baby!yuji acting like his Uncle Sukuna to protect you from flirts
≈ 898 words
masterlist
"VROOOM VROOOM!" Yuji squealed, his tiny, dimpled hands gripping the shopping cart as if it were a steering wheel while he sat inside it.
You leaned your weight into the handle, making a dramatic turn as the wheels squeaked in a drift, sending Yuji into a fit of breathless giggles. Every time someone passed by, Yuji chirped, waving so hard his whole little body rocked as he greeted every stranger.
"Oh, what a little sweetheart," an elderly woman cooed. Yuji gave her a toothy grin, his cheeks puffing out until his eyes crinkled into happy crescents. He lived for the praise, wiggling his little toes inside his sneakers.
Turning into the snacks aisle, you spotted the bag of chips Sukuna liked on the top shelf. You reached up, toes barely touching the ground, when a tall shadow loomed over you, and a man reached over, grabbing the bag for you.
"Here you go," he said, handing it to you with a lingering look. He leaned against the shelf directly in front of you, his eyes travelling over you in a way that made your skin prickle with discomfort.
‘Thank you,’ you said, voice tight as you placed the bag into the cart and continued moving ahead in the aisle.
"Is this your kid? He’s a cute little guy," the man said, falling into step beside the cart. His voice dropped into a cheesy, flirtatious tone.” You're way too pretty to be wandering these aisles all by yourself doing the heavy lifting."
You kept your eyes fixed forward, pointedly ignoring him. Beside you, the giggling stopped. Yuji went dead silent. He stood up in the cart, planting his feet firmly. His tiny arms crossed over his chest, his head tilted back with a chillingly familiar expression. He narrowed his eyes, looking down his nose at the man with pure disdain.
"No," Yuji said, his voice lacking its usual toddler pitch, a tone that resembled his uncle’s arrogance. "You can’t have her."
The man blinked, looking from the small child to you, his brows furrowing. "Uh, kid, I’m just talkin-"
"She belongs to my Unckuna," Yuji interrupted, his lip curling into a tiny, fierce scowl. He clicked his tongue, “Go away, brat."
The man’s face flushed a deep red. He looked at the toddler, who looked ready to pounce on him. At first, he giggled nervously, but then looked at you, who was watching the little boy with quiet pride. He hurried away, muttering something about “weird families”.
As soon as the man disappeared, Yuji’s shoulders slumped, and his eyes grew wide and watery, leaving behind a little boy who suddenly looked very small. He reached his arms up high, his fingers wiggling for a hug.
You scooped him out of the cart instantly, holding his warm, trembling body against your chest. He buried his face in the crook of your neck.
"Are you okay?" he whimpered, his voice muffled against your skin. He pulled back just enough to hold your face with his chubby hands, his expression frantic with worry, "Was I brave? You're not gon leave me right?"
Your heart squeezed with so much affection it almost hurt. You peppered his face with kisses until he started to giggle and squirm. "You were the bravest boy in the whole world, Yuji. I would never leave you. Thank you for protecting me."
Yuji let out a long, dramatic sigh of relief, head dropping onto your shoulder as he had just lifted a mountain. " ‘M tired now," he murmured. “Being brave is hard.”
The front door had barely clicked shut when Yuji scrambled out of your arms.
"UNCKUNA UNCKUNA! I SAVED AUNTIE FROM A BIG BOOGER”
Sukuna was in the bedroom with a pile of laundry on the bed when he looked up, watching a pink-haired blob charging at him. Yuji skidded to a halt in front of him and immediately launched into acting, puffing his chest out.
"There was a big booger, A big one! He was talking to Auntie and being ‘noying! I had to use my scary face that you taught me."
Sukuna leaned against the dresser, his eyes shifting to you, eyebrows raised in a silent question. You leaned against the doorframe, smiling and nodding. "And what did you tell the booger?" Sukuna asked, his voice a low, amused rumble.
Yuji stopped, planted his feet wide, crossed his arms, tilted his head, and held the deadliest scowl a toddler could muster. "I told him he was a brat! I told him Auntie belongs to you and to go away!"
A slow smirk spread across Sukuna’s face. He reached down, hooking his hands under Yuji’s arms and hoisting him high into the air before settling him on his forearm.
"Is that so?" Sukuna’s gaze moved to you, filled with a possessive pride that made your heart skip. He ruffled Yuji’s hair roughly yet affectionately. "That’s my boy. You did well, brat. You’re a natural."
Yuji chirped with joy, throwing his arms around Sukuna’s neck, while Sukuna reached out his free hand, fingers tangling with yours to pull you into his side. He leaned down, lips brushing your ear as his voice dropped into a low rumble. “You okay?’ he asked. When you nodded, leaning your head against his shoulder with a sigh of content, he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Good,” he murmured, grip tightening.
notes:
a lil happiness after the angst
divider: @uzmacchiato
nerdjo’s a fool for his pretty, high maintenance girlfriend.
I. PRINCESS MELTDOWN #107 : “BUT TORU, I DON’T GET IT..”
11:57 am location: SC/MATH 3020 (Vari Hall, Room B)
you’re supposed to be solving laplace equations. instead, you’re sending satoru doodles of you pregnant with his child.
satoru gojo is jacques marie mage glasses & messy blanche hair & forearms thicker than his head. he should be studying—god, he should be, but his pretty girl is texting him mid-lecture & satoru’s something of a fool for you so he foolishly decides, who is he not to reply ?
and his replies are earnest. always earnest. too punctuated, too grammatically correct.
toruu : You’re the cutest girl in the world.
toruu : Pay attention, okay?
his first message makes your heart swelter & bloom. the second makes it drop to your ass.
but satoru gojo is honey mouthed & heart-achingly sweet. and when your boyfriend asks you to focus so sweetly, how could you not obey?
so you open your notebook & close it right back.
you : toru i tried :( i don’t get ittttrt
toruu : Send me the question.
and you do. along with a selfie of your cute pout, of course. satoru’s reply comes in in an instant:
toruu : Gorgeous girl.
toruu : Okay, try isolating the variable first.
you do as he says. satoru’s instructions always come easy-sweet. sugar coated & simplified like he’s talking to the softest girl in the world. & perhaps he is.
toruu : Good. Now distribute.
toruu : Yes. That’s it. Keep going.
toruu : That’s perfect, baby. My smart girl.
your cheeks grow mushy & sticky & heart-wrenchingly soft.
satoru gojo is going to be the death of you.
II. PRINCESS MELTDOWN #126 : LOVER BOYS DON’T IGNORE THEIR GIRLFRIENDS !
time : 1:48 pm. location: york lanes ( indoor mall )
“satoru hasn’t texted me in fifteen minutes.”
“they faces killing me why nobody give a fuck.”
you ignore shoko & her bitter response. you’d rather die than argue with a bitch & her bad bob. you lean to rest your head on suguru’s shoulder, who’s much more empathetic & strokes your hair lovingly.
“isn’t he tutoring right now?”
and he is. somewhere across campus, in a cramped corner of the scott library, gojo satoru is bleary-eyed & suffering.
he’s supposed to be explaining calculus to confused first year yuuji itadori. but his phone, face-up & gleam-screened on the mahogany table, hums and vibrates with desperation.
1 new message: princess 🧸💗 1 new message: princess 🧸💗 1 new message: princess 🧸💗
satoru’s jaw is tight. there’s crescent shaped crevices in his palms & his knuckles rouse rash red. his focus flickers. he catches a glimpse of your latest message: the preview of a selfie, that low adorable angle where you’re peering at your phone from under your lashes & your lips jut out in a ‘where are youuu’ pout.
fuck.
“uhh, gojo?” yuuji’s biting his pencil again before he points it at the vibrating device. “aren’t you gonna answer that..? i dunno, it looks important.”
it is important. it’s you. but if satoru answers now, poor yuuji’s paid tutoring session would immediately be over.
“it’s fine, yuuji. let’s focus on finding the derivative.”
and it is fine. because gojo satoru is a man of logic. a man of discipline. a man of pa—
princess 🧸💗: i always knew you’d get tired of me one day
princess 🧸💗: it’s okay. thank you for everything toru 👍
gojo satoru grabs the phone faster than you can say go pandas! his thumbs fly over the screen, ever precise, ever trembling.
toruu: Baby, please don’t say that.
toruu: I’m almost done. I’ll be with you in ten minutes. I’ll buy you that Drake meal you wanted.
toruu: I love you. Please wait for me?
back at the mall you’re reading his text. and god, your heart bubbles up like soda pop. “he’s coming,” you murmur into suguru’s shoulder, scrolling past his text without a reply.
“great!” shoko cheers with fake enthusiasm, taking a puff of her vape (suguru’s complaining that the pineapple & kiwi she blows make his poutine taste sour-ish, & she shouldn’t be vaping anyway, but guess what? shoko doesn’t care!)
“now can we stop acting like it’s the summer hikaru died?”
“no.”
instagram’s algorithm is always on your side. you’ve opened the reels tab to find a video of a rainy window, a quote captioned over it: ‘if he wanted to, he would. silence is a choice.’ simple. short. effective.
you add it to your story. suguru catches a glimpse of your screen & chuckles.
“y/n,” he sings your name, tutting. “you’re gonna give the boy a heart attack before he even hits the common area.”
“he deserves it.”
satoru gojo has already viewed your story. he shows up within the next five minutes.
III. PRINCESS MELTDOWN #167: BABY, I’M BORED.
time : 3:58 pm. location: science & engineering building
there’s solution bubbling pink in a flask. in lab four, the air’s sticky with the sweat of too many boys with glasses & a half-drunk energy drink rotting in the corner.
gojo satoru is huddled over a circuit board with two other boys who look like they haven’t seen sunlight in days.
nerd #1 points at the monitor : “if we adjust the frequency here,” he’s muttering, “the entire wave function collapses. it’s an impossible solve, gojo.”
“it’s not impossible. you’re just missing the constant.”
gojo satoru is the god of lab four; formulas on his fingers & equations on his tongue. he’s leaning over now, fingers on the screen when the heavy steel door swings open,
“hi, toru!”
you’re all soft perfume & clicky heels & smile as sweet as sugar. satoru’s head snaps up instantly—his glasses slip down his nose, & he flicks them back upward, eyes glimmering in the fluorescent light.
“hi sweetheart,” he breathes, “you’re here early.”
the other nerds are staring now, and for good reason. how did gojo satoru—who’s paperbacks & friday nights spent bent over research papers—pull a pretty thing like you ?
“are you doing science ?” you’re already across the room, arms around his neck as his palms press you flush against him from the side. your perfume’s sticky in his lungs. “why’s that line so squiggly? you guys should make it straight. it’d be much prettier.”
nerd #4 winces. “actually, that’s a representation of—“
“you’re right, baby. it would look prettier. have a seat, okay?”
you hum an okay! & plop yourself down on his lap. nerd number 3 & 2 exchange glances. nerd #1 asks, god, me when ?
the group discussion starts up again. satoru is half-science half-yours—his thumb traces circles on your thigh as your feet kick in his lap, & you’re asking one too many questions while satoru tries—tries to pay attention.
“toru, what does this button do?”
“that’s the power supply, baby. please don’t touch it.”
“but it’s glowing. can you make it glow pink ? i think it should glow pink.”
“noted. you’re squirming, princess.”
and you are. nerd #4 wonders how you’re still balanced. the discussion continues but you’re a constant background noise of ‘toru, look at this tiktok’, and ‘baby, i think the lighting’s washing me out.’ you try to touch a wire. gojo catches your hand mid-air & cups it with a kiss.
you flop against his chest. “satoru, i’m bored.”
& satoru is tired. exhausted, really. he’s fighting the rash creeping up his neck as nerds one to four watch you pout in his lap like a spoiled child. “i want matcha. can we go get some?”
you can’t. because this is a project due in twelve hours. because satoru has only so much time to lock in—
“alright, let’s go.”
nerd #3 is distraught: “huh—?! gojo, you can’t leave now, we’re in the middle of a breakthrough!”
satoru doesn’t even look around. he’s smoothing your skirt after you hop off his lap, your bag already slung over his shoulder. he’s leading you out by the hand; “sorry guys. i’ll send my solution to the group chat. brief me on the updates later?”
the door swings shut. nerds one to four are in awe.
pairings: Baker!Higuruma x chubby!fem reader x Baker!Nanami
mdni 18+: your lonliness has been at an all time high since your bum ass boyfriend cheated on you. So, you end up in a small bakery where you can eat your sorrows away. But, when you see the two hot owners of the establishment, you wonder whether they can eat you?
includes: chubby/curvy reader | EIFFEL TOWER | pussy eating | fingering | everyone making out w/each other | oral sex (f + m receiving) | food play | squirting | cum everywhere
You're walking around the street alone, dress and hair sticking to your body from the rain, heels nowhere to be found, and mascara running down your puffy cheeks.
You were supposed to meet up at your boyfriend's place for your anniversary dinner. You spent hours on your look. From the products you put in your hair, to the dress that accentuates your gorgeous figure, all the way down to the heels you bought for this occasion. You guys were planning on going to a well known restaurant downtown—well more like you were planning it. Your boyfriend kind of let you take the reins on the whole thing. You made the reservation months in advance and made sure to tell him everyday to cancel any work plans he had that day. So, it is a shocker to you when you walk up to his place, open the door with the spare key he gave you, and see some bitch bouncing on your boyfriend's dick like she has all the time in the world.
You stand there in shock, but it seems like they haven't noticed you from the loud moaning and slapping of skin. So, you decide to do what any normal person would do—scream and start smashing his shit.
You first grab the nearest vase and throw it straight at the wall near their heads grabbing their attention. "The fuck?" screams the chick who's name you don't even care to know. You then take off your heels and chuck each at both of them.
"You asshole! How could you do this to me? After everything we've been through, you fuck it up for some whore?" Your eyes are stinging with tears but you don't dare let them fall. You grab another vase that coincidently contains flowers that you bought him on a whim one day.
"No baby i'm sorry please, it was an accident! She doesn't mean anything I swear!" He has his arms out trying to calm you down. But you are way past calm right now. Not after you've been calm about everything else during this relationship.
The woman stands up and smacks him, "Oh I don't mean anything? That's funny since you were pumping my pussy full of cum for months!" Then everything inside you freezes.
"Months?" You shakily ask.
The woman slowly walks up to you with her hands out, "He's been seeing me for around five months. He never mentioned that he was in a relationship. I promise I would have never gotten with him if he was."
Your blood had run cold, the both of you have been together for about a year. You were going to celebrate that year tonight. A year where you thought you finally met the love of your life, your soulmate, the person you called home. The image shattered completely in the past five minutes.
Slowly, you put the vase down, your eyes move to look at their faces one final time, you turn on your bare heels, and walk out the door with the little bit of dignity you have left.
・❥・
Now back to the present, you are aimlessly walking the dark street. Heartbroken and really fucking hungry, you notice a shop's light on. You trudge your way over to the warm lighting and walk in. With the bell announcing your presence, you take in the atmosphere—soft lights, glass display counter with various pastries that look absolutely delectable, small tables surrounding you, and a little cash register. As you are looking around, you don't notice the two tall shadows looming over you until a large hand is on your shoulder.
"Excuse me miss?" A deep voice rumbled behind you. Startled, you quickly turn around and are met with two tall, handsome men. One with blonde hair, hazel eyes, sharp jawline, and a stern look with a bit of softness in his eyes. The other has dark brown hair, gloomy eyes, and a slightly aquiline nose. Both are beautiful and you start to feel a bit self conscious of your appearance.
"Oh! Hello, I'm sorry for coming in so late, this place was the only one I saw that still had their lights on." You say as your eyes meet the blonde haired man.
"It's alright, but we are closed, we were just cleaning up." The blonde man gestures towards the clock, it reading half past nine.
You politely apologise again and turn to leave but the other man stops you with a hand on your shoulder, "Are you alright? You're soaked and barefoot." He points out.
You don't know why but the way these two men are looking at you have you tearing up again. They look at each other once, a silent conversation occurring between them and they immediately start moving. One of them moves you to sit on a chair while the other grabs a towel from the kitchen in the back.
"Are you hungry sweetheart?" The brunette one questions.
"No, I'm alright thank you." You lie. But, right after you say this, your stomach growls in the silence of the bakery. He softly smiles and rises from his chair.
"What would you like to eat? We have an assortment of pastries to pick from." He motions his head over to the display case of pastries.
Your eyes are immediately drawn to the single slice of strawberry shortcake in the case. He notices how your eyes shine bright when you eye the cake. "That's our most popular one, would you like a slice? It's free of charge." He asks you but is already donning gloves to plate it for you.
Once he sets down the cake with a plastic fork, you immediately start digging in. The taste was phenomenal—from the decadent taste of the strawberries, the sponge of the cake, and the way the whipped cream melts on your tongue, you feel like you've tasted a piece of heaven. Not to mention it was served by a very attractive man.
While you are eating, the blonde man comes out with a soft towel and drapes it over your shoulder. You then look up from your plate to see them both looking fondly upon you. Placing your fork down on your plate you thank them both for the delicious cake and ask them for their names.
"Nanami Kento." The blonde responds.
"Higuruma Hiromi." answers the brunette.
"Thank you, to the both of you." You smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. They scoot a little closer to you, one on either side of you.
Nanami places a gentle hand on your shoulder, caressing it gently, "What happened darling?"
"Its a long story but overall, my boyfriend of a year cheated on me the day of our anniversary." You choke out, trying not to cry in front of these attractive bakers.
"Forgive me for saying this sweetheart but he's a fucking idiot." Higuruma scoffs, absolutely appalled at the fact that someone could hurt someone as beautiful as you. That someone could make tears run down those gorgeous cheeks.
You laugh at that statement which puts a smile on his face. "I should have seen this coming, I mean you should have seen the girl he was with. She had the body of a model—perfect skin, hair, face. I could never compete." They make eye contact with each other with a frown, then a slow smirk makes way to their faces.
"How would you like to come over to our place? I really don't recommend that you are by yourself during a time like this." Nanami suggests, Higuruma nodding along.
You wave your hands in front of you trying to decline their offer, "Oh I really couldn't impose on you both. This is something I have to deal with by myself."
Your mind is all over the place at the moment. You catch your boyfriend cheating on you, then you end up in a bakery with two handsome bakers that want to take you home with them.
"You know what? Fuck it let's go."
・❥・
Nanami picks you up as if you weighed nothing and carries you to their car because of your lack of shoes. Once he places you in the back seat, cushioned leather seats providing you a sense of comfort, Higuruma sits in the passenger seat and Nanami starts the car. The car roars to life as you all head to their place.
Once you arrive, you notice how nice their complex looks. Tall building with sleek glass windows reflecting everything in view. Before you could open the car door, Higuruma already beat you to it—opening the door and immediately picking you up without breaking a sweat so you don't have to touch the ground with your bare feet.
He carries you with Nanami trailing behind him to the elevator, clicks a floor number and you all stand there as the elevator slowly rises. It is silent until you start giggling, finding this entire ordeal hilarious. The men look at you a bit confused until they chuckle to themselves as well—deep voices rumbling off the walls and Higuruma's chest sending calming vibrations throughout your body.
The elevator door dings as you all reach their floor. You make it inside the apartment and it's a very cozy atmosphere. Dim lighting all around, small kitchen enough for two people, a living room with some soft throw blankets, and a little coffee table with some magazines.
Higuruma finally places you down on the hardwood floor and they both watch you walk further in, admiring the slight gleam in your eyes as you take in the place. Nanami speaks up, "Would you like to take a shower?" He offers and your eyes immediately perk up. This whole situation had your mind so scrambled that you didn't even realize that you looked a mess.
"Yes please." You respond thankful, walking with him to the bathroom. He hands you a towel, toothbrush, and spare pajamas that definitely belong to one of them. You close the door to the bathroom and actually take a good look at yourself in the mirror over the sink. Your face streaked with mascara and eyeliner, eyes puffy, hair damp, and dress slowly drying up. You look like a mess and everything comes back to the forefront of your brain. The way the woman was on top of him, the shock in his face for being caught, the shattered vase, all of it comes back. Your eyes begin watering again and you start to sniffle, then sob, finally allowing yourself to break.
Removing your clothes, you step in the shower to hopefully wash off this whole night. You scrub your face hard enough to wash off every remnant of your tears, wash the rain water out of your hair, and scrub the rest of your body.
Stepping out of the shower, you change into the clothes they lended you. Large tshirt over the clean boxers that hug your thighs and ass beautifully. Brushing your teeth— you take a look into the mirror again at your much cleaner state. You walk out of the bathroom and you hear movement coming from another room. Following the sounds of footsteps and rustling, you reach a bedroom. Peeking inside you see both men folding blankets and fluffing pillows. They notice you at the door and with gentle smiles, gesture for you to come in.
"You can stay here as long as you would like." Nanami said. "We will take the couches."
You don't know why you said the next words that came out of your mouth but something about the way they have looked at you, made a warmth bloom in your chest, so you told them, "If it's not too much trouble, you could both say here with me? The bed is big enough for all three of us."
They stare at you for a beat before nodding and you all get comfortable on the king size bed. Nanami lying on your left and Higuruma your right, and you—surrounded by the warmth of two men who came to your rescue, you all drift off to sleep.
・❥・
The sun is shining through the blinds when you wake up alone in bed. The warmth of the two bakers gone. You look around for any sign of them until your eyes stumble across a note on the nightstand:
We left for the bakery, you may help yourself to anything in our home. Stop by around closing to try our new poundcake recipe.
Nanami: xxx-xxx-xxxx
Higuruma: xxx-xxx-xxxx
Text or call us if you need anything.
You smile at the note and grab your phone to put both of their numbers in. Not wanting to go to the solitude of your apartment, you decide to lounge around the apartment for the day, preparing small meals for yourself—not really feeling like eating but have to for the sake of your health.
Once you check the clock, you see that it is almost closing at the bakery. You don't want to show up wearing pajamas so you call for a ride to your house to freshen up. Once you've changed you make your way to the bakery. Walking through the door, you don't see anyone around so you call out to them. There was no answer but you hear the clash of some type of pot or pan and you immediately head towards the back area.
As you get closer to the kitchen, you hear groans along with small smacking noises. When you finally reach the noise, what you see makes your jaw drop for the second time in 24 hours. There in the kitchen is Nanami and Higuruma deeply making out with one another. Higuruma leaning against a metal table in the center of the kitchen while Nanami is roughly gripping his hips.
You're standing there for a good two minutes watching them shove their tongues down each other's throats before Higuruma notices your presence. He pulls away from Nanami and that makes him turn to you as well.
"Hello sweetheart, are you enjoying the show?" Higuruma chuckles.
"I-I didn't mean to stare, I just heard a loud bang and-"
"It's alright darling," Nanami interrupts, "You can join if you'd like."
"But you told me to come over to try a new poundcake reci-" You cut yourself off, finally connecting the dots.
"Ah~ you finally understood the message," Higuruma says while slowly walking up to you, circling you like a shark—Nanami doing the same.
On any other day, a situation like this would make you feel scared and disgusted, but right now, you just feel a heat pooling down in your core. A heat that only they could fix.
"Tell us you don't want this sweetheart, and we'll stop." Nanami whispers in your ear.
Your face feels like it's on fire from their intense stares. Both of them come closer to you, invading your space and filling your senses with their scent. Higuruma plants a soft kiss on your neck which makes you moan softly. Nanami follows suit with a sweet kiss on the other side of your neck. "Please, don't stop."
You are then grabbed by the waist and pulled against Higuruma's chest, his hands roaming your plump body. Namami's hands find purchase on your chest, lightly squeezing and grazing your nipples through the fabric of your shirt. Higuruma's hands slide down to your soft hips and he rubs small circles in an almost comforting gesture.
"May I take this off?" Nanami tugs at the hem of your top. You nod, but that's not enough for him, "Use your words darling." He watches your eyes intensely as you open your mouth to speak, "Yes, please." He smiles and slowly lifts the garment over your head, exposing your torso to the slight chill in the air. He moves a hand to the back of your bra, unclipping it slowly to give you time if you want to back out. Once he removes it, he lightly grazes your pebbling nipples with the pads of his thumbs.
"Gorgeous," He murmurs seemingly to himself, "So perfect."
He leans down to kiss the valley of your breasts while Higuruma watches. You move your hand to the nape of his neck, breathing heavy at the softness of his lips touching your skin. Higuruma's hands drift lower to take off your skirt and graze his fingertips over your cute panties.
Your breath hitches when he pulls them to the side and pulls apart your drenched folds with his index and middle finger, exposing your cunt to the air. "Your drenched baby—did watching us make out turn you on that much?" He chuckles in your ear, the rumbling from his chest making your body burn with need.
He takes his fingers and starts to slowly rub small circles on your clit, drawing soft moans from your throat. Nanami catches your moans in a long kiss, his tongue grazing your bottom lip to grant him access and you open your mouth wider to let him in. The kiss is sloppy, wet, still trying to catch up with his rhythm. You moans grow louder as Higuruma sticks a finger inside your warm hole, groaning at the feeling of your pussy squeezing him tight. He whispers in your ear, "Relax sweetheart, let us take care of you."
Nanami releases your lips from that bruising kiss, leaving you in a daze. He holds your face in his large hands, thumbs slightly brushing your cheeks, "What would you like us to do sweet girl? This is for you." You look into his eyes that are boring into yours and you whisper, "I need your mouth, here." You gesture towards your pussy that is currently being filled by Higuruma's fingers.
Letting go of your face, Nanami slowly goes down on his knees, breathing over your spread lips before licking a long stripe up from Higuruma's fingers to your clit. You let out a loud moan that is cut off by Higuruma turning your head to capture your lips in another searing kiss.
The only noises in the kitchen are the squelching wetness of Nanami's tongue and Higuruma's fingers going in and out of your pussy—both of them going faster once your moans become louder and you start to clench around them. It all reaches a peak once he presses against that soft spot inside of you, making you see stars, "ohmygod—fuuuck" you moan as you release all over his fingers and Nanami's face.
They let you take a breath by placing you on top of the counter in the center of the room. You watch them get undressed completely, removing their chef jackets, aprons, and trousers until they are in nothing but their shoes.
"Are you okay sweet girl? Do you think you can handle both of us?" Nanami smirks at your shocked expression, but you get off the table to stand in front of him. You start wiggling your hips, rubbing your ass against Nanami's cock but he stops you. You're confused until you look up and see Higuruma standing in front of you holding a container of what appears to be buttercream and a spatula.
He opens the container, sticks a finger inside and scoops a little bit of the cream, and smears it on your lips. You stick out your tongue and you pause. It tasted amazing—it wasn't too sweet or dense, the perfect balance of light and fluffy. Nanami turns your head towards him to lick the remaining cream off, moaning into your mouth.
"Delicious," Nanami moans into your mouth, "I could get used to this."
You giggle as you lean down to plant a feather light kiss to the tip of Higuruma's cock. His breath hitches as you go from a kiss to kitten licks. While you are doing this, he takes the spatula, picking up some cream and smearing a dollop on your back. He places the container and spatula down on the table and grabs some of your hair to move you on his cock. While this is happening, Nanami grabs your ass, drags his cock over your slick and moves it inside your swollen pussy in one push.
You moan around Higuruma's cock—the vibrations causing him to moan out into the air. With both of them filling you on both ends, they start to move—Higuruma moving forward, pushing you into Nanami, and Namani pushing you back into Higuruma. The feeling is overwhelming but feels amazing. You feel them getting closer together then hear the smacking noises that you heard earlier happening above you. You take your mouth off of Higuruma's cock and turn your head to look up and see both of them making out right over your back.
Higuruma breaks apart from Nanami to look down at you, "Did I say you could stop?" He growls as he grabs your hair and moves you back to his cock. Both men bend down to lick at the cream on your back —tongues lapping up the sticky substance before going back to roughly kissing each other.
It is a mess of skin slapping together and moans coming from all around. You all find a comfortable rhythm. Their hands explore your whole body—groping your plump breasts, squeezing your hips, and Nanami's hand travels down to your clit. He rubs languid circles while fucking into you, pushing Higuruma's cock deeper into your mouth.
"I bet your boyfriend couldn't ever fuck you like this. He couldn't make a gorgeous woman like yourself feel this good." Nanami's voice rumbles behind you.
"mhmmm~" You moan around Higuruma's cock, trying to respond.
"I think her mouth is full Kento." Higuruma laughs, pushing the rest of his cock into your warm mouth. Tears are welling up in your eyes as his happy trail tickles your nose. Your starting to feel a pressure building up in your lower stomach as you near your second orgasm of the night. You notice they are close too because of the quickening pace of their cocks.
"Where do you want our cum baby?" One of them say but you are so fucked out you can't make out who.
You pull off Higuruma's cock to respond, "I-I want it inside-haah-please I need it."
He grabs your face and caresses your jaw before using his other hand to grab a handful of your hair and shove your mouth back on him. You feel Nanami's hips stutter before he stills and fills up your pussy with continuous ropes of cum.
Higuruma's iron grip in your hair tightens as he fills your throat with his cum, making you swallow every drop. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you spill all over Nanami's cock. Your legs shake almost collapsing before Nanami wraps his arms around you to hold you up.
He carries you to sit on the table, the cold metal a distinct contrast on your warm and swollen ass from the intensity of Nanami's pelvis smacking against you. Higuruma comes to give you a glass of water and you nod your head thankful.
"Drink up pretty, because we aren't done with you yet." Your eyes refocus on Higuruma's hungry gaze, "You still haven't come on my cock."
After tonight, your life was changed, forever.
a/n: Here it is guysss, I really hope you enjoyed reading it! This is from a poll that I posted a while back so I tagged everyone who commented under that post and the teaser I posted. So, if you wanna be tagged in any future works, let me know! Plz remember to take care of yourselves however that may look like, take breaks when you need to, and remember that i'm rooting for you regardless of your situation. Love you all so much <3
~ likes, reblog, and comments are greatly appreciated <3
~ dividers by @designlikenonsense and someone plz lmk where the last divider comes from I completely forgot (i'm sorry)
~ art by @ilameys_1 on instagram
it started off as a joke at first— meant to poke fun at your clingy tendencies; following him around all day when he’s at home, waiting for him at the door when you hear his keys, whining when he’s leaving.. all the tendencies of a pet.
“getooooooo! im so glad you’re back, i missed you all day..” you’d say sadly, pout resting on your lips. he’d smile down at you, linking his arms around your waist and planting a kiss on your temple.
“don’t worry, puppy. im yours for the rest of the day.”
your eyebrows crinkled at the unfamiliar nickname. you couldn’t tell if he was making fun of your clinginess or reveling in it. nonetheless, you shrugged it off.
another day, you barely waited till he was completely through the door before you were already jumping on him. your lips spread kisses all over his slightly sweaty face, and of course, he smiled at your actions.
“missed me that much, huh, puppy?”
again, with that unfamiliar nickname.
“are you making fun of me or something?!”
he laughs, shaking his head at you. “well, only a little. i think it’s cute, how clingy you are. almost like a puppy, you know?”
little by little, that nickname became one of the regulars he’d call you. you weren’t sure of it at first, but the more he said it, the more you enjoyed it. it was sort of embarrassing, yet it sent chills down your spine and a warmth in between your legs.
geto could tell it made you feel some sort of way. a positive way, so he tested the waters a bit more and added it to his vocabulary of things to call you.
you weren’t exactly into it at first, but then he started introducing it during sex.
“mmm, who owns you, puppy? tell me.”
you refused to answer him. you shook your head, only your broken whimpers could be heard.
“hm…? that’s not an answer, baby. who owns you?”
his hips snapped against yours in a sharp, aggressive manner that made you forcibly squeal. “hnghhhh—y-you, geto—aaaaah, fuck!”
“that’s right, gooood girl. my good little puppy, always so well behaved for me.”
"I'm not saying you don't know how to fuck your girl, Fushiguro."
Your boyfriend takes a long toke of his cigarette, leaning back in the plush armchair facing the hotel bed. He blows smoke towards the two of you, his eyes narrowing. "Sure fuckin' sounds like it."
You roll your eyes. Even as he watches his girl getting fucked by his best friend, he's got a mouth on him. Any other man would be humbled by such a sight — Toji just stares.
He's hard. you can see the fabric of his sweats straining at the crotch, even from where you lay pressed into the bed. If Shiu weren't fucking you so deeply, you might be able to take a breath, focus your eyes, and discern whether or not that dark patch over Toji's groin is from his leaking pre, or if it's just a trick of the light.
"I'm just saying—" Shiu slows the snapping of his hips and transitions instead into a rolling motion that is more soothing than it is erotic. I'ts good; you like it. You could fall asleep like this, full of cock, the weighted blanket of his body on top of yours. "—you fuck to fuck. I fuck to connect."
Toji snorts from his chair, like he's in a position to puff his chest out. "I'd already be inside of her. No need to connect."
He's certainly not a romantic. Shiu groans, pushing himself nice and deep as he presses a sweet kiss to your neck.
One of his hands (rough, but not mean like Toji’s) snakes down your body in search of your clit. It’s still sensitive from the half-hour of head he warmed you up with, so he’s gentle when he starts circling the pad of his finger around your nerves. You find yourself gasping, hiccuping as air fills your lungs, and moaning as it leaves.
“You hear that?” Shiu glances over his shoulder to Toji, who now looks a little less cocksure than before. He’s restless, adjusting himself in his pants and spreading his knees to make room for the heavy erection he’s sporting. “She sound like this with you?”
Toji rolls his neck, feigning arrogance. “Nope. She’s louder with me.”
He’s not wrong. Toji often has you screaming into the pillow as he drags his fat cock in and out of you. Pounds you, for lack of romance. You like how he’s rough and dirty and strong in how he handles you; but there’s something about the attention Shiu is giving you that makes you dizzy with pleasure.
Shiu ignores Toji from there on. His eyes rove over your face, as do his lips. He presses kiss after kiss to your forehead as he fucks you — his moustache tickly against your skin. It’s damp with your arousal, and you can’t help but wonder if he’ll smell you on his lips later tonight and remember how you tasted.
Of course he will.
The cigarette smoke that lingers in the air fills your lungs, and you turn your head in your haze to find your boyfriend has the waist band of his sweats lowered beneath his balls. His cock is out, but not free — the tight grip he has it in looks near painful. He strokes in time with Shiu’s thrusts into you, taking into account each time he slows to pull back and look at the mess of need you must be.
“Don’t look at me,” he grumbles when he notices your eyes on him. “You wanted this. Look at him.”
You feel like you’ve been caught red-handed, drooling over the sight of him fisting his leaky cock, but Shiu kisses your cheek and leans down to whisper in your ear before you can break your gaze away. “Don’t listen to him. He’s imagining he’s me. Keep watching him, let him know he’s only half the reason you’re this wet right now.”
Your skin warms. Despite Toji’s order, you keep watching him. A gentle flush, one that is so unlike your Toji, paints his face pink. He’s got his lip caught between his teeth, holding a groan in his muscled chest as he watches you and Shiu. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you were being fucked silly, on your hands and knees like a whore — but no, Shiu is practically making love to you.
Your lips part as you watch your boyfriend experience a surge of a million different feelings. Questions he isn’t sure he wants answered; do you prefer the stretch of Shiu’s cock to his? Do you like being worshipped like this? Will you say yes if he asks to make this a regular thing?
“I love you,” falls from your lips in a shaky moan. Though you say it softly, as if to meet only Shiu’s ears, your eyes are still on Toji. “Love how you feel inside of me.”
Toji’s eyes widen. His hand jerks faster, hips buck up a little from that self-made prison of an armchair. He doesn’t know if you’re talking to him or Shiu, and it’s about to send him over the edge. A part of him wants to leap up and pull Shiu off you; fill you with his own cock instead and flood your womb with his release. Another part of him wants to get behind Shiu and fuck into him; let him be the vessel between you that gets to know exactly how the two of you merge to ‘make love’. He’d fuck him deep and mean justs to get the message through to you.
But, the part of him that wants to keep his ass planted to the cuck chair and watch his girl take the load of his best friend wins out.
“I’m gonna fucking—” he cracks, choking on his words as his hips stutter and cum shoots all over himself. His black shirt is soaked in the stuff, his fist covered, but he doesn’t stop.
Shiu pays him no mind. It’s hard when you feel this good, wrapped around his cock for the first, and likely only, time in his life. He’s dreamt of this, convincing Toji to share his score — he is his handler, after all.
You want to come, but Shiu is taking his time bringing you to the peak. Usually Toji would just hike a hand around you and rub you ‘til you beg for mercy. Shiu, however, seems to like the way you squirm beneath him as he paws at your thighs, pushes them up against your body, and folds you into a mating press.
The new depth he reaches inside of you is torturous. You feel so full, yet so unsated at the same time. You wonder how well you’d take them both; whether you’d stretch out to accommodate two cocks at once or if one would have to fill your mouth instead. You want to crawl over to Toji and lick his cock clean, taste something from him as you’re so full of another man.
Another glance over at your boyfriend rewards you with the sight of his screwed-up face. His eyes are set on the spot Shiu fucks into you, and he strokes himself into overstimulation. Seems he won’t be left out for even a moment.
“Fuck,” Shiu’s hips slam forward, skin slapping against skin in a heated rhythm. His chest heaves, and you can tell he’s about to cum — even with how overwhelmed your pussy is, you can feel him twitching inside. “I’m close.”
“Not inside,” Toji growls from his seat. That was his only rule going into this. That, and no butt stuff. Toji reserves your womb and ass for himself.
“I know, asshole,” Shiu grunts. His eyes roam your face once more with a soft (but elastic tight) smile on his face. “Want you to come first. On my cock; I’ll pull out after, okay?”
You can hardly nod. Once again, his fingers come down on your clit, wedged tightly between your moving bodies. He circles it, quick but gentle, and sends you absolutely dizzy with pleasure. You know Toji is still stroking himself as he watches you come undone; and you know he’s probably going to pull another orgasm or two out of you tonight to repair his ego. Your poor cunt.
Your orgasm washes over you quickly, and with enough pressure to force a loud, crying moan from your chest. Your legs shake, eyes squeezing shut as your head spins. You haven’t felt this good in… ever.
Not just because of Shiu; but knowing Toji is watching.
Your climax sends Shiu careening over the edge. He’s quick to pull out, leaving you feeling absolutely lost in your emptiness. He gives his cock a squeeze, as if to stall his orgasm, and looks you over hungrily before… pulling away?
Instead of shooting over your stomach or across your pretty face, Shiu leaps off the bed and makes his way over to Toji, whose eyes are wide as his best friend approaches. He’s not given much time to react before Shiu is taking the back of his head in one hand and feeding the tip of his cock past his lips with the other. Toji chokes on his surprise, and then on the load that Shiu releases into his mouth with a loud groan.
Instinctively, he spits. Rivulets of cum drip from his lips, down his chin, and join the mess of his own cum on his stomach and cock. His eyes are wide, a little angry, but his surprise doesn’t stop Shiu from pulling back and leaning down to catch your boyfriend's lips in a very messy kiss. Cum and spit is passed between them, paired with loud groans that travel right from them to your still-buzzing clit.
You watch from the bed with wide eyes, having just discovered something very interesting about yourself.
You wonder if they’ll let you sit in the cuck chair next.
summary: in which your boyfriend’s best friend borrows his camera and gets stuck between old feelings and mingi being a conniving menace
warning: dom mingi, dom yunho, sub reader, sex tape, oral, squirting, fingering, creaming, threesome, double penetration, masturbation, unprotected sex, creampie
genre: smut
pairing: idol mingi x afab reader x idol yunho
word count: 13.4k
part one
masterlist
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Los Angeles looked particularly offensive from the twentieth floor. Yunho had been staring at roughly the same patch of blue sky for the last five minutes, although admittedly the city itself had done nothing to deserve his irritation. The weather was nearly perfect, sunlight pouring through the floor to ceiling windows of his hotel room and stretching warm rectangles across the carpet. Somewhere beyond the glass, palm trees swayed lazily beneath a cloudless sky while traffic crawled through the streets below. Exactly the kind of afternoon he’d been hoping for when their schedule unexpectedly opened up.
They weren’t due at the festival grounds until later that evening for rehearsals. Tomorrow would be considerably busier between soundcheck, press and their actual performance, which meant today was probably the only opportunity Yunho would get to disappear for a few hours without Hongjoong asking where the hell he’d gone. And he’d already planned it. Camera. Sunglasses. Hat. Maybe coffee somewhere that didn’t have six staff members hovering around them. Walk until something caught his attention. Take pictures until his memory card complained.
Instead, he was standing beside the window glaring down at the camera in his hands. “Come on.” He pressed the power button again but nothing happened. Yunho’s jaw tightened. “Seriously?” He removed the battery for what had to be the fourth time, checked it despite knowing perfectly well it had been charging all morning, slid it back into place and tried again.
The screen flickered.
“Yes.”
Then immediately went black.
“No.”
He stared at it, right eye twitching as the camera remained defiantly dead. “You piece of shit.” Yunho dropped onto the edge of the bed and turned it over in his hands, thumb running along the battery compartment before checking the lens connection again. He’d owned enough cameras over the years to troubleshoot most minor problems without needing to search for help, but nothing he’d tried had worked. The battery was charged. The contacts looked fine. The lens had been removed and reattached twice. He’d even switched batteries just in case the first one had suddenly decided to betray him.
His phone buzzed somewhere behind him but Yunho ignored it as he pressed the power button again. Still nothing. “Fuck you too.” He lowered the camera between his knees and sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. There were worse problems to have. Considerably worse. He knew that. But he’d been looking forward to this all week. Los Angeles was one of those cities he liked photographing because it never seemed to look exactly the same twice. Bright and polished from one angle, strange and grimy from another. Glass towers and old signs. Palm trees growing beside concrete. People everywhere. Shadows that seemed sharper beneath the California sun. And now his camera had apparently chosen violence.
Yunho tossed it carefully onto the bed beside him and reached for his phone. There were seventeen messages in the group chat. And absolutely none of them appeared important. Wooyoung had sent a picture of San asleep with his mouth open. San had responded with several threats. Seonghwa wanted to know if anyone wanted food. Jongho had sent a thumbs up that clarified absolutely nothing. Hongjoong had reminded everyone that he and Mingi would be gone for another couple hours because the producer they’d agreed to meet had apparently moved lunch into an actual studio session.
Yunho stared at Mingi’s name. Then frowned. Mingi had a camera. His eyes lifted from his phone. That little blue camera Mingi had suddenly started carrying around everywhere a couple weeks ago. Yunho had seen it enough times to remember it now. Mingi had brought it to practice. Taken pictures in the car. Annoyed Jongho with it backstage. He’d even spent ten straight minutes photographing Yunho eating ramen once until Yunho threatened to throw it out the window.
Yunho still didn’t know where the thing had come from. Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. He knew you’d given it to him. Mingi had mentioned that much. Birthday present. Yunho’s thumb went still against his phone. Your face appeared in his mind before he could stop it. That wasn’t unusual. Unfortunately. He leaned backward onto one hand and stared toward the windows again, mouth twisting slightly as something old and deeply inconvenient shifted beneath his ribs.
You.
Mingi’s girlfriend.
His best friend’s girlfriend.
A distinction Yunho had gotten exceptionally good at remembering. There had been a time when that second part hadn’t existed. A relatively brief time, as it turned out. Yunho had met you first. Not by much. Barely enough to matter now, but enough that sometimes, if he allowed himself to think about it too long, the timing still irritated him. You’d met through mutual friends at a small dinner months before Mingi ever properly spoke to you. You had just moved to Korea and Yunho remembered thinking you were beautiful almost immediately, but beautiful wasn’t particularly remarkable in his world. He met beautiful people constantly. It had been somewhere around twenty minutes later, after you’d made some dry comment beneath your breath that nearly made him choke on his drink, that he’d started paying attention.
Then you’d argued with him about a movie. Then stolen one of his fries while maintaining eye contact. Then laughed when he stared at you in disbelief and told him he was being dramatic because there were at least thirty more on his plate. Yunho had gone home thinking about you. That had been the first problem. The second was that he kept seeing you. Different gatherings. Mutual friends. A birthday party. Coffee once with several other people that somehow ended with you and Yunho talking at one end of the table for nearly an hour while everyone else carried on around you. Your number eventually found its way into his phone. Messages started. Nothing particularly serious. Memes. Pictures. Random conversations at stupid hours.
He liked you. More than he’d intended to. And, for once, Yunho had actually decided not to overthink it. He was going to ask you out. He could remember the exact night he’d decided. He’d been lying in bed staring at a message you’d sent him when he’d finally thought, Fuck it. Dinner. Just the two of you. Make his intentions obvious instead of hovering in whatever undefined space the two of you had accidentally created. He’d planned to ask the next time he saw you. Unfortunately, the next time he saw you, Mingi was there.
Yunho had introduced you. That was the part that really rubbed salt into the wound. Mingi had arrived late, dropped into the empty chair beside Yunho and immediately asked who you were. Yunho had made the introduction without thinking anything of it. Then Mingi made you laugh and Yunho remembered looking between the two of you once. Twice. And by the end of the night, he’d noticed Mingi was interested. What Yunho hadn’t realized, what he had forgotten because he’s never been on the receiving end of, was how quickly Mingi moved when he wanted something.
Three days later, Mingi casually mentioned he’d gotten your number. A week after that, he’d asked you to dinner. And Yunho, who had spent entirely too long deciding whether asking you out might complicate things, had stared at his best friend across a practice room and realized he’d been beaten to the starting line without Mingi ever knowing there had been a race. He could’ve said something. Probably. Mingi would’ve backed off if he’d known. That was exactly why Yunho hadn’t told him. Because by then you’d already agreed to the date. You liked Mingi. And Yunho wasn’t going to turn you into something to be claimed between friends simply because he’d noticed you first.
So he’d swallowed it. Mingi took you out. Then again. Then again. A few months later Yunho had walked into Mingi’s room without knocking, something he’d done approximately a thousand times before, only to find you sitting on the bed wearing one of Mingi’s shirts while Mingi was in the shower. That had been a particularly educational morning. Yunho learned two things. First, knocking was apparently important now. Second, whatever small hope he’d quietly maintained that you and Mingi might burn out after a few dates was officially dead.
You didn’t. If anything, the opposite happened. You fit. Annoyingly well. Mingi was happier with you. Calmer in some ways, considerably more insufferable in others. And somewhere along the way you stopped being the woman Yunho almost asked out and became part of his life in an entirely different capacity. His friend. Mingi’s girlfriend. And eventually, after Mingi moved in with you, practically family. And nobody knew. Not Mingi. Definitely not you. And Yunho intended to keep it that way. Because there was nothing useful about telling his best friend that before Mingi fell stupidly in love with you, Yunho had been approximately twenty four hours away from asking you out himself. Besides, it had been a long time. He was over it. Mostly. Kind of. Maybe not.
Yunho stared at his phone. “Right.” His own voice sounded unconvinced as he pushed himself off the bed. Mingi’s camera. That was what he’d been thinking about before his brain decided to excavate ancient history for absolutely no reason. Mingi had left his room unlocked earlier because apparently being in a luxury hotel with an entire floor occupied by staff and members had convinced him doors no longer served a purpose. Yunho had been in there that morning anyway, sprawled across the end of Mingi’s bed while Mingi attempted to choose between two nearly identical pairs of sunglasses before Hongjoong threatened to leave without him. And Yunho distinctly remembered seeing the blue camera sitting on the desk.
He grabbed his room key and sunglasses. Borrowing it wouldn’t matter. Mingi borrowed his things constantly. Clothes, chargers, headphones, whatever happened to be within reach. Yunho had once discovered one of his hoodies in Mingi’s closet six months after he’d assumed it was lost forever. A camera for two hours barely registered. He’d text him anyway. Yunho opened their messages as he stepped into the hallway.
Yunho: I’m stealing your camera. Mine is fucked.
He hit send and a second later, he added: If you say no I’m already ignoring you.
Satisfied, he slid his phone into his pocket and headed toward Mingi’s room.
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Mingi’s camera had been exactly where he remembered seeing it, sitting on the desk beside a pair of sunglasses, three crumpled receipts and the charger Mingi had somehow managed to tangle around itself despite having been in Los Angeles for less than two days. Yunho grabbed the camera, checked the battery and found it nearly full. There was already a memory card inside. Perfect. Mingi still hadn’t answered his text by the time Yunho left the hotel, but that wasn’t particularly surprising. If Hongjoong had actually managed to drag him into a studio with the producer they were meeting, Mingi probably wouldn’t look at his phone until someone physically released him.
The August heat hit Yunho the second he stepped outside. “Jesus.” He slid his sunglasses over his eyes and adjusted the baseball cap pulled low over his hair as the hotel doors closed behind him. Los Angeles sunshine had always felt strangely aggressive, less like weather and more like something personally determined to cook everyone walking beneath it. Yunho had barely made it half a block before abandoning his original plan of simply wandering and ducking into the first coffee shop he passed. Five minutes later, he emerged considerably happier. The enormous iced Americano in his hand helped as he took a long drink through the straw while standing beneath the narrow strip of shade offered by an awning, then lifted Mingi’s camera and turned it on.
The screen immediately illuminated and Yunho stared at it. “Show off.” His own camera had spent nearly an hour behaving like a technologically advanced paperweight while Mingi’s cheerful little blue camera apparently couldn’t wait to be useful. He adjusted a few settings, checked the lens and raised it toward the opposite side of the street.
Click.
A row of palm trees framed between buildings. He lowered the camera, checked the picture and paused.
“Huh.”
Not bad.Actually, really not bad. The camera was smaller than the one Yunho usually carried, considerably lighter too, but the image on the screen was surprisingly crisp. He zoomed in, studying the details before nodding approvingly. “Okay, Mingi.” He took another sip of coffee and started walking. Without any particular destination in mind, Yunho allowed the city to decide where he went. That was usually how he preferred taking pictures anyway. He liked photographing places when he wasn’t trying too hard to find something worth photographing. The best shots usually happened somewhere between destinations. A reflection in a window. Someone crossing a street at exactly the right moment. Light falling strangely against a wall. Little fragments of places most people walked past without noticing because they were too busy trying to get somewhere else. And Los Angeles offered plenty.
Yunho stopped at a crosswalk and lifted the camera toward a faded theater sign rising above the buildings ahead. The afternoon sun caught against the metal lettering, washing one side in gold while the other remained almost completely shadowed.
Click.
He shifted slightly.
Click.
A bus passed directly through the frame. “Seriously?” He lowered the camera, waited and tried again.
Click.
Better. The light changed and Yunho crossed with everyone else, slipping the camera strap more securely around his wrist as he walked. He’d deliberately dressed simply enough not to draw attention, loose jeans, white tshirt, black cap and sunglasses, although being over six foot made disappearing into any crowd something of a lost cause. A few people glanced at him as they passed. One girl did a very obvious double take from twenty feet away and Yunho immediately became fascinated by a building. He turned toward it and raised the camera.
Click.
Maybe she hadn’t recognized him. He risked looking over. She was whispering furiously to her friend while both stared directly at him. Definitely recognized him. Yunho gave them a small wave and both girls froze making him laugh under his breath and kept walking before either could decide whether approaching him was worth potentially being wrong. The farther he wandered from the hotel, the easier it became to disappear into the rhythm of the afternoon. His coffee slowly disappeared and the camera filled. A mural stretching across the side of an old building.
Click.
A dog wearing sunglasses in the passenger seat of a convertible. Yunho stopped as the dog stared at him and Yunho stared back. “Oh, you’re cool.”
Click.
The owner laughed from somewhere inside the shop beside the car and Yunho grinned before continuing. A palm tree reflected upside down in the dark glass of an office building.
Click.
Two pigeons fighting over something that looked suspiciously like half a taco.
Click.
A vintage Mustang parked beneath a battered motel sign. That one made him stop for several minutes. Yunho crouched slightly, changing the angle until the car filled the lower half of the frame while the faded sign rose behind it. He waited until traffic cleared.
Click.
He checked the picture. “That’s nice.”For the first time since leaving Korea, Yunho felt completely removed from work. No choreography running through his head. No rehearsal schedule. No stage cues. No interviews waiting tomorrow. No one asking him to change clothes, sit in makeup or remember which entrance they were using during the second song. Just a city, an iced coffee and a camera that wasn’t technically his. He took another picture. Then another. And Somewhere along the way he started understanding why Mingi had been carrying the thing around so often.
It was convenient. Yunho could pull it up with one hand, shoot quickly and lower it again without adjusting half a dozen things first. The controls were simple enough that he stopped consciously thinking about them after a while. Even the stabilization was better than he’d expected. He glanced down at it while waiting for another crosswalk. “Maybe she actually knows what she’s doing.” The thought slipped out casually. Then Yunho realized who he’d meant by she. You. He frowned at the camera. A camera wasn’t exactly an unusual gift. Except now that he thought about it, Mingi had never shown much interest in photography.
Videos, sure. He was constantly filming something on his phone. Usually himself. Occasionally another member without permission. Frequently Yunho when Yunho least wanted a camera pointed at him. But an actual camera? Yunho shrugged the thought away. Maybe Mingi had mentioned wanting one to you. And you always tended to remember things like that. He knew because you’d done it to him too. Last Christmas you’d given him a new keyboard for his PC he’d mentioned wanting once approximately four months earlier, then looked confused when he’d asked how the hell you’d remembered.
Yunho had stared at you while you helped Seonghwa untangle ribbon from one of the presents and experienced the deeply irritating realization that apparently some feelings could survive purely out of spite. He’d ignored that realization too. He was becoming exceptionally talented at ignoring things. Yunho lifted his camera toward another building.
Click.
There. Much better. He looked around and realized he’d wandered farther than he’d intended. He checked the time on his phone and discovered he’d been gone nearly two hours. “Shit.” There was still plenty of time before he needed to be back, but he should probably start heading toward the hotel before his peaceful afternoon somehow became Hongjoong calling him repeatedly asking why nobody knew where he was. Yunho checked his notifications. Several messages. One from Seonghwa asking whether he wanted anything from whatever restaurant they’d apparently decided on for dinner.
Two from Wooyoung. One from Mingi. Yunho opened that one first.
Mingi: why are you stealing my shit
A second message had followed thirty seconds later.
Mingi: actually whatever just don’t break it y/n got ur for me that was expensive
Yunho snorted as he typed back.
Yunho : Your girlfriend bought it. You didn’t pay for shit.
The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.
Mingi: still expensive
Yunho: It’s better than I expected.
Mingi: obviously
Yunho: You know absolutely nothing about cameras.
Mingi: i know how to press record
Yunho rolled his eyes.
Yunho: Congratulations. Very impressive.
Mingi responded with a middle finger emoji and Yunho locked his phone as he wandered another block before spotting a small shaded patio outside a café and decided his feet had earned ten minutes of doing absolutely nothing. He dropped into an empty chair near the edge of the patio. Traffic moved steadily beyond the railing. Someone laughed at another table. Music drifted faintly through the open café doors as he exhaled and looked down at the camera resting against his thigh. He’d taken a lot. Probably too many. That was another habit of his. Take six versions of the same photograph, swear he’d sort through them later, then discover months afterward that he’d apparently needed seventeen slightly different pictures of the same sunset.
He turned the camera back on. Might as well start now. Yunho opened the gallery. The newest photograph appeared first. The motel sign and Mustang. He smiled. “Definitely keeping that.” He flicked backward. The same car from another angle. Backward again. Palm trees. A man crossing the street beneath a massive billboard. The dog in sunglasses. Yunho laughed quietly. “Keeping you too.” He continued scrolling through the afternoon, deleting one blurred picture, lingering on another he liked more than he’d expected, occasionally zooming in to check whether the focus landed where he’d wanted. Eventually he reached the first photograph he’d taken outside the coffee shop and Yunho almost closed the gallery.
Instead his thumb moved once more and the picture changed. Not his. Mingi, apparently, had taken a picture from the plane. He smiled faintly and swiped again. Clouds. A blurry photograph of San asleep with his hood pulled over half his face. Yunho snorted as he kept scrolling. Food. “Of course.” Wooyoung flipping off the camera. A picture of Jongho looking deeply unimpressed by whatever Mingi had been doing.
Yunho kept going. There was something strangely entertaining about scrolling backward through Mingi’s life without context. Random meals. Practice rooms. Shoes. A mirror selfie so terrible Yunho genuinely considered deleting it as a public service. Then the pictures shifted. Korea. Home. And you started appearing. The first was harmless. You were sitting cross legged on the couch with your laptop balanced against your thighs, glaring directly into the camera with the particular expression you reserved for Mingi whenever he was being irritating. Yunho smiled before he could stop himself as he swiped. You again. This time laughing, one hand lifted toward the lens as though trying to block him from taking the picture.
Swipe.
Mingi’s feet across your lap.
Swipe.
A takeout container.
Swipe.
You asleep beneath a blanket, only half your face visible. Yunho’s thumb slowed as he looked at the picture for perhaps a second longer than necessary. Then moved on. There was nothing strange about any of these. They were exactly what he’d expect to find on Mingi’s camera. Your apartment. Your life together. Little moments Mingi apparently wanted to keep. Yunho swiped again. Then again. His thumb moved toward the screen and stopped. The next thumbnail wasn’t a photograph. It was a video. Yunho barely registered that. What he registered was the room behind it. Your bedroom. He recognized it immediately. He’d been in your apartment enough times to know the dark headboard, the dresser against the opposite wall, the lamp you’d bought because Mingi broke the old one approximately three weeks after moving in.
The thumbnail itself was difficult to make out on the small screen. Movement blurred across most of it, the camera apparently having been shifted when the preview image was captured. Yunho frowned. Knowing Mingi, it was probably twelve minutes of him bothering you while you tried to sleep. His thumb tapped the screen. For half a second, nothing happened. The video had apparently been paused rather than stopped the last time it was watched, the progress bar sitting somewhere near the middle instead of at the beginning. Yunho barely had enough time to register that before the image moved.
A sound burst through the tiny speaker and Yunho froze. His thumb remained suspended over the screen. There were certain sounds the human brain recognized before it consciously understood them. That was one of them. Your voice. Except Yunho had never heard your voice sound like that. His eyes dropped sharply toward the screen just as the camera shook violently, the image moving enough that his brain struggled to make sense of what he was seeing for perhaps one merciful second. Then it steadied.
You.
Mingi.
Yunho’s entire body went rigid. “What the fuck?” The words barely left his mouth. He should’ve stopped it. There wasn’t even a question about that. This wasn’t some stupid video Mingi had taken around the apartment. It wasn’t something meant for Yunho. It wasn’t something he had any right to be watching. His thumb moved toward the screen. Then Mingi’s face appeared. Yunho recognized his best friend instantly, which somehow made the entire thing approximately a thousand times worse. Mingi looked directly into the lens with an expression Yunho had certainly seen before, just never under circumstances remotely resembling these.
“You getting this, baby? Look how fucking messy you are.”
Yunho hit pause. The café continued existing around him and that somehow felt offensive. Cars still moved through the street. Someone at the next table was discussing weekend plans. A blender screamed somewhere behind the counter. A woman walked past the railing with a tiny white dog tucked beneath one arm. Meanwhile Jeong Yunho had apparently just detonated his own afternoon. He stared at the frozen screen. Then immediately locked the camera. “Nope.” He set it on the table and leaned back in his chair and stared straight ahead. His heart was pounding. “What the fuck?”
He dragged both hands slowly over his face. There had been no warning. None. POne second he’d been looking at photographs of Mingi’s lunch and the next… Yunho stopped that thought before it could finish. “No.” He stared across the street, gaze following literally anything other than the image his brain had apparently decided to preserve with professional grade fucking clarity. Yunho squeezed his eyes shut. Bad decision. Because there you were again. “Fuck.” His eyes snapped open as he shifted in the chair, suddenly deeply uncomfortable with his own skin.
It wasn’t only embarrassment. He desperately wished it were. Embarrassment would’ve been manageable. Accidentally seeing his best friend having sex would have been horrifying enough on its own. Yunho could’ve spent the rest of his life happily pretending it never happened and perhaps knocking before entering every room Mingi occupied until they were both eighty. Except Mingi wasn’t the problem. You were. Yunho looked toward the camera sitting innocently on the table. The same little blue camera he’d spent the last two hours praising. He hated it now. He hated you a little too. That was obviously unreasonable. You hadn’t done anything. You weren’t even here. And judging by what he’d accidentally stumbled across, you certainly hadn’t intended for Yunho to ever see it.
That knowledge finally cut through the static in his head and his stomach dropped. “Shit.” This was private. Extremely private. Yunho grabbed the camera and made absolutely certain the video was no longer playing before slipping it into the bag beside his chair. He shouldn’t have seen that. He hadn’t known what he was opening, but somehow that didn’t make him feel particularly better. Because now he knew. And knowing created an entirely different problem. Yunho leaned forward, elbows resting against his knees as he stared at the pavement beneath his shoes.
He’d spent a long time training himself not to think about you that way. Long enough that he’d genuinely believed he’d succeeded. You were Mingi’s girlfriend. That sentence had become something almost automatic in his head over the years. The first time you’d fallen asleep against Yunho during a movie because Mingi had gotten up to make popcorn? Mingi’s girlfriend. The first time you’d hugged Yunho from behind and nearly scared the shit out of him because he hadn’t heard you walk into the room? Mingi’s girlfriend. Every vacation picture where you wore something that made his eyes instinctively want to linger? Mingi’s girlfriend. Every time you’d sat beside him, leaned across him, grabbed his arm, stolen food from his plate or smiled at him in that particular way that had gotten him interested in you in the first place? Mingi’s girlfriend.
It wasn’t resentment. Not anymore. He loved Mingi too much for that. And somewhere along the way Yunho had grown to love having you in his life too, even if it wasn’t in the way he’d briefly imagined before Mingi came along. So he’d built the boundary. Then reinforced it. Then lived comfortably behind it. And now apparently twenty seconds of video had just driven a fucking bulldozer through the thing. Yunho rubbed his palms against his jeans. He shouldn’t be thinking about this. Which naturally meant his brain immediately thought about it. Your face. Your voice. Your moans. The tiny fragment of Mingi’s tongue lapping at your pussy like a man starved he’d seen before managing to stop himself.
The fact that he’d known you were attractive was hardly groundbreaking information. He had eyes. He’d wanted to ask you out once for a reason. But there was an enormous difference between knowing what someone looked like and accidentally seeing someone you’d once wanted in an intimate moment you had spent years teaching yourself never to imagine. “Goddammit, Mingi.” A man walking past glanced at him and Yunho immediately looked away. This wasn’t Mingi’s fault either. Mostly. Actually, why the fuck was that video still sitting in the middle of the same memory card Mingi apparently used to photograph sandwiches?
Yunho frowned. Who did that? At minimum, create a folder. Was that even possible on this camera? Why was he thinking about file organization right now? He needed to go back to the hotel. Yunho stood abruptly, grabbed his bag and stepped back onto the sidewalk. The heat hit him again. Good. Maybe the California sun could burn the last five minutes directly out of his cerebral cortex. He started walking. His pace was considerably faster than before as the camera stayed firmly inside his bag. Yunho had absolutely no desire to touch it again as his phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket without thinking.
Mingi: how’s my camera treating you
Yunho stopped walking. He stared at the message. For several seconds he contemplated simply throwing his phone into traffic.
Mingi: better than yours huh 😌
Yunho’s jaw clenched. If only Mingi knew. His fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Yunho: We need to talk.
Yunho stared at it. Deleted it. Absolutely not. He tried again.
Yunho: You need to learn how memory cards work.
Delete. That sounded insane. He locked his phone and shoved it back into his pocket without answering. He’d tell him later. He had to. Probably. Eventually. Preferably sometime after Yunho figured out how to look his best friend in the face again. Or you. His steps faltered. You. Yunho stopped beneath the shade of a palm tree and slowly closed his eyes. He was going to have to see you. You were out shopping. Well…. You were. You were probably back at the hotel by now. You’d come to Los Angeles with Mingi. Yunho had literally eaten breakfast with you that morning. You’d stolen half his fruit. He’d threatened you with a fork. You’d laughed. Everything had been completely normal. And sometime within the next hour, Yunho was going to walk back into that hotel carrying a camera containing a video he now knew existed and somehow behave as though he hadn’t accidentally seen something he was never supposed to see.
His phone buzzed again but Yunho didn’t need to look. Some instinct told him exactly who it would be but he looked anyway.
Mingi: ????
Mingi: did you break it
Yunho stared at the screen. “No.”
Mingi: yunho
He typed back before Mingi could start calling him.
Yunho: Camera is fine.
The response came immediately.
Mingi: 👍
Yunho stared at the thumbs up. Then at the hotel rising several blocks ahead as he slipped his phone into his pocket. “I’m going to kill him.” The problem, of course, was that Mingi hadn’t actually done anything. And the considerably larger problem was waiting somewhere inside that hotel completely unaware that Yunho had just spent twenty minutes trying desperately not to think about her.
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
By the time Yunho made it back to the hotel, he had almost convinced himself he was fine. Almost. The elevator ride to the twentieth floor had given him several uninterrupted minutes to establish a very simple plan. Go to his room. Transfer his pictures. Return Mingi’s camera. Forget the video existed. Four steps. None particularly complicated. The elevator doors opened with a soft chime and Yunho stepped into the hallway, adjusting the strap of his bag higher on his shoulder as he headed toward his room. He passed Mingi’s door without looking at it. That felt like progress.
His room was exactly as he’d left it, his own useless camera still sitting on the bed where he’d abandoned it earlier. Yunho dropped his bag onto the desk and immediately pulled out his laptop. Work. Something normal. He connected Mingi’s camera and waited for the computer to recognize it, drumming his fingers against the desk while the files loaded. His photographs appeared in neat little rows across the screen. Palm trees.Buildings. The Mustang. The dog in sunglasses. Yunho smiled despite himself. “Still a good picture.” He selected everything he’d taken that afternoon and transferred it into a folder on his laptop. The progress bar crawled across the screen while Yunho leaned back in the chair and checked his phone.
Mingi and Hongjoong were apparently still busy. Good. Not that Yunho was avoiding him. He was simply appreciating the silence. There was a difference. The transfer finished and Yunho disconnected the camera, checked that everything had copied correctly and shut his laptop. Done. He picked up the camera ready to go return it. Except….. the moment the camera settled into his hand, Yunho remembered your moans coming through the tiny speaker outside the café and his fingers tightened. “No.” He stood. Mingi’s room was several doors down. Yunho walked there quickly, tapped the spare keycard they’d been given against the reader and pushed inside. Empty. Perfect. The curtains were still partially open, afternoon sunlight spilling across the carpet. Mingi’s suitcase sat open beside the dresser with approximately half its contents scattered around it. One sneaker was beneath the desk. The other was somehow beside the television.
Yunho looked around. “How do you live like this?” He walked toward the desk and sat the camera down. But his hand remained on it. He stared at his own fingers. Leave. But his hand didn’t move. “Yunho.” Apparently saying his own name sternly wasn’t particularly effective. He looked toward the door. Then back at the camera. He knew what was on it now. And that changed everything. At the café, he’d had an excuse. He genuinely hadn’t known what he was opening. He’d stopped almost immediately after realizing. If he opened it again, there would be no excuse. It would be deliberate. Yunho knew that. He released the camera and made it two steps toward the door before he stopped. “Fuck.”
He stared at the ceiling. This was pathetic. He hadn’t been some lovesick idiot secretly pining after his best friend’s girlfriend for years. He’d moved on. He’d dated other women. Slept with other women. Had entire relationships after Mingi started seeing you. But there had always been some tiny corner of his mind where you remained different. The woman he’d almost asked out. The possibility he’d never gotten to test. The one he knew he really wanted. And now, through the worst combination of circumstances imaginable, he’d seen you in a way that had ripped open something he’d assumed had healed years ago.
Yunho turned around and walked back, picking the camera back up. His thumb hovered over the power button. “This is a terrible idea.” The screen illuminated and Yunho swallowed as he opened the gallery. He knew exactly where the video was now. Finding it took seconds. The thumbnail appeared. Your bedroom. And Yunho stared at it. He could still stop. Instead, he opened it and the video resumed where he’d paused it earlier. His thumb immediately dragged the progress bar backward. All the way. The screen went dark for half a second before the beginning loaded.
Yunho sat down heavily on the edge of Mingi’s bed and pressed play. The first thing that hit him was how ordinary everything seemed before it wasn’t. Your bedroom looked exactly the way Yunho remembered it. The same dresser. The same lamp. The same bed he’d seen countless times when walking past the open door on the way to your bathroom. Except this wasn’t a room Yunho had ever been allowed to see. Not like this. And neither were you. The playful familiarity between you and Mingi was there immediately, the same rhythm Yunho had witnessed a thousand times outside the bedroom, only stripped of every boundary that normally existed when anyone else was around.
Yunho should’ve stopped but he didn’t. Minutes passed. At some point he stopped pretending he was going to ad the camera changed hands repeatedly. Angles shifted. Your laughter disappeared into cries and moans. Mingi’s teasing became something lower, more commanding, and Yunho discovered there were apparently several things about his best friend he would’ve happily lived his entire life without knowing…… but secretly enjoyed knowing now. But his attention kept returning to you. Always you. It was almost unbearable how recognizable you remained. Little expressions Yunho knew. The way your nose scrunched when you laughed. The look you gave Mingi whenever he said something particularly ridiculous. The stubborn lift of your chin. Except now they were tangled together with expressions Yunho had never seen.
Sounds he’d never heard. A version of you that had always existed behind a door Yunho had very deliberately kept closed in his own head and coming in his own hand. And now the door was gone. Every time common sense managed to surface, Yunho thought about stopping. Then another moment caught him. Another look. Another moan. Another reminder of why he’d wanted you before Mingi ever knew he did. The worst part wasn’t even the physical attraction. That would’ve been easier. It was watching the two of you together. Seeing how completely comfortable you were with Mingi. How much trust existed beneath everything else. The ease with which you surrendered control because you knew exactly who held it. The way Mingi watched you even when he was being completely insufferable.
Yunho had known his best friend loved you. He’d never doubted that. But watching this somehow made the intimacy of it impossible to ignore. Which should have made Yunho feel even more like an intruder. It did. But he still didn’t stop. By the time the video finally began winding down, Yunho was sitting completely motionless on the edge of the bed, dick hard, elbows against his knees, camera held between both hands. Then your voice softened through the speaker.
“It’s only for you.”
Something twisted unpleasantly in Yunho’s stomach. There it was. And the guilt started eating at him. Only for Mingi. Yunho’s thumb shifted toward the controls and he was about to stop the video when Mingi spoke.
“Though… I might show it to Yunho just to see how red his face can get.”
Yunho froze and his eyes snapped toward the screen as your laugh filled the tiny speaker.
“Don’t you dare.”
The video ended and the screen returned to the gallery. But Yunho didn’t move. For several minutes, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard correctly. Then Mingi’s voice replayed inside his head with perfect clarity. “What?” He stared at the screen. Why the hell had Mingi specifically joked about showing it to him? Yunho blinked once. Then twice. Then a completely inappropriate laugh escaped him. “You fucking asshole.” He dropped his head, rubbing one hand over his mouth as disbelief battled approximately fifteen other emotions he had absolutely no interest in identifying. Mingi had wanted to see him blush. Well. Mission fucking accomplished. Except Yunho suspected the reaction Mingi would’ve gotten wasn’t remotely the one he’d apparently imagined.
Yunho looked at the frozen thumbnail again and his amusement disappeared almost immediately. Because then came the second part. Your answer. Don’t you dare. The guilt returned like a stone dropping into his stomach. Mingi might have joked about it, but you hadn’t. You hadn’t wanted Yunho to see. And Yunho had just sat on Mingi’s bed and deliberately watched the entire thing until his dick got so hard it was starting to ache. “Fuck.” He shut the camera off and stood to place it back on the desk and leave but then the door opened.
Yunho panicked. He shoved the camera carelessly onto the desk just as you walked in, multiple bags dangling from your arms and the moment he saw you his ears started turning pink. For one horrible second, his brain offered absolutely nothing. Not a word. Not a thought. Not even the basic instinct required to pretend he hadn’t just been sitting on your boyfriend’s bed watching something that had left him considerably more affected than he had any business being. And seeing you in person immediately afterward was somehow worse. Much worse. You looked completely normal. That was the problem. Denim shorts. Little black tank top. Sunglasses pushed into your hair. Several shopping bags hanging from both arms and one smaller paper bag looped around your wrist. Nothing remotely unusual about you.
Except Yunho’s brain was currently having tremendous difficulty separating the woman standing six feet away from him from the one he’d just watched on that camera. He shifted his weight. Bad idea. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly as he immediately shifted back, acutely aware of the inconvenient problem beneath his jeans and deeply thankful his oversized shirt fell low enough to provide at least some cover as your eyebrows pulled together. “What are you doing in here?”
“Nothing.” The answer came much too quickly and your eyebrows climbed as Yunho cleared his throat. “I mean…” Excellent start. He shoved both hands into his pockets, then immediately realized that only made his posture look more suspicious and pulled one back out. You watched him.
“Okay.” There was laughter threatening the edge of your voice now but Yunho refused to look directly at you. “I was just returning Mingi’s camera.” The change was instant. Tiny. So tiny someone who didn’t know you might have missed it. But Yunho didn’t. Your entire body went still. Not dramatically. You didn’t drop the bags or gasp or suddenly start interrogating him. You just… froze.
Yunho’s eyes flickered toward you despite himself as your gaze moved past him. Straight to the desk. Straight to the little blue camera. Then slowly back to Yunho. And something cold dropped into his stomach. You knew. Of course you fucking knew. You knew exactly what was on that camera. And judging by the sudden suspicion sharpening your expression, you’d also just realized Yunho had been carrying it around. “How long have you had Mingi’s camera?” There it was. Yunho swallowed. “A couple hours.”
“A couple hours?”
“Yeah.”
Your eyes narrowed slightly. He could practically see the calculations beginning behind them as he started backing toward the door. Not obviously. At least he hoped it wasn’t obviously. “I wanted to take some pictures. Mine stopped working.” You weren’t saying anything. And that was significantly worse than you saying something. “So I borrowed his.” Yunho was almost there, your gaze remaining fixed on his face. “And you used it?” Yunho nearly laughed from sheer nerves. Unfortunately, that question had several possible meanings now. “Yes.”
Your lips parted and he watched another thought move across your face. “Did you…” You stopped and Yunho’s heartbeat kicked hard against his ribs as his hand found the door handle behind him. You stared at him as he stared somewhere approximately three inches to the left of your head. “Did I what?” Smooth. Very convincing. You shifted the bags higher against your arms. “Nothing.”
“Okay.” Neither of you moved as the silence became unbearable and Yunho pulled the door open. “Well, it’s back.” Your eyes narrowed further. “Mhm.”
“And it works great.” Why the fuck had he added that? You blinked and Yunho wanted to launch himself through the nearest window. “I mean for pictures.” Your eyebrows lifted. “For pictures?”
“Yes.”
“Yunho.”
“What?” Now there was absolutely no hiding the suspicion on your face. Yunho could feel the heat crawling higher along his ears. He needed to leave. Immediately. Preferably before his body betrayed him any further and transformed an already disastrous situation into something completely impossible to explain. He stepped backward through the doorway as you turned slightly to follow him with your eyes. “Why are you acting weird?”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m tired.”
“You went sightseeing.”
“Sightseeing can be exhausting.”
You stared at him and Yunho stared back. Then his gaze dropped away again. And that absolutely did not help his case. You slowly lowered the shopping bags onto the bed. “Yunho….” His hand tightened around the edge of the door. “Yeah?”
“What did you see?”
There it was. Yunho’s stomach dropped straight through the twentieth floor. He looked at you. Really looked at you for the first time since you’d walked into the room. Your expression had changed. The amusement was gone now. There was still uncertainty there, suspicion rapidly becoming something closer to realization as your eyes flickered between him and the camera. Yunho could lie. He probably should lie. Nothing good could possibly come from telling you the truth. “Tell Mingi how red my face is.” He slammed the door shut behind him leaving you staring after him, mouth open in shock.
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
Mingi returned nearly two hours later. By then, you had experienced every stage of embarrassment available to the human body and invented at least three new ones. You’d unpacked your shopping bags. Repacked one for absolutely no reason. Taken a shower. Sat on the edge of the bed staring at Mingi’s camera. Picked it up. Put it down. Considered deleting the video entirely before deciding that would be ridiculous considering the entire point of making it had been giving it to Mingi. Then you’d remembered Yunho’s face. Red ears. Refusing to look at you. Backing toward the door like the room was actively filling with carbon monoxide.
You groaned and buried your face in your hands. Because you knew exactly what he meant when he said to tell Mingi how red his face had gotten. Mingi’s stupid fucking joke. You were stretched across the hotel bed scrolling mindlessly through your phone when the lock finally beeped and the door opened. Mingi walked in talking before he’d even completely crossed the threshold. “I’m never letting Hongjoong say something will only take an hour again because apparently an hour means sitting there while two producers argue about a snare drum for forty five fucking minutes and then…”
He stopped when he noticed you were glaring at him. Mingi slowly pushed the door closed behind him. “Hi….” You continued glaring and his eyebrows lifted. “Did I do something?”
“You let Yunho use your fucking camera.”
Mingi blinked then shrugged. “Yeah.” You stared at him as he kicked off his shoes and dropped his phone onto the dresser as though you hadn’t just said the words Yunho and camera in the same sentence. “Mine was here and his broke or something.” He tugged his shirt away from his chest, grimacing. “Why? Did he drop it?” Your jaw fell. “Did he drop it?”
“Yeah.” Mingi looked over. “Why are you repeating everything I say like that?”
“Mingi.”
“What?”
“The camera.”
“What about it?”
You waited. But there was nothing. There was absolutely nothing behind his eyes. Your boyfriend had apparently forgotten the single most important thing stored on that memory card. You slowly sat upright. “The camera you got for your birthday.”
“Yeah.”
“The camera I bought you.”
“I know which camera you’re talking about.”
“Do you?”
Mingi frowned. “Yes?”
“The blue one.”
“You only bought me one camera.”
“The one we recorded your birthday present on.”
Mingi froze and you watched realization arrive like a truck hitting him directly between the eyes. His mouth opened. But nothing came out. Then his gaze moved toward the desk. The camera sat exactly where Yunho had left it. Mingi looked back at you. “Oh.” You smiled without humor. “Yeah.”
“Oh, fuck.”
“Yeah.”
Mingi stared at the camera. Then at you. Then back at the camera. “Did he…” You raised your eyebrows as Mingi’s eyes widened. “No.” You said nothing. “No fucking way. Baby…..” You folded your arms as Mingi took two steps toward you. “Did Yunho see it?” You let him suffer for another second. “He said to tell you how red his face got.” Mingi stopped dead and his expression went blank. You could practically see the memory loading. Then his eyebrows shot upward. “No.”
“Yes.”
“I said that?”
“On the video.”
“I know, but…” His hand flew to his mouth as he watched his eyes grow wider. Then, because Song Mingi was apparently the worst person alive, his shoulders started shaking and your eyes narrowed. “Don’t.” That finished him. Mingi doubled over, a laugh tore out of him so loudly you immediately grabbed the nearest pillow and launched it across the room. “You fucking asshole!” Mingi caught it against his chest, stumbling backward as he laughed harder. “I’m sorry!”
“No, you’re not!”
“I’m really not.”
“Mingi!”
He collapsed into the chair beside the desk, clutching the pillow against his stomach while laughter continued spilling out of him. “I fucking called it.”
“You did not call anything!”
“I said I’d show it to Yunho to see how red his face got!”
“You didn’t show him! He accidentally found our sex tape because you let him borrow the camera it was on!”
Mingi wiped beneath one eye. “Still counts.”
“No, it doesn’t!”
“It absolutely counts.”
“You’re insane.”
He grinned. Then something occurred to him and the grin faded. “Wait.” You knew that expression. “What?”
“How much did he see?”
Your embarrassment returned immediately. “I don’t know.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“I was a little busy wanting to launch myself out the window.”
Mingi glanced toward the camera again. “But he knew what I said.” You stared at him and Mingi just stared back as slowly, the implication settled between you. You’d been so mortified by Yunho knowing about the video that you hadn’t actually considered that part. Mingi had made that joke at the very end. The very, very end. Your eyes widened. “Oh my God.” Mingi’s eyebrows shot up. “He watched the whole thing.” You covered your face. “Oh my fucking God.”
“Baby.”
“Don’t.”
“He watched the whole thing.”
“I heard you the first time.”
Mingi was quiet. Suspiciously quiet making you slowly lower your hands. The laughter was gone. But something else had replaced it. Mingi was staring toward the camera with his bottom lip caught faintly between his teeth, his expression thoughtful. Far too thoughtful. “Mingi.”
“Hm?”
“What are you thinking?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
His eyes moved to you and you knew that look too. It was the same look Mingi got whenever an idea entered his head that should have been strangled immediately. You pointed at him. “Whatever it is…. No.” His eyebrows rose innocently. “I haven’t said anything.”
“You don’t have to.”
“You don’t even know what I’m thinking.”
“I know exactly what you’re thinking.”
“I don’t think you do.”
“Then tell me.”
Mingi opened his mouth. And apparently reconsidered. “No.” Your eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
“Because you’re already yelling.”
“I am not yelling.”
“You threw a pillow at my head.”
“You deserved it.”
“I caught it.”
“Unfortunately.”
His mouth twitched. Then his eyes moved over your face again, studying you with an intensity that made your irritation falter. “What?” Mingi tilted his head. “You’re really embarrassed.”
“Your best friend watched us have sex, Mingi.”
“I gathered that.”
“The entire thing.”
“Apparently.”
“And you’re sitting there looking…” You gestured vaguely at him. “Like that.”
“Like what?”
“Interested.”
That wiped the amusement from his face. Then one corner of his mouth lifted and your stomach did something deeply inconvenient. “Mingi.” He leaned back in the chair. “What?” Something had shifted beneath the ridiculousness of the situation, something neither of you had acknowledged until you said it aloud. Mingi finally broke eye contact as his gaze wandered toward the camera again. “He got red?” You groaned. “Mingi!”
“What?” His grin returned. “I’m just asking.”
“Yes.”
“How red?”
“How the fuck am I supposed to measure that?”
“Ears too?”
You stopped and Mingi noticed. Then, very casually, he asked, “Was he acting weird?”
“He could barely look at me.”
Mingi’s lips twitched. “And?”
“And what?”
“Nothing else?”
You opened your mouth. Then stopped. Because there had been something else. Something you hadn’t fully processed at the time because you’d been too busy dying of humiliation. Yunho shifting awkwardly. The way he’d kept his hands near the front of his shirt. The strange stiffness in his posture. Your eyes slowly widened. “He was hard…..” Mingi grinned at that. “Of course he was.” He stood up, walking towards you. “I’m surprised he didn’t come in his pants.” He crawled up the bed to you. “I mean….. he totally wants you.” He stared at your shocked face. “He doesn’t know I know….” He slid his hand up your thigh. “But I do. I’ve always known. Just like….” His hands paused, thumb rubbing circles against your inner thigh. “how I know… you wanted to fuck him to once upon a time……” You stared at him. For several seconds, that was all you could do and just Mingi stared back with the most infuriatingly calm expression you’d ever seen on his face, his thumb continuing those lazy circles against your thigh as though he hadn’t just casually detonated two secrets in the span of ten seconds. “What?”
His eyebrows lifted. “What?”
“How the fuck do you know that?”
“Which part?”
“Both parts!”
Mingi laughed softly. “Baby.”
“No.” You pushed at his shoulder, but he barely moved. “Don’t baby me. How long have you known Yunho wants me?”
“Wanted.”
Your eyes narrowed and Mingi’s mouth twitched. “Supposedly.”
“Mingi.”
“A while.”
“A while?”
He shrugged and you stared at him in disbelief. “And you’ve just… known?”
“Pretty much.”
“How?”
That finally made him hesitate. Not because he didn’t have an answer. Because apparently he was deciding how much he wanted to tell you. “I know Yunho.”
“That explains absolutely nothing.”
“It explains a lot.”
“Mingi.”
He sighed dramatically and shifted until he was kneeling more comfortably between your legs, one hand still resting against your thigh. “He liked you before we started dating.” Your stomach dropped. “What?” Mingi watched your face carefully. “He never told me.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Because he’s my best friend.”
“That still doesn’t…”
“I saw it.”
You went quiet and Mingi’s expression softened slightly, amusement giving way to something more thoughtful. “Not immediately. When I first met you, I didn’t know. Yunho introduced us and I thought you were hot, you thought I was funny…”
“I thought you were annoying.”
“You wanted me.”
“You’re ruining your own story.”
“You wanted me while thinking I was annoying.”
You rolled your eyes, but Mingi grinned before continuing. “Anyway, I didn’t realize anything was weird until after I got your number.” Your brows pulled together as Mingi looked at you as though the answer should have been obvious. “Because by the time I figured it out, I’d already asked you out.” Something unexpectedly warm moved through your chest at the simplicity of it and Mingi shrugged again. “If Yunho wanted to tell me, he would’ve told me. He didn’t. So I wasn’t going to make him.”
“But you knew.”
“I suspected.” His grin returned. “Then we started actually dating and I knew.”
“How?”
“The man suddenly developed the self control of a fucking monk whenever you were around.” A laugh escaped you before you could stop it as Mingi nodded emphatically. “Exactly. You didn’t notice because you didn’t know him like I did. Yunho is affectionate with everybody. Then suddenly you became my girlfriend and he was calculating where to put his fucking hands every time you hugged him.” You covered your face. This day could not possibly become more humiliating. “And,” Mingi continued and your hands dropped as his expression turned positively wicked. “I knew about you too.” You immediately stopped breathing. There was the tiniest flicker of triumph in his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure.”
“I don’t.”
“Baby.”
“Stop calling me that when you’re accusing me of wanting to sleep with your best friend.”
“I’m not accusing you.” Mingi’s hand slid slightly higher along your thigh before settling again. “I’m telling you I knew that you think Yunho is hot.”
“Everybody thinks Yunho is hot.”
“Not everybody looked at him the way you did.”
Your face warmed. “I did not look at him any kind of way.”
“Oh, you looked.”
“When?”
“Early on.”
“That was years ago.”
“I know.”
You folded your arms. “And you never said anything?”
“Nope.”
“Why?”
Mingi tilted his head. “Because you chose me.” The answer stole whatever argument you’d been preparing. His expression was completely relaxed. No jealousy. No insecurity. Nothing defensive lurking beneath the words. Just certainty. You’d chosen him. Mingi knew that. “You had a crush on my best friend before we got together.” He shrugged. “So what?”
“I wouldn’t call it a crush.”
“Wanted to fuck him.”
“Mingi!”
His laugh filled the room before he leaned closer. You expected another joke. Instead, his eyes searched yours. “But that was before me.” There was something different in his voice now that made you swallow. “Yes.” Mingi’s thumb moved slowly against your thigh. “Before we started dating. Before you loved me.” His gaze stayed on yours, almost lazily, “So why do you look nervous?” Your heartbeat stumbled. “I don’t.”
“You do.”
“You just told me your best friend has secretly wanted me for years. I’m processing.”
“Mhm.”
“And apparently you’ve secretly known about it.”
“Mhm.”
“And apparently you’ve also been keeping tabs on who I find attractive like some kind of psychopath.” That made him laugh again then his gaze dropped briefly before returning to yours. “I thought you got over it.” He sat back on his heels, staring at you as though he’d just uncovered the final piece of a puzzle he hadn’t realized he was solving. Then his eyes moved toward the desk. Toward the little blue camera sitting innocently. When Mingi looked back at you, something in his expression made your stomach tighten. Because suddenly you understood. The video. Yunho watching it. Yunho getting hard. Mingi knowing Yunho wanted you. Mingi realizing you still wanted Yunho. All those separate pieces had just clicked together inside your boyfriend’s head. “Mingi.”
A slow smile spread across his face and you should have known whatever he was about to say was going to be insane.
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
Four days later, Yunho had discovered that distraction worked significantly better in theory. In practice, there were only so many times a man could run the same choreography before his body began filing formal complaints. The music thundered through the practice room for what had to be the sixth time in less than an hour, bass vibrating through the polished floor as Yunho hit the final sequence harder than necessary. His sneakers squeaked against the wood. Sweat clung to the back of his shirt, damp hair falling across his forehead as he moved through steps his body knew well enough that he barely needed to think about them anymore. That was precisely the problem. He needed to think. About this. The choreography. Counts. Footwork. Anything. Five, six, seven, eight. Turn. Step. Drop.
His reflection moved with him across the wall of mirrors, sharp and controlled despite the exhaustion beginning to settle into his muscles. Silence rushed in around him when the song stopped. And immediately, traitorously, his brain reminded him, Tell Mingi how red my face is. “Fuck.” He bent forward, hands braced against his knees. That had been a stupid thing to say. Possibly one of the stupidest things Yunho had ever said in his life, and he’d spent enough years around Wooyoung to have an extremely competitive scale for stupidity. He should’ve lied. He should’ve looked you directly in the eye and told you he’d used the camera, transferred his pictures and returned it without seeing anything unusual.
Instead, he’d panicked. And quoted Mingi’s fucking sex tape. Brilliant. Yunho straightened and walked toward his phone, grabbing the water bottle beside it before dropping onto the floor with his back against the mirrored wall. He drank nearly half the bottle. His breathing slowly returned to normal but his thoughts did not. Four days. Four entire days had passed since Los Angeles. They’d performed the festival, flown home, gone through schedules, rehearsals and meetings. Nothing. Not one word. You hadn’t mentioned the camera. Mingi hadn’t mentioned the camera. Yunho had spent the first evening waiting for Mingi to corner him. But nothing. He’d spent the flight back to Korea convinced Mingi would eventually lean across the aisle and quietly ask what the fuck he’d seen. Instead, Mingi had slept for six hours, woken up, eaten two meals and spent the final hour of the flight playing something on his phone.
Yesterday they’d practiced together. Mingi had behaved exactly like Mingi. He’d stolen Yunho’s water. Complained about being hungry. Sent Yunho three videos while sitting less than ten feet away from him. At one point he’d thrown himself across Yunho’s back because apparently walking to the other side of the practice room required transportation. Completely normal. Too normal. That was what bothered Yunho. Mingi knew. He had to know. You would’ve told him. There was no possibility you’d kept something like that to yourself, especially after Yunho had practically announced exactly what he’d found before fleeing the hotel room like the building was on fire. So why hadn’t Mingi said anything? Yunho twisted the cap back onto his bottle. Maybe you hadn’t told him. He considered it…… he pushed himself off the floor and walked back toward the door. He would ask Mingi himself. Apologize.
Get it over with.
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
You came undone on his tongue, hips shaking, thighs clenched tight around his head, Mingi moaning into you like he lived for the taste. And maybe he did. But even before the tremors faded, even before the heat had fully left your cheeks, you were moving. Your hand slid into his hair and tugged, hard, until his mouth left you with a groan, lips wet, chin slick with your release. His eyes were wild. His pupils blown wide, chest rising and falling fast as he looked wrecked. Devoted. Starving.
You grabbed his wrist and pulled. “Sit,” you said, voice rough. Mingi obeyed without hesitation, dropping into the chair behind him, legs spread wide, breath still shaky, taking the camera from you as you climbed onto the edge of the low platform, then onto him, not to ride, not yet. You weren’t straddling him. No. You crawled. Knees between his, hands on his thighs. Eyes locked as Mingi let out a low groan the moment he realized what you were doing, head falling back against the chair with a thud. “Holy fuck,” he breathed, hands flexing on the arms of the seat. “You’re gonna kill me.”
You’d been insatiable since you walked into his studio. Hell….. you’ve been like this since the agreement. After he had clocked you for still wanting Yunho and teased about how hot it would be to film his best friend fucking you…. you had been absolutely feral since. Your fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his sweats, dragging the soft fabric down slowly, deliberately over the sharp lines of his hips, down his thighs, revealing his hard leaking dick already twitching for you. “No boxers?” you murmured, feigning surprise and Mingi smirked, breath catching as you leaned in, lips ghosting over his lower stomach. “They were in the laundry.”
You kissed along the crease of his hip, fingers curling around the base of his dick, the heat of him pulsing against your hand. “Been hard all day,” he rasped, voice strained as you stroked him once, slow, his hand tightening on the camera, gaze locked on the screen. “Bet you had to stop yourself jerking off thinking about me all day….” you whispered and his head rolled to the side, teeth gritted. “You know I did.”
“Show me.”
That snapped something in him. One hand dove into your hair as your mouth wrapped around the head of his dick, tongue swirling, lips sealing, cheeks hollowing as you took him deeper. Mingi choked on a moan, hips bucking before he slammed them back down, knuckles white as he gripped the camera. “Fuck, baby…. fucking God, your mouth…”
“Mingi we need to talk….” The door to his studio opened and Yunho froze before moving to leave. “Oh my god!”
“Wait!” Mingi called after him and Yunho gripped the door knob hard. “Don’t pretend like you don’t want to watch.” Mingi smirked as you popped his dick from your mouth, staring at your boyfriend then looking towards his best friend. “Come on….” Mingi grinned, waving the camera at Yunho. “You know I know so instead of making everything awkward…. Come hold this for me.” Yunho slowly turned to look, you on your knees, Mingi’s dick wet and aching in front of you. Mingi sprawled in his chair, that little blue camera catching everything. It was Mingi that made him stay….. It was the dark, hungry look you gave him that made Yunho shut the studio door back and walk over.
Mingi held the camera out to him and Yunho slowly took it. It was already recording and he could feel his heart racing as he angled it at you. “There we go.” Mingi grinned before looking back at you, thumb brushing your chin and nodding. You stared at Yunho, the way his eyes had darkened. The way he held the camera like it was delicate and you were the best art he’d ever captured. You moved, taking Mingi’s dick back into your mouth, bobbing your head slow, sloppy, messy, just how he liked it. Saliva dripping down your chin, hand twisting at the base, the other bracing on his thigh. And Yunho and the camera watched every second of it. His dick getting hard, straining against his sweatpants as Mingi was cursing between groans, hair damp against his forehead, panting like a man undone. “You’re gonna make me come,” he hissed, voice nearly broken and looked at the camera as you pulled off with a pop, smirking up at him. “Not yet.” You smirked at the camera and Yunho could feel his dick twitch as you climbed onto Mingi’s lap.
Your soaked pussy pressed against his dick, slick and aching as you rocked against him, back and forth, your clit catching on the tip with every glide. Both of you breathless. Desperate. Close. And Yunho made sure the camera got every second of it. “Fuck…..” the word slipped from him, voice deep, rough and wanting. “Now…” you stared at Mingi. “Show us how you fuck yourself.” Mingi stared at you, then looked towards Yunho who looked like he was hanging on by a thread and that thread was the camera. Mingi wrapped his hand around himself at the base, fingers tight, eyes never leaving yours. “This how I’d start,” he murmured, voice raw. “Slow at first. Just the tip.” He ran his thumb over it, gathering pre cum and spreading it with a hiss. “I’d think about your mouth. How warm you are. How wet you get when I tell you what to do.”
Your thighs clenched and Yunho groaned, zooming the camera in as Mingi’s hand stroked once, then again, slow, dragging, twisting at the top just like you do. “Sometimes I’d go faster,” he said, the muscles in his abdomen tightening, one leg flexing with the rhythm. “Close my eyes. Picture you riding me, tits bouncing, that look in your eyes like you own me.” You whimpered as Yunho moved closer, getting on his knees right beside the chair and Mingi’s gaze darkened. “Other times…” he moaned low, jerking his dick tighter now, his hips barely rocking up into his fist, “I’d just wanna edge myself. Just tease. Think about how you whimper when you’re close. How your thighs shake. How you beg. Clench and squirt.”
You suddenly felt a hand on your thigh, gripping it, trying to stay still, balancing. Yunho. He still held the camera in one hand, focus strictly on Mingi stroking himself, his other hand now warm against you as Mingi’s breathing picked up. “I’d rub my balls sometimes. Lick my fingers first….” He looked at the camera. “pretend it was her spit. Pretend she’s watching. Like now.” Your breath caught as Yunho’s hand flexed against your thigh and you leaned forward, lips ghosting over Mingi’s, a breath away from kissing him but instead, you pulled back. Still straddling his lap, you leaned just enough to reach between your thighs, grabbing Yunho’s hand, guiding it and he froze. So did Mingi, his own hand still on his dick, eyes locked on you as you smirked, lips parted, and slid Yunho’s fingers between your folds, slick, hot, already dripping from the way Mingi had eaten you out, from watching him stroke himself. From Yunho watching. You guided Yunho to circle your clit slowly, head tipping back, hips twitching forward into his hand.
Mingi swore under his breath, jaw flexing as he watched you fuck yourself with his best friend’s hand. “Right there,” you whispered and Yunho snapped. He shoved the camera at Mingi who almost dropped it between the two of you. He clutched it in one hand, focusing it on Yunho who quickly took over his own movements from you. Mingi gripped himself tighter, stroking his dick as he watched, eyes glued to the screen of the camera as Yunho rubbed his thumb against your clit. Your lips parted and your breath caught as Yunho’s fingers worked in tight little circles, faster now, wetter. “Fucking hell, baby,” Mingi groaned, his voice breaking as he pumped himself harder. “You’re both gonna make me come just like that.”
“She’s so fucking wet,” Yunho breathed, moaning as your hips rocked into his hand and two of his fingers slipped inside you. “Fuck, Mingi….” The air in the studio had shifted from thick to suffocating, a heavy, humid haze of arousal and unspoken desires finally breaking wide open. Yunho was no longer the cautious observer, the moment his fingers touched you, the boundary he had spent years reinforcing didn't just crack, it shattered as he felt the slick, searing heat of you and his composure vanished.
Yunho began to thrust his fingers, his movements turning from tentative circles to deep, rhythmic drives. He wasn't just touching you, he was claiming the space he had craved for years. Each plunge of his fingers sent a jolt of electricity through your spine, your hips bucking instinctively against his hand. Mingi was a symphony of strained breaths and desperate friction, his own hand working his dick in a frantic blur, his eyes glued to the camera screen, watching the visual of his best friend ruining his girlfriend in his own lap, and the sight was driving him toward a cliff. “Fuck... baby, look at you," Mingi groaned, his voice a wrecked rasp. The stimulation becoming too much. The combination of Yunho’s relentless pounding fingers and the psychological weight of Mingi watching it all through the lens pushed you over the edge.
You let out a strangled cry, your back arching violently as your orgasm ripped through you. You came with a force that left you gasping, squirting uncontrollably, spraying across Mingi’s lap, slicking his dick and drenching Yunho’s hand. A few stray droplets of your release splashed against the lens of the blue camera, blurring the edges of the frame in a visceral, messy smear. “Fuck..." Mingi stopped stroking himself, his hand frozen as he stared at Yunho and Yunho looked stunned, his fingers still buried inside you, his chest heaving as he stared at the mess he’d made. For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of your ragged breathing. Then Mingi’s voice cut through the silence, low and commanding. "Grab her."
Yunho blinked, his gaze snapping to Mingi. “What?" Mingi didn't repeat himself. He looked at you, breathless, trembling, and completely open and then back at Yunho. "Come on... You both want to fuck each other. And I want to watch." Yunho hesitated. The ghost of loyalty flickered in his eyes, because despite what just happened, you were still Mingi’s. But Mingi saw the conflict and crushed it with a wicked, knowing grin. "Don't act shy now, Yunho. She wants both of us. Let's give her what she wants." That was the final snap. Yunho didn't just move, he surged. He pulled you off Mingi’s lap with a suddenness that made you whimper, his eyes dark and predatory as he stared at you. "You sure?" he rasped, his voice sounding like gravel but you didn't answer with words. Instead, you reached up, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down into a bruising, desperate kiss. It was a seal of consent, a surrender to the chaos and Mingi didn't miss a second, leaning back in the chair to ensure the camera captured the raw hunger of the kiss, his own dick twitching and leaking as he watched his best friend finally take what he’d wanted for years.
And Yunho didn't waste another moment. He hauled you toward the small leather couch in the corner of the studio, stripping your shirt off in one fluid motion, the fabric tearing slightly in his haste, leaving you completely naked and shivering under the cool studio lights. You reached for him in return, your fingers shaking as you yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Then you reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, sliding them and his underwear down in one go. Your breath hitched. Yunho was big, thick and veined, just as imposing as Mingi. The sight of him fully aroused, standing before you in the dim light, was almost overwhelming. But Yunho didn't give you time to process it. He dropped to his knees, his mouth finding your inner thighs first, kissing the soft skin with a reverence that contrasted with the hunger in his eyes.
He worked his way up, his tongue flicking expertly against your clit, licking up the remnants of your previous orgasm with a focused intensity as Mingi approached, kneeling beside Yunho, the camera held steady. He wasn't just filming, he was directing the scene, his voice praising the way Yunho’s tongue worked you. "Look at him eat you," Mingi whispered, his voice thick. "He's been dreaming about this for years, baby.” Mingi reached over, threading his fingers into your hair, pulling your head back slightly so he could see your face as Yunho drove you toward another peak. You cried out, your hips bucking into Yunho’s face, your nails digging into the leather of the couch as Mingi shifted the camera angle, catching the sight of Yunho’s dick twitching and leaking just inches away from your soaking pussy, before panning back up to your face just as you came again, your body shaking under the combined sensory assault of Yunho’s mouth and Mingi’s touch.
Yunho pulled back, his face slick with your juices, his expression one of pure, unadulterated lust as he looked at Mingi, his voice a low rumble. "Can I fuck her?" Mingi didn't answer, he just stepped back and gave a slow, encouraging nod. But you weren't done being the center of their world. You reached out, grabbing Yunho’s dick, stroking the length of him with a needy desperation. "I want both of you to fuck me," you whimpered and Mingi let out a guttural groan, but he didn't join in yet. He wanted to see Yunho first. He wanted to see the man who had been a monk over you for years finally break. Yunho grabbed you, pulling you into his lap and turning you around, hooking your legs up high, pinning you up tight so it left your pussy wide open and vulnerable. Standing directly in front of you, Mingi held the camera, filming the exact moment Yunho’s dick aligned with your opening, entering you slowly at first, the thick head of his dick stretching you wide, filling every single crease of you, letting out a long, shaky breath. "God... you're so tight," he groaned, glancing at Mingi. "She feels incredible."
"I know," Mingi rasped, his eyes locked on the screen where he could see the skin of your pussy stretching to accommodate Yunho. Then Yunho began to move. He started with slow, agonizing thrusts, savoring the feeling of you clamping around him. But as the friction built, so did his pace. He began to pound into you, his movements becoming primal and relentless as you started creaming him, your walls clenching and milking him with every thrust making Mingi moan at the sight, dropping to his knees in front of you, bringing the camera as close as possible to the point of impact. He recorded the wet, slapping sound of skin on skin, the way your pussy gripped Yunho's dick and then let go with a sloppy squelch. “Look at it... look how he's breeding you," Mingi whispered to the camera, his voice trembling as Yunho’s pace became frantic. He was driving into you with a strength that made you scream, your voice echoing through the studio as you came again, a violent, shaking release that sprayed across Mingi’s chest and the camera lens.
"Holy fuck," Mingi breathed as he scrambled up, dragging his chair over and angling the camera so it sat securely on the seat, capturing a wide shot of the couch. He stripped off his shirt and kicked his pants away in a frenzy of movement and came up behind you, his presence an overwhelming wall of heat. Yunho was still buried deep in you, both of you panting in unison as Mingi’s hand glided up your back, his touch possessive. "How do you..." He paused, his voice breaking. None of you had ever done this, the logistics were new, the tension was unprecedented. "How do you want us?"
"Together..." you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper. "Both of you... now." Mingi understood. Nodding, he guided his dick to your opening, right alongside Yunho’s and hesitated before pushing in slowly, an agonizingly tight sensation as two dicks competed for space inside you. Both men let out a synchronized moan, a deep, guttural sound of pure relief and pleasure as their dicks rubbed against each other and your walls struggled to stretch and clench. You cried out, your head falling back into the crook of Yunho’s neck as you clung to him for dear life. And for a minute, they both stayed still, letting your body adjust to the impossible fullness. You felt stretched to your absolute limit, every nerve ending screaming with pleasure. Then, they began to move. It was a coordinated dance of lust. Yunho moved first, a shallow thrust that dragged Mingi with him. Then Mingi pushed back, their dicks sliding against one another, creating a friction that was almost too much to bear.
They found a rhythm, a slow, grinding slide that filled every single millimeter of your pussy. “Look at her," Yunho gasped, his voice strained. "She's taking both of us." Mingi groaned, his eyes fixed on watching the two of them disappear into you. "She's gone... fuck... we should have been like this all along." The slow pace vanished as you begged them for more, your voice raw and desperate. "Please... fuck me! Just fuck me!" That was the signal. Yunho began to pound into you with everything he had, and Mingi followed suit, his thrusts mirroring Yunho's. They were fucking you relentlessly, a double team assault that left you breathless and broken. The little blue camera capturing every second, the way your body jolted under them, the way your skin flushed deep, the way your cries turned into incoherent moans of ecstasy and Mingi’s breathing became erratic. "I'm close... baby, I'm so fucking close."
You felt the build up in your own core, a tension so tight it felt like you were going to snap. As you reached your peak, screaming into the empty studio, Mingi’s hand shot up and clamped firmly over your mouth, muffling your cries so the staff in the hallway wouldn't hear you. Though, the sounds ricocheting were very clear what was happening in Mingi’s studio. The muffled scream only added to the intensity. Yunho gave one final, devastating series of thrusts, pounding you so hard you couldn't even breathe. With a loud, guttural roar, he came, filling you deep and hot followed seconds later by Mingi, his body shuddering as he filled you to the brim alongside his best friend. They both twitched inside you for several long seconds, their hearts hammering against your back and chest.
Slowly, Mingi pulled out, slumping against you with a look of total exhaustion and satisfaction as Yunho remained buried in you for a moment longer, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he chuckled breathlessly. “You... know..." he whispered, his voice returning to its normal depth but carrying a new weight. "We can't go back after this." Mingi let out a lazy, triumphant laugh as he got up, grabbing the camera and stopped the recording. He looked at you both, his best friend and girlfriend tangled together in a mess of sweat and fluids, and grinned with absolute promise in his eyes.
seven minutes in heaven w frat!kuna gets a bit heated ... (shy!reader)
you shouldn't be here. no—you shouldn't have even considered being here. the idea crossing your mind in general was laughable, but, here you were. sitting criss cross apple sauce in a circle with some of the most popular people at your university. sukuna had invited you, claiming it was your turn to have a "taste of his world." you reluctantly agreed, uneasy at what it might entail, and you were right to. you were always right.
"it's her turn," the white haired one, gojo, nodded to you. you swallowed hard and reaching a shaky hand in the middle of the circle. before you could reach the bottle, someone objected.
"this is getting boring," shoko, the dark haired one who was close with gojo, complained. "it doesn't help this is a game designed for edgy middle schoolers. make it interesting."
"seven minutes in heaven?" another brunette suggested. the people in the circle murmured as they considered the idea.
"you said that a little too quickly choso," gojo said suspiciously. "anyone you got in mind?" he clapped his back and choso turned a deep red.
"dude..." choso said, clearly embarrassed.
"still designed for edgy middle schoolers..." shoko grumbled.
"i'm down for seven minutes in heaven." your head shot up at sukuna's voice. he entered the kitchen with a few more bottles in his hands. he handed them to a few of his friends before settling down beside you.
"you okay?" he whispered to you.
you nodded before turning your focus back to the circle. you didn't want him to coddle you. sure, this wasn't the way you'd typically spend a friday night, but you were fine. sort of. as long as he didn't leave your side. it dawned on you that he might have to during this game to go makeout with someone. you didn't like the uneasiness that settled into your stomach at that thought. he's probably done that and more a hundred of times...but still. you couldn't shake the icky feeling.
"okay, stop stalling. let's start then,” geto, another frat bro, urged. seems like the discourse was finally over. "whose turn was it again?"
everyone's eyes landed on you. your stomach churned and you nodded awkwardly. god, you really needed to stop nodding. you probably looked stupid. but you felt stupid. whoever it landed on, you'd tell them you weren't interested and just sit in silence for all of the four hundred and twenty seconds. that was your master, foolproof plan.
you spun the bottle and watched as it did almost a full 360, just falling a bit short of where you were sitting, but just enough to stir things up. the entire circle cheered when it landed on sukuna. they cheered on as he stared at the bottle in disbelief, looked at you to make sure you were okay with it, and even when you dragged your feet to the closet with him trailing behind you.
the darkness that engulfed the closet was daunting. you stepped on his foot at least twice and accidentally elbowing him. you apologized profusely and he reassured you it was fine, then silence fell over the two of you.
was your plan really that foolproof? it was created with being picked to kiss a stranger in mind. sukuna was no stranger. if you had to be completely honest, you wouldn't mind kissing him. to fulfill the challenge of course. nothing more.
"what are the odds?" he said finally.
you laughed at his stupid pun. "close to none since you were sitting right beside me."
he scoffed, "you always seem to make the impossible possible. why are you surprised now?"
you frowned. "huh?"
"i have the best grade i've ever had in all my years in college right now, thanks to you. i actually give a shit about school in general, thanks to you. if you told me i'd be where i am now a year ago, i'd laugh in your face." he sighed. "i just wish you could see the impact you make."
you were stunned. you didn't expect the two of you to sit in silence for almost ten minutes, but you didn't expect it to get deep.
"no, you're okay. i'm just processing." another minute passes before you break the silence.
"you're the only would i'd feel comfortable doing this with," you blurted out. you winced immediately as your confession hung heavy in the air. it was silent before you heard a low chuckle.
"sitting in the dark in silence...or making out?"
it was your turn to keep quiet. you hesitated, before replying with a simple, "both." it wasn't long before sukuna fumbled around the dark and finally found you. his lips crashed against yours and the two of you walked backwards until your back hit the wall. the two of you both groaned into the kiss. your fingers found their way in his hair as you kissed him back. this kiss was hungry: weeks of built up tension finally adding up this moment. you tugged his hair lightly and he grunted. he pulled away to trail kisses down your neck and you gasped. his lips were hot on your skin and you whined softly.
“kuna.” you gasped once more as he started sucking on the sensitive skin on your neck. your skin was on fire. he pulled away and leaned in to whisper in your ear.
“tell me to stop.”
your eyes widened as his hands traveled down your body. you didn’t want him to stop. you were probably violating multiple rules in your handbook, but right now, you didn’t care. you held your breath as his hand dipped under your skirt and in your panties.
“jesus christ,” he muttered, “you’re soaked.” you bit you lip and spread your legs a little wider. he chuckled and leaned in even closer.
“i’m guess you don’t want me to stop?”
you shook your head even though it was dark. “no,” you swallowed hard, “please don’t.”
with that, sukuna pulled your panties to the side and slipped two fingers inside of your weeping cunt. you trembled as he started pumping them slowly inside of you.
“shit,” he groaned. your slick was bound to be coating his hand by now, but the two of you were too turned on to care. he buried his head in your neck and sighed. you moaned as he curled his fingers, velvet walls clenching around him.
“shhh, they’re right outside,” he shushed you and clamped his hand over your mouth. he continued fucking you with his fingers, muttering about how wet you were. sukuna’s long fingers reached where your own couldn’t, even the spongy spot deep inside of you. you whined as he reached your g spot, moans muffled by his hand. heat pooled in your stomach as you got closer and closer to the edge. your heartbeat faster as he chased your high.
"isn't this a-against like f-five different rules?" you asked nervously. the pleasure building in your abdomen made you feel slightly guilty. no wonder it felt so good, you weren't supposed to be doing anything like this at all. when you first signed up, you'd promised treat mentees with respect...and your current predicament was anything but respectful.
"who cares?" sukuna murmured. "we started breaking rules when we had our first date," he kissed your neck and chuckled. "you're close, aren't you? cum for me. need to feel it." he kissed your cheek and you groaned. you prayed the lewd noises coming from you weren't audible for the audience outside. with one last shaky breath, you came undone. you clenched around his fingers and shuddered as he kept going, pushing you past overstimulation. your body shook, overwhelmed with the pleasure as you gasped.
"k-kuna." your broken cries were barely coherent. your thighs shook and you clutched his arm to steady yourself.
"hmm?" he asked you mockingly. "you always take what i give you so well." he pressed a kiss to your temple.
you opened your mouth to reply but you both froze as someone knocked on the closet door loudly. "yo, the seven minutes have been up."
with an exasperated sigh, sukuna pulled away and helped you put yourself back together. your legs felt like jelly as you did the walk of shame out of the closet. you didn't dare meet sukuna's eyes or any of the other people in attendance. you were sure what you had just done would be evident on your face. it definitely was on sukuna's. other than his messy hair and his slightly swollen lips, he had that mischievous glint in his eye once again. the two of you sat back down and watched as the next duo was picked.
"you okay?"
you titled your head slightly and saw sukuna eyeing you warily. you were more than okay. whatever the hell went down in the closet wasn't something you expected at all. to be honest, you were sad your time was cut short.
"mhm... i kinda wish we had more time," you admitted. your eyes quickly scanned the room to see if anyone had heard your confession. they were too busy teasing choso for being next.
sukuna chuckled and leaned in. "that can certainly be arranged."
The cursor blinks mockingly at you from your laptop screen, a rhythmic reminder that you've been staring at the same paragraph for the last twenty minutes without actually absorbing a single word. Your project on contemporary economic theory sits half-finished, notes scattered across your desk in organized chaos that only makes sense to you.
It's Friday night, and while the rest of campus is probably pre-gaming or already stumbling toward whatever party is happening tonight, you're exactly where you always are: hunched over your desk in your small dorm room, surrounded by textbooks and the faint smell of the jasmine candle you lit three hours ago.
You're not antisocial, exactly. You just have priorities. Good grades don't earn themselves, and networking events don't appeal to you the way they apparently appeal to everyone else. You're content with your quiet routine, your small circle of friends, your weekend study sessions at the library.
Or at least, that's what you tell yourself.
The door to your room bursts open without warning, and you jump, nearly knocking over your lukewarm coffee.
"Jesus, Shoko—"
"Don't 'Jesus Shoko' me," your roommate interrupts, striding into the room with the confidence of someone who's never met a social situation she couldn't dominate. Her dark hair is already styled, makeup perfectly applied, and she's wearing a crop top and high-waisted jeans that probably cost more than your textbooks. "It's Friday night and you're doing homework like some kind of academic hermit."
"I have a paper due Monday," you protest weakly, but Shoko is already moving toward your closet with the determination of a woman on a mission.
"You always have a paper due. You always have something due." She starts rifling through your clothes, making disapproving sounds at your collection of oversized hoodies and comfortable jeans. "When was the last time you went to a party?"
"I went to that thing in September—"
"That was a study group that happened to have snacks. That doesn't count." Shoko pulls out a particularly ratty sweatshirt and holds it up with an expression of mock horror. "Babe. We need to talk about your wardrobe."
"My wardrobe is fine," you say defensively, but you're already closing your laptop because you know Shoko well enough to recognize when she's not going to take no for an answer.
"Your wardrobe is tragic. But—" She pushes deeper into your closet, shoving aside hoodies and cardigans. "I know you're hiding something good in here. You can't have gone through four years of college without acquiring at least one—aha!"
She emerges triumphant, holding up a short black dress that you'd forgotten you even owned. It's simple but flattering, with a fitted bodice and a skirt that would definitely fall mid-thigh. You bought it freshman year for some event you can't even remember now, wore it once, and then shoved it to the back of your closet where it's been gathering dust ever since.
"Absolutely not," you say immediately.
"Absolutely yes." Shoko tosses the dress onto your bed. "There's a party tonight at the Sigma house. Gojo and Geto are hosting."
Your stomach does a weird flip at the names. Everyone knows Gojo and Geto—the two most popular guys on campus, best friends who seem to do everything together, including throwing the wildest parties every weekend. You've never been to one of their parties, but you've heard the stories. You've also sat three rows behind Gojo in Professor Nanami's economics class for the entire semester, trying very hard not to notice how his white hair catches the light or how his laugh seems to fill the entire lecture hall.
Not that you've been paying attention to that sort of thing.
"I don't know," you hedge. "I really should finish this project—"
"The project will still be there tomorrow. And Sunday. And Monday morning if you really want to hate yourself." Shoko sits down on your bed, her expression softening slightly. "Look, I love you, but you need to get out more. You're in college. You're supposed to be having fun, making mistakes, doing stupid things you'll laugh about later. When was the last time you did something just because you wanted to, not because it was going to look good on a resume?"
The question hits harder than you'd like to admit. When was the last time you did something spontaneous? Something just for the fun of it?
You look at the dress on your bed, then at your laptop, then back at Shoko's hopeful expression.
"Fine," you hear yourself say. "But if this party sucks, I'm leaving."
Shoko squeals and launches herself at you, wrapping you in a hug that smells like expensive perfume and possibility. "Yes! Okay, we need to get you ready. Shower first, then I'm doing your makeup."
"I can do my own makeup—"
"Not tonight you can't. Tonight, you're getting the full Shoko treatment."
An hour later, you barely recognize yourself in the mirror. The dress fits better than you remembered, hugging your curves in a way that makes you feel exposed and powerful at the same time. Shoko has done something magical with your makeup—nothing too dramatic, but enough to make your eyes look bigger and your lips look fuller. Your hair falls in soft waves around your shoulders, and you're wearing heels that you're definitely going to regret by the end of the night.
"Holy shit," Shoko says, looking you up and down with genuine appreciation. "You look hot."
"I look like I'm trying too hard," you mutter, tugging at the hem of your dress.
"You look like you're trying exactly the right amount. Trust me." She grabs her purse and tosses you yours—a small black clutch you'd also forgotten you owned. "Come on, let's go before you chicken out."
The walk to the Sigma house takes about fifteen minutes, and with every step, you become more convinced this is a terrible idea. You can hear the music before you even turn onto Greek Row, a heavy bass beat that seems to pulse through the sidewalk. The house itself is massive, a three-story colonial with a wraparound porch that's already packed with people.
"Shoko, I don't know about this—"
"Too late, we're already here." She links her arm through yours and practically drags you up the front steps.
Inside, the party is in full swing. The air is thick with the smell of alcohol, sweat, and too many competing colognes and perfumes. Music blares from speakers you can't see, and everywhere you look, there are people—dancing, drinking, laughing, making out in corners. It's overwhelming in a way that makes your introverted heart want to retreat back to the safety of your dorm room.
Shoko navigates through the crowd with ease, pulling you along behind her. She grabs two red cups from somewhere, handing one to you. You take a cautious sip and immediately regret it—whatever this is, it's strong enough to strip paint.
"I'm going to find Utahime," Shoko shouts over the music. "She texted that she's here somewhere. You good?"
"Yeah, I'm—" But Shoko is already disappearing into the crowd, leaving you standing alone in the middle of a party where you don't know anyone.
Great.
You take another sip of your drink—it doesn't get better—and try to figure out what to do with yourself. You could try to find Shoko, but she's probably already lost in the crowd. You could leave, but that feels pathetic. You could try to mingle, but the idea of walking up to a group of strangers and introducing yourself makes your skin crawl.
Instead, you find a relatively quiet corner near the stairs and pull out your phone.
You: Where did you go???
The message shows as delivered but not read. You wait a few minutes, watching the party happen around you, then check again. Still nothing.
You: Seriously, you dragged me here and then abandoned me
You: If you don't respond in 10 minutes I'm leaving
But even as you type it, you know you probably won't leave. Not yet, anyway. There's something almost anthropologically fascinating about watching a party like this from the outside—the social dynamics, the way people cluster in groups, the elaborate mating rituals happening on the dance floor.
You're so absorbed in your people-watching that you don't notice someone approaching until a voice right next to your ear says, "You look way too sober to be enjoying yourself."
You jump, nearly dropping your phone, and turn to find yourself face-to-face with Gojo Satoru.
Up close, he's even more attractive than he is from three rows back in economics class. His white hair is slightly messy in a way that looks intentional, and his blue eyes are so bright they're almost unsettling. He's wearing a simple black t-shirt and jeans, but somehow he makes it look effortless and expensive at the same time. He's also standing close enough that you can smell his cologne—something clean and crisp that makes your head spin more than the alcohol.
"I—" Your brain seems to have short-circuited. "I'm fine."
"You're hiding in a corner at a party, staring at your phone. That's the opposite of fine." His grin is playful, teasing but not mean. "Wait, I know you. You're in Nanami's class, right? You always sit in the third row and actually take notes instead of just pretending to pay attention."
The fact that he's noticed you—that he's paid enough attention to know where you sit—makes your cheeks flush. "You sit in the front row and spend half the class trying to make Nanami laugh."
"Successfully, I might add. I got him to crack a smile last week. Pretty sure that counts as a personal victory." Gojo's eyes travel down your body and back up in a way that should probably feel objectifying but instead makes you feel warm all over. "You look different. Good different. Really good, actually."
"Thanks," you manage, hyper-aware of how close he's standing. "It's just a dress."
"It's not just a dress. Trust me." He takes your cup from your hand, sniffs it, and makes a face. "Okay, first of all, whatever this is, it's disgusting. Second, you can't hide in corners all night. Come on."
"Come on where?"
"Somewhere more fun than this." He's already taking your hand, his fingers warm and confident around yours. "I promise I'm not leading you to your doom. Probably."
You should probably protest, should probably stay in your safe corner and wait for Shoko to text you back. But there's something about the way Gojo is looking at you—like you're the most interesting person at this party—that makes you want to follow him.
So you do.
He leads you through the crowd, somehow managing to navigate the packed house without bumping into anyone. People call out to him as you pass—"Gojo!" "Yo, Satoru!"—but he just waves without stopping, his hand never leaving yours.
You end up in what looks like a private lounge area on the second floor, away from the worst of the noise. There's a leather couch, some chairs, and a small bar setup in the corner. And sitting on the couch, looking like he was born to lounge in expensive spaces, is Geto Suguru.
If Gojo is all bright energy and playful charm, Geto is his perfect complement—dark hair pulled back in a half-bun, sharp features, and an intensity in his dark eyes that makes your breath catch. He's wearing a simple white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and you can see the edge of a tattoo peeking out from under the fabric.
"Satoru," Geto says, his voice smooth and deep. "You disappeared."
"I found a stray," Gojo announces, pulling you forward. "She was hiding in a corner looking miserable."
"I wasn't miserable," you protest weakly.
Geto's eyes focus on you, and you feel pinned in place by the intensity of his gaze. "I don't think we've met."
"We haven't. I'm—" You start to introduce yourself, but Gojo interrupts.
"She's in my econ class. The one who actually understands what Nanami is talking about."
"So she's smart," Geto observes, and something about the way he says it makes it sound like a compliment and a challenge at the same time. "Smart enough to know she should probably run away from us."
"I'm not going to run away," you say, surprising yourself with how steady your voice sounds.
"Good." Geto pats the couch next to him. "Sit. Tell us why someone who looks like you is hiding at a party instead of having fun."
You sit, hyperaware of how short your dress is, how close Geto is on one side and how Gojo is settling on your other side. "My roommate dragged me here and then abandoned me. I'm not really a party person."
"What kind of person are you?" Gojo asks, genuinely curious.
"The kind who'd rather be reading than drinking bad alcohol and shouting over loud music."
"See, that's where you're going wrong," Gojo says. "You're drinking bad alcohol. We have good alcohol."
Geto is already standing, moving to the bar in the corner. "What do you like?"
"I don't really drink much—"
"That's not what I asked." Geto looks at you over his shoulder, and there's something almost predatory in his smile. "What do you like?"
"Something sweet," you admit. "I don't like the taste of alcohol."
"A woman after my own heart," Gojo says. "Suguru, make her that thing you made me last week."
Geto nods and starts mixing something, his movements efficient and practiced. You watch his hands—long fingers, confident motions—and feel your mouth go dry.
"So," Gojo says, turning to face you more fully. "Why economics? You don't seem like the business type."
"I'm not, really. I'm more interested in the theory than the application. How systems work, why people make the choices they make." You're surprised at how easy it is to talk to him, how genuinely interested he seems. "What about you? Why economics?"
"Because my family expects it," Gojo says with a shrug. "But honestly? I just like understanding how money moves. Power dynamics. Who has it, who wants it, how it changes hands."
"Control," Geto adds, returning with three drinks. He hands you something pink and fruity-looking. "Satoru likes to be in control."
"And you don't?" you ask, taking a sip. Whatever Geto made is delicious—sweet but not too sweet, with just enough alcohol to warm your throat without burning.
"I prefer influence," Geto says, settling back on the couch. "Control is about force. Influence is about persuasion."
"And which one am I experiencing right now?" The words come out more flirtatious than you intended, but neither of them seems to mind.
"Both," they say in unison, then laugh.
The conversation flows easily after that. You talk about class, about campus, about everything and nothing. Gojo is exactly as playful as you expected—all teasing grins and exaggerated stories—but there's a sharp intelligence underneath the charm. Geto is quieter but no less engaging, asking questions that make you think, really think, about your answers.
And somewhere along the way, you realize you're having fun. Real fun, not the obligatory kind you force yourself through at networking events. Your drink disappears and Geto makes you another one. Then another. The alcohol makes everything softer, warmer, easier.
"We should dance," Gojo announces suddenly, standing and offering you his hand.
"I don't really dance—"
"Everyone dances," Geto says, also standing. "They just need the right motivation."
Before you can protest, you're being pulled to your feet and guided back downstairs. The party has somehow gotten even more crowded, the music even louder. But instead of feeling overwhelming, it feels exciting. The bass thrums through your body, and when Gojo pulls you onto the makeshift dance floor, you don't resist.
At first, you're stiff and self-conscious, too aware of your body and how you're moving. But then Gojo's hands find your hips, guiding you into the rhythm, and Geto appears behind you, his chest warm against your back.
"Just feel it," Geto murmurs in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "Stop thinking so much."
So you do. You let yourself sink into the music, into the feeling of being caught between them. Gojo's hands are on your hips, pulling you closer, and you can feel every inch of him pressed against your front. Geto's hands slide up your sides, his touch light but possessive, and when he dips his head to press his lips to your neck, you gasp.
"Is this okay?" Geto asks, his voice low enough that only you can hear.
You should say no. You should step away, should remember that you barely know these men, should think about the consequences. But the alcohol has made everything hazy and warm, and the way they're touching you—confident but not aggressive, wanting but waiting for permission—makes you feel desired in a way you've never experienced before.
"Yes," you breathe.
That's all the permission they need. Gojo's hands tighten on your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel how hard he is through his jeans. Geto's lips trail up your neck to your ear, and when he bites down gently on your earlobe, you can't stop the small moan that escapes.
"You sound so pretty when you make those noises," Gojo says, his blue eyes dark with want. "I want to hear more of them."
"We should go somewhere private," Geto suggests, his hands sliding dangerously low on your hips. "Somewhere we can really hear you."
Your phone buzzes in your purse—probably Shoko, finally responding—but you ignore it. Nothing else matters right now except the two men pressed against you, the heat building between your legs, the way they're looking at you like they want to devour you whole.
"Okay," you whisper.
They don't waste any time. Gojo takes your hand again, and Geto's hand finds the small of your back as they guide you through the crowd and up the stairs. Your heart is pounding so hard you're sure they can hear it. This is crazy. This is completely unlike you. But you don't want to stop.
They lead you to a room at the end of the hall—their room, you realize, seeing the two beds on opposite sides. It's surprisingly neat for a frat house, with posters on the walls and textbooks stacked on desks.
The door clicks shut behind you, and suddenly the air feels charged with electricity.
Gojo is on you immediately, his hands cupping your face as he kisses you with a hunger that steals your breath. His lips are soft but demanding, his tongue sliding into your mouth with practiced ease. You moan against him, your hands fisting in his shirt, and he groans in response.
Behind you, you feel Geto's presence, his body heat radiating against your back. His hands find the zipper of your dress, and he pulls it down slowly, torturously slow. The sound seems impossibly loud in the quiet room.
"You're so fucking beautiful," Geto murmurs, pressing kisses down your spine as he peels the dress off your shoulders. "We've been watching you all semester, you know. Sitting in class, biting your lip when you're concentrating. It's been torture."
The dress falls away, pooling at your feet, and you're left standing in just your bra and panties. You should feel exposed, vulnerable, but the way they're looking at you—like you're the most beautiful thing they've ever seen—makes you feel powerful instead.
Gojo breaks the kiss, his eyes raking over your body. "Fuck," he breathes. "Suguru, look at her."
"I'm looking," Geto says, his hands spanning your waist. "I'm definitely looking."
His fingers find the clasp of your bra, and he unhooks it with practiced ease. The fabric falls away, and Gojo immediately dips his head to take one nipple into his mouth. You cry out, your hands flying to his hair as his tongue swirls around the sensitive bud.
Geto's hands cup your breasts from behind, his fingers rolling your other nipple between them. "So responsive," he praises, his lips finding that spot just below your ear that makes you shudder. "I bet you're already soaking wet for us, aren't you?"
You can only whimper in response, overwhelmed by the dual sensations of Gojo's mouth on your breast and Geto's hands exploring your body.
"Let's find out," Gojo says, releasing your nipple with a wet pop. He drops to his knees in front of you, his hands sliding up your thighs.
But instead of pulling your panties down, Geto hooks his fingers in the waistband and slowly drags them down your legs. When they're off, he brings them to his face, inhaling deeply before tucking them into his pocket.
"Keeping these," he says with a wicked grin.
"Come on," Gojo says, standing and scooping you up in his arms. "Bed. Now."
He carries you to the nearest bed and lays you down on the navy comforter. Geto follows, already pulling his shirt over his head, and you can't help but stare at the expanse of muscle revealed. He's lean but defined, with tattoos winding up his ribs that you want to trace with your tongue.
Gojo strips off his own shirt, and your mouth goes dry. He's broader than Geto, his chest and abs clearly defined from hours at the gym.
"Spread your legs," Geto instructs, his voice firm but not unkind. "Let us see you."
You obey, your thighs falling open, and you watch as both of them groan at the sight of you laid bare before them.
"Fucking gorgeous," Gojo breathes, climbing onto the bed beside you.
Geto settles between your legs, his hands sliding up your inner thighs, spreading you even wider. "I'm going to taste you now," he says, and then his mouth is on you.
You cry out, your back arching off the bed as his tongue drags through your folds, slow and deliberate. He hums in appreciation, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh, and then he's diving in like a man starved.
"Oh god," you gasp, your hands fisting in the comforter as Geto's tongue circles your clit, then dips down to thrust inside you. "Oh fuck, Suguru—"
"That's it," Gojo murmurs, his hand cupping your jaw and turning your face toward him. "Let him hear how good he's making you feel."
He kisses you again, swallowing your moans as Geto works you over with his mouth. His tongue is everywhere—licking, sucking, fucking into you with a skill that makes your head spin. You can hear the obscene wet sounds of his mouth on you, and it only makes you wetter.
Your phone buzzes in your purse where it fell by the door, but you barely register it.
Gojo's hand slides down to your breast, kneading and pinching your nipple as he kisses you breathless. You're completely overwhelmed, caught between the two of them, pleasure building in your core like a tightening coil.
Geto's lips close around your clit and suck, hard, and you break away from Gojo's kiss to cry out. "Fuck, fuck, I'm—"
"Come for him," Gojo commands, his hand sliding down to join Geto's between your legs. You feel his fingers at your entrance, and then he's pushing two inside you, curling them up to hit that spot that makes you see stars. "Come on our fingers. Show us how pretty you look when you fall apart."
The combination of Geto's mouth on your clit and Gojo's fingers inside you is too much. Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, your whole body tensing as pleasure floods through you. You're dimly aware that you're screaming, your hips grinding against Geto's face as he works you through it, his tongue never stopping its assault on your clit.
"That's it," Geto praises, his voice muffled against you. "So fucking beautiful when you come."
When you finally come down, you're panting, your whole body trembling with aftershocks. Geto pulls back, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal, and the sight of it makes you clench around Gojo's fingers still inside you.
"Fuck, she just got tighter," Gojo observes with a grin. "I think she liked watching you eat her out, Suguru."
"Good," Geto says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Because we're just getting started."
They exchange another one of those looks, and then Gojo is pulling his fingers out of you and bringing them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan. "Delicious," he declares. "But I think it's time we really gave her something to scream about."
"Agreed," Geto says, already working on his belt.
You watch, breathless, as they both strip off the rest of their clothes. When Gojo's cock springs free, thick and long and already leaking at the tip, you can't help but stare. Geto is just as impressive, maybe slightly longer but not quite as thick.
"On your hands and knees," Geto instructs, and you scramble to obey, your limbs still shaky from your orgasm.
You position yourself in the center of the bed, and Gojo moves to kneel in front of you while Geto settles behind you. You can feel Geto's hands on your hips, his cock pressing against your ass, and Gojo's cock is right there in front of your face, so close you can see the bead of precum at the tip.
"Open up," Gojo says, his hand tangling in your hair. "Let me feel that pretty mouth."
You part your lips, and he guides himself inside, groaning as your tongue swirls around the head. He tastes salty and musky, and you hollow your cheeks as you take him deeper, trying to relax your throat.
"Fuck, that's good," Gojo breathes, his hips rocking forward slightly. "Such a good girl, taking my cock so well."
Behind you, you feel Geto's cock sliding through your folds, coating himself in your wetness. "So fucking wet," he mutters, and then he's pushing inside you in one smooth thrust.
You moan around Gojo's cock, the vibration making him curse. Geto is stretching you, filling you so completely that you can barely breathe. He gives you a moment to adjust, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, and then he's pulling back and slamming into you again.
"Oh fuck," Geto groans, his pace immediately brutal. "She's so tight, Satoru. So fucking perfect."
The force of Geto's thrusts pushes you forward onto Gojo's cock, taking him deeper into your throat. You gag slightly, tears pricking at your eyes, but Gojo's hand in your hair tightens, holding you in place.
"That's it," Gojo praises, his voice strained. "Choke on it. You look so fucking pretty with your mouth full of my cock."
You can barely think, caught between them, every nerve ending on fire. The sounds filling the room are obscene—the wet slap of Geto's hips against your ass, the slurping, gagging sounds of you sucking Gojo's cock, the groans and curses falling from both their lips.
Your phone buzzes again, insistent, but none of you pay it any attention.
"She's dripping down her thighs," Geto observes, his voice rough with pleasure. "Making such a mess on my cock. You love this, don't you? Love being used by both of us?"
You try to nod, but Gojo's grip on your hair keeps you in place. Instead, you moan around him, and he hisses in pleasure.
"I think that's a yes," Gojo says with a breathless laugh. "Our perfect little slut, taking us so well."
Geto's hand slides around to find your clit, rubbing tight circles that make you see stars. "Come again," he demands, his thrusts never faltering. "Come on my cock while you choke on Satoru's. Show us what a good little whore you are."
The degradation should probably bother you, but instead it just makes you wetter, makes you push back against Geto's thrusts and take Gojo deeper into your throat. The combination of Geto's fingers on your clit, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you, and Gojo's cock heavy on your tongue is too much.
Your second orgasm hits you like a freight train, your whole body convulsing as pleasure rips through you. You try to scream, but it comes out muffled around Gojo's cock, and the vibration makes him groan.
"Fuck, I'm close," Gojo warns, his hips stuttering. "Gonna come down your throat. You gonna swallow it all for me?"
You hum in affirmation, and that's all it takes. He comes with a shout, his cock pulsing as he spills down your throat. The taste is salty and bitter, and you swallow as best you can, but some of it leaks out the corners of your mouth.
Gojo pulls out, panting, and immediately leans down to lick his own cum from your lips. "So fucking perfect," he murmurs against your mouth, then he spits into your open mouth. "Swallow."
You obey, the degradation making you clench around Geto's cock, and he groans.
Behind you, Geto's pace becomes erratic, his fingers digging into your hips. "Gonna fill you up," he groans. "Gonna pump you so full of my cum you'll be dripping for days."
"Please," you gasp, pushing back against him. "Please, Suguru, I want it."
He comes with a loud groan, his cock pulsing inside you as he empties himself deep in your pussy. You can feel the warmth of it, feel how he's marking you from the inside, and it makes you clench around him, milking every last drop.
Geto pulls out slowly, and you feel his cum start to leak out of you, dripping down your thighs. He makes a satisfied sound, his fingers sliding through the mess.
"Look at that," he murmurs. "So pretty, all filled up with my cum."
"My turn," Gojo says, and before you can process what's happening, he's flipping you onto your back and settling between your legs.
"Satoru," you gasp, your body still trembling. "I don't know if I can—"
"You can," he assures you, his cock already hard again and pressing against your entrance. "You're going to take both our loads. Gonna be so full of us you won't be able to walk straight tomorrow."
He pushes inside you in one smooth thrust, and you cry out at the stretch. He's thicker than Geto, and you're already so sensitive, but the slight burn just adds to the pleasure.
"Fuck, I can feel Suguru's cum inside you," Gojo groans, his hips starting to move. "So wet and messy. Such a perfect little cumslut for us."
Geto moves to kneel beside your head, his hand wrapping around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your head spin. "You like being treated like a whore?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous.
"Yes," you gasp, your hands clutching at the sheets. "Yes, fuck, I love it."
"Good," Geto says, tightening his grip slightly. "Because we're going to use you all night. Gonna fuck you until you can't remember your own name."
Gojo's thumb finds your clit, rubbing harsh circles that make you buck against him. "Come again," he demands. "Come on my cock. Let me feel you squeeze me."
You're so overstimulated you're not sure you can, but then Geto's hand tightens on your throat, cutting off your air just slightly, and you're coming again, your vision whiting out as pleasure crashes over you in waves.
"Fuck, yes," Gojo groans, his hips slamming into you one last time as he comes, filling you up just like Geto did. You can feel it, feel how full you are with both their cum, and it makes you whimper.
Geto releases your throat, and you gasp for air, your whole body shaking with aftershocks. Gojo collapses on top of you, both of you panting and sweaty and completely spent.
"Holy shit," you finally manage to say, your voice hoarse.
"Yeah," Gojo agrees, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "Holy shit."
Geto chuckles, his hand stroking through your hair. "You okay?"
"More than okay," you assure him, a lazy smile spreading across your face. "That was... incredible."
"Just incredible?" Gojo teases, finally pulling out of you. You can feel the combined mess of their cum leaking out of you, and Geto makes an appreciative sound.
"Look at you," he murmurs, his fingers sliding through the mess between your legs. "So thoroughly fucked and filled. You're ours now, you know that?"
"Yours," you agree, too blissed out to care about the possessiveness in his tone.
Your phone buzzes again from your purse, and this time Gojo reaches down to grab it. He pulls out your phone, glancing at the screen.
"Shoko's been texting you," he observes. "A lot. She's worried."
"I should probably respond," you say, but you make no move to take the phone from him.
"Later," Geto decides, plucking the phone from Gojo's hand and setting it on the nightstand. "Right now, you're staying right here with us."
Geto stands and heads toward what you assume is their bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth. He gently cleans between your legs, his touch surprisingly tender after the roughness of before. When he's done, he tosses the cloth aside and climbs back onto the bed, pulling you against his chest.
Gojo settles on your other side, his arm draping over your waist, and you're surrounded by them, warm and safe and thoroughly satisfied.
"Stay with us tonight," Geto murmurs against your hair.
"Okay," you agree, your eyes already drifting closed. "I'll stay."
Your phone buzzes one more time, but you ignore it. Whatever Shoko wants can wait until morning. Right now, you're exactly where you want to be.
And you wouldn't have it any other way.
Word Count . 5.8k // Authors Note: Hi! This is a bit short and rushed, but I hope you liked it! ♡
Synopsis: Your sister is convinced Seungmin deserves better than you—and that she should be the one to have him. But after spying on you, breaking into your flat and trying to expose your “affair” with Minho, she learns that Seungmin already knows everything—and still chooses you.
Cw: suggestive content
a/n: i deadass wrote this out like 5 times untill i was happy with it lmaoao, I’m actually wanting to do atleast another part so i’ll focus on some of the other boys as well, i just didn’t want it to feel to crowded and forcedd. Alsooo im so sorryy that it feels so smushed together tumblr block limit is the bane of my existence. AnywayyI hope you all enjoy <33
Wc: 18.5k
Part 1
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The cabinet had looked considerably less complicated in the woman’s hallway. She’d stood beside it with one hand resting on the top, talking about how her husband used to take it apart whenever they moved and put it back together in twenty minutes. Half an hour, maybe, if you hadn’t done it before. She’d said this while Changbin carried one of the glass doors out to the car and Jisung crouched beside a sandwich bag full of screws, nodding as though he’d already understood the entire construction from looking at it once. By the time she drove away, you were still feeling quite pleased with yourself. It was exactly the size you’d wanted. Dark wood, ribbed glass, brass handles. Your records had spent months in boxes against the wall, and the cabinet was supposed to be the thing that made that part of the flat finally look finished instead of somewhere you’d only recently moved into. An hour later, it was spread across the rug in twelve pieces and Jisung had stopped saying the woman’s husband was probably just good at DIY. “Don’t lift it yet, I haven’t—Changbin, wait, my hand’s still there.” “I’m not lifting it. I’m moving my knee because I’ve been sitting like this for twenty minutes.”
“Yeah, but the whole thing’s on your knee, so when you move—just, hang on.” Jisung lowered his face until his cheek was almost against the wood, trying to see beneath the rail he’d been holding in place. His hair fell into his eyes again. He blew at it, missed, and carried on feeling for the screw hole with one finger. “Move it back a little. No, your other way. That’s my way.” Changbin stared down at him. “You said back.” “I know, but from where I am—okay, don’t move. Just stay exactly like that for a second.”
Felix was kneeling beside the coffee table with the screws separated into careful rows, although the only instructions the seller had given you were six photographs printed from her phone. Four were too dark to see the fittings. One appeared to be upside down. The final picture showed the completed cabinet beside a vase of dried flowers and wasn’t helping anyone. You were holding a shelf across your lap because Jisung had handed it to you ten minutes earlier and hadn’t yet asked for it back. “Are you sure that’s the bottom?” you asked. Jisung didn’t look up. “Pretty sure.” “You were pretty sure the other one was the bottom.” “No, I said it could’ve been. That’s different.”
Felix glanced over at the panel beneath Changbin. “The other one has the holes for the feet.” Jisung’s hand stopped beneath the rail. Changbin looked down. “This one doesn’t?” Nobody answered immediately. Jisung slowly pulled his arm out, picked up one of the printed photographs and turned it towards the lamp. “No, because—wait. Is that a foot there, or is it just a mark on the rug?” You leaned towards him. “That’s absolutely a foot.” “Right. Okay.” He looked at what they’d already attached, then rubbed the back of his wrist across his forehead. “It’s fine. We can turn it over later.”
“You’ve screwed both sides into it.” “I know.” “You said it’d be obvious before we got this far.”
“It is obvious now.” You laughed despite yourself. Jisung looked up at the sound, his mouth twitching before he glanced back at the frame. One sleeve of his sweatshirt had fallen over his wrist. You reached across and pushed it up, folding it once above his elbow so it wouldn’t slip again. He went still while you fixed it, then caught your fingertips briefly when you passed the screwdriver back. “Thanks,” he murmured, already looking down again. Seungmin arrived carrying wine, a bag of cans and absolutely none of the practical things you’d asked him to bring. He let himself in, kicked off his shoes and stopped in the doorway. There was a long enough silence that you turned towards him. Seungmin looked at the cabinet pieces, then at you. “I thought you said it was assembled.”
“It was.” “So what happened?” “The woman took it apart.”
His eyes moved to Jisung, who was now removing a screw he’d only just put in. “Why?” Felix glanced up from the screws before answering. “So it would fit in the car,” Felix said. Seungmin stepped farther into the room. “Her car?” You answered before he could ask anything else. “She delivered it,” you told him. He looked at you properly then, waiting. You started laughing before he even said anything. “I know. We didn’t think about that.”
“No, because why would she take it apart before putting it into her own car if she already knew it fitted?” He set the wine on the coffee table, forcing Felix to drag two rows of screws out of the way. “Did she just not want it in one piece anymore?” “She said her husband always dismantled it when they moved.” “Maybe she hated him.”
Jisung lowered the screwdriver. “Can you help instead of making the situation feel worse?” “I’ve just got here. I’m still finding out what the situation is.” “The situation is that I need one of the middle-sized screws. Felix knows which one.”
Felix pointed to a row. Seungmin picked one up, examined it as though there might be a trick involved, then passed it over. For perhaps eight minutes, he genuinely tried. He held one end of the rail while Jisung fitted the bracket, found the small packet containing the feet and noticed that the glass doors had different hinges. Then he opened the wine, poured himself a glass and started reading the seller’s profile aloud instead. “She’s listed a dining table as ‘lightly used’, but there’s a burn through the middle of it.” You craned your neck to see his phone. “Maybe that’s why she photographed it with a tablecloth.” “She’s put ‘easy restoration project’.”
Felix was still sorting screws. “That usually means broken.” “The cabinet said ‘excellent condition’.” Everyone looked at the cabinet. One side was scratched. The base was upside down. Changbin still couldn’t take his hands off it. You took the glass Seungmin offered you. “Don’t show me anything else she’s selling. I don’t want to know.”
Minho came in from the kitchen when he heard the cork go back into the bottle. He had the tea towel over one shoulder and a small streak of flour or salt across the front of his shirt. “You started drinking?” “You were cooking,” Seungmin said, already reaching for another glass. “I’m still cooking.”
“That doesn’t stop you drinking.” Minho accepted the wine and came over to inspect the cabinet. He circled it once, crouched beside Jisung and pressed his fingers against the bracket. “This is backwards.” Jisung looked at him. “It isn’t.”
“It is.” “The photograph’s taken from this side.” Minho picked up the page and held it beside the panel. “No, it isn’t. Look at the door.” Jisung leaned closer. Felix shifted over to see. Changbin, still trapped behind the frame, tried to look upside down. “Oh,” Jisung said eventually.
Minho held his hand out for the screwdriver. Jisung gave it to him with less resistance than he’d given anyone else all evening. Minho removed the bracket, turned it and refitted it while drinking between screws. When he finished, he handed the tool back and sat on the floor beside your legs. “Both of them are backwards,” he added. Jisung stared at the matching bracket on the other side. “Could you have said that before you sat down?” “I thought you’d work it out.”
“I have been working it out for an hour.” “Mm.” You rested your fingers in Minho’s hair, lightly scratching near his scalp. He leaned into your knee without taking his eyes off the cabinet. A timer sounded from the kitchen. Minho didn’t move. It sounded again. You nudged his shoulder. “Is that important?”
“Probably.” He took another mouthful of wine, then caught your wrist and kissed the inside of it before getting up. “Don’t let them attach anything else, honey.” Jisung looked up as Minho started away. “We’re not waiting for you,” Jisung called after him. “You should.”
The cabinet was back on its side by the time Minho returned to the kitchen. You kept trying to help for a while. You held the rail, found a washer beneath the sofa and checked the listing photograph for any sign that the central shelf was supposed to tilt slightly. You were nearly certain it wasn’t, although by then you’d lost enough confidence that you didn’t insist. Seungmin had moved to the boxes of records. At first, he was only clearing them out of the way. Then he opened one and started going through it, sitting cross-legged with his drink balanced between his ankles. You noticed when he went back through the same stack a second time. “What are you looking for?” He held up one of the sleeves. “You don’t have any of our albums.”
“I do.” “Where?” “I have all your music on my phone.”
“That’s not what I said.” Seungmin looked back into the box, pushing several records aside. “You’ve got two copies of this, for some reason, but not one thing with any of us on it.” “That’s sooo not true. One of those was a present, and I literally do have one of yours.” His eyebrows lifted. “Where is it?”
“In my bedroom.” “That’s Jisung’s.” “It’s been beside my bed for months.”
From the rug, Jisung looked over. “Which one?” “The one you left on the floor.” “I thought I’d lost that.”
“You’ve slept next to it, like, twenty times.” Jisung frowned as though trying to picture your bedroom from memory. “I don’t really look at the floor.” “That’s because your clothes are usually covering it.”
He started laughing and the screwdriver slipped out of the screw head. Felix reached over to steady the bracket before it moved. “Okay, wait, why am I involved now?” Jisung asked, still laughing. “Seungmin’s the one judging your record collection.” “I’m not judging it. I’m just finding out that she’ll spend actual money on everybody except us.” “Oh my God, you’re being sooo dramatic. I didn’t even buy both copies of that one.”
“You kept them.” “Because I like it.” “More than anything we’ve released, apparently.”
You put the shelf down and got up. “Move.” Seungmin shifted enough for you to sit beside him, although you still had to push one of his knees out of the way. He immediately rested it against your thigh again. “There,” you said, pulling a record from near the bottom of the box. “You bought me this.” “That doesn’t help you.” “It proves I own something you chose.”
“It proves I have better taste than you.” “You chose it because you liked the cover.” “I chose it because you’d like the music.”
“You said, and I remember this very clearly, ‘It’ll look pretty in your room.’” Seungmin took the sleeve from you and looked at it. “Both things can be true.” An old receipt slipped out and landed across your knee. He picked it up before you could. “Thirty-eight pounds?” You leaned in, trying to read the faded ink. “That says thirteen.”
“It does not.” “Thirteen pounds eighty.” “There’s no decimal.”
“It’s faded.” “The rest of the receipt isn’t faded.” “You’re making that up because you want me to feel guilty.”
“I don’t need to. You paid nearly forty pounds for an album and then stole Jisung’s instead of buying ours.” “I didn’t steal it. He abandoned it.” Jisung, now half under the cabinet again, said, “I didn’t abandon it. I forgot where it was.”
“That’s the same thing after three months.” Minho came out carrying a spoon. “What’s the same thing?” Seungmin answered before you could. “She’s trying to claim Jisung’s album because she doesn’t own any of ours,” Seungmin said. You looked over your shoulder. “No, because he’s leaving out the entire part where I have your music, I have things you’ve given me, and I’m not buying albums from people who bring boxes of them into my flat whenever they visit.” Jisung looked over from the cabinet. “That happened once,” Jisung said.
“You left twelve.” “They were different versions.” “They were blocking the wardrobe.”
Minho put the spoon against your mouth before you could continue. “Taste.” You took the bite, still looking at Seungmin. He was smiling into his glass now, obviously far too pleased with himself. “It needs something,” you said. Minho’s hand stayed beneath your chin. “What?” “I don’t know. It’s nice, but it’s—wait, let me try again.”
He fed you another bite. Seungmin leaned in with his mouth open. Minho moved the spoon away without even looking at him. “You always say it’s fine.” “It usually is. Why are you asking people if you’ve already decided something’s wrong?” “I’m not asking you.”
“You put the spoon near my face.” “I was reaching past you.” Seungmin caught Minho’s wrist and stole what was left anyway. Minho stared at the empty spoon. “That was hers.”
You laughed and leaned back against the sofa. Minho sat behind you, one leg stretched alongside your hip, and took your glass when you offered it over your shoulder. Seungmin found something to put on. The first song began quietly enough that Felix asked him to turn it up. Changbin stopped holding the frame long enough to stretch, only to catch it again when it tilted. Felix started singing under his breath while he worked. Minho stayed on the floor behind you, his palm warm against your side, until something hissed from the kitchen and he got up halfway through a sentence. You tried helping again after that. Jisung asked you to pass him the measuring tape. You stood, took two steps and stopped when Seungmin called your name. He had another sleeve in his hand. “You’ve got three copies of this.” “I absolutely don’t.”
“There are two in here and one by the player.” “The one by the player is Minho’s.” Minho called from the kitchen, “No, it isn’t.”
“You said it was.” “I said I liked it.” You turned towards the kitchen. “You literally brought it here.”
“I carried it from your bedroom.” “That doesn’t sound right.” “It was under your bed.”
“That could’ve been Jisung’s too.” Jisung made a muffled sound from beneath the cabinet. “Why am I suddenly responsible for everything on your floor?” “Because most of it is yours.”
The measuring tape remained forgotten until Felix asked where you were going with it. You looked down at your empty hands. “Oh. I haven’t got it.” Seungmin found it beneath the edge of the sofa and opened it across the rug. Instead of passing it over, he pressed the metal end against your wrist. “What’re you doing?” “I wanted to know how long your arm is.”
You stared at him. “Why?” He extended the tape towards your elbow, eyes narrowing at the numbers. “I don’t know. I thought it was longer.” “That doesn’t even—give it here.” You reached for it. Seungmin pulled his hand back, and you leaned over him farther than you meant to. He caught your wrist when your knee slipped from the rug. The tape snapped shut between you. You nearly landed on top of the record player, but Seungmin hooked an arm around your waist and dragged you sideways instead. You grabbed his shoulder, taking him down with you. His glass tipped, although Changbin somehow caught it with one hand while still holding the cabinet with the other. “Thank you,” Seungmin said, already trying to get one of your wrists beneath his arm. Changbin put the glass on the table. “I don’t know why I did that.”
You twisted onto your side, laughing too hard to get any leverage. Seungmin caught you around the middle and pulled you back against him. “You started this,” you said, trying to push his knee away with your foot. “No, you threw yourself at me because you couldn’t wait five seconds.” “You were holding it away on purpose, and now you’ve lost it anyway.”
“It’s under the sofa. We know where it is.” “That’s not the same as helping.” Seungmin had both your wrists by then, although his grip kept slipping because he was laughing. You could probably have got free if you’d put any real effort into it. Instead, you looked across the room. “Binnieee, help me.” He was holding the cabinet upright while Felix adjusted something near the back. “With what?”
You tried to point at Seungmin with the hand trapped against his chest. “This.” Changbin glanced at Jisung. Jisung was reaching into the cabinet with his entire arm. “Please,” you added as Seungmin started pulling you farther across the rug. Changbin let go. The cabinet dropped with a heavy crack. Jisung ripped his arm out. “Fuck—Changbin, are you serious?” “She called me.”
“She’s wrestling Seungmin. I had my hand inside this.” Changbin was already coming over. He bent, wrapped one arm around Seungmin’s middle and lifted him cleanly away from you. Seungmin’s laugh broke into a startled sound as he grabbed Changbin’s shoulders. “No, wait—put me back. We weren’t finished.” “That was too quick,” you said, sitting up. Changbin looked between you. “You asked me to help.”
“I know, but you didn’t even give me a chance.” “A chance to do what?” Seungmin was still half hanging against Changbin’s side, trying to straighten his shirt with one hand. “She was nearly getting out.”
“You had both her wrists.” “Yeah, but she’d started using her legs.” Changbin stared at him for a moment, then set him down and walked back towards the cabinet without answering. “He’s annoyed now,” you murmured. Seungmin watched him go. “He ruined it and somehow he’s annoyed.”
Jisung pointed towards the frame. “Can somebody hold this before it lands on Felix?” Changbin went back to the cabinet, Seungmin caught your ankle before you could stand, and you both ended up sitting against the sofa, still breathless. You looked at the cabinet from the floor. One side sat higher than the other. The first door was leaning against the wall beneath a tea towel because Minho had said somebody was going to kick the glass. “It looks awful,” you said. Seungmin followed your gaze. “It looks fine from here.” “No, it doesn’t.”
“You’re too close.” You pushed yourself up, walked into the hallway and looked back. It looked worse. Seungmin waited. “Well?” “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You’ll like it when it’s done.” “Do you genuinely believe that’s happening?” He looked at Jisung and Felix, who were lying on opposite sides of the frame trying to reach the same hinge. “Not really.”
You came back and dropped onto the sofa. Seungmin stretched his legs over your lap before you were properly settled. The loose shelf beside you had become a table for the wine, Minho’s phone and two half-empty cans. You looked at it for several seconds, then put your glass down with the others. “At least this part’s useful.” “You could just keep it like that.” “I’ve paid for a very expensive plank.”
“It’s better than the cabinet.” You started laughing again, leaning back until your head rested against the sofa. Your phone lit beneath the edge of the cushion. You saw your sister’s name and enough of the message before you turned it over. I know you said I was reading too much into that picture from Mum’s, but Seungmin looked embarrassed. He’s probably too soft to tell you, and I just think— You pushed the phone farther beneath the cushion. Seungmin was complaining about the order of the records now and hadn’t noticed. He’d found one you’d apparently filed in the wrong box and was explaining why it didn’t belong there while you drank enough wine to stop caring where any of them lived.
Minho came back and stole his phone from beneath the bottle. He sat on the arm of the sofa for a while, one hand resting on the back of your neck as he listened to Seungmin talk. Then he got drawn into a conversation with Changbin about where the cabinet was supposed to stand, moved it fifteen centimetres to the left and decided you’d been right the first time. By then, nobody could remember where it had originally been. Jisung had one drink over the course of the evening, taking small mouthfuls whenever Felix stopped to check a fitting. The warmth showed more in his face than his behaviour. He was still focused enough to finish things, but each time he looked towards the sofa it took him longer to look away. He came over once to retrieve his glass and stopped beside your knee. There was pencil across his cheek again. You rubbed at it with your thumb. “You’re making it worse,” he murmured. “You’ve got it in your hair now.”
“Minho tried using a wet finger.” “What was wrong with that?” “He’d just touched the sauce.”
You laughed, still wiping at the mark. Jisung caught your wrist, kissed the centre of your palm and leaned down for your mouth. The kiss barely lasted before Felix said his name from the rug. Jisung stayed close for another second. “I really don’t want to go back.” “You’re nearly done.” “You’ve been saying that for ages.”
“I haven’t. Felix has.” “That’s worse because I trust him.” He kissed you again, quick and warm, then went back to the cabinet with his glass still in his hand. Seungmin watched him crouch beside Felix. “He’s going to give up.”
“He’s too stubborn.” “No, look at him. He’s not even listening.” Jisung was holding a hinge while Felix explained something, but his eyes had drifted towards the sofa again. You smiled when he caught you looking. He lowered his head, took another drink and made Felix repeat whatever he’d just said. Seungmin turned towards you. His arm had been stretched behind your shoulders for long enough that you were already tucked against his side. “You know, this still doesn’t make up for the albums.”
You groaned. “Oh my God, you’re still going.” “I’ve had time to think about it.” “That’s never good.”
“I’m just saying, you’ve got an entire box of records from people you’ve never met, and then ours is apparently too much commitment.” “That’s soo not what I said. I said I already have all the music, you lot leave things here anyway, and I’m not spending money just so you can come over and make fun of which photocard I got.” “I wouldn’t make fun of you.”
“You absolutely would.” “I’d just ask why you picked the version where my hair looked bad.” “You’d say that about every version.”
“No, there were two good ones.” You turned towards him. “Name them.” Seungmin opened his mouth, then seemed to reconsider whatever he’d been about to say. You kissed him before he found an answer. His laugh caught against your lips, one hand sliding from the back of the sofa to your waist as you shifted closer. You’d meant it as a quick interruption, mostly because he’d been talking for too long and you knew it. Seungmin followed when you pulled away. Your leg slipped over his lap. His fingers moved beneath the back of your top, warm against your skin, and the next kiss settled more slowly.
You could still hear Felix and Jisung talking over the music. Something moved in the kitchen. Changbin walked past carrying one of the loose panels. None of it disappeared, but Seungmin’s mouth was soft from the wine and his thumb had started tracing the same small line against your side. You drew back enough to breathe. He came with you, lips brushing the corner of your mouth before finding it again. The forgotten conversation returned somewhere between kisses. “You still haven’t said which versions,” you murmured. “I’m not discussing that while you’re doing this.” “You started it.”
“I know. I’ve changed my mind.” You smiled into his mouth. The kissing stayed loose, interrupted by laughter and the record changing beneath the needle. Seungmin’s fingers slid into your hair when you leaned farther over him. You caught his jaw and kissed him again, slower this time, until his hand tightened beneath your shirt. Across the room, Felix asked Jisung for the screwdriver twice. Jisung didn’t answer until Changbin touched his shoulder. The first door finally closed without scraping. Felix opened it again, adjusted the hinge and closed it once more. Jisung fitted the second while Changbin held the frame. Minho came out of the kitchen and stood behind them with his glass, offering unasked-for advice until Jisung told him he’d lost the right to criticise after abandoning them for dinner. Minho kissed the back of Jisung’s head and kept talking. Eventually, both doors stayed shut. The handles weren’t quite level. The cabinet rocked faintly when Jisung took his hand away. You saw both things. You drank what was left in your glass and said nothing.
Jisung stayed crouched in front of it, opening one door, closing it, then trying the other as though it might behave differently if nobody watched. Felix looked underneath. “We still need to put the feet on.” Jisung sat back on his heels. “Tomorrow.” “It’s going to scratch the floor.” “Put something under it. I can’t—no, I’m actually done. I don’t even want to see the feet again tonight.”
Felix considered the small packet on the table, then tucked it safely beneath the instructions. Jisung got up. You were still half across Seungmin, one hand resting near the back of his neck. Jisung came over and sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of you, his knee touching yours. He waited until you looked at him. “D’you wanna come to bed with me?” His voice was quiet enough that it sat beneath the music. There was nothing demanding in it. He just looked tired, warm from the drink and far too hopeful for someone trying to act casual. You smiled. “Yeah.” Seungmin kissed you once more before moving his hand from beneath your top. He shifted his legs out of the way, fingertips brushing yours as you sat up. Jisung didn’t take your hand until you were already standing. The kitchen smelled warm and spicy behind you. Minho was tasting the sauce again. Felix and Changbin were trying to move the cabinet without letting its unfinished base touch the floor. Jisung led you down the hallway. He waited until the bedroom door closed before kissing you.
His hands found your waist straight away, drawing you into him with all the impatience he’d spent the last hour swallowing. His mouth was warm from the drink, the kiss messy for the first second because he’d moved too quickly. You caught his hair and pulled him back just enough to look at him. Jisung’s eyes dropped to your mouth. “I’ve been waiting forever.” “I know baby.” You giggle You kissed him again and walked him backwards. He followed without looking, hands sliding beneath your top as the backs of his knees found the mattress. He sat when you pressed lightly against his chest, gazing up at you while you moved between his legs. You climbed onto his lap. Jisung breathed out sharply, hands closing around your hips as your weight settled over him. He was already hard beneath you, hips lifting before he seemed to realise he’d moved. You tightened your fingers in his hair. His head tipped back with a soft whine, throat opening beneath your mouth. “Again,” he breathed.
You pulled once more, then kissed beneath his jaw. Jisung’s hand started higher under your shirt. You caught his wrist and returned it to your waist without stopping the kiss. He left it there, fingers flexing against you. You moved slowly over him. His lips parted against your neck, breath catching as he pressed upwards to meet you. When he tried to hurry, your hand in his hair slowed him again. “Please,” he murmured, and you felt the word against your skin. You kissed lower, leaving the first mark beneath his jaw where his collar would nearly cover it. Jisung made another quiet sound and tilted his head farther for you. The second was darker, just visible above the neckline of his sweatshirt when he shifted. Someone knocked. Jisung went completely still beneath you. A second knock came before either of you moved. Minho spoke through the door. “Honey, your sister’s here. Something about a certificate.” Jisung dropped his forehead against your shoulder. “No.” You closed your eyes. “I know.”
“We’ve literally just—” “I know.” “Don’t answer.”
“She’ll stay there.” “Let her.” You started to move. His arms tightened around your waist for one last second before he let you stand. Jisung stayed on the bed while you fixed your top. His hair was a mess from your hands, his lips swollen and his breathing still uneven. He looked down at himself and groaned quietly. “I’m not going out there.”
“I wasn’t asking you to.” “Good.” You bent and kissed his forehead before leaving him to recover. Minho was waiting farther down the hallway. He’d turned the heat down in the kitchen and had your phone in one hand. “She messaged again.”
You looked at the screen. I’m nearby anyway. I’ll just come up. “She’s at the front door?” “I didn’t let her farther than the mat.” Minho tucked the phone into your hand, then smoothed the back of your top where it had caught underneath itself. “You okay?” “Annoyed.”
“Mm.” He kissed your temple. “I’ll be in the kitchen.” Your sister was standing just inside the open doorway with her coat still fastened and a folder held against her chest. Her expression was pleasant in the careful way that meant she was already prepared to be offended. “Sorry, I know it’s late. Mum was asking about that old county music certificate and I said I’d collect it because I was nearby anyway. I did message.” “You told me you were coming after you’d already decided.”
“Oh, don’t make it into a thing. I’m not staying.” Her smile widened slightly as she glanced past you into the flat. “It sounds like you’ve got everybody here.” “They helped me build something.” “That’s nice.” Her eyes moved towards the living room, where Changbin and Felix were still shifting the cabinet while Seungmin sat on the sofa, turning over the record. “You do keep them busy.”
You looked at her. She adjusted the folder in her hands, smile still there. “I meant it’s sweet. They’re always doing things for you.” “Which certificate does Mum want?” “The cream one with the gold seal.”
“They’re nearly all cream and most of them have gold seals. What year?” “I don’t know. She said you’d know which one mattered.” “She can tell me tomorrow.”
Your sister sighed softly, as though you’d made an incredibly simple favour exhausting. “I was trying to save her having to come over. She’s already got enough to deal with, and I thought it would take two minutes, but it’s fine. I can tell her you didn’t know where it was.” “I know where the box is. I don’t know which one you’re asking for.” “Yes, I heard you.” Her voice stayed light. “You don’t need to get defensive.”
You stared at her for a second. She smiled again and looked over your shoulder. “Is Seungmin all right? He looks a little… I don’t know. Quiet”. “He’s listening to music.” “I know. I didn’t mean right now.” She tilted her head, lowering her voice as though she were sharing something kind. “He’s very understanding, isn’t he? Sometimes I wonder whether people take advantage of that because he doesn’t like making a fuss.”
“Stop deciding what he feels.” “I’m not deciding anything. God, you’re so sensitive whenever I mention him.” She gave a small laugh, almost affectionate. “I just think he’s lovely. You know that.” The bedroom door opened behind you. Your sister’s eyes shifted immediately. Jisung came out rubbing one hand over the back of his neck. He’d straightened his clothes, although not particularly well. His hair was still pushed up on one side, his lips visibly swollen, and the mark beneath his jaw had already begun to darken. Another showed above the loose collar of his sweatshirt when he turned towards the living room. He glanced at your sister, then at you. “I left my drink out here.”
“It’s by the sofa.” Jisung nodded and started past. The collar of his sweatshirt had folded underneath itself at the back. You caught his sleeve, pulling him to a stop, then freed the fabric and smoothed it down before letting him go. Jisung stood easily beneath your hands, attention already drifting towards the glass on the coffee table. Your sister lifted her phone. The movement was quick, half hidden behind the folder, but you saw the camera angled towards you. “Did you just take a picture?” She lowered the phone. “No.”
“You did.” “I was checking whether Mum had replied.” “With your camera open?”
Her expression shifted into mild disbelief. “Oh my God, I didn’t deliberately take a photograph of you. It opened when I picked it up.” “Show me.” “I’m not handing you my phone.” She laughed again, quieter this time, as though you were embarrassing yourself. “I don’t know why you’re acting like there’s something here worth photographing.”
Jisung had stopped a few steps away. He looked from her phone to you but didn’t come back. Your sister’s eyes moved over the marks on his neck again, then returned to your face. Her smile became almost tender. “Aw. You’re always fussing over them.” You heard exactly what sat beneath it. Jisung, already turning towards his drink, didn’t react. “I thought it was sweet,” she added when you didn’t answer. “You’ve got them all letting you look after them. Even the ones you wouldn’t expect.” Her eyes flicked briefly towards the sofa. Seungmin was still where he’d been, one knee tucked beneath him while he spoke to Felix about the record. He hadn’t noticed the phone or the comment. “Delete the picture,” you said.
“There isn’t one.” “I watched you take it.” Her pleasant expression tightened around the edges. “Fine. Maybe I took one accidentally. You were standing there together and I thought—actually, never mind. I don’t need to explain every little thing when I was only trying to help Mum.”
She unlocked the phone, tapped the screen and held it towards you for barely a second. “There. Gone. Happy?” You didn’t trust her, but the folder was still empty, dinner was cooling and you were done letting her stretch the evening any farther. “Ask Mum what year she wants. I’ll take it to her tomorrow.” “I can collect it.”
“I’ll take it.” Your sister looked at you for a moment, then gave another small sigh. “Okay. Whatever’s easiest for you.” She stepped backwards into the hallway. Before leaving, she glanced past you one more time—at Jisung picking up his glass, at Minho moving between the kitchen and the table, at Seungmin curled into the sofa as though none of this required his permission. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Have a nice night,” she said sweetly. “Try not to keep them all too busy.”
You closed the door before she could soften it into another supposed joke. The lock clicked beneath your hand. For several seconds, you stayed there, listening to the lift doors open farther down the corridor. Minho appeared beside you without crowding, his fingers touching lightly between your shoulders. “She gone?” “Yeah.” “Good.”
He returned to the kitchen when you didn’t say more. Jisung was standing near the living-room doorway with his drink untouched in one hand. The marks on his neck looked darker beneath the light now. He waited until you looked at him. “Do you still wanna come back?” There was a little uncertainty beneath the question, the earlier urgency softened by the interruption. He didn’t move towards you or assume the answer. You crossed the space between you and took his free hand. “Yeah. Come on.” Jisung set the glass down without drinking from it. This time, you pulled him towards the hallway. The music followed you as far as the bedroom door. ౨ৎ The music reached you before the lift doors opened.
It stopped halfway through whatever section they were working on, somebody called something you couldn’t make out, and then the same bass line started again while you were still walking down the corridor. The practice-room door had been left open. You slowed when you reached it, partly because you didn’t want to walk straight through the middle of rehearsal and partly because it was easier to stand there for a second and work out what you were looking at. Six of them were in the room. Felix was sitting beside the speaker with one shoe off, rubbing at the back of his ankle while Jeongin drank water near the mirror. Hyunjin was still marking through something despite the music having stopped again, watching his own reflection while Changbin explained where he thought he was supposed to cross. Minho stood a little further back with his hands on his hips, listening. You understood enough of what they were saying to know it was about spacing. After that, they lost you. You’d picked up bits over the years because it was impossible not to when you were dating eight people who could turn a conversation about dinner into a discussion about breath support, timing or whether somebody had been half a beat late. You knew what a count was. You knew what they meant when they said they were marking something. You could usually tell when a formation looked crowded, although you couldn’t necessarily tell anyone why. You were much better at knowing when they were tired. That part was obvious. Seungmin noticed you while reaching for his water. His whole face lit up.
He sat up quickly enough that the bottle tipped against his knee, caught it before it fell and immediately waved at you with his other hand. Felix followed his gaze, smiled and lifted his hand too. You waved back at both of them, and then Seungmin pointed at the empty space beside him. You stayed where you were for another few seconds because somebody was crossing in front of the door. Seungmin patted the floor twice. You laughed and went over. “You came upstairs,” he said as soon as you were close enough, catching your wrist before you’d even put your bag somewhere sensible. “I thought you were going to wait downstairs.” “I was, and then I heard all this.” “That’s a terrible reason to come closer.”
“Hi, Seungminnie.” “Hi.” He smiled again, softer this time, and linked his arm through yours as you sat beside him. “You could’ve told me. I would’ve come down for a minute.” “You were working.”
“They’d survive.” You looked at him properly. His face was flushed from rehearsal, hair damp around his forehead and standing up slightly at the back. You reached over and pressed the worst piece down. Seungmin held completely still while you did it. The hair sprang up again as soon as you moved your hand. His eyes narrowed. “It didn’t work.” “It did for a second.”
“You’re smiling.” “That doesn’t mean anything.” “It means I look stupid.”
“You don’t look stupid.” He made a small dissatisfied sound but didn’t bother trying to check the mirror. Instead he settled back against the wall, his arm still linked with yours, and you rested your head against his shoulder while Changbin started explaining the crossing again. “What are they changing?” you asked after a minute. Seungmin tipped his bottle towards the middle of the room. “The bit after the second chorus. It looked cramped when we watched it back. We’ve moved Changbin slightly and changed where Hyunjin opens out.” You watched for a few seconds. “Is that why they keep doing the same bit?”
“Mhm.” “I thought the song might just be repetitive.” Seungmin looked down at you. You smiled into his shoulder. He laughed quietly, then went back to watching rehearsal. “You’d tell us if it was bad, right?”
“I always tell you when something’s bad.” “That’s true.” “And I’m very supportive about it.”
“That part is debatable.” You started lifting your head. Seungmin immediately tightened his linked arm and kept you where you were. You didn’t say anything about it. Neither did he. Minho called them back into place a moment later. Seungmin reluctantly untangled himself, squeezing your wrist once before standing. Jeongin passed close enough on his way back to say hi and briefly squeeze your shoulder, then they were moving again. This time you tried to watch the whole thing. Felix rejoined. Changbin crossed behind Hyunjin. Jeongin moved through the centre while Seungmin came forward on the left. He glanced towards you as he passed, and you gave him a small thumbs-up. His mouth twitched. Minho noticed you a few seconds later. His attention caught in the mirror. He didn’t stop or miss anything, but something in his face softened when your eyes met. You lifted your fingers in a little wave. He looked away before the next count.
You watched the section twice more. By the final run, you had a vague idea of what they’d been changing, although if anyone had asked you to explain it you would’ve been in trouble. When rehearsal finally stopped, the room loosened all at once. Hyunjin dropped down beside Felix. Changbin headed for the air-conditioning vent and stood beneath it with the front of his shirt pulled away from his chest. Jeongin disappeared in search of his phone. Seungmin collected his water and came straight back over to you. “I watched that one properly,” you told him as he sat down. “Did you?” “Yes.”
He waited. You knew exactly what he was waiting for. “You looked good.” “That wasn’t—” He stopped himself, smiled despite trying not to, then took a drink. “Fine. I’ll take it.” You linked your arm through his again. “You should. I don’t compliment just anyone.”
“You compliment Felix every time he changes his hair.” “Because he never changes it. I had to say something.” Seungmin gave you a look but let it go. Minho came over with a towel around his neck. Up close, he was somehow even sweatier than he had looked from across the room. His shirt was dark through the centre of his chest and at the back, his hair damp enough that a strand had stuck to his temple. You pinched the front of his shirt between two fingers and pulled it away from him. “Jesus. That’s disgusting.”
“I’ve been dancing for three hours.” “I know. I can see it.” Minho looked down at your hand still holding his shirt. “Then stop touching me.”
You let go of the fabric, caught him by the back of the neck instead and pulled him down for a kiss. He made a quiet sound against your mouth, one hand settling at your waist. It wasn’t long, but he stayed close when you pulled away. You wiped your cheek where his damp hair had touched it. “Still gross.” “You did that yourself.” “I was being supportive.”
“You could support me from over there.” Seungmin made a small amused noise beside you. Minho looked at you again. “How was it?” “Good. Really good, actually.” You glanced towards the middle of the room, where Hyunjin and Changbin were still discussing something while Felix lay flat on his back. “The last few looked better than when I first came in. It wasn’t as… bunched up.”
Minho nodded straight away. “That was the spacing. Changbin was coming across too early, so Hyunjin didn’t have enough room when he opened out. We moved him back half a count, but then Seungmin was having to compensate on the other side, so we changed where he was landing and—” You kept looking at him. You were listening. You just weren’t following anymore. Minho continued for another few seconds, apparently unaware that somewhere around half a count the words had stopped attaching themselves to anything in your head. Slowly, you turned your face towards Seungmin. He took one look at you and folded over laughing. “Don’t,” you muttered. That only made it worse. Minho stopped. “What?” You looked back at him. “I was with you until half a count.”
“That was almost the beginning.” “I know.” Seungmin was laughing into your shoulder now, which was deeply unhelpful. “I understood the bit about it looking less crowded,” you added.
“That was your bit.” “Exactly. We should’ve stayed there.” Minho’s mouth pulled into a smile. “You asked what we changed.”
“No, I said it looked good.” “You were interested.” “I am interested. I just don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
That made Seungmin laugh again, though quieter this time. Minho reached down and briefly squeezed the back of your neck. “It looked better.” “Thank you. That’s all I needed.” “You could’ve said that thirty seconds ago,” Seungmin said. You leaned more of your weight against him. “I was trying to be a good girlfriend.”
“You are. Just not a useful choreographer.” “I’ve never claimed to be.” Changbin called from across the room, “Why are you talking about choreography like anyone asked you?”
You looked over at him. “Aw, thanks, Binnie.” Changbin looked over, entirely unimpressed. “Anytime.” He shook his head and went back to his phone. Minho bent and kissed your forehead. “Give me fifteen minutes, honey.” “You told me ten.”
“We ran over.” “You were already done when I got here.” “We clearly weren’t.”
You looked towards the others, most of whom were now either sitting or lying on the floor. “They look pretty done.” Minho followed your gaze. “Fifteen.” You let him go. Seungmin stayed beside you for another few minutes while the room gradually emptied. The conversation wandered away from rehearsal completely. He asked what you’d done that afternoon, and you told him about losing twenty minutes of your life because you’d gone into a shop for one thing and then couldn’t remember what the one thing had been. “You still didn’t remember?” “No. I bought toothpaste because I was embarrassed to leave with nothing.”
Seungmin laughed. “You might’ve needed toothpaste.” “I bought three tubes last week.” “Why?”
“They were on offer.” He considered that. “So now you have four.” He shook his head, smiling, and leaned his temple briefly against yours. When Minho finally disappeared towards the changing rooms, Seungmin looked after him, then back at you. “He was in a bad mood before you came.” “You said.”
“No, I mean properly. Not angry. Just tired and annoyed because they’d been stuck on that part forever.” You looked towards the door Minho had gone through. “He seems okay.” “He is now.”
There wasn’t any teasing in the way Seungmin said it. You squeezed his arm. He glanced down at your joined hands and then changed the subject, telling you that Felix had tried to convince everyone to order food earlier and had somehow ended up with four different menus open before anyone agreed on anything. By the time Minho reappeared, the conversation had turned into Seungmin complaining that nobody ever wanted the same thing until somebody else had already ordered. “You’re still here,” Minho said. Seungmin looked at him. “She likes me.” “I know.” Minho had changed into a black button-up and dark trousers, his hair still damp at the ends but no longer plastered to his forehead. He looked tired now that he wasn’t working. You stood and kissed Seungmin’s cheek before letting go of his arm. “Bye, Minnie.”
His face brightened again. “Bye. Have fun.” On the way out, you ended up stopping outside Chan and Jisung’s studio because Jisung opened the door just as you were passing. “Oh.” His face brightened. “You’re still here.” “Leaving now.”
“Wait, come listen to something before you go.” You immediately shook your head. “It’ll take ten seconds.” “You said that last time.”
Jisung paused with one hand still on the door. “That did take longer than expected.” “Forty minutes, Hannie.” “You kept talking over the bit I needed you to hear.”
“I was asking whether I could leave.” Chan appeared behind him, looking amused and tired. “She’s on a date. Let her go.” “I just want to know if she hears it too.”
“Hears what?” you asked. “There’s something under the vocal. I can hear it every time the line starts, and he says it’s fine.” Chan leaned one shoulder against the doorframe. “I said we can fix it tomorrow.”
“That’s not the same as fine.” You looked between them. “I’m probably the worst person in this building to ask.” “That’s why I’m asking you. If you hear it, then it’s definitely obvious.”
You stared at him. Jisung realised what he’d said. “Not because you’re stupid.” “Great recovery.” “You know what I mean.”
“I really don’t.” Chan laughed and caught the back of Jisung’s sweatshirt before he could try dragging you inside. “Go. I’ll deal with him.” Jisung looked past you towards Minho. “Are you getting food?” You glanced towards Minho before answering. “Probably,” you said.
“Can you bring me something?” Chan started closing the door. “Goodnight.” You called before the door could close. “Hannie,” you called. Jisung’s head appeared through the narrowing gap. “I’ll see what there is.”
His smile arrived instantly. “Love you.” “Love you too.” The door shut. Minho’s hand settled at the small of your back as you headed towards the lift. The lift arrived. Once the doors closed, the noise from the corridor disappeared so quickly it felt strange. Minho leaned back against the mirrored wall. Without rehearsal around him, you could see the tiredness more clearly. He rolled his right shoulder once, small enough that you might not have noticed if you hadn’t been looking at him. You reached over and took his hand. His fingers threaded through yours automatically. “Long day?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed his thumb along the side of your hand. “We kept fixing one thing and then finding something else.” “You could’ve cancelled tonight.” Minho turned his head. “Did you want me to?”
“No. I would’ve understood.” “I know.” He looked down at your hands for a moment. The lift hummed beneath you. “I wanted to come home with you.”
There wasn’t anything to tease in that. You lifted his hand and kissed his knuckles. Minho turned your wrist before you could lower it and pressed his mouth briefly to your palm. The doors opened. ౨ৎ You’d both said you would get something easy on the way home. You had meant food somebody else had made already. Minho had apparently meant food that required less effort than usual. You found him in the refrigerated aisle reading the back of a packet. “That says marinate.” “It says ten minutes.” “That’s how it starts.”
He glanced over. “You say ten minutes, then while that’s sitting there you decide we might as well make something else, and then I don’t see you again until there are five bowls in the sink.” Minho looked at the packet once more. “I want you sitting down tonight,” you added. “That’s literally the point.” He put it back. “Thank you.”
“We can still get noodles.” “Noodles are fine.” “And dumplings?”
“Obviously.” He took the basket from you and started walking again. The conversation moved on before either of you could turn dinner into an argument. You told him about a message you’d received earlier from your mother asking whether you still had a cardigan you were almost certain had disappeared three house moves ago. Minho listened while comparing two packets of noodles, occasionally making small noises to show he was still following. “She swears I left it at hers,” you said. “I haven’t even seen that cardigan since university.” “You probably did leave it there.”
“Why are you taking her side?” “I’ve seen your cupboards.” “That has nothing to do with it.”
“It has a lot to do with it.” You watched him put one packet back and choose the other. “My cupboards are organised.” Minho looked at you. “Mostly.”
He smiled and dropped the noodles into the basket. By the time you reached the next aisle, he had added yoghurt, strawberries and the juice you liked without asking. You noticed but didn’t comment immediately. It wasn’t until he picked up a cereal you actually liked instead of the one already sitting in your cupboard that you looked over. “You’re replacing my food now?” “I’m buying breakfast.” The answer was so matter-of-fact that you smiled. “So you are staying.”
Minho looked genuinely confused. “I thought I was.” “Good.” That was all there was to it. You carried on down the aisle. A few minutes later, you spotted a small cake tucked beneath the noodles. You lifted it out. “You don’t even like this one.”
“You do.” You looked at him. Minho was already comparing two bottles of sauce. You put the cake back. At the checkout, you took your phone out while he unloaded the basket. “I’m paying.” Minho glanced at you. “Okay.”
You should’ve known. You stood close to the card reader while the cashier scanned everything. When the total appeared, you moved your phone towards it. Minho’s watch reached it first. The machine beeped. You stared at his wrist. He started packing the bags. “You’re such an asshole.” “You were too slow.” “I was literally holding my phone over it.”
“You hesitated.” “I did not hesitate.” Minho put the strawberries on top of one bag, clearly more interested in not bruising them than in defending himself. Minho handed you the cake. “Keep that flat.”
“You’re ignoring me.” “I heard you.” He picked up the heavier bag and headed for the doors. ౨ৎ The cabinet was still standing when you got home. You checked before you even took your shoes off. One handle remained slightly higher than the other. A piece of folded cardboard was wedged beneath the left side, and the middle shelf had already developed a suspicious- looking dip beneath your records. Minho followed your gaze. “Don’t.”
Minho walked over and pressed it shut with one finger. The cabinet rocked. You pointed at him. “See?” He looked at the cabinet, then at you. “That’s not because I touched it.” “It was fine before.” “It’s held up with cardboard.”
“Exactly. Delicate. Leave it.” Minho opened his mouth, thought better of whatever he was about to say and carried the shopping into the kitchen. You followed him. Dinner stayed simple. Actually simple, by Minho’s standards. You put music on from the living room while he started the noodles and you dealt with the vegetables. For a while you talked about nothing important: whether the strawberries would still be good tomorrow, somebody in the building who had apparently started leaving their shoes outside your door, a video Felix had sent the group chat earlier that you hadn’t watched yet. Then you remembered something you’d meant to ask Minho days ago. “Did you ever call your mom back about that thing with the cupboard?”
He glanced over from the stove. “What cupboard?” “The one she wanted moving.” “That was my aunt.”
“Oh.” You paused with the knife halfway through a mushroom. “Did you call your aunt?” “Yeah.” “And?”
“She moved it herself.” You looked up. “Why did she call you, then?” “She wanted me to tell her whether it would fit.”
“Did it?” “No.” You waited. Minho kept stirring the noodles. You started laughing. Minho looked over, already smiling because he knew exactly why. “Why are families like this?”
“She said she could make it work.” “Did she?” “She cut part of the shelf.”
That made you laugh harder. Somewhere in the middle of it, Minho drifted closer to inspect what you were cutting. You noticed his hand appear beside yours, quietly pulling one of the mushroom pieces towards himself. You stopped. Minho cut it in half. “Did you seriously just recut my mushroom?” “It was huge.” “It was fine.”
He gave you the sort of look that said it very obviously had not been fine and reached towards another one. “Nope.” You stole it first and ate it raw. Minho stared at you for a second. “You’re ridiculous.” You were still chewing when you bumped your hip into his and reached past him for the sauce. He moved over to let you in, laughing under his breath, and mercifully left the rest of your mushrooms alone. They ate on the floor because the coffee table was still covered with leftover cabinet screws and an instruction sheet somebody had drawn an angry face on. Minho sat with his back against the sofa, one knee bent. You settled beside him close enough that your shoulder stayed against his. The food was good.
You told him so, which resulted in him quietly pushing the last dumpling from his bowl into yours without comment. You looked down at it. “You wanted that.” “I’m full.” “You ate faster than me.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m still hungry.” You picked the dumpling up and held it towards him. Minho looked at it, then at you. “Half.” He leaned forward and bit half from your chopsticks. You ate the rest. For a while, the conversation wandered through whatever came to mind. Minho told you that Jeongin had almost walked into a camera stand earlier because he’d been looking at his phone. You told him about the dog in the shopping bag from work, the woman insisting with her entire face that she had no idea where the barking was coming from. “You didn’t say anything?” Minho asked.
“What was I supposed to say? ‘Excuse me, your handbag has a respiratory system’?” He laughed, head dropping briefly. “There were six of us in the lift,” you continued. “Nobody looked at her. The dog barked twice, and we all stared at the numbers like our lives depended on getting to the eighth floor.” Minho shook his head. “You should’ve asked what breed the bag was.” You looked at him. He was already smiling into his bowl. “That was terrible.”
“I know.” You leaned into his shoulder anyway. After dinner, Minho retrieved his phone from the counter and pulled up the rehearsal video. You groaned when you saw it. “I’m not testing you.” “You say that now.”
“I want to see something.” You moved onto the sofa and put your legs over his lap while he found the right clip. He showed you the first version, then one from later in rehearsal. You watched both properly. “The second one looks better.” Minho scrubbed back. “Why?” You hesitated. “It just… doesn’t look as cramped. Everybody has more space.”
He nodded. “That’s what we were fixing.” “Great. I’ve learned something.” “You already said that at practice.”
“Yeah, but now I know why.” Minho played it again, then started explaining what they had changed. This time, he stopped himself halfway through the technical part and glanced at you. You smiled. “Thank you.” “I saw your face.”
“Good.” He laughed softly and put the phone down. As he did, his right shoulder rolled in a small, uncomfortable movement. You’d noticed it in the lift. You reached over and pressed your thumb into the muscle near his neck. Minho flinched. “Shit.” You frowned. “That bad?.” “You surprised me.”
“You’ve been doing that all night.” “Doing what?” “That.” You copied the little shoulder roll. “Every few minutes.”
Minho looked down at his own shoulder as though he hadn’t realised it was visible. “It’s been tight since yesterday.” “Yesterday?” “It’s fine.”
You pressed again, more gently. His entire shoulder tensed. “Yeah, that looks very fine.” Minho didn’t answer. You moved your legs away from his lap and shifted behind him. “Turn around.” He gave you a look. “Come on. I’m not doing anything weird. I’m trying to help.”
“I know.” “Then move.” Minho sighed, but he did. He sat on the floor between your knees, back against the sofa. You put your hands on his shoulders and immediately understood why he’d been moving strangely. “Jesus.”
“What?” “This is horrible.” “Very comforting.”
“You know what I mean.” You worked your thumbs slowly into the muscle above his shoulder blade. His head tipped forward, hands settling loosely around your ankles. For a few minutes, you barely spoke. Traffic moved somewhere below the windows. Each time you found the worst part of the knot, Minho’s fingers tightened briefly around your ankle. “Too hard?” “No.”
“You sure?” “Keep going.” His voice had gone quieter. You did. After another minute, you moved his hair out of the way so you could reach higher. His shirt kept bunching beneath your hands. “This is annoying me.”
“My shoulder?” “Your shirt.” Minho glanced back over one shoulder. “I can’t get to anything properly.”
He smiled slightly. “Convenient.” “Oh, shut up.” You tugged the collar. “Take it off or suffer.” Minho undid several buttons and slid the shirt away from his shoulders, leaving it hanging loosely around his arms. You went back to work. His skin was warm beneath your palms. You could feel the tension easing slowly, though the whole right side of his back still felt harder than it should. “You should’ve said something.”
“You noticed anyway.” “That isn’t really the point.” Minho’s thumbs moved absently over your ankles. You pressed lower along his shoulder blade. He exhaled and let his head rest back against your knee for a second. There was something very Minho about the fact that he would quietly carry an aching shoulder around for two days and then act vaguely surprised when somebody noticed. You bent slightly. “Better?”
“Yeah.” “Actually?” “Actually.”
You continued for another minute. Then realised you weren’t really massaging anymore. Your hands had slowed. One rested at the back of his neck, thumb moving idly over his skin while Minho’s fingers traced the side of your ankle. He noticed before you did. Minho turned. He shifted onto his knees between your legs, open shirt still hanging around his arms. You looked at him. Minho’s hand slid from your ankle to your calf. You caught the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. The first kiss was soft. He stayed against your mouth for a moment, then kissed you again, one hand moving to your waist as you shifted closer to the edge of the sofa. There was no hurry. You could still feel the heat of his skin beneath your palms. Minho kissed you slowly, then along the corner of your mouth, his thumb moving under the hem of your top. You smiled when he followed you as you pulled back for a breath. “Hi.” Minho looked at you. “Hi.”
“You’re very close.” “You did that.” “Did I?”
His answer was another kiss. The phone disappeared somewhere between the cushions when Minho moved up onto the sofa. One knee settled between yours, his weight careful even as the kiss deepened. You pushed his shirt farther from his shoulders. Minho’s hand moved beneath your top, warm across your back. “You still smell like rehearsal,” you murmured when his mouth moved to your jaw. “I showered.” “I know.”
“Then stop complaining.” “I’m not complaining.” Minho looked up. You tightened your legs around him. “That’s what I thought.”
You pulled him back down before he could get smug about it. His hand moved higher beneath your shirt, then stopped when his fingers reached the edge of your bra. He looked at you. You nodded. Minho caught the hem of your top and pulled it over your head. It landed somewhere beside the coffee table. For a moment, he simply looked. Heat crept over your chest. “Don’t.” “What?” “You’re making me self-conscious.”
His expression softened. Minho bent and kissed the skin just beneath your collarbone. “My pretty girl,” he murmured. It was quiet enough that it felt more like something that had slipped out than something he’d meant to say. You threaded your fingers into his hair and pulled him back up to your mouth. The lock turned. At first, your brain didn’t place the sound. Then the latch moved. The front door opened. Minho lifted his head. Your sister stepped into the apartment. She stopped. Her eyes went straight to the sofa: Minho’s shirt open, your top on the floor, your bare shoulders. For one second, she didn’t look embarrassed. She looked pleased. “I knew it.” The words slipped out before she seemed to realise she’d said them. Minho moved immediately. He reached behind him, caught the throw from the back of the sofa and pulled it around you. His own shirt stayed open, half hanging from one shoulder. He didn’t even look down. You sat upright, clutching the throw closed. “What the hell are you doing?” Your sister’s face rearranged itself. “I knocked.”
“No, you didn’t.” “I did. You obviously couldn’t hear me.” “You used a key.”
She was still holding it. Minho found your top on the floor and passed it beneath the throw. You pushed your arms into it, but the fabric caught awkwardly behind you. “Wait,” he said quietly. He freed it, pulled the back down properly and straightened the strap twisted near your shoulder. Your sister watched his hands. “I thought Seungmin was your boyfriend.” You stood, keeping the throw around your shoulders. “Where did you get the key?” The question wrong-footed her for a second. “Mom had it.”
“Mom keeps my spare. She didn’t give it to you.” “She asked me to bring your mail over.” “So you took it.”
“I borrowed it. Don’t make it sound like I broke in.” “You let yourself into my apartment.” “I knocked first.”
“No, you didn’t.” Your sister shifted the folder tucked beneath her arm. “You weren’t answering. I wasn’t going to stand in the hallway forever when I had a key.” “You didn’t have a key. Mom had a key.”
“Oh my God, you know what I mean.” “No, actually, I don’t.” Minho stepped beside you. He wasn’t in front of you, wasn’t trying to take the conversation from you. He just stood close, his anger obvious in the tightness around his mouth. “You don’t use someone’s spare because they don’t answer,” he said.
Your sister looked at him briefly. “This is between me and her.” “You walked in while we were half dressed.” “I said I’m sorry.”
“You’re not sorry,” you said. “You said you knew it.” She blinked. “I was shocked.” “No. You looked happy.” “That’s ridiculous.”
“I saw it,” Minho said. Your sister’s eyes moved to him. “Of course you’d say that.” Minho didn’t bother answering. You held your hand out. “Give me the key.” Her fingers closed around it. “It belongs to Mom.” “It opens my front door.”
“Are you seriously going to pretend that’s the important thing here?” “Yes.” She stared at you. Then the satisfaction came back. “What about Seungmin?”
“What about him?” “He deserves to know what you’re doing.” Your stomach turned, not because of what she thought she’d discovered, but because she sounded so pleased to be saying it. “What Seungmin knows about my life is none of your business.”
“You’re cheating on him.” Minho’s jaw tightened. You kept your hand out. “Give me the damn key.” “You’re not even going to deny it?”
“I’m not discussing my relationship with you.” “That’s convenient.” “No, convenient is stealing my spare and then standing in my living room acting like you’re doing somebody a favour.”
“I didn’t steal anything.” “You took it without asking me.” “I was bringing you something for Mom.”
“Then you could’ve left it outside.” Your sister laughed once, short and irritated. “You always do this. Someone says something you don’t like and suddenly the whole conversation becomes about what they did wrong.” You looked at the key. “This conversation is about what you did wrong.”
“I knocked.” “Stop saying that.” “I did.”
“You didn’t.” Minho shifted slightly beside you. His hand hovered near your back but didn’t touch. “She’s asked for the key,” he said. “Give it back.” Your sister looked at him and then, finally, seemed to register that his shirt was still hanging open. “You haven’t even bothered fixing your own clothes.”
Minho followed her gaze as though he’d forgotten. “I was more concerned about her.” Your sister’s mouth tightened. “Exactly.” You frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“She doesn’t even have to ask.” Your sister gestured between you and Minho, irritation making her less careful now. “You’re fixing her clothes, telling me what to do in my own sister’s apartment—” “It isn’t your apartment,” Minho said. “And he helped because you walked in while I was undressed,” you added. “Why is that somehow a problem?” “I didn’t say it was.”
“You’re clearly bothered by it.” “All of you just… do whatever she wants.” There was the smallest pause. Minho gave a quiet, humourless laugh. “You used a key you weren’t supposed to have and somehow she’s the controlling one.”
“I didn’t say controlling.” “You didn’t have to.” Your sister looked at you again. “You have Seungmin wrapped around your finger. I’m not going to stand there and watch him get made an idiot of.”
That landed differently. You stared at her. “You want him embarrassed.” Her expression changed. “What?” “You do. That’s why you looked so fucking happy when you came in. You’ve been waiting for something you can run and tell him.”
“No. You’ve decided what he thinks without ever asking him.” Her mouth tightened. “I know he deserves better than this.” Minho went very still beside you. You held your hand out again. “Key.” Your sister didn’t move. “Now.”
For another second, she looked as though she might keep arguing. Then she slapped it into your palm. “Mom will want it back.” “Mom can ask me.” “You’re really going to change the locks because I came in once?”
“Yes.” “That’s insane.” “Then it won’t affect you.”
Your sister pulled her coat closed and gathered the folder against herself. The fake sweetness returned, though not as smoothly as before. “I genuinely didn’t mean to interrupt anything.” “You meant to come inside without permission.” “I knocked.”
“For fuck’s sake.” You crossed to the door and opened it. “Leave.” She stood there for another moment. Then her eyes flicked towards Minho again. That pleased look returned. “I’m going to tell Seungmin exactly what I saw.”
“Go ahead.” “You think he won’t care?” “I think you should make sure you tell him how you got in.”
Her face hardened. “I hope you’re this calm when he finds out.” You shut the door. The lock clicked. You put the chain across as well, harder than you meant to. For a few seconds, you stood there with the key pressed into your palm. The apartment felt strangely quiet. Minho stayed near the sofa. He didn’t come up behind you or put his hands on you without asking. He waited until you turned around. Your top was twisted slightly, one strap still sitting wrong. Minho lifted one hand. “Can I fix that?” You looked down and nodded. He came closer, freed the fabric at your back and pulled it down properly. His fingers straightened the strap at your shoulder, quick and careful. Then he stepped away. You looked at his chest. “Your shirt.”
Minho glanced down as if he’d only just remembered. “Right.” He pulled it back onto both shoulders and fastened a couple of buttons without much attention. “She looked happy.” “I know.”
“She didn’t even try to hide it at first.” Minho’s jaw shifted. You started pacing before you really meant to, the key still in your hand. “And now she’s going to message Seungmin with some dramatic shit about how sorry she is to be the one telling him. She’ll leave out the key. She’ll say she knocked. She’ll say I got aggressive when she tried to talk to me.” “She probably will.”
“She always does that.” You turned near the kitchen. “She does something completely out of line, then if I get angry, suddenly that’s the part everyone’s meant to focus on.” Minho let you talk. You stopped and looked at the door again. “I want the lock changed.” “Okay.”
“I know she gave the key back. She probably hasn’t copied it. I don’t think she’s going to start creeping in here every night or anything. She’s my sister, not some random psycho.” You rubbed your thumb over the edge of the key. “I just don’t want to hear something at the door and wonder if she can still get in.” “That’s enough reason.” “It feels dramatic.”
“She used it.” You looked at him. Minho picked up his phone. “Want me to find someone?” “Yeah. Please.”
He sat beside you while he searched, showed you the company before calling and explained the situation simply: a family member had used a spare key without permission, you had the key back, and you wanted the cylinder changed. There was a same-evening callout. The price made you pull a face. Minho covered the bottom of the phone. “They can come in about ninety minutes. Tomorrow between eight and ten is less than half.” You looked at the chain. “Tomorrow. We have the key.” “And I’m staying.”
He booked the morning appointment. Your phone was on the table. Four messages waited from your sister. You didn’t open them. “I should call Seungmin before she does.” Minho sat beside you. “Yeah.” You called. Seungmin answered quickly. “Hi. Did you eat? I was going to—” “Minnie.”
He stopped. You heard a rustle at his end, as though he’d sat up properly. “What happened?” “My sister came over.” “Again?”
“She let herself in.” There was a pause. “What do you mean, she let herself in?” “She took Mom’s spare key. Minho and I were on the sofa, and the door just opened.”
“She—what the hell?” His voice came closer to the phone. “Is she still there?” “No. I got the key back and made her leave. The chain’s on, and someone’s changing the lock tomorrow.” “Okay.” Seungmin breathed out, but the tension stayed in his voice. “Are you all right?”
“I’m pissed off.” “Yeah. Obviously.” He was quiet for a second. “Did she scare you?” “No. Not like that. She’s still my sister.” You looked towards the locked door. “It just feels gross knowing she thought she could walk in because I hadn’t answered her.”
“I know.” His answer came more softly. “That would piss me off too. The key’s definitely back?” “It’s here.” “And Minho’s staying?”
“Yeah.” “Good.” He didn’t add anything about you needing somebody there. You both knew that wasn’t what he meant. You told him what happened in pieces: the excuse about bringing your mail, the way she’d kept insisting she knocked, and the pleased look she hadn’t managed to hide when she saw you and Minho together. “She said she knew it,” you told him.
“Knew what?” “That I was cheating on you.” Seungmin went quiet. “With Minho?”
“Apparently.” “The Minho you told me you were picking up for your date?” “She doesn’t know that.”
“I know, I just…” A short laugh escaped him, more disbelief than amusement. “She really thinks she’s caught you sneaking around with Minho.” “It would be funny if she hadn’t looked so happy.” The laugh disappeared. “She was that pleased?”
“Yeah.” You heard him shift again. When he spoke, his voice was lower. “That’s fucked up.” You heard a vibration against your cheek with another message. Almost immediately, Seungmin said, “She’s texting me.” “What did she say?”
He read silently for a few seconds. “She says she’s sorry to be the one telling me, but she found you with Minho and thinks there are things I deserve to know.” Another pause. “Nothing about the key.” “Of course not.” “She says you became aggressive when she tried to talk to you.” His voice sharpened. “And now she wants to know whether I’m alone.”
“She wants to tell you properly.” “Yeah, apparently I need to be sitting down for the devastating news that you kissed Minho.” You laughed despite yourself, though it didn’t last long. Seungmin exhaled. “I started replying.”
“What did you write?” “I haven’t sent it.” “That wasn’t what I asked.”
He hesitated. “It starts with ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’” “Seungminniee” “It gets worse.”
“Maybe save it for tomorrow.” “Probably.” You could hear him tapping his fingers against something. “She keeps talking to me like I’m stupid. Like she knows more about my own relationship than I do.” “I know.”
“And she used me to threaten you.” “That was the first thing she said after she walked in.” For a moment, neither of you spoke. Minho moved quietly in the kitchen behind you, cupboard doors opening and closing without any attempt to listen in. Seungmin asked, “Do you want me to come over?”
“No. Minho’s staying.” “Okay. I wasn’t trying to make it into a whole thing. I just wanted to ask.” “I know, Minnie.”
He was quiet again, then said, “I hate that she looked happy.” That was the part underneath all his anger. You could hear it now. “I know.” “She didn’t care whether it would hurt me. She wanted it to.”
“Yeah.” “And she wanted you frightened of me finding out.” Seungmin let out a slow breath. “I’m not replying tonight. I’ll tell her tomorrow not to contact me about you again, when I can say it without calling her every name I know.” “That might take a while.”
You smiled, resting your head against the back of the sofa. “Are you feeling any better?” he asked. “A bit.” “Good. Don’t read whatever else she sends. She’ll only rewrite the whole night until she’s the victim.”
“I wasn’t planning to.” “And text me when the locksmith’s been.” “I will.”
Another pause settled between you, easier this time. “I love you,” Seungmin said. “I love you too.” “And tell Minho I love him as well.”
You looked towards the kitchen. Minho was putting the cake onto a plate, his shirt still only half buttoned. “I will.” “Okay. Call me if you need me.” “I know.”
You stayed on the line for another few seconds before hanging up. Minho looked over when you lowered the phone, but he didn’t ask what had been said. “Seungminnie says he loves you.” His expression softened. “I love him too.” Then he held out the plate of cake. You looked at it. “I thought that was for tomorrow.” “It was.”
You took the fork he held out. You ate the cake straight from the container, shoulders touching. It was a little too sweet. You ate more than Minho anyway. After a while, he lifted his hand towards your face and stopped before touching you. “Can I?” You nodded. Minho tucked your hair behind your ear and left his palm against the side of your neck. You leaned into it. Neither of you tried to restart what had been interrupted. When you were finished, Minho put the empty container on the coffee table and held one arm out without saying anything. You moved under it and settled against his side. ౨ৎ Minho had his eyes closed in three of the four pictures. Jisung took this as a personal insult. “You did that on purpose,” he said, holding the strip beneath the weak light outside the booth. His mask had slipped below his chin, and he was still pink from laughing through the last picture. “There’s no way you blinked three times.” Minho took the strip from him and looked at it. “The flash was bright.”
“It was the same flash every time.” “Exactly.” “That doesn’t explain anything.”
You leaned between them to see. Jisung looked delighted in the first photograph, even though only half his face had made it into frame. You were sitting partly across Minho’s lap because the booth had clearly been designed for two people with a much less complicated dating life. Minho looked asleep. In the second, Jisung had managed to fit properly and Minho’s eyes were still closed. The third was the only decent one. Minho’s arm was around your waist, Jisung’s cheek pressed against yours, and all three of you were looking at the camera. The last had been ruined by you. Jisung had kissed your cheek just as the countdown started. You’d clutched Minho’s sleeve, leaned closer to them both and whispered, with considerably more drama than the situation required, “What if Seungmin catches us?” Jisung had broken first. The picture had caught him folding forward against your shoulder, your mouth open because you were trying not to laugh and Minho looking directly into the camera with the beginning of a smile he hadn’t managed to hide. “That one’s the best,” you said. “I look stupid.”
“You always say that when you’re laughing.” “I don’t.” Minho held the strip just out of Jisung’s reach when he tried to take it back. “You do.”
Jisung looked between you. “Why are you both against me?” You looped your arm through his. “We’re not. We’re having an affair.” That made him laugh again, though he tried to bury it by pressing his mouth against the top of your head. It had been eleven days since your sister had used your mother’s spare key to let herself into your apartment. Eleven days had been long enough for the immediate fury to wear down into something flatter and less consuming. You were still angry when you thought about the door opening, and you still checked the new lock sometimes after you’d already turned it. Mostly, though, you had stopped giving your sister the amount of thought she clearly believed she deserved. She had spent those eleven days trying to reach Seungmin. He had spent them avoiding her with increasingly little subtlety. The first few messages had gone unanswered. When she started calling, he blocked her number. Then she turned up at JYP claiming she needed to speak to him about a private family emergency. Reception had called upstairs. Seungmin had told them there was no emergency and that he did not want to see her. She had returned two days later. The second time, security had already been given her name and labled her a sasaeng.
Jisung had told you over dinner that Seungmin stayed in one of the smaller recording rooms until somebody confirmed she had left the building. Seungmin had described this to you later as having some work to finish, but Jisung said the work had mostly involved refreshing the lobby camera and asking Chan whether a baseball cap would make him less recognisable if he used the side exit. You had laughed hard enough that Seungmin hung up on you. He called back thirty seconds later because he still wanted to know what you were doing that evening. Tonight, he was at your apartment while you were out with Minho and Jisung. He’d had a late schedule near your neighbourhood and gone there afterwards, letting himself in with the new key you’d given him two days after the lock was changed. The photo booth had been Jisung’s idea. The restaurant afterwards had been Minho’s, mostly because he knew somewhere nearby with private rooms and food until late. By the time you sat down, Jisung had already put the photograph into the clear back of his phone case. “You said you looked stupid,” you pointed out. “I do.”
“So why are you keeping it?” He placed his phone facedown on the table. “I paid for it.” Minho, who had paid the other half before either of you realised what he was doing, opened the menu and ignored both of you. The room was small enough that your knees kept touching beneath the table. Jisung sat beside you, one leg pressed along yours, while Minho sat opposite. He had taken his cap off but left his hair flattened around the edges, and when you reached across to fix one side, he caught your wrist and kissed your palm before letting you go. The date had nothing to do with your sister for most of the evening.
Jisung talked about a song he’d been working on and the part he kept changing even though nobody else thought there was anything wrong with it. You asked whether he actually disliked it or whether he had listened to it so many times that he could no longer tell. “That’s the problem,” he said, dragging one of the side dishes closer. “I liked it yesterday. This morning it sounded obvious.” “What does obvious sound like?” He paused with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “Like I knew what was coming.”
“You wrote it.” “I know, but I don’t want it to feel like that.” You understood what he meant without understanding anything technical about what he might change. “Maybe stop listening to it tonight.”
“I wasn’t planning to work.” Minho looked up from his bowl. Jisung noticed. “I wasn’t.” “You brought your laptop.”
“It’s in the car.” “You brought it on the date.” Jisung looked at you for support. You took a piece of food from his plate. “I think you should leave it in the car.” His hand came down over yours before you could get away. “That was mine.”
“You weren’t eating it.” “I was talking.” “You can’t reserve food by looking at it.”
Minho reached over and took the other half while Jisung was still holding your wrist. Jisung stared at the empty plate. Neither of you admitted anything. Conversation moved on. Minho showed you a video his mother had sent of one of the cats refusing to step around a paper bag. Jisung tried to argue that the cat was displaying excellent instincts. You told them about an elderly man in the convenience store earlier who had spent several minutes asking an employee whether a particular packet of sweets was too spicy, then bought three when she said no. “Maybe they were for someone else,” Minho said. “He opened one before he left.” “So?”
“He ate six while standing beside the till.” Jisung nodded as though this confirmed something. “He needed to be sure.” “For who?”
“The other two packets.” You looked at him. He smiled and leaned his shoulder into yours. Seungmin messaged halfway through the meal. Are you bringing food back or am I allowed to eat the ice cream? You picked up your phone and showed Jisung. “He can’t eat that,” Jisung said immediately. “I wanted some.” “You’re here.”
“I’ll want it later.” Minho took a drink, watching the argument without involving himself. You replied: Touch it and I’m changing the locks again. Seungmin’s answer came almost immediately. You gave me a key. Not immunity. The typing bubble appeared, disappeared, then came back. Bring chips. You smiled and put the phone down. Your own phone buzzed again. You expected Seungmin. It was your sister. For a second, you considered leaving it unopened. She had sent several messages since the key incident, most of them variations on I was trying to help and you’ve completely overreacted. You hadn’t answered any of them. The preview showed Seungmin’s name. You opened it. I know he’s at your apartment. I’m telling him tonight. He deserves to know what you’ve been doing. You stared at the screen. Another message arrived before you could decide whether you were irritated or simply tired. Once I tell him, he’s going to be so angry with you he’ll come straight to me. I probably won’t be able to walk tomorrow. Your mouth fell open. Jisung noticed first. “What?”
You read it again, half expecting the words to rearrange themselves into something less deranged. They didn’t. “What the fuck?” Minho’s attention moved from Jisung’s hands to your face. “What happened?” You turned the phone towards them. Jisung leaned close enough that his hair brushed your cheek. His eyes moved over the first message, then the second. He went very still. Minho reached across and took the phone when Jisung failed to move. For several seconds, none of you spoke. The nerve of it hit first. Your sister was outside your home again, talking about your boyfriend as though he were something she could collect once she’d successfully disposed of you. Then the rest of the message caught up. You laughed. It came out once, sharp and completely involuntary.
Jisung looked at you, then back at the phone. “She thinks Seungmin’s going to fuck her?” “Apparently.” He read the message one more time. His brows drew together, not with amusement so much as genuine confusion. “He literally asked you to fuck him after me last week.”
You put a hand over your mouth. That made it worse. Jisung was not trying to be funny. He was simply supplying information your sister had failed to account for. Minho returned your phone to the table. “Is she outside the apartment now?” The laughter thinned. You looked at the first message again. “It sounds like it.” “She shouldn’t be there.” “No.”
Jisung’s hand settled on your thigh. “Seungmin won’t let her in.” “I know.” That wasn’t what bothered you. You could picture her in the corridor, speaking softly through the door while Seungmin stood on the other side trying to get her to leave. She had already turned up at his workplace twice. She had already taken a key. Being ignored had not embarrassed her into stopping. It had made her more determined. Minho was reaching for his jacket before you said anything. “I’ll drive you.”
You nodded. There was no argument about finishing dinner or waiting to see whether she went away. Jisung gathered your things while Minho dealt with the bill. You sent Seungmin a quick message as you followed them out. Are you okay? His name appeared on your screen before you reached the lift. He was calling. You answered with the phone against your ear. “Hi.” “She won’t leave.” Seungmin sounded more annoyed than frightened. There was a strange hollowness behind his voice, and it took you a moment to realise he was standing in the hallway on his side of the door. “Have you spoken to her?”
“Through the door. I told her you aren’t here and she needs to go.” You stepped into the lift with Minho and Jisung. “What did she say?” “That she knows you’re not there. Apparently that’s why she came.” His voice dropped slightly. “Now she keeps asking me to open the door so she can tell me something before you get back.”
“She messaged me.” “I guessed.” The lift doors closed. Minho pressed the button for the car park while Jisung stood close at your other side, his hand brushing yours. “She says you’ve been stopping me from talking to her,” Seungmin continued. “I told her I blocked her myself. She said you probably made me.” You shut your eyes briefly. “Of course she did.”
“I asked how you could make me block her when you didn’t know she’d messaged the first time.” “What did she say?” “Nothing. Then she started again about needing to tell me the truth.”
The lift reached the car park. Minho took the keys from his pocket and walked quickly without making the situation feel like an emergency. “We’re coming back now,” you said. “Maybe fifteen minutes.” “Okay.” “She sent me what she wants to tell you.”
There was a pause. “The Minho thing?” “Yeah, but there was another message after that.” “What did she say?”
You glanced at Jisung. He was already biting the inside of his cheek. You read the message aloud. By the time you reached the end, Seungmin had gone completely silent. Minho unlocked the car. You got into the passenger seat while Jisung climbed into the back. “Minnie?” “I’m here.” “You went quiet.”
“I don’t understand why she thinks that would happen.” You pressed your lips together. Seungmin continued before you could answer. “Even if I thought you’d cheated on me, why would I immediately sleep with your sister?” “I don’t know.”
“And why does she think I’d be that angry?” You looked through the windscreen as Minho started the engine. There was another knock faintly audible through his phone. The amusement dropped away. Your sister’s voice followed, blurred by the door but recognisable. “Seungmin? I know she’s probably told you not to answer me, but you need to hear this from someone who actually cares about you.” Seungmin exhaled through his nose. “She’s doing that every couple of minutes.”
“Don’t open it.” “I’m not going to.” Minho pulled out of the car park. “Are the neighbours out there?”
“Not yet.” “We’ll be there soon.” “Okay.” His voice softened slightly. “Drive carefully.”
“I’m not driving.” “I know. Tell Minho.” “I’m sure he heard.”
Minho’s hand came briefly from the wheel to squeeze your knee before returning. “I’ll stay on the phone,” you said. “You don’t have to.” “I know.”
He didn’t argue again. The rest of the journey passed with the phone against your ear. You and Seungmin spoke only occasionally. He told you when your sister knocked again. You told him when you were five minutes away. Jisung leaned forward once to pass you the bottle of water from the side pocket, then sat back without trying to join the conversation. When Minho pulled up outside your building, Seungmin said he could hear a car pulling up. “That might be us.” “Okay.” “I’m hanging up now.”
“Call back if it isn’t.” You smiled despite yourself. “I will.” Minho parked near the entrance. Jisung was already undoing his seat belt. “You don’t need to come up,” you told him. He stopped. “We can wait outside.”
“That’ll make it worse.” “I know.” He rubbed his thumb against the edge of the belt. “I just don’t like her being there.” “Neither do I.”
Minho switched off the engine and turned towards you. “Text when she leaves.” “I will.” “And if you want us back, call.”
You nodded. Jisung reached between the seats and caught the back of your neck, pulling you close enough to kiss your temple. “Don’t let her say anything stupid about you.” “That might be difficult.” “You know what I mean.”
You did. You reached back and squeezed his wrist, then leaned across the centre console to kiss Minho. His hand came briefly to your jaw. Minho waited until you were inside the lobby before starting the car again. The lift took too long. By the time the doors opened on your floor, you could hear your sister speaking. Her voice was low and patient, carrying just far enough along the corridor. “I’m not blaming you for any of this, Seungmin. I know what she’s like. I just think you should let me explain before she gets back and makes everything sound different.” You walked around the corner. She stood outside your apartment with her coat still on and her phone in one hand. Her expression changed when she saw you—not guilt, exactly. More like irritation at having been interrupted before she got what she wanted. Then the sweetness returned. “Thank God. He won’t open the door.” “I know.”
“I’ve been trying to tell him I’m not here to cause trouble.” “You’ve been told to leave.” “I only need five minutes.”
The door stayed closed behind her. Your sister glanced towards it, then lowered her voice as though the two of you were suddenly sharing something private. “I think he’s scared of how you’ll react if he speaks to me.” You stared at her. She genuinely seemed to believe it. The lift moved somewhere behind you. A door opened further along the corridor, and you heard somebody’s television before it closed again. You did not want the next part happening out here. You stepped past your sister and unlocked the door. Her face brightened with quiet triumph. “Inside,” you said. “You’re saying whatever you came to say, and then you’re leaving.” She followed before you could change your mind. Seungmin was standing near the end of the hallway. He had changed after work into grey sweatpants and a dark sweatshirt. His hair was soft around his forehead, and the television was paused behind him. He looked tired, irritated and entirely unlike the furious, sexually aggressive man your sister had constructed in her head. His eyes went to you first. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” You closed the door and turned the lock, then stayed beside it. Your sister looked between you. “Could I speak to him alone?” “No.”
“I wasn’t asking you.” Seungmin’s expression barely changed. “I already told you no.” She turned towards him fully. “You don’t know what she’s done.” “Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t.” She took a small step closer, not enough to invade his space but enough to make her intention obvious. “I saw her with Minho. They were half dressed. She’s been lying to you.” Seungmin glanced at you. Not for an explanation. It was closer to disbelief that this was the revelation she had spent nearly two weeks trying to deliver. “I know she was with Minho.” Your sister’s face changed. “She told you.”
“I knew before she went to get him.” “No.” She gave a short laugh, as though he had misunderstood his own sentence. “I mean I saw them together. It wasn’t friendly.” “I know.”
Her eyes moved to you, then back to him. “And you’re just okay with that?” Seungmin’s mouth tightened. “It isn’t your business.” “I’m trying to stop you being humiliated.” “I’m not humiliated.”
“You don’t have to pretend because she’s here.” “I’m not pretending.” Your sister looked at you again. “Can you give us one minute?”
“No.” “She’s not keeping me here,” Seungmin said before your sister could turn that into something else. “I don’t want to talk to you alone.” “You’ve never even given me the chance.”
“I’ve had your messages.” “She must have said something to you.” “She didn’t know you’d contacted me the first time.”
Your sister’s fingers tightened around her phone. Seungmin continued, still calm. “I blocked you. I told reception not to let you upstairs. Nobody made me do that.” The flat went quiet for a moment. Your sister’s expression hardened before she managed to soften it again. “You don’t know what she’s like when you aren’t around.” A laugh nearly escaped you, but there was nothing funny in her face now. “She was on a date tonight,” your sister said. “With him again, I assume.” Seungmin answered without hesitation. “With Minho and Jisung,” Seungmin replied. She stared at him. You hadn’t expected him to say it quite so plainly. He didn’t elaborate. Your sister looked at you as though the answer had confirmed something worse than she had prepared herself for. “Jisung too?” You folded your arms. “You came here to tell Seungmin I was with Minho. He knows. You’ve told him. You can go now.”
“No. What does that mean?” “It means what happens in our relationship isn’t your business.” “Relationship?” Her gaze moved between you and Seungmin again. “What, all of you?”
Neither of you answered. She understood enough from the silence. “Oh my God.” Seungmin shifted closer to you, not protectively and not as a performance. He simply seemed done with standing across the room from you while your sister examined both of you. She noticed. “So you just let her do this?” His face changed then. “I don’t let her do anything.”
“You know what I mean.” “No, I don’t.” “She’s sleeping with other men.”
“She isn’t lying to me.” “That doesn’t make it normal.” “We didn’t ask what you thought.”
Your sister’s voice sharpened. “You’re really standing there pretending you’re fine with being passed around between all of them?” The sentence was directed at you, but she kept glancing at Seungmin as though waiting for him to flinch. The word landed harder than you expected. Not because it described anything real. It didn’t. There was no version of your relationship in which you were an object being handed from one person to another. Still, she had chosen it carefully. She wanted you to feel cheap. For one ugly second, you did. Seungmin moved before you spoke. “Don’t talk to her like that.” Your sister’s brows lifted. “I’m saying what everyone else would think.”
“You don’t know what anyone else thinks.” “I know what it looks like.” “You know what you wanted it to look like,” you said.
She turned to you. “You were happy when you walked in on me and Minho. You didn’t look worried about Seungmin. You looked pleased.” “I was shocked.” “You said you knew it.”
“Because I did.” “No. You thought you’d finally found something you could use.” Her face flushed. “I was trying to protect him.”
“You told me he’d come straight to you.” The room went still. Your sister’s eyes flicked towards Seungmin. You took out your phone, though you didn’t need to show her the message. She knew exactly what she had written. “You said he’d be so angry with me that he’d sleep with you tonight.” “I was upset.”
“About what?” She looked at Seungmin again. “About seeing someone treated like this.” Seungmin’s expression had gone flat. “You don’t know me at all,” he said.
“I know you deserve someone who respects you.” “You keep saying that like you’re talking about me. You aren’t.” “I came all this way because nobody else was going to tell you.”
“I already knew.” “And you’re fine with it because she’s convinced you this is what you want.” Seungmin stared at her for a moment. Then he shook his head. “You thought I’d be angry with her and come to you.” His voice stayed even, which somehow made your sister look more unsettled. “I wouldn’t.”
“You don’t know how you’d feel if you understood everything.” “I understand enough.” “She’s standing right there.”
“I told you to leave before she got here.” Your sister’s mouth closed. It was the first thing that seemed to reach her. For nearly two weeks, she had apparently imagined you intercepting messages, controlling Seungmin’s decisions and keeping him away from her. The possibility that he had heard everything she wanted to say and still rejected her had never been allowed into the fantasy. She recovered badly. “You’re letting her make a fool of you.” “I’m not.”
“You have no pride.” “That isn’t concern.” “I’m trying to help you.”
“No,” Seungmin said. “You’re trying to make me want something I don’t want.” Your sister’s eyes sharpened. “And what do you want? To be one of however many men she has wrapped around her finger?” The hurt from before was still there, but now it was joined by something steadier. “Stop talking about them.” She ignored you. “Minho was fixing your clothes while he couldn’t even be bothered to button his own shirt. Jisung was practically hanging off you the last time I saw him. He looked like he needed you to tell him what to do next.”
“Enough.” You unfolded your arms. “You don’t get to talk about them.” “I’m saying what everyone can see.”
“No. You’re saying what bothers you.” You stepped away from the door, closing some of the distance between you. “Jisung being soft bothers you. Seungmin not wanting to control me bothers you. Anything that doesn’t fit whatever miserable idea you have of how men are supposed to act makes you angry.” “That isn’t what I said.” “It’s exactly what you said.”
“You like them like that because it means you can do whatever you want.” “No.” “All of them running around after you, buying you things, fixing your clothes, doing whatever you say—”
“You stole a key to my home.” Her mouth snapped shut. “You took pictures of me without permission. You messaged my boyfriend behind my back. You turned up at his workplace more than once after he ignored you, and now you’ve come here because you thought you could make him leave me.” “I came because you were lying to him.”
“I wasn’t.” “You expect me to believe all of them are fine with this?” “I don’t care what you believe.”
“You think they all actually want you?” There it was. It came out before she could smooth it over. You watched her realise. The question hurt more than the other insults because it was closer to the centre of what she meant. Not disgust at the relationship. Disbelief that you could be loved inside it. You let the silence sit. Then you said, “That’s what you can’t stand.” Her face tightened. “Don’t flatter yourself.” “You don’t care that I’m with them. You care that they’re with me.”
The sentence came out more quietly than you expected. Your sister laughed, but there was no sweetness left in it. “Why would I be jealous of being passed between eight men?” Seungmin’s hand found yours. You held on. “You thought he’d choose you,” you said. “You said it yourself.” “I never said that.” “You said he’d come straight to you.”
“I meant he’d need someone.” “You meant you.” She looked at Seungmin. He did not look away. “I would never treat you the way she does,” your sister said.
Seungmin’s fingers tightened around yours. “You keep talking like this ends with me choosing you.” Her expression flickered. He continued before she could deny it. “It doesn’t.” “You only think that because you don’t understand what she’s doing.”
“Even if I had been angry with her, I still wouldn’t have gone to you.” The words were simple. They did not need anything added to them. Your sister’s face went blank for a second. Then the cruelty returned, stripped of almost everything polite. “Fine. Stay here and let her make you pathetic. Maybe that’s what you like.” Seungmin’s jaw tightened. You moved towards the door. “That’s enough.”
Your sister looked at you. “You’re throwing me out because I told the truth?” “I’m making you leave because you came here to hurt people.” “You can’t keep protecting him from reality.”
“I’m not protecting him from you. He doesn’t want you.” “You don’t speak for him.” “I’ve told you myself,” Seungmin said.
She ignored him. That, more than anything, made the whole thing obvious. She had spent weeks claiming to care about what Seungmin wanted. Now that he was saying it plainly, she refused to hear him. You opened the door. “Go home.” She stayed where she was. “So that’s it?” “For tonight, yes.”
“You’re just going to pretend none of this is sick?” “I’m not discussing my relationship with you again.” “And you think you can tell me where I’m allowed to go?”
“I’m telling you not to come back to this apartment. Don’t go to his work . Stop messaging Seungmin. He doesn’t want to speak to you.” Her gaze flicked towards him one last time. Seungmin stood beside you, still holding your hand. Your sister pulled her coat closer around herself. “You’ll regret this when it all falls apart.” Neither of you answered. She walked past you into the corridor. You closed the door before she reached the lift. For a moment, your hand stayed on the lock. Then you turned it. The apartment was quiet again. Seungmin didn’t speak immediately. He stood a few feet away, watching you without crowding you. You looked towards the paused television. “What were you watching?”
His eyebrows lifted slightly, as though that wasn’t the question he had expected. “I don’t know anymore.” You let out a breath that turned into something close to a laugh. Seungmin came nearer. “Are you okay?” “Yeah.” You rubbed at the place between your brows. “Mostly. She’s such an asshole.”
“She is.” “The stuff about Jisung and the boys pissed me off more than anything else.” “I know.”
“She barely knows them.” “She barely knows me.” You looked at him. He was still annoyed. You could see it in the line of his mouth and the way his thumb kept moving over the side of your hand. But he wasn’t broken by what she had said. He wasn’t questioning himself or looking for reassurance that he was masculine enough. He was simply angry that she had been cruel to people he loved. Your phone buzzed. Minho. Is she gone? You replied that she was. Jisung’s message appeared before you had put the phone away. are you both okay Three dots appeared immediately. did she expose you You looked at Seungmin. He noticed. “What?”
“Jisung wants to know whether she exposed me.” Seungmin’s expression flattened. “He’s enjoying this too much.” “He was worried.”
“He can be worried without typing like that.” You smiled and sent Jisung a message. Minho replied next. Do you want us to come back? You considered it, then looked around the apartment. The television was still paused. A paper bag sat open on the coffee table beside a drink with melted ice. Seungmin’s shoes were by the door. His charger was already plugged in beside the sofa. You were okay. No. We’re fine. Drive home safely. Minho sent a heart. Jisung sent four. Seungmin sat down on the sofa, then reached for your phone when you held it out. “What?” “You haven’t seen the actual message.”
“I heard it.” “That’s different.” He took the phone reluctantly. You watched his eyes move over the first message. Then the second. His face went blank. For several seconds, he said nothing. You sat beside him. “Well?” Seungmin locked the phone and handed it back. “She really doesn’t know anything about me.”
That made you laugh again. He looked offended. “Why is that funny?” “It isn’t.” “You’re laughing.”
“I’m laughing at her.” “That’s not better.” You leaned into his shoulder. “Jisung said something worse.” Seungmin immediately looked suspicious. “What did he say?”
You told him. He closed his eyes. Then he picked up the nearest cushion, put it over his face and stayed like that while you laughed against his side. When he finally lowered it, his ears were pink. “He didn’t need to say that in front of everyone.” “Everyone lready knew.” “That isn’t the point.”
You rested your head against him. “He wasn’t wrong.” Seungmin gave you a long look, then reached for the paper bag on the table. The fries inside had gone cold. He ate one anyway. “You wanted us to bring chips,” you said. “These aren’t chips.” “They’re close.”
You took one from the bag. It was terrible. You ate the rest of it. Seungmin found the remote beneath the cushion and restarted the episode from the beginning. You tucked your feet beneath his thigh, and he rested one hand around your ankle while the opening credits play
Synopsis: When your sister tries to steal Seungmin, he makes one thing painfully clear: he only has eyes for you.
A/n: omgg this took so long to edit ive been putting this off for ages but i finally did it! I also couldn’t help but sprinkle in some poly skz x reader lmaooa
Wc: 20.1k
Part 2
The first warning came when your sister texted you three times that morning to ask exactly when you and Seungmin would be arriving. The second came when she opened the front door wearing a dress you distinctly remembered her describing as far too nice for family things.
You looked at her. She looked at you.
Neither of you said anything for a moment. Then Seungmin appeared behind you, one hand holding a neatly wrapped cake box and the other resting comfortably against the small of your back. “Hi,” he said brightly. Your sister’s entire expression changed.
“Seungmin.” She smiled as though she had been expecting him personally. “Finally.” You glanced over your shoulder at him. He glanced down at you. His eyebrows lifted slightly.
Finally? You bit the inside of your cheek. Your sister stepped aside to let you both in, although she somehow managed to position herself so Seungmin had to pass close to her. He murmured a polite thank you and guided you ahead of him with a gentle hand at your waist. You had been dating long enough that the gesture barely registered anymore. Seungmin was always touching you in small, absent-minded ways—his fingers brushing yours as you walked, his palm settling on your knee beneath tables, his hand finding the back of your coat when you crossed a road.
It was rarely dramatic. It was simply constant. Your sister noticed. Her gaze dropped to his hand before moving back to his face.
“You look different in person,” she told him. Seungmin paused while removing his shoes. “Do I?” “Better.”
You turned away before either of them could see your smile. Seungmin placed his shoes neatly beside yours, then leaned closer to whisper, “Am I supposed to say she does too?” “No.” “Good.”
You elbowed him lightly. He caught your arm and squeezed it against his side, looking pleased with himself. Your sister was still watching. “You brought something?” she asked, nodding towards the box in his hand.
“Cake,” Seungmin said. “Your mum said she liked the one from that bakery near our flat.” “That was thoughtful.” “She sent him a photograph of it with the address circled,” you said. Seungmin looked offended.
“She provided helpful guidance.” “She threatened to disown me if we arrived without it.” “Still thoughtful.” “You didn’t even pay for it.”
“I carried it.” “You made me carry it on the train.” “For part of the journey.” “You said your arm hurt.”
“It did.” “Because you spent the entire morning playing games.” Seungmin smiled at your sister. “She has no sympathy for my suffering.” “None,” you confirmed.
Your sister laughed a little too enthusiastically. Not because the conversation had been particularly funny, but because Seungmin was smiling while he said it. You noticed. You also noticed the way she tucked her hair behind her ear before asking, “Do you want me to take that for you?”
She reached for the cake. Seungmin shifted it away automatically. “No, it’s all right. I’ve been entrusted with it.” “He’ll cry if anything happens to it,” you said.
“I’ll tell your mum it was your fault.” “You see what I live with?” Seungmin bumped his shoulder against yours. “You love it.” You opened your mouth to disagree.
He looked down at you expectantly, the beginnings of a grin already pulling at his lips. You hated how well he knew you. “Whatever,” you said. “There it is.”
He bent and pressed a quick kiss to your temple before following the sound of your mother calling from the kitchen. Your sister remained by the door with you. She watched him leave. Then she looked at you.
“You never said he was that handsome.” You blinked. “You’ve seen photographs.” “Photographs are different.” “I suppose.”
“He’s taller than I thought.” You stared at her. She stared back, seemingly unaware that there was anything strange about the intensity of her assessment. “Do you need his measurements?” you asked. “I can check the label in his coat.”
She rolled her eyes. “I was only saying.” “Right.” “You don’t have to be weird about it.”
“I’m not being weird.” “You’re doing that face.” “What face?” “The face you do when you think you’re funny.”
“I am funny.” “Seungmin clearly thinks so.” There was something strange beneath the words. Something slightly too pointed. Before you could decide whether you had imagined it, she smiled and linked her arm through yours.
“Come on. Mum’s been panicking over lunch for an hour.” She pulled you towards the kitchen as though nothing had happened. You let her. At that point, it was easier.
౨ৎ
Your mum adored Seungmin. That was hardly news. She adored him because he arrived on time, complimented her cooking, remembered details from conversations they had months ago and always insisted on helping clear the table. Your dad liked him because Seungmin could discuss football with convincing enthusiasm and had once spent nearly forty minutes helping him fix a temperamental television.
Even your relatives who had only met Seungmin briefly tended to approve of him. He was polite without seeming rehearsed, funny without demanding attention and attentive in a way that made people feel remembered. Your sister had apparently taken all of these qualities as an invitation. At first, you didn’t think much of it.
She asked him about work. Normal. She asked about the other members. Also normal. She asked whether he enjoyed travelling, what food he liked and whether he preferred going out or staying at home. A little interview-like, perhaps, but not particularly suspicious.
Then she moved from the chair opposite him to the empty one beside him when your mother asked her to fetch another plate. You looked at the abandoned chair. Then at her. She smiled innocently and crossed one leg over the other.
Seungmin glanced towards you. You were sitting on his other side, close enough that your knees touched beneath the table. He nudged your foot. You nudged him back.
His mouth twitched. Your sister leaned towards him. “So,” she said, “what did you think when you first met her?” You nearly inhaled your drink.
Seungmin turned towards you slowly. “Oh, no,” you said. His eyes brightened. “Oh, yes.”
“Don’t.” “I thought she was very strange.” Your mother laughed from the other end of the table. You stared at him. “That isn’t what you said before.”
“You told me not to embarrass you in front of your family.” “And this is you behaving?” “This is me being generous.” Your sister laughed, resting her hand against Seungmin’s arm.
It was light. Brief enough that she could claim it meant nothing. Still, you saw it. Seungmin looked down at her fingers. Your sister removed them a moment later, smiling as though the contact had been accidental.
“What did you actually think?” she asked. Seungmin looked back at you. The teasing softened around the edges. “I thought she was pretty.”
The answer was simple enough to make warmth spread through your chest. Then his smile returned. “Until she spoke.” You kicked his shin beneath the table.
He flinched dramatically. “See?” he told your family. “Violence.” “You deserved that.” “I complimented you.”
“You immediately ruined it.” “I said you were pretty.” “You said I was strange.” “You are strange.”
Your sister tilted her head. “I suppose you must usually date girls who are quite different from her.” The sentence slipped into the conversation so smoothly that it took you a second to understand it. Seungmin frowned slightly. “Different how?”
Your sister shrugged. “You know. More… elegant.” Your father suddenly became very interested in cutting his food. Your mother looked up.
You glanced down at yourself. You were wearing a jumper and trousers. Nothing particularly inelegant, unless your sister was counting the tiny mark on your sleeve from where Seungmin had flicked sauce at you in the kitchen. Seungmin followed your gaze. Then he looked at your sister.
“No,” he said. “I like this one.” You pressed your lips together. “This one?” you repeated. He patted your knee beneath the table.
“My favourite.” “I’m so flattered.” “You should be.” Your sister laughed, but there was something strained about it.
“I only meant that you seem very put together.” “I’m not,” Seungmin said cheerfully. “She found me looking for my phone this morning while I was talking to someone on it.” He looked towards your mother. “You raised a very critical daughter.” Your mum smiled. “She gets it from me.”
“Good to know.” The conversation moved on, but your sister did not return to her original chair. Every few minutes, she found another reason to address Seungmin directly. Did he like the food?
Had he visited the restaurant she mentioned? Did he think her hair looked better dark or light? That one made you turn. She lifted a section of her hair between her fingers.
“I’ve been thinking of changing it,” she explained. “What do you think?” Seungmin blinked. “I don’t know.” “You must have a preference.”
“For your hair?” She laughed as though he had made a joke. “Generally.” He looked at you. You had stopped pretending not to listen.
A hint of mischief appeared in his expression. “I like hers.” You narrowed your eyes. “You said I’d look good bald.” “You would.”
“That doesn’t count.” “It shows versatility.” Your sister’s hand fell from her hair. “You’re lucky,” she told you.
The words sounded pleasant. The way she looked at Seungmin did not. You raised an eyebrow. “I know.” “I mean, you’ve never really cared about things like that.”
“Things like what?” “Your appearance.” Silence settled over the table. It wasn’t complete silence. Your father’s fork scraped faintly against his plate, and the clock in the hallway continued ticking.
But the conversation stopped. Your sister smiled as though she had offered you a compliment. “You’ve always been confident enough not to bother,” she added. You knew this routine.
It had existed long before Seungmin. Your sister would say something cruel with a pleasant expression, and if you reacted, she would insist you had misunderstood. That she admired your confidence. That she wished she could leave the house without making an effort. That you were lucky not to care what people thought. Normally, you could ignore it. Today, the comment felt particularly childish.
You opened your mouth, but Seungmin spoke first. “She spent forty minutes choosing that jumper.” You turned towards him in disbelief. Your sister laughed.
Seungmin continued, “Then she asked me which trousers looked better and ignored my answer.” You nudged his side with your elbow. He caught your hand before you could pull it away and linked your fingers beneath the table. The gesture was concealed from everyone else.
His thumb brushed once over your knuckles. You understood what he was doing. He hadn’t ignored your sister’s comment. He had simply refused to let it settle over you.
“She looks lovely,” your mother said firmly. “She does,” Seungmin agreed. Your sister’s smile tightened. “I never said she didn’t.”
“No one said you did,” you replied. Her gaze met yours. For a moment, something sharp passed between you. Then Seungmin squeezed your hand and leaned close enough that his shoulder pressed against yours.
“You have something on your face,” he whispered. You immediately touched your cheek. “Where?” “The other side.” You touched the other cheek.
“No, lower.” “Seungmin.” “A little lower.” You glared at him. “There’s nothing there, is there?”
He smiled. “You’re so easy.” You tried to pull your hand from his. He tightened his grip.
“Don’t be sulky.” “I hate you.” Your sister watched the exchange with an unreadable expression. You barely noticed.
౨ৎ
After lunch, your mother attempted to stop Seungmin from helping with the dishes. Seungmin ignored her. He rolled his sleeves to his elbows, collected the empty plates and followed you into the kitchen. Your sister followed him.
Naturally. “You don’t have to do that,” she told him, taking a plate from his hands. “It’s fine.” “You’re a guest.”
“So is she.” Seungmin nodded towards you. You were leaning against the counter eating a piece of cake. Your sister looked at you.
“She’s family.” “She isn’t helping.” “I’m supervising,” you said. “You’re eating the dessert we haven’t served yet.”
“I’m checking it for poison.” Seungmin set the plates beside the sink. “And?” You took another bite.
“Still collecting evidence.” He reached towards your plate. You moved it out of reach. “Get your own.”
“I bought it.” “I paid for it.” “With our money.” “We don’t have shared finances.”
Your sister laughed again. “You two are funny.” You glanced at her. The compliment sounded genuine enough, but her eyes remained fixed on Seungmin.
He turned on the tap. Your sister stepped beside him. “I’ll wash,” she offered. “I can do it.”
“You dry, then.” You watched her pick up a sponge. Your mother called your name from the living room, asking whether you could help her find something. You pushed yourself away from the counter.
“Don’t eat my cake,” you warned Seungmin. “I would never.” “You absolutely would.” He placed one hand over his heart.
“Your lack of trust is upsetting.” You pointed the fork at him. “I’ll know.” “Go away.” You reluctantly carried the plate with you.
As you left the kitchen, you glanced back. Your sister had moved slightly closer to Seungmin. He was focused on rinsing a plate. You nearly stayed.
Then you caught yourself. It was your sister. Seungmin was your boyfriend. Nothing was going to happen because the two of them spent ninety seconds alone beside a sink.
You found your mother’s glasses on top of her head, endured several minutes of her insisting she had already checked there and returned to the kitchen. Your sister was speaking. “…must get tiring.” Seungmin passed her another plate. “What does?”
“Dating someone so different from you.” You stopped just outside the doorway. Seungmin didn’t appear to notice you. He frowned. “You’ve said that a few times.”
“I don’t mean it badly.” “What do you mean?” Your sister dried the plate slowly. “You’re very disciplined. Ambitious. You take care of yourself.”
He waited. “And she isn’t?” “She’s just more relaxed.” Seungmin looked down at the soapy water.
You knew that expression. He was choosing his words. Your sister mistook his silence for agreement. “I’ve always been more like you,” she continued. “Even when we were younger. People used to say I was the more responsible one.”
“Did they?” “And the more confident one.” Seungmin made a small sound that could have meant anything. Your sister smiled.
“It’s funny, really. Most people usually notice me first.” He glanced at her. “Okay.” You pressed your lips together.
She appeared thrown by the response. “I don’t mean to sound arrogant.” “Then don’t.” The answer was delivered so lightly that for a second, you wondered whether you had heard him correctly.
Your sister laughed uncertainly. “I’m only being honest.” Seungmin rinsed another plate. “About people noticing you?”
“Yes.” “Congratulations.” You had to cover your mouth. Your sister’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“You must have noticed that we’re quite different.” “I’ve noticed.” “I’m probably more like your usual type.” Seungmin finally turned off the tap.
He looked at her properly. “What’s my usual type?” Your sister leaned one hip against the counter. “Confident. Sophisticated.”
“Are you asking me or telling me?” “I’m guessing.” “You’ve guessed wrong.” She smiled as though he were teasing her.
“Have I?” “Yes.” Something about his tone should have ended the conversation. It didn’t.
Your sister lowered her voice. “She’s always been the sweeter one, I suppose. Men tend to like that.” Seungmin stared at her. Then his gaze moved past her shoulder and found you standing in the doorway.
His expression changed immediately. The irritation disappeared behind a slow, knowing smile. “How long have you been there?” he asked. Your sister turned sharply.
You lifted your plate. “Long enough to know you’ve been having a very interesting discussion about your type.” Seungmin dried his hands. “Apparently, I have one.”
“Do you?” “I’m learning a lot today.” Your sister straightened. “We were only talking.” “I heard.”
“There’s no need to make it strange.” You stepped into the kitchen and placed your half-finished cake on the counter. “I didn’t.” “No, but you’re doing that thing where you act territorial.”
Seungmin’s eyebrows rose. You laughed. “Territorial?” “You don’t need to hover every time another woman speaks to your boyfriend.” “I was helping Mum.”
“And then you came straight back.” “Because this is where my cake is.” Seungmin immediately reached for your plate. You slapped his hand away.
“See?” He looked wounded. “You care more about that cake than you care about me.” “The cake has never stolen my crisps.”
“It would if it could.” Your sister sighed. “You’re both impossible.” “Thank you,” Seungmin said.
You picked up your fork again. Your sister gave you a long look before placing the tea towel on the counter. “I’m going to see if Mum needs anything.” “She doesn’t,” you said. “Her glasses were on her head.”
Your sister ignored you and left. You waited until her footsteps had faded down the hall. Then you turned towards Seungmin. He was already looking at you.
A smile pulled at your mouth. “Your usual type?” He groaned and leaned back against the sink. “Please don’t.”
“So much like her.” Seungmin reached for you. You dodged around the kitchen island, laughing when he followed. “I’m only being honest,” you said, mimicking your sister’s voice.
“You’re enjoying this far too much.” “Apparently she’s the woman of your dreams.” “My dreams have better conversational skills.” You gasped. “That was mean.”
“It was accurate.” He moved to one side of the island. You moved in the opposite direction. “I thought you liked confident women.”
“I like you.” “That wasn’t the question.” “It’s my answer.” “You’re only saying that because I caught you.”
“Caught me doing dishes?” “Seductively.” “I was wearing rubber gloves.” “Exactly. Very provocative.”
Seungmin stopped. You stopped too, watching him suspiciously from across the island. His expression softened. “Did that bother you?”
The question was quiet enough to dissolve some of your amusement. You considered it. “Not really.” “Not really?”
“I don’t think you’re secretly going to run away with my sister.” “That’s reassuring.” “I’d give you at least a week before you begged me to take you back.” “A week?”
“Maybe four days.” Seungmin looked offended. “I wouldn’t make it through the first evening.” You smiled. He continued to watch you.
“But?” he prompted. You looked down at your cake. “She does that sometimes.” “Does what?”
“Compares us.” You scraped your fork lightly through the icing. “She always has. She thinks she’s being subtle.” “She isn’t.” “I know.” “She also thinks I’m an idiot.”
You laughed. “Why?” “Because I’ve said I like you at least twelve times today, and she’s decided that means I’m interested in her.” “Maybe you’re sending mixed signals.” “I asked her to move because she was standing on my foot.”
“Very flirtatious.” “She apologised and touched my arm.” “Scandalous.” “She’s touched my arm six times.”
“You counted?” “I started counting when she asked whether I thought she looked better with dark hair.” You laughed again, and Seungmin smiled. Then he walked around the island.
This time, you let him reach you. His hands settled on your waist, drawing you between his knees as he leaned back against the counter. “For the record,” he said, “I don’t think you’re lucky.” “No?”
“No. I think I’m incredibly brave.” You flicked his shoulder. He caught your wrist and kissed your palm. “And lucky,” he added.
“That was nearly sweet.” “Don’t tell anyone.” You rolled your eyes, but your arms slipped around his shoulders. He tilted his head.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” “I’m fine.” “Your sister’s being strange.” “She thinks she can steal you.”
“Can she?” You pretended to consider it. Seungmin pinched your side. You squealed and tried to twist away, but he trapped you against him.
“Answer carefully,” he warned. “I don’t know. She is very sophisticated.” Another pinch. “And confident!”
He attacked your other side. You dissolved into helpless laughter, nearly dropping your fork as you attempted to escape. “Seungmin!” “Wrong answer.”
“She’s your type!” “Take it back.” “Never!” He caught both your wrists in one hand and used the other to tickle your waist.
You kicked uselessly at his legs. “You’re horrible!” “Take it back.” “Fine!” you gasped. “She isn’t your type.”
“And?” “And you don’t want her.” “And?” You stared at him, breathless.
His hair had fallen over his forehead during the struggle, and his smile was bright and boyish and entirely too pleased. “And you’re obsessed with me.” “There we go.” He released your wrists.
You immediately smacked his chest. Seungmin laughed and caught you against him again, pressing a noisy kiss to your cheek before you could complain. “You’re very annoying,” you told him. “You were laughing.”
“Against my will.” He kissed your other cheek. “Still counts.” Footsteps sounded in the hallway.
You both separated just before your mother entered the kitchen. She looked at Seungmin’s messy hair, your flushed face and the abandoned washing-up. Neither of you spoke. Your mother sighed.
“The dishes, Seungmin.” “I was doing them.” “He attacked me,” you said. “You provoked me.”
Your mother pointed at the sink. “Both of you.” “Yes, Mum,” you said. “Yes, Mum,” Seungmin echoed.
You turned to glare at him. He smiled innocently. Your mother left the room shaking her head. Seungmin bumped his hip against yours as he turned the tap back on.
“Pass me the sponge.” “You pass me the sponge.” “It’s closer to you.” “You’re closer to the sink.”
He looked towards the doorway, then lowered his voice. “Do you think your sister would do it for me?” You stared at him. He managed to hold a serious expression for approximately two seconds.
Then you shoved the sponge directly into his chest.
౨ৎ
When you finally prepared to leave, your mother packed enough food for several days into a bag and made Seungmin promise to visit again soon. Your sister stood in the hallway while you put on your coat. “You’re leaving already?” she asked. “We’ve been here for five hours,” you said.
“It doesn’t feel that long.” Seungmin bent to tie his shoelace. Your sister’s gaze lingered on him. “You should come over more often.”
“We will,” you replied. “I meant Seungmin.” He looked up. Your sister smiled. “You don’t need to wait for her. You’re practically part of the family now.”
There it was. Not quite enough to confront. More than enough to notice. Seungmin straightened.
“I think she’d be upset if I visited without her.” “I wouldn’t,” you said. “I’d enjoy the peace.” He placed one hand on top of your head and pushed down lightly. Your sister laughed.
“You’re very patient with her.” Seungmin looked at you. “No,” he said. “She’s patient with me.” For once, there was no joke attached.
His hand slid from the top of your head to the back of your neck, thumb brushing softly beneath your hair. Your sister’s smile faded for half a second. Then it returned. “Well,” she said, opening the door, “it was lovely seeing you.”
“You too,” Seungmin replied politely. She hugged you first. It was brief. Then she turned towards Seungmin.
You expected her to offer a wave. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him. Seungmin froze. His hands hovered uncertainly beside her shoulders.
Your eyes widened. Over your sister’s head, his gaze found yours. His expression was so openly alarmed that a laugh burst out of you. Your sister released him.
“What’s funny?” “Nothing.” Seungmin stepped immediately towards you. You were still laughing as he took the bag of food from your hand and placed his other arm securely around your shoulders.
Your sister glanced between you. “Text me when you’re home.” “I will.” She looked at Seungmin. “You have my number, don’t you?”
“No,” he said. “Oh.” She paused. “I thought you did.” “Why would he?” you asked. “In case of an emergency.”
Seungmin nodded. “I’ll call emergency services.” You choked on another laugh. Your sister’s mouth tightened. “I only meant if something happened with you.”
“He has Mum’s number.” “And her Dad’s,” Seungmin added. “And Chan’s,” you said. “And Minho’s.”
“He doesn’t need your number.” Your sister folded her arms. “You make everything sound strange.” “You asked my boyfriend whether he had your number.”
“For emergencies.” “Right.” Seungmin gently steered you through the doorway before either of you could continue. “Thank you for lunch,” he called politely.
Your mother called goodbye from somewhere inside the house. Your sister remained at the door while the two of you walked down the path. You could feel her watching. Seungmin’s arm stayed around you until you reached the pavement.
Then he leaned close. “Don’t look now.” You immediately looked back. Your sister was still standing in the doorway.
She lifted her hand when she saw you turn. You waved. Seungmin sighed. “I specifically said not to.”
“I don’t take instructions well.” “I know.” The door finally closed. You walked several more steps in silence.
Then Seungmin said, “Your sister wants me.” You stopped. He stopped beside you. The solemn expression on his face lasted less than a second before you both started laughing.
“Your confidence is disgusting,” you told him.
౨ৎ
Your sister arrived at your flat on Saturday afternoon wearing heeled boots, a fitted coat and enough perfume to announce her presence before you had even opened the door. You looked at her. Then at the small handbag hanging from her shoulder. Then back at her.
“You said you were coming to borrow my straighteners.” “I am.” “Are you planning to straighten your hair here?” “No.”
“Then why do you look like you’re going somewhere?” She frowned. “I’m meeting someone later.” “You didn’t mention that.” “I didn’t realise I needed to submit an itinerary.”
“You don’t.” “Then why are you interrogating me?” “I asked one question.” “You asked three.”
You stepped aside to let her enter. She walked past you, removing her coat as she went. The outfit beneath it was somehow even more carefully chosen. You watched her smooth the fabric over her waist before checking her reflection in the hallway mirror.
Interesting. Very interesting. “You could have texted,” you said, closing the door. “I would’ve brought the straighteners to Mum’s tomorrow.” “I was nearby.”
She wasn’t. Your sister lived nearly forty minutes in the opposite direction. You decided not to point that out. From the living room, Seungmin called, “Who is it?”
Your sister’s posture changed almost imperceptibly. Her shoulders pulled back. Her expression softened. You stared at her.
She ignored you. “Your favourite person,” you called. There was a pause. Then Seungmin replied, “Felix?”
You gasped. Your sister laughed. You marched into the living room, already preparing several punishments. Seungmin was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the coffee table.
A pale blue fabric headband held his hair away from his face, and there was a thin layer of clay mask drying across his cheeks because you had told him his skin looked tired. He had complained for eleven minutes. Then he had asked whether there was enough left for his forehead. Your left hand rested carefully on top of an old magazine while Seungmin held your right between both of his.
Three of your fingernails were painted. One was half-painted. The fifth had somehow acquired a streak of polish across your skin. Seungmin looked up as you entered.
The smile on his face widened. “There’s my second-favourite person.” You stopped in front of him. “Second?”
“Felix bakes for me.” “I cook for you.” “You once burned instant noodles.” “The packet was confusing.”
“You forgot the water.” “It didn’t say when to add it.” You placed one foot against his thigh and pushed lightly. Seungmin caught your ankle.
“No kicking near the nail polish.” “You deserve worse.” “You asked me to do this.” “And you’re doing a terrible job.”
He looked down at your nails. “They’re beautiful.” “There’s polish on my knuckle.” Your sister appeared behind you.
Seungmin glanced towards her. His expression flickered with surprise before settling into a pleasant smile. “Oh. Hi.” “Hi.”
Your sister looked him over. Her gaze paused at the headband. Then the face mask. Then your hand resting in his.
Her smile faltered, only slightly. “I didn’t know you were here.” You turned your head towards her. She knew.
You had mentioned it the previous evening when she asked what you were doing this weekend. Seungmin did not appear to remember that. “I live here sometimes,” he said. “You don’t,” you replied.
Your sister moved further into the room. “You look comfortable,” she said. Seungmin touched the edge of the headband. “This was forced on me.”
“You asked whether the bow should go in the middle,” you said. Your sister laughed, lowering herself onto the sofa behind him. “It suits you.” Seungmin looked up at her.
“The face mask?” “The headband.” He touched it again. “Thanks.”
Her smile brightened. You watched her tuck one leg elegantly over the other. Seungmin returned his attention to your hand. “Stop moving.”
“I’m not moving.” “You’re moving now.” “Because you told me not to.” He tightened his fingers around yours.
“If you smudge this one, I’m starting again.” “You’ve already smudged it.” “That was intentional.” “Was the polish on my skin intentional too?”
“Yes.” “What was the artistic vision?” “Annoying you.” You tried to pull your hand away.
Seungmin held on. “Stay still.” “You’re enjoying the authority.” “I rarely have any in this relationship.”
“Because you can’t be trusted.” Your sister leaned forwards. “You let him paint your nails?” You looked at her.
“He volunteered.” “I was coerced,” Seungmin said. “You said you could do it better than me.” “I can.”
You lifted your hand. He immediately lowered it again before the wet polish could run. “That remains to be seen.” Your sister tilted her head.
“I’d never ask my boyfriend to do something like that.” You glanced at Seungmin. He glanced at you. There it was again.
That tiny shared pause when both of you noticed something and decided, without speaking, whether it was worth reacting to. You smiled. “Good thing he isn’t your boyfriend, then.” Your sister’s expression tightened.
Only for a second. Then she laughed. “I only mean I’d feel bad making him do something so feminine.” Seungmin inspected your thumbnail.
“You think painting nails is feminine?” “Usually.” “Then I’m doing a very poor job of it.” You snorted.
He blew gently across your nail. Your sister watched his lips purse. “It’s sweet,” she said. “I just wouldn’t have expected it from you.” “What did you expect?” Seungmin asked.
“I don’t know.” She did know. You could tell by the way she leaned towards him. “Something more masculine, I suppose.”
Seungmin looked down at himself. He was wearing grey jogging bottoms, an old sweatshirt and your fluffy skincare headband. “I’m devastated.” “You know what I mean.”
“I really don’t.” She smiled as though he were deliberately teasing her. “You seem like someone who’d usually want a very feminine girlfriend.” Seungmin’s brush paused.
You looked at your sister. She was looking at him. Not you. He lifted his eyes slowly.
“I do.” Your sister’s smile widened. Then Seungmin returned his attention to your hand. “That’s why I’m dating her.”
You pressed your lips together. Your sister glanced at you. You smiled pleasantly. Seungmin dipped the brush into the polish.
“She isn’t exactly what most people would call feminine,” your sister said. You raised your eyebrows. Seungmin’s hand stopped again. Your sister gestured towards you.
You were wearing one of Seungmin’s old shirts, a pair of shorts and fluffy socks. Your hair was twisted into a loose knot that had begun collapsing an hour ago. There was a faint smudge of clay mask beside your jaw where you had attempted to kiss Seungmin before it dried. You looked extremely comfortable. That had apparently become a flaw.
“I’m not?” you asked. “I didn’t mean it badly.” “Of course not.” “You’ve never cared about being girly.”
“I’m getting my nails painted.” “By your boyfriend.” “Yes.” “So?”
“So that feels relevant.” Your sister rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. You’re not someone who gets dressed up around the house or worries about always looking attractive.” You looked down at yourself.
Then at Seungmin. His gaze had settled on your face. You recognised the slight narrowing of his eyes. Not anger.
Not yet. Attention. Your sister continued, “I just think it’s brave.” “Brave?” you repeated.
“To be that comfortable so early in a relationship.” You and Seungmin had been together for nearly two years. Apparently that remained early enough to maintain a constant state of glamour. “How does she normally dress at home?” Seungmin asked.
Your sister seemed pleased to have his attention again. “Like this.” “Right.” “She’s always been a little careless.”
“With clothes?” “With everything.” You laughed quietly. Your sister looked at you.
“What?” “Nothing.” Seungmin placed the nail brush carefully inside the bottle. Then he lifted your hand and examined his work.
“Perfect.” “It’s uneven.” “So are your fingers.” “My fingers aren’t uneven.”
“One’s shorter.” “They’re supposed to be different lengths.” “Convenient excuse.” He brought your hand towards his mouth.
You frowned. “What are you doing?” “Checking whether it’s dry.” “With your lips?”
“Yes.” “That makes no sense.” Seungmin pressed a delicate kiss to the side of your index finger, avoiding the wet nail. Then he kissed your knuckle.
Then your wrist. A smile pulled at your mouth despite yourself. “Dry,” he announced. “You didn’t touch the polish.”
“I’m an expert.” “You’re an idiot.” He kissed your wrist again. Your sister shifted on the sofa.
“You two are very…” She paused. “Affectionate.” “That sounded judgemental,” you said. “It wasn’t.” “It sounded a little judgemental,” Seungmin agreed.
“I only mean you don’t seem like the clingy type.” She was speaking to him again. Seungmin leaned back against your legs. “I’m not.”
You looked down at him. He looked up at you. “You’re currently using me as a chair.” “You’re comfortable.”
Seungmin smiled lazily, reaching behind himself until his hand found your knee. You threaded your fingers through his hair, careful not to disturb the headband. He immediately tilted his head into your touch. Your sister watched him do it.
Something in her expression hardened. “You always liked being fussed over,” she said to you. You looked at her. “What?”
“When we were younger. You always needed everyone’s attention.” The comment was casual. Almost playful. You knew better.
“I don’t remember that.” “You used to follow Mum around constantly.” “I was six.” “You cried whenever she left the room.”
“I was still six.” “You’ve never liked being alone.” Seungmin’s thumb stroked once over your knee. You shrugged.
“Good thing I don’t have to be.” Your sister’s eyes flicked towards his hand. “That’s what I mean. You need a lot from people.” There was a quietness beneath the words.
An implication she wanted Seungmin to catch. You were needy. Difficult. Exhausting.
The kind of girlfriend who demanded face masks and painted nails and constant affection. Your sister, naturally, would never require so much effort. Seungmin looked up at you. “Do you?”
“Do I what?” “Need a lot from me?” You pretended to consider it. “Well, you could make more tea.”
“I made the last one.” “You drank half of it.” “It became ours when you let me taste it.” “That’s not how sharing works.”
Your sister exhaled through her nose. “You make everything into a joke.” “You make everything very serious,” you replied. “I’m trying to have a conversation.”
“With my boyfriend?” “With both of you.” “You’ve mostly been looking at him.” The room went still.
Your sister blinked. Seungmin’s eyebrows lifted. You hadn’t intended to say it quite so plainly. You weren’t upset.
Not yet. You were mostly curious to see what she would do when someone acknowledged the obvious. She recovered quickly. “I’m looking at whoever’s speaking.”
“He hasn’t been speaking.” “He literally just was.” You smiled. “All right.”
Your sister folded her arms. “You’re being strange again.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You implied something.”
“What did I imply?” “You know exactly what.” Seungmin’s hand slid around the back of your knee. His fingertips squeezed gently.
You looked down at him. He gave you a small, private smile. There was no concern in it. He knew you weren’t jealous.
Mostly, he appeared entertained. “You came for straighteners,” you reminded your sister. “I know.” “They’re in the bedroom.”
“Can you get them?” “You know where they are.” She hesitated. Her gaze moved towards the hallway, then back to Seungmin.
“I haven’t been in your bedroom since you moved things around.” “You’ll survive.” “I don’t want to go through your things.” “You’ve never had an issue before.”
Her mouth tightened. You smiled sweetly. “I’ll show you.” You gently extracted your hand from Seungmin’s grasp, holding your fingers carefully apart.
He immediately caught your wrist. “Where are you going?” “To get the straighteners.” “You’ll ruin your nails.”
“I’m walking, not digging a tunnel.” “You’re very clumsy.” “You painted them five minutes ago. They’re dry.” Seungmin tightened his grip.
“Wait.” “What?” He reached for the bottle of top coat on the table. “You need this.”
“You didn’t mention top coat before.” “I forgot.” “You just don’t want me to leave.” “That’s ridiculous.”
“You’re holding my wrist.” “To protect my work.” “Say you’ll miss me.” “You’ll be gone for thirty seconds.”
“Then it shouldn’t be difficult.” Seungmin narrowed his eyes. Your sister watched the exchange. You waited.
He looked away first. “I’ll miss you,” he muttered. You grinned. “What was that?”
“You heard me.” “I don’t think I did.” “I’m not repeating it.” “Then I suppose I’ll have to stay.”
Seungmin looked back at you suspiciously. You lowered yourself onto the floor in front of him. His expression brightened. Then you reached for the top coat.
He held it out of reach. “You said you were staying.” “To do my own nails.” “No.”
“Give it to me.” “You’ll ruin them.” “They’re already ruined.” Seungmin gasped.
You grabbed for the bottle. He leaned away. You lunged across him, careful to keep your painted hand lifted. Seungmin caught you around the waist with his free arm.
“Behave.” “Give it.” “No.” “Seungmin.”
You tried to reach behind him. He shifted again, pulling you further into his lap. Your sister cleared her throat. You both looked towards her.
She was still sitting on the sofa. Watching. You had briefly forgotten she was there. “Sorry,” you said, although you weren’t particularly sorry.
Seungmin rested his chin on your shoulder. He still had one arm wrapped firmly around your waist. Your sister’s gaze dropped to it. “Could you get the straighteners?” she asked.
“You know where they are,” you repeated. “I already told you I don’t.” Seungmin lifted his head. “I can get them.”
Your sister’s face brightened. You turned towards him. He was already beginning to stand, carefully guiding you off his lap. Your sister rose too.
Seungmin paused. He looked at her. Then at you. You pressed your lips together to keep from laughing.
There was no reason for both of them to go. Your sister apparently believed your bedroom contained an unusually complicated straightener-storage system that required Seungmin’s personal guidance. “I know where they are,” he said. “I’ll come with you.”
“You can stay here.” Her smile faltered. “I don’t mind.” “I do.”
The answer was so immediate that you made a small choking sound. Your sister’s patience finally snapped. “Can someone please get them?” You and Seungmin both looked at her.
She smiled tightly. “The straighteners.” “Right,” you said. Seungmin pointed at you.
“Don’t touch anything.” “It’s my flat.” “My nail polish.” He disappeared down the hallway.
Your sister waited until he was out of earshot. Then she looked at you. “You don’t have to perform every time I’m here.” You stared at her.
“Perform?” “The constant touching. The little jokes.” “You think that’s for you?” “I think you’re trying very hard to prove something.”
You looked towards the hallway. Seungmin was rummaging through the bathroom cabinet, apparently having forgotten that you kept the straighteners inside your wardrobe. You turned back to her. “I’m sitting in my own living room wearing his shirt while he paints my nails.”
“Exactly.” “What am I proving?” “That you’re comfortable with him.” “I am comfortable with him.”
“You don’t need to make it so obvious.” A laugh escaped you. Your sister’s expression darkened. “What?”
“I genuinely don’t understand what you’re accusing me of.” “You’re acting territorial.” “I haven’t stopped you speaking to him.” “You don’t have to. You just keep interrupting.”
“This is my flat.” “So?” “He’s my boyfriend.” “I know that.”
“Do you?” Her eyes narrowed. You smiled. Still amused.
Mostly. But something sharper had begun pressing beneath your ribs. Your sister had always competed with you. Clothes. Friends. Attention. Compliments.
Anything you possessed became evidence that she deserved something better. You had simply never expected her to become this obvious. “You’re imagining things,” she said. “Am I?”
“Yes.” “Then why did you come dressed like that to borrow straighteners?” Her face changed. Only for an instant.
Then she scoffed. “I told you I’m going out.” “Where?” “Why do you care?”
“I don’t.” “You clearly do.” “You’ve travelled forty minutes to borrow something you could buy for twenty pounds.” “I was nearby.”
“No, you weren’t.” She folded her arms. “Seungmin doesn’t seem to mind me being here.” There it was.
You looked at her. She looked pleased with herself. “Why would he mind?” “He’s been friendly.”
“He’s usually friendly.” “Not with everyone.” You nearly smiled. Your sister had known Seungmin for one afternoon.
Apparently she had already developed an extensive understanding of his social habits. “He complimented me last time,” she continued. “When?” “He said my dress was nice.”
“Mum told him to.” “That doesn’t mean he didn’t think it.” “No, I’m sure he has very strong feelings about the dress.” “You don’t have to be jealous.”
You stared at her. Then you laughed. You couldn’t help it. The idea was so completely detached from reality that amusement overwhelmed everything else.
Your sister’s face hardened. “I’m serious.” “So am I.” “Then why are you laughing?”
“Because you think Seungmin complimenting your dress means I should be worried.” “I didn’t say you should be worried.” “You said I was jealous.” “You’re acting like it.”
“Trust me.” You leaned back against the sofa. “I’m not.” Your sister opened her mouth. Seungmin returned before she could answer. He was holding the straighteners in one hand
He handed the straighteners to your sister. She accepted them. “Thank you.” “No problem.”
Her fingers lingered against his for a moment. Seungmin looked down at their hands. Then politely extracted his own. “I should probably go,” your sister said.
You looked at the clock. She had been there for less than twenty minutes. “Your plans?” you asked. “Yes.”
She picked up her coat. Seungmin returned to the floor beside you, already reaching for your hand. Your sister watched him pull you down beside him. Your sister opened the front door.
“I’ll text you,” she said to you. “Okay.” She looked towards Seungmin. “It was nice seeing you.”
“You too.” “You look good, by the way.” Seungmin glanced down at his sweatshirt. “Thanks.”
“The headband especially.” His hand rose to the blue bow. “Right.” She laughed softly.
Then she left. You waited until the door closed. Silence settled over the flat. Seungmin stared at it.
You stared at him. He turned slowly. “What?” You broke first.
Laughter burst out of you so suddenly that you nearly knocked over the nail polish. Seungmin caught the bottle. “Careful!” “The headband especially,” you repeated.
“Stop.” “You look good, by the way.” “I said stop.” You twisted in his arms until you were facing him.
Seungmin was kneeling over you, one hand planted beside your shoulder and the other wrapped securely around your waist. You looked up at him. “I like your headband.” “Thank you. I already have a beautiful girlfriend.”
You nodded. “Very natural.” “You’re ridiculous.” “And you’re obsessed with me.”
“There it is.” “There what is?” “You’ve been waiting to say that all afternoon.” “I haven’t.”
“You have.” “No.” “Yes.” You tried to push him away with your forearm.
Seungmin remained exactly where he was. “Admit it,” he said. “Admit what?” “That you’re jealous.”
“I’m not.” “Just a little?” “No.” “Not even when she touched my hand?”
“I thought about breaking her fingers.” Seungmin’s eyes widened. You hooked one leg around his hips and attempted to roll him onto his back. He anticipated it, shifting his weight before you could gain any leverage.
“You’re cheating,” you complained. “How?” “You’re stronger.” “That isn’t cheating.”
“It is when I’m losing.” He laughed. You used the distraction to push at his shoulder again. Seungmin caught both your wrists.
Your breath hitched, more from surprise than anything else. He pinned them lightly above your head, careful not to let your nails touch the carpet. His hair had begun slipping free from the headband. The clay mask had cracked faintly near the corners of his smile.
He looked completely ridiculous. And unfairly lovely. “Still think I enjoyed it?” he asked. You pretended to consider your answer.
His eyes narrowed. “Choose carefully.” You bit back a smile. “She is very feminine.”
Seungmin lowered his face closer to yours. “Wrong direction.” “And confident.” His grip tightened slightly around your wrists.
You laughed. “And sophisticated.” “Do you want to keep your newly painted nails?” “That sounds like a threat.”
“It is.” “You worked so hard on them.” “I can start again.” “You wouldn’t.”
“I have nowhere to be.” You squirmed beneath him. He shifted, trapping you more securely without putting his weight on you. “You’re impossible,” you said.
“You started this.” “She’s your type.” Seungmin stared at you. Then he released one of your wrists.
You immediately tried to escape. His free hand found your side. You squealed. “No!”
“Take it back.” “You can’t keep doing this!” “I can until you learn.” His fingers dug gently into your waist.
You dissolved into laughter, twisting helplessly beneath him. “The mask!” you gasped. “You’ll crack the mask!” “I don’t care.” “You were worried about it two minutes ago!”
“You’ve pushed me too far.” You kicked at the rug. Seungmin caught your leg beneath his knee. “You’re evil!”
“And?” “Controlling!” “And?” “Obsessed with me!”
His fingers stopped. “There we go.” You glared up at him, breathless. “That isn’t fair.”
“It’s completely fair.” “I was supposed to say you don’t want her.” “I know I don’t want her.” “You’re supposed to reassure me.”
“Are you worried?” “No.” “Then why do you need reassurance?” “Because I enjoy compliments.”
Seungmin smiled. The teasing faded gently from his expression. He released your other wrist and settled his hand beside your head instead. “You’re very pretty.”
“That was basic.” “You’re especially pretty when you’re wearing my clothes.” “Better.” “You’re funny.”
“I know.” “And irritating.” “That wasn’t a compliment.” “It’s one of my favourite things about you.”
You looked up at him. His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek. “You’re my favourite person to come home to,” he continued. “My favourite person to annoy. My favourite person to do absolutely nothing with.” Your smile softened.
Seungmin’s did too. “And,” he added, “I’m so obsessed with you that I let you put this stupid thing on my head.” You touched the bow. “You love the headband.”
“I tolerate it.” “You’re avoiding the important part.” “What important part?” “The part where you admit I’m obsessed with you.”
You laughed. “You just admitted it yourself.” “I want to hear you say it.” “You’re obsessed with me.”
“And?” You stared at him. He waited expectantly. “And you don’t want my sister.”
“Obviously.” “And?” A slow grin spread across his face. You realised what he wanted.
“No.” “Say it.” “I’m not saying it.” “You know you want to.”
“I don’t.” Seungmin’s fingers hovered threateningly near your waist. You recoiled. “Don’t.”
“Then say it.” “You’re abusing your power.” “I’m waiting.” You glared at him.
He looked delighted. “And I’m obsessed with you too,” you muttered. “What was that?” “You heard me.”
“The face mask is restricting my hearing.” “That isn’t how masks work.” “Speak clearly.” You tried not to smile.
“I’m obsessed with you too.” “There we go.” He bent and kissed you. It began soft.
A pleased little press of his lips against yours. Then you reached for the back of his neck and accidentally brushed one wet nail against his cheek. Seungmin pulled away. You froze.
A bright streak of polish now cut through the dried clay mask. For one second, neither of you moved. Then you burst out laughing. Seungmin stared at you.
“You ruined it.” “I’m sorry!” “You did that on purpose.” “I didn’t!”
“You attacked me.” “You were on top of me!” “Because you accused me of wanting your sister.” Seungmin touched his cheek.
His fingers came away with polish on them. His mouth dropped open. You laughed even harder. “You look beautiful.”
“You’re sleeping on the sofa.” “It’s my flat.” “Then I’m sleeping in your bed alone.” “You wouldn’t last ten minutes.”
“I’d sleep perfectly.” You grinned. Seungmin tried to maintain his glare. He failed.
A laugh escaped him. Then another. He lowered his head until his forehead rested against your shoulder, both of you shaking with laughter on the living-room floor. You wrapped your arms around him.
“Your mask really is ruined.” “I know.” “And the polish is definitely smudged.” “I know.”
౨ৎ
Your sister invited herself shopping with you three days later. Technically, she asked whether you had bought your mum’s birthday present yet. When you told her that you and Seungmin were going into town on Sunday to find something, she replied that she had been planning to go that day too. You had stared at the message for several seconds. Seungmin, lying beside you with his head on your stomach, had tilted his phone away from his face and asked, “Why are you making that expression?”
“My sister wants to come shopping with us.” He had gone silent. You lowered your phone to look at him. “That was a very long pause.” “I was trying to think of something polite.”
“And?” “I couldn’t.” You laughed and ran your fingers through his hair. “We are shopping for her mum too.” “Unfortunately.”
“She’s my mum.” “That’s why I said unfortunately. I like your mum.” “You’re horrible.” Seungmin had turned his head and pressed a kiss to your stomach through your shirt. “Tell her she can come.”
“You don’t sound very enthusiastic.” “I’m thrilled. Maybe she can tell me more about what kind of woman I usually prefer.” You had flicked his forehead. He had bitten your finger.
The matter was settled.
౨ৎ
Your sister arrived twenty minutes late. You and Seungmin had already been standing outside the shopping centre long enough for him to complain about the cold four times, steal one of your gloves and attempt to warm his other hand by shoving it beneath the back of your jumper. You had slapped him away. He had waited thirty seconds before trying again.
“Your hand is freezing,” you complained, twisting out of his reach. “That’s why I need your body heat.” “You have pockets.” “They’re not as warm as you.”
“They don’t want you touching them either.” Seungmin smiled and caught the belt loop of your jeans when you tried to step away. “Come back.” “No.” “You’re abandoning me.”
“I’m moving half a metre.” “That’s still too far.” You rolled your eyes, but you let him pull you backwards until your shoulder rested against his chest. He wrapped both arms around your waist and tucked his chin over your shoulder, immediately pleased with himself. “You’re very clingy today,” you said.
“It’s cold.” “You were clingy yesterday too.” “I was tired.” “You fell asleep on top of me. I couldn’t breathe.”
“And yet you let me stay.” His laugh warmed the side of your neck. Your sister found you like that. She slowed as she approached, taking in Seungmin’s arms around your middle and the way your hands rested over his. Then she smiled.
“Sorry,” she said, although she did not sound particularly sorry. “The train was delayed.” “You said you were driving,” you replied. She paused. Seungmin’s face disappeared briefly against your shoulder. You felt the silent shake of his laughter.
“I changed my mind,” your sister said. “Clearly.” She looked at Seungmin. “Have you been waiting long?” “Long enough for her to attack me.”
“I moved your freezing hand away,” you said. Seungmin tightened his arms around your waist. “Exactly.” Your sister laughed, her gaze lingering on him a little too long. “You poor thing.” Your sister looked at you with a small, knowing smile. “You’ve always been like that.”
“Like what?” “Rough.” Seungmin’s eyebrows rose. You looked down at your outfit as though you might find evidence of roughness on your coat. “I pushed his hand away.”
“I’m only joking.” “Right.” “She’s very frightening,” Seungmin said solemnly. “I live in constant fear.” Then he kissed your cheek and released you, taking your hand instead. “Can we go inside before I lose feeling in my fingers?”
“You stole my glove.” “It wasn’t enough.” Your sister walked beside him as you entered the shopping centre. You ended up on his other side.
It was not immediately strange. The pavement narrowed near the doors, people moved around you, and your sister had always been skilled at placing herself exactly where she wanted to be without appearing deliberate. But once you were inside, she remained there. She asked Seungmin what he thought you should buy. She asked whether he enjoyed shopping. She asked which shops he liked, whether he cared about clothes and whether he usually chose his own outfits. He answered politely.
Mostly. When she asked whether he had a favourite designer, he said, “Whoever makes comfortable trousers.” When she asked what colours he liked on women, he said, “Normal ones.” Your sister frowned. “I was asking a normal question.”
“I know,” you said. “His answer was stupid.” Seungmin swung your joined hands between you. Your sister glanced down. “I think you’d suit darker colours,” she told him.
“I wear dark colours.” “I know. They make you look more mature.” You looked across him. “What does he look like now?” She ignored you. “You have a very classic face.”
Seungmin turned towards you. “Do I?” “No.” He looked offended. “You didn’t even think about it.” “I look at your face every day.”
“And you’ve never thought it was classic?” “I’ve thought it was annoying.” “That isn’t a facial structure.” “It should be.”
Your sister sighed softly. “You never take compliments seriously.” “She rarely gives them,” Seungmin said. “I complimented you this morning.” “You said my hair looked less strange than usual.”
“That was generous.” “You also said I looked tired.” “You did.” “You make me feel very cherished.”
You stopped in the middle of the walkway and placed both hands around his face. “You are beautiful.” Seungmin’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’re mocking me.” “Never.” “You’re smiling.”
“Because you’re beautiful.” He stared at you for another second before his mouth betrayed him. A reluctant smile appeared. “There,” you said, squeezing his cheeks. “Pretty.”
Seungmin caught both your wrists and pulled your hands away. “Don’t touch my face in public.” “You love it.” Your sister had gone quiet. You released Seungmin’s face and started walking again. He slipped his hand into yours as though the interruption had never happened.
The first shop was useless. The second was worse. Your mum had said she wanted something for the house, which sounded simple until you were faced with fifteen aisles of objects she might already own. Your sister suggested a decorative vase.
You reminded her that your mum had six. Seungmin picked up a tiny ceramic dog wearing a crown. You told him to put it down. “She’d love him,” he said.
“She’d ask why we bought her rubbish.” “He’s cute.” “He’s ugly.” “He can hear you.”
Your sister smiled at Seungmin. “I think he’s cute.” You looked at her. She was not looking at the ceramic dog. Seungmin, apparently unaware or pretending to be, placed the ornament carefully in your hands. “Hold him.”
“No.” “He likes you.” “You like him.” “He reminds me of you.”
You stared at the dog. The dog stared back with badly painted eyes. “You’re sleeping alone tonight.” Seungmin smiled. “You say that every week.”
“One day I’ll mean it.” “No, you won’t.” Your sister picked up a sleek glass vase and held it towards Seungmin. “What about this?” He glanced at it. “It’s nice.”
“She already has something similar,” you said. Your sister’s smile tightened. “Not exactly like this.” “It’s almost identical.” “It’s more modern.”
“Mum doesn’t care about modern.” “She might.” Your sister looked at Seungmin. “What do you think?” He looked between you both.
Then at the vase. Then at the ceramic dog still in your hands. “I think we should buy the dog.” You laughed.
Your sister did not. “You’re both impossible,” she said, returning the vase to the shelf. “That keeps coming up,” Seungmin replied. You carried the dog for another two aisles before secretly placing it on a display of cushions.
Seungmin noticed immediately. “Where is he?” “Who?” “The dog.”
“I don’t know.” “You abandoned him.” “He wasn’t ours.” “He could have been.”
“Not everything you like has to come home with us.” “You came home with me.” Your sister laughed. You turned towards Seungmin slowly. “Was that meant to be sweet?”
“Yes.” “It sounded like you found me beside a road.” “I rescued you.” “From what?”
“Yourself.” You shoved him lightly towards a stack of towels. He caught your elbow and pulled you with him, making you stumble against his chest. His free arm wrapped around your waist before you could fall. You tried not to smile.
You failed. Your sister walked ahead.
౨ৎ
After nearly an hour, you found a set of handmade serving bowls that your mum would genuinely like. Your sister thought they were plain. Seungmin thought one of them looked like a hat. You thought both of them needed to stop talking.
You were waiting at the till when your sister announced that she wanted coffee. “There’s a place downstairs,” she said. “I’ll go.” “I’ll come,” you replied. “I need the toilet anyway.” Her expression flickered.
Only slightly. Then she smiled. “You can stay with the bags. Seungmin and I can get them.” Seungmin looked up from the receipt in his hand. You looked at her.
She looked at him. There was a small silence. Then Seungmin said, “She knows my order.” Your sister recovered quickly. “You can tell me.”
“I’ll forget something.” “It’s coffee.” “He’s very demanding,” you said. Seungmin nodded.
Your sister laughed, although her eyes stayed on him. “I think I can manage.” You could have refused. Part of you wanted to, not because you thought anything would happen, but because your sister’s intentions had become so transparent that allowing her to proceed felt almost embarrassing. Then curiosity won.
You handed the shopping bag to Seungmin. “Fine. Get me something sweet.” “What?” “Surprise me.” “That always ends badly.”
“Only because you make poor choices.” Seungmin stared at you. You smiled. He sighed. “Fine.”
Your sister looked pleased. Far too pleased. You kissed Seungmin’s cheek before stepping away. “Don’t let her buy me anything with coconut.”
౨ৎ
Seungmin watched you disappear into the crowd. He knew exactly what you were doing. You had kissed him in front of your sister on purpose. Not because you were worried.
Because you were a menace. A message appeared on his phone before he and your sister had reached the escalator. Don’t fall in love while I’m gone x He smiled despite himself.
Your sister noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “Was that her?”
“Yes.” “What did she say?” Seungmin put his phone away. “Nothing important.” Your sister stepped onto the escalator beside him.
For several seconds, she was silent. Then she said, “She checks on you a lot.” Seungmin looked at her. “Does she?” “She’s always texting you.”
“We text each other.” “I know. I just mean she likes knowing where you are.” He considered the comment. “She sent me a joke.”
“What joke?” “One you wouldn’t find funny.” Your sister’s mouth tightened. “You don’t know that.” “I know her sense of humour.”
“And mine?” “Not really.” The escalator carried them down another floor. Your sister rested one hand on the rail. “You and her are very different.”
Seungmin looked ahead. “You’ve mentioned that.” “I don’t mean it as an insult.” “You keep saying that too.” She laughed softly. “You remember.”
“I have a good memory.” “You do seem observant.” “Sometimes.” “That’s why I’m surprised.”
He turned his head. “By what?” She looked briefly uncertain, as if she had expected him to understand without making her say it aloud. “Nothing.”
Seungmin faced forwards again. The coffee shop was busy. A line curled away from the counter, giving your sister more time than she probably needed. She moved closer to him as they joined it. “I’ve always wondered how she ended up with someone like you.”
Seungmin’s expression did not change. “Someone like me?” “Successful. Disciplined. Mature.” “You think she isn’t those things?”
“I didn’t say that.” “You implied it.” Your sister sighed. “You’re very defensive of her.” “She’s my girlfriend.”
“I know.” “Then why are you surprised?” “I’m not surprised. I just think you misunderstand me.” Seungmin shoved one hand into his coat pocket. “Then explain.”
Your sister glanced towards the counter. The line had barely moved. “She’s always been the sweet one,” she said. “The one people feel protective over. I’ve always been more independent.” “Okay.” “She needs more reassurance.”
“Does she?” “You’ve seen how she is.” “I have.” “And that doesn’t get tiring?”
Seungmin looked at her properly. His tone stayed light, but his eyes sharpened. “No.” Your sister held his gaze. “You don’t have to pretend with me.” “I’m not.”
“She can be a lot.” “So can I.” “You’re different.” “You don’t know me.”
The words landed more firmly than anything he had said before. Your sister blinked. Seungmin looked back towards the counter. The line moved forward.
For a few seconds, she said nothing. Then she tried again. “She doesn’t tell people this, but she used to get overlooked a lot when we were younger.” Seungmin’s jaw tightened.
“Overlooked by who?” “People.” Your sister exhaled, clearly frustrated by his refusal to fill in the gaps for her. “Boys usually noticed me first.”
Seungmin waited. She smiled faintly. “She never minded. At least, she pretended not to.” He looked at her. “And?”
“And nothing. I’m only saying it’s probably nice for her to be the one someone chose for once.” Seungmin stared at her for a long moment. Your sister interpreted the silence as an opening. “You’re kind,” she continued. “You probably don’t even realise how much that means to her.”
“I noticed her.” The sentence was quiet. Immediate. Your sister’s smile faltered.
“I didn’t say you didn’t.” “You said people didn’t.” “I said they usually noticed me first.” “I didn’t.”
Something sharp passed across her face. Then she laughed. “You hadn’t met me.” Seungmin looked at her.
The confidence in her smile returned. It was not difficult to understand what she meant. If he had seen her first, things might have been different. If he knew her better, he might recognise what he had missed.
If you had not reached him before she did, perhaps he would have made the correct choice. Seungmin almost laughed. Instead, he said, “I’ve met you now.” Your sister’s smile remained fixed.
The line moved again. She stepped closer. “I think we have more in common than you realise.” “Do we?”
“We’re both ambitious.” “So is she.” “We care about how we present ourselves.” “She does too.”
“She doesn’t care what anyone thinks.” “That’s one of the things I like about her.” Your sister’s eyes narrowed. “You turn everything into a compliment about her.” “Yes.”
The answer was so simple that it left nowhere for the conversation to go. Your sister looked away. Seungmin’s phone buzzed again. He checked it.
Is she seducing you yet? A second message appeared. Blink twice if you need rescue Then:
Actually don’t. I can’t see you He laughed under his breath. Your sister glanced towards the phone. “She’s checking again?”
“She’s entertaining herself.” “She doesn’t trust me.” Seungmin looked up. “Should she?” Your sister went still.
He raised his eyebrows slightly. For the first time, she seemed uncertain whether he was joking. Then he smiled. Not warmly.
Not cruelly either. Just enough to make the question impossible to challenge. Your sister looked towards the menu. “What did she want?”
“Something sweet.” “That isn’t very specific.” “She likes trying new things.” “I know.”
“Do you?” Your sister frowned. “She’s my sister.” Seungmin slipped his phone into his pocket. “Then choose.” She looked at the display board.
After a moment, she suggested a coconut latte. Seungmin stared at her. “What?” “She hates coconut.”
Your sister hesitated. “Does she?” “She told you five minutes ago.” “I forgot.” “I didn’t.”
He ordered your favourite instead.
౨ৎ
You returned to find them sitting at a small table near the window. Your sister was speaking. Seungmin was looking at his phone. That alone told you almost everything you needed to know.
He was never rude enough to ignore someone without a reason. When he spotted you, his entire expression changed. His shoulders relaxed. His mouth curved into a smile. He put his phone down and lifted one hand towards you. “There you are.”
You slid into the seat beside him. Seungmin immediately hooked his fingers through the belt loop at the back of your jeans and tugged you closer. “I was gone for fifteen minutes.” “It was difficult.”
“You seemed fine.” Your sister looked between you. You picked up the drink in front of your seat and inspected it. “What did you get me?” “Try it.”
“What is it?” “I’m not telling you.” “Why?” “You said to surprise you.”
“I don’t trust you.” Seungmin pushed the cup closer. “Drink.” You took a cautious sip. It was sweet, creamy and familiar.
Your favourite. You looked at him. He smiled smugly. “You didn’t choose something new.”
“I chose something you’d like.” “That isn’t a surprise.” “You were surprised.” “I was surprised you made a good decision.”
Seungmin leaned towards you. “Say thank you.” “No.” “Say it.” “You’re very demanding.”
“I carried the bowls.” “They’re in one bag.” “A heavy bag.” “They’re ceramic, not concrete.”
Your sister interrupted. “He remembered your order.” You looked at her. There was something brittle in her voice. Seungmin rested his chin briefly on your shoulder and stole a sip of your drink.
You pushed his face away. “Of course he did,” you said. “He orders it more than I do.” “For you,” he corrected. “You steal half.”
“It tastes better when it’s yours.” “That’s because you’re a thief.” He smiled against your cheek. Your sister looked away.
You could practically feel the conversation you had interrupted sitting between them. You waited until Seungmin sat back. Then you asked, “Did you have a nice chat?” Your sister reached for her coffee.
Seungmin looked at you. His eyes were bright with the effort of not laughing. “Very informative.” “Oh?”
“I learned that I’m successful, disciplined and mature.” You nodded solemnly. “One out of three isn’t bad.” Seungmin kicked your foot beneath the table. You kicked him back.
Your sister sighed. “I was complimenting him.” “I know.” “She thinks I’m mature,” Seungmin said. “She doesn’t live with you.”
“I don’t live with you.” Under the table, Seungmin’s knee pressed against yours. You tapped it once with your own. He tapped back.
Your sister watched the movement. “I was only saying that you’re lucky,” she said. You looked at her. “Again?” “You are.”
“I know.” “She thinks you’re lucky someone finally noticed you,” Seungmin added. The words were delivered with deceptive casualness. Your sister’s head snapped towards him.
Your hand stilled around the cup. Seungmin lifted his drink. You looked at your sister. She looked suddenly furious.
“I didn’t say it like that.” “How did you say it?” “I said people usually noticed me first when we were younger.” You raised your eyebrows.
Your sister leaned back. “It was relevant to the conversation.” “What conversation?” “We were talking about relationships.” “You were talking about mine?”
“She asked whether dating you was tiring,” Seungmin said. You stared at him. He took a calm sip. Your sister’s face reddened. “That isn’t what I asked.”
“It was very close.” “You’re twisting my words.” “I remember them quite clearly.” You looked between them.
The ridiculousness of it arrived before the hurt could. Your sister had finally managed to get Seungmin alone, and she had apparently used the opportunity to explain why being with you must be exhausting. A laugh slipped out. Your sister’s mouth tightened. “Why are you laughing?”
“Because you had fifteen minutes.” “What?” “You finally got him alone and that was your strategy?” Seungmin choked on his drink.
Your sister stared at you. You turned towards him. “Are you all right?” He held up one hand and coughed into the other. “You’re horrible,” he managed.
“You were thinking it too.” “I was trying to be polite.” Your sister placed her cup on the table more firmly than necessary. “Nothing happened.” You looked at her. “I know.”
“Then stop acting like you caught me doing something.” “I didn’t catch you. He told me.” Your sister stood. The legs of her chair scraped against the floor.
“I’m going to look at another shop.” You glanced at the untouched coffee. “We just sat down.” “I remembered something I need.” She grabbed her handbag.
Seungmin watched her. Your sister looked at him, waiting for something. An offer to come with her, perhaps. An apology.
A private look that confirmed all the things she had decided existed between them. Seungmin lifted his hand. For one hopeful second, she smiled. Then he pointed towards her cup. “Are you taking that?”
Her smile disappeared. “No.” “Can I have it?” You elbowed him.
“What?” he asked. “She isn’t drinking it.” Your sister walked away without answering. You watched her disappear into the crowd. Then you turned slowly towards Seungmin.
He was already reaching for her abandoned coffee. You slapped his hand. “No.” “She said she didn’t want it.”
“You don’t know what’s in it.” “Coffee.” “She might have poisoned it.” “Why would she poison her own drink?”
“She sensed rejection.” Seungmin laughed. You folded your arms. “What did she actually say?” He gave up on the coffee and leaned back in his chair.
“Exactly what I told you.” “She asked whether I was tiring?” “She implied that you need constant reassurance, said you’re a lot and suggested I probably chose you because I’m kind.” Your amusement faded a little.
Seungmin noticed immediately. His foot slid beside yours under the table. “She also told me men usually noticed her first,” he added. You looked at the crowd beyond the window. “She loves saying that.”
“I asked which men.” That made you smile. Seungmin’s knee pressed more firmly against yours. “She couldn’t name them.”
“You interrogated her?” “I asked good questions.” “You never ask good questions.” “That’s unfair.”
You looked back at him. He was watching you closely. Not pushing. Just waiting.
“What else?” you asked. Seungmin hesitated. “She implied I might have chosen differently if I’d met her first.” A strange little ache settled beneath your ribs. Not because you believed it.
The idea of Seungmin choosing your sister felt almost comical. But because she believed your entire relationship could be reduced to timing. That you had simply arrived first and seized something that should have belonged to her. You looked down at your cup. “And what did you say?”
“That I’ve met her now.” Your mouth twitched. “That’s all?” “I thought it was enough.”
“It is.” “She didn’t like it.” “I’m devastated for her.” “I also told her I noticed you.”
Your fingers tightened slightly around the cup. Seungmin’s expression softened. “What?” “Nothing.”
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “I noticed you.” You fought a smile. You covered his mouth with your hand. Seungmin kissed your palm.
You pulled it away immediately. “That’s disgusting.” “You liked that too.” “You’re so pleased with yourself.”
“I handled a difficult social situation and bought you the correct drink.” “You want a medal?” “A kiss would be appropriate.” “You’re asking for payment?”
“I did hard labour.” “You stood in a coffee queue.” “With your sister.” You considered that.
Seungmin lifted his eyebrows. You leaned over and kissed his cheek. He turned his head at the last second, catching the corner of your mouth instead. You pulled back.
“That was cheating.” “You’re slow.” “You tricked me.” “You still kissed me.”
“Barely.” “You can try again.” “I’m not rewarding bad behaviour.” Seungmin rested one elbow on the table. “Then I’ll have to live with the memory.”
“You’re dramatic.” “I suffered for fifteen minutes.” “You were texting me.” “That was my lifeline.”
You laughed and nudged his foot beneath the table. Seungmin caught your ankle between his. “You know she’s going to tell herself you only rejected her because you knew I was coming back.” Seungmin’s expression became thoughtful. “Do you want me to say it more directly?”
You looked towards the direction your sister had disappeared. Part of you wanted him to. Part of you knew she would turn even that into evidence of something else. “She hasn’t actually admitted she wants you,” you said.
“She invited herself on our date.” “We’re buying Mum bowls.” “A highly romantic date.” Seungmin reached for your hand across the table.
His thumb brushed slowly over your knuckles. “If she says something properly,” he said, “I’ll answer properly.” “You have answered.” “I mean without being polite.”
“That sounds frightening.” Seungmin squeezed your hand. “Tell her that when she tries again.” You looked at him. “When?”
He smiled. “You think she’s stopping?” You glanced once more towards the crowd. “No.”
“Neither do I.” There was a pause. Then Seungmin brightened. “Can we go back for the dog?” “No.”
“He could be part of your mum’s present.” “She would hate him.” “She’d learn to love him.” “You only knew him for ten minutes.”
“That was enough.” Seungmin smiled and lifted your hand to his mouth. This time, he kissed your knuckles slowly. You let him.
Your sister returned ten minutes later carrying nothing. Neither of you mentioned it. Seungmin did, however, remain close to you for the rest of the afternoon. His hand at your waist when people passed too close. His fingers laced through yours on the escalator. His chin briefly resting on your shoulder while you examined candles. His mouth near your ear when he whispered that one of them smelled like “an expensive wardrobe”.
Your sister tried to walk beside him. Seungmin kept drifting back towards you. She asked his opinion. He asked yours.
She suggested shops. He followed wherever you went. By the time you left the shopping centre, your sister had stopped speaking unless someone addressed her directly. The three of you stood near the station while she checked the time.
“My train’s in five minutes,” she said. Your sister adjusted her handbag and looked at Seungmin. “It was nice spending time with you.” “You too.” “We should do it again.”
You looked at him. He looked at you. Your sister noticed. “Without making it into a whole family thing,” she added.
You raised your eyebrows. Seungmin slipped his arm around your shoulders. “I think she comes with me.” Your sister laughed. “You’re allowed separate friends.” “I have friends.”
“She means her,” you said. “I know.” Your sister’s cheeks coloured. “That isn’t what I meant.”
“What did you mean?” Seungmin asked. She looked at him. He waited. His expression was pleasant.
Curious. Entirely unwilling to rescue her. Your sister’s train arrived with a rush of noise behind her. She glanced towards the platform.
“I have to go.” “You should hurry,” you said. She hugged you briefly. When she turned towards Seungmin, he lifted the shopping bag between them.
Your sister stopped. He smiled politely. “Bye.” For a moment, she looked as though she might push around the bag and hug him anyway.
Then she stepped back. “Bye.” You watched her hurry towards the train. As soon as she was out of earshot, Seungmin lowered the bag.
“You used Mum’s bowls as a shield,” you said. “I panicked.” “You’re very brave.” “She hugged me last time.”
“Terrifying.” “I didn’t know what else to do.” “You could have hugged her.” Seungmin looked horrified. “Why would I do that?”
“She’s confident and sophisticated.” “Stop.” “More your type.” He pointed at you. “We discussed this.”
“She only needs an opportunity.” “You’re becoming annoying.” “Becoming?” “More annoying.”
You smiled. Seungmin stared at you for a second. Then he hooked one arm around your waist and lifted you just enough that your shoes left the ground. You yelped.
“Put me down!” “Take it back.” “We’re in public!” “I don’t care.”
You grabbed his shoulders, laughing as he carried you several steps away from the platform. Seungmin lowered you carefully to the ground. His smile softened. Seungmin took your hand again, swinging it once between you before pulling you towards the station exit.
“Come on,” he said. “We have to go back.” “For what?” “The dog.” “We are not buying the dog.”
“He’s waiting for us.” “He’s ceramic.” “He’ll think we abandoned him.” “You said I was the abandoned animal.”
“I can rescue both of you.” “You already complain that I take up too much space.” “He’s small.” “I hate you.”
Seungmin kissed the side of your head. He smiled and kept walking. You followed, because the station exit was in the same direction as the shop. Not because you had agreed to buy the dog.
Definitely not. When your mum opened her birthday present a week later, she found a beautiful set of handmade serving bowls. And, tucked between them, a tiny ceramic dog wearing a crown. She stared at it.
You stared at Seungmin. Seungmin looked unbearably pleased.
౨ৎ
By the time you finished getting ready, Seungmin had changed his shirt twice, complained about both options and somehow blamed you for the fact that neither looked right. “You said the black one was nice,” he reminded you from the bedroom doorway. “It was nice.” “And then you told me to wear the blue one.”
“Because the blue one is nicer.” “So the black one was ugly.” “That isn’t what I said.” “It’s what you implied.”
You turned away from the mirror and looked at him. He stood with both shirts hanging from one hand, his hair still slightly damp from the shower and an expression of genuine betrayal on his face. “You’re having a crisis over two nearly identical shirts.” “They aren’t nearly identical.” “One is black and one is very dark blue.”
“Exactly.” You stared at him. Seungmin stared back. Then his gaze drifted slowly down your body.
The offence disappeared from his expression. You had chosen an outfit that made you feel good. You suspected you would regret that decision later, but Seungmin’s reaction made it worth it. He looked at you for long enough that you lifted an eyebrow. “What?” “Nothing.”
You tried not to smile. “Have you not seen me before?” “Not in that.” “You watched me put it on.” “I was distracted.”
“By what?” “The shirt crisis.” You laughed and turned back towards the mirror. Seungmin abandoned both shirts on the bed and crossed the room, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. “You look pretty,” he murmured, resting his chin on your shoulder.
“Only pretty?” His eyes narrowed at your reflection. “Don’t become demanding.” “You stared at me for thirty seconds. I expected something better.” “You look very pretty.”
“That’s the same thing with an extra word.” “You look so pretty that I’m reconsidering letting you leave the flat.” You smiled. “Better.” “I knew you were fishing.”
“I enjoy compliments.” “I know.” Seungmin kissed the side of your neck, then another spot slightly lower. You tilted your head instinctively before remembering you had spent far too long getting ready. “Don’t ruin my makeup.”
“I’m nowhere near your makeup.” “You’ll work your way up.” “That sounds like encouragement.” You caught his wrists and pulled his arms away. Seungmin resisted just enough to make it difficult, then released you with an exaggerated sigh.
“You don’t love me anymore.” “I’m trying to get us to the party.” “Chan said eight.” “It’s quarter past.”
“Exactly. We’re early.” You looked at him through the mirror. “For what?” “A party.” “That started fifteen minutes ago.”
“Social events have a grace period.” “You invented that because you’re never ready on time.” “I was ready.” “You aren’t wearing a shirt.”
Seungmin looked down at his bare chest, then at the two shirts abandoned on the bed. Your phone buzzed on the dressing table. You picked it up. Your sister had messaged.
Are you there yet? A second message followed before you could reply. Is Seungmin going straight from yours? You turned the screen towards him.
Seungmin read both messages. His face remained blank for one beat, then he placed his chin back on your shoulder. “She misses me.” “She saw you last week.” “A long separation.”
“She didn’t ask whether I was going straight from mine.” “She knows you’ll be there.” “She also knows you’ll be there.” “That must be why she asked to come.”
You laughed and nudged him backwards with your hip. “Put the blue shirt on.” “The black one makes my shoulders look better.” “Then wear the black one.” “You said the blue was nicer.”
“Seungmin.” He smiled and kissed your cheek before finally retrieving the blue shirt. You replied to your sister while he dressed. We’re leaving soon. Bring the drinks you promised Chan.
Her response came almost immediately. What’s Seungmin wearing? You looked up. He was buttoning the blue shirt.
You considered sending her a photograph of the black one lying empty on the bed. Instead, you typed: Clothes x Seungmin glanced over. “What did you say?”
“Nothing important.” “You’re smiling.” “I’m entertaining myself.” “Is she seducing me remotely now?”
“Apparently she needs to prepare.” “For what?” “To be more your type.” Seungmin finished the final button and walked towards you. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”
“It’s funny.” “Until she touches my arm fifteen times.” “Maybe she thinks that’s where your romantic feelings are stored.” “That would explain why I keep trying to get away.”
You laughed, and Seungmin’s smile softened. He reached out to fix the chain of your necklace where it had twisted, his fingers careful against the back of your neck. “Tell me if it stops being funny,” he said. The words were quiet enough to change the air between you. You turned.
Seungmin let his hands settle at your waist. “I will.” “Promise?” “You already made me promise.”
“I’m making you do it again.” “Very controlling.” “Very caring.” “Debatable.”
He squeezed your waist. “Promise.” You rested both hands against his chest. “I promise.” Satisfied, Seungmin kissed your forehead. Then he leant back and examined his shirt in the mirror. “Do my shoulders look strange?”
You pushed him towards the door.
౨ৎ
The party remained civilised for approximately forty minutes. Then Changbin brought out the shot glasses. Chan saw them from across the room and immediately shook his head. “Take it easy” “You bought the alcohol,” Changbin reminded him.
Jisung appeared beside the kitchen counter as though summoned by the word drinking. “Shots are normal.” “You said that last time and threw up in my shoes.” “That was unrelated.” “It was directly related.”
Felix slid into the space beside Jisung and began examining the bottles. You followed closely behind him, your own drink already mostly gone. Seungmin caught your wrist before you could reach for anything. “You’re not doing shots.” You looked at his hand around your wrist, then at him. “Excuse me?”
“You’ve already had three drinks.” “So have you.” “I can still walk in a straight line.” “I can walk in a straight line.”
Seungmin released you and pointed towards the hallway. You stared at him. He lifted his eyebrows. “You want me to demonstrate?”
“Yes.” You placed your empty glass on the counter and turned towards the hallway with as much dignity as you could manage. Felix and Jisung watched in complete silence. You took three perfectly respectable steps.
Then your hip struck the edge of the sofa. You stopped. Seungmin smiled. “The sofa moved.”
“It’s been there all night.” “It knew I was trying to prove something.” Jisung nodded seriously. “Furniture can sense weakness.” Minho, sitting nearby with his ankle resting over one knee, looked at him. “That explains why you keep walking into doors.”
Jisung placed a hand over his chest. “Why are you attacking me?” “Because you make it easy.” Jisung abandoned the counter and dropped onto the sofa beside him. Within seconds, his legs were stretched across Minho’s lap. Minho glanced down but made no effort to move them.
You pointed towards them. “He can’t walk straight either.” “He’s sitting,” Seungmin said. “He was walking badly earlier.” Changbin began pouring.
Hyunjin took the bottle from Changbin before he could overfill the glasses. “At least make them even. You’re pouring like you’ve never seen liquid before.” “I’m being generous.” “You’re trying to kill Jisung.” Jisung lifted his head from Minho’s shoulder. “Yes please.”
Minho pressed one hand against his forehead and pushed him back down. “You accept nothing.” You managed to claim a glass before Seungmin could stop you. Felix took one. Jisung reached for another, but Minho lifted it out of reach.
Jisung stared at him. “Give it.” “No.” “You aren’t my father.” “Thank fuck for that.”
“You can’t control me.” Minho looked at the legs still resting across his lap. “Stand up, then.” Jisung considered it. “No.”
“Thought so.” Felix passed Jisung his own glass beneath the edge of the table. Minho saw. He allowed it.
You caught his eye. Minho shrugged and took another drink. “Traitor,” Seungmin told him. “I’m off duty.”
“You were never on duty,” Chan said. “Exactly.” Changbin raised his glass. “To Chan finally letting us have fun.” “This is my party.”
“Then act like it.” Chan swore at him, but lifted his drink anyway. Everyone crowded closer. Your friend remained beside your sister near the end of the counter, amused but still slightly removed from the intimacy of the group. You caught her eye and held up your glass.
She lifted hers back. Your sister barely noticed. She was watching Seungmin. He stood behind you with one hand resting against your hip, his thumb moving absently beneath the hem of your top.
You leaned back into him. “To being hot,” Hyunjin said. Jeongin nodded. “Finally, something relevant.” Chan looked around the group. “Can we toast to something normal?”
“No,” everyone replied. The shot burned on the way down. Felix coughed. You squeezed your eyes shut and grabbed the first solid thing you found.
It was Changbin’s arm. “Fuck.” Changbin laughed. “You agreed to it.” “That tasted like paint stripper.”
“You’ve never tasted paint stripper.” “Maybe I have.” Seungmin pulled you backwards against his chest. “And this is why you weren’t doing shots.” You turned in his arms. “I did one.”
“You nearly died.” “I recovered.” “You’re still holding Changbin.You could have held me.” You looked down to find your hand still wrapped around Changbin’s bicep and slowly released him. “Come back when you’ve got biceps, bud.”
Seungmin stared at you for a beat before catching you around the waist and pulling you firmly against his chest. “You seemed perfectly happy with mine earlier.” You placed a hand against his arm as though inspecting it. “They’re all right.” His grip tightened. “All right?” You smiled. “Maybe a little better than that.”
౨ৎ
Someone suggested a drinking game. Nobody later remembered who. You all ended up sitting in a loose circle around the living room with bottles, half-empty glasses and bowls of food scattered between you. Your friend sat beside your sister on the sofa. You were on the floor between Felix and Seungmin, with your back against Seungmin’s legs. His hand rested loosely at the base of your throat, occasionally brushing your hair aside.
Jisung had begun the game beside Minho. By the third round, he was mostly sitting on him. “Never have I ever,” Jeongin began, smiling in a way that immediately made Chan suspicious, “lied to get out of plans with someone in this room.” Nearly everyone drank.
Chan stared at the group. “Are you serious?” “You make too many plans,” Seungmin said. “I ask whether you want dinner.” “That’s still a plan.”
You lifted your glass. Seungmin looked down at you. “When did you lie to me?” You took a long sip. His fingers tightened gently at the back of your neck.
“When?” You smiled into your drink. “Next question.” “No. We’re staying here.” Felix laughed. “She said she was ill once because she wanted to watch a film with us.”
Seungmin stared at you. “You exposed me,” you told Felix. “I forgot it was a secret.” “You chose them over me?” Seungmin asked.
“You were working.” “You still lied.” “You would’ve sulked.” “I am sulking now.”
You twisted around to look at him. “Do you need a kiss?” Seungmin considered the offer. “Yes.” You kissed him quickly.
He kept one hand against your jaw and prevented you from moving away. “That was inadequate.” Everyone groaned. You laughed against his mouth before kissing him again, slower this time.
When you finally pulled away, Changbin threw a crisp at Seungmin’s head. “Some of us are single.” “You don’t have to watch,” Seungmin said. “You’re in the middle of the room.”
“Look somewhere else.” Hyunjin placed one hand against Changbin’s cheek and turned his face away. “There. Problem solved.” Changbin bit his palm. Hyunjin screamed.
The game continued. “Never have I ever had a crush on someone in this room,” Felix said. Silence fell. Then Jeongin drank.
Hyunjin drank. Changbin drank. Jisung lifted his glass, looked around and drank twice. Minho looked at him. “Twice?”
Jisung rested his chin on Minho’s shoulder. “I contain multitudes.” Minho took Jisung’s glass and drank from it. The room erupted. Jisung stared at him, eyes widening. “Was that your answer?”
“It was your drink.” “You have your own.” “I wanted yours.” “That is not an answer.”
Minho smiled into the rim of the glass. You turned towards Felix. He was already looking at you. Both of you burst out laughing.
“Don’t,” Minho warned. You covered your mouth with both hands. Seungmin’s chest shook behind you. Your sister remained completely still.
You could feel her watching. Felix nudged your knee. “You didn’t drink.” “I’m dating someone in the room.” “That doesn’t mean you never had a crush.”
Seungmin’s fingers slid beneath your chin and turned your face towards him. “You had better drink.” You stared at him. “Why?” “Because you had a crush on me.”
“That was never confirmed.” “You asked Chan for my number.” The group laughed. Your sister’s glass stopped halfway to her mouth.
Seungmin’s eyes flicked towards her, then back to you. Your smile softened despite the alcohol. Felix made an emotional noise. Minho pointed at him. “Don’t fucking start.”
Felix’s eyes had already begun shining. “I’m fine.” “You’re about to cry.” “I just think they’re cute.”
Seungmin felt you sniff. “No.” “I’m not doing anything.” “You’re crying.”
“Felix started it.” Felix wiped beneath one eye. “I’m happy.” “That makes it worse,” Seungmin said. You twisted and threw your arms around him.
He caught you automatically. “I love you.” Seungmin sighed, but his arms tightened around your waist. “I love you too.”
౨ৎ
The music became louder after that. So did everyone. Chan lost control of the playlist when you, Felix and Jisung began shouting over every song until he played something you liked. By then, the coffee table had disappeared beneath bottles, crushed cans and bowls of snacks nobody remembered opening. Somebody had spilt something sticky beside the sofa. Changbin had taken his shirt off for reasons nobody understood, and Hyunjin kept threatening to throw it out of the nearest window. You, Felix and Jisung dragged one another into the middle of the room.
At first, you actually danced. Felix knew what he was doing even while drunk. Jisung knew what he was doing until something distracted him, which happened every ten seconds. You possessed confidence far beyond your ability and therefore believed you looked incredible. Changbin encouraged that delusion by cheering whenever you moved. Hyunjin attempted to correct your posture once.
You told him to fuck off. He looked deeply wounded. “I’m trying to save you.” “I don’t need saving.” “You’re dancing like your limbs have separate plans.”
“They’re expressing themselves.” Felix laughed and caught your waist before you could stumble into the coffee table. Jisung pressed against your back, shouting the lyrics directly beside your ear while the three of you moved with very little coordination and enormous enthusiasm. From the sofa, Seungmin watched you. His blue shirt had come unbuttoned slightly at the throat, his hair had fallen across his forehead and his cheeks were warm from the alcohol. One hand rested around his glass while his eyes remained fixed on you.
Your sister sat only a few feet away. She attempted to speak to him twice. He answered politely, but barely looked in her direction. When you caught his gaze, you smiled and crooked one finger towards him.
Seungmin shook his head. You did it again. He lifted his drink as though that explained why he could not move. You pouted.
That worked. Seungmin put the glass down and crossed the room. Felix released your waist with a grin. Jisung remained attached to you until Minho appeared behind him, hooked an arm around his middle and pulled him backwards. Jisung laughed and twisted in his hold. “Jealous?”
Minho murmured something into his ear. Whatever it was made Jisung’s face turn bright red. Felix screamed. You screamed because Felix did.
Seungmin caught your face between both hands. “Why are you shouting?” You pointed vaguely towards Minho and Jisung. “Something happened.” “Nothing happened,” Minho said without looking at you. Jisung buried his face against his shoulder.
You grinned. “Something definitely happened.” Minho gave you a warning look. You immediately turned back to Seungmin and began adjusting his collar as though that had always been your intention. “Coward,” Seungmin murmured.
“You’re supposed to protect me.” “From the consequences of your own behaviour?” “You’re my boyfriend.” “That isn’t what that means.”
His hands slid to your waist as the song changed. You pulled him closer, and although he continued pretending not to dance, his body fell easily into the rhythm of yours. “There,” you said. “You’re dancing.” “I’m standing near you.” “You’re moving.”
“You keep dragging me around.” “You love it.” Seungmin lowered his mouth beside your ear. “I love you.” The softness of it caught beneath your ribs.
You turned and kissed him. He kissed you back without hesitation, one hand spreading across the small of your back while the party surged around you. Someone wolf-whistled. Someone else shouted at them to shut the fuck up. You suspected one of them had been Changbin. When you pulled away, Seungmin followed far enough to steal another brief kiss.
“You’re clingy,” you murmured. “You called me over.” “And you came.” “You pouted.”
“That’s all it takes?” “Unfortunately.” You smiled and kissed the edge of his jaw. His eyes closed.
“Again.” “You’re demanding.” You kissed his jaw again, and Seungmin’s grip tightened around your waist. Across the room, your sister emptied the rest of her glass.
You barely noticed. Seungmin’s attention had already wandered from dancing to pressing lazy kisses against whatever part of you happened to be closest—your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. When his lips brushed beneath your ear, you laughed and pushed lightly at his chest. “You’ve completely stopped dancing.” “I never started.”
“You came over.” “You summoned me.” “I moved one finger.” “Very controlling.”
His hand settled lower against your back, holding you close when somebody squeezed past. You reached up and fixed his collar again. “You look messy.” “You made me messy.” “That sounds suggestive.”
“It was meant to.” His smile turned slow and pleased. Before he could say anything worse, Felix collided gently with your side and caught your hand. “I need her.” Seungmin kept one arm around you. “You’ve had her for three songs.”
“The next one’s important.” “They’ve all been important,” you said. Seungmin looked at Felix. “You sound like her.” “That’s why she loves me.”
Felix pulled. Seungmin held on. You found yourself stretched between them. “Don’t make me choose.” Felix smiled. “You’ll choose me.”
Seungmin’s eyebrows lifted. “Choose carefully.” You pretended to consider it before twisting out of Seungmin’s arm, kissing him quickly and letting Felix drag you away. “Coward,” Seungmin called after you. “You still got a kiss!”
“Barely.” You laughed as Felix pulled you back into the crowd. The next hour dissolved into heat, noise and flashes of movement. Hyunjin danced as though someone might be filming him. Changbin attempted to copy him with enough force to make the floor shake.
Nearby, Minho took the glass out of Jisung’s hand and drank from it himself. Jisung watched him. “You said I couldn’t have that.” “You can’t.” “But you can?”
“Yes.” “That’s hot.” Minho looked away, but not before you saw him smile. Someone produced two microphones.
The karaoke began badly and deteriorated almost immediately. You, Felix and Jisung chose a song all three of you knew, which would have helped if any of you had agreed on when to start. Jisung came in too early. You missed half the first line. Felix attempted to hold the performance together and ended up laughing so hard that he could no longer sing. Changbin provided backing vocals without a microphone. Hyunjin acted out the lyrics from the sofa.
Chan kept trying to lower the volume and being shouted at whenever the music became even slightly quieter. By the second song, you had abandoned any pretence of performing well. You and Felix shared one microphone while Jisung used the other for increasingly dramatic ad-libs that had nothing to do with the actual song. Halfway through the chorus, you passed close enough to the sofa for Seungmin to hook his fingers around your wrist. He pulled.
You landed sideways across his lap, and the microphone struck his shoulder. “Shit. Sorry.” Seungmin took it from you before you could hit him again. “Ouch.” “I’m performing.”
“You’re screaming into expensive equipment.” He placed the microphone safely on the table. Felix shouted your name. You tried to stand, but Seungmin held your waist.
“I have responsibilities,” you told him. “You have absolutely no responsibilities.” “Felix needs me.” Felix and Jisung had abandoned the song and were arguing with Chan about whether the lyrics on the screen were wrong.
Seungmin looked towards them. “They seem busy.” “Then I need to help.” “You need to stay here for thirty seconds.” “Why?”
“I missed you.” Your expression softened before you could stop it. Seungmin smiled, knowing he had won. “You’re manipulative.”
You settled more comfortably across his thighs, one arm circling his shoulders. Seungmin rested his face against your chest and closed his eyes while your fingers moved through his hair. Across from you, your sister’s gaze remained fixed on his hand resting against your thigh. Your friend was speaking to her. Your sister nodded without listening.
By one in the morning, the party had split between the living room, the kitchen and the balcony. The music remained loud enough to vibrate through the floor. People drifted between conversations with drinks they had not poured and jackets that did not belong to them. Someone had opened a window, but the room was still hot with too many bodies and the sharp mixture of alcohol, perfume and whatever Changbin had sprayed after insisting he smelled fine. Your friend remained mostly with your sister. She laughed whenever the group became loud enough to include everyone, but she never tried to force herself into the easy physical closeness surrounding the boys.
You checked on her whenever you remembered. Each time, she assured you she was fine. Your sister always said the same. The fourth time you approached, your friend caught your wrist. “You are incredibly drunk.”
You looked down at yourself. “I’m standing.” “Barely.” Your friend laughed. Your sister did not. “She’s been throwing herself around for hours. She always gets like this when she drinks.”
There was something dismissive beneath the words. You recognised it even through the alcohol. Your friend did too. “She looks like she’s having fun,” she replied.
“I’m having an incredible time,” you announced. “I can tell.” Your sister glanced across the room towards Seungmin. “He must be exhausted.” You followed her gaze.
Seungmin was beside Chan, listening to Changbin explain something with far too much hand movement. He caught you looking almost immediately and lifted one eyebrow in silent question. You smiled. He smiled back. “Does he look exhausted?” you asked.
“He’s spent the whole night following you around.” “He likes me.” “I’m aware.” Before the conversation could sharpen, Felix appeared behind you and looped an arm around your shoulders. “There you are.”
“I’ve been here.” “You disappeared.” “I was checking on them.” Felix glanced towards your friend and sister. “Everything good?”
Your friend nodded. “We’re fine.” Your sister smiled at him. “We were talking.” “Great. I’m stealing her.” “You always steal her,” your sister said.
Felix laughed as though she had made a joke. “Everyone does.” He pulled you towards the kitchen. You looked back once. Your friend gave you a small, reassuring smile.
Your sister was already watching Seungmin again. In the kitchen, Jisung was sitting on the counter while Minho stood between his knees, holding a glass out of reach. “That’s mine,” Jisung complained. “It was yours.”
“I’m not finished.” “You said the room was spinning.” “It stopped.” “When?”
“When I closed one eye.” Felix immediately took Jisung’s side. “Give it back.” Minho looked at him. “You’re a terrible influence.” “You’re drinking too,” you pointed out.
“I can handle it.” “So can I.” Minho gave up and handed the drink to you instead. Jisung gasped. “That’s mine.”
“You’re too drunk.” “So are you.” “I’m handling it better.” Felix took the glass from you and drank before either of you could protest.
Minho laughed. It was becoming obvious that he was far drunker than he appeared. His movements were still controlled and his words remained clear, but his eyes had softened and he was smiling much too often. You stepped into the space beside him and wrapped both arms around his waist. Minho looked down. “What’s this?”
“I’m appreciating you.” “You’re crushing my shirt.” You rested your cheek against his chest. “You smell nice.” “None of you are getting another drink.”
“You ruined it,” you complained. “He ruins everything,” Jisung agreed. Minho caught Jisung’s chin and tilted his face upwards. “You can barely keep both eyes open.” “I only need one.”
“For what?” “To look at you.” Minho stared at him. You buried your face against Minho’s shoulder to hide your laughter.
Jisung looked unbearably pleased with himself. Minho’s ears turned pink. “You’re a fucking menace.” “You love me.” Seungmin entered the kitchen before anyone could comment.
He looked at Minho’s arm around you and Jisung hanging over his shoulders Then he looked at Minho. “You’ve collected them.” “I didn’t.” Seungmin approached and slid both hands onto your hips. “You keep disappearing.”
“You were talking.” “I can talk while holding you.” “That sounds inconvenient.” “I’m talented.”
Minho nodded towards you. “Take her before she asks for another shot.” You turned in Seungmin’s arms. “He’s trying to get rid of me.” “You’re attached to his shirt.” “I like him.”
“You like everyone tonight.” “I like everyone every night.” Seungmin’s expression softened. The next drinking game began in the kitchen because nobody could be bothered to move.
It was meant to be truth or drink. Within minutes, it became an excuse to ask invasive questions and shout whenever somebody refused to answer. Changbin joined first, followed by Hyunjin and Jeongin. Chan arrived last, realised what was happening and attempted to leave. You caught his wrist. “No.”
“I’m hosting.” “You’re hiding.” “I need to check the living room.” Jeongin looked towards the doorway. “It’s still there.”
Chan appealed silently to Minho for help. Minho poured him a drink. “Traitor.” “You chose to host.”
Everyone crowded around the counter and floor. You ended up sitting between Minho’s legs with your back against his chest because the chairs had disappeared beneath coats and bags. Seungmin sat in front of you, one hand wrapped loosely around your ankle. Jisung remained tucked against Minho’s side, his head on his shoulder and one leg draped over yours. Changbin pointed at you first. “Truth or drink?” “Truth.”
“What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve done because you were jealous?” Seungmin looked interested. You looked at Changbin. “I’m not jealous.” The entire room laughed.
“That wasn’t the question,” Hyunjin said. You raised your glass. “Then I’m drinking.” Seungmin’s hand tightened around your ankle. “Answer.” “You don’t get to interfere.”
Everyone shouted. “Coward,” Changbin said. “That’s the point of the game.” “The point is to expose yourself.”
“That sounds like a different game,” Jeongin said. You chucked at that The questions became worse from there. Felix refused to reveal who had received a flirtatious message he sent to the wrong person.
Changbin demanded to know whether anybody had ever hooked up somewhere they could have been caught. Half the room drank. Chan stared at everyone with a raised eyebrow. “In my home?” “Not necessarily,” Jeongin said.
“That did not reassure me.” Jisung claimed he had never done anything humiliating because he was horny. The entire group drank on his behalf. “Fuck all of you.”
Minho leant close enough to murmur something beside his ear. Jisung’s face turned red again. You twisted around. “What did he say?” “Nothing.”
Minho looked unbearably pleased. Your sister stood at the edge of the kitchen beside your friend. She watched Seungmin’s hand move slowly over your ankle. Then she watched Minho’s arm settle across your middle when you leant back against him. Perhaps she expected Seungmin to object.
Instead, he reached forward, caught your chin and tilted your face towards his. “My turn,” he said. You kissed him. The kiss was brief, but intimate enough to inspire several dramatic complaints.
When you pulled away, Seungmin’s thumb brushed once beneath your lip. Your sister looked away. The game ended when Chan realised the music in the living room was loud enough to make the glasses vibrate. Everyone returned to dancing.
By then, nobody pretended it was organised. You, Felix and Jisung shouted lyrics you barely knew with your arms around one another. Sometimes you danced. Sometimes you merely jumped during the chorus and trusted somebody to catch you. Changbin joined whenever the song was good. Hyunjin joined whenever he considered the song worthy.
Jeongin joined only to make everyone else look worse. At one point, Minho caught your hand as you passed and spun you beneath his arm. You nearly completed the movement gracefully. Then you lost your balance.
Minho caught you against his chest. Jisung caught you from the other side. The three of you laughed, tangled together. Seungmin appeared behind you and closed both hands around your waist. “You’re stealing my girlfriend,” he told Minho.
Minho shrugged. “She came willingly.” “He spun me.” “You asked,” Minho reminded you. Seungmin looked down at you. “You ask everyone for things.”
“And they give them to me.” “That’s because you’re spoilt.” “By you.” “Mostly.”
He kissed your forehead. You leant into him, suddenly overwhelmed by the warmth of the room and how much you loved everyone in it. Across the room, your friend smiled at the sight. Your sister finished another drink.
By the time you needed the bathroom, you were far beyond pleasantly drunk. You were still awake, still talking and technically capable of walking, but the room tilted whenever you turned too quickly. Seungmin noticed you heading towards the hallway and followed. You looked over your shoulder. “Where are you going?”
“With you.” “I can piss alone.” “I’m making sure you reach the bathroom.” “That’s insulting.”
Seungmin caught your waist before you walked into the wall. “Exactly.” You allowed him to guide you down the hallway, although you complained the entire way. At the bathroom door, you planted both hands against his chest. “You can’t come in.” “I wasn’t planning to.”
“You looked like you were.” “I was opening the door.” Seungmin smiled and kissed your forehead. “I’ll be here.” “Why?”
“Because you’ll forget where the living room is.” “It’s one hallway.” “And yet.” You narrowed your eyes and disappeared into the bathroom.
When you came back out, your sister was standing in front of him. One hand rested against the wall beside his shoulder. Seungmin was leaning away. “You could come upstairs with me,” she said.
He blinked at her. “Why?” You stopped in the doorway. Even through the alcohol, laughter rose immediately in your chest. Your sister looked at him as though he were deliberately being stupid. “You know why.”
“I genuinely don’t.” She moved closer, forcing Seungmin’s back against the wall. “We could have sex.” For one long second, Seungmin simply stared at her.
Then his gaze found yours over her shoulder. You covered your mouth. The expression on his face made it impossible not to laugh. His eyes widened slightly, one corner of his mouth twitching as though he could not decide whether to be horrified or offended. Your sister followed his gaze and found you standing there.
Her face hardened. “Oh, please. Don’t act like it’s ridiculous.” That made you laugh harder. “I’m sorry. His face.” “You’re not helping,” Seungmin said.
“You asked why.” “It was a reasonable question.” “She invited you upstairs.” “She could’ve needed something.”
“At one in the morning?” “I didn’t know what she meant.” “You did,” your sister snapped. Seungmin looked back at her. “Apparently not.”
She folded her arms. “You haven’t even considered it.” “No.” “Why?” He stared at her.
Then he gave one short, humourless laugh. “Because I don’t want to.” “You don’t know that.” “I do.” “You’ve never given me a chance.”
“I’m not required to.” Your laughter faded. Your sister stepped closer and reached for his chest. Seungmin caught her wrist before she could touch him.
“Stop.” The word was calm. Firm. He moved her hand away and released it.
Humiliation sharpened your sister’s expression as she turned towards you. “You think this is funny because you assume he’d never choose me.” “I don’t assume it.” “You should stop speaking for him.” “I’m standing right here,” Seungmin said.
She ignored him. “You’ve always done this. You get something and act smug because you know somebody else deserves it more.” The alcohol inside you turned suddenly heavy. You steadied yourself against the bathroom door. “Somebody else?” “You know what I mean.”
“No. Say it properly.” Her eyes travelled over you. Your clothes had shifted from dancing. Your lipstick was smudged. Your hair was a mess and your balance remained questionable. You had never felt happier.
“Look at you,” she said. “You’re completely wasted. He’s spent all night following you around while you throw yourself over every man in the room.” Seungmin’s expression hardened. You laughed softly. “Is that what this is about?” “I’m saying he could do better.”
“With you?” “Yes.” The certainty would have been impressive if it were not so pathetic. Your smile disappeared.
Your sister noticed and pushed harder. “I’m prettier. I know how to behave. I don’t need eight men constantly touching me and telling me how special I am.” “Nobody is taking care of me.” “You can barely stand.”
“I’m drunk at a party.” “You’ve been climbing into their laps and letting them put their hands all over you. It’s embarrassing.” Seungmin stepped away from the wall and moved to your side. His hand settled securely at the back of your waist.
Your sister watched it. “She hasn’t embarrassed me once,” he said. “She’s been all over Minho. Felix practically had his hands under her clothes earlier.” “So?”
Your sister blinked. Seungmin’s thumb moved slowly against your side. “She loves them,” he said. “They love her. I know exactly where I stand.” “You should have more self-respect.”
His eyebrows rose. “You asked me to cheat on her beside a bathroom.” “You’ve spent the whole night trying to fuck my boyfriend,” you said, “and somehow I’m the slut?” Your sister glared at you. Seungmin continued before she could answer. “Don’t talk to either of us about self-respect.”
“You only say that because she’s standing here.” “I rejected you when she wasn’t.” “You knew she’d find out.” “I knew because I was going to tell her.”
“Why?” “Because she’s my girlfriend.” Your sister shook her head. “You don’t have to keep settling because she got to you first.” Seungmin went still.
There it was. The belief beneath every comparison and every attempt. You had simply reached him first. Had she met him earlier, dressed better, tried harder or pushed for long enough, he would eventually recognise that he had chosen the wrong sister.
Seungmin’s arm tightened around you. “I noticed her,” he said. Your sister scoffed. “You hadn’t met me.” “I’ve met you now.”
The hallway became very quiet. Music still thudded beyond it. Someone laughed in the living room. Your friend called your sister’s name once, distant and uncertain. Seungmin looked directly at her. “And I still choose her.”
Your sister’s face changed. For a moment, she appeared almost sober. Then the anger returned. “She isn’t better than me.”
“This isn’t about who’s better.” “It always is.” “No,” you said quietly. “It’s always been that way to you.” She looked at you.
You could feel Seungmin watching your face. At first, it had been funny. Her unnecessary outfits. Her fake excuses. The way she interpreted Seungmin’s basic manners as secret attraction. Even now, the idea that he might accept remained ridiculous.
But the joke had always required you to ignore the part where your sister could not want something without explaining why you deserved it less. “You can want him,” you said. “I don’t care. It’s humiliating for you, but it doesn’t threaten me.” Her mouth twisted. “What pisses me off is that you can’t admit you want him without telling him I’m ugly, exhausting, childish or not good enough. You don’t flirt with him. You campaign against me.”
“I’ve never called you ugly.” “You keep telling everyone you’re prettier.” “I am.” Seungmin made a disbelieving sound.
You glanced at him. “What?” “Nothing. I’m trying very hard to remain polite.” Your sister folded her arms. “See? You’ve turned him against me.”
“I didn’t have to. You did that by ignoring him every time he said no.” The words landed. Your sister looked at Seungmin. His expression did not soften.
“I thought you were being loyal,” she said. “I was being clear.” “You were trying not to hurt her.” “I was trying not to humiliate you.”
Her cheeks flushed. Seungmin’s voice lowered. “You’ve made that impossible.” Your friend appeared at the far end of the hallway. She looked between the three of you, taking in your sister’s expression and Seungmin’s arm around your waist. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” your sister said immediately. You laughed tiredly. “She asked Seungmin to have sex with her.” Your friend’s eyes widened. “You didn’t have to say it like that,” your sister snapped.
“How should I say it?” “She’s drunk,” your friend said carefully. “So am I.” “I know.”
Your friend approached and touched your sister’s arm. “Come and sit down.” Your sister pulled away. “Everyone’s acting like I’ve done something terrible.” “You propositioned my boyfriend after he repeatedly told you he wasn’t interested.” “You don’t own him.”
“No,” you said. “I don’t.” That stopped her. You rested more heavily against Seungmin’s side but kept your eyes on her. “He’s a person. He said no. That should have mattered even if I didn’t exist.”
Your friend looked at your sister. “She’s right.” Betrayal flashed across your sister’s face. “You’re supposed to be here with me.” “I’m here because she invited me.” The answer was gentle but firm.
Your sister looked between you. Then she laughed bitterly. “Fine. Everyone thinks I’m pathetic.” Nobody answered. That seemed to hurt more than any denial would have.
Your friend held out her hand. “Come on.” After a moment, your sister accepted it. She allowed herself to be led back towards the living room without looking at either of you again. You remained in the hallway.
Seungmin rubbed one hand slowly over your back. You watched them disappear. Then you looked at him. “You really asked why.” His mouth dropped open.
The laughter returned before you could stop it. Seungmin stared at you. “You’re impossible.” “Your face was so confused.” “She was vague.”
“She had you against a wall.” “She said upstairs.” “At one in the morning.” “That could mean anything.”
“Name one other thing.” Seungmin opened his mouth. Nothing came out. You waited.
His expression grew increasingly offended. “Exactly.” He caught your waist in both hands and pulled you closer. “You’re very annoying.” “You love me.”
“I’m reconsidering.” “No, you aren’t.” “No,” he admitted. Your smile softened.
The alcohol made it difficult to hold on to one emotion for long. Amusement blurred into exhaustion, which blurred into the ache your sister’s words had left behind. Seungmin noticed. He always did. “Hey.”
You looked at him. His expression had gentled, eyes warm despite the alcohol. “Are you okay?” “I’m extremely drunk.” “I know.”
“She’s a bitch.” “She is.” “I can’t believe she said I throw myself over everyone.” “You do,” Seungmin said, completely unbothered. “Luckily, everyone seems very happy to catch you.”
“With all of you.” “I know.” His hand settled more firmly at your waist. “I’ve never complained.” “And you don’t care?” Seungmin looked genuinely confused. “Why would I?”
You shrugged. “Because she said—” “I don’t care what she said.” The answer came quickly enough to interrupt you. Seungmin lifted your hand and kissed your knuckles.
“I know you,” he said. “I know them. I know what all of this is.” His free hand gestured towards the living room, where Felix was shouting the chorus to another song while Minho told somebody to turn the music down without making any effort to do it himself. “You’re my girlfriend,” Seungmin continued. “That doesn’t mean you stop belonging with them too.” Something warm tightened in your chest.
“That was disgustingly sweet.” You kissed him. His hand slid to the back of your neck, keeping you close as the kiss deepened. Nothing frantic. Nothing performed for anybody else. Just familiar affection in a dim hallway while the party continued metres away.
When you pulled back, Seungmin followed for one more kiss. Then another. “You’re doing too many,” you murmured. “I’ve lost count.”
“You always say that.” You laughed and rested your forehead against his. “There she is,” he murmured. Footsteps sounded behind you.
Felix appeared first, followed by Jisung and Minho. Felix’s expression changed when he saw your face. “Are you okay?” You nodded. Jisung looked unusually serious. “Your friend said something happened.”
“My sister asked Seungmin to sleep with her.” Jisung stared at Seungmin. Then at you. Then back at Seungmin.
“Why?” You burst out laughing. Seungmin pointed at him. “See? Reasonable question.” “That isn’t what I meant,” Jisung said quickly. “Why would she think you’d say yes?”
“That sounded better after clarification.” Minho stepped closer and touched the side of your face. “Are you actually all right?” You leant into his palm. “Mostly.” “Mostly isn’t yes.”
“She was being a bitch.” “I gathered.” From the living room, Changbin shouted, “If you lot are done fondling each other, we’re doing another round.” Chan shouted back that nobody was doing another fucking shot.
Jeongin appeared in the hallway holding four. The party carried on around you.
❝Hiding your devil fruit from everyone is the only rule. Unless it's your crush.❞
PAIRING: Monkey D. Luffy ╱ fem!reader
TAGS: fluff, angst, the timeline starts at Thriller Bark and contains spoilers up to Egghead
WORDS COUNT: 13k
LOU'S NOTES: Hi! English is not my first language, so let me know if you see any mistake, I would be very grateful <3
The sea obeyed your voice.
Its waters danced and whispered just for you, caressing your feet and soothing your pains, thrilling your soul with its gentle mirages that carried you back home. Pleased to embrace you in its waves once more. Pleased with your return.
The sea waited for you for centuries. Patient. Longing. Tearful.
No soul had been born who could tame its ferocity. The times were divine, rushing to shore without coinciding with him could be a catastrophe. So it forced itself to endure. To tolerate the pain. To tolerate the desire to see him again.
It remained hidden under the wing of a specific family, protected by them on a remote island in Grand Line, for centuries without being disturbed. They passed the word down from parents to children, grandparents to grandchildren. That devil fruit, kept in a locked chest, with its peculiar conch shell shape that glowed in shades of blue and light blue, was not to be consumed.
The fruit would choose its bearer. Like no other, it would sing to attract whoever it desired, until it made them carry an unknown destiny. Anyone who coveted it wrongly would be punished.
And everyone learned to respect it.
You had always been curious. Why was your family the only one who knew about its existence and could take care of it, when there were so many others on the island? Why couldn't anyone else even get close enough to appreciate it? What was known about that devil fruit was passed on by word of mouth. Your aunt had told you about its appearance during a festival in the village, while dancing with laughter, one jump after another, to the rhythm of "don, don, don, don", but she didn't know if it was real either. Someone else had told her about it.
Your grandmother wouldn't let anyone near the old temple on the highest hill on the island. The task of caring for it was relegated to a few women in the family, those who had the gift of hearing. Hearing what? You thought it was nonsense. How could anyone hear a fruit? As a child, you couldn't make sense of it.
But curiosity kept you awake.
And you understood everything at the age of seven.
A festival to an ancient god was being celebrated in the village. Sitting on a bench —a tree trunk cut down by your father—, you admired those present. There it was again. That rhythm. That dance. It was fun, it was playful, it was free. The huge smiles on their faces were something that only that dance could give.
The dance of Nika.
They did it once a month, as if trying to call him, intending him to join in the fun if he saw them, and something inside you told you that this god would do just that. He would join them with a huge laugh. And the party would never end.
But what was happening here was more than just a party. It was a plea. The people of your village and your family believed that he would return to save them. And someone important would come with him.
You shook your head from side to side, playing with the fabric of your white dress when you heard it.
A melancholic voice sang melodies that pressed on your heart. You were too young to understand the longing behind that song, the pain of loss. Its slowness differed from the joy in Nika's rhythm.
You covered your ears, not wanting to hear any more. But it was calling you. It was making you get up from your seat against your will.
Under the watchful gaze of your grandmother, whom you could not see through the sea of people, you made your way towards the forest. The old woman heard the crying in that song, more intense than ever. It was different from what it always whispered to her. Now it was crying out for you.
You followed the path with a grimace. It was lit by small golden lanterns shaped like flowers. Despite your fear of being scolded for entering the forbidden area, you couldn't help but follow that voice. Its broken song gradually changed, becoming a little more cheerful. Enough so as not to break your heart. You wondered if this is what the song of the sirens sounded like, the ones you read about in your book, the ones who lived on gyojin island.
You stopped in front of the temple. How many minutes had it taken you to climb the hill? You had lost track of time while enveloped in those melodies.
Seeing it up close took your breath away. Tall marble pillars surrounded by ivy stood before you. A glass dome revealed the interior of the place, making your blood run cold.
A golden statue of a woman stood in the middle, surrounded by water. Would you sink if you approached it? Or would it be shallow, free to walk towards it? That woman looked up at the sky with her back to you, her arms outstretched, her fingers curved as if touching something.
Was she singing? Could a statue sing? Or was it...? You searched with your eyes until you found it. A chest rested at her feet, surrounded by vines. As if it had never been touched before.
But something in that voice asked you to. Something in that woman's position begged you for something.
You dipped your tiny feet into the water and a sigh of relief escaped from within you when the water only reached your hips. For an adult, it would reach their knees or lower.
You walked across the slimy ground covered in seaweed, pouting in disgust. Your grandmother protected this place, but it seemed she didn't clean it, given its condition.
The singing grew softer as you got closer. The moonlight made the statue look more beautiful, but its golden colour would shine brighter in the sun.
When you reached its feet, which were in front of your face, you raised your hands to the vines, pulling them off one by one. The chest, once freed, looked old. Conveniently, a key lay beside it. You shook your head in confusion. No one had stolen it in centuries, and you had made it there without anyone stopping you. What were they afraid of? It was silly to fear a fruit. Surely it had some foolish power, like the men on the reward posters that arrived every week. There were a few incredible powers, but there were also fruits that seemed bad to you.
You inserted the key into the lock, opening the chest carefully so as not to break it. You widened your eyes in amazement when you saw it. It shone in shades of blue and light blue, shaped like a seashell. So this was what the devil's fruit looked like. You took it in your hands, not knowing that you were being allowed to do so. Not knowing that your destiny was being forged.
Standing by the island's beach, with the celebration behind her, your grandmother smiled softly. The clock was ticking again.
He had already been born and consumed his fruit, and he had chosen you at the same time to accompany him.
With the sudden violence of the sea that night, the people dancing merrily and a little girl spitting in a temple alone, the old woman welcomed the goddess of the sea.
The "Hito Hito no Mi, model: Naia" had chosen its bearer.
Your growth since that night had been quite an adventure. Your grandmother had told you things, like the name of the fruit and where it came from. The reason why your family had protected it for generations and generations finally had an answer. You were direct descendants of Naia, but the goddess was jealous and refused to choose a woman before the time. You didn't know who she was waiting for, and the old woman didn't have a concrete answer. Only old beliefs that had been instilled in her, which she couldn't vouch for as being true.
But if you were there, in front of her, surrounded by fish that seemed to be talking to you, then there was a chance that he was also in another sea.
The longer you lived in the village, the more miracles happened. The famine ceased with the increasing abundance of fish. Your unconscious attracted large fish and beasts from the Grand Line, which were hunted to feed the villagers. They ate through tears, thanking the sun god for his help, without knowing who was really responsible.
Ships began to stop there. After four years, your voice began to attract sailors, bounty hunters, and pirates. With their visits, the families around you were able to support themselves. The imminent improvement in the standard of living among these villagers caught the attention of the world government. An island was rising and should not remain outside their hands, living according to their laws. Abiding by the rules was the best they could do.
However, no one could accept it. The hatred in their hearts consumed them alive. These people were not the kind who wanted to be protected by the marine or receive the light of the world government by paying tribute. No. These people had their beliefs, beliefs that those above despised. Beliefs for which they would seek to silence them.
Your grandmother knew that your devil fruit would bring trouble. If the legends were true, the search for your existence would be relentless.
A woman with the ability to control the sea was an aberration to everyone who admired her. A forbidden existence hidden like a myth.
But myths had an origin and, in turn, someone who tried to destroy them.
As a very young girl, you had no control over the sea. The strong emotions he was unaccustomed to sent him into a frenzy. Your cries stirred up hurricanes, impossible to stop until your heart was calm again. Your anger violently shook the waves, your sudden outbursts calling forth tsunamis.
Their frequency was not something that the world government —who kept their eyes on the island that was suddenly making a name for itself— could ignore. Marines disguised as sailors or ordinary tourists came and went, reporting what they saw. Was that island changing its magnetic field? After centuries of maintaining the same one? Or was something beyond their control happening?
It was after a huge earthquake and a subsequent tsunami, one that was out of the ordinary, with waves so big that they flooded the coast and left the island without a port, that your grandmother made the decision to expel you. CP0 began prowling the area when you were seventeen. They walked around looking at all the women, with instructions to pay special attention to the youngest ones.
Any who showed abnormalities. Any who seemed to interact unnaturally with the sea. Any who talked to fish.
The one who could be the woman the five elders wanted desperately.
Your grandmother, your aunt, and your mother did everything in their power. Sooner or later, those government agents would find the temple to the goddess Naia, confirming the suspicions of the celestial dragons. That temple, that golden statue facing the sun, was the only one in the world.
Those who knew her believed she had died, leaving no trace of her passage through life, a woman who would never set foot in such a rotten place again. But there she was, laughing in their faces, always hidden, always waiting for the right moment to return.
The three women in your family knew that news of such magnitude would not sit well. Everyone was in danger, not just you. And they were willing to face them as long as they could be reunited.
Your mother pulled you by the hand, all of them covering their mouths to stifle their tired gasps. The forest was the village's domain, illuminated in every corner, trees marked to indicate the paths back home. Your aunt carried a bag of clothes and your grandmother led the way.
They came upon a flooded coastline. Four villagers were holding onto tree trunks, pulling on ropes tied to the boat to keep it steady. They had placed two barrels of provisions inside. You looked at everyone in alarm, not knowing what to say, not wanting to leave.
This island was your home. Everyone had watched you grow up. Why did you have to leave everything behind? Just because of an ancient legend that no one knew was real?
The old woman placed her hands on your cheeks after your aunt had wrapped the bag around your body.
"You must flee, child." She whispered.
You shook your head, frightened. Yes, your devil fruit seemed to control the sea, but you had never sailed. You had never gone out into the world. And you would not be going out onto a calm sea. You lived in Grand Line, and out there were fearsome pirates, the yonko sailed those waters.
"It's for your own good. And for the good of the world." She tucked your hair behind your ear with trembling hands. "One day you'll understand."
"I don't want to go." You whispered, looking at your mother pleadingly.
"It is Naia's will." Your grandmother called your attention again. "You, Y/N, must continue living."
Naia, that mythical goddess again. What did it matter if you were her chosen one for something you couldn't understand?
"Lie. Don't talk about your devil fruit. Don't reveal it to anyone. That way you can survive." Your mother's words squeezed your heart.
"Don't worry about us, we'll be fine." Your aunt said with a smile.
"Destiny will bring the two of you together." Murmured the older woman.
Her kisses on your forehead, the calm sea as the villagers lifted you onto the boat, their hands waving in the distance, your uncontrollable crying.
You didn't know how long you had cried as the small boat sailed on its own course. The sea remained calm around you as it carried you as far away as possible from your native island. An island where government agents searched relentlessly for a young woman who fit the description, interrogating and silently murdering those who refused to cooperate.
At some point, your eyes closed after crying for so long, each tear altering the sea around your island, unknowingly embracing the lifeless bodies of many girls you called your friends, as well as those of adults and elderly women. Among them, your family.
All protecting a goddess who would help a new dawn arrive.
Usopp prepared his bait, ready to catch something. They hadn't put anything in the aquarium for days. Luffy had put another shark in, and it had eaten all the fish, leaving them without provisions, without meat. Their captain was more unbearable than ever, and he had only gone a day and a half without eating meat.
He cast his line, humming his song as he tapped his feet. The sun burned his skin, and the sea seemed particularly calm that day. Would he catch anything if no fish came near the worms he had stolen from Robin's garden?
Zoro left his weight on the ground, opening the window of the crow's nest.
"Oi, there's something shining in the water." He announced.
Usopp raised his fishing rod, looking for his binoculars. Nami and Robin put down their magazines and books and stood up.
"Something shiny? Treasure?" Nami asked, smiling.
"I want to see!" Luffy shouted, opening the kitchen door. His rubber arms stretched out to the deck railing, throwing himself towards it to get there faster.
Robin smiled as she watched him jump up and down excitedly. Soon the others arrived, crowding around the railing. Chopper was lifted up by Zoro, who sat him on his shoulder so he could see better. Sanji stood next to them, smoking.
"We have to catch it!" Said Luffy.
"Oi, Luffy, wait." Usopp murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder. "First we need to see what it is from a distance."
"We can always throw it back into the sea." Added Robin.
"You're so scary!" Shouted Usopp.
"Luffy, bring that shiny thing over here." Ordered Nami to the rubber boy, looking excitedly at the glint in the distance.
The captain's arms stretched out as far as they could, pulling the small boat towards the Sunny Go at a speed that the sea offered no resistance to. Refusing to protect her from him.
"I see barrels!" Chopper shouted.
"Super!" Franky celebrated.
"Will they have food? I hope it's in good condition." Said Sanji.
"I hope it's treasure..." Nami said dreamily, clasping her hands together with a huge smile.
"I hope it doesn't kill us." Usopp lamented, thinking it was a trap.
"We can always throw it back into the sea." Robin repeated.
Luffy blinked, tilting his head to one side. Inside the boat was a girl, sleeping as if she weren't in the Grand Line. He pressed his lips together when he noticed the trail of tears on her cheeks. Her eyelashes were still wet, as if she had never stopped crying, even in her dreams.
"Chopper, we have to help her."
The seriousness in his tone alerted the crew. They looked closely, the sun no longer dazzling their eyes, revealing the figure trembling as she hugged a bag.
"We have to get her on board!" The crew's doctor ran to Franky after Zoro brought him down.
They all worked together without asking any questions yet.
There was a girl in their infirmary. A girl who had suddenly appeared amid those treacherous waters, sleeping as if she didn't care about the danger of her actions. A girl who was burning with fever while the little reindeer placed damp cloths on her forehead.
Sanji made tea for everyone while they waited for news from the doctor, curious about her identity.
"I checked her belongings. There was nothing with her name on it. Just clothes and food." Robin commented.
Nami tucked a strand of her short hair behind her ear and sighed.
"All we can do is wait for her to wake up."
"How did she survive?" Murmured Zoro, leaning against the kitchen wall with his arms crossed.
"It's a mystery. Falling asleep in Grand Line with all the pirates around who could have killed her..." Robin shook her head.
"Lucky we found her." Nami acknowledged.
Sanji was holding back, but the soft smile on his face and the multiple turns he made while serving tea told everyone how happy he was with the presence of another woman in the crew. The swordsman insulted him under his breath, earning himself a kick, and then starting a fight.
Everyone ignored them, accustomed to their behaviour. As the hours passed, uncertainty grew among those present. They continued with their activities while you were being treated. All that remained was to wait for you to wake up and tell them about yourself.
You opened your eyes slightly, looking around in confusion. It wasn't your boat. There was no captivating sky above you. There were no waves rocking your body to calm your crying.
You sat up a little on the examination table, leaning on one elbow. The two lamps that illuminated the area provided good lighting. On your left were two small shelves with bottles, their labels showing you the names of their contents. Medicines. Looking to your right, a single desk stood with more medical instruments. Laboratory tubes with different coloured caps, a stone mortar, many books and posters with drawings, from lungs to bones.
But what caught your attention most was the creature sitting in the chair. It looked like a stuffed animal. You had never seen anything like it on your home island.
"Oh! You're awake!" A shrill voice startled you.
Did that stuffed animal talk?
"What are you?" You asked, raising your eyebrows. "Can you talk? Where am I?"
"I'm the doctor for this crew." He climbed onto a stool next to you to examine you.
You seemed to be feeling better. Sanji could prepare something to boost your strength.
"A pirate crew?" You whispered fearfully.
The worst-case scenario was being captured by pirates. You mentally berated yourself for not being more careful. For falling asleep. For not begging harder to stay at home.
"Wait here." Said the little one, adjusting his tiny doctor’s coat as he left what looked like the infirmary.
You found him cute, but you weren’t going to admit it. You had to escape, not succumb to this creature. You found your sandals next to the examination table and put them on. You climbed down, making as little noise as possible, and opened the door again. You found yourself on the deck, its grass making you gasp, but you covered your mouth so as not to be discovered.
You had to survive. You had to hide. That's what your grandmother would have wanted. Your mother. Your aunt. They had all given you the chance to live. You just hoped they were all right.
You ran towards the deck in search of your boat, but growled when you didn't see it.
"Wait! Don't jump!" A female voice shouted behind you.
You turned around fearfully. A beautiful woman with short orange hair was approaching you slowly, careful not to scare you any more.
"I'm Nami. The navigator of this crew." She introduced herself with a sweet smile.
"Am I on a pirate ship?"
"We're not like other pirates." The woman assured you.
"We're good!" Shouted the doctor behind her. "And you shouldn't be out of bed. You could get sick again."
"My angel, allow this cook to be your slave and treat you like the princess you are." Said a man crouching in front of you with a bowl of soup. It smelled good. Did he say slave?
You blinked in confusion.
"Why don't you become my slave and, as your first order, jump off the ship?" Said a man with green hair and two katanas at his waist.
The blond's eyebrow twitched and he turned towards the swordsman, kicking him.
"You're going to scare her." Said a melodious voice. A woman with black hair and bangs looked at you with a sweet gaze.
"You're not going to kill us, are you?" Asked a man with a long nose hiding behind the black-haired girl.
"I thought you were going to kill me."
"Usopp is afraid of cockroaches. You could kill him with that before he tries anything." Teased the orange-haired girl.
"Oi, Nami, why are you telling her that!?"
You watched them interact for a few minutes. They were... funny. Like a little family. They didn't look like the pirates you read about in your books or in the newspaper. The dreaded Rocks D. Xebec, the mighty Whitebeard, the youngest yonko Shanks. They were all intimidating, with powerful crews, but these pirates were strange.
You smiled softly, unaware of the gaze of a certain rubber boy sitting on the lion's head.
His eyes, curious about the girl in front of him, tried to find something he had seen before. Some trace of those tears that soaked your cheeks, as if the pain you carried was greater than you wanted to show. What you hid inside you would one day explode, but until then, until you let him see it, he only wanted one thing from you.
"Join my crew!" He shouted from above. "That way you won't have to go on that little boat."
You looked up, and the air around you seemed unreachable, forbidding you to have it as you lost yourself in that smile, so bright as it melted into the setting sun.
It wasn't like you to trust so quickly. It wasn't like you to wander around with your eyes closed, without trying to figure out other people's intentions. But nothing in his gaze, in their gazes, showed you any hostility or malice. That young man who stood above everyone else as their captain had a calming aura. As if everyone would be fine by his side. As if even the greatest dangers could not disturb them with him by their side.
You knew you could have refused that day. Sailed alone until you found another island. But wherever you went, you would carry the danger with you.
And along with them, you discovered that the danger was represented by their captain.
On your first day after agreeing to join, everyone introduced themselves to you. The doctor was called Chopper, a cute blue-nosed reindeer who loved telling you medical facts, eating cotton candy, and hated the heat. He knew a lot about medicinal herbs and had an incredible dream.
The beautiful black-haired woman was Nico Robin, wanted by the World Government for being the only survivor of Ohara. She was an archaeologist and her knowledge of everything dazzled you. They told you that they had defied the World Government to save her life, and your heart beat faster.
If they knew that CP0 was after you, would they fight for you? Could you be that important to them?
The navigator, Nami, had been part of the crew from the beginning. She liked to buy pretty clothes and treasures. But what fascinated you most was her knowledge of the weather, her ability to anticipate the sea. You didn't need to announce the whispers of those waters if she could interpret them.
The long-nosed guy, Usopp, served as a sniper. His weapon confused you, forcing you to shut your mouth when you saw him use it. He never missed a single shot, always hitting the target. Nami and Robin would bet, and the short-haired girl always won because she trusted him.
The green-haired man was Roronoa Zoro, who had earned a reputation as a pirate hunter. He was serious and slept a lot, but when he laughed, he laughed heartily. He also had a strange obsession with annoying the blond man. The cook with the weird phrases and compliments, Sanji. His meals were a delicacy, and he had taken the time to ask you what your favourite was so he could make it and make you smile.
The man who only wore swimming trunks was the ship's carpenter, Franky. He had built the Sunny Go, and you considered it a work of art. You complimented the aquarium, and the area would possibly become your favourite.
And the captain, Monkey D. Luffy. That boy with his silly rubber devil fruit that made you smile. He was cheerful, playful, and funny. If everyone was here, he must be someone trustworthy.
Everything about him caught your attention.
As the days passed, you allowed yourself to feel comfortable around them. Perhaps this wasn't what your grandmother would have preferred, but if these people were enemies of the world government, then there was no safer place for you and your true identity.
No one could find a faceless girl with forbidden abilities, let alone imagine that she was now a pirate.
You told them what you could about yourself. Saying your name or talking about where you were born was not a challenge. These people did not judge you or pry into your past, not if it did not directly affect them. You discovered that they tolerated being mocked, but they did not tolerate anyone talking to or touching their friends. It was a silent respect for one another, a fondness that went beyond understanding. They were friends, they were where they needed to be. Where they belonged.
And just as everyone had their role in the crew, you couldn't really find yours.
They didn't force you to learn how to fight like an expert, but they wanted to teach you the basics so you could defend yourself.
You couldn't reveal the truth about your devil fruit. You had only mentioned that you had one, but you didn't know its powers. You had never used it to attack, as you had never been forced or needed to do so. You had never seen what it limited you to and what it promised you. With the "Hito Hito no Mi, model: Naia", you could only hear fish and sea creatures. And there was something else. Something you had discovered that embraced you in your darkest moments.
The addition of Brook —a skeleton who played various instruments and sang, which almost gave you a heart attack when you saw him— helped a lot to maintain a façade. His devil fruit had worked after he died. Everyone assumed that yours would awaken when the time was right.
Living day to day, joke after joke, disaster after disaster, was relaxing you.
You played with water pistols with everyone, shared clothes with Nami and Robin (and at night you spoiled each other with face masks and massages), you laughed at Sanji and Zoro's fights, rejected the cook's attempts to take you on a date, played guessing games about what was inside Chopper's laboratory tubes to make him smile, gave Brook ideas for songs while you drank tea together, joined in Franky and Usopp's shooting competitions, betting on who would hit the target. Always trusting the sniper, winning berries that you shared with Nami.
Luffy taught you your little training sessions to learn how to defend yourself. More than once he found you staring at him blankly, thinking you didn't understand how to throw a good punch, when in reality you were just mesmerised. Enchanted by his joy. By his smile. By his disposition. By his beauty.
"You have to bring one arm back and then push with the other! Like this!" He said, frowning in concentration.
Nami and Robin watched them, both leaning against the railing on the upper floor, outside the room the three of you shared.
"Luffy always gets like this when he decides to take on a pupil..." Sighed the navigator. "Luffy, Y/N isn't a kung fu dugong!"
The rubber boy looked at you.
"You're not going to make it?" He lamented, lowering his arms. "Zoro! Lend her one of your katanas!"
"No way." Muttered the swordsman without opening his eyes, trying to sleep.
Preparing your mind and body to improve your defence, those weak blows you used to deliver, was something you never imagined you would have to do when you lived in your village. Keeping up with your captain and the crew's cook was torture. Kicks to the head, hips, legs. Punches to the chin, stomach, nose. They were trying to teach you something you could use in a complex situation, if you didn't have time to hide. Which seemed silly to you.
Luffy's dream was to become the pirate king.
A noble dream. A dream for the brave.
He talked to you about freedom, about how the freest man in the world would be the one who became the pirate king, and you listened to him. He would sit next to you after training, when Sanji left them alone to prepare a snack at sunset. The rubber boy talked about everything and nothing. The words flowed from him as if from an inexhaustible source.
In a short time, you got to know his older brother, Ace, who, impressively, was the commander of Whitebeard's second division. A certain Dadan who raised them both alongside some mountain bandits. A young woman named Makino who always brought them clothes and taught them manners. His grandfather Garp, who served as a vice admiral in the marine and always wanted to force him to join. The yonko Shanks, who was the original owner of his straw hat, with whom he had a mission to return it when he surpassed him. And his brother Sabo, who died as a child and whom he missed madly.
Luffy talked and talked, filling your silences, smiling at you when you said something. Patiently waiting for you to talk about yourself. Eagerly waiting for you to open up. For your freedom by his side. Because that was what he wanted most for his friends. For them to be free.
But what chance of freedom could he give them if he was suffering so much?
His reality hit him like cold water. He was there, and yet he wasn't.
His world was falling apart.
He had lost them all in Sabaody. He believed he was strong, he believed he could overcome anything with enough courage, with enough confidence. If he had them by his side, he could overcome anything that came his way. He would fight for his dream, for the dreams of his friends, for the dreams of the people he met along the way.
He would do everything possible to put a smile on their faces.
So why were they determined to take his smile away? Why did they make them disappear before his eyes? Why did they let him smile broadly when he saved his brother, only to force him to hold him in his arms as he whispered his last words? Why did they have to kill Ace? Why?
Luffy was devastated. Those who were present when he awoke heard his cries of agony in the jungle. His pleas for Ace. His questions about his whereabouts.
He banged his body against the trees. His head against the rocks. He cried uncontrollably, asking, begging, pleading. A soft "thank you for loving me" repeated over and over in his mind, breaking him as he hugged himself.
It was Jinbe who pulled him out of the constant spiral his thoughts were caught up in. The doubts that gnawed at him were stagnating. Luffy wanted to be strong. He wanted to be strong enough not to lose anyone else. He wanted to be strong enough to carry his brother's will with him so that one day he could look up at the sky and smile at him, showing him that he had succeeded. He had become the king of pirates.
The news of Whitebeard's and his commander's deaths spread around the world. It received positive reactions from those who feared them and had been harmed by them. Fear spread throughout the territories that had been protected by this powerful crew. But those who suffered the most were the small family who had raised and watched these brothers grow up in Foosha.
Holding the newspaper in your hands, you read and reread the news. Just like everyone else in the crew, you wanted to be by his side. You could feel where he was. The sea whispered it to you, and you were impulsive. You never measured your actions. You never said enough to yourself. So you stole a small boat on that desolate island where you had ended up after their separation in Sabaody.
You let the sea guide you without a log pose, leading you to your captain. After a few days, you ignored the new newspaper announcing that Luffy had returned to the scene of the tragedy. Two years. You would all be reunited in two years. But you couldn't not go to his side.
You wanted to give him something to hold on to. Something that would give him calm and strength while everyone waited for their reunion.
The sea beasts cleared your path and escorted you somewhere. It took you three days to reach a jungle island. You got off your boat, nervously smoothing your white shirt. You trusted the sea. It wouldn't be wrong. But if Luffy was in this place, how would you get to him without being killed by one of those beasts growling in the distance? Sanji had taught you a few kicks, and your captain a few punches, but you were still weak.
This island was covered in vegetation. The trees stood proudly, as tall as if they were competing with each other to be the first to reach the sunlight. The plants with strange leaves were striking, to the point that something in your mind told you not to touch them. And in the distance, threatening to erupt, you could see three volcanoes.
You entered the jungle, startled by the sound of quick, heavy footsteps running towards you. You looked to your side and your scream echoed through the trees.
A larger-than-normal tiger was approaching you, baring fangs as long as your arm. You froze in fear, falling to the grass as you closed your eyes when it lunged to bite.
"Young lady? I don't know how you got here, but this is no place for beautiful girls."
You opened your eyes when death did not come, and instead there was an elderly man adjusting his glasses in front of you, smiling sideways. The tiger lay between you both, unconscious.
"Old man Rayleigh! Where are you?"
The speed with which you stood up impressed the man in front of you, whose name was Rayleigh. Rayleigh? You looked at him again. He closed his eyes, a gentle smile on his face, crossing his arms. You had read about him. You had read everything about the pirate king and his crew.
"Huh? Y/N?" You looked behind the dark king and there he was. Your captain, completely bandaged, looking at you in surprise. "Y/N!"
His movements were, all in all, normal. He didn't use his powers as he ran towards you and wrapped you in his arms. He seemed to be careful with his body, and he certainly needed to be.
"What are you doing here? How did you get here? How are the others? We were supposed to meet in two years!" His excited voice as he pulled your body close to his using what little strength he had devastated you.
You hugged him back, careful not to disturb any areas where the injury was more severe. You felt a slight tremor in his body as he asked a thousand questions, not giving you time to answer.
Rayleigh watched the two of you thoughtfully, Jinbe joining him at his side, having felt a sudden calling.
"I came by boat." You whispered.
"The little boat? That's dangerous." Said Luffy.
"Young lady, you crossed the Calm Belt and overcame all those sea beasts in a simple boat? You must be very strong." Rayleigh inquired.
"It's not that." Jinbe wanted to say, but the words reached no one but you in your mind.
Your eyes quickly found him, and he smiled at you.
"Oi, Y/N, Y/N, are you going to stay?" Luffy asked with a huge smile, capturing your full attention.
"No. I'd be interrupting whatever is going on here."
"You need to train, you're still weak." He teased.
"I'm not!" You complained.
But you were. The right-hand man of the Pirate King and the first son of the sea smiled amusedly. One, knowing the whole story. And the other, having grown up with a legend.
The sun and the sea belonged to each other. And the sun and the sea were unknowingly facing each other.
"If you don't mind, I have a proposal for you, miss Y/N." Said the gyojin.
Luffy and you stopped arguing and looked at him.
"I would like to train you in gyojin karate."
"Gyojin karate? I'm bad with my fists." You muttered, embarrassed.
"That would be great, Jinbe!" Said Luffy, picking his nose. "But doesn't it only work with gyojin? Will she turn into a mermaid?"
"She'll make it work better than anyone else." Said Rayleigh, walking towards a campfire. "I'll give you a month to talk and for Luffy to recover. Then you'll leave with Jinbe. Is that alright with both of you?"
Luffy nodded, dragging you by the hand towards the campfire.
In a month, he and you grew closer. You discovered all kinds of beetles, a hobby of his that you loved. You made them fight, betting on which one would win, groaning in frustration when you lost. You could never beat him when he had the advantage of knowledge over you.
You fought over the food Rayleigh hunted, receiving teasing from the adult who quickly grew fond of you. In his eyes, you were a sweet girl who needed to bring out that hidden strength. Jinbe only scolded Luffy when he bit your hand before you could take some meat.
It caught your attention how in the mornings your captain was a cheerful boy, giving a huge smile to anyone, but at night he would break down. You slept separately. Rayleigh used to cover him with his cape, and Jinbe covered you with his. But when no one was looking, when they went to the island's shore to talk in private, Luffy would move.
He sought refuge in your arms. He didn't ask for permission. He didn't ask questions. He didn't speak. All you felt were his bandaged arms wrapped around your waist and his face against your chest. If tears wet your shirt and silent sobs shook his body, you said nothing. You stroked his hair silently until he fell asleep, and only after making sure he was, did you sleep yourself.
It was the morning after a nightmare woke him up that you made your decision.
You had done this three or four times in your life. You weren't sure you could do it, but that was the only reason you had visited Rusukaina.
On the shore, you took off your sandals and put your feet in the water. The weakness of seawater, which must bother all users of the devil's fruit, never bothered you. When they said it was an anomaly, this was why.
You stretched your hand out over the water and it rose just ten centimetres. You clenched it into a fist and opened it again. Fifteen centimetres. You closed it again and the water fell, splashing as it formed a puddle. A puddle in the sea. The water was mirrored, confirming your success.
"How can you be there if you ate a devil fruit?"
You looked up, frightened.
Luffy looked at you confused, his head tilted to one side and his lips pursed.
"You didn't eat one then?"
"Luffy..."
"I saw you lift the water."
"It must have been your imagination." You said, smiling nervously.
"No. Earlier on the Sunny Go, I saw you attract the fish. I thought it was Camie, but Camie doesn't eat her friends."
You remained silent.
"It must be great to be able to swim with a devil fruit!" He laughed as he approached you. "What were you doing with the water? Something like fium and splash!"
You scratched the back of your neck while the bandaged boy moved his hands in exaggerated movements. That was just how he was. And you were becoming more attached to him than usual. The way he explained things with the sounds they made made you smile.
"If I tell you, it will be a secret between us."
"Are you going to show me your treasure?" He asked, his eyes sparkling.
"Something like that."
You took his hand, pulling him close to you. You both looked out at the puddle in the sea, so much like a mirror.
With the end of the month and the promise to meet again in two years, you parted ways. The truth about your devil fruit was kept by your captain, who smiled happily at learning more about you. Happy at how little by little you were opening up to them. To him.
He begged you for different tricks with water, bursting into laughter when the sea water weakened him. He understood why Jinbe had to be the one to train you, eager to know how strong you would be in two years. He was saddened when, at night, he no longer had your warmth by his side and your caresses on his hair to soothe his pain and trauma.
But he took refuge in your gift.
That puddle you had created in the sea was trapped in a seashell. You had taught him how to take the enchanted water out and put it back in, with no limit on its use.
He believed it was the best thing in the world after his hat, his brothers, and his crew.
His lonely nights were filled with laughter by the sea. Laughter that had previously only existed in his memories, but which he could now hear and see. The puddle formed mirages, reflecting his memories.
He saw Ace. He saw Sabo. He saw the three of them running through Mount Colubo. Hunting, playing, fighting. He cried at everything he witnessed. Just hearing his brothers being happy, Sabo counting the points in their training sessions, Ace teasing him for being weak, his taunts at seeing his older brother embarrassed when receiving compliments from Makino. It all made his heart ache.
The two years passed more quickly than the crew had expected. The strength they had all gained, their new skills and their new appearances were something to be appreciated.
Your training with Jinbe on a remote island in order to hide your identity had been laborious. You were good at gyojin karate. Your devil fruit responded to you with ease now. You could defend yourself and attack without relying on others, but the adult had told you that you still had a long way to go. The Hito Hito no Mi would not stop there. You still had to awaken it. You still had to learn more with it, without limiting yourself. You could do anything you could imagine with enough determination.
You smiled amusedly when you saw Nami sitting at the bar, drinking alone. You approached her from behind, hugging her and whispering in her ear.
"Are you free tonight?"
The woman, now with long hair, shuddered when she recognised the voice and turned around with a smile.
"Y/N!" Her arms wrapped around you in a big hug. "It's been so long! You look amazing!"
"You look beautiful, Nami." You said, sitting down next to her with a smile.
"Ladies, would you like me to buy you a drink?"
You both turned towards the voice with disinterest, your expressions instantly changing when you recognised it. Usopp was smiling, looking more confident than ever. Nami and you rushed to hug him, starting to talk about everything the three of you had done in those two years. You talked a little about your training, saying that you were now good at karate, proud of your attacks.
As the minutes passed, you met up with the others again.
The Sunny Go was still in the same place you left it, without a single scratch. Seeing most of the crew filled your heart with joy. Those people who had welcomed you with open arms two years ago were finally in front of you again.
Franky whistled and complimented the beautiful women in front of him. His appearance had changed a lot since the past, but he was approached by Usopp, who looked at him excitedly and asked all sorts of questions. Chopper, wearing a new hat and looking cuter than ever, jumped around and hugged Robin excitedly. He had missed everyone dearly. Robin, more beautiful than ever with her long hair, talked about her days with the Revolutionary Army.
Everyone looked healthy, but above all, they looked happy. Happy to be back where they belonged.
But someone was missing.
And just thinking about seeing him again made your heart race wildly inside your chest, wanting to escape.
"I can't wait to see how much Luffy has changed since last time!" Usopp exclaimed with a smile from ear to ear. "I'm so excited to see him!"
"Me too." Said Robin.
You nodded silently, smiling fondly. When the assumption was made that he might have gotten himself into trouble, Chopper offered to go find the three remaining members. The moment the little one left, an irreplaceable presence fell from above.
Brook had left behind his life as a world-renowned musician to return to his beloved friends. They all welcomed him with smiles.
"And I thought you couldn't get any more beautiful…" Commented the skeleton, looking at the three women. "Well… Two years have passed."
He sat down on a barrel and a few strings of his guitar resonated in the air.
"Would you all be so kind and show me your panties?"
"No way!"
Nami kicked him away, while Robin and you laughed.
"Oi! Guys!"
You looked up just as his voice reached your ears. Your big smile matched those of the others, but the sparkle in your eyes hid the longing in your heart, those feelings that had blossomed when you spent a month together, completely alone, sleeping in each other's arms every night. Those feelings you tried to fight, repeating in your mind like a mantra that they would pass if you didn't see him, breaking down when you dreamed of his smile or when you thought of his reaction to seeing you again.
You stayed behind the others with a sudden blush on your cheeks.
You had never seen him without his multiple bandages. And now there he was, stepping onto the deck of the Sunny Go while greeting everyone, wearing an open red shirt that revealed that huge scar.
Luffy had gained muscle. He looked stronger. More confident. And yet, you could see that he was the same as always, that his strength and confidence were centred on the people around him.
The rubber boy looked for you, smiling when he saw you.
Neither of you spoke, at least not out loud, pretending that nothing had happened between you.
The journey to Fishman Island had been quite an adventure. Seeing the underwater world left you speechless. Holding onto the railing, you admired the different schools of fish that surrounded the ship from time to time, circling twice before swimming away. You wanted to reach out and feel them against your skin, but that would have exposed you. The sea water did not weaken you, and the crew knew you had an “unused” devil fruit.
"I think they're greeting you." You looked to your side, to that warm presence.
Luffy was looking at a school of pink fish that had come up to your face to look at you from the other side of the bubble.
"Yes?" You said, amused.
"We could eat them."
"Don't even think about it." You scolded him.
"But you're not a mermaid!"
"But they talk to me. They're friends."
"Friends aren't for eating." He muttered, pressing his lips together.
You giggled admiringly at the little pout he made as his stomach growled. That soft sound from you disturbed the sea animals around the Sunny Go, who were happily swirling around.
"Are there always so many fish? How cool!" Said Usopp, standing next to you.
You snuggled up to Luffy a little, pretending not to know anything. Luffy moved his mouth into a pout to one side, also pretending not to know.
"You're bad at lying." You whispered.
"I'm not." He whispered back.
You laughed, leaving him with Usopp.
Fishman Island was a dreamlike place. Your devil fruit seemed comfortable there, and the mermaids and gyojin looked at you excitedly.
The powerful goddess of the sea, Naia, stood before them.
The legend told for generations spoke of how she was always accompanied by a man. A clingy man who never left her side. A playful man who always made her laugh. A selfish man who never refrained from looking at her with love and wanting her for himself.
That man was the sun god.
They said that when they separated, the goddess cried so much that her tears disturbed the sea. The catastrophe caused by the forced breakup of their love made her sleep for centuries. And at some point, when the sun rose again, she would wake up.
Mothers and children never stopped talking about how they, the inhabitants of Fishman Island, would be the first to recognise her. After all, Naia was a kind of mother to that race.
Everyone wondered who the man accompanying you would be.
Nami and Robin watched amused as the little mermen, mermaids, and gyojin children clung to you shamelessly, asking you to play with them. You had no idea how to refuse. Throughout the banquet, you were here and there, performing water tricks hidden from your crew, entertaining the little ones who were excited by the slightest thing you did.
Jinbe, happy to see your progress and how you were doing in the water, smiled as he drank his sake.
Everyone was having a good time. Everyone except for a rubber boy who occasionally remembered that you weren't by his side and, capriciously, pouted. He calmed down again when they gave him meat, enjoying the party.
You sat down next to him, exhausted. You didn't know what other tricks to do for those children. You took a sip of sake, on the verge of spitting it out when another gyojin child came up in front of you.
"Oi, kids, she's mine for now." Said Luffy, frowning and taking a bite of meat.
You blushed, trying to drink the sake faster. Robin raised an eyebrow at his words, giving the orange-haired woman beside her an inquiring look. They both knew how possessive the rubber boy could be. His hat and his friends were equally important to him. But that phrase… That tone was different.
The impact his words could have on one's life or day was foreign to Luffy. Noticing that what he unconsciously said brought a revolution was not something he cared about.
He continued as if nothing had happened.
And so, his normal behaviour over the following days came as no surprise to anyone. The navigator and the archaeologist watched you both closely, knowing that there was something else going on between you.
Even though your captain sat next to you at breakfast, fighting with you over the portions you hadn't eaten yet (something he would do with anyone), there was something strange about it. The natural way you would slap his hand and growl at him. The way he would bite your hand hard, making you cry out. They did not remember the two of you being so close before Sabaody, two years ago.
You had not had time to develop such a friendship.
And it did not seem like a simple friendship.
One night, when you hadn't yet come to your room to sleep with them, they talked.
"Seriously, if those two are a couple and they didn't tell us..." Whispered Nami.
"I don't think they are. In fact, I think that's where they're headed." Robin refuted.
"If Luffy feels something for her, he won't notice." Growled the navigator, burying her face in her pillow.
The black-haired woman smiled as she sat on her own bed.
"We just have to give them time." She murmured.
"We have to keep an eye on them."
"Without interfering." Robin concluded.
Island after island you visited in the future, day after day that passed, both women decided to give you privacy, paying attention only during dinners. As if reviewing the day, looking for some sign of progress.
It was amid the heat of the flames and the volcanoes about to erupt in Punk Hazard that Robin noticed the first detail: Luffy talked to you like he didn't talk to anyone else.
The heat was unbearable, you could barely stand that kind of hell, ignoring that your captain now looked like a centaur and shouted excitedly that he liked having four legs. If you looked closer, you noticed that the ones at the back, which had just been attached, were barely working. They flew through the air because Luffy's legs did all the work.
You wiped the sweat from your forehead for the fourth time when the smiling boy approached you. He leaned over to you, whispering in your ear.
"Why don't you make something like a sphere of water and hydrate yourself?"
"I can't. There's no source of water nearby." You whispered.
"Your sweat."
You parted your lips, not believing what he had said. Use your sweat? And why was he looking at you like that? With his brow slightly furrowed, as if he had said the most serious, intelligent and obvious thing in the world. You smiled amusedly, patting his shoulder.
Robin noticed it again when all of you arrived on the other side of the lake, where the island became wintry. The small group was shivering from the cold, freezing after falling into the water. The archaeologist sighed as she felt her body warm up, turning to check that everyone was okay, raising her eyebrows briefly in surprise.
Her captain was wrapping a coat around your body, as if it were a practised movement. Neither of you knew that Luffy had actually watched others do this and wanted to try it himself.
Because that's what people who loved someone else did, right? Give them a coat so they would never be cold. Rayleigh had done it for him when they trained together. Hancock had lent him hers to get to Sabaody.
In his mind, if you cared about someone, you should give them a coat.
Although he knew very well why he only wanted to give it to you.
During the banquet, when you walked away to comfort Chopper, who was frightened by Trafalgar Law, the two women sat down to exchange information. Nami hadn't seen anything unusual, so she was surprised to hear about her captain's actions towards you.
The navigator became frustrated when she couldn't stay in Dressrosa, feeling like she was missing out on everything. Robin promised to keep her informed when they met again.
And so she did.
You had signed up with him for the coliseum tournament, wearing one of the many gladiator outfits. Luckily, you had been placed in a different block from Luffy, saving you from a difficult fate. It wasn't time for your competition yet when Zoro came looking for the two of you.
The urgency with which you began searching for the exit made you anxious. Outside, it would soon be chaos, but the thought of Luffy abandoning one of the few physical reminders he had of his brother made your heart ache. You wished you could get it for him, but he had forbidden you to do so. If he left, you would go with him.
You stopped in your tracks for a few seconds when you realised there was nowhere to escape. Encountering Bartolomeo and Bellamy only confirmed your suspicions. It was all a trap and you were trapped in the coliseum, only he knew the way out.
"Luffy senpai, what will happen to the Mera Mera no Mi?" Asked the green-haired man, staring at the wall.
"The lives of my comrades are more important."
You bit your lower lip. A physical reminder of Ace that he couldn't have. A physical reminder that would give him a glimpse of his time in the world, something that would show him that he was there. You could stay in the coliseum without any problems. Win it, take it away in its chest, keep it safe, and run away with it until you could give it to Luffy...
Luffy tugged on your little finger without looking at you to pull you out of your thoughts. Bartolomeo talked non-stop, still facing the wall, about how he had always planned to win it for him. Because he admired him. He admired the whole crew and would do anything for any of you, but especially for the young man next to you.
You turned to look back when approaching footsteps interrupted you. You frowned at the man. He was dressed like a noble would be. And he wore a custom hat.
"I won't let you keep the Mera Mera no Mi, Straw Hat Luffy."
"What are you talking about, idiot?" Bartolomeo growled, walking towards him. "I don't know who you think you are, but to you he is Luffy senpai. Respect him!"
The green-haired man continued talking, trying to intimidate him, but that man was not fazed. He was calm, not taking his eyes off the boy you loved. You began to frown.
"I've known all that for a long time." Said the man, pushing Bartolomeo away.
You stood in front of Luffy, trying to protect him when he started to approach. Your right hand took a familiar gyojin karate stance, and something in the blond's gaze seemed to sparkle in recognition. The rubber boy stood in front of you again, hating that you were protecting him.
But what happened next was something neither of you were prepared for. You stepped aside, your lower lip trembling, unable to interrupt them.
You could only watch your rubber boy crying as he hugged him. His sobs were loud, letting out more than he had allowed himself to do at your side. He apologised. He repeated to the blond that everything was fine and that he shouldn't apologise. The older one thanked him for staying alive.
And you were broken, thanking whoever for this joy in his life.
Living two years of his life believing that he had lost his two older brothers must have been the greatest torture.
In Zou, despite the situation they had to face in Big Mom's territory, Nami and Robin made a space for themselves.
"So, his brother is the second in command of the Revolutionary Army?" The navigator whispered.
Robin nodded. She had kept that secret for two years.
"Sabo noticed something too."
"What?"
"I don't know what happened between the three of them, but when Luffy and Y/N were sleeping after the battle..."
"Separately?" Whispered Nami.
"Yes and no. Luffy was in bed and Y/N was holding his hand, sitting on the floor."
The navigator nodded thoughtfully, waiting for her to continue.
"Sabo said he liked his little brother's girlfriend."
Nami's eyes widened in surprise.
As if Zoro and Franky hadn't heard the revolutionary's conversation too. Now you had two more pairs of eyes watching you from afar.
As night fell, you yawned relaxed in bed. You couldn't be at peace for long. Your stomach churned at the thought of Luffy going to the territory of a yonko without you. It calmed you to think that the friends he was going with were good and trustworthy. Bringing Sanji back was essential.
You couldn't imagine your days without him in the kitchen, occupying every corner and filling the room with his twists and compliments.
The blanket was lifted carefully and arms wrapped around your waist.
"Luffy?" You whispered.
"Mhm."
Your heart skipped a beat. Should you put one hand on his hair and the other on his back like you used to? Should you tell him to go back to his room? To his bed? And not feel his warmth. Not feel his heartbeat. Not comfort him in silence. Since you saw each other again, you hadn't slept together.
"Y/N?" He whispered, resting his chin on your chest. "You must stroke my hair."
His demanding tone, trapped in a pout, made you giggle. He relaxed under your touch. He hadn’t wanted to bother you when you saw each other again, but he had missed this. Your fingers in his hair, the gentle circles traced on his back, waking up without you leaving him.
You had stolen his heart in a month, and he wasn't doing anything about it.
"Sorry." He murmured, his cheek resting on your chest. His tone didn't seem to regret whatever he was regretting in the slightest.
"Why are you apologising?"
"I gave Sabo your gift. The seashell." He whispered without looking at you. "I thought he would need it more than I did."
You smiled, resisting the urge to kiss his forehead.
"It’s okay. I can make you another one if you want."
Luffy didn't say what he was thinking. He knew you would make those magical pools for him if he asked, without needing a seashell. Next time, he wanted to show you everything he had to show.
But that would have to wait.
Wano was unlike anything you had ever seen before.
The suffering of the people in this village made your blood boil. Poor people had nothing to eat, and their water was contaminated. Seeing them live dehydrated, with sick children and rumbling stomachs, pushed you to your limit.
Hiding your identity would be difficult in this country. They needed you, so you allowed yourself to do something in secret. The gentle touch of your hands began to purify the water of the river of Ebisu, the pollution seeping into your bones. You didn't mention it to anyone, it was an experiment. You wanted to know your limits.
The flowing water was clean, perfect for the children, elderly and adults in the area. It was the little you could do while enduring the pollution. You had to find a way to expel it from within you without causing havoc. Throwing it away and contaminating plants, the land for future crops or the sea itself disgusted you.
But maybe, enduring it was your mistake.
Perhaps if you had gone against your principles and stopped trusting Luffy's words, those that promised to save this country, you would not be suffering now. But it was impossible for you not to do so. It was impossible for you not to trust him. You knew he would succeed, because he never lied. He worked hard for what he set out to do.
He was like sunshine in the lives of those who knew him.
You tolerated the contamination in your bones during the battles in Onigashima, but weeks had passed since you received it and your body began to take its toll at the worst possible moment.
You could only hear Nami and Usopp's screams when you stood in front of them. The three of you had a little girl with you. Otama was Luffy's adoration, and putting her in danger was something you would never forgive yourself for. The powers of your devil fruit did not respond in time to counter the threatening attack of the yonko Big Mom, an attack that was aimed at your friends.
The "heavenly fire" struck your body, its impact propelling it and slamming it against the walls. That homie, Prometheus, pushed your body wall to wall, breaking them one by one as if he were on a mission. As if he wanted to kill someone from the straw hat crew.
You spat out a little blood when the fire became more intense. It was burning your torso and arms. If you moved your fingers slightly, you didn't have the strength to call on the sea water, nor to send Prometheus backwards.
A song reached your ears. You opened your eyes slightly, meeting the gaze of the homie, so threatening and sinister. You smiled slightly, knowing you would be safe.
That soft intonation, almost as if a mother were tucking her beloved child into bed, could not be heard by anyone else present on Onigashima. Naia's song was exclusively for you, only heard on special occasions. The first time you heard it, you consumed her fruit. And this time, everything was a mystery.
"Y/N!"
Was that cry from Usopp or Nami? You couldn't see them. You could only watch Prometheus rage at your smile.
A gasp escaped from within you as the force of his attack tripled. The other homies joined him, Hera and Napoleon, carrying you through the hard rock wall.
A beep stunned your ears.
Your body fell from a height impossible to calculate. The abyss drew you into its darkness, and you could do nothing but embrace it.
The severity of your injuries left you with no strength to scream. To call for help. To call out to anyone.
Luffy, your friends, the people of Wano who trusted you. Was this your end? Was this Naia's will, for which you had been expelled from your native island? Did you really have to die like this?
The water engulfed you as you hit hard, sinking you to the depths.
"Announcement to all of Onigashima!"
Bao Huang's shout echoed in every corner. The fighting didn't stop, but everyone was paying attention. Something had changed.
"A member of the straw hat crew has been defeated!"
Usopp growled, wiping away his tears in despair. He felt useless. He should have taken the attack, not let you cover him. He couldn't do anything because of the fear. He couldn't do anything to stop you from falling. Nami hugged Otama, sobbing hard, apologising to Luffy over and over again even though her captain wasn't in front of them. How could she explain to him that she let the woman he loved be killed right in front of his eyes? Everyone's friend? Another straw hat.
"Y/N has been killed by Big Mom-sama!"
At different points on Onigashima, the crew was moved. Different reactions crossed their faces. Anger, sadness, regret. Some, like Chopper and Brook, shouted through their tears that you couldn't have died. That Bao Huang was lying. Others, like Zoro and Sanji, silently continued to fight. You were just as stubborn as Luffy, whatever had happened to you, you wouldn't stop there. Jinbe stopped dead in his tracks as Robin hugged Chopper, looking for something to hold on to before her thoughts consumed her mind.
Luffy's heart scratched at his chest as he was forced to hold back.
He wanted to run to the edge of the terrace. He wanted to look down. He felt the need for his longing to become one with the sea despite his inability to swim. And he felt you. The soft beating of your heart, how weak your pulse was, and how calm the waves were. Could you drown if you were the sea itself? Could your wounds condemn your soul to an irreversible fate?
He clenched his fists, unflinching. One mistake, one moment of weakness, would end everyone's life.
For some strange reason, the news from Bao Huang did not affect him like it did the others, who were crying incessantly.
Luffy trusted you, even when his observation haki could no longer sense your heartbeat.
You had spent a month together. You had slept together. You had shared and fought over food. You had cared for his mind and his nightmares without him asking. You had listened to his whole story and his dreams, while opening up about yours only to him. You had been one of the reasons he was standing there today, fighting.
He trusted you. He trusted that you would be okay.
If your origin was the sea, then you would return to it. And the sea would do its thing to bring you back.
Because you belonged by his side, in a silent agreement that neither of you would break.
In the depths, hundreds of fish and sea creatures surrounded your lifeless body, giving you space, shy to be near their goddess. Your outstretched arms allowed them to see you. The burns on your torso and neck continued to bleed, despite the water's attempts to soothe them. The pollution tolerated for weeks drained away little by little, oozing from your body until it gathered into a sphere.
"Nika, you've got yours!"
"Oi, Luffy! That's my food!"
The voices, clearly reproachful, echoed among those present under the sea.
"Naia! Come jump!"
"Y/N, let's play something!"
A heartbeat.
"Nika, stop moving, you're annoying."
"Luffy, I can't sleep if you move around so much. Go to your bed."
Another heartbeat.
"Naia is mean."
"Y/N is mean, she wouldn't let me eat her food."
Fire ravaged Onigashima. Everyone began to gather in one place, desperately searching for a solution. The captain of the straw hat pirates continued to fight Kaido, filling the atmosphere with anxiety. No member of the alliance wanted to hear any more bad news.
"Even if Straw Hat-ya wins, we'll all die in the fire." Said the captain of the heart pirates. "We have to find a way to put it out."
Nami took a few steps towards the centre, standing next to Marco as some surfaces began to give way.
The sudden tremor in the floor frightened everyone. Several fell to the floor, breathing heavily amid the flames and two powerful presences fighting on the terrace. The navigator held Otama tightly in front of her.
"An earthquake? How is that possible up here?" She said, confused.
"This isn't normal. Something's happening." Robin drew some minks towards the centre with her powers.
"Is Straw Hat provoking it?" Kid growled.
"No..." Law said. "He's still fighting Kaido."
"I sense another presence-yoi."
"It’s not Luffy or Kaido? What’s going on? Robin!" Chopper hugged the archaeologist, crying.
"There’s something in the sea!"
The scream of one of the beast pirates alarmed their opponents, with Law being the first to look into the hole you had made in the wall before dying. His crew had been on the Polar Tang at the moment you fell, but according to their reports, it was impossible to reach your body. A blue sphere surrounded you and the sea beasts threatened to attack them. They could have killed his friends, but something was holding them back. The waves battered his submarine, sending it away every time it approached where you were supposed to be.
One by one, they took clumsy steps to look through the hole, at a considerable distance, afraid of falling. Most of the straw hats did not want to see what was left after your death. The pain in their hearts could not be revealed, and their tears could not be shed. Not until it was all over.
The waves crashed into each other with fury, their directions unnatural. Not even the weather in the New World could explain something like that. Nami left Otama next to a sleeping Zoro, holding onto the wall to get a closer look.
"The water is receding." She whispered. "Everyone, stay in the centre!"
"Oi, oi, Nami, the waves can't reach up here, why are you worried?" Asked Usopp.
"Because of that thing that's taking shape."
The metres receded by the sea rose up in a wave. A wave almost two thousand metres high, immovable. And in its centre, there was a figure. A woman created from water, rivalling a giant in size.
"We won't get out of here alive." Cried Usopp.
"Robin-chan, Nami-swan, I'll protect you."
"Sanji! Me too!" Chopper whimpered.
"She looks like..." Law whispered.
"That's Y/N!" Jinbe shouted.
The entire crew's eyes widened before they began screaming and crying.
"Monster!" Usopp exclaimed upon seeing the figure.
"What is that thing, it's scary!" Nami cried.
"Y/N-chan had that kind of power all along?" Sanji shouted, leaning further out of the hole.
"I'm glad she's alive, yohoho!"
"It's a super miracle!" Franky sobbed.
"What a peculiar shape..." Robin murmured thoughtfully. "Do you know anything about it, Jinbe-san?"
The gyojin smiled broadly.
Naia had returned.
"I would recommend everyone stand in the centre and hold each other. Y/N is going to do something."
You cupped the water in your hands. Just as you had practised for two years, you had no reason to be nervous. Your body felt healthy and light as you became the sea itself. The burns would still be there once you broke this form, but now it was enough. Jinbe had trained you relentlessly so that you could achieve his hikishio ipponzeoi.
You prepared your attack and, without hesitation, half the sea was thrown towards Onigashima.
The flood was unprecedented.
The fire was completely extinguished. The devil fruit users weakened. The few gyojin who were there saved everyone from being swept away by the waves. Nami carried Otama, Usopp saved Robin, Sanji held Zoro, Franky grabbed Brook, and Jinbe put Chopper on his shoulder. Everyone in the crew smiled as they looked out to sea, where your figure stood in all its grandeur and splendour. To say they were surprised would be an understatement. They had so much to ask you. Two wanted to apologise for everything you had been through. A certain swordsman would seek you out to train when he woke up and heard the news. The archaeologist wanted to know everything about your devil fruit and its rarity.
You were something that transcended the unnatural.
"Shishishi!"
You looked up at the island's roof. Luffy, in a strange white form, floated in the air, reclining with his arms behind his head. His beautiful pink eyes looked at you fondly. And amid all that radiant happiness, you could see tears threatening to escape.
"Thank you for coming back, Y/N."
The land of Wano made headlines worldwide. The bounty posters were updated. The crew now belonged to a yonko, straw hat Luffy.
It made you happy to see how he was getting closer and closer to fulfilling his dream. And, in turn, how you were now one of the members with the highest bounty.
You held the poster in front of your face, grimacing from time to time as you felt Chopper's hooves on your burns, applying an ointment that he claimed was excellent. You would be left with scars on your neck and chest, but you couldn't dream of leaving that country without a scratch. You didn't regret defending your friends.
Although Nami and Usopp never left your side, the sniper crying and hugging you every time you passed by him, and the navigator offering you berries (something she wouldn't normally do with anyone) and multiple strokes on your hair.
You paid attention to your photo on the poster. It was you, from head to toe, every little detail, every tiny imperfection, but all loved by the sea. The sea goddess you had awakened had been captured and everyone admired her. For some she was terrifying, for others magical.
You smiled dumbly. You couldn't always use such a powerful attack, but being immortalised like this was nice. You traced the numbers with your index finger, curious about the insane sum.
Why was your head suddenly worth 1,000,000,000 berries? You had only died, come back to life, and extinguished the fire on Onigashima. Perhaps you had also purified all the water in Wano, and Trafalgar Law had used his devil fruit to remove the pollution from inside you. But that was not something others could know.
You never got a straight answer to that.
Egghead was about to be a disaster. CP0 was on the island with clear instructions. Your boots echoed on the floor as you stepped aside to wait for Luffy. You were supposed to take him back to Labophase, but he was more interested in facing an old enemy he had encountered again.
You looked up, entranced. His Gear 5 was mind-blowing. Everything he could do with his devil fruit, the ease with which his brain came up with new ideas, it all made you laugh. Not to mention the floor, which now made you bounce.
Vegapunk hurried over to the monitors.
"Have the white and blue warriors appeared yet?" He asked, his eyes shining as he caught sight of Luffy laughing. "Tell me about those transformations. The white one from Straw Hat and the young girl on her wanted poster."
"We don't know, to be honest." Said Nami. "Luffy's is the Gomu Gomu no Mi, but Y/N's is unknown to us."
The scientist pressed his lips together, holding back a smile.
"There is no fruit with that name in the devil fruit encyclopaedia!"
The crew gasped, unable to comprehend.
"What? That's impossible!" Exclaimed the navigator.
"Luffy always says gomu gomu when he attacks." Added Usopp.
"Look how beautiful he is! I'm sure she is too!" Rambled Vegapunk, raising his hands. "It's fate! I didn't expect to meet them like this."
"If you know anything, tell us. Y/N-chan doesn't talk much about herself." Sanji requested.
"What happened to those two?" Franky asked, approaching the screen to look at the two of you.
Luffy was still floating there laughing, and you looked at him with a sparkle in your eyes.
"They look like gods."
The cook choked on his own words, unable to believe it.
"Luffy a god? He's an idiot!" He shouted. "Y/N-chan is a goddess, that's true."
Robin looked at Vegapunk in surprise.
"Are you saying that those appearances we saw are those of gods?"
"Yes." Said the scientist, his expression turning serious. "The warrior of liberation. He who plays the fool and brings smiles to all. The sun god, Nika!"
The few crew members present were surprised. The answers that no one else could give them were in the brain of this man who stared at the screen excitedly. Eager to talk. Eager to educate the world.
"And the goddess he loves, the one capable of punishing everyone for him. The goddess of the sea, Naia."
Nami shook her head, approaching Vegapunk.
"Nika and Naia? I've never heard those names."
"Of course not. Their names were erased from history." The scientist said abruptly. "Nika and Naia were inseparable."
The revealed legend left them speechless. In the end, the archaeologist was right.
It was best not to interfere.
The sun god felt a deep longing for the sea. Seeing it every day made him feel free, and he wanted to reach it more than anything else. Then, one day, he met its goddess. He thought she would help him help. If he could make people laugh, then she could give them freedom.
Naia was closed off, only willing to care for those she loved: the gyojin, the mermaids, the mermen. Opening the doors of her heart to let Nika in went against her principles. He knew how to make her laugh effortlessly with a joke or a silly expression. He fought with her over food, hitting him every time he wanted to eat a fish. He invited her to have fun jumping with his friends. He asked her to do water tricks for him.
Falling in love with each other was natural. Nika always admired her foolishly, his gaze never leaving her. He loved her loudly with his actions. He loved her silently with his words.
Naia always looked up, because he loved to float. He shone in a way that only he could. Her love was protective, ensuring that he never lost his smile. That he never shed a single tear.
For him, she was freedom. And for her, he was.
Someone feared their powers together, the ease with which people became attached to and trusted them, asking them for things they could give them. So, under false pretences, he murdered the sun god.
The two lovers agreed to meet again when destiny required it. When the time came. First, Nika would return, accompanied by a man who shared his ideals of freedom. Then, Naia would notice him. Her living love.
That devil fruit that had eluded the world government for centuries, and that devil fruit that was believed to be non-existent, would wait to be reincarnated.
Nika would choose who would bring a new dawn to the world, and Naia would take into her sweet arms the one who would support him on his journey. A mystical love, a destined love. Unconsciously, their successors would love each other just as they had.
Because their souls resonated. Their souls yearned for each other. Their souls waited.
And that statue that had been looking —alone, hidden from everyone with its arms outstretched— at the sun for centuries, would finally be able to feel his skin under her fingers once again.
you and ace spent a night together years ago, and meet again years later as you find out he’s your captain’s big brother.
tags: sfw, implied sexual content, straw hat reader, fluff, awkward reunion, past one-night stand, everyone lives au
a/n: as we clarified, I don't write alternate universe aus, so I made a canonverse one but of course, doing so, the fic probably have a different mood from what you wanted. I made it longer and fluffy, to apologies for it. hope you'll enjoy it anyway
The streets of Nanohana are loud and somewhere nearby Luffy is already causing trouble.
“ACE!!” his voice echoes through the whole town.
You sigh “I found Luffy...”
Nami pinches the bridge of her nose “Of course he has to scream…”
Usopp points ahead “Hey! Who’s that?”
Standing on the roof of a small restaurant there’s a tall man wearing an orange cowboy hat with two strange faces on it.
Freckles and a confident grin on his face.
He jumps down easily “Luffy!”
The two laugh as they crash into each other in a hug, making everyone smile automatically.
Well… everyone but you.
Because the second he lands in front of Luffy...your heart stops and you freeze.
That can't be...
He turns his head and his eyes meet yours.
Your brain suddenly throws you years into the past, in a small port town, with rain outside and a crowded tavern.
Too much drinking and too much laughing.
A handsome stranger with freckles. His smile… his voice asking “Want to get out of here?”
The next morning his jacket was on the floor and your clothes everywhere. And you remember leaving before he wakes up because staying felt too embarrassing.
He was…
‘Did he tell me his name...? No… Or maybe he did and I forgot? Oh my god… Please don’t recognise me… please.’
Ace blinks once, then his eyes become just a little wider.
‘He remembers. HE REMEMBERS.’
Luffy grabs Ace by the shoulders “Everyone! This is my big brother, Ace!”
Ace waves “Nice to meet you all.”
Everyone starts introducing themselves.
“I’m Nami.”
“Vivi!”
“Usopp!”
“Sanji.”
“Chopper!”
Luffy throws an arm around your shoulders and Zoro’s “This is Y/N and this is Zoro! They just really like bodyguarding!”
Zoro just gives him a small movement of his face while you just smile and then offer your hand, saying “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”
Ace stares at you and doesn’t shake your hand.
‘Please don’t.’
Then he says “…Didn’t we meet before?”
Your soul leaves your body.
Sanji immediately steps between you “Oi.” his smile disappears “That’s a strange thing to say to a lady you’ve just met.”
Usopp quietly leans toward Nami “Is he about to say ‘We met in my dreams’?”
Nami whispers back “If he does, Sanji will kick him into another country.”
You laugh… maybe a little too loudly “Haha! No, I don’t think so!”
Ace tilts his head, still staring “Really?”
“Yep.”
“Huh…” he scratches his cheek “That’s weird.”
‘Please stop talking. Please stop remembering.’
He looks genuinely confused “You look really familiar.”
You shrug “Maybe I have one of those common faces.”
“Yeah… no.”
Luffy laughs “Y/N is easy to remember!”
“That’s not what I—” Ace stops himself.
You silently beg him with your eyes: ‘Please. Don’t.’
He notices and then his eyebrows move up slightly.
A few minutes later everyone enters the restaurant.
Ace immediately starts eating.
Actually he destroys food, just like Luffy. Plate after plate disappears.
Sanji watches with horror “He’s almost as bad as Luffy…”
“Almost?” Luffy asks.
“Don’t make me compare you two.”
Ace laughs “Sorry.”
Another mountain of food arrives.
You quietly sit between Nami and Chopper. Far, very far, from Ace.
Perfect and safe until Ace casually gets up, walks around the table and sits right across from you.
‘Why? WHY?’
He smiles politely “Mind if I sit here?”
“Actually…”
“Great.” he sits.
You blink.
He eats another piece of meat while looking at you every few seconds and you pretend to not notice, but of course you’re failing very badly.
Then, as everyone is busy fighting over dessert, he speaks quietly enough that only you hear “You’re really sure we’ve never met?”
Without looking at him, you answer, “Pretty sure.”
“Huh…” another bite “Because I have a really good memory.”
You get nervous and instead of thinking, you say, irritated “No you don’t.”
He says nothing and just keeps watching you.
You drink your water too quickly and so you cough.
Chopper immediately jumps up “Are you okay?!”
“Y-Yeah!”
Ace hands you his cup without thinking “Here.”
Your fingers touch for one second and another memory flashes through your head.
His hand holding yours, his laugh and his warm skin.
You immediately pull back “Thanks.”
Ace narrows his eyes.
Then something around your wrist catches his attention, a tiny faded scar, very small, almost impossible to notice.
His eyes suddenly become wide.
Years ago… that night you met you accidentally cut yourself while trying to open a bottle with a knife, he had laughed and then gently cleaned the wound himself.
That’s how it even started.
You almost choke again.
Ace slowly looks up, right into your eyes.
He figured it all out.
A slow grin appears on his face, not teasing but a little shocked and definitely a little amused.
He leans forward just enough that only you can hear, again “...Oh.”
You smile through pure panic “What?”
He whispers, “Now I remember.”
You whisper back immediately “No, you don’t.”
“…I definitely do.”
Your smile becomes painfully stiff “You definitely don’t. It wasn’t me.”
Ace tries very hard not to laugh, and unfortunately Luffy notices “What are you two whispering about?”
You both answer at exactly the same time “Nothing!”
Everyone at the table turns to look at you in silence.
Usopp slowly points at the two of you “…That’s suspicious.”
Ace coughs into his fist, while you suddenly become very interested in your drink.
Sanji’s eyes move from Ace to you and then back to Ace.
His eyebrow twitches “…I don’t like this.”
Ace smiles innocently “Neither do I.”
You kick him under the table, hard enough that he nearly bites his tongue, but somehow he still has the nerve to smile.
The group leaves the restaurant together.
Vivi looks around seriously before turning to everyone “We should split up for now and look around for information. We might hear something useful.”
Nami nods “Good idea.”
Luffy stretches his arms behind his head “Sounds easy enough!”
Then he suddenly turns toward Ace “Ace! Are you joining us?”
Ace’s eyes flick to you for the shortest moment, and a smile slowly appears, the kind of smile you already hate.
He simply says “Why not.”
‘Oh no.’
The groups begin forming naturally.
Nami gestures toward you “Come on. Let’s check the market.”
You take one step toward her.
“I’ll go with you.” Ace’s voice comes from right behind you.
You stop and very slowly, you turn around. You look at him like he just suggested walking through the desert barefoot and ask him “Don’t you want to spend time with your brother?”
Ace glances over.
Luffy is already dragging Zoro and Chopper toward a food stand “LOOK! MEAT!”
“I’m not carrying you if you eat too much.” Zoro grumbles.
Chopper smiles innocently.
Ace chuckles “Seems like he’s having fun with the green head and the reindeer.”
You let out a long sigh and before you can answer him, Sanji suddenly appears between the two of you and says “She’ll go with me.”
Ace raises an eyebrow “Will she?”
Before either of you can continue Usopp rushes over with tears already forming “WHAT ABOUT ME?!”
He grabs Sanji’s arm dramatically “Please don’t leave me aloneeeee!”
Sanji groans “You’re unbelievable…”
For exactly two seconds his attention is on Usopp, and that’s all Ace needs to reach over, grab your wrist, and start walking.
“Come on.”
“W-Wait, Ace!”
You stumble after him.
Behind you, Sanji finally notices “OI!”
Nami cups her hands around her mouth “Back at the Merry in one hour! Don’t be late!”
Ace waves without even turning around “Got it!”
A few minutes later the noisy streets become quieter and the crowd grows thinner.
You finally pull your arm free “You can let go now.”
Ace does immediately, and then he looks at you, his teasing smile returns “So…”
He slips his hands into his pockets “Why are you pretending not to know me?”
You freeze “I…”
Your voice comes out much weaker than you wanted “I don’t remember you.” a pause “Maybe you’re confusing me with someone else.”
Ace laughs quietly, making your cheeks warm.
“Oh, dear.” he shakes his head “I remembered you the second I saw you.”
He smiles softly “You think I’d forget that night? Forget you?”
Your face immediately burns, so, without another word, you walk past him very quickly… anything to hide your expression.
He follows “For the record…” he speaks casually, like he’s discussing the weather “it was probably the best night of my life.”
You almost trip but he continues “I remember everything about it. I remember your laugh, your body, the way you—”
“STOP.” you spin around, grab his arm, and pull him into a narrow side alley before anyone can hear.
The street is cool and shaded and, most importantly, empty.
You immediately point a finger at him “Okay, listen.”
You lower your voice “I didn’t know my captain would have been your brother!”
Ace crosses his arms, still smiling.
You throw your hands into the air “You never even told me your name! So every time Luffy talked about ‘Ace’, I had no idea it was you!”
Ace scratches the back of his neck “Didn’t you ever see my wanted poster?”
You stare at him, then narrow your eyes “Did you see mine?”
His confident smile disappears and he thinks for a second, then sighs “…Fair point.” another second passes “Who actually spends time looking at other pirates’ wanted posters?”
A tiny smile almost escapes you but instead, you shake your head “Exactly.”
You take a deep breath “Look...”
Your voice becomes quieter, more serious “No one has to know what happened years ago.”
You meet his eyes “Just forget about it.”
Without waiting for an answer, you walk away and Ace follows after some seconds “What if I don’t want to?”
You don’t answer, because your attention shifts to a little boy sitting on the ground nearby. He sniffles while rubbing his knee and a basket of fruit has fallen beside him.
You kneel immediately “Hey.” your voice becomes gentle “Are you okay?”
He nods, even though tears still fill his eyes.
You notice a small scrape on his knee, nothing serious.
You smile “You’re very brave.”
You help him stand, brush the sand off his clothes, and hand him the fruit that rolled away.
The boy smiles shyly “Thank you, miss.”
“Be careful next time.”
He nods happily before running away.
Ace hasn’t moved, he simply watches the whole thing quietly. His teasing smile is gone.
You walk past him, without even looking at him, your voice is calm and cold “Do whatever you want.” a few more steps “I just don’t want the crew to know.”
Finally, you glance back over your shoulder, your expression is firm “Can you do that? Can you just keep your mouth shut?”
For the first time since ever, Ace is at a loss of words and just nods before you keep on walking.
For the rest of the hour you don’t give Ace a single chance. Every time he opens his mouth you’re already walking away.
A merchant selling spices? You go ask for information. An old woman carrying water? You go ask things like “Sorry to bother you. Have you heard anything about the palace?”
A fisherman. A traveler. A baker. A family.
You move from one person to another without stopping and Ace simply follows, hands in his pockets, watching and waiting.
Every now and then he opens his mouth only for you to immediately interrupt.
“Thank you for your time!” you say and leave.
He sighs.
Five minutes later… he tries again “Y/N—”
You turn toward another stand “Excuse me! Can I ask you something?”
Ace rubs his forehead “…You’re doing this on purpose now.”
You smile sweetly “Doing what?”
“Ignoring me.”
“I’m helping my crew.”
“You’re hiding.”
“Working.”
“Running away.”
“Gathering information.”
“Coward.”
You stop, turn around and smile at him, obviously irritated by that and you say “Idiot.”
He laughs “That’s the first honest thing you’ve said to me today.”
You stick your tongue out before walking away again.
Half an hour later Ace has somehow become your unwanted shadow.
You ask another shopkeeper a question, Ace leans against the wall nearby.
You help an old man pick up dropped vegetables, Ace helps without even being asked. You thank the old man and Ace is already carrying the heavy basket for him.
The old man laughs “You two make a lovely couple.”
You almost drop the vegetables “WE AREN’T!”
At the same time Ace smiles “Thank you.”
You elbow him hard.
“Ow.”
“Good.”
A few streets later a little girl runs into you by accident and then she immediately hides behind her father.
You kneel “It’s okay.”
The girl peeks out and she notices the flower tucked behind your ear, a flower the old man gave you as to thank you for your help. Her eyes sparkle “Pretty…”
You smile and take the flower out “Do you want it?”
She nods excitedly and so you gently place it in her hair.
The girl beams while her father bows gratefully before walking away.
Ace watches quietly.
When you stand up you meet his eyes and he’s smiling.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“Am I not allowed?”
“No.”
“That’s rude.”
“You’ll survive.”
He chuckles “Maybe not.”
The sun begins to lower.
You sigh “We should head back.”
Ace nods.
Then after following you in silence, Ace finally speaks and his voice is softer than before “I don’t think Luffy would care much about us.”
You stop walking immediately and, slowly you turn around, the smile is gone from your face “This is where you’re wrong.”
Your voice is calm “Because there’s no ‘us’, Ace.”
For the first time all day, his smile disappears… he actually looks offended, which surprises you, because you expected another joke.
“There was.” he says and pauses “And there is.”
Your heart skips.
He takes one slow step closer “Otherwise...” he points gently toward you “...you wouldn’t be panicking this much.”
You open your mouth but nothing comes out, so Ace continues “You really think none of them noticed?” he takes another step closer “Or that they won’t notice?”
Your brain completely stops working.
Ace folds his arms “See?”
You finally find your voice “I’m not panicking.”
He raises one eyebrow “Really?”
“Really.”
“You’ve avoided looking directly at me for almost two hours.”
“Because you’re annoying.”
“You’ve called me an idiot three times.”
“Only three?”
He laughs “Actually...” he pretends to think “Four.”
You cross your arms “You deserved all four and even more.”
“Probably.”
He smiles again, but smaller this time “Still doesn’t explain why you’re nervous.”
You point a finger at him “I’m nervous because you keep talking about something that happened years ago without us even knowing our damn names!”
“A very nice thing that happened years ago.”
“Ace!”
A woman walking past glances at you both and she smiles knowingly saying “Young love.”
You almost combust “NO!”
Ace rubs the back of his neck “...Maybe?”
You stare at him “Whose side are you on?!”
“Mine?”
“Wrong answer.” you start walking again, much faster.
Ace easily catches up “You know...”
You refuse to look at him “No.”
“I haven’t actually lied today.”
“Good for you.”
“Everything I said was true.”
You don’t answer, because a small, dangerous part of you believes that too, everything he said. That night wasn’t something you regretted and meeting him now is embarrassing and unexpected, but… you could never forget his laugh, his freckles and even how kind he had been afterward, before you ran away.
You just never expected to see him again, especially not as your captain's older brother.
You shake your head to stop overthinking everything again.
Beside you, Ace steals another glance and thinks “She’s even cuter when she’s flustered.” and that thought definitely doesn’t help him.
By the time the Going Merry comes into view the sky has already turned orange.
You both stop to look at each other.
“…They’re going to kill us.” you mutter.
“Probably, you’re late and got no information.” Ace agrees far too cheerfully.
You climb aboard.
The second your feet touch the deck—“YOU’RE LATE!” Nami’s voice echoes across the ship.
You flinch “Sorry!”
“One hour!” Nami points accusingly “I said one hour!”
Usopp crosses his arms dramatically “We thought desert bandits kidnapped you!”
Chopper nods rapidly “Or giant scorpions!”
Sanji walks over but his eyes immediately land on Ace and then on you.
His eyebrow twitches “Everything alright, my lady?”
Before you can answer Zoro speaks, without even opening his eyes “Took you two long enough.”
You blink “…What?”
Zoro lazily shrugs against the mast “Figured you two wanted privacy.”
Silence.
Your face goes warm “W-WHAT?!”
Even Nami turns toward Zoro “You noticed too?”
“It was obvious.” he replies simply.
“OBVIOUS?!” you squeak.
Usopp gasps dramatically “WAIT! WERE YOU TWO ON A DATE?!”
“NO!”
Sanji slowly cracks his knuckles “…Ace.”
Ace lifts both hands innocently “Hey, don’t look at me.”
He is honestly trying not to laugh, but he’s failing miserably.
You point at him “Don’t you dare smile.”
That only makes it worse because a laugh escapes him and soon he’s laughing so hard he has to hold his stomach.
You glare “You’re the worst.”
“I’ve been told.”
Between laughs, though, he catches your eye for a second and the teasing fades as his smile softens, almost worried, as if he’s silently asking: “Did I push too far?”
The look disappears before anyone else notices, except you… and somehow, that soft, worried glance embarrasses you even more than all of the teasing did.
The teasing slowly dies down.
Mostly because Vivi claps her hands together “Alright.”
Everyone looks at her.
“Did anyone find useful information?”
The smiles disappear and you let out a quiet sigh “No…”
For a second, nobody says anything.
Then Ace speaks “Yeah...”
Everyone looks at him and he scratches his cheek casually “She talked to almost everyone we passed but we didn’t find anything interesting.”
You know exactly why he says it… it’s his quiet way of telling the others not to misunderstand and let them know you weren't distracted by him but you were actually doing your work.
Nami nods “That’s a shame.”
Vivi sighs “At least you tried.”
The conversation moves on and then they begin talking about the next plan.
You glance toward Ace and without saying a word, you give him the smallest smile and a tiny nod as if to thank him.
He gives you a small smile back.
A little while later, Sanji ties on his apron “Dinner will take a while.”
He points his spoon toward everyone “So stay out of my kitchen.”
Luffy immediately tries to sneak closer “Can I taste—”
“NO.”
Luffy pouts dramatically, making Ace laugh “Still the same.”
The brothers sit together on the deck.
Luffy begins talking so fast that half his words don’t make sense.
Ace somehow understands every single word.
The two laugh, shove each other, and argue over food they haven’t even eaten yet.
You find yourself smiling at their cuteness… Luffy looks so happy and Ace laughs with his whole face.
Without realizing it you keep looking for a little too long.
“So…” a voice beside you makes you jump.
Nami and Vivi are both smiling.
Nami crosses her arms “He’s hot, huh?”
You nearly inhale your own saliva “WHAT?!”
You cough so hard Chopper turns around “Are you okay?!”
“Y-Yeah!”
Vivi tries very hard not to laugh and then she says innocently, “We meant his Devil Fruit.”
Nami nods “He’s fire.”
The two of them burst into laughter while your face burns and you say “You’re terrible.”
“Your face says everything.” Nami grins.
You immediately point across the deck “Look! Luffy is eating before dinner again!”
Luffy hears his name and turns around “Huh?”
Then he notices everyone looking at him “What?”
Nami smiles innocently “Y/N thinks Ace is hot.”
...
...
...
You freeze “NAMI!”
Luffy’s eyes become huge and he looks at Ace, then at you and then back at Ace, as a massive grin appears “REALLY?!”
Ace nearly drops the apple he was holding and playing with “What?”
Luffy runs over “Y/N! You like Ace?!”
You wave your hands wildly “NO!”
“Are you sure?”
“YES!”
“Because he’s pretty cool!”
“Luffy!”
“Maybe you can join the family!”
You cover his mouth immediately “STOP TALKING.”
Luffy muffles something against your hand. Ace is laughing so hard he has to look away… even Zoro snorts.
Thankfully Sanji saves you from more humiliation… dinner is finally ready.
Sanji places enormous plates on the table.
Luffy and Ace race toward the food.
“MEAT!”
“HEY! THAT ONE’S MINE!”
“YOU ALREADY HAVE THREE!”
“SO?”
The brothers begin stealing from each other’s plates making Sanji sigh “Animals…”
You quietly sit beside Vivi… unfortunately the only empty seat left across from Ace.
He smiles when he notices but you pretend to be fascinated by your soup.
Dinner is loud.
Usopp tells another exaggerated story as Chopper believes every word.
Zoro eats silently.
Sanji keeps serving Nami, Vivi and you.
Everything feels normal… until Usopp suddenly looks at Ace “So…” he points his fork “What was Luffy like as a kid?”
Ace laughs “Hungry.”
Everyone nods “Makes sense.”
Ace smiles “He’s always been like that.”
Nami tilts her head “Was he always this reckless?”
“Even worse.”
“HEY!” Luffy protests with his mouth full.
Ace begins telling stories about little Luffy, making everyone laugh, even you.
Then Nami asks “And your crew?”
Ace’s smile grows and talks proudly about the Whitebeard Pirates. About how loud they are, how everyone argues and how Whitebeard treats them like family.
You listen carefully, it’s nice hearing him talk and he looks…happy.
Then Ace starts asking questions too “So...”
He looks around the table “What’s it like traveling with Luffy?”
Usopp immediately answers “Terrifying!”
“Fun!” Chopper says.
“Expensive.” Nami sighs.
“Good.” Zoro mutters.
“Wonderful!” Sanji smiles.
Ace laughs and then his eyes move to you “What about you?”
You blink.
He's waiting for your answer.
You clear your throat “It’s…” a small smile appears “…never boring.”
Luffy grins proudly “SEE?”
Ace keeps looking at you, like that answer matters more than the others, and it makes your stomach flutter.
Later, at some point of the dinner, Usopp suddenly asks, “Does your crew have girlfriends or boyfriends?”
Ace nearly chokes on his drink “That’s... random.”
“I’m a curious romantic!”
Ace laughs “Some do.”
Then he casually asks “What about you all?”
Usopp dramatically sighs “Unfortunately… we’re all tragically single.”
“Speak for yourself.” Sanji says, placing a hand on his chest “My heart belongs to every beautiful lady.”
Nami rolls her eyes “That’s not how that works.”
Everyone laughs and Ace smiles before he asks THE question “Anyone here secretly in love?”
Silence.
Then every head slowly turns… toward you.
Your eyes widen “Why are you all looking at me?!”
Usopp shrugs “You looked at Ace for, like... five minutes earlier.”
You nearly fall off your chair “I DID NOT!”
Nami innocently hums “Maybe four.”
Vivi smiles into her drink “It was definitely more than three.”
You hide your face behind your cup “I’m changing crew.”
Luffy immediately raises his hand “You can never leave!”
Ace watches the scene with a smile and then, very casually and very innocently, he asks “So…” his eyes meet yours “None of you secretly have someone waiting for you somewhere?”
The table suddenly becomes much quieter.
You know that question wasn’t really for everyone… it was for you.
You lower your cup, your cheeks are warm again “…No.”
Ace nods once and the corner of his mouth lifts ever so slightly “Good to know.”
You kick him under the table, hard enough to make him hiss through his teeth.
No one notices as they're all too busy answering the question… everyone except Vivi and Nami.
The two women exchange one very amused look but neither of them says a word.
They don't need to.
The way you keep avoiding Ace’s eyes and the way Ace keeps finding them anyway, is becoming harder and harder for everyone to ignore.
Dinner slowly comes to an end even if Luffy is somehow still eating.
Sanji has given up asking where all the food keeps disappearing. Usopp and Chopper are arguing over which desert animal would win in a fight.
Zoro has already fallen asleep against the mast. Nami and Vivi go over maps one last time before calling it a night.
One by one everyone disappears below deck and eventually, the Going Merry becomes quiet.
Sleep doesn’t come.
You quietly go onto the deck, careful not to wake anyone.
The desert night is surprisingly cool.
You lean your arms on the railing and groan quietly at the thought of that loooong day “I don’t think I’ve ever been this embarrassed in my life.”
“Really?”
You jump so hard you nearly fall overboard but a hand catches your elbow before you lose your balance.
Ace.
He lets go immediately “Sorry.”
You press a hand against your chest “One day you’ll give me a heart attack.”
He grins “Worth it.”
“No.”
“Maybe.”
You roll your eyes and then you just sit and Ace sits beside you… not too close but not too far… enough that your shoulders almost touch.
For a while neither of you speaks but the silence isn’t awkward anymore.
Ace looks up “Nice sky.”
You nod “Much better than the desert during the day.”
“Definitely.”
He yawns and you laugh “Already sleepy?”
“Always.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“It’s a talent.”
You smile “I’m not sure sleeping counts as one.”
“It does if you’re really good at it.”
You snort “You’re impossible.”
“I’ve heard that today.”
“More than once.”
“Mostly from you.”
You smile again, without thinking.
After another comfortable silence you sigh “Everyone really liked embarrassing me today.”
Ace laughs quietly “Well…” he looks out at the sea “At least they think you just have a crush.”
You hide your face in your hands “Please don’t remind me…”
Then he continues and his voice is calm, almost thoughtful “They don’t know that you made me spend the most beautiful night of my life with you...”
You slowly lower your hands.
“…and then left me alone like that without even telling me your name.”
You blink.
“…making me search everywhere for you...”
Your breath catches.
“…only to randomly find you in my little brother’s crew.”
You stare at him as he keeps looking at the sea, like he didn’t just completely change the conversation.
You quietly ask “…You searched for me?”
Ace looks over and a small laugh escapes him. He rubs the back of his neck and then nods “Yeah.”
Your heart skips.
“I looked around the island for days.”
Your eyes grow wider “Days?”
“Mm.” he smiles sheepishly “But I never looked into pirates.” he points at you “You told me you were just a traveler.”
You immediately answer “Because I was!”
Your voice echoes a little louder than you intended so you freeze and then take a breath before you continue much more quietly “I mean…”
You look down at your hands “I never even thought about becoming a pirate before meeting Luffy.”
Ace nods slowly as a knowing smile appears “Yeah.” he laughs softly “I get it.”
You tilt your head “You do?”
“That’s how my little brother’s influence works.”
You laugh and the smile stays on both your faces for a while.
Then Ace speaks again but quieter this time “Can I ask you something?”
You nod “Sure.”
He looks at you “…You never looked for me after that night?”
You freeze.
He scratches his cheek awkwardly, then laughs once, but it sounds... nervous and then he asks “Was I so terrible?”
Your head snaps toward him “What?!”
You immediately shake your head and without even thinking the words leave your mouth before your brain can stop them “You were even too good!”
Silence.
Your eyes slowly become wider.
Ace blinks, then the corners of his mouth start lifting.
Your entire face catches fire “I…” you stand up so fast you almost trip “I should go. It’s late.”
You turn around but then a warm hand gently wraps around your wrist, not pulling hard but enough to stop you.
You look down at the hand and then at him.
Ace is trying not to laugh.
He gives your wrist the tiniest tug “Sit.”
You sigh dramatically “…Fine.”
You sit back down beside him, but this time you refuse to look at him.
After a long silence you mumble, “…That was embarrassing.”
Ace smiles “Nah. I’ve been embarrassing myself all day.” he chuckles “This was nothing.”
You finally glance at him and see he’s smiling at the stars, looking completely relaxed.
For some reason… that makes you laugh.
Ace smiles a little wider when he hears it.
The tension that had followed you around the entire day slowly disappears.
Then you feel like answering his question from earlier “About what you asked earlier…”
Ace tilts his head “Hm?”
You take a slow breath “I didn’t look for you.”
He stays quiet, waiting for you to continue.
“…But it wasn’t because you weren’t… good.”
He immediately grins “I figured after your little confession.”
You cover your face “Can we pretend I never said that?”
“Never.”
You sigh dramatically “Worth a try.”
He chuckles.
You look back at the sea “It was just…”
You struggle to find the right words “I never did anything like that before.”
Ace’s smile fades into something gentler.
You continue quietly “I’d never had a… one-night stand.”
The words feel strange to admit out loud.
“I don’t even know why I did that.” a small laugh escapes you “Maybe the drinks.”
Ace smiles “Maybe.”
You shake your head “When I woke up…” you look down at your hands “…I panicked.”
A long pause “So I left.” the memory still makes you cringe “I didn’t even stop to think.”
You laugh awkwardly “I just grabbed my things and left the island.”
Ace listens without saying a word.
“Later…” you shrug “I was way too embarrassed to go back and look for you.”
You smile weakly “Eventually… I hoped I’d just forget about it. Obviously it didn’t work.”
His eyes lift to yours and you laugh softly before you continue “It wasn’t just that night that made me think about you.”
Ace blinks.
You look out at the ocean again “It was everything. The before… when we met.”
A small smile appears “You were funny. You listened. You were kind.”
You laugh quietly “Honestly… at first I thought you were going to be a jerk.”
Ace places a hand over his chest dramatically “I’m wounded.”
You smile “You had that confident smile and that smirk.”
“I still do.”
“Exactly.”
He laughs.
You shake your head fondly “But you weren’t.”
Your voice becomes softer “You were nice before.” a pause “You were sweet during it.”
Your cheeks warm immediately and you cough it off “…And afterward too.”
Ace looks at you quietly.
You continue before you lose your courage “I don’t believe in love at first sight.”
He nods slightly.
“Never have. So I convinced myself…” you sigh “…that you only wanted it to be one fun night.”
Ace opens his mouth but you gently stop him “I know now that I was wrong.”
Finally you look directly at him “I really panicked today when I realized… that you were the Ace Luffy always talked so much about.”
Ace rubs the back of his neck “He really talks that much?”
You laugh “Constantly.”
He groans “Sounds like him.”
You smile and then your expression softens “…But…” you meet his eyes “I’m also happy we got to clear everything up.”
Ace scratches his cheek, looking oddly embarrassed, then he laughs “Wow.”
You blink “What?”
“I’ve never heard you talk this much.”
You gasp dramatically and then you lightly punch his arm.
“Ow!” he laughs anyway “Violence!”
“You deserved it.”
“Probably.” he smiles impossibly softly.
“I’m glad I found you, Y/N.” his voice is barely above a whisper “…Even after all this time.”
Your smile slowly grows and neither of you looks away.
Then Ace shifts, turns his whole body toward you and lifts one hand toward you.
A playful smile returns to his face “Why don’t we reset the game?”
You tilt your head.
He clears his throat dramatically “Hello.” he offers his hand “Nice to meet you.”
A tiny bow follows “I’m Portgas D. Ace.”
His grin grows “You’re cute.” a beat “Are you single?”
You burst into laughter and then, still smiling, you turn your body toward him too.
Your knees almost touch.
You take his hand “I’m Y/N.”
You pretend to think “…And yeah… as a friend of mine with a very long nose likes to say…”
You sigh dramatically “…I’m terrifyingly single.”
Ace laughs so hard he almost loses his balance “That’s a tragedy.”
“The greatest one.”
He doesn’t let go of your hand and neither do you.
The laughter slowly fades, and only smiles remain.
Then, very quietly, Ace asks “Do you kiss on a first date?”
You grin “Apparently… I kiss and do much worse with complete strangers.”
Ace lowers his head with a laugh “Then…”
He looks back at you “…We’re lucky we’re not strangers anymore.”
You nod “Yeah.”
The word comes out almost as a whisper.
Slowly the distance between you disappears. You meet him halfway.
Your lips brush softly against his.
The kiss is slow and gentle. The complete opposite of the first one you shared that first time, because that night had begun with curiosity, and this one begins with honesty.
When you pull away you’re still smiling and so is he.
Ace rests his forehead lightly against yours “Hi.”
You laugh quietly “Hi.”
The next morning, when everyone gathers for breakfast, you and Ace are sitting on opposite sides of the table.
You don’t look at him and he doesn’t look at you, or at least that’s what you’re both trying very hard to make everyone believe.
“Morning.” you say politely.
Ace nods once “Morning.”
Short and simple.
Luffy looks between the two of you “…You’re weird.”
“We’re always weird.” you answer a little too quickly.
“Not this weird.”
Ace calmly drinks his coffee “Maybe we didn’t sleep much.”
You nearly choke on your bread but he doesn’t even glance at you and yet yhe corner of his mouth twitches.
For the rest of the day you both become surprisingly good at acting.
When the crew is together you barely speak. If Ace asks the group a question, you let someone else answer. If you have something to say, you direct it at Luffy or Vivi instead. If your paths cross, one polite nod.
Nothing more.
But… the problem isn’t your words… it’s everything else.
Every time someone makes the group laugh your eyes automatically search for each other.
Whenever one of you disappears for a few minutes, the other somehow always ends up wandering in the same direction.
Later that afternoon you volunteer to refill the ship’s water barrels.
You lift one bucket.
“Need help?”
You don’t even turn around “No.”
Ace laughs “You answered before checking who it was.”
You sigh “Because I knew.”
He steps beside you “I’m offended.”
“Why?”
“You didn’t even sound surprised.”
You pick up another bucket “You’ve been following me for three days.”
“Has it only been three?”
You give him a flat look “Ace.”
He grins “Y/N.”
You try to walk past him but he casually reaches out and catches your hand for just a second. His thumb brushes lightly across your knuckles.
You look down at your joined hands and then back up at him. He’s smiling and you can’t help smiling back and then you just say “You’re impossible.”
“You keep saying that.”
Footsteps.
Both of you hear them at the same time and your eyes widen. Without thinking you shove him away, hard enough that he stumbles backward.
“Ow!” he whispers loudly.
“Someone’s coming!” you hiss.
Ace barely has time to recover before Chopper appears “Oh! There you are!”
You immediately lift the bucket “Just getting water.”
Ace nods seriously “I was... supervising.”
Chopper tilts his head “Why?”
Ace opens his mouth but nothing comes out.
You bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing.
The same thing keeps happening again and again and again.
You see Sanji busy, so you volunteer to help him by bringing vegetables from storage.
You kneel to pick up a basket.
Ace quietly appears behind you “Busy?”
“Very.”
He leans closer… close enough that you can feel the warmth of his shoulder.
“You haven’t smiled at me in...” he pretends to think “…almost fifteen minutes.”
You roll your eyes “What a tragedy.”
He lowers his voice “Maybe you should fix that.”
You smile despite yourself “There.”
“Much better.”
You hear Sanji calling from upstairs, asking if you’re ok.
Without hesitation you place both hands against Ace’s chest and push him away.
He stumbles into a barrel.
“…You know,” he mutters, rubbing his shoulder, “you’ve pushed me away a lot these last few days.”
“Because you keep sneaking up on me!”
“I’m starting to take it personally.”
Another day… you’re standing alone, enjoying the wind.
Ace quietly walks up beside you and neither of you says anything, just your fingers slowly brush against each other.
Then he hooks his little finger around yours, such a tiny gesture that makes your heart melt.
You glance at him and quietly hook your finger around his too.
A soft smile appears on both your faces.
Then—“Y/N!”
Usopp’s voice echoes across the deck, so you both immediately let go at the same time.
“…You know,” he says under his breath, “one day you’re going to throw me overboard.”
“Good.”
“Cruel.”
“Careful. Someone might hear us.”
By the fourth day the crew starts exchanging looks, because your acting has somehow become even stranger.
Ace treats everyone exactly the same, except you. With you, he’s almost too polite.
“Could you pass the salt, Y/N?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
A long silence follows.
Usopp slowly looks at Nami. Nami looks at Vivi. Vivi hides a smile behind her cup.
Sanji narrows his eyes. Luffy keeps eating.
Finally, Zoro opens one eye and looks at you and then at Ace before he quietly says “…You two are terrible actors.”
The entire table goes silent.
Your heart stops and Ace blinks once asking “…What do you mean?”
Zoro shrugs “Nothing.” he closes his eye again “Just saying.”
You and Ace exchange the quickest glance in history, then immediately look away again.
Neither of you notices Nami trying very hard not to smile, or Vivi quietly hiding a laugh behind her drink.
The following morning is peaceful, which usually means something is about to go wrong.
You are down in the Merry’s small storage room, quietly counting what little food is left.
“…Three bags of rice…”
You move one aside.
“A few vegetables…”
Another pile.
“…And Luffy definitely stole half of the dried meat.”
A familiar voice answers from behind you “He absolutely did.”
You don’t even have time to turn around.
Ace wraps his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you gently against him.
“Ace…”
He laughs into your hair “Finally.”
You can hear the smile in his voice.
He turns you around before you can protest and his face is much closer than you expected.
“You’ve been avoiding me all morning.”
“I’ve been working.”
“Same excuse as always.”
You open your mouth to answer but instead, he leans in.
His lips are only a breath away from yours.
You place a hand against his chest “Ace.”
He stops for exactly one second, then he tilts his head with a mischievous grin and instead presses a quick, warm kiss against the side of your neck.
You shiver “Ace!”
He rests his forehead against your shoulder with an exaggerated sigh “Damn it…”
Another sigh “I can’t take this anymore.”
Despite yourself you smile and then gently push him back but not very far, just enough to look at him and say “This is too dangerous, Ace.”
He pouts immediately. You can’t believe the feared commander of the Whitebeard Pirates is looking at you like a disappointed puppy.
Several quiet seconds pass, then his eyes brighten “I’ve got an idea.”
You already don’t like that smile “…That’s never a good sign.”
“Do you want to go on a date with me tonight?”
You blink “…What?”
“A date.”
He says it as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.
You stare at him “How? The crew is going to ask questions if we suddenly disappear together.”
Ace crosses his arms confidently while a smug grin spreads across his face “Don’t worry.”
He taps his chest “I’ve got the perfect plan.”
You narrow your eyes.
He continues “…Just let me handle it.”
You sigh “That’s somehow even more worrying.”
He laughs softly “Everything’s going to be okay.”
You sigh again “Oh. Now I’m definitely worried.”
Lunch arrives and everyone gathers around the table.
Luffy is already eating before Sanji finishes serving. Usopp is telling another impossible story.
Everything is normal… the only strange thing is Ace who’s unusually quiet.
Every few seconds he glances at you and then smiles to himself.
You kick his foot lightly under the table, he looks up and you mouth “What are you planning?”
He smiles wider and after a few more minutes Ace suddenly clears his throat “Hey, Luffy.”
Luffy doesn’t even look up “Hm?” still chewing.
Ace speaks with complete confidence “I’m taking Y/N on a date tonight, so don’t worry about her.”
...
...
...
Silence.
Somewhere at the table a fork hits the floor with a loud clink.
You freeze completely.
Luffy calmly swallows another bite of food, reaches over and steals meat from Nami’s plate as he simply says “Okay.”
He keeps eating, like nothing unusual was said.
Ace slowly turns toward you with the proudest smile you’ve ever seen on his face.
You slowly stand up and point at him “Are… you crazy?!”
Your words finally break the spell that froze the crew.
“WHAT?!” Usopp shouts.
Sanji slams both hands on the table “HOW DARE YOU!”
Then he spins toward Luffy “AND YOU!”
Luffy blinks “Hm?”
“How can you just say ‘okay’?!” Sanji clutches his chest “My dear Y/N can’t go out with...” he glares at Ace “…another man!”
Nami immediately smacks the back of his head “Sit down.”
Sanji obeys instantly “…Yes, Nami-swan.”
Nami turns back toward Ace, much calmer but also much more dangerous “…For how long has this been going on?”
Ace doesn’t hesitate “Way before she even became a pirate.”
Your head snaps toward him “Hey!”
The words leave your mouth before you can stop them “We agreed that doesn’t count!”
Ace smiles at you warmly “It counts to me.”
His voice is so casual it almost doesn’t register.
Then he adds “That’s when I realized I wanted to see you again.”
Your mouth opens but no sound comes out and slowly you sit back down.
You stare at your plate, you take your fork and roll a piece of food around without actually eating it.
Your face is burning.
Luffy finally looks up “Oooh!” he points between the two of you “Before we became brothers?”
Ace sighs dramatically “Not that before, idiot!”
“Oh.” Luffy nods “Got it.”
Usopp suddenly shoots to his feet “WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT!”
He points wildly “YOU TWO KNEW EACH OTHER?!”
“WHEN?!”
“WHERE?!”
“HOW?!”
“WHY DIDN’T ANYONE SAY ANYTHING?!”
You immediately pretend your lunch has become the most interesting thing in the world.
Ace, meanwhile, answers every question with surprising patience.
“Years ago.”
“Different island.”
“We lost touch.”
“Found each other again here.”
Usopp gasps after every answer as if hearing the greatest adventure ever told.
The whole table erupts into questions, even Chopper joins in.
You don’t answer a single one, instead your eyes drift toward Luffy.
He’s smiling and watching Ace with the happiest expression.
Nami notices where you’re looking and she lowers her voice, quiet enough that only you can hear her “…Did you think Luffy wouldn’t approve?”
You don’t answer immediately but then the noise around the table fades into the background, and from your left Zoro speaks without even looking up from his food “He’s happy if you and his brother are happy.”
He shrugs “Isn’t that obvious?”
You look at him in surprise.
Zoro keeps eating and drinking as though he hadn’t said anything important.
A small smile appears on your face and then you let out a quiet breath “…I guess I worried for nothing.”
Across the table Ace is laughing as Usopp fires another impossible question at him.
His smile is bright and relaxed… lighter than you’ve seen it since the day you met again.
He catches your eye for just a second and smiles only a little wider, and without realizing it you smile back.
A little later, Nami casually slips an arm around yours “Come with us.”
You blink “Where?”
“Shopping.”
“What?”
Vivi smiles “For tonight.”
Before you can protest, Luffy appears beside you “Can I come too?”
Nami sighs “Why?”
He shrugs “I’m bored.”
The markets of Alubarna are crowded with fabrics, jewelry and colorful clothes.
For the next hour you become Nami and Vivi's personal doll.
“Try this one.”
“Too fancy.”
“This?”
“Too plain.”
“Turn around.”
“Not bad…”
Luffy sits on a nearby crate eating fruit and every now and then he looks up and says “That one looks nice.”
Nami blinks “…You actually have an opinion?”
“Yep.”
He points toward a simple outfit hanging nearby, it isn’t flashy, just comfortable and elegant without trying too hard.
Very... you.
You change into it and when you step out Vivi smiles first and says “There she is.”
Nami nods “Ace isn’t going to know what hit him.”
Your cheeks immediately warm.
While paying, Vivi quietly asks, “So…” she smiles “How did you two actually meet?”
You hesitate and then you tell them everything… not every little detail, but enough.
When you finish neither of them laughs and neither of them judges.
Nami nods “A little messy.” then she smiles “…But sweet.”
You laugh “Messy is one way to describe it.”
Luffy suddenly speaks up “Ace told me.”
You look at him “About what?”
“That you were scared I’d be upset.”
Your shoulders tense.
Luffy frowns, genuinely confused “Why would I be?”
You blink.
He grins “He’s my brother.” then he points at you “You’re my best friend. You’re family.” another grin “That sounds awesome.”
You feel something unclench inside your chest.
Luffy laughs “As long as he doesn’t make you cry.”
A pause and his smile becomes surprisingly serious “Otherwise I’ll punch him.”
You laugh so hard you almost cry but say “What if he’s the one crying?”
Luffy laughs harder and answers “Means he deserves it!”
This makes you laugh again.
The sun begins to set and the sky turns orange.
You return to the Merry just before dinner.
Ace is already waiting near the dock and the moment he sees you he forgets to breathe.
You stop a few steps away, suddenly feeling shy “…Hi.”
He stares for another second, then smiles “Hi.”
He scratches the back of his neck “…You look beautiful.”
Your heart immediately forgets how to function “Thank you…”
He offers his arm dramatically “May I steal you for the evening?”
You laugh and loop your arm through his “You may.”
Nami, Vivi and Luffy who were with you simply waves at the two of you. You wave back then you see Luffy is about to yell something but Nami hit him and shit him up before he can do anything.
The date is... simple.
A small restaurant tucked away from the busiest streets, with warm lanterns and good food.
Ace insists on pulling your chair out before you sit.
You raise an eyebrow “Trying to impress me?”
“Is it working?”
“…Maybe.”
He places a hand over his heart dramatically “Victory.”
You laugh.
Most of dinner is spent talking about simple things, like favorite foods, childhood stories, places you want to visit, and dreams.
Every now and then your hands brush across the table.
After dinner you walk slowly through the quiet streets, neither of you seems in a hurry for the night to end.
Ace suddenly clears his throat and a teasing smile appears “…So…”
He looks ahead “Should we get a room?”
You glance at him and he’s clearly joking, trying to make you nervous or something.
Instead… you simply nod “…Okay.”
Ace stops walking “…Wait.” he looks at you, then points at himself “…Really?”
You nod again and his confident smile completely disappears “…Are you sure?”
You smile softly “I’m sure.”
He tells you to follow him and then a few minutes later… he leads you through a different street and you notice a small inn.
“…For someone who was joking…” you smile “…you found an inn awfully fast.”
Ace immediately waves both hands “Hey! It’s not like that!”
He laughs awkwardly “I was staying here before I met you guys.”
You giggle “Mhm, sure.”
He blinks “…You’re teasing me?”
“Maybe.”
“…You’re evil.”
“I’m learning from you.”
The room is quiet and for a moment, it’s obvious neither of you knows what to do or say and by the tenth gaze you give each other, you both laugh at exactly the same time.
And like that, the awkwardness disappears.
You step closer, lift a hand to his cheek and kiss him softly.
When you pull back, you smile and say “I loved the date, you can relax.”
He lets out a nervous laugh “I’m trying.”
After he stares at you for a moment, he finally closes the distance and kisses you with softness but also with a bit more hunger than before.
As you kiss him back, the kiss deepens and then you feel his hand going down, to where your shirt ends. He grabs it and pulls it off you, slowly and gentle.
Then he breaks the kiss and looks at you again to ask “Are you sure?”
You have no strength to talk, so you just smile at him and nod.
He nods back and then he removes his own shirt.
The rest of the evening passes wrapped in quiet affection, gentle kisses, and the warmth of finally being together without fear or misunderstandings between you.
It’s totally the opposite of your first time together but it still has that much tension, maybe even more, amplified from love too, now.
Later, you fall asleep curled up in each other’s arms.
The next morning, you wake up first, and careful not to disturb him, you quietly slip into the bathroom and start the shower.
A few minutes later the bathroom door suddenly opens.
Ace appears like a mess, his breathing is uneven and his eyes are wide with panic.
You blink, then it clicks and your expression softens immediately “…Wait. You thought I left again?”
He doesn’t answer, he only gives a small, embarrassed nod, making your heart aches.
You reach for his hand “Hey.” and you smile gently “I’m here.”
He looks at you for another long second and you smile again “Come here.”
You gently tug him toward the shower and the warm water falls around both of you.
Neither of you says much, you simply stand together, close enough that your bodies constantly touch.
Ace wraps his arms around you and then you wash each other’s hair, laughing quietly when he gets soap on his nose.
He cleans you with soap and he steals little kisses from every part of the body he’s cleaning… from your forehead, your shoulder, your cheek, making you smile every single time.
Just tenderness.
When you finally leave the inn later that morning, hand in hand, neither of you knows exactly how you’ll make it work with two different crews sailing different seas, but somehow, neither of you doubts that you will.
After all, you’ve already found each other once against impossible odds.
Finding each other again would always be worth the journey.
a/n: early morning when the sky is grey and the rain is hitting the windows
katsuki always looked so perfect, so soft in the mornings. his eyes still a little glassy with sleep as he groans softly before he throwing an arm over his head. you curl into his side, pressing a hand to his chest, tracing his muscles with your fingertips.
“tickles.” he mumbles.
“you’re so pretty.” you whisper placing a kiss on his pec.
“shut it.” he wraps his arm around you and smushes your head to his chest.
“‘m serious.” you scoot closer.
he lets you up and you keep peppering your kisses along his chest, starting to outline the scar in the center. he doesn’t notice at first but when he does his eyebrows scrunch. you kiss each centimeter of the scar and place one last kiss over his heart, which is currently beating rapidly under your soft touch.
you kiss over to his arm, more soft pecks along the scars that litter it and all the way down to his hand. his chest is heaving as you shower him with love, making sure your lips press each of his fingertips and then the center of his palm. you make your way back up his arm, stopping and indulging yourself in leaving a small mark on his neck as he softly groans.
“what’re you-”
“shh baby.” you whisper against his skin, kissing up his neck to his jaw.
he thinks you’re finally going to kiss him but your lips brush the scar on his cheek. his eyes flutter shut and he holds you close, lip wobbling and eyes brows still scrunched. you kiss all over his face, including the furrow of his brow until it eases and then make your way to each of his eyelids, his nose and finally his lips.
“you are so handsome.” your lips brushing his with every word. “so brave.” you press your hand to the scar on his chest. “so strong.”
his eyes open and you find them glassy with tears, his cheeks stained pink as he looks up at you. “why are you..” his voice cracks. “i’m not.. i just..”
“katsuki bakugo you’re the strongest and bravest and most handsome man i’ve ever met.”
his lips part and he flips the both of you over and buries his head in your neck. you feel his hot tears on you skin as he scoots in closer. “i love you.”
“i love you too you big baby.” you wrap an arm around his back and bring your other to his hair. “my pretty boy.” you softly tug.
“shut up.” he lifts up with a small smile.
“make me?” you tilt your head a little and he presses his lips to yours the next second.
