another, most of whom you barely remembered. But the sensation of being watched never left. Every time you glanced toward the patio, he was there—smoking, drinking, leaning against the glass with a posture so languid it bordered on arrogance.

And every time, his gaze found you.

It wasn’t playful or teasing, the way some people stared at a party. It was raw, unfiltered, and it made your skin prickle with a heat that wasn’t entirely unwelcome. It felt calculated in its intensity, deliberate in a way that left no room for misinterpretation. You told yourself to be annoyed, to dismiss it as some kind of game he was playing, but you couldn’t. There was something too visceral about it, too consuming.

The room seemed smaller now, the heat of too many bodies pressing in on you, the music pounding in your ears. You could feel the invisible thread between you tightening with every glance, pulling you toward him even as you tried to stay anchored.

Finally, as the crowd began to thin, he moved.

You felt it before you saw it, the air shifting, the space between you shrinking until he was there. He smelled like smoke, sharp and rich, mingling with something darker, something warm and heady that made your knees feel weak. His presence was overwhelming, the kind that made the rest of the room blur into irrelevance.

“You’ve been staring,” he said, his voice low and smooth, the kind of tone that slid down your spine and pooled low in your stomach.

You blinked, startled by his bluntness. “Excuse me?”

His head tilted slightly, his smirk faint but unmistakable. “Don’t deny it,” he murmured, his gaze flicking down to your lips before returning to your eyes. “I saw you.”

Heat surged to your cheeks, and you struggled to keep your composure. “You’re awfully confident for someone I’ve never met.”

He took another step closer, and suddenly the heat wasn’t just in your face—it was everywhere, radiating from his body in waves that made your skin prickle. “Donghyuck,” he said simply, his name slipping from his lips like a slow promise. “And you are?”

There was something in the way he said it—sharp, unrelenting—that made it impossible to lie. The air between you buzzed with something almost tangible, and before you could stop yourself, you told him your name, your voice quieter than you’d intended.

“Hmm,” he murmured, his smirk deepening as he said your name back, rolling it off his tongue like he was trying it on for size. “Pretty.”

“You’re awfully forward,” you shot back, your voice firmer now, though your pulse betrayed you, hammering in your ears.

His eyes sparkled with amusement, but beneath the surface was something darker, something that made your breath catch. “I don’t waste time,” he said simply, taking a final drag from his cigarette before stubbing it out on the edge of a nearby glass. “Especially not when it comes to something I want.”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words settling low in your stomach. His smirk widened as though he could feel the effect he was having on you.

“I’m not something you can just… have,” you managed, though the conviction you were aiming for wavered under the heat of his gaze.

Donghyuck leaned in then, close enough that his words brushed against your ear, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. “Then tell me to leave.”

The challenge hung heavy in the air, his proximity intoxicating. You should’ve said something, should’ve pulled away, but you didn’t. The words wouldn’t come, trapped somewhere between your mind and your lips as you stayed frozen in place.

His hand brushed against yours, light and fleeting, a touch so subtle it could’ve been accidental. But it wasn’t. You knew it wasn’t. Sparks skittered across your skin, and his smirk grew sharper, his lips curling in satisfaction.

“Didn’t think so,” he murmured, his voice cutting through the haze that had settled over you.

Your heart pounded, the noise of the party fading to nothing as the rest of the world narrowed down to just him. He smelled of smoke and something darker, something that made your pulse quicken as he lingered, his eyes holding yours like a trap you couldn’t escape.

“What do you want?” you asked finally, your voice barely audible, trembling under the weight of his attention.

Donghyuck’s smile softened, but his gaze never wavered, never lost its intensity. “I think you already know.”

His fingers grazed your wrist, his touch deliberate now, trailing upward with a slow, unhurried confidence. The heat of his skin branded yours, the light pressure of his fingertips igniting something low and aching in your chest. It was a small gesture, innocent enough to anyone else, but it felt loaded, charged, like every nerve in your body had been tuned to him.

Your pulse stuttered beneath his touch, and his smirk widened, dark and knowing. “See?” he said, his voice a low hum that wrapped around you like a vice. “You feel it too.”

The alcohol had done its job, loosening the tightness in your chest and blurring the edges of your inhibitions. You were drunk, and not just on the sweetness of the cocktails or the heavy beat of the music still reverberating through the walls. It was him—his presence, the way he carried himself like he owned the night, the way his eyes lingered on you like he already knew how this was going to end.

You weren’t naïve. You knew exactly what you were walking into when he tilted his head, murmured those soft, commanding words that sent a shiver of heat straight through you. “Let me show you something,” he’d said, his voice low and smooth, and you’d nodded because, God, you didn’t want to think tonight. Not about the stress of starting over at a new college, the overwhelming pressure to find your place, or the exhausting effort of pretending you had it all together.

You just wanted to feel. To let go.

And he was the perfect distraction. Hot as sin, all sharp edges and confidence, with an intensity that made your pulse race. The way his hand brushed the small of your back as he guided you through the crowded house sent sparks skittering across your skin, each step pulling you deeper into something you weren’t ready to name.

By the time the door clicked shut behind you, the air between you was electric, charged with the kind of tension that made your head spin. The dim moonlight streaming through the window cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp cut of his jaw, the curve of his lips that were no longer smirking but drawn tight with something darker, hungrier.

You didn’t have time to second-guess. The moment he turned to face you, his gaze locking with yours, it was like the air was stolen from your lungs. His eyes dragged over you, unapologetically, devouring, and the heat in his stare made you feel bare, exposed in a way that sent a thrill racing down your spine.

Your back pressed against the door as he stepped closer, his body crowding yours without touching, his presence so overwhelming that it made your knees weak. He was close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, close enough that his breath brushed against your cheek when he spoke.

“Are you going to tell me to stop?” he asked, his voice soft but threaded with a dangerous edge, his gaze locked on yours.

You couldn’t have said no if you wanted to. You shook your head, the movement barely a whisper, your breath hitching as the corner of his lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, deeper. His hands came up to rest on either side of you, caging you in without touching you, but the weight of his proximity was enough to set your skin on fire.

And then he kissed you.

His mouth crashed into yours like a wave breaking against the shore, relentless and all-consuming. He bit your bottom lip, pulling just hard enough to make your stomach clench, the pain sharp and addictive. Each kiss was messy, greedy, wet—more like devouring than anything soft or deliberate. His tongue slid against yours, teasing, dominating, every movement pulling you deeper into the heat, stealing the air from your lungs.

“Fuck,” he growled, his voice a low snarl as he pulled back, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave marks. “You taste so fucking sweet.”

You yanked at his hair, pulling him back to you, the sting grounding you even as your head spun. “Shut up and keep going,” you demanded, your voice shaking, already frayed at the edges.

His laugh was dark, more like a growl than a sound of amusement. “You’re impatient,” he muttered, his breath hot against your cheek as he trailed kisses down your jawline, each one wetter and sloppier than the last. His hands slid beneath the hem of your dress, the fabric bunching in his fists as he yanked it higher.

“Because you’re fucking slow,” you snapped, arching into him as his fingers brushed the tops of your thighs.

“Slow?” He laughed again, his teeth grazing the curve of your neck before biting down hard enough to make you gasp. “You won’t be saying that when I’m done with you.”

Your dress was pulled over your head and thrown carelessly to the floor, leaving you in nothing but your heels and panties. His hands were on you instantly, rough and possessive, mapping out every inch of bare skin.

“You’re gorgeous,” he muttered, his voice barely above a growl. His lips latched onto your collarbone, sucking and biting as his hands slid up to your breasts, squeezing them roughly through your bra.

You moaned, your head tipping back as your nails dug into his shoulders. “Stop teasing,” you gasped, grinding against him, desperate for the friction of his cock against the soaked fabric between your legs.

“Not until you beg,” he said, his tone laced with arrogance.

“Fuck you,” you spat, but the words broke as he rolled your nipple between his fingers, the sensation sending a jolt straight to your core.

“Soon,” he promised, his hands slipping behind you to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor. His mouth was on you immediately, sucking and nipping at your breasts, leaving marks as his teeth scraped against sensitive skin.

You fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, frustration mounting as your fingers trembled. “Take it off,” you demanded, your voice raw with need.

He pulled back just long enough to yank his shirt over his head, revealing the hard lines of his chest, the muscles tense and coiled like a predator about to pounce.

“Better?” he asked, his lips curling into a smirk.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you shoved your hands into his jeans, your fingers wrapping around his cock through the fabric. He hissed, his hips jerking forward as you squeezed, your grip just shy of painful.

“You want me?” you teased, your voice dripping with mockery.

“More than you can handle,” he shot back, his hands gripping your ass and lifting you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and he slammed you against the wall, the force making the door rattle.

The angle pressed his cock against you perfectly, the friction sending a shockwave through your body. You moaned, grinding against him, your panties already soaked through.

“You feel that?” he muttered, his lips brushing your ear as he rocked his hips, the hard ridge of his cock dragging against your clit. “That’s all for you.”

“Then stop teasing,” you gasped, your voice breaking.

He reached between you, yanking your panties down and tossing them to the floor. His hand slid between your legs, his fingers parting your folds and spreading your slickness. “Fuck,” he muttered, his tone dripping with approval. “You’re fucking dripping for me.”

“Because you won’t do anything,” you snapped, your hips jerking against his hand.

He smirked, his fingers sliding inside you without warning. You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he started to fuck you with them, his thumb circling your clit with rough precision.

“You talk a lot of shit for someone falling apart this fast,” he growled, his pace quickening as he added a third finger, the stretch burning in the best way.

“Shut up,” you moaned, your voice trembling as your walls clenched around him.

“Make me,” he challenged, his free hand gripping your jaw and forcing you to look at him. His gaze was dark, predatory, and it sent a shiver racing down your spine.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you leaned forward, biting down on his lip hard enough to draw a low growl from him.

“Fuck,” he snarled, pulling his fingers free and stepping back. “Turn around.”

You obeyed, bracing your hands against the door as he yanked his belt free, the sound of the leather sliding through the loops making your breath hitch. His jeans hit the floor, and then his hands were on you, spreading you open as the head of his cock pressed against your entrance.

“You ready for this?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

“Just fucking do it,” you snapped, your body trembling with anticipation.

He didn’t hesitate. He slammed into you in one brutal thrust, the stretch almost too much as he filled you completely. You cried out, your nails scraping against the wood as he held you there, his hips flush against yours.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he muttered, his voice rough and jagged.

“Move,” you gasped, your voice breaking.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled back and slammed into you again, the force of it making the door rattle. Each thrust was rough and unrelenting, his cock dragging against your walls and hitting that perfect spot that had you moaning with every snap of his hips.

“Harder,” you gasped, your head tipping back as your body arched against him.

“You fucking take it,” he growled, his hand tangling in your hair and pulling your head back. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” you cried, your walls clenching around him.

His free hand came down on your ass, the sharp slap sending a jolt of pain-tinged pleasure through you. “Say it,” he demanded.

“I wanted this,” you gasped, your voice breaking.

“That’s what I thought,” he growled, his pace quickening as he fucked you harder, each thrust sending shockwaves through your body.

Your moans grew louder, more desperate, as the tension coiled tighter in your belly, every nerve sparking as you teetered on the edge.

“Come for me,” he ordered, his voice rough and commanding.

The coil snapped, and you screamed his name, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure tore through you. Your walls clenched around him, pulling him deeper as he groaned, his hips slamming into you one last time as he spilled inside you, the heat of his release sending aftershocks through your body.

He stayed there for a moment, his chest heaving against your back, his hands still gripping your hips. Finally, he pulled out, turning you to face him.

His voice cut through the haze like a blade, low and unwavering, carrying a command you couldn’t ignore. “You’re coming home with me,” he said, each word dripping with certainty, as though the decision had already been made. His eyes burned into yours, dark and unrelenting, the heat in them leaving no room for argument.

Your chest heaved, your breaths shallow and uneven, the aftershocks of what just happened still rippling through your body. For a moment, you could only stare at him, trying to gather the words, trying to find your footing when your knees still felt weak. Finally, you managed to smirk, defiance sparking to life beneath the lingering haze of desire. “Good. You think I’m done with you yet?” you asked, your voice soft but edged with challenge.

A slow, wicked grin spread across his lips, his teeth catching the faint glow of moonlight as he stepped closer. His hand slid to the back of your neck, his grip firm but not forceful, pulling you toward him. The intensity in his gaze didn’t falter for a second, and before you could say another word, his mouth was on yours again. The kiss was deeper this time, slower, his lips moving against yours with a deliberate, almost punishing heat, as if to remind you exactly who was in control.

There was no hesitation, no gentleness—just the raw, unrelenting force of his desire pulling you under all over again. The tension between you hadn’t eased; it had simply shifted, the sharp edges softening into something even more dangerous. You kissed him back with equal fervor, letting him take what he wanted, knowing full well you’d take just as much in return.

The ride to his place was a blur—hands tangled, breaths short, the air between you thick with the tension that hadn’t eased since the moment your lips met. By the time you crossed the threshold of his apartment, you were on him again, your back slamming against the door as he kissed you with the same raw, desperate hunger that had pulled you under hours earlier.

That night, you didn’t stop. It wasn’t enough to take him once, to feel him stretch you and wreck you with the force of his body moving against yours. You wanted him again, and again, and again. His bed became the epicenter of your unraveling, the sheets twisted and soaked with the evidence of how thoroughly you both devoured each other.

When his hands weren’t pinning you to the mattress, they were gripping your thighs as he hoisted you onto the kitchen counter, your heels digging into his back as he fucked you into the edge, his name falling from your lips like a mantra. His laughter, low and filthy, echoed in the small space when the glasses on the counter rattled, one crashing to the floor as you clenched around him and shattered apart.

“Careful,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear as he thrust into you, rough and unrelenting. “I’m starting to think you might break me first.”

The next morning, you didn’t leave. You woke to find him between your legs, his tongue tracing lazy circles that built into a steady crescendo until you came undone again, your fingers gripping his sheets, your cries muffled by the pillow.

And it didn’t stop.

The second night, he took you on the couch, your body draped over the armrest as he fucked into you from behind, one hand gripping your hip, the other tugging your hair hard enough to make you gasp. “You like this?” he growled, his breath hot against the back of your neck.

“Don’t stop,” you panted, and he didn’t—not until your legs shook and the entire apartment smelled like sweat and sex and the heady, addictive pull of him.

By the third night, every surface of his place had been claimed. The bathroom mirror was fogged with steam from the shower where he’d pressed you against the tiles, the water scalding against your back as his lips dragged down your neck, his hand sliding between your legs to work you into a frenzy.

“Look at yourself,” he whispered, his voice cutting through the rush of water, his cock filling you with slow, deliberate thrusts. “Look at how fucking perfect you are like this.”

On the fourth night, he dragged you onto the floor in front of the Christmas tree that lit up his living room in a soft, golden glow. The lights shimmered off your sweat-slick skin as he pinned you there, your legs locked around his waist, his hands digging into your thighs. “Merry fucking Christmas,” he muttered, the smirk on his lips replaced by a raw, open need as he took you hard and fast, your cries echoing in the quiet apartment.

By the fifth night, it wasn’t just the frantic, animalistic need that kept you tangled together. There was a softness beneath the hunger, a lingering touch, a stolen glance that lingered longer than it should have. He kissed you slower, his hands mapping your body like he wanted to memorize every inch of you, like you were more than just someone he wanted but someone he didn’t want to let go of.

The sixth night, he didn’t even make it to the bedroom. He found you in the kitchen, wearing nothing but one of his shirts, and he was on you in an instant, your body pressed to the cool steel of the fridge as he sank into you from behind. “Can’t get enough of you,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you back against him with every thrust.

And then, on the seventh night, something changed.

You’d just finished another round—this time, in his bed, the sheets tangled around your legs, your chest still heaving as he lay beside you, his fingers trailing lazy circles on your thigh. The Christmas lights outside the window cast faint patterns across the room, and for the first time, the silence between you wasn’t filled with heat or lust but something softer.

He turned to you, his eyes searching yours in the dim light. “Stay,” he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“I always stay,” you teased, your lips curving into a smile as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“No,” he said, shaking his head, his hand sliding up to cradle your face. “I mean… stay with me. Be with me.”

Your breath caught, your heart skipping a beat as his words settled over you. You searched his eyes for any hint of hesitation, but there was none—just that same intensity that had drawn you to him in the first place, now tempered by something gentler, something real.

“You’re serious?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

He smirked, but there was no arrogance in it this time, only sincerity. “I don’t fuck someone like this for seven days straight and not mean it,” he said, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

And just like that, he became yours too.

Every day after that was Christmas in its own way. It wasn’t the gifts or the traditions—it was the way he made you feel, like you were the only thing he wanted to wake up to, the only thing he needed to fall asleep beside. You spent the rest of the season wrapped up in each other, the world outside fading into the background.

Because, in the end, he was the gift you never knew you needed.

[haecastor]

i mean if it's him, i'm willing to go for how long, how many days he wants, even more than 7 days.

[neowinestainedress]

enough for you | lee haechan

title: enough for you | sequel to traitor

pairing: ex!lee haechan x oc/fem reader (no descriptions, no name, written in third person) | side members: huang renjun, lee jeno

genre: angst, song-fic, friends to lovers to exes, (a bit of) fluff, happy ending | requested and inspired by enough for you by olivia rodrigo

summary: all she ever wanted was to be enough for Haechan, even now that they aren’t together anymore. Until someone opens her eyes and makes her realize that she is already enough the way she is.

warnings: angst (but it's not that bad, it's more focused on the healing process)

words: 5.002k

a/n: i hope you’ll like it! let me know what you think with comments, reblogs or asks ♡

Looking back at what had been between her and Haechan she should’ve known. Should’ve seen some red flags before, instead of being so surprised when everything crumbled apart. 

Sure, it was all there. But she didn’t feel like blaming herself too much when he did nothing but fool her. She had no idea what kind of Haechan she would’ve had in front of her, every day changing into someone she didn’t know. 

But she loved him. Deeply, too much to really hate that push and pull. She loved him too much to see how much all that was getting to her head. 

And even now that Haechan wasn’t hers anymore, now that they broke up, those doubts filled her mind. 

Her confidence had crumbled into pieces, it was worse than when they started dating when he had to whisper sweet words to her hear and tell her how beautiful he found her. 

“Why are you changing so much?” Renjun asked her when he met her in the corridors of their campus. 

“What are you talking about?” She asked, fixing her bag full of books on her shoulder, and starting to walk to the library with her friend. 

He sighed, rolling his eyes. “You know what I’m talking about.” 

“No, I don’t,” she replied, chuckling. 

“You never wore make-up,” he pointed out. Renjun wanted to add ‘not that style, not the kind of make-up Bora wears,’ but didn’t. She knew it. 

She sighed, pushing the heavy door and waiting for him to walk inside. “Wanted to change,” she shrugged. “New break-up, new me.” 

“Sure,” he huffed, pulling out a chair for her before sitting next to her. “You’re just hurting yourself.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, hiding her face in her bag to look for the books they needed to study. 

“You gave him everything you had to give,” Renjun said. “If he’s dumb and doesn’t see the value in you it’s not your fault.” 

She lifted her face, glaring at him. “I’m doing this for myself.” 

“Yeah, just like you started going to the arcade for you, right?” He asked, placing his elbows on the table, staring at her, making her roll her eyes. “Jeno saw you, you were more concentrated on Bora and Haechan laughing because she got herself killed every two seconds than your own game.” 

She wanted to deny it, but she knew there was no point. She saw Jeno too, they made eye contact and then drifted away, but it was too late. And neither he nor Renjun were dumb to don’t know she didn’t care about video games at all. 

“He never let me play with him,” she confessed. “He always got mad at me because I wasn’t good. And now he’s laughing with her for the same mistakes I made.” 

“And knowing it will make you feel better?” 

She chewed her lower lips, head lowered as she pulled a hangnail on her thumb. “No, but I don’t understand. How can she be so much more exciting than me? What does she have that I don’t?” 

“He’s an asshole, that’s the only answer you need to give yourself,” Renjun insisted. 

“No,” she replied. “You know her better than me, you don’t have to lie. I know she’s more exciting. It took me one night to get she had everything to swipe him off his feet.” 

“Her being interesting doesn’t make you less.” 

She hummed. Of course, Renjun was going to say something like this to her, but she didn’t want his pity. She didn’t even know what she wanted. No, she knew. She wanted Haechan back and that was something she couldn’t have. 

“Let’s study,” she said, opening the first book. “I don’t want to think about him.” 

But she thought about him a lot, more than she should’ve. 

Every time that she was in her kitchen preparing coffee, she couldn’t help but remember their mornings together. 

“I promise coffee is not that bad,” she laughed at Haechan’s disgusted face as he pushed the cup back. 

“That’s like a shot of venom,” he said, trying to clean his tongue and get rid of the strong flavor. 

“It’s an espresso, of course, it’s strong,” she said before turning around and opening the fridge. “Wait, let me make it better.” 

“Yeah, throw it away.”  

She rolled her eyes, sitting next to him and pouring the milk into the small cup. “Drink it now, come on.” 

Haechan lifted his eyes on her, a furrow on his face, and then hesitantly grabbed the cup. “Just because it’s you,” he said before bringing it to his lips, tongue sticking out to try to taste just a bit before drinking it all. 

“So?” She asked, big bright eyes looking at him with hope. 

He sighed. “Hate to prove you right, but it’s good.” 

She clapped, letting out a squeal, “I told you! You never trust me.” 

“You nearly killed me before.” 

“I’d never kill you, I can’t live without you.” 

And it was true. Because now that he was gone it felt like she was carrying around an empty shell of her body. And she hated the way his favorite songs popped in her mind at the most random times. And she could still hear his angelic voice singing over them when he would let her lay her head against his chest and she could feel it vibrate and then drift to sleep into his hold while his voice lulled her. 

She couldn’t move on when he was in every corner of her house. She still had those self-help books she bought just to impress him, to make him think she was smart. Like she had to prove something to him when her history major was going so well, when she always aced everything since she was six. It still wasn’t enough. Somehow Haechan always found a way to don’t make her feel smart enough. 

“It’s not like you’re not smart,” he said, resting on the couch with one leg falling out, dangling back and forth. “You’re too emotional. You let that part of you get the best of you and you end up looking stupid.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with emotions,” she retorted, trying to push away the painful emotion she felt at his words. 

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “You panic over anything. The other day you got mad at me just because I was a bit more annoyed over the phone.” 

“Lately you are always annoyed,” she replied. “And not only over the phone.” 

“I told you, I’m tired,” he cut her off. “Anyway, you should read some self-help books, they might help you.” 

And she did, she listened. Starting from one and then reading so many more just to make him happy. But it wasn’t like they worked. She kept being her paranoic, obsessive little self because Haechan gave her enough reasons to be. No book was going to take away the way he acted and how much he pushed her back. 

“I thought you were smarter than this.” 

The last person she expected to ever talk to her approached her one day, making her turn around with a furrow on her face. 

“Shouldn’t you be at your table with your friends?” She asked when Jeno sat next to her in the university cafeteria, ignoring his words because she couldn’t get what he wanted from her, and she couldn’t care about it either. 

“Don’t want to deal with Bora and Haechan stuffing their tongues in each other mouths,” he said, making her gag just imagining them so close. “You were much less annoying.” 

“Is this a way to slap to my face how much better he’s doing without me?” 

Jeno shrugged, grabbing his chopsticks and starting to eat. “No,” he mumbled after swallowing. “I told you, I don’t get why you’re still obsessing over him.” 

She snorted, rolling her eyes when she got that he had no intention to leave her alone, and started to eat too. “I don’t care about him.” 

Jeno almost choked from laughing at what she said. “Please, be serious,” he said, looking at her up and down. “Look at you, baggy pants, neon tops, sneakers? What happened to your dresses and skirts and pastel colors? From looking like a fairy to looking like a hip-hop dancer.” 

“People can’t change?” She asked, tilting her head to look at him, still trying to understand what he wanted from her and why out of all the people he cared. 

“Sure,” he said, “but it would be less embarrassing if you didn’t try to be her copy.” 

She placed the chopsticks down and turned to him. “Leave.” 

“No,” he retorted, turning to face her. “He’s not worth it. He’s not worth none of the hurt you’re putting yourself through.” 

“You are his friend, not mine,” she said, not getting why he was acting like that. Were those words coming from Haechan? Maybe he saw her changes and found her annoying once again but didn’t dare to confront her? 

“I know, and I also told you I can’t stand them.” 

“Sure, it didn’t seem like you couldn’t stand her when he was dating me,” she huffed, going back to her food. 

“I guess he made you feel incredibly insecure, but,” he said, stopping for a moment because he didn’t know how to let her know what he thought without looking weird. “You are interesting. And you’re not annoying or whatever he made you believe,” he confessed. 

She stopped eating again, looking at Jeno with a furrow on her face. “Do you have a fever by chance?” 

“Oh, shut up,” he groaned, slapping her hand away from his forehead. “I’m serious.” 

“How do you know?” They never talked much, well, now that she thought about it, they never went past greetings and other small talks when they ended up being alone during their group hangouts. 

“You don’t want to know,” he said, drifting his gaze from her. 

“Oh, no, I do. You sound like a stalker.” 

“I’m not, you can be sure about that,” he defended himself immediately. 

“Then what it is? I don’t need your sympathy or worse your pity, Jeno. I already have Renjun filling me up with bullshits to make me feel better and trust me, it doesn’t work,” she snapped, raising her voice, making him look around, panicking when people turned around to look at them. 

“I didn’t eat,” she whined, barely grabbing her bag and trying to don’t fall on her steps as she hardly followed him when he grabbed her wrist and dragged her outside.

“We’ll skip the last lessons and I’ll pay for something outside,” he said, starting to walk out of campus, still holding her hand. 

“Jeno, what the hell,” she complained but then gave up. She couldn’t care less about university either, two hours skipped weren’t going to make her fail. 

“I know,” he whispered once they were outside of the garden, walking through Seoul, his hands hidden in the pockets of his jeans, his backpack on one shoulder, and his black hair hiding his face. 

“Yeah, how?” She asked, getting inside of his car once they reached it, not even sure why she was following him and maybe ending up getting more hurt than she already was. 

“Is there something of your heart left to break?” He asked, lifting his eyes to meet hers and when she looked behind him, he got that yes, there was something more to break. “Nevermind.” 

“I want to know anyway,” she begged, grabbing his arm without thinking before letting him go, pulling away. 

Jeno sighed, starting the car and driving to a place where they could eat. “Haechan talked a lot about you…” he confessed. “And not always in a positive way.” 

She was expecting to feel pain, to hurt more, but maybe there truly was nothing left of her heart to break. There was nothing left of her that Haechan could break because he had already destroyed everything. Her heart, her confidence, her passions, her intelligence.

“I honestly couldn’t get half of the critiques about you,” he admitted, his gaze was concentrated on the street, but she felt a weird nervousness in his voice, and she couldn’t understand why. He always seemed like the confident type, and he wasn’t her friend, so he had no reason to be afraid of hurting her. But she shrugged it off, she, unfortunately, had other things to worry about, like her ex-boyfriend talking shit behind her back when they were together. “A bit because you seemed the total opposite of what he used to tell and also because I couldn’t find flaws in many of the things he hated about you.” 

“Hated?” She asked, a look of disbelief on her face. Over the past months, she had come to the conclusion he couldn’t stand her anymore, but she never thought Haechan hated her.  

Jeno nodded, not daring to turn around and see her wrecked face. “Maybe your story became too much,” he guessed. He truly couldn’t comprehend how they fell apart. He was there since the start and imagined them to be together for eternity. She had been by Haechan’s side when nobody else was and Jeno couldn’t understand how Haechan could be so stupid to let her go, especially like this. And he couldn’t get an answer from his friend. Not that he asked, it wasn’t his business after all.

“What did he hate about me?” She dared to ask, looking down at her thighs because she felt tears at the corner of her eyes. But they threatened to fall even harder because Jeno was right, she looked pathetic trying to be Bora. She hated those clothes. She wasn’t like her. She wasn’t the kind of girl Haechan wanted and no matter all the clothes she could change, or lipsticks on her face, she was never going to be her. 

“Why would you do this to yourself?” He asked, parking the car before signaling her they had arrived. 

“You started talking to me,” she reminded him, closing the car door behind and following him as they walked toward the place. 

“And not to hurt you,” he said, scratching his neck, and she saw his mouth open again to say something, but no other words came out of his lips. 

“Then why?” 

He shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “Because I think you’re smarter than this dumb thing of trying to be a copy of her. And because…nothing. We’re here,” he said, turning left and pushing the door open before looking for an empty table. 

“No, finish,” she insisted, sitting in front of him, and now it was harder to escape her interrogating gaze. 

“Because you deserve better than him,” Jeno confessed, cheeks reddening. 

“I will never have him back,” she replied with a bitter chuckle as she felt her heart clench as the realization hit her again. 

“That’s why I wish you stopped acting like this,” he said before handing her the menu. “It’s on me, get whatever you want,” he added. “What?” He asked when a smile curled her lips and she hid her face behind the papers. 

“Nothing,” she mumbled. “I thought you hated me and here you are, paying for my lunch, trying to wake me up from my fantasies about my ex.” 

“You thought I hated you?” He asked, raising a brow, eyes widening in surprise. 

“Let’s say you weren’t the most welcoming of his friends,” she explained, smiling at him again before focusing on the menu. 

“Let’s say you’re not good at reading people considering how you let him treat you,” he whispered but she heard anyway.

“You do stupid things when you want to keep somebody by your side,” she replied, but she wasn’t mad, not at Jeno at least, because he wasn’t wrong. She was terrible at reading people, especially when she loved them. 

“Yeah, but now?” 

She hesitated before answering, “I know… but I can’t help but still want to be enough for him. I meant too much for him. I have no idea how I…” she had to stop, feeling her eyes wet again and a gulp form in her throat. “I don’t get how he couldn’t care less about someone that loved him so deeply. I don’t get how after everything that tied us he could forget me that easily.” 

Jeno nodded. “I don’t get it either. And I know you don’t want me to be the one saying those things but as I said before, you don’t deserve all this pain.” 

“I don’t know how to make it go away,” she confessed. “I don’t know how to make him go away.” 

“Or maybe you didn’t even try,” Jeno whispered with a hesitant voice, shily meeting her eyes, and feeling his heart clench seeing that they were off, nothing of her old bright eyes was there anymore.  

“I just… I want myself back but I feel that he’s such a big part of me and I know this is wrong, but he took so much of me, Jeno. I cannot erase so many years of my life in the blink of an eye.” 

And he wanted to tell her that yes, she could, just like he did. He wanted to tell her that the way he moved on so easily should’ve been enough for her to do the same or to at least don’t let him have so much power over her. But when he looked in front of him and saw her shaking as she tried to hold back the tears, he realised that Haechan was right. She was too emotional for this, too emotional for his careless way. She loved too much and Haechan didn’t know how to deal with so much love. Now that she looked at him, apologizing when a tear rolled down her cheek and ranting about how pathetic she looked and how weird this all was, he realized why she and Haechan didn’t last. 

“Hey,” Jeno called her, grabbing her hand that was moving frenetically to fix the bottle with flowers she made fall by mistake, “look at me. It’s alright,” he said, smiling before he wiped her tears away. “Why don’t we eat without thinking about him?” 

She nodded, slumping back in the seat, hating herself a bit more because she wasn’t so sure she could’ve avoided thinking about Haechan. Not now that she knew that he truly started slipping out of her hold much longer than that and only God knew how many other girls made him turn his head because she had never been enough for him. Because she was not enough and too much at the same time and she had no idea how to deal with it. Jeno was wrong when he said that their story became too much. The heavy thing that dragged them to the bottom of the sea was her. She was too much to take and at the first chance Haechan got, he ran away. 

But weirdly enough Jeno was good at keeping her mind off her ex. He listened to her, something nobody did in ages. And he was funny, unlike the times they hung out together and his jokes never hit. Sure, it wasn’t the kind of humor that anybody could get, but right now it was enough to make her crack a laugh and feel her heart less heavy. 

And with time, it turned out that Jeno in general was really good at don’t make her think about Haechan. She had no idea when they started hanging out so much, probably after he had asked for help for a class he was about to fail because he couldn’t even memorize the basis and they spent afternoons in the library studying, occasionally with Renjun’s company, that was finally happy to see that she didn’t look so heartbroken anymore. 

“So, you’re finally stepping out of the house without me dragging you by the hair,” Renjun joked, they were sitting on the sidewalk while they waited for Jeno to bring them their orders from the street food stand in Hongdae. “And most importantly,” he said, looking at her dress and the make-up on her face, “you got back to being yourself.” 

“You were right, it was dumb trying to be like her,” she said, resting her head against his shoulder. “Also, I look better in pink than in bright colors.” 

Renjun chuckled, and then asked, “And your heart? Got back to beat for someone else?” He pointed his head to Jeno that briefly turned around to smile at them while he waited in line. 

“What are you talking about?” She asked, pushing him off. 

“You know what I mean.” 

She rolled her eyes. “He’s just a good friend, like you.” 

“Are you sure?” 

She hummed, biting her nails, before saying, “I’m getting back up on my feet, but I’m still hurt, Injunnie. And…sometimes I still think about you know who.” 

Renjun laughed before pinching her cheek. “Take your time, baby. And, next time, fall for someone that won’t hurt you this bad.” 

“That someone that hurt me that bad is your friend.” 

“And? You have no idea how much I fought with him for the way he treated you.” 

Before she could say anything else, Jeno came back. 

“Teobokki for my favorite girl,” he said, handing her the cup, making her lower her head and mumble a low ‘thanks’ and then he turned to Renjun, “and a tornado potato for you.” 

“Thanks,” Renjun said. “Should we start walking again?” 

The other two hummed and started walking through Hongdae again to enjoy more local singers or dancers covering songs. But she couldn’t help but think about what Renjun had told her. 

She wasn’t feeling anything for Jeno, right? No, of that she was sure, at least, she believed her heart was too wounded and broken to start beating again. And she also knew that when she occasionally crossed Haechan she could feel a weird sensation in her stomach, but she couldn’t tear the butterflies and the venom apart. 

On the other hand, she knew that Jeno made her feel good. But she couldn’t call it love. 

She liked the way he would rest his face on his crossed arms and listen to her talk no sense for hours, his eyes crinkling up every time he laughed or smiled at something she said. 

She liked the way he never made her feel stupid, even when her emotions would take over and tears fell a bit too easily from her eyes. 

She liked the way he listened to her repeat for her history exams and didn’t find it boring even if she knew that it was terribly boring for him and he couldn’t care less about wars, politics, and social dynamics all around the world.

She liked hearing him talk about dance without mocking her when she didn’t understand some specific terms, or when they tried choreographies together and she couldn’t keep up with him. Most of the time it lead to them laughing on the floor like fools while they struggled to breathe from the laughs and the fatigue. And when she laid there, at his side, so close to him feeling light, she could feel her heart beat just a bit faster than usual. And maybe her stomach twisted when he turned around and smiled at her, his shaky hands moving a strand of hair out of her face. 

But it was too soon, it definitely wasn’t love, and she couldn’t jump into another relationship without looking. She couldn’t use him as a replacement, she couldn’t hurt him when she was the first one to know how painful being used and betrayed was, so she left Jeno there, in the back of her heart, under the ‘friend’ label because she knew she wasn’t ready for another heartbreak. 

“So, Jeno’s the lucky one.” 

When she heard those words and that voice she felt her heart drop to the floor, her stomach clenched uncomfortably and she felt struck on the spot. But she still turned around, the lights of the party weren’t enough to don’t make her see Haechan standing there behind her, unfortunately for her with the same handsome face of always. And the music wasn’t loud enough for her to pretend she didn’t hear him. 

“Jealous?” She asked, tilting her head and holding the glass in her fingers tighter. 

“I just think that it’s just a low move to go with one of my closest friends,” he said. 

She laughed, not a chuckle or a smile, a laugh, loud enough to make some others at the party turn around and stare at them before Haechan glared them off. “You talk about what’s a low move or not. You have some gut to come here and teach me a lesson.” 

“You broke up with me,” he replied.

“Of course,” she chuckled, shaking her head, “how long has it been? Two months since we spoke last and you still don’t get it, you still don’t get all the pain you put me through.” 

“I told you, I never cheated,” he said, taking a step forward but she stopped him with a glare.

“Yeah, because cheating is the only painful thing you can do, right? Don’t you think I loved you too much to be used and discarded? Don’t you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing? Not even respect. I’m not asking you to love me, I don’t need it anymore. No, worse, I don’t want it anymore. But you could at least stop coming in between my happiness. Why are you mad? Because your best friend can give me all the love you were never able to give me?”

“I loved you and you know it. You can’t delete five years of our story just for someone that arrived in your life in what? Two months?” He told her and when she looked at him with a serious face, eyebrow raised and a smirk on her face, it hit him. That was exactly what he did to her but two weeks after they broke things off. He was getting mad at her for the same thing he did, but he did even worse, he hurt her more than she could ever do now. 

“So, is it clear now? Do you feel at least half of the pain I felt? Do you feel betrayed like I felt?” 

Haechan didn’t answer, he stood there, staring at her while all his mistakes crumbled on his shoulders and pushed him to the ground. He was the reason their story fell apart. He had hurt her. He had betrayed her. And he couldn’t get mad at her for moving on with anybody else, not even if it was Jeno, not even if that meant seeing them together all the time. 

That was her payback, and all of a sudden, he realized he had no more reasons to be mad. And probably, it would’ve been better if he simply avoided approaching her in the first place. But he did that, and they were there now, and he deserved it, he deserved to feel all the humiliation he was feeling right now.  

But she was glad he did. Sure, those past months not talking to him helped her, but this conversation made him realize what he had put her through. And she loved to see that he was finally bleeding too. Sure, revenge wasn’t a virtue, but she couldn’t care. She was tired of his smug smile, of his confidence when he broke her apart. She was tired of seeing him walking around like a God without realizing all the pain he was causing. 

And right now, in front of her, there was a broken-hearted Haechan and she had no idea if he was regretting it because he missed her, because he had realized that Bora couldn’t give him what she gave him, or if simply because he didn’t like losing and his pride now was eating him alive. Knowing him, well, finding out over time who he truly was, she would’ve bet on the latter, but she truly didn’t care. 

Haechan wasn’t her problem anymore. 

She was done with this story, with him, with his lies, and his games. 

And since he seemed to have no intention to talk again, she started walking past him. She had a party to go back to, and an entire night to dance between arms that weren’t his, between the arms of someone that made her feel good and enough. A feeling she had forgotten all these years by his side. 

“And for your information,” she said, turning around again because she needed to put an end to this with a light heart, “between me and Jeno there’s nothing. But who knows, someday I’ll be everything to somebody else. And they’ll think that I’m so exciting. And maybe then, only then, you will be the one who’s crying.” 

Haechan didn’t dare to meet her eyes, the floor wouldn’t have hurt as much as meeting her cold heart would’ve, the floor couldn’t remind him that she wasn’t his anymore and it was all his fault. 

“All I ever wanted was to be enough for you, Haechan,” she said, looking into his eyes when he lifted them, and not feeling pain, not feeling anything anymore. “But thanks to you I found out I was already enough for someone else. And I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not. I don’t have to hurt myself just to keep them. They don’t leave me all alone crying, wondering what I did wrong.” 

“You were enough for me,” he tried to stop her from leaving him again, grabbing her hand but she swiftly pulled away from his hold, making a crack form in his heart. 

“No,” she replied, a bitter smile painted on her face as she stared into his brown eyes, “I don’t think anything could ever be enough for you.” 

HAPPIER (finale): READ HERE

[haecastor]

“I’d never kill you, I can’t live without you.”

the way i could hear the chuckles of them and perfectly picture the smug smile haechan had after this sentence but at that time they were happy.

“Is there something of your heart left to break?”

ah yes hurt me more, there's always a space left to break even after im beyond repair.

Over the past months, she had come to the conclusion he couldn’t stand her anymore, but she never thought Haechan hated her.  

the way this still hurts me like it used to.

“Why would you do this to yourself?”

exactly my question too. ha ha hmmm ha why do i love pain so much? 😔🥹

Because she was not enough and too much at the same time and she had no idea how to deal with it.

i feel like at some point we are all like this, not enough but also too much at the same time. how is this sentence so perfect that it hurts and leaving a deep but not a cut in your heart that at some point you forgot about it but one day you stumble upon it again, and you still feel it like it just happens a moment ago.

ohh reading this again suddenly making me doing the review again cuz what????? i still feel the heart wreching that im looking for (and im surprised but also happy about it)

[neowinestainedress]

traitor | lee haechan

title: traitor

pairing: lee haechan x oc/fem reader (no descriptions and no name but written in third person) | mentioned: huang renjun, lee mark, lee jeno, na jaemin

genre: angst, song-fic, friends to lovers to exes | requested and inspired by traitor by olivia rodrigo

warnings: angst, implied past bullying, implied past depression, assumed cheating, gaslighting, break-up, fights

summary: the worst kind of betrayals are the ones that happen unexpectedly and from the ones you love the most. Haechan never gave her a reason to believe he was a traitor. Their relationship never showed signs of cracking. But doing the most for someone you love doesn’t stop them from backstabbing and leaving you behind.

words: 6.450k

a/n: it took me ages but she’s here. there might be some mistakes bc while i was editing tumblr decided to don’t save half of it and i didn’t want to re-read it for the third time. i hope you’ll like it! let me know what you think with comments, reblogs or asks ♡

When somebody cheats, the partner always finds out. No matter how slick they think they’re being, at some point, they know. And the reasons why they don’t confront the other could be different, maybe they’re not sure, maybe they think they would never do something like that, or maybe they think that being hurt is just a tiny little price to pay to keep them. 

The latter was the main reason why she kept her doubts to herself and never found the courage to face Haechan. 

The signs were all there, they started to pile up one after the other, but when they became too much to handle she had to let go. 

“What got you smiling so hard?” She had asked her boyfriend. They were sitting on the couch next to each other, the tv playing a movie they picked previously, but Haechan seemed more concentrated on the phone in his hand than on the movie, or her. No matter all her touches lingering on his body, or her jokes at the actor’s lines. 

He shrugged, lifting a hand to caress her hand that was placed on her thighs, “Nothing, babe,” he replied, locking the phone and tugging it deep into the pocket of his pants. “Jaemin sent a stupid meme in the group chat, you know, the usual.” 

And she hummed, shrugging it off, not paying attention to the hidden signs. The way he didn’t keep the phone in his hand but hid it away, the way his breath shook for a split moment or how his mind still seemed off somewhere away from there. 

At first, it really did seem nothing. Jaemin would always flood up the group chat with stupid messages. And sometimes it happened to her too to get distracted by other things. 

There was nothing strange with it. 

Just like there was nothing strange with the boys’ nights out. She wasn’t jealous, she trusted Haechan, and only thought it was fair for him and his group of friends to go out and have fun. She did the same with her closest friends so it was something common in their relationship, just some healthy alone time with other important people of their lives. 

If only boys’ nights didn’t start happening so often. 

“I just don’t get it,” she said, nervously biting her lips as she walked back and forth in her room while Haechan was sitting on her bed, looking at her with an apologetic look – honestly, she couldn’t even get if there were any apologies behind his brown eyes. “Your boys’ nights out are on Saturday, why do they keep happening on Friday, too?” 

Haechan sighed for the nth time that afternoon, standing up and walking toward her, trying to make her stop from walking around. “I told you, it’s not a boy out only, the guys also have some other friends and we’re just all hanging out.” 

She scoffed, “So they are not even your friends, right?” 

“Well,” he sighed, shrugging, “I don’t know, I know them, we got close with time.” 

She sighed, turning around, throwing her hands up before pinching the bridge of her nose and sighing deeply and loudly again. 

“Okay, what’s wrong, now? Are you going to do this or talk?” He asked, raising the tone of his voice and furrowing in annoyance. 

She gasped, turning around again, “What’s wrong? I just… can’t you say no for just one night, Haechan? It’s literally just one fucking Friday for us.” 

“I thought you didn’t mind me spending time with my friends.” 

“I don’t,” she cursed, “but you are always out with them. And these are friends of your friends while, me,” she said, chuckling bitterly, “last time I checked, I’m your girlfriend.” 

Haechan sighed, wetting his lips as he nodded lightly and walked toward her, gently wrapping a hand around her waist, “You’re right,” he said, caressing her cheek, moving her hair back, “I’m sorry, okay? I’ll tell them I have to pass this time.” 

She wanted to get mad at his use of ‘have to’ as if he was being forced to do that but decided to let it slide. She didn’t like fighting with Haechan, and lately, those stupid bickerings were happing way too frequently. 

“Yeah, fine,” she replied, leaning closer to rest her forehead against him and inhale deeply his scent. “I don’t like looking like a psycho obsessive girlfriend but I… I just miss you so much, lately, I’ve been barely seeing you.” 

“I know, we’ll make it up this weekend,” he smirked before kissing the pain away. “You have to tell me things, though, or I can’t solve them. Promise me you will tell me anything?” 

And she did promise, but the one keeping secrets in the relationship wasn’t her, so it was a bit hard to make things work that way. Especially in the long run. At the start Haechan tried to spend more time with her again, being able to balance the friend life and the love life perfectly, but then excuses started to collect, and most of them didn’t even match what the other boys would tell her. 

“Maybe he fell asleep,” Renjun said, chewing the inside of his cheeks nervously. “You know, he’s a little stressed out lately.” 

She scoffed, “he could’ve told me he couldn’t make it out of the bed. I’ve watched the movie alone after waiting for him outside for like a… like an hour? I didn’t even enjoy it because I had no idea where he was,” she sighed, falling beside him on the couch. “God, I have no idea where he is now.” 

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Jeno tried to reassure her but was too busy looking at a vase on the shelf. He wasn’t even that close with her, he just came along because she called Renjun and he was with him. He had probably seen her three times before. 

“Can you please don’t play with the vase, though, it’s my grandma’s gift, I don’t need more preoccupation now.” 

Renjun glared at him, signalling him to back off, and got back caressing her back while Jeno lifted his hands and backed away. 

“We can go see if he’s at our dorms,” Renjun proposed, “we didn’t sleep there tonight so we don’t know.” 

“Yeah, maybe that would help,” she replied, trying to hold back the sniffles. 

“We’ll call you as soon as we know something,” he reassured, leaving her alone again. But Haechan wasn’t home and he wasn’t even picking up Renjun’s or Jeno’s calls. It looked like he disappeared.  

When two hours passed, she heard a knock on the door and got up immediately, imagining it was him, feeling so many different emotions bubble in her body. 

“Hey,” there he was, Haechan standing there, looking at her with a sorry face, chest panting because he had probably rushed there and a bag in his hand. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Are you okay?” Was the first thing she managed to say. All the anger, the frustration, leaving her body because she was more terrified something had happened to him than the fact he was basically acting like a completely different person. 

“Yeah, I… I’ve been practicing all afternoon and I collapsed on the bed as soon as I got home.” Lie. Well, partially a lie. It wasn’t like she had to know all the truth. Knowing he stayed at the dance room later because he was helping out a new friend wasn’t an important part of the story, right? They just danced. It could’ve been even Jeno, it was just irrelevant. 

She hummed, making room for him to enter the house. The text Renjun had sent her before telling her he wasn’t home completely slipped her mind. “I was worried, I thought something happened, you didn’t answer the phone.” 

“I know, I was too busy to pay attention to it,” he replied. “But I bought McDonald’s,” he cooed, lifting the bag full of food in his hand, “So... can we make it up?” 

“Buying me with food?” She asked, giggling. 

“Well, it’s your favorite hamburger,” he said, pouting and batting his lashes. “Come on, you know I get carried away sometimes, but I really need to be prepared to pass the audition next month.” Haechan hated studying, but it wasn’t like his parents gave him the chance to pursue his dancer career so he had to make it all fit between a university major he couldn’t care about and the hard practice at night to follow his dream. And lately, he just had a special dance partner that gave him more motivation, leading to staying hours past the usual training hours. 

“I know,” she said, kissing him slowly, “but promise me you will try to at least warn me when you’re too tired and can’t make it.” 

“I will. Making you worry is the last thing I want to do.” 

Up to that point, the cracks in the house they had built were already starting to show, small, barely visible, passing unnoticed. But no one of the two was suspecting anything. Haechan truly didn’t want to cheat on her. And she had nothing to worry about. 

But then it happened. 

When her name first slipped out of Haechan’s mouth she didn’t pay much attention, she didn’t even pay attention to the way he was stammering while trying to answer her innocent questions, almost as if he was hiding something. But she simply didn’t see it. There was nothing to see. Haechan was loyal, his charismatic and extrovert personality weren’t signs of being a cheater. Bora and he met at the studio and were partners, she surely wasn’t the first woman that danced with him. And she also seemed pretty dull, at least from the few answers Haechan gave her. 

That was until they met on a Friday night at a restaurant all together to hang out. Bora was tall, fit, an amazing dancer that moved to Seoul to follow her dream, friend with Mark, and dance partner of Haechan and Jeno. A little bit too funny for her liking, too smart, too pretty, just… too much. 

And she was also too close to Haechan. Her hands touching his, her soft smiles curling her lips at any word he said, her irritating chuckles at the unfunniest of his jokes. 

That was why Haechan avoided her questions, because she wouldn’t have liked the answers.  

‘She’s not even that pretty.’  

‘She doesn’t even get my jokes.’

‘Yeah, she needs more practice.’

“Are you okay?” Haechan had asked close to her ear, turning around so he could only look at her. 

“Mh, me?” She asked, shaking her head and zoning in again. 

“Yeah, you,” he chuckled, “you barely spoke all night,” he said, caressing her hand on the table. And that touch, that usually brought her so much comfort, felt weird, almost foreign. 

“I just… I don’t really know what to say,” she smiled fakely, “I know nothing about dance.” She was a history student, the things that got her excited were far different from pirouetting, popping, or whatever they did. 

“We didn’t only talk about that, come on,” he said. 

“No, sure, I…” she stopped, shaking her head. 

Calm down, you are going insane. It’s fine. It’s all in your head. 

“You?” 

“I need more alcohol; can you order it for me?” She asked, changing the topic, making him furrow but then shrug. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

It wasn’t the time and place for a jealous scene, she thought to herself. There was no need to be jealous. Bora just happened to be an amazing dancer and an amazing person and that was it, and so were Haechan’s male friends, she was just like them. 

But the anger and jealousy didn’t calm during the rest of the night out, she couldn’t help but stare at her, and the way she was always facing Haechan, smiling at him, a wicked smile that hid thousands of things she didn’t even want to know, or the way her hand tried to brush against his any chance she got. They were acting as if she wasn’t even there. They were acting as if she wasn’t his girlfriend. 

“Can we go home?” She asked, finally speaking, probably for the first time in an hour when Bora snuggled her face against his shoulder for god knows whatever reason, probably due to a comment Mark made toward her, she wasn’t really listening, just paying attention to their body language. 

They all stopped laughing, looking at her with a confused expression, Haechan included, that swiftly brushed her off and finally paid attention to her, his girlfriend. 

“It’s barely ten?” He pointed out, staring at the watch on his wrist. 

“I know, I’m tired.” 

“Already?” He asked, lowering his tone and moving toward her to shield her conversation from their friends. 

“Yes, I… can we just go? Do you hate spending time with me so much?” 

“What?” He gasped. “Why would you say that?” 

“Why would I say that? You didn’t look at me the whole night,” she snapped, voice getting higher and nostrils flaring.  

“Oh, please, now that’s not true.” 

“You know it is,” she remarked, raising her voice, making him turn around and smile awkwardly at his friends. 

“Okay, let’s not do this right here, right now, okay?” 

“Oh, sure, would never want our friends to know that we fight too,” she snorted bitterly. 

He sighed, “I just think there’s no need to fight, you’re seeing things.” 

“I am what?” 

“Can we seriously don’t do this now?” 

“Can we go home? I simply asked you this.” 

Haechan huffed again, but fighting in front of their friends was the last thing he wanted to do, and also he hoped that she would calm down on the way home, but that didn’t happen. The silence of the car ride back to her place got interrupted as soon as they stepped inside. The main door slammed behind them.

“Who is she?” 

“Who- what do you mean who is she?” 

“For you, who is she for you?” She screamed, throwing her bag on the couch. 

“Oh, god really? Are you seriously doing this? This is your problem?” 

“Yes, because… because she was always on you and you – you looked at her, you looked at her with those eyes, with that look you never look at me like that anymore.” 

Haechan groaned, offended. “What are you insinuating?” 

“It doesn’t look like insinuation to me.” 

“No? You think I’m cheating on you?” 

She sniffled, turning around, not able to stand his gaze. His eyes were looking at her as if she was out of her mind, blaming her for being too emotional, for being the one that was ruining everything for not trusting him.

“You’re crazy.” 

She turned around again at those words, staring at him in disbelief as she felt her heart clench in her chest. She wanted to say something but everything seemed useless. Why was he acting like that? 

“You – you didn’t talk to me all night,” she whispered, voice clapped and eyes starting to get watery.  

“You’ve been acting like a bitch all night,” he snapped, “and now I know why. How can I talk to you when you put a wall between us?” 

“What did you call me?” 

He rolled his eyes, “You know what I meant. It’s not my fault I didn’t talk to you.” 

She fought back tears and lift her head to push them back, finding it hard to bring her attention to him again. “I told you I knew nothing about what you were talking about and you didn’t even make an effort to try to change the topic of the conversation.” 

“Sure, of course now it’s my fault," he chuckled, walking back and forth, “You’re a jealous crazy girlfriend and it’s my fault,” he screamed at her.  

“Fuck you! I never made scenes when we went out together, there’s a reason if it’s weird.” 

“Is there? Or maybe you are just insecure?” He said, voice not loud anymore but full of bitterness, a defiant smirk on his face. 

“Insecure?” She asked, voice trembling and body too. 

“Yeah, she did nothing but be nice and here you are. Maybe you wish you were like a her, not a pain in the ass like you are.” 

She tried to say something but those were the last words she was expecting to come out of his mouth. Why was he defending her so much? Why was he going all the way against his girlfriend for a girl he barely knew? 

“I didn’t say a single bad word about her, I’m talking to you, my boyfriend, about us. This is about us.” 

“I don’t know what to tell you then,” Haechan shrugged, drifting his gaze from her wet eyes.  

She chuckled incredulously, “Maybe sorry would be appreciated?” 

“I’ve got nothing to apologize for. You’ve been bitching all night, you made me come home so soon for this and now I have to apologize?” 

“I just wanted to spend some time with you! If you didn’t start asking me dumb questions we wouldn’t be fighting but maybe right now we were in bed like a fucking normal couple!” 

“Well, then maybe we are not a normal couple.” 

“No, since I see my modern history professor more than I see you.” 

“You know what? I won’t talk to you if you keep blaming it on me,” Haechan said, grabbing his jacket again and walking toward the door. “Call me if you seek some sanity again.” And then the door slammed behind him, leaving her petrified in the middle of her living room with tears streaming down her face, shaking hands and lips and a heart that was breaking more and more. And it was getting too heavy to carry around. 

Two headstrong and proud partners don’t go anywhere. It’s impossible to meet each other in the middle ground if that simply doesn’t exist. 

None of them was going to back up. 

She had done that too many times, crawling, and scratching her knees to fix something he had broken. 

And Haechan knew he was wrong, but the guilt was eating him alive, and so was his pride. 

And just like that, one week passed, with silence, avoided gazes, switched seats in the two classes they had together, lunches at a different table, and no texts or calls on their phones. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Then it came. It arrived unexpectedly, probably for the first time in the five years they were dating. 

Haechan apologized. Standing right behind her at the table of that library that was now her only safe place, with his big green hoodie, snapback covering his guilty brown eyes, and the dirty Converse tapping nervously against the floor. 

 And she wanted to fight back, to put him through half of the pain he put her through but she couldn’t. The possibility of losing him scared her more than now, opening her arms again, would’ve hurt her dignity. If she still had some of it left in her. 

So she stared at him, trying to read his face, that familiar face that now seemed so stranger to her. She wanted to convince herself that it was all in her head. She needed to convince herself of that. But finding some truth, some honesty behind his eyes, and the way his fingers were playing with his backpack, was difficult. 

“I’m sorry if you felt left out, I thought you cared about dancing after all these years with me,” he added, finding the courage to look at her. 

She wanted to say that she didn’t feel left out, they left her out but now wasn’t the time and place for another fight. Surely that was what he meant, Haechan simply wasn’t good with words. So she hummed, trying to stop her lips from shaking and find the right words to say, something that made sense in the mess they were becoming, or probably already were. 

“So… you promise she’s just a friend?” She asked. That was the only thing she needed to be reassured about. The only thought that ran across her mind for the past week. The only fear that made her cry at night while covered in his sweater she tried to cling to the few things she always had of him, feeling that just a blow of wind was going to take him away from her. 

Haechan hummed, “She’s just a friend, you’re just being paranoid,” he said and then walked closer to her, sitting on the empty chair at her side. “Can we please make it up? I haven’t gotten a hug in a week.” 

And she couldn’t do anything but smile, her lips mimicking the way his own turned up and his arms opened to welcome her in. 

She fell into his trap again, not catching the lies, or the way he was shaking and not because he had anxiety to finally confront her but because he had started slipping. 

Because during that week he didn’t miss her that much. Because he had been receiving countless hugs. Because he had spent his afternoons in somebody else’s company. Because they almost kissed and that made him realize he needed to redeem himself. 

And from then on, lies became more and more. All the ‘I love yous’ didn’t feel so genuine anymore, and the hugs were weird, short, and cold. The hours together were boring and he wasn’t looking forward to them in anticipation. 

And maybe there, he realized why he was stuck there. She became a habit. An old one, hard to let go of. They had nothing in common, not anymore at least. 

She felt safe because she was there at his worst. She was there by his side when nobody else wanted to be associated with him. When he was a loser. When people took it out on him and the only arms he could run to were hers. When his brain was tricking him into thinking that life wasn’t worth it anymore. When he couldn’t find a reason to wake up every day, she became the reason. 

But that was five years ago. 

Now Haechan wasn’t that person anymore. He didn’t need shielding. He didn’t need to be protected, and comforted. He didn’t need any more savings. He needed to mirror himself in somebody that was like him with the same passions and needs. Somebody that lived for the things that kept him alive, and she, she wasn’t his reason anymore. 

And since she wasn’t his reason anymore, she started to be pushed into the back of his brain more and more. 

The clock hands ticking weren’t a reminder big enough that he should’ve been at the cinema in twelve minutes and he needed to stop dancing with her and rush home to get changed. And only when his phone started buzzing uncontrollably he realized he was late. 

‘I’m sorry, I can’t make it.’ Another apology, or an excuse, followed by an empty promise. ‘I’ll make it up.’ 

And she swallowed her pride and told him not to worry. His future was important, and he couldn’t waste time. She would’ve supported him and been his number one fan once he finally made it as a professional dancer in his dream company. Because she was when nobody else believed in him and his dream. She would’ve always been her number one fan if only he wanted to. 

But then it happened again, and again. And being so far away from him was harder than expected. 

The morning texts weren’t enough. The classes together weren’t the type of time she wanted to spend with him. And the lunches at their table had shifted since Bora also started to sit with them. 

And she wasn’t dumb. She kept quiet but she knew. She kept quiet to keep him, to hold onto an image of Haechan that now, she was more than sure, wasn’t there anymore. She kept quiet because not only it was painful but also humiliating. 

And humiliation was what was leading her angry steps under the rain. It was past ten, and the cinema board was fading behind her as she hurried to his dance gym. 

One hour past their date. One hour late and no text, no call. Nothing but silence. A silence that was becoming agonizing and too loud, full of his lies and her delusional thoughts. 

And she couldn’t care that the rain was socking her clothes, sticking her hair to her skin and ruining her shoes, she needed to get this over. But hope is the last one to die, and a part of her wanted her doubts to be fake, she truly wanted to be the weird one that was seeing things. She wanted to believe it was just another honest mistake, that he was tired and had forgotten, that if she entered the room Haechan would’ve been alone or with their friends and not with her. 

But it wasn’t like this. He was there with her, laughing carelessly, way too close to each other.

And right there at the moment, she knew that she wasn’t even crossing his mind anymore.  

That flame of hope wasn’t big enough anymore to make her get on her knees and beg. She couldn’t close her eyes and pretend she didn’t know, she didn’t see. She needed to let go. There was nothing to gain from that, their relationship had crumbled apart, the pieces of their story were dripping on the ground like the raindrops were slipping down her coat. 

“It’s not what –” Haechan immediately tried to defend himself when he saw her but she stopped him, lifting her finger in the air. 

“Can we get a moment alone?” If this needed to end like this, if she had to be the one putting an end to them, she wanted it to at least be private. Because she had no idea what she meant to him anymore, but Haechan still meant something to her, what they had, everything they had been through meant something to her. So damn much that the pain she was feeling right there can’t be explained with words. 

When they were alone, under the porch outside of the gym they stood there in silence for a while. 

They both knew what was coming. 

There was no need to paint the grey walls between them blue. It was raining outside just like it was raining in the home they had built in the past years. 

And that was why it was so hard to say something. One guilty of not loving anymore, and the other victim of loving too much. A terrible match that shared too much of each other. A terrible mess that knew the other’s deepest secrets and highest moments. Half a decade passed in front of their eyes as they tried to come up with a way that didn’t hurt like hell to take all that time they shared and throw it in a bin. 

“It’s over,” she whispered, looking at the ground because she was sure his eyes were lighting up, happy he could finally run to Bora without their story holding him back. “We are over,” she repeated, lifting her gaze, almost more to tell it to herself, to be sure she was doing this for real. To remind herself that all her doubts and fears and his twisted games were real.

“I don’t understand, why?” Haechan asked, mixed emotions running in his mind. Why wasn’t he feeling relieved? Why was this weird? What if he still cared? 

She snorted before pressing her lips together to suppress any other sound to come out, the cold was starting to make her shiver but the way he was acting was tiring her more than the long day she had, than the cold and the broken heart. He was faking it, even now, even at their breaking point, he was pretending. Putting on a mask to play the role of someone that wasn’t him, the role of someone that wasn’t the person she used to love. 

“There’s nothing to understand, just like there’s nothing to save,” she answered. What was the point in wasting her breath screaming at him and explaining to him what he did and what he was fully aware he was doing? She had spent months walking through his tangle of lies and shocked faces, falling into traps that now were crystal clear, no more leaves covering the big holes she rolled down into. 

And when no other word came out of his mouth, she took a step back, the rain hitting her again. When his hands didn’t move to stop her, when his feet didn’t try to cancel the distance between them, when his eyes looked into hers and there was nothing in them she used to know. She realized that she had been fooled much more than she imagined. He didn’t want to fix this, he had no reason to want to fix what broke between them because he didn’t want what was between them anymore. He was past the state of mixed feelings, past not knowing where he belonged. He knew it damn well. And the place where he belonged wasn’t her anymore. It was waiting inside in a white room, probably praying for their downfall so she could finally have him. 

And right there the tears mixed with the rain, he couldn’t tell them apart, he couldn’t even swear she was crying, not that it mattered anymore. All this vulnerability, all the things they shared, were gone. So she turned around, hugging her body to shield herself from the cold, her feet almost tripping on each other every two steps as her fogged vision tried to carry herself home. Heart breaking even more when she couldn’t hear footsteps behind her. Haechan wasn’t following her. Haechan wasn’t even waiting outside to at least make sure she wasn’t getting hit by a car driving by. Haechan wasn’t under the porch, he was inside again, with her. 

She wasn’t his reason anymore. But Haechan still was hers. And she had no idea how she was going to cope with that.

Break-up pain is weird. It’s weird when you’re young and you know you have all your life ahead. You know it’s not the end of the world, and yet it feels like it. It feels like all you knew, suddenly doesn’t make sense anymore. It hurts even more when you break up with someone you spent so much life with. When you grew up with them and imagined having them by your side all your life. And it’s even harder to deal with it when you got backstabbed by that person. It’s harder when you dried all their tears, pulled them out of their darkest hours and then suddenly you meant nothing to them. 

Nothing. 

She felt like an appearance in Haechan’s life when after just two weeks he proudly showed Bora around. 

Two weeks were all it took him to get over her and the five years spent together. 

She felt like a forgotten bus ticket in the pocket of a coat hanging in the closet for the whole summer. A piece of paper that gets found, looked at with a confused expression and then gets thrown away. 

But to her Haechan wasn’t an old, faded, ticket. Haechan had been such a big part of her life and she couldn’t understand how he could move on from her so quickly. She couldn’t understand why he wasn’t hurting even a bit. 

So this pain was worst. Because it made her feel dumb, it humiliated her, it shamed her for all the things she let him do. All the red flags she chose not to see. All the lies she chose not to listen to. 

And it made her wonder if she was so uninteresting. If they truly had nothing in common anymore. How it was possible to be so easy to be forgotten after everything? And doubts start to form even more, going back in time and questioning when it all went downhill. When everything started being fake. 

But she couldn’t find an answer. 

She couldn’t even find her Haechan anymore. 

Surely that wasn’t the one she had fallen in love with. 

Walking around campus holding Bora’s hand, moving her hair behind her ears, buying her food, dropping her to her classes with the risk of arriving late to his. He even let Bora sit at her place at their table. Slapping it straight into her face how he didn’t care about her. Bringing her around, replacing her so blatantly just to shut her down. 

Probably that also was the biggest pain. Not only she had lost him but she had also lost her friends. Bora took her place in his life, in his friends’ circle, probably soon even at her chair at his parents’ house. 

She had nothing of the old life anymore. The only ones that checked on her were Renjun and Mark, and the only one that still proposed to go out was Renjun. But she still sat alone at an empty table now and picked the farthest seat from him in the few classes they had together, and avoided all the places they used to go together. 

And things weren’t going better for her. If in front of him she faked it, and smiled, and held her head high, in the privacy of her room she would fall apart. She couldn’t point out when the betrayal started, when his words turned into lies that then turned into daggers that made her bleed. And those years felt wasted. Five years she wasn’t going to ever get back. That made her realize that she also couldn’t let him take away more years of her life. He had hurt her, badly, terribly, but she couldn’t give him that power anymore. She needed to let go for real, forget about him, move on, just as fast as he did. 

But she wasn’t Haechan. 

“You’re avoiding me.” 

Their last conversation came three months later, when all of a sudden she heard his voice again and, lifting her gaze from her phone, she saw him. 

“I know we’re over but… you were talking with Renjun and then ran away when I reached you two.” 

She blinked twice, shaking her head to make sure she wasn’t dreaming, or in that case, having a nightmare. But he was real, white t-shirt, blue jeans, honey brown hair moving in the light summer breeze and stranger eyes looking into hers. 

“Do you hate me?” He asked again, so nonchalantly she wanted to throw the glass in his face. 

How could he come here like that? With his head low, tail between his legs, and playing the victim. 

“Are you serious?” She simply asked, too stunned to believe he wasn’t joking. 

“Yeah, I don’t get what I did for you to cut me off like that.”

“You betrayed me,” she said, rising her voice, shaking visibly, feeling her lungs burn. Wasn’t it enough? All the pain he put her through. Why did he need to sink the knife deeper? “I know that you’ll never feel sorry for the way I hurt. Because you don’t care, you, you just don’t care. You never cared about me, not the way I cared for you.” 

She sighed, shaking her head, taking a deep breath because she didn’t want to shed more tears for him, “And I can’t even blame you, I have to blame me for being so, so stupid, and in love. God,” she exhaled, looking back at him. “I wish you had thought this through before I fell in love with you.” 

“I never cheated on you,” he defended, emotionless voice with just a hint of insecurity, a small tremble, at the unexpected way she was talking to him.

“I don’t care,” she said. “In two weeks you were over me. In two weeks you erased a five years relationship. You were terrified of love, it took you one year to ease into me and try to be in a relationship with me, there’s no way you fell in love so soon. You fell in love with her when we were still together. You… you probably did even worse.” 

“No, I would’ve never done that to you.” 

She hummed, hiding a bitter chuckle, “It doesn’t matter…” she whispered. “Nothing matters anymore. Not when I gave you my all, my youth, my support. Not when I was the only one by your side and you pushed me to the sidelines so easily. A kiss is not more painful than this.” 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, voice breaking in his throat as he started to slowly realize that maybe she was right. He did hurt her anyway. Holding himself back from kissing Bora when they were together wasn’t better than the thoughts that crossed his mind or the way he let her go so easily. He had cursed himself many nights for not even being able to talk it through, to end it on a better page, to let her down slowly.

She chuckled, “No, you’re not. I don’t want you to be, I wish you to feel at least half of the pain you put me through. I hope to pop inside your mind when you least expect it, when you sleep with her in our bed, when you let her wear your sweatshirts, when she cooks your favorite breakfast or prepares tea exactly how you like it. Does she know it? Did you tell her about how much you love it with those biscuits that are almost impossible to find? How it has to be green tea and not teabag but only loose leaf?”

Haechan drifted his gaze. She didn’t know. She had no idea what he truly liked. Or how annoying he could be. She didn’t know half of the things she knew about him. And he wondered if she would ever get to know him that much. 

“I will never take you back, Haechan, not even as a friend,” she said, fixing her clothes and staring straight into his eyes. No matter how much pain it still gave her, or how painful the idea of living a life without him was. If he forgot about her so soon, she could do the same. She was going to do the same. She deserved better and she was going to find it. And that wasn’t Haechan, not anymore. 

So she stood up, grabbed her bag, and looked at him one last time, “I guess you didn’t cheat, but you’re still a traitor.”

ENOUGH FOR YOU (sequel): here

[haecastor]

yea i'm here again because i cant sleep at night and my heartbreaking angst thought isnt enough to pain me to sleep so here i am! yeay!

and i thought i did reblogged this before?

[strcwberi-deactivated20241207]

⋆ when the rain ends, the sun will shine again — ﹙ L.DH ﹚

being at the heart of all attention and chaos can get draining. but, how long will the world wait for him to catch his breath before the dust settles and the stage lights move onto the next burning star?

♡ notes .. just me projecting some thoughts i had after seeing how haechan decided to do that one skit thing for studioK with a voice narrator because he couldn't even speak. sometimes these idols truly throw everything away for the career they love. & uh, this isn't edited at all so, enjoy this lackluster piece i guess :')

♧ word count .. 1.4k

The door unlocks with a click as you type in the passcode to the condo without even glancing at the keypad. It's become ingrained in your muscle memory with how often you find yourself in this apartment, a little away from the heart of Seoul but not exactly in the suburbs either.

"Haechan?" Your call gets unanswered so you shrug off your shoes, still balancing two bags packed full with pre-cooked meals and groceries.

The silence hangs tense around the dark apartment, the hallway light blinking to lead the way inside. You roll your shoulders, choosing to ignore the unease settling in your stomach.

As you wander through the apartment, the mess all around catches your eye. The trash has piled up in the dustbin. The kitchen island is filled with used dishes overflowing from the sink, sitting amongst opened takeout boxes.

Finally you spot him laying on the baby blue couch. A smile creeps up to your face as you recall how adamant he'd been against buying that specific color, listing reasons from 'it will get dirty in seconds' to 'it doesn't even match the vibe I'm going for'. For all his whining, you know what Donghyuck cherished most was the smile on your face when you had come into the newly furnished apartment for the first time, immediately jumping over the backrest of the springy couch after giving your boyfriend the biggest kiss and bear hug.

With a sigh, you maneuver through multiple empty cans of energy drinks and tissue boxes, sitting down by Donghyuck's head. He had placed a throw pillow on his face. It could've been to block out the lights, but the entire room was pitch black to begin with, the only exception being some drama playing on the television.

You move to remove the pillow but Donghyuck latches onto it, muffling his groans. "Headache?"

"Mmh," Donghyuck simply grunts, scooting forward to lay his head on your lap as your fingers thread through his hair.

"Did you leave early today? I thought the shoot was supposed to go till midnight?"

At that, he finally removes the pillow, looking up at you. Red plagues the white of his eyes, makeup smudged and in patches around them, some covering up his pretty moles. Concern bubbles over at the same time as panic in your chest but before you can voice it, he croaks, "Jus' wasn't feelin' it."

Eyes softening, you trace a hand over his cheeks while Donghyuck leans into your touch. You check his temperature and while he's running a little hot, he doesn't have a fever. "Does your throat still hurt, baby?"

"M' fine." Although it was an innocent question, you don't miss the way his eyes waver as if you'd treaded on a nerve before he pulls himself up to sit and then eventually standing. "Gonna get some water."

You follow close behind as Donghyuck steps into the kitchen, leaning with both hands on the counter, his back facing you as he rummages for a glass. The faucet turning on is the last thing you hear before racing towards him just as his shoulders start shaking.

Without hesitation you wrap your arms around his waist, playing with the hairs on his neck to ground him. You don't push him to talk or turn around, only letting him know you're there for him whenever he feels comfortable to share. Until then, you'll provide him with all the physical comfort he needs.

Minutes pass, or maybe hours do, you're not very sure as you stand hugging Donghyuck while he tries to bite down his sobs, barely swaying to the faint sound of traffic outside.

The water stops and Donghyuck slowly turns around, clinging to you like a lifeline with one hand and the other rubbing furiously at his eyes. You take both his hands in your own, planting kisses to his cheeks and finally tilting his head to kiss his forehead. "What's wrong, sunshine? What made my pretty boy cry, hm?"

This time Donghyuck waits till he has you in his embrace, lifting you up to sit on the counter before nuzzling his face into your neck. You giggle at the ticklish feeling, knowing he's smiling against your skin.

"It's just—," he pipes up, voice shaky and broken before pursing his lips. You squeeze his hands, letting him know to go at his own pace. "I— I ruined the shoot. I thought I could make it through it even though my throat was screaming at me. Got choked up halfway through it and started coughing so bad, Manager hyung had to take me to the hospital."

You run a soothing hand up and down his back as Donghyuck's face scrunches up. "Baby, it's okay. You guys have all been so busy lately, with the tour and the album promotions being back to back. You'll get better in no time."

But Donghyuck shakes his head, almost hysterical. "You don't get it. The others, they were there just as long as I was yet nobody was an inconvenience like me. Now they have to go back again to redo the whole thing all because of me!" The moment he raises his voice, Donghyuck hunches over, coughing into his hands.

You quickly grab the nearest cup you spot, filling it with water and handing it to him, patting his back as he downs it. Frowning, you pull at the sleeves of Donghyuck's hoodie, "Look at me, Lee Donghyuck."

He does so wearily, following without a word as you shove away a few bowls to make space for him on the counter, patting the spot for him to sit. You hold onto him again, one of his arms draped across your shoulders while you speak, "Hyuck, you didn't mean to ruin anything, did you?"

"'Course not," he replies hoarsely, twirling a lock of your hair in his fingers.

"Then I'm sure the guys will understand. I've seen you taking on so much by yourself ever since we met. You never fail to take other people's feelings and wellbeing into consideration," you smile faintly when Donghyuck makes a sound, flustered you're sure. "So much that sometimes you forget to think about yourself."

It's silent for a while. But it's different from the terse atmosphere you'd walked into. There's a sense of levity now, comfort woven into the soft thumps of each other's heartbeat.

Donghyuck leans his head against yours, his warm breath fanning your forehead. "The Sun doesn't take a break jus' because it's tired."

"No?" You counter playfully, eyebrows rising in amusement. "What about when it rains?"

You're aware of Donghyuck trying hard to think up a witty response, but whether it's the medicine working or the day's exhaustion creeping up to him, he yields. "Don't know."

Smiling at the small sense of victory, you tug on the front of Donghyuck's hoodie, placing a short peck on his lips. "Every time it rains, the Sun goes to sleep for a little while, leaving our planet in the care of the clouds. You know why? So, the Sun can come back brighter than ever and make all the pretty flowers in spring."

Donghyuck's smile is full of adoration at your childlike imagery, his chest impossibly light. He resorts to squeezing your cheek until you yelp and swat his hand away. "What are you gettin' at, baby?"

You shrug, "All I'm saying is that the Sun isn't here all day or for every season. But every time it goes away, people know it will come back with the promise of something beautiful."

You nearly jolt as Donghyuck's grabs your chin, pulling you closer to kiss you. You read the sincerity on his lips and the contentment in the way his hands find purchase on your hips. "How did I manage to make such a cheeseball my girlfriend," he mumbles when you inevitably part for air.

"Deal with it, mister," you say with a chuckle.

The moment doesn't last long though, as Donghyuck pulls away to cough again, sending you both into a fit of laughter. But in that dimly lit kitchen, sitting together with your legs swinging in the air, you're so happy.

You wish Donghyuck realized just how much he's adored — by his fans, his teammates and you. And it's not just because of his eye for perfection, the very reason why he's so hard on himself. Everybody is allowed to make mistakes, take a moment to breathe. And Donghyuck damn well deserves it and so much more. But until he comes to accept it, you'll be there to remind him everyday.

[domjaehyun]

under the influence (l.dh)

PAIRING ▸ stoner!haechan x fem!reader WORD COUNT ▸ 11.6k WARNINGS ▸ a hint of dubcon (she’s timid but very much likes the attention), pervy!dom!haechan, shy!sub!reader, slight dacryphilia, corruption kink, finger sucking, oral (giving & receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, nipple play (receiving), marking, some cum eating, spit play, groping in public, panty stealing & sniffing PLAYLIST ▸ FYS - john concepcion, sweet release - kevin ross NOTES ▸ hii i hope you enjoy! any and all positive feedback is greatly appreciated, so send me an ask if you liked it or let me know in the tags pretty please :) 

As you press the button to call the elevator, you start to get the jitters. They start in your fingertips and travel up your arms to the back of your neck, making the fine hairs there stand on end, and you shudder slightly, shaking your head in an attempt to do away with the sensation.

The doors open with a ding, and you jump at the sound, making Yeri look over at you in alarm.

“Are you okay?” she asks, worries, and you nod, albeit a bit too quickly and vigorously to be convincing. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say with a frown, and she rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. “Nothing!” you insist.

“You’re a horrible liar,” Karina reminds you, and your frown deepens. “But if you say so, I guess.” 

Relieved, you follow Yeri and Karina into the elevator and lean into the back corner of the shaft, resting your back against where the two walls meet. 

“We should watch a movie today,” Karina suggests excitedly, and she and Yeri fall into a discussion that you would join if you weren’t busy thinking about Haechan and whatever stunts he’s going to pull today. 

It takes three calls of your name from Karina and a vigorous shake from Yeri to snap you out of it, and you look at them sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. 

“Girl, where do you keep going? Every time I look over at you, you’re in la-la land.” Yeri asks, concerned and amused.

“Sorry, I was just… thinking.” you mumble.

“We know that,” Yeri says with a chuckle and roll of her eyes. “Thinking about what, hm?” she presses, and you balk.

“She’s probably thinking about Haechan and what stunts he’s gonna pull today.” Karina supposes, and you frown, upset you’ve been caught.

In your defense, Haechan is always up to shenanigans when you’re around; he pulls at your skirt to fluster you, plays with your hair to get your attention, strokes under your chin just to watch your eyes glaze over—you name it, he’s either done it or is probably thinking about it.

You can’t honestly say his advances are unwelcome because, well, you’ve had a crush on him for the past six months. But something about him is so intense, so jarringly locked in, that it makes you hesitate, and being the object of his full and undivided attention never fails to make you the shyest version of yourself, and you manage to make a fool of yourself almost every single time you get around him, and you have no idea how you’re going to deal with his antics today. 

“Girl.” Karina’s voice cuts through the fog in your brain and you blink hard, focusing on your friend’s concerned expression. “You’re doing it again.”

“Oh. Sorry,” you mutter, rubbing your arm awkwardly. “I’m here, for real.”

As the bell dings and the doors open, the three of you file out of the elevator, walking towards the end of the hall to your destination.

“If you need help with him, let us know. We can make up a code word!” Karina suggests helpfully, and you smile, endeared by your friend’s attempt to calm your nerves.

“What should it be?” you wonder, and she screws her face up thoughtfully.

“Blinker.” Yeri answers, and you both turn to look at her. “It should be blinker. Like, if he’s getting too close and you can’t handle it, you can just say you kinda wanna try hitting a blinker or something like that.”

“The last time I hit a blinker, I coughed for ten minutes straight and it was the most painful experience of my life.” Karina recalls, grimacing at the memory. “It’s perfect.”

“Great.” Yeri says, smiling reassuringly at you before the three of you stop in front of the apartment door. Without a second thought, Yeri knocks three times on the door, stepping back to where you two are standing and waits with you for someone to open the door.

It opens a moment later to reveal Haechan standing in the doorway, one hand on the doorframe and the other holding the door, and you wonder how such a simple stance has you short of breath.

He looks at Karina and Yeri, smiling pleasantly, before he locks eyes with you. Slowly wetting his lips, his eyes slowly drag up and down your frame, taking in your outfit and appearance before he meets your gaze once more and drops one eyelid into a flirtatious wink.

“Come on in,” he invites, stepping back to let Karina and Yeri in. When it’s your turn to pass, he moves closer, deliberately blocking part of your way so you have to brush by him to enter, and you’re sure it’s also no coincidence that he’s positioned himself so your chest has to brush against his. You swallow your nerves and continue walking past him, not daring to look back in case he’s looking at you; which, if today is anything like every other day you all hang out, he most certainly is. 

Shutting the door behind you, Haechan follows after the three of you into the living room, but waits, standing, by the chair where Mark sits—for what, you don’t know. You wave hello to Mark in his favorite armchair and Jeno on one end of the couch, who greet you pleasantly and resume their tasks of packing the bong and rolling a joint, respectively. Mildly confused but saying nothing at Haechan’s behavior, you take a seat at the other end of the couch, only for Haechan to move at last, crossing the living room to sit directly next to you.

Your throat dries up at the prospect of being so close to him, and you inhale shakily, wanting desperately to roll your eyes back in your head when you catch a whiff of his intoxicating cologne.

Haechan doesn’t say anything for a moment, just rests one elbow on his knee and observes you with his cheek in his palm. His expression is nothing short of desiring as he takes in your appearance, your burgundy pleated skirt and short-sleeved cream blouse apparently quite the fascinating little number to him, causing you to shift awkwardly in your seat and self-consciously tug your skirt down a bit.

“Relax,” he chuckles. “I’m staring at you because you look good,” Haechan compliments, eyeing you appreciatively. “You always look good, though, but today… damn.”

You blink at him, stunned by the flirtatious lilt to his voice, and mumble, “Oh.”

“Oh?” he mimics you, chuckling, and you furrow your brows, frowning at his teasing. His brows lift up as his face brightens with amusement, and he shakes his head slowly with a smile.

“Thank you.” you say softly, and he nods, smile widening. 

“You’re so cute.” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. Your eyes dart around, looking everywhere but at him, but he recaptures your attention when he snickers quietly and you meet his gaze to see he’s no longer looking at your eyes, but your lips, and there’s a distinct longing in his stare that unnerves you and, if you’re honest, piques your curiosity. “Did you make it here okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumble quietly, eyes shifting back and forth from his eyes to your lap before you give into temptation and look at his lips, regretting it instantly when they quirk up into a smirk as he catches you looking. “The bus was basically empty, and it had heating today.”

“Mm, that’s good to hear,” he muses, running his fingers through his hair, and you attempt to hide the way you swallow thickly at the attractive sight. “We don’t want anyone pressing up against such a pretty girl and trying anything sleazy, right?”

“Um…” you trail off, managing to restrain the reply on the tip of your tongue that Haechan is probably the most likely candidate to press up against you and try something sleazy.

“...Right.” he finishes for you, and you nibble your bottom lip.

“...Right.” you echo, and he grins. 

“So… Do you wanna smoke?” he asks.

“I do,” you confirm shyly, and he smiles slightly, no doubt amused by your nervousness.

“Good girl. Did you wanna hit my pen? It’s pretty strong.” he offers, and you won’t lie—your brain blanks for a minute at the praise, but you’re pretty sure you manage to recover just in time for Haechan not to notice anything.  

“Okay,” you reply hesitantly, and he grins.

“Great—give me one second to get something.” he says before standing up and heading to the back of the apartment to his room. You wait fairly patiently, fingers lightly drumming on your knee as you wait for him to return.

“What’s up?” Mark asks curiously.

“Haechan’s getting something from his room.” you explain, and Mark nods slowly, lips pursed thoughtfully.

Haechan returns from the back of the apartment after a moment with a new cartridge in his hand. You watch with mild fascination as he deftly switches the cartridges in his pen, taking a test pull and holding it in for so much time, you’d swear he’s trying to show off.

When he looks over at you and winks before blowing it out, your suspicions are confirmed. 

“This strain is special,” Haechan murmurs to you, and his eyes drop to your lips as he continues, “it’s a ‘horny’ strain.”

“A horny strain?” you mumble, confused, and he nods with a grin.

“It heightens libido.” he adds, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Want some?”

“That’s not real,” Mark calls out from across the living room, and you crane your head to see him. “There’s no actual science to back that up.”

Haechan scoffs, rolling his eyes. “No one signed up for your TEDTalk on weed; save it.”

Mark grumbles something about misinformation being the death of society but remains otherwise silent.

Haechan calls your attention back to him with a simple clearing of the throat, and you look back at him to see his gaze heavy-lidded and sultry as he regards you, and you start to wonder if Mark might actually be the misinformed one.

“Want some?” he repeats his question from earlier, and you hesitate, making him roll his eyes and chuckle. “It’s not gonna bite you.” As you shift closer to take the pen from him, he holds it out of your reach with a glint in his eye. “I might, though,” he murmurs, and you swallow thickly.

He scans your frame, eyes lingering on your almost outstretched hand, and takes a slow, deep pull from the pen, not holding it in for nearly as long before he’s leaning towards you suddenly, making you yelp and draw back.

“Relax,” he mumbles, some of the smoke slipping from his mouth. He cups your chin in his hand and tugs gently to get you to open your mouth before leaning closer, so close that you fear your lips might touch, leading you to attempt to pull back; however, Haechan’s grip on your chin tightens, a clear sign to stay where you are, and he blows the smoke into your mouth slowly. You’re deeply flustered at first, but your instincts kick in as you inhale the secondhand smoke, holding it in your lungs for a couple of seconds before blowing it back out.

When you’re done exhaling, you expect to pull back, but Haechan’s grip on you hasn’t loosened, the male now studying your lips with an intensity in his gaze that gives you a twinge of anxiety and something else you don’t have it in you to identify. 

“You ever shotgunned before?” he asks softly, and you shake your head as much as his hold on you will allow. “You did a good job.”

“Thanks,” you mumble meekly. “Can you let me go now?”

He rolls his eyes slowly, lips quirking into a cocky grin as he does just that, releasing your chin and sitting back. “If you say so.”

“Thanks,” you mutter quietly, and he flicks his brows upwards in acknowledgement, gaze scanning you before lingering for a moment by the side of your face. “What is it?”

“You have something in your hair,” he says, gesturing to near your ear. When you fail to retrieve the foreign object, he tsks in dissatisfaction before leaning over and gently removing a single white feather from your hair. “Probably from the pillows.” he explains, the backs of his fingers gently grazing your ear as he pulls back. When you squirm away from his touch slightly, the contact too sensitive and ticklish, Haechan chuckles softly. “Look how nervous I make you.” His fingers return to your ear, gently stroking the shell of your ear, and your face blazes with embarrassment and something else as he hums softly. “Even your ear is hot. Do I make you hot anywhere else?” He drops his hand, fingers lightly skimming your upper thigh, and you just about jump out of your skin, cursing internally when you see the delight in his expression.

“Thanks for getting the feather out of my hair,” you say in a desperate attempt to navigate the conversation elsewhere, but it seems Haechan isn’t quite set on letting you off that easily.

“Oh, come on,” he presses, sitting closer to you and leaning so close you can smell his (delicious) cologne. “Don’t tell me your heart isn’t racing right now.”

It is, you think grimly. That’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid.

“Haechan, leave the poor girl alone,” Karina calls from the other end of the couch, and the momentary waver in Haechan’s attention on you as his eyes dart elsewhere is all you need to scoot further back and smooth your skirt out with a vigorous clearing of your throat.

When Haechan looks back over at you, you’ve thankfully managed to regain a semblance of your composure, your gaze politely but pointedly focused at your hands in your lap.

“Pretty girl, you want another hit of the pen?” Haechan offers, and you think back to the way Haechan clutched your chin earlier to shotgun you, finally shaking your head in refusal. “Okay,” he relents, reaching into his back pocket for something and frowning before pulling out an empty hand. “I have something for you.” he says before standing up and heading back to his room.

He emerges once more with a half of a red gummy cube sticking out of his mouth, sitting back down on the couch and draping his arm over the back so it’s ghosting just over your shoulders. “Bite,” he urges through closed teeth, and you shoot him a wary look. “Bite,” he stresses, and you falter, not sure if you should.

“Is it an edible?” you ask cautiously, and he rolls his eyes, an amused chuckle leaving him. 

“Yes. Bite.” It’s not a request, and instead of getting huffy about him bossing you around, you’re more surprised than anyone else when you lean in and carefully bite the other end of the gummy, tugging your half away from his mouth before chewing it. It’s sweet and sugary, but there’s a definite strong aftertaste, a tongue-drying, almost numbing sensation that reminds you it was more than just a little snack. “See, you don’t mind sharing with me, right?”

You don’t answer, instead sitting back and pulling out your phone to fire off a quick text to your group chat consisting of the two girls sitting a little ways away from you and your fourth roommate, Yurin, who usually frequents these hangout sessions but had to pass this time to study for midterms.

you [18:11pm] SOS

you [18:11pm] he keeps being all TOUCHY TOUCHY what do i do?

You set your phone down on the couch face down and stand up, heading to the bathroom to calm your nerves. 

Little do you know, your phone buzzes while you’re gone, Haechan’s curiosity getting the better of him as he flips your phone over. 

Luckily for him, and very unluckily for you, you don’t have a privacy setting on your Messages app notifications, meaning that any incoming texts can be read by any prying eyes, no passcode necessary.

yurin big trouble mister [18:14pm] maybe tell him how you get all TOUCHY TOUCHY with yourself to the thought of him 😁

karina bo bina [18:16pm] god could you be any more crass??

yurin big trouble mister [18:17pm] LMAOOO i couldn’t help it the joke was right there

yeri berry [18:18pm] you’re laughing. our dear friend is about to get consumed by a weed smoking incubus and you’re laughing.

Haechan snorts to himself in amusement, deliberately leaving your phone face-up for your return. You enter the room shortly after, picking up your phone and scrolling through your notifications with a small frown bordering on a grimace.

“What’s got you all upset, pretty?” Haechan asks, feigning curiosity, and you flinch, locking your phone and tossing it in your lap in a panic. “And now you’re jumpy, too? What’s on that phone that’s got you so stressed out, hm?” 

“Nothing,” you answer far too quickly for your liking. 

“I don’t think it’s nothing,” Haechan persists, voice lowering in pitch and volume as he moves closer to you, eyes bright with excitement and something else you can’t quite place. “I think there’s something incriminating on that phone.”

“Incriminating?” you mumble, dazed and flustered, and Haechan nods slowly, lips curling into a wolfish grin. 

“Incriminating like… nudes, maybe,” he muses, tapping his chin thoughtfully, and at the sight of your confused face, shakes his head. “That must not be it. Maybe a message of some sort… from a friend…” You freeze as you realize exactly what’s going on, and Haechan’s grin only widens now that he can tell you know that he knows. “Wonder what you look like when you… how did she put it? ‘Get all touchy touchy with yourself’ to the thought of me.” 

“Haechan,” you murmur, heart rate quickening as you try to think of any possible way out of this conversation. “It’s not what you think it is.”

“I think it’s exactly what I think it is.” he counters with a mischievous wiggle of his brows, and you whimper in panic, desire starting to blaze in his eyes at the sound. 

“What were you doing looking at my phone, anyway?” you accuse, cursing to yourself as your voice shakes slightly.

“I’m nosy,” is all he offers in response. “And, oh, please, you wanted me to see that text. You wanted me to know that late at night,” he teases, pulling your hand closest to him away as you squeal and try to cover your ears, “you touch your pretty little pussy,” he forces your hand back down between you two with a chuckle, “and think about me.”

“Could you lower your voice, please?” you mumble nervously, and he just laughs.

“You don’t want everyone to know that you’re into me, do you?” he remarks, and you swallow thickly, looking down at your lap. “I’ll keep your little secret. For a price.”

You study him out of the corner of your eye suspiciously. “What price?”

He strokes his chin thoughtfully before leaning back and draping his arm behind you on the couch. “I’ll let you know.” His voice is teasing but there’s an ominous edge to his voice that makes you gulp.

“Hey, Yeri?” you call, and her attention is on you instantly. “Remember when, um, you hit that blinker earlier? How’s your throat feeling?”

Her eyes widen almost imperceptibly in understanding and she rubs her throat gingerly, frowning deeply. “It’s still sore. Wanna come get some water with me?”

“Yes,” you accept the offer gratefully and practically spring up from the couch, following after Yeri and ignoring, to the best of your ability, Haechan’s little snicker from behind you.

“You wanna switch seats?” Yeri asks in a low, concerned voice as you two enter the kitchen, and she laughs when you hesitate.

“I mean, I like it, I just… need a quick break.” you mumble, and she nods, pouring herself a glass of water. “Could you guys, um, hear him earlier?”

“No… why?” she scrutinizes you, and you blink, flustered. 

“He saw the group chat texts.” you mutter, and her eyes widen in alarm, setting her glass down a bit too harshly, the loud clink resonating throughout the room.

“I’m gonna kill Yurin.” she hisses.

“Not if I get there first.” you huff, and she snickers. Footsteps sound out from the living room, making their way to the kitchen, and Yeri pauses. “It’s not Haechan,” you assure her. “I think it’s Karina.”

Sure enough, Karina enters the kitchen, and Yeri looks at you in surprise. “How’d you know?”

“I recognize the footsteps.” you explain with a shrug. “Plus, the guys are wearing house slippers and we’re in, like, socks, so it makes a different sound.”

“Okay, little miss super spy.” Yeri teases with a laugh, and you giggle, pushing her playfully. “Have you recovered, you think?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, smiling. “I’m ready to go back out there.”

“What’d I miss?” Karina whines, and Yeri looks at you expectantly.

“Haechan saw the texts about me… at night… that Yurin sent.” you explain carefully, and Karina lets out a loud gasp, her hand flying to cover her mouth.

“I’m killing her.” she groans, and you and Yeri chuckle.

“Get in line, girl.” Yeri says, and Karina snorts in amusement.

“You’re gonna be okay if we go back out there, right?” Karina asks worriedly, and you’re briefly overcome with appreciation for your friends.

“I’ll be okay, I’m pretty sure. I’ll just say blinker again if anything goes wrong.” you confirm, nodding resolutely, and the crease between Karina’s brows fades away as she relaxes.

You three make your way back to the living room, fully preparing to sit back down, but thankfully, before Haechan can torment you further, Jeno inadvertently saves your life and whatever’s left of your dignity by standing up from the couch abruptly and clapping his hands together. “I’m hungry. Diner?”

“I would kill for waffles,” Karina agrees, and Mark and Haechan also stand and start to grab their belongings as you all make your way to the door and slip your shoes on. 

As you shuffle between Yeri and Karina for protection and wait as the elevator descends to the indoor garage of the apartment complex, a tickle starts to build in your throat, making you clear it quietly, then more insistently when the sensation persists. 

“You okay?” Haechan asks, hand poised over your back to pat it in assistance, and you nod.

“My throat is just… a little dry,” you mumble, and Haechan nods in understanding, reaching into his jacket and handing you a Blow Pop. “Thanks,” you mutter, pleasantly surprised as you unwrap the lollipop and stick it into your mouth. By the time the doors open on the garage floor, the flavored saliva produced by the sweet treat sitting in your cheek has almost entirely soothed your throat, and you’re feeling significantly better. 

The six of you make your way to where Jeno’s and Haechan’s cars are parked beside each other and stand behind the two cars, silently deliberating amongst yourselves.

“Well, I call shotgun.” Mark calls out, and Jeno unlocks his car, Mark sliding into the passenger seat.

“There’s no way all six of us are gonna cram into Jeno’s car,” Yeri remarks incredulously. 

“Yeah, definitely not, because my middle backseat’s seat belt isn’t working and the airbag sensors are fucked up, so it’s a seat belt or nothing in my car.” Jeno laments, and your skin starts to crawl as you realize where this might be heading. 

“So your car only seats four… and there are six of us…” you say slowly, pulling the lollipop from your lips with a muted wet pop that has Haechan eyeing you like a lion about to corner the slowest gazelle of the herd. Usually, there are seven of you, so even if you had to ride with Haechan, there’d be a third body present in the form of the lovably boisterous Yurin.

Curse Yurin’s midterms, and curse Yurin for sending that text, and curse yourself for leaving your phone where Haechan could see, and curse Haechan for being nosy—

“I’ll ride with Haechan,” Karina offers, noticing the way you become more and more quiet as you sink further into your worries. 

“No, you won’t.” Haechan says, leaning against his passenger door. Everyone looks over at him, and he just pushes off of the door, opening it and pointing directly at you. “Get in.”

“Oh, gosh.” you mumble, and you’re not sure if it’s the weed effect making you feel sluggish or you’re really that apprehensive, but you feel a bit like a puppet with sandbags for shoes, your feet hesitantly shuffling, dragging, scuffling towards Haechan’s passenger door.

“It’s an eight-minute drive,” Yeri calls to you sympathetically, and you nod, shooting her a feeble thumbs up that you don’t even believe. “We’ll see you soon!” 

“Yeah,” you croak, feeling very much like a lamb being led to slaughter, and Haechan smiles sweetly at you, baring all his teeth as you sit in his car. He closes the passenger door and crosses over to the driver’s side, opening the door and getting in. 

When Haechan finishes settling down into the driver’s seat, checking his mirror views and pulling up the GPS to the diner, he straps himself in and looks over at you, eyes scanning your frame for something—you don’t quite know what. Seemingly done with his inspection, he leans closer to you without warning and reaches for the seat belt buckle in your chair, pulling it out and over your body as he clicks it into place. The whole while, he’s invading your personal space, your breath catching in your throat as you realize his face is close enough to yours that you could probably count his lashes if you wanted to.

He turns his head ever so slightly, eyes locking on yours, and you blink rapidly in alarm, rendered immobile as he studies your face.

“You look so cute, all innocent and helpless like this.” he murmurs softly, and the tiniest of squeaks escapes you, his eyes flashing with glee at the sound. “Now stop looking at me like that,” he warns, “or I’ll kiss you.”

You blanch, trying immediately to make any other expression than the one you didn’t even know you were sporting, and he chuckles before sitting back in his seat and starting his car. He turns the air conditioning on—a strange choice, considering it’s a bit nippy outside—and pulls out of his spot, starting to drive towards the diner.

It doesn’t take long for you to get cold, goosebumps gradually appearing on your arms and legs, but you’re a bit too nervous to say anything, instead suffering in silence. You clasp your hands together in your lap, rubbing them together for warmth, and, as he stops at a red light, Haechan looks over at you, watching in fascination as you shift in your seat for any sort of friction that could warm you. After a moment, you notice his eyes fixated pointedly on your chest, and you spare a glance down to see, to your alarm, that your nipples are hard, starting to poke through your clothing, and you curse internally for wearing a thin, lacy bra that does nothing to conceal your stiffened buds.

He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, smirking in what seems like satisfaction, before refocusing his attention on the road. You cross your arms over your chest protectively, tucking your fingers into the crooks of your elbows as he drives down the road.

“We’re here,” he announces after some time, pulling into a parking spot in front of the diner and turning the car off. The cold air blowing through the vents shuts off, much to your relief, and you unbuckle your seat belt before he gets the chance, practically flinging yourself out of the car into the significantly less cold night air.

As you all file into the diner, you notice a man staring very pointedly at you and your bare legs and your chest, where your nipples have yet to go down. 

Haechan scans the room, catches sight of the man, and follows his gaze back to where you stand, his jaw clenching.

“Put this on,” Haechan murmurs, shrugging off his jacket and offering it to you. You start to take it, eager for warmth, but pause, looking at him suspiciously.

“Why?”

His gaze flicks over your shoulder at where the man from earlier sits, and understanding dawns on you. “Just—put it on for me?” 

You nod, gratefully accepting the jacket, and Haechan steps closer, draping it over your shoulders and helping you put your arms through the sleeves. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly, and he nods.

“You look cute in my jacket.” he remarks with a small smirk, and your cheeks warm.

“Thank you,” you mumble, and he trails his tongue along his bottom lip before gesturing for you to follow after him with a jerk of his head, a quick peek past him revealing the hostess who’s arrived to take you all to your seats.

When you arrive at the booth, Haechan’s right by you, gesturing for you to go in first. You do so without complaint, preferring the inner seat anyway, but it’s when Haechan slides in next to you that you realize your mistake as he closes you into the booth corner, the main obstacle between you and freedom from, well, him.

As the hostess passes out menus and you all start to look them over, you feel the side of his hand resting against the side of your thigh, making you attempt to shift away from his hand, the touch too intimate for you to handle at the moment.

Somehow, his hand finds its way back against your leg, palm turned up slightly as he lightly grazes his fingertips along your thigh, and you suck in a sharp breath, doing your best to pass it off as a cough when Haechan looks over at you, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“I think I’m gonna get the breakfast platter,” Yeri says excitedly. “It comes with pancakes, eggs prepared how you want them, homefries, and your choice of meat.” 

“That sounds so good,” you reply thoughtfully. “I think I want a burger.” 

“Yeah, a burger sounds good,” Haechan agrees, eyes slowly sliding over to study your reaction as he flattens his palm against your leg, slowly sliding it up to caress your upper thigh. Your reaction must be nothing short of rewarding, as you jolt so forcefully that you shake the table slightly, and he chuckles softly.

“You okay, girl?” Karina asks, worried, and you nod, swallowing thickly.

“I just, um…felt a tickle on my ankle. Thought it was a bug or something.” you mumble, and she nods, eyebrows still furrowed in concern.

“I know I said waffles earlier, but I kind of want these barbecue ribs,” Karina says, pointing at an entry on the menu, but you can barely make your gaze focus on where her finger touches the menu because Haechan’s hand is still very much on your thigh, and to make matters worse, you think you like it.

His hand slides up higher, the side of his thumb slipping under the hem of your skirt, and you raise your glass to your lips in an attempt to act natural, hoping and praying no one notices the way your hand is shaking slightly.

Haechan leans in closer to you, murmuring in your ear, “This must be a dream come true for you, huh?” He grips your thigh firmly, not even attempting to play it off as a casual touch anymore, and you barely manage to stifle your yelp of surprise in time. “Must have been wanting this for so long,” he breathes secretively, smiling lips grazing the shell of your ear so subtly, no one else would notice unless they were paying unnaturally close attention.

You, however, do notice. Not only do you notice, but you suck in a sharp breath of surprise, the sudden movement making the water in your cup slosh forward and spill out slightly, a few droplets dripping down your chin.

You suck your teeth in mild irritation, glaring at Haechan as you reach for your napkin, but he’s faster, his free hand coming up and wiping the liquid off of your chin.  

“Um, thanks.” you mumble, and he nods, locking eyes with you as he licks at the pad of his thumb, cleaning off the water droplets with his mouth. “Oh, dear Neptune.” you whisper to yourself, feeling more and more overwhelmed by the moment. “Where is this waitress—I need to eat something.”

“Yeah, we should let her know we’re ready to order,” Mark says, waving a hand out to flag down the waitress. As she approaches, you sneak a peek at Haechan, whose expression is surprisingly calm and neutral given the sensual, slow circles he’s drawing on your upper thigh with his thumb.

Haechan’s hand slips further in between your legs, getting dangerously close to your core, and you decide that’s enough play time for him, clamping your legs together forcefully.

“You trapped my hand, pretty girl,” he points out with a growing grin, and you ignore him even as he continues, “I didn’t know you liked it that much.”

You still don’t give him a response, staring stubbornly out the booth window, and he chuckles before withdrawing his hand from your legs with such ease that you wonder if he was ever really stuck there.

“Oh, we’re doing the silent treatment? Copy that.” he muses, nodding slowly in understanding, and you can’t help but wonder what else he has in store for you.

Today, the energy in the room is entirely different—and you don’t like it one bit.

Haechan won’t even acknowledge you today; his eyes skip over you when he scans the room like you’re not even there, or, worse, he seems to be looking completely through you at times, completely unaffected by your presence.

“Girl, did you piss Haechan off or something?” Yeri whispers to you, and your brows knit together as you shake your head. “He hasn’t made a single move on you all day.”

“I know,” you mutter bitterly.

“Maybe he’s sick,” Karina supplies in an attempt to help, but her words practically fall on deaf ears as you stare burning holes into the side of his face as he laughs at something Mark said.

“I’m about to be sick,” you mumble, your stomach twisting uncomfortably as your somewhat secret crush that used to be obsessed with you treats you like you’re nothing more than a couch cushion.

You don’t know what’s come over you, but when Haechan gets up and heads towards the kitchen. you find yourself standing to follow, mumbling that you’ll be right back to Karina.

Haechan stands with his back to you at the kitchen island, pouring a can of something—it looks like Monster—into a glass, and you take a moment to admire his slender yet lean build, the curve of his shoulders and the perfectly mussed up state of his hair—

“I know you’re there, you know.” he says calmly, and your eyes widen as you immediately attempt to look busy doing anything other than blatantly ogling him. He turns right when you’ve reached for a bag of Ruffles chips and raises an eyebrow expectantly. “You have something you want to say?”

“What do you mean?” you ask, slightly thrown off-guard, and he blinks at you impassively.

“I noticed you staring at me,” is all he says in response, and you blanch, pursing your lips carefully.

“Haechan, are you mad at me?” you ask softly, and he smirks.

“And why do you ask that?”

You fidget with the hem of your skirt nervously, averting your gaze to look at the granite countertop. “Well, you… haven’t talked to me all night.”

Haechan doesn’t say anything for a concerningly long time, prompting you to look up at him and immediately wish you hadn’t. He looks beyond smug, and painfully attractive as he leans in slightly, not close enough to get in your space but close enough to send a thrill down your spine. 

“You were giving me the silent treatment the other day, right?” he reminds you, and you hesitate, realizing you were the cause for his radio silence. “I was just returning the favor.”

“Well, don’t.” you say with a frown, and he raises his eyebrows, amused and surprised.

“Why not? Did you miss me or something?” he teases, and you balk, losing all your nerve as quickly as you’d found it.

“No!” you answer quickly, and he arches an eyebrow skeptically, prompting you to continue, “No, I just—”

“You and I don’t really talk much, anyway,” Haechan muses, leaning his back against the island as he regards you with a cocky glint in his eyes. “So what is it you really miss, hm?”

“Well—” you struggle to find your words, and something softens in Haechan’s gaze, the cocky twinkle now accompanied with a smile bordering dangerously on fondness.

“You miss me messing with you, don’t you?” he asks, and at your lack of response, nods in confirmation. “You miss me touching you?” he questions, dragging out the syllables excruciatingly slowly. He sucks his teeth when you still don’t reply and says, “I know you do. You know you do. Now just admit it.”

“I can’t,” you protest weakly, and he shrugs, raising his hands in surrender.

“You want me to touch you again? Give me what I want.” He sounds dead serious and painfully unwavering on his stance, prompting you to whimper quietly to yourself, too wrapped up in your own nerves to notice the way his eyes darken at the sound of your desperation.

“I want you to touch me.” you mumble shamefully, and his lips quirk up into the beginnings of a smile. 

“Come here; say it again.” he urges, beckoning you closer, and you hesitate, making a challenge flash in his expression before he’s poking his tongue into the inside of his cheek and chuckling. “Don’t make me come over there.”

“I want you,” you say, “to touch me,” you repeat your words from earlier, trying desperately to look anywhere but at him.

You can see him crossing the distance between you in your peripheral vision, your insides tensing with anticipation as he gets closer and closer. To your utter disappointment, he continues to walk as if he’s going to pass you, only pausing to tilt his head to the side in a patronizing display of faux sympathy.

“Good girl. Now, was that so hard?” he chuckles, not even giving you a chance to respond before he continues his path out of the kitchen, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

What in the absolute hell did you just get yourself into?

You’re coming back from the bathroom when you quite literally almost run into Haechan in the hallway. 

“Sorry,” you say, stepping to the side to get past, but he steps to the same side. You laugh awkwardly before stepping to the other side, only for him to do the same, his movements far too calculated to be a mistake, and you come to the realization that he’s intentionally blocking your path. “Haechan?” you ask quietly, nervousness creeping into your voice, and he chuckles.

He takes a step towards you, prompting you to take a cautious one backwards, and his smile widens as he advances on you, slowly but surely herding you back towards the bathroom. When your back hits the nearby wall, your eyes widen, and he mocks you, briefly widening his eyes in faux surprise before flicking his brows up suggestively and placing one hand on the wall by your head on the side you could escape from, successfully trapping you in a makeshift corner. 

“You’re so cute, really.” Haechan sighs, smiling fondly at you, but there’s a devious twinkle in his eye as he regards you.

As he closes in on you, your body is alight with nerves and anticipation, and you decide to try again, feebly calling, “...Haechan?”

“Shh, shh, shh,” he quiets you soothingly, reaching up with his free hand to brush your hair out of your face. “Don’t act like you don’t want this, baby.” As if to prove his point, he presses his knee between your legs, thigh pressing up against your clothed core, and a poorly restrained moan bubbles up in your throat.

“Haechan—” you whine, and he shoots you a smug smile.

“See, baby? I know you want it. You know I want it. That’s why you always wear these tiny fucking skirts whenever you come over,” he states, hand dropping from your face to tug at the hem of your skirt, and you gasp—both at the sudden yanking and the insistent pressing of his thigh against your core. “You like it when I do this. Bet you were waiting for me to slip my hands under your skirt to touch you.”

“Mm-mm,” you protest, but the way your hips move against him, rolling back and forth and grinding wantonly in search of relief, is telling another story, Haechan arching a brow skeptically. 

“Mm, no? You don’t like it? But, wait… what was that you said in the kitchen earlier?” he questions, a taunting lilt to his words. “‘I want you to touch me,’” he echoes your earlier request in a poor imitation of your voice. “Well, I’m touching you, baby—don’t you like it?” When your only reply is a small nod, he shakes his head disapprovingly, gaze darkening. “Words.”

“Yes,” you whimper, breath catching in your throat when he rewards you with a firm upwards press of his thigh into your core. Your movements speed up slightly as you feel that familiar tightening sensation in your abdomen, your climax not far ahead.

“Are you gonna cum just like this?” he asks, and there’s a hint of amusement to his words but it’s almost entirely overtaken by the heavy desire in his voice. 

“Mm-hm,” you whine softly, your desperation peaking as your high gets closer and closer. 

“Beg me to let you cum.” he urges, and you’re already so far gone that your shame is all but done away with.

“Please, Haechan, can I cum?” you pant urgently, a slight pleading quality to your words as you feel the beginnings of your climax, pleasure blooming between your legs in a gush of warmth. “Please?” you whimper, and something in him snaps, Haechan lurching forward and cupping your face in his hands to hold you in place as he kisses you deeply, his tongue tracing along your lower lip as you tremble and moan weakly into his mouth. 

When you move to pull away to breathe, he clutches your face more firmly, slipping his tongue into your mouth and exploring at his leisure, all the while ignoring your muffled, plaintive cries for air. 

“Haechan, I can’t breathe,” you rasp out finally, and he lets you go with a shaky inhale and an unmistakable reluctance. 

“You are so goddamn addicting.” he pants, and his hands drop to your hips, resuming the motions you weren’t aware you’d stopped. “Keep going.”

His hands keep guiding your movements, practically dragging you back and forth on his thigh as he kisses you again. This kiss is messier than the last as he sucks on your tongue and pulls back to trail his lips down your neck, stopping just above your pulse point and sucking hard, a gasp escaping you at the pleasurable sensation.

“Mine,” he grunts against your throat, sinking his teeth into a new patch of skin and sucking there, too, without a doubt leaving some form of mark behind. “All fucking mine.” he repeats, clutching your hips tighter and dragging you up his leg and closer to him, lips parting from your neck with a loud, wet pop and connecting with yours eagerly. “Gonna fucking ruin you, princess.”

“Hae—” you barely get the first syllable of his name out before he’s sealing his mouth over yours again, fingers creeping into the kiss to pry your mouth open.

“Open,” he mutters, brows furrowed in concentration. When you oblige, he taps your tongue impatiently until you let it hang out of your mouth, Haechan sucking in a deep breath as he eyes you appreciatively. Without any warning or preamble, Haechan spits directly onto your tongue, and you whimper, voice cracking slightly. “Swallow. I’m gonna do it again.” You swallow his saliva, the extra moisture in your mouth jarring but not unwelcome, and return to your previous pose of your mouth open with your tongue hanging out. 

He grins and leans in again, hovering over your waiting tongue as he drops a long, clear string of saliva from his puckered lips down to your mouth. “Don’t swallow.” He pulls back from you slightly and pushes his middle and ring finger into your mouth, the cool silver of his ring catching your taste buds as he thrusts his fingers in and out of your mouth, gliding them against your tongue to collect as much wetness as he can. “Good girl,” he coos, pleased, and you’re embarrassed by the rush of warmth between your legs that appears at the praise. “Need them nice and wet for you.”

Not wasting a minute, he snakes his slick, spit-covered fingers past the band of your underwear and starts to stroke over your folds, digits gliding amongst your arousal with embarrassing ease. 

“You’re a mess down here,” he remarks, eyes alight with glee and something wild, primal as he teases you. “You like me that much? Hm?” He seems not to need an answer as he grins cockily at you, eyes scanning your face intently to drink in your every reaction to his touch, no matter how small. He trails his fingers up, up, up until he’s brushing the underside of your clit, and you jolt, flinching away. 

“Haechan, that’s sensitive—”

“I know, baby,” he coos. “That’s exactly why I’m doing it.” With the hand not currently in your underwear, he laces his fingers with yours, the back of his hand pressed against the palm of your own, and trails your linked hands down your body to join his other hand in your underwear. “Show me,” he rasps, and you blink at him, too far gone to fully understand exactly what he means. “Show me how you do it when you’re alone—when you think of me.”

Cheeks blazing, you realize you’re in no position to refuse, so you guide his hand into massaging your clit in circles, your abdomen tensing reflexively whenever his fingers graze the sensitive underside of your clit. 

“Talk to me, baby.” he urges gently, and you whine in protest, the fire in your face increasing nearly tenfold. “Wanna hear that pretty voice tell me how you touch your little pussy.”

“I just rub it in circles like this,” you mumble, voice slightly husky with desire, and the shift doesn’t go unnoticed, if the intensifying of Haechan’s gaze means anything. 

“You don’t go inside?” he asks softly, and you shake your head.

“Doesn’t feel good when I do it,” you whimper, and he sucks in air sharply, swearing under his breath as he watches your face twist in pleasure. It’s all too much for you, having his undivided attention on you like this, and you look away, a shudder traveling through your body as another climax approaches.

“Look at me,” he coaxes, and you reluctantly oblige, pleading eyes locking on his as your peak gets closer by the second. “Only look at me.”

“Okay,” you agree, the last syllable coming out like more of a squeak, and he smiles brilliantly, the hand not pleasuring you slipping out of your underwear and lifting your shirt up to reveal your breasts in your thin, lacy light blue bra. Leaning down, he wraps his lips around one of your nipples through the fabric and starts to suck, tongue swirling around the stiffening bud so wetly that his saliva starts to darken the fabric, the warmth of his spit seeping through the fabric. 

He sucks at your nipples with an almost ferocity, alternating breasts like he can’t get enough of either, and his hand snakes around your back to unclasp your bra, Haechan pushing the garment out of the way as soon as it’s loose and latching onto your nipple with a low groan of satisfaction.

As he flicks your nipple back and forth with his tongue, his fingers stroke you closer and closer to your high until you’re so close you can practically taste the sweet, heady feeling of ecstasy. “Show me what you sound like when you cum, baby.”

“Oh—shit—oh, my God,” you hiss as your eyes screw shut tight, pleasure coursing through your body as your orgasm travels through your system. “Feels so good,” you whimper, and he hums in agreement.

“Say my name, baby.”

“Haechan—” you moan wantonly, and he lets out a noise somewhere between a groan and a growl as he tugs at your nipple with his teeth.

He doesn’t stop attending to your breasts until he’s certain he’s milked every last second of bliss from your body, alternating between sucking and flicking and swirling his tongue around the buds until you go limp, your body slumping against the wall for support. 

Finally, he pulls his arousal-coated fingers from your underwear, trailing them over your bottom lip before pushing the digits into your mouth to suck. 

You do so with an embarrassing amount of eagerness, and are just as surprised as Haechan when he pulls his fingers from your mouth and you whine in protest.

His brows shoot up into his hairline and you feel heat blazing furiously in your cheeks as he regards you with a mix of surprise and an expression that looks close to impressed.

“You like to suck, yeah?” he murmurs, and you nod hesitantly. Something flashes in his dark eyes, and he grins. “Wanna suck something bigger?”

Hesitant but undoubtedly excited, you nod, and he wets his lips before setting about unbuckling his belt and opening his jeans. 

As he does, you slowly sink to your knees, and when he looks up from his pants to see you kneeling before him, he lets out a loud swear that you fear might blow your cover.

As you stare in awe at his impressive size, you realize you’re less worried about getting caught than you are about having to stop. He watches you watch him with amusement and fascination, but the undercurrent of desire runs strong as he clicks his tongue to get your attention. 

You look up at him, and he licks his lips, exhaling a small puff of air before wrapping a hand around his base.

“This is the prettiest sight I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he praises, and you smile, heat rising to your cheeks once more. Lowering himself slightly, he cups your breasts, pressing them together and grunting, “I’m gonna fuck these one day. But now?” he says, releasing them and stroking your chin affectionately. “I’m gonna fuck this pretty mouth.”

“You ever suck someone off, baby?” he asks in a low voice, and you shake your head, making his eyes slide shut in bliss as he squeezes himself harder. “Fuck, I’m your first?”

“Yes,” you mumble shyly, and he coos affectionately at you, leaning down slightly to cup your chin with his free hand. 

“Remember when you were sucking that little lollipop the other day?” he asks, and you nod. “It’s kind of like that. Use your tongue, and the wetter it is, the better.”

You nod carefully and sit forward, letting your jaw drop open. 

“Fuck, baby. Tongue out for me?” he grunts, and you oblige, letting your tongue drop out of your mouth and lie flat for him. “So good, baby, just like that,” he encourages, leaning forward and guiding the head of his cock into your mouth. 

It feels strange but not unwelcome, and you suck gently at the head of his cock, more focused on using your tongue to explore the intrusion in your mouth. Based on the way Haechan’s breathing shallows and quickens, you suspect you’re doing a pretty good job.

“Baby, you’re so good at this,” he groans, his head tipping back before it snaps back up as he seemingly realizes he’d rather watch you. “Mouth looks so pretty wrapped around my cock like that.”

You can only manage a whimper as you boldly press forward, taking more of his length into your mouth, and he sucks in a sharp breath as you swirl your tongue around his length before tentatively flicking it over the slit in the head of his cock. He groans weakly and, emboldened, you do it again, Haechan letting out a delicious little grunt that spurs you to kick it up another notch.

You start to bob your head, doing your best to alternate between bobbing and licking, and Haechan shudders deeply, his hand releasing the rest of his cock and moving to cup the back of your head, fingers slipping into your hair. 

“Just like that—fuck—” he hisses, biting his lip as he watches you suck him off, skill increasing with every movement. When you push forward a bit too suddenly, eager to impress him, you choke briefly on his length, throat constricting slightly as your gag reflex activates slightly. “Oh, shit—”

Despite the slight ache to the back of your throat, you keep sucking, moving forward slower this time to allow your throat time to adjust to his size. When you massage the underside of his tip with your tongue, wet muscle gliding over the ridge of skin, he moans your name and it’s one of the most rewarding sounds you think you’ve ever heard.

“So good,” he pants as you bob your head up and down, and his length twitches in your mouth, giving you a hint that he’s close. “Gonna cum, baby.”

You move your head faster, sucking his length to the best of your ability with all the tricks you just learned, and his fingers grip your hair tightly as he spills into your mouth, his hips sluggishly thrusting forward as he shallowly fucks your mouth. 

“You,” he grunts, helping you to your feet so you’re face to face and kissing you deeply, “are a fast little learner.” His tongue slips between your lips and he explores your mouth eagerly, licking at your tongue and inner cheeks as you whimper, dizzied by the fervor of his kisses. 

“Baby,” he mumbles into the kiss, the urgency in his voice waking you up slightly, “I wanna eat you out. Can I taste you, princess?” When you nod, he grins brilliantly. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

He drops to his knees and slides his hands up from your ankles, hands slipping under your skirt to caress your hips. Pulling your underwear off, he drapes one of your legs over his shoulder, warm, slender fingers spreading apart your folds to get a better look at you.

When you whine softly in embarrassment, he shushes you gently, murmuring, “I just want to admire you for a second, baby, please?” He ducks his head under your skirt and sucks in a sharp breath when he’s met with the sight of your core, folds glistening with your arousal. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he breathes in awe, and before you can reply, his mouth is on you, upper lip resting just above your clit as his tongue strokes along your folds indulgently.

“Oh, my God,” you whisper, stumbling back slightly to lean against the wall behind you. Haechan moves with you fluidly, massaging your clit with his tongue as his fingers clutch your thighs, kneading the flesh with greedy, rough movements.

Tongue moving downwards towards your entrance, he prods the tip of it against your hole, chuckling when you jolt and squirm under his actions. “Don’t be shy, baby, I just want to taste.”

You nod even though he can’t see you, and he must be able to tell, because his tongue pushes forward, slowly breaching your entrance. You suck in a loud breath as his tongue delves further into you, occasionally coming out to slurp up the arousal dripping from your hole. 

“Tastes so good, baby,” he moans, his nose rubbing against your clit as he slowly starts to move his tongue in and out inside of you. The feeling is strange but amazing, a slightly ticklish element to the pleasure you’re receiving as he tongue-fucks you. 

Slurping loudly and moaning even louder, Haechan loses himself in your core, alternating between tongue-fucking you and licking at your folds and clit, leaving sloppy wet kisses that make your mind spin.

“Yeah, you like that?” he grunts, sucking at your clit hard before slipping his tongue out to stroke the sensitive underside of the sensitive bud. “You like when I kiss your pretty pussy? Hm? Do you like it when I make out with your sweet little pussy?”

“Yes,” you whimper, fingers clutching at his head over your skirt. When you get a good grip on him, you start to pull him closer, wanting more of his touch.

“Always so good—so shy and innocent.” Haechan murmurs, words slightly muffled from his oral ministrations on your pussy. “Now look at you; look how bad you’re being.”

“Haechan, please,” you breathe, and he turns his head to suck at your inner thighs, no doubt leaving a mark or two in his wake.

“Wanna see just how bad I can make you be.” he coos before surging forward to lap at your core eagerly, losing himself once more in the taste of you. “Fucking delicious, baby, you taste so good for me.”

He sucks and licks and kisses—even nibbles a bit—until your legs are shaking and your grip on his hair is iron-clad. You briefly consider the extremely compromising position someone might find you in if one of your friends walked down the hall and are surprised to find that not only do you not care, but there’s even a smidge of excitement when you think about getting caught like this, with Haechan’s head under your skirt and your breasts exposed.

“Haechan, I’m—I think I’m gonna—” you pant out, and he nods fervently, tongue slipping out of your entrance to flick your clit back and forth rapidly, a sharp whine slipping from you.

“Cum for me, baby—cum all on my tongue.” he urges, pulling you closer as he feverishly laps at your clit and entrance, shaking his head from side to side rapidly to run his tongue along your core back and forth. “That’s it, pretty girl, just let go.” he purrs, coaxing your climax out of you, and you do just that, letting the coil wound tight in your abdomen snap and letting the pleasure flood through your body.

“Haechan—” you whimper, and he hums soothingly as his tongue massages your clit once more, thoroughly milking your orgasm for all its worth. When the trembling of your legs has calmed down slightly and you’ve started to breathe normally once more, he pops his head out from under your skirt and winks up at you, chin and lips covered in your arousal.

“You’re addicting, baby; could eat your pussy for hours.” he says as he rises to his feet. A look downwards grants you the sight of his erection, fully hard once more, and you swallow thickly before looking up at him only to see that he’s already watching you with a small grin on his face. “Think you can handle one more?”

You’re nodding before you even realize it, and Haechan beams at you, drawing closer and closer until you’re flat against the wall. 

Nudging your legs apart, he settles between them and aligns his tip with your entrance, looking up from where your bodies meet to your face.

“Ready, baby?” he asks, and you nod carefully, eyes drifting back down from his face to where the thick head of his length presses against your core. “Good girl,” he breathes before pushing into you slowly, covering your mouth with his palm as you gasp out loudly. “Baby, they’ll catch us if you keep making noise like that.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, but it’s a muffled apology given that Haechan’s hand is still firmly clasped over your mouth. “So full,” you whisper in awe, and he chuckles lowly in your ear, lips pressing to the spot just behind your lobe. 

“Feel so tight around me, baby,” he grunts, his labored breathing in your ear telling you that he’s just as affected as you are. “So fucking good—”

“Haechan, move,” you whisper urgently as he bottoms out in you, and he obliges, pulling out to the tip and pushing into you again. A loud whoosh of air escapes your lungs, and he sucks your earlobe into his mouth, making you let out a loud whimper that would have been much louder had Haechan’s hand not muffled it.

“I’m starting to think you want to get caught.” Haechan murmurs with a smile on his lips as he kisses along your jaw and moves his hand to kiss you. 

“Mm—! No, I don’t—” you insist through your cries of pleasure, and he shakes his head with a taunting grin.

“Yes, you do,” he teases. “You want all our friends to come in this hallway and see me fucking you like the perfect little fuckdoll I always knew you could be.”

“Hae–chan—” you stutter, tiny noises leaving you with every powerful thrust of his hips. He’s so good, so big and thick, and he’s filling you up just right and hitting all the right places, and it becomes too much very quickly, an overwhelming amount of pleasure rushing through your body as he fucks into you. If it couldn’t get worse for you, he reaches between you two and his fingers find your clit, rubbing it in quick circles just like you showed him earlier. “Fuck—stop—too much—”

“Doesn’t that feel good, baby?” he coos, shifting himself to angle his hips into you just right so that every snap of his hips sends his tip fucking directly into your g-spot. 

You feel warmth behind your eyes, the telltale pricking at the corners that you know all too well, and the first tear drops before you can wipe it away, another tear following after that as the pleasure all but consumes you.

“Aw, baby, don’t cry, it feels good,” he consoles you, reaching up with his free hand to wipe your tears away. 

“So good—too good—” you babble, and he laughs at that, brows furrowing at the end as you clench around him.

“It can’t be too good, baby—you’re not making sense anymore.” he says with a playful lilt, and you whimper, more tears falling as you sniffle pathetically. “Fuck, you’re so pretty when you cry.”

“Wanna cum—Haechan, please let me cum—” you beg, and his movements stutter, Haechan looking at you in surprise.

“Yeah? Baby wants to cum?” he grunts, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as your walls flex around him again. “Fuck, I love when you do that—feels so good—cum for me, baby.” 

Not needing to be told twice, you promptly fall apart around him with a messy string of swears and “please” and utterances of Haechan’s name as your nails dig into his forearm, making him wince slightly. You’re sure you look a mess, eyes wet and glossy as tears stream down your cheeks, but Haechan’s drinking in your appearance like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Baby—I’m close—fuck—” Haechan grunts. “Gonna cum—where do you want it?”

“Want it inside of me, please—” you croak weakly, and he lets out a sound that’s a mix between a smug chuckle and a moan.

“Can’t believe you were skittish as a mouse just the other day, and now you’re begging for my cum. Want me to fill you up?” he pants, hips driving into yours with reckless abandon. 

“Please—” you whimper, and he swears under his breath.

“Fuck—take it all, baby,” he urges, hips pressing into yours as he buries himself in you and empties his load. “It’s all for you,” he says breathlessly as his length twitches inside of you.

He stays inside of you for a moment, both of you attempting to catch your breath, before he slowly pulls out, tucking himself back into his pants and helping you fix your skirt back into place. To your confusion, he hooks his fingers in your underwear, pulling the thin, arousal-soaked fabric down and off your legs. 

“Um…” you start, and Haechan looks over at you, brows raised expectantly. “Those are mine,” you state, pointing at the fabric in his fist.

“And now,” he hums, bringing them to his face and inhaling deeply, eyes sliding shut in bliss just in time to miss your scandalized expression. “They’re mine. C’mon; you should use the bathroom.”

He loops his fingers around yours, other hand stuffing your underwear in his back pocket as he leads you to the bathroom.

When the door closes behind you, you sit down on the toilet with slightly shaky legs, taking a moment to think about everything that just occurred. 

You would have never in a million years thought that you’d have sex with Haechan, let alone in the hallway—let alone, with your friends in the very next room. However, as you think over the events that just transpired, your body is filled with a warm thrum of satisfaction, and you can’t seem to find an ounce of regret. 

“Girl, where the hell were you?!” Karina exclaims, fussing over you as soon as you reappear in the living room. “We’ve been texting and calling for ages!”

“Oh,” you mumble, pulling your phone from the little pocket in your skirt. “It’s been on Do Not Disturb,” you explain sheepishly, and Karina rolls her eyes hard.

“Don’t do that again. You had us worried sick. What were you even doing for so long?”

“Um… well, Haechan and I,” you start, casting a side glance to the couch where Haechan sits and hesitating slightly when you see that he’s watching you intently, not an ounce of shame in his expression. “We hooked up.” you say finally, straightening your back slightly and standing up taller.

Yeri’s jaw drops. “About damn time.” she remarks, and you narrow your eyes at her.

“Hush, you.” you huff, looking over at where Haechan sits once more. He locks eyes with you and grins, patting the empty spot next to him and wiggling his eyebrows playfully, and you smile, looking away from him to address your bewildered friends. “I’ll explain everything later—”

“Yeah, yeah, just go, girl.” Karina chuckles. “He’s waiting,” she sing-songs, and you elbow her slightly before shooting them a bright smile and a small wave and making your way to sit next to Haechan. 

When you sit down, Haechan drapes his arm around you on the back of the couch, and you can feel the heat creeping to your cheeks.

“So,” he says carefully, taking a hit of his pen and exhaling slowly before he continues, “I know this is a little backwards of me, but… do you wanna go out sometime? Like, on a date?”

“I’d like that,” you reply with a bashful smile, and he grins, relieved.

“Great. Now in the meantime,” he says, looking pointedly towards the hallway before looking back at you expectantly, “I have a nice ass TV, snacks, and a strong ass edible with your name on it in my room. You down?”

You don’t even hesitate. “I’m down.” you agree, smile widening, and he nods, satisfied. He stands from the couch and offers you his hand, which you take as he pulls you to your feet.

As you trail after him towards his room, fingers still locked with his, you can’t help but notice the familiar peek of fabric sticking out of his back pocket, and your eyes widen in alarm.

“Haechan!” you whisper loudly, and he looks back at you with raised brows. “My, um, underwear is sticking out of your pocket.”

“So?” he answers simply, and you pause, brain buffering for a moment.

“So?”

“Yeah. No one knows it’s your underwear but you and me,” he points out as you reach his bedroom door. He swings it open and gestures for you to enter first, head dipping down to your ear as you pass by. “So it’s our little secret.”

“Oh,” you mumble, thinking it over. “Okay.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he says encouragingly, guiding you to his bed and gesturing for you to sit down. “Now, what do you want to watch?”

“Uh, we can watch Family Guy,” you suggest, and he looks at you, pleasant surprise written on his handsome features, before he nods and picks up the TV remote.

“Good choice,” he praises, sitting down beside you against the headboard of his bed. “Perfect show to play in the background while we make out.”

“Oh—” you stammer, blinking in surprise, and he snorts, eyes fond as he scans your bashful demeanor.

“I’m kidding.” he assures you, and you can’t help but frown slightly. Unfortunately for you, this doesn’t go unnoticed by Haechan, and he chuckles. “You wanted to make out, didn’t you?”

“A little bit,” you mumble, and he grins, leaning in closer to you.

“That can be arranged.” he murmurs, still smiling as his lips meet yours.

[haecastor]

😩 stoner 😩 hot 😩 lee 😩 haechan 😩😩 i will kill for him actually 😩😩😩😩

[neowinestainedress]

wave | lee donghyuck (part two)

part 1 | masterpost | full fic not split in two

pairing: lee donghyuck x fem reader genre: college au, academics rivals to lovers, kinda fake dating, forced to work together on a project, smut, fluff, humor (idk), music major!haechan, music major!mc | not really requested but thank you 💌 anon for the inspo summary: your indifference toward Lee Donghyuck, also known as Haechan, becomes rivalry when he decides to sabotage you. The battle turns into a war, the war turns into a plan, and the plan, well, the plan fails miserably... or succeeds wonderfully. After all, it’s all about points of view. Or, Haechan thinks he found a way to distract you and be better than you, but doesn’t think it thoroughly and screws it up. warnings: smut, weed/alcool consumption, thigh riding, oral (receiving, giving), unprotected sex, teasing, etc | inclusivity notes: reader wears different hairstyles (no mention of texture, type and color), no mention of body type (but haechan lifts her a few times), no mention of skin color, no use of y/n wc: 20.3k (out of 42k)

a/n: here’s the second part. please if you liked it leave feedback (comments, reblogs, asks), i love knowing your opinions and it keeps me motivated to keep posting my writing. enjoy!

After too many dates, too many studying sessions together, and in general too much time spent together —even with his group of friends— you feel like this is a relationship that simply hasn’t been named, yet. Something about everything doesn’t feel like just sex and hate.

You’re fine like this, for once believing you can let loose a little and still do well in your studies.

Haechan, instead, thinks his plan is going amazingly. He knows he has you distracted, he knows he takes away your time, and he knows everything is technically perfect. But the plan is not the best made of his life, and the more time passes, the more he forgets about it, and the more he thinks about you.

He never planned to use you, that had to be clear. He just wanted to distract you with sex —something you both wanted to have— and give you a boyfriend experience so you could write the song in the best way possible. But in doing all that, he is more caught up in you —and not only because of the plan, he is just caught up in you— than in his studies.

It’s nine pm on Sunday after he dropped you home around four pm this afternoon. He made you meet his girl friends too for lunch and then you went back to his place to stay together for a while. But even if you spent almost the entire day together, he still misses you.

He rolls on his back as he goes into his contacts to text you again, he doesn’t have to scroll down, you’re second on the list since he last annoyed you forty minutes ago but you still haven’t replied. 

haechan: can you answer me?

haechan: i miss you : (

haechan: you didn’t even let me eat you out

haechan: you looked so pretty in that skirt i think it looks better with my head underneath it

haechan: fuck and now i’m hard thinking about you

mortal enemy: the only hard thing should be the books you should be studying on, remember we have a test tomorrow?

“Fuck,” he screams, sitting up. “What?”

He never forgets these things. He always writes them down in his agenda that he maniacally reads every day to make sure he’s always on time with his studying schedule. He can’t have forgotten about it. But, apparently, he did.

His thumb quickly wipes to call you and your answer doesn’t let him wait.

“I’m studying,” you huff annoyed as you pick up his phone call right away.

“Why would you go out with me if tomorrow we have a test?”

Your chuckle reaches his ear through the phone before he gets to hear your voice again. “Why not?”

“Don’t you want to be the top one? What about your grades? This adds up for the finals.” Panic fills his voice, he’s hoping you remembered just now and haven’t been studying since you went back, but you’re too relaxed for that to be true.

“Yeah, I know,” you reply, too calmly for his liking. Was his plan working? No, because you knew about it. And he completely erased the test, too busy thinking about you.

“And you go out?” He asks again as anxiety starts to take over him.

“Why would I lock myself up before a test? It’s not even that serious. There’s the topic you pick, and then like four questions that will surely be the main things we discussed in class, Professor Kim only knows one way of making tests.”

He groans, he can’t believe you’re always so ahead of him. “How do you know these things?”

“I use my brain,” you reply nonchalantly.  

“So you started studying… when you got home?”

“Last week.”

“Last week? Are you kidding me?” He screams so loud that he’s sure you have to move the phone from your ear.

You sigh, rubbing your temples, Haechan knows it, you always do that when he pisses you off somehow. “You didn’t open the book at least once until now?”  

“I…” I would usually read through the notes at least once a week, but I’ve been too busy. “I’ve… I read the notes, until some weeks ago. I got busy, okay?”

“Were you perhaps distracted by something Hyuck?” You ask teasingly, and he can see you twirl the end of your hair in your fingers while your tongue pokes at your cheek.

“Nothing distracts me,” he mutters, frowning even if you can’t see him.

“Then hang the call and try to read the notes at least, I’ll send you the recordings of the lessons, play them all night maybe something will stick to your brain.”

“Okay, bye. Wish me good luck, please,” he says, and you chuckle. “No seriously, don’t manifest against me, I need all your good energy.”

“I will, Hyuck. Just give it a quick read and then try to get as much sleep as possible. You have a brain and you’re smart with it, it’s better for you to be active tomorrow than force information that just won’t get in, alright?”

He hums, weirdly feeling a bit calmer at your words. “’kay, goodnight, babe.”

“Goodnight.”

Haechan sighs, slumping on the bed, boner long gone and anxiety on his chest, until the screen lights up again and a few messages from you show up.

mortal enemy: 10 audios + 10 files ‘music theory notes’ sent the audios anyway but my *perfect* notes should be enough to not make you pull up an all-nighter also don’t stress too much, I appreciate the act of chivalry to make me top this class grades again :;

He forgot about an exam, he didn’t study for it, yet he’s smiling like an idiot because of you.

Haechan’s screwed.

“So, how did it go?” You ask, blocking Haechan as soon as the bell rings and Professor Kim dismisses the class, letting you know the results will be in next week.

Haechan glares at you, and you suck your teeth. “Come on, it wasn’t that difficult,” you say, sitting on his desk, as he looks for something in his bag.

“I did great, I just don’t want to admit your notes are perfect and were enough to save my ass,” he says, and you can’t hold back the smile.

“You’re welcome,” you say, standing up and kicking him playfully with a swing of your hips.

“Hey! You could’ve made me fall,” he jokes, grabbing his bag before taking a step back so you can lead the way out of there. “And thank you.”

You chuckle, lowering your head to hide that dumb grin on your face. “You know, I wanted to ask you why we never revisited music theory but I thought you wanted to do it on your own, maybe you were scheming something against me.”

“What? I would never scheme against you,” he says as you start walking to lunch.

You stare at him with a raised brow, and he huffs. “It was in the past and you did it too. Also, what would I scheme?”

“I don’t know, maybe you sneaked into his office and stole the test to already know the answers?”

“That would be cheating, not beating you. There’s no fun in that,” he says, holding the door of the cafeteria open for you.

“You’re such a fair rival,” you joke as you head to the buffet to grab something to eat.

“Wait,” he stops you when your plates are full. “Why don’t you sit at our table? I hate seeing you eat alone.”

“Have you ever considered I can’t stand how loud your friends are?”

“Oh come on, you already deal with them when you come to my place.”

“Exactly.”

Haechan huffs, standing in front of you to stop you from going toward your table. “We can go to yours today.”

You furrow, lightly tilting your head to the side. “We don’t have anything to study.” You try to decipher his expression and think if you could get so distracted to forget something you had to work on or revisit.  “The song?”

He shakes his head. “I might…” he pauses, trying to find a way to say what he wants to say that’s not so humiliating, but then he gives up with a heavy sigh that rolls from his lips. “Okay, I need help.”

“You?” You scream, attracting some attention on you, and Haechan glares at you, pulling you to the sides so that the curious gazes can linger away from you.

“Yes, me,” he replies through gritted teeth. “It’s just a small thing, but I don’t get it.”

You smirk smugly and he rolls his eyes. “Fine, I can’t wait to tutor you,” you reply, starting to walk to his group of friends’ table.

“Why can’t I ever win with you?” He whispers, shaking his head and following you.

You’re not sure Haechan told you the truth. He is smart but he isn’t the best actor ever, and when he came to your place to try to understand that small thing he didn’t understand in sociology, you were pretty sure it was just an excuse. You explained it in less than five minutes, he got it too quickly and immediately started messing around.

You don’t mind it, though. You enjoy spending some time with him. He’s a good distraction. Surely you would’ve fixed some notes or listened to some lessons instead of… well, instead of being on his lap with your fingers in his hair and his hands on your ass, grinding on him.

You hold in a moan when he concentrates on your neck, kissing, biting, and sucking the spot that makes you shiver. And you’d like to go on like this, but you need more. So you shift on top of his thigh, while yours presses against his hardening dick and makes him growl.

“What are you do—”

“Shh,” you shush him quickly, pressing your thumb on his lips before replacing it with your lips. “Ouch,” you gasp when he bites on your lower lip. “Why did you do that?”

Haechan chuckles, shrugging before leaning close to you again. “Why not?”

You frown but have no intention of carrying it any further. You can feel your panties stick to your skin and you just want to come, not really caring if it’s just like this.

But the moment of intimacy, if you could call it that, gets interrupted by the buzzing of his phone in his pocket.

“God, just answer,” you yell when Haechan ignores the third call but whoever is on the other line has no intention to stop trying.

Haechan rolls his eyes as his right hand leaves your ass to search through his pocket and huffs annoyed when he sees the name on the screen.

“Jaemin, what?” Haechan groans as you keep moving on his thighs, ignoring his deadly glare. “No, I’m busy.”

You faintly make out an angry reply from the other side, but you don’t care enough to understand what Jaemin’s saying.

“No, I can’t go out with you.”

“We can,” you reply loudly enough so that Jaemin can hear while Haechan scowls at you again, muttering a scold under his breath, but his anger is quickly addressed to his friend on the other side.

“Yes, I’m with her,” he huffs, rolling his head back, trying to stop your movements but failing. “Don’t ask questions. And yes, fine, fine.”

When he hangs the call after mumbling a quick, annoyed goodbye, you chuckle. “Thought you didn’t want to hear my annoying friends?” It’s all he asks, leaving a small, teasing slap on your asscheek.

“What were we supposed to do? Stay inside all day?”

“Yes, we have everything here,” he says, spreading his arms to point around. “And you’re still grinding on me.” He looks down, eyes narrowing as he stares at your hips. 

“I’ll finish and then we’ll get out,” you wink, starting to move faster but he has no intention to get back into the mood, not yet, at least.  

“You’ll stain my pants and where do I come?” He huffs, and you’re sure he’s trying to find an excuse to don’t go outside rather than one to don’t fuck with you. He would never say no to that, especially when you two are already in the middle of it. 

“Take them off,” you urge, jumping off him, waiting for him to get undressed as you do the same, your panties the only thing staying on.  “Come on. You don’t want to be late.”

Haechan groans, “you’re so… so greedy. You just want everything.”

“Yeah, am I allowed to have one flaw?” You bat your lashes at him, grinning when his eyes roll in the back of his head. “Oh, will I stain the underwear, too?” You ask when his lower half is completely bare to your eyes.

“Honey, I’m not coming inside my boxers, can’t wear your panties to hang out with the boys,” he says annoyed.

You chuckle, climbing on his thigh again, watching him whimper when your bare leg brushes against his dick and you press on him to be as close as you were before.

He doesn’t know why you didn’t take the panties off, but he knows he doesn’t want them there. He wants to feel you on his skin. As hot as this is, he wants to feel your pussy drip down his thigh, and your panties are stopping the full experience.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Donghyuck!” You scream when the sound of the fabric ripping hits your ears and the chill air of the room hits your warm core.

He groans. “It’s so hot when you say my real name with an angry tone, makes it hard to hold back fucking you.”

“You need to stop ripping my stuff,” you complain, trying to hide how hot you found that, the ripping of the panties and that fucking smirk on his face now that he lays back against the headboard of your bed, so proud and snotty that is hard for you to hold back fucking him.

“Shut up, you love it,” he says, pulling you into a rough kiss, pushing your body closer while his hand rests on your hips to guide you in the movements. “Also they weren’t a good pair, if you were in lingerie I would’ve asked you politely to take them off.”

“You will never see me in lingerie,” you retort, pulling away as your hand sneaks down and starts moving up and down on his throbbing cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, “at least warn me?”

“I’m half naked, grinding on top of you and I have to warn you when I grab your dick?” You ask. “If you don’t want, I won’t make you come.”

“No, just —fuck,” he glares at you when you concentrate on the tip, “don’t be a bitch.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you chuckle but still move your hand quickly, following the steady rhythm of your thighs. Your head rolls back when one of his hands creeps under your shirt and cups your boob, his thumb brushing against your hard, sensitive nipple.

Haechan sucks in a deep breath when your thighs start shaking around his and your cum drips down his thigh. “Fuck,” he moans, eyelids fluttering as he looks at you, head reclined back as you hold onto him with only one hand, the other still busy taking care of him. “This is so hot, you are so hot.”

The compliment pushes you closer to reaching your high and when he lifts your shirt to wrap his lips around your sensitive nipple, you lose it.

You whimper and quiver, hips moving messily as you keep riding your high, breath getting stuck in your throat when he accidentally bites you as his orgasm washes over him unexpectedly.

“Fuck, sorry,” he mumbles, and if you weren’t still so lost in your pleasure you would let him know you liked it.

When your hips still, and the dizzying sensation calms down, you lay your head against his shoulder for a while as his arms wrap around your waist.

“Can we stay in?” Haechan pouts when you try to get away from him, reaching for your hand to keep you next to him before he rolls over when you shake your head and jump off the bed. “Please.”

“We can’t always fuck and study and study and fuck,” you reply, cleaning yourself up, holding in a sigh when you realize he stained the cover of your bed with his cum.  

“Who said I want to do either of those things?” He says, looking up at you with puppy eyes, pushing his lower lip out to pity you.

“I know you,” you reply, glaring at him before pulling your pants back on, not even caring about putting on another pair of underwear, you would’ve had to wash all those clothes anyway after taking a well-deserved shower, but for now you only had to pick some clothes to go out with the boys.

“No, let’s stay in and, I don’t know. Should we sing?” He proposes, jumping on his feet and putting his discarded underwear on.

You laugh, staring at him in shock. “You want to sing?”

“Yeah, you have a guitar, right?”

You nod, turning around the corner where your guitar is.

“Don’t you want to hear my angelic voice?”

You take a deep breath at his brag and then exhale loudly. “But Jaemin?”

“Fuck him, I don’t care,” he says while a small victory grin already starts widening on his face. He knows you’re about to give in.  

You huff, rubbing your temples and giving up fighting him when his fingers are already typing on the phone to tell his friend you two can’t come anymore.

When he puts the phone away and smiles at you in anticipation, you sigh. You really are stuck with him, aren’t you?

“Why don’t we prepare biscuits?” You suggest. You wanted to bake something for a while now, but you never really find time to dedicate to the kitchen.

“Biscuits?”

You nod, stealing his sweatshirt to wear on top of your shirt before walking to the kitchen —that space you consider the kitchen. 

“I’m a mess when it comes to cooking, you know, right?” He confesses as he leans against the countertop, watching you move around to grab all the ingredients and tools you need.

“You? Admitting you’re bad at something? To me?” You ask with a teasing tone, but you’re genuinely surprised he let you know without turning even this into a competition.

He fakes a laugh. “Very funny,” he says. “I just don’t want to hear you complain if I make some mistakes and ruin your perfect biscuits.”

You chuckle. “Can you weigh the ingredients and then put them all in a bowl?”

“All at the same time?”

You nod, handing him what he needs and showing him where the scale is. “Is not that hard, even you can do it. Plus, it will be another thing I teach you today,” you wink.

“Careful, baby. Don’t start thinking you’re so much better than me,” he says, starting to weigh the ingredients and putting them in each separate bowl.

You scoff. “Honey, I won’t start thinking that,” you say, resting your head on his shoulder, “I already think that.” You leave a teasing kiss on his cheek before he hits you with the flour and you gasp.

“Oh, no, we’re not doing that,” you warn, taking a step back, seeing how he’s ready with another handful of it.

“Then take it back,” he says nonchalantly.

“I never take back the truth —oh, Jesus Christ, Donghyuck!”

He laughs loudly, bending forward as he glances at you, flour on your face and well, his sweater. “Don’t call my name like that again, though. I won’t resist this time,” he says when he finally stands up and stands right in front of your face. “Now, will you take it back?”

“Never —Ah!” You scream when he lifts you up without a warning and sits you on the table before he starts tickling you. “No, no, please,” you babble, shaking your head and trying to stop his hands on you but he’s faster. “Okay, fine, I’m not better than you — I’m not better than you!”

“Good,” he says, stopping his torture and smiling proudly. “I love it when you listen,” he jokes, kissing you again.

You should hate it —or at least don’t like it so much— when he kisses you like this, out of nowhere, for no reason at all other than wanting to shut you up, or maybe to feel you. But you truly don’t mind. Actually, you lean in for another one, and another one and another… until you feel this is once again going in another direction and, as much as you’d love to indulge in the moment, you want to prepare those biscuits.

“Enough,” you say, pushing him away and jumping off the table. “No more food waste and we’re doing this together.”

You discover you and Haechan work better in the kitchen than in other fields, maybe because there’s no tension pushing you to do better but you are listening to each other, teaching tricks, and simply having fun. And this atmosphere stays with you even when he grabs the guitar and starts playing the tune of your song, you sing some bits of the lyrics and then jokily propose to add some about baking cookies on a cloudy spring afternoon, expecting him to laugh at it but he just smiles and tells you to go on. And you do, mumbling something about being in the kitchen, humming, baking, and laughing. You think it’s too cliché, and you will surely go back to it obsessively until it comes at you like you want it, but he loves it.

Then the oven rings, signalling the biscuits are ready and none of you can believe they came out good, nothing burned, and they’re tasty. Somehow, those cookies, feel like the biggest achievement you two ever made together.

“Maybe we should stop fighting each other,” he mumbles, after chewing his last bite. “We make a pretty great team.”

You smile, cleaning your lips with a napkin, crumbs falling on the table. “Hate to agree, but we do,” you say. “I mean… we kinda teamed up months ago, don’t you think so?”

“We want to kill each other, and you call that teaming up?”

“It’s our way of teaming up,” you reply, handing him a clean napkin so he can clean himself, and he takes it. “We just like to keep the flame alive, if we stopped bickering at all, it wouldn’t be so funny.”

Haechan shrugs, he guesses so. “Not like anybody else ever stood a chance with us on top.”

You chuckle. “Imagine if someone is using our rivalry to get to the top and we never noticed them.”

“Honey, trust me, I would’ve noticed.”

Once you’re done eating, you push him into the shower. There’s flour, and dough on all your clothes, and you still need to wash off the sex of before. You’d opt to shower separately but you’re tight on water and you have to make the best out of the confined space, reason why his plan to fuck another time fails.

“Why are you wearing my pink robe?” You turn around two seconds to grab the towel you prepared for him, and he betrays you. “This was for you,” you say, holding up the white towel as you stand there naked.

“I already put it on, it’s wet,” he says. “Come on, it’s pretty.”

“Yeah, that’s why is my favourite robe,” you pout, but still wrap the towel around you because you don’t want to freeze.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says, and, before you can even think how, you don’t feel the ground under your feet anymore. Your arms immediately wrap around his shoulders for more safety as you let him carry you outside. You have no idea what is going on today, but you like this, how he’s taking care of you —in his way, of course— and how this feels good.

“You have to change it anyway,” he says when he drops you on the bed and, as soon as you open your mouth, he knows you’re about to complain about the wet towel on the dry covers. “I’ll help you change it later.”

While you change into your new clothes, your pink pyjamas with small black hearts as a pattern, you watch him walk around as if he’s so familiar with the place —not that it would take much for anyone to know where everything is, considering how small it is— but something about it makes a feeling of comfort and warmth spread in your heart. Nobody else had ever been inside that place.

But then you snap out of it and realize he’s naked, and his clothes are dirty, so you rush to the closet to find something to give him.

“So, mhh,” you say, making the things you grabbed fall in front of him, who’s sitting at the table. “I have those sweatpants and a sweater, or these pyjamas if you want it, it’s pink, but it doesn’t look like you care much,” you note, looking at how much he’s rocking your robe.

“Pink pjs! We’ll match,” he says, eyes lighting up as he wastes no moment getting out of the bathrobe.

“Out of the kitchen!”

“There’s not even a wall?”

“Still, get out,” you say, pushing him with force away from there. “Better.”

He rolls his eyes but still grabs the shirt and pulls it on him, blinking when he sees a pair of clean boxers. “Why do you have these?” He still studies them, thinking he has seen them before.

“Because they’re yours,” you say nonchalantly while fixing your hair in a braid.

“They’re mine? I left them here?”

“I might’ve accidentally dragged them with me once,” you confess, looking at him with a big, awkward smile.

“When?”

“When Jaemin almost pushed the door down and we had to rush to get dressed. I just stuffed everything in my bag and your underwear was next to mine so, ta-da,” you say, stretching your arms and shaking your hands to complete the sound effect.

Haechan sighs, nodding. “Of course, it must have been because of Jaemin, somehow.”

“Well, it turned out useful, just put them on. I don’t want to see your dick more than necessary.”

Haechan scoffs and bites back a comment as he finishes getting dressed. “You have to admit I look really good in pink.”

You look at him up and down while he twirls, and you smile. “You would be my favourite Barbie at the mall if they sold you in boxes.”

“God, you’re so annoying, can’t ever make normal compliments,” he complains. “Come on, help me with the bed. It won’t clean itself.”

Making the bed with him is tiresome. His weird way and theories about making it lead you two to bicker more than you should and remake it twice to see who is right —you, obviously. So, once you’re done with it, laying on it with him by your side, you know not even God himself will make you stand up to cook dinner. You don’t need to say a word, Haechan already has his phone out ready to order, and you couldn’t be happier.  

You spend ten minutes deciding what movie to watch and another five bickering because you don’t want to eat on the bed, but he insists you won’t make a mess, and if you do, he will help you clean up. It ends with you giving up and the bell ringing with your order ready.

You never have nights like this. You always try to cook on your own and don’t waste money on eating out, and you also never finish the movie or the series you start, either too tired halfway or with something more important to care about, for example, some notes to copy, or lessons to listen.

But this is nice.

You two joke, laugh, eat, and then you start to feel the sleep take over you, and you don’t think about sending him home or falling asleep on the pillow.

And as you rest your head on his shoulder, Haechan’s more and more sure that his plan failed.

“You’re playing with me, right?” You ask when Haechan messes up for the nth time. The end of the year is approaching, and you two are getting ready for yet another test, the last before the finals, but right now he’s testing your patience not getting a single answer right. You’ve been stuck in his room for hours now.

“I wish I was, my brain is fried,” he huffs, throwing his head back on his chair.

You’re speechless and you shake your head. “It’s super easy, you were better than me in this class, what the fuck is wrong with you?” You snap.

“Hey! Why are you so pissed? Shouldn’t you be happy you’ll beat me even in this?”

“Be serious,” you say, sending him a deadly glare. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m…” he huffs, shaking his head, and turning around in his chair to avoid you. “I’m just stressed for a lot of things. I’m tired, I didn’t sleep tonight.”

“You struggled even last week. And when the Professor asked you something in class you gave an answer that is just not you,” you say, cutting off his bullshit, grabbing the armrest of the chair, and forcing him to face you with a rough tug on the chair.

“There are too many things to remember,” he says, after frowning at how harsh you have been. “It’s not that I don’t know, it’s that I mess it all up.”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Do I have to motivate you?”

He lifts his head, staring at you with a furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s play a game,” you say, sitting better on the chair, and Haechan gulps when doing so your skirt —short skirt, incredibly short skirt— rises. He will never tell you, but the way you show up on your dates is another reason why he can’t concentrate. It’s May, it’s so hot. It’s your excuse, but he would bet you’re also doing it to mess up with him.

“No,” he replies, already fearing your proposal.

“Why not? You didn’t hear it, yet.”

He sighs but signals you to go on with a quick movement of his fingers.

“So, we’ll revisit once again, I’ll try to explain all your doubts. Then, I’ll ask you a question, if you get it right, I’ll take off one piece of clothes, if you get it wrong, you’ll take off one, and vice versa.”

“How studying with you butt-naked would make me learn more things?” He almost screams in a high-pitched voice.

“See!” You say. “You’re already starting with the idea you’ll lose.”

“Because I can’t get anything in my brain, and if I get it right then you’ll have to take something off and all I’ll think about will be… you.” I already only think about you, he’d like to add, but that’s too humiliating. Just like the grin on your face. He hates how weak he is. He hates how easy it is for you to win battle after battle. And he hates even more that his plan is showing flaws with each passing day. He doesn’t want you to be his Waterloo, but he’s not sure he can come up with another strategy soon enough to beat you. 

“Fine, then no study-strip-poker,” you give up, but the smug smirk on your face doesn’t drop when you start to think of something else that could motivate him, it only grows bigger when you finally get it. “If you answer right to at least ten of the fifteen questions, I’ll suck your dick.”

Haechan gulps. His eyes immediately fall on your lips as his brain starts to wander on lands he shouldn’t think about, not now at least, not when he has a bigger obstacle to face if he wants to get there.

“Hey,” you call his attention, snapping your fingers and waving them in front of his face. “It has to be motivation, not distraction. Do you want me?”

He huffs, throwing his head back. “Can’t we just fuck and then we’ll start again?” He pouts like he does every time he wants something from you.

“No,” you reply sternly, stealing his sweatshirt from his chair and putting it on you. “You don’t get the prize if you don’t win.”

“That’s not fair. And why are you covering up?”

“So you can’t distract yourself,” you say. You might like to tease him with more revealing clothes, but your intent is never to get him to be this distracted. You don’t want to be the reason he will fail this last test.

“You’re not my distraction,” he scoffs, diverting his gaze, and moving closer to his desk.

You decide to ignore him, you know the truth, and as much as the idea of him starting to lose because he’s too busy thinking of you, sends you on cloud nine, you also don’t want him to do terribly, especially in a class you know he loves and is good at.

“I know the theory,” he says, stopping you from going back to the start. “I wouldn’t be able to produce songs if I didn’t.”

“Yeah, but you just failed to explain how you create and add effects, and you forgot the basic difference between the dry sound and the wet sound, so revisiting some theory won’t hurt.”

Haechan sighs but soon gives up as you hand him your notes. He always thought you were crazy for also having printed pictures of how the software works but now that he needs it, he couldn’t be more grateful that you’re so precise with everything.

You start explaining things once again, cutting short about the most basic notions and diving deeper into the last lessons, as you try to stop as much as you can to make sure he’s still following you. And, after almost an hour, you’re done.

“What are you doing?” He asks when you take off his sweater again. “What about my concentration?”

“I needed your focus while I was explaining, now you have to answer even if you have distractions.”

He huffs loudly, throwing his head back. “But don’t play dirty, you can’t touch yourself or anything like that.”

“I’m not that cruel, I just want you to answer me,” you say. “So, let’s start with an easy one, should we?”

Haechan answers the first questions with ease, not like he usually would, but it’s still better than the mess of before. And he would be so close to getting the last one that keeps him on thin ice, he only got five wrong...

“No, no, no, please,” he begs, trying to stop you in place. “Please, give me one last chance. Ask me just one last question.”

“You got six wrong, babe,” you reply, loving how he’s almost on the verge of tears as his big brown eyes look up at you.

“But it was hard, I will never remember all the types of old reverbs unit,” he whines, coming closer to you.

“Then why do I?”

“Don’t lie, you don’t remember them either, I can’t even pronounce some of those names.”

You chuckle. “Oh, it’s really funny when the lack of a good fuck gets in your brain.” It’s not about sound design anymore. It’s about the desperation behind his eyes; knowing he wants you so much even if you’re the biggest reason for his despair gets your body hot and your pussy wet.

He groans, slumping back on his chair as he gives up on you. Or so he thinks because when he doesn’t pity you enough and you’re still packing your things to leave, he’s back again with his complaint.

“Please, one last chance? I didn’t mess the others up, I just made some tiny mistakes.”

“And you didn’t answer to two,” you say, ignoring him, trying to keep a serious face to not show your true emotions.

“Do I have to get on my knees?”

You snicker. “You look good on your knees,” you taunt but you don’t expect him to do that. “Get up!”

“Not until you give me another chance,” he retorts. “Please.”

You huff, rolling your eyes. “Fine, but just one.”

He nods enthusiastically, almost looking like a puppy being teased with a treat before he sits up in front of you.

“The differences, all the differences, between the shelving equalizer and the peaking equalizer.”

“Okay, I know this one, I know it,” he says before he starts explaining without missing a single detail. “So?” He asks with eyes full of hope as if he doesn’t know he just gave you a perfect answer.

“It was… great,” you tease him but you can’t keep a straight face when you see the pout on his face. “Kidding, kidding, you answered perfectly. So, I guess you deserve your prize.”

“Yes,” he screams, and in a second he throws himself on you but you shake your head and push him back on his chair. “What?”

“You sit there and let me handle this,” you say, placing your hands on his thighs. “Take them off,” you order, tilting your head to point at his grey pants. You see he’s confused about where you want this to go, but he obeys you anyway. “Everything,” you add when he’s still in his boxers. “Good boy, come here,” you say, patting your lap.

Haechan frowns. “You said you were going to suck me off.”

“I know, and have I ever break my promises?”

“I don’t know.”

“Just trust me and come here,” you order, waiting for him to follow. “Can’t believe you’ve been this hard all this time,” you say, wrapping your hand around his hard cock, starting to pump the pre-cum that leaked.

“You teased me,” he huffs, trying to keep his composure as he watches your hand moving on him delicately.

“I know, babe. I’m sorry,” you pout, one hand sneaking under his big white shirt to tease his nipples.

“Don’t,” he mutters, but you only laugh.

“Don’t, what? Let me take care of you, you’re stressed.”

He doesn’t reply, his head falls back as your movements on his dick quicken. He feels so small in your hold and he should find this more embarrassing but he doesn’t care. He loves the way your hand wanders delicately on his body and your lips leave pecks on his neck while the movements on his dick are fast enough to give him what he wants but not too fast to ruin this moment.

Your hands keep moving while your lips kiss his neck and jaw.

“Feels so good,” Donghyuck hums, shifting in your lap.

“I told you,” you chuckle, watching him roll his head back on your shoulder as his eyes close. “The others will hear you,” you say when his whimpers get louder.

“Don’t care,” he moans. “Feels too good.”

You smile and shrug. If he doesn't care, who are you to worry about it? It’s not like they don’t know what happens between you two.

So you quicken your hand, sliding up and down his sensitive dick so fast you make him tremble in your hold.

“You’re so cute like this, you know?” You say. “You look so small and delicate.” You expect him to get mad but instead, he moans and nods swiftly. And you know that stress got him good. Donghyuck, admitting to be vulnerable in your hands? You can only thank the weight the University is putting on his shoulders. But if that’s a way to make it go away, you can’t complain.

“I’m gonna — gonna come,” he whimpers when you start rubbing your thumb on his tip. “Fuck.”

You trap his scream with your other hand, staring at him as he slumps against you as his orgasm washes over him, squirting white strings of cum on your hand and his crumpled shirt.

“Get on the bed,” you urge while lifting the shirt off his body, leaving him naked. He barely has time to put himself together, but you don’t care and you know he needs more too.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit unfair that you’re still all dressed up?” He asks, still sitting on top of you.

“Do you want me to suck your dick, or do you want me to leave?” Is the only thing you have to say to make him obey with no more complaints. “Good. You should be thankful I gave you another chance. Right now you would be masturbating all alone and have no knowledge of sound design, so… what do we say?”

“What do you want me to say? You didn’t—”

“What do we say?” You shut him up, pulling his hair back harshly as your body weights on his lap, eliciting a broken groan.

“Tha — thank you,” he mumbles, cock throbbing right against your thigh. “Thank you but, please, do something, I’m… I need you.”

You snicker, letting go of his head and crawling back on the bed. “You’re so pathetic,” you mock, grabbing his dick again. “Begging on your knees just because you wanted my mouth.”

Haechan groans, throwing his head back but the harsh slap on his thigh makes him snap his eyes open.

“Why?” He squeaks.

“Eyes on me when I’m talking to you,” you order before lowering down so you can tease his tip with your tongue, making him bite back a loud moan.

“Please,” he pleads, and you finally give in. When you take him in your mouth, the broken breath that rolls from his lips makes your pussy clench around nothing.

“Shit,” he moans, fists clenching in the sheets as you suck harder, moving your head up and down in quick movements. He wants to look at you, knowing it will be even harder to not come on the spot, but he’s fighting with so many parts of him, he doesn’t know what to do.

When you pull away to look at him, he whines, hips bucking up in search of physical contact. You snicker, “and then I am the greedy one?”

“You’ve been teasing since you stepped inside the house,” he whines, trying to grab your hand but you don’t let him. “Come on, I’ve been good.”

It’s true, he has been good, but you don’t want him to come yet. “You can’t come, not yet.”

“Fine, just — just don’t tease me. Please,” he cries, begging you with his eyes.

You start taking care of him seriously; bobbing your head up and down while your hand wraps at his base to touch him where you can’t reach. Your movements are quick, but not too messy, since you’re trying to avoid creating a pool of spit and pre-cum all over his lap.

“Your mouth, fuck,” he groans, involuntarily fucking into your throat and uttering a slurred apology. “You’re just so good. God,” he curses, and you catch him rolling his eyes. “Even at — even at this you’re good.”

You snicker to yourself and keep focusing on his dick, heavy on your tongue as you suck with force.

You might be too good, cause it doesn’t take a lot for him to explode in your mouth; a brief warning for you to choose if you want to pull away and then the pleasure runs through his body for the second time.

You barely have time to clean your chin from the cum that dripped down that Haechan pulls you close to him, kissing you intensely while his hands are all over your body. “Want you, please, please fuck me,” he begs against your lips.

You slip out of your panties, quickly grabbing the base of his cock to line it with your soaked entrance because you can’t wait anymore.

“Oh, fuck, you’re so wet,” he hums when you sink, wrapping your hands around his shoulders.

“Want to take merits for this, too?”

“Well, yes,” he retorts. “Shit, don’t move, it’s not fair.”

“Everything is fair between us,” you say, starting to pick up a rhythm that makes him struggle to come up with a snarky reply. “Loss of words?”

He groans, throwing his head back and tightening the hold around your waist. “You can —mmph— you can talk all you want but —ugh— I am the reason why you’re soaked.” Somehow the way you’re bouncing on his dick it’s not enough to wipe away that smug smirk off his face, and you can’t stand it.

“Just shut the fuck up and enjoy this, will you?” You snap before kissing him roughly, cupping his chin with force before nibbling his lower lip, making him hiss. “I like it when you moan, so please, just fucking moan. The only words I want to hear are my name and begs.”

Your “threat” is effective because he doesn’t dare to open his mouth again.

“Good boy,” you praise without ever stopping to kiss him and moving your hips at a quick but regular speed.

You quickly realize that stress has gotten to you, too. You love to pretend it doesn’t affect you, and that you don’t need to let off steam, but you do. You are desperate to feel carefree for a few moments, put all the books and papers behind and have fun. And worst, you need him.

Donghyuck is what makes you feel good. It doesn’t matter if it’s mostly physical, he takes you to another world every time. He makes you feel wanted, he puts you through the test, but he makes everything worth it.

You’re so sure of it as you let your body crush against his, your fleshes meeting in a messed-up tangle of flaws. The kinds of flaws you both grew close enough to show each other.

In a few minutes, waves of pleasure hit you both and your bodies collapse into each other as you keep lazily riding that sensation; muscles on fire, lips meeting in messy kisses, moans panting the room, and your hands looking for each other.

When you lay on the bed side by side, you feel disconnected, and, truly, the only thing you’d like to do is to close your eyes and fall asleep, but your eyes fall on the clock against the wall and remind you why you went to his place.

“Five minutes and then we’re revisiting again,” you say, knowing the only way to get up is to say that thought out loud.  

Donghyuck groans, pressing his face against you and mumbling, “can I eat you out if I make no mistakes this time?”

“We’ll see.”

You’re woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of the piano playing from the living room. The other side of the bed is empty, and the sheets are crumpled up, signalling you Haechan got up somewhere during the night.

You two went on a trip the whole weekend. Not like you had a choice when he passed by your place and told you to get in the car without giving you any information. You got mad at him when he told you it wasn’t a one-day thing, but you were too far from town to even think of going back. And even if initially you were angry because your plans for the weekend were different —studying all day for three days— your anger disappeared quickly.

This is the second night out; you spent the entire day wandering around a town you didn’t even know before and got closer to each other. You love the thrill with him, but you soon realize you also love it when there’s peace between you. It’s impossible for you to don’t bicker, but you learned how to balance everything. And the more you get to know him, the more you like him.

“Can’t sleep?” You ask, watching his features being lit up by the faint moonlight and a small lamp at the side of the piano. It’s an old one, almost left abandoned in the living room of the small, cheap house you’re staying in for the night.

Donghyuck shakes his head. “Got a tune I couldn’t get off my mind so… here we are.”

You smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you sit next to him. You don’t talk, you only watch his fingers move on the notes looking like ballet dancers. You’ve never seen him play the piano before, you weren’t even sure he could. But you’re amazed at how many things he’s talented at, the guitar, the piano, production, singing, dancing —and making your days less grey.

You don’t tell him, you only lean in, resting your head on his shoulder as he keeps playing the sweet melody.

“It’s…” he huffs, stopping for a second. “Doesn’t it sound messy?”

“Not at all,” you reply. “It sounds upbeat. Happy.”

“Out of all the ways you can describe music,” he chuckles, looking at you.

You look up, shrugging. “I’m describing how it’s making me feel.”

“Yeah? And what does it feel like?”

“Play it again,” you say, closing your eyes and letting the tune lull you. “It feels like spring. Like a field full of sunflowers, the ones you see at the side of the highway, passing by so fast before you can even get lost in their beauty.”

Haechan chuckles, holding back the big smile on his face. “It reminds me of those late summer evenings, when the heat dims a bit and the sky is pale pink and purple and blue, and time is frozen.”

“Yeah, when you’re ten and you don’t want summer to end because it means you have to go back to school,” you smile. “When you would stay out all day and come home with the smell of your favourite cake that your mom just baked.”

“Really? Your mom would bake that too?”

You nod. “Chocolate cake, basic and too messy for the heat of summer. But my mom loves me too much to don’t bake it for me, even if it’s 30° outside.”

Haechan chuckles, and his fingers start moving faster, starting the melody of what could be the chorus of the tune.

“In this part, it feels like a wave. I’m picturing running on the beach as the waves crash at your feet and the wind blows against your face.”

“Why are you smiling?” He asks.

You shake your head. “I — I can… it feels oddly romantic, a bit tormented, maybe confused, but in love,” you whisper. He gives you a weird look, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re not using technical words to describe it or because you’re just weird. But there’s a reason you’re not being technical, you’re saying what it makes you feel, the vivid pictures in your mind. And, somehow, there’s you and him.

You two on the beach, walking on the sand before he starts running, teasing you to follow him. There’s the scent of the sea filling your nostrils and your lungs burning up as you reach him and then fall in his arms and feel your heart explode.

“It’s an unexpected feeling, something that wasn’t supposed to happen and then… changed everything. It’s thrilling. Scary, but satisfying.” You avoid his gaze but hear him hum in agreement, and wonder if he’s thinking the same, if he can feel this tension.

“So, something that sweeps everything like a wave,” he asks, and you nod. “Sunset,” he adds, smiling at you, slowing down the rhythm of his fingers. “I can also see the sunset colouring the scene. The kind that makes you look up and stare in awe like a child.”

“The one we saw yesterday,” you reply shyly. “It made your eyes look even more brown,” you confess, watching his cheeks tint up of rose.

“The kind that leaves you breathless,” he whispers. His fingers are still moving but they’re playing the same notes, he’s too busy staring into your eyes, leaning closer to you.

“And speechless.”

And a bit closer.

“And grateful you’re on earth.”

And closer.

You move back, coughing and lowering your head because you feel on fire. Is he making fun of you? Does he feel this? Why is he so confusing?

“It feels like a road trip with nowhere to go,” you say to fill the silence, and your words make him play again. “The calm while everything outside is falling apart.”

“Like running to your safe place?”

You nod. “It feels like… home.”

He smiles, looking in your direction while his fingers still play that sweet melody. “I always believed home is a person, even people, but not a place.”

You swallow, staring at his lips before your eyes meet his. “I’ve forgotten that feeling quite some time ago,” you whisper, feeling your head spin. You left home and never looked back, eager to chase your dreams, the ones you’ve been fighting hard to achieve since you were a child, but in that marathon to success, you’re starting to realize you lost something.

“You just need to find the right people, and then never let go.” He leans closer to you, hands falling from the piano as he leans in completely to trap your lips in a kiss. His hand cups your face while the other moves to the back of your neck, pulling you closer and moving his thumb in small circles. You feel like your lungs are on fire, and your legs are weak, but your heart never pumped harder than this. And when he slowly pulls away, you’re staring into each other’s eyes.

You know all the words to your song.

It’s true you’ve tried to avoid Donghyuck’s group of friends as much as you can —mostly to preserve your brain from early injuries— but it’s also true that the end of the second academic year is tearing you apart and you need to do something to don’t go insane.

So here you are, it’s Friday night, at their place, and you’re surrounded. Haechan has left you alone for a moment, busy talking with Mark. Jeno is trying to set up the table in the living room, while Renjun runs after him because ‘things are not perfect enough.’ Yangyang —no, he doesn’t live with them, but for some reason, he is always around— is in the kitchen doing only God knows what.

For your luck, you have Jaemin and the girls by your side. Ningning, who apparently has something going on with Mr Loverboy at your side. Yeri, who is there just to bully Haechan, Mark and Yangyang  —an old tradition that goes on since high school, and you love her for that. And Minjeong, who’s the nicest and yet smartest person you know, you are relieved she is in creative writing with Jaemin. You met them all before, one of the thousand times Donghyuck dragged you around with him, and the four of you got along right away, quickly becoming friends.

“They’re so loud, I would have a constant headache living here,” Yeri huffs loudly, rolling her eyes and falling backwards in Ningning’s arms.

You raise a brow as a ‘told you’ moment.

“They’re not that bad usually,” Jaemin defends, looking at his friends, now all too interested in something that regards what they are supposed to eat.

“Pfft, please, Jaem,” you say, glaring at him.

“How would you know?” He says. “Oh, no, yes, actually you would, you’re always here.”

“See, so stop defending them,” you say before becoming aware of the three sets of eyes boring holes into you. You turn around meeting your three friends and lift a brow in a questing look.

“Why would you always be here?” Ningning teases, nudging you.

You roll your eyes. “Don’t wander too far with your brains. I’ve got a project with Hyuck.”

“Hyuck? You used to go around calling him by his stage name just a few months ago and now it’s Hyuck?” Yeri points out, smirking smugly.

You throw a pillow at her. “He’s always attached to my hip, of course, we got closer,” you explain, frowning.

“Sure, sure,” she laughs. “Not even the boys call him Hyuck.”

“They do,” you retort.

“Of course you know, you’re always here,” Minjeong giggles and you gasp.

“You traitor!” You say, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her as you both laugh.

“Move your asses over here, motherfuc—” Yangyang screams before Renjun slaps a hand on his face.

“I will kill you all one day,” Renjun says, storming into the kitchen to bring more drinks as you sit down around the table.

“Please leave us out of it,” Yeri screams loud enough so he can hear.

“Sure, you can even help me get it done if you want to,” he says, sitting between Jeno and Yangyang, handing the bottles around.

“I’m in,” the four of you say simultaneously, raising your hands and they all gasp as they glare at you.

“Guess we better sleep with our eyes open tonight,” Yangyang mutters.

“You should always sleep with one eye open,” Yeri threatens, smiling creepily.

You chuckle at their antics, but your attention is caught by Donghyuck who sits by your side. “Would you kill me?”

You smile, caressing his hand on his thigh. “Honey, what are you saying? You would be the first that has to go.”

The smile on his face drops and you laugh, turning to the table to grab something to eat.

“You know,” he whispers, leaning in so only you can hear, “no dick tonight.”

You lower your head, trying to hide the embarrassment, but then lift it up and shake it, fixing your hair behind your ear, and turning to him. “Not like something could’ve happened tonight anyway.”

“Period?”

“People,” you say and he chuckles, opening a can of beer before taking a sip.

“As if that ever stopped you.”

You roll your eyes, stealing the beer from his hand, “as if that ever stopped you.”

He smiles, resting his head on his palm as he looks at you. “You never said no, though.”

You wave him off, returning your attention to the table, but it doesn’t last much, they’re deep in a heated conversation and you’re missing something. “Why are they bickering… again?”

Haechan chuckles, shaking his head, grabbing a spring roll, dipping it in the soy sauce before taking a bite. You roll your eyes because you need to be updated right away but when you look at him munching happily you can’t hold back a smile.

“So,” he says, cleaning his lips after he swallowed, “Jeno wants Renjun for a project, but Renjun has war traumas of the last time they did a shooting together and doesn’t want to.”

You giggle, grabbing a spring roll too, and dipping it in the same small cup of Donghyuck, while you both pay attention to the conversation.

“But you’re perfect for it,” Jeno insists, shaking Renjun from his shoulders, not caring about the pissed-off expression of the older.

“I’m literally not, ask anybody else but me,” Renjun repeats, a deep crease visible on his forehead.

“But you look like an angel,” Jeno pouts, finally stopping his movements and batting his lashes to gain some pity.

“I might look like an angel, but I feel Satan rising in me every time you talk,” he says, making everybody laugh before he glances, and the room goes quiet.

“Come on, how bad can it be?” Minjeong says, and you see her shift closer to Mark, but you don’t say anything.

Renjun groans, throwing his head back. He can’t believe he might be convinced into this by the end of the night. “He’s too much of a perfectionist, and I’m not comfortable in front of the camera. Also, he’s not rich enough to have a studio and he always takes ages to put the light boxes in their place once he’s done.”

“Oh, I won’t annoy you, I promise,” Jeno begs again.

“We can rent a studio,” you say, all eyes on you. “I mean,” you cough, placing the small bite of the roll left on the plate in front of you, “me and Hyu— Donghyuck have to shoot the cover for the songwriting project, I don’t think we can wait any longer since we also have to record the song and then come up with an advertising strategy.”

“Then rent a studio?” Renjun says, coming out colder than he intends to. “No, wait, I just don’t get why you have to drag me in this.”

“Jeno proposed to be our photographer, but I doubt we can do it at home. And since we wouldn’t be paying for his job. Sorry,” you mouth quickly glancing at Jeno who shrugs and smiles at you. “We can at least put the money for the studio.”

“And where do I fit in this,” he cries, shoulders slumping as he knows there’s no way out of this, no matter what you say next.

“Well, since you pay the studio per hour, I don’t think Jeno will torture you much. He takes two hours with you and two hours with us and in a day, we are done. Also, if there are four of us, we can be quicker,” you finish explaining, hearing some hums of agreement from your other friends.

Jeno doesn’t say a word, he’s only smiling widely with his face close to Renjun’s as the latter regrets all the life choices that brought him here. “Fine, I’ll do it,” he exhales, groaning when Jeno hugs him and screams a cheer in his ear. “Step away before I change my mind,” he warns, slapping Jeno’s arm and glaring at him when he does as told.

Yeri sighs deeply at your side, rolling her eyes and muttering, “children.”

You chuckle, finishing your roll, and stealing Donghyuck’s beer again before talking to him. “So, I guess we’re almost done.”

“Almost done? You still didn’t show me the lyrics, have you even written them?”

“Hey,” you scold. “Are you doubting me?”

“I don’t know, last time I checked, you were the one struggling. I offered you four bases, and all the words I’ve read from you ended up crumpled in the bin.”

You sigh. “I’ve got the song,” you reassure him.

“Really?”

“Yeah, and I also picked the production. I mean, I… I wrote it because of that production.”

Haechan’s smirk widens when you start stuttering and looking away, trying to look unsuspicious in your friends’ eyes. “Really? And why are you shying away?”

You almost jump when you feel his hand on your thigh, resting on your bare skin under the skirt. “I’m not,” you whisper, trying to keep cool.

He snickers. “You know I’ll have to see it and you can’t keep it a secret from me, right?”

“I know, I don’t want it to be a secret. You’ll read it.”

He squeezes your thigh, and you glare at him. “Not now.”

“Right, later, under the cover when we’ll watch a movie,” he jokes.

Yeri coughs beside you and you see your entire life pass in front of your eyes, but you fake nonchalance and turn to her. “Need something? Some water?”

“Some tea, honey, some tea,” she says, raising a brow and pointing at the man at your side, now busy talking with Yangyang.

“I can make some.”

“Stop playing me,” she whispers, sending you a deadly glare. She can be scary at times, you’re not surprised the boys listen to her in the blink of an eye.

“He’s just being stupid, he flirts even with walls,” you say.

“Does he touch their thighs?”

“No, he’s not,” you say, only to gasp when she looks down and his hand is still on you. You push it away but he puts it right where it was and you can only sigh.

Yeri snickers. “Ah, l’amour.”

Your head rolls back as you let out an annoyed sigh. “Love my ass.”

Yeri shrugs, sipping from her small bottle of soju. “Don’t care, there’s still something going on, and I’m interested.”

“I’d love to mock you with somebody but you’re more closed than an unopened can of beans.”

“You are so bad with words. How do you write songs?”

“I don’t write about beans, clearly,” you say seriously before you both laugh.

“You two, mind to share what’s funny with the class?” Ningning calls you out.

“Sorry Professor Ning, we’ll be even more annoying next time,” Yeri retorts.

“Why do I feel you’re quoting something we can’t understand?” Renjun says.

“Because you’re right,” Yeri replies.

“Yesterday Yeri almost got us expelled,” Ningning says with a forced smile on her face, making you all gasp.

“What happened to sharing information?” Mark screams, leaning in with interest.

“Why do you care so much?” Yeri shrugs, grabbing a bowl of tteokbokki to eat.

“Mh, hello? You got your asses out of Uni,” Minjeong says.

Yeri only rolls her eyes, resting her head on Ningning. “If a tteokbokki falls on my clothes you’re dead,” the blonde-haired warns before bringing her gaze to all of you. “In her defense, it wasn’t her fault. Not at the start, at least.”

“No,” Yeri retorts, sitting up straight again, and placing the bowl on the table, “it wasn’t my fault, period.”

“Here she goes again,” Ningning sighs, puffing and shaking her head, making you chuckle. But Yeri is not paying her attention, too busy telling the facts right.

“Professor Choi hates us and treats us like kids. Not only his lessons are boring, and I would like to add, useless, but he also thinks we’re in kindergarten.”

“Did you fight with him?” Jeno questions, frowning, already fearing a positive answer.

Yeri gulps, looking around to take time to answer.

“Oh, God, tell me you didn’t,” you say, staring at her with a worried expression.

“He asked for blood,” she says, getting fired up.

“You fought a Professor?” Jaemin gasps loudly.

“She didn’t,” Ningning intervenes when Yeri is about to open her mouth again. “Just because I was there to babysit her, but she didn’t.”

“I didn’t come here to be treated like a child,” she says, crossing her arms on her chest. “We weren’t even being loud. We were sitting in the back of the class, minding our business and he called us out. There was a group of boys in the middle row watching fucking porn and he called us out.”

“Ew,” it comes out collectively.

“But unless the headphones weren’t connected how would he know?” Yangyang asks.

“I don’t care! He hates us,” she groans.

“So you decided to make him hate you even more? Smart move, Yerim, smart move,” Renjun says sarcastically, and she glares at him.

“I just decided to drag her out when things got a bit heated,” Ningning says.

“Not in a Beyonce way I guess,” Haechan jokes, and Yeri slaps him as you move back to give her space to hit him.

“Hey! Why are you helping her bully me?” He asks offended.

“Cause you deserve it?” You shrug.

Donghyuck looks around in disbelief, groaning when everybody agrees. “Fake ass friends, can’t even trust your own shadow in this group.”

“Back to what matters, safe to say you won’t pass the class,” Renjun says.

“We will, there’s only one lesson left, and we’ll pay attention,” Ningning says and Yeri raises her brows. “We will pay attention. He might hate us, but, you know, a bit of boot-licking and we’ll be fine.”

“Fine,” Yeri gives up. “But only because I don’t want to see him ever again.”

“We once fought so hard we got kicked out,” Haechan confesses, bringing the attention to him.

“You and?” Jeno asks.

“Dumbass, Miss Better than him, thought you heard them bicker every two seconds,” Renjun replies instead, pointing at you with his index finger.

“Hey!” You say. “I mean, thank you for acknowledging I’m better than him but it wasn’t so bad.”

“Oh, trust me, it was,” Mark comments before drinking his beer.

“And you were teaching us a lesson, uh?” Yeri teases, eyebrow raised at you two.

“We didn’t insult the Professor,” you explain. “We were just at each other’s throat.”

“Why?” Minjeong asks.

“Honestly? Can’t remember, we fight about everything,” Donghyuck replies.

“We don’t fight,” you clarify. “We discuss. And sometimes things take a bad turn. Not anymore, we learned how to survive with each other.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” giggles Yeri and you kick her knee with yours, making her groan.

Haechan sends you a look you ignore, and you go on explaining. “We were just stating our thoughts, but we weren’t exactly agreeing, and we couldn’t stop, so the Professor told us to take it somewhere else.”

“And you did? You simply could’ve stopped,” Renjun asks in disbelief. He can’t believe he thought you were normal.

“We had business to settle, okay?” You explain.

“Oh, and we sure did,” Haechan chuckles under his breath or so he thinks because the room goes quiet, and you think you want to strangle him.

You have to come up with something.

“You only won because I gave up,” you say, looking into his eyes, seeing the devilish glint behind, warning him to not say a word more.

“You always give up if there’s a prize you can take,” he clicks his tongue and you gulp.

“Oookay, weird tension in the room, it’s clear the only one not getting laid is me,” Yangyang cheers, bringing you two out of your competitive stare. You’d like to complain, saying it’s not what he thinks about, but you’re still stuck, brain busy thinking about something else.

“This night it’s boring, if we don’t do something funny, I’ll act out my plan of killing you all,” Renjun says, standing up.

“I still don’t know whether you’re joking or not,” Mark says.

“Because I’m not.”

“Caught you!”

“Hyuck!” You scream, turning around, holding a hand over your chest as his arms wrap around your waist and his chin rests on your shoulders. “You could’ve killed me.”

“You’re eating cake without me, that’s the crime,” he says, pulling your hand to his face to take a bite.

You roll your eyes. “Jaemin told me he had to store it away because Jeno and Minjeong were eating it all.”

“So, you were hiding, uhm?”

You hum, cutting another piece and diving it in two to give it to him. “He said I could eat it. Also, I think I had too much alcohol and I need to put something in my stomach.” You sit on the countertop and he takes his place between your legs.

“Am I allowed to eat it?”

“I guess so, I’ll take the blame if he says something,” you giggle.

“Don’t think he will notice, too busy dancing with somebody,” he says, hinting at Ningning.  

“They look cute together,” you say, smiling fondly.

“Oh, they do. If only he could grow some balls and confess,” he says.

“Do you confess, Casanova?” You tease.

Donghyuck smirks. “How does it look like?”

You shrug. “Don’t know, you tell me.”

He rolls his eyes before he realizes you two are not together. “Wait, are we… no, never mind,” he says, pulling away, and turning to the door.

You grab his hand, stopping him. “What?”

“Jeno called,” he lies, trying to escape your hold.

“No, he didn’t. He’s sitting with Yangyang passing the blunt around,” you jump off the top and face him. “Are we?” You’re not sure what you expect him to say.

Donghyuck gulps, struggling to keep his eyes on you. “Are you fucking somebody else?”

Whatever you were expecting, that wasn’t it. “Are you?”

“I asked you first,” he retorts.

You blink. “Oh, really?

“Yeah, really.”

“Do I look like I know somebody else besides us?”

“Jeno likes you, and he told me you two are texting.”

“As friends, Hyuck. I already told him I’m taken — I’m not, I’m… I’m taken by other things in my mind. Uni, fighting you, especially fighting you.”

Donghyuck snickers, not really what he expected from you, but deep down —not even so deep, truly— what he wanted to hear. “Yeah, I agree, you’re taken, mostly by me.”

You’re about to retort but he slips from your hands too soon, leaving the small kitchen to reach the others. But you’re smiling. It’s a dumb, small smile that lights up your face in the dark of the night, and your heart pumps. You two didn’t name any of this, but —bickering aside— you objectively know you acted like a couple. It’s not about the sex, it’s about everything else. He started to pick you up before lessons so you could go to class together and sit next to each other —while he did everything he could to distract you. You ate at your friends’ table at lunch, went out for dates, and occasionally even slept over. You are taken and probably for longer than you even realise. Donghyuck started filling your days months ago, and even your life.

You’re still caught up in your thoughts that you don’t hear Ningning enter the kitchen.

“I spy with my little eyes something suspicious,” she sings while pouring herself a glass of water, leaning against the countertop where you were before.

“First Yeri, and now you?” You ask, a small smile curling your lips while you walk to lean next to her.

Ningning gasps offended. “She knew before me? Is this how you betray me? After I helped you style your hair?”

You laugh, resting your head on her shoulder, and inhaling deeply; she always smells nice. “I didn’t tell her,” you confess. “Honestly, I don’t even know myself.”

You can’t see her, but you know she’s smiling when her arms wrap around your body.

“So, what is that, love?”

You hum. “I don’t know what it is, but I know I like it.”

“I knew you were a romantic at heart,” she jokes, pulling away to squeeze your cheeks.

“I’m just happy. I don’t think I need to put a name on this… on this happiness.”

A big smile spreads on her face and her eyes crinkle, her hand softly caresses your cheeks. “It’s not only Donghyuck, is it?”

You nod, pressing your lips in a flat line because something about this feels too emotional for you. It’s 11 pm and there’s faint music playing in the living room while people laugh, and joke, sharing a blunt or bottles of alcohol. And you’re in the kitchen talking about a boy you want to kiss and strangle with who, you’re sure, can now consider your best friend. It’s the stupid fun of the early 20s. It’s the sense of something you’ve been missing for too long since you only let yourself be absorbed by your studies, leaving friendship behind.

And when a lonely tear rolls down your eyes, Ningning coos, gently wiping it away. “I’m happy,” you say, nodding.

“I know,” she replies, cupping your face.

“I’ve been on my own since I came here and I never regretted believing in my dreams even if it meant leaving the ones I loved the most behind, but now I realize what I’ve been missing,” you confess. “I love that they’re so loud they give me a headache.” You both chuckle and your hands intertwine. “And I love that we all sit together at lunch even if most of you have to run from the other side of the building. I love how none of you hesitated one moment to consider me part of your group.”

“I’m so happy you’re with us,” she says, smiling. “I guess Donghyuck does something right sometimes.”

You both laugh.

“Yeah, he definitely made my second year less boring than the first one,” you admit.

“Come here, I guess we both could use a hug,” she says, not giving you time to reply before you’re into her arms. You stay like this for a while, and you know more than before that this is what you missed the most. This is what college means. It isn’t in the loud parties, the sex, and the drugs, it’s in the people you do things with. Nine young people like you, trying to survive this craziness by being each other’s strength. You can still look at your goal right in the eye even if you have fun, even if you date, even if you have someone to walk down this road with.

“You know, I knew you were a good one when you slammed your fist on the table at lunch when he made you fuck up the essay,” Ningning confesses when you pull away.

You laugh, wiping away another tear. “I’m glad he did, I wouldn’t be here today if he didn’t.”

“You and Ning disappeared in the kitchen before,” Donghyuck says, searching in his closet to find something to make you wear for the night.

“Yeah, we talked about us. I know I might not show it, but I’m glad I found this,” you sigh. “I like them.”

Donghyuck smiles, sitting next to you. “They all like you just as much.”

“It’s like I finally have a place where I belong. I have people to rely on, so maybe I’ll learn to stop wanting to deal with everything by myself.”

“I told you life doesn’t have to be lonely,” he says. “I know that coming from me sounded like sabotage but I meant it. Having someone by your side makes everything easier.”

You smile and nod, grabbing the shirt he’s handing you. “I hate to say it, but you were right,” you chuckle. He doesn’t reply and you don’t drag the conversation, simply enjoying the thousands of words you two should be telling each other, but are not ready to face, yet.

“Can I use the bathroom? I need to freshen up a bit,” you say, breaking the comfortable silence. Most of the others are crushed in the living room, you think you saw Ningning sneak into Jaemin’s room but you were too caught up in Donghyuck to be sure of that, Renjun and Jeno might still be awake but you’re sure that all the weed they smoked won’t make them pay attention to you.

“Sure, if you need towels they’re in the cabinet under the sink,” he tells you, and soon you’re out of the room.

It doesn’t take you long to clean yourself up; you wash your face and steal someone’s products to get rid of your make-up, quickly get rid of your dress, put on some perfume —you’re pretty sure it’s Donghyuck’s cause you smell like him— and then wear the shirt he borrowed.

Once you’re done, you quickly make your way to the kitchen, and, passing in the living room, you see your assumptions are right; there’s no sight of the two love birds, and the only ones awake are Renjun, Jeno and Yeri, while the others are crushed on the sofa. You expect a remark from the girl, but she barely notices you, too busy playing —trying to— something with the other two.

After a few minutes, you’re back in Donghyuck’s room, and you notice he’s changed into something comfortable, too. He’s lost folding his clothes, and you let yourself get lost in his beauty. Too busy fighting him and trying to prove something, you realize you never noticed the smallest details that make him so handsome. The bridge of his nose, his soft lips, the moles on his cheek, his soft brown hair falling around his face.

“You alright?” His voice brings you out of your daydreams and you nod shyly, feeling embarrassed for being caught staring.

“Yeah, everything fine,” you reply, quickly walking to the bed. You see him staring at you with a confused expression, but avoid any awkward moment by reaching for your phone and pretending to be busy. But you’re not busy, you’re confused. You’re not used to this, any of this. Your nights have always been filled with yourself and books (whether for school or your entertainment), and if you felt wilder a movie, rare were the occasions when you would go out with your friends. And regret is creeping on your back. You feel like you lost a lot, you feel like you’ve punished yourself to get where you are now. And you think about love, how you treated your relationships, how little weight you gave them. And when you think about what you felt in these past months you wonder if you have ever even been in love.

“Remind me to never make you drink again if you get this sulky.” Once again, Donghyuck’s voice brings you back to earth, and when you turn toward that sound, you see he’s sitting next to you.

“I’m not sulky,” you chuckle. “I was just thinking about what I said before.”

He hums. “And?”

You shrug. “Nothing. You can’t change the past, I was just… having some bittersweet emotions.” It’s the truth, but you know that deep down your brain is trying to make you focus on the friendships because you don’t want to think about your biggest problem: the man you have by your side. This wasn’t supposed to be whatever it is. It wasn’t supposed to happen. And you don’t hate that it did, but you don’t know how to feel and act about it, cause you didn’t plan it. You couldn’t study this, you couldn’t put this on a PowerPoint and have it all laid out for you to understand it, it’s not logical, it’s not a theory, a study, a thesis, it’s emotion.

“You seemed happy before,” he whispers after a few minutes of silence passed. His hand gently rests on your stomach and you feel your heart race.

“I was,” you reply. “I am. I just wish I found this sooner, I always focused on my studies and career, and looking back at it now, it was lonely. And…” you sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose, “I’m jealous of you, ‘cause you managed to be at the top with all of this.”

He chuckles, but it’s a tender sound, and then smiles at you. “Well… I managed until you came around. You…” he coughs, struggling to confess, “you distracted me a bit, so I think you’re better than me at this socializing and rocking your career at the same time thing.”

You laugh. “I distracted you?”

“Just a bit, don’t get too excited,” he warns, falling deeper into the mattress and laying in silence. You have your thoughts tormenting you, but for him, it’s no different. He knows his plan failed. You’ve been filling his thoughts, days and seconds for a few months now. Even when he was studying or recording, somehow, you were always there. At first, for spite, surely, but then, it turned into something else. Hate turned into teasing, teasing turned into lust, and lust turned into something more. He knows he doesn’t just simply want you or need you. He craves you and your company, your study sessions together, your smart talks, your witty words, your annoyed eye-roll when he’s right, and the soft eyes when you listen to him. He craves you and your laugh, the suppressed one during lessons and the loud one when you are alone, or your hidden smirk when he makes you smile even if you don’t want to.

He constantly comes back to you.

“Are you listening or are you avoiding me?” You ask when he doesn’t reply to your question and he shakes his head, mumbling an apology.

“Sorry, I was thinking.”

You chuckle. “It’s alright, it was a bitter question anyway.”

“No come on, ask me again.”

“It was just for fun. I wanted to know if I was the reason why you’ve been doing a bit worst than me lately,” you say. There’s no mockery in your tone, instead it’s light and hides a timid blush as the words roll down your tongue.

Donghyuck’s body shuffles next to yours and only then you realize how intimately close you are, with your legs almost intertwined, his hand still on your stomach and his face resting on your chest. “Well, yes, you were an unexpected presence in my life, so…”

“So…?” You laugh. “Am I so hot I got you horny all the time?” You joke but he doesn’t crack a smile, instead he furrows and stands up to sit on the bed with his arms crossed.

“I’m not that horny,” he murmurs.

Your body mirrors his, and then your hands lift his chin up. “Sorry, I was kidding. I didn’t mean to offend you. I just didn’t think you thought about me that much. I wanted to be on top but not like this.”

“Technically, you’re not on top of everything, but anyway, we just spent a lot of time together, you know? So different studying methods and so on, shocked me a bit.”

You raise a brow, not because you’re so pretentious to think you distracted him that much, but because you think you learned to read him a bit and he’s not being honest at all. “Sure, and you weren’t busy thinking of me after our… dates? Coming home and texting me, and telling me how you should’ve been between my thighs instead?”

He blushes, and you can’t believe your eyes. “It only happened once, and either way I never study at night, my pretty brain can’t handle it.”

You laugh. “Your brain is pretty, now?”

“Yeah, of course, everything about me is pretty.” He shrugs.

“You’re a bit of a liar, you know? First telling me I distracted you and then taking it back, but it’s alright, I think we settled this war. We’re equal now, right?”

“I guess you could say that.”

You huff rolling your eyes. “You’re so competitive, God.” You fall on the mattress again. “But maybe it’s good, we can keep this healthy and competitive.”

He hums, thinking about it and then nods. But you don’t expect him to cage you with his body as he sits on top of you and reduces the distance between you. “Doesn’t sound bad, we could try.”

You smile, trying to act nonchalantly, but it’s hard when he’s so close; hair a mess, face tired but still so fucking handsome, and plump lips so temptingly close to yours.

“I want you,” you whisper, looking straight into his eyes even if they make your knees buckle.

“I want you, too,” he replies before diving in and kissing you.

The last weeks before finals are hectic. You and Donghyuck spend all the time studying together. When you’re not locked in the library you’re either at your or his place, and most of the time you end up sleeping over with the excuse of “spending just a few minutes together without thinking about exams.”

Yet, none of you confess anything. Your relationship lingers in that limbo.

In all that chaos, what takes you more time is the songwriting project. You spend days in the studio to record and mix it. Then when you are done, you move to the studio with Jeno to shoot the concept photos. And it would been enough for the exam, but you and Donghyuck just have to go an extra mile, making an entire booklet with the photos and the lyrics inside, the physical CD with the track, the instrumental, and an acapella version.

Even if the shooting is long and tiring, since you have to style and do each other’s make-up, and the only help is from Renjun, you have a lot of fun.

If at the start you feel a bit insecure with the poses, Donghyuck is the perfect partner to have to feel at ease. And Jeno knows how to do his job, making you feel like a queen after the first awkward shots.

“I love how the photos turned out,” Jeno cheers happily on your way to their place. “The three of you are the perfect models. I will annoy you again to build my portfolio.”

Renjun rolls his eyes as his head slams against the bus window.

You chuckle. “Come on, Jun,” you say, pinching his cheek. “You had fun too, you can’t deny that. Also, you got so many beautiful photos for free, I wouldn’t complain.”

“Free? I’d like to remind you I helped you pay for the rent,” he retorts, sitting straight again. “But yeah, I had fun,” he admits, making Jeno clap happily. “But, I will do this again only if she comes with us.”

Jeno bats his eyes at you and you snicker. “Yes, if I am what he needs to be dragged into the studio, I will come with you.”

“I love you,” Jeno screams, hugging you tight. When you hug him back, you make eye contact with Donghyuck, but he swiftly turns his head. Not quick enough to hide he’s not enjoying this so much; jaw tense, fingers closing in a fist.

You find his jealousy of Jeno quite interesting. Even if it’s true you got very close to him, it’s hilarious how Donghyuck thinks anything would happen between you two when Jeno is clearly taken by someone else; someone too busy plotting his murder to realize his feelings, but that’s another matter.

And Donghyuck shows his jealousy even more when, once at home, you sit around the table to watch Jeno post-produce the photos and create the mock-up for the entire project with your supervision.

His arm wraps around your shoulder as he keeps his leg pressed against yours, and you have to hold back a chuckle. Yes, it’s obvious there’s nothing between you and Jeno, but this makes you feel wanted, and you let him show it.

You know you’ll have to deal with other menaces tomorrow; a hangout is already scheduled in the group chat with the girls after a quick text sent right away by Yeri. You love her, you do, but without that, maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t have four other pairs of eyes set on you — Jaemin and Yangyang are very curious when they want to.

“Are you listening?” Jeno’s voice brings you out of your thoughts.

You blink twice and then mumble, “what?”

He shakes his head. “Do you like the font?”

“Oh,” you whisper. Your eyes adjust again on the screen that you were mindlessly staring at and focus on the project. “Yeah, I love it.”

“We were thinking of not putting our name on it since it’s more trendy lately,” Donghyuck says.

You nod. “Yeah, I think it’s better like this. I also love the picture, I think it would be more powerful without the name on it but we’re not that famous, yet,” you joke making them laugh.

“That’s why I didn’t make it too big, so the focus would be on you two.”

“Love it, that's perfect,” you praise. “Honestly, seeing it all almost done, I feel guilty for not giving you anything.”

Jeno shrugs. “It’s alright. I’m having fun doing this and can put it in my portfolio anyway. I did much worse and less fun for some courses.”

“We will offer you a dinner,” Donghyuck says. “Somewhere cheap, though.”

After a few hours, everything is almost done. Jeno still wants to double-check everything tomorrow before sending it to be printed but the final results won’t differ much.

“So, I think we should celebrate the project that brought you two so close,” Ningning says, winking at the last words, before raising an empty cup.

You chuckle, trying to escape Donghyuck’s hold, but it’s still firm on you. “It’s just a Uni project, there's nothing to celebrate.”

“Well, mine and Mark’s is not that good,” Yangyang snorts. “I don’t understand why you two always want to do so much extra work but whatever makes you happy.”

“We love the song,” Donghyuck replies. “And we’re proud of it so we might as well fool ourselves it might get more than 30 listens on SoundCloud.”

“For me,” Ningning says, “this is huge. One day you’ll be famous and we will get to say we were here from the start, so we need to treat ourselves and party.”

“Yes, let’s treat ourselves to the cheapest pizza on the block. Oh, how I love being an adult,” Yeri huffs, slumping on the couch. “No, but really, this is something to celebrate.” She then moves closer to you so that only you can hear. “And maybe if we get you drunk enough we’ll get juicy info before tomorrow.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “Fine, order these pizzas and let’s celebrate.”

The girls don’t get you drunk enough to spill anything but get themselves drunk enough that Jaemin has to drive them back to their place. Truthfully there’s nothing to say anyway. You and Donghyuck still didn’t talk, you didn’t even have sex lately. Too busy with everything, that was the last of your thoughts. But you did sleep together and basically lived in symbiosis. So?

You should feel happy about this project. Academically it will be another success, and honestly, one of your best works so far. So why do you feel this emptiness in your chest now that you’re sitting on a chair in Donghyuck’s bedroom?

This is the end. Now nothing holds you two together, and you fear that what you built over these months might not be strong enough for you to still hang out with you. You wonder if this meant anything to him. Sure, he likes you, but how much? Sex means nothing, and even if said between the lines, he got you to try out romantic things to make you come up with the song. And he succeeded. You have the song, the lyrics you tried so hard to put down. Fake dates, fake flirts, fake everything, but everything you put down is real. And it’s terrifying.

So absorbed by your torments, you don’t see Donghyuck stare at you, standing in front of you changed into fresh clothes.

“Hey.” His voice makes you flinch in surprise and quickly look up at him. There’s a frown on his face. “What’s with that face?”

You shrug, diverting the eye contact.

“Are you not happy with the result?” Donghyuck asks, grabbing the closest chair so he can sit right in front of you.  

“No, I love it. I loved everything so much and that’s why I’m sad.” There are many reasons why, and you’re not a master at dealing with too many emotions at once. Subjects? Books? Essays? Projects? They can fall and pile up on you and you won’t feel the weight of it. But real life? Feelings? Not where you excel.

“Cause you won’t have any excuses to spend time with me and see me?” He teases, chuckling. He’s still the same person you met one year ago but behind his playful voice and acts there’s something tender, at least you like to see it this way.

“Uhm, I hope we will keep seeing each other,” you confess shyly, doing everything in your power to not meet his warm gaze. His hands on his lap are a beautiful view now. “But no…”

His teasing smirk turns apprehensive. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You shrug. This should be the easy thing to confess. A bit humiliating considering showing some weakness to him still feels like letting your mortal enemy pour salt in your open wounds, but you’re hiding more vulnerable things from him.  

“Nothing but… I was so sure I didn’t want to be a singer, and I was more and more sure of working in Pr, and now… I don’t know. I loved writing the song, like I always do, but this time felt different, as if… that’s what I’m supposed to do in my life, you know?” You look up because even if you can’t take a mocking look you have to see his reaction.

He smiles, caressing your cheek. “I think you’re good at it so yeah, you should.”

You’re taken aback by that reply. Deep down you wanted him to shred your dreams cause you feel like all of this is insane, and if you have nobody supporting you maybe you won’t indulge in it. But it’s clear that Donghyuck is not an enemy anymore and has your back now.  

“Yeah but… I loved singing and doing it with you. Being in the studio, recording, but even before when we were working on the melody and everything. And working on the concept? We did all that with just one song, can you imagine what working on an album feels like?”

He smiles and nods. “Well, yeah, I fantasized about it a lot, so yes. But why is it a problem? Why can’t you pick this as a career?”

You can see in his eyes that he’s confused. Not by your change of path, but by your sudden insecurity. Deep down you’re shocked by that too. You have changed goals a few times in your academic career but somehow this feels so different.

“Cause it’s rare to make it,” you mutter, nervously playing with your hands. Truth is, the chances of failure are so big, and you’re not sure you could take it. You and your perfectionism and your need to succeed on the first try.  

“Can’t say you’re wrong, it’s hell out there, but… you’re good, and beautiful, and I’m sure that with your songwriting skills and your voice, someone will notice you.”

He had tried to make a name for himself longer than you, he knows it. During some vulnerable night conversation where you showed him your songs, he told you how many demos he had sent, and how hard he tried to build something at least on the socials. So you don’t care if his words are driven by sympathy, he could discourage you, but instead, he’s supportive, and that’s all you need.

“And what am I without your production? Will you be my Jack Antonoff?”

Donghyuck laughs. “I’d prefer to be your Aaron Dessner.”

“Yeah, fine. I like that Haechan,” you say, highlighting that name that now sounds foreign.

“I don’t want to hear that name roll from your lips anymore,” he chuckles and you hum laughing.   

“Talking about lyrics,” he says after a few seconds, the phrase lingers in the air… “this song was interesting.”

“Interesting? What do you mean? Is it bad?” Your eyes widen and the anxiety that left you jumps at you again.

He shakes his head. “I said interesting, not bad. You should know the difference.”

“It’s not funny, interesting means nothing.”

He chuckles. “Some phrases are interesting… that’s it. They look familiar.”

You feel your body burn up in flames and you have to shift your gaze from him. You should’ve scrapped that, he isn’t dumb. (You believed he was up until two seconds ago, but apparently, he was just waiting for the right moment to trap you.)

“I wonder if something, or someone,” he winks, “inspired you.”

“The sea. When we went there together. The sea inspired me,” you whisper swiftly, nervously biting the inside of your cheek. “That’s why I called it wave.”

Donghyuck laughs. “I’m not talking about the title, and you know it,” he says, resting his hand on your knee. “Flow that I’ve never felt before? Meeting you through distinctive distraction is a miracle?”

“You told me you liked it,” you say, playing innocent.

He rolls his eyes. “I do. I love it, actually. I just wanted to analyse it with you.”

You gulp when his fingers start rubbing on your skin. “We should’ve done it before recording it, don’t you think?”

He clicks his tongue. “Nah, I want to do it now. I think I already know who inspired you.”

“The sea —”

“Drop it,” he retorts sternly, squeezing your knee. “I think our plan worked. Well, unless you found someone else who inspired you to write a love song.”

“It’s barely a love song,” you stutter, body heating up.

“Right, some lyrics felt sexy,” he giggles. “You’re such a master in holding me here and there and going up and up down and down again.”

You try to scoot away, but he blocks you by putting his feet under the leg of the chair. “So what? Also, you’re dirty-minded, that’s not what it means…”

He snickers, rubbing his thumb on your cheek. “Why are you so flustered then?”

“Cause you’re too close to me, I can barely breathe.”

“Mhh… it reminds me of something.”

You roll your head back and mutter a curse under your breath. “Isn’t it what you wanted? To inspire me? I did it. I romanticized everything and we got the song.”

“Romantized everything,” he hums. “In this wave called you that’s pushing in, I fall in love. You are the center of my heart. Feeling new, feel now. The wave that started because of you, babe. Dive into the world called you. Damn, your creativity is so good, you are talented.”

“Are you mocking me?”

“No, I…” he sighs annoyed. “If you wrote it down in a song, why can’t you say it to my face?”

You gulp. “I have nothing to tell you.”

He raises a brow. “So you’re still confused. Should I satisfy you to hear you say it?”

You hide your face in your hands and groan. “Fine,” you snap. “I — I wrote that about you. And I, God, this is humiliating. You heard the song, you sang it. Do you want me to say it out loud? Was that not enough?”

Donghyuck smiles, and, for a moment, you fear he will break into a mocking laugh, but instead, his smile gets bigger. “Yes, I knew it,” he screams.

“Oh… of course it’s funny to you, maybe this is what you wanted all along, make me fall in love and then make fun of me.”

“Fall in love?” He whispers, stopping in his tracks to look at you, and only then you realise you said it loud and clear. And it’s worse than saying it in a song. “You love me seriously? Like it’s not just attraction and maybe liking me?”

You feel like choking up on tears but try not to show it. “So you can laugh at me more?”

“Why would I laugh at you? I just want to know if what you feel is real,” he replies, and somehow he sounds even more annoyed than before.

You hum and nod, no words can leave your mouth.

“Did you really think I would use this against you? Don’t you trust me?”

“I — I… I don’t know, okay? I do, but also, this was… this was all fake, just to write that song and now it’s real. And it was never supposed to be real, and maybe you never wanted me, cause I’m not your type and you hated me and we both wanted this to be over and now I feel like I can barely breathe without you, and I know that in the song I said I would’ve left the decision in your hands but the idea of you not wanting me back makes me sick and I —”

Your words fall into a void as he kisses you with no hesitation. Hands cupping your wet face and holding the back of your neck to keep you close.

“You’re so fucking stupid. So, so smart and yet such an idiot when it comes to feelings,” he chuckles when he pulls away. “You said I was an unexpected thing that completely changed your flow but do you have any idea of what you were to me? You ruined my second year,” he confesses, and your face quickly shifts into a worried expression, but he clears your doubts right away.  

“I thought I could beat you, I thought I could have the upper hand and… you messed up my days and nights. I thought you couldn’t fill up so much of my time when I already had so many friends but, fuck, I was wrong. And instead of distracting you, I let you distract me.”

“But I — I didn’t plan it, I didn’t want to —”

His thumb shushes you as his eyes crease in a smile. “You didn’t do anything, I just miscalculated. I didn’t know the amazing person you are, and let jealousy consume me before love took its place without me even noticing.”

You almost gasp. “Love? So, you do love me back?”

He nods. “Strong word, I know. But goddam, you were ten times cheesier in the song.”

You laugh and he does the same.

“But I am hurt, though. I can’t believe you thought I was playing you.”

“What were the chances you were going to fall for me, too? Nobody ever falls for me.”

“Good thing you only needed me to fall for you,” he says, kissing you. “So… did you fall for me at the beach?”

“I was confused back then. I knew I felt something but I didn’t know what it was. I thought it was only attraction, but at the same time, I felt like I needed you, you know?”

“And to think I wasn’t even sure of taking you there,” he giggles.

“Really?”

He nods. “I wanted to study, I already felt like I was falling behind and I thought I could use those three days to catch up, but then you crossed my mind and I forgot about the rest.”

You look down to hide the big smile on your face. No, you’re not happy you almost made him fail his second year in this war, but you love knowing how much he cares about you. The old Donghyuck would’ve never confessed this, he would’ve never shown how weak you make him. But now he’s proudly telling you how you genuinely occupied his thoughts.

“I know I didn’t show signs of failure, but you did succeed in your plan just a bit.”

He snorts. “Don’t need fools gold.”

“No, I’m serious. I mean, maybe you’re right, you didn’t, but I think you succeeded in something better. You showed me I can achieve my academic goals and still live life. You showed me so much. I had fun on my own, and I loved it, but I also only had myself and nobody to count on, and that sucks.”

“I didn’t do it.”

“Yes you did, you pushed me out of my comfort zone and trust me, I did panic sometimes. I just hide it better. But you gave me the chance to meet seven amazing people allowing me in your friend’s group. Some of you have known each other for so long, that’s probably when I should’ve put my heart at ease and realised you truly cared about me.”

“You fail to understand how likeable you are. Everybody loves you, you just don’t pay them attention.”

You shrug. He’s probably right. You never cared about that, but you won’t start caring about it now. You found your people, you found your place.

Staying at his place for the night is tempting, but, truth be told, you two want to be on your own on your first night as lovers. So, with the excuse of wanting to eat an ice cream (not an excuse, you will eat ice cream), you slip out of the place.

The others don’t care. Honestly, it’s clear that everyone except you two was expecting this ending, but you will deal with this tomorrow at lunch with the girls. For now, you chuckle at Jeno’s wink before he rests his head on Renjun’s shoulder again, who barely waves goodbye before going back to the movie they’re watching. Mark seems to be the only one confused at the way your arms are linked when you walk through the living room, but you’re sure that Yangyang, who has a teasing smirk on his face, will fill him in as soon as you’re out of the door. Jaemin will sneak at the girls’ hang-out tomorrow, his face lets it all known.

“I love this place,” Donghyuck says when you enter your apartment.

“Really? This hole?” You chuckle, leaving your bag at the door and getting rid of your shoes.

He nods. “It’s cosy and quiet, and I get to have you all to myself.” Before he finishes the phrases he pulls you in his hold, almost making you lose your balance and you scold him.

“Can you be less clumsy?”

“Mhh... no.”

“Also, it’s not like not being alone ever stopped you from being the clingiest man on earth.”

He huffs, throwing his head back as he slowly starts walking backwards to reach the bed. “As if you don’t like it.”

“You got us many suspicious looks,” you complain.

“Girl, everybody knew about us,” he says, falling on the bed with you. “I fear they were betting on a situationship but well, we didn’t do anything to keep this on the low.”

You shrug. “Whatever,” you say, caressing his face to move the hair on his eyes. “I don’t care. Tonight I just want to think about us.”

“Now you’re talking,” he hums happily. “Can I get a chocolate-less kiss?”

You laugh. “You can get all the kisses you want.”

Your lips connect to his to start a sweet kiss that lasts for a while. You never truly pull away as your hands start moving on each other to get rid of the clothes and leave you half-naked on the bed.

“Wanna taste you,” he murmurs, rolling around so your back is on the mattress before he starts going down. His fingers hook with the band of your panties and pull them down. “A bush?”

You huff. “I was just a bit busy, and didn’t have time to shave.”

“Good. I hope you don’t find time to do it ever again,” he says making you laugh.

“You like it?” You ask.

“I love it,” he replies.

You don’t have time to react because his lips are on you as soon as he's done talking. Your hips buck up and you fail to hold back the moans.

Donghyuck takes his sweet time, licking up stripes to get you wet before he starts sucking on your hardening clit.

Your head rolls back against the pillow and your hands can’t help but tangle in his hair to pull him closer. The groan of pleasure that comes out of his mouth at your gesture makes you tremble.

“So fucking sweet for me,” he mumbles against you. “My sweet girl.”

A dumb grin curls your lips and your eyes try to open to get a glimpse of him. You regret that action cause his pretty face smashed against you as he eats you out as if you're his last meal sends shivers straight to your core.

“Please,” you whimper, making him open his eyes to stare at you. Your throat tightens and you feel like you might pass out from that, but still force yourself to finish the phrase. “Don’t stop, you’re so good. I — I never felt like this.”

He grins, pulling away only to reply. “Yeah? Am I that good?”

You groan. He’s still so competitive and always has to prove a point. But you don’t care. That’s fun. That’s what you love about him. “Yes, you’re that good. Just please, keep doing it.”

“Never planned of stopping.”

When his mouth starts moving on you again you see stars. Your neck falls behind, enjoy the softness of the pillow, and you stop trying to keep it together, moaning loudly and chanting his name.

His hands wrap around your thighs, keeping you close to his mouth. And each flick of his tongue pushes the climax closer, making you see stars.

Your breath gets messier as you hit your peak and pleasure takes over your body as you let go to that blissful sensation running inside you.

You’re still gasping for air when you feel his fingers prodding at your entrance, slowly entering you.

“Hyuck, what are you—?”

“I want you to be ready for me,” he says. “I won't make you come another time, I promise. Just getting you wetter.”

You mumble a sound that makes no sense before you decide to relax and enjoy the sensation. It’s not like you would ever complain about his fingers, you simply don’t want to be too sensitive already. But he’s true to his words, his two fingers fuck into you, curling up right on your sweet spot, turning you on more and coating them white.

“Always so good for me,” he praises when he pulls out, sucking them harshly before he leans in to kiss you. Your hands wrap in his hair as you pull him closer, letting your legs wrap around his waist to pull him down. “Damn, calm down,” he chuckles close to your lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know, but I want you close.”

Donghyuck smiles. “Unhook your legs for a moment and I’ll be as close as possible.”

Reluctantly, you do as ordered, knowing that as soon as he’ll slip in, your legs will be exactly in the same place.

You barely pay attention when he does, too focused on the gentle kisses he's leaving on the crown of your head, cheeks and neck. Your eyes only open when he bottoms in and brings your legs around himself.

“Happy now?” He asks, brushing behind a few strands of hair that fell on your face.

“More than happy,” you reply smiling. Your body moves on its own when your hips buck up against him, eliciting a deep moan to slip past his lips.

That’s the sign he needs to know he can start moving. One hand places on your waist to keep you in place and the other supports his body as he starts dragging his hips out.

You can feel your heart skip a beat when he leans down and hides in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. “You always smell so good, that’s what tricked me to always be close to you,” he mumbles, nibbling your skin.

You chuckle, shaking your head. Even now he has something to say. Still, his words don’t distract him from his actions. With each stroke, he hits deep inside of you, hitting sensitive spots that make your toes curl and your fingers close into fists on the sheets.

After finding the perfect angle, Donghyuck starts speeding up, his thrusts not harsh but fast enough to build up a steady rhythm. And, with each one, you feel a wave of pleasure invading you.

“Come here,” you whisper, cupping his face to pull him close. “Wanna kiss you.” Your lips are on his right away and you both let go to a long passionate kiss as the hold of your legs around his waist tightens. One hand leaves his face to run on his back, feeling his muscles flex.

Your moans get louder with every passing second but they end up muffled in the messy kiss you’re still sharing.

When his hand sneaks between your bodies, so he can touch your clit in quick circular motions, you know you won’t last much longer. Your walls clench hard around him, and more wetness coats him as your hips buck up for more friction. And the last drop comes from his lips, leaving yours to wrap around your sensitive nipples.

“Hyuck,” your voice trembles as you call for him. Pleading eyes looking up at him. You should say something sex-related, maybe praise how good he’s making you feel, or how close you are, but even if those are the thoughts on the tip of your tongue, the words that come out are completely different. “I love you,” you whisper in a hush, feeling the weight disappear from your chest. Saying it clearly is like finally coming to the real realization.

Donghyuck smiles, kissing you repeatedly on the lips. “I love you, too.”

And soon after, you both reach your peak. The pleasure shoots through your bodies like fireworks in the sky.

You stay like that for a few minutes, kissing each other as you wait for your bodies to calm down.

When he slips out of you gently, putting his shirt under your body to avoid a mess, you still have a dumb, but content, smile on your face.

You don’t have the energy to move, so you lay there as you watch him move around to grab new clothes and two glasses of water. Just the time to pull yourself together, and you’re once again under the bedsheets, cuddled up against each other. You relax at the feeling of his fingers rubbing circles on the back of your neck and let his heartbeat be a sweet melody.

Mamma Mia is playing on the TV, but none of you has much energy to sing along to ABBA’s songs —he has a bit more than you as he hums the words.

When he chuckles, you look up at him.

“What’s so funny?” You ask, staring at the tv with a frown on your face. The SOS scene not being exactly one of the funniest one.

“I was thinking about us,” he says.

“I do hope we won’t end up like this.”

“Yeah, no, but you ended up being my Waterloo, I guess,” he whispers, looking at you. And then you get it, remembering when he sang it to you.

“I told you,” you reply, making him gasp offended. “What? You expected me to say something nice? You mocked me, you bragged and I cursed you with eternal love for me.”

Donghyuck laughs and then wraps his arms around you to pull you flatter against him, resting his chin on your head.

“You know this doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying to beat you, right?” He chuckles, but when you lift your gaze, getting a glimpse of him, you see his serious expression. And you hope he's true to his intention and that that spark set by your ambition will never die.

You smile smugly before relaxing against his warm embrace. “Yeah, but we’ll see if I’ll let you.”

YEARS LATER

“Is everything alright? Why are you looking at us like this?” You ask, shifting on your seat on the couch, looking at the girl in front of you.

“Is it true?”

“What?” Donghyuck says.

“Is it true that you two couldn’t stand each other?” She says, big brown eyes staring at you with curiosity.

You quirk a brow, giving your full attention to your daughter. “Why this sudden question?”

“Cause it’s embarrassing to see tweets of people going insane over you two, but also I think it’s unfair how these strangers seem to know more about my parents than me.”

You and Donghyuck laugh. “And what do they say?"

She rolls her eyes. “That they can’t believe you hated each other and that you started dating her to distract her but ended up falling for her?”

You look at each other smirking before a tender, nostalgic smile takes its place.

“Would it be so terrible?” He asks, tilting his head.

She thinks about it for a moment and then replies. “It would be a bit embarrassing for you, Dad. But also... cute. So?”

“I’d say it’s true,” he replies, shrugging.

“Wait, so you really started dating because you hated each other?” She screams, sitting straight on the loveseat, leaning toward you with her body.

You chuckle. “We didn’t hate each other. We believed we could outdo the other. And your father did too much, as always.”

“You were miserable before me,” Donghyuck replies, tightening his hold around your waist. “I had a plan, and it would’ve worked.”

You roll your eyes. “Imagine thinking you could make me fall in love and not fall in love with me,” you say to your daughter. “I was a real heartbreaker back then.”

“You still are,” she replies, smiling. “My friends go insane every time they realize who my parents are.”

Your daughter never brags about being your child. The famous singer, producer, and dancer Haechan, and you, who had a good launch as a singer before you realized that wasn’t your world and decided to stick to be a choreographer and PR manager (well, mostly Donghyuck’s choreographer and his manager). But everyone close to her knows who she is, and it’s not easy to act nonchalantly about it.

She has heard many stories about you two. The gossip about your story running wild since you broke into the industry. But you never sat down and explained it to her, not until now.

“We still have our charm,” Donghyuck laughs.

“I think the most important thing is your love and that you might be the best parents in the world. But I’m saying it officially only if you don’t turn it into a race.”

“Us? Turning something into a competition? We would never,” Donghyuck jokes.

She rolls her eyes, huffing loudly. And you can’t help but smile thinking how similar to your husband she looks right now.

“Honey, forgive us. How do you think we’re still having so much fun after all these years? That’s how we thrive, we learned how to push each other healthily.”

“Yeah, fine, I’m glad your love story is still perfect, but seriously, no competition when it comes to me. I love you both so much.”

“Come here,” you say, patting the space in front of you on the couch. Hugging her when she sits down between you two. “You are the only thing we won’t turn into a competition.”

Donghyuck hums in agreement, wrapping his arm around you two. “We both won with you.”

general taglist: @froggyforhyuck, @wingsss45, @tddyhyck, @technologyculturedneo

fic taglist: @hcluvie, @gusgus0517, @multifandomania, @413cl, @odgsuji,

@hey-hey-heybitch, @nctrawberries, @n0hyuck, @haechoshi,

@girlwholoveslpreppyattire, @viciousdarlings, @hyuckmoon,

@jaeymark, @hqech, @xntlax, @milkyway-vxm, @fullsunahceah,

@beomgyusonlywife, @toroufriteh, @yesohhsehun, @shxnz

@haecastor, @hyucksaint, @sk8ermark, @midnightrained

@maiteeeeesstuff, @smwhrinthehaze, @yoursyuno

© neowinestaindress ; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. 

[haecastor]

He forgot about an exam, he didn’t study for it, yet he’s smiling like an idiot because of you. Haechan’s screwed.

- HE IS DOWN BADDDDDD

“Why can’t I ever win with you?” He whispers, shaking his head and following you.

- oh you know the right answer so damn well

You nod, stealing his sweatshirt to wear on top of your shirt before walking to the kitchen —that space you consider the kitchen. 

- so what is hyuck wearing? nothing? oh fuck me. shirtless hyuck baking oh my god I DONT EVEN WANT TO STSRY

While you change into your new clothes, your pink pyjamas with small black hearts as a pattern, you watch him walk around as if he’s so familiar with the place —not that it would take much for anyone to know where everything is, considering how small it is— but something about it makes a feeling of comfort and warmth spread in your heart. Nobody else had ever been inside that place.

- girl. let me tell you something. you are not much better. YOU ARE IN LOVE

And as you rest your head on his shoulder, Haechan’s more and more sure that his plan failed.

- well at least our plan is working!!

You’re about to retort but he slips from your hands too soon, leaving the small kitchen to reach the others. But you’re smiling. It’s a dumb, small smile that lights up your face in the dark of the night, and your heart pumps. You two didn’t name any of this, but —bickering aside— you objectively know you acted like a couple. It’s not about the sex, it’s about everything else. He started to pick you up before lessons so you could go to class together and sit next to each other —while he did everything he could to distract you. You ate at your friends’ table at lunch, went out for dates, and occasionally even slept over. You are taken and probably for longer than you even realise. Donghyuck started filling your days months ago, and even your life.

- of course, a relationship without an actual title, with hyuck, honestly i will take anything too.

“Come here, I guess we both could use a hug,” she says, not giving you time to reply before you’re into her arms. You stay like this for a while, and you know more than before that this is what you missed the most.

- Ningning my girl I love you 💗

“Yeah, everything fine,” you reply, quickly walking to the bed. You see him staring at you with a confused expression, but avoid any awkward moment by reaching for your phone and pretending to be busy. But you’re not busy, you’re confused. You’re not used to this, any of this. Your nights have always been filled with yourself and books (whether for school or your entertainment), and if you felt wilder a movie, rare were the occasions when you would go out with your friends. And regret is creeping on your back. You feel like you lost a lot, you feel like you’ve punished yourself to get where you are now. And you think about love, how you treated your relationships, how little weight you gave them. And when you think about what you felt in these past months you wonder if you have ever even been in love.

- oh-oh. actually HERE IS THE CRUCIAL PART. the slow realization...

He chuckles, but it’s a tender sound, and then smiles at you. “Well… I managed until you came around. You…” he coughs, struggling to confess, “you distracted me a bit, so I think you’re better than me at this socializing and rocking your career at the same time thing.”

- ohmygod oHMY GOD OH MY GOD BUT I KNOW IT'S NOT GONNA COME YET WE STILL HAVE LONG WAY TO GO AND I WANNA STOP TIME

You decide to ignore him, you know the truth, and as much as the idea of him starting to lose because he’s too busy thinking of you, sends you on cloud nine, you also don’t want him to do terribly, especially in a class you know he loves and is good at.

- *sigh* so who is gonna tell her?

He constantly comes back to you.

- I SCREAMMMMM LIKE HOW ARE YOU SO GOOD WITH THIS??? 😭😭😭 like after all the narration and you put these 6 words in one simple paragraph, i just-- IT JUST FIT AND IT FIT PERFECTLY I LOVE YOU SO MUCH THANK YOU SO MYXH FOR WIRTING YEAH THIS IS MY SUSDEN CONFESSION IN THE MIDDLE OF RWADINF

“Yeah, of course, everything about me is pretty.” He shrugs.

- AND 100% for you!! YOU ARE SO RIGHT LEE DONGHYUCK

“Yes, let’s treat ourselves to the cheapest pizza on the block. Oh, how I love being an adult,” Yeri huffs, slumping on the couch. “No, but really, this is something to celebrate.” She then moves closer to you so that only you can hear. “And maybe if we get you drunk enough we’ll get juicy info before tomorrow.”

- MISS YERIM IS A DAMN MOOD I LOVE HER

This is the end. Now nothing holds you two together, and you fear that what you built over these months might not be strong enough for you to still hang out with you. You wonder if this meant anything to him. Sure, he likes you, but how much? Sex means nothing, and even if said between the lines, he got you to try out romantic things to make you come up with the song. And he succeeded. You have the song, the lyrics you tried so hard to put down. Fake dates, fake flirts, fake everything, but everything you put down is real. And it’s terrifying.

- my poor girl ☹️☹️ I WILL PROTECT YOU!!! FROM HEARTBREAK!!!

You shrug. This should be the easy thing to confess. A bit humiliating considering showing some weakness to him still feels like letting your mortal enemy pour salt in your open wounds, but you’re hiding more vulnerable things from him.  

- YALL ARE ACADEMICALLY RIVALS BUT NOT RIVALS IN ROMANTIC FEELINGS OH MY GOD BUT YES I UNDERSTAND THAT BUT GOD THE TENSION WHY ARE SMART PEOPLE DOESNT KNOW HOW TO COMMUNICATE GODDAMN

He smiles and nods. “Well, yeah, I fantasized about it a lot, so yes. But why is it a problem? Why can’t you pick this as a career?”

- lemme tell you both the answer, you two want to do it together. YEAH I KNOW THE CAREER PATH IS SO PERSONAL AND INDIVIDUAL BUT since you two are working on it together and it suddenly sparks the interest, it's because the two of you work on it together.

Your words fall into a void as he kisses you with no hesitation. Hands cupping your wet face and holding the back of your neck to keep you close.

- STFU YOU TWO 😭😭 the way i want this to end here cuz lets be real im not ready for another misunderstanding (which i think there wil be or im just traumatised with hits different but i also want this to be longer CUZ YOU WRITE IT SO GOOD AND I JUST WANT THEM TO BE HAPPY BUT I ALSO WANT TO FEEL THE ANGST CUZ THAT IS WHAT BUILD FOR OH GODDDD IM SO INDECISIVE

He nods. “I wanted to study, I already felt like I was falling behind and I thought I could use those three days to catch up, but then you crossed my mind and I forgot about the rest.”

- OH MY GOD HE IS SO DOWN BAD

“You know this doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying to beat you, right?” He chuckles, but when you lift your gaze, getting a glimpse of him, you see his serious expression. And you hope he's true to his intention and that that spark set by your ambition will never die.

- FUCK YEAH I LOVE THE EVERLASTING ACADEMIC RIVALS EVEN WHEN ROMANTIC FEELING ALREADY OFFICIALLY INVOLVED

“Cause it’s embarrassing to see tweets of people going insane over you two, but also I think it’s unfair how these strangers seem to know more about my parents than me.”

(i have two versions on for this so...)

- MY PARENTS???? GIRL THEY ARE MY PARENTS!!!!!

- SHUT UP SHUT UPPPP OH MY GODDDDD THIS IS NOT HITS DIFFERENT 2.0 I CHEERS (well hits different does get their happy ending BUT OH MY GOD TO GET IT ON THE SAME FIC RIGHT AWAY GLDHSLSHSLSHSKS GOODBYE SANITY)

AHHHHHH I CANT BELIEVE I TOOK 3 MONTHS TO FINALLY READ THIS MASTERPIECE AND MAKE YOU WAIT SO LONG 😭😭 im sorry but IM GLAD I FINALLY READ IT AND TAKING MY TIME WITH US CUZ OMG THE FEELS GLDHSLSHSODHDODJC IM SO SO HAPPY WITH THESE GENRES I'VE BEEN CRAVING FOR A GOOD ACADEMIC RIVALS FIC FOR SO LONG AND THIS SATISFY ME AND THANK GOD IT HAS NO TRAUMA LIKE HITS DIFFERENT (HITS DIFFERENT THE QUEEN YOU ARE 😩❤️‍🔥) well she still have a few insecurities and i love that hyuck managed to let her knows its okay to have flaws and complete her and so does her.

this is so cute I WILL NEVER SHUT UP ABOUT HOW MUCH I LOVE YOUR WRITING AND HOW YOU WORK ON THE PLOTS TO MAKE THEM FIT PERFECTLY TO EACH OTHER SIDE BY SIDE AND BOOM A WHOLE LONG FIC I LOVE TO READ IS BORN INTO THE WORLD 🪄✨💖

i love how you write it back to back to tell the details for each side of their perspectives and feelings so there is nothing left even one small detail missing 👩🏻‍🍳💋 ALSO ALSO (damn i almost missed this) THE CUTE NICKNAMES AND THE DETAILS ABOUT DONGHYUCK. YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. THE SUNFLOWER, BEAR HONEY, HAECHAN, THE PLUMP HEART SHAPED LIPS ANDDDD MOLES. MOLES. 😩😩 I LOVE THE LITTLE REFERENCES AND FKCHDLD OKAY I EVEN HAVE A SCENE OF THEM CALLING THEMSELVES WITH NICKNAMES "BEAR" AND "HONEY" THAT WOULD BE SO CORNY BUT ALSO CUTEEEEEE

AND DONT GET ME STARTED WITH THE FRIENDSHIP 😩🥰 oH TO HAVE A PERFECT FRIEND GROUP 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️ so are we gonna get their after socmed profiles tho? 🤩🤩 anyway i love the fact now i have a new fav fic from you AND IT'S UNDER ACADEMIC RIVAL TROPE, WHICH IS AMONG MY TOP THREE but since im still a fan for angst with happy ending, hits different still on top!! (also the you know... the sour series minus toxic hyuck tho but yeah its a part of the plot) I LOVE YOU (again) AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR WRITING AND POSTING IT HERE!!! 💞💞💞💞

[neowinestainedress]

wave | lee donghyuck

pairing: lee donghyuck x fem reader genre: college au, academics rivals to lovers, kinda fake dating, forced to work together on a project, smut, fluff, humor (idk), music major!haechan, music major!mc | not really requested but thank you 💌 anon for the inspo summary: your indifference toward Lee Donghyuck, also known as Haechan, becomes rivalry when he decides to sabotage you. The battle turns into a war, the war turns into a plan, and the plan, well, the plan fails miserably... or succeeds wonderfully. After all, it’s all about points of view. Or, Haechan thinks he found a way to distract you and be better than you, but doesn’t think it thoroughly and screws it up. warnings: smut, mentioned weed consumption, alcohol use, fingering, oral (receiving), unprotected sex, public sex, jealous sex, bickering, teasing, etc | inclusivity notes: reader wears different hairstyles (no mention of texture, type and color), no mention of body type (but haechan lifts her a few times), no mention of skin color, no use of y/n wc: 22.4k (out of 42k)

a/n: finally i’m back! i started this fic more than a year ago so seeing it finally come to life means everything to me. i had so much fun writing it, so i hope you’ll love it too. please, let me know with comments, reblogs (that also help reach more people), or anon. i love knowing what you think. enjoy! also if there are formatting mistakes please let me know cause i’ve been having problems posting this and i copied it without editing it once again.

masterpost (with visuals and playlist) (i can’t post the link or else the post doesn’t show up in the tags, but you can find it on my profile)

Being number one in your academy isn’t a want, but a need.

You didn’t spend your entire life crafting your skills and splitting yourself between the books and the training room for all of that to be swept under the rug when you finally made it to your dream university; Neo Arts Academy.

Surely, with the prizes promised to those on top, you aren’t the only one with that racing passion to drive you through each day. Tons of people try their best, and even put their health at risk to reach the biggest success, but you manage to focus on yourself and keep your life in a pretty healthy balance.

You managed to focus on you… until something, well, somebody, started to come into your way.

Lee Donghyuck, also known as Haechan, his stage name —if he ever made it big in the industry he wanted to be already known.

You never paid him much attention. Honestly, you never paid attention to anybody, your only goal was to take care of your small garden and top everybody else, but when his competitiveness got the best of him, you just couldn’t push him in the back of your mind.

Apparently, his goals are the same as yours, and that isn’t a nice thing considering how competitive your world is. You first truly glanced at him during a songwriting lesson, when he huffed a bit too loudly behind you while he announced to his friend, probably named Mark, that he sucked at writing songs. However, you only chuckled mindlessly that time and went on with your day.

That was your first year there and everything went fine. Then the second year arrived and you applied for your minor degree in dance and that was when Donghyuck’s presence started to be louder. You had nothing against him, but you quickly learned he couldn’t stand you for some reason. Rumours were quick at flying around, being passed from mouth to ear and you knew them.

You simply couldn’t care.

Yet.

Haechan doesn’t hate you. He could never do that. After all, he doesn’t even know you. But he does know something about you. He knows your name, and how it is always on top of his in any ranking. He knows you will always win the contests he wants to win so badly. He knows you are good at theory and practice. He knows he just can’t win with you.

He also knows nothing can touch you. Not because you are unreachable and believe you’re superior to others. Actually, you are very modest about all your academic success, but you always walk straight on your road with the goal perfectly in the line of view.

Haechan doesn’t hate you. Though, lately, he has a strange feeling in his body every time he sits at his desk to study and his only motivation is to surpass you. Nothing different than the first months there, he got pretty soon you were going to be a tough but nice competitor, but fuck he never imagined you would be so hard to beat. Now that after a year he never won or got the top grade and always came second after you, you aren’t motivating him, you are driving him insane.

He doesn’t have many distractions, but he has friends, some hobbies outside of university, and even a part-time job. But you? Is there something that is distracting you? Is there anything that could distract you? He has no idea, not now that he is watching you walk into the room, ready for the classical ballet history class —yes, of course out of all the minors, you had to choose his— and sit a few rows in front of him, all alone as always, taking out your lilac book note and your pen.

Haechan has no idea, but he is going to find out something that can easily distract you and push out of your path.

You know people think of university as a moment to socialise, but being on your own has never been a problem for you. You have contacts with some of your hometown friends, and most importantly, you don’t mind doing things alone; you can go to the cinema when you want, you can pick whatever restaurant you like, you can take a walk, or stay at home.

You’ve always been comfortable in your bubble, and you’d like to keep it that way, but life has strange plans.

“Damn, always on a rush.” You recognize Haechan’s voice, but you don’t bother turning around because you’re sure he’s not addressing you. You think it’s weird he’s sitting next to you, but you blink the surprise away and grab your tablet from your bag. “Whoever put music theory at 8:30 in the morning on a Monday needs to go to jail.”

You chuckle at his comment, subtly rolling your eyes before opening the note app to go where you left it in the previous lesson.

“You write a lot.” This time you’re quite sure he’s talking to you, so your neck turns to look at him and you find him closer than you’d like him to be.

“I annotate, it’s just the essentials.”

He scans the notes quickly before scoffing. “The essentials? I don’t write as half as that.”

“Well, I think this is essential, but we all work differently,” while you’re answering him, you don’t even notice that his friend is not beside him, and you get lost in him for a second, mostly in the scent that’s filling your nostrils now that his brown jacket is so close to you.

“The professor talks too fast, how the fu— how do you get everything?” He stops himself from cursing and backs away, finally making you breathe some air that is not filled with his intoxicating perfume.

“I rewrite phrases. And, to be sure, I record the lessons, so I can re-listen to them in case something doesn’t make sense when I study them. And then I also re-write the not—”

“You record the lessons?” He almost snarls with his eyes bulging out of his skull as he, once again, stands too close to you.

“Is it illegal?” Your head tilts to the side as genuine curiosity blooms on your face.

“No, it’s… it’s…” he sighs, throwing his head back and cursing something under his breath in a tight dialect you don’t recognize. “I never thought about it.”

“Oh, well, it helps me a lot. Sometimes when I’m too tired to read I just play the lessons and memorize stuff while I do other things,” you smile, moving your hair to one side of your neck before grabbing the pen when the professor walks in. “You should try.”

“Oh, you can be sure I will.”

Haechan can’t be so stupid. He can’t believe he can be so stupid. Why didn’t he ever, ever, think about that? That’s a smart idea, better than crying and cursing when he tries to understand what he wrote down on paper when he revisits the notes, or asking Mark if he wrote some phrases he had marked down with several question marks or dots to fill —dots that he never fills.

But he’s still sure he can’t be a terrible student, he had always been on top of his classes, always aced them and his study method worked… but what if yours worked better? Given the results of the past year, and the start of this one, the answer is clear: yours do work better.

But he doesn’t think that it’s the only reason you are beating him in everything. What if you have other tricks?

Haechan is going to find out.

You always believed your only competition was yourself. You never liked to engage with other people and fight them or fear them. But Haechan had given you no choice.

It was an open threat at you when he purposefully told you a different day to turn in an assignment when you were sick, you had no choice but to fight back.

That was when Haechan truly became your rival. He had always been, you two were always at the top, fighting for the first place and the big prizes, but now it was a matter of pride.

Haechan had officially made it on top of your blacklist, at least he could arrive number one in something, not like there was a big competition to be in there, in fact, you didn’t even have one before he pushed your last nerve.

Fucking it up with you wasn’t Haechan’s plan, he wanted to befriend you and trick you into giving him some magic tricks, but things went… wrong. With Mark by his side, it was impossible to sit next to you. During songwriting you got up and sat on another seat in the middle of the lesson with the excuse of ‘not seeing from afar’, and he couldn’t approach you in any other circumstances. So, when you got sick for three days, he thought he could, for once, steal your spotlight.

He wasn’t sure you were sick, but he was sure enough you weren’t going to miss lessons days to study or work on projects; you never needed extra time, unfortunately, he knew it well. So the only thing that could lock you in your place was an illness of some kind. He did feel bad when you came back four days later and asked him if you missed something, he could see you still weren’t at your best, and he could’ve tried his luck by telling you the truth, hoping that the precarious state you were in was going to make you come up with a terrible essay on an instrument of the 18th century, but his eagerness got the best of him, and he lied.

So he had officially screwed his plan of getting closer to you.

“You are an asshole,” you scream, slamming the books in front of him on the table in the garden, not caring about his friends staring at you in shock. “And don’t look at me with that face of ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ because you know what I’m referring to.”

“I don’t, though…” he whispers, trying to keep a distance between you because you look scary —half bent on the table, furrowed forehead, pointing finger— and he thinks you are very motivated to reach over his neckline and strangle him.

You roll your eyes, groaning in annoyance. “You told me Professor Kim left an essay for Monday, I thought I could use the weekend to do an amazing job and he called me to his office because I was three days late.”

Haechan gulps, and the table goes silent, you feel his friends’ gazes on you but they are the last thing in your mind.

“Mind to explain?”

“I… I didn’t do it on purpose?”

“You have to ask me if you are an asshole because your mother didn’t put a brain in your skull?”

“Hey, take it back!” He warns with a pointing finger, glaring at you.  

“No,” you retort, crossing your arms on your chest and standing up straight. “You sabotaged me.”

“You are making things up. Maybe you should be in the creative writing major,” Haechan taunts, a shit-eating grin on his face.  

You gasp offended, clenching your fists to avoid wrapping your hands around his neck. “You — you — ugh,” you huff. “This paper was graded! And you knew it, it’s part of the mid-course work he adds to our final grade. Why would you do that to me?”

“You think I did that on purpose?”

“When did you turn it in?” You ask and when his eyes widen you scream at his face. “See! You turned it on time. I fucking hate you!”

“I didn’t answer,” he tries to defend, a challenging edge in his voice, getting to your nerves more than the look on his face.

“First of all, I can see it in your face. You’re trying to look surprised and even scared, but you’re having the time of your life because, guess what, you can’t surpass me if you don’t play your stupid games.”

He snorts offended, gulping before leaning closer. “You think I can’t beat you?”

“It’s not what I think, it’s what the rankings say, it’s what our professors say, and it’s what all the external opportunities I’ve got say. But if you want to try to prove facts wrong, bring it on,” you shrug, grabbing your things and taking a step back. “No more dirty games from now on, Lee Donghyuck. Trust me, you don’t want me to start playing them too, you might not even see the top three if I do.”

The months to come are fire. You should keep minding your business but as soon as he opens his mouth in class you can’t press your lips together and fake it. You try, every time, but you fail.

“I just mean that the melody is what attracts people,” he argues during a discussion in the songwriting class.

You huff, shaking your head. “People care about the lyrics more.”

He scoffs loudly and the professor glares at him for the reaction but he still goes on. “People won’t listen to a song if the production sucks.”

You turn around, eyebrows pressed in a furrow. “And they won’t listen to a song if the lyrics are dumb, or tell a bad message.”

“Really? Catchy pop music is a thing even if you want so badly to maintain the purity of the art of music with only lyrical depth.”

“I love catchy pop songs, but there’s something objective in music and something subjective, if you paid attention to any of our classes you should know, right?”

The class holds back a laugh and the professor coughs, making you utter an apologize, more addressed to her than your enemy.

“Oh, trust me, I paid attention to class,” he retorts, mockingly smiling at you. “And we’re not talking about the quality but the appeal. People remember the rhythm of the song or the tune more than they remember the words.”

“And words can hold so much meaning for someone they will stick to them forever. Also, lyrics can have different interpretations and if you’re a good writer you can make one song fit for more occasions.”

“That’s dumb,” he says, looking at you up and down after scoffing. “Notes can transfer different emotions, what you said just doesn’t make sense, please.”

“Can we tone it down?” Professor Park warns, glaring at the both of you.

You nod and mutter another apology before speaking up again, “I believe that a good melody can easily attract people at first listen, but if we talk about the long run, a memorable song also needs good lyrics. And Mariah Carey herself said how being a songwriter makes your career last more, so I think it’s telling coming from one of the best voices ever.”

“I think you both make a great point,” the professor cuts the conversation off before you can jump at each other’s throat again. “It would be interesting to make a deeper analysis and maybe break down songs and compare data over time. If it was possible to keep the decorum…” she whispers the last word and you want to disappear because you hate the scene you gave. “But we need to move on with our lesson, so, as I was saying…”

Out of all the heated discussions you had in class, the one about the importance of production and lyrics, led to your worst nightmare, working on a project with him. Professor Park was so nice to pair you together because she wanted to see how your different points of view would’ve worked in the song you had to write and produce and even if you smiled and said, ‘it will be really motivating,’ to avoid yelling at her face, now you want to die.

You’re sure the first two knocks on the door don’t even reach the other side; your hits are too weak and the small apartment in that complex is too loud for anyone to hear. Is this the environment you have to work in today?

You roll your eyes and knock again, this time making sure it’s impossible for them not to hear you. You wait there only for a few seconds and then the door opens, revealing a boy your age you can’t remember.

“Oh, hi,” he cheers, big toothy smile beaming at you. “You must be here for Hyuck, right?”

You hum, nodding and murmuring, “Yes, I have to work on a project with Haechan.”

“Come in.”

You step inside the house and look around briefly before your eyes fall on the table in the small living room; there are books everywhere, headphones on the ground, boxes of food and empty water bottles, and most importantly talks too loud for four boys that were supposedly studying.

“Mark, can you lower the music?”

“Music is what I’m studying, I can’t,” the man you know well replies. “Why don’t you keep your pencil close to you? Jesus, there’s graphite everywhere.”

“You’re so annoying, I can’t go in my room, Jeno still didn’t take down the light boxes,” the brown-haired replies, sending a death glare to the boy at his side who quickly replies to his defence.  

“Hey, I finished shooting half an hour ago and now I have an essay to write, leave me alone.”

“They’re entertaining, aren’t they?” Haechan’s voice brings you out of the haze of his bickering friends, their conversation fades in the background while your anger level rises just seeing his face when you turn around.

“Surely more entertaining than you,” you retort before taking a step forward, pretending to know where to go in that house.

Haechan rolls his eyes, thanking his friend who opened the door —Jaemin— and coming next to you. “You don’t know where my room is yet, so if you’d like to follow me.”

You trail behind him, waving at the men around the table but it’s clear that none of them even noticed your presence. Luckily for you, Donghyuck’s room is at the end of the corridor and the mess that goes down in the other room is not hearable enough to make your day a living hell.

“So, do you have anything in mind?” He asks after you sit at one of the chairs at his desk.

You shake your head, fixing your skirt and pulling out some things you might need from your bag. “Wanted to hear from you first. Since the melody is so crucial, we should start from that,” you mock in a fake-sweet tone, and you feel his glare on your skin.

“You truly are a pain in the ass, you know?” He scoffs, moving his hair out of his face, gaze fixed on you.

“And for what? Because I agreed with your theory?”

“If you have a melody in mind it’s easier to make the words flow.”

“If the melody has nothing to do with the idea, you only have some notes and not a song.”

Now that there aren’t rows of chairs dividing you, the heated argument has led you face to face, literally. And you feel your heart pound in your chest from the anger and, also because it’s weird to be this close to a stranger you can’t stand.

“Okay, Miss Taylor Swift, why don’t you enlighten me and show me what you got?”

You glare at him but he’s unfazed, holding the eye contact proudly. “My lyrics will be better than your production.”

“And are those lyrics in the room with us?”

“God,” you groan, throwing your hands in the air and your head back. “You drive me insane.”

“And you are pretentious and still never prove all the things that that little, bratty, annoying mouth of yours says.”

Deep creases show on your forehead, and you have to turn around because if you see his face for a second more you will slap him. But you want this project done, you have four weeks to turn it in, but you want this torture to be over as soon as possible, so you know you have to put the pettiness aside.

“If we want a great result and good grades, we need good lyrics and a good melody,” you say, calmly facing him again, slowly watching as his face softens. “My words and your production. I don’t care what comes to us first, if you think it can be useful, we could even brainstorm some tunes and catchphrases and then build it around it.”

“Now you’re making some sense,” he exclaims, smiling widely before patting the top of your head. “So that head is not empty.”

“Oh, seriously? I’m trying to have a truce, and you fuck it all up again?”

“No, sorry, I just think you’re really smart when it comes to college but a bit annoying when it comes to life.”

“You’re just mad you can’t beat me.”

“I can,” he retorts smugly.  

“Then why don’t you do it?” You tease, cocking your head to the side.

Haechan scoffs, lips twitching in a quick smirk before he wets them. “I didn’t yet, but are you so sure I won’t?” He whispers, breath colliding with your lips and nose brushing yours, your brain doesn’t even register his hands on your legs right away, only when his fingers caress your bare skin right above the hem you wake up from the haze of having him so close.

“Time will — time will prove us,” you say, turning to the desk and scratching your neck. “Time will tell us, not prove us.”

Haechan snickers, moving closer to see on your tablet where you opened the notes, and smiles smugly. He thinks he found a way to distract you.

The project isn’t done in the first week, and to put a cherry on top, Professor Park decides to make it the big project for the end of the class, adding a cover for the single, a plan to sponsor it, and, if someone feels brave enough, even to record it. Even if you wanted to, a thing this big, and now with so much weight on the final grade, can’t be done in one week.

Yet, you think you’ll have to deal with Haechan only on your weekly meet-ups for that project and during lessons, you never imagined you would have to deal with him even during your library study on Wednesday.

“Why are you studying in the middle of the week?”

“You know, if I had to replicate a sound every time we start a conversation it would be ‘and now, I just want to sit back and relax and enjoy my evening, when all of a sudden I hear this agitating grating voice,’ and that is the sound that plays in my mind, actually.”

“Grating? Really?”

“Well, it’s the quote but it fits,” you reply sternly, bringing your attention back to the book. “Also, the question is not, why am I studying, but why aren’t you? How will you beat me if you don’t?” You wink, laughing under your breath. You don’t even need to see his reaction; you know his jaw tenses and his nostrils flare for a brief second every time you tease him.

You hear the chair in front of you scratch on the floor, and deeply hope he’s not sitting on it. But Haechan is sitting on it, staring at you as if he could steal the information from your brain and pass it to his.

“I am studying.”

“No, you’re not,” you reply, eyes widening when he rips a page from your notebook and a pen from your case. “So, what have you learned since now?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes to the sky and instead run a hand on your face while sighing deeply. There’s just no way to get rid of him, right?

“You don’t even know what I’m studying.”

“Sound design,” he replies promptly, and you look down to see if he could’ve gotten a grasp from your books but there’s a paper on it and there’s not much written on it. Haechan smiles and moves to the chair next to you. “It’s because I started it too, there are too many notions, it would be a suicide to wait for the finals.”

“Oh, so you do something else other than think about me,” you tease, nudging him with your leg.

“Hey! I don’t think about you,” he replies firmly, frowning.

“Sure,” you huff, waving him off. “So, what do you know?”

“Well, all the basis we learnt last year, so the definition of sound, the path it follows, how it’s perceived based on the medium and how fast it travels through them, slowest through gases, faster through liquids, and fastest through solids, and that temperature effects it as well.”

You smile, content with the reply but you want to test him more. “What about the five characteristics of sound?”

“You think that’s a difficult one?” He asks, almost disappointed at the easiness of your question.

“Well, if you want to impress me so bad, I could ask you to list all the types of compressors?”

“You already know that?” He questions, quirking a brow, trying to think why he doesn’t remember them. “Wait, we didn’t do that in class.”

You laugh. “See, you’re witty. No, we haven’t done that yet, but since you love producing so much, I thought you knew it as personal knowledge.”

“Why do you talk as if you don’t want to do the same job as mine?” There’s a bit of annoyance in his tone, but there’s genuine curiosity in his eyes.

You shrug, pressing your lips together before diverting your gaze.

Haechan gasps. “Don’t tell me you don’t know what you want to do, yet, because I won’t believe it.”

“It’s not that I don’t know,” you reply, a low huff leaving your lips. “I’d like to try different things out, being a PR manager sounds interesting too. And I’m also pretty good at dancing, so that could be a career path.”

“It’s a shame we didn’t start practical courses, I would love to see you dance.”

“Yeah, sure, so you can mock me some more,” you groan.

He shakes his head. “No, you wouldn’t enroll in a program if you weren’t absolutely perfect at it, so I can’t come at your skills.”

“You’re so kind, I think I might love you,” you mock, moving closer to him and pouting before pushing him away with a light push on his chest and focusing on your papers again.

“And by the way, I know the characteristics of sound,” he says, right next to your face.  

You smile and think to yourself that this might be fun. “Good, go on and tell me.”

You don’t get why Haechan’s roommate bicker so much. Not that you could lecture them when, as soon as you walk inside his room, your talks won’t be much different than theirs (worse, probably). But you think you and Haechan, at least, have a reason to fight so much. His roommates are… weird. They are close. They all are, in an annoying way almost, always moving in packs and breaking their back to meet up even if their institutes are scattered around in the Academy. Yet, they get heated pretty easily when they sit in the living room, and you can only blame it on stress as you chuckle, standing against the countertop with a glass of water in hand.

“Donghyuck left you all alone?” Jeno enters the kitchen, distracting you from Renjun screaming at his painting and Mark cursing while he tries to come up with a melody for a small assignment you decided to not worry about —you have Haechan to worry about now.

“Yep, told me to be here at 2 pm just to be in the shower instead,” you reply with a tight smile on your face that makes him laugh and scroll the black hair out of his face.

“My fault,” he explains while pouring himself a glass. “I convinced him to stay at the basketball field when we finished and he couldn’t meet up with you smelling like rotten leftovers forgotten under the august sun.”

“Creative writing?” You ask after you chuckle at his description.

“Nope, photography, Renjun’s worst nightmare.”

You laugh. “It’s because you leave all those big things around his room, right?”

“Our room,” he says, empathising on the first word.

“Okay, communism king, your room but I don’t think your comrade is happy about it.”

Jeno laughs, and hums before gulping down a sip of water. “I’m not rich yet to afford a studio so he’ll have to deal with his bestie working, sweating, and crying his way to the top.”

“You could’ve been a nepo baby and have everything handed to you.”

“Sucks not to be one. I wouldn’t even bother being in Uni, just leaving my best life with my camera and daddy’s money.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Haechan says entering the kitchen, hair still damp and casual housewear on.

“None of your business,” you reply, placing the glass in the sink and walking to the door. “Come on, we have a song to create. It could be our first Billboard number one.”

Haechan sighs, snatching the bottle of water from Jeno’s hand, briefly confused at his grinning face, and then follows you quickly.

“Are you trying to hit on my friends?” He asks, closing the door behind.

“Would you mind?”

“Yes, I’d hate having to deal with you in our group hangouts.”

“You already deal with me. More than you should since you always come to me even when we could not be together,” you say, tilting your head to the side, and sitting on your assigned chair. “Are you perhaps jealous? Do you want me all to yourself?”

“Nah, you can go and fuck all of them right no—”

“Okay,” you don’t even let him finish and you’re at the door, but he springs after you and stops you.

“What are you doing? I was kidding!”

“Why? Since when you can tell me what to do?”

Haechan groans and drags you back to your place, but he doesn’t sit just yet, he’s bent over to be close to you. “I need you here with me to work on this goddam song, and then you can go and have a gangbang in the living room, I don’t care.”

“You’d be mad you won’t be part of it,” you joke, having the time of your life watching his pissed-off expression as he stomps loudly back at his place. “Accept that you will never win with me, and maybe you won’t be so triggered every time we talk.”

“Shit, it’s late,” you murmur, lifting your head from the lyrics you’re trying to write down. Now you got the theme —it’s a love song that you hope won’t turn lame— and even a faint idea of a tune, and while Haechan tried to get inspired by other songs and tried instruments he wants to add to the track, you worked on the words.

“Don’t you think we’re trying too hard?” He whispers, placing the guitar on his bed before standing up and stretching.

“What do you mean?” You ask, lifting your neck so you can look at him after you turn around on the rotating chair.

“Music should come to you, it should be… spontaneous.”

You’d want to roll your eyes, mostly for the spontaneous part, but he’s right. Most artists don’t think about the songs they make, the song comes to their mind when they’re not thinking about it.

“Yes, but do you think we’re doing such a shitty job with this?”

He shakes his head, walking closer to you. “Not totally, I just think that if we want to be on top, we have to work around it differently.”

You gulp when he hovers over you and grips the side of the chair tightly. “Like?”

“We should… relax. Take our mind off of it and just wait for it to come,” he glances at the desk, studying the crumpled tries you gave up on and the only three phrases you were happy with written on the tablet. “We should get inspired,” he whispers, and you’re once again so focused on his face that you don’t feel his hand on your thigh, under the long black skirt you’re wearing, it surely must’ve been on you for a while if the fabric was already crumpled up and his fingers teased the hem of your panties between your hips and stomach.

“Is — is this how you inspire people?” You ask, glancing down with a rising chest but for some reason not pulling away.

“Don’t know, I’ve never done it before,” he chuckles, slowly moving closer to your core, observing the small signs of your body. “Should we see if it works?”

You hate him. You should be working on that lyric for the last half hour you have left. You hate him. He’s making it impossible for you to stick to your ‘minding my business’ plan that had worked through all your school years. You hate him, you do, and yet you nod, humming a feeble ‘yes,’ in response.

“Good,” rolls out of his lips, and it sounds so different from his usual tone, you can’t help but feel hot.

Your nails sink in the chair when his fingers slip right against your clit after he had your consent and starts teasing it.

“So, it’s a love song…” he says, and you frown, heart pumping louder as for a second you think he led you on and you looked like a pathetic horny loser, but his hand is still playing with your pussy and his face is still close to yours. “Chose that because you have somebody in mind?”

“We literally picked it for a reason last week, you —”

“God,” he shushes you up, pushing the panties to the side and teasing your entrance, it’s already damp, but not enough how he wants it. “Can you stop being so rational for once? I know why we picked it; remember I’m trying to inspire you.”

“Wait, you really think some fingering can inspire me to write a love so—” your words shut down when he places a hand on your mouth, eyes widening but pussy leaking an embarrassing amount of cum.

He quirks a brow in surprise and, shortly after, a smug smirk curls his lips. “Oh, so you’re into that?”

You can’t reply, but even if you could’ve, you’re not sure you would’ve said anything.

“So, anybody in mind?”

You shake your head. Your love life has been anything but exciting, and after a few tries, you were sure it wasn’t what you needed to focus on, especially because nobody sparked your interest. Nobody was worth moving your focus from your studies.

“Great, so I guess that’ll have to be me.”

“What?” You mutter muffled, closing your legs and moving on the chair.

Haechan rolls his eyes in his skull, keeping you in place. “Oh, come on, you can fake it for a few minutes. Don’t act disgusted, I’m knuckle-deep inside you,” he says.

“Not yet.”

“I’m knuckle-deep inside you,” he retorts after he pushes into you with two fingers, staring right into your eyes.

You bite back a moan and a curse under your breath. “Fine, but I don’t want to think,” you say. “Just, prove it to me. If you’re good, I’ll be inspired and I’ll come up with the lyrics, if you suck, we’ll go back to our original method.”

Haechan hates that he constantly has to prove things to you, and he hates even more that he does it, almost as if he’s your dog and he has to follow your orders while you keep him on a leash. But if this will work to come up with a great song, and in his outer-songwriting-course-plan to distract you, he won’t complain.

Honestly, he couldn’t complain even if it only meant to finger you. He might want to fight you every time he sees your face but, damn, what a face.

“Shit,” you moan. You don’t want to give him too much satisfaction, but he knows what he’s doing and it’s been way too long since someone touched you like that. Damn, even since you touched yourself like that. Maybe the whole ‘staring at your goals’ was taking some funny things away from you.

“Do you want to turn the song into a Hozier song?”

You huff, you just asked him one thing and his mouth is running again doing the opposite. “You wish you were this good to inspire a Hozier type of song.”

“Really?” He taunts, pressing his thumb on your clit, starting to tease the throbbing nub in circles.

“Yes,” your voice trembles, but your face shows confidence.

Haechan snickers, quickening the pace of his fingers, watching you fight against yourself to not show how much you’re loving it. “One second of this mouth on your pussy and I’d make you change your mind,” he whispers right against your ears, hot breath fanning your skin. “It’s a shame you don’t deserve it.”

You groan, head rolling back in disappointment, and that makes him laugh.

“You have to think twice before running that mouth, babe. Especially with me.”

“Never,” you talk back, opening your eyes and regretting as soon as they meet his. His gaze is too intense, and your brain is too far gone to keep it up.

Haechan only grins, enjoying your wrecked face and the sounds your pussy is making as his fingers keep working on you. You might try to deny him, but your body is speaking to him, and deeply so are you. It’s in your eyes, and your lips trembling, and in the beautiful moans that are rolling out of your tongue.

“Are you close, brat?”

You don’t have it in you to complain, or retort, the orgasm is right around the corner and you fear he would ruin the experience if you said something out of line.

“Answer me,” he orders, lightly slapping your thigh.

“Yes,” you breathe out, biting your lower lip to prevent the whole house from hearing you.

“Good,” he replies, smiling proudly and starting to move faster in and out of you, hitting your sweet spot every time he reaches the base, and torturing your clit with his thumb. And when it’s too much for you, you come. Body trembling against the chair, and legs pushing up as the shocks of pleasure run through you.

“Acid when you talk but sweet to taste,” he hums after pulling out his fingers from his mouth and you only glare at him as you quickly try to get yourself together again. 

“It’s late,” he says, staring at the clock. “Go home and let me know if this was useful somehow. And not by replaying it in your mind at night wishing I was there with you.” He winks and you slap his shoulder hard. “What the hell!”

“I won’t come up with anything on purpose, and I swear if you keep being so annoying, I’ll be terrible at this.”

“You would never, this makes up like 80% of our final grade.” He challenges you with a glare.  

“If I go down, you go down with me,” you retort, face to face, fiercely looking into his eyes.  

“It’s not smart of you.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” you smile sweetly before it drops from your face. “It’s a threat.”

It’s not like you’re trying to avoid him after what happened, but that’s exactly what’s going on. You don’t regret the act per se, you just can’t believe it was so easy for you to agree to do that with him. And you know he will use it against you for eternity.

A very dumb move from your side to give him the possibility to tease you even more and about something you couldn’t defend yourself from.

But if you try your best to change corridors when you see him from afar, walk quickly back to your dorm room, and sit on the opposite side in class (you fail at keeping your mouth quiet, but you need to discuss with him during lessons), it seems like he’s doing everything he can to be on your path.

“I’m starting to believe you’re a stalker,” you huff, clearly scaring him when you stop abruptly in the middle of the library and make him stop in his tracks.

“I’m not.”

You raise a brow, staring at him until he huffs and throws his hands up in the air. “Fine, fine, I was following you but only because I wanted to know what you will study.”

“Why do you care so much about what I study?”

“So I know how to beat you?”

“Isn’t it more exciting if you beat me only using your brain by putting some knowledge in it without seeing my cards?” You say, pushing a finger on his chest and making him walk backwards until his back hits the bookshelf behind him.

“I think sneaky games are funnier, though,” he whispers, hand moving to rest on your side. “Especially with you.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, and taking a step back, freeing yourself from his hold. “The games you’re playing are not sneaky. Why are you always in my business?”

He shrugs. “Why not? So, what are we studying today?”

“We are not studying together.”

“Why? Isn’t it funny? The same study method, same hours, but one of us will be better than the other. That’s a truly equal comparison.”

You run a hand on your face and keep walking to find what you need. “If you didn’t distract me every two seconds, I would’ve already been like five pages into my studying session.”

“Oh, please, you are wondering around the library anyway. I’m just keeping you company.” His body follows yours like a shadow, his heat radiating so close to your skin that you think you might go insane.

“I don’t want your company,” you say, moving your eyes swiftly over the books in front of you as you try to find what you are looking for in the sociology section. When you finally find it, reminding yourself you have to buy it so you can annotate directly on yours, you walk back to your table, but Haechan is still beside you like a puppy on a string. “Can’t you just leave me alone?”

“I could, and I’d want to, but I can’t,” he says, sitting at your side, smiling widely when you glare at him.

“This is a useless lesson for you,” you try to dismiss him.

“Is it? Because we have the same ones.”

“Jesus, okay, fine,” you give up, throwing your head back and raising your voice enough to make some heads turn in your direction. His biggest talent is to exasperate you. “But we give ourselves a timing, and then when we’re done, we’ll have to answer five questions.”

“And who answers to them all?” He asks, there’s a taunting edge in his voice, and a grin on his face.

“Is the best,” you reply as if it’s obvious.

“Yeah, but there should be a prize.”

“Being better than you is the prize.”

Haechan scoffs, and he hates to admit in his mind that he finds your snarky remarks so fucking hot, if you weren’t in a public library and if his job on earth wasn’t to detest you, he would’ve already had you bent on the table.

“I love how you’re always so sure of being better than me.”

You snicker and send him a flying kiss. “Honey, I am better than you.”

“Wait, I just left out a detail!” You almost scream when you compare your answers for the nth time because you can’t believe he has done slightly better than you.

“That detail is important,” Haechan replies unfazed by your indignation.

“No, it’s not. We would have the same score if this was graded,” you insist, feeling more angered than you should. It’s nothing serious, it shouldn’t be serious, but with him, there’s your pride on the line.

“But this is between me and you, so I win. Also, my phrasing in the second answer is better than yours.”

“Shut up, it’s not.”

“It is, and you just have to admit you lost,” he insists, leaning over, staring at you with a challenging raised brow.  

You swallow, eyebrows furrowing, and then you sigh. “Your advantage is minimal. And you only won a battle, because I’m winning a war.”

“Fine, Napoleon, I still won and you’re coming to my place even Saturday so we can do this some more.”

“Hey, Napoleon sucked! He lost the most important battles, the only ones he should’ve won.”

“That’s why I called you that,” he winks, clicking his tongue mockingly.  

“Oh, you think you will win the war? You’re wrong, honey, Waterloo is yours.”

Haechan laughs, standing up after putting his things in his bag. “I’m waiting for you on Saturday…” he says and before you can complain he starts singing, “Waterloo, I was defeated, you won the war…”

“Oh, shut up!” You say, hitting his arm as you push him away, but he giggles and walks away continuing with the tune.

“Waterloo, promise to love you forevermore. Waterloo, couldn’t escape if I wanted to…”

And you think that if only he didn’t try to sabotage your final grades in Music History, you might even find him funny.

Haechan hates you.

If he was sure he didn’t before, he is sure that he does now.

He can’t wrap his head around the fact that you, Miss zero social skills, and negative 100 friends, can be so good at debating. On every fucking topic. You’re well-spoken, witty, smart, somehow it looks like you know everything about everything. And even when you don’t know (and you always specify it — which he shouldn’t find so hot, but he does) you always come up with perfectly thought theories and analyses coming from the small knowledge you have on the topic. The thing he also hates is that you never sound like you’re showing off your skills, it’s just really nice to listen to you and —when he’s not the one intervening against you— you’re the sweetest person ever and everybody in every class absolutely adores you.

He wonders if you’re a robot. Maybe you’re some sort of artificial intelligence sent there to conduct studies on humans’ stupidity, and he was unlucky enough to start a fight with you. You just don’t seem real. And he’d love to dig deeper but he doubts he will find anything relevant.

You might be smart, but you also look incredibly boring. He tried to find out if you had interests, or anything that could distract you, but his research led nowhere. The biggest problem is that he hates you, but not to the point that he wants to get you suspended from University, so he has to find another way to make you slip.

Apparently, you’re playing the same game, but even at this, you are thinking faster and smarter.

“Where the fuck are all my anthropology notes?” Haechan mutters as he looks through his library, moving books and notebooks around, thinking he has gone insane. “Mark!” He screams, rushing to the desk to search again but he knows where he left everything; on the second shelf of the small library in his room, on top of the music theory book that hasn’t moved since a week.

“Yes?” His housemate peaks from the door only with his head.

“Did you mistake our notes?”

“What notes?” Mark furrows, backing away from his friend who looks out of his mind.

“The anthropology notes,” he says, voice full of annoyance because, why does Mark never know anything? He’s in the same course and, yet, he’s always somewhere else with his head. 

“Man, I don’t even take notes during that lesson.”

“What do you mean you don’t? Ugh, never mind,” Haechan groans, rolling his eyes because he can’t believe he can’t count on anybody. “Have you seen them somewhere?”

“Nope,” Mark replies, entering the room. “I mean, I don’t know what they look like.”

“You know right we have a test tomorrow? The winter break is close, and some courses have it. You are studying, right?”

“Yeah, just not every…thing…”

Haechan rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Why don’t you like it? I mean, I know it’s not really music related but it teaches you so much about other cultures and there’s a whole part about how music is different from culture to culture.”

“Next semester, we didn’t get there, yet. It’s a bunch of complicated terminology and theories I just don’t get,” Mark defends. He never understood why Haechan loved studying so much. He is only there for the music, and a few other theoretical lessons, but some courses don’t make any sense to him.  

“So you plan on being terrible tomorrow?”

“I just want a decent result; I don’t strive for perfection like you and your girlie.”

Haechan almost chokes on his saliva. “My girlie? Who’s my girlie?”

“That girl in class you always get into heated arguments with, and then she comes here and I’m pretty sure you make out when no one’s watching,” Mark says so calmly it infuriates Haechan more than if he was teasing him.  

“Shut the hell up! She’s my mortal enemy and while you have been paired with Yangyang for the song project, Professor Park thought it was nice putting her and me together.”

“Yeah, you can still make out with your mortal enemy,” he snorts, hitting his friend with a playful elbow hit.  

“Mark, shut up and leave, I have to study,” he tries to cut short, pushing his friend out of the room.  

“With what notes?”

“I don’t know. I left them on the shelf, and nobody entered my room since Saturday when she — Oh, my God.”

When your name resonates in the empty classroom after you’ve taken the anthropology test, your blood freezes for a second.

“Haechannie,” you cheer cheekily, turning around and pushing your tote bag far up your shoulders.

“Don’t,” he warns, lifting a finger to stop you from starting anything. “I have to talk to you.”

“Sure, the test was easy, right? You might have beaten me this time,” you say but you have to hold back a laugh when you scan his furious, pissed-off expression.

“Yeah, if you studied, it was,” he retorts venously.  

“And you surely studied,” you say, faking innocence.  

“You can study when you have something to study on,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Yes, and you do,” you still play dumb, but when he calls your surname, you know he’s not joking anymore. “Yes?”

“Do you, perhaps, know where the fuck my notes are?”

You look around, shrugging. “Where are your notes, Donghyuck?”

“I don’t know, I’m asking you for a reason,” he retorts, plastering a fake smile that doesn’t reflect in the darkness of his pupils.

“They might’ve mixed up with my stuff when you invited me over Saturday?” You sing-song, tilting your head to the side and shrugging.

“Might’ve,” he repeats, a hint of bitterness in his tone. “It was just a coincidence.”

You shrug again, pushing your lower lip in a pout. “Sometimes… things happen.”

“And if it wasn’t on purpose, why couldn’t you just text me?”

“Because I didn’t notice,” you reply innocently, batting your lashes, knowing it will get on his nerves even more.  

He groans, closing his eyes to calm himself down before he speaks again, “then how do you know?”

“Don’t know, just making assumptions,” you say. “It turns out I’m really good at it.”

“I swear, I — I want to… I want to —”

“To what? Choke me because I got my revenge? Oh, it turns out it’s really not that funny when someone plays with you?” You mock, and in doing so you get closer to him.

“Goddamn,” he groans before your back meets the hard wall of the room and his lips meet yours in a heated kiss, his hands on your body and yours limp at your side as you’re too shocked to react. “I want to — I want to kill you, actually.”

You smirk, chuckling straight at his face. “Filled the space with the wrong letter, ‘cause you’re kissing me.”

“Maybe my kiss is lethal, maybe there’s poison on my lips.”

“Oh, you’re so romantic you’d die for me?” You coo, placing a hand on your heart.

Haechan groans, throwing his head back. “Why are you always so, so, so, God,” he curses, running his fingers in his hair. “I want my notes back, now.”

“I don’t have them,” you say, grinning because he looks wrecked. You know it wasn’t very morally mature for you, but it was only fair. Also, you know he doesn’t arrive last minute with anything, he had already studied everything and you’re sure he had answered everything on that paper, he just couldn’t revisit.

“My notes back when you pass by for the project or it’s war.”

“It’s already war,” you retort when he walks past you to leave.  

Haechan turns around, locking his gaze with yours. “Oh, honey, it can get so much worse than this.”

You felt like testing your luck when his notes weren’t back on his desk, but you had no idea it could get worse than that, until it got.

When he deleted an essay from your computer and you had to remake and finish the work of five days in five hours, so you cancelled a project he was working on for another assignment you had. And then he erased the recording of a course from your phone, so you ripped his notebook in front of his eyes (and his roommates too). The list of petty things is long, and you’re not really proud (you’re sure not even Haechan is) of what you did, especially when things started becoming personal. You two want to destroy each other, but you are honestly just killing yourselves in the meantime.

Your book slams closed so hard that you almost zip your hands in it, and by protecting your fingers you lose track of where you’ve been. “Get lost,” you whisper bitterly as soon as you recognize the hand that did that.

“No thanks,” he replies, sitting next to you.

“I’m trying to read a book in the quiet of the library, so can you leave me alone?”

“It’s a public space, I can sit wherever I want,” he replies, leaning back into the chair, and widening his legs under the table. You know ‘cause you feel his knee push against yours and you have to retract your leg to avoid the contact.  

You glare at him, breathing deeply through your nose because you can’t make a scene here. You two almost got kicked out of a class two days ago, and that was humiliating enough. So, you think that ignoring him is the best thing you can do.

“Wow, so you have a bit of self-control and don’t talk back. Never thought I’d see that day,” he replies sarcastically to your silence with an amused grin that curls his lips.

You hold back a scream and huff loudly, “I truly need you to get fucked right now.”

“Nevermind,” he jokes, pulling a tight forced smile and you close the book again, now too annoyed to even focus on the words on the paper. “I came here in peace, by the way.”

“Yeah, your peace is war in my country,” you reply bitterly, trying to shift away but those damn chairs make the loudest sounds at the smallest movements.  

“That’s because you’re full of prejudices.”

You inhale deeply, rubbing your temple to soothe the headache you know is about to arrive. “Haechan, tell me what you want and then leave me alone.”

He smiles, happy you are finally willing to listen, before he clears his throat. “Okay so, I have to say that some of this is funny. I mean, only the debates and these random talks, but I’m not the biggest fan of all the other stuff we’re doing, so why don’t we bring it back?”

“Bring it back? As in?” You question, raising a brow in confusion.

“I liked it better when we would just compete without tearing ourselves down. If you cancel, ruin, or save one of my projects with the word boobs in it before sending it to the professor another time, I will go insane.”

You hold back a chuckle. You have to admit it was your lowest move, but it was quite funny when Professor Choi had a whole talk in class about being careful before sending out finished projects and exposed him in front of the class.

“No, it wasn’t funny,” he mutters sternly, watching you fight with all the muscles of your face to don’t break into a laugh.

“No, sorry, it was,” you defend, voice trembling, threatening a chuckle to come out. “Like Iloveboobsdemo1 is the best thing I’ve ever come up with. That could be the title of our song.”

“If you want to get expelled from all the academies in the world that would be a perfect idea,” he says, trying to be serious because seriously it wasn’t funny, but when you stare into each other’s eyes for too long none of you two can hold back the laughter anymore. “Okay, fine. It was funny, but I don’t want that to happen again.”

“So? Do you give up?” You taunt, tilting your head after placing it on your palms.

“I’m not giving up, we are changing strategies of our combat.”

“Oh, okay. You will lose anyway in the end, so if this can be more beneficial for me in the meantime, it’s fine.”

He sighs, rubbing his temples, and you chuckle. “Don’t laugh,” he whispers distraught. “I… could you sometimes at least pretend to give me some kind of chance of winning with you and not feeling like you’ll always have the last laugh?”

“I just replied.”

“No, a reply would’ve been ‘Yes, Haechan, don’t worry, we can change it.”

“Too wordy,” you comment, waving him off with a movement of hand.

“You said like ten words more,” he replies, voice breaking in his throat in a whine, but you decide to act as if you don’t notice.  

“It still flowed better. See, that’s why the lyrics are in my hands. You’re really not good with words.”

“You keep doing that,” he groans, slamming a hand on the table, attracting some curious eyes on you before you glare them away. “But it’s fine, okay, so… no more dirty games? No more sabotaging?”

“Yes, no more. Well, not like this, but we can still play a bit, right?” You ask, retracting your hand right when you’re about to hold his to seal the deal.

“Yes, but nothing weird, or you know what I mean.”

You hum, reaching out again and shaking his hand. “It’s a deal, then?”

“It’s a deal.”

The deal somehow turns into Haechan always being next to you. He’s like a shadow, sitting next to you in class, studying with you in the library, and so on. You don’t mind him when he minds his business, but he rarely does. Especially during lessons when you need to focus on what the professors are saying.

You roll your eyes when Haechan sneaks a paper next to your notebook and you read ‘how would a dog wear pants’ with two badly drawn different options on it.

“Does it look like the right moment?” You whisper under your breath, side-eyeing him, and trying to keep your focus on the lesson. You see him nod and decide to mark the second option, thinking that he’d be happy with it, but he has the urge to hear a whole dissertation on something that will never happen, right now.

“Why?” He asks as if you’re not in the middle of a lecture.

“Not now.”

“But this lesson is boring,” he whines, poking your side with his elbow.  

You huff, covering it with a cough when you realize it is too loud, and then take a sip from your bottle of water.

“You didn’t answer,” Haechan insists, this time poking your arm with the cap of the pencil. 

“I picked one,” you mutter, pointing at the paper with your head.  

“Elaborate and change my mind.”

“You think it’s the first one?” You say in disbelief, the utter shock causing the tone of your voice to be louder than you expected.

“Any problems there?” The Professor asks, and you feel your blood freeze.

“Mh, no, nothing, my pen has no more ink, I was asking for another one,” you lie, thanking God you two are sitting far in the back of the class and the Professor can’t hear and can’t see that your pen isn’t dead at all. So, with a suspicious nod, the middle-aged man goes on with the lecture while Haechan giggles beside you.

You glare at him, and he shrugs raising his hands. “If you kept quiet, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“If you let me concentrate on the lesson instead of asking dumb questions, it wouldn’t have happened,” you retort, and he laughs under his breath again, but doesn’t ask more questions. He still ruins your notes with ugly flowers and other drabbles and you let him be because at least he’s being silent and paying attention.

“So, you really are giving up,” you say when the bell rings and the class starts emptying.

“What makes you think that?” He asks, putting his things in his bag, just like you.

“You didn’t write anything down.”

Haechan shrugs. “Why would I? I have your notes.”

“No, you don’t,” you say but before you can realize he rips the notebook from your hands and snaps a picture of the two pages you wrote. “Hey! That’s not fair. That’s my work.”

“Your amazing summarizing skills and my artistic skills. I don’t gift beautiful sunflowers to just anybody.”

“Beautiful sunflowers?” You snicker, starting to walk down the stairs, pushing the notebook into your bag as Haechan follows at your side. “If Renjun saw them he would have a heart attack.”

“Can’t compare Vang Gogh to Picasso.”

“Keep Picasso out of your mouth,” you say threateningly.

“Still, aren’t you happy you will think of me while studying?” He bats his lashes, and you hold back an entertained grin.

“Can’t wait to go through the absolute most painful ulcers every time I glance down on those things.”

He gasps offended, bringing a hand on his chest. “See, this is what happens when you spend all your days on socials and your brain doesn’t know how to appreciate real art anymore.”

“You are so annoying, and distracting. Next time if you sit next to me, I’ll push you off the chair,” you warn, and only when a colder blow of wind hits you, you realize you’re walking back to your places together.

“Right!” He says and you think it’s the good time he leaves you alone, but no, he’s not done. “You didn’t explain why the dog would wear it only on its hind legs.”

“Is it really that serious? Why do you want to know so badly?”

“It’s funny. I’m sick and tired of hearing you only discuss music, sociology, and the media and other stuff.”

You sigh. But you still have a bit to walk, so you might as well have to deal with him and his hypothesis about dogs. “Because pants have to cover your lower body, so legs, and ass and everything else. If you wear them like the first option, half of the ass is out. And also, the back limbs correspond to our legs, we’re divided in half horizontally, not vertically.”

He doesn’t reply right away, processing your answer. And you think you broke him.

“Oh!” You exclaim. “Zootopia, animals wear clothes like the second picture.”

“Really? You had a whole statement that made perfect sense and then you added a cartoon to your thesis?”

“But it still makes sense,” you argue back. “And, most importantly, I made you agree with me,” you wink before stopping when you reach your complex.

“Fine, fine, you’re right,” he gives up before looking behind you. “You live here?”

You nod, searching for the keys in the tote bag, and you think it’s time to stop pretending that’s Mary Poppins’ bag and throw away some useless stuff.

“I thought there were only rooms here,” he states, looking at the big complex a few meters away from the university.  

“There are common dormitories, and then there are some one-room flats. I got one with a scholarship when I graduated. It’s less expensive than an apartment and I get a small place all to myself.”

“Oh,” he whispers. He doesn’t know why he thought you had roommates. “So, you’re alone, alone?”

“No, you can’t come in,” you say.

“I didn’t ask that,” he frowns, offended you would even imply that. “I thought you… well, oh, never mind.”

“Yes, I’m alone, so I can do whatever the hell I want. If I want to cook, I cook. If I want to stay up all night to study, I do that. If I want to dry the clothes in the middle of the living room, that is also the bedroom and the kitchen, I do that.”

“Is it really that small?”

“It’s decent, I guess. It’s spacious enough to live in it comfortably but not big to the point I have to waste days cleaning it.”

“Maybe we could study there, no loud roommates screaming in the living room.”

“I like the mess of your place, and I’ll be there Friday.”

Haechan rolls his eyes. “Come on, I hate the library. Can’t we for once study at your place?”

“I never invited you to my studying sessions,” you groan.

“But you love it.”

“No.”

“Yes, you have an orgasm every time you know something better than me.”

“Please, shut up,” you wave him off, starting to walk away.

“I don’t care, I’ll be here tomorrow,” he screams when you’re too far, clearly running away from him.  

“And I’ll be at the library!”

You never go to the library, to be honest, you were just unlucky enough that the washing machine thought it was the right moment to leak all over the floor and Haechan found you at home with your coat on the couch, the tote bag next to the door and your jeans half soaked as you tried to fix the mess on the pavement.

From that moment, your meet-ups become more and more periodic, whether it’s at your place, his or at the library. You hate to admit it, but the competition drives you forward, and you love seeing his face every time you defeat him somehow.

“Are you busy this Saturday?” He asks while he strums with the guitar to come up with a chord progression for your song.

“Yeah, why?” You reply, poking the cap of the pen to your cheeks, drifting your eyes on him.

“Want to go out with me?”

“What? Saturday is my day to study and do my things like I want to,” you say. It was the only day, along with Sunday, you had to fix all your notes without being wrecked from the lessons of the day, or listen to lessons while cleaning the house, and so on. You tried to squeeze everything there so Sunday could be your free day and you could dedicate it to your hobbies and to write for the magazine you worked for, nothing too serious, just some money to add to the survival costs that your parents would send you, and the monthly entrance you had when you would get called to help a dance studio downtown.

“Great, we’re going out tomorrow.”

You huff, slumping back on the chair. “No, we’re not. I’m busy.”

“You can take one afternoon for me,” he replies, placing the instrument next to him. “Come on, it will be fun.”

“Where would you even take me?”

Haechan smirks. “It’s a surprise.”

When Saturday afternoon arrives, you don’t know how to feel. You spent the whole night trying to find a positive thing about it, and the good thing is that for once you are leaving the house to do something funny —you hoped so— not all by yourself. The bad thing is that the person you are going to do this thing with is Haechan.

You try not to worry about it too much, he’s not that bad when he wants to, and he’s funnier than you’d like to admit, so maybe taking a small break from the obsessive studying and tidying, will do you some good.

When you hear the knocks on the door, you grab your coat and your bag and head to open it.

“Hi,” he says. “Anything to fix before we leave?”

“Don’t say that, they will hear you and break all together.”

Haechan laughs, briefly looking at your body, mostly covered because it’s still cold outside and you have way too many layers on you. “Toy Story for home appliances?”

“Yeah, that would be my life,” you reply, closing the door behind you and walking outside of the complex. “So, where are you taking me?”

“I told you, it’s a surprise,” he says. “Don’t expect anything big, I just don’t want to hear you nag about it.”

“Hey, I appreciate almost everything.”

“Yeah, it’s the almost that worries me,” he says. “Hop in the car.”

“You have a car?”

“Yeah, it’s right in front of your eyes,” he answers, gesturing to the space next to you.  

You turn around, holding back a laugh when you see the old blue car, it’s surely a Hyundai, you have no idea about the model, but you know for sure it’s falling apart. “This is the car?”

“Yes, I’m sorry I’m poor.”

“It will get us killed,” you say opening the door, letting out a breath of relief when the handle doesn’t stay in your hold.

Haechan rolls his eyes and sits in. “Can you don’t be overdramatic for one second?”

“I’m stating facts. Are the airbags still working? Is the oil level high enough? The battery? And the water for —” Your eyes widen when his lips crash on yours. At first, it’s a harsh attempt to shut you up, but then his lips shily go for more, moving along yours with a small flame of need.

“I won’t kill you, but please shut up,” he begs when he pulls away, sooner than you want to, later than he should’ve.  

You gulp, trying to shake the dizziness and the way his kiss made you feel lightweight. You might occasionally still want to wrap your hand around his neck but he’s quite good at being a charmer.

“I’m giving you the privilege to pick the music,” he says once you’re on the open road, the lights of the city shine against the windows and the other cars pass beside you.

“Yeah, can I connect my Spotify to the car? Oh, wait, this model from the future directly brings the singers into your backseats so you can have a live concert,” you joke after seeing the car radio.  

“Wanted to take the metro?”

You laugh. “No, I’m just… why did you say that as if I could connect the aux or the Bluetooth? It was funny.”

“Fine, you’re forgiven,” he says. “Just play it through your phone.”

You hum, already deep into the scrolling of your music catalogue. “Can I put my driving playlist?”

“You have a car?”

“No, I have a driving playlist.”

“Why would you have a driving playlist if you don’t have a car?”

“Because right now it comes useful,” you wink, pressing play without waiting for his answer.

Haechan smiles, quickly glancing at you before his attention is fully on the road. “Baekhyun?” He asks with surprise when the second song starts. “You listen to Baekhyun?”

“Everybody should listen to him,” you reply, already getting defensive because his next words could be the last straw of your ‘relationship.’

“Oh God,” he whispers.

“If you tell me you’re a hater I’m jumping out of the running car and changing the trajectory of your life forever,” you warn, turning to the side to have a better view of him.

“Me? A Baekhyun hater? He’s my father! I just can’t believe you have some sort of sense and taste.”

You slap his shoulder, making the both of you break into a light-hearted laugh.

“You scared me for a second,” you say, placing your hand on your beating heart.  

“Sorry. So, it turns out we have one thing in common,” he jokes, creases creating at the corner of his eyes as his features soften and a genuine smile blooms on his face.

You shrug. “I mean, we have many things in common, actually. That’s why we get along so badly. Maybe it’s true, opposite attracts and that’s why we don’t attract.”

“I think we do attract… proved it a few times.”

“Once,” you reply immediately.

“Twice, with the kiss…”

“You did that to shut me up.”

“I don’t shut up just…” anybody… “I felt like kissing you.”

You smirk, loving watching him struggle. “Nothing wrong to admit you find me attractive,” you tease.

“Unfortunately, your mouth ruins everything.”

“My mouth is the thing that attracts you the most about me, or else you wouldn’t keep lingering around me like bees on honey.”

“Bees make honey, they’re not attracted to it. Bears are.”

“Yeah, you look like a bear, you know?”

He glares at you, and you laugh. “Bears are cute.”

“And attracted to honey.”

“And do I look like honey?” You ask teasingly. “Wait! You always call me honey!”

“It’s a mockery honey, not a sweet honey. You’re not my honey.”

You think about it. “You’re not my honey… could be a line of our song.”

“No academy talking today. It’s forbidden. You have to forget about uni.”

“Fine, I’ll forget about it just for today.”

The dates with Haechan, you can call them dates, right? Well, anyway, whatever they are, they become more common. At first, you tried to reject his weird, most of the time, last minute, proposal, because they would throw in the air all of your plans, but after a while, you somehow still found a way to go back on track without screwing up your academic goals.

“Why don’t you stay?” Haechan asks. It’s another Friday afternoon, and you two met up to go on with the song’s project. Much to your dismay, you have to admit you are the one who’s holding you two back. It’s like words can’t come out of you, not like you want to, at least. But Haechan’s not mad at you. Actually, you like the atmosphere around you when you lock in his room for those sessions. One time, he even made you try edibles to see if you could come up with something, but you ended up making out on the floor instead, so you stopped going for that path.

“I don’t know,” you say, huffing when you glance at the words in front of you and remind yourself that they don’t make sense. “I was thinking of going home and maybe listening to your tracks and…”

“Come up with something?” He drags the chair closer to you and steals your papers to read them. “It’s not as bad as you made it to be.”

“Yeah, it’s a good song, but it’s basic. And I feel like it’s a bit… cliché.”

“You do know that everything has already been written?” He jokes, but it’s not a teasing remark, it’s the truth, and he’s genuinely trying to lift your spirit.  

“I know, but it’s not my style, this is not how I usually write, I —”

“You write?” He stops you and only then you realize what you said. “Like, you have written songs before?”

You nod, shame pervading you when he stares at you with an expression you can’t comprehend. “Are you going to make fun of me?”

“No, I just thought you preferred lyrics over production, but I had no idea you were a lyricist.”

“Now, lyricist… I try, sometimes…”

Haechan smirks, poking your tummy making you cover it with your arms. “So there is something you’re insecure about.”

“Oh, I knew you were going to have a ball about this,” you groan, rolling your head back.

“No, hey, it’s just… I’ve never seen you like this about something you do. You are confident, usually,” he explains with no hint of mockery in his voice.

You sigh, looking at your feet tapping the ground and then look back at him. “It’s just… very personal,” you confess. “I think it’s clear I don’t have lots of friends. I used to, back at home, but here I’m alone. But even back then I’ve always felt like there was something I couldn’t completely let out. That’s why I love dancing, I can express myself in a different way, but I found out it still wasn’t enough and when I started playing the piano again I… started writing. It started almost as a joke, and it was a cheesy break-up song when my ex cheated on me, like the cheap version of drivers license,” you joke and he laughs with you.

“But it was still better than this, I guess?”

You hum, shaking your head. “Nah, my first song was a mess, but then it was like I just couldn’t stop writing, so my songs became my diary. Every time something happens, I write about it.”

He hums, moving the chair closer until your legs intertwine. “So, to write a love song you would need to fall in love?”

You’re taken aback by his question, and don’t reply right away. “No, I just need to be inspired. I’ll watch some movies, and it will come to me.”

His face twists in mild disgust as he shakes his head. “Movies are fake, it’s better to live things on your skin.”

“I don’t have time to date, and I can’t just find someone that easily,” you say laughing. “But don’t worry, I won’t make us fail. I’ll try to edit this and make it work if I really can’t come up with anything else.”

Haechan is not convinced, it’s clear in his face and the way his leg is bouncing nervously, but he doesn’t get back on the conversation. “Are you staying?”

“I have some notes to edit and —”

“You have tomorrow,” he cuts you off. “Come on, I have to do it too.”

You groan, hating the way you can’t say no to his big eyes staring at you. “Fine, but not too much.”

It’s useless to say that none of you get those notes written better.

“God, are you fucking Professor Kim?” Haechan growls, grabbing your wrist and stopping you in the college corridors right out of Music History class, the last lesson of Tuesday.

“What?” You babble out, surprised by his angry tone and his speculation.

“No cause you’re his favourite and it’s driving me insane,” he utters under his breath, glaring at you.

“I’m his favourite?” You tease, tilting your head to the side, loving the fire that turned on between you two. It had been three calm months, the bickerings were too intellectual and you missed this.

“Yeah, I gave him the exact same answer and he found the tiniest thing to say I wasn’t right, just so he could hear yours instead and praise you.”

“Oh, poor baby boy, Professor Kim didn’t give you head pats and now you’re mad?” You pout, patting his head in a mockery gesture. 

Haechan groans, throwing his head back, and pushing you into the nearest empty class, closing the door behind.

“Haechan, what are y—”

“Shh,” he says, shushing you with a stern gaze and a squeeze of your wrist. “You passed by his office the other day, didn’t you? Needed extracurricular help ‘cause you didn’t understand something,” he mocks with a high-pitched voice. “Taught you how to play his flute in a historically accurate way?”

You’d love to laugh at his terrible blowjob-music reference but when his gaze darkens, you only chuckle, and that’s enough to drive him mad.

“God, for you is just a game, isn’t it?”

“You really think I fucked Professor Kim?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure he fantasizes about having you bent over his desk and, fuck, it drives me mad.”

“You wish he fantasized about having you bent on his desk?” You joke, smirking.

He groans. “No, I hate the way he looks at you, and talks to you, the last thing he had to do today was to call you a good girl in front of the whole class.”

Your lips curl in an amused grin, but your heart —and something else— flutter at the way he says ‘good girl,’ you try not to show it and go on with your teasing. “Not my fault I’m good, and I’m interested in his subject.”

“Your fault you lick his boots,” he groans, pushing you flat against the door, standing so close to your nose. “I know you’re smart and you don’t need to ride a dick to be first in class but…” he stops, inhaling your scent, and leaning against your forehead.

You lift his head with two fingers under his chin, and lean in, whispering, “you still want to see me bent over a desk, and you want to be the one railing me, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t reply, not verbally at least. The only answer is a guttural moan and two arms lifting you, making your legs wrap around his waist as he kisses you roughly.

“Hyuck,” you moan into the kiss when he starts walking toward the desk, sitting you on the edge.

“Yeah?”

“We can’t — we — this is, we can get expelled…”

He snickers. “Be quiet and nobody will even hear us.”

“What if they lock us inside?”

“Shut up,” he groans again, kissing you another time as his bag drops on the floor. “You drive me so fucking mad, you have no idea.”

You snicker under your breath, but your heart loses a beat when his hands roam on your thighs, moving closer and closer to your heat. “Wait,” you whisper.

“Wait, what?” He hums, cupping your chin and lowering your head, staring straight into your eyes. Haechan scoffs when your thighs squeeze against each other and he can see you gulping. “Don’t act like you don’t want this,” he whispers, leaning closer to your lips, making you believe he’ll kiss you, but you only get a taste of his thumb rubbing over your full lips, “don’t act like you don’t want me.”

“Haechan!” You scream when he rips off your tights, the tear of the fabric resonating in the room as you look down in shock. “I’m gonna kill you,” you groan but he’s not bothered in the slightest.

“They were getting in the way, and I get rid of everything that gets in my way,” he says with a smirk.

You laugh mockingly. “Then why am I still here?”

His brows furrow and a small pout forms on his face but he shrugs it off. “I’m taking care of you, I told you,” he groans, kissing you harshly. “You’re not winning the war.”

“Oh, and your military strategy is to fuck me?”

“Yeah, until you forget everything.”

You huff loudly when he finishes ripping the tights from your legs, the only pieces left the ones trapped in your shoes, and you’re glad the skirt is long enough to don’t make you freeze on the way back home.

“So much better,” he says proudly, staring at his work of art, letting his hands wander on your now bare skin. “And, now, let’s find out if there’s a way to shut you up.”

You look at him in anticipation, waiting for his next move as if your life depends on it. And you hate to be so eager, you hate you fantasized on it more than you should’ve, but you want to know what his lips feel like. And it’s almost as if Haechan hears your secret thoughts.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” He taunts, kneading his fingers on your flesh.

“Nothing,” you mutter, trying to sound more confident than what you are.

Haechan laughs at you, shaking his head as he slowly gets on his knees, looking up at you. “You are always so fucking proud and annoying.” His hands rest on your knees before he pushes them far apart, forcing you in place as you uselessly try to close your legs. He tsk, shaking his head. “Don’t act ashamed, I’ve already felt you, and tasted you.”

You don’t reply. It’s hard to keep eye contact but this is bigger than sex, this is a game between you two and, he might not beat you in class, but he’s beating you right now.

His laugh brings you back to earth and you hate the smug smirk that’s sitting on his face. “So you do get quiet, thought I needed to give you a taste of my mouth to shut you up.”

You open your mouth to retort but the stern glare that flashes on his face is enough to put you back in your place.

“Good girl,” he says and your body trembles before you can even try to hide it. “Should I get a better taste of you?” He stares at you, waiting for an answer that doesn’t come, not like he wants to at least. “Use your words, babe. You know how to run that mouth when you want to, so, beg for it.”

“Fuck, no,” you retort, trying to move away but his hold on you doesn’t give any signs of loosening up.

“Okay, then,” he says, slowly standing up, and grabbing his bag. “See you around.”

“What?” You squeal, grabbing his wrist. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving,” he replies, shrugging.

“That’s not fair,” you reply, and he snickers.

“What? Are you wet? Do you want me?”

You don’t expect that reply and struggle to find the words, even more now that he’s standing between your open legs, keeping them apart, and his eyes are staring down at you, pinning you down in place. “I don’t want you,” you lie, swallowing the gulp in your throat when his right hand sits on your waist. “I just… I want to fuck.”

“Oh, do you? Well, there are plenty of people here, I’m sure many of them would want you. You know, even if you don’t pay attention to anybody, people look at you,” he whispers, caressing your jaw with his other hand. “First on the list is Professor Kim. Don’t you want to feel the thrill? Come on, go to his office now, so I can have something to hold against you forever.”

You chuckle. “Yeah? Want to blackmail me so I can do all the essays for you? Maybe you’ll get the best grades like this,” you tease, pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt and making him groan.

He licks his lips, staring at yours, and you smirk. “I don’t need you to be first, and you know it.”  

“Do I?” you tease. “Want to be first at something?”

“Don’t,” Haechan warns, eyes darkening even more while the tent in his tight pants becomes even more evident.

“What? You can be the first one who fucks me on a desk if you quit playing hard to get.”

“I’m not playing hard to get,” he replies, leaning even closer, your bodies are pressed together and you can feel his hard dick press against you. “I won’t be the one begging, especially to eat you out,” he groans, cupping your chin unexpectedly. “Don’t act as if you didn’t think of this before. I’ve seen the way you get lost in my fingers when we study together. You see me twirl a pen in my hand and you wish I was inside you, don’t you? And when we argue? There’s always a small fragment where you lose focus and stare at my lips. Where do you want them, honey?”

Your brows furrow but your entire body reacts differently, a small shake, while wetness pools down your panties, soaking them even more, and your eyes close because you can’t bear his smug glare.

“I said,” he urges, giving a quick squeeze to your chin, “where do you want my lips?”

“On — on me,” you breathe out, voice muffled by the firm hold on your face.

His lips twitch as he leans closer and kisses your cheek. “Here,” he says, holding back a laugh when your eyes widen. “That was where you wanted them, right?”

“Oh, fuck off, you know what I meant,” you huff.

“No, I’m the dumb one, remember? You are smarter than me, you know everything. I’m always a step behind, I need you to guide me step by step,” he mocks in a condescending tone, pouting.

You take a deep breath. “I hate you.”

“Oh, I know,” he laughs. “But if you use just three magic words I’m sure you’re going to love me for a while.”

You don’t want to give up but you’re on fire, and you fear that the more time passes by the more someone could find you out.

“I’ll ask nicely one last time,” he whispers against your lips. “Then I’ll ask you to do something for me and you’ll lose my lips for the second time. Where do you want them?”

“On my pussy,” you whisper, not meeting his eyes.

“Fucking finally,” he laughs. “Was it so hard Miss big brain?”

“Stop mocking me!”

“Mocking you?” He asks, getting on his knees again before grabbing your panties to pull them down. “I might hate you but it would be dumb to not recognize your qualities, right?”

You don’t reply, you have other things to worry about. For example, your mortal enemies kneeled between your legs in an empty class of your Academy, staring into your soul, ready to eat you out.

“So, since you’re so good with words, here we go again. Beg.” Haechan craves putting his lips on you just as you do, but this is the only moment he can have some power over you. And after the humiliation of today’s class, he has to make you pay for it a bit. Or maybe he just wants to hear that even if you’d choke him and slap him, you still want him.

“Please, Donghyuck, please,” you plead, looking into his eyes.

He’d love to hear you beg for him more, but the way your cunt is dripping on the desk is already enough to tell him how much you want him, and for now, it’s enough.

When his lips come in contact with your skin your legs immediately hook around his shoulders and you can feel the chuckle on your wet folds.

“Eager, honey?”

“Just, please, eat me out already,” you barely have time to finish that he stops playing around and starts moving his mouth on you. Your head falls behind while your thighs squeeze tighter around his face. Your hands clench on the edge of the desk as you try to keep your balance, but it gets harder with every lick of his tongue.

“Keep quiet, the door is closed not locked,” he reminds you, pulling away from you just to pick up again.

You try to don’t be too loud, but he’s better than you expected and maybe this was the wrong time to try this out. You should’ve simply begged him to fuck you, but now that you’re in the middle of this, the last thing you want is to stop him.

One of your hands is brave enough to let go of the hold on the desk and reach his hair to push him closer to your body, surprising him.

Haechan always thought you were much more shy than this, honestly, he didn’t even hope much for this to happen. But you surprise him, not only you let him have you in a random class at your university but you are also pushing him closer.

“You are eager,” he muffles against you, he can’t pull away when you’re pressing him down with so much force, but the way you’re acting is setting him on fire. He loves hearing you moan and whimper, not a word coming out of your pretty lips to confront him, just bliss on your face and voice. And that pushes him to give you even more, putting his entire self into eating you out until he almost drags screams out of you, making both of you forget where you are.

You’re not sure how many minutes pass by but when the orgasm rushes in your body you feel it’s too close. You’d probably force him down for another round if you were in any other place but you don’t feel brave enough.

“So? Disappointed?” He asks, cleaning his chin as he stands up, reaching you again. “Don’t lie, you’re still dripping down the desk, you’re even more turned on than last time.”

“I’m not,” you lie. You know you are, and Haechan knows it too.

“What is it? The thrill of being caught? My skills? Just me, or something else?”

You don’t know why you reply with what you reply, but you do. “Maybe someone else,” you tease, not even sure he’ll take the bait, but he’s too caught up in you to see the games you’re playing.

“Yeah? And who’s that?”

“See, I always believed you were perspicacious and could catch details, I can’t believe you didn’t get it. You’re so sure Professor Kim wants to fuck me, ever thought I want him too?” You bat your lashes and Haechan tries to silence a groan, but you feel his fists clench at your sides.

“Don’t play with me, I’m not falling for this.”

You shrug. “Fine, I’ll still think about him while you fuck m—” he shuts you up with a rough kiss, pushing you down the desk with a quick movement that makes your heart jump to your throat.

“He’s not even that hot,” he groans, turning you around before bending you on the desk, and pulling your skirt up around your waist. “And he’s not even that old, there’s not even the charm of the dilf.”

“He’s smart,” you talk back, not sure how much you can pull your luck.

Haechan scoffs, slapping your ass. “Not smarter than me.”

“You’re not the professor so…”

“A degree means nothing,” he says, his chest pressing against your back. “What’s that you like so much about him?”

You chuckle. You’re not sure if he’s playing into your game or is just so easy to fool, but either way, you decide to keep going. “Everything. Don’t you see him?”

Haechan groans. Out of all the people, out of all the professors, he has a very personal beef with him that started at the start of the year and the way you just praise him so much —even outside of this specific situation where he got you’re messing up with him— drives him insane.

“Because he’s the best at everything? Isn’t he?”

You nod, expecting him to talk back but the only answer you get is the sharp sound of his belt being pulled away from his pants and smacked against your ass. “Fuck,” you curse, hating the way your body buzzes with pleasure at the impact.

Haechan chuckles. “I wonder what he would think of you if he saw you like this.”

“He wouldn’t think,” you say. “He’d act, fucking me like I deserve instead of wasting time like you.”

When his cock fills you up with no warning you almost scream but his hand is quicker at reaching your mouth.

“Yeah, would he fuck you better?”

You groan in his hand, but your brain goes blank with each thrust into you, pulling his hips back before he snaps them forward, so forcefully that you slide upward on the desk and he has to pull you down so that your hips don’t hit the wood.

“Answer me,” he urges, making a makeshift ponytail with your hair to force you up. “Would he?”

“I… I don’t know,” you cry out, feeling him deep inside of you, filling you perfectly.  

“You just have to test me until I snap, don’t you?”

“He seems —fuck— fitter than you.”

Haechan snickers mockingly. “Yes? You want to be thrown around? Like you’re worth nothing? Do I have to do that to make you feel good?”

You shake your head, ass perking up, your feet on their tips as you try to keep balance.

“No? Is being fucked in a class enough for you? Does it satisfy your needs?” He hisses, eyes rolling back when he focuses them where your bodies meet, your cum dripping down his length and balls. He can’t believe how turned on you are. “Thought you were innocent but look at you.”

“Not my fault you don’t catch details,” you retort with a small bit of sanity —not really— you have in you.

“Details? Or maybe you’re just an actress. Making everyone believe you only think about grades and studies and here you are, drooling while I fuck you over a desk. Begging for my dick.”

You don’t even realize you are drooling down the desk and when you’re about to clean your chin, Haechan grabs your hands and pins them in place behind your back.

“No,” you whimper, falling flat with your chest pressing down the wooden table.  

“Yes, honey,” he mocks. “I want to see you become a mess for me. Should I take a snap of you like this? Send it to Professor Kim so he can see he will never have you like this?” He whispers against your ear. “Think I don’t know it was all a play? Not only you don’t like him, but you wouldn’t risk your reputation for a terrible fuck when you have a brain like yours.”

Your pussy clenches. It’s the way his voice sounds like velvet, it’s how deep it’s hitting you, it’s in his words, and the way it turns you on that your number one rival, the one that despises you, still knows your value.

“Still, I’m pretty sure he wishes he could see you like this,” he adds, biting your earlobe. “A shame he can’t, right?”

“Y-yes,” you mumble in a pathetic wail.   

“But maybe I could still keep it to myself,” his hips start moving with more force and you can’t hold back your moans as you clench around him. “Yeah? Want me to take a photo of you like this?”

You wish you could reply but words just don’t come out of your lips, brain emptying and eyes rolled back in your skull.

“Maybe another time,” he says, breath getting ragged as he keeps fucking into you with determination. “Don’t really want to pull away to take a pic of us.”

“There — there won’t be —fuck— another time,” you reply, forcing yourself to speak.   

Haechan snickers. “The mess between your legs tells me otherwise,” he mocks, reaching in front of you to play with your clit, making you shake. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, you deserve good things, even a good fuck from me.”

“Too much,” you cry out, feeling your eyes getting wetter as the orgasm starts choking you.

“No, you just haven’t had a decent orgasm in ages,” he retorts.

“Shut up! You know —shit— you know nothing.”

“Honey, I can only imagine you playing with yourself, but your hands or toys don’t come close to me,” he says, so smugly you can feel the smirk on his face.  And you can’t even retort because —as much as you hate it— he’s right.

“Come here,” he says, putting a hand over your shoulders to pull you closer to him. “Are you close?”

You nod, biting your lower lip until it bleeds because you’re sure the sound of your ass slamming against his hips is already a giveaway of what’s going on inside this room. You clench around him when he bites down your shoulder to muffle a louder groan as his hips start moving faster as he chases his climax.

You feel your legs give up as the second orgasm hits you and you hold against the desk again because you don’t know where else to hold on to. Haechan tries to keep his curses low, sticking his face in the crook of your neck and you feel you could come again just by his voice alone; his moans the pretties sounds you’ve ever heard.

“Oh god,” you breathe out when he gently lets go of your body and you can relax on the hard surface again, squirming in discomfort when he pulls out of you.

“I hope you didn’t tear my panties apart, too,” you say, rolling on your back, making him laugh.

“Don’t move, you’ll stain the skirt, it’s the only clean thing on the table,” he says, grabbing a napkin to prevent you from making even more of a mess.

“And who’s fault is that?” You ask, glaring at him.

“You should just thank me for the orgasm, better, two orgasms, I gave you.”

You huff, rolling your eyes, but still letting him clean you up, after all, the cum was his, so it’s his place to clean it. After you’re sure you won’t ruin the last untouched piece of clothes you have, you sit up, taking your —uncomfortably— wet panties to put them on.

“So…” he whispers as he cleans up the rest of the mess on the table and shoves your broken tights in his bag, “it was just for fun, right? You have no intentions with Mr…”

You break down laughing. “You’re so easy to fool. You seriously think I’ll ever let him see me like this?”

Haechan scoffs, finishing fixing his clothes before walking to the door. “It’s not about what you would do, is if you think of him.”

“I don’t,” you reply, following him even if you feel like your legs could give up any second. “I wonder if your jealousy was also a play,” you tease, nudging him as you two walk down the corridor to leave.

“It wasn’t jealousy, you would just have terrible taste if you truly liked him, and I have beef with him.”

You chuckle, deciding to believe him.

“Wait,” he says, stopping to search for something in his bag.

“I’ll go for the door, reach me,” you say, starting to head on, you’re not even sure you two could be there at that time. “Lee Donghyuck,” you curse when you try to push open the front door. “What did I say?”

He walks toward you nonchalantly and shrugs. “Yeah?”

“They locked us in!”

He smiles, shaking his head, and grabbing your hand. “Can you run?”

“What?” You blink a few times, trying to understand how his question fits the situation.

“After I fucked you like that, can you run?”

“Shush,” you scold, fearful someone might hear, you’re not sure who since you seem to be completely alone, but better safe than sorry. “And no, I don’t know, I… why would we run?”

“Do you trust me?” He asks, reaching out his hand for you to take.

“No,” you say resolutely.  

“Good,” he smirks before he starts running into the corridors, giving you no chance but to follow him, cursing and damming every life decision that led you here, with cum threatening to leak out of you after you finished having sex in the class of your Academy and are now running to go God knows where, locked inside the institute.

“Hyuck!” You scream when he runs up the stairs and you swear you never felt so much adrenaline rush in your blood but when he looks back for a second and shows you his big bright smile with his hair falling in his face perfectly, you swear the world stops and all your worries are lifted from your shoulders. Maybe you trust him. Maybe you need to be this carefree sometimes.

Your heart jumps in your throat when he pushes open an emergency door and the mild breeze of March runs over you. You breathe in deeply, pushing into your lungs the air and the first early spring scent, letting the wind play with your hair and your clothes while your hand never lets go of his.

And then you both start laughing. Never looking back, and terribly looking forward, watching your steps as you run down the emergency stairs. You laugh, and you’re happy and you can’t believe your fingers are still intertwined with the ones of your mortal enemy.

When you reach the ground floor, hidden in the back of the palace where the sun doesn’t shine, there are still some tears spilling out of your eyes. You two pant, trying to catch your breath, and look at each other before you have to look away or else you will start laughing again.

You can’t believe you followed him blindly.

Your hands are still intertwined.

With each passing day, Haechan is convinced he has a perfect plan. It’s all part of the original plan, but if he gets you to try out romantic things, not only will he distract you from your perfect grades but he will also make you come up with a song that will give him a perfect score.

There are some small details that Haechan didn’t even consider. Detail number 1: where this could lead you two and your relationship. Detail number 2: that while distracting you, he will inevitably distract himself. But he doesn’t get it until it’s too late.

Haechan can’t remember when you started to dress up so much every time you hang out. You always dress well, or maybe he is biased for thinking that even the most basic white turtleneck shirt and cargo pants when you are too done with life to put up your skirts, dresses, or cutely styled other types of outfits, look amazing on you. Yet, during these last few dates, you started doing more, playing more with your hairstyles, trying different make-up, and always looking perfect in whatever clothes you put on your body.

Haechan hates you. Now more than ever because this was supposed to be your silly little race to the top of your second academic year and yet here he is, feeling his heart pound in his throat as you walk toward him. With your hair in a slicked-back ponytail, a freaking heart-shaped side part, your short red dress, while the white cardigan covers your arms and shields you from the light breeze, and your red short heels tap on the asphalt and bring his attention to the white socks that reach you right below your knees, while your hand clench around a heart-shaped bag.

He hates you because he wants you too badly and he’s terrified this is crossing the lines of bland and stupid physical attraction.

You smile, calling him Hyuck and he’d love to scream because he can’t be so smart and yet so dumb at the same time. But he tries to ignore it, and smiles back at you, addressing you with your surname so he can put some distance between you. You don’t even get mad anymore, it makes you smile tenderly as you lower your face to the ground and tangle your arm with his to walk to the car. Now he hopes that the old sardine can will make you two blow up, not to kill you, but to don’t make you accept a date from him anymore.

But that old car struggles but doesn’t crash, and drives you to the restaurant safely.

“This place is so pretty,” your voice rings in his ears, bringing him out of the thought he’s struggling with since you walked out of your apartment.

“Yeah, it’s musically themed, thought it was a good idea.”

“And the dishes also have song names? That’s the best thing I’ve ever seen,” your face lightens up when you scan the menu and in reflection, he does too.

What the fuck are you doing? He curses when he catches himself lost on you, too focused giggling like a child as you catch the references between the songs and the plates. You look like a cliché embodiment of love, and he thinks you’ve done it on purpose. It’s way past Valentine’s Day, but he feels that Cupid is flying right above you, ready to play him a dirty trick.

“So? You picked?” You ask, bringing him out of his thoughts, and he shakes his head, coughing while glueing his eyes on the menu.

“Nope, I’m a bit uncertain,” he says, pretending he wasn’t just too busy staring at you a few moments ago.

You laugh, humming. “Oh, I know.”

“What did you get?” He asks, meeting your eyes above the paper in his hand.

“I wanted to get the Summer 69’ appetizer first,” you reply and he smirks.

“Are you hinting at something?”

“Oh, shut up, you perv! It just looks tasty, there are different appetizers from different parts of the world and it’s a cold start.”

“Then we can take the big one so we can share?”

“Sure,” you reply, smiling at him. “Oh, and then ‘I wanna dance with somebody’ as the main dish.”

“Do you?” He winks.

“I’m not sending you signals, I’m just starving,” you reply, rolling your eyes, but he hears the low giggle that you try to hold back.

“Fine,” he smiles. “I’ll take ‘Maneater’ in your honour.”

“I’m a maneater? Oh, thanks, the best compliment ever actually,” you say playfully.

He smiles, stopping for a second after he hands you his menu. “You look beautiful tonight, by the way.” And when your mouth parts and no sound come out of it, he thinks he screwed it up. It’s not the first time he compliments you but well, the other times didn’t sound so serious.

But then your face breaks in a smile, and your eyes light up, shily diverting the gaze as you thank him before the waitress saves you both from the embarrassment that’s tangible in the air.

“Karaoke? Are you being extremely nice, borderline perfect, tonight so you can show me the biggest twist ever?” You gasp when the karaoke downtown enters your line of view. You’ve been walking for a while now since he couldn’t find a spot nearby, but he never mentioned where your next stop would be.

“I’m always nice to you when we go out on da— like this,” Haechan replies, opening the door of the place for you to get in first. “Also, since we’ll have to record the song soon, I think it’s time to test our vocal abilities.”

You giggle, waiting for him before you start walking to the desk to book a room.

“Karaoke is for fun, never to show off you’re like Celine Dion.”

Haechan chuckles, nodding in agreement while you reach the booth that the lady at the counter assigned you.

“Right, I’m more like Ailee, actually,” he jokes, closing the door behind you.

“Prove it to me, I always hear your mouth run to talk shit but never to sing melodies, so…”

“Should we go for a duet?” He asks, starting the TV to scroll down the songs listed.

“Nope,” you say, sitting on the couch. “A solo song first.”

“Fine,” he says, humming as the titles pass in front of your vision. “Mhh, what about Dean?”

“Love him, would love him more if he came back from the death and dropped another album of the year,” you say, sitting back to fully enjoy Haechan’s performance.

He chuckles at your comment. “This one was a painful reminder,” he says before clicking on “Instagram,” making the logo of the place appear before the countdown, signalling the beat was about to start.

You never thought you would find yourself so caught up in him but when he opens his mouth, you feel like you’re being taken to another world.

His voice sounds like honey, so raw yet so lovely. And as he keeps singing, you think that he would be wasted as a producer, a voice like his deserves to be heard by everyone. But when he finishes, you don’t show any of the emotions you felt.

“Your performance was very touching,” you say while standing up to grab your mic, “but I’m a performer, so I’ll go with Queen Britney.”

“Can’t wait to see your Superbowl worth it performance,” he snickers, sitting back against the small couch in the room as he watches you getting ready.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you start, winking at him and swinging your hips to follow the rhythm of the music.

Haechan would love to find it as funny as he does at the start, but when you start singing for real, and moving around in the small boot, he gulps, feeling the air around him starting to dim. And it only gets worse when you turn around and start to perform for him. Of course, you know the song by heart, you don’t need to read the words, and you don’t need them to change colour to know when each verse, chorus and bridge starts.

“Oops, I did it again, I played with your heart,” you wink, tilting your head to the side, still moving your body to the beat. He can’t tell, not right at the moment, but he thinks you’re replicating the choreography. That’s the last worry in his mind.

I played with your heart.

And Haechan thinks you really did that. This doesn’t feel like a game anymore, and not even like sex. He looks at you, even right now, that you’re sensually singing a Britney Spears song, and he can only fucking smile like an idiot.

“Wow,” you exhale when the song ends, fanning yourself with your hand, “it’s really hot in here.”

“It definitely is,” he whispers, drifting his gaze from you.

“So? How was I?” You ask, head tilted to the side, and a big, bright smile on your face.

“Good,” Haechan mutters, catching himself staring at you for too long again, shaking his head, the red blush on his face is humiliating. “You were good.”

“Yes,” you cheer, clapping your hands. “Should we duet, now?”

He hums, grabbing the remote again and searching ‘duets’ in the search bar. “Sad, sexy or silly?”

You roll your eyes. “Really?”

“What? I’m trying to understand the vibe we want to go with.”

“I’ll let you pick,” you say just to regret it when you see the song choice on the screen. “Seriously? Anything you can do?”

“What? It’s fitting for how relationship,” he says nonchalantly.

“That’s a crazy choice.”

“Worried you can’t actually do better than me?” He winks, passing you the mic as the song loads on the screen.

“You’ll see,” you challenge with a glare.

One minute into the song you regret having agreed to that, not remembering the last time you sang like this, but the look on his face when it’s time for you to hold a long note for 15 seconds is worth it. And it keeps going until the end, as you both surprise each other with all the skills that this song requires.  

“Wow, you’re good,” you both say when the song ends and you break down laughing, a sound that grows bigger when the screen lights up to show a perfect score.

“Maybe we make a great couple together,” you say, laying back on the couch, tired from the singing.

Haechan turns to you, smirking and nodding. “I guess we do.”

You sit up, resting your chin on his arm. “Can you take another one?”

“Oh, don’t test me, baby.”

“So, ice cream is good for vocal cords?” You giggle as you walk to the side of the Han River with the ice cream in hand. It seemed like Haechan didn’t want to end the night anytime soon, but you don’t feel like complaining.

“Yeah,” he hums with conviction, licking another stripe of chocolate.  

“On which book you’ve read this scientific fact?”

“The ice cream ghost came to me one night and whispered the secret to my ear,” he jokes, making you laugh.

“Uhm, yeah, I think that ghosts are much more reliable than old men in white coats in a lab,” you joke, but then you remember something you wanted to talk about since you’ve walked out of the karaoke. “Mhh, you know what I was thinking?”

Haechan shakes his head, waiting for you to talk.

“I think we’re going down the wrong path with our song,” you voice out. “Especially me. A warmer, darker, I dare to say more sensual vibe, fits us better.”

Haechan chuckles and you glare at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he giggles, but he can’t lose against you so he goes on. “That’s the production, you know?”

You huff, rolling your eyes, and jumping on the handrail to sit. “I never said it wasn’t important.”

“Whatever,” he snickers. “So I have to scrap everything I’m working on?”

You shake your head, cleaning your hands after swallowing the last bite of the cone. “No, I was thinking about the second base you were working on, the one with the guitars and violins, remember?”

He hums, but he’s dangerously close to you, and you don’t understand why his hands wrap around your waist.

“I think we could use that and —” you gulp when he places his feet on the handrail under you and reaches your height, “and then I can change small things of my — my writing to fit more. What do you think?”

He smiles before it turns into his usual smirk. “I still think you’re worrying too much and you’re not letting it come to you,” he whispers, and the air of his breaths puffs on your lips before he erases the space between you and kisses you.

You feel your breath taken away as you feel like you’re falling behind in the river as the wind blows harder and your hands immediately leave the handrail to reach for him.

You’re not sure that wasn’t an attempted murder from him, but you can’t care when you feel your heart flutter and your legs give up as he deepens the kiss.

“Let it flow,” he whispers, kissing you again, whispering against your lips, “and the song will come at you.”

You know it’s not what he’s talking about, but you kiss him again, this time pushing him down so your feet are on the ground again. Your hands are holding tight on his sweatshirt as you pull him even closer and he does the same wrapping his arms around your frame tighter.

You find yourself in the same position in the living room of his apartment, struggling to make it to his bedroom without waking some of the others up. Not that you care much, it would be fair payback for all the chaos they make when you and Haechan are studying together.

The clothes fall on the floor as quickly as he’s on top of you on the bed.

“I hate that I have to ruin your pretty face,” he whispers, fingers deep inside your sopping wet cunt, pumping in and out painfully slowly as he stares at your face, a cute mix between ecstasy and annoyance because he’s giving you something but not enough. “The red eyeshadow looks really good on you, you know?”

You groan, rolling your head back. “It’s not time for compliments.”

“I’ve been complimenting you all night,” he says, teasing your clit with flicks of his thumb but without giving you much. “It is a shame you will look like a mess once I’m done with you.”

“We can’t be loud,” you say, hating that, for one reason or another, you two always have to keep quiet.

“Nah, Jeno has his headphones on playing games with Yangyang. Renjun has headphones on with music to don’t listen to Jeno. Mark’s not home and not even bombs wake Jaemin up.” The explanation is particularly non-sexy now that he has his fingers inside of you and it doesn’t make you relax much, but you hum nonetheless and beg him to keep going.

“Patience, honey. We’ve got all night,” he smirks.

“Yeah but —”

“Ah, ah,” he says, clicking his tongue and silencing you with a finger on your lips. “What did I tell you before? Let it flow.”

“It was different it was —ugh,” you mumble when he covers your mouth with his hand, eyes widening before they narrow to send him a deadly glare, but he only smirks. He has control now. He always does when he has you underneath him, he still has to fight with you a bit, but you both know this is the only time he can ever win against you. And tonight is special, he wants you to let go of the reins completely, he wants you brainless, because even if your brain is the sexiest thing of you —yeah, yeah, and the thing that is making his college years hell on earth— your brain is also the thing that makes you obsess over the smallest thing and doesn’t make you follow your heart so freely.

Yeah, tonight Donghyuck wants you free, but for the sake of the dirty talking later —and to fool himself he doesn’t care about you that much— he’s going to say he wants you dumb.

And he’s starting strong tonight, his beautiful, long fingers reaching deep inside you, hitting right against your sweet spot, causing so much cum to pool around them and drip down while your pussy clenches hard and your hips buck up to ride the pleasure with him. And you don’t have it in you to fight; it feels too good, especially when he starts rubbing your clit and whispers dirty talk about how well you’re taking him.

Your eyes flutter open, just in time to catch the proud smirk on his face as he stares at your body, you dare to say, in awe. It shouldn’t warm your heart, but it does. You don’t even care if he sees you like a prize he won, right now, because even if he does, you know he only fights hard to win the trophies he cares about. He wants you, he likes you, even. Between the hate and the tension, something about what attracts you two together makes this work. And it’s fine.

“Hyuck,” you breathe out, chest panting and toes curling as you feel the familiar knot in your stomach. But you don’t expect the next words that come out of your mouth. “Kiss me.” When you realize what you said, you anticipate him mocking you, your ears already hear the snicker you know, oh so well, but it never arrives. What arrives are his lips on yours as he leans down, pressing his chest against yours while his fingers keep working wonder inside you.

The kiss is passionate, but not rough like the ones you’re so used to sharing. There’s no anger in it, just need and greed, and chemistry. So much chemistry, your hands have to run in his hair and tug them, making him moan and his dick throb against your thigh.

“I want you so bad,” he slurs against your lips. “I will do some dumb shit one day for you.”

You don’t get what he means. You don’t even know what he could mean by that given the nature of your bond, but his words, mixed with the sultry tone of his voice, are enough to make you come. You barely register the orgasm, hitting you like a singular explosion of a firework, leaving you gasping, exploding as quickly as it came yet slowly running through your bones as the feeling tones down.

Haechan snickers softly. “You love it when I get in trouble for you, don’t you? Even when it’s just a promise.”

Your lips part to reply but he shuts you with a kiss. “No talking, not unless I tell you to. I know everything I need to know, your body tells me that,” he says, grinning like an idiot when he shows you his cum coated fingers, tapping them against your lips, silently ordering you to taste yourself. You would never do that, but tonight it’s like he’s commanding you like a puppet on a string, and you obey. Closing your lips around him and sucking hard.

He smirks, feeling his dick get even harder as he stares at your lips. “That’s what I do to you, pretty girl. And I’m not even started.”

Your pussy throbs in anticipation while he pulls his fingers out. You know he’s one to keep promise, and you can’t wait for what’s to come. But he’s taking too long, and you can feel his hard dick against your leg, so your hand creeps down to touch it.

“You’re not in command tonight, angel,” he says, grabbing your wrist to stop you from moving your hand on him.

“But I want you,” you whine, trying to win him with a pouty look on your face.

It doesn’t work as he pushes your hand over your head and leans in. “Patience, princess. Keep quiet, don’t be greedy and just trust me. Can you do that? Or is it too hard for you?” He groans against your ear, making your hips buck up.

“I — I can,” you whisper but he stops with a glare and your brain replays his words ‘quiet, no words from you tonight,’ and he means it. So you nod, breathing in deeply as you feel weak in the knees for the way he looks at you.

“Good girl,” he says, pushing up to stand between your legs, pushing them open.

When he slips inside you, you gasp, dragging your nails on his back. “Are you alright?”

You nod, forcing yourself to look into his eyes.

“Good, and now,” he whispers, kissing your lips, and dragging out of you, “I want you to give into me and completely turn your brain off. You have me, that’s all you need right now.”

When he starts moving in and out, your body succumbs to the pleasure. Your muscles relax as you let him take care of you. His lips trace over your sensitive skin, leaving kisses on your neck and chest. His hands run over your body, touching and squeezing every inch. And he reaches so deep inside of you that you feel you can barely breathe.

“Just like this,” Haechan whispers close to your ear, gently biting the skin on your jaw. “Don’t think about anything,” he groans, hitting you deep after pulling out of you completely. “Not a single worry in that pretty brain of yours.”

You rarely let him win, but you have to admit that the way he makes you feel, the way he can lift all the stress off your shoulders, is a talent. He knows what he’s doing, and the scary thing is that he knows how to get you. So easily wrapped around his fingers, crumbling into nothing at his tiniest touch.

You whimper loudly when his fingers press against your clit, seeing stars at the new stimulation.

“You can take it,” he groans. You’re about to talk but he traps your lips in a messy, wet kiss as he pulls you closer by your waist, hitting even deeper. “You’re a good girl, right? You can take it.”

You’re doubtful, but you do take it, over and over again. You lose track of time and stop counting your orgasms after the third. There’s no need for that. All you need is the pleasure Donghyuck gives you, fucking you until both of you can’t do it anymore.

There’s nothing left once it’s over, no strength to talk or clean up the mess, just the warmth of your bodies cuddled against each other.

“Good morning, I will kill Lee Je — what the hell,” Renjun exclaims, entering the kitchen, making you turn around as if you’ve been caught stealing, holding the mug full of coffee in your hands and giving him a shy smile. “What are you doing here?”

You gulp, pushing your hair out of your face before coming up with a lie. “We studied too late.”

Renjun steps further into the room, staring at you with a raised brow before he tilts his head and studies how you’re dressed. You’re wearing Donghyuck’s sweater and pants.

“Oh, now they call it studying? Last time I checked you’re not med students, didn’t know music had anatomy in the program,” he taunts, grinning at you as he comes to your side.  

You choke on your saliva and don’t have time to come up with a reply because he strikes again.

“Oh, no, maybe you were exercising vocalization, it’s better when it’s done together, right?” He winks and you glare at him.

“It’s not what you think,” you lie, but honestly you feel so embarrassed about everything. You didn’t think anybody else would be up this early on a Sunday, but it’s clear you don’t know Renjun well. You could’ve left, but you didn’t want to. It was slowly starting to sink in that you didn’t like the solitude of your life anymore.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody,” he says, sitting in front of you. “Come here, don’t stay up.”

You do as told, and smile when he offers you a pack of biscuits. “I would’ve cooked something usually, but Jeno kept me up all night.”

You chuckle. “It’s fine, normally I don’t even have breakfast.”

“You don’t?” He gasps, and you nod.

“Yeah, just coffee.”

He looks down at you, shaking his head in disappointment. “It’s not healthy.”

“I know, I know, I’ll try to eat more, okay? For you.” You reach out your hand and he takes it.

A fit of cough brings both of your gazes to the door and you see Haechan stand against the frame. “Once it’s Jeno, another time it’s Renjun. I bring you home to study and you flirt with my friends.”

“Drop the bullshit, Hyuck. He knows,” you say, rolling your eyes.

Haechan’s eyes widen, but he slowly fakes indifference. “Knows what? That you don’t have time for a relationship so you can’t date him?”

“That you two fuck,” Renjun answers instead, making him cough.

“That’s not true,” he defends. “I hate her,” he says, laughing, but when he meets your eyes and sees them sadden, he feels pain in his heart. “No, no, I don’t hate her, but we’re… you know our relationship, why would we fuck?”

“Who’s fucking?”

“Not you, Jeno. Not you for sure,” Renjun says, rolling his eyes.

“Hey! Why do you always gotta be so rude,” Jeno whines.

“I doubt he’s not getting laid,” you chuckle, and Jeno winks playfully.

“See, words of a wise woman,” he brags, walking to the fridge to grab something.

Renjun sighs loudly. “A woman that doesn’t know you.”

“Would you fuck him?” Haechan asks out of nowhere and you glare at him.

“I just said that he’s hot and smart, I don’t see how he can have a hard time finding somebody,”

“’Cause he’s annoying,” Renjun answers, but Haechan’s not listening.

“I didn’t ask that,” Donghyuck says instead, his attention is all on you as if there’s nobody else in the room.  

“I don’t answer stupid questions,” you reply before sipping from your cup and drifting your gaze away.

“Wait, why are you here?” Jeno asks, only now realizing you’re not supposed to be at their place, not in the morning at least… wait… “Wait! Are you two fuck—”

“No,” Haechan answers sternly, glaring at him. “We’re studying. And it got late, so since we were closer to my place, I let her stay the night.”

“I thought you left yesterday saying you had a date, though,” Jeno says confused.

You chuckle under your breath before you feel Haechan’s hand wrap around your writs to pull you out of the room, not even giving you time to finish your coffee. “A studying date, and now drop it.”

When you reach his room, he groans loudly, walking to the closet to pick something to wear. You watch him move for a while, but then you can’t keep your thoughts inside your head anymore.

“Are you ashamed of me?” You ask and he turns around with wide eyes.

“What?”

“Am I something to be ashamed of? Do I don’t fit in the standard of the people you would usually fuck?”

He sighs, shaking his head. “No, I don’t want them to get invasive, they don’t let me live once they know something. And with you, it’s more embarrassing because of our history…”

You giggle, trying not to show the relief you’re feeling because, for a moment, you thought he was one of those types of men.

“Why can’t you ever make things easy for me?” He asks, annoyance in his voice. You have so much power over him, more than he likes to admit, and he feels like he can’t even be too mad at you about it.

“Sorry, it’s just, it’s funny having a history with you,” you explain. “My mortal enemy, always ready to steal my number ones, and my good grades.”

“You’re so annoying, you’re never sleeping over ever again.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I won’t let you fuck me ever again.”

“Liar,” he says. “And now move, I’ll drop you home.”

you can find part two on my account on the story masterlist or haechan’s masterlist (i can’t link it because if i do the post won’t appear in the tags)

general taglist: @froggyforhyuck, @wingsss45, @tddyhyck, @technologyculturedneo

fic taglist: @hcluvie, @gusgus0517, @multifandomania, @413cl, @odgsuji,

@hey-hey-heybitch, @nctrawberries, @n0hyuck, @haechoshi,

@girlwholoveslpreppyattire, @viciousdarlings, @hyuckmoon,

@jaeymark, @hqech, @xntlax, @milkyway-vxm, @fullsunahceah,

@beomgyusonlywife, @toroufriteh, @yesohhsehun @shxnz

@haecastor, @hyucksaint, @sk8ermark, @midnightrained

@maiteeeeesstuff, @smwhrinthehaze, @yoursyuno

© neowinestaindress ; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. 

[haecastor]

HELLOOOOOO !!!! i'm back for another review hehehe here we gooooo~

You felt like testing your luck when his notes weren’t back on his desk, but you had no idea it could get worse than that, until it got. When he deleted an essay from your computer and you had to remake and finish the work of five days in five hours, so you cancelled a project he was working on for another assignment you had. And then he erased the recording of a course from your phone, so you ripped his notebook in front of his eyes (and his roommates too).

- They are so damn petty omg i love them 😭😭

“No, you don’t,” you say but before you can realize he rips the notebook from your hands and snaps a picture of the two pages you wrote. “Hey! That’s not fair. That’s my work.” “Your amazing summarizing skills and my artistic skills. I don’t gift beautiful sunflowers to just anybody.” “Beautiful sunflowers?” You snicker, starting to walk down the stairs, pushing the notebook into your bag as Haechan follows at your side.

- y/n do you realize you can rip it away while he's taking the pics unless he's holding the book up and your height is too small for it AND THAT IS WHERE I FIND IT CUTE OMG THESE TWO 😩💗

“Are you busy this Saturday?” He asks while he strums with the guitar to come up with a chord progression for your song.

“Yeah, why?” You reply, poking the cap of the pen to your cheeks, drifting your eyes on him.

“Want to go out with me?”

- THE WAY I FUCKING SCREAMMMM

“Hi,” he says. “Anything to fix before we leave?” “Don’t say that, they will hear you and break all together.” Haechan laughs, briefly looking at your body, mostly covered because it’s still cold outside and you have way too many layers on you.

- nemesis dont speak like this to each other but okayyyy whatever makes you two happy (and still in denial) i guess

“I’m stating facts. Are the airbags still working? Is the oil level high enough? The battery? And the water for —” Your eyes widen when his lips crash on yours. At first, it’s a harsh attempt to shut you up, but then his lips shily go for more, moving along yours with a small flame of need.

- LEE HAECHAN PLS GIVE A HEAD UP FOR ONCE I DONT WANT TO SUDDENLY FEEL BUTTERFLIES FLYING FROM MY STOMACH TO MY LUNGS

One time, he even made you try edibles to see if you could come up with something, but you ended up making out on the floor instead, so you stopped going for that path.

- edibles.... stoner!hyuck OH GOSH YOU DONT KNOW HOW MUCH THAT GENRE IS MAKING ME SEEING HAECH HOTTER THAN HE ALREADY ARE. and now youre building a stoner but also education smart hyuck, I MIGHT EXPLODE 😩😩❤️‍🔥

“No, but I’m pretty sure he fantasizes about having you bent over his desk and, fuck, it drives me mad.” He groans. “No, I hate the way he looks at you, and talks to you, the last thing he had to do today was to call you a good girl in front of the whole class.”

-and now a possessive hyuck??? OH. MY. GOD. YES PLEASE KEEP EVERYTHING COMING

“Do I?” you tease. “Want to be first at something?”

- THE WAY I FUCKING SCREAMMMM (2)

“No, I’m the dumb one, remember? You are smarter than me, you know everything. I’m always a step behind, I need you to guide me step by step,” he mocks in a condescending tone, pouting.

- ah ahaha haha... THAT FUCKING REMARK COMING OUT FROM THAT DAMN SEXY LIPS.... maybe im the one that down bad for him

Haechan groans. Out of all the people, out of all the professors, he has a very personal beef with him that started at the start of the year and the way you just praise him so much —even outside of this specific situation where he got you’re messing up with him— drives him insane.

- I NEED A POSSESSIVE HYUCK SO BAD 😩😩😩😩😩

“Hyuck!” You scream when he runs up the stairs and you swear you never felt so much adrenaline rush in your blood but when he looks back for a second and shows you his big bright smile with his hair falling in his face perfectly, you swear the world stops and all your worries are lifted from your shoulders. Maybe you trust him. Maybe you need to be this carefree sometimes.

- we all need a Lee Donghyuck, i will say it (IN BEHALF OF ALL OF US)

There are some small details that Haechan didn’t even consider. Detail number 1: where this could lead you two and your relationship. Detail number 2: that while distracting you, he will inevitably distract himself. But he doesn’t get it until it’s too late.

- HERE WE GOOO THE CRUCIAL PART

“I want you so bad,” he slurs against your lips. “I will do some dumb shit one day for you.”

- he is down bad, everyone. HE IS DOWN BAD, I REPEAT.

i will separate this into two parts too ><

[heartseungs-archive]

the dreams we’re scared of | l.dh

genre ♠ murder mystery au, thriller, romance, angst

pairings ♠ crime scene investigator! haechan x reader

word count ♠ 17.8k

synopsis ♠ There’s something about seeing a dead body in front of you that makes it more real, almost as if the death is your own. But when your nights get more sleepless with every new victim, Haechan fears you may be in over your head. Especially if a serial killer’s still on the move, watching every move the both of you make.

warnings ♠ kidnapping, mentions of blood, violence, vulgar language, mentions of alcohol (nothing too graphic however this is a murder mystery so dead bodies are described to some relative detail)

info ♠ the idea of csi! haechan is just really sexy. i’ve never actually watched csi​​

Your footsteps are the only sound that accompanies you at this time of night, besides the occasional lone cricket. Here, the shadows seem longer, and the distance between each streetlight further and further. The one that you pass flickers brokenly, gnats buzzing in and out of your vision.

The darkness is solid enough that you could touch it if you wanted. Yet, with every step you take, it retreats just a little, enough for you to see the tips of your white sneakers against the rough gravel pavement. It continues on until you see the familiar street sign. You’ve walked this alley hundreds of times, but it never gets any better.

You’re strangely tense, but you suppose it’s just because of the jitters that being alone naturally gives. Still, there’s an uneasy feeling resting in your chest, the pace of your breathing slightly heavier.

Tonight feels different. Even the moon is hiding behind the clouds, almost as if it’s scared. It’s nothing, you tell yourself, but your pace gets just that tiny bit faster.

However, there’s a slight dissonance to the footsteps. You’re not the best at hearing, but it doesn’t just seem like an echo.

You pause, just briefly.

The sound of footsteps continues.

Something is very, very wrong, and the feeling of danger seizes you, enough for you to start breaking into a run.

The rapid thudding of someone else’s shoes against the ground follows immediately, and you try to focus on the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears, the cadence of your breathing.

You’re so close to the exit of the alley, the turn to the main road, that you can see the light leaking onto the pavement from the corner of your vision.

You’re so near that you begin to hear the familiar rumble of the cars on the highway when a hand grabs you roughly and you fly back.

A choked scream barely escapes you before your body is slammed against the pavement painfully and your face follows after. You don’t even get to see the man above you, his face veiled.

Darkness surrounds you, heavy and choking and endless, and you sink into it like quicksand, unable to escape.

Your eyes fly open wide, and there’s a soft gasp that escapes you. Around you are the walls of that exact same alley, but sunlight floods through brightly, and you can see the little cracks in the cement, bits of green poking through.

Another difference is that the alley is not deserted, but instead filled with the buzz of chatter, and the occasional chuckle.

The very last, and likely most important difference is that the girl lying dead on the floor isn’t you, but Kim Mijoo, twenty-six years of age, estimated time of death 3.45am.

You stride over, ducking underneath the yellow tape that blocks off the crime scene. For a job so macabre, the vibrant colour seems abnormally cheery and out of place.

“I think I’ve figured it out,” you state to the two men who are there before you are. Doyoung has his arms crossed, worrying his lip tiredly when he turns to face you. Next to him, a man with pink hair is crouched down next to the body, inspecting it closely. When he looks up at you, eyes curious, your breath hitches.

Not the time, Y/N. For god’s sake, there’s a dead body. You scold yourself, but it doesn’t do much.

“I think the assailant grabbed her from behind. There’s very obvious head trauma, but it doesn’t seem to be from a weapon. He probably slammed her head into the gravel, and that’s why there are bits of it embedded in her skin. The wounds on her neck seem like strangling, but there’s no evidence of a struggle. She was likely already unconscious or dead when he did it.” Your face is blank as you describe it, and Doyoung tries to hold back a grimace, but he nods. A glimmer of pride enters your heart, but it’s quickly quashed by a bitter feeling when you look down at Mijoo. Having her name makes it feel personal, almost as if you know her.

Haechan remains silent as he looks at you, gaze heavy. You try to avoid it.

“We’ll go with that for now, and confirm it when we get the medical report. Let’s head back to the office for now, and see what we can get from the evidence,” Doyoung states grimly, before waving over the coroner.

The last you see of Mijoo is her face, bloody and bruised, before it is zipped up smoothly into a pristine white bag. Still, your eyes follow as she’s dragged into a van unceremoniously like a piece of cargo.

Doyoung is already ahead of the both of you, getting into his own car.

“You need to stop putting yourself into the shoes of the victims,” Haechan mutters lowly, and you jump at his voice. In the sunlight, his faded pink hair is almost bronze. His face lacks any amusement, and you shrug.

“It gets the job done. You saw how Doyoung looked. Everyone’s stressed,” you defend.

“Still, that can’t be good for anyone. Or healthy.” There’s a sliver of concern in Haechan’s voice, and you smile shakily at him. Haechan’s right, like he is most of the time. There’s still cold sweat beading at the base of your neck from your little spiel, and a chill that refuses to leave. Still, it’s insignificant compared to the fear that Mijoo must have felt, and that’s what you tell yourself each time you allow your overly vivid imagination to aid you.

The both of you remain quiet on the journey back, and you try to enjoy the bustling scenery of Seoul that passes you by. However, Mijoo’s face keeps flashing in your memory, unwilling to leave. You’re quite sure it won’t until the case is closed.

When you finally enter the station, you’re immediately hit in the face by the freezing air-conditioning, and the frantic buzz of activity. Neither you nor Haechan slow your footsteps, however, as the both of you turn a corner and take the private staff elevator up to the sixth floor. The office here is much quieter, an almost deathly calm, which you suppose is appropriate for the kind of work you do.

You’ve been in the Major Crime Division for three years, and the work only gets more interesting day by day.

“Y/N. Haechan. Doyoung’s waiting for the both of you in his office.” Jaemin’s desk is near the front of the office, and he’s always the first to welcome the both of you with a smile. You try to grin back, but Jaemin doesn’t expect much. He’s obviously heard of the events that transpired this morning, and he was the one to get the civilian call when the body was reported.

You don’t bother to knock when you slide open the glass door of Doyoung’s office, which is as clean as the first day you walked in and he handed you your badge. A wooden nameplate lies on his desk, the word ‘Superintendent’ emblazoned in glossy letters.

“Here’s what information we have on her. Kim Mijoo works as a waitress at a bar in ltaewon, which explains why she was out so late. She lives in Gangseo, and was murdered along Gangseo-ro 76 gil.”

You hear Haechan’s sharp intake of breath at Doyoung’s words, and know that he’s thinking the exact same as you. Gangseo has the highest violent crime rate in Seoul, and for good reason. No one in their right mind would go there late at night, unless they had to. For her to be a waitress in Itaewon and live in Gangseo…it was likely that Mijoo wasn’t just a waitress, but offered more to her customers.

It seemed in poor taste to point out the obvious truth, and you’re grateful for the silence that befalls the room. She had already died an undignified death that she didn’t deserve, even if most people on the street would sneer at her choice of occupation.

Yet, you saw it for what it was. A woman who needed to keep a roof over her head somehow. Not so different from yourself.

Despite his tendency to crack jokes in inappropriate situations, you’re grateful for Haechan’s tactfulness now, as he remains sombre, standing next to you.

“Apparently, she’s made a report for sexual harassment against a man by the name of Yang Seojun, but that happened two years ago. Still, it’s one of the only leads we have.”

You look up sharply, your mind spinning through possibilities. “It has to be someone she knows. The crime seems premeditated, and they must have known her path home. Seojun may be a main suspect, but it could very well be a customer or a colleague,” you reasoned.

“I suppose we’ll have to make a trip down to Itaewon then,” Haechan replies simply, hands tucked into his slacks. Doyoung nods. “The both of you go ahead. I’m still waiting for forensics to get back to us. I want the both of you off work punctually though, got it?”

His tone is stern, but you nod, knowing that he’s doing it out of concern. For all his coldness and sharp tongue, Doyoung is a good superior to you and Haechan. He doesn’t misuse his power, doesn’t make unreasonable requests, and pulls his weight as much as anyone else. He’s part of the reason why you’ve enjoyed working here so much, even if the pay is less-than-ideal.

You’re back in Haechan’s car again before you know it, the address of the bar keyed into his GPS. He drums his hands on the steering wheel, occasionally humming to whatever song is playing out of the speakers.

“Can you not look so damn excited? We have a crime to solve on our hands,” you huff, levelling a sharp glance at Haechan. He simply shrugs in acknowledgement. “Unlike you, I’m not some psychic empath. Itaewon is fun, even if we’re technically on official work.”

“You better not run off,” you warn dangerously, and Haechan smiles smugly. “I won’t drink until the questioning is done, okay?”

“That’s fine, I suppose.”

The journey down to Itaewon is slowed by the heavy buzz of traffic and heralded by the slow change of grey-toned skyscrapers to neon lights. The area that both of you are in is further from the most crowded parts of Itaewon and looks much older.

“This place is deserted,” Haechan mutters when he’s done parking his car, keys casually dangled in one hand. You narrowly avoid a puddle that’s filled with trash and something that's very evidently not water, trying not to wince at the smell of vomit.

“Well, it’s a Monday. I doubt many people would be out partying at this time,” you reply as the both of you push open a glass door that is smudged with grime. The stairs are narrow as you descend, and your grip on the railing is tight.

When you reach the bottom, however, the walls are noticeably newer, leading to two dark wooden doors that are in much better condition. Haechan knocks sharply thrice, before stepping back.

After what seems like an eternity, the door opens, and a lady steps out. Soft jazz music escapes from the bar into the cramped hallway that both of you are standing in. She’s wearing a long-sleeved black dress, her hair pulled back in a neat bun with two perfectly-placed curls framing her face. Her eyes are catlike, sharp as she takes in the both of you.

“We’re not open yet. Come back in three hours.” However, before she can shut the door, Haechan quickly jabs his foot in. In close quarters, he towers over her, his expression void of emotion. If you didn’t know him, you would probably be intimidated. Still, the woman’s gaze remains steely, her hand resolutely on the door handle. You suppose she has plenty of experience with troublemakers, and Haechan’s actions are barely a cause for concern.

“We’re conducting an investigation on behalf of the National Police Agency. Senior Inspectors Lee Haechan and Y/N L/N, Major Crime Division. I’m afraid you’ll have to let us in.” Haechan’s tone is polite, but with an underlying sharpness that tells you he’s not joking.

If he has to, he’ll break down this door to get what he needs.

However, the lady just smiles even wider, her pearly-white teeth a stark contrast from the shade of blood-red that her lips are painted. “I’ve had people come in here telling me they’re superintendents, executives, chaebols, and diplomats. Most of them were vastly overselling their identities. Unless you have proof or a warrant, I don’t want to see you here.”

“You have an employee. Kim Mijoo. She left this place at around three am on Friday,” you interject, and Haechan turns back to look at you.

Something flashes in the woman’s eyes, and she immediately focuses on you. “Did Mijoo get into any trouble?”

You feel as if you detect a hint of fear in her voice, but you ignore it for now. “Not trouble. She was murdered. We’re currently investigating, so it would be wise of you to not obstruct a public official’s duty.”

There is a beat of silence, and then two. Your eyes remain fixed on her as she swallows, eyes blinking minutely. Finally, the pressure on Haechan’s feet is eased, and she retreats backwards.

“I suppose there’s no avoiding my civic duty, then. Come in.” Her voice is level when she speaks again, with no evidence of any shock.

The bar inside is surprisingly upscale, considering its dilapidated exterior. The walls are lacquered wood with hints of gold, and your shoes clack softly against the black marble floor. You follow her past the bar counter, into a hallway filled with curtains. She pushes one aside to reveal a private room, gesturing for the both of you to take a seat.

The plush velvet of the armchair is soft against your back, but your back remains stiffly straight. You’re never really able to relax while on duty, while Haechan easily slouches back into a relaxed posture.

“We’ve got an hour until my employees come in, so that’s the time you have. There aren’t any cameras in this room either, so don’t worry about that.”

The image in her file finally corresponds with the woman sitting in front of you, who looks vastly different with make-up. This is Song Chaeyeon, thirty-four years of age and the owner of the bar that Mijoo has been working at for the past eighteen months.

“Great. We just have a few questions. What is your relationship with the victim?”

“She’s just an employee. We are friendly enough, I suppose. However, she is much closer to a few of the other girls that work here.”

“Do you know anyone who might have had a motive for the crime? An unruly customer, perhaps?” Chaeyeon shakes her head.

“Our customers are all regulars. They’re familiar with the girls here. No one would try anything, as far as I know. However, if the girls get personally involved with their clients, then….I can’t guarantee. But no one would know that except them.” You understand what she’s insinuating. Prostitution may be outlawed, but there are so many other possibilities.

“We’ll need a list of all the employees here, along with any customers that Mijoo has interacted with, even in passing. In addition, we’ll need corroboration for the whereabouts of everyone on that list on the night of the murder. It would also be good if we could speak to the employees that Mijoo is close to today. Otherwise, they can come down to the station within the week,” you say monotonously as if reciting a script. This isn’t your first murder investigation, but it is the most confusing one.

Haechan has remained silent throughout the entire thing, but it’s no surprise to you. He prefers not to be involved in the technical procedure, which you’ve naturally taken over instead. As much as either of you hate to say it, he’s the muscle when the both of you are out on official duty. Although you’ve never encountered any real danger, or deliberately put yourself in a situation that might warrant serious risk, it feels good having a safeguard, a partner to watch your back.

And once the both of you return to the station, he’s the first one to throw himself headfirst into research and pore over the information you’ve gathered, while you’re there mainly to bounce ideas and help with organization.

“You can speak to them today. Everyone will be here, as we get ready for the week. If the both of you are willing to wait in this room, they should be here soon.” You nod, attempting a polite smile. Despite her cold demeanour, she has been helpful, and you have no interest in getting on her bad side unnecessarily, especially since this is one of the few sources of information you have.

She casts another glance at Haechan, who remains unmoving. You nudge him with your elbow, but he ignores it, only humouring you with a tilt of his head. After a pause, she leaves, and the only thing that remains is the unfamiliar scent of her floral perfume.

“Thoughts?” You finally give in to your curiosity, wondering what’s kept Haechan silent all this time.

“I don’t particularly trust her, but we’ll have to work with it,” he states, resting his hands on his knees while the both of you are temporarily allowed some solitude.

The first person you interview is a shaky, nervous waiter who barely looks past twenty. He responds to each one of your questions with a stutter, evidently distraught from the moment he walked into the room. From the way you meet Haechan’s eyes and he sighs, you know this isn’t the person you’re looking for.

The second one is more promising, however. If Chaeyeon is to be believed, this is Mijoo’s closest friend at her workplace, a girl who only joined a few months after her.

“Xiaoting. You’re not a local, are you?” Haechan asks, and she shakes her head. “Moved here a decade ago. I’ve got my papers at home, if you need to verify that.” Her voice is terse, as if anticipating the question you have on the tip of your tongue.

Sometimes, you find yourself hating it too, the way they shrink back from you, knowing the authority you represent. It’s most definitely not a burden for you to shoulder, and neither is the blame on Haechan, but he understands, squeezing your hand comfortingly and taking over the questions.

“There’s no need. Thank you for cooperating with this investigation. We asked Chaeyeon this just now, but do you know anyone that Mijoo was closely involved with?”

“Close enough to motivate a murder?” Her tone is direct, and you are slightly taken aback, but you nod.

“There are a few that come around here and there, but I see Woo Eunhyuk with Mijoo most often. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of him, but Yang Seojun. He was Mijoo’s ex-boyfriend.”

“The one that she made a harassment report against,” Haechan mutters absentmindedly.

“Yeah. They broke up about three years ago. But he kept coming to find her, and got drunk here. Smashed a few bottles in the process too. I’ve never seen him threaten her, though. But if you’re asking me who murdered her, I’d only have one obvious suspect,” she replies, and you hum in thought. It’s plausible enough. A classic story of a violent ex and a crime of passion fits the bill a little too perfectly, and it’s definitely something the newspapers would love. It would be easy to simply close the investigation there, but you’re not too excited to come to a conclusion just yet.

“You’ve been very helpful, Xiaoting. If there’s nothing, I think we’re done here.” Xiaoting nods, but she seems to hesitate slightly, as if there’s something she wishes to say.

“Mijoo was my friend. I know what other people think of us, working in places like this, but she didn’t deserve any of that,” she says nervously, eyes aimed at her lap. Her shoulders are sunken, and you feel a sense of sorrow for the girl. She’s likely no older than you.

“Feel free to call us if you need anything, or if you think of any other information that might be helpful. We’ll do our best,” you reply, and Xiaoting smiles gratefully at the both of you.

As you and Haechan exit, the image of Xiaoting sitting in the room alone, shoulders sunken, lingers. You jolt slightly when you realise it’s already dark outside, the sun rapidly setting. The streets are slightly more crowded now, and your phone lights up with a text from Doyoung. Despite the fatigue, you smile at his message, which is an insistent reminder to get off work.

“You know what? I think I need a drink,” you state, rubbing at your temples, and Haechan lets out a scoff.

“Drinking when we have work tomorrow? How unlike you,” he teases, but Haechan is quick to stride towards the nearest bar he sees, the red pop-up tent visible from a mile away.

He holds the curtain open for you as you step in, the odd chivalry of the gesture causing your lips to tilt up. Inside the small space, the sound of chatter seems intensified, your other senses dulled by the steam that billows above the food.

You and Haechan find yourselves a table in the corner, the feeling of the rickety stool strangely comforting. Before you know it, there are four bottles of soju on the table and two steaming bowls of kalguksu in front of you, along with a few sides. You realise that neither of you have had a meal since you headed down to the crime scene in the late morning, and you’re starving. For a while, both you and Haechan don’t talk at all, instead focused on the food.

“I know Doyoung said we’re off work, but I think we have an obvious target. Even then, something about this doesn’t feel right. I feel like there’s more to this.”

“Xiaoting said that he hadn’t been to the bar in months, since the last time he appeared and Mijoo had to chase him out. So why would he murder her now?” he questions, and you shrug.

“Premeditated crimes take time. Even then, six months is a long time to wait to kill someone, I suppose.” You’re lost in thought, and Haechan grabs the empty shot glass from your hand to refill it.

“Something might have instigated it. A confrontation, maybe.”

“Do you think we can get access to Mijoo’s phone? Text messages, perhaps.”

“From what I heard, the water damage was a little too much for the old model. But Jisung and Chenle will see what they can do,” he assures, and you nod, deciding to leave it at that for now. As much as you enjoy your work, you don’t wish to pester Haechan with thoughts on it, not when the entire purpose of this meal is to unwind.

The first day is always the worst day, and it doesn’t get better until the both of you solve the case. And then the cycle starts all over again.

You watch as Haechan orders two more bottles, and you squint at him, confused. “Didn’t we agree on four bottles?”

“We’re not university students anymore, Y/N. You can handle a bit more than two bottles. If not, I’ll just drink the rest,” is Haechan’s smooth reply, and in your slightly tipsy state, you don’t question his statement.

The both of you had instituted that rule for both your sakes after a bad test had the both of you downing ten bottles and waking up with a splitting headache and no memory of the night before. Four bottles were comfortable enough that you felt the effects, but outside of the dangerous territory where you might do things you would regret.

Two hours later, there’s only one full bottle left on the table, and you’re really feeling the effects of the alcohol now, while the man in front of you is still relatively sober, the flush on his neck the only betrayal of his sobriety. Haechan wavers occasionally in your vision, and you grin at him.

As much as you don’t believe in using alcohol to avoid your problems, it feels nice to have it temporarily shifted to the back of your mind, clouded by the drowsiness that is quickly flooding into your limbs.

“Hello, Hyuckie,” you mumble to no one in particular, but Haechan perks up. He hasn’t heard the nickname in years, and you only seem to use it when you’re tipsy or extremely tired. Usually both. He takes a quick glance at his watch. It’s half past ten, and he runs calculations through his head. The both of you have to be in the office at nine tomorrow, and you wake up at seven-thirty.

“Y/N, we should go,” he says, tugging at your arm, but you only look up at him, smiling blearily. Up close, your face is flushed, your eyes clouded as you blink drowsily to clear your vision. Your bleary-eyed expression is cute, Haechan thinks, but he quickly dismisses the thought in favour of pulling you up from the seat and towards the exit.

He needs to get you home. Otherwise, you’re going to be dead on your feet from exhaustion tomorrow.

He’s quick to hail a cab while keeping an insistent grip on your arm to ensure you don’t wander off. You’re much more excitable when you’re drunk, a complete opposite from your usually composed self. It’s a direct contrast from Haechan, who’s loud when sober and withdraws into himself once the alcohol hits. And as much as he finds the way you act endearing, he’s also half-terrified he’ll turn around to see you gone in the crowd of people.

The entire drive, the taxi driver keeps glancing back at the both of you, and Haechan thinks it’s because he’s terrified that one of you might puke your guts out into his car. When the car stops, he slips the elderly man a few extra notes, before helping you out gingerly.

He lets out a sigh of relief when the both of you are finally outside your apartment door, and Haechan reaches underneath the doormat for the spare keys, not trusting your hand-eye coordination right now.

He’s halfway in and his shoes are off before he realises you haven’t followed him in, instead leaning against the wall of the corridor half-asleep.

“You are the most troublesome person I know,” he complains as he drags you in, only to be met with a weak hit on his back.

“I wonder what everyone at the office would say if they knew that you were prone to such violent tendencies,” Haechan mutters, only to be hit another time.

“They would say…that you’re a big bully. Who’s always stubborn and makes me do all the boring work,” you retort. However, Haechan can’t take you very seriously, especially when your eyes are closed while you say it. He lets out a barely-audible laugh, and immediately guides you to your room, where you’re quick to lie down.

“Well, this big bully is the one getting you home safe and into bed. You’ll thank me when you wake up,” he says, unlacing your sneakers, but he looks up when he doesn’t get a response. Your breathing has slowed, and Haechan realises you must have fallen asleep. Despite himself, he smiles.

You’ll complain about sleeping with your work clothes on, but there’s nothing much Haechan can do. He’s done a rather decent job of removing your makeup, or at least that’s what he thinks as he disposes of the wipes in the bin. There’s a set of his clothes that he keeps here for occasions such as these, and he’s quick to make himself comfortable on your couch.

You had added a few more pillows a few months ago at his protest, and Haechan found it much easier to fall into a drowsy state, addled by the alcohol.

His last thought is of you, before his eyes finally close and he drifts off.

“Can anyone get in touch with Woo Eunhyuk? I’ve been ringing his line all morning,” you state, frustration creeping into your tone. Of all the inconveniences to befall you, this one feels particularly pointless.

“He’s currently on a business trip in the US and won’t be back till the end of the month,” Jaemin replies, and you try not to sigh. A month is a long time, especially when he’s a prime suspect.

“If he was just a normal businessman, we’d have a much easier time,” Haechan points out, and you glance at him. “What do you mean?”

“Searched the guy up out of curiosity. He has a net worth of twenty million.” Jaemin lets out a low whistle at that, and you crumple the paper in your fist unwittingly. You understood what Chaeyeon meant now, and found it almost befitting. Itaewon was a place where you could find anything and anyone, where the two opposite ends of society could be found in the same room, mingling. It was a place of enjoyment, of indulgence, but also of danger.

“Well then, nothing we can do but keep looking. Seojun’s been brought in already, by the way,” Doyoung reminds, and you grit your teeth.

Today will be another long day.

You make a beeline for the pantry, filling up a glass of water and popping a Panadol before anyone can notice.

Out of the blue, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching the office, before a man rounds the corner, a police officer behind him.

Yang Seojun is here.

“Speak of the devil,” Haechan mutters under his breath as he observes Mijoo’s ex-boyfriend and the prime suspect in your case. At first glance, he looks unassuming, with a white blouse tucked neatly into khaki shorts and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses framing his face. Even though his shoes look a little scuffed, he looks normal. Typical.

Nothing like a man who murdered a woman in cold blood, but you’ve learnt from previous cases that most of the time, the more innocent the suspect looks, the viler their crimes.

“Yang Seojun, is it? I’m sure you’re aware of why you’re here,” you state when you’re finally in the interrogation room, Haechan next to you. Outside, Doyoung watches intently on the screen.

“I didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re asking.” There’s a wild look in his eyes, starkly different from the blank stare he had when he was first brought in. He’s reminiscent of a cornered animal, and it fills you with a strange sort of uneasiness.

“Relax, it’s not time for that yet. Where were you on the night of the murder?” Haechan questions, fingers drumming gently on the table. His face is illuminated by the glare of the laptop screen, reading glasses perched on his nose.

“At home.”

“Anyone who can provide an alibi?”

“I live alone.”

“You have two sexual harassment reports filed against you and one for disorderly behaviour, along with a report detailing your history with alchoholism. Is that correct?” Yang Seojun’s file feels heavy in your hands, but you’re familiar with it now after flipping through it incessantly.

He nods. “But I’m in rehabilitation now. And I haven’t…the report wasn’t proven. I didn’t harass Mijoo, I swear. I loved her. You have to believe me,” Seojun pleads, his hands on the table.

You swallow as you meet Seojun’s insistent gaze, averting your eyes from him. You’re not sure what to believe, which you suppose is the worst part of doing a job like this. The suspicion and doubt that it casts over everything, where you have to ignore your gut instinct because of the kind of people you deal with.

“Someone will come in later to verify your statement. You’ll be kept in custody for the next forty-eight hours. It would be a good idea to contact your lawyer, or any members of family.”

“I don’t have a lawyer. Or any other members of family,” he says lowly, and you suck in a breath, looking at Haechan, who seems as fatigued as you are. However, before either of you can respond, there’s a loud banging on the door, before it swings open.

“Jaemin, we’re right here. You don't have to break down the door,” Haechan chides. However, you’re unable to be amused at the joke, a concerned frown on your face. Jaemin is careful and gentle. He doesn’t bang on doors unnecessarily, or ever. However, he’s now frantic, eyes darting back and forth in a panic.

“Y/N. Haechan. There’s another body. They found it at the Han River. I don’t-” Haechan shoots up from the chair, immediately pushing Jaemin out of the room as he curses under his breath.

Seojun looks as taken aback at the news as you are, but you’re not willing to deny the possibility that he might be an excellent actor. You attempt to assess his response to no avail, and instead give up in favour of following after Jaemin. The piercing scrape of your chair against the floor causes you to cringe slightly, but you quickly recover.

“God damn it, Jaemin. The fucking suspect is in the room. You can’t just burst in and say that.”

Haechan’s tone is harsh, understandably so. However, any disagreements now will only make things even worse. Jaemin stands, looking admonished, and you place a gentle hand on Haechan’s arm to pull him back. Haechan’s eyes meet yours, and you remain silent, looking at him meaningfully. After what seems like a moment too long, Haechan steps back, running a hand roughly through his hair.

“Doyoung left to go down already. I-I’ll give you guys the address,” Jaemin forces out, getting a post-it and marker from his desk. His hands are trembling as he does so, the writing shaky and barely legible. Your heart pangs looking at him, but you know he’ll be fine eventually.

Now, you and Haechan have another body to inspect.

“Renjun, forensic pathologist. Good to meet you.” The man standing in front of you extends his arm out, and you smile tightly back as you shake his hand, grip firm. His features are delicate, pale white skin standing out sharply against his harshly cropped black hair. In his hand is a Ziploc bag, a few test tubes resting inside.

“I’ve completed the autopsy, and the likely cause of death is suffocation. However, the body has been in there for at least a week and putrefaction has set in extensively, so we can’t be entirely sure.”

Two weeks. That’s before even Mijoo’s death, and you can tell Haechan is thinking the same thing from his sharp exhale.

‘However, it seems like there are marks on the neck that have been made with a sharp weapon. They don’t seem like feeding marks from animals, which are on other parts of the body,” Renjun continues stoically, and you attempt to quell your nausea, which appeared the moment you saw the girl’s body, bloated and greenish-blue.

Gritting your teeth, you force yourself to nod, uttering a note of thanks to Renjun. Haechan follows after, patting Renjun on the back. His eyes had lit up with recognition at the sight of the forensic pathologist, and you realised they must have been colleagues at some point. Before Haechan came to your current workplace, he had a brief stint in pathology, while you had specialised in criminology. It was another reason why Doyoung had paired the both of you together. Combined, Haechan’s and your expertise made the perfect duo to assist him.

“On the bright side, the weather’s cold now. If it was summer, we might not even have a body anymore,” Haechan utters, and you rub your hands together reflexively. He’s trying to take your mind off the murder, but it’s quite difficult, considering this is literally what the both of you are paid to do.

“Seoul hasn’t seen a serial killer in twenty-five years. However, if these two cases are unlinked, that means we’ve got two murderers to find. Which just might be worse,” Doyoung replies, and you’re sure that the swirling worry in his orbs is reflected in yours.

“And we barely got anything from Seojun’s interrogation too. There isn’t any CCTV footage from where Mijoo was killed, and we haven’t been able to determine where the body from the river was dumped yet.”

“If the river freezes over, we’re fucking screwed,” you continue, now realizing that the situation is much direr than you expected. There are little leads, two dead bodies, and the time is quickly ticking away.

You’ll die before you let this become a cold case.

“Come on. We won’t be any more good standing here than back at the station.” Haechan tugs your arm in the direction of the car, and you follow him mindlessly. The trees around you are barren, the roads and buildings a shade of dusty grey. Winter is usually your favourite season, but all it does now is fill you with a sense of numbing coldness.

You’re flipping through the autopsy report when Haechan comes to your desk, two coffee mugs in hand. “Thanks,” you say as you take a large sip, feeling the warmth course through your body.

The newest victim is Park Sunhee, twenty-three years old. She was last seen on her university campus, attending a lecture on a Friday morning. And then no one heard of her whereabouts, and her friends assumed she had gone home to visit her family over the winter break.

Until her cold body washed up on the shore of the Han river, discovered by a horrified couple.

What’s the link between the both of them? Is there even one? Think, Y/N, think.

Haechan can see the invisible gears turning in your head, and he decides to leave you to it, going back to his desk. Despite the fact that both of you have this case on your hands, there’s still plenty of administrative work to clear. He takes the stack of unread files from where they sit untouched on your table, and you’re so lost in thought that you don’t even realise

Until your personal phone rings, jolting you out of your reverie. You make sure the door closes behind you before you speak again.

“This is L/N Y/N. May I know who I am speaking to?”

”Hello.” The voice that comes out is a smooth timbre, almost pleasing to the ear. It’s obviously a man, and you furrow your eyebrows, not recognizing who it is.

“Apologies for disturbing you. This is Woo Eunhyuk. I tried calling the station and my call did not get through. Is now a good time?”

The businessman, you realize. And suspect number two. You immediately get out of your chair and exit the glass doors of the office, Haechan’s eyes following you. You’re known not to take personal calls during work hours, so why the change now? Still, he remains in his chair, unmoving.

“You can speak now,” you say.

“My secretary just informed me of what happened to Mijoo. I’m sorry for calling back so late. Quite unfortunate, isn’t it?”

Your first thought is that he doesn’t seem to find it very unfortunate at all, but you suppose everyone has a different way of coping with loss.  After all, you’re not even sure if he and Mijoo are as close as Xiaoting claims. For all you know, the poor man has nothing to do with any of this.

“Apologies for the inconvenience caused, Mr Woo, but we’ll need you to come down to the station as soon as you return. I hope you can understand.” You’re pacing across the hallway as you say it, and you’re not entirely sure why you feel slightly intimidated by the man on the phone.

“Of course. I’ll be there within the week. Y/N, was it? I’ll remember the name,” he mutters, and there’s almost a smug charm to the way he speaks. The way he says your name rubs you off the wrong way, and you find yourself shivering despite the lack of air-conditioning in the room.

“Senior Inspector Y/N. You may refer to me as that. If you need anything else, do call the station.” you say coldly, and hear what seems to be a muffled chuckle before you hang up. However, it’s cut off much too quickly for you to be sure.

“Hey, what was that?” Haechan asks, and you’re about to tell him, but you hesitate. He’d definitely worry if he knew that Woo Eunhyuk called you personally, and you don’t want to add more unnecessary burden to the case. After all, he’s already coming down to the station by this week.

“Nothing. Just a family friend asking something,” you respond, smiling slightly, and Haechan nods, turning back to his computer.

“Sorry for making you come in so late. Two days before New Year’s Eve, no less,” you say, attempting to plaster a polite smile on your face. Opposite you sits Woo Eunhyuk, in a tailored suit and hair gelled back neatly. The watch on his hand likely costs more than your yearly salary, but you ignore it.

“It’s my fault for being overseas and returning at the last minute. Honestly, if there hadn’t been so many delays at the airport, I would have saved you much more time.” His teeth are pearly-white and perfectly aligned as he smiles at you, and you can’t help but see the disparity between him and Mijoo’s ex-boyfriend.

“I’ll keep this short then. I’ll need information about your relationship with Mijoo and your whereabouts on the day itself.”

“I met Mijoo one year ago. The bar is one I patronise often, and I bring my clients there. Mijoo was overseeing our tables quite a few times, and she was good at memorising preferences and striking up a conversation, so I tipped her extra to wait on my tables when I was there.”

“Did your relationship with her ever extend outside of the workplace?” Your question seems to make Eunhyuk pensive, and he shifts in his seat before nodding.

“We were romantically involved for a while, and I will admit we were quite close. Physically and emotionally. But she eventually broke it off because of work, and we maintained a professional relationship. We were good friends up until her death.” There’s a note of sorrow in his voice now, and Eunhyuk stares off blankly into space as he says it. Does he still love her? It sounds so different from the voice you heard on the phone, but you suppose the questions are forcing him to relive unwanted memories.

However, he clears his throat, snapping out of the temporary trance. A smile makes its way onto his face again, so rapidly that it confuses you.

“On the night she passed away, I was in my study. My house staff are usually sleeping at that time, so no one can verify it. However, I can send you the footage from the security cameras in my foyer and garage. Would that be sufficient to prove that I was home?” He asks, and you nod hesitantly.

When Eunhyuk leaves, you’re left with the thumb drive of his security footage, which you run through. He isn’t lying. Which you suppose leaves you with one obvious option. Still, you feel as if there’s something missing, tugging at your brain, but you can’t remember what. A confirmation of some sort, to verify your suspicions.

The file on Park Sunhee is painfully thin, but everything you need to know is there. She goes to Yonsei University and majors in architecture and works a part-time job at a cafe.

Your mind comes to a screeching halt, the image of Yang Seojun flashing into your mind.

Yang Seojun in the interrogation room, wild-eyed and frantic.

Yang Seojun in the interrogation room, wearing a Yonsei University jersey.

Your hands are trembling as you switch on your laptop, but you keep going until you find Seojun’s suspect report.

It feels inevitable, the few moments that hang in the balance before you scroll down to what you’re looking for.

Major: Architecture, 2nd year, reads the report, and despite everything, a slight smile makes its way onto your face. You immediately pick up your phone, and the ringing of the call tone is the only thing that you can hear.

“Doyoung. I figured it out.”

It all seems to happen too fast for you to process.

There’s a final interrogation with Seojun before he’s dragged off, the last reckoning for him to defend himself.

However, Seojun seems defeated, almost withdrawn. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he’s considerably thinner than the last time you saw him. However, he doesn't resist when the officers come, handcuffs ready.

“There are witnesses who verified seeing him with Sunhee last, and that they dated for about three months before a messy breakup. He was also at the Han River late at night a month before, which corresponds with the estimated time of Sunhee’s death,” was what you had said to Doyoung and Haechan the morning before. They had nodded, Doyoung patting you on the back gently in commendation. You had finally allowed a glimmer of pride to make its way onto your face.

It fits the bill almost too perfectly, like a poorly written plot for a television show. Yet, you’re sure of it like you’ve never been surer of anything else.

There’s a gentle peace that fills you as you watch Seojun leave, even as the way he holds your gaze unsettles you.

“It’s over,” Haechan mumbles, and your shoulders sag, but you feel light.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Happy New Year!” Jaemin exclaims, and you jump at the sound of the champagne bottle popping. You’re smiling, and it’s the most genuine smile you’ve had in the past two months.

The champagne goes down smoothly, leaving a trail of fizzy bubbles in its wake. Even Doyoung’s happier, mouth wide open in a toothy grin. Renjun’s here too, along with Chenle and Jisung, the evidence technicians. You’ve all worked together, and you’ve made it.

“Good job, everyone. To a new year,” Doyoung toasts, barely catching himself from stumbling. Everyone cheers, and you simply grin from where you’re sitting with Haechan. He meets your gaze, and tilts his head, refusing to tear his eyes away from you. For some reason, you feel your cheeks heating up, and you quickly avert your gaze.

You’re sure that if you looked at him now, he’d be smirking, the cocky bastard.

Solving the case has left you all too heady and excited, which is a bad condition to make decisions in. You’re tempted to be impulsive, now that there’s less to worry about. You shake your head in a futile attempt to clear it, and hastily get up, making a beeline for the hallway, away from the festivities.

“Y/N.” Haechan’s voice is distinctly clear in the silence of the hallway, and you turn to look at him from where you’re leaning against the wall, mug in hand, It’s quite funny, really, how Doyoung had forgotten to bring champagne glasses, forcing all of you to use the coffee cups instead.

“Donghyuck,” you reply, and Haechan pauses slightly. He supposes he’ll never really get used to you using his birth name, but he doesn’t particularly mind it. He leans against the wall with you, shoulder to shoulder, and the both of you stand like that for a while, in comfortable silence.

“Do you remember when we were in our third year of university? When we had that stupid argument over whether a criminal justice major or a forensic science major was more important?” You suddenly ask, and Haechan lets out a laugh.

“Of course I do. You didn’t talk to me for a week after that,” he teases, and you huff in exasperation.

“Well yeah, because you were annoying,” you whine, and Haechan simply rolls his eyes.

“Sure, whatever you say. Why are you bringing it up now, though?” Haechan asks, gaze alight with curiosity. You remain quiet for a while, and Haechan’s about to repeat his question when you finally respond.

“I’m just thinking about what twenty-two-year-old Y/N and Donghyuck would say if they saw us now. I think they would be proud,” you murmur, and Haechan immediately grabs your hand, flashing a soft smile at you.

“Yeah. I think they would.”

“Y/N! Haechan! What are you guys doing out here? Come back in. Jisung brought cake,” Chenle shouts from where he’s standing, and your attention is immediately drawn to him.

“Come on, let’s go,” Haechan urges, tugging you along by your arm without a second thought.

“Wait. The phone’s ringing. I’ll get it,” you say once you enter the office. Everyone else is too caught up in rowdy conversation to hear it, and you attempt to balance the paper plate that Renjun handed to you, a slice of cake in the middle.

“Hello, this is Officer Kim from the Metropolitan Police Agency in Gangnam.”

“Yes, how may I help you?”

Your attention is quickly drawn to the rest, however, as you realise they’ve started counting down.

It happens in slow-motion, as most momentous things do.

Five. The words of the officer on the phone sink in, and you blink slowly.

Four. Your grip on the receiver loosens, and you feel it slip from your hands.

Three. The cake follows quickly after, landing in a mushy heap on the ground.

Two. The barely-audible, confused voice of Officer Kim rings out, asking if you can still hear him.

One. You sink to the ground, unmoving, not daring to breathe. No. This can’t be real.

It’s like there’s a muffle over your ears, as if you’re submerged in water, even as you’re vaguely aware that the other guys are cheering while watching the fireworks come up from the city centre. It feels like hours before the office suddenly falls silent, and they realise that you’re on the floor, champagne spilt, though it was likely less than a minute.

Haechan’s the first to enter your line of sight, his pink hair in your peripheral vision. His face comes into focus despite the blur of your surroundings.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” He’s crouched down to your level, hands on your shoulders, eyes worried as he scans you for signs of injury.

Your mouth refuses to form words, even as you look up at him, eyes desperate. The only thing you can do is shake your head insistently.

As if that will change the situation.

Doyoung, observant as ever, is the first to pick up the receiver. Haechan watches as his expression turns stone-faced, and he hangs up.

The office is silent, everyone else looking at Doyoung, holding their breaths.

“What is it,” Haechan demands, his tone firm as he holds Doyoung’s gaze. There’s very little that shocks Doyoung, but Haechan thinks this might just be the first.

“Another body. Still fresh. Barely died an hour ago, in fact.” Everyone’s eyes are wide, not sure what to do with the news.

“No. No. It can’t be. We found Seojun. There’s proof.” Your words come out broken and clipped, as you shake your head frantically. You’re shaking, and Haechan, for once, is at a loss on what to do.

Renjun’s the first to regain control of the situation, telling Chenle and Jisung to get their things and pushing Doyoung in the direction of the office. Haechan looks at him expectantly, knowing that he should likely be getting ready to leave as well, but unwilling to leave your side.

Renjun immediately sees the torn expression on Haechan’s face, and he understands. You’re his friend too, after all.

“Bring Y/N home, Haechan. She’s probably gone through a shock. We only need you guys there tomorrow anyways, after we’ve done the autopsy.” Haechan looks at Renjun then, nodding before gently helping you up. It’s at times like these when he’s grateful for the older boy, who always seems to know what’s on his mind.

You’re quiet, eyes glassy even as you get into Haechan’s car and he drives in the direction of your apartment. His gaze darts to you every so often, and Haechan thinks he’d give anything to know what’s on your mind right now.

However, there’s nothing much he can do other than get you to down a cup of hot tea and aspirin, so that you’re not hungover tomorrow. You’re quick to sink into a fitful sleep, and Haechan decides to leave you to rest, reluctantly closing the bedroom door behind him. He takes a quick shower in the guest bathroom, and watches a show mindlessly on the television. He’s not enjoying it, but it helps his mind to blank, and that’s sufficient for now.

It’s so cold.

That’s the only thought in your head as you shiver violently. The cold is piercing to the bone, almost painful, and it’s so dark that you can’t see your own hands in front of you. You feel strangely weightless, as if there’s something holding you up. It’s almost comfortable, except for the fact that you’re beginning to feel numb from the chill.

Until you inhale, and instead of air entering your lungs, it’s water.

You’re drowning.

Your limbs move frantically, but you’re no longer weightless. You’re heavy. So very heavy, that even as you can see the surface above you, it seems so very far away.

Precious oxygen bubbles out of your mouth, and you can feel your lungs burning, struggling to keep you moving. Your eyes are burning from the water, and your limbs getting more sluggish.

Fear fills you, frigid and unrelenting, as you twist your head frantically.

You let out your first scream when you start sinking even further, the dim light of the moon draining away bit by bit, along with your strength.

No one can hear you, not even yourself.

You’re still screaming when you wake up.

“Jesus, Y/N. What happened?” Haechan’s voice is frantic, and he’s leaning over you. It takes a while for his features to become clear in the dimness of the room, and you blink slowly, taking in your surroundings. In another situation, you’d likely be flustered from how close his face is to yours. However, you’re still trembling uncontrollably, cold sweat beading on your forehead and neck.

Before you know it, you’re sitting up, Haechan’s arms around your body and your face nestled in his neck. He’s warm, and you find your heartbeat slowing down slightly from its breakneck pace. Haechan’s hands smooth over your back gently, and he offers you his presence wordlessly, waiting for you to speak.

“I had a…nightmare. That I was Park Sunhee, and I was the one drowning,” you mumble lowly, but you know Haechan can hear you.

You expect him to chide you, perhaps. You know you get too involved in the cases, and feel too much for the victims. A double-edged sword, you suppose. It’s not the best thing for someone who has such an occupation, but you can’t help it. Even as you try to tear your thoughts away from them, you can’t.

Mijoo. Sunhee. And the newest victim. You don’t even know her name yet, but she’ll probably haunt your nights as much as the two of them do.

“How long has this been going on?” Haechan’s tone is gentle, however, as he helps you upright to face him, eyes roaming over your face. His hand comes up to brush your cheek gently, to wipe a stray tear that you didn’t even know escaped.

“I’m not sure. A week after we found Mijoo, maybe?” Your voice is hoarse, and hearing the unfiltered fear in it fills Haechan with pain. That’s almost two whole months.

He realises that there was more to your newfound exhaustion in the office, the dark circles that appeared suddenly. Haechan had assumed it was just the normal toll of taking on such a large case, along with your tendency to stay up late. He hadn't questioned it, but now he desperately wishes he had sooner.

Maybe if he did, he could have done something. And you wouldn’t be here, tortured by repeated nightmares that had you waking up screaming.

He wonders how many nights you had to do this alone, waking up to stare into the darkness of your room.

“You’re safe here, Y/N.”

“I know.. It’s just-it’s okay. I’ll be fine. Thank you for being here.” your voice trails off, and Haechan understands, even without you making it clear.

“Get some rest, alright? We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow,” he reminds, and a shaky smile makes its way onto your face, despite the fear that hasn’t entirely cleared from your heart.

Haechan stands up, but not before he makes sure you’re lying back down, pillow adjusted comfortably.

“I’ll be in the living room if you need anything, okay?” Haechan makes his way to the door, and despite his reminder, you’re seized by a slight panic.

“Wait. Donghyuck,” you call out, and he turns back, eyes expectant. Almost as if he’s waiting for you to ask him something.

“Can you stay? Just for tonight. Please.” Your voice is honest, vulnerable, as you look at Haechan, his face half-lit by the light from your living room.

It feels like too many moments pass, your heart dangling on a precipice, before he nods, and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. There’s a faint smile on his face as you move over and he climbs in next to you.

“Is this okay?” He asks, when the both of you are finally facing each other, his face barely inches from yours. His arm is loosely wrapped around your waist, and your head is curled into his chest. “Yeah,” you reply and it comes out muffled in the quiet of the room.

The regular sound of his heartbeat in your ear is oddly calming, and you finally feel your breathing ease up. Haechan’s warmth is the last thing you think of before you drift off, and it’s the first dreamless sleep you have in weeks.

The camera footage is played. Again, and again. Yet, there’s nothing besides the buzzing static and a screen that fades to an endless black. It doesn’t make any sense. Gangnam is one of the safest districts in the entire city, and there were police milling around at every corner.

In spite of that, thirty-five-year-old Song Chaeyeon was dead in an alley, head bashed into the wall. She was thirty-four the last time you met her in the club, a hardened woman who didn’t seem to want anything to do with the investigation.

And now, she was never going to turn any older.

“There has to be something we’re missing. Maybe Seojun has an accomplice-”

“Or it might just not be him.” Haechan cuts you off, and your footsteps skid to a halt from where you’re pacing.

It’s the truth that you don’t want to admit, but he’s always been straight to the point.

You scatter the photographs over the kitchen island of his apartment, arranging them in order. As if some sort of connection will fall from the sky if you stare at them hard enough. It’s been less than three days since Chaeyeon’s body was discovered, and less than forty-eight hours since you collapsed on the floor of the station.

“Y/N. You haven’t had any food all day. At least eat something before we continue.” There’s a pot of ramen balanced carefully in Haechan’s hands, but you ignore the smell that makes your mouth water. The moment your mind drifts back to the image of Chaeyeon and her neck at an unnatural angle, your appetite dissipates into thin air.

“I’m fine.” You shake your head resolutely, turning back to the photographs. Ironically enough, Criminal Minds is playing on the television in the background, as if mocking you. You try not to tug at your hair too hard, even as you fiddle with it out of frustration.

“You have to eat, you know that-”

“I have to solve this case, Donghyuck! If you don’t want to help, fine. Just don’t be in my way,” you burst out, and he falls dead silent, staring at you with an unreadable expression in his eyes. You inhale sharply, rubbing at your eyes.

“You’re not responsible for their deaths, Y/N,” he says softly, a knowing gaze in his honey-brown eyes.

You hate Haechan a little in that moment. You hate the way he looks at you, understanding the fear and confusion swirling in your heart. Most of all, you hate that he’s right, that you’re not responsible for any of this. You wish you were, that you knew a way to stop it. But you’re helpless in the face of an invisible perpetrator.

The room suddenly feels a little too stuffy, your collared blouse tightening around your throat. You’re consumed with the need to clear your head, and your fingers scrabble for your bag. You turn impatient when you’re unable to find the familiar packet, tipping the entire pouch over.

Haechan watches your motions, half-confused and pensive, until he frowns, grabbing onto your wrist tightly.

“Y/N. I thought we talked about this.” His grip is stronger than yours, and forces the pills in your grasp to be held up high, even clear under the ceiling light. The accusing tone in his voice forces your gaze to tear away from him guiltily, and you shrink back.

“You know I only take them when it gets bad,” you explain, but Haechan remains unmovable, quickly plucking the packet from your grip and throwing them in the bin. “They’re painkillers, not magic. You can’t rely on them for everything.”

“Haechan, my stomach really fucking hurts-”

“Then eat. You need proper meals to get better, not some-” he lets out an agitated exhale, before continuing, “-chemicals that will only make you feel worse.”

It’s not that Haechan’s a disbeliever of modern medicine, but he knows you know that you’re not sick, not the kind that requires this sort of medicine. But the sharply bitter taste is oddly comforting, especially when you feel your abdomen cramp from a combination of nerves and stress.

You wouldn’t call yourself reliant on it - addiction is a dangerous line to tread, and you have no intention of ever crossing it, but it seems to appear more often whenever your work gets particularly difficult.

And it seems these past few months have been particularly bad, if the sleeping pill bottle on your nightdesk and the multiple chamomile tea packets are anything to go by.

Still, the warm concern in his eyes is enough for your shoulders to sink, relenting to his better intentions. You know that this is something Haechan won’t back down on, and it makes you feel a little better, the knowledge that even if you don’t have your best interests in mind, there’s someone who does.

You swallow thickly, finally meeting his eyes. “I know. I’m- I’m sorry I lashed out at you. That was unnecessary. And I’ll try to reduce the Panadol to zero,” you promise, hands falling to rest on the countertop. There’s guilt and fear swirling in your eyes, and Haechan’s heart breaks a little at the sight of it.

He cross the kitchen island and wordlessly wraps you in a hug towards him while you lean your head into his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his musk soap. The both of you know each other well enough that there isn’t much of a need to exchange words.

You’re grateful for his presence, more than he’ll ever know. You’re not sure if you’ll ever find the words to thank him, sufficient sentences to string together to express your gratitude.

But for now, the both of you remain standing under his kitchen light, and you can’t help but think that it feels nice to have someone’s warmth against yours.

However, it seems that having Haechan by your side still isn’t quite enough, especially when you wake up in a cold sweat in the darkness of the room.

Your hand scrabbles across the bedsheet, frantic, before it finally lands on his warm palm, causing your breathing to slow a little.

You’ve made a habit of sleeping next to Haechan whenever one of you stays over, which is most days. It seems that it’s becoming harder and harder to pass the night alone, even if you’ve checked the lock twice and closed all the windows. You’re not sure if he minds, and you’re too afraid to ask.

“Y/N. Hey. Look at me,” Haechan’s voice cuts through the silence of the room like a knife, and you’re not sure when he helped you up to a sitting position. You’re still shaking slightly, his eyes drowsy but concerned as he looks at you.

It’s awful, the way this irrational fear digs its claws into you and refuses to let go. You’ve handled cases worse than this. And it makes you feel even more guilty that Haechan is the one left to handle the aftermath, to hold you together. You’re supposed to be his partner, not dead weight.

You close your eyes, as if to prevent you from confronting something you don’t want to. “It’s nothing, Hyuck. I’m sorry for waking you.” Your soft apology carries a note of burdened guilt in it, and it makes Haechan’s heart twist uncomfortably in his chest.

He wishes he can rub away the tears budding at the corners of your eyes, but he decides to settle for intertwining your fingers with his.

“Don’t apologise for this. Tell me if there’s anything I can do to make it better. Anything,” he promises, and the way he whispers it makes it feel like a confession.

There’s no one else in this room except the both of you, and what happens will stay within these walls.

Perhaps that’s what pushes you to lean forward and slot your lips over his in a moment of poor thinking.

For a fleeting moment, Haechan returns it with equal fervour before he seems to regain his senses, freezing in his cross-legged position on the bed before he pushes against your shoulders gently but insistently. You try not to let the hurt show on your face at his open rejection.

“Y/N- what-”

He’s definitely awake now, bewildered at your actions. At least he isn’t looking at you in disgust, which means the situation is less dire than it could have been. You swallow heavily, before refocusing on him.

“You said- I could tell you if there was anything you could do to make it better,” you stutter out, and Haechan nods slowly, as if unsure of what he’s agreeing to. His eyes dart down to your lips temporarily, and you wonder if it’s temptation that fills his gaze.

It definitely isn’t love, or maybe it is. You’re too scared to ask.

“Then let me have this. Please. I need a distraction, or something like it,” you plead.

You can’t bring yourself to care if he breaks your heart, if you have to swallow your feelings for him and let them wilt away. You’ll happily take whatever pieces of himself he’s willing to give, because how could you not?

You know this isn’t a normal request, that it’ll probably change the trajectory of your friendship with him permanently.

But Haechan and you are far from normal at this point. From the mix of fear and desire evident in his eyes, you guess that the man in front of you is thinking the same as well.

The waiting is almost painful, as you look at him with bated breath. Yet, it’s likely only a few moments before Haechan nods, clearing up the heavy feeling in your chest instantaneously and filling you with a longing so desperate that steals the air out of your lungs.

This time, when you lean in, he doesn’t pull away.

It takes one week of fruitless investigations before Doyoung finally snaps and decides to bring everyone out to unwind, promising that he’ll pay for a few rounds. Haechan can feel stress creeping at the back of his neck by the time the clock hits six, and he’s quite sure it’s not just because of the case.

He can’t stop thinking about kissing you. Well, kissed. He kissed you, and then the both of you never spoke about it after. He knows very well that it was a spur-of-the-moment thing, fueled by a cocktail of exhaustion and fear that seemed like desire when sufficiently intoxicated. Pretending it never happened, however, still leaves a bitter taste in Haechan’s mouth, even if he knows that there are larger things at hand.

It might not have meant anything to you. But for Haechan, who has been harbouring feelings for you for close to three years, it means everything.

He had heard of you from his lecture deskmate, the criminal justice major who had aided in a major financial investigation at nineteen - to say you were a bit of a prodigy was an understatement.

When his Criminology professor had assigned the both of you together for a lecture, he had been brimming with excitement to finally see you in person.

But that admiration had only remained as friendship - until five hundred and twelve days ago, when the both of you had been sitting on the floor of your apartment, a long-opened bottle of wine between the both of you.

You had tried to kiss him then too. But Haechan had been sober, and he didn’t want you to do anything you might regret, even if there was disappointment in your eyes when he gently pushed you back by your shoulders.

He tried not to make it too obvious the next morning, when you had shuffled into the kitchen and made no mention of it.

And now, five hundred and twelve days later - he was still nowhere near getting rid of his feelings.

It had only gotten worse once you had pulled him close in the darkness of your bedroom, and Haechan supposes part of it is karma kicking him in the ass. No good person would take advantage of their friend’s vulnerable emotional state to get what they want, especially not when said friend was his best friend of half a decade.

But Haechan’s not a beacon of virtue, as much as he would like to be, and he can’t help but cave when it comes to you. If a distraction was what you needed, he would gladly provide it as many times as you needed, even if it meant his heart fractured a little each time you joked around with him nonchalantly, as if he didn’t just have his lips against yours a few nights ago.

“Here, take this.” Renjun appears at the right time, and passes Haechan a cocktail that’s an unnatural-looking shade of blue. “What’s this?” He can’t help but peer at it suspiciously before taking a tentative sip. It’s sour, the sharp taste of vodka immediately searing its way down his throat before quickly being soothed by an artificial lemon syrup .

“Blue lagoon. It’s Y/N’s favourite, so I thought I’d give it a try. Speaking of which, where is she?”

Haechan realises a bit too late that everyone is looking at him for an answer, and he shrugs helplessly. “How would I know?”

“Because you’re always attached to the hip with her. The last time she called in sick, we got an email from you before her doctor,” Chenle blurts out, causing Jaemin to nod in assent.

Haechan rubs a hand over his face tiredly. Truth be told, he is curious about why you haven’t contacted him at all today. “Just- don’t ask me about Y/N right now.” His curt response immediately captures the attention of the rest, Renjun’s eyes alight with curiosity.

“Did something happen?”

It takes one look at Haechan’s face for everyone to realise that something did happen. “Look, it wasn’t anything much. She had a bad dream, and then we kissed,” he confesses, and Chenle’s eyes widen slightly.

“Slow down. How do those two link?”

“She needed comforting. I was there,” Haechan explains, trying his darnedest to not lose his composure. Rehashing the events only makes him feel like he’s going through it again. “I always knew the both of you had something weird going on,” Jaemin mutters, emptying his cup. Renjun elbows him lightly, before focusing on Haechan. “So what are you going to do about it?”

He falls silent at that question, fingers drumming against the smooth marble of the bar counter. He doesn’t know, and that’s the worst part. Haechan doesn’t know if he should say fuck it and confess his feelings, potentially risking your rejection and making whatever the both of you have now awkward, or if he should remain silent.

“You should probably speak to her,” Renjun says, and that’s probably the only good piece of advice Haechan has received all day.

The only question is, where the hell are you?

Doyoung comes into the room then, but there’s no alcohol in his hand. Instead, his eyebrows are set deeply in worry, knuckles clenched white from how hard he’s holding the phone. Haechan has never seen his supervisor so unsettled before, and it makes fear swirl in his chest. He calls out Doyoung’s name, and the man’s head snaps sharply to the left, as if jerked out of a daydream.

The other guys have picked up on it by now, and Doyoung scans his eyes over the room before exhaling shakily. “It’s Y/N,” he forces out. “She hasn’t been home since yesterday, and her neighbour just filed a missing person report.” He shuts his eyes and lets out a groan of worry, and it’s evident that Doyoung’s thinking of the worst-case scenario.

It takes many long moments before Doyoung’s words land, but when they finally do, Haechan thinks he might puke. The alcohol now feels like a terrible idea as it threatens to escape, pushing uncomfortably at his stomach. Nausea is nothing compared to the dread that floods his veins, however, at the thought of you meeting harm, of being in a situation that you can’t get out of.

You’re one of the people he loves the most in the world, and Haechan’s not sure if you know that enough.

He knows that the room explodes into commotion around him, and that Renjun is letting out curse after curse, but it falls to deaf ears. Haechan grabs his jacket and rushes out before anyone can realise, but he’s quick to sink to his feet at the curb, anger and fear bleeding into his sunken shoulders.

There’s nowhere for him to go, because you’re gone.

You figure out that something is terribly, terribly wrong when the room you wake up in is unfamiliar. There’s a sharp pain that burns up your wrists when you attempt to move them, the rope chafing against sore skin. It’s nothing compared to the panic that overtakes you after assessing your surroundings, however.

The air around you is heavy with the stench of garbage, and you wrinkle your nose slightly.

There’s only a small rectangular window that lets light in, the glass cracked and dirty. Below your feet is a rough cement floor, and one door lies to your right.

It’s the only way in and out, and you don’t see any visible way to unlock it.

There’s a heavy thud from the outside right as you turn your head away, before the door swings open slowly.

The first face you see is unfamiliar. The second, however, fills you with an overwhelming nausea.

In front of you stands Woo Eunhyuk, looking entirely out of place in the dingy room with his carefully polished shoes and ivory-white blouse. Pristine, and nowhere near belonging in a place like this. But now you know what lies beneath that clean exterior, and it terrifies and disgusts you in equal measure.

“I should’ve figured it was you,” you say, voice dripping with venom as you glare at the culprit responsible for all of the deaths and your kidnapping. Eunhyuk, however, only smiles smugly as he peers down at you. “To be fair to you, Officer, I am quite talented at covering my tracks.”

He’s proud. Arrogant as he boasts about it, as if being a cold-hearted killer is something to be rewarded for. It fills you with disgust, but you try not to make it too plain on your face. You need to be careful, and buy time, at least until you have a chance of surviving.

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?”

You suppose it’s not the wisest question to ask when you’re trying to distract Eunhyuk from that exact conclusion, but you feel a need to know why your body hasn’t ended up in an alley or face-down in the river yet.

“I wasn’t planning to until you started meddling too much. Digging into information you weren’t supposed to find,” he sneers. Eunhyuk’s confirming your suspicions of yesterday, the trail that you had just begun to follow. Considering he was the only other plausible suspect, you had done a deep dive into his records and found years of correspondence with Chaeyeon, some of which bordering into threats.

It took one visit down to the club to make your fears real, when Xiaoting finally divulged the truth.

“Xiaoting, I need you to tell me if Eunhyuk had any sort of conflict with Chaeyeon,” you plead insistently. There’s a stricken look on the red-haired girl’s face, and she’s evidently distraught. You refuse to let up, however, and it feels like a battle of wills takes place in her mind before she makes a decision.

“You can’t tell anyone this. Not until Woo Eunhyuk is behind bars. If not, none of us will be safe,” she whispers. You nod, a silent promise, even as fear climbs up your spine.

“He’s an important investor here. But lately, the rent’s been rising, and Chaeyeon can’t pay back his share. Especially after Mijoo’s death, fewer and fewer customers are coming. He’s been having quarrels with her regularly, and we’re not meant to overhear them, but Chaeyeon was worried that something might happen, so she got me to keep recordings of the conversations. And now look at her.”

“Is there any way you can send me the recordings?”

“Give me a few days. The police have been sorting through Chaeyeon’s stuff after she died, and I’m not sure where the thumb drives are,” Xiaoting promises, and you can tell the girl’s lip is raw from her biting it out of worry.

“If Eunhyuk really is the culprit behind all of this-” you hesitate, but there’s a look of steely determination behind her eyes.

“Promise me you’ll make him pay. Men like him, they think they can do what they want, because they have the money. But I’ve lost Mijoo and Chaeyeon. I don’t want to see another one of my friends left dead.” Her voice has a tinge of cruelty to it, but you understand all too well the pain that it hides.

You’re afraid that you might not be able to fulfil that promise after all, consider how you’re currently at Eunhyuk’s mercy as well.

“But don’t worry. I won’t kill you yet. I quite enjoy watching the people down at the station scrabble to try and find you. Especially your partner. He seems particularly distraught. What was his name again? Haechan?”

There’s a jolt of pain in your heart at the name, a worse feeling than that of your injuries.

Eunhyuk smirks at the obvious change in expression on your face.

“More than just partners, it seems. It’s a pity, you know. I thought you were a pretty one. I’ll decide what to do with you eventually.” You bite back a shudder when he caresses your face gently, watching as he leaves the room. A soft exhale escapes you when the door locks shut resolutely, even if that’s the escape route closed off to you.

But you refuse to give up just yet. Your brain is running a mile a minute as you think of possible ways that you can make it out, but every second that passes only makes you more hopeless. Both your feet and hands are bound to the chair that you’re on, tight enough to cut off circulation if you move too much.

You wonder what’s running through Haechan’s mind now, if the panic is getting to his head. You’re not sure if you’ll get to see him again, and you can’t bear the thought of letting him blame himself for your death.

As much as the man keeps everything maintained under a smooth veneer of confidence, you know your partner much too well, that he’s someone who picks up responsibility even if it isn’t his.

It’s funny how the thought of him brings a small semblance of comfort to you, even in a situation such as this.

And then something comes to you. A possible path out, a semblance of a fighting chance offered by no one but the man himself.

You wiggle your wrist slightly, even though it’s numb, and almost let out a sob of relief when you feel the cool metal against your skin.

Haechan had given you a bracelet for your birthday last year, engraved with your initials, along with many other things. You had made a habit of wearing it daily, but ornamentation wasn’t its only function.

“Haechan, I can take care of myself,” you assure, but the boy shuts you up with a determined look as he places the bracelet on your wrist.

“Better safe than sorry considering the line of work we’re in. If you’re ever in danger, just press this-” He presses down on the button to drive his point- “and I’ll immediately know where to find you. Okay?”

“Fine. But you have to wear one too. You’re not the only one who might need saving,” you retort, and he barks out a laugh, reaching into his hoodie. The smooth metal chain is pinched between his fingers.

“Already got mine. We’re matching now, I suppose.” His words bring a blush to your cheeks.

You’ve never been more grateful for his foresight in your life as you fiddle around, gritting your teeth in pain when the rope slides a little too harshly. There’s sweat dripping down the side of your forehead, but you ignore it. However, your fingers eventually find the bracelet on your other hand, and you exert just enough pressure to feel the mechanism unlock and let out a soft beep.

There’s a harsh exhale that escapes you once you’re done, and you sink back into the chair. Hope is a dangerous thing, you realise, but it’s the only emotion you can cling on to besides despair.

For now, you’ll wait, and place your trust in Haechan.

You hear the footsteps before they reach you.

There’s shouting, audible even through the walls. For a moment, your heart soars with hope.

And then the man who had accompanied Eunhyuk bursts in, and it comes crashing down. He cuts off the ropes binding you, but not before there’s a pair of handcuffs locked securely around your wrist. “Get the fuck up before I put a knife in you,” he rasps harshly, jerking you up by your arm and dragging you behind him. “You wouldn’t dare without your boss,” you retort, and he narrows his eyes at you.

The resulting blow to your stomach knocks the breath out of your windpipe, even as you’ve tensed yourself in preparation for it. “Watch yourself. He doesn’t mind damaged goods. You’re dead sooner or later anyways,” he seethes.

“Glad…to see that you’ve actually got strength behind those arms of yours,” you wheeze out painfully.

He closes his hand in a fist again, and you prepare yourself for the inevitable. However, the footsteps are louder this time, and he thinks better of it, dragging you along with him.

You observe your surroundings as you pass the maze-like hallways into a larger room, one that looks like a garage. The walls are cracked and peeling, and you’re guessing this is an abandoned building of sorts.

Suddenly, the grip on your arms loosens slightly, and you notice Eunhyuk standing in front of you. He walks over, grabbing your chin roughly and leaning down until the both of you are eye level.

“How the fuck did your little friends find you?” He’s seething as he glares at you, but you smile, baring your teeth through the pain and the bruise that’s likely forming on your abdomen. “You should have just killed me when you had the chance.”

He smirks slightly at that. “Be careful what you wish for.”

“Woo Eunhyuk, hands up, or I’ll put this bullet through your skull. Don’t test me.”

The voice that you hear behind you makes you want to sink down in relief. It’s painfully familiar, the honeyed cadence of it something entirely unique to one person.

Haechan’s here.

He’s not the only one, as you turn to see Renjun next to him and a few other faces you don’t recognize. They’re fully attired, pistols in hand. His eyes can’t help but drift to you for a millisecond, hardening imperceptibly when he sees the dried blood on your forehead. Eunhyuk’s men hadn’t exactly been gentle when they ambushed you on the way home, and you only realised the ugly scratch on the side of your face much too late.

“Not so fast, Officer. You might want to be careful.” You’re dragged backwards before you know it, and the click of a loaded pistol against your temple makes your heart stop cold with fear.

Of course he has a gun. Laws don’t matter, not to a man like Eunhyuk, who believes that enough money will cover up any of his sordid deeds.

The impending possibility of death is very real now, and you try to put on a brave face, even as your feet tremble slightly. If not for yourself, at least for Renjun and Haechan.

“Killing me won’t do anything. You’re not getting away with this,” you bite out. You try not to think about the cold metal resting against your skin, and the trigger that is barely inches away from you.

“Let me go free, and I’ll give you back your precious colleague here. Otherwise, I’m blowing her brains out,” he threatens. From the way the rest don’t respond, you’re guessing Haechan’s the highest-ranking officer present, which means everyone’s waiting for his call.

It seems Eunhyuk grows impatient, however, and this time, you’re not prepared, letting out a guttural groan when he slams the gun into your right knee. Something definitely breaks then, and the crack that resounds in the space is almost worse than the pain itself.

Haechan begins to lower his gun.

“No!” you shout out, teeth gritted, and you’re met with a harsh slap to your head, one that leaves your ears ringing and the fresh coppery smell of blood filling your nose. “Shut up, bitch.”

Haechan looks at you, a conflicted expression in his eyes. He’s scared. The fear makes him look so much younger, reminiscent of the boy you met in university. His grip on the gun remains firm, however, and despite the pain flooding through your nerve endings, you let a glimmer of pride fill you at the person that Haechan’s become.

You shake your head insistently at his doubt, even as tears brim at the corner of your eyes. You’re terrified too, but you can’t let Eunhyuk go.

Not for Mijoo, Sunhee, or Chaeyeon.

If it means you’re going to die, then so be it.

There’s nothing that Renjun or Haechan can do, but there just might be an option for you. A risky one, but worth a try.

The last time you took self-defence lessons was before your graduation from the academy, and they were practised in a room with an instructor who did not have the intention to murder you, just to teach.

But the bravery that fills you upon accepting the hypothetical conclusion of death is liberating, and you find your brain rushing through possibilities now that you have nothing to lose.

I’m sorry, Donghyuck.

You close your eyes and suck in a sharp breath, as if it will prepare you for the worst, before you swing your head back and right into Eunhyuk’s nose. There’s a loud groan of pain from him, but you don’t give yourself time to wait before you turn and kick as high as you can.

There’s a loud gunshot, and you freeze for a moment. Perhaps this is it, and you’ve failed. The last few moments, before the bullet lands true and the pain comes.

And then the world restarts.

You’re jolted back when you hear the gun clatter loudly on the floor. By some pure stroke of luck, the bullet has missed you.

Eunhyuk stumbles back in pain, a hand over his bicep, and you quickly dawn upon the realization that it’s not his gun that has fired.

It was Haechan’s.

There’s blood rushing out, scarlet over his fingers, and it plays like a horrible montage, one that will stick in your worst nightmares.

One blink, and Eunhyuk sinks to the floor. A second blink, before there’s officers rushing over to pin him down to the floor

Another slow open-and-close of your eyes, and Haechan is in front of you. Everything is fading into black spots, and you’re quite sure the world is spinning around you. He remains in focus, however, and you try your best to muster a smile, even as the pain reaches a crescendo.

“Y/N? Are you okay? Everything’s fine now. Where else are you hurt?” He’s frantic now, facade slowly breaking and panic leaking into his voice as he inspects you for injuries.

You don’t get to thank Haechan for finding you before you collapse.

“Do you think we can convince him to go back?” Renjun asks, looking at the raven-haired man next to him. “Not likely. At most, he’ll hopefully get some sleep.”

The younger boy runs his hand through his hair tiredly, before turning down the hallway. “The doctor said everything’s alright. I’m worried too, but-”

“He loves her, Renjun. You’d do it for someone else too,” Doyoung chides, and Renjun knows he’s right.

Haechan hasn’t left your bedside for the past seventy-two hours, insisting on staying no matter what the others say. It’s barely enough for him that you thankfully don’t have a concussion, just skin injuries that will heal eventually. The exhaustion and adrenaline have just triggered a natural response by your body, and you’ll wake up when you’re ready.

Seeing you unresponsive on the hospital bed, however, is a sight similar to Haechan’s worst nightmares, almost identical the fears that keep him up at night. If he stays, he can make sure that the heart monitor maintains its stable beeping, and that you’re safe and sound in front of him.

His eyes are sinking closed, but Haechan resolutely keeps them open. The rest have returned back, the flowers from some of your acquaintances resting on the desk and adding some cheer to the dullness of the room. You would hate the hospital environment, Haechan thinks. It’s nothing like your house, cozy and full of little trinkets that you’ve collected over the years.

There’s one small comfort, at least, and it’s the vindication that Haechan gets at seeing Woo Eunhyuk dragged into the back of a police car. Renjun had to pull him back from beating the man up during the aftermath, the firm grip reminding Haechan that assault charges were still very much possible even when committed against a criminal.

But the murderous rage that fills Haechan at the thought of what Eunhyuk’s done to you feels all-consuming, and the only reason he hasn’t acted on it is that he knows you wouldn’t want him to. You’ve always been the calmer one to his irrational nature, tempering him before he gets too far.

Haechan needs you beside him to function, and it’s only been made all that much clearer by your absence.

He smooths his thumb over your palm, wondering if you'll feel it from whichever dreamscape you’re residing in.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, Y/N, but it’s over. We did it. Or you did it, really. We got the recordings from Xiaoting, and managed to dig up some other stuff. You’ll definitely want to see it in person. Which is why you’ve got to wake up. I need my partner here, you know?”

He lets out a soft laugh at his own statement, but it remains unanswered in the silence of the room.

Until your hand jerks slightly, and Haechan doesn’t dare to breathe as his gaze remains fixed on you.

He waits with bated breath, watching as your eyelids flit gently.

It’s too bright.

That’s the first thing you think of when you open your eyes to another unfamiliar room. For a moment, you’re seized painfully with fear again, thinking that you’re back where you started, in that dark, dirty room.

Until the sharp tang of antiseptic floods your nose, and you feel a warm palm over yours. Instead of the chair prodding into your back, there’s a soft bed. And instead of Eunhyuk’s face, there’s Haechan hovering gently over you, eyes alight with concern and relief.

“You’re awake,” he sighs out, and you reflexively try to sit up. There's a dull ache all over your body, but it's nothing you can't handle.

“How long have I been out?” You ask, throat dry from lack of use.

“Close to three days,” Haechan  replies instantly, an unreadable look on his face as he adjusts the pillow behind your back carefully. You take a careful sip of the water handed to you, observing him from behind the rim of the cup.

There are dark circles evident under the corners of his eyes, and light stubble on his chin. Despite the obvious lack of rest, he still looks as beautiful as ever, the sight of him sending a jolt of affection to your heart.

A heavy silence rests in the room, symbolic of so many things left unsaid between the both of you. It beseeches you to say something, anything to dispel the tension looming over you and Haechan.

“Hyuck, I-”

“Y/N-”

You giggle slightly at the surprised look on Haechan’s face. “You first, then.”

He swallows nervously, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. But when Haechan lifts his head back up to look at you, there’s a certain quiet determination that rests in his gaze. You hold back a shiver at its insistence, as if he can see right through you like glass.

“When you were gone-” he starts, “I did a lot of thinking.”

“That’s new,” you say, and he rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips despite the sombre atmosphere. “I’m serious, Y/N. Those were the worst two days of my life, and I never want that to happen to you. I couldn’t stop thinking that if I’d been more careful-” Haechan sucks in a breath as if he’s in physical pain, and you instinctively reach out to hold him close to you, to soothe his hurt the only way you know how.

You hold his face between your hands, staring directly into his worried eyes and hoping that your words will get through. “Listen to me, Donghyuck. None of this was your fault.”

The furrow in his brows doesn’t leave, but the dark clouds in his expression clear just barely.

“The bracelet you gave me saved me. I’m never going to be able to thank you enough for that,” you continue, and he leans his cheek into your palm, as if thinking of a response. When he wraps his fingers around your wrist, holding your hand to the curve of his face, the fondness of the motion makes you smile.

“That wasn’t all I wanted to say. When you weren’t around, it was- difficult. Not just because I was worried, but because having you by my side makes everything easier. Better,” he admits, circling his thumb in gentle, soothing circles.

You’re not sure where he’s going with this, but you hold your breath, waiting. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, in sync with the wall clock that ticks away second by torturous second. The heady rush of anticipation fills you, and you feel as if you’re teetering on an invisible precipice, about to fall into oblivion.

“I love you. I wanted you to know that. It’s just- I realised I could lose you any time, and that’s worse than being rejected,” he says slowly, watching for your reaction.

There’s no surprise, no great revelation at his words. Instead, they settle into you like stones in a lake, barely making a splash. You’ve always known Haechan’s loved you, even if the idea of going further beyond friendship filled you with anxiety.

You’ve just been too scared to admit the truth.

To admit that you want him to hold you outside of when you have nightmares, that returning to either of your homes together makes warmth flood your chest. You’re someone who’s terrified of your dreams, but having him to wake up to makes the darkness a little easier to endure.

“I lied. When I said I just wanted a distraction.” Your hands are shaking, but you force yourself to continue. “I wanted you. I’m too much of a coward to admit it, but I do,” you breathe out shakily, feeling as the grip he has around your wrist tightens.

The doubt in Haechan’s features clears up at your words, replaced with genuine happiness. It’s a pretty expression on him, one of your favourites, and something that you’ll do anything to keep.

This time, he’s the one to pull you in, hand guiding the upward tilt of your chin. Your lips are chapped and so are his, but you don’t find yourself minding, not when Haechan is so warm and real and solid in front of you. And he’s yours.

When you finally break away from him for air, there’s a hunger in his eyes, but also love. So much of it that it leaves you breathless, weak to his ministrations. He smirks slightly at the dazed expression on your face.

“You know, for two of the best criminal investigators in Korea, we’re quite bad at figuring out each other’s feelings,” he points out.

“Shut up, Donghyuck.”

“As much as that was an interesting case, I hope we never have something like it again.”

“Agreed.” Jaemin lifts up his glass at Doyoung’s statement, downing all the champagne in one go. Renjun looks at him with distaste. “You’re going to get drunk,” he chides.

“I think we all deserve to celebrate,” Jaemin retorts. “To Woo Eunhyuk. May the fucker rot in jail,” the blonde-haired boy proclaims, and even Renjun takes a sip of alcohol at that.

The five of you had left the courtroom four hours ago, fresh from the sight of Woo Eunhyuk being found guilty and sentenced to life imprisonment with no parole. Not even his deep pockets could find a lawyer good enough to lighten his sentence. You don’t think you’ll forget the look he flashed you as he was dragged out of the courtroom, one that spelt pure hatred. But you’ve done what you’ve needed to do, and served justice.

“To Y/N and Haechan, my favourite couple, who needed a psychotic serial killer’s help to recognise their feelings.” Chenle’s voice rings out clearly in the room, drawing out a dry chuckle from the man next to you.

Your boyfriend and co-investigator rests his hand gently on your shoulder, before scoffing at the comment. “Careful, Zhong, or you’ll be the next one on my hitlist.”

You click your tongue at him. “Play nice.” Haechan looks at you incredulously, as if asking if you genuinely think he’s the one at fault. You only smile comfortingly at him before turning back to your conversation with Jisung.

You try to bite back a laugh when you hear him scoff lowly. Haechan may be smart and one. of the most mature people you know, but this isn’t one of those moments. “Give me a second, Jisung,” you request, and the younger boy nods, waving you off.

You tiptoe to tap your fingers on Haechan’s shoulder, the leather of his jacket smooth against your fingers. “Donghyuck.”

He doesn’t turn around.

“Are you seriously going to sulk because of this?” you ask.

There’s absolute silence.

“You can’t ignore me forever, you know.” Still nothing.

You sigh in exasperation before an idea comes to you. “Turn around, Hyuck. I have a surprise for you.” To your astonishment, the ploy somehow works.

The last thing Haechan is expecting is for you to grab his jacket collar in your fist and yank him down, before planting your lips firmly on his. It makes his mind blank for a moment, and Haechan reciprocates, before remembering that he’s technically supposed to be angry at you.

When he leans away, however, he’s trying his best to fight the blush that creeps across his cheeks.

“Still angry?” you ask, and he shakes his head. You smile victoriously, but it quickly fades away when he winds an arm around your waist and kisses you again, this time with a dizzying amount of passion.

You’re beginning to get lightheaded when the both of you finally separate, and Haechan has a smug smile on his face. He wipes the smudged lipstick away from the corner of your mouth with his thumb, and you barely register it.

“There. Now I’m happy.”

[haecastor]

will comeback here when i want to again