[honeykyeom]

hello and welcome in to our humble little flower shop. we're glad to have you! take a look around; we have lots of beautiful flowers and even pre-made bundles/arrangements, perfect for if you want to send a particular message to a loved one. if you have any questions, feel free to ask our staff (including our shop owner)! we hope you enjoy your stay!

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𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ about the shop owner

hi, my name is honey! i’m a black woman (she/her) born in ‘96. you can read more about me here. i appreciate you checking out my shop and i hope you enjoy yourself as you look around! our inbox is open for any inquiries or suggestions. please tell us how we’re doing or even if you want to just write a little note!

[honeykyeom]

white noise / track 3 (the lost chapter)

by popular demand i’m releasing her out into the wild. no proofreading, no tags, just some formatting to make it easier on you to read. if you wanna see her you’ll see her. feel free to comment and send asks about how i imagined this story ending.. this story was my baby for a time, and i do still hold it near and dear to my heart. but sometimes, to love something you have to set it free <3

Lukewarm air hits your face as you open the doors of the large lecture hall. Almost in a daze, you drag your feet across the concrete, thankful to be out of the chilly building. The bodies around you just blur into one as the post-exam fog begins to clear in your mind. You don’t recognize a single distinguishable feature–despite seeing the same 50 people for the past few weeks. Your state of consciousness is still on auto-pilot, so much so that you don’t register the pair of hands that suddenly pull at your waist, ripping you out of your hazy stupor. You should be scared in this kind of situation.

But these hands have become too familiar now, especially gripping your waist with slight pressure.

Seokmin brings your body close against his, your body heat melding into his when he pulls you in for a kiss. Your mind was already in a trance and his kiss intensifies the dizziness of the world around you. It’s like the world is spinning, but you pay it no mind, smiling into his kiss and getting lost in the dream.

It’s been a couple months since you started this thing with Seokmin. It’s been easy, too easy, to fall into this routine with him, tiptoeing the lines of friendship and much more. It doesn’t help that much of your friendship already blurred the lines, but the sneaking away after classes, him staying at your apartment through the night and the constant friction shared between the two of you made the lines non-existent–neither of you giving a damn.

With every morning you wake up to him, with every moment he’s lost in your body, with every sweet whisper that he moans in your ear with his caramel coated voice, you fall further and further into a dream state. You float higher each day, not ready to come down from the cloud he’s seemed to make with his own two hands for your comfort. It’s soft, peaceful and is made of every thought that’s filled your imagination, keeping you in that dream state as long as you’re with him.

But every dream has to end eventually.

Reluctantly, you pull away from his lips, meeting his face. A smug smile adorns his features, noticing how the lines of lips meet his cheeks and connect to his nose. You’ve become so familiar with these features, but you’re somehow left in awe every time you meet under these new circumstances.

“Hi!” you speak softly, your brows knit together in surprise at his sudden presence. “What are you doing here?”

Seokmin’s face gleams with eternal optimism, a staple of his, but there’s a particular shine to his eyes. They shine as bright as a star in the night sky as he responds, “I just wanted to see you.”

“We see each other almost every day and we’re literally going to meet the others in like 20 minutes.”

“You know what I mean,” his hands never left your body, comfortably slotted in the curves of your waist, so natural, so right. You’re acutely aware of this fact as you stare at his face, a faux annoyance showing in the creases of his face. The banter is quick, simple and suddenly, his fingers burn your skin with his touch as you shy away from his gaze. Leaning away from him and towards the cold brick wall of the Biology building, you peer back at him, cognizant of the façade the two of you were meant to maintain.

“What if someone sees us? I mean, we talked about… being public,” your words trail when you notice the dimples on Seokmin’s face slowly fade back into his face, the corners of his lips trailing downwards.

He remembers the conversation well enough–the memory of that movie night etched into the very makeup of his brain. How could he forget?

If you had told Seokmin that he would be in the position that he’s currently in, he’d think you’re full of shit.

But here he was, sinking into your sectional as you grind on his lap and making his head spin with the ease in which you pull at his roots. Seokmin keeps telling himself it’s a fantasy, one of his many recurring dreams where he’s finally with you, the person he’s been in love with for the past two years. He repeats it like a mantra, to will himself it’s all in his head until it’s something he can no longer deny when a moan leaves your lips, sounding more ethereal than any dream he’s ever had.

Seokmin’s lips slot between yours perfectly, his tongue gracing your bottom lip. Your mewls ring like bells in his ears, sweet and inviting–he can’t help but smile into your kiss. He’s determined to continue hearing your noises, his nerves firing against every logical thought in his brain.

The kitchen counter of your humble apartment is littered with chips, stray alcohol & red solo cups. Neither of you pay it any mind though, too preoccupied with the present moment as Seokmin’s hands graze your lower back and you straddle his hips, your bodies sinking further into the soft fabric of your sectional.

Seokmin’s lips chase yours when you pull away from him, not wanting to lose your warmth. He’s completely dazed as you view him from above, eyes glazed over in lust and desire. You giggle, bringing your hand to his chin and supporting his head to keep his eyes on you.

“Are you still with me, baby?”

He blacks out at the pet name–his brain short-circuiting at the way your breath warms his skin as you speak, only getting enough energy to respond with a soft yes as Seokmin watches you smile at him.

It’s baffling how you have him under your spell and you’re oblivious to that fact.

Seokmin slowly comes down from his high of the past 20 minutes–registering the words that you’re speaking to him.

“We need to talk.”

“About?”

“This…” you take a pause, your thumb caressing the soft skin of his chin as you focus on the oceans of brown in Seokmin’s eyes before you continue. “Us.”

Seokmin quickly sobers up, his hands removing themselves from your waist but laying purchase on your thighs. He tries his hardest to keep his composure–you’ve always been able to read him like a book, better than anyone else in his life. You were able to capture every tell with ease, down to a small eye twitch or throat itch. Knowing this, he finds it hard to believe you’re unaware of his feelings for you–the immediate red shade of his ears appearing when he’s in your presence.

‘Breathe’, he tells himself. He does just that before focusing back to the present moment, with you, instead of stuck in his own thoughts.

“Okay. What about us?”

“We need to establish some ground rules.” You take a quick pause, brief, but enough for Seokmin to notice the small drop of sweat on the tip of your eyebrow. “Just so we’re on the same page.”

“Ok then. Rule number 1?”

“This stays between us. Can’t tell the rest of the group.”

“Ok… Seems fair enough.. Rule 2?”

“No unusual PDA.”

Seokmin retorts with a small pout, “So I can’t hold your hand in public anymore?”

You bring a soft smile to your face, slightly giggling at the sincerity in his tone. Running your hand through his hair, you respond, “No, that’s not what I meant! We just don’t want to give ourselves away. So, hand holding between friends is okay.” Leaning closer to Seokmin, he’s suddenly falling into the swirls of color in your eyes and into a trance when your voice gets quieter as you speak. “But kissing,” you punctuate your statement by connecting your lips to his. Seokmin has to swallow a moan as he gets lost in you, pulling you closer and molding your body to his. His hands come to grasp at each side of your face, gentle yet desperate–to keep you two moving in unison.

His efforts were futile, though, as you pull away from him with a smirk, leaving him with the inability to catch his breath. “Isn’t allowed.”

Seokmin is only left able to stare at you, his hands feeling clammy as they still rest on your face. His thumb brushes across your face, his own body heat making your skin hot to the touch. All he can do is chuckle, shaking his head at the predicament he’s found himself in before he’s looking back at you. “Okay. Fine. Is that it?”

“One last rule. No seeing other people without us talking about it first.”

‘Easy,’ Seokmin thinks, but he still has to play it cool.

Raising his eyebrows, a playful tone enters his voice as Seokmin asks, “So, we’re exclusive fuck buddies now?”

You roll your eyes. “Not exactly. It’s more of a safety thing, you know?”

“Yeah, I’ll pretend that you aren’t just keeping your jealousy in check.”

“Do we have a deal or not, Lee?”

You present your pinky finger in between you, a lighthearted ritual that holds the weight of the future of your relationship with Seokmin. It seems too lax for such a situation, but he knows this is as important to you as it is to him with the small appendage in front of him.

“Fine. Deal.”

You’re brought back to Seokmin’s eyes, bringing you back to Earth and away from the memory of your first “official” night together. The browns in his irises swirl with a stormy air, a million thoughts behind them as he purses his lips.

“Right,” Seokmin concedes, clearing his throat. The weight of his backpack suddenly adding 10 pounds, his shoulders sag and his hands move to his pockets–leaving the ghost of his touch on your waist. “Sorry. I got carried away.”

“It’s okay,” your voice trailing off as you respond. You shiver, the coldness of the breeze chilling you to your bones with the absence of Seokmin’s heat. You focus on the ground, anything to fill this awkward silence and to ignore the thoughts in your mind that run a mile a minute. Something in the back of your brain is itching to make its way out, clawing and screaming for your attention as you push the feelings down further the black hole in your head.

Everything goes quiet when you feel Seokmin’s hands ghost the bottom of your chin, pulling you out of your mind and back to mountains and valleys of the browns in his eyes–soft yet enticing. His voice is low, quiet as if he’s trying to not break glass, when he asks, “I’ll still see you tonight, though… Right?” The corner of his mouth slightly tug at his skin–an easy smile forming and his signature dimples beginning to show underneath his lips ever so slightly.

You match his tone, answering quietly at first, “Yes. Yes, you will.”

You two stay like this, the contact of his hand on your chin alone generating enough heat to feel your inner core bubble up inside. Your eyes dart to his lips, pink and inviting, almost encouraging you to close the gap between you. How easy it would be to lose all inhibition. Who’s really paying attention to just two people on a campus of thousands?

But, you remind yourself that you’re not in the comfort of your apartment. And you’re not quite ready for the reality of the world just yet.

“Umm,” you step away from Seokmin, a smile occupying your face that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, “Should we go meet the others?”

Mingyu picks at the fraying seams of his eggshell colored shoes, the stitching and his fingers slightly stained green from the grass that currently surrounds him. He keeps his chin on his knees, tucked perfectly into his frame as he continues to sit in his anxiety. The world and conversations around him blur, too in his own mind to discern the noise that fills his ears.

He watches an ant stumble upon his left foot. Getting into its mind, Mingyu begins to wonder how it feels to climb a mountain every day–traveling miles and miles just to provide for the greater community. How challenging it must be to be small but powerful.

Mingyu watches as it clings to each twist of his laces, climbing along the fabric. His attention stays focused on the ant, the chatter in his mind growing louder until it can no longer be contained behind a filter.

“Have you guys noticed anything weird?”

What was once a chorus of four distinct voices suddenly becomes the sound of the blowing wind. Mingyu doesn’t look away from the ant on his shoe, but can feel the focus of the pairs of eyes on his profile as his mouth forms a soft pout. He’s deep in thought, that much is clear from their point of view. They’ve taken note of his silence for the past twenty minutes, unaware of the storm brewing in his mind or the reasoning behind it.

Jinsoul is the first to acknowledge him, looking at the others as her voice cuts through the silence with confusion and answers for the group. “What do you mean, Gyu?”

“I mean… Usually the other two are the first ones to anything, either together or separate,” he answers her with no hesitation. He finally looks at the group, careful to not jerk his shoes too much as he speaks. “But isn't it weird that these past couple months they’ve been late to everything?”

Yves sets her phone down into her lap, keeping it tucked between her thighs as she deadpans, “I haven’t noticed that.”

“Yeah well, you don’t notice anything.”

“That’s not true or else I wouldn’t notice the way Seokmin looks like he’s been kicked like a lovesick puppy dog anytime he’s around YN since freshman year.”

“He doesn’t make it hard to notice that. You aren’t special,” Minghao chimes in from his position on Haseul’s lap. Adoration fills his eyes as Yves begrudgingly mocks him, light chuckles filling the air. A small smile is stained on his lips when he looks back at Mingyu.

“What’s your point, Mingyu,” annoyance peaks through in Jinsoul’s tone and seeps into the features on her face. The lines between her eyebrows display the confusion of the thoughts in her mind, not understanding exactly what Mingyu is getting at with his question.

“I guess,” Mingyu pauses, catching the thoughts that run in his mind before he speaks. “I’m just wondering if YN has talked to you about anything. I noticed that something seems off, recently, at least to me.” He catches the blank expressions on his friends' faces, not knowing if he should continue explaining himself–a common occurrence. He knows he’s too attuned to his surroundings, more than most people, that confusion follows him whenever he speaks on his emotions. Sighing, he continues, “All I know, Seokmin has kept to himself even more than normal. He’s never home and when he is, he stays in room. He’s missed our own roommate hangouts multiple times.” He finishes his statement with setting his eyes on Minghao, a wave of understanding hitting him in an instant.

Minghao concedes, recalling the nights Seokmin seemed to be in a rush either in or out of the apartment. “He has been pretty distant lately.” He mutters softly, mostly for himself as he speaks aloud his thoughts. The sound carries through the air though, everyone hearing him as they process their own memories and conclusions.

“They haven’t told me anything, either of them. I’m sure if something was up, they would tell us when they’re ready,” Haseul, the voice of reason, answers his original question. It does nothing to calm the anxiety of Mingyu’s mind, though. Logic has never been the perfect cure to the qualm of his emotions.

“I don’t know. Something’s off,” Mingyu mumbles, a small pout creasing his cheeks as he turns his attention away from the group. He looks down at his shoes, his chin returning to its position on his knees.

“Hey! Sorry we’re late, we met up and got some snacks.”

Mingyu doesn’t look up when he hears the familiar voices of his friends, focusing on the now barren look of his shoes–the ant missing in the blades of grass.

yn: you’re still coming over right?

Seokmin can feel the hum of his phone in his back pocket, hoping the buzzing isn’t too noticeable as he sneaks out of his bedroom. He decides to leave the hallway light off, intending to exit as quietly as possible. Luckily, the blare of the television speakers obscures the tapping of his feet against the linoleum floor.

His heart is pounding, almost beating in sync with the laugh track of the sitcom playing. Seokmin has always been a terrible liar. The way his breath picks up and catches in his throat, the droplets of sweat that multiply as the seconds pass, and his fingers consistently picking at his clothes–the people closest to him could pick up when he was withholding the truth. He’s surprised he’s been able to keep two of his biggest secrets from his best friends.

His biggest secret being helplessly in love with you, that he’s somehow managed to keep from you. The second biggest being the fact that he’s hooking up with you, something that’s becoming increasingly harder to hide from his roommates.

Seokmin sneaks past the loveseat, careful not to alert the figure on the couch. As he looks over, he’s able to see Minghao, his gaze set on the TV in front of him and unaware of his surroundings. The glow of the screen fades onto his features with the blue and whites highlighting the lines on his face. Minghao is dazed, simply shutting his mind off after a day of classes.

Thank god, Seokmin whispers to himself. His shoulders relax into his frame and his chest slows with his breathing, Seokmin standing taller as he continues his trek through his own apartment.

He’s felt like a stranger in his own home recently, his room being the only place of solace besides your apartment. The weight of keeping this secret adds to the lines in his face with the stress growing heavier and heavier every day. If it were up to him, he’d scream it from the rooftops, tell the whole world that the most beautiful person he knows wants to be with him, desires him, even if it’s in such an inconsequential way to you.

Against his own desires, he keeps this to himself all for you as well. Everything is for you.

The dim golden light in the entryway acts as a guide, a light to the pearly gates, to his freedom. As he reaches the door, he can hear the choirs filling his ears, soprano notes blending with symphonies of tenors and bass. Culminating to a crescendo of bliss when he opens the front door, only for the melody to end when he’s met with a broad figure in the door frame. Donning a white cardigan and black beanie, the fabric a stark contrast from his frost-bitten skin, Mingyu stands before Seokmin. He’s breathing heavily, from shock or from running inside to keep warm, Seokmin isn’t sure.

Well, fuck.

“Hey,” Mingyu trails off, eyes somewhat wider than normal. He licks his lips, breaking and peeling ever so slightly from the cold, before he continues. “Where are you headed to?”

Seokmin’s mind runs a mile a minute, searching for any excuse for why he could be going out right now. “Ummm,” he takes a pause. Air catches in his throat, making Seokmin cough when he stutters out, “Just out.” Good job, Seokmin, he thinks to himself. Way to make them not suspicious.

Mingyu’s eyes flash to Minghao on the couch, his arms folding over his chest, almost silently speaking to the other man across the room. When he bites the corner of his lip, his canine catches a peeling piece of skin, slightly pulling as he brings his gaze back to the man in front of him. “Okay,” he speaks slowly but deliberately, treading the topic carefully and thinking over his words. “Well. I was hoping that we could actually hang out tonight? The three of us?” Mingyu brings his mouth inward, forming a thin line when he says, “It’s been awhile…”

Seokmin catches the tinge of pain in his voice, quiet and present in the softness of Mingyu’s eyes. His mouth runs dry, the rough texture of his tongue scratching at the hard palate of his mouth. Seokmin scratches at his jacket and pulls at the cuffs, the fabric stretching and fraying when he does. His mind is still blank as he replies, “I don’t know… I’ve got a lot of homework.” He doesn’t meet Mingyu’s eyes, speaking gently and focusing on his hands.

“Bullshit.” Minghao is standing up from his spot on the couch to join their conversation. He easily strides across the room, standing next to Seokmin. “There’s no way you have that much homework. You’re a theatre major.” He punctuates his statement by folding his arms against his chest, his shoulders perpendicular to his frame and hardening his exterior.

Eyes leaving his own fiddling hands to meet Minghao, Seokmin feels the tension rise as the other man’s brown eyes are cloudy with investigation, boring holes into his skin. Seokmin swallows hard before he responds. “Yeah, I have this… essay,” he stumbles through his words. “About like… the history of Sondheim… or Shakespeare… or something.”

“Okay, what the fuck is up with you?” Mingyu’s voice booms through the apartment, the bass reverberating against Seokmin’s bones. He walks past Seokmin, almost shoulder-checking him in the process. “We don’t see you on campus and we don’t see you here!” There’s fire in his words, the flames singeing the tips of hair on Seokmin’s face. Mingyu stomps across the living room as he speaks and not caring that they will more than likely get a noise complaint for his anger. “You hole up in your room all the damn time and you sneak in and out of the apartment like you’re a teenage boy sneaking out of his parents’ house to hook up with a girl!”

After Mingyu’s voice quiets, the only sound that can be heard is the television behind them filling the air. Seokmin thanks his lucky stars for the television a second time tonight, this time disguising his heavy breathing.

The pressure between Mingyu’s eyebrows loosens as his head clears and he’s finally able to look at Seokmin. His eyes are wide, the whites clearly visible. A deer in the headlights, the blood in Seokmin’s face drain – becoming ghostly pale. The gears begin to turn in Mingyu’s brain, the words that just came out of his mouth sparking the wires of thought in his mind and Seokmin’s demeanor only confirms his rapid firing suspicions.

“Holy shit… You are hooking up with a girl.”

Seokmin stutters, nearly choking from how dry his throat has become in the past few minutes. “Um.. No, I’m not!” He can’t conceal the feign exasperation, his tone two octaves higher than his usual speaking. Seokmin curses to himself, silently swearing how he could’ve gotten away with the lie, if only his body didn’t betray him by exposing his thoughts.

“Dude, you’re sweating buckets at the mere mention of a girl.”

Well, shit, Seokmin thinks.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Minghao re-enters the conversation. His arms stay folded against his chest, his eyes focusing on the details of Seokmin’s behavior as he asks his question.

“What is there to tell?”

“Well, are you on an app or something?”

“Has it been the same person this whole time?”

“Why were you keeping it a secret?”

“What about your crush on yn?” Minghao and Mingyu speak rapidly, parroting each other’s tone with each question and not bothering to wait for Seokmin’s reply. They look delirious, eyes wide, begging for answers.

Seokmin can feel his anxiety rising with each question. He can feel the heat radiating off of his skin, his desire to indulge to his best friends just exactly what he’s been up to these past couple of months. Seokmin is pulled in multiple directions as he stands before them though, your words echoing in his ear.

This stays between us. We can’t tell the rest of the group.

When he answers, Seokmin is slow, tiptoeing through the proverbial minefield. “Umm… Not on any apps, you know how those make me feel.” He quirks his upper lip up in disgust at the simple thought of downloading a dating app, the icky feeling of his past experiences flowing back to his mind. He draws his head down to look at the ground as he recalls the late nights, sneaking away mid study sessionThey never worked; he only tried them to simply bury his feelings for you. Seokmin felt used and was left with the bile taste in his mouth with the thought of using people for his own benefit. He was never able to lose the burning idea of you, if anything, each encounter branded him even more.

“It’s the same person… I met them in class. I didn’t tell you because,” Seokmin pauses before continuing, thinking on his next words, or half-truth, carefully. “I didn’t want it to get back to the others. Especially, yn.” He punctuates his last sentence, emphasizing the weight of his feelings on the matter.

Mingyu, concentrating on Seokmin, is the first to speak. “So you aren’t exactly… over her, are you?” The returning silence is palpable as Seokmin lifts his gaze to look at him. No tears, no sadness, just apathy to a point of hopelessness. Seokmin hides his emotions for you well, not even a frown gracing his features. Mingyu doesn’t know how to respond, deciding to focus his attention on the buttons on Seokmin’s jacket. Some dangle, barely held on by a string. Mingyu remembers when he got that jacket for him. It was a birthday gift 2 years ago, from him and yn.

Maybe that’s why Seokmin wore it any time the temperature dropped below comfortable and maybe that’s why he also never had the heart to replace it despite it’s failing state.

“Well, why do you want to keep it a secret?” Minghao questions. His voice shakes, teetering on what’s appropriate for the situation and what’s truly on his mind. “I mean… It’s not like YN has been shy about who she hooks up with…”

That was until it was him. What’s different with him, Seokmin thinks.

Seokmin responds meekly, ignoring the slight spiteful tone in Minghao’s voice. “I don’t know. I just…” His voice trails off, his brain shutting down with the conflict.

“Look,” Mingyu cuts in, aware of the sunken state Seokmin’s body is in, “If you want us to keep your secret, we will. Easily. But… Can we please hang out tonight?” He pleads with a slight push to Seokmin’s shoulders. The action brings a slight smile to the anxious man’s face, his dimples contrasting the wrinkles indenting his eyes from stress. “Feels weird to not have our roommate time, ya know? Surely, you can reschedule your booty call.”

Seokmin freezes, the nonchalant nature of the phrase catching him off guard and seeding the doubts in his mind. Is that all this was to you too?

“Um, yeah. I’ll, uh. I’ll text them.”

“We also need to hear all about them, for real.”

“Yeah, we definitely need to hear about the person that got your mind off of yn, even for a minute!” Minghao pats Seokmin on the shoulder as he walks back to the living room, Mingyu falling close behind.

Seokmin can only laugh awkwardly, wiping the cold sweat that has begun to damp his palms on his thigh. He doesn’t know how he managed to get out of that relatively unscathed because his chest is on fire as he tries to catch his breath once again. He concentrates on where his feet land, the feeling of the linoleum floor underneath his sneakers. He concentrates on the fabric of his jeans, how it scratches against his skin. He concentrates on all of his external surroundings, anything to ground himself and his mind.

The thing that breaks him is the slight buzz in his back pocket. The world around quiets when he lifts his phone to read his notifications, the boys questions about if Seokmin was still joining blurring into the background.

yn: hey, you okay? on your way? 🙁

this is where it would've devolved into some smut that eventually broke my brain lol. but just wanna say ty all again for everything <3 'preciate every single one of you, especially the ones who stuck it out with me all the way from hotgirlmingyu <3 love ya!

[honeykyeom]

definitely would be interested in reading what you have of ch3 and then bullet points also!

this seems to be the general consensus…

[honeykyeom]

hi friends <3 it’s been a bit lol.

let’s cut to the chase. i don’t really see myself writing again, in the near future.. i haven’t spent much time online as of recent and i kind of like it? i’m definitely getting old but it’s nice not to be terminally online lol.

however, i do feel bad leaving white noise on a cliffhanger.. i had ch3 mostly done, i just needed to write the “smut” but i think i was held up with that specifically. but here’s what im thinking, should i post what i have of ch3 and if anyone is interested in what i had planned for the story (bcs i genuinely did have the whole story mostly mapped out) i can write bullet points of what happened?

i doubt anyone is checking for me anymore, maybe i just feel bad having this tucked away and not having my hard work realized.. idk but let me know lol

[honeykyeom]

[honeykyeom]

general supportive message here to say you got this!! ✨🫶🌸

re: white noise

we’ll get over this mountain together 🫶🏾

[honeykyeom]

you WILL finish track 3 of white noise on ur flight this week

[thepixelelf]

warnings: coarse language. wc: 794

[the amnesia card always declines]

If there's one thing Joshua Hong has above all else, it's the audacity.

If there's two things, it's the audacity and the most grabbable, stupidly defined, makes-you-wanna-bite-into-them man tits you've ever seen in your godforsaken, miserable life.

Well, okay, maybe that counts as three things. Whatever.

"Oh my fucking god," you hiss, ducking closer to the coffee shop/bakery's table and hiding your entire head with both arms. "What is he doing here?!"

Soonyoung, the least subtle person you know (but you've given up on fixing him at this point) turns 180 degrees in his chair to watch the loser posing for a "totally casual" photoshoot outside. He hums in understanding, putting his hand under his chin like an experienced detective. "He must've seen your instagram story."

"He doesn't even follow me..."

"Oh, he's following you, alright." Soonyoung turns back around and stabs his fork into his strawberries 'n' cream croffle.

You glare at him over the pastries on the table. "Very funny."

"I know I am," he says with a dumb smile that says your sarcasm was not effective! "When are you going to stop holding your stupid grudge?"

An offended scoff escapes you. "It is a completely reasonable grudge, for your information."

"What, you being mad at him for...kissing you at that party?"

"For smooshing that stupid pretty face on mine at that party then acting like it never happened!" You slap your hands on the table, but as soon as you spot Joshua outside start to turn his head, you duck back into hiding.

Soonyoung points his fork at you. "He was drunk."

"So was I," you argue with a sneer. "But I remember everything-- especially you being the reason we had to cut the night short because you started drunk-crying and I had to take you home."

Suddenly capable of shame, Soonyoung scoots forward in his his chair and leans over the table. "Have I mentioned that I love you and you're the best friend in the world?"

"Whatever, buddy." You roll your eyes. "Just remember all the shit I've done for you when I'm the one crying in the club."

"Crying in the club?" echoes Joshua--

Joshua?!

Your soul escapes your body entirely and jolts back in a nano-second. "Holy fuck--" You put a hand over your racing heart and send a death glare to the smug offender. "You scared the shit out of me!"

Joshua just smiles that stupidly pretty smile and, damn it, you're supposed to be ignoring this jackass.

"Sorry," he says, but he doesn't sound sorry at all. "Are you free?"

Making a face, you look over at Soonyoung, who just shrugs, then back at Joshua. "...Right now?"

"Right now is good." He nods in thought. "Or later today. Or tomorrow. If not, then the day after that. You've been avoiding me."

You force your shoulders to relax and avert your eyes. "No I haven't."

Joshua's expression suddenly goes solemn, which you notice because, shit, you started looking at him again. "Did I do something?"

At that, you scoff, crossing your arms and shaking your head in disbelief.

"Seriously. That party... I don't remember much, except that I've barely seen you since."

"Don't play the amnesia card on me, Josh. It's so tired."

His brows furrow, and your stupid fingers want to massage the hurt look right off his forehead. As if the dumbass deserves it.

"It's not amnesia," Joshua says. "But it's fuzzy. I can't tell what really happened that night or what was just my dream."

"Really? We're talking dreams now?"

He shrugs, crossing his arms, which fold just underneath those stupid, huge pecs... "I happen to dream about you a lot."

"Mmhm... Sure..." Are they bigger than the croffles? The melon buns? The... "Wait-- what?"

Joshua smiles, and you just know he caught you staring, the little shit. "I said, I dream about you a lot. Kiss scenes included."

Your jaw drops, maybe to the floor, but you can't be bothered to check. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Soonyoung make a perfect circle with his mouth before he hurriedly asks the barista if they serve popcorn.

"Joshua Hong, you..." Standing from your chair, you fist the collar of his fleece sweater in both hands, primed to throttle. "...are so fucking stupid."

Then somehow, even though you're the one who pulls him in, he's the one who takes your breath away.

When your lips part, though, you open your eyes while his stay closed, and he leans in again.

"Wait," you say, halting him with the one word. "How did you find me here?"

Wincing, Joshua peeks just one eye open. "Please don't be mad at him."

You whip around, but the bell over the shop's door is already tinging, and Soonyoung is dashing across the street like his life depends on it.

Good, because it does.

"Kwon Soonyoung! You are so fucking dead!"

[honeykyeom]

5k words and one more (probably longer) scene left :-)

[391780]

ever get a comment that just makes you wanna not finish a fic out of spite

[honeykyeom]

hey! please don’t do this!

[honeykyeom]

i’m so curious if you guys perceive me more as a gyuldaengie, cuties gathering, or a dinonara

[princessleechan]

"You're the Man" Profiles #1

Masterlist

⚽synopsis: After your university cut your soccer team to prioritize the men’s team, it’s natural you have a falling out with your then soccer-star-player boyfriend and impersonate your twin brother at the rival university to play on their men’s team. Wait, it’s not? Oh well.

⚽pairing: afab!reader x ot13 (??? Member)

⚽genre: humor, romance, crack, eventual smut

⚽series tags: MDNI, she’s the man au, revenge au???, cross dressing!reader, reader identifies anything but male, sports au, queer themes, university au, love-whatever the fuck kind of shape, tags will vary per chapter

⚽Tag list: @90s-belladonna @the-boy-meets-evil @lirtha97 @hipsdofangirl @justineasian @kwanisms @multi-kpop-fanfics @pantumin @wooahaeproductions @mayashu @shuasdraftsalt @lone-lone-ranger @headlockimnida @horanghaezone @haolistic @porridgesblog @jeonjungkaka @luchiet @salmisu @ujimatchaaa @skzdesi @cheoliehansolie @vlbii @myghobi @sisterofsomeone @joonsytip @gyublues @alltheshineofthestars-blog @randomworker @isabellah29 @savgogh @too-many-kpop-hubands @kotarousproperty @shingsoluvely @kamabokogonpachro @mxnhoeuwu @skittlez-area512 @seccdlurv @softycheol @chisskaa @mochiteez @theyluvfrankocean @lllucere @xyren1 @thomawifey

Y/n (reader): Sporty soccer babe with a shitty boyfriend (now ex) that finds supporting their soccer career as productive as watching paint dry. So, their take on revenge is joining the rival soccer team to prove only to him, but yourself, and any misogynist piece of shit that men aren’t the only guys that can play soccer like Beckham. You just needed an in on this team, a cover to join. Luckily, you had one numbnut brother who couldn’t care less about being around on his college campus and just so happens to be getting out of town.

Yeonam: Twin brother of Y/n. Uncannily similar looking to his sibling. Same height, similar build (besides the obvious breasts), but could not be more different from them. While you are the athlete, he’s the musician and typical rebel child with big dreams and a one-way ticket to Japan to perform with his rock band. He just needs someone to cover him while he does that.

Seokmin : ex-boyfriend to our main character. Plays soccer like a champion besides that one time that rival player hit his balls so hard with the soccer ball it made him cry and pee in pain for a month. Thinks he loves his then partner, but not enough to respect them as a fellow athlete or human being. Needs to be put in his place to learn world does not revolve around him.

Mingyu: striker/center forward of his soccer team. Knows his way around a ball but not his way around his feelings for a pretty girl with eyes that sparkle like the night sky. Although he’s super conventionally attractive and sculpted like a motherfucking statue in a museum, he remains a humble and all round nice guy. He is confused though about why his new roommate looks like someone who belongs in anywhere but a soccer field.

Melli: Yeonam’s girlfriend and debutant, prettiest poison you’ve ever seen.  She’s as pretty as she is nasty. Someone who thinks things should come easy to her and has never been told no in her life. Yeonam may be her boyfriend but that doesn’t mean she’ll change her attitude around you, even if you’re his twin. She has a way of getting what wants and nothing is too big getting in her way. She’ll grind it under her feet into sand.

Chae: Local campus cutie that’s confident in who she is and sees something in our main character. Something different about him, how sweet he is, how unlike the other guys he is. There’s a gentle masculinity she can’t comprehend and has to know–no, has to have. She must have this man, but why doesn’t he want her like everyone else? She knows she’s pretty enough, she knows she’s smart enough, she knows she's desirable enough. What will it take to have his attention?

[neoneun-au]

CAN'T HELP MYSELF; CHAPTER III: WHO WAITS FOR LOVE?

―PAIRING: wonwoo x fem!reader, mingyu x fem!reader ―GENRE: love triangle au, fluff, mild angst, romantic comedy, suggestive, smut ―CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 11.2k ―CHAPTER WARNINGS: angst, mild language, alcohol consumption, masturbation (explicit female, implied/mentions of male), 18+ only ―STATUS: ongoing

―AUTHOR’S NOTE: i cant link them here, but please find the series masterlist and other chapters on my blog. i would love to know your thoughts on the story so far, this is really only fun with interaction and it helps keep me motivation to finish !

iii: who waits for love?

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“You didn’t mention one of my roommates was basically a fucking model,” you complain, sinking into the absurdly massive grey sectional next to Jeonghan as he sits scrolling on his phone, attention removed from the drama providing background noise on the shared TV. 

“Who? Mingyu?” He tosses his head back with a bark of a laugh at the suggestion, “he’s a model idiot.” 

“Idiot or not you should have warned me he’d be so…so,” you toss your hands in the air, a dramatic display of frustration completed by the furrow in your brows. The image of Mingyu’s bare chest from your initial meeting (new and improved version 2.0 of hot roommate: now accompanied by a soundtrack of bed squeaks and the joy of someone else’s orgasm!) assaults your senses and you scrub it from your mind’s eye as best as you can before fixing your weary gaze back on Jeonghan, “so hot.”

“Oh please,” Jeonghan rolls his eyes as soon as the word falls from your lips. “Yeah he’s easy on the eyes, but once you get to know him his looks are much less impressive, trust me.” He shakes his head, raising his coffee to take a sip before pursing his lips and fixing you with a concerned stare, “I didn’t take you as the type to pine after tall, dark, and stupid. You’re not thinking of using him as a rebound are you?”

“What? Absolutely not,” the reply comes out perhaps more fervently than it should have because what was intended to deny the suggestion only serves to deepen the crease settling in between Jeonghan’s manicured eyebrows. You clear your throat and take a sip from the mug of tea growing cold in your hands as a cover. 

“Rebound,” you scoff at the word, trying to play off the twisting feeling in your gut with derision but only managing to dig the knife in deeper. “Definitely not. I have no plans to start dating anytime soon. Not after this breakup.” You’re aware that you’ve begun to ramble but as per usual, your mouth runs away with your words. Try as you might, you cannot scramble to retrieve them as they spill forward like a damn breaking open. Jeonghan stares at you with a slight frown as you monologue, “I barely even want to look at men full-stop. Don’t get me wrong, I mean, you’re okay, we’re friends and all. And Seungcheol is fine I guess ‘cause he lifted all of my heavy shit up the stairs like some kind of bodybuilding angel sent from protein-heaven,” a stray strand of hair falls in front of your eyes and you blow it away with a short puff of breath. 

“But dating? No. No, no, no,” you continue unabated, “absolutely not. I’m taking this time to get to know me. If anything, I’m dating myself. Mingyu might be hot but he won’t break my resolve, that’s for sure. I am determined,” you finish the speech with a single, firm nod–agreement with yourself clear and solid and in no way capable of breaking at the threat of warm brown puppy eyes flashed in your direction. 

“Right,” Jeonghan drags out the word, unconvinced by your impassioned declaration of independence. “Well, if you get bored of dating yourself and do end up wanting someone to mess around with for a bit, I can hook you up with some people. Serious or…less serious. Your choice.”

“I will be just fine on my own, thank you.” You nod once. Firm. Decisive. Not at all embarrassed by the display. 

“If you say so,” he sings, shaking his head and pushing himself off the couch before flicking the TV off. You sit in silence for a moment, sipping the last of your lukewarm tea, and listen as Jeonghan’ footsteps fade into the kitchen. The slight lingering guilt and shame from the night before stains your thoughts. A ring of liquid left on the surface of a coffee table, encircling the memory of Mingyu’s moaning and the keen sense of desire that burned a pit in your core at the sound.

Jeonghan returns from the kitchen a second later and sits down on the arm of the couch. He clears his throat to speak, more serious than you had seen since graduating university. “Listen, I’m not going to tell you how to live your life,” he begins. You inhale to laugh your disagreement of the statement but he holds up a single hand to silence you so you bite it back just as quickly. “I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I will just give you a warning, if I may” he lets his hand fall back down to his lap, “as your friend. And as someone who has your best interest at heart.” 

“Fine,” you allow, buying into the sincerity, “I’m listening.” 

“I said that I can hook you up with people both serious and not so serious,” he says, pausing to take a deep breath, “Mingyu is not serious.”

The image of the man in question pops up in your mind once more. An observable object–lips locked with the mystery brunette, hands roaming the expanse of her body as they flutter like a pair of dragonflies locked in a mating ritual towards his bedroom. The chorus of “ohs” and “ahs” that chorus in your ears like the audio from the old Italian softcore porn films you used to sneak out of bed to watch in your adolescence. The squeaking of the bed frame, and even the eventual abrupt departure first thing this morning, project themselves across the walls of your brain like a feel of film. All fleeting images and experiences serve as firsthand evidence backing up what Jeonghan is saying to you at this moment in the harsh light of day. 

“If you’re in it for a quick, no strings attached hookup then, well,” he sighs, brushing his bangs out from in front of his eyes, “you’re a grown woman, I trust you can make your own decisions. But I’ve never seen Mingyu with the same girl more than once. So just…be careful. Because if you want something substantial, you would be barking up the wrong tree with him.” 

You nod and the previous image of Mingyu–all roaming hands and bucking hips–dissolves pixel by pixel into the knitted brows of concern and the serious expression his classically handsome face held barely an hour ago. The warmth of his hand as it pressed ever so lightly against the skin of your forehead–an act so painfully tender and familiar it made you yearn at the intimacy of it. While your logical mind does believe what Jeonghan is saying, another part of you (a deeper and much more foolish part) can’t help but feel like there has to be more to Mingyu than the rest of them give him credit for. That maybe there is something to be taken seriously there. 

The thought dissipates into vapour as Vernon strolls down the stairs–bleary eyed and dazed with the lingering sleep still clawing at the corners of his eyes. He nods lazily in silent greeting, clad in tie dye and baggy jeans, and walks past the pair of you and disappears into the kitchen. 

“Just,” Jeonghan hesitates a moment, waiting for the sound of the fridge opening in the next room to disrupt the strained silence that had settled between you, “be careful, okay?” 

“Don’t worry,” you smile, genuinely grateful for the advice and care from your long-time friend, despite the bells of disagreement ringing out inside of you. “I’ll be fine.”

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“Do you think I need a rebound?” The question comes after an hour of banter and conversation over way too expensive cocktails in the dimly lit corner of the bar you used to frequent when you were still going to university with Seulgi. Her insistence that you get out of the apartment and stop stewing in your own thoughts had finally paid off and truthfully the distraction was not entirely unwelcome. But you were still stubbornly refusing to admit that she was right. The status quo of your friendship since the very beginning. 

“Didn’t you say you were swearing off men or something?” Seulgi asks, tapping a manicured fingernail against the side of her nearly empty manhattan. 

“That was before I saw the reality of the men I was swearing off,” you sigh, mourning the loss of your already weak resolve. Solemn regret for the poorly timed declamations you had given voice to in the past. “And the reality is that they're pretty fucking hot.” 

“You mean one of them is pretty fucking hot, right?” she emphasizes, ever observant, and you grimace at her over the lip of your own half-empty glass.  

“One of them looks like a Greek fucking God for no reason,” you grumble, turning to wave the waitress over for another round, “like Adonis or something. It’s not my fault I have functioning eyeballs.” 

“Adonis wasn’t a god, he was the mortal lover of Aphrodite.”

“Well whatever he was, I’m now stuck living in an apartment with him.” The young waitress walks up with an expectant look and Seulgi orders another round of the same while you drain the last of your drink, savouring the bitterness of the gin as it lingers at the tip of your tongue. You watch the waitress as she walks back towards the bar, brunette ponytail swinging behind her like in rhythm with her steps, and wonder vaguely if maybe she’s the girl you saw Mingyu with. 

Seulgi turns back to you with a slight roll of her eyes, “I’m sure it's not that bad. Just ignore him, you’re mostly working or asleep  when you’re not just hanging around bugging me anyway.” 

“Pretty hard to ignore him when he’s so openly hooking up with some random girl in a condo with 4 other people who can clearly hear him.” 

“Well put some earphones in or something, listen to a podcast,” she laughs, shaking her head. You bite your tongue, reluctant to mention the fact that you had willingly listened in as they fucked. That maybe you had enjoyed it a little more than you were letting on. You didn’t need the inevitable teasing that was bound to come if you told her any of that. “Do you remember our one roommate? From second year?” 

“Oh god,” you balk at the memory, “Johnny?” 

“He was so loud,” she grimaces. So many late nights spent huddled together on her bed watching movies, joined in mutual avoidance of the self-proclaimed playboy and his rotating roster of girls. “And then you went and hooked up with him which was just the worst. He was so insufferable after that.” 

“Hey, in my defense I was desperate and not exactly in my right mind,” you bristle at the thought of your pathetic, erstwhile crush. Surely, you had thought in the throes of your youth and naivety, someone who pulled that many girls knows exactly how to make them feel good. Yet by the end of it, as he lay open-mouthed snoring on the bare mattress next to you, you were left with a clear idea of why you never seemed to see the same girl more than once. “Anyway, from the sounds coming out of her, Mingyu seems to actually know what he’s doing in bed.” 

“So you did listen,” she smirks. 

“The walls are thin,” you let the paltry excuse fall from your lips as she tosses her head back in laughter. Gulping down a mouthful of water in a vain attempt to swallow some of the embarrassment boiling like hot lava in your bloodstream. 

“What do you think they were doing?” Seulgi leans forward with a conspiratorial gaze–brown eyes full and bright and filled to the brim with a hint of evil. There have been a few moments throughout your years of friendship where she has fixed you with a look like this, and most of them led to some of the worst decisions either of you have ever made. Breaking into the community swimming pool after dark, stealing the neighbouring houses’ lawn ornaments, making out with dudes that may or may not have been married. Her desire for intrigue terrified and excited you in equal measure. 

“Pretty sure they were fucking,” you respond and she sits back, disappointed at the bland reply. 

“Yeah, I got that part. I mean details. If we’re gossiping, we should do it right.” 

The cacophony of the bar consumes you. Chatter and laughter from nearby tables floods your senses, drowning out the roar of guilt that knocks at the door of your mind as you consider your next words carefully. Whether to completely dive off the deep end and betray your new roommates privacy (in more ways than you already have). If you had been a little more sober and a little less intrigued by the man in your own right, you might have shut the topic of conversation down before it even began. You might have left the apartment for the night and slept on a chair in the lobby and avoided the entire tryst to prevent the memory of his moans from carving themselves into your temporal lobe. 

But you did not and now you are just as invested in the situation, and Seulgi’s complete lack of shame about asking for details further strangled any lingering guilt you had left. “Well,” you start and she leans in closer, eyes alight with anticipation, “they started in the hallway. I thought they were going to have sex right against the wall while I was trapped hiding behind the couch.” 

She laughs, head tossed back in mirth, “bet you would have loved that. Mingyu, bare ass out in front of you,” she jeers and you bristle at the accusation (even if you know she’s right). The waitress returns with your drinks and you mumble a brief thank you to her as she sets the glasses down. Seulgi continues to laugh, pleased with your reaction, “it would have been your wet dream come true.”

“Okay, that’s it. I’m not saying anything else,” you grumble into your fresh drink, wincing at the bite of the liquor. Cocktails were never your thing but Seulgi had offered to pay so who were you to refuse. 

“Aww,” she whines, “fine, fine, I’ll stop teasing you. Please give me the play by play. I am so curious.” She claps her hands together in mock prayer, pleading for your cooperation, and you think she might make an excellent lawyer or serial killer if she weren’t so normal most of the time.

“Fine,” you relent after a beat, already too wrapped up in reliving the night to abandon the story anyway. “Obviously,” you stress, “that didn’t happen. They were making out there for maybe like 5 minutes but it felt like hours. I was so worried she was going to see me but thankfully I managed to stay pretty low.” 

Seulgi takes a sip of her darkly coloured drink, you can tell she wants to interject but she manages to hold true to her promise. 

“So they stumble off to his room,” you continue with a sigh, “and I go to mine, which, mind you, is right next to his. We share a wall.” She winces and you give her a knowing nod, steeling yourself against the all too vivid memory. “I crawl into bed, trying to block out the noise for a while, which at this point isn’t too loud. It’s just like…some muffled talking and moaning and the occasional slap of like…skin on skin. Maybe he spanked her…” you trail off, shaking your head along with the words, fully invested in the theatrics of the storytelling now. “But, through some cruel twist of fate his bed, just like mine, is also right up against our shared wall. So as soon as they really get going, I can feel it.”

“What, like…” she thrusts in her seat, a quizzical slant to her eyebrows, “like shaking?” 

“Yup,” you pop the ‘p’ for emphasis and she lets out a low whistle. 

“For how long?” 

“I don’t know,” you shake your head, “felt like forever. I was just clutching my sheets like it was an earthquake or something.” You do conveniently leave out the heat of desire and curling of toes, but she didn’t need to know that part. 

“Did it start off slow?” she asks, voice conspiratorial. “Fast? Do you think he ate her out first?”

“Seulgi,” you hiss, keeping your voice low. You glance over at the table of college guys next to you but they don't appear to have been listening.

“What, I’m not allowed to ask?” She balks, hand on heart, and appears offended for a moment before the usual mischievousness settles back in and she leans forward with a glint. “Did Wonwoo ever eat you out?”

“We are not discussing the details of my sex life right now.” 

“No of course not,” she rolls her eyes, “we’re just discussing the details of someone else’s.” You grumble at the inability to argue with this statement. “How long has it been since you got laid anyway?” 

“I don’t know,” you sigh, dropping your head to the table and then regretting it immediately when you realise how sticky it is. “Like five months maybe?”

“Five? Didn’t you break up with Wonwoo like…” she fixes her eyes on the ceiling for a brief moment, calculating the time passed in her head before turning back to you with frown lines creased into her forehead, “six weeks ago?”

You shrug, sinking your embarrassment into another sip of alcohol, “so we hadn’t had sex in a while, so what?” 

“Do you think maybe that was a contributing factor in your dissatisfaction with the relationship?” She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. 

“I don’t need a therapy session, Seulgi.” 

“On the contrary, I think you would benefit greatly from therapy,” she laughs, “but that’s not what this is. You’ve just been sort of distant lately.” You open your mouth to protest but she stops you with a glance, “don’t start, I know we’ve been hanging out, but over the last few months you haven’t been as open about your emotions and stuff. You used to tell me everything, even things I didn’t want or need to hear, but for a while it feels like you’ve just been…hiding. Internalizing.” She leans forward and taps the center of your forehead with one, manicured finger. “Stop that. It’s not good for you to be in your head so much.”

“I hate to say it but, you’re right,” you sigh, begrudgingly agreeing with her observation. The skin where she had poked you tingling in the aftermath of her touch like a beacon of truth.

“I always am,” she nods, “but seriously. We’re friends. I want to hear how you’re feeling. I know I make fun of you a lot, but that’s just ‘cause you’re so easy to make fun of.”

“Hey!” 

She laughs and you’re reminded of why she and Jeonghan always got along so well. “Seriously though,” she says, expression sobering, “maybe you wouldn’t fixate so much of your loneliness and desperation onto random guys if you got out of your head a bit more regularly. Just a thought.” 

“It's not desperation, I just…” you trail off, unsure of where to begin. Unsure even of what your own internal landscape was trying to tell you. You wanted to confide in her, to be more open and transparent, but it was hard to do that when none of you couldn’t even sort out your thoughts and feelings from your anxieties and worries. It was hard to be clear when everything just felt like mud. She waits, expectant, as you sift through the much for some clear strand of thought. “You’re right, about the loneliness anyway, I know you are.” She nods, dark hair spilling over her shoulders. “But it’s not desperation.”

“So then what is it?” she asks and you try to place it. Try to tug on the thought to follow where it was leading you. What was it about Mingyu that made you feel like you were chasing something? Clawing at the walls of some well of yearning like a prisoner of your own desires. What was it about him that was making you want more? More information, more contact, more, more, more. 

“I think,” you start, hesitant to speak the word lest it be wrong. “I think it’s curiosity.”

“About Mingyu?” 

“Yeah, him. And about myself,” you shake your head. Ruminating on your spiraling thoughts was one thing, but vocalising them for someone who knew you oftentimes better than you knew yourself was another thing entirely. Your thoughts held more weight now that someone else was bearing witness to them. They had more consequences now than just 15 minutes of anxiety or a few hours of doom-scrolling.

“What about yourself?” she asks, unraveling the mess as you present it to her. 

“I feel like…I’ve been in this strange place between needing people for everything and also trying my best to not need anyone at all. I can’t do my taxes without help, I can’t change a tire without help, I can’t even move apartments without it! But when it comes to emotions or vulnerability…I would rather just deal with it on my own, you know?” She nods, attention focused completely on you. Despite how long you’ve been friends, the direct attention still flickers a switch of shyness inside of you.  

“That’s what it was like with Wonwoo, too. He was never the most emotionally available person and I think I just got used to dealing with things on my own because of it. I didn’t want to burden him with my thoughts or feelings cause I know I have a lot of them. Don’t get me wrong, though, it wasn’t like he refused to listen or anything I just…he just wasn’t really open with his own feelings or thoughts so I sort of started to feel guilty about dominating those conversations all the time with mine. Like I was using him as some sort of emotional punching bag. And then I just got used to it, and it took so long for me to realise that I needed something more than that…” 

Any hesitation you had felt before dissipates as you talk, little by little. You feel like you’re back in your dorm room together, laying on your floor and just letting yourself pour out every thought, every feeling, every worry you had. Stream of consciousness–your lips to Seulgi’s ears. That open vulnerability you shared before life and work and everything else got in the way and left the door open for inhibition, shame, and guilt to move into the space between.

You feel lighter as you speak, like you had been needing this–craving it. Waiting for her invitation to come to let loose the torrential downpour of your mind to a willing listener. To a friend. 

She was right. She always was.

“So what is it about this Mingyu guy, then? You don’t think he would just be the same?” She asks, shifting the focus, and you purse your lips in concentration. 

“I’m not sure…” you trail off. And you really weren’t sure. Was he just an idle fascination after all? Did you just find him hot and that smoke screen of good looks was blinding you to the fact that he was just some guy like everyone before him? Or was there actually something there, in spite of it all? You mull it over while Seulgi takes a leisurely sip of her drink. “I was talking to Jeonghan the other day, and he said something that sort of made me think–”

“That’s a surprise,” she laughs, unable to resist the opportunity for a jab at your mutual friend. 

“He said ‘Mingyu is not serious’ and I don’t know,” you continue, unabated by her comment, “I get this feeling that that’s not the full truth.”

“What, like psychic intuition?” she laughs and you shake your head. 

“No, no…well, maybe. I don’t know. Obviously I don’t know the guy very well yet, and I have seen him do exactly what Jeonghan was warning me he does but…” you sigh, trying to collect your scattered thoughts of the man that is currently plaguing your mind. “He has also been very thoughtful, and he seems to notice such small details that the others don’t. I don’t know…I just think there might be something more to him than that, you know?”

“And you think you’re going to be the one to discover that side of him?” she asks, eyebrow quirked. Astute as ever. 

“No,” you start, but catch yourself in the lie immediately. “Well, yeah, I guess. I just want to see if my hunch is correct.” 

She fixes you with a withering gaze, dark brown eyes boring into your own for a moment before she laughs again, “Oh I get it now, you want to fix him.”

“I can’t help it, I love a project,” you sigh, resting your cheek in your palm and tracing idle circles against the wood grain of the table top. 

“So take up crocheting or something! Stop throwing yourself at every man who looks like a kicked puppy.” You groan at the accusation but can’t deny the truth in it. You did have a track record. “Look, if you want to do this. Really want to crack that big beefy chest open and see what’s inside, I’m not going to stop you, but I’m warning you now that I do not think this is going to end well.”

“You sound like Jeonghan,” you mumble, eyes closed as you listen to the lecture. 

“Good, at least someone you live with has some brains.” She shakes her head, pausing to hand her card to the waitress as she walks over with the bill for the evening. Silence stretches out for a moment, the din of the bar enclosing in to envelop you in its swell as you wait for the transaction to finish. The waitress returns and Seulgi slips her card back into her wallet before turning back to you, “I’m not saying this to be mean, but I really think you should take some time to be with yourself before you end up repeating the same mistakes you made with Wonwoo.” 

“Harsh,” you mutter, feeling the sting of it spear through your heart and settle there. Slow poison. 

She softens, eyes warming as she slides off her chair. You follow suit and walk with her out into the chill of the night. The bitterness of winter was starting to seep slowly into the air, you can feel it biting at your skin as you step outside with her to wait for the Uber she ordered to pull up.

“I love you and I want what’s best for you, and if you think that there might be something there with this Mingyu guy then I hope you’re right, I really do,” she says, a smile softening her expression. “I just want you to be careful, ok?” 

“Okay,” you sigh, hugging your arms tight against your chest to fight off the wind as it blisters through your thin jacket. “I love you, too. And I will be careful, I promise. I’m not really too keen to repeat my last relationship either…”

“Good,” she nods, eyes roaming to the curb as a slick black sedan pulls up. “I’ll see you soon. Try not to throw yourself too big of a pity party before then.” She waves goodbye as she strides towards the car. You roll your eyes, returning the wave, before starting your brisk walk the few blocks back to the condo.

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Time passes slowly in the new stasis of your life. You take the new opportunity in the wake of your hangout to bury yourself in work and get through some projects that had been building up untouched while you were feeling sorry for yourself. You kept up with regular jogs with Seungcheol, largely at his behest, and they were starting to become an enjoyable break in your days. A way to clear your mind and focus your attention on your body. It also did not escape your notice that the route he was taking you on now steered clear of the street where you had seen Wonwoo a few weeks ago. You use your commitment to the new routine as a silent thank you to him for somehow knowing what you needed when you needed it.

Vernon was becoming a favourite of yours as well. A quiet denizen of the condo; he showed up at random hours, taking a seat near you but not too close, reading through scripts or scrolling on his phone in companionable silence as you worked. It was like living with a cat that took care of itself and had an impressive collection of beanies. 

Mingyu you tried to avoid, for the most part. He still plagued your thoughts on a daily basis, but out of respect for your friends’ concerns you wanted to give this budding infatuation time to settle into shape. To give yourself time to try and figure out what your real feelings on the matter were. You tried to find a delicate balance between roommate and acquaintance, figuring out his general schedule and adjusting your own accordingly so that you weren’t caught in any more awkward situations in the middle of the night or without anyone else around. 

All of these measures were helping to make you feel more at home in the condo. Less like an interloper disrupting their days and more like a part of the makeshift family–even if that part for now was cousin, twice-removed. 

As a result you were spending less time doing your work from the cafe and much more of it huddled over your laptop on the coffee table in the living room. Projects were getting done quicker, though it did mean that you were seeing Seulgi less often. 

“Why aren’t you answering my texts?” Seulgi’s face blinks to life on the screen of your phone as you finally accept her FaceTime call. “Are you still moping?” 

“I’m not moping!” you defend, raising the phone to hide the view of the pajamas you’ve been wearing for the past 24 hours as you were locked in a death-match with an upcoming deadline.

“Well how many more projects do you have left to do before we can go out? It’s been two weeks since I saw you now that you’re actually working from home,” she sighs in exasperation. Judging by the smoked out black liner defining her eyes, she was heading out tonight with or without you anyway. “Yerim is in town and she’s been asking about you.” 

“Yerim? Wait, since when? I thought she was still in England?” you straighten up at the mention of your distant friend’s name.

“She’s back for now to get some visa renewal stuff done,” Seulgi answers, “and we’re going out tonight so you should come if you’re not still buried under a mountain of work.”

You glance at the screen of your laptop, folders stacked on your desktop in a messy landscape of the digital mountain you created for yourself. The thought was tempting but you knew Yerim and you knew what a night out with her always entailed. Read: getting black out drunk in a club and stumbling home at 6:00am the next morning. You had made a lot of progress scaling your workload, but you weren't sure that even without work you would have the energy needed for a night out like that. 

The front door clicks open behind you and you spin your head to spout a quick greeting. Mingyu nods a quick hello, arms loaded with bags of groceries, before disappearing into the kitchen. 

“Who was that?” Seulgi asks, noting the interruption in your conversation.

“Mingyu,” you answer, mindlessly pushing yourself off the ground and bringing her with you as you walk into the kitchen behind him in search of a glass of water. He smiles at you as you enter but says nothing as Seulgi’s voice rings out through your phone.

“Ah,” she smirks, “the one with the nipples?” You roll your eyes at the clear attempt to embarrass you but nod—pointedly ignoring the man in question as he sputters next to you at the comment. You fill a glass with water from the filtered jug in the fridge. “So are you coming tonight or should I tell Yerim you’re too depressed?”

You give it a moment of thought. You haven’t seen Yerim since she moved to the UK in the middle of her third year of university, after the rest of you had already graduated. She sent some odd gifts here and there—chocolate, snacks, a figurine of Shakespeare wearing heart print boxers—but communication had dwindled as you all found your footing in your adult lives, far removed from the heady days of hedonistic college life. 

“Well first of all, don’t tell her I’m depressed, ‘cause I’m not,” you emphasise and Seulgi laughs at the bitter defense, “but I don’t think I can make it tonight. We should make plans for dinner or something before she leaves, though. Something a little more lowkey than the club.” 

“Fine, be boring,” she sighs. “By the way, Yerim brought a friend back with her. He’s apparently cute and not completely useless. She thought you might like to meet him, just as a distraction. Or a rebound that’s not going to jeopardize your living situation. He’s also coming tonight” 

You groan, settling down in a kitchen chair—opposite to the one Mingyu had sat down in with his reheated leftovers. He watches you with mild interest out of the corner of his eye while you try to think of a way to convince Seulgi that you don’t need Yerim’s charity date. “I would, but I already have plans tonight,” you lie, hoping she buys it without question.

“Oh?” she asks, eyes narrowed in cautious suspicion. “Do you have other friends?” 

“Very funny,” you roll your eyes, “but no, actually. It’s just with my roommate.”

“Which one?” she probes, digging you deeper into the grave of your own lie.  

“Oh uh–” you stutter but your eyes flicker above the screen of your phone, locking in on Mingyu’s own wide brown gaze. “Mingyu. We’re going to dinner tonight.”

He opens his mouth to speak, clearly confused by being dragged into your mess, but you shake your head lightly—willing him to just roll with it. He clamps his mouth shut and returns to his bowl of stew. 

“Mingyu?” Her surprise is genuine and you can tell she’s starting to believe you. A flicker of concern shines in her eyes. “Is it like…a date?” 

“No, Seulgi,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger. She was edging dangerously close to that  ‘jeopardizing your living situation’ territory on her own. “It’s just dinner. With a roommate.” 

“Okay,” she drawls, “but if you end up against a wall with his face between your thighs—”

“Goodbye, Seulgi,” you end the call with a panicked stab of your finger and lean back in your chair, eyes shut tight against the rising tide of anxiety. You feel lightheaded. Hopefully Mingyu didn’t catch that last part. 

“Did we—” He clears his throat. His voice, hesitant and low, floating in and dispeling your faint hope that he hadn’t been paying attention. “Did we have plans I forgot about?” 

You want to laugh, he sounds so genuinely worried. It forces a bitter bubble of bile to rise up into your throat. “No,” you shake your head, clearing it with a sip of water. “Don’t worry you don’t have to go out to dinner with me, I just really didn’t want to go out tonight. Yerim is sort of wild sometimes and the thought of meeting some stuffy English guy in a club was making me feel ill.” 

“Oh,” he smiles—also hesitant, but you can see a hint of his canines poking out behind his lips. “Well, glad I could be of service, then.” His smile widens and you can’t help but return it with one of your own. 

“You have been most helpful,” you laugh. “Sorry for using you as a scapegoat. Also sorry about the nipples thing, Seulgi has a selective memory.” 

“I don’t mind,” he shakes his head, the flush of warmth in his skin betrays the hint of embarrassment he’s trying to mask. You smile at the grace he’s giving you in what could have been an exceptionally awkward moment (especially after weeks of avoiding being alone with him) and push your chair back–wooden legs sliding against the tile. You stand up, preparing to turn around and hunker back down in front of your laptop screen, but Mingyu calls out your name before you get the chance. 

“Yeah?” you reply, half-turned towards the living room. 

“If you do,” he pauses, clearing his throat. “If you do want to go out to dinner tonight though…I could do that. I would uh…I’d like that.”

Your eyes trail from his still slightly pink face to his nearly empty bowl of leftovers. “But you already ate?” 

“Yeah,” he laughs, hand rubbing the back of his neck. A gesture so familiar to you from spending so much time with Wonwoo, but it looks different on him. Less like an anxious tick and more like a bashful habit. “I can eat again though,” he drops his hand from his neck and pats his stomach twice, “I’m a bottomless pit.” 

You should say no. You know you should say no. You shouldn’t dig yourself any deeper into this hole than you already have. But looking at him now, eyes so wide and genuine—freely offering you this tether of kindness—you can’t seem to bring yourself to summon up the word.

“Okay,” you reply, deadpan. Numbed with the confusion and surprise of this sudden change of plans so easily agreed to. So easily ruining weeks of careful avoidance and the cooling off of the one-sided tension you felt when you were near him. 

“Great,” he grins, white teeth glistening in the bright lights of the kitchen. “I need to grab a shower first and make a quick call, but how about we head out in an hour? What kind of food are you in the mood for? Do you have any favourite spots?” 

“I uh—” you stammer, unsure of the answer to the posed question. “I’m fine with anything. I don’t go out for dinner a lot so I don’t really know that many restaurants…”

“No problem,” he smiles again, standing up and grabbing his bowl. “I know plenty, I’ll bring you to a good one. Promise.” He winks before turning around to rinse out his dish and your heart skips a beat at the expression. One you would so often find lecherous and off-putting seems somehow so endearing coming from him. You scold your brain for the thought before stalking back to your room to change out of your pajamas and attempt to appear somewhat presentable. 

.

.

.

The lights of the city cast their soft glow over the water of the slow moving river. A hypnotizing dance of yellow and gold against the backdrop of the night sky. It lulls your thoughts–quietens them to a dull roar–as you sit next to Mingyu on a park bench.

You had finished dinner a half hour ago; a mouthwatering feast of flavour grilled by the deft hands of your roommate himself. You watched as he took to the task with an almost reverent disposition—ushering the food through the cycle of cooking as you sat across from him, absorbed in the aroma and savouring each morsel he placed in front of you. 

You had worried that he was going to take you to some uptight, fine dining restaurant where each dish was somehow the size of your pinky finger while costing more than you made in a day (Mingyu did have a vibe of luxury about him); but when he opened the door to the small, hole-in-the-wall barbeque joint in a random side-street you felt the tension in your shoulders ease and you were finally able to let yourself relax. 

He ordered–a generous selection of high-quality but reasonably priced beef–and you sat and ate and talked. It was normal and nice and the old wood-planked walls of the restaurant leant the entire dinner an air of casualness that your anxiety-addled brain desperately needed. Just a nice normal dinner with a roommate who you did not have any romantic attraction to at all.

Conversation continued after dinner ended. He was easy to talk to, easy to listen to, and you lost yourself in it, completely forgetting about your previous plan to avoid him, as he paid the bill. You continued to talk as you left the restaurant, stepped back out onto the street, and as you continued to walk together until you saw the Han River stretching out in front of you. 

You hadn’t been paying attention as you walked–just let your feet move under the vague assumption that you were just heading back home–so reaching the river had come as a surprise. Mingyu’s face remained impassive as he led you past the numerous couples dotting the riverbank, each splayed out on grass and blankets, bathed in the soft amber glow of the city. You followed him for a few hundred feet until he stopped at a small hill and sat down on a bench, draping his arm casually over the back as he leaned against the sun-faded wood.

You hesitate a minute before sitting down. The mirage of purely platonic companionship had dissipated step by step as you followed him downstream, watching the way his jacket moved against his torso–loosely fitted but structured enough to hint at the firmness of his shoulders underneath, swelling as his arms swung idly at his sides. Your mind blaring a fire red warning in Jeonghan’s voice: be careful. Mingyu notices you hesitate and offers a warm smile, just touching at the corners of his eyes. He moves over an inch on the bench to give you more space and your heart takes that moment to consider itself some sort of acrobat in your chest. You silence the warning, washing it out with your own self-soothing lies, before taking a seat next to him and focusing on the night skyline. 

Living in the city always felt isolating. Like the loneliness of existence was only amplified by the millions of other lives that played out parallel to your own. Millions of other people with different thoughts, feelings, and experiences existing right next to yours–there, but never touching. Lines crossing and converging but rarely intertwining for longer than a heartbeat. 

Wonwoo had been an anchor in that sea of loneliness. Something solid to hold onto as you were buffeted by the waves of life. Stabile, grounding. You never realised how much you needed that stability until it was no longer there. Until you were cast adrift once more, alone in the deep blue. 

Seulgi was there of course–as well as your other friends and family–but it wasn’t the same. They were islands of reprieve to visit when needed, and to offer the same when they did, but it wasn’t the same as having that one person to tether yourself to. To merge your life with and create a new island on solid foundations. Unshakeable, until it’s not. 

Maybe you were pathetic, relying on a partner for so much support. Needing someone to rescue you from your own life. Maybe you needed to save yourself for once. 

“Do you ever get the feeling like you’re going to end up dying alone?” you ask the question, half expecting it to dissolve into the air in front of you and go completely unanswered. Unsure if you even want an answer or if you just needed to remove the thought from your mind.

Mingyu scoffs, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he glances at you sideways–evaluating. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem for you.” 

“Oh?” you raise an eyebrow, a twinge of offense scurrying up at the comment. “And what makes you so sure of that?”

“Well, what makes you think you would?” he counters and you let a small laugh slip out at the seriousness of his expression. 

“I don’t know,” you shake your head, dismissing the thought and turning your attention back towards the view. Bitterly regretting altering the mood so seriously. You should have remained flippant, joyous. Unserious. But when did your mouth ever listen to you? “I was just thinking out loud.”

“Oh no you don’t,” he laughs, “you brought it up and now you’re avoiding the question?” You feel the heat of his body warm the air around you as he adjusts on the bench, angling away from the river to better face you and pry the answers free under the weight of his attention.

“You avoided mine!” you bite back in defense, turning in kind to face him, but realising the trap too late as he flashes you a wolfish grin.  

“Ah-ha, so it was a serious question!” he cries, pleased with himself. “Listen if you want my honest answer, I will give it to you but I want an answer in return as well.” 

You hesitate, not for the first time tonight—wavering at the edge of the offer and cursing your propensity for sticking your foot straight into your mouth at the drop of a hat. 

Do you really want to open up to him like this? 

It had been such a nice evening. Good food, good conversation, and a nice walk along the river. It had been a while since you had felt so at ease in someone's company. And yet, despite all of that, you had to go and get lost in your self-sabotaging, meandering thoughts and open your big dumb mouth. Did Mingyu even really want to know? He seemed friendly and open enough but you can’t help but hear Jeonghan’s voice as it bounces off the walls of your mind: ‘Mingyu is not serious’. Did he know what Pandora’s Box he was willingly opening by asking you? Did he care?

You fix your gaze on him, evaluating, searching his eyes for any sign of ambivalence or even trickery. He stares back, waiting patiently for you to mull it over, and you come up with no discernable ulterior motive. Nothing lurking in the clear brown of his eyes other than open curiosity and a slight glimmer of amusement. 

“Ugh, fine,” you relent, falling back against the bench with a huff. You forgot Mingyu’s arm is resting against the back and you feel the pressure of it against you as you settle deeper into the bench. “Why do I think I’m going to die alone…” you repose the question, willfully ignoring the shiver that ripples out from the spot where his arm is pressed against you. You can feel the warmth of it even through your jacket. “Maybe because I’m a bit of an anxious wreck and that can’t be easy to deal with. Or maybe because I’ve managed to fuck up every relationship I’ve ever been in.”

“I don’t think so,” Mingyu replies, assured in his denial of your reasoning. 

You let out a mirthless laugh and glare into the middle distance. “Don’t think so? Don’t think what? That I’m not an anxious wreck? You clearly don’t know me that well.”

“No, I believe that part, though anxiety can be treated to a certain extent. I have this psychologist friend, Minghao, he talks a lot about it. I could get you his number if you want.” he offers and you furrow your brow at the suggestion. 

“You want to set me up with a psychologist?”

He laughs, “not like a date. Like if you wanted to book an appointment to see him about it. You know, like a therapist?” 

“Oh,” you mumble, immediately feeling stupid. “So what did you mean then?”

“Just that it takes two to fuck up a relationship most of the time.  You can’t fuck up something that wasn’t ready to be fucked up, you know? No one is perfect, we all have issues so no relationship is ever perfect and that’s not the fault of just one person.”

“Wow,” you exhale. His words sink in, a stark contrast against the internal monologue of shame and blame you had callously constructed. A differing perspective roaring in to shake your foundations. You try to reckon with it, the thought that it might not be all your fault, and it clamours and clangs against your brain in the worst way. In a way that you know it might be true but you’re not ready to accept it yet. 

“Did I say something wrong?” Mingyu asks, momentarily rendered insecure by your plunge into melancholic silence. 

“No, no,” you assure him, distantly amused by his immediate assumption that it might have been him that did something wrong. “It’s just…” you hesitate, unsure of how to word it. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so insightful.”

He snorts out a laugh, “thanks, I guess. I have my moments.” 

“No, no, I don’t mean that I think you’re like…incapable of insight, just…” you pause, trying to reformulate the thought in a way that doesn’t sound like an insult. “I’m just not used to getting reality checks like that from people I don’t really know that well.”

“Oh, okay,” he laughs again, in relief this time, and you feel the edge of tension you had been holding in your body ebb away. “Well, I mean it though,” he affirms, “I don’t think it means you’re going to die alone.”

“Okay, well,” you sigh, unsure where to follow this new proffered perspective, “thanks, I guess.”

“No problem,” he grins. “Your turn.”

“My turn?” You knit your brows in confusion, eliciting another laugh from your seatmate. “For what?”

“You answered my question, so it’s your turn to ask one,” he explains.

“I didn’t realise we were playing 20 questions,” you tease. The words leave your lips with a little more edge than you had intended and you wince. Why did you always sound so defensive? You glance at Mingyu and feel a slight sense of relief at the fact that he seemed not to have noticed the tone. 

“Well, if you don’t have any questions, I’m fine with being the hot, mysterious one in the house,” he winks and again you find yourself not hating how he looks when he does it. 

Still, you snort derisively in response. If only he knew how deeply not-mysterious he already was to you. “Hardly,” you reply. “Okay, fine. I have a question for you: why does The Notebook make you cry so much?”

Wide-eyed surprise ripples across his face, a tinge of red embarrassment colouring the tips of his ears, “who told you that?” he asks in a nervous half-whisper.

“Jeonghan might have mentioned it when I was moving in…” 

“Traitor,” he seethes, running a hand through his hair as he considers this revelation before answering you. “It’s sad,” he states plainly after a moment’s hesitation and you ‘tsk’, refusing the easy answer. 

“Lots of movies are sad, Mingyu. Why does this one in particular make you cry so much that I was warned never to watch it in the living room?”

He sighs again, heaves his chest in and out like an exasperated dog settling down for bed. You watch as he stares out over the river, wide brown eyes shimmering with the lights of the city, and wait for him to respond. You had never seen Wonwoo cry during a movie. You had barely seen Wonwoo cry at all. He kept his emotions held tight, whether for self-protection or because he really was just that steady you didn’t know, but Mingyu’s upfront expressiveness was a breath of fresh air. Seeing someone so open at every moment with how they were feeling made you feel a little bit less alone with your own rapid shifts in mood. Maybe you weren’t the broken one. 

“Fine,” he relents, “honestly, I know it’s corny. I know it’s a corny movie and it’s lame and dumb that an adult man with a job still bawls like a baby while watching it but I can’t help it. Seeing those two old people dying in bed together after reliving the tale of their love just gets me every single time. It’s a confusing mixture of sadness and hope and I have never been able to get through it without weeping.” 

“Wow,” you remark and he shakes his head. 

“Happy?” he huffs, again with an air of a disgruntled dog and you laugh.

“Very happy, thank you for sharing.” 

“Okay my turn,” he grins, leaning back against the bench once more, the wood groaning slightly under his weight as it shifts. 

“Good luck, movies don’t make me cry often.” 

“Well you’ve gotta have some embarrassing secret. Otherwise we’re on uneven ground, and I don’t like that.” 

“I’ve already told you something embarrassing,” you start to defend yourself but he shakes his head. Resolute. 

“What? About thinking you fuck everything up?” You nod and he laughs, “that’s not embarrassing, that’s normal. Everyone thinks they’re more fucked up than they are.” He shrugs and you again marvel at how casually he accepts the very thing that feels so earth-shaking to you. “Tell me your most embarrassing secret.”

“That’s not a question, it’s a demand.” you point out and he nods, considering the rebuttal. 

“Too broad? Okay, then what’s your favourite song?” 

“How is that supposed to be embarrassing?” you ask, aghast. 

“It’s not, I’m just curious. Not every question needs to be so heavy, you can get to know people through simpler things. Happy things,” he smiles again, coy, and your heart betrays you again with a flutter of wings against your chest. 

“I’m not sure,” you muse. He starts to protest but you cut him off before he can begin, “there are too many songs that I love to feel like I can narrow it down to just one all–time favourite. Too many things to consider.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like, what am I doing when I am listening to it? Is it a song I could listen to anytime, anywhere? Does that make it a favourite or just an easy listen? Is it a song that fills me with a swell of emotions? A favourite from high school that still makes me nostalgic? Or a recent song that I’ve played on repeat too many times to count? You see…too many things to consider.”

“Wow, you’re right,” he laughs again, “you really are an overthinker.” 

“Gee, thanks,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. 

“How about you just make me a playlist with all of the above and we’ll consider it answered?” he winks and you blink back at him, stunned to silence. Wonwoo never really got through the songs you would recommend to him, was Mingyu really going to go to the trouble of listening to an entire playlist? For his roommate? 

“Oh–okay,” you answer, unsure of what else to say. 

Silence descends for a moment, settling comfortably between you, and you glance around in surprise to find that most of the people that had been here when you arrived have since departed. How long had you been sitting on this bench talking?

As if reading your thoughts, Mingyu clears his throat. “It’s getting late,” he feigns a yawn, forearm flexing as he brings his hand up to cover his mouth, “but you have one more question to even it up before we start walking back home.”

You sit still, contemplating. While teasing him had been fun, an overwhelming part of you wants to really get to know him. To know what makes him tick. What thoughts and desires lurk in the depths of those puppy brown eyes. To find out exactly what it was about him that was drawing you in so much despite your (and Seulgi’s and Jeonghan’s) better judgement. 

“What did you want to be when you were a kid?” you ask finally. It feels like a silly question as soon as you ask it but you can’t take it back once it’s been spoken. And you do actually want to know the answer. 

“Is that your final question?” he asks and you hesitate but nod. You’re curious about what kind of kid he was. What his dreams had been before the demands of adulthood had set in. “Alright, but it’s silly,” he warns and you wait silently for his response despite it, “I wanted to own my own bakery.” 

“You wanted to own a bakery?” you parrot the response, surprised by his answer. “Really?” 

“I told you it was silly,” he smiles, voice a slight quiver. You hadn’t expected the answer, true, but it’s the nervousness around it that is really taking you by surprise. Like it’s kid Mingyu answering the question and not the 20-something year old adult you had bought you dinner. 

“No, no, it’s not silly, I just didn’t expect it,” you reassure him and the expression of embarrassment on his face melts back into neutrality. The wave of nerves slipping away into the ether. “Why didn’t you do it?” 

He shrugs, “my parents didn’t think it was a suitable career path for someone like me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You bristle, feeling defensive on behalf of the kid he once was. 

“I never asked for clarification,” he laughs. “Just went to school for business like they suggested. Jokes on them, though, I can still make a mean sourdough.” 

“What can’t you do?” you mumble, intending the comment to be unheard but clearly failing as Mingyu throws his head back with a laugh before getting to his feet. 

“Well, what about you?” he asks as you join him and you both head back down the path towards the main road. “What was your childhood dream?”

“I always wanted to be an artist,” you say, “and I sort of am doing that now just in a more corporate-friendly way. Career was the one aspect of life that I always felt I had a handle on. There was no guesswork. It was just me involved.” 

“Your parents didn’t have any different thoughts as to what they wanted you to do?” he asks, a slight note of surprise colouring his voice. 

“Not really, no,” you shrug, “they were pretty supportive, honestly. I think the only things they really cared about was that I got an education and was able to pay for rent and food.” 

“That’s lucky, it’s nice to have such supportive parents.”

“Yeah, I guess it is,” you nod. It had never been something you had actively thought about, just taken for granted and assumed it was sort of the same for everyone. You make a mental note to call your parents soon and catch up as you and Mingyu leave the park and the river disappears behind you. 

“Would you ever bake something for me?” you ask, matching Mingyu’s stride as you take a turn down the block towards home. 

“That depends,” he replies, amusement clear in his voice.

“On what?” 

“On whether or not you want to hang out again in the future,” he shrugs, feigning nonchalance. You see a hint of blush reddening the tips of his ears again and it makes you wonder. Was it just the slight chill in the air causing it?

“Well, we do live together so I think that’s almost inevitable,” you laugh, trying to brush the niggling feeling off with an assurance that you did not feel. 

“True,” he concedes, “then I guess I will. Are you more of a sweet or savory person?” 

“That depends,” you reply, a small grin turning up the corners of your lips. 

“Overthinking pastries now too?” 

“No,” you laugh, all lingering feelings of defensiveness gone from you. “It depends on what you’re better at making.” 

“Oh, I’m good at it all,” he replies, voice smooth–silk slipping over mahogany–as he holds open the door to the condo complex for you. You glance at him, eyes meeting his in the dim light of the lobby, and study him for a moment. He’s smiling, cool and casual, but there’s a seriousness hiding in the depths of his expression that you can’t quite unravel. It draws you in, curiouser and curiouser, until you find yourself face to face with a crossroads. Two paths diverge in the yellow woods of your mind and the only thing that remains is to choose.  

“Then I’ll take it all,” you reply after a breath, thoughts slipping into place. Threshold crossed, decision made. You step into the lobby and head towards the elevator leaving Mingyu to trail behind. 

.

.

.

The condo is blessedly quiet when you arrive upstairs; everyone else scattered throughout the city with Friday night plans. The absence of Jeonghan in particular is a relief, you knew that no matter what the context was, if he saw you return with Mingyu at this time of night you would be primed for some form of lecture or another. Whether verbal or simply that knowing stare he likes to give you when he thinks you’re being stupid.

That silent cloud of judgement would have been especially intrusive tonight as you step in through the front door barely clinging onto the tenuous air of bravado you had conjured up in the lobby downstairs. It would have shaken your resolve to follow this thought of intrigue towards Mingyu and thrust you right back into your torrential thoughts once more, spinning haphazardly between mourning over what was lost and what might not ever be.  

Instead you stand with shaky confidence and a pounding in your chest as you bid Mingyu goodnight, savouring that look of intrigue you’re sure is mirrored in his own expression as you close your bedroom door for the night and bar any doubt from creeping in behind you. 

You listen through the walls as his own door clicks shut before rummaging through the unpacked duffel bag in the corner of your room. You dig through unsorted paperwork, unopened mail, random knick knacks you had found no home for yet until your fingers grasp the object you were seeking.

Sleek, black silicone emerges from the bag and you glance behind you as if Mingyu might be standing there, ready to chastise you for your impure thoughts. 

You stand up, hesitating, evaluating the vibrator as it sits like a brick in your palm. You had only used it once, years ago, after buying it at a convention with Seulgi before it ended up buried deep in the recesses of your drawer. At the time your sex life had been consistent and satisfying–it was early days for you and Wonwoo and the excitement and novelty of having each other at your fingertips for the whims of the moment had kept you too busy to even remember that you had the toy stored away in the first place. It wasn’t until you were packing to move out that you rediscovered it.

You hesitate for a second before thinking ‘fuck it, I paid like $200 for this, I’m gonna get some use out of it’ and slipping out of your clothes and into your bed. 

You try to set the mood in your mind, fingers swirling idly over your bare skin as you flip through mental images of celebrities, movie scenes, fantasies that you used to use to get in the mood. Anything to deepen that pressure that burned quietly inside of you. None of your old tricks produce results and you sigh, ready to give up on the activity completely, before you feel the distinct thud of Mingyu’s headboard against the wall. 

You imagine Mingyu: what is he doing? Maybe sitting on the edge of his bed, scrolling through Instagram, or maybe he’s under his covers too. Maybe he’s having the same thoughts as you? 

You follow this thought where it takes you, back to that night the other week. Back to the low sound of his moaning carried through the drywall and plaster, the thudding of his headboard against your wall, back to that yawning pit in your stomach that felt like it might swallow you whole at any second. Your hand traces the path of the scene playing out in your mind, blazing a trail down your chest, stomach, and finally to the aching space between your thighs. 

You recall the weight of Mingyu’s arm pressed against your back on the park bench–steady and solid. The sound of his voice and laughter muffling your gasp of surprise as you flick the vibrator on and jump at the sudden noise filling your room. 

You flick it back off immediately, worrying that the distinctive buzzing sound would carry itself through the cover of your blankets and body and make it through the proven-thin walls towards Mingyu’s ears. He would know for sure you were in here thinking about him, fantasizing about his lips on your neck. The thought of discovery adds a confusing stab of guilt to the knotting in your guts but you do your best to squash it as it pops up. What exactly were you doing wrong? You were tired of denying yourself pleasure out of fear of other people’s judgements or shame. You flick the vibrator back on, this time prepared for the noise, and dig the object deeper between your thighs. 

Maybe part of you wants him to hear you–wants him to know what you were doing alone in the dark in the bedroom next to him. Maybe, in this alternative timeline, he knocks softly on your door. His brown eyes rake over your naked body, bared to him like a gift prepared just for him. His sweatpants strain with the pressure of his bulge as his blood travels lower, and lower. Filling him with the desire as it fills you now. He steps forward, wavering at the threshold of your bed and asks, voice so low it plucks at the strings of your core, to join you. To help you release this coil of tension that had made its home inside of you, growing bigger and hungrier every single day since running into him half-naked in the kitchen that first night. Maybe he’s been running through this same scenario every night before bed, hand gripping his cock as it pulses in his hand, sweat beading his brow. 

Alternative timeline or not, the thought itself is all that you need to push you over the edge as you move the vibrator against your clit, finding the right rhythm of pressure, the right balance of relief, to feed the beast of desire crying open-mouthed inside of you. To have your legs shaking and your core pulsing with waves of pleasure no longer denied. You cry out, muffling the sound with the back of your free hand, and for the first time in years it isn't Wonwoo's face clear in your mind as you reach your climax.

© 2024, neoneun-au. all rights reserved.

―AUTHOR’S NOTE: i cant link them here, but please find the series masterlist and other chapters on my blog. i would love to know your thoughts on the story so far !

[neoneun-au]

taglist: @meiozis @honeykyeom @97-liners @gyublues @skeetyeetyote @wonvsmile

couldn't tag: choiiis

if you would like to be included in the taglist for the series, please fill out the form here

looking forward to seeing what everyone thinks of this very dialogue heavy chapter ! lol

[honeykyeom]

when you get to the smut section

[caratlibrary]

I want to pick and gather all The pretty words for you They stick in my Throat in front of you - Pretty U, Seventeen (2016)

March is the third month of the year, so this month’s theme will be Seventeen’s third comeback, Pretty U! The year is 2016, spring is in the air, and the boys are back with the lovesick musical-inspired hit that will net them their first win. Hit play, close your eyes, and let the music take you back~

Guidelines: March’s event will have the theme of Pretty U. Each submission must:

follow our regular reblog criteria as listed in the official rules,

exceed our event word minimum of 1k words,

and be inspired by the song Pretty U.

There are no limits or restrictions on which member you want to write for.

To participate: Follow the guidelines posted above and post your completed fic before the end of the month, using the tag #caratlibrary_march24 along with our regular tracking tag.

Important dates:

Feb 27, 2024 - registration opens

Mar 4, 2024 - submission period begins

Mar 31, 2024 - event closes

[catchymemes]