Hug Me

Ruby 19 she/her

[changbunnies]

Piece of a Puzzle, (18+)

♡ Pairing: Duke’s Son!Seungmin x Princess!Reader

♡ Genre: royal au, fake dating, angst, fluff, love triangle, best friends to fake lovers to real lovers, so much pining from seungmin, slow burn-ish?, eventual smut

♡ Word Count: 20.4k (lmao it was not supposed to be this long...)

♡ Summary: For as long as Seungmin can remember, he’s been in love with you; and for as long as he can remember, you’ve been in love with Hyunjin. Desperate for Hyunjin to see you as a woman and no longer as a best friend or metaphorical sister, you ask Seungmin to pretend to be your boyfriend to make him jealous- you have nothing to lose, and nothing could go wrong! At least, that’s what you both think until your fake relationship with Seungmin begins to reveal feelings for you that he wanted to keep buried, and feelings in you that you didn't realize you had.

♡ Warnings: I know some people hate love triangles so if that is you then this fic is not for you I am sorry gsddgfd, I also wouldn't read this if you're not okay with characters who make mistakes and act selfishly lol, seungmin says mean things but it's all in the spirit of teasing and banter and he is not actually a mean person I promise, mentions of falling in freezing water, being sick + taking medicine, and mc makes 1 joke about killing seungmin.

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): virgin reader + virgin seungmin, loss of virginity, no intended d/s dynamics but reader is usually the one taking the lead lol, lots of kissing per usual, handjob, nipple play, unprotected piv, creampie

♡ Notes: it took me forever to come back to this series but the next member to get their royal au fic is seungmin <3 unlike my previous royal au fics, this one is in a modern setting which i hope makes for a fun dynamic and is a good change of pace from my other aus ! 

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

If you were to ask Seungmin what his favorite thing about having two best friends was, it would've been how special it was to be a trio. You, Seungmin, Hyunjin- the three of you inseparable since you were babies, spending hours giving the attendants and guards watching over you trouble, getting into snowball fights in the winter and camping out in the gardens during the summer.

Countless days spent splashing around in the lakes and ponds near your estates and coming back with muddied feet, making messes in the kitchens when you disastrously tried to figure out how to bake a cake for your upcoming birthday, and giggling to each other even as your elders got red in the face from scolding you.

It was perfect, really- the happiest days of Seungmin's life, all spent in carefree bliss.. until you all started to get older. It was all so mindless when you were children; all Seungmin ever really comprehended back then was that you were all of similar age, and becoming friends was a natural and perfect arrangement thanks to your parents (who Seungmin realized were all important people, though he was too young at the time to understand why or how.) You, the princess in the east, Hyunjin, the prince in the west, and Seungmin, the duke's son born in the middle of both territories, whose father allied himself to both nations and was a revered peacekeeper.

He can still remember fondly the nights before it all became so different; when you'd have guard sanctioned sleepovers in the ballroom, how you'd run and splash in the rain, your laughter carrying even as the three of you became soaked and eventually scolded for dripping water onto the pristine castle floors. You'd slip out of royal events to go hangout together on the balconies, in the library, or anywhere really, as long as it wasn't full to the brim with your pretentious elders talking politics and future marriage.

But Seungmin made the mistake of falling in love with you, and you fell in love with Hyunjin, and that's where it all falls apart.

The situation is dramatic, you're dramatic- the way you whine and flail on the bed, claims of how you'll "just die" if Hyunjin doesn't finally realize you're the woman of his dreams. Seungmin sits across from you on your chaise near the balcony of your extravagant bedroom, trying not to react too strongly one way or the other. As the only person you can confide in on this topic, Seungmin is used to hearing you pour your heart out to him about Hyunjin.

He likes to think he's used to it, anyways; that it doesn't hurt anymore because he simply doesn't let it, but any outsider looking in would be able to tell that isn't true. His smile falters, his bright eyes dull, his heart sinks to the pit of his stomach- because you will never love him with the same intensity you love Hyunjin. But it's been this way for years now; you are hopelessly in love with the prince of the neighboring country, while Seungmin is tragically in love with you. He really should just get over it already.

You've gone on and on and on about how Hyunjin is the ideal man- beautiful, educated, kind, dependable, artistic- everything Seungmin feels he cannot compare to. It's so pathetic, he feels pathetic; he never even put much thought on being of equal standing to the two of you until you started confiding in him about your feelings for Hyunjin, pouring out your heart and simultaneously breaking his with each new admission. Seungmin himself didn't even realize how in love with you he was until he was firmly faced with rejection; and it's almost funny how he's rejected before he can even try.

"I just want him to like, finally see me as a woman, y'know? I'm not the little girl you guys grew up with anymore!" you wail before shoving your face into one of your many pillows, huffing and whining in frustration as you kick your feet up and down. Apparently, you have come to find out that Hyunjin still views you as more of a sister than a potential lover, and you've spent the entire afternoon whining as you try to think of what else you can possibly do to make Hyunjin see you differently.

Seungmin wishes he could do the same- make you see him differently, as someone other than the best friend, almost brotherly figure you grew up with. But it's not meant to be, and Hyunjin has already won the race for your affection without even realizing he was part of it. "Stop being so dramatic," Seungmin complains half-heartedly, hoping you think his deadpan tone comes from just being mildly annoyed and not in fact utterly heartbroken.

You lift your head from the pillows and glare at him, but he just rolls his eyes before he lets his own head fall back against the cushion of the chaise, staring up at your impossibly pristine ceiling. "But we're a perfect match! He's a prince, I'm a princess, and I love him!" you whine, throwing one of your pillows at Seungmin when all he does is scoff instead of console you.

He throws the pillow back at you without even turning his head in your direction, and you throw it back harder than you did before, making him finally turn his gaze back in your direction. "Will you stop? Crybaby," Seungmin says, hoping to shift the conversation back to something that doesn't tear his heart to shreds. "Maybe he'd like you more if you weren't such a brat when you don't get your way."

"Seungmin!" your frown grows as you cross your arms, "do you have to be so mean to me when I'm literally heartbroken?" He has a point, that's true enough- you are acting a bit like a spoiled brat right now. But he could at least wait until later to call you out on it! You don't understand why he's always so mean when it comes to your feelings about Hyunjin. It's his personality to tease and be playfully mean in his banter, but when your feelings for your other best friend are the topic it never feels like it's purely in jest.

"Look, I get that he and his family are starting to consider who he'll marry, but it's not like he's actually seeing anyone yet. I'm sure you still have time," Seungmin suggests after a frustrated sigh, and you huff, falling back to the pillows and staring up at your ceiling with yet another dramatic sigh. "Maybe you just don't get it because you've never been in love. The thought of losing him to someone else is.. painful.."

It's a moment of real vulnerability at the end, the pain and fear in your voice when the last words leave your lips evident. If only you knew he does understand all too well, faced with the very same reality every single day. You deal with your pain by complaining to Seungmin in overdramatic displays, while he bottles it all up and shoves it as deep inside his heart as it can go, hoping that he won't have to acknowledge the pain again until he's alone, in the safety of his bedroom where no one can see or hear him agonize over his unrequited love.

But like Seungmin said, there's still time.. Hyunjin and his family are looking over marriage prospects together, but at the end of the day the choice is entirely Hyunjin's, and surely there's something you can do before he starts going on dates and falls in love with someone else. You shoot up quickly, the apparent clarity zapping you with an idea. "You're a genius, Minnie! I don't have to wait for him to return my feelings at all, I can do something!"

"Uh... you're welcome..?" Seungmin sits back up and looks over at you, and he instantly regrets it. You're looking at him with puppy dog eyes, lip pouty and hands clamped together in what is clearly a plea for help. He's not even sure he wants to know what you're thinking of roping him into- whatever plan it is you're crafting, nothing good can come from it. Especially not when your plot is being conjured by pure emotional need.

"Seungmin.. Be my boyfriend, please! Help me make him jealous," you plea and his eyes instantly widen, mouth hanging open in complete shock. He and Hyunjin have had to talk you out of a lot of irrational acts during their time as your friend, but this takes the fucking cake. There's no way you are asking him to do this. "You can't be serious," he says after the initial shock passes and now you scramble to the edge of the bed, pout growing as you try to convince him.

"Seungmin, please-" "Absolutely not, no," he cuts you off and the desperate, heartbroken look he's met with shatters the already microscopic pieces of his heart into even smaller pieces- a feat he didn't even think possible. It's almost impressive how you manage to break his heart without even realizing it.

"Please, you know there's no one else I can ask," you plea, now completely off the bed and just inches in front of him, clasping his hands in yours. There it is- Seungmin, the consolation prize. Seungmin, the one you turn to simply because Hyunjin isn't available. Seungmin, who gets dragged into schemes like this because he just can't live with himself if he knows you're genuinely upset.

Your puppy eyes looking at him so pleadingly paired with your soft hands desperately clutching his is enough to make him melt. He swallows, averting his gaze from your pouting lips and glassy eyes, trying to stay firm in his sentiment. "It's a bad idea," he says, voice short and impossibly tense, "what will you do if it doesn't work? If he's just like.. a good friend, and supports us being happy together?"

"But what if he doesn't? C'mon Minnie, we at least have to try!" you push on, your hands squeezing his tighter. The fact that his statement doesn't seem to deter you at all somehow makes the pain in his chest even worse. Like there's no reality in which Seungmin is the viable love interest for you, like the possibility that Hyunjin would concede your heart to him couldn't ever be reality, like the idea isn't even worth entertaining.

"I.." He hesitates as he finally looks at you again, your face still impossibly close to his, the earnest desperation for him to help you with this stupid idea making his chest feel impossibly tight. Seungmin likes to think he's good at pretending to not have feelings for you, but he doesn't think he can do it while also pretending to be your boyfriend.

How is he supposed to be so close to you and pretend it was all empty acts and words when the night is over? He'll tell you he loves you and you'll think it's part of the act, praise him for being so committed to the bit for your sake, thank him for pretending so effectively. You'll take his heart in your hands and twist and bleed and crush it, and you won't even know you're doing it. "Please?" you try once more and his resolve utterly crumbles.

It's stupid how much power you have over him. It's stupid how he can't stand firm against what is very clearly a disastrous idea. It's stupid how he's going to willingly allow his heart to be trampled upon just to make you happy. "..Fine," Seungmin finally breathes out his answer, conceding without all that much of a fight in the end.

You happily squeal and wrap your arms around him in a tight hug, thanking him over and over again. And despite himself, Seungmin smiles- because even though he's going to suffer, at least you'll be happy because of him, even if it's only for a short while. "You're the best, Minnie! I love you!" you beam, eyes crinkling with pure joy that he's going to help you.

"Yeah, yeah, you're welcome," he says as he wraps his arms around you in return. It's a mistake, but if it's for you then isn't it a mistake worth making? And he has to ignore the way his heart skipped a beat when you told him you loved him, has to remind himself that you'll never mean it in the way he wants you to, that every show of affection from this point onward will all be part of an elaborate performance.

The first rule of every fake relationship: set expectations and make a plan.

That's exactly why Seungmin finds himself visiting your room again following his foolish promise to be your pretend boyfriend. You bounce up to him in delight when he enters your room following a knock on the door, and he wishes that your excitement was genuinely for him, and not because you were going to be using him to make your shared best friend jealous.

Seungmin doesn't even believe Hyunjin will be jealous in the first place; he's never expressed having a romantic interest in you, and he thinks Hyunjin would confide in him if he did. But then again, it's not like Seungmin has ever confessed his feelings over you to Hyunjin either.. And the possibility that Hyunjin does love you, but simply never brought it up in the same way that Seungmin hasn't fills him with dread.

If this stupid plan works, and Seungmin actually helps you two come together.. he wants to think he'll be happy for you two, but who is he kidding? He'll be fucking gutted. "You look handsome today, boyfriend," you tell Seungmin happily, and he immediately freezes in place, hoping his expression is more incredulous than it is embarrassingly flushed red. What a way to be ripped out of his spiraling thoughts.

"Can you warn me next time you're about to say something stupid?" Seungmin tries to play it off as he takes his usual place on your chaise. "Sorry, just practicing," you follow up with a giggle, and he simply sighs as he watches you sit next to him. He's really gotten himself into trouble this time around, but it's too late to rescind his agreement to help your cause.

"I don't think most couples literally call each other "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" to their faces," Seungmin says, trying to smoothly ignore the 'handsome' part of your comment. It's superficial, you don't mean it, he already knows that; best not to let his mind dwell on a false hope of you one day meaning those words. "Well duh, I already know that," you say as you roll your eyes, "I'm just getting into character!"

Ouch. You have to get into character to love him, huh? It's not like he's surprised to hear it, but it hurts all the same. "Can't be too sure with you, sheltered princess and all," he teases and you roll your eyes again. "I'm not that sheltered. And TV exists! I'll have you know romance is my favorite genre."

"Great, so you get all your knowledge on romance from TV? How promising," Seungmin continues and you shove him, though all he does in response is smile at you. "Whatever, it's not like you know what you're doing either. You've never even had a girlfriend," you say and for a moment you think Seungmin is going to shove you back, but he doesn't.

His hands rise and almost touch you, but he hesitates before ultimately lowering them back down to his lap. It's been that way since you started getting older, as if the days you'd play wrestle or sleep while hunched together or hold hands while skipping through the castle never happened. Thinking about it, he stopped doing things like that around the same time you brought up your feelings for Hyunjin.

You assume he was being considerate, trying to be hands off so Hyunjin didn't get the wrong idea, but.. You wonder why you didn't realize how much he's been keeping his distance from you and hesitating to touch you until now? (And in reality, he stopped touching you when he realized he had feelings for you, and not when you admitted you like Hyunjin, but he's never going to clarify that fact to you.)

The other day, when you clutched his hands in yours in a desperate plea, it was the first time you held hands since you were kids. That's a sad thought, for some reason.. Maybe part of you missed it more than you realized. Taking his hand in yours, you really allow yourself to experience it this time.

It's nostalgic, holding his hand; though Seungmin's hands are much bigger now than when you were kids, they feel the same. Warm, comforting, gentle.. You wonder when the last time you did this was; you almost feel bad that you can't remember. You were once holding hands every single day and then you just.. stopped. You're not sure why the thought makes you as sad as it does; probably just the natural melancholy that comes with nostalgia if you had to guess.

Seungmin awkwardly accepts your hold, looking at you curiously after he stops fidgeting his hand. "I kinda missed this," you admit, cheeks growing pink with the admission. You're not sure why saying it makes you blush- it's just Seungmin. "Me too," he responds, his own face equally as pink, though he hopes you don't notice. He looks down at your hands, fingers laced together, and his heart stirs.

Ignoring it, he looks back to you, expression nervous but entirely serious. "So uh- your plan.. what exactly is it?" he asks, surprised when you answer immediately. Guess you put a lot of thought into it; because while your answer isn't rehearsed necessarily, it is confident. "Well, you got your invitation to the ball right? That's where we'll tell Hyunjin we're dating! It's the perfect setting."

"But you literally hate going to that thing- are we really going to go just for that?" The annual Hwang family ball is much more politics than it is dancing. Seungmin can't think of a single time you all attended and actually had fun without having to sneak away or cause a scene. At best it's boring and at worst you're spending the entire night being lectured on the future of your countries and how important it is to marry the right person for political power.

"Yeah, unless you have a better idea?" You frown as you look at Seungmin. He doesn't, unfortunately. He's not even sure he'd suggest it if he did have one, to be fair. God, this is so stupid- he's stupid for agreeing to go along with this. Curse you and your ability to rope him into the worst things possible just by giving him a cute look.

And in the end, he easily accepts the plan- attend the ball, act like a lovey dovey couple, activate Hyunjin's underlying jealousy (that may not actually exist), and hopefully profit. In the meantime, you'll be "building credibility" by getting past all the awkwardness now, so that you can pass as a legit couple in front of Hyunjin when the time comes.

"You're really okay with this, right? It's okay to change your mind," you say with a compassionate squeeze to his hand. It takes Seungmin by surprise that you're actually considering his feelings- not to insinuate that you're entirely selfish or don't care about him, but you do tend to have a one track mind when it comes to your romantic feelings for Hyunjin.

You watch him carefully, his expression entirely unreadable to you. You wish you could tell what he was thinking in times like this, but he always becomes a stonewall when you bring up romance and your long harbored feelings. You know it must be for a reason, but he never tells you what it is, and you can only assume the topic of love makes him uncomfortable; and while you're grateful for his help, you don't want him to push through discomfort just for your sake.

"..Yeah, I'm good. This is fine, everything's fine," he finally says. You don't entirely believe him, but you don't press him on it- he'll just argue with you if you don't take his word for it. Stupid. You were clearly offering him an out and he just accepted his role as your emotional martyr. But who is he kidding- it's not like he would've been able to answer any differently, ever a slave to your whims.

Whether you realize it or not, you have him in the palm of your hands, and Seungmin would do anything to make you happy- even at the detriment to himself. "So.. uh, do you want to kiss me?" you transition and Seungmin has to make a conscious effort to not choke on his own spit. Because how are you asking him that so casually?

"No, you're gross," he answers; a lie, obviously, but he didn't realize this fake relationship would entail anything other than mild displays of affection and maybe the use of petnames. If he kisses you it's over for him. Completely, utterly over- he'll never be able to pretend you're just his friend ever again.

You roll your eyes as you let go of his hand, and he frowns; he misses the warmth already, but what right does he have? "You can just say no without the gross comment, asshole," you shove him again. Seungmin is always mean to you, so it's not like you weren't expecting a comment like that when you decided to bring up kissing. You might've hoped for a different reaction, but you certainly weren't expecting anything profound or romantic.

...Why were you hoping for a different reaction in the first place?

"No, that's- I'm sorry, that's not what I meant, I just-" It's almost endearing how Seungmin fumbles with his words. You blink at him, surprised to see him floundering to admit you're not actually gross to him. Poor Seungmin- being mean to you is his only defense mechanism and now it's going to bite him in the ass. No wonder you don't have feelings for him.

In reality, he thinks you're pretty. So fucking pretty. And he wants to kiss you more than he's ever wanted anything. "Force of habit," he finally says, swallowing down his true thoughts and feelings as usual. Thankfully, you accept his answer easily; he's not sure whether you truly believe him or not, but he'll take what he can get. "Have you ever kissed someone?" you decide to ask, moving swiftly along after taking his answer at face value. Thank God.

"Once," he answers, and oh, that's a surprise; you expected him to say 'no,' to be like you- with zero experience. You're best friends- why hasn't he told you..? To be fair, it's not that Seungmin kissed someone- he was the one being kissed by someone else. The distinction is very important! And he can see the question lingering before you even ask it, so he takes the initiative in answering. "It was awkward. I didn't.. feel the same way as them."

"Oh. I didn't realize there are people that like you," you say and Seungmin instantly shoots you with an incredulous look. "Ouch," he deadpans. "No, sorry- I didn't mean for that to sound so mean, I swear," you promise with an awkward laugh. At least now you're equal on the "making unintentionally hurtful comments" front.

You've thought at great length what it would be like if Hyunjin started dating someone, but you're just now realizing you never put any thought into Seungmin dating someone. You guess you just always expected that he'd be there.. you never stopped to think about what would happen if he wasn't, never even considered it a possibility that he wouldn't always be right there next to you.

And it would happen eventually, wouldn't it? And what about when you and Hyunjin are a couple; you two will have each other and Seungmin will.. well, you don't know what he'll do. But you don't like the thought of him being anymore distant. What a way to realize how selfish you're being. “Sucks that it was awkward,” you eventually say, ignoring the way guilt starts to eat at you. No surprise that the selfish princess doesn’t want to confront that issue just yet.

“Yeah.. honestly, I felt bad. I’m sure it took a lot of courage to confess and kiss me, but I,” already had feelings for you, he thinks, but obviously opts to say something else, “just didn’t feel the same.” Lord knows Seungmin will never have that same level of courage; to put yourself out there and confess only to be met firmly with rejection is terrifying. And he knows you don’t feel the same, so why even try? Being a coward suits him perfectly fine in this case. 

“Why didn’t you accept anyways? You might’ve returned the feelings after becoming a couple and growing closer to them,” you ask, earnestly curious. You think you would give someone a chance if they confessed to you if you weren’t already so in love with Hyunjin. But as far as you knew, Seungmin didn’t have feelings for anyone, so there would’ve been nothing to lose from trying. If only that were true- his life would be much easier if he wasn’t earth shatteringly in love with you. 

“Mm, maybe. But if months went by and I still didn’t, I would’ve felt scummy. Like I was stringing them along and giving them a false promise, y’know? And I don’t wanna be that guy,” Seungmin answers, keeping out the major detail of ‘I’m also impossibly in love with you and dating someone while being in love with your best friend is definitely frowned upon.’ “Wow. I think I respect you more after that,” you say and Seungmin scoffs, unable to hide the smile that breaks on his lips. “Gee, thanks. Glad to know you didn’t respect me before now.”

“Hey, I clearly said ‘respect you more!’ Meaning I did respect you, thank you very much,” you laugh. There’s a silence that follows when the giggling dies down and the smiles fade, with Seungmin looking at you carefully. Right. He’s here to be your fake boyfriend. Better get back to the quest at hand. “So.. I’m not actually gross, huh?” you ask, bringing the conversation back to where it began. “Only a little,” he teases, laughing when you grab a spare cushion to shove at him. 

“Stop being mean, I’m trying to be serious!” You whine as he tosses the cushion you shoved in his face to the floor. “Okay, okay,” Seungmin says, his expression softening as he looks at you. In reality, he thinks you’re perfect; but it’s much easier to tease and pretend you disgust him than to face how beautiful he thinks you are. But with how seriously you’re taking this entire thing, it seems he’s going to have to be more earnest with himself, and you, than he was prepared to be.

He really fucked himself over this time around.

"Theoretically.." you start, chewing on your lip before you continue, "Hypothetically-" "Those words mean the same thing," Seungmin can't help but interrupt, laughing as you shove him and tell him to 'shut the fuck up.' You hate him sometimes- fucking menace to your sanity, you swear. "Hypothetically," you continue when he's done laughing and you're sure he's ready to take you seriously, "assuming you're being honest and I'm not gross. Would you want to kiss me?"

Well. Guess there's no avoiding it now. It's time for the thing Seungmin fears most- some good, old fashioned honesty about his feelings. "Yes," is all he says; no further elaboration, no talk on whether or not this is still strictly in the realm of hypotheticals, or if he'd only be okay with it under some sort of condition being met. Just.. yes, he'd want to kiss you.. wants to kiss you. That's it.

You can’t believe how easily he conceded in the end; you wonder if another mean, teasing joke is inbound, or if he doesn’t quite get what you’re insinuating. "You know I mean on the lips right? Like.. an actual kiss?" You ask, wanting to ensure you're on the same page and he's not just thinking, like.. forehead or cheek kisses or something. All of which will still be part of this fake relationship, but still; better to make sure everything is clarified. "Yeah, I assumed that," he replies and you simply blink.

You're not sure why, but that does something to your heart. "And.. you're okay with that..?" "Yeah..? I thought we established I didn't mean it when I said you're gross. I was just teasing," he says plainly, as if the topic you're discussing is completely normal. Well, maybe that's the attitude you should have too- it's no big deal, right?

It's not that strange for two best friends to kiss, it happens all the time! And this was all your idea in the first place; you don't even understand why you feel so weird about it all of the sudden. Sure, not thinking you're gross and wanting to kiss you are two different things entirely, but you're thinking about it too hard.

Seungmin is just being a good friend to you. He's nonchalant about it because all of this is simple; it's supposed to be simple. Just one friend casually helping out another. If anything it's a relief he has no hang ups about it, right? It makes this whole thing easier! (The reality: he is not nonchalant. He is practically screaming inside over the idea of kissing you- you just don't know it.)

Blushing and heart twisting for reasons beyond your understanding, you opt to just take his hand in yours again instead, averting your eyes from him and training them off to the distance. Your bedroom walls are very interesting all of a sudden. "Maybe later," you mumble and he nods, relieved as he squeezes your hand. Yeah, maybe later. He doesn't think he's ready to fall for you even harder just yet anyways.

Weeks pass, and your fake relationship develops slowly but organically thanks to the Hwang's ball being further away still. You expected becoming "natural" in your relationship would take time, which is why you wanted to get a headstart on practicing being close. Your heart still stirs in unexpected moments, but mostly you feel comfortable, which is perfect.

Some awkwardness and shy closeness would be natural, but you can't appear stiff in front of Hyunjin if you want to pass as a genuine couple- the goal is for the relationship to look fresh, not forced. Due to this, you and Seungmin hold hands a lot these days. You like it, to be honest. It reminds you of all these thoughts and memories you hadn't lingered on in years. Of play dates and toothless smiles and laughing as you trip and tumble and grow dirty. You missed it.

You missed this too- cuddling, same as the hand holding. It's something you hadn't done since you were kids, and similarly, you couldn't remember the last time you had done it before now. You find yourself thinking it's a shame you ever stopped. You're currently laying against him, head on his shoulder while one of his arms is wrapped around your waist, legs tangled together on your obscenely large sofa while some movie you long since stopped paying attention to plays on your equally large tv.

You practiced calling each other petnames, but they all felt weird- in the end, the only thing that felt natural was sticking to calling each other stupid, idiot, asshole, brat.. And somehow hearing Seungmin call you a selfish brat before he hugs you with a smile makes your heart skip a beat these days. It doesn't make sense, but you don't let yourself dwell on it or think about it too hard- this is all for a purpose, and it's better to just leave it at that.

When you suggested trying out cuddling today, you didn’t expect your mind to go to so many complicated places. "Hey Minnie, do you remember the last time we cuddled like this?" you decide to ask him, tilting your head up to be able to catch a glimpse at him. "Yeah. We were 12," he answers easily, and you can just barely see this corner of his mouth lifted in a fond smile.

"Really?" you question and he tilts his head to look at you. He answered so quickly; no delay in the slightest, didn't even have to waste any time thinking on it or trying to remember- he just.. already knew. The instantaneous ease in which he responded surprises you as equally as it fills you with guilt.

"Of course. You don't remember?" he asks and pangs of guilt over not being able to remember yourself grow painfully. You never expected to feel so terrible over something so small. "Not really.." you answer with a frown; you wish you did, especially since Seungmin seems to have his own memory of your childhood closeness perfectly intact, but you simply.. don't remember.

"Gosh, I'm so hurt. You care for me so little," Seungmin teases, but all you can do is continue to frown. You can't bring yourself to hit him with a witty quip or joke that you hate him- because part of you worries that how inattentive you've been thus far would give rise to him one day believing your statements made to poke fun are how you truly feel. And right now you just honestly, truly feel bad.

His expression softens when he realizes you're genuinely saddened, assuming it's because he took the teasing too far by insinuating you don't care about him. In reality, it's not him you're upset with but yourself. And it stings to realize that maybe what he says isn't completely wrong- maybe you really have cared about him too little.

Maybe if you weren't so hyperfocused on love and romance with Hyunjin, you'd have realized sooner how much you put your friendship with Seungmin on the wayside. You wish you'd been a better friend. "It's to be expected actually,” Seungmin attempts to rectify his mistake in wording (though truly it's not his fault or a ‘mistake’- your guilt is your own, and all he did was unintentionally spark some much needed self reflection.) “You were sick as fuck and loaded on cough syrup."

"Oh!" You exclaim suddenly, a vague memory in the very back of your mind becoming clearer now. Just as Seungmin said, you were 12 and suffering from the worst cold you'd ever had in your entire life. You felt like you were dying and it was your own fault it happened; a blizzard had just passed, and you insisted on playing in the freshly fallen heaps of snow with your two best friends.

The lake near the castle had completely frozen over in the storm, and despite being repeatedly warned how unsafe it is to play on a frozen lake, you were just a kid who thought you were invincible. Every kid is overconfident and zealous, truly believing no harm or wrong can come to them until the world teaches them a lesson in humility- and that's exactly what happened that day.

You skated around on the frozen lake, paying no heed to any of the warnings you received, laughing and giggling without a care in the world even as you slipped and slid around on the slick surface of the ice. But eventually you fell, of course you did, it was ice- and the moment your weight collided with the surface of the lake, it cracked.

It's hard to remember what followed- all you really remember was how your whole body froze the minute it touched the icy water, as if all your limbs had become pure lead. But Seungmin was there, and Hyunjin too, and they pulled you out and got you back inside as fast as they were able. It honestly came as no surprise that you got sick following your unceremonious ice bath.

Seungmin and Hyunjin got a bit sick too, but their sniffles and slight coughs paled in comparison to your symptoms. Hyunjin's parents made him return home to shake off his cold, but Seungmin's didn't mind if he got over his slight cold with you in the castle. Even with the spark of clarity it's all still vague, but you can just remember it now- how Seungmin was glued to your side the entire rest of the week as your body tried to fight off the illness.

He was there when your attendants woke you to take your medicine, he was there when you drank your water and sipped your soup, he rubbed your back when you coughed and stroked your head when you complained that it hurt. He was.. sweet. The entire time. The usual Seungmin who teased and complained was nowhere to be seen, even when you unintentionally got snot on his shirt.

Instead, he was just sincerely caring. And he cuddled you, let you soak up all his warmth because no matter how many layers of blankets you were under and despite the constant fueling of the fire in your fireplace, you still felt so impossibly cold. "I remember now," you tell him and the smile you're met with stirs something within you.

Or maybe it's the memory of how sweet he can be when he's not being a jackass. Maybe it's how underneath his layers of teasing comments and sarcastic words, he's genuine. He remembers things, always remembers things, even when the moments are small and fleeting. And maybe it's how even when he complains or calls you a selfish brat, he'd still do anything for you.

Even now, years later, he's still just the same in that regard. Cares about you, would do anything for you, wants you happy even when your happiness causes him trouble and inconvenience. All his sarcasm and jokes at your expense will fade the minute you're genuinely unwell, he'll drop everything he's doing the minute you need him for something serious, because underneath his layers and walls he'll always be someone selfless and kind.

You sit up ever so slightly, just enough to get a clearer view of him while still tangled in his arms and legs. You breathe his name in a whisper, and his eyes dart around your face as he tries to figure out what you’re doing, what you’re thinking while looking at him so.. attentively. It makes him nervous when you look at him like that, makes him feel like you can see right through him and read his every thought, like he’s nothing but cellophane.

And you kiss him. You kiss him. Soft and chaste, your lips just barely pressed to his, but still he crumbles, his sandcastle heart caught by your wave. His weak heart pounds, his blood races through his veins, he blinks in surprise and still can't seem to find himself or formulate a thought even when you pull away. What even just happened?

"S-Sorry," you flush instantly as you turn your eyes away from Seungmin's heating face. You can't believe you just kissed your best friend like that. And like.. you fully expected to give Seungmin your first kiss as part of this whole charade, but it was supposed to be a moment that only happened after meticulous planning and mental preparation. This was undeniably, purely the heat of the moment.

"Uh, I.. it just.. felt right. For practice..?" you stumble as you try to formulate an excuse for your own unexpected actions. Yeah. It was for practice, that's all. You aren't in love with him- you love Hyunjin. What you felt when you kissed him just now was.. something else. That's what you tell yourself, because it's the only thing that makes sense.

"Oh, right. Yeah, that makes sense," Seungmin utters quietly, sounding almost.. disappointed. You look at him again, and catch just a glimpse of sadness in his eyes before it fades completely, almost as if it was never there. And maybe it wasn't- maybe you're.. projecting, somehow? Do you want Seungmin to be sad that the kiss doesn't mean more?

You don't know. It's confusing. And you hate that you don't know why it's confusing, that you don't understand where all these conflicting thoughts and feelings are coming from and what they mean. You don't want to admit it, but maybe he was right; maybe this whole thing wasn't a good idea.

He sees the struggle on your face, but there's no way for him to know that it's due to confusion about your feelings, how you liked kissing him and how you don't know what that says about you or about your feelings- for him or for Hyunjin. Instead, he worries that you hated it, that kissing him filled you with disgust and regret and now you were trying to figure out how you can ever look at him again.

But you do look at him again, of course you do. And despite the confusion and the struggle from your complex, raging emotions, you meet his eyes softly. You reach for a hand and squeeze, and once again he feels like you see right through him, see all the ugly dread and guilt and sorrow that comes from being in love with you. You see him and he sees you, and though it's confusing and clearly disastrous, neither of you want to let it go just yet.

"Do you.. want to keep practicing..?" he asks hesitantly, a hint of hope in his unsteady voice. A hope he shouldn't have, a hope he feels you will sternly reject. But you don't. You smile at him, a timid one he thought only ever reserved for Hyunjin, and you nod. "Yeah, do you?" you ask, and all Seungmin replies with is a simple "yeah" of his own before your lips are on his again.

You kiss him and he kisses you, and sometimes it's awkward as you bump noses or ever so slightly miss and instead kiss the corner of his mouth, but in the end it all becomes natural, rhythmic, easy. Butterflies thrash in your stomach, your heart races, your face burns, his lips are soft and warm and perfect, and through it all, for the first time in all your years, you stop thinking about Hyunjin, and linger exclusively on Seungmin.

Kissing Seungmin makes you feel strange. It doesn't feel bad, nor wrong, or uncomfortable; but strange because of what it evokes in you. When he left for his guest room that night, and you had more time to think about what you’d done, you came to the conclusion that the butterflies would pass now that it was over. That you only felt them because kissing, regardless of it being with your best friend, was foreign and new. You thought that as you got used to kissing him, that deceitful fluttering in your stomach would gradually fade.

You expected that kissing him would become as second nature to you as holding hands, and eventually you’d feel.. maybe not nothing when kissing him, but certainly you wouldn't still be reactive. What has actually happened is rather the opposite; your heart skips a beat when he enters your room now, you unconsciously flush whenever he holds you closer, your stomach knots itself when he smiles following a kiss. 

He smiles a lot more these days; or maybe you only perceive it that way because part of you wants it to mean something more than it does. That’s what frustrates you most of all; no matter how much you tell yourself it’s just practice, that this means nothing to either of you and is only a means to an end, you find yourself struggling to come to peace with that idea. Confusion and guilt eat at you, complex feelings and emotions you didn’t even know you had rising to the surface one after the next, protesting being ignored and making themselves acutely known. 

There’s a question that burns in the back of your mind, something you’re scared to confront but know you must before this is over- is your love for Hyunjin genuine or superficial? Do you love him the way a lover truly would, or do you love the idea of being with him? The idea that your romance would be a picture perfect fairytale, because he’s a prince and you’re a princess and those two things just naturally go together.

Perhaps your understanding of love is inherently naive and flawed; perhaps all these years spent pining, you were chasing an ideal rather than a person. But misguided though it may be, your love for Hyunjin has to be true; because apart from being one of your best friends, he’s objectively perfect for you. Seungmin is rough and jagged, while Hyunjin is polished and smooth. Though more tempered and refined than yourself, Hyunjin matches your flair for the dramatic, while Seungmin is oppositely rooted firmly in reality. Where Hyunjin is elegant words and gentle smiles, Seungmin is sarcasm and rolled eyes.

But that’s not entirely true, you know it isn’t; because while Seungmin is indeed sarcastic and mean and sometimes rough around the edges, he’s also gentle and sincere and passionate. He doesn’t show that softness within as easily as Hyunjin does, he's built up walls as he grew older for reasons that you couldn't begin to understand, but maybe that’s what makes it more special when he does let them fall, how you know he truly means it when he does something kind. His sweet smiles carry far more weight and depth than you ever stopped to realize.

“You okay? What’s up with you today?” Seungmin asks, careful but with a hint in his voice that he’s ready to tease depending on how you respond. Right. The reason you called him over today. You chew your lip as you look at him, and you know he’s been able to tell all day that something was off with you. You wanted to call this whole thing off, if you’re being honest; tell him you realized he was right, he’s always right, and this was a terrible idea that you shouldn’t have dragged him into. 

But the moment you faced him you lost all your nerve. Your mouth ran dry, the words lodged themselves in your throat, and you couldn’t bring yourself to speak them. It’s so fucking selfish, but you realized that without this fake relationship keeping you together, the distance between you would return. Once the charade is over, he’ll go back to hardly ever returning your touch, to emotional walls stacked so high you fear you could never climb them, to strained smiles and equally strained words. 

You’re not sure why Seungmin is more open these days; maybe intimacy and closeness, no matter the cause and regardless of lack of romantic intent attached to them, is enough to naturally break down a person’s barriers. You don’t even know why he has barriers, why he shields himself from you so strongly when you’re his best friend, but now that you’ve experienced him without his walls you don’t want to go back. You’re terrible and selfish and it’s hardly a justification to keep your fake relationship going, but still..

“Are you getting nervous?” he tries again; the ball is approaching quickly now, and he suspects maybe you’re off because you fear your performance as a couple won’t be good enough, that maybe you won’t be as believable as you need to be. You want to tell him he’s probably right, that it’s just nerves and you’ll get over it and everything will be fine with the moment comes, but you know that’s not all there is to it. 

It feels so stupid looking back on how excitedly you chose a new dress for the occasion, planned how you’d match with Seungmin and parade yourself on his arm and bat your eyelashes at him while calling him the sweetest names you could come up with, all so Hyunjin would look on and maybe get jealous. You didn’t listen when Seungmin warned you it was a bad idea, didn’t entertain the truth that Hyunjin would likely be a good friend and not intervene, didn’t want to acknowledge how tunnel-visioned and selfish the fairytale romance you pursued made you. 

You kissed him, held his hands, and hugged him close and cuddled him tight, and your heart ached and stomach fluttered and you ignored every blaring alarm in your brain because the ends were supposed to justify the means. And now you’re going to ruin not just one friendship, but two; because you don’t know how you’re going to face either of them when it all inevitably crashes and burns.

“I just.. aren’t I being really selfish? You told me this was stupid but I didn’t listen and now I feel like I’m taking advantage of you,” you blurt it all out, watch as his eyebrows furrow and his expression changes. You don’t quite know what he feels; regret, frustration, exasperation..? All of them would be perfectly justified. You swallow and you clench your hands into fists and you finally make a selfless decision, one you should’ve made before all these weeks passed you by and you became attached to a version of your best friend you were never supposed to have. “We should stop.” 

Seungmin looks.. almost hurt, before he lets out a laugh; you can’t tell if it’s based in self-deprecation, irony, annoyance, or something even further beyond what you can understand from him. “I agreed to this,” he says, grabbing your arm and making you look at him again when you try to turn away and avoid his gaze, “I wanted- want to help you. You know that, right? I know I can be difficult sometimes but I’d never lie about that.”

Maybe you are terribly selfish and maybe you are taking advantage of him and maybe his heart will shrivel and die the moment this ends, but he doesn’t fucking care. He can be selfish too and his selfishness makes him want to hold on for as long as he can, even if it’s fake, even if you never love him; pretending to is enough, it’s all he needs. “That’s the problem though, isn’t it? You’re so selfless and I just..” you trail off; you don’t know what more you can bring yourself to say. 

He’s difficult, he’s frustrating, and he’s mean, but he’s not cruel. You know how sweet he actually is, how much he’d sacrifice for you if you asked him too, and it’s time you stopped relying on him for stupid shit like this and dragging him into your petty, dumb, naive problems and grow up a little. Stop being the selfish princess you were raised to be and start being someone worthy of Seungmin’s unwavering friendship instead. You’d never intentionally hurt him, but the problem is you probably have- countless times that you probably aren’t even conscious of because your self reflection has come just a little too late.

You started this whole thing because the idea of losing Hyunjin made your heart ache; but the idea of losing Seungmin, that knowledge that you’ve very likely taken and hurt and been a terrible friend for years doesn’t just make your heart ache- it rips it out entirely. It’s weird, considering them both best friends but realizing how different those friendships actually worked- and how losing Seungmin as a friend is far more gutting than losing a potential lover in Hyunjin. 

And you know Seungmin would never hate you, would call you selfish or stupid or annoying but would absolutely never actually think badly of you, and that makes it all the worse. Seungmin wears a mask for you, you know it’s true even if you want to deny it; but the mask he wears is cracked, the paint is worn, and knowing it could all be your fault makes you feel impossibly anguished and sick. 

Seungmin frowns and lets you look away, though he still hesitates to let you go. He does though, eventually, and he falls to his back on your bed with a sigh. “You don’t need to worry about me, this is all fine, I’m fine,” he says but you don’t entirely trust him. He’s too stubborn and selfless to admit you’ve ever hurt him, knows it would gut you to realize what you’ve done to him and so chooses to say nothing about it at all. Because regardless of the boundary of friend and lover and where you both lie in between those words, he loves you- not that you feel you deserve it. 

This isn’t entirely your fault either- he gave in way too easily. He knew it was a bad idea and he should’ve been more stern, made you see reason even if it made you cry and pout and whine for hours on end. He knows you're selfish and spoiled and a little naive when it comes to what romance means but he didn’t do anything to genuinely shut you down- because beneath it all, he’s just as selfish as you, and he wanted to be your boyfriend for a just a little while, even if being your boyfriend meant nothing. 

His walls are down but he’s still not being completely honest, you know he isn’t. The mask is back on but the cracks have grown, exposing more of the real Seungmin beneath, and he can’t hide himself away as easily as he used to- because now you’ve seen them. The cracks, the imperfections, the instability. And you’ve taken them all in, deduced that they’re your fault, and you won’t let it go- because that’s what stubborn people like you do. You pick and you prod and you poke, until something bends or breaks and you finally get the result you want. 

But what do you want? To stop playing pretend? For Seungmin to admit that yeah, you have hurt him sometimes- not that he blames you. He knows it wasn’t ever once intentional, and he was never going to hold anything against you or leave you behind. Or maybe you want him to admit he’s in love with you, and that he’s just as fucking hopelessly in love with you as you are with Hyunjin, and that love he feels foolishly allowed for things to get way farther than they should have. 

You look at him hesitantly, the way he’s fallen onto your bed, his shirt ridden half up his stomach from the fall and the way his caramel colored hair fans out around him. He’s beautiful and despite everything you’ve just said, you want to crawl on his lap and kiss him. You try to blink the thought away, to scrub your mind clean from thoughts you shouldn’t be having. 

He sees the way your eyes linger on his lips, how you internally struggle between what you think you should and shouldn’t do, how even now you are trying to spare him when he doesn’t need to be spared. Consume him whole, eat away at him until there’s nothing left, he doesn’t fucking care- he just wants you, even if it’s temporary, even if you throw him away in the end in favor of someone better. Not if, he has to remind himself, but when- because it’s inevitable, because you’ll never love him as more than a friend.

Seungmin reaches out to you, is close to touching you, but just as he used to, he hesitates before he drops his hand. The distance returns, and that should be a good thing; it hurts, but isn’t it what’s right? You don’t.. You’re not in love with him. You can’t be- you just.. value him as a friend and don’t want to do anything to strain your friendship anymore than you already have. Everything you feel is confusing and weird and you don't know what to do with what you have now. 

What to do with your urge to be closer to him, or the way you blush when he smiles and calls you names, or how the content sighs he lets out while kissing and cuddling makes your stomach do flips. How the way he unconsciously squeezes you tighter fills you with butterflies or how the way his hands linger before you begin to separate makes you want to go crawling back to his open arms. 

And there’s the impure thoughts- the ones you’ve never even had about Hyunjin despite being in love with him. The ones you have when you see his shirt ridden up like it is now, or how those sighs when you kiss him would sound if you took things just a step further. You used to daydream about pure things like sharing a romantic dance or being given flowers on an anniversary- now your thoughts linger on things like Seungmin’s tongue in your mouth and his hand between your thighs. Things you definitely shouldn’t be daydreaming about if you’re as in love with Hyunjin as you say you are. 

You suck in a trembling breath and again try to push the thoughts you shouldn’t have away. Seungmin’s expression is contemplative and gentle, full of a care you don’t deserve. It’s no surprise he can read you like an open book, can tell you’re more upset about this than you should be. It should be a comfort that this charade is coming to an end, but all you feel is sharp, stinging guilt and unbearable pain in your chest. Your eyes burn and you feel as if you’re going to cry, but how terrible would that be? 

It would almost feel manipulative to cry in front of him now, after having put all that effort into trying to go back to normalcy. You’re so frustrated with yourself, so impossibly frustrated; you squeeze your clenched fists, your nails dig into your palms, your tears threaten to spill and you look away from Seungmin before they do. Because he’ll comfort you, and that’s not what you deserve. Obviously he knows, it’s not like you can hide it very well, but he doesn’t say anything. 

Instead, he reaches out again- and this time, he doesn’t stop himself or hesitate. The distance you’ve put between you has already closed. He pulls you down to him, makes you fall against his chest, your head winding up somewhere between his heart and his shoulder. You can still hear it from your position above it, and the steady thumping soothes you. “The ball is soon,” he says quietly, “we can.. go as planned, and then decide what will happen with us after. If you still want to stop after that, it’s okay. Just.. don’t give up too soon.” 

You can tell he’s trying to sound sure of himself, but he’s just as lost in all this as you are. And though you still feel rattled with guilt and uncertainty, you nod. You trust Seungmin, and you may as well see this fake relationship through to the end- and the Hwang ball is where you meet that end, one way or another. “Okay..” you mumble, chest tight and stomach knotted with guilt, but you do your best not to spiral again, to trust Seungmin’s word when he says you haven’t done wrong by him. 

He calls your name and you look up at him expectantly. His mouth opens, he goes to speak, but whatever he wants to say is swallowed back down, and is instead replaced with something more familiar. “You’re.. really annoying,” he whispers before he kisses you, and there’s a relief that spreads through your veins. “Asshole,” you whisper back and you feel him smile, the comfortable normalcy returning even in this situation that is anything but normal. 

You’re both stupid and stubborn and there’s no way this ends without someone having a broken heart, but for now it’s okay. For now, it’s all Seungmin needs; to be close to you and touch you and hold you and know that you were his, for however brief and false a time it may have been.

“Do you think we should share a guest room to make this more believable?” you mumble while walking through the halls of the Hwang Castle, hand intertwined with Seungmin’s while he carries both his luggage and your own. Hyunjin obviously prepared your rooms separately as you haven’t announced your relationship to him yet- not that it’s going to last much longer anyways. Whether you end up with Hyunjin by night's end or not, your fake relationship with Seungmin can’t proceed beyond this. 

“I dunno,” Seungmin replies, though your question was more absentminded musing than a genuine question you were expecting to have answered by him. “Maybe? Technically speaking, we’ve been “dating” for a couple months now. It’d probably be normal.” You hum and contemplate his answer for a moment before you look at Seungmin with a smile. “Let’s share my room then! Hyunjin always gives me the biggest room available.” 

“I fucking knew it,” Seungmin says in faux-exasperation as you giggle. He always felt like his guest rooms were smaller than yours; and he doesn't actually care, but it's fun to act like it bothers him, and it's even better to hear you laugh. “Spoiled brat. Still need luxury even when you’re in someone else’s place, huh?”

“Naturally. What kind of princess would I be if I didn’t get the best of everything?” He rolls his eyes despite the way a smile tugs on his lips and a laugh threatens to break. You turn a hall, and finally your guest rooms begin to come into sight- you've been to Hyunjin's place enough to know the layout, but it still doesn't make getting to the guest hall any less of a trek.

Seungmin unlinks your hands when you approach the double doors of the castle's best guest room, fumbling in his pocket for the keys you were given for just a moment before he finds the right one. He unlocks the door, walks inside with you and sets your luggage down in the corner of the room before turning to look at you. “You sure you want me to stay? I don’t mind going to my own room,” Seungmin offers and you quickly shake your head- maybe a little too quickly, but you won’t acknowledge how eager for him to stay you seem. 

“Well, I’ll probably need help getting ready,” you say; an excuse, sure, but it’s reasonable at least. But what about after that? When the ball is over and so too is your act, regardless of whether you get results with Hyunjin or not- would Seungmin still stay? Would you want him to stay? You think you would; you don’t know what that means or what it says about you, but it’s honestly what you’d want.

“If you’re sure, don’t mind if I make myself comfortable then,” Seungmin says as he flops himself on the extravagant guest bed. There’s still a couple of hours until the ball, and since he won’t take nearly as long getting ready as you, he decides it’s a good idea to get in a short nap. Traveling always makes him tired, after all- especially when he’s going from your castle all the way to Hyunjin’s. He yawns and stretches out before he closes his eyes, and your eyes linger on him fondly for a moment before you turn to where Seungmin set your luggage. 

You rummage through your bags for everything you need to get ready; toiletries, makeup, your dress- you collect them all in your arms and carry them to the attached bathroom. You spend a fair amount of time in the shower, going over every skincare step meticulously and making sure you’re as soft as can be- not that it matters, really, since nothing is going to happen but.. You feel more confident in yourself after going through the motions. You’re careful and methodical in the application of your makeup too; you can’t rush if you want to look perfect.

You hold your dress up to your body and imagine briefly how you’ll look in it while standing in front of the large, ornate mirror. That’s the downside to ordering online- you have no idea how the dress will actually fit you, but you hope you’ll look nice. Nerves hit you again as you look at yourself, but you swallow them down the best you can as you lie the dress on the sink counter. You don’t know what you’re hoping for tonight anymore- whether you want Hyunjin to see you with Seungmin and get jealous, or if you want him to think you are a sweet couple and support you sincerely. 

It doesn’t matter either way; nothing about this is genuine. And you’re not sure if you can be happy with yourself if Hyunjin is jealous and realizes he likes you over a lie. But you’ve come this far, you’re already here and Seungmin has reassured you over and over again that this is something he thinks you should see through, so.. That’s all you have left to do. Just see it through until the end. 

Getting your underwear on, and then carefully slipping on your dress- here is where you need Seungmin’s help. It’s near impossible for you to pull up the zipper that lies along the spine of your dress, even if you stretch and reach behind you as far as your arm can go. Holding a hand to your chest so that the dress doesn’t slip back down your body, you carefully open the bathroom door and peek outside into the main room.

You weren’t sure if Seungmin really fell asleep after you’d left him alone in the room, but peeking out now, you can tell that he has. He’s in the same position on the bed as when you left him, his eyes serenely closed and breathing steady. You call his name, but he doesn’t react; so you try once more, raising your voice this time, but you’re still met with nothing in response. You step out of the bathroom and up to the bed cautiously, and you make one last effort to wake him by calling his name just in case.

It doesn’t work, of course; you didn’t really think it would anyways if you’re being honest, but it didn’t hurt to try. You cautiously reach out to his shoulder, and do your best to rouse him awake while still holding your dress up with your other hand. Seungmin slowly blinks awake, mumbling something you can’t decipher as his senses slowly return to reality one by one.

He blinks a few times more, processing the sight before him; you leaning towards him, your dress loosely covering your body with the support of the hand not placed on his shoulder. He refuses to let his eyes linger on the image of your barely concealed cleavage before him, instead putting all of his effort into looking back up to your face. "Need my help now?" he correctly assumes, and you nod as you straighten back up.

Seungmin sits up from the bed, watches you as you turn to return to the bathroom, expecting him to follow. He does his best to ignore what the sight of your exposed skin does to him; the only reason he has this view is because you trust him and view him as a best friend- he really can't afford to be having any impure thoughts about you. (A little late for that in all honesty, but he'll atone for it later.)

The door is wide open, but he knocks on the doorframe to announce himself before he steps through- a sign of respect and decency. "Thanks," you smile at him briefly as he steps inside the bathroom and takes his place behind you. "I can't zip it up on my own," you explain, and yeah, he can see that clearly; the bottom of the zipper lies on your tailbone, your panties ever so slightly peeking in the v-shape the zipper creates with the two sides of your dress.

He swallows and pretends he doesn't notice, instead looking to where the zipper ends just around your shoulder blades. “Do you think Hyunjin will think I look good?” you can’t help but ask as Seungmin’s hand falls to your zipper, slowly pulling it up. It gives you goosebumps- not the cold zipper on your skin, but the way his hand feels just over your spine, running along it as he zips up your dress.

You're not sure what reply you hope to hear; maybe it's a question with no right answer. “If he’s smart, he will,” Seungmin answers; he’d have to be an idiot not to. “You’re beautiful." You flush as you look at him in the mirror, standing behind you but not at all obscured thanks to your smaller frame. 

You know he means it- he teases and he pretends, but he’d never lie about something like that. You already know that to be true; he’s said it himself- that the thing’s he says with a serious tone are the things he really means. He’s not looking at you, his eyes fixed on your back until he’s finished with the zipper, ignoring the way the hooks of your bra stare back at him until your dress closes and they are obscured from his sight, the way they should be.

He finally meets your gaze again when he’s done, meeting your eyes through the reflection of the mirror. Your face feels impossibly hot, and you hope he thinks the pink on your face is from the makeup you applied as opposed to the real blush it is. You still have things to do- put on your accessories, fix-up and style your hair, put on your prettiest pair of heels, but even without all that flashy glamor added on, Seungmin already thinks you’re radiant as can be.

Though he’s done with the zipper, his hand hasn’t left your back yet, and neither of you have broken the gaze you keep in the mirror. There’s a moment where you think he’ll turn you around and kiss you, or that you’ll kiss him; and truly, he wants to, but he shouldn’t. This night is supposed to be about you and Hyunjin, and you don’t need the ‘practice’ anymore- it was only ever an excuse to begin with. 

He clears his throat as he lets you go, and you turn your gaze away from the mirror, swallowing down all your feelings and nerves as you rummage through your bag for the accessories you brought with you. “It won’t take me much longer to get ready,” you say as you continue to rummage through your bag- you found what you need, but taking it out means having to meet Seungmin’s gaze, and you’re not ready to do that again just yet.

“Right, I should get ready too,” Seungmin mumbles mostly to himself as he turns to leave. You don’t look up from your bag, even as he lingers in the doorway. You can tell he stopped to look at you, you can feel his eyes observing you, but still you don’t glance up at him. “Yeah, not much time left ‘til we gotta go,” you say, and he responds with a simple, quiet ‘yeah’ before he fully walks out into the main room. 

There’s a sense of dread that lingers- both of you having a similar feeling weighing on your hearts, while ironically thinking you feel it all by yourself, that the other person doesn’t possibly feel the same way. A situation that would easily be mended by communication, but the gap between what you perceive to be true, and the real truth is not so easily crossed. The metaphoric rope that connects you and Seungmin together is frayed, and you worry that an uncomfortable conversation will cause that connection to completely snap. 

So you swallow your feelings once more, you put on your earrings and style your hair, and you realign your focus. You can’t keep thinking about what your affection for Seungmin means or why the thought of this ending tonight weighs on you so heavily. You’re close to getting what you’ve been working for, and that should be where your thoughts linger- on Hyunjin. The best friend you’ve always thought you had feelings for, the one you believed yourself to be in love with. 

Stepping inside the ballroom with Seungmin is utterly nerve wracking; it’s the moment you’ve been waiting for, the moment that 3 months of fake relationship practice were leading up to. This is where you show your best performance, where you parade around on Seungmin’s arm and look at him with the best heart eyes you can muster. Not that it’s a hard task, these days- you find yourself doing it without even thinking about it. 

You.. like him, if you had to guess. But do you like him more than you thought you liked Hyunjin? You guess that’s the answer you’re really trying to find tonight. You never thought it’s where you’d be today when you first conjured up this plan, there was no way to anticipate how much your newfound closeness with Seungmin would affect the feelings you thought you were so sure of. 

It’s natural to be confused, isn’t it? Surely anyone would be in this scenario; you can’t kiss and hug and cuddle someone for so long and feel nothing, right? And it’s your own fault, you can’t blame anyone but yourself for the predicament you’ve found yourself in. You reap what you sow, as your grandmother likes to say. “Don’t be so on edge, everything’ll work out,” Seungmin leans to whisper in your ear. 

You’ve been so tense ever since you left the guest room together- half nervous to see Hyunjin again after months and half ‘oh my god why does Seungmin look so good tonight.’ As if it wasn’t enough that you were confused about your feelings, Seungmin had to come out looking so devastatingly handsome in his perfectly tailored suit and neatly slicked hair. “Yeah, you’re right, sorry,” you respond and he shakes his head, offers a reassuring smile before he looks around the room.

“He’s around here somewhere, we’ll see him soon enough,” Seungmin says as his eyes continue to scan the packed ballroom. Oh, that makes sense- he thinks you’re tense because you haven’t run into Hyunjin yet. If things were the same as a few months ago, you think that may have been true. Now.. you’re not really sure what’s true. Hyunjin will see you as a couple and he’ll either silently rage with envy or beam with joy for his two best friends- and you don’t know which outcome is the one you want anymore. 

“Oh, I think I see him,” Seungmin mutters to you, and discreetly points in the direction he thinks he’s found your other best friend. You see him now too, standing near the balconies looking bored out of his mind, champagne glass in hand. He’s not looking at anything in particular, just vaguely observing his surroundings while occasionally sipping from his drink- probably hoping you two will show up soon and save him from his boredom. 

You take a breath, wrap your arms around Seungmin's own arm and squeeze it close to your chest. “Now or never,” you mutter and he nods, steeling himself for the penultimate moment just as do. “Hyunjin!” you call from across the hall, dragging Seungmin along with you as you half-sprint up to him, your designer heels loudly clanking on the marble floor. Hyunjin returns your smile when he spots you, and laughs when he sees Seungmin practicly scowling as he’s dragged along- it’s classic, really; you always do things like this to them. Just strong arm them along everywhere you want to go, through everything you want to do. 

“Hey! I’m glad you both made it, it’s been forever,” Hyunjin smiles as you complete your approach. He feels bad he hasn’t seen either of his best friends in months, but royal duties and all.. It kept him very unfortunately occupied. He looks at you both inquisitively when you don’t let go of Seungmin’s arm or untangle yourself from him- normally you would have by now, having reached the destination you wanted to drag him to. It’s.. curious, to say the least. 

Your hand goes from being wrapped around Seungmin and holding his arm, to intertwining your fingers as you hold his hand. Hyunjin raises a brow, but says nothing- he’ll wait for one of you to clear up what he’s thinking. “Mhm, we’ve been waiting to see you in person to tell you something important!” you say as you squeeze Seungmin’s hand, shooting him your best lovey dovey look before you bring your gaze back to Hyunjin. 

Seungmin wants to sigh and roll his eyes and call you dumb for looking at him like that, but he bites his tongue. It’s the last time you’ll ever shoot him with that look of pure puppy love, and it’s best not to ruin it by defaulting to his usual personality; cherish it while you have it, as they say. “Well spit it out then, don’t keep me on the edge of my seat,” Hyunjin’s smile grows, looking between the two of you with eager anticipation to hear the confession that lingers on your tongue. 

Hyunjin’s positive reaction deters you a little; surely he can see that you’re clinging to Seungmin to an unusual degree, but he doesn’t seem to react to it negatively at all- not even minutely. There’s no subtle furrow of the brow, no flash of sadness in his eyes that gets replaced by forced happiness, no twitch in his hands from jealousy or frustration. Seungmin was right, as always- Hyunjin is just going to be a good friend. He won’t have a single negative thing to say. 

“W-Well, we.. uh-” you stumble on your words, and curse yourself for floundering at the most pivotal moment. This is what everything you’ve done has been leading up to, you can’t falter now.. and yet, you are. You look at Seungmin and your grip on his hand tightens, panic unwittingly settling in as a lump forms in your throat. He flashes you a look of sympathy, squeezes your hand in a subtle show of comfort, before he turns away from your gaze to look at Hyunjin. 

He doesn’t like it, but he’ll take the lead from here- for your sake. “We’re dating,” he says as confidently and smoothly as he can bring himself to. He lets go of your hand and wraps his arm around your waist, pulls you closer for added effect, sincerely tries his best to spark the jealousy he knew you wanted to see. But Hyunjin doesn’t look jealous, or sad, or even angry. He just looks.. happy. 

“Gosh, finally! Congrats! I always knew you two would end up together,” Hyunjin grins and gives Seungmin a friendly pat on the shoulder. You blink as you stare between them. Huh..? Finally? What does that mean? Even Seungmin is taken aback, and mirrors what you were internally thinking. Unlike you, his utterly shocked ‘huh?’ comes out verbally. “Yeah, I always saw the way you were looking at her, Minnie. You were so obvious, I knew it was only a matter of time,” Hyunjin says with enthusiastic joy that sends you completely off kilter.

What the fuck. You feel like your entire world has been flipped upside down. What does he mean he always saw the way Seungmin looked at you? How did he look at you..? How does he look at you? Hyunjin’s puzzled now as he looks between you both; you look like your entire sense of reality has been shifted, while Seungmin looks positively mortified. “Sorry, uh- did he not mention that when he confessed?” Hyunjin asks, and then shit- maybe you were the one who confessed.

Seungmin is stubborn and aloof in his cool persona, he's the type to avoid saying what he really thinks by using teasing words, will only look at you softly when he thinks no one else is looking his way.. Hyunjin can easily imagine that he has yet to admit the true depth of his secret pining, or confessed how much he actually likes you. He feels bad for outing Seungmin if that’s the case. 

“My bad, I assumed you knew since you’re dating now and all,” he laughs a bit awkwardly while shooting Seungmin a sympathetic look. One that’s meant to say ‘sorry for blowing your stubborn, cool-guy persona.’ It’s just.. Hyunjin thought it was as obvious to you as it was to him. The way his hard expression would soften the minute you smiled at him, how he’d laugh when you’d banter back after he said something teasing and mean, how his eyes would always linger on even if there were countless other people in the room.. Wasn’t it obvious he liked you this entire time? 

“I guess I’m just surprised to hear you call it out,” you try to recover from the blatant shock, play it off as something different than it is- as if you knew all along, and you’re just surprised that Hyunjin knew too. Hyunjin chuckles a little, looking a bit more relieved after your statement. “Sorry if I ruined the illusion of Seungmin being the cool, aloof type. He’s actually a big softie, but I guess you’ve realized that by now,” he smiles. 

“Yeah I, uh- I’ve realized that,” you smile back, a bit tensely, but a smile nonetheless, “That’s what I like about him.” Seungmin, still trying to recover from his own world being flipped upside down, finally looks at you again. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to recover from this wildly unexpected turn in the conversation. Still realizing he has his hand on your waist, and unsure where you now stand and whether or not this is appropriate or okay anymore, he hesitantly lets you go. 

You hold his hand when he does, but it doesn’t feel like solace or consolation the way it normally would. Not hollow, or empty, but just.. not full of the same warmth it normally carries. He’s so impossibly anxious and scared- that you’re furious with him, that you’ll cut him off when the night is over, that you’ll accuse him of sabotaging this whole thing by agreeing to be your pretend boyfriend when he had very real feelings for you. 

In reality you just feel terrible about yourself and what you’ve caused. You already felt bad before the night began, and now you feel even worse- you never would’ve asked Seungmin to do this if you'd known he had feelings for you. And now his feelings were called out in the worst way possible, and you don’t think you’ll ever scrub how mortified Seungmin looked in that moment from your memory. And it was entirely your fault. 

He should’ve been allowed the chance to tell you on his own terms, and you ruined that chance. You probably also ruined any chance at having a normal relationship with him if you wanted one- because how do you recover from the humiliation of being called out on something you thought was a well guarded secret, right in front of the very person that secret was about. This entire time, he’s liked you, maybe even loved you, and you undeniably hurt him. 

He tried to deter you, he told you this wouldn’t work and he tried to resist but you pressed and pushed and prodded until he gave in. And while you could argue some of his acts were not entirely selfless, as you’re sure he must’ve enjoyed kissing you and being close to you knowing what you do now, how could you blame him for indulging in a love with someone he wanted to be with while expecting, believing, knowing, it would come to an end when you got what you wanted. 

All those years you spent pining over Hyunjin, Seungmin spent them pining over you, and he just listened, he took it in, and he never stopped supporting you, not even once. Even tonight, when it was probably breaking his heart to do so, he tried his best to reassure you, he tried to make Hyunjin jealous on your behalf.. And he complained, sure he did, but it was more part of the usual banter between you two than jealousy or hurt. At least, that’s what you always thought it was.. You never imagined there’d be anything more hiding beneath the surface. 

You should’ve known, though. It should’ve been obvious- how can you call yourself Seungmin’s best friend and not have realized? And it’s not that you missed the signs because you were willfully ignorant, but you were so tunnel-visioned, selfish, and absorbed that you never stopped to notice any of the changes. It wasn’t even until recently that you realized how much a wall he’d put up, how much he’d forced distance between you..

It makes sense, in hindsight; that it wasn’t for your sake that he stopped doing certain things and acting certain ways, but his own. While you were watching Hyunjin like a hawk for any sign that he might like you, you missed all the signs Seungmin left. You never noticed a single thing, and being reminded of how selfishly you’d spent the teenage years of your friendship makes your heart ache terribly.

“Hey uh, sorry to cut this short but.. I think Seungmin’s feeling embarrassed. Might be in need of a reset, y’know?” you say, trying to come across as a happy girlfriend stealing the chance to tease her boyfriend while also still having his best interest at heart. You look at Seungmin, try to offer him reassurance despite the situation, but he doesn’t look back at you. He’s facing Hyunjin, but he doesn’t look at him either, not really. It feels like he’s far away, somewhere distant that you can’t reach, busy reconstructing all the walls he’d let fall away, trying to build them back up as high as he can in preparation for the heartbreak he’s soon to face. 

“Of course,” Hyunjin smiles, giving his full blessing, “just come find me again later! I’d rather be a third wheel with you two lovebirds than listen to my father drone on about tax management again.” You giggle a bit and nod, waving him goodbye and forcing Seungmin out of his haze by dragging him away with you. You glance around as you push through the crowd for a private space to talk- your guest room is much too far away and the tension while going back would likely be too much for either of you to bear; better to find somewhere nearby to have this conversation. 

You fail to make it to a room after exiting the ballroom; Seungmin stops in the middle of the hallway, preventing you from dragging him along, and you’re forced to let him go and turn around to look at him. He’s pained and lost but he tries to bring himself back to the aloof persona he once had mastered, to not show how hurt and afraid he is right now. But the cracked mask that is his cool facade has splintered irreparably, and you can only see him for who he really is now. 

“Sorry it didn’t work out how you wanted. Sucks, and I know you must be hurt, but don’t give up, you can still try again, maybe there’s something else you haven’t thought of yet, you can-” Seungmin speaks in a quick ramble, not even acknowledging the massive elephant in the room- his feelings for you. “Seungmin,” you cut him off with a frown, and he’s hesitant to meet your gaze; he doesn’t know what he’ll be met with, and try as he might to reconstruct himself back to the person he was before this whole thing started, he knows deep down it’d be in vain. 

Your friendship has been irrevocably changed, and to pretend otherwise would be futile. Still, he can’t stop himself from trying- it’s all he can think to do. “You have feelings for me,” you state it plainly, and Seungmin swallows but says nothing. Doesn’t confirm, nor deny, because both options seem fucking terrible if he’s honest. Denying it is pointless and would just be a blatant lie, and confirming, making it clear that he agreed to be your fake boyfriend despite his feelings for you.. He doesn’t know how that makes him look.

In Seungmin’s head, you’ll either view him as pathetic or as a saboteur, and neither is ideal. “Why didn’t you ever tell me? If I’d known I’d never have..” He scoffs at your sentiment and looks at you incredulously. “And why would I have? You’ve been obsessed with Hyunjin for years. And I’m supposed to tell you how I feel? Be serious, Y/N, there’s no way I could’ve ever told you. And even if I had, you would’ve rejected me, so what would’ve been the point?” 

“I-” you want to say that’s not true, that you wouldn’t have rejected him or broken his heart, but who are you kidding? It absolutely fucking is. It hurts to hear it this way, but he isn’t wrong about any of it. Still, just because he’s right, that doesn’t mean you’re entirely wrong either. Even if you’d have rejected him, surely he still should’ve been honest with you? You’d never have done this if you’d known. 

You made mistakes, but so did he.. right? You know you've been selfish for way too long, but you're not the kind of person to intentionally hurt a friend. You never would've dragged Seungmin through the mud just to get what you want, and the fact that he hid his feelings and allowed himself to be hurt just to make you happy.. That's not the kind of thing you want him to do.

Your friendship shouldn't be built on Seungmin's self-sacrifice, he shouldn't allow himself to be second place just to make you and Hyunjin happy. To be selfless is a virtue, but too much can leave him with nothing, and that's been your concern since the day you realized how selfish you've been. You realized that Seungmin will give, and give, and give, and he'll never ask you for anything in return. But that’s not what friendship and love should be built upon. Surely he understands that you never wanted this- for your best friend to offer himself up as your emotional martyr.

And with the confusion of your feelings compounding on it, the realization that maybe it’s Seungmin who you love while your infatuation with Hyunjin was hardly more than a fairytale childhood crush- how are you supposed to live with yourself after causing unspeakable heartache to him? And would he even believe you if you told him that you love him? You don’t even know if you can believe yourself.

He sees how hurt you are, the confusion and the guilt and the sorrow, and the anger that grew within him instantly deflates. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped you, I just- I need to be alone,” Seungmin mutters his apology and walks briskly past you, towards the direction of the guest hall.

You call to him, but he doesn’t stop or turn around, and you don’t follow. You want to, but you know you should respect that he needs time to himself; he has a lot to process, as you’re sure you do too. You owe it to him, yourself, and even Hyunjin, to sort out your feelings too.

Seungmin didn't see you or Hyunjin again that night, couldn't bring himself to keep playing the pretend boyfriend after every thing that happened. He went to your guest room for his stuff, isolated himself in his own room for the remainder of the evening, leaving the door to your room unlocked and the key resting on the desk so you could get in and out without having to speak with him.

He felt bad about it, but he just couldn't face you again; it was too difficult. Apparently, you returned to the ballroom alone and told Hyunjin the truth. Seungmin knows because he woke up in the middle of the night to countless texts from Hyunjin- apologizing, saying he didn't know, offering his condolences and to be there for him. It fucking sucked, made him feel like even more of a pathetic loser.

You told Hyunjin the truth because it felt like the right thing to do following what happened; he would've known eventually anyways, so it felt better to rip the band-aid off right away. And you confessed a lot more than just that; you told Hyunjin everything. About how this whole thing started, about your confusion on how you felt now, about how terribly your heart ached after realizing how much damage you'd caused.

Hyunjin offered you his shoulder to cry on, hugged you and apologized even though he didn’t need to, and ironically, that’s partly what gave you the answer you were looking for. Because your heart didn’t pound when he hugged you, you didn’t get butterflies when he wiped your tears, your face didn’t flush when offered his hand for support. It was so platonic- and the only time you smiled was when he said he was sure Seungmin would forgive you and everything will work out.

It’s over a day when Seungmin finally sees you again; you have to pass through his city to get to yours, and so it always made sense to leave Hyunjin’s castle together when traveling home. The ride is tense and awkward, to say the least. You can’t bring yourself to say a word and neither can he, the two of you only taking peeks at each other when you’re sure the other isn’t looking. Seungmin stares out the window and you stare at your hands resting in your lap, while your driver compensates for the unusual atmosphere by turning up the radio.

Approaching Seungmin’s estate makes you indescribably emotional. A lump forms in your throat when the door is opened for him and he exits the car, you clench your fists and try to swallow down the intense emotion when the door closes and you watch him begin to walk away. It doesn’t feel right, none of this feels right. You’re worried that if you don’t talk now, then you never will; that the damage will be irreparable if you let the distance grow and feelings fester. You need to talk to Seungmin, and you need to do it now. 

You hastily unbuckle your seatbelt and open the car door, running out to chase after Seungmin and not stopping even as your driver calls to you from behind. Seungmin, who is almost to his front door, turns around when he hears the commotion, and is surprised to see you quickly approaching him. “What are you doing..?” he can’t help but ask; really though, he shouldn’t be surprised. You always do things like this, and once you’ve made a decision to do something, you’ll stubbornly stick to that decision ‘til the end. You’ve decided you’re going to talk to him, and he knows there’ll be no getting out of it.

“We need to talk,” you assert yourself clearly, even go as far as to step past him and into his house before he can. What a brat; he almost smiles from how familiar it is. The guards who were holding the door open for Seungmin look a little puzzled, but they make no comment- it’s not their place to do so. Seungmin doesn’t see you when he steps inside, but it’s easy enough to guess where you went. 

And he finds you exactly where he expected to, waiting for him right outside his bedroom door. Now or never, he thinks as he unlocks it, offering for you to step inside first. You do just that, waiting until follows behind and closes the door to speak. “What are we now? Friends? More than friends? ..Neither?” you cut straight to the chase, leaving no room for awkward and unnecessary pre-emptive small talk. “I don’t know. Isn’t that up to you?” Seungmin says, stepping past you to sit on his bed. 

You frown as you watch him, but stay firm. “It shouldn’t be entirely up to me. What do you want?” “Does it matter what I want?” Seungmin cuts back. It’s a bit harsh, but he’s still trying to defend against his heart getting torn to shreds; you can’t entirely blame him. “Of course it matters,” you tell him, voice soft with pain. “Sorry,” he mumbles again, sighing as he flops back and stares at the ceiling. He knows he needs to stop snapping at you, his pain isn’t all in your hands. It takes two to tango, and he did more than his fair share of leading the dance. 

Honesty scares him. Raw emotion scares him. Telling you how he’s always felt about you scares him, and telling you what he hopes you’ll be scares him. But that fear has always been a hindrance, and he needs to stop being shackled by it; especially when you’re trying so hard to hear what he really has to say. “I’ve always liked you, for years I’ve liked you. But you.. I didn’t think there was anything I could do. So I just.. didn't do anything.” 

You sit down next to him, looking down at him as you do, and he in turn moves his gaze towards you. You can see the apprehension in his eyes, and maybe it’s presumptuous of you to do so, but you lay your hand over his in an effort to reassure him. He looks a bit surprised, but he accepts it, and rotates his hand around so you can hold it properly. “I try not to, but even now I still want to be with you,” he admits, and it’s not easy for him to do, but he can’t shove down how he feels anymore- not if he wants a chance with you. 

“So I didn’t ruin what we have?” you ask and Seungmin quickly sits up, squeezing your hand as he does. “Of course not, I mean- I was.. upset and I took it out on you, but.. You could never ruin anything,” he says, emphasizing the point by moving closer to you; and it makes you feel warm and happy. Because he’s bridging the gap on his own, willingly putting his walls back down, leaving the mask off.

“I'm so sorry for everything, I really am. And it's okay if you don't want to, but can we go back to what we were before? Well- not before before, but like- when you were my fake boyfriend. But not fake this time either, I want you to be my real boyfriend, and-” You’re rambling, you know, but you’re just trying to be clear, you just don’t want to mess this up again, so-

“Shut up already, idiot,” Seungmin says, an affectionate smile and lilt in his voice before he’s pressing his lips to yours to stop your rambling himself. “Don’t be an asshole when I’m pouring my heart out,” you complain, smiling despite yourself. “I thought you wanted to go back to before though?” he says with a grin, and you roll your eyes and shove him, mumbling ‘I hate you’ while he chuckles. And it feels good. It feels like everything you’ve been missing and everything you needed. No tension, no dread, no fear- the way it should have always been.

You kiss him first this time, and he pulls you in closer, lets you crawl your way into his lap the way you’ve wanted to for weeks at this point (not that he’s even aware how much you’ve fantasized about it- at least, you hope he hasn’t.) “I missed you,” you breathe as you settle on his lap, and he pulls away, looks up at you with the smug smile that tells you a smartass comment is going to follow. “We were only apart for like, a day,” he can’t help himself from saying, laughing softly when you pout and whine. 

“I know that! But it was the most miserable day of my life, I’ll have you know,” you huff, pout growing as you turn your face away and cross your arms. Seungmin’s expression softens, and he reaches out to your face, rests his hand on your cheek and urges you to look at him again. He understands, he really does; it was just as miserable for him. So many doubts and fears wreaking havoc on his brain and making him assume the worst had still yet to come. “I missed you too,” he mumbles softly, earnestly and a bit shy. 

Seungmin isn’t used to vulnerability and honesty, but he’ll get used to it for you. He’ll learn to tell you over and over again how much he loves you if that’s what you need. And the dynamic you have is fun; you like the banter, the teasing, and how much affection lies beneath the surface of his spoken words. You don’t expect him to completely change, nor do you want him to; but he can stand to be a little more open with his feelings. Just a little.

"Got you to admit it," you smile, and he scoffs when he realizes he's been duped. He calls you a brat, lovingly and affectionately, before he’s kissing you again. You push him backwards onto the bed, gentle but still assertive, continuing to kiss him while his hands find purchase on your hips. He lets out that little sigh as you kiss him- the one that always drives you crazy and makes your stomach do flips.

You used to feel guilt over what that noise caused you to think, the way it caused your body to react and where it led your mind to wander. You wonder if it’s okay now; to allow your mind to go there, if Seungmin would be okay with going further than you’ve gone before- kissing new spots, touching new places, experiencing new sensations. You wonder if he’s thought about it as much as you have, and if guilt made him swallow it down when he did, same as you. 

In the few months of your fake relationship, despite all that practiced closeness and kissing, you never made out- you’ve gotten close, hands starting to roam slightly too close to an intimate place, tongues just seconds away from passing parted lips, but one of you would always stop when you realized you were about to get carried away. And he’d gotten hard more than once, but you always pretended not to notice, acting like you didn’t feel it pressing into your thigh while your legs were tangled together. 

Acknowledging it would’ve meant confronting feelings you weren’t ready to at the time, and there was always the possibility it meant nothing, that it was just a physical reaction independent of his brain and how he felt about you. But now that you know all that you do, you hope it means he’s always wanted more with you.. And you have to admit, the self restraint it’d take not to act on his desires makes him all the more appealing. What can you say except consent is key, and knowing he has self control even when he wants you bad is sexy.

He does it again- that unconscious squeeze of your hips the more you kiss him, and you wonder what exactly it stems from; a desire to have you as close as possible, a way to ground himself as he gets worked up, or maybe even both. You hope it's both. You pull away from his kiss, sitting up and staring down at him, your hands lingering on his chest. “I want to ask you something,” you speak softly, voice almost a whisper, face growing impossibly hot. “And don’t give me a smartass reply, or I’m leaving!” You follow up sternly, and Seungmin chuckles, grabs one of the hands you have resting on his chest, and intertwines your fingers. 

“I won’t, promise,” he says, not a hint of teasing in his voice or his smile. As fun as it is to tease you and poke fun, he can tell when the moment calls for him to be earnest and take you seriously. You breathe a sigh of relief, or maybe you’re letting out a breath to ground yourself before you speak; either way, Seungmin watches you attentively, a bit puzzled but entirely patient. “Do you.. Did you ever think about, uh- doing more when we were kissing..?” you ask, nervously chewing on your lip as you wait for him to respond.

“Oh,” Seungmin blinks, his own face growing hot alongside yours. He promised he’d give an honest, serious answer, but even if he didn’t, he doubts he would’ve been able to play it off. Looking into your eyes while he tries to admit it makes the words lodge in his throat, so he turns his head and looks away, the hot red of his blush burning all the way to the tips of his ears. Same as when he admitted he wanted to kiss you, all he says is “yes.” No elaboration, no ifs, whens, or buts; just yes. And that’s all he needs to say, really. It speaks for itself.

He hesitates to look back at you and see your reaction, but the moment he does turn his head, you’re kissing him again, more eager and impassioned than you ever have before, the noise of surprise he lets out muffled by your lips. Your tongue peeks out, just barely brushes over his own, almost cautiousm and an involuntary noise of approval escapes you when you feel his tongue slip past his lips to meet yours.

You separate your hand from Seungmin’s, and he brings his hand back to your hip while yours returns to his chest. You open your mouth for him, invite his tongue further in, and he squeezes your hips once more when you do. The feeling of his tongue sliding against yours is dizzying, makes your stomach fill to the brim with butterflies, excitement building in your gut in ways you’ve never experienced. 

You feel him growing hard beneath you, and you don’t ignore it the way you would have before; you purposely press into it, grind yourself down on Seungmin’s lap and swallow the gasp he lets out. You lose track of how long you stay like this, grinding on his lap while your tongues swirl around each other's, your heavy breaths and every noise swallowed by the other. You’re out of breath by the time you finally pull away, your chests rapidly rising and falling, his shirt twisted in your palms. 

Seungmin looks almost dazed, and to be fair, you sort of are too; neither of you ever expected you’d be here like this. To Seungmin, you were unobtainable; someone he loved but could never have, and he tried so many times to make his peace with it, though he never could. There's a part of him that still can’t even believe you’re choosing him, that thinks maybe this is a dream he’ll soon wake up from. And in your case, it took you too long to realize your priorities were wrong, and your feelings didn’t always mean what you thought they did; that love is more than what looks good and correct on paper. 

You realized you don’t need perfection and matching titles and fairytale romance. Love doesn’t follow a formula, it doesn’t adhere to standards of nobility and preconceived notions on who a princess should love. You have two best friends, and they’re both vitally important to you, but the one you truly fell in love with turned out to be so opposite from what you thought your type truly was. You love Seungmin, with his quips, sarcasm, imperfections, and all. It’s unfortunate you didn’t realize it sooner, but you’re happy you’re sure of it now. And now that you have him, you’re never letting him go. 

“I want you,” you tell him, and though you’re the most shy you’ve ever been, and can’t quite look him in the eye as you admit it, you still get it out, clear and direct. It’s impressive, enviable, how shyness doesn’t prevent you from ever speaking your mind. “Do you.. want me too?” you ask, and he can feel your hands trembling as you continue to hold onto his shirt, waiting for his answer with bated breath. “Yes,” he assures; always has, and always will. 

You smile before you lean down to capture his lips in another kiss, wet, hot and messy. “This okay?” you pull away just slightly to ask, still so close that he can feel your every breath on his lips, your hand traveling down his chest and over his stomach. More than okay, he wants to say, but all that he can manage to let out is another “yes.” Your fingers ghost over the hem of his pants, his breath hitching when you palm him over the fabric.

It’s embarrassing how much pre-cum has stained and moistened the fabric of his pants, and he’s sure you can feel it beneath your hand. He closes his eyes, furrows his brows as he tries not to become flustered and increasingly more red. A breathy groan escapes him when you slide your hand inside, your hand encircling his cock, and he opens his eyes to look at you, twitching involuntarily when he sees the hungry look in your eyes. 

You kiss him when he starts to bite at his lip, greedily swallow every groan that tumbles out of him. Seungmin can’t believe how much better your hand feels than his own, how soft and warm and perfect- and when you pull away from his lips to stare down at him, he looks up at you like you hold the entire world in your hands. You’ve never done this before, but instinct carries you far, and if Seungmin’s reactions are any sign, you’re doing a good enough job so far. 

Carefully removing your hand from inside his pants and sitting up completely, you move your hands to the end of your dress, where it pools on your upper thighs, and take it in your hands, pulling it up and over your head, tossing it onto the floor behind you. Seungmin’s eyes grow wide, swallowing thickly as he stares at you. He wasn’t expecting it, but it makes sense that you’d do this; you’ve always been the type to act first and foremost. 

You smile at him, shy and sweet, but still impossibly confident too. You take his hands and bring them to your chest, let him grope you over your bra, and it sends him reeling. You’re assertive, direct, a go-getter; when you know you want something, you just go for it, simple as that. But still, this is.. you’re gonna drive him crazy before the night is over. You reach behind your back, unhook your bra with familiar ease, the straps sliding down your arm.

Seungmin swallows, knowing the moment he lets you go your bra will fall from your body and expose your chest to him. Deciding to take a page out of your book, and display some confidence despite the fact that his face is impossibly hot, he takes his hands away, lifts his back off the bed and pulls his own shirt off before he can get distracted by the image of you bare before him.

You toss your fallen bra aside, and he allows himself to stare for just a moment before he brings a hand to the nape of your neck and brings you down to kiss him. You squeak in surprise, but then he feels you smiling against his lips as you return his kiss. Mirroring what you did before, his hand travels between your thighs, feeling your heat over your panties. It’s a bit of an awkward reach that causes strain on his arm, but the minute he feels the wet patch, he doesn’t even fucking think about the strain anymore. 

Seungmin brings his fingers to the hem of your panties, glancing at you before he moves any further. You nod at him, giving him permission to slip his hand inside. And fuck, you’re soaked- he barely even has to move his fingers around to get them completely coated. “You’re- ‘s so wet,” he breathes out, almost amazed, and you whine, burying your face in his shoulder as some semblance of shyness finally clutches you.

“Your fault,” you mumble, and Seungmin chuckles, kissing the top of your head affectionately. “You’re cute when you’re being shy,” he tells you, and you quickly lift your head to glare at him. “Don’t get cocky, I will actually kill you,” you threaten. “And spend the rest of your life without me when just one day makes you miserable?” he teases, and you whine, grabbing one of his pillows and hitting him with it. 

“Remind me to never tell you when I miss you ever again,” you huff, and Seungmin coos, the menace that he is, before he pulls you into a sweet, passionate kiss. You easily melt into it, further complaints dying when his tongue touches yours. He takes your breasts in his hands again, thumbs rubbing over your nipples and making your entire body shudder. You gasp when he takes them between his fingers, squirming and whimpering when he rolls and softly pinches them. 

His cock unceremoniously twitches in response to your pleasured noises, each one driving him crazier than the last; he needs you bad. “Want you,” he mumbles against your lips, and you hum, pulling away to look at him. “Wanna fuck me?” you ask, head tilted as a coy smile plays on your lips. Fucking hell- you call him a menace, but you’re the real threat here; you make him insane. “Isn’t that obvious?” he asks, ignoring the heat on his face and trying to act as unphased by your words as possible. 

“Yeah, it is actually,” you smile and he scoffs, rolling his eyes as you giggle. Menace. You lift your hips off his lap, moving off to the side of the bed so you can slide your panties down your legs. He watches you intently, swallowing when you turn back to him and gaze at him expectantly. Right, he has to get undressed too. Lifting off the bed, he tries not to think about the fact that you’re staring at him as he pulls his pants and underwear down his thighs in one motion. 

You crawl back in his lap when he’s finished kicking the bunched fabric off his legs, neither of you paying any mind to where on his floor it lands. Seungmin’s brain feels like it’s going to short circuit while he’s staring at you; you’re beautiful, sexy, straddling his lap entirely naked, a moment he thought would only ever exist in his wet dreams. You take a breath, steady your nerves as you reach between your bodies to take his cock in your hand. 

It twitches in your hand, throbs as you align it with your dripping hole. You swallow, glancing back up at Seungmin’s face before you act. He can’t take your other hand in his as you’re using it to support your weight, so instead he reaches for your face, gently caressing your cheek with his thumb. You lean into his touch, smiling softly and indulging in his affection for just a moment before you start to slowly sink down on him. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, bottom lip caught between your teeth, nails digging into the flesh of his shoulder as you continue. Even just the sensation of the tip pushing inside is overwhelming, and the more of him you take, the more the pleasure in your gut builds. It’s unfamiliar, there’s a sting and a dull ache, but mostly it just feels good- better than anything you’ve ever felt. 

You open your eyes and look at Seungmin when your hips are finally flush with his, butterflies exploding when you see him struggling to keep himself together. His breaths are harsh and heavy, sweat dripping down his forehead, jaw clenched as he tries to prevent himself from cumming too fast. “You- you okay?” he asks, voice tense with effort, and you nod, leaning down to capture his lips in a hungry kiss. 

He throbs when you do, his hands moving to your hips and holding them tightly, your naked chests pressed together. When you’re ready, you experimentally roll your hips, whimpering softly into the kiss while you cling to his body. He groans with each slow roll of your hips, and it takes all he has not to bruise you in his grip and to stop his hips from chasing yours when you start to carefully bounce. 

It’s slow at first, still adjusting and finding the rhythm you're most comfortable with, what works for you and what feels good, but when you figure it out, God, please have mercy on him. The noises you make turn his brain into an absolute puddle, and when you whimper out his name he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to recover. And the way you clench around him, the wet sounds between your legs and of your thighs slapping together each time your hips rise and fall back to his lap- he can’t fucking take it. 

“M-Minnie-” you gasp, your pace faltering, legs screaming from all the exertion. “C-Close, but- ‘m tired,” you whine and pout, doing your best to push through the fatigue, but you’re not sure how much longer you can. Your legs and knees ache terribly, having been bent long before his dick was even inside you, and they’re in desperate need of a break. “Wanna switch?” he asks and you quickly nod, uttering a small “please,” as you still your hips.

Seungmin helps you lie on your back, quickly taking his place between your legs and pressing himself back inside in one swift motion. You gasp, eyes rolling back when he starts to quickly fuck into you, your hands clutching and twisting the sheets beneath you. He grabs your hands and makes you hold his instead, intertwines your fingers and makes no complaint when your nails dig into the flesh under his knuckles. 

He kisses you desperately, tongue messily swirling around yours, swallowing every loud whimper and moan that spills from your throat. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, your stomach knots and twists, your entire body trembles from the overwhelming pleasure. You snake your dominant hand from out of his grip and bring it to your clit, rubbing it in quick, messy circles. He pulls away from your lips to look between your bodies and watch, cursing when you squeeze him tighter. 

Before you know it, you’re gasping and crying, body jolting and squirming as your orgasm washes over you, hot pleasure licking every inch of your body. Seungmin’s head falls forward, gritting his teeth as he sloppily fucks you through it, his own release not far behind. You’re breathless and panting, but you grab his face and pull him into another kiss regardless, and it sends him over the edge, his eyes rolling back as his cum shoots inside you in long, hot spurts. 

Seungmin pulls out slowly, carefully, paying no mind to the mess his cum trickling out of you makes on his blankets. It doesn’t matter, he can call someone to change the sheets for him later- right now he just wants to focus on you. He lies next to you and kisses you, over and over, holding you close to his chest and squeezing you in his arms. “Clingy, aren’t we?” you playfully mutter against his lips, and he can’t even bring himself to say something witty in response.

“Yeah,” he smoothly admits, not denying one bit how infatuated he is with you, “I’m obsessed with you. That a problem?” You blink, all the red that left your face instantly returning- you weren’t expecting a response like that, nor for him to say it so earnestly. “Not since I love you,” you say after you recover, smiling shyly and giggling when he seems surprised. “Do you?” he asks, and you pout; does he still not think you do, even after all that? 

“Of course I do! I love you so much, Minnie, you.. You’re the only one I want,” you speak from the heart, and Seungmin smiles, playful and smug. “I know. I just wanted to hear you say it again,” he tells you, and you shove him, whining loudly when he laughs. “You’re such an ass!” you cry, and he pulls you back to him, hugging you close and pecking your lips when you pout. “I love you too,” he says, so sweetly that it makes you melt. 

You stay cuddled together like that for some time, limbs tangled together, comfortable and secure. Neither of you wants to be the one to break away first, and though you teased him for it, you love how clingy Seungmin can be when he lets his guard down. You hope he leaves it down a lot from now on; because you love him, and with how stubborn you are, you’ll never let him be pried from your fingers. He’s yours, and you're his, now, forever, always.

It took longer than you would’ve liked to realize it, but this is the love you’ve always wanted. Seungmin completes you, he’s your missing piece, the one who understands you. Similar in the ways that matters, and contrasts you perfectly in the places you differ. You bicker and you tease and sometimes you fight, but you love with your whole hearts; and you’ll never again doubt that or be confused on what it is you want, because this is it. It’s not the fairytale you dreamed of as a kid, but it’s better than that; because it’s real, Seungmin’s love is real, and there’s nothing better you could ever ask for.

[sillygoosiegoose]

I’m such a sucker for this trope

[moonjxsung]

Lost in Translation

Pairing: Lee Minho x fem reader

W/c: 26.5k

Warnings: accidental nudity, hospital visit, mention of masturbation, use of pet names, breast/nipple play, clitoral stimulation, unprotected sex, bulge kink, sexual asphyxiation, breeding kink, creampie, oral sex (male receiving), brief mention of pregnancy

Synopsis: The older brother of the boy you babysit is an enigma, in every sense of the word- and you’re determined to figure him out.

[this work was a request by @antoniorhinothethird - thank you for requesting!]

18+. Mdni!

•

The idea of babysitting isn’t some brilliant proposal you conjured up in a day- but it’s not exactly a choice, either. The idea isn’t even yours, in fact, the advertisements you published on the colorful inquiry site at your mother’s behest. But “college courses are virtual these days” and “you’ll be a mother at some point in your life,” according to her. So two months into the semester, you’ll now spend the majority of your time in a new place you’ll call home, just 30 minutes out at the Lee Household.

The Lee household is considerably larger than you’d originally anticipated it to be, spanning a sizable amount of grassland and standing nobly tall at 2 stories high. The exterior of the flashy home is surrounded by paved gravel driveways, lining the neat rows of bushels and vines that surround the off-white architectural build. Giant glass windows reflect sunlight in nearly every room of the house, with the exception of the dimly-lit library on the second floor, which flaunts colossal cherry wooden bookshelves that line the walls and cover most of the smaller windows.

“Joon is usually very mellow in the daytime,” Mrs. Lee tells you as she walks you through a tour of the garden. “You’ll only have to worry about his feeding schedules, which I’ve already written and posted on the refrigerator.”

She pivots in front of you, stopping for a moment and gesturing to the stone fountain by the rose bushes. “Do you like it? It was a gift from my husband. When he’s not running the furniture business, he works in restoration a lot. This was his first project.”

“Wow,” you say, your lips parted at the sight of the koi fish and the cascading waterfall from its lips. “It’s very beautiful.”

Mrs. Lee smiles at you in response, turning on her heel and continuing to the iron gates in the front.

“Do you have any other questions?” She asks, clasping her hands together and shooting you a saccharine smile. She’s intimating, not because of her personality, which you quickly clock as rather warm and inviting. But rather, because she’s so elegant, her navy silk dress perfectly complementing the chunky pearl earrings she wears, making her look like a character from an old film. You’re not sure you’ve ever crossed paths with such an interesting woman before.

“I think that covers everything,” you say finally, giving her a small bow. “I’ll be sure to provide updates throughout the day.”

“Oh, no need,” she says quickly. “Unless it’s an emergency, l know you’ll have your hands full doing your work while watching Joon. Feel free to just give us a little summary when we’re home for the evening.”

She shoots you a little wink when she finishes speaking, clasping her hands together again and smiling down at you.

“We’ll see you tomorrow for your first day!” She exclaims warmly, opening gate doors as you make your exit out of the garden. When you begin down the paved road, Mrs. Lee suddenly gasps, calling out to you again in a frantic manner.

“Oh! Y/n, wait please!” She calls, pulling the skirt of her dress up to her ankles to jog over to where you’re standing.

“My other son will be home from school in the afternoon tomorrow. Don’t be alarmed if you hear him moving about the house. He’ll just keep to himself.”

You ponder the words for a moment, a little frustrated when you realize there will be two kids in the household instead of one, like she’d previously mentioned. But you just nod and smile at her, seeing yourself out of the driveway once again and beginning the journey back home to prepare for your first day here tomorrow.

*

This castle-at-end-of-the-road is eerily quiet when no one’s home, a once lively sight of rose bushes and marble statues appearing like something out of a horror movie when you’re by yourself. At every corner you turn, your brain runs rampant with paranoia, placing shadowy figures and silhouettes of people where there are none- except for when you’re in the presence of Joon.

At just a year old, Joon is considered one of the cutest ages, only being able to babble incoherent noises and flail his little hands around when he wants something. His closet is full of matching neutral tones, per his mother’s styling, and his sparse black hair is combed neatly to one side.

Mrs. Lee is right about him- he doesn’t cry. Nor does he ever make a fuss, really. He simply sits quietly, in the comfort of his crib, or his high chair, and he curiously peers at the world around him. You’re certain he’s taken a liking to you already, judging at how he smiles when you spoon-feed him mashed carrots and mimic airplane noises. And he only cries briefly once in the day, stopping almost immediately when you put him down for his nap.

This may be an easier gig than you thought.

While Joon naps, you take the opportunity to get some work done in the library, settling comfortably on the velvet armchair in the corner and running through a few of your online class assignments for the week.

Although you’ll be babysitting here for the next few weeks, you’re also completing your final year at university this year, your last semester being completely remote. Which gives you time to take on the babysitting task as a side hustle, and hopefully save enough money to travel a bit after university like you’ve always dreamt of.

At half past noon, Joon is still peacefully asleep in his crib where you’ve left him, the ambient sound of waves echoing softly from his baby monitor as little snores emit from his curled lips. He looks like an angel when he sleeps, and you can’t help but feel your heart swell to twice its size at the sight of him.

The gentle breeze of the October wind travels through the open windows of the library, sending chills up your spine when you sit down to work again. You get up from where you’re sitting on the armchair to latch the windows shut, making sure to lock them, before turning around to take your seat again- quickly startled by the figure standing in the doorway.

“Jesus,” you yelp, one hand clutching your chest in fear as you nearly drop your laptop.

The figure- or man, rather, says nothing, scanning the room like he’s searching for something, before turning on his heel and exiting the room once again.

He’s tall, with a slim yet muscular build, honey tanned skin complementing his chocolate brown tresses. He’s also dressed rather casually in a pair of light-wash jeans and a black top, a black leather jacket thrown over his broad shoulders and left unzipped.

“Sorry, did you need something?” You call out, perplexed by his demeanor. You can’t remember if the Lees warned you of potential visitors, but you’re suddenly panicked for Joon, remembering you left his door open.

“Nope,” the man calls out over his shoulder, not turning around to face you. And then you see it- a black backpack, slung over one shoulder and seemingly filled to the brim with textbooks.

Their other son.

This must be the son Mrs. Lee warned you would be making appearances in the afternoon. But you had assumed him to be much younger, especially considering he’s definitely old enough to be watching over his own brother.

Before you can gather your thoughts to introduce yourself, he’s gone again, disappearing down the hall the same way he so mysteriously appeared. And you wonder, briefly, how he can be so much colder than his own mother.

*

The first day of your new job is a success. When Mrs. Lee returns home for the evening, she pays you in cash, true to her traditional style, and sends you home with a tin of shortbread cookies as another ‘thank you’, though she’s already voiced it a million times. But the second day is rougher than the first, reminding you of why babysitting isn’t always an easy task despite what it may seem.

Joon is particularly antsy today, flailing his arms around when you try to spoon feed him and whining relentlessly when you pick him up. He needs several diaper changes in just your first few hours of working, and when you finally do get him clean, he’s a crying, screaming mess.

Fortunately, he still goes down for his nap at noon, which means you have a narrow window of time to complete your work for the day and get freshened up. The windows in the library are propped wide open again, a cold breeze coming through as you settle in your new favorite spot and open your laptop.

There are a myriad of assignments to complete today, and you’re briefly panicked that you won’t be able to complete the necessary few pieces if Joon suddenly wakes again. But still, you try, skimming through textbooks and typing away as much as you can to make steady progress. And at the hour mark, Joon begins to cry. Rather he wails, loudly, from the other room, startling you when you’re already in deep concentration working through a practice quiz.

You make your way down the hallway and to the right, where Joon’s room is, approaching the crib and catching a glimpse of his anguished state. His face is a robust shade of red as he wails loudly, bubbles of saliva forming at his nostrils and his eyes squeezed shut. You guide him out of the crib and into the safety of your arms, shushing him gently and rocking him back and forth the way Mrs. Lee taught you. And Joon calms instantly, hiccuping through tears as he locks his gaze on yours and fists at strands of your hair.

“That’s okay,” you coo at him, grazing your finger along his chin and cleaning some of the drool that dribbles from the corners of his lips. “I’m here. Look at you! You’re okay,” you continue, giggling at him when his quivering lips pull into a small smile. He softens in your arms, smiling and babbling with hushed sounds, clutching tightly on strands of your hair as you balance him in your arms.

“You want to come do some work?” You ask, nodding your head as if to coax an answer out of him. “That’s a good baby, huh? Let’s go do some work.”

And you travel back to the library with Joon in your arms, giving him gentle pats on his back as you hoist him tighter into your embrace and balance your laptop with one arm.

When you’re starting on your last task of the evening, you’re interrupted again today by Mrs. Lee’s eldest son, who pokes his head in the doorway and observes as you coo down at Joon’s sleeping figure while working on your computer with one hand.

“Do you want me to take him?” You hear from the doorway, and you crane your neck to look where he’s standing, his hands shoved in his pockets and his backpack slung lazily over one arm.

“I’m okay,” you respond, typing out a word with one hand. He furrows his eyebrows at your failed attempt, approaching you and reaching out his arms to take Joon from your embrace.

“You can’t work like this,” he says, as he peacefully transfers Joon to his own arms. “He won’t wake up if I put him back, I promise.”

“Thanks,” you reply, taking note of his features now that he’s at a closer proximity to you for the first time. He has large round eyes, and long eyelashes that make even you jealous. His nose bridge is sharp and straight, and when he chuckles softly at Joon, you notice his skewed front teeth, ones that make his smile seem sweeter- softer.

As he begins out the doorway, you try to think of what to say to him, not wanting to have another awkward run-in with him like your last one. But nothing comes to mind that won’t be just as awkward as the encounter itself, and you settle on painful silence once again.

As you unlock your laptop, continuing on to your last assignment, you hear the faint noise of Mrs. Lee’s elder son putting Joon back to sleep.

Except he sounds different than he has during your two previous encounters. He’s laughing, babbling, even cooing at Joon as he puts him back to sleep. And though you really shouldn’t intrude, you make your way to the doorway again, where you peer down the hall to listen in on the endearing noises he makes.

“Are you sleepy?” He asks, his voice two octaves higher than usual. “Let’s sleep now, okay? No, you can’t have my shirt. That’s mine, remember? Let’s have good dreams now. I love you!”

You hear Joon giggling from the end of the corridor and you smile to yourself, wholly moved by the tender little moment he shares with his baby brother. He might not be his full-time caregiver, but he certainly knows what he’s doing. As you stay pondering his behavior for a moment, you don’t even notice when he exits the room again, turning to watch you standing around the doorway. Your ear is still leaned into the corridor, clearly having listened in on the private moment.

“Sorry,” you say quickly, straightening your posture, a wave of embarrassment quickly washing over you. “I was making sure Joon got to bed okay.”

He just nods once, looking you over briefly before meeting your gaze again.

“Minho,” he then practically mutters, averting your gaze as he waits for you to speak.

It’s his name, you realize, barely even having registered what he said to you. He’s telling you his name.

“Y/n,” you respond quickly, giving him a small bow and smiling nervously.

And Minho says nothing, pivoting on his heel to exit the corridor and disappear all over again.

*

For two weeks, your job runs smoothly, no glaring problems or hangups. Joon remains fond of you, obedient at mealtimes and when he’s put to bed. And the system of completing your college coursework goes smoothly, being able to get through several assignments a day while Joon takes his afternoon nap. If anything, you might be more productive than you were before this job, despite balancing it between university.

It’s an overcast Tuesday afternoon, and you’ve spent most of your day working in Joon’s nursery on the rocking chair next to his crib. He’s been a little fussy today, but you find that he calms down a little at the repetitive clicking noises of your laptop keyboard. Once you’ve confirmed he’s asleep, little snores emitting from his lips, you gather your belongings and sneak away to the library again. Only this time, it’s not vacant.

Minho sits in your usual spot today, his legs propped up on the footrest in front of him and a book in his lap. He doesn’t even notice you in the doorway, strands of hair hanging loosely in front of his face as he scans the page of his book. He also looks significantly more casual than other days you’ve seen him around, wearing a plain black t-shirt and gray sweats, a pair of round wireframe glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

He feels your gaze on him, shuffling about suddenly and closing his book.

“Sorry,” Minho says. “I was just… reading.”

He realizes how awkward he sounds, verbally conveying his actions to you like this, but he’s too caught off guard to form a more coherent string of words.

“It’s okay,” you say politely, setting your bag down on the floor and occupying the chair across from him.

“What book?” You ask, cocking your head at the small red novel he clutches in his lap.

“Hm? Oh, uh… it’s Love and Limerence. By Dorothy Tennov.”

You nod in response, studying the cherub painted on the cover, wielding a bow and arrow.

“Big romance fan?”

“No,” Minho says, chuckling at your words. “It’s a required read for my class.”

“How neat,” you reply. “What class requires romance novels these days?”

“My philosophy course,” Minho says, running the pads of his fingers over the raised text on the cover. “The psychology of emotion.”

“PHIL 105,” you say, knowing very well the course he speaks of.

“Yeah- you’ve taken it?”

“No, but I had a friend who did in freshman year. I’m in my last semester now- my remaining classes are virtual, though.”

“It’s my last semester, too,” Minho says with a little smile, fiddling with the lobe of his ear as he talks.

“Well best of luck to you in the final stretch,” you reply, shooting him a small smile back. “I hope it all goes smoothly.”

Minho gives a half nod, and then furrows his eyebrows together, like he’s just remembered something.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” he says suddenly, sitting up and gathering his belongings.

“Oh, I really don’t mind-”

“Catch you later,” He interrupts with a nervous tone, almost jogging out of the library and back down the corridor.

And just like the first day you met him, you maintain the same idea of him- he’s such an enigma. Appearing in and out of the household, not one to voice his thoughts or his opinions, no eagerness to know the stranger sitting in his house watching over his baby brother. But somehow, like the rest of the household, you can’t help but have a lingering curiosity for Minho, too.

*

“My husband and I might be late getting back today,” Mrs. Lee says one morning as you feed Joon his breakfast. His tongue dodges the plastic spoon, dribbling mashed food out from the corners of his lips and laughing when you go to dab his face clean with a napkin.

“That’s alright,” you reply, loading up the spoon with more food. “I can wait until you’ve arrived.”

“You will?” Mrs. Lee asks, a kind of sparkle in her eyes as she speaks. “That would mean the world to us. It’s just that my husband has an auction to attend today. And sometimes these events run longer than they’re meant to.”

“No problem at all,” you say, smiling at her as you turn your attention back to Joon. “Joon and I will just hang out a little longer today. Isn’t that right?”

He babbles something in response, a string of saliva trailing from his lips, and Mrs. Lee laughs at the sight.

“He’s really taken a liking to you!”

As she fixes Joon’s hair, Minho enters the kitchen, dressed for the day with his backpack already slung over his shoulder.

“Minho,” his mother says in a scolding tone. “No gum for breakfast. Have a fruit.”

“Can’t,” he replies curtly. “My philosophy exam is today.”

“What does that have to do with depriving yourself of food?”

“It’s bad luck to eat before an exam,” Minho retorts, coming around the granite island to kiss her on the cheek. “Besides,” Minho continues. “I’m ditching my second class, so I’ll be home a little earlier.”

When he turns around, his gaze meets yours, and he instantly stiffens.

His gaze turns cold again, his hands shoving in his jacket pockets as he says nothing to you. He just bows, once, and then turns to exit like he’s suddenly in some rush.

“Bye,” he calls out, and you’re not even sure who he’s addressing it to at this point.

“I should get going, too,” Mrs. Lee says to you. “I’ll call you when we leave the event tonight. And please, feel free to make yourself comfortable after Joon gets put to bed. There’s cash on the table if you want to order something for dinner, and extra blankets are in the upstairs closet if you get sleepy.”

“Thank you,” you say to Mrs. Lee as she gathers her car keys and handbag. And the house is quiet again when you’re all alone, with the exception of Joon’s heavy breathing as he stares at you curiously.

“It’s like a mansion here,” you say to your best friend as you balance Joon in your arms and crane your neck on your shoulder to hold the phone against your ear. “Mrs. Lee is so nice. I thought she’d be stuck up or something, but she’s like a second mother.”

“You hit the jackpot,” your friend voices on the other end of the line. “Any idea how long they need you around?”

“Not sure,” you reply, wiping the granite counter with a rag as you finish up the dishes. “Probably until their son is done with the semester.”

“Son?” She says excitedly. “Is he cute?”

“Please,” you echo, rolling your eyes. “His looks mean nothing considering he doesn’t say a word.”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly that. He just doesn’t talk. We go to the same university and it’s like pulling teeth trying to figure out something as simple as what his major is. I think he despises having me around.”

“I mean, to be fair, I wouldn’t love someone in my space 24/7. It’s probably a territorial thing.”

“He’s not a cat,” you respond, laughing lightly. “He’s a grown man. I just get the feeling he doesn’t like me.”

“Well I highly doubt that,” she says, and you can hear her shuffling about on her end of the line.

“Hey, I have to go,” she chimes in. “But I’ll talk to you later. Good luck with baby Joon and the cat man.”

“Thanks,” you reply, chuckling to yourself.

As you hang up the phone, you turn around to gather the last of the dishes, stopping in your tracks when you’re met with Minho himself.

He’s standing in the kitchen, popping a bubble of gum with his teeth, his gaze locked coldly on yours as he observes the place.

That’s right- he did say he would be home a bit earlier after his exam today. Was he standing there for the entirety of your conversation? You can’t recall how long the phone call lasted, or even the specifics of what you said. But you do know it certainly wasn’t good.

“Hi,” you say nervously, scanning his expression for a hint of what he’s thinking. But he provides you none, kicking off his boots and making his way up the stairs again.

The guilt is still eating away at you two hours later- Minho hasn’t descended the staircase once since the incident, and you can hardly focus on your school work at the thought of what he’s thinking of you.

Here you are, complaining about him seeming “cold” or “off”- the whole time you’re the one talking about him behind his back and stirring up drama. If he hated you before, he definitely despises you now. And if he's as close with his mother as he seemed this morning, you could be out of a job by tomorrow.

In reluctant steps, you ascend the wooden staircase, clutching a small mug of coffee and a stack of buttered toast. You remember Minho saying he’d have breakfast after his exam, a task he wasn’t able to complete due to your impolite conversation earlier. And while you’re not even sure he’s going to give you the time of day anymore, it’s worth a shot to try.

At the top of the staircase, you realize you’re unsure of which room even belongs to Minho. There are rows of doors down the corridor, which you peer into, looking for any sign of him.

A closet, another closet, the laundry room… it feels like a futile task at this point- not to mention, the sinking feeling that you’re intruding, poking into every room in the house like this.

But at the end of the hallway, just across the staircase from Joon’s room, lies one more closed door you haven’t tried yet, and you’re sure this one has to be his.

With a deep breath, you balance the mug of coffee on the plate you’re carrying, bringing your free hand up to knock, just once.

No answer.

You pause for a moment, debating whether to just leave and drop the idea of an apology altogether. But you don’t, instead forcing yourself to knock once more this time, a little harder than the first.

And after muffled sounds of shuffling about, the door finally opens again, Minho standing with a confused expression on his face. He has a pair of earphones in, one side pulled out to hear you, his glasses sat on his face and a number of textbooks on the bed behind him.

“Is Joon okay?” He asks, looking down the hall in panic as you meet his gaze.

“What? Oh! Yes, he’s fine. He’s sleeping.”

“Oh. What are you…”

“I… made you some breakfast. I know you didn’t have any before your exam this morning. And no, gum isn’t a breakfast food.” You chuckle lightly as you hold the items out to him, and Minho looks down at them, blinking a few times before speaking.

“Oh. Uh, thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem. Should I leave them with you?”

“Oh, you can put them on the desk over there,” Minho replies, and it’s then that you notice his hands are full with papers. He steps aside to let you in, gesturing to the desk with a piece of paper, and you oblige, clearing the space of a few scattered items and setting down his breakfast.

When you turn around to look at the place, your lips part in awe at the sight of the grandiosity of it. Minho’s room has bigger windows than any of the others you’ve seen, concave around a crescent-shaped seating area that boasts tall ceilings and large glass windows. There are books lining the floors, the desk space and even the window sills, many of them left bookmarked or lying open where they sit.

His giant wooden bed frame is almost hidden behind a hanging curtain, and his desk is nearly inhabitable at the amount of university paraphernalia that lives on its surface.

“Wow,” you say, craning your neck to look around the room. “It’s really nice in here.”

“Thanks,” Minho says awkwardly, toying with a loose hem on his pants.

“You really like reading,” you comment, taking note of the books he has lying around. When you say this, Minho seems to stiffen a bit, shutting some of the books and lining them on their spines along his shelves.

“Yeah,” he mutters, dropping a few books and kicking them away from him.

You nod at him, pursing your lips, well aware that you’re in the midst of yet another awkward interaction with him, but wanting to fulfill the reason you came up here all the same.

“Listen,” you begin. “I wanted to apologize. I don’t know how much you heard of that, but I assume it was enough to be hurt by it. And you’re justified in being hurt. It was totally uncalled for of me to say those things- and sure, you might be a quiet person. But that doesn’t make it okay for me to go around airing it out like it’s my business. In fact I shouldn’t even be on my phone on the job. I’m here to watch your brother, and I get paid for that service, and it’s completely unprofessional-”

“It’s cool,” Minho says, an unchanging expression on his face.

“Oh, um… I mean, if you want to fire me I totally understand.”

Minho chuckles softly, and then shakes his head. “I’m not going to fire you. I am quiet. It’s cool. Really.”

“I mean, I totally get that-”

“Unless you want to be fired?” He inquires with a half-smile, and you chuckle softly in response.

“I really don’t. I love watching your brother.”

“Good,” he replies. “Then we’re all good.”

And although you want to say something else to him, you don’t, feeling as though you should be satisfied with the state of the conversation. You apologized, he forgave you, and you haven’t lost your job. And he’s still quiet, but that’s just who he is.

When Joon wakes from his afternoon nap, it’s nearly 3pm. He’s a crying mess when he’s up again, flailing his arms around to beg for a bottle, which you promptly prepare for him after a diaper change.

With Joon in your arms, you get some chores around the house finished, including vacuuming the rugs, dusting off the furniture and tidying Joon’s toys that are usually scattered about his nursery.

Doing chores wasn’t an agreement between you and Mrs. Lee- in fact, she usually urges you to focus on your schoolwork and take breaks when you’re not caring for Joon. But you want to, feeling compelled to take care of the space as much as you care for Joon. Although tensions are still somewhat present between you and Minho, the Lee household feels comfortable to you by this point, almost like a second home now.

After chores, the library calls out to you again, evening beginning to fall over the neighborhood and painting the sky with vibrant hues of an autumnal sunset.

The windows are still rolled open from earlier, and your velvet couch looks particularly inviting at this hour, beams of sunset setting it aglow and luring you to choose a book from the cherry wood shelves around you.

So you do, selecting a children’s book about animals, comfortably sprawling out on the chair with Joon in your arms. He eyes the book curiously, spreading his short, chubby fingers over the cover and tapping repeatedly, as if asking you to read to him.

And you do, setting the book on your knee to angle the pages toward him, as you begin to vocalize the choppy sentences to him.

“A is for apple, hanging from a tree,” you say, caressing his stubby fingers as he pouts in focus. “B is for buzzing bumblebee.”

Joon’s lips curl into a smile, making his best attempt to clap as you point out the colorful images to him.

“C is for crab, walking in the sand… D is for dolphin, swimming toward the land!”

Joon laughs hysterically now, clapping his little hands and rocking back and forth in your lap. You laugh, too, at his darling reaction, and give him a little kiss on the head as he fiddles with the cover of the book.

It’s moments like this that reaffirm the notion for you that this job was the right idea, after all. You’re inexplicably happy alongside him like this, seeing the world through his eyes and rediscovering things you would otherwise take for granted, like silly picture books or doing chores with him in your arms. You feel so protective of him, eager to make his mom proud and provide a safe, nurturing environment for him as his babysitter- not because you’re paid to do it, but because he now holds a special place in your heart.

The sound of someone clearing their throat startles you from the doorway, and you look up to find Minho standing there, an amused smirk tugging at his lips.

“Did you… want something to eat? I was going to order takeout, unless you wanted something else.”

“Sure,” you reply, propping Joon up a little closer to your chest. “Anything’s fine with me.”

“I’ll get Chinese, then,” Minho says nodding. He averts your gaze a little, but you can tell he’s just a little awkward when he’s face-to-face with you like this. And perhaps your best friend is right- perhaps it’s not unusual of him to feel territorial over his household. After all, you are here almost every hour of the day, making yourself comfortable in almost every room, tending to the chores here and eating food from their kitchen. You suppose you would be irritated at the thought of it, too.

As Minho leaves to place an order, you take Joon back to the nursery, where you gently put him to sleep for the evening and program his baby monitor to play calm ocean noises again. It’s like clockwork- he’s out like a light, and the minute he leaves your arms, you’re exhausted, too. The stress of watching over him while balancing your school work might finally be getting to you now- you’re undoubtedly tired, your limbs aching from sauntering about this big house all day with Joon in your arms. And although you’re on a good track, you can hardly remember which assignment pertains to each of your classes these days.

When Minho returns almost an hour later, he holds a thin plastic bag in hand, his other one clutching a fistful of cutlery and two plates. He gives you a small nod when he enters the library, and you put away your laptop to join him on the floor in front of the coffee table.

For a moment, he says nothing as he prepares a plate for you, sliding a cup of wonton soup toward you and dividing portions of chow mein and tofu with wooden chopsticks.

You watch as he breaks a spring roll in half, holding both sides up and comparing to make sure they’re even.

“You’re very precise,” you say with a soft laugh, and a breathy chuckle emits from his lips, too.

“I’m trying to make sure it’s even.”

“However you cut it is fine,” you respond, pleasantly surprised at how polite he is.

When he’s finished dividing your portions, he slides a plate to you, setting a plastic fork down on the napkin beside you and ushering to the food.

“Enjoy,” he says, shooting you a small smile.

And the two of you eat in silence, the room quiet, aside from the sounds of slurping soup present between you two. Although it’s quiet, it feels comfortable, having him keep you company like this. It’s a change of pace from your usual days babysitting in the Lee household.

“How is your school work?” Minho interrupts your thoughts, and you’re momentarily taken aback by him initiating the conversation first.

“It’s good,” you respond, poking at the vegetables on your plate with a chopstick. “It’s on my own time, so I mostly just have to make sure I’m staying on track. But I’m finding it easy to get through despite watching Joon in the daytime.”

Minho nods in response, keeping his gaze set on the bowl of soup in front of him.

“How did your exam go?” you ask, and Minho cocks his head a little. “I got full marks,” he responds after a moment of silence.

“That’s great! I guess you were right about skipping breakfast having something to do with your academic success, then.”

And Minho laughs for the first time- not a chuckle or a giggle, but a laugh, holding one hand up to his mouth as he does. His laugh is gentle and melodic, filling the room around him with its sound, and you can’t help but laugh, too.

“I suppose,” he responds. “I also go nowhere without those philosophy books, so I have them memorized like the back of my hand.”

“Philosophy major?” you voice back, and Minho nods.

“So Love and Limerence is like second nature to you at this point.”

Minho gets a little awkward at this, his smile fading a little as he pokes around his chow mein. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “You could say that.”

And fearing you’ve somehow offended him, you change the subject again.

“Well I’m a business major,” you chime in. “So we don’t get interesting reads at all. And I’m not lugging around a six-pound textbook about returns on investments in my backpack.”

He laughs again, and you feel satisfied at the motion. Making him laugh feels like an exciting feat, like you’ve succeeded at something after trying so hard to. And considering how hard you’ve been trying to break down his walls these days, maybe it is an exciting feat, getting to know the stranger you’ve been sharing a home with for one month now.

“Business is a great field,” Minho says, slurping down the remainder of his soup. “Your parents must be really proud of the direction you’re headed.”

You shrug in response. “They’re indifferent. I don’t have a great relationship with them. They mostly just want me out of their hair once I graduate.”

“You have any post-college plans?” Minho inquires.

“I finished an internship before this whole babysitting gig, actually. I want to travel a bit after graduation, and then I’ll really settle down for the whole 9-5 working life.”

“Where are you hoping to travel to?”

There’s a glint in Minho’s eyes as he presses you for answers, like he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. It makes you feel all warm inside- not many people usually care what you’re up to these days, your family trying their hardest to send you away to work another job and your most of your friends having drifted apart when you began university. Even the friends you do have are more distant these days, considering their classes are still in person, and you don’t have a need to be back on campus anymore. It’s a bit of a lonely life you lead, so being here beside Minho feels different, but pleasant.

“I’m not sure,” you say with a smile. “I’m not really sure where I belong yet.”

“Hey, I don’t know where I belong, either,” Minho echoes. “So that makes two of us.”

When the two of you are finished with dinner, Minho takes your plates downstairs, despite you offering, and you’re briefly left alone in the library. It’s much later than usual now, nearing 9:00, when you’re usually home by 7. The house also has a different vibe to it this hour, many of the rooms feeling much dimmer despite the same lamps being on, and the corridors feeling much quieter and more haunting. You feel a wave of sleepiness wash over you, and though you don’t want to be asleep when Mrs. Lee arrives, you can’t help but shut your eyes for a few minutes. You can still make out the shape of the bookshelves behind your heavy eyelashes, trying your best not to close your eyes completely, but your mind has already wandered off to slumber, and inevitably, your body follows shortly after.

You’re somewhere between sleep and consciousness when you feel Minho enter the room once again, looming over you like he wants to ask you something. But he says nothing- instead, he unfolds a knit blanket above you, sprawling it out over your legs and pulling it up to your torso. And you hadn’t realized how cold you were before he did, because you’re almost instantly with a wave of warmth and comfort over your listless body.

It feels almost uncharacteristic or Minho to carry out an action this polite- but as he takes his seat across from you, watching as you doze off peacefully, you think he may finally be coming around to you.

*

“I’m ditching my second class again today,” Minho announces the next morning at breakfast. He doesn’t eat much, you notice, as he bites into a single apple and hoists his backpack further up his shoulders.

“I’ll be home a bit earlier,” he then continues, eyeing you a little, and you give him a little nod.

“Then help with lunch,” Mrs. Lee says, gathering her own briefcase for work. “Y/n shouldn’t do it all by herself when you’re here.”

“Oh, it’s no worry at all,” you quickly chime in, not wanting to be the reason Minho refutes his mother’s words. “It’s what I’m here to do, after all.”

“No worries,” Minho says back to you. “I’ll be home around noon and we can prepare something together.”

For some reason, your heart flutters a little at the implication of doing something alongside Minho- something so planned and seemingly intimate. You normally just take the days as they come, so having a commitment hanging over your head like this is a little nerve-racking. And in all your worrying, you don’t respond to Minho, realizing only as he’s exiting the house with his apple in hand.

“I might be late again today,” Mrs. Lee turns to you, snapping you out of your trance. “But Minho can stay for the remainder of the time. I’ll still pay you the full amount like I did yesterday-”

“I’m happy to stay again,” you reply to her. “Like I said, it’s what I’m here to do.”

She smiles in return, clasping her hands and gesturing to the food on the table.

“I can’t get Minho to eat for the life of me, but help yourself to whatever you’d like. And thank you again, for staying.”

You’re reading to Joon in the living room when Minho arrives home from school. He kicks off his shoes dramatically, tossing his bag on the floor and breathing out a heavy sigh while you thumb through the pages of a new picture book.

“Hi,” Minho says first, his expression remaining stoic and unchanging.

“Hey,” you reply, hoisting Joon a little further up in your arms. “How was school?”

“Terrible,” he responds, making his way around the granite island to collect another apple.

“Why’s that?”

“Professor Kim,” he says curtly, polishing the apple on his button down shirt before taking a generous bite. “A three hour lecture on a Friday really wasn’t a smart choice. ”

You chuckle a little to yourself, adjusting your position on the floor and trying to balance Joon in your embrace. Minho takes notice of your struggle, abandoning his apple on the counter to come take Joon from your arms.

“Thanks,” you say, dusting off your legs as you stand again. “I’m going to get started on something for Joon to eat if you want to wait around. Unless you’re sticking to this exclusively-apple diet.”

Minho chuckles to himself and shakes his head. “I’ll help. We don’t have much prepared right now and I really need to go grocery shopping.” He secures Joon in his high chair, cocking his head toward the fridge.

“Could you just grab his orange juice? It should be the blue bottle on the right.”

And you comply with his request, promptly locating the blue sippy cup and handing it to Minho.

“Thank you,” he says, setting it down on the white tray in front of Joon and twisting it open. “This should be enough to hold him off until we can whip something up with the few ingredients we have. I want to do something with those sweet potatoes, they’re reaching the end of their time.”

Joon is a little fussy as he reaches for his sippy cup, flailing his arms around and sliding the cup across the tray to the edge. The cap seems to loosen as he does, tilting dangerously to one side.

“I got it,” you say to Minho, as you approach Joon. You retrieve the cup from the edge of the tray, twisting off the cap again to secure it properly. And as you do, Joon lets out a particularly loud yelp, knocking his hand toward you and letting the bottle fall off the tray entirely.

As you realize what’s happening, you bring two hands up to push it away from you, but you’re too late- the entirety of the bottle’s contents are spilt onto your shirt, completely soaking you and dripping onto the floor with loud, wet noises.

Minho doesn’t see what happened, but he turns around at the sound of your loud gasp, his eyes widening at the sight of you. Even your hair’s gotten wet, stringy pieces falling into your face, damp with the tangy scent of orange juice and dripping down your shirt. His mind races with guilty thoughts, feeling as though he should have stayed watching Joon, being the one to have been caught in the crossfire of his tantrum instead. Joon’s always fussy before meals- he knows this very well. As his mind races with the urgency to grab a towel, a rag- something, his eyes graze to your t-shirt, and he practically freezes.

Your thin white t-shirt is soaked like the rest of you, painting a clear outline of your black bra as the cold contents drip down your chest and torso. The see-through fabric sticks to your body like a cellophane wrapping, outlining every inch of you, every curve and every raised goosebump as you shudder at the sensation. Minho’s eyes remain locked on your dampened breasts for an embarrassing amount of time, taking careful note of the way your hardened nipples practically protrude through the thin white fabric, almost appearing increasingly noticeable with every passing second. The delicate curves of your stomach are accentuated with your skin-tight shirt, even your navel now visible.

A shake of your hands finally snaps him out of his trance, and you wrap your arms around yourself in a futile effort to cover yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you utter to him, at a loss for words at the notion of being so exposed to him. And Minho is quick to shake his head, now scrambling for a towel.

“Don’t apologize,” he says, pulling a towel off the oven handle and sliding it to you. “Here, use this and I’ll go get a larger towel from upstairs and a change of clothes.”

You want to deny the offer, feeling shameful for having already intruded this much on the Lee household and still needing more from them. But as you look down at your t-shirt, you know you don’t have a choice, the fabric now feeling cold and uncomfortable as it sticks to your flesh.

“Thanks,” you say to him, giving a small nod and not moving your hands from your chest.

And Minho retreats upstairs quickly, trying his best to avert his gaze as you remain in the kitchen.

As Joon babbles incoherently next to you, you can’t help but feel stupid, a sense of shame and embarrassment replacing the excitement you had to be preparing lunch alongside Minho for the afternoon. You’re in disbelief he’s practically seen you half naked like this, and you feel inadequate at not being able to stop Joon from committing the incident in the first place. As you run your hands up and down the raised goosebumps on your arms, you do your best to hold back tears, hoping Minho won’t think less of you for being caught in such a humiliating accident.

Minho is gone for a little while, and you blot at the wet patches on your shirt as you wait, Joon now laughing at your messy state. You can’t help but laugh a little, too, admittedly amused at what a disaster the afternoon has been- and you haven’t even begun the cooking part of it yet.

When he returns, he tosses you a large white bath towel and a gray t-shirt, still keeping his gaze on the floor instead of on yours.

“Here,” he says simply, his veiny arm scratching the back of his head. “I can also get a sweater if you’re cold.”

As you observe the t-shirt, you realize it’s one of his, not one of Mrs. Lee’s. For some reason, you’d assumed Minho would opt for a woman’s clothes as your change, but the t-shirt has clearly been pulled from his closet, and you blush a little at the idea of wearing his clothes.

“This is fine,” you reply, wrapping the bath towel around your body and excusing yourself to the bathroom.

You peel the sticky clothes off your body, crumpling them into a pile and changing into Minho’s t-shirt. It’s a bit large on you, but it’s much more comfortable, hanging loosely off your body and covering every bit of you that was previously exposed. His shirt smells like him, too, a pleasant scent of laundry detergent and his musky cologne.

When you exit the bathroom, you gesture to the change of clothes, your wet crumpled clothes balled in your hand. “I kinda look like you now,” you say, and Minho chuckles.

“You can keep it,” he responds, giving you another once-over and nodding shyly. “It looks better on you, anyway.”

He holds his hand out to you for the wet clothes, which he kindly takes from you to put in the wash. As he does, you go to the fridge to retrieve more orange juice for Joon- except there is none. You desperately search for milk, orange juice- any form of a snack that will keep him busy until his mealtime. But the kitchen is void of anything he can consume, and you begin to panic a little, knowing Joon hasn’t eaten in a good while now.

“That was the last of his orange juice,” you say to Minho when he returns. “And there’s not much else for him to snack on.”

Minho searches the kitchen too, digging through cabinets and moving around jars in the fridge to check for expiration dates. But he quickly realizes you’re right- the fridge is even more sparse than he’d assumed it to be.

“I guess we’ll have to make a trip to the store, then. How do you feel about strapping him into a car seat?”

“I’ve never done it,” you reply nervously.

“I can show you,” Minho says, grabbing his keys off the kitchen counter and spinning them around his index finger. “We can do it together.”

*

The nearest grocery store is just 20 minutes out from the Lee household. Minho drives a fancy black SUV, and he guides you through how to strap Joon into his car seat, which you carry out with no issues. He drives with one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting casually on the center console as you chat with him about your university courses. For the first time, you notice how Minho seems much more comfortable around you now, cracking jokes occasionally and smiling at your stories about your afternoons alone with Joon. When Joon chimes in from the back seat with his excited babbling, you and Minho babble equally in response, sharing laughter at the ridiculous exchanges among the three of you.

You opt to carry Joon inside the grocery store while Minho walks alongside you, checking off a list he routinely uses to stock up on all of Joon’s favorite foods. And the atmosphere around you is homely, instilling the same sense of comfort in you as your afternoons alone with Joon. One that reminds you why you’re doing this job in the first place- you feel respected here, like your efforts don’t go unnoticed, and like you belong. It fills the lonely void inside of you with the sounds of Joon’s laughter, Minho’s tales of his classes and the trivial tasks of grocery store runs and learning to maneuver a baby car seat.

“I think that’s it,” Minho says as he checks the list one last time. “Milk, juice, bread…” he reads the items one by one again, and then nods affirmatively when he’s ensured they’re in the basket.

“That’s it,” he repeats, shooting you a small smile. “Let’s go pay.”

An older cashier gestures you to her lane at the registers, beginning to scan your items as Minho places them down on the conveyor belt. And then she gives a little wave to Joon, who curiously stares back at her.

“What a beautiful baby,” she says, pausing from scanning with a jar of mashed carrots in her hand.

Joon smiles in response, a trickle of drool escaping his lips.

“And what a beautiful family,” she continues, looking back and forth between you and Minho. “It’s not easy being young parents, but I can tell the two of you are doing a fine job at it.”

“Oh,” you say, chuckling lightly. “We’re not-”

“Thank you,” Minho interrupts, placing an arm around your waist and pulling you a little closer to him.

“We don’t get told that very often.”

You almost freeze at the contact, butterflies erupting in your stomach as he keeps his hand on the small of your back. This woman thinks the two of you are a couple- and worse, Minho is playing along with it. You can’t figure out why he’d entertain such a blatant lie, but you don’t interrupt him either, curious to see where he’s taking this little bit.

“People can be so unfair,” the cashier replies, shaking her head. “As long as the child is cared for, your status shouldn’t matter.”

“Exactly,” Minho replies, throwing his hand in the air like she’s making a point that pertains to him. “You know, when we got married, everyone told us it would never work. And now look at us- our child just turned 1 and we’re already making plans for a second honeymoon.”

“That’s amazing!” The woman says, clasping her hand over her heart like she’s touched by the bogus story.

“It is, isn’t it honey?” Minho says, turning to you.

Thoughts swirl your mind about this performance he’s putting on, but you’re undoubtedly entertained by the whole thing, stifling laughter as you nod in response.

“It is amazing,” you say finally. “We eloped and had a shotgun wedding- booked it to Italy right after and now we’re thinking of taking the little one to Paris for a real ceremony.”

The older woman removes her glasses now, wiping her eyes and shaking her head in disbelief. You can’t help but feel bad for her, seeing how easily she’s falling for your blatant lies, but Minho shows no remorse, grinning ear to ear and keeping his hand on the small of your back.

“Well I’ll tell you what,” the woman says, putting her glasses back on and shifting her eyes around the store.

“Since you guys just made my day, I’m going to provide you with our senior discount. It’s not everyday I see a young couple so beautiful raising such a darling little child.”

“Oh, you really don’t-” you start to say, and Minho interrupts you before you can finish.

“That would mean the world to us,” he says in an exaggerated voice, giving the cashier a little bow. “It would help us out a ton.”

You want to protest, to slap Minho in his pretty little face and ask what the hell he thinks he’s doing lying for a discount like this, but you’re afraid the cashier will see right through your whole stunt and reprimand both of you. So you just nod and let Minho take the lead again.

“Thank you,” you echo back to her,” holding Joon’s stubby little fingers as the woman types a lengthy code into the computer.

And Minho smiles at you, shooting you a little wink as he gathers boxes of cereal and jars of food in his arms.

“What was that?” You practically yell as you exit the store, balancing Joon in one arm and a bag of groceries in another. “You totally lied to her.”

“I didn’t lie,” Minho says. “I told her a different reality.”

“That is literally what a lie is,” you echo back to him, securing Joon in his car seat and lining grocery bags on the floor. Minho slides into the driver's seat again, putting his keys in the ignition but not yet starting the car as he waits for you to get in, too.

“I mean, that was like a 10% discount,” you continue, huffing frustratedly as you wait for him to speak. “How is that worth telling someone a whole list of lies?”

“You know, there’s this really cool theory called the anthropic principle,” Minho begins, looking straight ahead through the windshield. “Suggests the existence of a multitude of universes.”

“What?”

“So,” he continues. “Philosophically speaking, maybe in one of those we're married, and we have a child, and our honeymoon was in Italy.”

You stay quiet for a moment, pondering his words, completely unsure of if he’s flirting with you or teasing you right now.

“And maybe,” he chimes in again. “In one of them, we robbed the store and killed the cashier. And in another, we don’t even know each other.”

“What are you getting at?” You say, narrowing your eyes in confusion.

“It’s not lying,” Minho says with a smile as he finally starts up the car. “We just told her about a different reality.”

“So it’s lying,” you say with a smile, unable to hold back the giggle that escapes your lips.

“A little,” he finally says. “But it was fun, right?”

And you start to say no, but you can’t get the words out, aware you’ll be lying twice today if you do.

Minho takes your silence as confirmation, a grin plastered on his face as he rests one arm behind your headrest to pull out of the parking lot. And you can’t help but smile, too, the spontaneous thrill of lying to the cashier admittedly being some of the most fun you’ve had all week. And the conclusion stands- Minho’s a little odd. But he’s great company.

*

Mrs. Lee is late again tonight, the second hand on the clock ticking in slow intervals as it nears 10pm. You yawn for the umpteenth time tonight, exhausted from having done so much today, wanting nothing more than to sleep in the comfort of your own bed at home and mentally recharge for another day of this tomorrow. But you’ve promised to wait for her, always eager to wait it out until the last second, because Mrs. Lee always expresses her sincerest gratitude when you wait for her.

“Sorry, she’s really late today,” Minho says as he lowers the volume on the television. You completed a few more chores around the house after dinner while Minho powered through his schoolwork, putting Joon to bed before settling on the sofa and watching old cartoon reruns. Now you’ve been in and out of sleep for the better part of an hour, Minho remaining close by watching infomercials again, peering at your tired figure and feeling guilty that you’ve been here so long.

“It’s okay,” you reply quietly, letting out another yawn. You cross your arms over yourself, still dressed comfortably in Minho’s t-shirt, and do your best to keep your gaze on the television.

Tonight Minho is stuck on an infomercial for artificial plants, the dull narration lulling you to sleep even further as he checks the time on his watch and glances nervously at the front door.

Minho cranes his neck at your figure again, not missing the way gray bags hang heavy below your eyes, your lashes half-lidded as you feign sleep and force your gaze onto the infomercial.

“Don’t you have an early exam tomorrow?” You say to Minho, another yawn escaping your lips as you speak. “Don’t wait up on my account. You should get some sleep.”

Minho shuts off the television, standing up from where he’s sitting and dusting off his pants.

“I’ll take you home,” he announces, fishing around on the table for his car keys.

“It’s okay,” you reply, not wanting to inconvenience him anymore than you already have today. “I can walk to the bus stop.”

“You’re not walking,” Minho retorts, scoffing as you sit up and rub your tired eyes with the back of your hand. “It’s pitch black outside.”

“It’s fine,” you say, gathering your book bag and rushing to put your shoes on. It’s a race between the two of you now, Minho scrambling to locate his car keys while you get ready to leave for the evening.

“It’s really not a problem- where are my keys?” Minho mutters to himself, patting the pockets on his jacket and rearranging stacks of papers on the coffee table.

“I’m fine, really.”

“No, I’ll drive you,” Minho says, still tossing aside the mess he’s made to locate his keys.

“I’ll walk,” you reiterate again, and Minho finally exhales frustratedly.

“Then I’ll walk with you,” he finally announces, ditching the car keys altogether and stopping to look at you. He looks tired, too, evident bags under his eyes and his hair tousled from running his hands through it frustratedly.

“Minho, I really don’t want to burden you-”

“It’s not a burden.”

As he speaks, you hear Joon’s baby monitor alerting you that he’s awake for the evening, wailing loudly when he realizes that he’s alone. It’s perfect timing, too, Minho already having planned to wake him up so he can walk you back.

“Wait here,” Minho says to you as he begins toward the stairs. “I’ll get his harness.”

The dim street lights illuminate the dark paved roads, a crisp chill in the air as you walk alongside Minho with your hands in your pockets.

Joon sits comfortably in his harness against Minho’s chest, curiously taking in the atmosphere around him as you walk in silence to your bus stop. It’s not a long walk, only 20 minutes from Minho’s, but you feel admittedly much safer with Minho by your side, his and Joon’s presence feeling homely even at this hour. For nearly the entirety of the walk, the two of you say nothing, too tired to engage in conversation, but still comfortable in the presence of each other, and not needing to say anything. Joon babbles saliva every now and then, Minho bringing a finger up to wipe his chin, and the only other sounds are that of crickets and the gentle sway of the trees.

“This is me,” you say to Minho when you reach the familiar blue bench of your stop.

You sit on one side of the bench, slinging your book bag over beside you and crossing your legs. And to your surprise, Minho occupies the other side, one hand resting gently on the back of Joon’s head while the other pats his back gently.

“You don’t have to wait,” you tell Minho quickly, and he just shakes his head silently in response.

The silence between you remains, Joon toying with the collar of Minho’s shirt as you wait for the bus. There’s so much you want to ask Minho, so much you still want to find out from him. You’re well aware that you haven’t quite figured him out yet, but you’re undoubtedly sure that he is a nice guy, after all. From lending you his t-shirt, waiting up for you on late nights, even walking you to your bus stop and waiting for the bus with you. You think briefly back to his little joke at the grocery store, smiling to yourself when you remember he’d chosen to pretend you were a married couple for no other reason than to make you laugh after having had such a rough day. And his innate fascination with looking at everything through a philosophical lens, the passion for his favorite subject so robustly present wherever he goes.

“What’s that theory again?” You ask Minho as your thoughts verbalize amidst the silence.

“Hm?”

“The one about the universe.”

“The anthropic principle?” He questions, and you hum in response.

“Yeah, that one. Do you think there are like, a million versions of us right now, just…sitting here?”

“Sure,” Minho replies. “But the conditions would have to be just right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the theory states that conditions have to be just right for us to coexist in the universe we’re in right now. It’s sort of like a coincidence that this one evolved so that we could thrive in it. So there might be other versions of us, just not as definitive. We might be rocks, or bugs. Or maybe there’s a more advanced version, where we’re still on our honeymoon in Italy.”

“Or the one where we killed that cashier,” you chime in.

“Exactly,” Minho replies, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You ponder his words for a moment.

“Do they all follow the same timeline?” You ask him.

“What do you mean?”

“Do they all last forever? What if we got divorced? Would we part ways in every universe?”

Minho stays quiet for a moment, thinking back to the philosophical theories tucked in the back of his mind.

“I don’t know,” he finally replies. “I’d like to think some versions have a happy ending, but maybe some of them don’t.”

As silence falls over you again, your bus finally turns the corner, making its way down the street toward your stop.

“That’s me,” you say, getting up and gathering your belongings again.

Minho stands up, too, saying nothing as the bus finally halts in front of you, the brakes screeching to a stop with the loud exhaust of the doors as they open.

“Thanks,” you say to Minho before getting on. “For walking me.”

“It’s no problem,” he replies, shooting you a tired smile.

Minho watches as you board the bus, taking your seat toward the back. He scans the aisles momentarily, making sure you’re sat somewhere safe, away from anyone he might deem sketchy at this hour. And when he feels confident you’ll make it home okay, he brings Joon’s hand up in front of him, giving you a little wave as he watches you smile back through the tinted windows, sending him off with a wave back.

*

From then on, things shift between the two of you. Minho is a constant, always offering to walk you home on late nights to engage in discussions about your university work or his favorite theories. When he’s home early from his classes, the two of you enjoy cooking for Joon together, making trips to the grocery store where the cashiers are now fully convinced you’re a married couple. On late nights, the two of you often engage in lighthearted philosophical debates while you wait for Mrs. Lee to get home for the evening. When he’s walking you home for the night, doing homework alongside you or just passing by, Minho indulges you in all his favorite philosophical questions, and you entertain them, using the opportunity to get a better glimpse into his mind and how he thinks.

It’s exactly this that tears down Minho’s walls, you find- he, in all his philosophically-educated glory, sharing his perspective while you poke holes in his arguments and reach a conclusion together. Sometimes you’ll reach a stalemate, the argument fizzling out with no clear answer. And sometimes he can change your mind almost instantly, the arguments leaving his lips like second nature, always quick to persuade you in the opposite direction and provide clear reasoning. He’s very skilled at his work, and you quickly realize why he’s so passionate about philosophy in the first place.

It’s not something Minho’s used to yet- having a companion like this, one who actually cares about anything he has to say. Someone to come home to, somebody to bask in the simplicities of life with and affirm that he’s not completely incapable of making real human connections. And admittedly, maybe he loves playing house with you, coming home to your home-cooked meals and caring for the baby together.

Maybe this version of the universe deems you a babysitter, and he, just an outcast. But sometimes Minho swears he can see different versions where you’re so much more than that to each other.

In late November, you take your first week off, leaving on a small family trip to a city just a few hours out to go see extended family.

You tell Minho of your little excursion the week prior, and he pretends to be disheartened, but you know deep down he must be relieved to have some space to himself again. Of course you’re not able to watch Joon, and Mrs. Lee has a friend watch him in your absence, but you’re surprised at how much you miss the Lee household when you’re not there. The trip to the city is filled with repetitive questions from family about your major, your internship, your potential salary in an entry-level position and general university questions. And yet all you catch yourself thinking about is Joon, and Mrs. Lee and especially Minho.

You wonder what he’s doing in the comfort of his grand room all by himself, surrounded by books and tall windows. Minho once told you that he can go a whole day without talking when he’s not having philosophical debates with you over coffee. You wonder if he’s talked today, or if he attended his classes or how his exam on Tuesday went. Thoughts of him plague your mind every waking second- whether Minho would like a certain food, if Minho would agree with this statement, even what the people around you would think if you dragged him along and played house with him like you do back home. In this version of the universe, maybe he’s reading a book or watching a movie, but in another, he could be right here, telling his string of lies to your extended family.

On the last day of your family vacation, you find yourself in an old bookstore, and all you can think about is Minho. He’d love it here, you think, grazing your fingertips along the old cracked spines and yellowing pages. And as you scan through the philosophy section, several of the books already piquing your interest, you spot it.

The small familiar crimson book, just barely larger than your hand, delicate to the touch and painted with the same Cupid depiction as the one you know so well. A first edition copy of Dorothy Tennov’s Love and Limerence. You can’t help but smile to yourself, scanning the book’s contents briefly before closing it again and bringing it up to the counter. It’s not like you’re trying to worsen this little developing crush you have on Minho, but he seems to be everywhere you go- and candidly, you just want to have him figured out.

*

When you return to the Lee household from your vacation, the atmosphere is calm, sunbeams shining through the large glass windows and illuminating the house with a romantic glow. Joon eats his breakfast well, downing his orange juice and causing you little trouble throughout the day. And Minho arrives just after 3, his backpack slung over his shoulder and a book in hand.

Your heart beats erratically to see him again, trying your best to avert his gaze as he enters through the front door and kicks off his shoes. When he makes his way through the kitchen, you attempt to look busy, wiping down the counters with a kitchen rag and balancing Joon in your arms.

“Hi,” Minho says, a little shyly as you keep your eyesight on the granite counter below you.

“Hey,” you respond, pretending like you hadn’t noticed him enter the room, when in reality, you’ve been well aware of his arrival since he parked his car out front.

“How was your trip?” Minho asks, setting down his backpack and loosening the collar of his sweater.

He’s dressed for the chilly weather outside, a simple black knit sweater paired with blue jeans.

“It was good,” you reply, folding the rag with one hand and setting it aside. “I kinda missed it here.”

Minho smiles at you nervously, toying with the hem of his sweater as he hears you speak.

“It was pretty quiet without you here. I think Joon missed you.”

“Did he?” You question excitedly, poking at Joon with your finger and cooing at him. “Is that right? You missed me?” And Joon giggles excitedly, smiling between the two of you.

When the room falls quiet again, Minho clears his throat like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t, instead keeping his gaze fixed on yours. The room is teeming with awkward tension between the two of you, two hearts clouded in desire to act on this conflicting emotion of fleeting lust and a mutual understanding of each other, but neither one of you say anything, letting it die with your silence and circle your minds aimlessly again.

“I got you something,” you say suddenly, and Minho’s heart quickens a little.

“Me?” He questions, pointing to himself as if you need clarity of who he speaks of.

“Yes, you. It’s in my bag upstairs.”

And you begin your ascent to the staircase, motioning for Minho to follow you as you bring Joon with you.

“Close your eyes,” you tell Minho when you‘ve entered the library again.

“Should I be scared?” He asks, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

“Close them!” You exclaim, and he finally puts his hands out in front of him, shutting his eyes, a big grin plastered on his face. You place the book in Minho’s palms gently, making sure to position it so that the cover is facing him properly.

“Now open.”

When Minho opens his eyes again, he doesn’t even need to read the words before knowing what it is. He’s immediately familiar with the first edition of Dorothy Tennov’s Love and Limerence he holds in his hands, uniquely characterized by the contrasting art style to his, and the much older, yellowing pages.

“My book,” Minho says, biting his lip as he holds back a bigger smile, one that will most definitely point to the incriminating fact that he’s smitten.

“Your book,” you echo, leaning on the wall across from him. “It’s a first edition. The bookkeeper said they’re pretty rare to come by.”

“You didn’t have to-”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, fixing Joon’s hair and averting Minho’s gaze. You’re afraid if you make eye contact with him, this whole nonchalant front will crumble down in front of you, because you’re embarrassingly smitten with him, too.

“Thank you,” Minho says, thumbing the raised gold-foiled cover outline of Cupid. “I’ll go put it with the rest of them.”

And he disappears down the corridor, his book tucked in the endeared clutch of his hands.

While Minho adds his book to the rest of his collection, you put Joon down for his nap, gently placing him on the soft blanket in his crib and adjusting the baby monitor. He blinks up at you a few times, his lips pulling into a shaky smile as his lashes finally flutter shut and a wave of sleepiness washes over him. You exit the room quietly, closing the door just halfway like you always do, and then make your way down the corridor to Minho’s room. The door is left ajar, but you hear him shuffling about, and you enter after giving a gentle knock.

Minho seems startled at this, jumping up from where he’s standing, in front of his bookshelf with Love and Limerence held open in the palms of his hands. He shuts it quickly, shoving it on the top with another stack of books, and then almost shields his bookshelf as he turns to face you.

“I didn't hear you come in,” he says, nervously shifting his eyes to more stacks of books on his window sill and nightstand.

“I put Joon down for his nap,” you reply, cocking an eyebrow as he stands there awkwardly. “Is… everything okay?”

“Yes,” he says quickly, blinking nervously when he sees you peer over his torso at the bookshelf.

“Where’d you put it?”

“Can’t remember,” Minho says, a breathy chuckle emitting from his lips as he tries his best to avoid talking about it. But you catch on- and you’re certainly not going to let him evade the subject.

“What are you hiding?” You finally ask, eyeing him with a small smile. Minho’s face drops a little, sighing once as he steps aside and grants you full visibility of his bookshelf. There’s nothing out of the ordinary- books of all colors and sizes lined neatly on the shelves, some of them left open or bookmarked. A good amount of them appear to be philosophy books, which doesn’t come as a surprise to you.

“It’s just your books,” you say flatly, and Minho scratches the back of his head before he speaks again.

“Love and Limerence isn’t a required read for university.” He says in a low voice.

“Oh,” you reply, unsure of why it should really matter to you.

“None of them are,” he continues. “It’s just my personal… collection. Of romance novels.”

And then you finally understand.

Minho- the stoic, otherwise quiet being, in all his philosophical studiousness and awkwardness, is a sucker for romance. Once the cogs begin turning in your head, they don’t stop, everything about him now making a little more sense to you. Why he stays locked up in his little tower all day reading book after book, why he’s so hopeful when he speaks of the human condition and of love, why he loves taking care of people so much. He’s just a big softie underneath it all.

“There’s nothing weird about that,” you chime in. “In fact. It’s really cool.”

“Yeah right,” he retorts.

“I’m dead serious. I’ve never met someone with so many copies of Thorns and Roses before.”

Minho shakes his head, moving to sit on his bed with his palms tucked under his legs. His gaze remains locked on the floor, an expression of shame still visible on his face. And when you see him exhale deeply, like he’s been nervously holding his breath all this time, you feel bad for him. If there’s anything you’ve learned about him since meeting him, it’s that he’s really a bit of a dork. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him look so vulnerable before.

“Which one’s your favorite?” You ask, skimming your finger along the neat row of spines.

He shrugs. “Pride and Prejudice, maybe. But these days it’s Love and Limerence.”

Minho’s voice is trembling, just above a whisper as he reads off his list of favorite novels to you. And you chuckle softly in reply, pulling the little red book out of its respective home on the shelf and tossing it to him.

“Read me your favorite passage.”

He furrows his brows a little, like he thinks you might be making fun of him. But when you take a seat next to him on the bed, wide-eyed and gesturing to the book in his hands, he realizes you’re genuinely asking him to.

“Go on,” you say, gesturing to the book once more.

Minho opens the book to the middle, flipping through yellowing pages with small font. Most of the pages are littered generously with blue sticky notes, Minho’s messy handwriting annotating all his favorite passages. When he finds the page he’s searching for, he eyes you cautiously, as if waiting for permission to begin reading. And with a deep breath, he begins, his voice shaking a little as he finds his footing.

“Now by these presents let me assure you that you are not only in my heart, but my veins, this morning. I turn from you half abashed--yet you haunt me, and some look, word or touch thrills through my whole frame--yes, at the very moment when I am labouring to think of something, if not somebody else.”

At the last words, his gaze meets yours again, eyelashes trembling as he waits for your reaction. He waits for you to laugh, or to dismiss the words, or leave altogether. But you just stare back at him, your heart beating erratically at the poetry he utters, completely in awe with him.

He feels otherworldly at this distance, this intricate fascination with love and human connection. The way his brown tresses fall loosely in front of his big eyes as he speaks, his plump lips pulling into a nervous smile to reveal the row of skewed teeth you find a home in every time. He’s like the passage reads- thrilling your whole frame, consuming you whole and filling your mind with thoughts of him, and his poetry and his kind demeanor. You find yourself a little closer to him, your eyes darting to his lips and then back to his curious eyes, fantasies of him running rampant in your mind.

And Minho keeps his gaze locked on yours, too, leaning in a little closer to you, the book closing on its own as his hand slips away from holding it open and onto the bed beside you. The implications are there, the atmosphere around you heavy with desire and uncertainty, and just as you wield the courage to bring your lips a little closer to his, you’re promptly interrupted.

“Minho-ah!” A voice calls from downstairs. You quickly clock it as Mrs. Lee’s, who must be home early from work.

“I’m home early!” She calls again, confirming your theory, her footsteps getting louder as she makes her way up the stairs.

You sit up promptly, smoothing down your shirt and standing to bow when Mrs. Lee pokes her head in the doorway. Minho stands up too, making the whole situation look unbearably obvious, and you pray she can’t tell what’s going on between the two of you.

“Y/n,” she says with a warm smile. “I’m sorry I forgot to tell you I would be home a little earlier today. Joon has a doctor’s appointment.”

“No worries at all!” You voice back, bowing again as she smiles. “I was actually going to leave early today. I have a bit of a headache.”

“Oh, do you want a cup of tea?” She asks, heavy concern present in her voice.

“No thanks, I think I just need some sleep.”

You turn to Minho, who’s standing with his hands in his pockets, looking a little disappointed as you give him a small bow.

“Take care,” you say to him, pivoting to head back to the library and gather your things.

Minho hears his mom see you out of the front door, chatting briefly with you about your trip and sending you off with a little wave.

He shuts his bedroom door and locks it, sprawling out on the duvet of his bed and running his hands over the book still beside him.

He’s not sure what happened- whether you were about to kiss him, or whether it was just wishful thinking. But every way he interprets the encounter, Minho swears he can feel your yearning for him, too. Is he crazy to think you might feel the same? Maybe he, too, finds it laboring to think of something- if not, someone else, besides you.

*

Joon is a particularly picky eater in afternoons, making a big fuss of foods he usually devours in the mornings and evenings. He skillfully dodges every spoon, every bite and feigns his interest in even his favorite snacks and desserts. And while you’re usually patient with him, today you’re frustrated, having mentally scolded yourself several times since yesterday’s events.

A part of you wants to ditch all of this, reminding yourself that you’re here to work a job, not lust after the son of the person who hired you. But the other part of you can’t help but imagine how things would be different if you just let yourself fall gracefully into him- he’s so much more than a fleeting thought to you. You want to understand him, having challenged yourself to figuring him out from the moment you came across him. But maybe you want him to understand you, too. You want him to understand that you feel at home whenever he’s around, his philosophical discussions and this game of house you play making you feel like you belong here. You want him to understand that although you know he feels like an outcast, none of his odd quirks matter to you when he’s reading his favorite love stories across from you in the library, catching glimpses of you when he thinks you’re not looking. And that maybe this universe conditioned itself just right so that you took up this job and crossed paths- and that has to mean something bigger.

There’s nothing different about the afternoon following yesterday’s, except for you spending a considerable amount of time on your hair and makeup, the anticipation bubbling inside you at the idea of seeing Minho again. You have no definitive plan, no script of how it’s going to go when he arrives from school. But you also know there’s something in your throat that wants so desperately to get out, and you won’t let it. As Joon toys with the cereal in his bowl, he looks up at you with big, curious eyes, and you wonder what he’s thinking, if anything. He doesn't know anything beyond the simple tasks of eating and sleeping, living with the comfortable knowledge that he’s being cared for. And although it seems much easier, you can’t help but sympathize. What a gift it is to feel- what a gift it is to carry emotions so deeply they eat away at you like this.

You’re infatuated with Minho- that fact stands true. And whether or not it benefits you to do anything about it, you’re determined to do something with all of this feeling, lest it slips through your fingers like he almost did.

You don’t hear Minho come home when he does, busy in the garden tending to Mrs. Lee’s plants when the usual alert of his car pulling into the driveway passes you by. So when he wanders the corridors searching everywhere for you, you don’t take notice.

Minho’s desperate, hoping to ask you to stay just a little bit longer tonight, having also had the epiphany that he’s completely fallen for you, too. And what he hopes to do with it, he’s unsure- but he does know that every romance novel on his shelf would refute the idea of letting this feeling dissipate. Kiss her, tell her, do something. Anything.

He strides down the halls with purpose and vigor, a nervous smile pulling at his face at the thought of seeing you again. It’s all he’s thought about today, having had just two hours of sleep as he sorted out what to say to you. And while he’s not well-versed in the practice of confessing his love, he feels his whole life has been devoted to the very purpose of being here and finding you. The debates you share, midnight walks to the bus stop, the book- he’d be a fool not to reciprocate what you yearn for. And when he doesn’t find you, Minho feels the familiar pit of worry form in his stomach. He’s not accounted for a change of plans, or even what might happen if you reject his admission. He wants to believe so badly that the answer is yes, risking everything just to say something.

20 minutes after he’s been home, Minho receives a phone call, answering in a rush while he checks the upstairs rooms for you.

“Hello?”

“It’s Sujin from class,” the phone at the other end says plainly. “I’m here for our project.”

And Minho freezes, remembering very well that he has a project due very soon, and his partner is here tonight to work on it with him. He sighs heavily into the line at the change in plans, knowing he’ll have to bottle his emotions another day and act on them tomorrow when he can get you alone.

“Oh, right,” Minho responds, making his way to the stairs and jogging down them. “The door should be unlocked.”

He stuffs his phone in his back pocket, making his way to the door to meet Sujin, and as he passes the sliding door to the backyard, he finally sees you. Knelt on the ground in a white sundress, your hands tainted with soil as you tend to the tomato plants and hum to yourself. Minho smiles at the sight of you, the urge to tell you right now stronger than ever. But before he can call out to you, Sujin’s already made her way inside, peering curiously around the place and clutching her purse in hand.

“Wow,” she says, chuckling lightly. “You didn’t tell me you were rich.”

Minho scratches the back of his head awkwardly as she grazes a marble sculpture with her fingers. His eyes remain on you through the glass door, transfixed by the way you tuck your hair behind your ears and pat your dress as you stand up again. Sujin takes note of Minho’s evident distraction, briefly glancing out the window and back to him.

“Where are we working?” She asks, pursing her lips together.

“We can work upstairs,” Minho explains, as you finally make your way inside.

At first you’re confused at the sight, Minho looming over a girl much prettier than you, her long hair styled neatly over one shoulder and a matching formal two-piece hugging her curves beautifully. And then as you see her begin up the stairs in the direction of Minho’s room, you finally understand.

Of course there’s another woman.

Of course there was a catch to all of this, because why else would things condition themselves so perfectly that you’d win him over?

And suddenly everything feels pointless- confessing to him, feeling any ounce of emotion regarding all of this, even working this job. He has a girlfriend, and she’s much prettier than you are. And he's trailing behind her after giving you a shy nod, likely embarrassed at the fact that you’ll be here tending to his household while he fucks her in his upstairs bedroom.

You can’t help but think that perhaps something got lost in translation, because Minho evidently never liked you, and unless this version of the universe magically conditions to work in your favor just once, it’s going to remain that way.

*

When the tears begin to prick at the corners of your eyes, they don’t stop. You can’t feed Joon without hiccuping through a hot rush of tears that fall from your cheeks onto his tray below him. Joon seems to sense something is wrong, pausing the task of dodging his food to observe the way your face contorts as you wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. And when you do stop to look at him, all you can see is Minho, his eyes and lips resembling exactly that of his elder brother’s.

The chores feel like a futile task now, and you let them sit there for the remainder of the evening you’re working for. In fact, the only thing you do complete is the task of getting Joon to bed when the sun begins to set, marching carefully upstairs to not interrupt Minho’s time with his girlfriend. And the word makes you sick, to think that he’s been stringing you along all while having a girlfriend- a fact he so conveniently left out.

Joon goes down without a fuss, and when he’s finally asleep, you escape the confines of the second story to lock yourself in the downstairs living room and complete your school work. How much of that is spent crying instead, you can’t quite remember.

It’s just after 9 when Sujin leaves for the evening, but you’re not awake to take notice when she does. You wake to the familiar sound of infomercials playing quietly on the television in front of you, Minho sitting on the floor in front of the sofa you occupy. His head hangs as he holds a book in his lap, probably some cheesy romance he projects onto him and his girlfriend, and his thin wireframe glasses rest on the bridge of his nose.

The dull narration on the television advertises jewelry tonight, and you let out a sigh as you feel your swollen eyes adjust to the bright screen in front of you. At this, Minho turns around, giving you a sheepish smile as you try to shut your eyes again. But it’s too late- he’s already seen you awake for the evening.

“Hi,” Minho says for the first time today, bookmarking his page and lowering the volume on the television. “She’s late again today, but I saved you some takeout.”

“I’m not hungry,” you reply quickly, sitting up and reaching for your bag. “In fact, I need to go home.”

“Oh, sure,” Minho replies, a little hurt at your rushed tone. “I can walk you-”

“No need,” you say to him, pulling on your sneakers and doing everything in your power to avert his gaze. He furrows his brows a little, knowing you never reject his offers to walk you home.

“Is everything-”

“Fine. I just need to get home,” you reiterate, finally sitting down and smoothing down your wrinkled dress.

Every part of him is annoying you right now, your mind teeming with the reminder that you’ve been wasting your time trying to know him better while he’s been entertaining a whole girlfriend these past few months.

“Y/n, wait,” Minho calls, still intent on telling you tonight, while the feelings remain stronger than ever. But you’ve already crossed the room to the front door, where you avert his gaze so he won’t see you begin to cry again.

“Bye,” you call to him, not even looking back before you’re turning the knob and seeing yourself out. “Tell Mrs. Lee it was an emergency.”

And he wants to ask if it was, but he can’t, staring at your rushed figure jogging down the street as you distance yourself from him before he can string you along any further.

*

Thus begins the game of avoidance.

It starts through keeping your conversations with Minho as short as possible, not engaging him when he tells you about theories he’s studied this week or what his days on campus were like. When he asks about your day, you give him one-word responses, muttering a simple “fine” before turning your attention to Joon again.

When Minho asks to go to the grocery store, you pretend you have a headache- for three days straight. So he makes the trips solo, balancing bags on one arm and telling you about how the cashiers have begun to ask where his pretend wife’s been. You give him no reaction, nodding as you feed Joon his dinner and glance at the clock for the umpteeth time, desperate to get away from him.

And the mystery woman remains, marching into the Lee household in afternoons like she owns the place, already having memorized the path to Minho’s room as she makes her way up the stairs and doesn’t acknowledge you. She’s beautiful everyday that she’s here, short skirts and long ponytails you can’t seem to look away from. And she’s even more hypnotic when she’s in the presence of Minho, the two of them as a couple certainly a sight for sore eyes. If they were a married couple, you’d reckon they'd be much more distinguished than you and Minho would.

“Do you want a coffee?” Minho peers into the library one night to ask you. You keep your gaze locked on the computer in front of you, trying your best to keep your guard up as he waits for a response.

“No, thank you,” you say coldly, continuing to work on your essay.

When he realizes you’re not going to say anything else, Minho enters the room reluctantly, his hands shoved in his pockets as he leans against the doorframe and gives you a once-over. You say nothing, still, holding back your emotions so as not to cause a scene. And Minho can tell something’s wrong in the way that you shift your eyes to him briefly and shake your head as if scolding yourself for doing so.

“Did I do something?” Minho finally asks, his voice a little shaky.

“No,” you say quickly, skimming the same sentence on your laptop screen over and over again.

“Are you… sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

He fiddles with a loose thread in the pocket of his pants, keeping his gaze on the floor and thinking about your differing behavior toward him the past week.

“We just haven’t talked much. And you never really leave here anymore. I wanted to make sure I didn’t overstep any boundaries-”

“Overstep?” You interrupt, scanning your eyes over the screen of your computer. “There’s nothing to overstep. I get paid to watch your brother, not hang out with you.”

You feel guilty the minute the words leave your mouth, but you feel even worse knowing he’s just been stringing you along with a girlfriend this whole time. The atmosphere feels akin to when you first met him, awkward and cold, and with tensions high like this, you don’t feel at home in the Lee household anymore.

“Sorry,” Minho says, nodding. “You’re right. I guess I’m overstepping by asking.”

You only look up at him when he leaves, his shoulders sagging as he leaves you alone once again- only this time, you have a feeling he’s going to stop making an attempt to rekindle things anymore.

And you’re right- Minho stops trying entirely. There are no more offers to walk you home, no philosophical debates over coffee or grocery store trips where you act as a married couple. You’re still covered in knit blankets when you fall asleep accidentally on the couch, but Minho doesn’t stick around watching his infomercials to wait up for you anymore. And he still saves you his takeout when he orders, but he leaves it neatly packaged for you in the fridge instead of bringing it up to you like he used to.

You’ve gone from a mutual infatuation for each other to complete strangers once again. The house feels lonely and cold like it once did, your only real human interaction occurring in the few minutes you have with Mrs. Lee at the start and end of the day.

Minho doesn’t talk to you at all, locking himself away in his room like he did when you first started caring for Joon. And when you see him in passing at late hours of the night, he looks indifferent, sagging his shoulders as he averts your gaze with a book in hand and disappears down the corridors again. At some point, you begin to see his girlfriend less- in fact, his stoic composure makes you wonder if something’s happened between them. But as time goes on, you start to realize this is less about his girlfriend- and more about you.

What a gift it is to feel- but also what a curse. To let something consume you so entirely you can barely breathe without it. It’s laboring to think of anything else, of anyone else besides Minho and what he means to you. And as you replay your last interaction in your head for the nth time this evening, you think back to the day you started here. You knew the fundamentals of caring for a baby, having trained just enough to land a job doing it. All you wanted was to be liked by Mrs. Lee, and by baby Joon- and by extension, Minho. This household quickly became someplace you felt like you actually belonged in. But your purpose here has completely diverted from its original path, having prioritized Minho’s complexities and his feelings toward you above what you were hired here to do. You’ve experienced a roller coaster of emotions trying to understand him, and just when you thought you’d cracked him, you realized his heart belongs to someone else. So with the comfortable knowledge in mind that perhaps the universe isn’t, in fact, conditioned for you to mean anything more to him than just a babysitter, you understand it’s time to stop forcing any other version of it.

*

There’s nothing particularly out of the ordinary two weeks into your avoidance of Minho.

You still haven’t talked, he still keeps his distance and you get paid to perform the job you’re here to do. But one afternoon before Minho’s even home from school, Joon refuses to eat. It starts with a tantrum he throws at breakfast time, which you consider typical as he knocks his cereal onto the floor and waves his hands around restlessly. You can only spoon feed him a couple spoons of yogurt before he’s put down for his afternoon nap. And when you wake him for his post-nap meal, he’s just as fussy. He seems to be bothered by something, crying loudly as you offer him different snacks and try your best to calm him down. But nothing seems to work, and when he begins refusing his bottles late into the afternoon, you start to panic.

Mrs. Lee isn’t home for a few hours, you’re unsure of when Minho gets home and you don’t have any way of getting to a hospital right now. The guilt and the fear eat away at you as Joon cries loudly, his face turning a bright shade of red as snot dribbles from his nose onto his shirt. He must be hungry, and clearly uncomfortable by something, only you’re entirely unsure what. His pacifier doesn’t calm him, nor does his favorite stuffed animal or his favorite television program. When his crying reaches the 10-minute mark, you feel hopeless, well prepared to drag him onto the bus to the nearest hospital yourself, fully convinced you’re going to lose your job. And as you begin to cry, too, the front door opens, Minho walking in with his backpack clutched casually in one hand and his car keys in the other. His girlfriend is with him this time, her head hanging as she uses her phone, completely oblivious to the atmosphere around her.

“Minho,” you call helplessly from the kitchen, and his head snaps instantly to look at you. Your eyes are nearly bloodshot from crying, your sleeves drenched in tears from wiping your eyes and your voice shaky as you speak. It’s the first time you’ve said his name in weeks, you realize, feeling your heart race as you call for him.

“What happened?” Minho asks when he turns the corner, throwing off his backpack and approaching a very fussy Joon.

“He won’t eat,” you reply through hiccups, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your sweater again. “I’ve tried everything. He won’t stop crying.”

Minho takes Joon in his arms, rocking him gently back and forth, to no avail; Joon starts crying even harder now, dribbling snot onto Minho’s sweatshirt and hitting his chest repeatedly.

“I’ll have to take him to the clinic,” Minho says in a rushed tone, fishing his car keys out of his pocket and making his way toward the door.

His girlfriend finally turns the corner into the kitchen, putting down her cellphone and huffing frustratedly.

“What’s going on?”

“Sorry,” Minho replies, shoving past her with Joon in his arms. “I have to go. We can work on our project another time.”

Your heart drops at the words- project. Project, as in a project for his university. With a classmate.

You want to cry more now, for being so stupidly angry with him over nothing, but you still have to help Minho take Joon to the clinic. Sujin doesn’t protest, quick to exit without so much as a goodbye as Minho scrambles to fetch Joon’s car seat.

“I’ll get him in the car seat,” you say, pulling your sneakers on as he balances Joon in his arms.

“You’re coming?”

“Of course I’m coming,” you scoff, already taking Joon from his arms and ushering him outside. “Go start the car.”

*

“Lee?” A nurse calls, holding a clipboard close to her chest as she scans the waiting room.

You and Minho both stand up, Minho balancing Joon in his arms as the nurse gestures you to the door.

“Please, follow me.”

Both of you walk side-by-side down the corridor as she double-checks papers on her clipboard, making a sharp right and leading you into a private room.

Minho sets Joon down on the examination table, holding his arms to steady him, and you stand beside him as you wait for the doctor.

“She’s just reviewing the results,” the nurse says, referring to the x-rays Joon took earlier. “She’ll be in shortly to discuss them.”

Minho nods silently as the nurse leaves the room, leaving the two of you alone once again. You say nothing, unsure of how to break the awkward silence as Minho wipes a string of drool from Joon’s mouth and avoids eye contact with you.

You feel awkward, embarrassed and so, so stupid, for having treated Minho like absolute scum because you assumed the worst of him. It breaks you to see him avert your gaze like this, treating you the same way he did when you first crossed paths. He has his guard completely up again, and you’re not sure he’s ever going to let it down around you. As you lose yourself in doubtful thoughts, the door opens, Joon’s doctor sauntering inside and wiping her hands with the strong scent of hand sanitizer.

“Hi there,” she says cheerfully, giving you both a warm smile. “Are we here for baby Joon today?”

“Yes,” you both say in unison, and she laughs a little.

“You two are very synced. They say it happens in the first year of marriage.”

“We’re not married,” Minho chimes in quickly, and you turn to look at him, feeling a pit in your stomach all over again.

“No?” She questions. “My apologies. Is mom here today?”

“I’m just his babysitter,” you say quietly. “This is his brother.”

“I see,” the doctor says, eyeing you both. “Well you may notice I’m fairly calm, and that’s because there’s no terrible news I have to share. Baby Joon is just suffering from a little mucus buildup. He’s probably feeling the impaction, and the discomfort has caused a loss of appetite.”

You feel a weight off your shoulders instantly, relieved that this isn’t a more serious matter. He’s going to be fine, you think to yourself. He’s going to be his normal self as soon as this is over.

“… Just be sure to use a syringe to drain the mucus a couple times per day, and make sure he gets plenty of sleep.”

As the doctor writes Joon a prescription for his saline syringe, you catch Minho’s gaze briefly, shooting him a relieved look. He gives you a small nod in response, as if to say he’s glad you came along. And he is, he just can’t say it out loud.

*

“I think he’s finally sleeping,” Minho says, patting Joon’s back gently as he stands up from his chair. The two of you have been sat in the library for nearly two hours since getting back home, in complete silence as you read your books and wait for Joon to fall asleep. You take breaks every now and then to drain Joon’s mucus, alternating roles between holding his face still and using the syringe on him. And when he’s finally comfortable again, he dozes back off to sleep, little snores escaping his lips.

Minho leaves the room to put Joon to bed, and while he’s gone, you take the opportunity to pack your stuff and prepare to leave for the night. You feel guilty, not having said much to Minho this evening, especially with the newfound knowledge that this mystery woman was just a partner for his project. But you’re not sure what to say, well aware that he’s probably already decided you hate him, and there’s not much else you can do to fix things.

“He’s down,” Minho says as he re-enters the library.

“That’s good,” you reply with a solemn smile, packing your laptop in your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

“I should get going.”

“Do you… need me to walk you?” Minho asks a little shyly, and although the offer is tempting, you shake your head no.

“I’ll be fine. It’s really not as unsafe as you’d think.”

Minho just nods, understanding that you still don’t want to be close to him. And he gives you a little bow, before he exits the room and makes his way up the stairs to his own.

As you begin to leave, an object left on the chair across from you catches your eye.

It’s Minho’s book- the first edition copy of Love and Limerence you gifted him. You take the small book in your hands, scanning its contents briefly and examining the pages. He’s already annotated several of them, despite having read the book numerous times now, and you can’t help but smile at his scribbled notes circling all his favorite quotes and underlining them twice. You know it’s valuable to him, despite coming from somebody he probably despises right now, but you decide to take it up to him anyway, not wanting him to lose it.

When you’re outside his door, you give a small knock as it’s left ajar, and Minho hums in response.

You enter quietly, holding the book out to him and shooting him a small smile.

“You left this downstairs,” you say, and Minho reaches for it quickly, embarrassed you might’ve seen some of his annotations.

“Thanks,” he replies, setting it back on his bookshelf of romance novels.

He takes a seat on the edge of his bed, patting the spot next to him, and you join him at a comfortable distance as he keeps his gaze on the hardwood floor.

For a moment, no one says anything. And then he sighs deeply, before finally speaking.

“I’m sorry. If I made you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” you’re quick to reply.

“I clearly did,” Minho retorts. “And I know I’m quiet, and I kind of shut myself off from the rest of the world. But I never meant for it to affect you.”

“It didn’t affect me,” you reiterate.

He scoffs lightly in response.

“Why won’t you just say it? You haven’t talked to me in weeks. You don’t even look at me. I clearly did something to push you away.”

You don’t reply immediately, pondering what to say. And ultimately, you let your emotions speak for themselves.

“I was jealous.”

“Of what?”

“Of the girl. The one who’s been here almost every night.”

“Sujin?”

“Look, I don’t know, okay? I don’t know who she is or what she is to you-”

“My project partner,” Minho interrupts. “One who hates my guts.”

“Project partner,” you continue. “It doesn’t matter who she is- I like you, Minho,” you finally emphasize, turning to meet his gaze. His lips are parted in shock, his eyebrows furrowed as he hears you speak.

“I’m fucking infatuated with you, and it drives me crazy. I can’t go on vacation without seeing you in the books at the stores, I can’t sleep at night without your stupid theories replaying in my head. And I jump to the worst possible conclusions when you’re even near another girl. I’m going crazy trying to be liked by you- trying to look at everything through the lens of your romance theories or your book quotes, or whatever. But it’s so scary to like someone this much.”

Minho says nothing for a minute, collecting his thoughts as you let go of the breath you’ve been holding. He’s not used to people liking him- let alone being this intrigued by him. And especially when it’s in the form of reciprocation, from the one person he’s infatuated with, too.

“Why is it scary?” Minho questions, facing you now, his eyes darting briefly over your lips and then back up to your worried gaze.

“Because I’m here for a job. I’m not supposed to be feeling all this. You’re not supposed to be part of this.”

“How do you know that?” Minho retorts, leaning in a little closer to you now.

“I just…”

“You’re allowed to feel, y/n. You’re allowed to want this.”

And before you can protest his words, his lips are on yours, kissing you passionately like he’s pacifying the arguments before they can come to fruition. Your heart beats erratically in your chest, your mind racing with a million thoughts about what you’re doing, and what this whole thing even implies, but you shut them out with the rest of your concerns, pressing your thighs together as he brings two hands to your face and cups your chin gently. His lips work against yours so beautifully, so effortlessly, like the two of you have done this several times before. And maybe you have, in all his alternate universe theories- on your honeymoon, on the run from the police- right here in the comfort of his grand bedroom, his hands snaking up to pull off your cardigan as you tug desperately at the fabric of his t-shirt. Minho says nothing between passionate kisses, afraid if he talks you might realize what’s happening and leave. But you won’t leave, especially not when you’ve been dreaming of this, too.

When your cardigan is off, Minho moves a little closer to you on the bed, letting one hand guide itself onto your waist and trace the gentle curve of your body there. He’s delicate with his movements, careful not to startle you with his touches, but he’s also admittedly thought about this for weeks. The thought of you confessing was never something that crossed his mind- he was so sure he’d driven you away after that night. Never in his wildest fantasies had Minho considered the possibility that you were this smitten with him, too. But he did have thoughts of your lips on his, thoughts of your hands intertwined with his and ungodly visions of you under him, right here in his bed. Visions of his mouth on your breasts after you’d accidentally exposed yourself to him in the kitchen and he was forced to give attention to the massive erection that grew in his pants. And after you’d gifted him his favorite book, attentive to the details he’d indulged you in which he never otherwise shared with people, visions of making love to you ran rampant in his mind, filling you up over and over again with remnants of him as a form of saying I’m infatuated with you, too.

Minho’s kisses become needier as your words replay in his head, darting his tongue out to dance against yours with the sounds of exchanging saliva present between your plump, eager lips. He pushes you back gently so that you’re now lying on his pillow, the angle so intimate, the view of his room from here like something you’re not supposed to see. The ceilings appear even larger when you’re flat against his bed, the curtains that drape over his bedpost seemingly miles high.

Minho’s kisses trail down to your neck now, eagerly peppering your flesh in wet kisses as your hands reach up to tangle in his hair, holding him closer to you and letting him graze his lips wherever he desires. You can’t help but feel guilty having him all over you like this when you remember how you’ve treated him these past couple months- criticizing his tendencies to be quiet, intruding on his space and pushing him away because of a girl you’d assumed to be his girlfriend. But you also know most of it has been because you want him to mean more to you- perhaps you’ve just been trying to change things so that in this version of the universe, he’s not just an enigma to you. You want all of this- his lips on yours, his body pressed into you and to give yourself completely to him.

“Just so we’re clear,” Minho says suddenly, pulling away from you to hold eye contact with you. “I’m crazy about you, too. I really like you.”

And you can’t help but smile back in response, pulling him in again to press his lips on yours. He smiles into the kiss, too, satisfied you’re both on the same page. And although your now eager movements imply something more is about to happen, you don’t have to verbalize anything, his fingers snaking up your shirt serving as answer enough.

“Is this okay?” Minho asks, grazing your flesh with his big hands as he toys with the hem of your shirt.

You nod in response, sitting up a little and completing the task of pulling it off over your head and discarding it beside you. You waste no time on your bra, either, reaching around to unclasp it and rid yourself of the fabric without him having to ask. His eyes widen again at the sight, having remembered every curve of your body since that incident in the kitchen. But now in front of him again, he feels his cock swell in his pants, desperate to act on the urge. In nimble movements, his hand cups the mound of your breast, kneading it gently and sighing at the sensation of your soft skin against his. His mouth finds yours again, indulging you in a slow, passionate kiss, and then he trails down until he meets his hand at the mound of your breast, pressing a chaste kiss to your flesh before finally latching his lips around your nipple.

He starts with gentle kisses while your nipple rests between his lips, a string of saliva dribbling down to coat your hardened bud. And then he takes it between his lips with more force, beginning a gentle sucking motion as he gives your other nipple attention with his free hand, circling the tip with his thumb in tender movements.

You sigh beneath him, the sensation sending a shiver up your core, your nipples hardening even more in his touch, now eager for him to give your soaking core some attention. But he takes his time stimulating you, moving to your other breast to take your nipple in his mouth and leave a trail of saliva. Your body shivers when the cool air grazes your wet nipples as he pulls away, and he meets your lips again to kiss you passionately.

While he kisses you, your hands now toy with the hem of his shirt too, signifying for him to take it off. And Minho reciprocates with a little nod, finally pulling his shirt over his head and revealing his bare chest to you. It’s a marvelous sight to see more of his honey-tanned skin, his toned muscles and his broad pectorals practically begging for you to touch them. And just above his stomach, a horizontal pale pink scar, one that he eyes momentarily and then gives you a shy shrug.

You run your fingers along the scar briefly, tracing it in its entirety and bringing your hand up to caress his face.

“I didn’t think I could be any more attracted to you,” you say to him sheepishly, tracing the scar again. “You look like the poetry you’re so obsessed with.”

Minho feels an involuntary smile pulling at his face as he leans in to kiss you again, this time intent on giving himself fully to you the way you deserve.

Your kisses both grow hungrier, needier, as your bodies tangle into each other, and Minho loops a finger into the hem of your panties, tugging them down so that he has access to your sopping cunt. As your hands tangle further into his soft brown hair, his finger traces down the length of your stomach, dipping into every curve and over every inch of flesh he only got a brief sight of. And when he finds your mound, you arch up into him, parting your legs slightly to give him access. Minho doesn’t waste another second, attaching the pads of his fingers to your clit and working you in circular motions as he kisses you. Little gasps escape your mouth as he does, breathing heavily into his kisses and grinding your core closer to him as he quickens his pace, smearing your arousal around your aching clit and circling two fingers around to massage you gently. His cock is now fully erect against his abdomen, prodding into your upper thigh as he trails his kisses down your neck again, but he’s patient, forgiving with his movements, eager to pleasure you first.

As his kisses graze your neck, you tug his boxers over his cock, pulling them down so you’re equal parts undressed. Minho winces a little at the sensation, a bead of precum already dripping down the head of his cock, and you feel yourself clench around nothing at just the sight of him hard for you.

When he takes note of your anticipation, he glances down at his own erection, locking his gaze with yours again as if to confirm again that this is okay. You nod in response, reaching your hands around to loop them behind his neck and pull him a little closer. And then your gaze falls to his cock again, waiting for him to make the next move.

The two of you say nothing as Minho’s hand finds the base of his cock, pumping himself gently before leaning in to kiss you. He lets himself hover closer over you, until his cock is kissing your entrance in the same gentle, wet movements as your lips. You lift your leg up slightly to grant him access, and then in gentle movements as your eyes remain shut, you feel him push his tip inside of you, stretching you out around his girth and causing you to gasp. He’s bigger than you anticipated, even the dripping arousal of your cunt having trouble taking him wholly. But he brings his fingers down to your clit again, massaging you slowly to ease the pain. And it works, your body relaxing around him as he pulls back a little and thrusts in again, this time pushing further until he’s completely bottomed out inside of you. You let out a fervent moan at the sensation, his cock pulsating inside of you as he holds it there, feeling every inch of you clench around him and take him so well now. And then with a gentle kiss to your lips, he begins to move, his hips pulling back slowly to thrust back inside of you.

You feel so full of him, having him exactly as you’d always imagined him- circling your thoughts, hovering over you and finally inside of you, his cock brushing against your cervix so delicately with every thrust. Your labored breaths become one as you pant into each other’s mouths with overwhelming pleasure. Minho steadies himself with one hand on the mattress beside you, quickening his pace a little as he feels his cock twitch inside of you in response to a particularly pornographic moan of yours.

“Fuck,” he breathes, shutting his eyes as he continues to slip in and out of your soaking cunt. “You’re so full of me, aren’t you?”

He brings his lips to your neck again, nibbling the flesh between his teeth and letting it bruise as you moan beneath him.

“I’ve thought about you everyday,” you respond, angling his lips to yours again as he fucks you. “I’ve thought about this so many times.”

“Yeah?” Minho says with a satisfied smile, working circles back onto your clit.

“Yes,” you breathe back, toying with his hair as your arms wrap around his neck. “I wanted you to fuck me like the characters in your romance novels.”

Minho feels his cock twitch again, wincing and slowing his pace so as not to finish just yet.

“I can’t help it,” you whimper underneath him. “I think about you all the time. I think about you fucking me all the time.”

Minho intertwines his hand with yours, pressing it down on your abdomen and letting yourself feel when his bulge fills you up at every thrust, the motion visible beneath your palms.

“Feel that, baby?” He asks between kisses to your drooly lips. “Feel how good I fuck you? Is this what you imagined?”

You gasp at the sensation once you feel it, the bulge of his cock protruding against your palm with every pump inside of you. You nod breathlessly, almost unable to reply to his words now.

“I imagined it, too,” he says, picking up his pace now. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to bend you over the couch and fuck you right there the moment I met you.”

He groans a little as you clench around him and moan in response.

“Minho,” you say breathlessly, not missing the way his cock twitches inside of you once again. “Will you finish inside of me?”

He pauses for a moment, scanning your expression for a sign of whether or not you’re being serious.

“Please,” you beg, as if reading his thoughts. “I’m on birth control. Just want to feel your seed inside of me.”

He shuts his eyes briefly as you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in a little closer.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” Minho asks, locking his gaze on yours again. “I want to, but I want you to be sure about it.”

“I’m sure,” you say quickly, the last syllable hitching in the back of your throat as he hits a particularly sensitive spot. “Please, just wanna feel you fill me up.”

He thrusts harder into you now, the room teeming with the squelching noises of your pussy taking him so effortlessly.

“You like it when we play house like this, huh?” He says, wrapping a hand gently around your throat. “You like imagining me as your husband, don’t you? Fucking you like we’re married?”

And it doesn’t take you more than a second to think before you’re nodding desperately at his words. You do love it, this sense of belonging when you’re in the Lee household. But you also get aroused at this second life you lead alongside him, caring for the baby like it’s one of yours and being fucked by Minho when no one else is around to hear your lewd moans.

“Yes,” you reply, your response muffled by his grasp on your throat. “You make such a good dad.”

“We’d make such good parents,” he emphasizes, kissing you breathlessly. “What do you say I fuck a baby into you and we find out for real?”

You feel yourself contract around his girth at the words, not having considered it seriously, but turned on at the idea of carrying a child just for him.

“Is that what you want?” Minho asks, nearing his orgasm as he thrusts even faster into you now, panting into your mouth above you.

“Yes,” you reply with a whimper. “Want you to fill me up so bad.”

“Yeah?” He cuts you off, pressing your abdomen harder with his hand. “I’m gonna cum, baby. Want you to feel it.”

Your senses hone in on the feeling of your palm over his bulge, pulsating rhythmically as he nears his orgasm.

“I’m cumming, fuck, I’m gonna finish,” Minho says, shutting his eyes in pleasure as he moves at his fastest pace now, his grip around your throat holding you steady as you lose yourself underneath him. He’s never finished inside someone before, but he has no intention of pulling out now, the conversation of impregnating you sending him over the edge as he reaches the cusp of his release.

You contract around his breathlessly now, eager to take his load, never having taken someone’s either, but desperate for Minho to be your first.

And with a few more harsh thrusts, Minho’s cock twitches once inside of you, finally letting out a generous load of his cum inside of you, the gush of his release filling you up so fully, the warm sensation of his milky white release thrusting deep inside of your pussy as he fucks the rest into you.

He feels his head spin, his eyes shutting instinctively at the sensation as he lets go fully inside of you, no urgency to pull out or stave off his release like he usually has to. And it takes a while before he’s begun to soften again, the knowledge of giving you his cum almost rousing him again and lengthening the period of his release inside of you. Minho already knows he’s going to be addicted to finishing inside of you from here on out- and he doesn’t want it any other way.

The warm feeling is all it takes for you to finish in mere seconds, contracting around him as he fucks you through his orgasm, your release mixing with his and dribbling down the side of your thighs as he begins to slow down. Minho doesn’t pull out immediately, instead caressing your face to gauge your reaction as he softens inside of you.

“Was it okay?” Minho queries, tucking sweaty strands of hair behind your ears and loosening his grasp on your throat.

“It was more than okay,” you say breathlessly, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as he smiles down at you. “I feel so full of you.”

Minho kisses you sweetly, rubbing his thumb along your hand soothingly as he pulls out of you, a string of his cum connecting to you still and dribbling onto the sheets as he rolls over to lay on his side.

For a moment, the two of you say nothing, your chests rising and falling as you catch your breath and ponder the day’s events. It’s not what you expected was going to happen when you saw yourself up to his room again, but it is what you’d hoped would happen eventually. And the atmosphere feels much lighter around you now, completely void of the lingering sexual and emotional tension that’s plagued you for so long.

“Minho?” you say quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Philosophically speaking, how many versions of us do you think are lying next to each other like this, right now?”

Minho thinks over your words for a moment, and then he chuckles lightly.

“Well if the universe was conditioned right, I’d hope for an infinite amount. But considering how long it took us to get here in this version, I’d say just one.”

And he sits up, leaning in for another kiss as two fingers tuck his arousal further into you, holding his release inside of your still-sensitive body.

*

“Have some bacon, honey,” Mrs. Lee says to you as she scrambles to get her things together for the day. “I made a lot, so help yourself.”

“Thanks,” you reply, strapping Joon into his high chair and smoothing down your skirt.

Ever since that evening, you and Minho have been inseparable. The two of you wait until Mrs. Lee is gone for the morning, desperately grabbing at each other and giggling between kisses until Minho has to leave for his classes. And when he returns, it’s much of the same, the two of you helping put Joon down for his afternoon nap before escaping up to his bedroom and making love until Joon wakes again.

Minho is completely and utterly obsessed with you, the same way you are with him, but you both know this game of house you play can’t go on forever. Mostly because you feel the guilt eating away at you day by day, every waking minute you’re tending to your duties as a babysitter or conversing with Mrs. Lee. It’s hard to be in the same room as Minho when she’s around, the urge to just confess even more present when she attempts to facilitate conversation between the two of you and you’re forced to act like he’s still a mystery.

But you have him more figured out than you ever have before, memorizing the freckles on his body like the back of your hand, reciting his favorite quotes like prayers and replaying the melodic giggles that escape his lips. You don’t want to be apart from him, but the point still stands- it’s scary to like someone this much. He consumes you more than he ever has before, filling every waking second of your life with remnants of him. You love when he reads romantic philosophical theories to you, or when he cooks you and Joon dinner after a long day. But you feel guilty when you’re alone with Joon again, hoping he can’t somehow tell that you’re only thinking of his brother when you’re preparing his bottles or feeding him. You hope Mrs. Lee doesn’t notice when your hair is a little too tousled to have just been from a nap, or the time you had to cross your legs to keep Minho’s release inside of you when the two of you had finished just in time for her to make it home. It’s selfish, and it’s unfair. And with no sign of this fling stopping anytime soon, you don’t see any other option to be fit.

“I’m leaving,” Mrs. Lee finally says, grabbing her car keys off the kitchen table and pulling her heels on. “Make sure to get Joon his medicine!”

The two of you watch as she shuts the front door behind her, and then you wait until her car starts, holding your breath as she pulls out of the driveway and begins down the street in what feels like an agonizing amount of time.

The minute she’s gone, Minho turns to you again, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you lean back against the counter.

“Morning,” he says with a shy smile. He wastes no time leaning in for a romantic kiss, which you reciprocate, wrapping your arms around his neck and smiling into him.

When he pulls away, the two of you say nothing, holding each other in a comfortable embrace as he rubs little circles into the small of your back.

“I guess it’s just mom and dad home right now,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss to your neck. “I’ll ditch class right now if you want me to fill you up again.”

And his offer is tempting as he presses his erection into you, working more kisses down the nape of your neck and trailing his hands up your skirt.

“No,” you finally say, pushing him away and collecting your thoughts. “You need to get to class. I have a lot of stuff to do. I’m working, in case you forgot.”

“Okay, okay,” Minho says, holding his hands up in surrender. “I digress.”

He pulls back to caress your face with a visible smirk as your eyes graze his thighs, so beautifully sculpted under the fabric of his jeans. You’re not sure you’ve ever been so sinfully tempted by somebody before, like Eve to the apple, like a moth to a flame- he’s intoxicating, but you know you shouldn’t be indulging this while you’re here to fulfill your role as a babysitter.

“You should go,” you say to him, swallowing nervously as his hands trace the outline of your lips.

“Yeah,” Minho replies, a hint of disappointment present in his voice.

And without another word, he gathers his car keys off the table, sending you off with a little wave as he disappears for the day.

You may have Minho mostly figured out now- his fascination with romance and philosophy, his soft interior under the stoic exterior he presents everyone else with, his astounding levels of emotional intelligence and unwavering kindness for the people he loves. But now that things have become a little more complicated between the two of you, you fear all of this will come to an end as fortuitously as it all began.

The reality is, this isn’t one of Minho’s romance novels- you’re both real people, with emotions and convictions and reservations. And though you want this fleeting thing to last forever, you’re well aware that things don’t work that way, especially when you’re just a babysitter at the end of it all. Sure, Minho sees you as much more than that- but you were hired to be here in the Lee household, paid to fulfill your role here, and once this comes to an end, your relationship with Minho likely will, too.

… and thus, the decision to quit your job isn’t one you take lightly. It succeeds hours of thinking, weighing your options and planning out exactly what you’re going to tell Mrs. Lee when she asks why you’re leaving so suddenly. You want to do another internship, you decide on telling her, hoping she doesn’t poke enough holes to get the truth out of you- “I think far too much about your eldest son and it’s eating me alive.”

*

All day long, you try your best to shut Minho out of your thoughts, focusing on your online courses and caring for Joon like you used to. But it feels futile, this task of pretending things are the way they used to be. They’re not- you’re sneaking behind Mrs. Lee’s back and hooking up with her eldest son. When all’s said and done, you’ll be right back in your own home, with your parents desperate to send you elsewhere once again, and your own life to tend to. This double life you romanticize isn’t real, nor is it attainable anymore.

Your phone call with Mrs. Lee to announce your decision doesn’t set anything in stone yet, her words urging you to speak with her later this week when she has some free time. But you know once you do speak with her, you’ll only have a few evenings left with Minho until this is all over. And you don’t have the heart to tell him just yet, but if things go anything the way they did when you first brought it up to him, you know he’s going to be heartbroken.

When Minho arrives home that evening, he can already sense something is wrong. You’re sat in the garden, where you typically don’t go, your legs crossed neatly over one of the sunlounger chairs as you let your thoughts consume you. Mrs. Lee’s koi fish fountain stands nobly in front of you, a robust stream of water trickling from its lips and into the concrete bowl below. You’re mesmerized by it as you always are, the steady sound of water coupled with the birds chirping in the sunny greenery around you as peaceful as ever.

“Hey,” Minho says, sliding open the screen door and stepping outside to meet you.

“Hi,” you reply, holding a hand up over you to shield your eyes from the sun. You’d forgotten how divine he looked today, his white button up now folded up at the sleeves and exposing his veiny forearms to you.

“How was your day?” Minho asks, pressing a small kiss to your temple as he occupies the spot beside you and stares at the fountain.

“Okay,” you respond, though you’re lying through your teeth. “Joon went down about an hour ago.”

Minho nods, and then he furrows his brows together as he speaks again.

“Why are you out here?”

You shrug in response, keeping short with your words as he pushes you for answers. And you want to tell him it’s because you made the most painful decision to call Mrs. Lee and forfeit all of this, but you know it’ll only hurt more, so you divert from the truth.

“It was stuffy inside,” you voice back, shooting him a small smile.

Minho seems to relax beside you, his shoulders sagging a little as he takes notice of your calm demeanor. He doesn’t have reason to believe anything’s wrong, judging by the way you converse so casually.

“You want me to cook you something?” Minho asks, placing his palm up next to you, and you let your hand intertwine with his.

“Will you read to me?” You ask, eager to indulge in your favorite activity alongside him.

“I can read to you,” Minho echoes back, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of your hand. “Which book?”

You’re both in the cozy atmosphere of the library later that evening, Minho sat on his favorite velvet armchair as you occupy a spot in his lap with his arms wrapped around you. The book is positioned in front of him so you can both see, his fingers holding open the thin pages as the poetry leaves his lips, pausing in between lines to press kisses to the crook of your neck when he’s reminded of you in his favorite characters.

And you hold back tears in the moment, wanting so badly to tell Minho that you’ll be letting go of all of this, running back to the monotony of your old life, one where Minho doesn’t exist and you don’t have to balance the complicated feelings of liking someone to this degree. But you bite back your words, careful not to ruin the intimate moment you share while he loves you in an ignorant state of bliss.

“The pleasures of love are always in proportion to the fear,” Minho begins a new chapter, grazing your neck with his lips.

He trails a bit lower to graze your shoulder now, pressing a small trail of kisses as he pauses his reading. You giggle softly in response, feeling his fingers find the strap of your tank top to pull it down your shoulder so he can pepper kisses there, too.

“Minho,” you say softly, writhing in his embrace as he tickles every inch of your skin with his kisses, now shutting the book and setting it on the arm of the chair.

“Can’t help it,” Minho responds, shutting his eyes as he snakes his hands up the back of your tank top. “You look so beautiful right now.”

As you adjust in his lap, you can feel he’s now rock-hard in his jeans below you, his thighs flexing underneath you as he wraps two hands around your waist and runs them up and down your sides. You take the hint, turning around in his lap to face him, and let your arms wrap around his neck to steady yourself.

“What are you thinking about?” Minho asks, bringing his lips to yours as he feels his hardened cock graze against the fabric of his jeans, eager to pleasure you.

You want to express your fears, your doubts, to tell him the truth about what you spoke about on the phone with Mrs. Lee earlier today. But you can’t, not when he looks so tantalizing in front of you like this, his bulge perfectly outlined in his tight jeans and his veiny arms flexing below the fabric of his collared button-up. You’ve been roused for him since he left in the morning, his offer swirling your mind coupled with his appearance, like something out of a wet dream.

“You,” you voice back, whimpering pathetically into another kiss and rocking your hips gently over him so that he’s practically whimpering for you, too.

Neither of you have to say much, knowing already where the evening is headed, as you unzip his pants and palm his erection through the fabric of his boxers. Minho watches as you slide off his lap, dropping to your knees in front of him and tugging the fabric of his jeans. He complies with your urges, pulling them down to his knees and freeing his erection from his boxers, exhaling deeply as the cool breeze of the room grazes his leaking tip.

Without a second to waste, you take him in your mouth, letting your saliva coat his shaft as you kiss his tip tenderly and then guide him down your throat, the base of his cock just barely meeting your lips as you struggle to take him fully. Minho groans at the contact, bucking his hips off the chair to guide himself further into you, feeling his cock twitch when you gag a little at the contact. You stay like that for a good while, bobbing your head in rhythmic motions up and down his hardened length, your saliva allowing you to graze his shaft with ease.

Minho’s thighs contract desperately below him, trying his best to stave off the orgasm he’s been longing for since the moment he saw you this morning. His hands find your hair, pulling your locks into a makeshift ponytail and gasping as you take him a bit deeper now, pulling back again to pepper the tip of his wettened cock in drooly kisses.

“Fuck,” Minho breathes out, clutching the arm of the chair so desperately. “Baby, stop, I don’t want to finish yet,”

And you release him with a gentle pop, knowing exactly what it is he wants so badly. You never deny it, sitting back up again to position yourself over his cock you intertwine his hands with yours. He uses one hand to tug your panties to the side, and then in one swift motion, you guide his cock inside of you, sliding down the slick of his length and bottoming out with ease. You take him so well now, always able to adjust to his girth instantly as your cunt is always dripping in anticipation when he’s near.

Minho’s hand moves to push your tank top up, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking harshly as you begin to bounce on him with gentle movements. The room fills with sounds of panting, sucking and desperate moans as his cock fills you fully with every thrust, brushing against your cervix as he moves to your other nipple and kneads your breast desperately.

“What was that quote again?” You ask in labored breaths as he comes back up to kiss your lips.

“The pleasures of love,” he begins, breathlessly working his lips against yours as you clench around his length. “Are always in proportion to the fear.”

Minho feels his cock twitch inside of you, always nearing his finish much faster when you make him recite all his favorite quotes and book excerpts to you.

Except this one speaks much louder to you, directly aligning with your present-day emotions, circling your mind relentlessly as he fills you. Maybe this is what his book speaks of- the pleasures of love, being filled so fully and lovingly by Minho, two pieces of one whole like you’re both made for this, to make love into the late hours of the night while he recites poetry to you.

And all of this in proportion to the fear- this constant fear that he’s just a fleeting entity, that you’re both naive to play house like this and pretend it’s anything more. The fear present while you’re sneaking behind Mrs. Lee’s back, letting him fuck you like he’s married to you and indulge you in all of his deepest secrets, as though you’re the only one allowed to know him this intimately.

The love and fear and indeed in proportion to one another- you love him as much as you’re afraid of loving him.

“I love you,” you say suddenly, bringing him in for another kiss before he can respond. But the way his kisses work against yours, hungry and passionate, there’s not a hint of reluctance in his response when he pulls away to speak again.

“I love you,” Minho breathes back, working his kisses against yours as his cock pulsates inside of you, desperate for release. “And I hope every version of the universe is conditioned for us to be right here.”

You smile into him, slowing your movements as you feel him contract inside of you, and then his thighs flex as he finally finishes inside of you, shooting hot white ropes of his cum into your still-clenching cunt, his release already beginning to dribble back down his length as he feels you slow down over him.

You bring a hand between the two of you, gathering his cum on the pads of your fingers to circle your clit in gentle movements, stimulating yourself to your release, too, as you contract desperately around him and breathe labored kisses back into his mouth. Your juices mix with his as you catch your breath, keeping him inside of you as your chest rises and falls with gentle movements. But the two of you say nothing, pressing your lips together to indulge in more passionate kisses for the few minutes you have left before Mrs. Lee makes it home for the evening.

*

The garden is particularly beautiful the next afternoon, teeming with the sounds of birds chirping and trees swaying in the gentle autumn breeze. Mrs. Lee let you know she’d be home a little earlier to have a chat about your decision to leave, and when Joon is put down for his afternoon nap, you receive the call that she’s in the garden waiting for you. You enter hesitantly, worried Minho might catch you and question what you’re doing out here. But he’s not home from school yet, you remind yourself, glancing around the tall grass and neat rows of potted plants for Mrs. Lee.

“Y/n!” A voice calls from one of the patio chairs. “Come, sit!”

Mrs. Lee sits with her back facing you, a large white sun hat atop her neatly styled hair and complementing her matching white jumpsuit. Her gaze remains locked on the koi fountain you’re always transfixed by, too.

“Hi Mrs. Lee,” you say, giving her a small bow as you take the seat next to her. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

She nods with a smile. “So good to see you when we have a little more time. I’m sorry I’m always such a mess in the mornings.”

You shake your head quickly, brushing off her words. “Not at all! It’s always nice to greet the family before I start my day.”

She just smiles in response, turning to nod at you, and then she turns back to the fountain.

“I was a little surprised when you called the other day. I hope things are going okay.”

“They are,” you interrupt quickly. “They absolutely are. Joon is so pleasant, and the job is great. I really love it here.”

“I hope everything at home is okay,” she moves on to say, and you quickly reassure her.

“Yes, everything is fine! Everyone is doing great.”

“I understand,” Mrs. Lee says, eyeing the ground before turning to face you now. “You’ve done so much for us, I’d be lying if I said I’m not going to miss having you around here in the mornings.”

You shoot her a sympathetic look, feeling a pit form in your stomach, too. You feel the same, probably tenfold, at the idea of leaving behind the household you’ve called home for so many days.

“I’m going to miss it here, too.”

“And I know Joon is going to be heartbroken,” Mrs. Lee says with a chuckle.

You chuckle too, giving her an understanding nod.

She pauses briefly, furrowing her brows together, before continuing her speech.

“You’re such a bright young woman, and I know you’re destined to do amazing things. If there’s a way I can help in this transition, please don’t hesitate to let me know, okay?”

You nod at her words, and watch as she smooths down her top before standing up. She seems to wait for a moment, as if hoping for you to say something, and when you don’t, she begins to make her way back inside.

“Well, I’ll let you go for the evening. Thank you again, for everything. And you have my phone number if-”

“Mrs. Lee?” You call out suddenly, catching her before she can get much further. She turns around at the worry present in your voice, her face shifting into that of concern.

Without having to voice anything else, Mrs. Lee sits down again, waiting for you to continue. But you can’t, your heart beating wildly in your chest at the thought of even bringing up the topic of Minho. I’m in love with your son, you want to say to her. I’m so in love with Minho and I hope you understand I don’t have a choice but to leave this all behind me.

“You know,” Mrs. Lee interrupts your thoughts, breaking the silence that fills the air. “This koi fountain was my first gift from Mr. Lee.”

You nod at her, remembering when she introduced it to you on your first day here.

“We weren’t married yet. It was his first restoration project, and my dad hated him. So he had a lot of trouble getting it over to me.”

You chuckle lightly, amused at her story which seems to calm you down a little.

“Luckily his parents adored me,” she continues. “And they offered to house it in their backyard until we married. For the 15 years we dated, my koi fish lived in their garden. And when we did marry, they rented a big truck to help haul it over. It was such a project! But it’s my favorite part of the garden.”

You shoot her a saccharine smile, well endeared at the way she speaks of Mr. Lee. You can tell she’s in love with him, even this many years later.

“Sometimes I wondered why they would do something so nice for me. But as I grew closer to them, I learned not to question what was meant for me. They loved me, as did Mr. Lee. And I wasn’t going to run from any of that, no matter what I felt I deserved.”

Your head snaps in her direction at her last words, realizing how they apply to you. But she doesn’t know about Minho- at least not to your knowledge, or Minho’s. She gives you a sheepish smile as you furrow your brows, and then she takes your hand in hers, giving it a little squeeze.

“I hope you won't run from what you deserve, either.”

You nod a little bit at her words, finally understanding the weight of them, and then you look back at her with a confused expression.

“Mrs. Lee, are you talking about…”

“Minho?” She finally says, with a warm smile. She takes your other hand in hers, too, tilting her face to yours so that she’s making proper eye contact as she speaks.

“I had wondered why he was so happy these days. Minho’s always been a bit of an outcast. But I haven’t seen this spark in him since he started his obsession with all those romance novels and philosophy studies of his.”

You chuckle lightly, a weight off your shoulders as she finally speaks of what circles your mind so heavily.

“But how did you…”

“I knew it when I saw it,” she says. “I knew it, because he had the same look in his eyes as when I met his father.”

You feel your heart swell in your chest, your shoulders relaxing as she continues to speak.

“He speaks of you like poetry,” she tells you. “And for that alone, I’m thankful for you. Now what you choose to do is your decision- but I hope you know you will always have a home here with us. Not just as a babysitter, but as family.”

When Mrs. Lee finishes her speech, she gives your hands a little squeeze, smiling at you and back at the koi fish fountain. It feels much more sentimental to you even now, the beautiful waterfall that cascades serving as a reminder of its permanent restoration rooted in the infatuation Mr. Lee had for Mrs. Lee. And watching it stand so beautifully like it did all those years ago, you’re reminded that love can be a lasting thing, no matter the circumstances. The universe can condition itself to make things last, affirming the philosophical notions Minho’s always told you. And that perhaps you do deserve this, a sense of belonging here in the Lee household, right here alongside Mrs. Lee and Minho, and even baby Joon.

As you watch the fountain together, the sound of the sliding door makes itself known behind you, and you turn around to find Minho entering the garden, baby Joon sitting comfortably in his arms as he makes his way over.

“Hi,” Minho says, coming around to give Mrs. Lee a kiss on her cheek. “What’s going on here?”

He looks visibly worried, his eyes darting back and forth between you and Mrs. Lee, as if to silently ask you what she’s told you.

But Mrs. Lee just smiles at him, as she gets up from where she’s sitting and smooths down her jumpsuit.

“We were just having a girl chat. I’ll leave you two alone.”

And she disappears behind the screen door again, shooting you a little wink as she does, her anecdote circling your mind, still.

“What happened?” Minho asks, settling down next to you and balancing baby Joon on his knee. Joon fists at the fabric of his shirt, babbling incoherently as you smile down at him.

“Nothing,” you say, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips. You refrain from saying anything about leaving, not wanting to interrupt the tender moment you share with Minho and Joon in the sunlight of the garden.

“You have a really cool mom,” you settle on saying, smiling at Minho as he chuckles softly in response.

*

The afternoon sun beams through the glass windows of the library as you lie comfortably in Minho’s lap, his book positioned in front of you as he presses a small kiss to the back of your hand before turning the page.

Outside, the birds chirp songs of early spring, the steady stream of Mrs. Lee’s koi fountain audible as you peer down at the garden.

Mr. and Mrs. Lee sit in the tall grass, fiddling with a box of tools as Mr. Lee repairs a new project for Mrs. Lee. This one’s a much larger fountain, one he’d told you would take several months, perhaps even years. But Mrs. Lee sits beside him, relishing in stories of his restoration process and laughing with him as he works. You can’t help but smile at the sight, her stories about him playing in your mind whenever you catch a glimpse of them together.

“Do you think they could be us in another universe?” You ask Minho, turning to face him as he peers out the window, too.

“I hope so,” he says with a smile.

You settle closer to him in his lap, pressing a small kiss to his hand as he continues reading.

“And think not that you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.”

At his words, you hear baby Joon cry out, having woken from his afternoon nap.

“I’ll get him,” Minho says, shutting the book and setting it aside to go tend to the baby.

And as you peer back out the window, the sound of Mr. and Mrs. Lee’s laughter filling your ears, baby Joon’s voice calling to you, Minho’s philosophy book perched on the chair beside you and the sun beams shining their light through the windows, you know that this is belonging, this is love.

[sillygoosiegoose]

Fucking beautiful I love love🥹

(This did not help my baby fever)

[therhythmafterthesummer]

In the Labyrinth (M) ~Changbin

Pairing: Minotaur!Changbin x AFAB.Reader Themes: Mythical AU | Angst | Smut | Fluff Word Count: ~14k | AO3 Synopsis: The Labyrinth was an enigma for most people. Its existence was known, but what exactly happened within it was a complete mystery. When you entered the Labyrinth, you weren’t really sure what you’d have to come face to face with… Not even in a million years would you have guessed just exactly what you’d find in here. Warnings: descriptors of the reader such as: having long hair · mentions of murder · mentions of assault · depictions of anxiety · violence (in many different forms) · Changbin is 300cm tall (feels like that warrants a warning) · graphic depictions of outercourse (smut warnings under the cut). - feel free to let me know if i missed any.

Author’s Note: shout out to the anon that sent this ask back in august and ingrained the mental image of minotaur!changbin in my brain. more notes at the end.

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Smut Warnings: size kink · literal monster cock (he’s a giant… and a half-bull, half-man one at that…) · nipple play · mutual masturbation · non-penetrative sex.

Disclaimer: the story presented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

The sound of your footsteps bounced off of the walls. The corridors were more than spacious, well over twenty metres wide, with the ceiling probably twice as high, but even if it wasn’t crowded in here, it still made you a bit claustrophobic.

You supposed that the few holes in the ceiling did help ease that feeling a little bit. Emphasis on a little bit.

Even if you weren’t particularly thrilled about being down here, you still walked, because there was simply nothing else to do.

You could’ve sat down and awaited your death exactly where you had landed when they threw you in here, but you were never one to remain still for too long. 

So, after having a good crying session, and after hours had passed since you’d been given your death sentence, you had finally stood up and started to walk.

You knew what this place was, although you’d never really seen it. You hadn’t even known it was here in this exact area. 

The Labyrinth.

It was said that the place was humongous, practically never-ending, built by a king in ancient times as an offering to the Gods. Presumably, it’d ended up buried in the earth as time passed, and it stretched over kilometres and kilometres of land, but no one had really seen it and lived to tell the tale. At least, no one you knew of.

Law enforcement clearly knew the place, but you weren’t really sure if you could call them people. After all, they had never taken you seriously when you’d sought out their help. In a way, you felt like it was their fault you’d ended up here in the first place…

Although you’d heard of this place, you never really imagined it’d look like this inside. The brick walls were looking a bit worn down, but still structurally sound. They were lined with torches lit with eternal fire, just like the tales said. The floor would alternate between dirt, gravel, actual flooring, and mud. 

As you walked, you saw some ponds, some that even had fish inside. You figured that could be a potential way out, but you weren’t sure how deep you’d have to swim or if that’d be viable at all, so you scrapped the thought altogether. 

Sometimes, you’d see trees. Especially in those areas where there were holes on the ceiling. 

Some of those holes were partially blocked by metal rods, like law enforcement realised they were there and did the minimum required to keep a person or an animal from falling inside. Others were fully open, they varied in sizes, but they were honestly too high up for a person to reach them.

The trees, the mismatched flooring, and the occasional patch of grass weren’t that odd, though. They fit in well, and their presence made sense. What did feel out of place were the drawings on the walls. 

They weren’t on every wall, but there were so many of them it was hard not to notice they were there. Some looked like they’d been there for a long time, the colours were a bit washed out and some of the pigment had probably been absorbed by the brick overtime. Others looked like they could’ve been made a few weeks ago.

Birds, trees, deer, the sun, the moon… They were mostly nature themed, and, in any other context, you might’ve been inspired by the artistry. Even if they intrigued you, it was hard to appreciate them when you felt so hopeless, when you felt so… empty.

As soon as you had stopped crying earlier, you had accepted your fate–how long had it been since then? How long have you been walking for? Hours? How many? It was hard to tell down here… 

You realised just how much time had passed once you noticed another hole in the ceiling. You might’ve missed a few before, since it was clearly now well into the night and there was no light to highlight their presence. 

The faint stars you could see out of that hole made a knot form in your throat and tears well in your eyes. 

This was unfair.

You shouldn’t be the one in here. 

If anything, it should’ve been him.

If anyone had paid attention to you, it would’ve been him.

But instead, here you were.

You found a patch of grass under that hole you saw, so you just laid down and curled in on yourself and called it a night.

As the tears started to fall again, you reminded yourself that you had accepted your fate.

There was no going back now.

It was hard to tell how long you’d been inside the Labyrinth for. 

The first couple of days, you kept count diligently, but at some point you realised it was absolutely pointless. Why would you even want to know that information, if you weren’t going to be able to leave?

You were on your own here. 

You’d seen items that clearly belonged to someone at some point scattered around the many corridors of the Labyrinth, but you hadn’t seen a single soul. Only the fish you’d caught from the occasional pond you found that helped keep your stomach full, or the odd magpie that would come from one of the ceiling’s holes and jump around for a bit before taking off and leaving you alone once again.

You were on your own here… That was, as long as the stories weren’t true.

At first, you thought that the death sentence meant you’d be locked here to starve to death, but that logic started to crumble when you saw just how many sources of sustenance were available. Fresh water, fruit, fish, birds–if one was skilled enough to be able to hunt one of those, or at least have the will to…

You wondered if law enforcement knew this place was like this… Whether they knew or not, you figured it probably didn’t matter. The longer you spent here, the more it made sense to you that the stories were true.

It was said that a beast lived inside the Labyrinth. 

A beast that would make the strongest, bravest man cower in fear.

Some people said it had multiple sets of arms, or that it was as big as the royal library building, bigger than any temple anyone had seen. Others said it was such a deformed being that just the sight of it would kill you, and if that didn’t, it would make sure to do so by eating its victims piece by piece.

You knew these were nothing but stories to garner attention, for people to cause unnecessary chaos just because they could. If these people had actually seen this alleged beast, you supposed they wouldn’t even be alive to share their experience with the world.

You had never believed such a thing existed, but as nights and days went by, there was a small–and very scared–part of you that believed it might be true. Maybe this beast was very real, and was roaming the corridors of the Labyrinth.

Even if you’d been lucky to have found a few ponds that were large enough for you to bathe in, you still had pretty much only what you’d been wearing since you were thrown in here. You had used those ponds to wash your peplos a few times, but, unfortunately, it wasn’t even in good shape to begin with, and rinsing it in water seemed to hardly help its condition.

Your feet ached, your sandals were certainly not meant to be used to walk these distances, and the feeling of your dirty garments, combined with the lack of human contact, were steadily driving you crazy with every day that passed. Maybe this was the punishment. To be driven to insanity by what would usually be a minor inconvenience, by the amount of nothing that was happening around you.

The fact that you kept seeing his face in your dreams didn’t help it one bit.

Sometimes, you’d see it even when you were awake. You just needed to close your eyes, and you immediately got flashes of red and the feeling of pure hatred and anger… 

You always felt like washing your hands after, like jumping into any pond or puddle you could find. And whenever you could, you did.

Unfortunately, no amount of hand-washing and bathing would make the feeling go away.

You figured you’d have to learn to live with it.

As you furiously scrubbed your palms for the millionth time that day, you started to hear something.

Your movements stopped, but your hands remained submerged in the pond. It was usually quiet inside the Labyrinth, save for the few birds that’d sometimes fly and sing above you, or the occasional splashing fish inside the numerous bodies of water. 

But, right now, you could definitely hear something… Not only that, but you could feel something.

You could barely notice while you still had your hands under the water, but the rippling on the surface of it couldn’t have been made by you. Not when the little pebbles on the ground were shaking, too.

Thump…

Thump…

Thump…

Thump…

The sound seemed to be coming from the corridor on your right. It was growing closer, but your body wouldn’t move. You couldn’t move. You were just kneeling there, looking at the flickering torches lining the walls, with your hands still inside the pond, completely paralysed.

It wasn’t until you saw the shadow of something popping from around the corner that you actually came to your senses.

You had to run.

And you had to run now.

You stood up from the ground faster than you could even blink. Taking the lower part of your peplos with tight, wet fists, you just started to run as fast as you could. 

You could practically feel your heart in your throat as anxiety started to kick in. You had convinced yourself that this beast didn’t exist, you had thought that since you hadn’t seen it in your time here, it must’ve not existed at all.

But the deep bellow that resonated within the corridor was proof enough that you had been severely mistaken.

It was so loud that the sound seemed to penetrate into your skin and rattle your bones from deep within. A ringing broke free in your ears, accompanying your agitated heartbeat.

Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump… 

The whole ground shook with each heavy step the beast took, so much so, you tripped and fell into a path of rough gravel, ripping your clothing and scraping your knees in the process.

You couldn’t stop, though. There was no pain, no moment to think twice, you just stood up and kept running. You ran and ran and ran, turning the many corners of the Labyrinth as you went… 

There was a little voice in the back of your mind telling you it was useless, but you didn’t want to hear it. You refused to hear it.

At least, until you turned and found yourself in a dead end. 

Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump… 

Whatever it was, it drew closer and closer, shaking the ceiling and the walls as it tried to catch up with you.

Maybe you could still escape it somehow. Maybe, you’d be able to run past it and lose it in the many corridors of the Labyrinth.

When you turned around, you realised just how foolish that thought had been.

The air escaped your lungs when your back hit the wall. Your feet weren’t touching the ground, and you could feel pressure on your sides from where you were being held against the wall.

Your vision was blurry from the lack of oxygen, you could barely make out the shape in front of you. Horns, fur, and… and a face.

You’d accepted your fate…

Or so you had thought.

“Please…” Your voice was barely above a whisper, not only due to how breathless you were after running for so long and after being pushed so forcibly against the wall, but also because the knot in your throat was just too big. “Don’t–Don’t hurt me”.

The first tear fell down your cheek, and many more followed soon after. You couldn’t see properly. Whatever was in front of you, was big enough to shield all light from hitting whichever parts you could’ve potentially seen.

The creature huffed, and you closed your eyes tightly as its face moved closer to yours.

Its breath was warm against your face. You almost flinched, expecting the smell of rotten flesh to envelop you, but, instead, all you could smell was laurel.

You could feel yourself tremble in its hold as sobs kept escaping your throat. The creature sniffed you, first your face, then your neck. It got so close in its exploration that you could feel the tip of a textured, moist nose against your skin. You braced yourself for what was to come. You were sure it was getting ready to eat you whole, hopefully in one single chomp, so you wouldn’t have to suffer too much…

The thing pulled away from your neck, and just when you thought it was going to go for it, you were moving. 

It was so unexpected you barely registered it.

One second you were pressed against the bricks, and the next your stomach was pressing against firm muscle, and your arms were dangling over the creature’s back. Almost like it… like it had thrown you over its shoulder. And, after a few seconds of shock, you realised it had.

The beast had a strong hold on your back as it started to walk, presumably taking you somewhere.

You tried to blink the remaining tears away, at least enough so you could properly see something, anything.

You caught sight of the ground. You were definitely moving, and, for a moment, you thought you were imagining things. 

You could see smooth skin, you could feel it against your arms and hands whenever they hit it as they moved with each of the creature’s steps. Its back was very human-like… However, that smooth skin transitioned into dark fur towards the lower part of its body.

The tail of the creature swishing from side to side was the last thing you saw before you lost grasp of your surroundings.

Warmth.

You felt warm, but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. It was more like… a cosy feeling.

There was soft fabric under your hands, you could feel it dragging against your skin as your consciousness woke up.

Laurel… The smell of it filled your senses with that first intake of breath. 

Laurel… like the beast’s breath.

Your eyes snapped open. They immediately landed on the patch of night sky that could be seen from the hole in the ceiling, right on top of you. You blinked slowly, taking in the sight of the twinkling stars above you. 

Faint chewing sounds brought you back into the room, they made you remember what had happened before you lost consciousness. With quick movements, you sat up, and your breath hitched in your throat when your eyes locked onto the beast sitting a few metres in front of you.

Its eyes bore into yours as it chewed leisurely, on what you assumed to be a deer leg based on the shape of it. It didn’t make any movements, nor did it make any sounds–other than the occasional grunt when the meat was too stuck to the bone.

You were, quite honestly, speechless.

You had heard of the beast, but none of the descriptions truly matched what you were seeing right now.

A big, big creature. Inhumanly tall. Its torso was that of a man. Well defined, smooth, tanned skin, strong–very strong…–pecs, nipples adorned with silver jewellery, even stronger looking arms, and, although bigger than you had ever seen them, very human-looking hands. 

That torso transitioned into bovine-like lower limbs–covered in thick, dark fur, strong thighs and calves, ending in hooves. But, most impactful, was its head. Human-looking as well, save for the pair of horns that protruded from its skull and a cattle-like nose. The horns were decorated with thick silver rings that glistened with the very few torches lit around the room.

Its face, though… Chubby cheeks, pouty lips, and a strong, but bull-looking nose, pierced with a thick silver hoop. Objectively, the face of a handsome man, all things considered…

You had truly never, ever seen anything like it.

The way it was looking at you felt purposeful, like it wasn’t doing it just for the sake of it, but more like it was aware of your presence in a conscious, coherent way. It wasn’t just the way an animal would look at another animal, more like a human would look at another human.

You swallowed, suddenly hyper aware of your body. Everything hurt. Your feet, your knees, your arms… you were sore all over. When you finally broke eye contact with the creature–man…?–in front of you, and looked at yourself instead, you were perplexed at the sight of your bandaged knees.

Your eyes snapped back up to meet the beast’s, who was eating the last few pieces of meat off the bone in his hand, but still looking at you. 

“Did you…” Your voice broke due to your sore throat. You cleared it before you tried to speak again. “Did you do this?”

You gestured to the bandages, and it nodded to your question.

The beast understood you. It understood you and was able to answer the question.

“…Why?”

It seemed to be thoughtful for a moment, suckling on the bone to leave it completely clean before it threw it on a pile of bones in a corner of the room. Ultimately it simply shrugged, rendering you speechless once again.

The beast stood up from the ground, and walked towards another corner of the room, where a pond was. It knelt on the edge of it, and dipped its hands into the water. After scooping some water into its palms, it brought them close to his face and drank from them. 

Was it… washing its hands? And its mouth?

You realised it was, in fact, washing its mouth when it–he…?–finally stood up and walked over to some trees, where he plucked some leaves to eat them–or, more accurately, to chew on them.

“What… What are you?” You couldn’t help the question from leaving your mouth. What you were seeing right now was so absurd you just needed to ask.

He shrugged once again, chewing leisurely as it finally started walking closer to you. 

You honestly didn’t even try to move away, you were too in awe of his entire existence for your body to properly send you into fight or flight response. 

He was so… big. Even when he finally crouched in front of the pile of fabric you’d been laying on, he just looked huge.

“Changbin”, he said all of a sudden.

Your jaw went slack for a moment. He could speak.

“Ch–Changbin?”

He nodded. “That’s what… my father calls me”.

Changbin spoke slowly, like he wasn’t used to speaking at all. You supposed it made sense, considering the stories surrounding the beast inside the Labyrinth.

But… father, he said? “You… you have a father?”

He nodded again, but didn’t say anything else. Changbin just looked at you, in complete silence.

You’d admit it was a bit… awkward.

“Do you… Is this what you do with the people that are thrown into the Labyrinth?”

Changbin shook his head, which further puzzled you.

“I usually kill them. Sometimes I eat them if there’s nothing else to eat… Other times, just use them as food for the plants and birds that live here”, he said simply, like it was nothing. You supposed to him it was nothing.

“Why haven’t you killed me?” You had to ask, because you just couldn’t comprehend how you could still be alive.

His eyes jumped from one of yours to the other repeatedly for a bit. Until he eventually shrugged. “Don’t want to”.

You didn’t really feel like asking ‘Why?’ again, so you just cleared your throat, and decided to introduce yourself instead.

Changbin remained quiet for a few moments, until he repeated your name a few times out loud, like he was trying to get used to the sound. 

After about ten minutes of prying, Changbin explained to you that this was his den. It was at the very centre of the Labyrinth. He knew this whole place like the back of his hand, every twist and turn, every pond and every tree, he knew where absolutely everything was. Apparently, he’d lived here a long, long time.

You wanted to inquire more, but before you could, his ears perked up, and he looked towards the one and only exit of this area.

“Someone’s entered the Labyrinth”, he mumbled, almost to himself. He stood up from the floor, and wiped his hands on his fur before he started walking. When he reached the entrance, he turned back to look at you. “Stay here. Will be back in a couple of days”.

You didn’t really think you had any other choice.

Coexisting with Changbin was… weird.

It wasn’t uncomfortable by any means, but it was certainly weird. 

He clearly didn’t understand human behaviour much. As in, he’d do things people typically didn’t do.

He’d stare at you a lot–very intensely, if you might add–he spoke in short sentences, or was too forward with what he said. For the most part, though, you didn’t mind. Considering the type of men you were used to, Changbin was far from bad.

Was he a huge half-man, half-bull creature that ate humans sometimes?

Yes.

But even then, he was heaps better than other men you’d met.

He had offered his nest for you to sleep on. He’d shared with you any fish he caught, and even brought you fruit sometimes. For the most part, you didn’t leave his den, and he simply let you stay.

Being honest, part of the reason why you didn’t leave was because you weren’t sure if you were allowed to. After all, he’d brought you in here himself. 

Whenever someone entered the Labyrinth, he’d always ask you to stay while he left to look for them. Upon his return, he’d also share whichever goods he’d retrieved.

“You want this?” Changbin offered you a lump of fabric. It almost looked like a napkin in his hands, but when you took it and had a good look at it, you realised it was a chiton. And a fairly new one at that.

Your peplos was way too worn by now. You weren’t really sure how long you’d been inside the Labyrinth at this point, but you also figured it really didn’t matter. You’d washed your clothes plenty of times during your time here, but the rips and tears were just too many already, so you accepted the fresh garment.

“Thank you”, you looked up at him, trying not to focus too much on the swell of his chest, or the trail of fur that started from his navel and continued downwards, turning into his bovine legs.

Changbin was, truly, a sight to behold. Roughly three metres of hunk… The longer you spent around him, the longer you just… wanted to look at him. 

You supposed you weren’t any different than him in that regard. At least, he didn’t seem bothered by it when you stared at him.

Changbin nodded, and made his way to his makeshift, newer nest. You felt a bit bad that you’d taken his much bigger sleeping space, but when you tried to get him to use it again, he simply told you ‘It’s your nest now’, so you just… kept using it to lay and sleep on.

“Washed it on my way here”, Changbin said once he was sitting on his nest, looking at you. Only then did you realise he’d not only brought the chiton with him, but also a bowl full of what looked like wildberries, and a guest.

The guest sat on the very top of his head, it was a bird. A fairly small one, but one that was clearly injured, if the way it weakly fluttered its wings was anything to go by.

You nodded, and repeated a soft ‘Thank you’. You honestly tried not to think too much about the person this piece of clothing belonged to just a few days ago. There was no point in that… It was yours now. 

When you brought your hand to the fabric belt around your waist, you untied the knot that kept your peplos in place. The garment loosened, but before you could remove it, you looked back at Changbin.

He was just… staring at you. Like he always did.

You swallowed, trying to ignore the heat you felt spreading on your cheeks. “Could you, uhm…”

His ears perked up, listening intently to what you had to say. 

“Could you maybe look away?” 

Changbin blinked slowly, and his tail started swishing calmly behind him. “Why?”

“Because, y’know… I’m going to undress”, you replied simply, bringing the chiton closer to your chest. The heat on your face seemed to intensify.

“And?” 

You were slightly taken aback by that. But as you looked at him, you couldn’t see anything other than genuine curiosity in his eyes. “I’ll undress… That means I’ll be naked in front of you”.

“Okay”.

Now you started blinking slowly. Okay he said. Just… Okay. How… odd. “Changbin, I don’t want you to, uh… see”.

His eyebrows furrowed at that. “Why?”

“Because it’s not appropriate”.

“How come?” He placed the bowl on the ground and leaned back on his hands, spreading his legs in front of him. “I’m naked right now”.

Ah… You supposed he was naked.

You tried really hard not to move your eyes away from his face, especially considering the position he was in… You didn’t want your eyes to just wander to improper territories. After all, there seemed to be a lot to look at…

As you pushed aside the chaotic thoughts inside your head, his comment made you realise that maybe it wasn’t inappropriate to be naked. At least not here, not with Changbin.

You weren’t on the surface anymore. You weren’t bound to human customs anymore, not since the moment you’d been sentenced, and the more you thought of that, the more you started to understand. 

This was your safe place now. There was no judgement here, or, at least, you hadn’t felt any at all.

So you swallowed, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. With your eyes fixed on Changbin’s, you tried your best to ignore the warmth that took over your face as you undid your peplos. 

The garment fell to the floor, and only then did his eyes wander. He looked at you, with his head tilted to the side. You could’ve sworn you saw his eyes twinkle under the light of the few flickering torches on the wall. ‘Don’t like to keep too many in here… Too bright’, Changbin had told you a few days ago, when you’d asked why there weren’t as many torches in his den as in the corridor walls, and his answer had just made sense to you.

You could almost feel his eyes tracing every curve of your body, and you tried to not focus on how that made you feel. Instead, you just threw the chiton on and quickly fastened it with the belt around your waist.

Changbin’s eyes were back on yours as you finished fixing your clothes, before you started to plait your hair.

“Are you cold?” He asked all of a sudden, just as you finished tying your hair.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Not… not particularly?” 

“Why’d you wear that, then?”

“Wear what? This?” You gestured to the garment you’d just put on, and Changbin simply nodded to your question. You blinked blankly at him for a few moments before you answered him. “I don’t… I shouldn’t be showing my body like that, y’know? It’s inappropriate. At least, on the surface it is. So we just… wear clothes”.

“That’s why humans wear clothes?” He sounded genuinely incredulous, and based on the way his eyes widened, you figured he was. “Thought y’all were just cold all the time”.

You couldn’t help but snort at that. You laughed. You laughed like you hadn’t laughed in weeks, almost madly even. 

This was all just so, so absurd. You’d been sentenced to death, and somehow, you’d ended up here, with a creature like Changbin. A sentient creature that thought humans wore clothes just because ‘they were cold all the time’.

“Why shouldn’t you show your body?” Changbin looked beyond confused, and somehow it made you laugh harder. “It’s… well, there. It’s you. Why hide it?”

Your laugh died down, and you wiped the few stray tears that had fallen from your eyes. There was a small smile tugging at his lips, he didn’t seem fazed by your fit of laughter other than looking mildly confused now, so you just composed yourself and answered him as honestly as you could. “It’s… a private thing…”

“Private?” Changbin asked, tilting his head cutely to the side. “So no one has seen you naked?”

You went quiet at that, and started fidgeting with the end of your belt. “Some people have… Y’know, my mum… My–my husband…”

The title left a bitter taste on your tongue, but you tried to ignore it. You didn’t like thinking about him. Whenever you did, you always tried to squash the mental image to the deepest recesses of your mind. It was just… a bit too much still.

“You’re married?” Changbin asked, curiously, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees.

“Not anymore”, you looked away from him, trying to ignore his peering eyes. You really didn’t feel like elaborating further, so you tried to divert the conversation by talking about literally anything else. The weather, the flowers that had started to bloom in his garden, the bird on top of his head…

Changbin didn’t really pry further, he just followed your chaotic rambling as best as he could, until he eventually started crushing the berries in his bowl and telling you about the bird.

Apparently, he’d found it yesterday when he was on his way back here, and had been trying to nurse it back into health since. While he told you the story, he kept crushing the wildberries in his bowl, and he’d occasionally bring his free hand up to the little critter. It simply pecked his fingertip a few times before it resumed grooming his hair. 

After a while, he stood up from his makeshift nest. With his bowl of crushed berries in hand, and the injured bird nestled on the crown of his head among his messy hair, Changbin made his way to a nearby wall. You just watched him curiously from where you were laying on his original nest.

Changbin dipped two of his fingers in the mixture of crushed berries, and then he just… drew a line on the wall.

Then another…

And another… 

He was silent for the most part, but low noises would occasionally resonate from his chest when the little bird on his head chirped. It was almost like they were having a conversation.

And you figured they were. Mostly because every couple of lines he made, he’d huff, and the bird would chirp in response. Changbin simply nodded–carefully, as to not let the bird fall with the movement–and kept on drawing.

You weren’t sure how long you spent there, just looking at him doing his thing, but it was genuinely fascinating. The way his tail would sway every once in a while, the way the muscles on his back flexed and relaxed as he moved all sorts of ways as he painted on the walls…

Eventually, his lines took the very distinct shape of a bird, one that mirrored the one on his head almost perfectly.

“Changbin?” You asked after a while. He hummed to let you know he was listening, so you continued. “Did you make all the other drawings throughout the Labyrinth?”

It seemed like a silly question to ask, because, who else would’ve done it, if not the beast doing one just now in front of you?

Changbin added the finishing touches to his drawing, then he turned to look at you. He offered the remnants of crushed berries in his bowl to the bird, just as he brought the two fingers he’d been using to his mouth so he could lick them clean.

You tried not to focus too much on the action by fixing your eyes on his. 

He pulled his digits out of his mouth with a slight sucking sound, and nodded. “I did”.

“Mmm… They’re pretty”, you said simply.

Because, to you, they were.

You found them odd when you first saw them, since they didn’t seem to fit the aura surrounding this place, but they were certainly pretty. And knowing they’d been made by him, just seemed to make them even prettier.

Changbin finally put the bowl down on one of the many tall–but flat–rocks scattered throughout the room, and, for a moment, you could’ve sworn his cheeks had reddened. “Thanks…”

You just offered him a smile, even if he wasn’t looking at you. 

A cold wind filtered through the hole in the ceiling, it had your teeth chattering and your whole body shivering. You tried to cover yourself further, but the way Changbin had built his nest made it so you really couldn’t pull fabric from it without messing it up, and there was no spare cloth close by that you could use as a blanket.

It made sense, you supposed. He didn’t seem like he needed anything to keep himself warm, and you also hadn’t needed it before during your stay here, so you hadn’t even tried to ask for one.

You heard faint shuffling, followed by quiet thump, thump, thumps, until you felt warmth close to you.

“Tiny human”, Changbin mumbled, pulling your attention fully towards him.

You hummed to let him know you were listening, but you didn’t open your eyes, nor did you feel like wasting energy saying actual words. You needed to use every bit of it you could to try to keep yourself warm.

“You’re whimpering. Why?”

Had you been whimpering?

You hadn’t even realised you were. Maybe you’d fallen asleep without noticing… 

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your trembling form, but it only brought a rush of cold air inside your body. “M’cold…”

There was silence for a moment. With half lidded eyes, you could’ve sworn you were seeing your breath coming out of your mouth in little white clouds. It didn’t make you feel any better. If anything, it agitated you a bit more, but you couldn’t even express it fully.

Changbin was quiet for a long while, but you could still feel him close. You appreciated it. It felt like moral support, at least. 

Eventually, you heard–and felt–him shuffle closer to the nest. “Can I… Can I keep you warm?”

You immediately nodded. You didn’t care what he did, or how he did it. You just needed to be warm, and if he could give you that you’d honestly take it.

There was more shuffling, and then there was a minute dip in the nest. You yelped when you felt Changbin’s arm wrap around your waist and pull you into him from behind.

His hold was strong, firm, but also… gentle. He kept you close, with his chin resting on the top of your head and a hand pressed firmly against your stomach. He was so close, and so, so warm, you immediately felt yourself relaxing, moulding into his body, almost like… like you’d always been meant to.

Slowly, his warmth seeped into you, until you were no longer shivering. Tentatively, you placed a hand on top of the one he kept on your stomach. You could’ve sworn you felt him jump a bit behind you, but as soon as you started tracing his knuckles with your fingertips, he seemed to relax once again.

You weren’t really sure what compelled you to do it, you had just… felt like doing it. You spent a while just like that, feeling each knuckle of his fingers, feeling the prominent veins on the back of his hand. They were so big… especially compared to your own.

You’d never felt like a particularly small person, but next to him, you certainly looked tiny, you felt tiny. But only physically. Being honest, you’d never felt as equal to someone as you felt with Changbin.

“I think you’re pretty, too”, he mumbled all of a sudden, and for a moment, you felt your heart stop, only to resume its beating at record-breaking speeds. “Like my drawings, I mean…”

You turned in his hold, and immediately buried your face in his neck. Not only seeking the heat of his skin, but also trying to hide the flustered reaction on your face. He just held you closer, further enveloping you in his warmth. 

“Thank you…” You mumbled against the skin of his neck, and he simply offered you a tiny sound of content in response.

In the safety of Changbin’s arms, blanketed in his body heat, you finally fell asleep. 

You didn’t mind staying at Changbin’s den, but you were starting to get a bit… bored. 

Mostly if he was gone. When he was there, you could at least strike conversation, or play some sort of game. Knucklebones was a favourite of yours, for example.

When he wasn’t here, all you did was try to keep yourself entertained with whatever items Changbin had lying around, or by tending to the garden inside the den.

At some point, you’d managed to use some of the numerous pieces of fabric he’d collected to make yourself a proper blanket. Although, to be fair, you hardly ever needed it.

It was a given at this point that he’d snuggle up next to you to keep you warm. Since that very first night, you’d only had to use your blanket when someone had entered the Labyrinth and he wasn’t here.

You’d admit, sleeping with Changbin was… nice. Especially since temperatures seemed to be decreasing by the day.

He was all plush and warm and his heartbeat just helped you relax. Ever since you got married–since you were forced to get married…–you had never enjoyed sharing your sleeping space, but, with Changbin, it was different. You just… felt safe. As odd as that might sound.

“It’s not fair! You got it so much easier to pick those up!” Changbin huffed, clicking his tongue when you, once again, beat him at your game of knucklebones.

“Find bigger pieces, then!” You chuckled, jiggling the small set of bones in your hand. “I’m sure there are plenty of huge rocks you can get in here”.

He just clicked his tongue again, finishing in a cute pout as he crossed his arms over his chest. All that did was bring your attention to the swell of his pecs and the size of his arms, which immediately made you swallow. 

Dear Gods, was he big… 

You scrambled to fix your eyes on his face. These were thoughts you didn’t feel like entertaining… what would be the point of it if you did? What would you even do with someone like Changbin? It felt a bit too… complicated. But, there was a little voice in the deepest areas of your conscience begging you to entertain the thought… telling you that it’d surely be worth it.

You decided to ignore it.

“Hey, Changbin”, you tried to get his attention back on you, disregarding the plethora of sinful scenarios that were playing in the back of your mind. 

Changbin’s ears flickered before he was fixing his eyes on you again, so you took it as a sign to speak. “You think I could… go out for a walk?”

He uncrossed his arms so he could lean back on his hands, once again, making you absolutely struggle to keep your eyes on his face and not on whatever was going on between his legs. “You want to?”

You just nodded in response, nervously tapping on the floor one of the bones you held in your hand.

“Then you can”, he replied simply.

“I can?” You didn’t mean to sound incredulous, but you supposed his nonchalance did take you by surprise.

“‘Course. If you want to, you can”.

“You don’t mind?”

Changbin blinked slowly at you for a moment, before his eyebrows furrowed. “Why would I mind?”

“Dunno… I thought you… thought you might”.

“Why did you think that?”

Huh, good question… Why would you think that?

You supposed there was a part of you that had just kind of… assumed he’d mind. But you realised then that he’d never really said anything about it.

He’d only ever asked you to stay when someone else came into the Labyrinth, and you supposed it made sense he would if he cared for your safety. Which you were pretty sure he did, considering all he’d done for you so far… So you just offered him a smile and a slight shake of your head. 

“Ah, it’s nothing…” You stood up from the floor and wiped your hands on your chiton. “‘Suppose I’ll be back in a bit…”

Changbin just hummed to acknowledge you, but didn’t say anything else, so you made your way to the entrance of the room.

When you finally reached it, you stopped. As you looked at the corridor outside of the circle-shaped area that made Changbin’s den, you couldn’t help but feel your stomach sink. No matter where you looked, left or right, the way was seemingly endless. Every direction looked almost the same–save for the few paintings on the walls and the different textures on the floor.

If you left for a walk, would you be able to find your way back? You honestly weren’t too sure, and, truly… you wanted to come back. You were sure there was no better place to be inside the Labyrinth other than here, with Changbin.

So you turned around, finding the beast himself looking at you. 

His tail swayed calmly behind him, his ears occasionally flickered, but, for the most part, he looked serene, sitting there on the floor where he’d been just before you stood up yourself.

“Would you… uhm…” You pinched a piece of your chiton between your fingers, and started fidgeting with it, looking in his overall direction but not really looking at him. “Would you like to come with me?”

You finally looked at his face. There was a small smile on his lips, and it honestly made your heart flutter. “Y’know I’ll find you if you get lost, right?”

No.

No, you didn’t know that.

You didn’t know he’d go out of his way to find you if you disappeared. You knew that he cared about what happened to you to some degree, but enough to look for you if you got lost? Even if it could potentially take days?

If you thought about it, maybe that, too, made sense. Maybe he enjoyed your presence just as much as you did his.

Licking your lips, you let go of that bit of fabric you’d been rolling between your fingers. “Would you come with me anyway?”

With a huff, Changbin stood up from the ground. He wiped his hands on his thighs, just before he walked to stand next to you. That was a good enough answer for you.

So, you finally stepped out into the corridor, and Changbin followed soon after.

The farther you tried to look, the more anxiety seemed to pool in your stomach. If the Labyrinth had made you claustrophobic when you first stepped in it, right now, leaving Changbin’s den, you felt haunted with agoraphobia. 

The corridors were endless, the ceiling felt like it was way too high–unlikely, since it was pretty much the same height as it was inside the den…–and the fact that you couldn’t see the first turn in either direction you looked had your head spinning. So you turned back to Changbin.

“Is there any place you like? If there is, I’d like you to show me”.

Changbin just nodded, and started walking. You followed him from closely behind, nervously looking over your shoulder sometimes, but, for the most part, you tried to focus on the drawings on the walls, or the flashes of nature around you.

It was quiet, save for the flicker of the eternal fire and the thumps produced with each step Changbin took. They weren’t as loud as they’d been the first time you heard him, probably because he was walking very, very slowly.

Even if he was walking slowly, though, you were starting to get out of breath from trying to keep up with the steps his long legs could take. One of Chanbin’s steps could’ve very well been ten of yours…

You weren’t sure how many turns you took, you simply followed him wherever he would go, asking for a few pauses sometimes when you felt like you needed to catch your breath.

There were parts of the Labyrinth that were dimmer than others. As Changbin explained to you, it was either because someone had taken a torch off its support on the wall and never returned it, or he himself had moved the torches somewhere else.

When you asked him why he’d moved them, he just said he’d get bored, and just found some entertainment in moving things around. Fair enough, you guessed…

Both of you finally came to a full stop in front of a tree. A big, very old-looking one. There was a patch of grass all around it, and it was almost tall enough to reach the ceiling. The hole above it surely provided enough light and water for the tree to thrive even down here. 

“This is a place I like. Birds come in here sometimes. They keep me company”, Changbin plopped down at the base of the tree and leaned on it. While he looked at you, he patted the grass in front of him, right between his legs.

Your body reacted before your mind could, and, almost instinctively, you found yourself sitting on the grass and snuggled against his chest. He just wrapped his arms around your frame and kept you close, like he often did. 

Soon enough, birds started coming in from the hole high above your heads, and you simply closed your eyes and started to hum a melody to accompany their chirping. You could certainly understand why he’d like being in a place like this, it was peaceful.

“You…” Changbin mumbled after a while, while he softly traced shapes on your arm with his thumb. “You used to pray, didn’t you?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, just before you pulled yourself away from his embrace to look him in the eyes. There was a bird perched on one of his horns already, picking at his hair, but he seemed unbothered by it.

“How’d you… How do you know that?” No one knew you prayed. In fact, you hadn’t prayed in a long, long time. It used to bring you comfort, maybe even hope, but that, too, had been crushed by the heavy weight of reality many moons ago.

Changbin looked up at the hole in the ceiling, which was covered by iron rods. His gaze was fixed on it for a while, and he remained quiet for a bit.

“I think I used to hear you pray”, his eyes were on yours again, and you suddenly felt your cheeks heating up at the attention. “You used to sing, too. Hum, like you did just now… The birds back then used to tell me you brought them food”.

The site you prayed at was incredibly far from where you’d been dropped into the Labyrinth. You knew this place was huge, but you honestly hadn’t realised just how much until this very moment.

“You stopped coming, though”, Changbin looked at you in a way that made you feel almost like he knew… “Was it because of him?”

Please! Don’t hurt me!

The memory was fresh, it wasn’t one you could just forget. Your husband… he wasn’t fond of the Gods, especially not the ones you prayed to. After all, you were praying in hopes they’d just… do something.

When law enforcement didn’t pay attention to you, you had turned to your faith for help.

But they, too, had failed you.

When your husband found out you’d been going to that specific place in the forest to pray, that you had your own humble shrine in there, he made absolutely sure you never returned. The place was now riddled with memories of nothing but pain, sorrow…

You felt a knot swell in your throat, out of fury more than anything else. You refused to let tears fall, though. The damage was done already, and even if you felt infuriated by how unjust everything that happened back then had been, the nightmare was over, and you had no one to thank but yourself for it.

Looking at Changbin, you nodded, just to let him know that it had been, in fact, because of him that you’d stopped going to pray to the forest currently above your heads.

“Even back then… I felt like it was unfair”, Changbin’s eyes jumped all over your face, while his thumb kept caressing the skin of your arm.

“It was”, you replied simply, looking up at him from where you were sitting between his legs. “But it’s no longer a problem. It’s stopped now”.

The bird that had been picking at Changbin’s hair finally flew away when he nodded. You looked him in the eyes for a while longer, until you finally leaned into him once again, and rested your head on his chest, right over his heart.

Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump…

The gentle rhythm vibrated against your ear, and, right then and there, you knew that it had all truly stopped. You were safe. It was, definitely, no longer a problem. In a way, you’d made sure of that…

You both stayed under that tree for a long time that afternoon, until you asked Changbin to show you anywhere else he liked before you made it back to the den.

Without saying a word, he effortlessly picked you up from the ground, and took you in his arms, making you all flustered when he offered you a ‘Tiny legs. Makes you slow…’ which you supposed you couldn’t argue with. To him, your legs were surely tiny, especially when compared to his own.

When you were back at Changbin’s den, you were tired, so you quickly washed up before you had dinner. Seared fish–courtesy of the eternal fire from one of the torches–with an assortment of fruits that somehow worked together, finished off with the corresponding pile of laurel leaves Changbin liked to chew on often–a habit which you yourself had picked up overtime.

It wasn’t long until you found yourself in Changbin’s nest, surrounded by soft fabric and his warmth. Cuddling had become one of your favourite winding down activities, and you certainly liked to do it for as long as you could. There was something about the closeness to someone else that felt… fulfilling. And you’d never truly felt this close to someone in your life.

Oftentimes, while cuddling, you also found yourself having the most profound conversations with Changbin. Either you or him–or both–would start bearing their hearts out for the other, and it was… nice.

Regardless of what you spoke about, it was nice.

“You…” Changbin mumbled, burying his fingers in your hair to gently caress your scalp. “Why’d they drop you here?”

You took a deep breath, mindlessly playing with the thick fur in the middle of his chest. “I took someone’s life…”

Changbin hummed, nuzzling your forehead with his nose. It was moist against your skin, but you didn’t mind.

“My husband…” You started, stilling the movement of your fingers in his fur to instead lay your hand on his chest. “I was just… I tried to get help. Every time he hurt me, I tried to get help. So, so many times… but no one listened. One night, he was trying to force himself on me and I just… took one of those hideous stone busts he kept around the house and I… hit him in the head”.

The memory wasn’t pleasant. You still remembered the first moment of shock, when you stared at his limp body on the floor. You remembered the blood, how it started to pool and stain that equally hideous rug he’d purchased for way too much money. You remembered the mess left behind when you tried to move your husband’s body out of the house so you could hide it in the forest…

But you were caught.

You were caught and no matter how much you explained what had happened, no one believed you.

“So I was sentenced to die”, you looked away from his chest to look him in the eyes. They seemed to be sparkling under the moonlight shining on you both. His eyes… They were gentle, and had the prettiest shade of brown you’d ever seen. “I should be dead by now. They were expecting you to kill me”.

Changbin’s eyes flickered between yours. They danced around your face for a moment, until they settled on your mouth. “I couldn’t. Don’t want to, either”.

“I know”, you mumbled simply. Bringing a hand to his face, you started tracing his features, his eyebrows, his nose, his cheeks… Changbin just closed his eyes as soon as your fingertips were on his skin, and his ears flickered happily as you did. “You’re way more than the beast people make you out to be”.

“You think so?” He asked it in a way that made it seem like he genuinely cared about what you had to say, like your opinion was valuable to him.

You hummed in confirmation, nodding slowly, because you truly meant it. Changbin was a bit of a brute, he was very capable of harming you, but he was also capable of being so incredibly gentle. Like he’d been with the injured bird he’d brought to his den many months ago. Like he’d been with you when he tended to your wounds when he brought you in here, or when you were shivering from the cold…

“Changbin…” You broke the silence after a while, placing your hand on his cheek and stroking the skin with your thumb. “Do you know what a kiss is?”

Changbin opened his eyes then, offering you an almost shy nod of his head.

“Have you kissed anyone before?” You placed your free hand on his chest, right over his heart. It was beating so incredibly fast… It was almost like you could feel every thump penetrate into your palm and rattle your insides.

Changbin shook his head, fixing his eyes on your mouth once again.

You licked your lips, almost absentmindedly. He was so close, and so warm, and you just… wanted him. “Would you like to?”

Changbin nodded again, so you just went for it.

Slowly, you leaned in, brushing your lips softly against his for a moment before you connected them fully. It was almost shy, just a tender peck on his lips, but it was a kiss nonetheless.

You pulled back a bit to look him in the eyes. Sparkly… Even more so than before. In an instant, his hand was at your waist, pulling you closer against his body as he leaned in to kiss you again.

It was slow, gentle, and it made your heart flutter. His lips slotted so perfectly with yours, you couldn’t even believe you’d ever kissed anyone else. So many kisses wasted, when you could’ve been giving them to him instead…

Tentatively, your tongue made contact with his bottom lip. He seemed to get the hint, since he parted his lips to let you in. With your arms around his neck, you kissed him deeply. He kissed you deeply.

At this very moment, there was nothing else in the world that wasn’t you and Changbin. The only thing that mattered was him and you in his nest, slowly getting your mouths acquainted with one another.

You didn’t know how long you spent right there, but you also didn’t care. By the time the moon had moved around in the sky and left you in partial darkness in Changbin’s den, you could already feel him poking your stomach.

The feeling of him, hard against your belly, set your insides alight.

You’d known for a long time, you’d been trying to ignore it, but you couldn’t do that any longer… You really wanted Changbin. Carnally. Like you’d want any other person.

His hands… His big, warm hands roamed your back, your rear, your thighs… It was like he wanted to make sure no part of your body was left untouched–at least the ones he currently had access to over your clothes. The kiss was turning sloppier and sloppier by the second, and, in no time, low bellows were resonating from Changbin’s chest.

It was just when you carded your fingers through his hair that he stiffened, fixing his hands on your waist and gripping you tightly to stop the grind of your hips you hadn’t even realised you’d started doing. 

When had he laid on his back? When had you straddled his waist? You were so lost in your kiss you hadn’t even noticed…

He pulled back fully, offering you an apologetic look while he brought his thumb to your bottom lip and swiped it over the swollen skin.

“Someone’s entered the Labyrinth…” Changbin mumbled, so quietly you wouldn’t have heard him if you hadn’t been so close.

You pouted sadly, but nodded in understanding. With one final peck on his lips, you finally rolled off of him and onto the plush nest, where you curled into yourself as you watched him get up.

Changbin bent down to kiss your forehead. He brushed his textured nose tenderly against yours for a moment, just before he threw your makeshift blanket over your body.

“I’ll be back in a few days. Hm?”

You simply nodded again, feeling your eyes growing heavier as sleep started to cling to your muscles. 

After one final smile, Changbin finally turned around and made his way out of his den. 

You couldn’t help but sneak a glance at him before he left, and, Gods… You really, really wanted him…

As you let your hand find its way between your legs, and even in your sleepy state, you couldn’t help but fully come face to face with the realisation that you wanted him, more than you’d ever wanted anyone else before.

With the tingles of pleasure you were coaxing from your centre that spread to all of your limbs, your mind wandered, trying to figure out just how you could… take him.

You had to find a way. You were determined to find a way.

You didn’t know how you’d do it, but you were certain you would.

Eventually, you would.

Changbin was taking longer than usual to come back from his last outing, and it was starting to worry you.

The first couple of days went by as usual. You washed any garments of clothing you’d collected over time, you tended to any of Changbin’s friends–meaning, the birds that would come from the surface–whenever they dropped by, or you simply spent it brainstorming all the possible ways in which you could pleasure such a monstrous cock.

Not only that, but how you could get pleasure from that monstrous cock. Because you were set on making the most of it. Gone were the days in which you shied away from your desires. You were a living being with needs, and if you couldn’t fulfil those needs with a literal giant half-bull, half-man creature, you were sure you wouldn’t have been able to do it with anyone else.

Besides, though, you didn’t want anyone else. 

And it wasn’t the fact that you were living in the Labyrinth and couldn’t even meet other human beings. What you felt for Changbin was something you’d never felt before. You genuinely cared about him… You cared a lot.

Which was why, by the fifth day he hadn’t returned to the den, you had bitten all ten of your nails almost to the flesh.

Where was he?

You were convinced it was pretty much impossible for him to get lost inside the Labyrinth, but what if he had?

Or worse…

What if whoever had been dropped in here hurt him?

What if he was hurt and you couldn’t help him?

Oh, Gods… 

What if he was dead?

Your chest felt heavy, you could barely breathe… What would you do without Changbin? You could definitely survive with all the resources you had here, but the question was… did you want to?

What was the point of staying alive inside the Labyrinth without him?

You wanted to cry just thinking about it. 

Tears were pricking your eyes, and it felt like your throat was closing up. 

At least, until…

Thump…

Thump…

Thump…

Thump…

You pretty much jumped from where you’d been sitting on the floor, sprinted out of the den and into the corridor. At this point, you could recognise Changbin’s heavy steps like your own heartbeat.

Looking left and right, you were unsure where exactly he was coming from, since the echo seemed to be coming from every direction. After a few moments of panic, you finally saw him to your left, so you ran.

You barely heard him saying your name when you were close, you were too focused on getting to him. When you buried your face in his stomach, he immediately started to caress your hair.

“Shh, hey…” He mumbled, dropping whatever he had in his free hand so he could press his palm on your back. “Don’t cry”.

You were sobbing, and you hadn’t even realised it until he had pointed it out.

When you pulled away, you could barely see him through your blurry vision. With one of his knuckles, he gently wiped the tears running down your cheeks.

It was only then that you noticed them, the cuts and gashes that littered his whole torso. The sight had adrenaline rushing into your body immediately.

“Oh, my dear Gods! What happened to you?!”

“Kid was resilient”, was all he said when he pulled himself away from your hold. He bent down–with seemingly great effort–and took the bag that he’d dropped on the ground. “C’mon, need to… to lay down. Will tell you everything after…”

You took the bag from him immediately, and wrapped your free hand around one of his fingers to gently tug him forward–as if that would do anything…

It took several minutes for both of you to reach the den once again. As soon as you were inside, Changbin pretty much collapsed on the ground, and started instructing you to bring him all sorts of herbs from his garden along with some fresh water.

You got to work, following Changbin’s directions to clean him up, apply the freshly chewed mix of leaves on the open wounds, and dress them with whichever extra pieces of fabric you could find laying around. As you did this, he told you about the young man that had entered the Labyrinth. 

Apparently, he was skilled enough to not only hurt Changbin, but also to essentially defeat him.

“All these years, no one has ever come this close to killing me…”

The concept of Changbin being killed made your heart ache, but you pushed the feeling away as you tried to focus on the task at hand, as well as to continue listening to him. 

The young man had spared him. He’d told Changbin that he’d come into the Labyrinth out of his own free will because he was looking for something. 

“Told him I’d help him find it if he let me live”, Changbin said once you’d finished dressing his wounds and he’d finally laid down on your nest.

“And? Did you?” You asked as you gathered two heavy jugs of fresh water to bring them to him. After all, two jugs were pretty much two glasses of water for him…

Changbin drank both jugs one after the other, each one in one gulp, offering a quiet ‘Thank you’ before he answered your question. “Yeah. Pointed him in the right direction, told him how to find the way to the spot he was looking for…”

You laid down next to him, and snuggled yourself as close as you could. Changbin pulled you even closer, and only then did he seem to fully relax, practically melting into your nest.

“He wanted me to go with him… But I was too hurt”, he mumbled against your hair, sounding just so incredibly tired. “Also… I had to come home. Needed to be here with you…”

You felt tears well in your eyes again. Holding him tight–being careful to not apply too much pressure on his wounds–you craned your neck, just so you could press a lingering kiss on his cheek.

Changbin exhaled a shaky breath with the motion, and, after pressing a few more pecks on his skin, you finally laid your head on his chest.

“Welcome home…” The words came out of your mouth as barely a whisper, mostly because you didn’t trust your voice right now. You were already feeling your whole body trembling as the tears started to fall again.

Changbin held you tight, pressing a final kiss on the crown of your head.

“Missed you, tiny human…” was the last thing to come out of his mouth before he passed out.

Caring for an injured giant was easier than you had expected it to be. Although, you’d admit that helping him wash up was a bit hard.

Not because you had to provide any sort of support when he got into a pond or anything like that, but mostly because Changbin insisted that he needed you in there with him.

He got extra whiny about it, but you didn’t let him coax you into it. Not because you didn’t want to, but because, if you did get naked with him in the water, you knew you’d get distracted and his wounds could suffer the consequences.

After a few days, he seemed to have regained most of his strength, and the cuts scattered over his body were healing nicely. Even then, he kept insisting he needed you to help him.

“If you want to see me naked, just say so”, you couldn’t hold that back any longer. The words just flew past your lips, and you knew they’d had the desired effect as soon as you saw the pink tint on his cheeks.

“I don’t–I mean, I do, but it’s not–” He was tumbling over his words, and it was absolutely adorable. 

You stood up from where you’d been sitting cross-legged by the edge of the pond, and started toying with the belt of your chiton. He went quiet immediately, and his eyes zeroed in on the way you played with the fabric between your fingertips.

“Do you want to see me naked, Changbin?”

He blinked slowly for a moment, and his ears flickered cutely. “Maybe…”

“Maybe?” You untied the knot, and the garment immediately loosened.

You saw him swallow. His gaze remained fixed on your belt, like he was trying to somehow make it disappear completely. 

“Changbin?” You called him again, and his eyes snapped back up to meet yours, giving you his undivided attention. “Do you want to?”

Changbin stared at you for a moment before he nodded. That tiny movement, coupled with the light blush on his cheeks made you feel… empowered. Which was something you had never really felt before in this context.

You’d heard other people tell you about it, you’d read about it in the romance novels you used to read, but you had never truly experienced it. That feeling, coupled with how pliant a literal giant like Changbin got when you so much hinted at being naked, filled you with confidence.

So you removed your clothes, and slowly, you went into the pond.

Changbin was sitting on the ground, which made it so you were almost at eye level with him. You could practically feel his eyes all over your body, leaving an almost searing sensation on your skin. 

When you finally stood in front of him, his hands found your waist. Changbin pulled you closer, so your bodies could be flush to each other. With your arms around his neck, you leaned in for a kiss.

He held you tightly, but gently. You knew he was well aware of his strength, and you knew he liked to be careful so as to not hurt you, which you certainly appreciated.

When you pulled back from the kiss, Changbin brushed your nose against yours, making you giggle. As usual, it was moist, but you didn’t mind.

“You’re pretty”, he whispered the words against your shoulder, where he was pressing lingering kisses on your skin–being extra careful not to poke you with his horns.

“And you’re very handsome”, you replied simply, because it was the truth. Months ago, you hadn’t even known someone like him could exist, and here you were now, absolutely smitten by what most would consider an oddity.

“You think so?” He mumbled absentmindedly, dragging his hands all over your back. His large hands…

“Mm… I do think so”.

He pulled away so he could look at you. A smile had spread across his face, making his eyes turn into little crescents. It always made your heart flutter whenever he smiled, and it was certainly a contagious gesture.

Changbin kissed your cheek once, twice, thrice more, before he was speaking again. 

“Y’know… I haven’t… I’ve never…” He sighed, frowning before he shook his head and started all over again. “Want to make you feel good, but I don’t know how”.

Your eyes widened a bit. Not because you didn’t know that he wouldn’t know how to make you feel good, but because he seemed to genuinely care about it.

“I can show you”, you caressed his shoulders briefly before you cupped his cheeks. “Then you can show me how to make you feel good, hm?”

Changbin nodded, rather enthusiastically, and it made you smile.

“There are… many places you can touch to make me feel good”, you dragged your hands down his arms, until you reached his hands and pulled them away from your back. “For example, here…”

You brought his hands to your chest, and he reflexively squeezed the flesh. “That feels nice, but… touch here”.

Taking a hold of one of his fingers, you guided it to your nipple. The rough pad of his fingertip dragging over the sensitive skin immediately had a shiver running up and down your spine. 

He seemed to catch on very quickly, because the moment you let go of his hands, he immediately started to stimulate your chest. Between his motions and the cool water around you, your nipples stiffened further, and the first whimper came out of your mouth.

Changbin looked at you for a moment, like he was unsure if he had done something wrong, so you immediately reassured him.

“That’s good… Feels good”.

“Feels good?” He asked, adding a bit more pressure.

You nodded in confirmation, and then took a hold of his wrists. “Pinch them harder between your fingers”.

“Don’t wanna hurt you, though”, he sounded genuinely worried about it, which would’ve made you heart melt in other circumstances, but in these circumstances, you needed him to give you all he had–or, at least, all you could stand.

“Do it gradually, I’ll let you know ‘til when. Trust me?”

Changbin nodded, and immediately obliged. As soon as he reached the pressure that was just perfect, you let him know–in quite possibly the most desperate tone you’d ever mustered.

Your lips were on his thereafter. He tugged and pulled and stimulated your nipples in ways that had you moaning into his mouth, that seemed to be coaxing inhuman noises from deep within him.

Your centre was throbbing, desperate for some attention, so you pulled away from the kiss. You were met with Changbin’s blown pupils and flushed cheeks, a sight so incredibly delectable you started to seriously entertain the impossible. Would he fit…?

“Here, too”, you took a hold of one of his hands and brought it between your thighs, giving him enough space to manoeuvre. “You feel that bump?”

When the pad of his finger made contact with your clit you almost jolted in place, but you tried to stay focused as best as you could. 

“Rub in circles. Gently”.

He complied, following the same motions as before, increasing the speed and pressure until you told him exactly how you liked it to be. 

It all became a blur of moans and pants and bellows… All you could feel was the pleasure coursing through your body and Changbin’s warmth all around you. His teeth, his tongue, his lips, his fingers… He was working you up diligently, bringing you closer to the edge.

“So good…” You whimpered against his lips, just before your tongues were intertwined again.

Changbin nodded, almost mindlessly. 

When you’d finally reached your climax, you did so with his name on your tongue. Repeating it over and over again like it was the only word you knew in this world.

You’d found pleasure on your own many, many times, but it’d never felt like this. You weren’t sure if it was the weight of your feelings for him, or if it’d been the thrill of having this experience with Changbin for the first time, but the way that orgasm seemed to be consuming every single one of your senses was absolutely mind-blowing.

He didn’t stop working you up until you asked him to. As soon as he did, you wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned your weight on him for support. Changbin held you tightly, lovingly caressing your back and pressing kisses on your shoulder as you caught your breath.

“Prettiest sounds I’ve ever heard…” He mumbled against your skin, and it made you laugh.

You felt light, like tonnes had just been lifted off of your shoulders. When you pulled away, you cupped his cheeks, and started peppering kisses all over his face, which made him giggle. So adorably you felt your heart swell in your chest.

“Now…” With one final kiss on his lips, you placed your hands on his chest, squishing the soft muscle. “You show me”.

A smirk made its way onto his lips, and after taking one of your hands, he moved it away from his chest to let it sink further underwater, until it met the warm, smooth skin of his length. He left your other hand on his chest, but instead of just letting it rest there, he guided your fingers to one of his nipples so you could gently rub your fingertip against it and play with the jewellery.

“I’ll show you”, he emphasised his words by using his hand to coax your hold around his cock to tighten. Your fingers didn’t even meet as you held him, and the thought, along with the feel, made you feel dizzy with arousal. “Will show you anything. Everything…”

‘You think this could… fit you?’ Changbin had shyly asked you a couple of weeks ago, when he offered you one of the silver hoops he usually wore on one of his horns. Where he got the idea to do that was beyond you, but it honestly didn’t matter, it made you giddy all the same.

It did fit–as an armlet, at least. It was purely material and maybe even a bit vain, but having this item on you at all times simply made you feel tingly. It made your heart swell in your chest and it had butterflies fluttering in your belly.

It felt significant, in a way. Kind of like… like your own version of a wedding band.

In the past, you had never been excited about being a bride, or about being someone’s wife. But you realised things could change. 

Changbin had certainly changed you. You would’ve never imagined that your death sentence would be the thing to actually help you feel alive, and yet, that was exactly what had happened to you. 

Did you sometimes have bouts of fury and rage because of how unfair everything that you’d gone through had been?

Yes.

Did you want all those officials to die a very painful death for judging you the way they did?

Also yes.

But at least, here, you found your place. You found love.

Because you loved Changbin. Horns and tail and hooves and all. Even with his annoyingly big cock that you knew you’d never be able to fit inside you without tearing you in half, even then, you loved him. Truly. 

It took only a visit from that young man he had encountered months ago for you to fully realise it.

He’d appeared out of nowhere, on a random day. Changbin had put himself between you and the young man, but the boy wasn’t a real threat, he’d come just to ask for help to find something else within the Labyrinth.

It was over supper that he’d talked to you, right there in front of Changbin. 

‘Don’t you want to go back to the surface? I know a way out…’

You could still remember how Changbin’s tail started to thrash anxiously behind him, but he didn’t say anything. He’d just fixed his eyes on the floor, slowly chewing his food. He didn’t interrupt or even attempt to divert the conversation. Back then, at least to you, it felt like he was getting ready to accept whichever decision you took.

‘Why would I go back? This is my home. There’s nothing up there for me’.

And when you’d said it, you truly meant it.

This was your home… but it wasn’t the Labyrinth.

It was all Changbin.

You’d wandered the Labyrinth together for a few days after that, helping that young man look for the mysterious artefact he needed. It’d been an adventure for sure…

When you were back in your cosy den after that little adventure, Changbin had given you the thick hoop, your armlet. You’d gotten so used to wearing it, you sometimes forgot you had it on.

At least, until you caught a glimpse of it in your peripheral vision, like you did just now. Somehow, the reminder of its existence further fed the fire that was burning bright in the pit of your stomach. 

The feel of Changbin’s hands on your hips, gripping you tightly–as tight as he knew your body could handle–made you moan. The feel of him, hard and warm against your folds had your mind all fogged up and hazy, especially when he was under you like this, guiding the movement of your hips to increase the pressure of your centre grinding against his bare length, trapping it between your core and his abdomen.

“Mmm… fuck…” He whined under his breath, staring at the place your bodies connected, at the way your slick cunt dragged against his cock.

You nodded in agreement, rather eagerly, because you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. Not when the way you were essentially humping him felt this incredibly good.

With your hands on his chest, both for support and so you could play with his nipples in just the way he loved so much, you chased that sweet, sweet relief that’d been steadily growing closer to you since you sat on him however long ago. The pressure on your clit was just absolutely perfect like this, especially when he was pushing you down and assisting your own movement.

“Changbin, darling, I’m… fuck, want to…” You could barely speak, but you knew he understood you perfectly, because he had you moving faster, he pushed you down harder, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Before you knew it, you were trembling with your release. The only thing keeping you from collapsing was Changbin’s tight hold, but you still tried your best to keep moving, to keep providing him with as much pleasure as you could.

With a broken plea of your name, the first of many shots of thick cum spouted from the tip of his cock. The results of his orgasm’s were, of course, proportional to his size. He always seemed to produce bucket-loads of cum whenever he came, drenching his whole torso, and you in the process.

Changbin looked so, so pretty like this. Flushed, whining, bellowing, desperately rutting into you to make the most out of his release. You didn’t care that you were close to the point of oversensitivity, you just wanted to continue seeing him like this for as long as it lasted.

When the final spurt of cum landed on his abdomen, the tight grip he had on your hips loosened. The lack of his support made it so that you simply collapsed on top of him, gasping for air. 

Oh, how fulfilling it was to hear his increased heartbeat against your ear, to feel his warm cum sticking to you…

You both laid there for a moment, just enjoying the feel of one another and catching your breaths. 

Changbin had to act a bit quickly after coming, though. Otherwise his cock would retreat into its sheath covered in his drying cum, which could not only become a gross mess, but also cause him real, painful problems the next time he got hard.

So as soon as he regained his strength, he was moving, carrying you in his arms and getting you both inside the nearest pond to get cleaned up. 

You always helped him, of course. Just like he helped you.

Getting to bathe each other felt intimate, like a bonding experience, so you enjoyed it. 

You barely spoke to each other during these moments. You just took the time to further enjoy the other’s body in a more profound way. 

It wasn’t until you were out of that pond, dry, in a fresh set of clothes, and huddled together in your cosy nest that he was finally speaking again.

“I really like it when we do it like that…” He mumbled against your hair, softly dragging his fingertips on your back.

You chuckled softly, pressing a soft peck on his collarbone. “Is it better than when you fuck my thighs?”

Changbin inhaled sharply, placing his free hand on your bum. “It’s different. It’s easier to come together this way”. 

You hummed, smiling in amusement at the comment. 

There was silence for a while, but you knew he was awake. If he hadn’t been, the soft caresses on your back would’ve stopped already.

The armlet shone in your peripheral vision, and you were reminded once again that this was your home. That you belonged here.

“Changbin?”

He hummed to let you know he was listening, not stopping the movement of his hands.

“Why didn’t you kill me when you found me wandering the Labyrinth?”

Changbin was quiet for a while, until he nuzzled your hair before he placed a kiss on the top of your head. 

“I recognised your voice”, he replied simply. “You fed my friends. You didn’t have to, but you did it anyway. They always appreciated it, and I couldn’t help but appreciate it, too”.

You pulled yourself away from his hold a bit, enough to look him in the eyes. “Can you imagine if I’d never spoken in the forest? Or if I never fed the birds? You would’ve eaten me”.

He frowned. “Don’t wanna think about that. Besides, you did do it. Why think about the past like that?”

You smiled at him, just before you pressed a quick peck on his lips.

As you buried your face further in the crook of his neck, and started to feel the pull of sleep on your body, you figured Changbin was right.

There was no point in thinking about the past. No point in dwelling on the what-ifs. The only thing that mattered was the present, and the future you hoped to have with him here, in your home.

Author’s Note x2: i came into this expecting this story to be nothing but filth and a horny mess, not... whatever this ended up being. it definitely didn’t go the way i thought it was going to go when i had originally read that ask, but, y’know… the little lizard in my brain just does whatever it wants. i’m happy with it, and, if you made it this far, i hope you enjoyed it, too.  especial thanks to @notastraykid and @channieskies for reading this before anyone else and for giving me their valuable opinions and suggestions.

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General Masterlist

[sillygoosiegoose]

Wow just wow amazing story!!❤️

[bandgie]

Ghost in the Night

Ghostface!Jeongin x fem!reader

synopsis: Keep your doors locks, shut your windows, don't go outside after sundown. Rules were quickly put in place when a killer, known as 'Ghostface,' began terrorizing your city. You listened to all these rules until finals night, but still, there's no way in hell Ghostface could get to you. Right?

warnings: MDNI 18+, DUBCON/NONCON, breaking an entry, implied kidnapping, PIV, forced oral (m! receiving), face slapping, blood/murder, face fucking, slight pain during sex (no prep) crying/begging, cumming inside, degrading words (slut, bitch, etc), not proofread,

4.1k words shheesshhh

Another college student was found dead. Their throat slashed along with their stomach. The police found them in their apartment with the words 'COME FIND ME' smeared on the walls with blood. The story along made you queasy. This killer, who the town nicknamed Ghostface, has been on a spree for about two weeks now. It really happened out of the blue. One day, you're attending college parties, and the next, you're too scared to even shop for necessities.

Rumors began to speculate about who it could be. Many people thought it was the rival university, some thought it was the son of the dean who couldn't get into the school, most thought it was just a psycho. The question remained though, why did Ghostface only go after college students?

Your friends dropped out of college upon hearing the news. They urged you to do the same, but you were so close to graduating that you decided to push through. After all, most of the students attacked were sorority or frats, you weren't either of them. If you kept your head down, didn't attend the stupid parties students kept throwing because they liked the thrill, you would be fine.

So here you were, on the second floor of the library late at night. You're thankful your library had open hours until midnight, it was great for last minute studying. The librarian was very friendly, even offering to drive you home. "I hear about what's been happening," she tells you as she rubs her trails hands.

You shake your head, "Thank you for your concern. I really don't wanna waste your time, I'll be fine." She eyes you cautiously, as if hoping you'd second guess yourself and take her offer. When you don't, she sighs. "Fine, deary. You be safe out there." You nod your head and watch her descend back to her from post.

-

A few hours pass before you decide to head home, your brain fried from all the studying. You wave the librarian a goodbye and exit the doors, greeted with the moon and stars in the sky. Had there not been a killer loose, you would have loved to admire the view. It's a blood moon tonight, and you pray that it's a good omen.

While walking back to your dorm, you couldn't help but hear music blasting. You pass one of the frat dorms, watching as people passed out in the front lawns and other vomiting. You grimaced at the sight. How could they party like this when people were being brutally murdered? You ignored their hollers and whistles to continue on your path.

"Hey!" One of them shouts at you. You ignore it, walking faster to get to your safe place. "Hey! I'm calling you!" Still, you maintain your pace. If you keep walking fast enough, you'll be able to-

"Damn girl! I'm tryna talk to you," the guy had caught up to you. He held you by your upper arms stinking of booze. You turned to face him in an attempt to intimidate him, "I'm not interested." You try your best to sneer, but he only laughs. "Never said I wanted you to be. I was just gonna say you shouldn't be walking all alone." His ominous statement send chills down your spine.

"I appreciate you tryna be my hero, but like I said, I'm not interested." You sternness throws him off, and he quickly lets go of your arm. "Bitch," he mumbles, "I was just tryna help." You don't bother replying, quickly turning around to escape his presence. You can't trust anyone, you can't take your chances.

You make a sharp turn, hoping that you're out of his sight. It doesn't take long to hear the familiar steps behind you. Rather than ignoring him this time, you turn around quickly to confront him. "Didn't you fucking hear me? I said-" You stop yourself. You were fully excepting to see his drunk ass behind you, but instead your faced with nothing.

You shiver, whipping back around to scurry home. It was just the wind, you think. You can feel your heartbeat in your chest, feel the blood that pumps in your veins. No no no, calm down. You're fine. There's nothing here. Even while you try to relax your heartbeat, you start hearing the footsteps again.

Too scared to turn around, you run. Maybe there's nothing behind you at all. Maybe you're running like a manic only scaring yourself more. It doesn't matter though, you're filled with too much fear to think rationally.

Another turn, and you can see your dorm complex in the distance. You stop running as fast, convinced that you're just overreacting. You do keep a fast walk though, still unsure if you could really walk so carelessly. Your gaze is up in the sky, watching how the moon gets bigger and bigger.

The sky provides a good amount of light as you finally make your way to the front door as your house. You reach for your keys only to see that your front door is already open. Your eyebrows raise, unsure if your roommate just got home and forgot to close the door. You push it open, taking a peek. The lights are off and it's quiet. Perhaps they just forgot and went to sleep.

You walk in and flick on the light, setting your bag down. It's not until your eyes are better adjusted in the lighting that you see your roommate. She's hunched over, limp on the couch as if she was waiting for you. You gasp at her, jumping slightly.

"Oh my god!" You breathe. "Jesus Christ you scared the shit outta me." You take steps towards her waiting for her response. There is none. "Hey, girl you good?" You reach out to grasp her shoulder and the little contact makes her fall on the ground. It's then that you see the blood that pool on the couch, how easily her head lolls to the side.

You fall to the ground with her, flipping her around to see a giant slash across her neck. Her eyes are wide with fear, her mouth open as if she was screaming. You can't help but try to shake her despite it being in vain, tears falling down your face. You're so caught up in your mourning that you don't hear the footsteps that come towards you.

A shadow hovers over you, and you turn around to see the familiar descriptions you've seen in the news. A black cloak, gloved hands, a white mask with a permanent open mouth. You cry even harder upon the sight. A part of you doesn't think it's real, that it's all just a sick dream you're having. Even as the killer kneels down towards you to stare at your face, you pray it's just a nightmare.

"I had to come pretty quick, you were almost home," it speaks. You don't really register what he's saying. He straightens back up, "You know, I also killed that dude back there that grabbed you. Guys like that piss me off. They have no respect for personal space ya know what I mean?" Perhaps he said that as a joke, considering this man literally killed your roommate mere moments ago.

"Please," your voice is horse and thick with emotion. "I don't want-want to die." You start sobbing, bloody hands cradling your face in an attempt to comfort yourself. The masked man cocks his head to side, seemingly intrigued by your cries. "You think I'm gonna kill you?" He doesn't wait for an answer, yanking your head up by your hair. You whimper and nod, vision blurry with tears.

You try begging more, but all that comes out are garbles sentences and pathetic wails. Ghostface is rather enjoying the show, smiling behind his mask. "You've got a good crying face. Keep begging," his grip tightens on your hair. You do, and honestly he didn't even need to ask. In the midst of your sobs, you can feel the cold edge of something sharp against your throat. You feel it slowly dig into your neck, but not hard enough to break the skin.

The contact makes you freeze up, eyes wide with absolute terror. Ghostface literally moans at the sight. "Fuck, I love that look." He makes the knife dances around your neck, staring at how your pupils dilate. Pleasurable shivers travel his body, and he can feel the blood traveling to his cock. Killing you now would be a waste, he should at least have some fun first.

He removes the knife from your neck throws it across the room. You jump at the clattering noise, almost missing how he uses his now free hand to yank his pants down. On your knees, your face-to-dick with his half hard on. You almost throw up at the realization, eyes staring into the masks eyes pleading.

He shoves his crotch closer to your face, smearing his cock on your face. You keep your mouth closed, determined to keep your dignity intact. Ghostface doesn't like this, and pulls your hair back so hard you think you'll go bald. "You think this is a fucking game?" He forces you to look at him while he speaks. "You wanna end up like your bitch roommate? Huh?" You shake your head as you sob.

"That's what I fuckin' thought, get to work slut."

You don't think you can manage to even keep your mouth open with how violently your sobbing, but Ghostface doesn't wait for you to open up all the way. He quickly shoves his half hard in your mouth. You wrap your lips around it, trying your best not to gag. A part of you thinks about biting down on him, and he must see a glint in your eyes because he yanks your face off him.

The force of his pull makes you cry out, but he responds by slapping you hard across the face with his free hand. Pain surges in your face, and you can't help the continuous tears that fall. "If you fucking bite me, I'll make you choke on your own insides," he threatens. If it wasn't for the corpse of your roommate mere feet away, you would still believe him because of the look in his eye.

"I won't!" You speak through your cries. "I promise I promise just please don't hurt me." Ghostface smiles under his mask, giving your cheeks three more light slaps before shoving your face back on his cock. Determined to prove your life is worthy, you stick your tongue out to lick his underside. You can tell he surprised by the way his breath hitches.

You let your lips run over his length along with your tongue. Salvia quickly begins to pool in your mouth, and you spit on his dick. You carefully reach your hands up, scared that he might slap you again. You can tell he's watching with judgement as you grab the base of his cock with one of your hands. Your other one steads on your thigh as you let your mouth fall open.

Working in one fluid motion, you bob your head to the speed of your hand. His cock is smooth, save for the pulsating of his veins. He's completely hard now, and it's pretty difficult to get more than half his girth between your lips. Your hands become sticky with precum and spit. You can feel how your drool dibbles down your cheeks as you continue to take him in your mouth.

Now there's two hands in your hair, and he's started pull you closer and closer to him. A particular thrust of his hips has you gagging, nearly coughing his cock out. He doesn't let you pull him out, instead forcing you to keep a couple inches in. You're making noises that both sound like moaning and suffocating, and it turns him on a lot more than he'd like to admit.

Watching you try your best to suck his cock like your life depends on it makes him feel alive because, well, your life does depend on it. You doe eyes wide with fear and concentration amuses him, makes him feel almost bad for the fact that he's still going to kill you when you're done. Not to mention your lips, how swollen and red they are from pleasuring him.

A part of him wishes he could take his mask off, make you look him in the eyes rather than his mask. The clear view could possible make him cum quickly in your mouth. Instead, Ghostface makes do with your current state. You're dripping in him and your own liquids, hands feverishly moving easily in the slobber.

All you and him can hear are your choked sobs, wet sucking, and the occasional movement of his hips hitting your face. To both of your shock, you find yourself getting aroused by his cock in your mouth. The fear in your stomach slowly begins to bubble into desire. Your panties getting slightly damp. You can't stop yourself as you clench you thighs together to get some friction.

You try to convince yourself that it's normal to get like this in a life or death situation. There's been cases of people's brain getting so scared that it gets sexually stimulated. You pray that this is the case now because you're starting to think how pretty this man's moans is. He sounds breathy, needy, desperate. Like he hasn't gotten much action in a while, or at least not to this extent.

A self-defense mechanism, you try to tell yourself as your pussy begins to seep through your underwear.

Ghostface suddenly thrusts his hips into your face, his cock hitting your throat deep. You throat contracts around him, and the pressure has him pulsing. You think you might suffocate with how he just keep shoving his dick into your mouth without caring how you claw at his thighs. Then he moans, almost sings his groans as he shoots his cum down your throat.

If you thought you were suffocating then, you must be dying now. His hot cum chokes you and slightly trickles down your chin. Your wide eyes have now rolled to the back of your head, and your chest began burning from lack of oxygen. Perhaps this is how you go out, dead by dick.

Just before you can feel yourself lose consciousness, he pulls away. You gasp and cough for air, hands grabbing your throat. Ghostface takes a few steps back as if he was surprised by his own orgasm. You heave, lungs burning from the intake of fresh air. Before you have the chance to fully recover, he pulls you up by the back of you head and harshly throws you on the couch. You hate how your shirt begins to grow damp with your roommate's blood, but you try to persuade yourself that it's just sweat.

Ghostface is between your legs in a matter of seconds, lifting up your skirt to expose your underwear.

You're still trying to catch your breath as your hands aimlessly attempt to push him off. You hear him snicker, gripping your thighs tightly to pull them apart. He sighs dreamily, "You're so wet baby. I can't tell if you're that turned on from sucking my cock or if you're so scared you pissed yourself."

Shame overtakes you, and you fight even harder to push him away. He only laughs at your attempts, releasing you for just a second to wrap his hands around his throat. Your finger try to pry him off, but all he does it squeeze harder. You can feel your face turning read, the familiar sensation of suffocating returning.

"I thought you would have learned to be nicer to me by now," he tsks. "Be a good girl and let me fuck you. I would rather like to fuck this pussy warm and alive." You can't verbally answer him since he's crushing your windpipe, so you meekly nod. He released your throat just before your vision went fully dark.

His gloves hands trail over your body, cupping at your breasts before continuing on their way down. You're scared that moving would make you faint, so you stay still as he explores your body. You can feel the warmth of his hands through the latex. How strong his fingers are as they reopen your legs. He rubs a thumb on your clothed pussy, keeping on hand on your abdomen.

Then, he does something even he knows he shouldn't do; Takes off his mask. If you weren't so oxygen-deprived, you could probably see his clearly. All you can make out is his dark hair, thick eyebrows, full lips. His specific features are a little hazy, but you can see enough to know that despite your better judgment, he's not bad looking at all.

He throws the mask onto your face, blocking your vision. "Don't take it off," he commands. "Take that mask off and I'll rip your throat out with my hands." You nod as shivers run down your body, "I won't." Those are all the words he needs to heat before moving your under to the side. The sight of your aroused clit has his breath caught in his throat, he's never seen anything as beautiful.

"Oh baby," he practically moans. His fingers feel a little uncomfortable as he plays with your lower lips, but it's not painful. He smears your wetness all over your pussy and thighs. Ghostface is amazed at how much your pussy was drooling for him. Maybe you're sick too, just like him.

Your cunt feels cold when he withdraws his hand from you, and your body reactively chases his touch. You hate how you hear him chuckle at your actions. He takes his finger and shoves it into his mouth, curious about your taste. You can't see too clear, but from the way his eyebrows go up, he likes what he ate.

"I'd kill to eat your pussy," he compliments. "Don't have the time to though, maybe next time."

No prep, no lube, just this man precisely angling his cock to your soppy entrance. You're whimpering quietly, little sounds as if to say please don't when it only entices him more. He lets out a soft groan when his tip enters your soft walls. You try to close your legs, but now with two hands gripping the back of your thighs, you really don't have a choice.

He pushes in, and you use both your hand to cover your mouth. He has more length than girth, so it feels never ending as he slides in. It's slightly painful at first, but you find yourself feeling satisfying full. Your assaulter can't fit himself all the way since you're too tight, but it's enough for him to rock his hips.

There's no warm up to his strokes, and your thrown in forced pleasure all too quickly. The feeling of his sliding in and out, how he manages to get deeper and deeper each time, the bruising grip on your thighs. Now you're covering your mouth to suppress your moans rather than cries. Even though, he can still hear how you squeak and groan as he pounds into you.

He watches as your breasts bounce from underneath your shirt, the way your body completely shifts every time he thrusts into you. You can say you want him to stop all you want, but he can feel how inviting your pussy has gotten. Almost begging in to stay inside, to pump you full of his cum.

Now he meets you at the hilt, his pelvis slapping against your ass. It's getting hard to breath under his mesh mask, but you don't dare to take it off. You should be ashamed with how you look up at him, practically admiring his expressions and how he groans. From what you can see, his mouth is fallen open as he moans carelessly. Like he didn't just make you take his cock, like he didn't just kill your roommate without remorse.

The pain is completely gone, and you find yourself wondering how you could have been in pain to begin with. He's so good with his cock, like he knows where in your cunt you like it. His hands stay at your thighs, but you wish he could use his gloves fingers to rub your clit. You might've been gripping his by his broad shoulders if you weren't too busy quieting yourself.

Even without the stimulation on your lower lips, you can feel your stomach tightening. The warm orgasm slowly collecting in your abdomen. You let your legs fall open even more, eager for him to drive deeper into you. He accepts happily, laughing maniacally. "God fuck, I knew you were a fucking slut. Putting your nose in a book, acting like a good little girl when you're just as sick as me."

'W-What?" You can't stop from questioning him. Has he been watching you this whole time?

You don't think he's going to answer you with how hard he's driving his hips into you, but he does. "The library. You- ngh fuck!- rather be a fucking loser than party. That scared of me huh?" He cackles. "So scared that you take my fat cock." He stops talking for a few beats to focus on fucking you.

"Aw shit, I'm gonna cum inside you." A statement, not a request. His thrusts become sloppy, aggressive. You cam feel his tip in your throat with how deep he is, and you lose your composure. One of your hands whisk down to rub your aching clit. The movement startles him for a second, but then he smiles once he realizes.

You're despicable. You should feel huge amounts of disgrace as you finish on his cock, but you don't. Instead you feel bliss with your walls squeezing around him. The sudden pressure of your pussy makes him whimper, then cum right after. He's so warm, so lively that you forget that he's a serial killer.

He gives you a few more deep strokes to ride out his high, making you tremble. Your legs shake as he slowly pulls out, but his grip on your legs in firm. He watches as his and your cum oozes out, like blood from a gash. He moans at the sight, feeling his softening cock twitch.

You're breathing heavily under him, still whimpering from the aftershocks. The post nut has not hit yet, and you're tying to relish in his body warmth. If you close your eyes, you can imagine that he's just a hook up. You can tell yourself that you'll get Plan B after this, that you'll take a shower and go to sleep. And when you wake up in the morning, it'll be like nothing happened.

That's not true though, and your fantasy is quickly shut down when his hands wrap around your neck. You gasp at the feeling, your weak hands clawing at his wrists. You both know your fighting is in vain, he was going to kill you regardless of what you did. Tears spring your eyes as you come to terms with your fate. So much for graduating on time.

Maybe it's your tears that have an effect on time. Maybe it's the fact that your pussy is still dripping with him, but Ghostface is having a change of heart. He uses one hand to rip the mask off your face to look into your eyes. It's his favorite part when taking someone's life. Yours though, are not the same. Yes he can see the sadness, the pain, but he can see something he hasn't seen before: Acceptance.

With the mask off, you're able to see his face clearly. He looks like he's thinking with the gentle creases on his forehead. His nose is scrunches and his eyebrows furrowed, and you can't help but think he's..."Cute."

It's the last thing I.N hears you say before you pass out, face turning a purple color. He quickly releases his grip on you, pressing a finger under your chin to feel for a pulse. When he feels it, he sighs in relief. Killing you was on his list since he first saw you weeks ago at the library. You did party, he's seen you before. Yet, watching you turn into a hermit because of him was romantic. He loves having that much power over people, over you.

I.N knows better than to play with his food, but he might make an exception this time. After all, he does have a spare room waiting to be used.

a/n: this took a few days and I feel like I could have done better but here ya go, feeback is appreciated

[sillygoosiegoose]

Would love a part 2 Insane innie is my favorite genre of i.n

[hyunsvngs]

𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐧 - baseball player bfb!kim seungmin x fem reader

wc: 14.2k

cw: enemies to lovers, very mean dom seungmin, mc makes out w chan in a friend way, mc is dramatic and a brat, seungmin is done w her shit but is very possessive, SMUT MDNI

synopsis: you love your best friend, you hate her baseball playing brother. he’s not been home for a few years during your summers back home, so you can’t wait for another amazing summer - until he returns home.

a/n: thank u all for being so excited abt this <3 sorry for the length. smut warnings under the cut!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: very mean dom seungmin (again), face slapping, borderline exhibitionism, unprotected sex, creampies, multiple orgasms, heavy dirty talk, reader is a brat, breeding kink, reader is a painslut, begging

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

When you were a mere three years old, you met your platonic soulmate in the form of Kim Sieun. She had the exact same humour as you, loved climbing on the monkey bars and she had a dog. It was your three best friend criterias fulfilled. When she first invited you to her house for a playdate, you were thrilled, and you’ve been inseparable ever since.

You’ve been through everything together. Your first break-ups, your first hangovers, first parties, you name it - you’ve both been present for each other’s momentous events. You were pretty sure you’d both started your periods on the exact same day. She really was the other part of you, the second silver heart piece to your cheap friendship chain you’ve worn for years around your neck. 

The biggest heartbreak was when you moved away to attend university, and Sieun stayed to begin a full-time job immediately after graduation. You’d been separated after being by each other's side for so long, when everything had been so perfect for you two up until then, only miniscule, small-term problems. 

Well, perfect apart from one thing. 

Her brother. Kim Seungmin was the bane of your existence. Ever since he met you, two years older than both you and Sieun, he found it funny to ruffle your hair and make fun of how shy and timid you were. It’s something you’d brush off now, being the person you grew into - confident, loud, straight up stubborn as some might say. When you were younger, though, this cut deep. You’d had your first ever crush on him, and confided in Sieun about the matter, to which she’d giggled and fake-gagged as if she wouldn’t be overjoyed to have you in the family. You’d had your first ever crush on him, and he’d made fun of you for years after as if he knew. You cannot stand him now. Even being in the same room as the guy boiled your blood. 

It was one of the reasons why you got rid of that personality. That wasn’t you. You were shy and timid because you were only a kid, God damn it! You’d love to say it hadn’t affected you, but it had, and you and Seungmin had bickered ever since you gained enough confidence to fight back. It was actually something Sieun found very amusing, insisting that the two of you were fated soulmates. 

Still, as you stood in the airport waiting for Sieun’s arrival to pick you up, you felt blessed. Coming home for the summer was always exciting. You got to see old friends, who would almost always have parties, and another exciting part was that you’d be staying with Sieun for a solid three weeks of it. It was going to be the best summer ever. Your parents had decided to go away on holiday two days before your arrival back home, and you couldn’t have felt more satisfied with the development.

Oh, and - Kim Seungmin would not be there. No, while you were a student busting your ass to make ends meet, Seungmin had obtained a full baseball scholarship to university and went straight into pro baseball once he’d finished. Of course he did. You tried not to let it bother you anymore, that he was so fucking successful while being so smarmy. It wound you up beyond belief, so you just avoided thinking about the guy altogether. 

Clutching onto your suitcase handle, you almost vibrated with excitement when Sieun’s half-dead car pulled up. Honestly, she’d had the same car since you were seventeen, and it hadn’t been fully working then. It was even worse after a few years. She kept saying she’d get her dad to look at it, but she was always out and about doing god knows what in said half broken car. It was a death trap.

Immediately, you saw the car door swing open - and almost fall off completely - when her engine completely stopped. Sieun bustled out of the car to the loading area of the airport, her puppy eyes wide and her legs shaking. She was going to scream, or jump, or die. Maybe all three. You weren’t doing much better - your eyes brimmed with tears when you embraced Sieun in a death grip of a hug. 

“I- missed- you- God, can’t breathe-“ Sieun grunted, trying to push you off. You pulled away, still with teary eyes as you gazed up at her. She was taller than you, almost matching her brother’s height. The whole family was relatively tall. As soon as you both looked at eachother, Sieun was gripping you in a firm hug again, and it was your turn to get suffocated. 

Once you’d eventually stopped hugging each other and crying - it had been approximately five months since you saw each other last - Sieun loaded your suitcase into the car and all but pushed you into the passenger seat. You groaned as you kicked through multiple McDonald’s cups to try and get your feet flat on the floor. Sieun simply giggled, settling into the driver’s seat. 

She plugged in her seatbelt, starting to drive back to her family home. “So, how’s college been? Any cute guys?”

“Sieun, I called you every week, you know what’s happened,” you laughed, playing around with the settings on her car to try and get the radio on. Did it even have a radio?

“The radio’s broken.” Of course it is. Well, it couldn’t get any worse - you’d already failed the Bechdel test. 

You leaned back against the seat, fingers playing with the friendship necklace chain. You hummed, trying to think of something Sieun may not know. “Well, there was this one guy. Super my type. Stoic, a little bit bitchy, you know? Dark hair, and all that. But when we ended up sleeping together, there was no chemistry.”

Sieun groaned in sympathy. “You know, I hate that! You really like a guy, and then he doesn’t even know where the clit is. It really pisses me off. How’s classes though?”

Sieun normally didn’t ask this many questions straight off the bat, especially not ones she knew the answers to. She was distracting you, sweetening you up by acting like she was just so interested in you. Something was fishy, and it wasn’t the strange smell of her car. When you turned to look at her, her plump lips were pouted as usual, covered in lip gloss - but there was an unmistakable twitch to them. Her eyes were narrowed, staring at the road ahead of her. She was hiding something.

You blinked. She started humming along to a song on the radio. There was no song on. Said radio was broken. “Sieun. What gives?”

Sieun sighed, slamming her hands down on the steering wheel. “Okay! I didn’t know how to tell you. I know this was meant to be our super amazing summer, face masks and beaches and just general slaying, so I didn’t want to ruin it.”

You realised you were arriving onto her street, the big house always taking you by surprise. You wanted to focus on Sieun’s words, but you were instead distracted by the driveway. Sieun’s parents shared a car, and Sieun had her own car. 

There were two cars in the driveway. Sieun’s parents’ car, a silver tank of a thing that looked like it could get through a boulder. Then, a sleeker car, perhaps closer to a sports car - much cleaner, much more expensive… with a personalised licence plate. No. No.

“My brother’s home.”

You wanted to die. Gone were your slay summer plans - now you’d be perpetually arguing with your best friend’s annoying older brother. He did absolutely everything deliberately to piss you off. Taking way too long in the bathroom brushing his teeth while you needed to pee, disconnecting the games controller when you were finally about to finish a boss fight… just petty activities like that. 

Why now? Why had he chosen this summer to come home, when he’d been away for every other summer playing baseball or whatever he does? No. He didn’t deserve to be back right now. You shook your head at Sieun. “I’m not going to let him ruin our awesome summer.” 

Sieun spluttered out a laugh. “Okay, Seungmin’s not the devil. You two bicker like an old married couple, y’know. Maybe there’s-“

“Shut. It.”

You didn’t have the time or the patience to hear yet another ten minute long spiel about how Sieun and her parents strongly believed that you and Seungmin were fated soulmates. The little patience you had completely disappeared when a figure bounded up to the car window. You turned to stare through the glass. 

Kim Seungmin. Stood there, beaming at you with that dumb smile that he always had when he was ready to wind you the fuck up. You had thanked every single god that your window was still rolled up, maybe you could just hide until he got bored and left - until Sieun rolled the window down with an evil chuckle. 

Then, you looked at him - like, really looked at him. The chubby cheeks he’d once possessed had disappeared with age, now sporting some nice looking cheekbones and a sharp jawline. The braces were gone, pearly white teeth showing with his smile, and his hair. God, his hair. He’d dyed the front of his hair blonde, and it was just slightly parted in the middle to show his forehead. He cocked his head at you, eyes glinting with menacing delight at your appearance. Oh no.

“Welcome back, brat.”

The bane of your existence had gotten fucking hot.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

It had just gotten worse. Once he’d pretended to have an ounce of chivalry by helping you take your suitcase inside, Seungmin had immediately reverted to the person he was the last time you saw him. Which was a while ago, by that point, since he’d always been too busy playing baseball games to make an appearance in your life for the past few years. You hadn’t really seen him since you went to university. It honestly made you feel relieved, but now you’d seen him - well, he was definitely better looking than he had been. That fact was only reinforced to you as you walked through their long hallway, taking in all the family pictures that had been up for so many years. You were even in a few of them, chubby cheeks and acne galore as you stood with your arm around Sieun. 

You’d stared at him all the way through dinner, in all honesty. After your second, adopted parents had greeted you and Sieun’s mother had cried upon seeing how much you’d grown - you hadn’t grown since you were thirteen, being on the shorter side of things - you’d all sat down to eat the hearty meal that she'd prepared. Seungmin sat in front of you in his assigned place, something you previously would’ve hated, but you could at least analyse him.

Yeah, something had changed. He was aesthetically pleasing, but you hadn’t forgotten his fucking behaviour. He was a menace. You shoved another forkful of the homemade lasagne in your mouth, furrowing your eyebrows at the boy sitting in front of you. 

His eyes flickered to look at you, but you didn’t even think about looking away. His eyes were so dark. Stoic, almost, and he was like… okay, yeah, he looked like your ex-fling from college. That’s weird. It didn’t even stop you maybe bordering on finding Seungmin attractive, as much as it put you off of your lasagne to even think of the concept.

“Can you stop fucking staring at me?” Seungmin hissed, his fork clattering down to the plate with an eye watering noise. You huffed, reaching forward to stab him with your knife before Sieun yanked your hand back. 

“Who said I was staring at you? I’m eating my fucking food, you heathen, and everytime I look up your ugly face is right in front of me-”

“Oh, I missed this!” Sieun’s mother smiled, her eyes fond. “Let me just get a camera, and I can take a picture of you three.”

Later on, in Sieun’s room, you both sat with your legs laid up against the headboard and sheet masks on your face. The anger was still burning in your stomach, but you were trying not to let everything revolve around him, like it always did. 

“So, we’re going to watch Seungmin’s baseball game tomorrow. Mum and dad are super excited about it,” Sieun said, painting your nails where your hand laid on her stomach. You groaned, feet kicking against the wall with small thuds. Sieun’s hand paused with the tiny paint brush, turning to look at you through narrowed eyes. “You don’t think he… looks different? Everyone’s been saying that since he came home.”

“Looks different?” You snickered. “Still looks pretty fucking weird to me. Seriously, how are the two of you even related? You’re pretty, nice, funny, and he’s so fucking- ugh! I can’t even explain it, and he-”

Sieun snorted. “You think he’s hot.”

You gasped, pulling your hand away. The nail polish smeared all over your finger, which was decidedly the one you used to point menacingly towards your lifelong best friend. “I do not! He’s gotten taller, yeah. The hair’s… different, but that’s the only thing that’s changed. He’s still fucking annoying, even after getting his braces off, and-”

“And you’ve noticed all these things about him,” Sieun sighed, leaning up and readjusting her whole body to sit cross legged, facing you. She put the paintbrush back in the nail polish bottle. The sheet mask made her look a lot less friendly than she was trying to be. The Sheet Mask Murderer could be a good horror film, you pondered, as she stared at you. “Bestie, I’m not going to be upset if you have a crush on my brother, you know? I know he’s grown up in the past year, and so have you. Things could be different now, and… you could be part of the family, officially, I guess.”

You screwed up your face, shock painting your expression. The sheet mask got caught in the lines of your forehead. “You’re deranged, Sieun. You know that, right? Like, you’ve actually lost the plot this time.”

Sieun sighed, fingers reaching to peel the sheet mask off of her face. “I have always been deranged.”

“Well, yeah, there is that.”

She flopped back down next to you, dark hair splaying around her head like a halo. “We will still have the best summer. I promise you.”

“Okay, my conditions are that we have to go to a lot of cool parties, get amazingly drunk and maybe fuck one or two people. Deal?”

“Um, duh? Deal.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’d dreaded the baseball game all day. For starters, you were going to see baseball, something you had absolutely no clue about. Secondly, it was your literal enemy’s baseball game. It was also one of his pro games, and was taking place at a massive stadium where just about everyone seemed to know who Seungmin was and who his family was. You’d already had to witness Sieun posing with a peace sign for multiple selfies with fans once you’d all found your seats, and Sieun’s mother had already put an arm around you to show you exactly where Seungmin would be once the game started.

“He’ll be over there,” She pointed to a part of the field. You didn’t really care. You had no clue what baseball was or any of its rules - just that there were bats and they hit balls and ran. You decided that was all you needed to know. You weren’t going to do any research for it, not if it was him playing. 

You and Sieun had dressed up, too, because Sieun had thankfully found a beach party for you all to go to later. ‘All’ sadly included Seungmin and his gaggle of just as annoying friends. The only one you really got on with was Chan, who was mature and seemed to be ageing ten times quicker due to the stress the rest of the group caused him. You both kissed when you were drunk and had agreed you were just friends who liked to kiss, which was optimal for you, really. You had decided that you would dress up nicely in a borderline slutty white dress and sandals for the party, and you had makeup on. It was most definitely for the party, and not for any other reason.

When the game started, you thought you were going to have a heart attack and die. While Sieun and her family were cheering out Seungmin’s name, all you saw was that ass in tight, pinstripe trousers. He was grinning, waving over to your section - definitely not at you, he hated you and you were literally looking at him with the most shocked expression in that moment. He looked good. You decided it was okay to admit that mentally, because no one was ever going to hear you say it. His ass looked peachy and you wanted to bite into it like it was one, and maybe see what the front of his body looked like - all of it.

It all looked good, at least when he was wearing clothes. Broad shoulders pulled that jersey tight around them, and his hat was pulled low to almost obscure his dark eyes. When he rolled his neck, clicking it out with one broad hand before grabbing the ball, you knew your panties were wet. Soaking, actually, because he looked so broad and so tall and so fucking powerful on that pitch. You’d always had a thing for men who looked like they could fuck you like you were beneath them. The fleeting thought that Seungmin would definitely do just that caused your cheeks to blaze.

Obviously, his team won. Obviously he did, because then you had to stand there afterwards when his whole family hugged him and you just stood there kicking pebbles before wincing that it hurt your bare toes. Fuck sandals. Fuck Seungmin. 

Once he’d hugged Sieun, he turned to you, cheeks slightly pink from the exertion of the sport. You briefly thought about how baseball wasn’t even that tiring. One stripe of black paint on his cheek caught your eye when you looked at him. When Sieun elbowed your side, you looked up, arms folded across your chest. Seungmin blinked at you, hands in his pockets with a cocky smirk. You knew what he was waiting for. 

Mumbling, you spoke - “Congrats.”

“Say it properly, brat.”

“Fuck you, I don’t say what you want me to say!” You kicked a pebble at him successfully, smiling in accomplishment when it bounced off of his knee. He simply scowled, repeating what you said in a meh bleh, bleh bleh type of way. When you let your arms drop from your chest to strangle him to the floor Bart and Homer style, Sieun gripped you by the back of your bodycon dress and dragged you back to stand next to her. 

“Go get changed for the party, Seungie,” She said, keeping you in her hand like you were a rabid dog on a leash. “And you. You can’t just try to strangle my brother-”

“How did you even know I was going to strangle him?”

“Because, it’s not the first time!” Sieun shouted, stomping her feet like a child. She finally stopped holding onto you, huffing as she turned to look at you fully. Seungmin’s parents had left to get to the car, insisting on giving you all a lift to the beach where the party was held. Your parents would never. You’d lost count of how many times you had blisters from walking back from somewhere five miles away because your mother was engrossed in another show on television. Seungmin raised an eyebrow at the both of you. 

“I’m gonna go get changed.” He finally spoke, waving towards the direction of the locker room. You grimaced.

“Okay, and? I don’t care,” When you watched Seungmin walk away, eyes unable to tear away from that tight ass in those trousers, you could practically feel Sieun’s own eyes boring into your face. Finally turning to look at her, you saw a slight smile on her lips. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything, bestie.”

You stormed off to the car, in a foul mood now that you’d been caught by Sieun ogling her own brother. Just to make matters worse, you had been designated to shimmy into the middle seat of the back because you were the smallest, so you’d be sat in between the two siblings. Brilliant. Just ideal, really. Thankfully, Sieun’s parents had already put the air con on. The heat of the summer had been killing you in that packed baseball stadium. 

“So, what did you think of Seungmin?” Sieun’s dad asked you. He looked a lot like Seungmin actually, just an aged version with salt and pepper hair. You smiled politely, about to respond before Sieun cut you off.

“Dad, don’t. She’s already wound up.” You wanted to kiss Sieun. You could not discuss what had just happened, including the game. You’d spent the whole time drooling over the bane of your existence. When Seungmin finally got to the car, you side eyed him in order to see what he was wearing, and were more than pleased to see he was in a light grey t-shirt and baggy blue jeans. Good. Nothing tight. 

The beach party was packed when you arrived there. A lot of sweaty young adults smoking weed, drinking and perched around a campfire or dancing near the portable speaker playing music quietly. All you could think about was how much you deserve a drink after the day’s events, and you were quick to drag Sieun over to Chan when you spotted him. Dark curly hair hidden under a hat and a sleeveless black tank top. Unmistakably Chan, and also unmistakably someone who would donate alcohol to a good cause. 

He immediately looked up at you, his smile wide with dimples adorning his cheeks. You saw Seungmin flop down next to some other friends he had from the corner of your eye. Chan caught your attention though, handing you and Sieun a beer each. “Hello, you. Welcome back to the town.” 

“Channie!” You squealed, taking the beer from him and wrapping your arms around his neck. He subsequently pulled you onto his lap and Sieun giggled, sitting in the sand next to him. You’d always been close with Chan, and you wouldn’t be lying if you said you found him attractive. Those arms showing in the sleeveless top were definitely doing something for you that night, but you weren’t sure if it was the pent up aggression from earlier. You immediately pressed the beer to your lips at the thought, swigging down a lot of the liquid. 

Then, it just felt like the drinks kept coming. Over and over you were drinking beers that were handed to you by either Chan or Changbin, one of the others you were friendly with, and you found yourself becoming tipsy and slouching on Chan’s lap. The fire burned your eyes a bit when you stared into it, but you were still giggling, leaning your head back on Chan’s shoulder.

Seungmin glowered, turning to Sieun and speaking almost inaudibly. “Stop her drinking. She’s making a fool of herself, all over Chan like that.”

“They’re friends, you idiot. She’s not even drunk, they’re just always like that!” You didn’t have time to thank Sieun for defending you immediately against her own brother because Hyunjin was coming over to you with two small plastic shot glasses. One sniff of the liquid proved it was vodka, a fact you weren’t surprised about - Hyunjin loved to get utterly white-girl-wasted at any party. His smile was wide and eyes half-lidded already when he looked at you. 

“This is for you,” Hyunjin whispered. His fringe almost obscured his face as he handed a shot glass to you, and offered the other to Chan. Chan held out his hand, pushing it softly back to Hyunjin. Hyunjin literally just shrugged his shoulders, toasting your own shot before knocking his own back. He didn’t even make a face when taking shots, which was probably the fact about Hyunjin you were most jealous of - along with his ethereal beauty, obviously. You grimaced when the liquid hit your own taste buds, glugging it back thankfully. You couldn’t gag on Chan right now. 

The music filled your ears as the sun began to set. Someone had turned the speaker up just a bit louder, and Jisung had started to dance and embarrass himself. It was the usual behaviour. You saw Changbin chatting to some girls you and Sieun had gone to school with, and Sieun got up to go and join, leaving Seungmin chatting with the other boys on the other side of the bonfire. You sat quite happily on Chan’s lap, listening to him telling a story from work.

“I mean, it was insane. Hannie quite literally wrote this entire song in like, five minutes. We were all super drunk. I have no idea how he did it,” Chan said, hands flying everywhere in his story. You blinked at him for a moment, processing who Hannie was. Ah. Han Jisung. Hannie. The round-cheeked boy was still twerking across from you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, ‘m just a bit tipsy now,” You giggled, nuzzling into his cheek. Chan laughed at your level of clinginess, hand placed on your hip comfortingly. “Sorry, Channie.”

“That’s okay. Hey, remember a few years ago? You always wanted kisses from me and Changbin when you were drunk, heh,” Chan looked at you, eyes fond. When you finally looked into his eyes, it was like your brain caught up with what he was saying. Kisses? God, that’d be so good.

“Kisses. Oh my God,” You whispered, eyes wide. Chan threw his head back, hand over his face while he laughed this time. “Channie.”

Chan sighed, finally looking at you. “Yes? What is it?” He knew what it was. You surged forward, pressing a familiar friendly kiss to his plump lips. He raised his eyebrows in shock, pulling you back by his grip on your hips.

“I cannot kiss you right now. Seungmin is there, and he is looking at us.”

“Who cares about that guy? He’s an ass,” You mumbled, pressing your lips to Chan again. Chan sighed into the kiss, finally giving up and letting his lips brush against yours. You loved kissing Chan. It was always so fun, so familiar, just two friends making out when drunk. It was one of your favourite pastimes, to be honest. You were just getting into the kiss when you felt hands on your waist, scooping you up and throwing you over one broad shoulder. You heard Chan laugh while you were disoriented, trying to work out whose shoulder you were even on and why are you walking away from the beach party?! You were having so much fun! 

“What is goin’ on?!” You shrieked, legs flailing around. You were slurring at this point, and you even heard Sieun giggling over the music. Finally, you heard a sigh as the feet of the body you had been stolen by started to wade through the sand and onto the street.

“We are going home. That’s what’s fucking going on,” Seungmin. You grimaced, wriggling to try and get off of his shoulder, but the grip he had on your body was unbelievable. “Why the hell were you doing that?”

“Doing what? Kissing Chan? I always kiss Chan.”

“I don’t want you to do that anymore, okay?” You huffed at his words, resorting to slamming your fists on his back as he walked quickly down the street. He didn’t even flinch. “Are you listening to me, brat? I don’t want you doing that.”

“You are not my fucking dad, Kim Seungmin. You don’t decide who I kiss!” You sounded like a petulant child, whining and squirming around to be put down on your feet. Finally, Seungmin grabbed your hips with both hands, placing you down on the floor. Cars were speeding past you as you both stood on the pavement. You crossed your arms over your chest, vision slightly blurry from the intoxication and body covered in sand. Seungmin didn’t look to be doing any better, beige specks of sand in his dark hair and his grey t-shirt completely covered. He shoved his hands in his pockets, tilting his head when looking at you.

“I may not decide who you kiss, but I’m gonna be mad if you do that again. Got it?” Seungmin was stoic, sharp as he spoke in a monotone voice towards you. You furrowed your eyebrows. What? Why did it matter? “He’s my friend.”

“Okay, and? I don’t care.” You repeated your words from earlier. Seungmin huffed, blowing a strand of blonde hair from his forehead. You looked at him. He looked at you. Then, he was turning around, walking down the road in the direction towards his house. You gasped, appalled that he’d leave you there on the side of the road like some kind of bag of trash. 

After a few long strides, you heard him groan faintly in the distance. He stopped dead still, turning around to you with a grimace. “Are you coming, or?”

You stood your ground. “Nope.”

“Fine, stay there and be killed by a raccoon or something, fucking brat. Or worse, an actual murderer. Wouldn’t that be scary? A murderer just killing you while you’re standing there in your sandals. Can’t even protect yourself, can’t throw your shoe at him like you do with me because what harm will sandals do-” Seungmin stopped talking when you ran at him, eyes wide as you wrapped your arm around his own. He huffed, trying to shake your arm off of his, but you held on tightly. Your bottom lip quivered. You were such a baby when it came to scary things like raccoons and murderers. 

“‘M scared now, Seungmin.” You whispered, leaning your head on his arm. You could practically sense Seungmin rolling his eyes as he wrapped his arm around you, holding you close to his warm body. 

“Only five minutes now. Five minutes and we’ll be home, okay?” You nodded, trying to keep up with the strides of his long legs. 

In bed that night, laying in Sieun’s bed sans Sieun, you couldn’t help but wonder just what the fuck that was. Seungmin was almost nice for a moment. Sure, he’d had that weird freak out about you kissing Chan - that was strange - but then he’d not left you on the side of the road. A few years ago, he would have left you on the pavement and then proceeded to go get a car to run you over on said pavement. He had changed.

Kim Seungmin was hot. You’ll admit that, unfortunately. But now Kim Seungmin was hot and he had morals, too. 

That one would be hard to process.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The next morning, you were woken up by Sieun’s arm across your forehead and her soft snores in your ear. You briefly felt extremely guilty for making sure she hadn’t gotten home safe, but judging by her still sleeping, she’d left after you’d fallen asleep. You wanted to wake her, to ask her what the fuck her brother’s deal was, but you settled on heading downstairs to get some breakfast and calm your stomach. It felt like a bomb had gone off in there. 

You started to make your way downstairs to get breakfast, but you walked straight into Seungmin’s chest as soon as you left Sieun’s bedroom. He stood with a mug of coffee in his hands, blinking down at you like you were, in fact, a bomb that had just gone off in front of him. 

You stared up at him, eyes wide. He furrowed his eyebrows. “Move, brat.”

Oh. So he was just going to forget him being borderline nice ever happened? What a fucking- ugh! You scoffed, looking down at the coffee. 

“You know this isn’t your room right, dumbass? Take your coffee into your own room.” Seungmin rolled his eyes, barging past you to stand by the door.

“It’s for my sister, dumbass.” You wanted to ask where’s mine, then, but Seungmin would only laugh at you and move on with his life. It annoyed you beyond belief that Seungmin had actually been nice to you the night before and then continued to act like absolutely nothing happened. You wanted to positively kick him across the face like the Mortal Kombat games he used to unplug your controller on.

Still, you had hope for the summer. Two straight days of hell would not change your mind. You just had to get through today, a chill, relaxing day with Sieun where you both nursed slight hangovers and probably cried over making mistakes the night before. Then there was hope for some fun tomorrow. 

Tomorrow was the annual camping trip with your friend group. It only went on for one night, in the woods close to your actual home a few streets away, but it was something everyone looked forward to. Unfortunately, given that your friend group was also Seungmin’s friend group, and that he was back now, it meant he would be there. This was unlike the annual camping trips before, and you were dreading his presence. You just had to avoid him, and he wouldn’t stop you kissing your friends. He wouldn’t stop you having fun if you just acted like he wasn’t there. The thought made your blood boil. 

You hid in the bathroom until you heard Seungmin’s footsteps recede back into his bedroom, and then you emerged. Fuck breakfast. You needed a good heart-to-heart with your best friend. Stomping back into the bedroom, you were met with Sieun’s eyes still only half open, just about emerging from above the mug.

“Oh, hey,” Sieun mumbled. She blew the hot liquid in the cup and then took a sip, humming with satisfaction. You stood there, arms crossed across your chest and foot tapping with annoyance. Sieun looked at you. You looked at her, a frown on your lips. She sighed. “What’s he done now?”

“Well, what the fuck was last night, Sieun?!” You exclaimed, throwing your body down on the bed. Sieun snorted, sounding like she was holding back a laugh. “Sieun, he picked me up and took me from a party. What was that? And, and! On the way home, he was kind of being… nice?! Then, just now, this morning, he was being absolutely horrible again!”

“And this annoys you because…? You’re always horrible to each other, sweetie.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” You huffed, turning over to scream into a pink heart pillow on Sieun’s bed. “He’s coming tomorrow, too. Like, as if it could get any worse!”

Sieun hummed. You heard the mug clink onto the bedside table, probably to live next to another ten mugs for about three weeks. “I’ll make sure he’s on his best behaviour.”

You grumbled into the fabric. Then, as if you’d completely forgotten about it, a blurred memory came into your head. I don’t want you doing that anymore. He’d said that in confidence, stood there in front of you, all long legs and pouty lips forming the words. “He… he said he didn’t want me kissing Chan anymore.”

Sieun spluttered. “He- he what?! Why would he say that?”

You shrugged. “D’no. Weird though. It… it made me feel weird. Like, almost shy. I don’t know.”

“That’s because you have a big old crush on my brother. We’ll address that later, though, because it seems my brother may have a big old crush on you,” You lifted your head, blinking at her. The drink had gone to her head last night. She was now clinically insane, beyond deranged by the sounds of it. Her eyes were peering out of the window opposite her bed in deep contemplation. “I mean, it makes sense. You two do bicker like an old married couple, but maybe that’s your shtick.” 

“I do not have a big old crush on your brother. He does not have a big old crush on me. We are mortal enemies.”

“Mmhm, okay, honey. We’ll see what happens tomorrow, yeah?”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You didn’t sleep a wink the night before the camping trip. Of course you didn’t. Your thoughts were riddled with stupid remarks and baseball uniforms and long legs looking amazing in said baseball uniforms. Eventually, you’d actually cried a bit, just wanting him to leave your mind. Then, you felt pathetic crying over a man. That disgusted you beyond belief.

It had you thinking that Sieun may have been onto something. Maybe you did have a stupid crush on her brother. Maybe it had never left, ever since you’d caught sight of his chubby cheeks and mop of dark hair when you were both little. You’d have to just overcome it. Arguing with him would probably help, and you did that everyday, so it’d be fine. Manageable, at least, so long as he kept his goddamn nose out of your business. You’d had stupid crushes on people before, and you knew this one could leave very easily and very quickly.

Unfortunately, due to the lack of sleep, you had been forced to smother your eye bags in concealer that was maybe a shade too light. Seungmin had commented on this when you and his sister loaded your stuff into his pristine car, grimacing at the sight of you.

“You look like a ghost, brat.” You had immediately tried to rub the concealer off with your fingers, and now it was just a smeared mess on your otherwise decent skin. Fuck that guy. Fuck Kim Seungmin. Fuck yourself, too, because why were you trying to adhere to what he said?

It had still been plaguing your mind when you laid next to the lake in the woods while everyone drank around you. You had taken your premixed cocktail in a can to the lake not too far from the lake, and were perched in your blue bikini trying to get somewhat of a tan. Your skin was only blazing with anger, not sun. All of a sudden, you heard some branches snapping, and opening your eyes served you with the face of your best friend.

“Truth or dare. C’mon, everyone’s playing.”

You were lugged back to the campsite, groaning with your can still in your hand. Chan perked up immediately at the sight of you, patting his lap in invitation. 

You went to walk over, smiling at his dimpled cheeks, but quickly turned to Seungmin. “Sorry, Channie, I should probably check if I’m allowed first.”

Everyone erupted in roars, even Chan, who dragged you by your waist onto his lap while still giggling. Seungmin practically glowered, eyes staring you down with the anger within him. 

“Let's start with you then, brat,” Seungmin said, motioning towards you with the hand wrapped around the neck of his beer. “Truth or dare?”

You pretended to think. You always chose the same thing. “Truth.”

“Boring!” Sieun screamed, her pink bikini strap slipping down her shoulder. Changbin used two fingers to push it back up into place. Always a gentleman. “Okay, what is the biggest lie you’ve ever told?”

Seungmin turned to Sieun, displeasure written all over his features. “It’s literally meant to be me asking the question.”

“I don’t care.” Sieun shrugged. She also knew what the biggest lie you’ve ever told is, judging by the smirk on her face when she turned back towards you.

You smacked your lips together. Okay. If he had a crush on you, it would be instantly severed in that moment, because you were about to wholeheartedly tell the truth. “Seungmin, I was the one who broke your PS4. I spilled coffee over it.”

“What?! You fucking brat!” Everyone screamed again, Chan howling with laughter at Seungmin’s exasperation. “Tell me that you aren’t serious. You told me that-“

“I told you that the dog peed on it?” You giggled. Seungmin nodded, eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah, no. It stank of coffee, so you’re kinda dumb for believing me in the first place.”

Seungmin huffed. His cheeks were red, breathing heavy. Oh, he was so mad. Good. You lived your life specifically to piss Kim Seungmin off.

“Okay, Seungmin. Truth or dare?” Changbin spoke up. He didn’t need to speak up, because his voice was like a foghorn already. Seungmin sighed again, turning to the shorter male. 

“Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss Dahyun.” You turned to the girl in question. She was quite quiet, only speaking when spoken to, but you and Sieun had been friendly enough with her back in high school. She’d been close with Chan, though, and had kind of stuck with the group since. You thought she didn’t even like Seungmin either, but the way she perked up at the statement said otherwise. 

Seungmin, however, was still looking very pissed off. He put his beer bottle on the floor, sighing as he made his way over to Dahyun. You heard Jisung giggling, making lewd comments and noises in Minho’s ear, who just pushed him off with a sigh of fondness. All of a sudden, Seungmin’s lips were pressed to hers. You could see everything. Tongue and spit swapped between the two, and you found yourself turning to look at your drink instead. Awkward.

It made you feel awkward. More than that, though, it kind of made you feel weird. You weren’t sure of the emotion exactly, but you knew you wanted to leave instantly and never see Seungmin or Dahyun ever again. You also wanted to scream. Especially when you finally let yourself look up, when the cheers receded to murmurs and Seungmin had pulled away from Dahyun, looking straight at you. 

You locked eyes with him, blinking. Then, you saw fucking red.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You blurted, seeing Seungmin’s eyes widen at your outburst. Dahyun’s eyebrows raised, looking at you with fear. You turned to her with a timid smile. “Not you. Him. The bastard you kissed seems to think he can tell me what I can do, who I can kiss, yet he seems to be doing whatever he wants? Is this a joke, Kim Seungmin?”

Sieun laughed awkwardly from her position next to Changbin, rising up onto her feet. “Okay, perhaps this doesn’t need to happen right now-“

“No, let the brat speak to me how she wants. It’s not going to fucking end well, and she knows it,” Seungmin spoke, throwing his beer bottle down on the floor exasperatedly. He stood up, light blue baggy jeans looking slightly brown with the mud and an oversized jersey falling off of broad shoulders. You took in his appearance with nothing but an angered expression, cheeks burning with rage when you realised he still looked really fucking good with his hair dyed like that. Something about him shouting at you was turning you on, too, but you decided to address that at a later date. “I told you not to kiss Chan for a good reason.”

You scoffed. You could practically hear Chan’s hair turning to grey from stress behind you. “Oh, yeah? What reason is that? He’s my friend.”

“You should- you should only kiss people you like. People you’re interested in,” Seungmin was shouting now, finger pointing at you determinedly. You rolled your eyes, making him stomp his foot in the mud. 

“I guess that means that you like Dahyun then, huh?” You said, remembering to give Dahyun another smile. This really wasn’t against her. She was sweet, and she hadn’t done anything wrong. Kim Seungmin just grinds your fucking gears. 

You realised way too late that maybe you didn’t want to know the answer to the question that you’d so loudly shouted. 

Seungmin ran his hand through his hair, licking his lips. You tried to avoid staring at his mouth when he eventually retorted. “Maybe I do, brat. What’s it to you?” 

You blanched. It was nothing. It was nothing to you, really, but you definitely couldn’t back down now, even if you could sense the rest of your friendship group feeling slightly awkward in the wake of tension. You folded your arms over your chest, staring Seungmin down while you searched your brain earnestly for something that would hurt. 

“It’s nothing to me. I don’t give a fuck about you, Seungmin.”

Seungmin looked like he’d stopped breathing, staring at you with intensity in his eyes. You couldn’t quite work out what emotion they held, but you had a feeling that you may have gone a bit further than your normal bickering. It was only a matter of time, really, with you having a very short temper and all. 

As if it had never even happened, Seungmin rolled his neck and shrugged. He sat back down on the floor with a flurry of movement and with another shift, his arm was around Dahyun and he was pulling her close. She looked like she wanted to run very far away, but then Seungmin was handing her another beer and it was apparently fine. 

Changbin cleared his throat. “Okay, shall we continue?”

The rest of the night went with seemingly no hitches. Everyone drank, sang, danced, and the tents were slowly filling up with people retiring from the night, their skin still dewy with the water from the lake close by. You even managed to avoid getting riled up by the bastard sitting opposite you, so that was an achievement in itself. Eventually, you retired to the tent you, Sieun and Chan had been designated, limbs stiff from sitting down for so long.

Wiggling into your sleeping bag, you zipped up the fabric with your whole body inside like a cocoon. You could hear mumbling and giggles from the next tent over, but choosing to ignore it, you shifted over to face Chan. He was still awake, scrolling through his phone. You weren’t sure the guy ever fucking slept, in all honesty. Sieun snored behind you steadily, the sound of cicadas breaking up the noise of her heavy slumber. 

Chan blinked up at you, locking his phone when he saw you were still awake. The moonlight just about seeped through the walls of your temporary home for the night and you could see his features, sharp as always. He grinned at you, pulling you closer by your sleeping bag. “So.” 

“So,” you agreed, nuzzling into his bare shoulder. The summer heat was still present in the night, although mild, and he’d clearly chosen to not overheat with his chest bare. “This whole night was really weird, Channie. My life is really weird right now.”

“Tell me about it,” Chan hummed, fingers scratching on your scalp soothingly. “How long?”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Chan simply looked at you earnestly, his lips in a tight smile. “How long… what?”

“How long since you’ve liked him?” Chan whispered, clearly registering the noise from the next tent over. You blanched, before realising that well - you could lie to Kim Sieun, Kim Seungmin and yourself, but you couldn’t lie to Bang Chan. He was too kind, too dear to you in a different sense to what Sieun was. 

“I dunno what it is, but I’m ignoring it,” you responded, even quieter than his whisper. “It’s weird. Makes me feel weird.”

Chan let out a silent laugh, chest shaking next to you. “Crushes tend to do that, babe. They make you feel all weird and fuzzy.”

“Kim Seungmin does not make me feel weird and fuzzy, Channie. I can’t stand him.”

“You can’t stand him because he makes you feel weird and fuzzy, and maybe it’s about time you realised that.”

You huffed, turning over to press your back against his chest, despite being separated by sleeping bags and extra fabric. Chan shuffled closer, pulling you in for a cuddle nonetheless. He pressed a kiss to the back of your head, murmuring, “you can’t avoid him. I know you want to, but you can’t. He’s your best friend’s brother.”

Unfortunately, this was something you had already recognised. Staring at Sieun’s sleeping figure reminded you that yeah, he was your best friend’s brother, and while a relationship between you and him would never fuck anything up… well, an unrequited crush might. It would be too awkward. That’s why you swore you were going to ignore him. 

You had to go back to hating Kim Seungmin.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Fortunately, it was a lot easier than you’d anticipated. You’d managed to avoid him in his own home. You didn’t even see him in the hallways, sticking to showers late at night while he was always showering in the early morning, and you and Sieun had been eating out nearly every day to avoid family dinners. It almost felt rude, but with Seungmin, being rude was not possible. He was the epitome of rude.

Rude, brazen, and with zero morals. You’d almost forgotten that in the haze of him being nice once and looking pretty all the time. Sure, he was aesthetically pleasing, and maybe he was exactly your type. But you were never going to forget the history between you ever again, not if you put your mind to it. 

However, the concept of your own morals slipping to actually possibly like Seungmin had ruined your days since. You just couldn’t believe yourself! That’s Seungmin you were very nearly lusting over. Your mortal enemy, the bane of your existence. Who cared if he’d gotten hot?

Apparently, you did. As you stood in a party with Sieun dancing around carelessly, you were clutching your drink tight and thinking of your enemy. The drink limited your inhibitions, making you able to think more freely. Why did he look at you like that after kissing Dahyun? Why did he stop you kissing Chan? Why did- 

“Why are you still overthinking? We’re at a party!” Sieun hollered, the drink in her cup threatening to slosh over the edges with her dancing. You shook your head, putting on your best fake smile.

“I am having the bestest time,” You insisted, smiling and starting to do a little jig to the music. The house party, held at Changbin’s literal mansion, was slowly filling up. You and Sieun had retired to the kitchen to down a few drinks so that you felt less awkward and could start going feral with the rest of the party, but the more drinks you had, the more you got inside of your own head. This wasn’t like you. You were the party girl, the girl who everyone had awaited return to the town - you wanted to scream and stomp your feet like a child. 

“You’re totally not, honey,” Sieun mumbled, seeing the look in your eyes. You sighed, downing back the concoction in your cup. You’d worn another slutty dress to the party, done your makeup and hair and now it was all going to waste. “Are you sure you don’t wanna head back?”

You shrugged. “I mean, if you want to, we can.”

Sieun’s eyes widened. “Well, I was just- I was gonna call you an Uber, and get you home. I’m gonna stay, y’know, it’s Changbin’s house, and… yeah.”

And she wanted to make out with Changbin. She was so valid for that. You sighed again, looking around at the kitchen. The party was a bit too much for you right now in your utterly discombobulated headspace. Maybe you should go back, just chill for the night, sleep. It was probably for the best, or you’d ruin Sieun’s night too by being so awkward. 

“Ah. Yeah, okay, maybe it’s best if I go home,” You looked at Sieun, who was beginning to eye up Changbin. He was in a pretty intense game of beer pong with Jisung, and both parties were screaming their heads off. You didn’t want to stand between Sieun and her destiny, her fate. Sieun turned back to you, a glint in her eye. “Alright, would you call me an Uber? But um, maybe I should go to my house. Y’know, since-“

“He’s at practice,” She said, shaking her head. “Not home. Don’t worry, he won’t be home for a little while.”

You frowned, checking the time. It was 9pm. Did practice go on this late? You let yourself accept her statement anyway. You still had no clue what happened in baseball, or what happened in baseball practice nonetheless. It could go on until 3am for all you knew. Sieun pressed a few buttons on her cracked phone before she was grinning, sending you a thumbs up.

“All done. He- the driver, he’ll be here in five. Good?” You nodded, giving her a quick hug. “You need me to wait outside with you?”

“No, no,” You shook your head. You couldn’t ruin her night even more through your petty questioning of why, why, why. After giving Sieun a quick kiss on the cheek, you made sure she went straight over to Changbin and was safe before you left the house. It took you a solid five minutes to even try to wade through the bodies and you were thankful you were leaving -  you really didn’t have the headspace for that.

Standing outside, you rubbed your hands over your arms to try and gain some warmth. You’d never been great with cold, and although the summer nights weren’t as biting on your skin, it was still unpleasant when you didn’t have the body of a friend next to you. It was also your fault for wearing a strapless minidress that was about two seconds from falling down or riding up, or both. 

The car really only took five minutes. You were thankful for this, as Ubers were inherently unreliable and it was getting colder, and way too loud in the house behind you. Scurrying down the front steps, you didn’t look at the car until you were about a foot in front of it, looking up at the vehicle. 

The car was very familiar. You weren’t sure if the few drinks you’d consumed had made your eyesight go funny, but… no, that definitely was Sieun’s car. You could see inside the car, a lot cleaner than when she picked you up from the airport but still looking half broken. And… Oh God. She’d really done you dirty this time.

Seungmin was sitting in the driver’s seat, and he rolled the window down upon your arrival. “Are you getting in?” 

“No.” You blurted, arms crossed over your chest. “Why are you driving Sieun’s car?”

“Mine’s in for a service,” He responded, eyes racking over your figure. “You look freezing, brat. Get in.”

“No.”

“I’m not going to have to get out and grab you, am I?” He said, eyes narrowing at you. You blanched. He was kinda scary tonight. With a sigh, you made haste to the other side of the car, and heard him mumble “thought not”.

You buckled up your seatbelt when in the passenger seat, and tried to reach over to fiddle with the aircon. The car was cold, too, and you found yourself even more on edge now that you were sitting with Seungmin in a confined area. 

Fiddling with the aircon, you felt Seungmin bat your hand away. “It’s broken.” You turned to look at him, completely silent, and then you saw it. He was in his baseball uniform. Tight pinstripe trousers on those long legs and a loose jersey on his upper body, hair almost flattened from his hat. It still looked good, blonde streaks breaking up the dark mop of hair on his unfairly pretty face. 

“Hello?” He waved a hand over your face. “Are you deaf now, brat? It’s broken.”

“Yeah, sorry,” You mumbled, turning to face out the window. You sensed Seungmin tensing, before he sighed and started the engine to the car. The car started to speed away from Changbin’s house before you even recognised it, too holed up in your head. 

Seungmin sighed again when you were still silent, no noise circulating the small space of the car. “What’s wrong with you lately?”

You turned to him, blinking. “Huh?”

“I’m asking what’s wrong with you lately. I’ve barely seen you. You haven’t been bickering at me, haven’t tried to physically fight me lately. What’s going on?”

You screwed your face up in confusion. “You don’t even care, Seungmin, so why are you asking?”

“Of course I care,” Seungmin’s eyebrows furrowed. He was staring at the road, not looking at you even as your eyes raked over his body unashamedly. “I don’t completely hate you, brat. You just piss me off a lot of the time. So, what’s wrong?”

Gazing at the bulge in his trousers, you realised you needed to stop being so thirsty and reply. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Why did you say that? Why was that the thing that came out of your mouth?

“Funny, because you seem to always want to talk,” Seungmin snickered, one hand tight on the steering wheel. His other arm rested on the armrest, looking the epitome of comfort and relaxation while you felt like you were dying. His remark made you burn with anger. How dare he? You don’t even talk that much, really. “I mean, can’t really get you to stop talking, so-”

“Shut up!” You shrieked. “You wanna know what’s wrong? You. You’ve been pissing me off so much lately, Seungmin. First, it’s the baseball uniform. Like, do the trousers have to be that tight?! Then, you stop me kissing Chan, and make me like, reconsider our whole dynamic for a hot second. Oh, and then, you kiss Dahyun, and that just- that just made me feel all weird. I didn’t like it, I felt weird.”

It was silent for a beat. Another beat passed, and Seungmin was brushing his tongue over his teeth in silent thought. Then, he was pulling into a layby on the side of the quiet road you were driving down, and he unbuckled his seatbelt. The engine switched off and Seungmin turned to you, eyes gazing directly into yours.

“Feel weird how?” He questioned. You scoffed.

“What do you mean?”

“How did it feel weird, brat? You felt confused, maybe a bit sick, awkward even? Upset?” All the emotions Seungmin was quick firing at you had you nodding. You had felt all of those things. Then, all of a sudden, Seungmin was lunging towards you and pressing his plump lips against yours. You gasped, hands going to his broad shoulders. When you felt the material of his baseball jersey, you realised you kind of didn’t want to pull away, and you brushed your lips against his in a response to his movement.

When a second passed, Seungmin’s tongue was pressing into your mouth with fervour, one large hand going to the back of your head to keep you in place. You whimpered into the kiss, your tongue dancing against his and your fingernails digging into his shoulders. When Seungmin eventually pulled away, you chased his lips subconsciously, pouting when he just stared at you. 

“How did that feel?”

“Seungmin-”

“How did that feel, brat? Fucking answer me,” His thumb swiped across your bottom lip, slick with spit from his filthy kiss. You moved to encase his thumb in your mouth, keeping eye contact as your tongue swirled around it. 

Letting his tongue drop out of your mouth, you undid your seatbelt, moving closer to the figure next to you. “Felt good.”

Seungmin hummed, hands moving to grab your hips. He effortlessly lifted you onto his lap, your core settled right on top of the bulge in his fucking baseball trousers. You squirmed, hands moving to brush his hair out of his face. It was a strangely intimate moment, your fingers in his hair. “It feels good because we like each other.”

“Mm, no. Not possible,” You insist. Seungmin’s lips turned up into a smile, his eyebrow raised. “We bicker all the time, and-”

“And you got just so pissed at me kissing Dahyun, just like I lost it over you kissing Chan. I saw you staring at my ass in my game, and in all honesty, I’m staring at your thighs in that dress right now.” 

You look down at your thighs. They were spread immodestly, plush flesh slung over Seungmin’s thinner legs. Your dress had ridden up with your movement, and your core was barely covered by a strip of black lace that you referred to as underwear. It could barely be considered as underwear. Turning your attention back to Seungmin, you saw him still staring at your thighs, a hungry look in his eyes. 

“But- we argue all the time. You boil my blood, to be honest,” You admit, feeling a bit sheepish sitting on top of him like that. Seungmin let out a small laugh, hands moving to brush up and down your thighs. The feeling of his warm hands on your bare skin made you sigh, inching closer for more touch. 

“You piss me off too. You piss me off so much, I want to fuck you until you’re screaming my name and crying. Is that fucked up?” Seungmin spoke, licking his lips. His attention went up to your own lips, to which you were nervously biting your bottom one. “I liked you when you were shy and quiet and you barely spoke. When you became stubborn, and outspoken, I liked you even more. It made me want to fuck you into submission, brat.”

You could literally feel yourself getting wet. Fuck you into submission? Now that sounded fucking amazing. You weren’t surprised he had the exact same sexual interests as you. You were a brat through and through. It’s where the nickname came from, after all. 

“Fuck me then,” You kissed his lips chastely, feeling him groan deeply into your mouth. He entertained you for a few seconds, a filthy swap of spit and tongue before he was pulling away. Your chest heaved, fingers digging into his shoulders once again. “Fuck me. Please, I’ll beg! I don’t care, just-“

“Shut the fuck up, brat,” Seungmin admonished. Your mouth instantly clenched shut in reaction, toes curling in your shoes. He threw his head back, eyes shut as if he was trying to control himself. He was just as affected as you. After a moment passed, he looked back at you, eyes still just as dark. “I’m not fucking you in Sieun’s car. I’ll take you home and fuck you nice and full in my bed. Does that sound good?”

You found yourself nodding, and Seungmin let you reposition yourself back in the passenger seat. You had never felt more excited in your life. Except, when he tried to start the ignition with the key, the car spluttered a few times and then stopped altogether. You blinked at the car. Seungmin took in a sharp inhale of air. He tried to turn the key again, and the car rocked as if in protest, but didn’t start. It was dead.

“Okay, fuck me in the car then?” You questioned, turning to face Seungmin again. You saw him almost laugh, lips curling, before he was shaking his head at you. 

“I like you too much to treat you like that.”

“Seungmin, you treat me badly everyday. It’s our whole thing.”

“Well, yeah, but you’re my girl now. It’s different. We’re still going to bicker like mad, but I’m not having our first time be in a fucking car. Especially not one owned by my sister,” Seungmin sighed, long fingers reaching into his pocket. He clicked a few buttons before he landed on Chan’s contact. It didn’t even ring once before Chan picked up. “Hey, old man. So, we’re stuck in Sieun’s car, it’s finally died. No, I’m not with Sieun. Yes, I’m with her. Chan, can you stop asking questions and just come and save us?”

Your chest was still heaving when you heard rushed murmurs. His girl? He’d called you his girl, and surprisingly… you weren’t all that mad about it. He was sexy, and he was rude. But wasn’t that your type anyway? Taller than you, stoic, bitchy and could actually fuck you good. The last statement was something you had no doubt about, the way he’d effortlessly moved you onto his lap like that… you were squirming in your seat just thinking about it, clenching your thighs together. You didn’t even hear the click of the phone when Seungmin hung up, still focused on trying to get some friction on your core.

“Stop being a brat,” Seungmin demanded. You pouted, turning to him, to which he met your gaze with a steely glare. “I’m sure you can wait until we get home. Chan’s on his way.” How fucked up is it that even though he’s still being mean, he’s just making you like him more?

It wasn’t long before Chan’s sleek black car pulled up in front of Sieun’s. Luckily, you’d parked on a housing street where not many cars passed, so it’d be alright for Sieun’s car to stay there until the morning. Seungmin was instantly unbuckled and out of the car, baseball uniform tight on his legs as he walked over to your side. When you got out of the car, you expected him to walk away from the car straight away, but he had his arm around your waist tightly as if he was escorting you to the other vehicle. You even saw Chan’s confused expression in the driver’s seat. 

Chan only looked more confused when Seungmin followed you into the backseat and sat next to you, leaving no space. “Uhm, so. Back to yours then, Seungmin? We can sort the car tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Seungmin agreed, quiet as his warm hand went to rest on your thigh. Subconsciously, your legs spread to allow him access, and you heard him sigh next to you. Chan started the engine, speeding off down the road. He seemed on edge, turning the radio up loud. 

You stared at the rearview mirror, seeing Chan focusing on the expanse of road in front of him. With one of your boldest ever moves, you grabbed Seungmin’s hand, placing it on the front of your panties where you were soaking through the lace. Seungmin leaned in close, lips brushing against your ear. 

“You want me to finger you while he drives us home? That’s dirty, pup,” Seungmin murmurs. You let out a shaky breath, head rolling onto his shoulder. “Maybe I shouldn’t. You’re too desperate, I don’t think you’ve worked for it yet. Let’s make out a little, how’s that?”

You nod eagerly, fingers moving to grasp on his biceps. “Yeah- I need something, Seungmin. I think I’m going to die, you’re so hot in that fucking uniform, I-“

“You’re filth,” Seungmin groaned. “Fucking- c’mere.” His hand went to the back of your head, yanking your hair back before his lips were pressed against yours.

His tongue pressed his spit into your mouth in the most sexual kiss you’d ever had, and you let out a soft sigh at the feeling. His lips were so soft, so plump against yours and it weirdly just felt right - you liked him a little more when he was kissing you until you were breathless over when he would make fun of you. 

“Okay!” You’d forgotten Chan was even there until his hands clapped together. You both turned to look at him, your lips kiss-bitten and swollen. You were outside Seungmin’s house. When did you even get there? You blinked, staring at Chan. He gave you a wide smile. “I’m so glad you guys have worked things out, but I really don’t want my car soiled. Please go home.”

“Thanks for the lift, old man.” Seungmin was dragging you out of the car by your wrist, all the way up the driveway and into the house. Before you knew it, he was taking you up the stairs, too, and you were standing in front of his door.

Seungmin’s bedroom door. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d even been inside. It used to be littered with figurines and music paraphernalia, and you had no idea what it would look like now. When Seungmin pushed open the door, it looked a lot cleaner and less immature, pristine grey sheets tucked into the corners like a hotel room and only a few baseball items littered around. 

He turned to you, pressing a peck to your lips. “Are you sure you want to fuck me? I have to warn you beforehand, I can get a little…”

“Mean?” You giggle. Seungmin nods, a smile on his lips. “I like mean. I thought I made that obvious.” 

“And I like bratty girls who need to be hurt until they cry. Are you a little painslut, brat?” You nod at his words. You couldn’t think of anything better, molten hot need rushing through you at the mere idea. “Good. Get naked for me and lay on my bed.”

Scurrying over to his bed, you just couldn’t believe you were actually about to do this. You were about to fuck the guy who you absolutely hated a month ago. You would’ve never dreamed of this - but now, it had you thinking. All of the bickering, all of the pissing each other off - had you just been trying to wind each other up for a specific response? Had you been doing it to get his attention? The thought hurt your brain, but you knew one thing. You wanted to fuck Kim Seungmin so fucking bad, and fuck whatever happened afterwards.

The fabric of your dress dropped to the floor once you’d unzipped it, the fabric pooling at your feet. You kicked it away, leaving yourself braless with just underwear on. Seungmin’s eyes trailed down your body, humming when you settled back against his sheets. 

That’s all he did for a while. He just looked at you, taking your full appearance in with wandering, claiming eyes. You found yourself meeting his gaze when he looked at your face. His trousers were even tighter than before, a long, hard erection pressing against the fabric. Letting your palms wander up your tummy, a delicate, grazing touch that made you squirm, you landed on your chest and tugged on your nipples.

“Are you gonna fuck me now, Seungie?” The nickname dropped from your mouth before you could even process it. Seungmin scoffed, before he was pulling his jersey off with haste. It left him bare, exposing soft, milky planes of skin to your eyes. His body was lean yet toned, looking like the muscles would ripple under your fingers but feel so velvety at the same time. It was the perfect representation of his personality. 

He was on the bed quicker than you’d expected, lunging towards you like a primal animal stalking its prey. You gazed up at him when his movement landed him above you, your legs spread around his hips. All that was heard throughout the room were deep breaths when his bulge situated against you through your underwear, the puffs of air spanning across your skin where he leaned above you. 

“Should I fuck you?” He mumbled. You nodded slowly, letting your hips roll up against his. Seungmin licked his lips in response, hands going to pin your hips down. “Tell me what you like.”

You whimpered when his lips went to your neck, sucking on a spot underneath your jaw that felt so, so sensitive. “I like... Rough. Pain. I like it rough, I like being treated like I’m beneath you, but then- God, Seungie- you need to- I need to cum, when we fuck. Please?”

“Men don’t make you cum often, brat?” You shook your head, whining again when he sucked a hickey into your collarbone sharply. “That’s a pity. I bet you look so fucking beautiful when you cum, so desperate. I think I’ll let you cum.”

“Thank you,” You moaned lowly when he trailed his lips further down your body. His lips encaptured one of your nipples, a hard peak so sensitive to his loving tongue. The moonlight shone through his curtains, highlighting the new hairstyle he had and his button nose when he sucked on your breast. As if he’d been building up to it, Seungmin let his teeth bite into your nipple sharply, and you positively squeaked at the sensation. 

Letting your nipple pop out of his mouth, Seungmin grinned up at you. “Good?”

“More, more. Please, hurt me, please-”

“Hurt you?” He shifted again, looming over you in that dangerous, almost territorial way. “What if I slapped you? On your face. Would you like me to make that pretty face red?”

You gasped, eyes rolling back at the mere idea. He ground his bulge into you, waiting for your answer. “I- I love that, please, Seungmin, slap me. Oh my God, please, I think I’m gonna die-” 

You were cut off with a harsh smack to your cheek. Your head rolled, gasping in the aftermath of the pain. It should’ve put you off, it should’ve hurt too much, it should’ve made you question if he really liked you - but all you could think was again, please. That’s all you could say, too, begging him to slap you again. 

“Fucking filthy brat,” He grumbled, hand swinging again to slap you across the face. When your head tried to roll to the side again, he gripped your cheeks with his thumb and finger. You whined incoherently when he looked down at you, squishing your cheeks, until he was letting spit dribble into your mouth. “Mine.”

“Yours,” You nod, agreeing, and Seungmin groans at the sound of you saying it. You heard the rustling of fabrics, the moving of bedsheets and then his cockhead was positioned at your sopping wet hole, panties pulled to the side. You tried to buck your hips into it, trying to catch his cockhead and lure him inside, but his grip pushed you back down. 

“Tell me again. You’re mine, yeah? No more kissing Chan,” Seungmin rubbed the leaking tip against your hole, making you attempt not to squirm again. “No more arguing with anyone that isn’t me, brat. I’m your punching bag, yeah? You take all your anger out on me and I’ll fuck you nice and hard afterwards, hurt you the way you like. That’s what you’ve always done it for, right?”

Your brain was fuzzy. Yes, that’s what you’d always done it for. You had always done it to get a rise out of him, and now that you were being put in your place, it made you feel like you were running a hundred miles an hour through a sandstorm. 

“Yes, ‘m yours, Seungie, please, can I have it? Need it,” You whine, head thrown back against his soft pillows. Seungmin coos at you condescendingly. 

“Do you? But what about prep, brat? It’ll hurt otherwise, won’t it?” Despite his words, he’s pressing the head of his cock inside of you. The stretch was blinding, making your toes curl and hands dig into the pillows. 

“I- I want it to hurt.”

“Of course you do,” Seungmin sneers, before he’s pushing his whole cock inside you at once. It’s long, pressing against your cervix as he bottoms out and your eyebrows furrow, jaw dropping in a silent moan. “That pussy’s so wet, fuck. I turn you on that much?”

“It turns me on to argue with you, turns me on when you’re mean- fucking, Seungmin, please, move,” You were admitting something you hadn’t quite admitted to yourself just yet, but when Seungmin started to snap his hips against yours, your brain went clear of all thoughts. “Ah, oh my fuck- fuck, fuck, fuck- hnng-”

“‘S good? You’re taking me so well, pretty little brat, you want a reward?” You nodded at his words, but you weren’t braced for his hand smacking your cheek once again. You reeled, eyes feeling blurry as his hips picked up the pace. He was breathing heavily on your cheek, warm breath fanning over even warmer skin. “Was that good? You want more?”

“Please, Seungie, please, more, slap me again, harder,” He slapped your opposite cheek this time, a welcome relief from your reddened cheek. The problem was that when his hand collided with your skin, you felt yourself seize up and - oh. You were cumming. “Ah-”

“Fuck, are you cumming that quick? You’re so fucking filthy, pup,” Seungmin groaned, his cock still bullying into your hole. With his pace not slowing, you couldn’t ride out the orgasm properly, and it was just one constant blissful experience. Your eyes rolled back into your head, toes curling with pleasure. “Cumming from me slapping your pretty little face. Dirty fucking bitch.”

“Seungie- I can’t, I can’t take it, please slow down!” You were squealing at that point, fingers digging into the pillows. 

“I don’t think you want me to, do you?”

He was so right. You shook your head, whining out again when he pulled out. Your hole fluttered around nothing, clit still swollen with arousal. Your slick had dripped all the way down to his pristine sheets, tarnishing his once neat room. Seungmin was quick to spin you around, putting you on your tummy with your ass just slightly raised for him. 

Within a brief moment, he was pushing inside of you again. His cock was still wet with your arousal, and your back arched when he bottomed out inside of you for the second time. Seungmin gripped your hair, making your back permanently arched for him. His lips attached to your neck, blonde highlighted hair draping onto your skin. 

“‘S good, so good,” You babbled, trying to push your ass back onto him. Seungmin allowed it this time, his hand moving from your hair to your neck. He squeezed the sides expertly and you whimpered, hands moving to grab his wrist. 

“You like that, don’t you? I’m meant to be your enemy, you dirty bitch, and look at you,” He was chuckling mirthlessly, grinning when you kept babbling. “I guess you like my cock too much. Dumb fucking slut, all I have to do is fill you up and you’re nice and sweet for me.”

“B-Bet you wish you’d done it sooner,” You quip, which would’ve been much more impressive if you hadn’t stuttered it out. “Would’ve shut up for you and been a good girl a long time ago.”

Seungmin hummed. “I think I like you bitchy, brat.”

“I jus’ like you,” You slurred, feeling Seungmin’s pace slow. He’d resorted to a slow, deep grind that had you feeling every inch and every vein on his cock. You could hear him snickering in your ear, and he pressed a cute little kiss to your neck. His free hand went down to your clit, rubbing precise, firm circles against the swollen button.

“Think you can ride me, or are you too cock drunk?” Seungmin hummed. You shook your head rapidly.

“I- too much, can’t-”

“Alright, brat, let me fuck you some more then. I need to cum in this pussy, yeah?” Seungmin was laughing again, and all of a sudden, he’d let go of your neck. You were immediately face planted into the pillows and Seungmin gripped onto your ass, thrusting into you quicker this time. You whined, trying to push back onto him, but he smacked your asscheek in admonishment. Letting your hips shift slightly to allow your hand to meet your clit, you picked up where Seungmin left off with the tight circles. It made the pool of arousal in your tummy clench, and you vaguely realised you were going to cum again. 

“Seungie, please- I want cum, want cum, with me, please-”

“Want me to cum inside you, brat? While you cum around my cock? That’s dirty, pup,” His voice faltered when his hands gripped onto your asscheeks harder, spreading them to see where his cock was entering you over and over. You knew you were soaking, you could feel it - and the wet glide of his length inside of you felt fucking delectable. You recognised no one had fucked you like this before, letting you cum over and over on their cock like this while they held back their own orgasm, and it made your head dizzy. You’d have to come back to Seungmin for more, you thought, and you didn’t hate the thought at all. 

The bed rocking suddenly caught your attention, and you whimpered, trying to alert Seungmin of the noise. The last thing you needed was his parents hearing you get your back blown out by their son, who you claimed to hate. You reached back, trying to grab his arm, but he was groaning loudly, cockhead hitting your g-spot with every thrust.

“Seungie, ‘s too loud, the bed,” You managed to get out, drooling on his pillows. Seungmin let out a loud groan before he was pulling you back onto him, forcing you to fuck back onto his cock.

“And? I don’t care. Pussy’s so fucking good, gonna make me blow, shit,” Seungmin mumbled. “You ready for my cum, brat?”

“Yeah, want it, please, please Seungie, fill me up, breed me!”

“Breed you? You want me to breed this pussy, dirty pup?” He bit your neck sharply, making you keen. You nodded erratically at his words. You couldn’t think of anything better than him filling you up with his cum. “Cum with me. Flood my cock.”

His hand came down on your ass again, and as you felt his hips stall, an unfamiliar warmth filling up your pussy, you let go around him. Your pussy fluttered with delight - probably also confusion, because oh my God, you were cumming twice? With someone else?

It felt messy, juices gliding everywhere as he just rocked his hips a little to ride out your orgasms, and then you were left to fall flat on the bed. He pulled his softening cock out, sighing when your pussy oozed out his cum onto his sheets. He didn’t seem to care about his bed, much more entranced with the sight of your hole gaping after him. 

He’d fucked you so good your pussy was going to remember the shape of his cock forever. That was for sure.

You let yourself drift, brain going blurry until you felt a cloth wiping between your legs. It was cold, slightly wet as it rubbed over your swollen folds, and you whimpered, trying to shift away from the touch.

“Stay still, brat. ‘M just cleaning you up.” You nodded, face still buried in the sheets. It was then that Seungmin finally pulled your panties down, chucking them to the floor and pulling a pair of basketball shorts up your trembling legs. Were they… his? He’d put you in his clothes? Bizarre. You didn’t even react when he spun you over, pulling a baggy t-shirt over your upper body. He’d gotten fully dressed in a plaid pyjama set, baffling you. When had he done that?

You were moved again, positioned on a very firm chest and a bottle of water pressed to your raw lips. You glugged it down thankfully, blinking up at Seungmin. His hair was mussed, but pushed back with a cute Pochacco headband. Wow. He was actually cute. 

There was a beat of silence, then Seungmin spoke. His hand was tracing your scalp, running his fingernails over it. “I meant what I said. You’re my girl. I think you always have been.”

You scoffed. “Yours?! I’m not a possession, Seungmin-”

Seungmin kissed you softly, giggling when you still tried to yell. Had he always reacted this amused when you bitched at him? You realised that… yeah, he had. It really did entertain him. “You’re so cute when you have a go at me like that, you know? Such a brat.”

You twiddled your thumbs together when he pulled away from the kiss, staring at the bottoms of his plaid pyjamas shyly. “So… you wanna be like, together? Since you’re hot, and all.”

Seungmin chuckled again, pulling you closer to his chest. “As long as you never ever stop bitching at me.”

“I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to.”

“I like you that way, brat.”

END. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

EPILOGUE

Sieun stared at you upon your arrival to breakfast. Her parents were preoccupied in the living room, and her eyes settled directly on your neck. You knew that your neck was littered with bite marks, hickies galore, but you’d tried your best to hide it.

“Listen, I’m so happy for you,” She began, hand clasped tightly around her mug. “I know I always ask you for details of sexual escapades, but I kind of don’t need to know about how good my brother is in bed.”

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” You nod, agreeing. “But he does know where the-“

“Stop!”

A mug of coffee is placed in your hands, made just the way you like it. The steaming liquid is a welcome warmth, as is the kiss that Seungmin presses to your cheek. You blush, staring up at him when he wraps his arms around your waist.

“Good morning, brat.”

[sillygoosiegoose]

Mean best friends brother and a baseball player that’s a dangerous combination for me😵‍💫

[exxxtraoddinary-deactivated2023]

「𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕'𝚜 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚗」 · masterlist

SUMMARY ➥ His exquisite culinary skills as the base, his wholesomeness as the main ingredient, and his magnetism as the zest—it's the perfect recipe to have a full house at his restaurant every damn day, but the packaging so doesn't impress you. You know what an absolute ass this charming young chef is back in the kitchen. Much to your dismay, after a particularly stressful night of service, you start having intense and elaborate wet dreams about him that make you question a lot of things.

And judging by how knowingly he smiles at you the morning after, it seems like he knows.

★ There won't be a taglist. Please turn on notifications if you wish to be updated.

※ Bang Chan x afab reader — Deviant Chef/Dream Controller AU, enemies to lovers, angst, slowburn, smut.

⛔ — Not suitable for readers who might get triggered by rough play and/or themes of sexual deviance. The author chooses not to issue tags for every act to preserve tension and some element of surprise. By clicking "Keep Reading", you accept to proceed at your own risk.

※ Reader discretion STRONGLY advised — Adult themes, strong language, explicit sexual content, supernatural elements (dream control), self-love and anger management issues, sex as a coping mechanism, trust and intimacy building, less-than-ideal work environment, sexual tension, sexual deviance, themes of objectification & perversion, graphic fantasizing, overarching mutual corruption kink, depictions of certain kinks and fetishes which may be disturbing to some (everything is consensual—see respective chapters where applicable).

※ This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only.

CONTENTS · 「Loading」 ➥ Course I ➥ Course II ➥ Course III

「© 2023, exxxtraoddinary · No translations, rewrites, or reposts permitted」

[sillygoosiegoose]

Christopher!!!!!

(I love this mc she is such a girl boss!)

[vvamp3]

— haegeum

⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ✦ :: yang jeongin | 4k follower event

genre: smut

pairing: jeongin x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of death/ killing!!! very vague but it's like gang stuff or whatever but nothing much is mentioned to that

req

send me a request!

Blood rushing, veins pumping, wetness leaking onto your laced panties, onto his slender fingers. The brick was uncomfortable against your back if you had to name it, though neither now nor in memory would it bother you - too emersed, too excited, too alerted.

You'd been hiding with Jeongin for the past hour now, safe and sound behind an alley, though anywhere was barely safe and sound, not with him. Not with Jeongin on your side, not on your own, at this point. They knew you, had targeted you, were determined to kill you, if necessary.

"Fuck, Jeongin- more."

Voice a whisper despite wanting to scream out, to make sound, to get pent up frustration, fear out of your chest. And yet you were determined to stay quiet, for no one could know your whereabouts.

Jeongin's fingers fastened at your words, curled within you, thumb tracing clit in quick flicks and caresses, teeth now grazing into sensitive skin, neck bitten and daring to draw blood. He was all around you, in every of your senses, within every of your fibre - for a moment you forgot the danger, the people that followed you, the people that wanted Jeongin's head on their plates; only for a moment with the way he made you feel, the way he always made you feel. Especially in moments like these - you grew to suspect he got a kick out of it.

Jeongin's hand lost your touch and you whined in protest, earning a dirty chuckle from him in response - though your eyes widened, your mouth watered, your face burned up when you saw his fingers unbuckling his belt, hasty, quick, not losing a minute on profanities. And then you remembered again, the danger, the situation, the place - an alley quiet enough to be overlooked yet not fully discret, windows upon windows above you, red brick consuming your whole, and you against it like dark moths against burning light. His lips on your neck again, skirt scrunched up in palms, meeting by your searing hips, tip prodding at you, at your entrance, and you breathed out. Wanting him, body earning for him, as forbidden as it was.

"Wait- what if they see us. We're outside, we have to be careful."

Voice panting and you didn't quite grant belief to your own words, didn't spare them enough importance yourself, so given, unsurprised by Jeongin's reaction - lips contorted in a smile you'd be scared of if you didn't know him as well as you did, pearly teeth against red, eyes lacing in utter craziness, in sheer insanity - maybe you were frigthened, after all.

"Well, then I guess I'll have to kill them if they end up seeing you like this."

@es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @a-cute-french-fry @felixinameadowandthesuniswarm @tangylemonade

[sillygoosiegoose]

We love an insane innie

[goblinracha]

Prologue: Pretty in Pink

Dollhouse Masterlist

Unveiling the curtain of the Dollhouse, we see a glimpse into the horrors behind the velvet walls. A little treat for those patiently waiting for chapter 1!

Special thanks to @sweetracha for collabing with me💜

Ill be hosting a Special edition of "Rumor has it.." send in the rumors you've heard about our dangerous beloved Lee Minho!

Trigger warnings: Mentions of implied abuse, yandere behavior, images of mental instability, threats, use of the word mommy, implied delusional state.

"Who...who is this? Can someone decode the messages? Hello?"

Taglist: @smally97 @lixiesweetbrownie @seo--changbin @lyramundana @j-onedrabbles @hyuniebeez @jisunglyricist @chvngi @hanjisunginc

[sillygoosiegoose]

So excited I’m already hooked!!

[goblinracha]

Dollhouse | L.M x H.J x Reader

♡o｡🌸__~ L . M | H . J | Reader Yandere story !

The world around Minho always seemed so dark, mean, and ruthless. That was until he met Han, his perfect little Ken doll. But that is a Barbie world without Barbie herself?! After a chance encounter he found the perfect model in you. Sometimes playing God isn't always black and white...Sometimes it's rosy shades of pink and blue.

🌸.:*♡ Start date & Status: July 3, 2023, o♡o Coming Soon!

🌸.:*♡ Authors Notes: Please be advised that this series is rated M for MATURE. MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS SERIES. This series will dive into yandere themes such as but not limited to: stalking, mental manipulation, gas lighting, mentions of abuse, kidnapping, etc. Each chapter will have its own TWs, please be mindful of them.

🌸.:*♡ Taglist! If you would like to be tagged when this series updates please send an ask to either myself or @sweetracha or simply comment on this post.

🌸.:*♡ A thank you to those who have supported me and Peachy. And Peachy herself. Thank you for collaborating on this series with me and making this story come to life! I love you and appreciate all the hard work you've put into this project with me. I love you, buggy. Thank you🥺

Who will you play with? (Characters) ! Mother. Ken. Barbie.

{ 🏩- - ♡ Prologue: Pretty In Pink

{ 🏩 - - ♡ Chapter 1: God Meets Barbie

{ 🏩 - - ♡ Interlude 1: Making Ken

{ 🏩- - ♡ Chapter 2: It's a Barbies world

{ 🏩 - - ♡ Interlude 2: Blue and Pink make lavender

{ 🏩 - - ♡ Chapter 3: Barbie and Ken

{ 🏩 - - ♡ Epilogue: Rose-colored Glasses

[sweetracha]

Masterlist for Dollhouse

Collab with the beautiful @goblinracha

[sillygoosiegoose]

I’m so excited for this can’t wait till I can read!!!

[seospicybin]

COLLATERAL.

PART I

I.N x reader x Hyunjin. (s)

Chapters: Part II / Part III / Part IV

Author’s note: It’s a ‘tame’ chapter and part 2 out tomorrow!

Keep reading

[sillygoosiegoose]

Sir?!!!????

[jl-micasea-fics]

Something In The Rain | lmh

❝𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫.❞

↳ Chapter ¼ of Something In The Rain. Inside the polished walls of Help, Heart and Justice Limited, you work under the guidance of enigmatic senior attorney Lee Minho to support him and his legal team. And perhaps under all the professionalism, feelings stray, yet you’re committed to keeping said feelings buried whilst you pine from afar. Until an act of kindness on a dark, rainy evening turns everything upside down; for even the most put together of men must indulge their demonic appetites.

↳ Lee Know x female reader

↳ 9k

↳ Supernatural au, strangers/colleagues to lovers, office romance, lust demon Lee Know, eventual smut

! Explicit content, adult themes, suitable for 18+ readers only !

「Contents List」  「© May 2023 by jl-micasea-fics」

Rainy nights are truly among your favourite things.

It seems universally known that there is something inexplicably and inherently comforting about them.

To speak personally of your own comfort, it’s sitting in a space of your own making, wrapped up in warmth while outside the elements rage. You’re far from afraid of such weather—rather, you admire the raw power of nature—yet watching the downpour from the safety of indoors brings contentment. There is separation from the chill and the wet: you’re out of reach of the unforgiving bite. When the melodic patter of heavy raindrops bears down on you, there is stillness and serenity, and what follows is catharsis.

You long for such peace in this moment, as the unforgiving rain streaks the twenty-fifth-floor windows, distorting the dark panorama of the city.

You’re no stranger to long days, thoroughly conditioned to late office hours. Indeed, where others may be inclined to gripe about such overtime requirements, you consider it an obligation, for the nature of litigation demands an overinvestment of attention. Assisting a small team of attorneys under the much larger corporate umbrella of Help, Heart and Justice Limited equates you to something of a small fish in a big pond; your efforts to reach above and beyond the outline of your role go largely unnoticed by those that swim high above, assuredly carnivorous in proclivity. And that’s fine. It’s always been fine. You work to assist the people, for the people, neither assuming nor seeking praise.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself; that your reasons for lingering at the office are chaste and noble, that your integrity is intact when you bend over backwards to accommodate the enigmatic senior attorney that heads your team. To claim your efficiency and dedication is a product of anything other than an ironclad work ethic would be incomprehensibly unprofessional, wildly slanderous, a cruel accusation.

Keep reading

[bugeater101]

Stop Hitting Yourself

Synopsis: After four years of high school, you were sick and tired of Yang Jeongin. However, your inexperience with relationships combined with his persistence have you questioning your feelings towards him. Now, in the final stretch of your secondary education, you've somehow been paired up with that brute in a project. Yet, your study plans in the library take a different turn when you let your curiosity (and his perseverance) get the better of you.

Content: bully!Jeonginxnerd!fem!reader, plus size!reader, sub!freader, virgin!innocent!reader (doesn't know anything besides basic biology), dom!Jeongin, big dick!Jeongin, Jeongin is a dumbass (also oscillates between like cold bad boy and golden retriever boy), hand kink, enemies to lovers, school AU, reader is a bit insecure, reader has small hands, mentions of smoking, lottssss of teasing, 0-100 kind of plot, groping, spanking, pain!kink, oral sex (male!receiving), crying, degradation, slight size kink, public sex, unprotected sex (please where a condom!!), mentions of breeding, vaginal penetrative sex, a hella cute epilogue.

Word Count: ~16.9 k (I AM SO SORRY)

Author's Notes: This fic is for my lovely and patient followers and hte amazing anon who sent in this request! Also, even though this AU takes place in a high school setting, please note that both Jeongin and the reader are 18+ in this fic. Minors, do not interact! This work also follows a lot of stereotypes about like "nerds" and "bullies" but bear with me y'all. If you ever find yourself in a similar situation, trussss that it is not because the bully is harbouring some crush on you. This fic uses such dynamics to simply build towards the smut and power dynamics. To quote Tyler the Creator, "Hey, don't do anything I'm about to say." Also, I would eventually love to do another and much shorter part two, but that is an idea for another time. Thank y'all as always!

Taglist: @scribblemetae @mygsis, @9900z @taekbokki,@imtoooyoungforthisshit, @jihanlovic, @compersian

You had three goals once you entered high school: get good grades, stay out of trouble, and try to have fun.

Yang Jeongin, however, seemed hell-bent on destroying any semblance of peace in your life. In fact, you bet that his whole schedule was dedicated to manifesting your misery. Or, possibly, he just brought torment with him wherever he went.

Nevertheless, it was accurate to claim that his purpose (in your perception) was to make you miserable. For the past school year, you had seen more of Jeongin than you ever wished to: your schedules put him in at least two classes with you every semester for four years and you also lived relatively close to one another. So, your encounters were frequent, expected, and... "memorable", to say the least.

Every day since freshman orientation, you have been forced to acknowledge Jeongin's existence on a daily basis. Almost immediately, he adopted a particularly cruel stance toward you. When it all first started, his taunts were just for fun and to seek attention, to say the least. Now, he just seemed mean. Not to anyone in particular: Jeongin was just a generally disagreeable person, and especially to you.  And it hurt.

Obviously, it hurt, who would not be hurt if they found themselves in such circumstances?

It was embarrassing to admit it, but Jeongin's indifference toward you was often offset by your more "cordial" feelings toward him. Actual motherfucking cordial feelings. In other words, you had harboured a small, tiny, minuscule, microscopic crush on him that even his meanest days could not challenge. So, you've had a crush on Jeongin since you first met him and it has been the dumbest thing you've ever done.

You remember when you first saw him. It was orientation for high school, the first day of the semester. You were a freshman and he was too. However, your appearance alone separated you and him into two distinct social categories. Like the delinquents that were his so-called friends, he wore his uniform messily: tie loose, shirt untucked, sneakers, and messy hair. Everything he did was with an insufferable air of nonchalance and disrespect, almost aggressive in the languid, lazy movements he made. Even his walk reeked of a cockiness that altered the milieu of the room. You couldn't believe how intolerable he was, nor could you believe how your cheeks flushed at the mere sight of him. High cheekbones, a fox-like face, slender build but definitely on the muscular side. God, not to mention he was big. He was tall, at least taller than the other boys in your grade. His height alone made him stick out like a sore thumb, not to mention his clothing. He had immediately caught your eye and it made you sick.

And then there was you: you were just as out of place as he was, but for entirely different reasons. Your hair was proper, your glasses were well polished, and your uniform was always ironed. Of course, the uniform rarely fit properly as you were bigger. The shirt never buttoned right and the skirt was too short in the back, making you feel much more out of place than you would have liked. Other than your rather ill-fitting uniform, your propriety and intelligence made you the odd one out. You contrasted much of the student population in those respects, especially Yang Jeongin.

For lack of a better word, you were a fucking loser. And so was Jeongin. But at least he owned it. Maybe that was what you liked about him, that he knew he wasn't much and didn't have to prove himself through school or other activities. Either that or how fucking attractive his jawline was or his messy hair.

Jeongin and his friends managed to sit somewhat near you during orientation. He couldn't see you from his position, but you could see him. His confident stare, the flirtatious grin he flashed, and the troublesome giddiness in his eyes would normally make you well annoyed. But, with him, it was somehow different, like he wasn't just another stupid boy you couldn't wait to ignore and forget. God. It was like some trope where he was the bad boy and you were some know-it-all who was desperate for some freedom, which he could offer you.

The entire assembly went over your head as your eyes transfixed on the boy who sat in front of you with his giggling gaggle of friends and troublemakers. You swore he thought he was one of the cutest boys you'd ever seen.

That all quickly changed once you got to know him.

You only had two classes with him that year but they were unforgettable due to the sheer torture he put you through. He would tease you, take your notes, copy off of your tests, and sometimes right his name on your homework (and he would still manage to get shitty grades). Needless to say, your fondness for him obviously and quickly diminished.

Yet, you still knew that those feelings hadn't entirely disappeared. They were still there, just somewhere deep down. However, some nights, those feelings were quite shallow and you didn't need to search so deeply to find them, as if you could reach out and touch them with ease. It happened late at night and only in the shroud of darkness. Your head would either be too busy or too slow, as if the overbearing presence of thoughts or their complete absence somehow created a tunnel to your most shameful yet needful desires. Though you wouldn't like to admit it, at these moments you find yourself pining for him. And then you feel those feelings, the ones that you don't really understand but you're too embarrassed to even type the words into the search bar and figure out what's going on so you just deal with them. And then you spend the night lying in your bed, tossing and turning to your memories of Jeongin, wondering what he would be like if he were here with you now. 

Fuck. You need a boyfriend, or to at least get laid.

Yeah. You're inexperienced, but you know the basics. At least, you think you do. When it comes to Jeongin, all logic gets thrown out the window. You often find yourself wondering what you actually want to do with him: to kill him or… God, you couldn’t even think of the filthy things you wanted him to do to you. Maybe it was because you were too embarrassed to think such things, or maybe it was because you truly didn’t know what to think. Despite acing AP biology and understanding how everything physiologically works, your lack of experience has made you rather ill-equipped when it comes to anything romantic or "alleviating" those feelings you have when you think about Jeongin. Either way, your mind was blank when it came to him, especially those feelings that make you toss and turn and pray that weird giddy feeling goes away.

Now, after four years, you can practically taste your liberation from him. However, it's becoming increasingly difficult to ignore his teases. Not only is he becoming more annoying by the second, but it also seems like he is just getting fucking hotter. Especially when he magically starts paying attention in class and you finally have a chance to stare at him uninhibited, as if being free from his constant attention finally gives you a chance to admire him. It looks like you are staring off into space, but really you are studying him. His pretty face, how good he would look if he cleaned himself up a bit more, or even admitting to yourself how good he looks all scruffy. You would study his body, how slender he is, how you want to feed him good desserts, how you think he would be the type of boyfriend to never resist eating his partner's food. Then you would acknowledge how he keeps his nail beds clean. How nice his hands are, overall. How nice they would be to hold. How big they are, how veiny... how that insinuates he is big and veiny in other places. 

...Okay, so you weren't completely out of the dating sphere. You were naive, but you knew how everything worked. However, you also knew that there was more than just strange feelings and vaginal penetration and orgasms and pregnancy and yada yada yada: there was more beyond sex than just sex. But, of course, you never worked up the courage to simply type lewd searches into Google or bother to ask any of your friends about it. Except for the hand thing, which is just that: a hand thing. A thing you have for hands, Jeognin’s hands, and yeah. Just a hand thing. Nothing else. Yeah.

Anyways, you remained—more or less—in the dark about sex. Though you would like to know more, you know that you've only felt certain feelings towards Jeongin, and only him, of all people. For any logical person, it is better to bury those feelings deep inside than let yourself accept that they are awoken by a ghastly man who cares little for you or your well-being.

You'd rather stick to your studies, anyways.

Today, however, was a particularly irritating day. Normally, Jeongin enjoyed following you around, jeering rude chants at you with his friends (your favourite was the classic and unoriginal "Hey four-eyes!" followed by a chorus of giggles), or trying to wrap his arm around you as you walked down the hall. Every time, you brushed him off.  However, Jeongin's irritability was off the charts since he decided that today was the day to dress in a particularly irritating fashion. He had completely disregarded his school uniform altogether. Why did this of all things make you mad, exactly? Because he looked fucking amazing.

Wrinkled white shirt. Loose tie. And sweatpants. Not just any sweatpants, but grey sweatpants. God, it was like he was trying to annoy you. How could he look so good while wearing something so informal? He was borderline infuriating in his presence alone, now you had to cope with how his sweatpants left little to the imagination. Though you wished that someone would put a stop to this reign of terror, you knew that the school administration had completely given up trying to control him at this point. This institution had become Jeongin's domain and you were intended to suffer through it as well as your rage-based attraction to him. Nevertheless, you pushed those feelings below your impermeable layer of school-related anxiety and ignored them. You found this trick especially useful to you when he was your lab partner in chemistry last year. It is an especially useful tool now considering you were seated across from him.

While you tried to keep your eyes focused on the board in front of you and not on the hunk of the man to your left, the task immediately became easier once your teacher announced the first big project of the semester.

"This project will weigh at around 20% of your grade and will replace this module's exam." Sighs of relief passed through the class in waves, the whole class happy to know that they just have to make a powerpoint rather than study all night for a written test that they would likely fail. Peace, however, was momentary.  

"However,” your teacher continued, “since this project is a large amount of work, it will be done in groups of two." You gave a quick smile to your friend and desk partner to your right, who smiled back.

"The groups, however, have been randomly assigned." Your faces both dropped. Actually, everyone stopped smiling. Then, waves of groans moved through the class.

"Stop complaining," the teacher sighed, rubbing her eyes. "To create a conducive learning environment that limits your amount of fun, I randomly assigned each of you to someone in the class who you likely do not talk to. I will post the partners at the end of class and I suggest that you start working on the project ASAP and throughout the weekend because it's due in a week." Another wave of groans rolled through the class and was immediately followed by complaints, questions, exasperated sighs, and a particularly harsh exhale from you. You hated assigned group projects. Due to your reputation, you were usually expected to carry the project along with whoever you were assigned. You never really minded the work as long as you got to choose your partner. Essentially, if the partner was your friend, you would happily and easily do all the work. But now that the teacher has “randomly selected” your partners (she surely just put them through a random assigning program), you felt your blood boil. Jeongin, however, was surely silently rejoicing at the announcement of a group-based project: it meant that he could coast by like he normally did in group projects.

The rest of the class drudged on with great exhaustion. Everyone loathed the prospect of seeing who they were paired up with at the end of it. The worst thing was that it was the Friday of a long weekend. School was meant to be the last thing on anyone's mind until Tuesday came around. You all should have been blessed with the freedom of three days off and whatever it entailed: drinking, parties, staying out late, suspicious excuses given to your guardians, small friend groups loitering at the park at night, getting high then going to the 7/11, and hangovers that you thought were terrible but would seem like small headaches when you're 22 and trying to keep up with college-level drinking. This was what the weekend was for. However, this teacher obviously loved to ruin everyone's time and force them to study and work on this project. 

With the final bell, the teacher headed out first followed by a mass of same-dressed students who were eager to see the possible stranger that they would be paired with. Jeongin left first, keen to leave but also being able to leave easily as he had brought nothing to class. After a few minutes, you and your friend followed behind the crowd, watching the mass of students as they shoved to look at the list of partners on the corkboard. Some sulked away, others jeered as they had been blessed with the partnership of a friend. Jeongin was one of the first to walk away, smiling smugly and playfully shoving his friend as they sat idly by, waiting for their partners to come to them.

After a few minutes of struggle, you and your friend finally made your way to the list.

"Who'd you get?" You ask as she studies the list first.

"That kid that sits behind us," she says.

"Oh, that's good! His name is Seungmin, he’s sweet."

"Yeah, but..." her voice trailed off.

"But... what?" You inquired, her voice making you uneasy. 

"You're gonna... your partner... just, see for yourself." She steps out of the way as your finger traces down the list to find your name.

And there it is. Next to your partners. And, frankly, you can do nothing but slowly turn and look at Jeongin leaning against the lockers behind you.

He gives you a small smile and raises his eyebrows.

"We'll meet at 5 in the library! I'll see you then!" He states with a twisted grin. With those few words said, he and his friend saunter off, leaving you dumbstruck with your friend praying for your well-being beside you.

“Y/n,” she asked with a soft touch to your arm, “are you okay?” You gave a stiff nod as you watched Jeongin walk away. 

God. Those fucking grey sweatpants look so good on him.

---

"You're lucky that you know the librarian well enough that we can be left alone here," Jeongin teased, looking up at the high ceilings and clearly impressed by them. His arms hung low as he carried the stack of books he had slowly accumulated in his arms. Well, you place them in his arms, he just took them because he didn’t really know what to look for or how to study or what this class was even about. 

You guessed by his expression (and from your past four years of being his victim) that Jeonging had probably never even set foot in the library. In fact, he had little to no intention of doing so for his whole high school career. Yet, thanks to you, here he was.

"I don't 'know the librarian,'" you groaned. "I volunteer here. Some of us need extracurriculars on our university applications. I just have the privilege of going here enough that I get an extra key to help lock up." You placed the book you were carrying on the wooden table and Jeonin copied your action, dropping the stack of texts with a sigh.

“In other words,” Jeongin taunted, “you know the librarian well enough to come here after hours”. You shot him a look before turning to the mess of textbooks and binders in front of you.

"We wouldn't be alone after-hours if we had just started immediately after class," you stated angrily as you sorted the books into piles for you and him. "But somebody had to go smoke with his friends outside, so now we've had to come after hours to study."

"Just know that it was a really good smoke break," Jeongin replied with glee as you divided up his and your reading materials, placing the books with a hidden rage that only came from years of bullying or sexual frustration. Or, in your case, a horrid cocktail of both. After you were done, you took a seat on one side of the table and gestured for him to sit opposite you. He got the hint and sat, immediately flipping through his books and shuffling them around, not even trying to look busy. 

"All I know is that we're here, alone, with no one else around and that I could trash this place if I wanted,” he continued with an air of cockiness you wanted to destroy.

At this point, you were really starting to regret everything that has ever happened to you. Sure, having a key to the school's immense library was a bonus of being a diligent student: you knew you could always escape here and it was entrusted in your care. Many times you had retreated to this place in the hopes of peace and quiet from the troubles of school. It was your sanctuary.

Now, an early library closing, a nicotine addiction, and a late study session had forced you to bring him here.

"I know you won't do that,” you shot back, “and I also know that I could just lock you in here if I wanted for the whole weekend.” Your response made his eyes go wide with what seemed to be shock and worry. However, when a smile broke out on his face, you knew that he thought your threats were empty. 

"You're fun!" He cheered. 

"I will lock you in here, Jeongin." You restated in a serious tone which he didn't seem to take as seriously. "Now,” you continued, “get started on studying. We have a lot to do and I have no intention of doing it alone. You need to look through the blue book. Read sections 2 to 4 and take notes on anything related to the assignment. Check the study questions, too: there could be info in the answers that could help us out."

"I hate that you're making me work," he complained in an obnoxious tone that could only be embodied by a teenage boy who had never been put in his place. "Normally I do nothing and the person just lugs me along."

"Well, I'm tired of carrying group projects, so you have to carry your own weight," you sighed. "Now. Start studying."

Jeongin gave you an eye roll before quietly retreating to his book. The silence quickly engulfed the library and you flipped through your book, looking at where to begin and fearing how much you had to tackle. 

Although this was a less-than-ideal situation, it did have its perks. To be honest, you never knew Jeongin could be quiet. It was nice to take quick glances at him while he studied, his face contorted as he analyzed the text and focused on his work. Just these few moments of silence seemed to give you hope. Maybe you could make the best of a bad situation. Maybe you could use this time to make Jeongin shut up for a few seconds and let you study his handsome face before being rudely disrupted by whatever dribble he decided to shoot out. Maybe this partnering was a blessing in disguise.

Your hopes were ruined as the silence was broken.

"God!" Jeongin groaned, leaning far back in his chair. "This is so borringgggggg!" Your annoyance immediately returned to your body. He was hot, but god did he like to pester you.

"Please, Jeongin, read the passages, I beg of you," you groaned as you looked through the books to find out the sections you were meant to study.

"Ughhhh..." he sighed. Suddenly, he loudly arose, chair screeching back as he picked up his books.

"What are you doing?" You asked, annoyed and barely looking up from the books you were still sorting through.

"I'm moving next to you," he responded as he waddled towards you, moving like a child who was purposefully aggravating a parent just for the fun of it. 

"Please, God, tell me why," you groaned.

"Because I'm lost!" He sighed, "I'm gonna sit by you because I hate being this far away and this lost at the same time. You have to help me Y/N if you're gonna make me carry my weight on this project."

As he slid himself and his books beside you, you prayed to every God you knew of—Jesus, Demeter, Allah, YHWH—that you would be vaporized then and there.

There was no escaping this irritation. Normally, you'd parry any advancements Jeongin made. Oftentimes, you would even take a different path home or avoid certain wings of the school altogether just to get away from him. To be clear, Jeongin didn’t actually frighten you. You weren't scared of Jeongin, you were just horribly, dreadfully annoyed with him. 

However, today was not a normal situation. There was no avoiding him: you were stuck with this fucking idiot on a group project with no hope of deflecting his pokes or prods.

"Oh, wait, before you start reading you should fix your glasses. They’re falling." He mumbles, "lemme… lemme just..." he then placed his pointer fingers on the center of your lens and pushed them up, readjusting the frames but dirtying your eyesight in the process. You shot him an angry look as he giggled, hating the smudge on the glass.

"If you must know," you seethed as you wiped your glasses off and placed them beside you, "I never wear them to read and study—two activities I still hope to do, despite your presence."

"Ah!" Jeongin dramatically fell back on his chair and grasped his heart as if he had just been shot straight through it. "Words hurt, y/n! I can't believe you would say such things to me! How dare you suggest I distract you!" He cried with a great fabricated sentiment.

Again, you rolled your eyes at his giggles and flirtatious fucking smile that made him look so damn dreamy that it made you want to punch a wall.

"Jeongin, please let me get back to studying."

"Call me 'Innie,'" he responded coolly.

You let a beat pass as you tried to process what he just said.

"...What?!" You hissed at him. That certainly got your attention.

"Call... me... 'Innie.'" His smile widened and he leaned forward, his face inches from yours and moving closer as he enunciated each syllable with mischief. 

Part of you wanted to push him away. You wanted to leave the library, march straight home, and write a strongly worded email to your teacher telling her that, despite her requirements, you desperately wanted to complete the assignment by yourself.

The other part of yourself, however...

Shamefully, that part wanted him to lean in closer. It enjoyed his playful smile and tone, and thought about how wonderful it was that you two were together, alone, uninterrupted. It thought about all you could do behind closed doors. It thought about things that made you anxious and confused and, frankly, made you want to turn your brain off.

So, you agreed with the former part.

"Jeongin," you stressed, leaning back. "Please go back to studying. I don't have time to play your silly name games." His exaggerated groan to your response almost made you crack a smile. Almost.

"Come onnnnnn, Y/n!" He wailed, voice echoing throughout the archives. "You don't even have to say it in public! Please! Only once!" Suddenly, he leaned in again and his face was now mere centimetres from yours. His voice was hushed and his eyes had a strange look in them, something that was serious and tempting. It seemed like he was trying to be playfully urgent in his words, but his voice made each syllable come across as languid, as if he were edging you on, almost daring you to obey him.

 "Just say it to me. Now, in private,” he pleaded.

Uh oh. That part of your brain that you tried to ignore was coming at you with a vengeance. You hardly noticed that your cheeks were starting to burn. Gathering all control, you tried to put an end to this foolishness. 

"We won't ever be alone together after next week,” you replied calmly. 

"What... what makes you say that?" He asked with a discouraged curiosity.

"Well... I can't imagine you'd want to hang out after this... after all..." you trailed off.

"After all...? What?" He continued, "After all 'I'm the smartest person in the district and intend to graduate top of the class so I don’t have time to hang out and do scumbag shit with my bestie Innie?"

Okay. Maybe Jeongin actually could humour you. After all, that impression is spot on. The blush on your cheeks had cooled now, but you had not noticed: your mind was too busy malfunctioning over the fact that you were smiling at something Yang Jeongin said to you. Jeongin had genuinely brought a smile to your face, and he seemed to notice, too.

"Woah! There's your smile!" Jeongin jeered, "I've been trying to get you to smile for like three or four years! 'Bout time!"

And just like that, your smile had disappeared without a trace. Your facial muscles even relaxed immediately, feeling no lingering strain from the act. How dare a fucking man tell you to smile, and to try and say that he has been wanting you to do so for four fucking years after bullying you for those same four goddamn years?! You felt like your chest would explode.

"What?! Where did it go?!" Jeongin whined, defeated and pouty because of it. "Pleeasseeeeeee smile again, y/n! You look so adorable when you do! I mean, you always do, but your smile! And I know you need your glasses and you look so cute with them, but I can finally see your whole face without them! Come oonnnnnnnnnn! Smileeeeeeee!!!"

Woah. Okay. Those words had sent that stupid, gullible, optimistic part of your brain into a frenzy. However, you clenched your jaw and kept a steady breath. You couldn’t let yourself get carried away as you knew it was all just a game to him. Everything was a game to him.

If Jeongin was telling the truth and that he thought you were “cute” or “always looked adorable”, you would have truly allowed yourself to believe his words. You would have beamed knowing that he thought it was beautiful if you did or didn’t smile, unable to hold back a response to his affection. If he was telling the truth, you were even ready to blush, beg, plead, flirt—whatever it took to keep him talking about how pretty you looked.

Yet, you are a pessimist, through and through.  Before your imagination could run off with the idea that Jeongin’s words were honest and genuine, your heart twined knowing that whatever he was saying was likely far from the truth. What Jeongin said was likely rooted in some foolish, mean-spirited, and twisted way of teasing you. He always did something like this after annoying you: poke the bear then tell it how lovely it looks before it has the chance to chase him down. It was just like those boys in junior high who would yell across the class claiming that “his friend liked you" while the very same friend made disgusted faces. The boys would laugh then, as if the very idea of loving you was a joke. The girls, however, would share a solemn silence, a solidarity only experienced by the victims of female adolescence and the macabre.  A

After all these experiences, you knew two things: boys were assholes and they were bullies. And Jeongin was part of them. 

So, at this moment, you felt dizzy from the sheer humiliation of his words and your  bubbling hatred. You couldn’t believe that Jeongin had the audacity to tease you like this, to say you were pretty when you knew that he had nothing positive to say about you. Saying such sweet things to you with nothing but ill intent behind them made you want to tackle him. Fuck his good looks or his conceited yet insanely attractive attitude. 

So, instead of letting yourself be hopeful and toy with the idea that he may actually be saying a nice thing, you did what you did every time: move past it and try to suppress your anger.

Clearing your throat, you returned to your book.

"Affection and coquetry won't work on me, Jeongin," you stated, eyes burning into the pages to try and ward off the pain in your stomach from his words. 

"Oh, really?" 

God. When will he learn to give up?! He leaned playfully on his hand and swiftly placed his elbow on the table, simultaneously and seamlessly nudging your book out of the way with a coy smile. The act made you huff through your nostrils and dignify his presence with a glare. He didn’t even register the pain his words had caused you. 

"They won't," you respond emotionlessly. All your emotions, however, became quite clear as you pushed your book back to its rightful place and shoved his elbow out of the way in the process, making him hiss from the pain. "And I doubt anything you do to me would count as flirtation."

Jeongin's sour face from the ache in his arm quickly changed to a wide-eyed, agape look. Oh no. The face of mischievous curiosity.

"I take that as a challenge!" He boomed.

"Oh, God, please smite me now," you mumbled, anxiety and rage rising. 

"I just gotta figure out what you like about me and just really capitalize on it," he pondered aloud.

Well. That statement made you scoff.

"I like nothing about you," you dryly stated.

“Oh, come on!” He responds, hoping your words were of off-beat humour rather than born from frankness. Your annoyance was boiling over, unable to contain it.

“No, it’s true,” you stated with malice. “You tease me about my looks and try to make me feel pretty just to tear me down. It’s honestly sickening and, frankly, after four years, it’s kind of unoriginal, Jeongin.”

“Y/n, what?”

There was no humour in your voice in the next words you spoke, no inkling that what you said could be taken lightly. You had let yourself speak freely and felt the burn of horrid words as they dripped from your tongue. 

 “In fact, I would say I’d rather hate you. Extremely so.” 

Silence engulfed the room. Not even the squeak of the chair as Jeongin shifted could be heard. You glanced up at the boy beside you. Jeongin was still and silent: two things he never was.

"...What?" you asked, your words met with no response but the cold echoes of the library. 

“Y/n, how could you say that?” His voice almost cracked as he asked the question. You glanced up at him and caught his eyes. They were glassy, empty.

Oh no.

Oh no... that dreadful empathy inside of you made your heart ache and your stomach churn. How could you feel so horrible after saying one mean thing when he's been nothing but disrespectful to you for four years?!

"I, umm... I—I mean" you tried to defend yourself without seeming like an asshole, which was becoming increasingly difficult as your mind raced to fill the space. However, you realized you had nothing positive to say at all. “Ah, fuck it,” you whispered under your breath. “Jeongin, be serious. Why would I like anything about you when you are nothing but mean to me?"

"Mean to you?!" He spat back, breaking from his hurt trance and turning to anger, simultaneously exacerbating your rage. "When have I ever—!" 

"You've been mean since the moment we met!” You shot back, “"You taunt me, tease me, and even follow me when we run into each other. It is hard enough dealing with academic stress, then I'm paired with the bully that makes my life a living hell and—"

"Bully?" He repeated with some distaste in his mouth and a saddened look on his face. "Is that what I am to you!?"

"What else would I call someone who's followed me every day for four years and has done nothing but jeer at me with his friends?! It is hard enough wanting to please everyone and excelling at school despite what I tell myself. But then I get some guy harassing me every day like it's his fucking day job. What else would I call him if not a 'bully'?! What, Jeongin, what?!"

The library walls repelled your voices again and let its old age absorb the hateful things you spat at each other. Slowly, the sound waves dissipated and silence consumed the wooden room. As the quiet settled, Jeongin let a beat pass, nothing to be said as he, too, let your words sink in.

"I... I just wanted..." His voice was hard, stern at first. Then, he sighed, cleared his throat and darted his eyes away, tone changing to a nervous and humble one. "I just… I'm sorry, y/n. Please know that, okay? I never meant for it to be like that or to go this far or even in this direction. Please know that."

The library had never seemed so unsettling to you until this moment.

Your mind dissected his words, prodding them and pulling them apart and trying to find if he was being malicious. Strangely enough, his words seemed... genuine. 

Great. This meant two things: 1) that he was genuinely sorry after bullying you for four years, and 2) that, if you wanted to be the bigger person, you had to accept it. Worst of all, your brain came up with the perfect way to accept his apology and also humble yourself, and you really hated how perfect it was and how humiliating it would be. Sometimes, your really fucking hated how your brain worked.

"Innie,” you said softly, “Thank you.” 

Jeongin's eyes went wide, so wide you swore they would pop out. The gasp that followed made you believe that he would consume all the air in the room. 

"Say—say it again!" He stammered out excitedly.

"No," you replied as you cracked a small smile. "Take it as a peace offering. I, the person who spoke so ill of you, am extending an olive branch to you, the man who has wronged me."

"I understand so little of that metaphor but just know that I'm happy," he smiled. You rolled your eyes at his idiocy and smiled.

However, before you could conclude the discussion and finally, finally, finally, return to your book, Jeongin raised his hand in a half heart.

Hand. Jeongin's hand.

"What... what are you doing?" You mumbled out, studying his digits.

Pretty, big hand.

Fuck. Not these thoughts. Not now.

"C'mon, y/n! I'm making a heart for you to finish! As a peace offering or a tree branch or whatever you want to call it! Like this, yeah?" He demonstrated by making the shape with both hands, making a complete heart and showing it to you with a boyish grin.

Big, soft, veiny hands.

"Uh, y-yeah, Jeongin," your hand was shaking as you raised it to his own. Fuck, they were even bigger in comparison to yours. 

Hands. Hold. Touch. Big and veiny and... big...God, what well is big?

That fucking part of your mind needs to shut the fuck up before you lobotomize yourself with a #2 pencil. Luckily Jeongin’s giggles as your hands briefly met to form a heart between the two of you snapped you away from such thoughts.

"Guess we're friends now, huh?" You muttered, trying to distract your perverted inner monologue.

"Aw, y/n!!!" He boyishly cheered. His impish smile was contrasted by his low chuckle. However, your own joy was challenged when Jeongin quickly interlaced your fingers in his.

Oh no. 

My tiny hand in his.

"Wait, your hands are so small!"

So big... so big compared to me... so soft, so warm...

"Y-yeah, I've heard that before."

"They’re so adorable! My hands look so big compared to yours, yeah?" His other hand lightly traced your wrist before grabbing it and forcing you to spread your fingers to compare hand sizes.

So, so big. Could barely wrap my hand around him. Could barely wrap my hand around his—

“Wow you’re right,” you responded nervously. 

You started to feel that strange feeling, the one you only experienced in solitude in the dead of night, not sitting across from a man who may or may not be your bully anymore and is using you like a plaything. God, why did that thought make these feelings even stronger? You crossed your legs and hoped to squash the voice in your head.

"Like woah! I knew my hands were big but this is crazy!"

Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it—

"Do you have anything else that’s big that I should know about?"

...oh fuck.

This library has gone through too many auditory extremes today. You know that this has got to be the loudest goddamn silence you have ever or will ever experience in your life. Both of your eyes were wide, your stare locked in with his as you sat engulfed in shock.

For the first time today, you felt just how hot your face was.

It felt like an eternity was passing within these seconds of horrifying, dreadful awkwardness. You prayed that once you would finally blink that he just be gone. Sadly, he still sat there, face unchanging and unforgiving.

His hands still held your own.

Breaking the silence, he let out the driest of coughs.

"Well, it's—"

"I-I'm sorry," you stuttered out. "I didn't mean to—"

"It's—It's no worries, truly," he stammered over. The silence came again, but less horrendous this time. Or maybe it was worse, you couldn't decide. All you noticed was the fact that his hand still hadn't left yours. 

Jeongin decided to speak again, quieter this time. His eyes were wide, but glancing around frantically, trying to search for the right words. A harsh blush was forming down his ears and hard turned his honeyed skin into a scarlet red. You were strangely comforted knowing that he was just as mortified as you.

"I-It's wrong you know." He hesitated to continue. You, however, were all ears.

"Jeongin," you said slowly, "whatever do you mean?" He sighed, embarrassment consuming him.

"My friends looked it up and... apparently nose length is a more accurate measure.... but... you know..." Though you were fascinated to learn about this new little tidbit of info and that Jeongin actually knew something, you were way too focused on what he wanted to say.

"But what?" you asked in a small voice. His palm was sweating against yours as heat radiated from him.

"Well, just that.. you know... it's not like a rule. There are exceptions. It's just like a theory, yeah?" You nodded, glad to understand what he meant by that. Yet, you swore, that as he finally dropped his hand, exposing your skin to the bitter air of the dusty library, Jeongin uttered a brief  "I should know." Though you wanted to poke and prod, you opted to just nod and turned with him towards the table, staring at the stack of unread books. 

“Anyways…” you said, breaking the silence, “let’s get started.” Still, you couldn't help but sneak quick looks at Jeongin's face, trying to decide whether or not his nose was longer or shorter than average.

This had to be your least productive and positively worst study session ever. 

"What section do I have to read again?" Jeongin asked.

Oh, thank God he said that. You much preferred harassing him about not paying attention than whatever the hell you just experienced.

"I told you," you sighed, flipping open his book and pointing at the contents. "These sections! 2 to 4! Please! Start!"

"But what if I get borreedddddd?" Jeongin groaned. There he was! There’s the annoying Jeongin you know. "I can barely see what you pointed at anyways! Can’t you just help me out?"

"Ohmygod," you muttered, tired but willing to do anything if it meant he shut up and study. "If I were to help you for a bit, do you swear to properly study and leave me alone after?"

"Pinky promise!" He smiled gleefully and stuck out his extended, large pinky finger. After staring blankly at the digit, you linked your smaller pinky around his and slung your head in defeat.

"Okay," you muttered. "Let's begin."

For a bit, this plan worked perfectly. After only 20 minutes, you read through section 2 together and helped point out the more important parts of the text. The 20 minutes were difficult, however. Being this close to him, being able to smell his cologne—which was nice and smelled expensive, contrasting his scruffiness—and brushed shoulders with him was almost too much. Wow. You really were touched starved. Nevertheless, your own lameness was virtually undetectable to you. You were more focused on how well Jeongin retained the information and how neat his words were. You guessed that his utter stupidity was most likely due to his inability to focus, which was still a struggle even as you helped him. Nevertheless, as you began section 3 and were about to return to your own work, you knew that he had already come a long—

"HOW LONG HAVE WE BEEN DOING THIS?" Jeongin cried.

Ah. There he is.

"Just a little more, Jeongin, okay? Please, just be bearable. I have my own work to do," you whined, stomping your feet from exhaustion. Even when he was trying to be polite, he still knew how to get on every one of your nerves.

"Can you please just keep helping me? Just this section and then I swear you can get back to your work?" He pouted. Was... was giving you puppy dog eyes?

You sighed. Again, defeated.

"Yeah, sure," you replied, "let's start here—"

"Y/n?" He interrupted. You rolled your eyes.

"Yes?" He let your snark reply hang before smirking.

"Come closer," he nudged playfully with a smile you would almost consider flirtatious if you hadn't been constantly reminded about his disobedient behaviour for the past hour.

"Why?" You asked genuinely.

"You're squinting! You said don't read with your glasses on but it's straining your eyes! Just..." he thought for a moment, glancing around. "Ugh, whatever! Here—"

Unexpectedly, his hands found their way around your body, slinking under your legs and around your back, sliding under your thighs and brushing the exposed skin.

"Jeongin! I can just put my glasses on—" you blabbered out nervously as he continued to lift you.

"Just come here, fuck!" He shot back, finally raising you from your chair and sliding you onto his lap.

"Jeongin!" You yelped.

Normally, anytime someone picked you up made you want to scream. This, however, this made you want to die.

As if by some magical swiftness, you had now found yourself sitting on Jeongin. Well, not on him. Just between his legs. His long legs were spread out, your thick thighs barely fitting onto the chair as he caged you. And he hadn't remembered to tuck your skirt in when you sat down, so now it splayed open. It had ridden up, exposing everything but your white cotton panties, and was surely flipped onto Jeongin's pants at the back. You just prayed he couldn't see anything. However, he probably couldn't considering how close he was. Worst of all, he kept you close by resting his hands on your hips, making sure you sat still. The pads of his long fingers held your tummy softly, dipping into the fat as his thumbs rubbed slowly up your lower back.

You swore you had never felt so warm in your life. As you broke out in a sweat, you feared that his wolfishly big hands were paired with a keen sense of smell.

"There!" He giggled, resting his chin on your shoulder and leaning his head against yours, studying the book with intentness that starkly contrasted the intimacy of how he held you. "Now you can see well!"

You opened and closed your mouth a few times trying to find something to say. Though his completely nonchalant demeanour was to be expected, you were still shocked but the literal position you were in. Not to mention the way his thumbs slowly drew circles on you while his hands shifted to hold your stomach. Your stomach for godsakes. How does he know exactly where to hold you to make you feel so secure and so goddamn embarrassed at the same time?! You pressed your thighs tightly together, trying to smother the weird feeling building between them that you tried so desperately to avoid. While you squished them your legs, your thighs were simultaneously crushed on either side by Jeongin's own, which were incredibly muscular: a feature you had never noticed until you were stuck between them.

"How..." you asked, "How did you do that? Aren't I heavy?"

"Am I complaining?" He asked back, a smirk in his voice. He wrapped his arms around your waist now, tugging you closer and pressing his chest fully into your back. "If you were ‘too heavy’, you wouldn't be sitting here right now, hm?”

"I-I suppose..." You start, not knowing what to say next.

"Now," he sighed with an air of exaggerated contentment, "if you want to finish this project sOooOOoo bad, then help me study!" God, how could he have you in the palm of his hand— literally— and still manage to pester you?!

"O-okay," you stuttered unsurely. "Well, let's start here and—"

"Mhm," Jeongin hummed, still massaging your fupa lightly and pressing his chest firmly against your back. You tried to burn a hole into the bookk—a feeble attempt at trying to distract yourself.

"A-as you can see," you coughed, "this section is more about analyzing the um..."—one of his hands started to rub lower—"the events t-talked about in the previous section a-and"—the other starts moving up, ghosting over your chest and playing with the top button of your shirt, leaving your tie untouched despite how you desperately wanted to loosen it—"t-trying to c-contextualize the previous section and… p-provide some background and… umm…."

"Gosh, y/n," Jeongin chuckled as his fingers rubbed the column of buttons, "I thought you were such a good student, but you seem so distracted. It's funny really."

Maybe he’s just distracted, you tell yourself, trying to reason what in the hell was going on. After all, he can barely sit still in class and often toyed with loose hems or drew on the margins of his papers. Therefore, it was perfectly reasonable to assume that he was just doing the same now: toying with your uniform as a means of distraction. He always played with you anyways, so it was safe to assume that it was some attention deficit that caused him to trifle with you. That's all it was. Or, at least, you prayed that would be the truth. As his hand fiddled with your skirt’s hemline and the other began loosening your tie, you were just hoping that this was all some absent-minded game for him. If that were the truth, then hopefully this dreadful pressure from between your thighs would disappear. It was building with every second and your panties were now so tight, so straggling, and so wet, latching onto your folds and aiding in your growing shyness.

"J-Jeongin," you began, "c-can you—"

"Innie, please, y/n," he teased in a low voice against your ear. "To you, it's Innie." Though you wanted to scream at him for uttering that petname again, you decided to push your pride aside. You needed him to stop, and you needed to utilize every tool in your arsenal to do so.

"I-innie," you stuttered out, shivering from the warmth that lingered on your ear from his breathy voice. "Can you please stop... you know... t-touching me?"

Again, Jeongin laughed. But, this time, it was drier, with less playfulness behind it and less mercy.

"Aw, y/n," he whispered into your ear, causing you to squirm a little, "I thought we were just having fun. Are you really getting all worked up over a few little touches? I thought you would like it more, you know, considering it's my big hands doing it." His last words were strongly enunciated by his hand tugging on your tie to gain access to your collar buttons. He started to play with them as you huffed, undoing them teasingly.

You were fuming at his words, knowing that: 1) he was just doing this because—at his core—Jeongin was just a fucking asshole, and 2) he was, sadly, correct. Still, you were determined to not let him know that he was right. Knowing him in the way you do, you couldn't let him take this victory

"I-is that really what this is about? Are you really hanging on to that! I had a lapse of judgment f-for one second and—" another button was undone and he began working on the next. After this next button, your bra chest would be exposed. It was only covered by an ill-fitting bra and you silently cursed your frugal self for not investing in better undergarments. Still, you continued. You had to. "I-I just fucking hate that you'd bring it up again! You just love to make fun of me d-don't you?! God, Jeongin, it is so typical of you to t-tease me like this and—Ah!" 

The sound of clattering buttons across mahogany and the sudden exposure to air frightened you. Jeongin, however, didn't seem to mind.

"I told you," he stated in a voice you had never heard him use before. "It's 'Innie'. Yes?"

Clearly, he had gotten sick and tired of you talking. He just wanted you to finally be quiet, much like how you wanted him to do the same. To accomplish this, his hands found the opening of your shirt and ripped the fabric open, scattering the last of your buttons, ruffling your shirt, and exposing your chest to him. In exposing you, Jeongin gained the upper hand. It was obvious that all pride, all power you had disappeared. However, his action had also done something else: the sensation you tried so desperately to conceal was making you hopelessly needy. You unconsciously began to twist your hips, rubbing your thighs together in hopes of eliminating the feeling.

The book in front of you was long forgotten.

"Yes..." you replied back in a small voice. "Yes, Innie. S-sorry." You could almost feel Jeongin smile behind you, but, if you truly could, you didn't notice due to his hands returning to their place on your collarbone and stomach. His fingers now languidly traced your clavicle while the other massaged your tummy, fingertips slowly digging into your skirt and pulling out the parts of your shirt that were still tucked in. 

"What a good baby," he chuckled, paying no mind to the nickname, though it made you redder than blood. "So fucking horny and no way to ask it. Such a fucking pervert. I bet you wanted this, didn’t you? You're even rutting back into me. Trying to get me worked up, hm?"

"No," you gasped with deep embarrassment, "never!"

"Tut tut, y/n," he tsked. "I know you're up to something."

"If anyone is up to something, it's you!" You protested. Your exclamations only made Jeongin laugh.

"Now, now," he giggled, "you wouldn't want anyone—say, a janitor or a lingering teacher—to hear us and come in? Wouldn't it be bad to see their star pupil being fondled by the school delinquent? Wouldn’t it be bad for them to notice that you liked it?"

Fuck. He knew how to shut you up. You turned your head to catch his gaze, shame and that peculiar feeling spreading all over your body into a delightful mix that only exacerbated your guilt. He knew he had you.

"That's what I thought," he laughed. "Now—"

Quickly, his hands moved toward your chest, dragged your bra down, and began to pinch your nipples, massaging your breasts and causing you to moan. Your hips increased their shallow rolls in an attempt to alleviate the pain. As you did, you felt what you could only suspect to be Jeongin's growing erection pressing into your ass. He definitely hiked up your skirt sometime before and was enjoying the sight of his clothed cock rubbing against your panty-clad behind.

"Innie! W-what are you—?"

"Oh, baby," he laughed and he rolled your buds between his fingers, making you whimper, "You say I'm distracting you from studying, but now your acting like such a little slut from only a few touches. You're so sensitive. I swear, you could be a virgin, hm?"

You dared not respond, only offering him a shy look as he continued to rub your chest.

"Oh," he giggled, "oh, of course you are. My sweet little goody-two-shoes hasn't had anyone touch her pussy yet, hm? My little virgin baby, yeah?"

"P-pussy?" you repeated, knowing that the word was dirty from the way it left a delictable taste in your mouth.

Jeongin mused, "My my, you are inexperienced." He let out a laugh that brought tears to your eyes, though it wouldn't be the first time he had made you cry. You were so frustrated and felt so strange and your panties were so wet and surely see-through and fuck! While your mind raged. Jeongin let one of his hands slip down your body and down your stomach, moving his other hand to grope the tit it had abandoned.

"Your pussy," Jeongin continued, ignoring your squirms and internal war, "is this right here."

Everything clicked as his fingers rubbed the damp white cotton into your pussy, rubbing up and down your folds with his middle and ring finger, slowly stopping to rub your clit and make your head spin. You glanced down, noticing how large his digits were and wondered how much he could stuff inside of you.

"Such an innocent fuck toy, never been used," he rambled, tongue licking the conch of your ear and making you whimper.

"J-Jeongin—I mean, Innie," you corrected. You could tell he was pleased by the way he hummed into your ears while he nibbled on the lobe, an action that should not make you want to moan as much as it should. "P-please stop touching me, it isn't appropriate.”

"But I thought I was helping you study, y/n," he pouted in a pouty tone, fingers never ceasing their motions. "Isn't this keeping me distracted? Isn't this helping you study? I need something to fiddle with, and you’re the perfect fucking stress toy for me." A particularly harsh rub into your panties and a tight grasp on your chest made you yelp. "Aren't you liking this, y/n? Liking me touching your soaking cunt? Fuck, you even soaked through your panties, how pathetic. " He spoke humorously through gritted teeth. He returned to slowly groping you, kissing down your neck loudly and rubbing his erection into your backside. You felt like you were going to explode. 

"You are, aren’t you?" he panted as he rocked back and forth into you, drooling down your neck. "I thought you were a better student than this. I thought you were such a good girl who was put off by teasing. What did you call me again? A bully?" He said the word with joking vehemence; teasingly but backed by a viciousness that made you crumble. "Would a bully do nothing but defend you for four years? Would a bully beat up any fucking nerd who insulted your intelligence? Would a bully praise you and call you pretty only to be given the cold shoulder just ‘cause you didn’t believe it? Fuck, I wonder what the school board would think if they saw you like this, being fondled by a fucking bully." His words turned to mush in your head, your brain frenzying at his confession and his touches. 

"Jeongin, please, I didn’t know! P-please, I just thought you didn’t l-like me, Jeongin. I thought you were m-mean and—ah!"

Your pleas were cut short as Jeongin stood up and shoved you forward, bending you over the table as his chair loudly scraped. He ripped—literally, ripped off your shirt at the seams, the sound filling the room along with your cries, with your bra being pulled off next. You were left in nothing but your shirt and tie: Jeongin wanted you to be at least a little dressed up for him when he claimed you. He grabbed your hair by the root and pulled your head up, making you release a sound that was a mixture of a cry and moan. The pain was unbearable, but the suffering mostly came from the absence of Jeongin's hands on you. At this point, you had realized that this feeling was some disgusting, perverted form of horniness directed at a man you hated. It made you feel dirty and desperate. But, most importantly, it made you feel in dire need of relief.

"I told you, y/n," Jeongin growled in that angry voice which didn't suit your impression of him, "that isn't my name." He released your hair and let your head fall to the table.

"I'm—I'm sorry," you begged as he moved the discarded books out from under you and threw them off the table. "P-please don't do anything mean!"

Funny. It was really funny to see you beg for him. It made him chuckle dryly before he hung himself over your back, once again pressing his chest into you—which you could feel was bare, meaning he must’ve removed it in the midst of things, leaving him in only his sweats.

"Oh, my innocent little baby," Jeongin panted into your ear, "you will be sorry." Jeongin's playful and perverted voice was matched by his hands slowly tugging down your panties, an action that caused you to chant a mantra of "no's" as your pussy was exposed to the cold air. Eventually, he had gotten impatient and tore the fabric up, an act that made tears fall from your eyes.

"Aw, don't worry, y/n," Jeongin humoured after seeing your lip tremble when he returned on top of you, caging you in and rubbing his clothed cock into your exposed cunt. "I'll take such good care of you after you learn a little lesson, yeah? Don't you just love to learn knew things, you fucking inexperienced little know-it-all?" You squirmed under him, begging for more and praying that he would give it to you. Yet, it seemed that patience offered itself to Jeongin when it pleased, and now he seemed to have all the time in the world.

Slowly, he rose his body from yours and rested his hands on your ass, rubbing the flimsy skirt and toying with your fat.

"Such a dumb fucking little virgin," he groaned as he let your pussy dampen the front of his sweats, pressing his throbbing dick into your needy cunt and making you whine. "Needs to learn a lesson."

Swiftly, his hand pulled away and slapped your ass.

"Innie!" You cried from the feeling, tears continuing to fall as his hand reached up and spanked you again, filling the library with lewd sounds to accompany your moans and his grunts.

"Say my fucking name again," he whispered with venom as he continued to spank you, enjoying how your ass reddened with each hit.

"Innie, Innie! Please stop!" You sobbed, making him laugh.

"Just—a few—more," he stated, marking every few words with a repeated spank. His other hand toyed with your ass, enjoying the softness and how your untouched flesh contrasted the growing blush on the other cheek.

"Y-yes—fuck! Yes, Innie!" You whimpered.

"God, such a fast learner," he grunted, continuing. "Aren't I helping you study, now? What if I helped you study every day, yeah? Licked your little cunt every time you got an answer right and then spanked you when you get one wrong? Maybe that'll help with your studying. Do you want a study buddy, y/n? Hm? Do you?"

"Yes, fuck I do!" You sniffled in defeat. "Only Innie, only Innie can teach me. Please!"

Finally, after a loud and particularly harsh spank from Jeongin accompanied by a satisfied grunt, he decided that your study session was over. He settled his large hand on your ass and rubbed the scarlet skin to try and coax you back down. Your back rose and fell while your knees buckled from the torture he had just put you through. You let out a sharp hiss and every time Jeongin's hand lovingly fondled the abused flesh. Jeongin, however, was beyond elated and relished your pain. In another demonstration of his strength, he flipped your body over like a ragdoll and pushed you onto the table so your legs hung over the edge. He then slotted himself between his legs and greeted your puffy face with a broad grin.

"Such a good little student for Innie," he teased. Pushing into you further, he let his cock press against your soaking cunt and further drench his sweatpants in your juices. The warmth of your bares chests pressing together made you smile while the squish of your breasts made Jeongin rejoice in being able to indulge in the plumpness of your body. He placed a layer of kisses from your forehead down your face, licking away your tears and shushing your sniffles.

"Did I do good?" You sniffled. Jeongin held his body over yours, blocking the light above with his broad, bare shoulders. He looked down at you with a mixture of emotions behind his eyes which were hard to discern, but were surely good-natured, regardless of his previous actions.

"Of course, y/n," he hummed, "so good." He let his hands roam up and down your bare thighs to reassure you, coaxing a smile out of you.

"Really?" You asked with a lightness you didn't expect as you reached up to cradle his face

"Absolutely," he chuckled while only moving to lay his hand over yours. He leaned down again and resumed his trail of kisses down your neck towards your chest. Your hands helped pull him down to you. You played with his thick locks before trailing your fingers down his back muscles. 

"Such—a—smart—and—pretty—girl,” Jeongin cooed between every kiss to your chest. Each kiss between his words only increased your sense of pride and the neediness between your legs. The feelings only worsened when Jeongin finally attached his mouth to your nipple while he groped the other, suckling on you with a ferocity you didn't expect.

"F-fuck," you mewled as spit trickled down your chest.

"Are you ready to continue our lesson?" Jeongin asked while moving to suck on your other breast. 

"Yes, Innie" you purred as you arched your back to meet his mouth. “Always ready for you.”

He chuckled and continued to satisfy you a bit longer, caught up in your moans and almost forgetting the pain of his erection as it desperately kneaded your cunt. Despite your small protests, he finally pulled himself away. Smiling at your pouty expression, he sauntered backward and stared at your limp body before speaking. 

"Stand up."

It was embarrassing how fast you rose to the ground. You were only focused on following his orders, obeying him, needing more and fearing that you would get nothing if you were disobedient. You barely even noticed how naked you were until you felt the cool air meet your spit-covered tits. Yet, when you moved to cover yourself, you stopped when Jeongin gave a look that said “I am not afraid to bend you over my lap and spank you again.” He smiled when you let your arms drop to your sides.

"She's such a good girl," he muttered aloud, reaching out to pull you forward by your tie. Your eyes were only on him and his sweat-covered chest and dishevelled hair and raw lips that kissed your body so perfectly.

He let his thumb slide up your jaw as he tugged you to him, hand sliding up your cheek and holding your face before tilting your head up. Then, as if the punishment didn’t happen, as if this annoying study session didn’t happen, as if these past four years were just a fever dream that you had finally awakened from, he leaned down and captured your lips in his. He kissed you—truly kissed you—for the first time, but, surely, hopefully not the last time.

When he finally broke away, he studied your soft eyes and offered a small kiss to your forehead, as if he were sealing you as his and promising that "Yes, I am sorry for the way things were. I'm sorry that what began as meaningless teasing just for fun turned into a fucked up crush. I am sorry that I haven't told you until now. I'm sorry that I'm such a fucking perverted loser that I couldn't just tell the beautiful girl that I had a crush on for four years that I liked her. I'm sorry that it took four years just to kiss you. I’m sorry I kissed you under such circumstances. Just know that I want you. I want you, so deeply and so passionately, so please just drop to your knees and fucking suck my cock and let me kiss you and fuck you and hold you and let me be yours and you mine." Instead of speaking the words he wished, he simply changed his stare and licked his lips, catching the lingering taste of you on them.

"Wanna learn something new?" He asked rhetorically, thumb gliding on your lower lip. You didn't even respond to him. Not a nod or a hum. You simply just allowed your mouth to open and have his thumb slip in, immediately rubbing the digit with your tongue and soaking it in spit. You didn’t want to respond or even acknowledge the act, not when you waited four goddamn years to suck his fingers. 

"I'll take that as a 'yes,'" Jeongin mused. "I think you can assume what I want you to do." In response, you just gave your head a slight shake, still warming his thumb with your tongue.

"Really?" He asked in a mocking voice that made you wildly embarrassed and red. "You really are just a dumb little toy waiting to be used. Such an eager baby that wants to learn, yeah?" This time, you gave him a slight nod. Your hand traced his abs and stroked each line, unsure of what to do but unable to remain still.

"Okay then. Guess I’ll have to give my baby step-by-step instructions, yeah?" he sighed. "Get on your knees."

Needless to say, you were shocked by the request. Though you were glass-eyed at this moment and almost choking on just the length of his thumb alone, you still had a working mind; one that was not distracted by Jeongin's eagerness pressing into your lower abdomen or how he looked at you or how much he wanted you or how fucking good his chest felt or how he shivered when your hand traced over his nipples. Despite all of this, you still had a conscience, and it told you to leave. It told you that this was an embarrassing turn of events that could only end badly and that you should run away, leaving him with his cock still hard and unsatisfied, then report him to the principal for bullying or public indecency or something! You knew that you should go.

Instead, you simply sank to your knees. You still suckled on Jeongin's thumb while he shakily exhaled a chorus of "you're such a good girl, such a good student, so smart, so sweet, so soft". Your hands trickled down his abs before rubbing the soft fabric of his sweatpants that you wanted so desperately to be removed. They hung off him proudly and lowly, kept up only by a measly tied knot and displaying his adonis belt that drew your eye line downwards. When you finally settled on your knees, your fingers and eyes traced down these lines and fiddled with the top of his sweatpants. Your fingers then traced lower until your hand palmed his heavy erection, unsure of what to do as you massaged the length. He was so stiff and long and big and—

Oh. He was big. Even in your inexperience, you knew it. It must have been a good few inches above average. You gulped at his size, in awe of his length that he was done so well to hide. 

"Remember what you said earlier?" He asked, removing his thumb from your pop mouth so he could cup your jaw. He tried to tilt your head up, but it was too difficult with your eyes fixated on the heavy, large bulge that protruded from his pants.

"C'mon baby, remember what you said? Use your big girl memory and tell me," he cooed. Your hands rubbed up and down his thighs while your hips rutted against nothing, the pressure between them building exponentially due to neglect. He tilted your head again, meeting your big doe eyes and forcing your focus away from his strained hard-on.

"Innie," you choked out, fingers teasing the hem of his pants. "Hands... so big... so you must be..." He let you trail off and allowed your faze to return to his pants as they transfixed on the prominent outline of his cock and the stain on the fabric right at his tip.

"That stupid fucking theory about noses being indicators of size," he continued with a smile on his face, "is just that: a stupid fucking theory."

As if answering your prayers, he used his spare hand to slip the knot off. Then, with a small tug, he slowly lowered his pants enough, just enough to let his cock slip out. In turn, you were blessed with the picture-perfect image of his cock.

"Don't I prove that what you say about big hands is true, y/n?"

You just gave him a dumb nod, too needy to formulate proper words. However, he didn't need you to speak: he knew he was correct.

You always had a thing for his hands, but they were nothing compared to his cock. But together, when his large hands held his immaculately big, veiny, pulsing dick made your mouth water and dribble fall down your lips. His tip was red and leaking precum, begging to be touched or fucked or given some goddamn attention. He offered himself a few pumps, hissing as his heavy erection dripped fluids that you tried to catch desperately on your tongue. It wasn't enough. You needed more.

"Innie," you mewled, catching his attention. 

"Y/n," he gasped as he stared down at your teary-eyed expression that was so cute and obviously needed to be rewarded.

"Please," you mumbled with embarrassment, "teach me." Your hand then went overtop of his and tightened around it, subsequently tightening the grip on his dick and making him moan a little louder than what he was comfortable with.

"Y/n, f-fuck," he whimpered as he pinched his eyes. With your eyes still transfixed on his hot tip, you pulled his hand off his cock and allowed both of your hands to hold him, heat radiating off of his length and precum coating your hands until they were glossy. You pumped it slowly, just as he did, mimicking the motion and unknowingly teasing him more than he would like.

"B-baby, please just suck it," he panted. You glanced up at him again and felt the drool pooling out of your mouth and collecting on your tongue. Then, with great hesitation, you pressed your tongue against him and licked up his slit, causing Jeongin to release a shaky grown that was soaked in pleasure.

"J-just like that—fuck!"

Your hands kept a steady pace while stuck your tongue out, giving him persistent and repeated licks. Each time you re-coated his cockhead in slobber and coaxed more profanities out of him. Still, you maintained a steady pace and dared not to increase your speed. You wanted to hear him beg and cry and whine like this forever.

"Fuck, y/n, take more of it in your mouth," he begged as his hands rested on your head and tangled in your hair. Yet, due to your dumb state and how good he sounded, you struggled to obey him

"Oh, right," he panted out, "you need to be shown how to do everything. My baby is just a little dumb student who needs to be taught. She needs to learn how to suck Innie’s cock like a good girl, right Y/n?" You simply hummed in response, continuing to pump and milk him. Jeognin’s hand found stability on the back of your head and balled your hair once again. The pull made you moan and the strain burned just as delectable as it did before.

"Now, open your mouth wide," he chuckled. You obeyed him like the dumb fucking slut you were and allowed your jaw to go slack, still rubbing your tongue on the underside of his tip and making him swallow back a moan.

"Good," he praised in a strained voice. "Now, take it." Suddenly, he pushed your head forward and forced your mouth to take his cock, gagging on his girth and soaking him in warmth. The intrusion made you hum loudly and for you to tighten your grip on his pulsing length Jeongin, on the other hand, was completely oblivious to your teary-eyed gags and continued to shove himself into you, inch by inch.

"G-good job," he whimpered in a low voice that he hoped he couldn't hear, "so warm." Though you could barely breathe and your mind was shocked by the act, you still felt yourself dripping onto the hardwood floor below you. Despite your confusion, your tongue and hands seemed to know what to do. As you gagged on him, the wet muscle rubbed up and down on any part of his cock it could reach while your hands pumped what your throat couldn't take.

"J-just like that," Jeongin hummed. He pulled your head back then and allowed you to take a deep breath in before pushing you down again. Shallow thrusts allowed him to push deeper into you and fluids to leak from your mouth onto the floor below you. Lewd, wet sound accompanied your gags, making Jeongin beyond elated.

"Y-You're the best student, y/n," he hoarsely whispered. "So smart and you've learned to let me fuck your mouth so easily. Such a fast learner, such a g-good, good girl for her Innie, yeah?" You could do little but hum along.

"Aw, does my baby want to breathe?" He asks through pants, to which you replied with an eager hum. He pulled you off his cock and you immediately gasped for air, hands leaving him to wipe the drool off your face and dry your tears.

"Better?" He asked, a mixture of sincerity and domineering sadism coating his voice.

"Y-yes, Innie," you responded feebly. He smiled at your answer.

"Good." He then changed his expression to a stern look and released your hair, letting you settle on your knees and take a few deep breaths.

"Next step," he began as he lifted his cock up and harshly grabbed your wrist to hold it up yourself. After placing the heavy cock in your hand, Jeongin then grabbed the other hand and forced you to cup his balls, unchanging in his expression or demeanour. He stared into you and you stared into him. He tutted and cooed at your expression which eagerly awaited instruction, begging to know what to do.

"Suck them. Now."

The order was processed in your head and left you spinning. Yet, you immediately obliged. After all, you didn't want to disappoint Jeongin. He thought you were a fast learner and he wanted to train his stupid slut as best he could. If you wanted him to be proud of you, then you had to prove him right. As such, your tongue left quick kitten licks his balls and the underside of his cock. Jeongin, through whines and moans, began to pet your head and encouraged you, s if he was begging instead of trying to dominate you.

"N-now," he stuttered out, "Pump me, fuck my cock with your hand, y/n." Your hand picked up a fast pace that glided over his slick cock and only deepened the desperation in Jeongin's voice.

"Shit.” He gaped at how well you did it, how well you obeyed him. You even began to take control, going back to suck his tip while your hands fondled the parts your mouth couldn't satisfy.

"M-missed the taste of my cock yeah? Missed how my pre-cum tasted on your tongue?" He rambled as you pumped him eagerly and sucked harshly. Sweat dripped down his forehead and a blush spread down his chest from you. He couldn't help but speak when he got like this: he praised everything you did and began to tell you everything he wished to say.

"Oh, y/n, I w-wished you knew why I teased you," he confessed through pants, "I wished you realized how much I like to annoy you, to get your attention, to tease you—mmh, fuck! All my friends know why I do it... every day they ask why I don't just go up to you and tell you why. But I could never seem to." Your mouth parted from his tip, your hand quickly replacing it, so you could properly look at the man who towered over you.

"Why... why didn't you do it, Innie?" you asked, voice still hoarse from when he made you take his cock. 

"Because," he gasped out as he tried to steady himself. "Because... I like to tease you, to make you notice me. I just w-want you to notice me, you sweet thing, and take care of me like you are now. And you know what? I think that—f-fuck—I think you like it when I tease you, too." He was not wrong, and the ruined floor with the clothes and books on it was evidence. But, you also knew that he was right because here you were, sucking his cock and balls and choking on it with the greatest pleasure. You wanted him just as much as he wanted you. You wanted him to do things to you that you were too embarrassed to think about even in solitude. 

You impatiently returned to his length, each lap of your tongue and stroke of your hand making his moans louder.

"Y/n," he groaned. "Y/n, y/n, y/n—" His voice got quicker as your motions increased in speed and determination. "Fuck d-don't stop, such a good girl! Perfect fucking mouth for me, perfect, so smart, such a tease—god!"

Suddenly, his hand pushed your head and his cock was shoved down your throat, mouth hugging him as his hips made shallow thrusts into you and gags erupted from your stuffed throat.

"Y/n, y/n, baby, y/n, swallow, swallow, please—" his chants were high pitched as he continued to rutt into your mouth, "—so tight so warm, I— I—I can't—hmph!" Jeongin pressed himself into you as far as he could while his hips twitched, causing you to choke but not dare pull away, not now, not when you were doing such a good job. Your mouth—reddened and swore from Jeogin's abuse—now leaked his cum that couldn't be swallowed.

"That—that, I—" Jeongin stammered unintelligibly. Ever the gentleman, Jeongin pulled you off his cock and watched the remaining liquid gush from your mouth. The cum trickled onto your tits and worn tie, making you squirm and for Jeongin to take a shaky breath.

"So, so precious," he muttered through exhausted pants. You stared up at him, coughing from the misuse of your throat and the need for air. Still, you felt strange: needy, unsatisfied, like you needed the same release Jeongin did.

"Innie, I need—"

"Please, rest, baby," he cooed, stroking your hair absent-mindedly as his still-hard cock pathetically dribbled out cum. You licked your lips at the sight: the taste of his juices still lingered on your mouth.

"No, no, I..." You pawed at his hands and gripped his wrists lightly. The act took him out of his trance and look down at you. You were sleeked in sweat and cum, your thighs were pressed together tightly and coated in slick. You bounced with impatience, wanting more and more and not knowing how to ask for it. However, Jeongin may be stupid and a jerk, but even he slowly pieced together what you wanted.

"Y/n, you—"

"Innie," you urged as you started to pull him down towards you. As you pulled him lower, you laid on your back, bringing him down with you. "Innie, please."

"Y/n, you should rest—" Jeongin tried to argue while he sank to his knees and placed his palm on the floor to steady himself.

"No." When he tried to argue again, you placed your mouth on his and pulled him fully on top of you on the library floor. When your lips finally parted, Jeongin stared at you with hopeful eyes.

"Please," you sobbed. You grasped one of his hands and slowly guided it down between your bodies, rutting against it as soon as it was close enough to your cunt. "Innie, please make it go away."

Jeongin smiled. Who was he to say no to you?

His hand immediately found your clit and began rubbing tight circles on it, making you writhe and whimper.

"F-Fuck, it feels so good," you mewled.  Your pussy was gushing from the contact and it only became wetter when Jeongin licked his cum off of your chest. Bite marks and bruised skin were left behind in their stead, eager lips nipping at untouched skin. Though you hated being marked up and worried that it would show, you couldn't protest. Not when it felt this good, not when he was doing it.

Jeongin relished touching you, as well. He rubbed his cock onto your thigh while whimpering into each kiss. It was as if kissing you brought him to life, as if all of those years of teasing and picking on you had been worth it because he could fucking finally express his passion for you in a way that satisfied you both. Ever since he first saw you in the tight, ill-fitting uniform, he knew he wanted to be yours. Soon that feeling developed into the perverted dire need to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you from behind. Now, as he was kissing down your chest, and fingered your perfect, tight hole, he knew he was so close to what he wanted.

"Fuck, I," he gasped out between kisses, "I can't." Unexpectedly, he sat up and fully slotted himself between your legs. Before you could protest, however, you found your knees pressed to your chest, your skirt bunched around your waist, and Jeongin was rubbing his cock through your folds.

"Jeongin!" You yelped.

"J-just the tip," he whined. "Innie is gonna put just the tip in and then he is gonna take such good care of you. He just needs the tip, just a little bit, just needs to feel his precious little baby, just needs the tip just—hmph! Fuck! Y/n, baby, t-take it."

Even if it was just his tip, you knew you were too tight for him. Just his cockhead alone was stretching you out. But, the pain, just like how he pulled your hair or spanked your ass or choked you, was amazing. Though you protested, it was all just for show: to rile him up or to maintain some semblance of propriety. Truly, you never wanted him to stop.

"I-Innie! It's too big! I can't— I can't it's too big— fuck!" You stammered as continued to push himself into you, filling you with more than he had promised. Your voice made him whine and push his face into the nape of your neck. Immediately, he began to nip and kiss your neck in a feeble attempt to control himself. Yet, as he plugged you, he knew that he couldn't resist. You just felt too good, too sweet, too soft, too warm, too wet, and too perfect to just put his tip in. With every shaky breath, he tried to control himself, but he just couldn't. After only a few seconds, he began to stuff you full.

"Innie! What are you—"

"It's j-just the tip, just a little more." His muffled stutters vibrated against your skin, "I just n-need you, just need my g-good little baby to fuck this cock and be good for Innie and take what I give her. Let me fuck your perfect cunt and fill your pussy with my cum. You'd like that, to be filled with my c-cum?" Jeongin was almost fully inside of you and viciously rubbed your clit with every centimetre. You had never felt so full in your life.

"C-cum, Innie's cum?" You repeated naively.

"Yeah, just my cum. Only mine, only Innie's. You're m-mine, just mine only I get to fill this with my cum. Yeah?" He rose and looked down at you, lips ghosting over yours. As he stared down at you, it was hard to pinpoint what he felt. Sure, there was the deliciousness of corrupting your naivety, being the first one to fuck your cunt, and how every inch that entered you made you moan louder and with more desperation. However, at that moment, as he glanced down into your eyes which were always so sweet, he was overcome by the dire need to protect you. He wanted nothing more than to love you and have you as his, more than he'd ever wanted before. His cock eased into you, your breasts were covered in his slobber, you had swallowed his cum, his dick was twitching from overstimulation, and all he could think of was how lovely you looked.

"Yes," you sniffled, "only for you, Jeongin, my Innie."

"Oh, y/n," he panted. His lips captured yours and kissed them softly, contrasting the quick friction against your clit and the stretch of your cunt accommodating his cock.

Then he pushed himself into you, impatience getting the best of him.

"Fuck!" You both whined at the same time: Jeongin from the feeling of your tight cunt hugging him so well, and you from how you were filled to the brim with him. His hands moved to your inner thighs, spreading them to allow himself to rest between them and hug his waist. He eagerly gripped the soft flesh to try and control himself. Softly, his thumbs rubbed your skin and he let out strained moans. Your eyes were pinched shut and, with your legs free, you wrapped them around his torso and pulled him into you. As you did, he pushed a little deeper, only a little, but you rejoiced in the sensation. You feared that if pulled out of you, you would crumble. It was all too much too soon, too fast and too good to let it end too quickly. Clawing at his back with tears streaming down your cheeks, each breath brought you closer to him.

"It's too much... Innie I-I can't I—"

"Please, please, y/n." The desperation in his voice made your eyes open and stare at him. His face had reburied in your chest and it took everything in him to look up at you. As soon as you saw the look on his face, you knew that it was too much for him too.

"Let me make you f-feel good," he panted as he pressed his forehead into yours, "j-just a little, just take it, p-please." He didn't wait for your response as he pulled out a little, clamping his eyes shut from the feeling of dragging his cock out of you and hissing to refrain from immediately pounding back into you.

"Shit, it f-feels so good," you sniffled as he eased back in.

"Yeah? I told you. S-such a d-dumb baby, so dumb for my cock." His voice made you whine and your hands go up to knot themselves in his hair, pulling it slowly as his hips found a peaceful rhythm that contradicted the merciless lust it made you feel.

"So dumb," you mindlessly repeated, "such a s-stupid fucking baby for Innie." Your words hitched as he made a particularly harsh thrust into you. 

"Innie,” you asked in a small voice, “d-do you like it when I say that?"

Jeongin panted, trying to control himself, "Y/n, I—"

"You like to know I'm dumb, yeah? My stupid little pussy n-not know how to handle your big, veiny fucking c-cock?"

"Fuck, please, don't edge me," he strained through gritted teeth and with fingers dinging harshly into your thighs.

"T-teach me, teach me to how to fuck your cock." 

He didn't intend to pick up the pace as quickly as he did. Nor did he mean to make his thrusts so harsh with such a lack of control that you moaned with each push and pull of his heavy dick. But, when it came to you, he couldn't control himself.

"I'm—gonna—fill—you—with—my—cum," he growled as he pistoned into you. His hands moved to your outer thighs, occasionally spanking them and enjoying each jiggle of fat with every thrust into you.

"Fuck, slow—please s-slow down," you sobbed as your tits dragged across his chest, your overly sensitive nipples. Jeongin, however, just chuckled, his laughs dying out quickly as they were replaced by quick breaths. His eyes became dark again and his grip on you tightened, sweat mixing with your own as precum made a white ring around his cock.

"Just know that it's gonna spill out of you, that I'm g-gonna fill you up every day and keep you stuffed with it," he whimpered as his hips rolled faster, making his eyes pinch shut. "So warm inside of you, leaking out and just waiting for me to stuff it all back in and cum again and again and again and again."

"Innie, it's too much, " you responded dumbly. Jeongin didn't care. He just loved to hear his petname come out in little whimpers. His eyes opened again slowly, taking you in. Fuck, you looked so cute and fucked out, so close yet still begging for more.

"What's my name? Say it," he demanded with a stern glare.

"I-Innie..."

"Say it again—fuck, say it again, baby," he gasped.

"Innie!" You responded on command, like a dog being asked to bark.

"F-fuck, please, y/n, one more time just once more please!" He panted as his cock dragged and drove into you at an unforgiven pace.

"Innie, Innie fuck me, please baby, Innie, fuck!" You whimpered

"Fuck, it makes you blush. Getting all embarrassed and flustered... I make you blush, huh? My pretty baby, my innocent y/n, so cute—shit!" Jeongin's voice suddenly caught in his throat as he felt you tighten around him. While his veiny cock pulsed with each thrust, your warm cunt throbbed as you felt that strange feeling build and build inside of you. One of his hands moved back to your neglected clit and started to circle it quickly, making you pant like the needy bitch you were.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck—ah! Y/n, baby, s-stop clenching or I'll—I'll—"

"Innie," you sniffled softly, your voice soaked in desperation. "P-please, make me cum. P-please, for me? Please!" You couldn't believe the words that left your mouth. Neither did Jeongin.

"Y/n, I'm—fuck—I'm gonna—" his thrusts became sloppy and your jaw went slack as you felt lust building to an inordinate degree.

"I'm gonna— Innie— fuck!"

"Y/n, my baby, my sweet b-baby I— cum, cum!"

"Innie!"

Your cunt began to pulsate and your back arched. The feeling was unimaginable, like nothing you could ever describe. It came over you quickly and suddenly, in a tremendous wave that you wish would last forever. Jeongin, in a brief moment of clarity, pulled out of you and rubbed his soaking cock quickly, letting out occasional and short grunts as he fucked his hand. Then, his hips stilled and cum began to spill out of his tip, coating your stomach and cunt in his cum. Yet, you hardly noticed: you were too-fucked out to care.

Riding your orgasm, you sank to the floor and Jeongin collapsed on top of you. Both of you took deep breaths and he dropped his head against yours, eyes shut in ecstasy. His hands lazily dragged up your body before resting on your face. He pet the sides of your jaw and drew your eyes open to meet his. Seeing your eyes was like seeing a home dock in a storm. He pressed his lips into yours and stole your breath away again.

The kiss—unlike the moments leading up to it—was slow, soft. It took its time and ended only when you two were satisfied. After being brought down to reality, Jeongin pulled away and brushed some hair out of your face.

"Y/n," he softly said.

"Jeongin, Innie," you said back, twirling with his sweaty locks and massaging the nape of his neck.

"We..." he panted out before taking a look around, "We gotta clean this place up and get the fuck out of here."

You stared at him in awe before cracking a smile.

---

You felt weird walking in with Jeongin and his gang on Tuesday. Gang? Maybe like "gaggle of friends that constantly annoy you but you are now stuck with and quickly learning to love." Needless to say, it felt like all eyes were on you. Actually, it was true. Teachers, students, faculty, everyone: no one could believe that the top student was now walking hand-in-hand with someone who held the reputation for being the school's worst student.

Despite being an outspoken and confirmed hater of Yang Jeongin, here you were: walking in next to him, with his arm slung around you, and blushing at his cute jokes. God, when did Jeongin become cute?! What a horrid thing to think, let alone believe. Yet, you knew it. He was cute. And now, the whole school knew that you thought so. Or, at least, that's what your giggles insinuated.

Maybe you always thought he was cute and now you allowed yourself to believe it, like those intrusive thoughts were actually right all along, and, yes, you did actually think he was incredibly sweet and handsome, and likely the best boyfriend. It's only been four days but he already has promised to walk you to and from school every day and has dates pre-planned with you up until graduation. He hasn't told you about the latter part yet, but he will soon enough. He just needs to wait until you're a little more comfortable with him before he confesses how much he absolutely adores you.

Being an "it" couple was not on your goal list for high school. Come to think of it, being stared at when you walk with your boyfriend and losing your virginity to him a mere four days before in the school library was not on the list either. Oh, how plans change. Somehow, however, you didn't mind the stares. Though most were shocked at how Jeongin had bagged the school's nerdiest (and hottest) girl, how that girl—who hated the man—now gleamed at him with adoration, and how they ever managed to get together in the first place, the most shocking element was the fact that your uniform was not up to code. Every day for the past few years, you were a picture-perfect student with pressed dress shirts, even ties, and cleanly pleated skirts. Now, your tie was loose and you were even wearing a hoodie—fuck, his, hoodie?! Jesus.

As you walked to class, you couldn't care less. Jeongin escorted you to first period, giving you a sweet kiss on the cheek and almost smiling at how cute you looked all wrapped in his hoodie. Your fellow students—hell, even the teacher—seemed bewildered by the interaction.

You, however, barely acknowledged them. You just noticed the man in front of you in a light that was so starkly different from the past four years.

"Got everything, yeah?" He said with a straight face.

"Yes, Innie," you smiled, making him glance away.

"I told you—" he started in a voice that was a little too loud, making him dart around to see if anyone was looking his way. And, of course, everyone was looking at you two because how could they not? The eyes on him made him uneasy, but when he turned back to you, all those uncomfortable feelings disappeared into nothing. He licked his lips anxiously and leaned in, adopting a hushed voice to try and retain a morsel of privacy. "I told you not to call me that in public, baby," he blubbered, "it ruins my image. Please, baby."

God, was he blushing? Fuck, he was perfect.

"Okay, Innie," you teased, making him ever redder. You stressed his nickname and relished in his embarrassed demeanour.

Huh. Maybe Jeongin had been right all along: teasing was fun, especially if it was done on the person you liked the most.

"Promise me you'll go to class, okay? I'll see you in last period, then we'll keep working on the project," you said.

"Ugghhghhhhh.." he groaned with a long-winded exasperation. "UGH... Okay."

"Great!" You smiled mischievously, "And we'll actually have to work on it. Unlike all those other times we... 'worked on the project' together this weekend."

"Y/n." His blush grew from his ears down his neck, still unable to make eye contact with you. You'd think that years of teasing you made him impervious to sly remarks, but when they're coming from you, well that's a different story.

"Why are you acting like this?! It was your fault in the first place!" You huffed with an air of playfulness. "I just wanna remind you that we won't be alone in the library this time!"

"Just... g-get to class, okay?" He stuttered, "I'll see you later, baby."  Extending his hand out in a half-heart shape, you completed it with a giggle, adoring how small your hands were compared to your boyfriend’s. Then, Jeongin softly wrapped his hand around yours and pulled you in, offering you a kiss to your forehead. When he pulled away, he readjusted your glasses as they had slipped down your nose bridge.

"Perfect," he said with a small voice. With a final giggle from you, he watched you go into class.

Now there was the issue of what to do with his day. Normally, he'd spend first period smoking outside with his friends, wait until second period for the cafeteria to start serving pizza, go to third just to eat, then go to fourth period just to see you.

Now.. fuck. He was actually going to class. He hated how you were already having an effect on his lifestyle, but rejoiced that you operated in a position that dictated his life. If he was to be controlled, he would want you to be the one pulling the strings. Jeongin seemed to see you for who you really were: determined, intelligent, and perfect to coddle. Looking at you even had an effect on him, one that he could now proudly display instead of hiding behind bullying and teasing (not to say he’ll stop teasing you anytime soon).

As he slung himself into his assigned seat for first period, his surprise was mirrored on the teacher's face. God. Despite having only a few days passed since you two got together, you were already changing him to a noticeable degree. Yet, it was for the better. And he smiled knowing that if he was changing, that it was for good and that it was for you.

[kidrauhlschik]

~ Impudent ~     Kim Seungmin SMAU

adjective

im·​pu·​dent

marked by contemptuous or cocky boldness or disregard of others : INSOLENT

-

He never needed anyone, never has and never will. At least that’s how his schoolmates describe him. Kim Seungmin has been the college it boy the second he set a foot on campus. People either love him or hate him, y/n happened to fall in the ladder.

So of course, as fate would have it, they get paired together for their senior thesis. Just when she thought her life couldn’t get any more stressful, she now has to work with the rich, entitled guy who always had everything handed to him on a silver platter. 

She was not going to let that happen this time.

Keep reading

[seospicybin]

PLUTO.

PART I

Chapters: Part II / Epilogue

Hyunjin x reader. (s,a)

Synopsis: Knowing that your life will end soon, you choose to have your desired death by making a pact with the devil with a red hair, Hyunjin. (16,7k words)

Author's note: This was supposed to be a Halloween fic but it seems like New Year is the perfect time to release it. It's about renewal and awakening but with a little bit of chaos in it.

Warning: Mentions sulcidal thoughts and may be triggering. Reader discretion is advised!

Which one is worse: Living or dying first?

You asked yourself as you stood there rethinking all of your decisions that led to this.

A gust of wind blowing your white dress, cold and harsh, like a slap in the face.

You let out a heavy sigh, the steam of your breath formed a curl of white smoke against the dark of the night.

You looked down, down below from the top of the building where everything seemed so small and people looked like specks of dust, looked down beyond your quivering feet, so high you couldn't even see the bottom, the concrete that would welcome you when you plunge to your death.

Was it a good decision? You asked yourself.

Death is easy.

A stab to the heart, a drop of poison, a cardiac arrest, a hypoxia.

Life is hard.

You wake up to another day of a mundane, dull life, work, home, sleep, eat, sigh and do it all over again the next day. Life is pain itself and everybody dies at the end.

You either die now or later, what makes the difference?

All you need was one jump then it's all over.

Death is that easy.

You took a shaky breath, whether it was from the cold or the fear creeping from the inside, a survival instinct in you that told you to get off the ledge and into the safe side.

You carefully put your leg up and are ready to leap, your mind went blank.

You screamed at the vast night sky because the silence got too deafening then like your brain betrayed you, shut you down before you make the worst mistake of your life, you got off the ledge.

You almost slipped and fell off the top of the building just like how you planned, but you found a hand that grabbed yours. Slender fingers decorated with metal rings, pale and hot to the touch, wrapped around your waist, holding you from falling, from death.

He helped you get off the ledge by lifting you by the waist then put you down gently, away from the edge of the building.

"You're hot," you said.

"It's not the first time I heard that," he said with a teeth-baring grin.

You shook your head, "I mean, you're literally hot," you corrected yourself, it was like he had spent hours by the fire and absorbed all of the heat.

He didn't reply but shoved his hands into the pocket of his dress pants.

"How ironic!" He suddenly said.

"An angel," he said, pointing to you who was dressed in an angel costume with its halo headband, "and a devil," he said, placing his hand on his chest to present himself, "met on a rooftop of a building,"

Your eyes were blurry with tears that made you realize that you were crying, cheeks wet and flushed from the cold.

"An angel about to fall but the devil helps her get off the ledge," he finished.

Did he see everything?

You roughly wiped your tears to see him better.

He was wearing a three-piece suit as black as the night, long hair, slicked back, red like hellfire. He has a small face, pale white skin, and small but smoldering eyes, then the lips, red and plump, like a cherry.

He looked at you with his head slightly tilted to the side, observing you like you were an object that intrigued his mind.

And if he weren't blinking, you would have mistaken him as a statue, a perfectly carved marble statue more beautiful than David by Michelangelo.

"Why don't I buy you some drinks and you can tell me how you got here?" He offered, one corner of his mouth raised higher than the other, forming a sinister smile.

You hugged yourself, either your body was seeking warmth or trying to comfort yourself, considering his offer like solving a math problem.

And he took a step closer, held out his hand at you.

You were slightly shivering from the cold, you started to get a runny nose and the invitation suddenly got so tempting, knowing that his hand would offer you some warmth.

You nodded and let him lead you back inside.

He didn't take you back to the Halloween party your company was having, he took you somewhere else, an empty lounge bar that you didn't know even existed in the building.

He welcomed you to sit on one of the stools that face the counter then he stood, took his suit jacket off in an elegant manner, folded it then placed it on the next stool next to you.

He smiled when he caught you watching him rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows without blinking, he spared you from being embarrassed by hurriedly going behind the counter.

He put his hands on the counter and leaned forward at you, "what do you want to drink?" He asked you with eyes pierced right into yours.

"Anything," you answered. You couldn't decide when it felt like all the knowledge in your brain suddenly vanished when he looked at you dead in the eyes like that.

He squinted his eyes as he thought of something to make for you.

"I think I know the perfect drink for you," he said then went on to grab everything.

It was so riveting, seeing him gathering all the ingredients and pouring them one by one into a shaker: ice, red liquid, red-colored syrup, and vodka, finished it with a spritz of lemon.

He started shaking all the mixture together, shaking your thoughts away then hurriedly clearing your throat.

"Are you working here?" You asked.

He cracked a mystifying laugh at you but not answering your question.

He placed a glass on top of the counter and then poured the cocktails into it, seamlessly without spilling a drop.

For the garnish, he put raspberries in a stick into the glass then presented it to you, and slid the glass right in front of you.

The red cocktail sparkling in the dim light, you lifted it close enough to take a sniff of the sweet-smelling drink.

You glanced up at him and he bat his eyelash at you, giving you permission to drink.

You took a careful sip, it was a bit sour, a bit bitter but it was sweet in the end.

You have to admit that he has a prowess for bartending.

"This is good!" You praised him as he cleaned up the counter.

"What it's called?"

"A love potion," he playfully answered.

You blinked a few times, thinking you misheard him.

He laughed, "it's just a raspberry martini!"

He picked up a cherry from a bowl, stuck his tongue just enough to put it on it, bite the stem between his teeth then pulled it out.

"Do you like it?" He asked.

Once again, you got caught ogling over him doing such a mundane thing as eating a cherry.

"I like it," you said, whether he asked about the drink or the scene that just happened in front of you.

He poured himself a drink, a whiskey and you could feel the alcohol burnt your tongue as he filled the glass half full, then added an ice cube.

He went to sit next to you, took a sip of his drink once he was seated then placed the glass on the counter, the ice made a clinking sound inside the glass as he moves.

You clank your drinks together then took sips of your drinks at the same time and it was getting sweeter the more you drink your cocktail.

"If you don't mind me asking, how did you get there?" He asked, licking his lower lip that made it even more luscious, inviting you to get a taste.

"I don't know. Desperation, I guess," you answered with low giggles. It baffled you that you got to act like that around a stranger you met barely an hour ago.

"Why would a beautiful girl like you be that desperate?" He asked with eyes that secretly assessed you like you were a Rubik's cube that needs to be solved.

"I'm dying," you shortly replied as you stared deep into your drink.

"Figuratively?" He asked.

You laughed but skipped on answering.

"You must think I'm dramatic," you said, you weren't even going to try to shoot your shot. You have no chance with him, there's no use in trying.

"No," he strongly denied yet his voice remained low and calm.

"There's nothing dramatic in letting yourself deep in your feelings," he added.

You looked at him or braved yourself to do so, for a few seconds before looking away.

"I just want it to end," you said.

It surprised you that the words fell out of your mouth like that, you blamed it on the drink but you saw that he only put a shot of vodka in it. There was no way you let loose like this without being drunk first.

"I just want to end my life my way," you said to him, correcting your first statement.

"I'm conflicted because if I do it, my parents will get sad," you explained, "but I don't want to wait for my life to end either. I want to end it my way, at a time that I decided for myself," you said with sadness in your eyes.

"It's my life after all. I get to decide how and when to end my life, right?"

He hummed, trying to catch on to what you were trying to say and gently nodding.

He propped a hand under his chin with his index finger touching his lower lip, looking into your eyes as if he was searching for something in them.

He slightly parted his mouth open and licked his lower lip, making it wetter and redder than before.

"How about you sell your soul to me?"

You burst out laughing, he said it as if he really is a devil with a smirk plastered on his face.

"Yeah, sure!" You played along with him, stirring your cocktail with the stick.

"And in return, you get to have your desired death," he offered a deal.

You ate the raspberries and chewed on them, "that's actually... a nice deal," you said to him.

"I know, right?" He exclaimed, then took a small sip of his drink, "but you have to give me three reasons why I should approve the deal."

"You want me to appeal?"

He nodded.

"Well, first, I don't want to make my parents sad. If I end myself, I can imagine how devastated they would be and I believe they'd blame themselves for it. I don't want that," you explained.

"Second, my life..." you heavily sighed as it summed up how fed up you were with your life, "I feel like there's nothing I can do with my life anymore, it is stagnant like that, it can't go further than this,"

"Or maybe, you haven't looked thoroughly enough," he commented.

"I don't intend to find out anyway," you meekly said, you hurriedly drank your cocktail and let the alcohol burn down the cries trying to escape your throat.

He stayed quiet but intently listened to you, tracing the rim of his glass with his index finger.

"And the third?"

"I told you," you beamed with a foolish smile, this time you were convinced you got a bit drunk.

"You're dying?"

You nodded then finished your drink with one long gulp.

"Figuratively?" He asked for confirmation.

You shook your head, "sadly, no," you said.

You folded your hands on the counter and rested your chin on it, "that's why I don't want to wait for my end to come," you said to him.

He sighed then tilted his head upward, looking up at the ceiling, "And they say life is beautiful?" He sneered at the vast emptiness of the bar.

You let a scornful laugh with eyes drooping lower with each passing second.

"Are those enough to appeal to you?" You asked.

He finished his drink and gasped once he gulped down all of his drink, "I'll think about it," he said.

You snickered, amused that he treated this as if it was real and that he seriously considering it.

"Yeah, take your time," you joked to him with a sleepy smile, and after that nothing.

-

A day in your life always went like this.

You woke up at 5:30 am, did your laundry then cook breakfast, showered then dressed up for work.

You went out and listened to your neighbor arguing about the trash bags again for the umpteenth time as you passed their door. You bought a cup of coffee and got on a bus to work, on a good day, someone would offer you to sit on their seat but that rarely happens.

You worked as a columnist for a newspaper but mostly, to write a review of children's books and or an event of people who paid the newspaper to write about it, who wanted it to be publicly known.

Your boss never took you seriously, that's why he only gave you jobs that other people won't take and also because you would accept everything he gave you.

"Let me guess, a reunion?" Kim asked, a co-worker who sits next to your desk.

"Close. It's an anniversary of a nursing home," you answered, "one of our executives is one of their biggest donators.”

"Well, of course! You'd better make his name big and bold in the article," she sneered.

"Noted!" You beamed in response.

The little delight in an office like this is to talk about lame things that would make you feel better about your life at least for a few seconds before you descend into the pit again.

You swiveled your chair in her direction, "did you perhaps see me leaving the Halloween party?"

She pursed her lips while tugging a pen between her teeth, "I think the last time I saw you was when you said you needed to get some fresh air," she answered.

You recalled everything you did that night, including the part where you went to the rooftop and almost plunge to your death but that didn't happen. You remembered someone stopped you, took you inside to have a drink then from there, it was a big blank.

You didn't know how you get home that night and woke up in a sweat, your Halloween costume stuck to your skin and your shoes neatly placed on the threshold.

"But I can't remember that night either. Someone from the printing got me on a taxi home," she grimaced.

"Oh yeah, I got a little drunk as well," you said despite your memory of last night was still blurry to you.

"I better get started on my article," then swiveled your chair back, pushed to your desk, and started working.

On the afternoon, you went to the pantry to make your fourth cup of coffee of the day. You waited for the machine to finish while looking out the window.

"Can you make me a cup too?" Someone asked from behind you.

You turned around to find Minho. Your friend since the first year of college, the one who asked you to intern at the newspaper together and got the jobs at the same time, the sole reason why you were still here and the one you've been secretly in love with, your first love and the only person you ever fall in love with, staring at you with a smile on his face.

"A black coffee for Minho. On it!" You said to him.

He walked up to you and helped you get a clean mug from the top cabinet.

His hand brushed yours as he handed the mug to you.

You carefully poured the hot coffee into his mug and ripped a pack of brown sugar to add to it.

"Exactly how I like it!" He exclaimed to you with a satisfied smile.

You walked out of the pantry together while carrying your mugs in your hands, catching up with each other since he worked in a different department with you.

"I didn't see you much at the Halloween party," he said.

You swallowed, "I left early," you quickly answered.

"Why? I think I looked for you all night," he said.

He exaggerated it but you took it that he was being nice to you like he always does to you, "I didn't feel well," you lied, but not entirely.

"It's going to get cold, you better start wearing warm clothes," he softly spoke with a hand on your shoulder.

"Sure, I will," you said.

Someone called for him from across the room and he excused himself and squeezed your shoulder before leaving you.

You followed where he was going, knowing well that what was going to happen next would agonize you.

He came to her girlfriend, stood next to her while she talked to him about something, putting all of his attention on her with a smile on his face.

"Is that for me?" She asked him, pointing to the mug of coffee in his hand.

He considered it for a second and handed it to her, "You can have it!"

And there you were, could only look at someone else having what you wanted the most, his love.

It was your fault. You want all that is not yours. You want someone who doesn't want you back. This was all your fault.

You walked back to your desk and plopped down your chair, took a haste sip of your coffee, and let it burn your tongue as a way to avert the stinging pain you felt inside with a physical one.

"I'm going home!" Your co-worker announced once the clock strike 5 o'clock.

"See you tomorrow!" She said to you then gathered all of her things from her desk.

"See you!" You said back before she exited the office.

You dragged yourself to put your things back into your bag and waited for that one saddest part of your day.

You waited and waited, then there he was, Minho glanced at you with a smile on his face, "hey, aren't you going home?"

"In a bit," you answered and forced a smile for him.

His girlfriend came to his side in a matter of seconds and held his hand, it was like she has a radar that would tell her whenever he got too close to you.

"Let's have dinner next time!" He said and he had said it more than dozens of times already but never did.

But still, the intention alone was enough for you, "Bye Minho!" You said to him.

"Bye!" He said to you then left with her girlfriend.

There was nothing that excites you anymore for the rest of the day, but to mourn your life in your tiny apartment.

You saw your mother's shoes on the threshold and knew right away that she came to your apartment unannounced like she always does.

"Mom, you came without telling me again," you told her because just like all mothers do, she likes being nosy and digging through your things.

She was squatting down in front of your fridge, then sighed, "You know what makes me really sad? When I found your fridge empty like this," she said with an edge to her voice.

"What did you expect, mom? I rarely cook," you told her.

"I'd rather have leftovers and expired food in your fridge than just these," she said as she took out all the empty water bottles.

You sighed because talking back to her would only lead to an endless argument so you refrained and tossed your bag on the empty chair.

"Come! Have dinner with me!" She ordered.

You reluctantly sat on the chair and let her serve you food, obeying her like this so she would go on her way faster and leave you alone for the rest of the night.

She asked the same questions, about life, work, friends, and everything that you have no interest in anymore, which is life in general.

"How's dad?" You finally asked, to stop her from asking more about your life.

"Enjoying his retirement like always," she answered.

Your parents were on the verge of giving up the idea of having children when they had you.

Your mom was in her late 30s when she had you, she almost died when she gave birth to you and that made you precious to them. You are their only child, the one that gave them a chance and the joy to be a parent, their only hope to continue their bloodline and carry their genes and soon to be their biggest disappointment.

She left after giving you a series of scolds, ruffling your hair like she always does since you were little and hugging you, then finally leaving you alone in your own private space.

You sat by the small balcony, hugging your knees while looking out the window, wrapping yourself in a blanket because of the cold gust of winter wind even though spring is around the corner.

You fell asleep on your bedroom floor and woke up to the excruciating migraine that always comes so suddenly, without warning.

You crawled to the bedside table and hoisted yourself to get on the bed, pulled open the drawer to take out the medicine.

You rummaged inside the drawer in the dark, shaking up the last of the pills onto your palm and shoved it down your throat, swallowed it down with a few gulps of water.

You sighed into the void of your bedroom and the walls echoed it back to you.

-

"You have to start your treatment immediately!" Your doctor insisted.

"Immediately!" He pressured you, completely annoyed with your nonchalant attitude about your own health.

He was the only one who cared about your well-being, even more than you do to yourself.

"I just need pills for the migraines," you told him in a calm manner.

He hissed and sighed through his gritted teeth.

"Do you have any idea how severe your condition is? You are dying! You'll die soon if you don't receive any treatment," he hopelessly reminded you of your grim future.

"I know that really well," you said to him.

Then again, your attitude only pissed him off more.

"Please, let me assist you. Let me help you, it's a shot in the dark but it's worth a try," he said to you, begging with all of his heart. He must have a lot of pity for you, an old man like him feeling sad for a young girl like you, to suffer such an illness instead of him who already bagged so many life experiences.

Aside from the fact that he's taken the Hippocratic oath, he probably thinks of you like his own daughter.

"Doctor, I don't want to receive any treatment. I just want pills for my migraines," you said again, sternly this time.

He reluctantly took his notepad and scribbled something on it, roughly ripped the paper before handing it to you.

"Please reconsider it before it's too late," he said to you.

"I will," you said despite your decision being final.

"Thank you!" You muttered to him at the end.

It started with the constant migraines and pounding headaches, then when it got too unbearable, you got it checked at the hospital.

When you think life can't be more bountiful, it came with a surprise gift: A tumor on your brain.

To put it simply, you were dying, you lived on numbered days and you have roughly 3 months or less to live according to what the doctor said.

You never had any suicidal thoughts before that, but then again, depression is one of the side effects of dying. Because a surprise gift wrapped in the prettiest bow,

You had informed the office that you'd be coming late and once you arrived, you got called to the editor's office because you didn't highlight the amount of donation the executive made to the nursing home and had to redo the whole article. You took one pill before started working, clenching your fists as you began typing on your keyboard, and just breathe.

As usual, you waited for the saddest part of your day to pass, holding his girlfriend's hand like she would fly away if he didn't, fingers intertwined, so tight.

"Hey, have a good evening!" He said to you.

At least he didn't promise the dinner again which made you quietly wish it came true one day.

"You too!" You said back to him with a thin smile.

You popped another pill even though the migraine had slowly diminished, or maybe you took it because you thought it would also lessen the intangible pain inside you.

You spent the night by the balcony again, sitting down by the sill, wrapped in a blanket looking at the half-moon shining so bright above the city.

It was at a time like this you always thought of death.

The question mainly focused on 'when'? When is the good time to die? Now? Tomorrow? Two days again? By the weekend? At the end of the month?

There was always something stopping you, either your brain offering you logical options, to call the hospital and seek treatment but most of the time, it was just the reminder that you need to take care of a few things before the one final, last breath.

It didn't make you sad at all, the more you thought about it the lighter you got like you were stripping away a layer of fear of yourself.

Accepting reality is easier than keep avoiding it.

You got up in the middle of the night feeling nauseous, immediately ran to the bathroom, then vomited into the toilet bowl. Tears, sweat, and hair stuck to your face, you flushed the toilet, collapsing on the bathroom floor after. Curled up on the tiled floor of the bathroom, suffering from the pain that you have to deal with until you eventually die.

After a moment of trying to gain your consciousness, you heard footsteps approaching your way through the vibration on the floor.

Your vision blurred with tears and you could make out the shape of a dark figure looming in the doorway of your bathroom, tall with a hint of red.

You were in no condition to either fight or fight, you barely had any strength to take a stand.

The figure approached you then you felt the warmth of his hand, cupping your cheek.

"You suffer so much," the figure said.

He ran his fingers down your face and forced you to close both of your eyes, it was a simple touch yet it worked to send you into a painless, dreamless sleep.

-

You made a cup of coffee the second you arrived at the office.

You could feel nauseous from last night lingering inside you and felt another cup of coffee would help. You felt a hand resting on the small of your back and quickly turned on your heel to see who it is, "oh Minho, good morning!" You said, half surprised to see him so early in the office like this.

"You came early!" He said to you.

If he paid attention to you just a little, he would know that you always come early, at the same time every morning.

"Yeah," you half-heartedly answered.

"Which is perfect!" He exclaimed, then leaned against the counter to face you, "I need your help," he said.

"What is it?"

"I have an article and I have to turn it in this afternoon. Can you help me edit it?" He asked as he ripped two packs of creamers with his teeth, then poured it into your coffee.

He stirred it with a spoon while you were holding the mug in your hand, he licked the spoon once he was done then tossed it onto the sink.

"Please?" He asked.

It became a habit of yours, to always submit to his wishes whether you intended to or not.

"Of course!" You said.

You huddled close together in front of his computer, editing the article together and mashing ideas together. He couldn't deny that the two of you made a great team, especially when it comes to writing, it has been like that since college.

"It reminds me of our college years," he said to you.

You turned your head a smiled at him, suddenly aware of the proximity that you hurriedly swiveled your chair to the other way.

"Yes," you sheepishly replied.

"Let me treat you to lunch today!" He said.

"No, it's okay, it's nothing," you kindly refused, holding up your hands at him.

He grabbed your hands and put them down on your lap, "just wait by your desk, I'll pick you up later!" he said with a smile.

Kim invited you for lunch like she always does but you refused since you waited for Minho to pick you up just as he promised.

But he didn't come, even after Kim came back from her lunch and gave you a puzzling look.

"I'm not that hungry," you lied to her and assured her that you felt like skipping lunch.

You got ready for leaving the office, shoving everything into your bag, and didn't even wait for the saddest part of your day to pass like you usually do.

You went home and slept the day away, when you woke up in the dark of your home, you found someone sitting on the balcony that you used to sit on.

You scrambled to turn on the light and found him.

The guy with the hellfire hair and luscious lips, eating an apple.

"I hope you don't mind me taking an apple from your fridge," he said to you.

You roughly pinched the bridge of your nose then rubbed the corner of your eyes, "How do you get in here?" You asked.

"Through the window," he answered.

"But uh... I-" your head was still drowsy.

"I don't think I have apples in the house," you tried again.

He softly sighed, "You should check your fridge because you have a whole box of it," he said.

He got off the balcony and entered your room, standing at the end of your bed looking at you, "I wanted to talk to you yesterday but you didn't look good," he said.

"Talk about what?" You scooted to the edge of the bed, then stopped, your head was spinning and your hands were shaking.

"You shouldn't have skipped lunch and dinner altogether," he said to you.

You limped to exit your bedroom and trudged your way to the kitchen, opened the fridge with all of your strength, finding a whole box of apples inside just like he said.

"Mom..." You sighed with your head still stuck inside the fridge.

He fitted himself in the small space and took two apples, "here, you have one and I have another," he said, handing one to you.

He didn't hesitate to take a bite of the apple and it made a delicious crunching sound that strangely evoke your appetite.

You caved in and took a bite, the sweet juice started to fill your mouth, satisfying your hunger and thirst at once.

He leaned against the kitchen counter, across from you, and looked at you as you stood there chewing on your apple.

"I've been thinking about it," he said.

"What?"

"About the deal."

"What deal?"

"That you want to sell your soul to me and in return I give you your desired death," he replied.

And it all came back rushing through your head like a bursting dam. He was the guy from that night, the one who helped you get off the ledge, who made you that sweet cocktail, and probably the one who took you home, that's why he knew your address.

You gasped and almost threw the apple away, "you're the guy from that night," you exclaimed at him.

"Glad you remember!" He said to you with an unimpressed look.

"The devil," you recalled.

"In the flesh," he finished your sentence.

"Except that you aren't real," you said.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion but he decided to move on "anyway, I brought the contract," he said, pulling out something from behind him, a piece of paper, worn and torn at the seam.

"I wrote down everything in the contract and you can read all of it," he paused to walk up to you then stopped just a step away from you, handing the paper to you.

"Just take your time, no need to rush to sign it and I'll be back before midnight," he said.

You took the paper from him and it smelled exactly like you imagined, a page of an old book.

"B–but how?" You asked in pure confusion.

You exhaled a long breath to calm your erratic breathing, "how do I know that this is all real?"

He soft chuckled while rubbing his chin with his knuckle, "just learn the contract paper," he said then took another bite of his apple before throwing the core into the trash bin.

He walked back to your bedroom and you were late to follow him, you caught the last of him getting out of your window to the balcony. But once you looked outside, there was no sight of him or the red of his hair anywhere.

It was like he just vanished into the night.

-

What kind of dream did you have last night?

But the details of your dream were too real to be considered just a dream, the apples were indeed there in the fridge, and the contract paper was on the dining table.

You were reading it when Kim all of sudden asked about it.

"Nothing, it's just a flyer," you waved her off and shoved the paper back into your bag.

The dullness of work suffocated you once again and to top that, Minho's girlfriend celebrated her birthday in the office and invited everyone to have something from the table full of a variety of food she ordered.

If Kim wasn't forcing you to have a slice of cake, you wouldn't have been here and eating the cake in silence, forcing it down your throat with your eyes uneasily looking at her, and then at Minho who stood so close like they were joined at the hip.

She sauntered in your direction and you quickly stuffed your mouth with the cake to avoid answering whatever she was going to ask.

"Seems like you really enjoyed the cake," Minho's girlfriend said.

You nodded with a mouth full of food, "yes, it's delicious," you shortly replied.

She smiled then brushed her hair to the back, intentionally showing something flashy on her hand, a diamond ring.

You knew she was baiting you to ask her the question but you didn't want to give her the satisfaction. You and Kim exchanged a glance, you guessed she noticed it too then looked in two different directions, to anywhere but her hand.

"Minho gave me the best birthday present," she blurted out when none of you asked about it.

You nodded but not saying anything.

"I didn't mean for anyone to know but I think good news should be shared, right?"

You stuffed more cake into your mouth and repeatedly noted, you really didn't want to know anything about that ring.

"We got engaged last night!" She announced, pitching her voice a bit louder for everyone around her to hear.

And suddenly, you had a hard time swallowing your food and it just stuck there in your esophagus.

People started making a ruckus then followed by congratulations from here and there.

You weren't sad or mad at all, you were just a little shaken inside. You forced yourself to swallow it all down inside you, whether it was the food or the bitter, harsh truth that you had to stop this masochistic infatuation.

Everyone's first love is meant to fail anyway.

Minho came to her side a moment later, looking unamused that the news was out. It baffled you how his eyes searched for yours first and not his girlfriend. You looked at each other but nothing came out from both of you.

Minho must be terribly stupid if he didn't know that you have feelings for him. It had been years and all these things you did out of devotion for him were too obvious to be missed.

You believed he knew but he decided to stay oblivious about it.

You got a little disappointed, at him and yourself, disappointed at him for leaving you hanging like this, and at yourself, for not having the courage just to say those three words to him.

"Congratulations!" You said to him, smiling even though you were close to tears.

"Thank you!" He meekly said.

You hated your heart so much for wanting what is not yours, for wanting what is not right, for wanting someone who doesn't want you back, for wanting him.

Your nausea returns when you were in the elevator heading down to the lobby. You felt the queasiness bubbling inside, you quickly covered your mouth and breathed through your nose, calming yourself with eyes uneasily looking at the floor number going down with each level.

You broke into a run when the elevator doors slid open, flung to the nearest bathroom, and pushed any door of the stall to find the one that was available.

You vomited everything out into the toilet bowl which got you retching and gasping for air at once.

"Hey, are you okay?" Kim asked.

You didn't know she was following you until she stood by the door clutching your bag in her hands.

"You dropped your bag," she said, one hand keeping the door of your stall open.

You took a tissue and roughly wiped your mouth with it, "Can you please get me my pills from inside my bag?" You begged.

"Sure, sure!" She fumbled to unzip your bag and shoved her hand inside to take out your medicine.

"Give me two," you said to her, holding out your palm at her.

She complied, shook the container until two pills rolled out then handed them to you.

You dry swallowed them and closed your eyes with your back resting against the partition.

"I have water," she offered, pulling out bottled water from her bag.

She uncapped the bottle before giving it to you.

"Thanks!" You muttered.

"Are you sick?" She asked.

You let out a long shaky breath, "I have this..." you paused to take another sip of water, "acute migraine," you lied.

She checked your body temperature but you seemed fine to her except for how you looked, "you look so pale," she sadly said.

"I just took my meds. I'll be okay," you assured her.

She helped you get up from the floor, smoothing down your skirt and fixing your coat, "you should get a taxi home!"

"Yeah, that's a good idea," you told her since there was no use in refusing her kind suggestion.

-

You sat on the couch waiting for the red-haired whatever man to really come just as he promised last night.

You sat cross-legged and read the contract paper over and over again, still wondering why you played along with him.

"I believe you have read the contract one too many times," he said, appearing out of nowhere behind you.

He walked so gracefully like a model down a fashion runway, poised and cool, his all-black attire supported the whole model's off-duty look.

"How do I know that you're the real devil?" You asked him, never the type to dillydally, especially when it comes to making a deal that involves your life.

"Isn't it obvious enough?" He asked with arms outstretched.

"Or are you hoping that I have horns and red-skinned, scary eyes and claws? Like that?"

You shrugged, "sort of."

He laughed, "my job is to tempt you human and you expect me to do that while looking like a scary creature out of a fantasy book?"

You pursed your lips and shrugged again, "well, that makes sense now," you said, settling the issue with an agreement.

You unfolded the contract paper and pointed to one of the points, "it said that you'll be with me every day. What's that mean?"

"What it literally means. I'll be with you every day, not for the whole 24 hours, of course. I have stuff to do," he said.

"What? Bartending?"

He scoffed.

"That's just ridiculous, I'm not going anywhere," you protested.

"I'm protecting my asset here because what if you had a change of heart?" He sat on the single sofa across from you, crossing his legs and propping a hand under his chin.

"I promise you, I will not," you assured him.

He softly rubbed his lips with his index finger, "are you sure it's not because your unrequited love just got engaged?"

That caught you off guard, "how do you know?"

"I told you, I keep an eye on my asset," he said, now spreading his legs open and propping his elbows on his knees.

You got quiet because you didn’t expect him to know this much about your life.

"So, it's not because of him?"

"No," you strongly denied.

"Let's not take a haste decision," he suggested.

You shook your head, "I think we should sign the contract!” You persisted, took a pen and placed your sign on the bottom corner of the paper.

He laughed when you slid the paper and pen at him, then said, "your turn!"

He burst out laughing, "and you think when you made a pact with the devil signing a paper would do it?"

You glared at him and hissed in irritation, "why didn't you-"

He took the paper and burned it on his palm, turning the paper into ash and smoke.

Your eyes widened in slight shock, it was like a magic trick, except that he wasn't using any trick and no equipment.

"Impressed?" He asked with an eyebrow raised.

You cleared your throat and acted coy about it, "no, but you’ll make a great birthday magician," you told him despite what he just pulled off scared you a little but you tried not to get intimidated by him and repressed it by acting nonchalantly.

He stared deep into your eyes as if he tried to look into your head and see what you were thinking. He didn't look away as he pulled out something from the inner pocket of his black suit jacket.

A locket with a thin gold chain and the pendant isn't bigger than your thumb. He hung it around his hand and showed it to you.

He put it inside his palm after you stared at it long enough.

"Before we make a pact, you haven't decided on your death yet," he reminded you.

"Huh?"

"I promise you your desired death, but the how and when, you haven't told me yet," he clicked his tongue repeatedly, "you have to be specific when making a pact with the devil," he said while squinting his eyes at you.

"Oh?" You exclaimed. He was right, you were rushing everything and you weren't aware of who you are dealing with.

"I want to die peacefully," you said.

"Like drowning?"

"How is that peaceful?" You asked in disbelief.

"Well, it's in the water and it's quiet. Peaceful!"

You winced, "I want to go..." you raked your brain for the right word to say, "quietly."

He scrunched his nose, thinking of an idea.

"I want to die in my sleep," you offered yours before he gave you other strange ways to die.

"Okay, I can do that," he said.

"Next question: when?" He asked, leaning forward at you in curiosity.

"Soon," you shortly replied.

"How soon?"

"Soon enough."

"Tomorrow?"

"Too soon," you snarked.

"A week from now?"

"No."

"One month from now?"

"Too long," you said.

He rolled his eyes in a rather dramatic way and came up with a suggestion real quick, "13 days, that's my final offer!"

You thought it over, two weeks. Would you be able to get your affairs in order in two weeks? It was kind of ideal, it wasn't soon nor late, it was right.

"Deal!"

He got up from the sofa and you unconsciously followed him, getting up from the couch as well. You both took a step closer and stood facing each other in the small living room of your apartment.

"Give me your hand!" He ordered.

You complied and held out your hand at him.

He took a breath to finally grab your hand, wrapping his hand around you and you did the same.

"Are you sure you want to sell your soul to me?" He asked, sounding all business and serious.

You swallowed air then cleared your throat before answering, "yes."

"And in return, you want a peaceful death?"

"Yes."

"13 days from now?"

"Yes," you undoubtedly replied.

A fire alight, setting both your clasped hands in a blazing fire but surprisingly, you didn't feel hot or in pain, it was warm, like your hand wrapped in mittens.

"Oh fuck!" You cursed under your breath, it shocked you but weirdly, you didn't try to take your hand away from him. Your eyes flicked to his face, his eyes turned into shades lighter than the usual dark eyes, gleaming like the eyes of a tiger in the dark.

"In a matter of 13 days, your soul will be mine," he said with eyes that looked right into you, so deep like he talked right into your soul that soon will be his.

You couldn't lie but felt a little frightened inside, you could feel beads of cold sweat form on your back and probably seep into your shirt.

"Congratulations, your life is officially cursed and you'll burn in hell forever!" He said with a smile that was the opposite of what he said to you. Then the fire went off, he let go of his hand to take out the locket again and opened it to reveal what looked like a clock but strangely, there was no number on it, just the needles.

"Places your thumb on it!" He ordered.

"Where?"

He gently led your thumb to the little needle in the center of the locket and pressed your thumb on it.

You yelped when your fingerpad made a contact with it, you pulled your hand away out of reflex to see that you had pricked your finger on the needle of the small clock inside the locket.

The drop of blood started filling the locket, crimson-colored liquid spread inside like a blooming flower then magically, the clock started ticking. The clock ran backward and that was when you realized that it was counting down the time to your death.

"13 days!" He said to you, opening your hand to place the locket on your palm.

You stared at the clock that counted down the time that led to your death.

Tick, tick, tick.

You had been wasting a full 60 seconds just staring at it in a mix of wonder and fear, you have a lot to say yet you were so speechless. You quickly shut the locket and put the chain around your neck, then you felt it, the weight of the pact you just made with the devil.

He helped you by fixing the hair caught in your necklace, "I brought just the right drink for the occasion!" He announced.

He poured wine into your mug in such elegance and didn't spill a drop by quickly spinning the bottle, then wiped it with a napkin.

You clank your mugs together since you don't have any wine glasses in the apartment.

"To cursed life!" He said as you both made a toast.

"To cursed life!" You repeated his words in a low, hesitated voice.

He sipped his wine and made it look like he sipped ambrosia in a goblet instead of wine in a mug.

"Having a second thought?" He asked, catching you holding the locket resting on your chest.

You quickly shook your head, "no."

"What are you going to do on your last few days in the mortal world?" He asked, tracing the rim of his mug with his index finger.

"Get my affairs in order," you replied, clasping your hands around your mug like you were seeking warmth from it.

"You need help?" He asked.

You awkwardly laughed, "what can you do?"

"I can do a little mischief here and there," he said, his finger flying to his lips, playing with the plump of his lower lip.

"That would be against my plan of 'going quietly'," you reminded him.

"What's with 'going quietly'? Why not 'go with a bang'?" He suggested, making a gesture of explosion above his head.

"I just..." you paused because you didn't know the answer. Why you should go quietly?

"I think it's easier that way," you replied with an answer that you weren't confident in.

He nodded and didn't ask further about it. He took another sip and let the silence hang in the air between you and him.

You looked at him, in his usual attire of black outfit and red hair slicked back, pale skin with eyes back to their intense black color.

And you wondered how he ended up here?

"What should I call you?" You suddenly asked him.

"You can call me baby, darling, love," he listed all the pet names he liked to be called with.

"I don't like to be called cutie, but for you, I'll allow it," he finished with a wide smile that made him look more human than he was supposed to be.

You rolled your eyes at him and inaudibly sighed.

"Hyunjin," he quickly said.

"You can call me Hyunjin," he said again while taking another sip of his wine.

You nodded, and that was enough information for the day. That he really is the devil, named Hyunjin and you just made a pact with him. Your eyes shot at the locket and at the reminder of it, you heard the sounds of the seconds being deducted from your life.

Tick, tick, tick.

-

D-13.

"That's a nice necklace!" Kim beamed the moment she noticed the necklace dangling around your neck.

"Oh, this?" You asked her.

"Is it vintage?"

"Uh..." you stalled to find an answer, "yes, I bought it online," you lied.

"That's so nice!" She praised.

"Text me the online shop cause I want one,"

You stifled a nod, "yes, I will," you lied again.

At this point, you didn't care about all the lies you tell people, you are going to burn in hell for eternity anyway.

You were coming back from lunch with Kim when you met Minho in the lobby, he looked like he was waiting for you from the way he got up from his seat the moment he saw you coming through the entrance.

"Hey, want to have coffee together?" He asked you.

Kim realized that he didn't ask for her to be present there and excused herself to go back to the office.

"Okay," you replied.

You had been sitting facing each other and the cups of iced coffee dripping wet from the condensation, you waited for him to say something with your hands clasped under the table.

"What is it, Minho?" You asked him because he kept quiet the whole time you sat there.

"You have something to say to me?"

It seemed like he was unable to decide what he wants to talk about first, you guessed he wanted to talk about yesterday.

"I wasn't planning on proposing to her," he blurted out.

You looked at him rather wide-eyed, didn't expect him to say it like that.

"I was planning on gift her a ring. Not proposing to her," he explained.

"But her parents were present and she got ecstatic the moment she saw it," he paused to catch a breath, "I couldn't just say that I didn't mean to propose to her, she looked so happy. I-"

"Minho, I'm not asking," you reminded him.

His face gradually turned sour, "I just thought that maybe I need to explain-"

"Whatever you do or did or done with your girlfriend is none of my business," you quickly told him, settling the matter before he pried more than you allowed him to.

Your words seemed to surprise him and he was quiet for a while, "I don't want things to change between us," he said.

You badly wanted to ask him what exactly you two have. What you are to him? And what he takes you for?

"What are you talking about? We'll always be good friends," you remarked with a sweet smile.

A smile bloomed on his face, "yeah, of course, we'll always be good friends, right?"

You nodded even though he clearly drew the invisible line that you shouldn't cross.

He took a long sip of his coffee and gasped in satisfaction, "I'm writing a special article," he said.

"Yeah?"

He nodded, "yes, it's for the spring special-themed article," he replied.

You stirred your iced coffee with the straw, making the ice cubes clink against the glass.

"That's great, Minho!" You complimented him without looking at him.

"Can you help me with it?" He asked.

"I like it when we work together," he added.

You stirred and stirred, watched as the coffee made a swirl inside your glass.

"Please?"

You stopped stirring when the coffee was about to slosh out of the glass, "sure, I'd love to," you said.

There you go, making the same mistake over and over again, despite knowing that you would only get pain in return.

-

You were brushing your teeth when you saw his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

You got startled that you spat onto the sink, "coming back from whispering evil deeds into people?" You sneered at him then washed your mouth with running water.

He folded his hands and leaned against the door of your bathroom, "yes, and I should've told you to throw your iced coffee at him," he sneered back.

You got quiet, he wasn't only spying on your life but also knew what happened between you and the people around you.

You got on your bed and covered your body up to your chest with the duvet.

"That's it for the day?" He asked you.

"I'm going quietly," you reminded him with your back facing him.

He softly chuckled, "Goodnight!"

You didn't reply but the lingering silence got you curious if he was still there watching you sleep. You turned on your bed but he was already gone.

-

D-12

You haven't gotten to your desk yet when you got called to the editor's office, papers flying in your direction the moment you got in.

"You called this a piece of writing?" He asked you, the veins on his neck popped and strained in rage.

You opened your mouth to speak but he cut off you again with his shout, "do it all over again!"

You picked up the paper from the floor and took it with you back to the desk, you saw that this wasn't even your writing, it was someone else's but he had done it a handful of times, which means he wanted you to fix the writing and rewrite it again.

"Why does he always blame you for the mistakes others did?" Kim nagged with her head snapped at the editor's office.

You shrugged.

"Why didn't you say something?" She said with exasperation.

"You know it's useless," you responded while stacking the paper by its order.

She heavily sighed but didn't say anything back because she also knew that the editor is a really stubborn piece of work.

You spaced out while clutching your locket on your chest, feeling the ticking with every breath you took.

You could feel every second without needing to open the locket.

Tick, tick, tick.

"I knew that you'll be here," Minho said as he found you waiting for the coffee machine done making the coffee.

You turned on your heels, "yes, hi," you nervously answered.

"Have you got your coffee yet? I want to show you something," he said.

You nodded and collected your mug filled with freshly made coffee, "yes."

He took you to his desk and showed you the article he was writing for the spring-themed article, you scanned the words but the lines kept slipping off your mind, unable to focus.

"Yes, it's good," you said to him.

"Are you sure?"

"Uhm..." you hummed in confusion, your hand flew to your temple but nothing came to mind.

"I'm sorry, I can't seem to focus," you gave up trying and apologized.

He smiled at you, "it's okay, we can work on it some other time," he assured you.

You smiled back at him and took your mug with you, "sorry," you muttered.

"Let's have lunch together!" He suggested again, stopping you on your track.

"I can't. I have a doctor's appointment," you told him and it felt good on rejecting him without having to lie.

"Oh? Okay," he replied.

You didn't have a doctor's appointment but the doctor kept on calling you to come to the hospital, probably his last endeavor to convince you to get treatment.

And you were right, "I have thought it over like you asked and my decision is final, I will not get treatments," you sternly told him.

He sighed in defeat, pulled his drawer open, and placed a brochure right in front of you.

"Will you at least consider coming to this?" He asked.

You could tell that the brochure was a support group for cancer patients and survivors. It was a hard pass but to put an ease on the doctor's mind, you smiled and said, "maybe I will," you answered.

You were reading a children's book for you to review when he came, reading the title of the book out loud, "Chase the end of the rainbow," he recited, then chuckled.

"There is literally nothing at the end of the rainbow," he sneered then plopped down on the single sofa.

"It's just rain and puddles," he added then put his long legs on the coffee table.

You lowered the book enough to look at him, "did you make anyone cry today?" You playfully asked.

"I broke the ice cream machine again," he bragged, "I think yes, a few people cried."

"How fun!" You exclaimed with fake enthusiasm then flipped the page of the book.

He watched you reading the book, then got curious about it, he sat next to you and leaned so close to you so he could read it too.

You could smell the faint of his natural scent, of something strong, a bit musk and smokey. You turned your head just enough to see him, the side profile of his perfectly sculpted face and its facial features that complement each other.

He is so beautiful, it didn't make sense to you.

You shut the book and gave it to him, "you can read it," you said to him then went to your bedroom.

"Goodnight!" He shouted to you before you shut your bedroom door.

-

D-11

"Hey, you haven't sent me the name of the shop for that beautiful necklace," Kim said as she placed a cup of iced coffee on your desk.

You faked an apologetic look, "I'm sorry, I forgot," you muttered.

"Thanks for the coffee!" You added and took a sip.

Kim leaned at your computer screen to read the article you were writing and read it loud enough for both of you, she sighed when she came to the end of the paragraph.

"Sometimes I wonder why you're stuck here with me," she mumbled with a hand on her waist.

"You're literally wasting your talent here," she said with a hand on your shoulder.

You could only smile at her but you were sure that a new job wouldn't make a difference anyway. The tumor would still be there in your brain and you still be as miserable as you were here so what's the point?

You were waiting for the elevator to arrive when Minho took your hand and grinned when you looked at him.

"Have lunch with me!" He said while shaking your hand.

You turned your head at Kim, "I'm going with Kim," you said.

Minho looked at her, "mind if I borrow her for today?" He sweetly asked.

Kim uneasily glanced at you and caught the signals you threw at her with your eyes, but she said the opposite thing, "sure."

Minho always looked more relaxed when her girlfriend isn't around, she was having a meeting outside of the office and that was also why he bravely took you out for a lunch.

"You don't like it?" He asked.

"I'm not that hungry," you replied. You've been eating your food little by little. It comes as no surprise that losing your appetite is also a side effect of dying.

He looked at you with his head slightly tipped to the side, "you look a little pale," he said.

You took a sip of water, "I've been having trouble sleeping," you said but didn't tell him it was because of the migraine that kept you awake.

He reached for your face and pressed the back of his hand, checking your temperature, "you're a bit warm," he said.

You put his hand away from your face and gently put it down on the table, "I'm okay. I'm alright," you assured him.

He doubted you but nodded, continued eating his food, and shifted the conversation elsewhere.

"Remember the second year of college? That time we got on the back of the pick-up truck with the stage props, it was raining and we were both sick with flu the next day," he was talking with a smile on his face like the memory was so vivid to him.

Yes, those days were the happiest because it was so much simpler back then. It was just you and him stressing over college and nothing else. There was little responsibility, no articles to write, there was no girlfriend who keeps him on a leash and you didn't know that there was a tumor growing in your brain.

"You were sick but you insisted on taking care of me," he suddenly got all serious.

You gripped the fork in your hand tighter because why did he take you on an unwanted trip down memory lane? Shouldn't he know that those memories would only be nothing more than just memories? Soon he'd be forgetting all about it as he makes new ones with his dear fiancé.

"I'm finished," you said, putting down your cutlery and sliding the plate aside.

"I'll take care of the bill!" You announced because you needed to be as far away as possible from him.

He grabbed you by the elbow, "I'll do it!"

"No, you finish your meal! I have to go to the restroom anyway," you said with a thin smile and put his hand away.

On the way back to the office, Minho talked about the article he was writing but your mind was elsewhere, drifting here and there.

"So, what do you think?" Minho asked.

"Mmh?"

He cracked a laugh, "you weren't listening," he meekly said.

You shoved your hands into your coat pockets, "I'm sorry."

"Have a lot in your head?"

Aside from the tumor? You asked in your head.

"Not really," you answered.

He pushed the door open and held it open for you.

"Shouldn't you have a lot in your head?" You asked back.

He scanned his ID card before entering the building, "what do you mean?"

"You know with the engagement and everything," you casually said.

You didn't mean to but he was the one who started talking about those days when in reality, those days are over and he should be worrying about the accidental engagement.

Minho got quiet but strangely, you didn't feel bad at all. The sound of the elevator dinging open saved Minho from the question and you both got into the elevator.

Right before the doors slid shut, you caught a red-haired man smiling at you from afar, so sinister like a Chesire cat.

Out of reflex, you clutched the locket on your necklace and felt the needles counting down the seconds of your life.

Tick, tick, tick.

"You have 11... uh no wait, 10 days more to live and your plan is to finish your favorite TV series," Hyunjin said as he plopped down on the sofa next to you and took a handful of popcorn from the bowl.

"Did you happen to whisper any evil things into my ear?"

His eyebrows knitted together, "where?"

"At the office."

"When?"

"A little after lunch."

He shook his head, "not sure," he vaguely answered and filled his mouth full of popcorn.

You looked at him and observed him, trying to figure him out.

He grabbed your chin, then turned your head to face the TV.

"If you're the devil that means you've been to hell?" You asked out of the blue.

"You make it sound like going to hell is a hospital visit," he said and slumped on the sofa.

"So?"

"I came from hell."

"You were born there?"

He shrugged and took another handful of popcorn.

"Is it really that hot?" You asked out of pure curiosity and did everyone a favor for asking it.

"You'll find out soon," he shortly replied.

You pouted but despite the disappointing answers, your curiosity remained the same.

"Do you mingle with humans?"

He leered at you, "mingle?"

"You know, have a relationship with human..." your words trailed off, again, this was out of pure curiosity.

"Like us?" he pointed to both you and him.

You snorted, "what we have is a business deal."

"Like you and Minho then?" He teased.

You grimaced, "pfft... I hope not."

He chuckled and tugged a popcorn between his teeth, "why are you so curious?"

You put the bowl of popcorn onto his lap so hard sending some of it falling onto the floor, "You know everything about my life but I don't know anything about you and I'm going to die in 10 days, so please, entertain this dying lady," you complained.

He gently placed a hand on your elbow and it felt hot but bearable, "no need to be that hopeless," he playfully said.

You glared at him.

"The answer is yes," he finally admitted.

That intrigued you, so he did mingle with humans and your focus next was to figure out what kind of relationship he's into.

"How?"

"How?"

You nodded.

"I don't think there are that many differences in how I have sex with how humans have sex," he casually said.

"Oh?" His answer took you aback.

"Oh!" You said again when it finally registered to you. So, it was all just physical to him. You didn't know why you expect more in the first place?

"What? You think I want to be romantically involved with the mortals?" He asked with a condescending smirk.

The way he said 'mortals' made it sound like humans are pathetic creatures just like how humans think of worms.

"Who knows?" You said with a shrug but deep down, you wished that he got karma for saying that.

He sighed and took the remote, replaying the episode from the beginning.

"Hey, I was watching that!" You said and tried to snatch the remote back from him.

"Be honest, you didn't watch any of it because you kept asking me questions," he said and hid the remote behind his back.

"How mature of you!" You sneered.

He stuck his tongue out at you in response.

You shook your head in disbelief that this entity sitting next to you is the devil and he came from hell.

-

D-10

You've been busy trying to finish an article since this afternoon and it seemed like you have to work overtime.

As soon as you finished and submitted it, your editor gave you another one to rewrite.

When you came back to your desk, Minho was there sitting on your desk and playing with your stress ball.

"Why are you here?" You asked and you didn't mean to be brash. It was just that everyone in the office already left and you were stuck there to pick up after someone's mess

If Minho wanted to remember the good old days with you, he should know that this wasn't the right time for it.

"I saw that your bag and coat are still here," he answered and got off your desk.

"I'm busy. I have to finish another article today," you simply said and hoping that he'd just leave you alone.

"Do you need help?"

"I'll handle it myself," you refused with a thin smile.

"Sure. I'm sure you can handle it well," he said but he seemed rather disappointed by the answer.

He smacked his lips together then he put a small paper bag on your desk, "this is for you!"

He slid the paper bag until it was right in front of you, "you said you have trouble sleeping so I bought you some chamomile tea and I think there are other kinds of tea too inside—"

He always does this, putting you on a pedestal, raising your hope and when you thought you stacked your hope high enough to reach him, he knocked it all down.

Over and over and over again and the end is always the same, he left you alone to pick up the pieces.

"You don't like it?" He asked since you got really quiet.

"I like it, thanks. But just stop," you replied and pushed the paper bag back to him.

"I bought it for you," he said and pushed it back to you.

You looked at him right in the eyes, "no. I want you to stop doing anything nice!" You enunciated every word so he heard you loud and clear.

He looked rather confused by what you said and cracked a laugh, "Why?"

"I just need you to stop being nice to me unless you're going to be with me," you dared to hold eye contact with him.

He cracked another laugh, probably thinking you were playing with him.

"You think I'm being funny?"

His laugh died down and his face turned serious.

"See? You can't keep being nice to me and I can't keep pretending that this is something that it's not!" You told him.

Since half of it already spilled out of your mouth, the rest would have to come out as well.

"We've been friends for years. You know me, you know who I am," your voice quivering because it hurts letting these words out of your chest, "you either want to be with me or not."

Minho opened his mouth to speak but close it again, when he managed to say something, he was stammering, "we're friends and I don't want to make it complicated—"

How dare he said all that when he's the one who had been playing with your feelings and made things complicated!

"Bullshit!" You cut him off midsentence, "it's just bullshit!"

It seemed like you just spat acid at him that he stood there with his feet nailed to the floor.

"Where is this coming from?" He probably couldn't believe that his friend who's always said yes to everything he said holding this much anger inside of her.

"From the place I've been hiding from you for about three years," it was painful to admit how miserable you were pining for him for the last three years.

"Three years because I haven't wanted to seem demanding and I haven't wanted to seem needy or pathetic or… whatever!"

The tears rolled down your cheeks and you wiped them with your knuckle, "so, I haven't asked you."

You stared into his eyes again, wide and surprised at your confession.

"But I..." the tears caught in your throat the more you tried to fight them, "I have to. I mean..."

Despite having an inkling of what his answer would be, you gave him another chance by asking him the only question he needed to answer once and for all.

"Do you want to be with me?"

From the silence that Minho let it went on too long, you knew what the answer is. It was exactly like you had predicted and he didn't need to say it out loud, you knew.

Tears streamed down your face and you looked down at your lap, hiding your sadness from him.

You quickly recovered, wiping your wet cheeks with the back of your hand, and looked at him again.

At that moment, you decided that it was time to put an end to this.

"I can't do this anymore, Minho."

You left him and went someplace to cry by yourself, consoled yourself with the fact that you can start letting him go. Years of loving him only brought you tears and pain.

Minho left the paper bag on your desk and you shoved it inside your drawer and started working on the second article before it got really late.

"Before you go home, can you do another one?" Your editor asked as you've just submitted the article.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, sir!"

His forehead creased, unamused by your answer, "what are you talking about?"

As you worked by yourself at your desk while crying from breaking up with someone who's not even your boyfriend, Kim's words replayed in the back of your head. She spoke the truth that day, that you've been wasting your talent here and no one even had an ounce of respect for you in there.

And you came to a decision to, "I quit," you said and handed him the freshly printed resignation letter.

"Thank you for these past..." you paused to think of a word to describe your experience of working in this office and none came to mind except negative words.

"...wonderful years, sir!" You decided to end it with a nice note because you weren't the same with them but you didn't wait for his approval.

You let out a big sigh when you got out of his office, packed your things, and left.

You used to think that losing a job is a frightening thing but after you did it, it wasn't that bad at all. The world is still spinning and the sky isn't falling down on you. If anything, you have fewer things to worry about.

You sat on the balcony with a blanket wrapped around you, looking out at the view and the night sky.

Funny that you missed having Hyunjin around when all he does is annoy you.

This empty space only made you think of what happened that day, with you and Minho, and how things ended.

Maybe you were selfish for wanting him but he has no right to toy with your feelings, maybe you did ruin years of friendship but it felt so right.

Yet you were crying as you curled up on the bed and the tears seeped into your pillow.

A part of you was glad that Hyunjin wasn't there. You could imagine him making fun of you for looking so miserable on your last days on earth.

-

D-9

You forgot that you're unemployed, you woke up, showered, and cooked breakfast then when it hits you that you didn't have to go to work, you have no idea what to do next.

You might be dying but how could you forget being a normal person?

You ended up watching TV and ate the endless supply of tangerines your mom secretly put in your fridge. You napped and ordered lunch, watched some more TV, read some news on the internet, ate some more tangerines, and tried to cook yourself dinner.

You gave up when you couldn't find anything in your fridge. Your mom is right, it was an alarming thing to see an empty fridge.

"How do you like your unemployment?" Hyunjin appeared when you closed the fridge.

You sighed and took your phone, scrolling down the list of restaurants to order your dinner. "Fantastic!" You replied but with a deadpan.

He leaned on the kitchen island and looked at your phone screen, "Let's have some meat for dinner!"

You tipped your phone and got it out of his sight, continued scrolling.

When the food came, you spread them on the table in the living room and sat on the floor. You treated yourself to a big dinner since it was your first day of unemployment. From the amount of food you ordered, they put in three pairs of chopsticks and Hyunjin successfully secured a pair.

"You can't finish all this food by yourself," he said with squinted eyes then tore open the paper wrapper with his teeth.

You ignored him and started opening the lids, sending the mouth-watering smell wafting around the room. You slapped Hyunjin's hand as he went straight for the sliced meat.

You hissed, reminding him who had the right to eat it first since you bought it and doing so with a smirk on your face while he waited for you to finish, tugging the end of the chopsticks between his teeth.

"Can I have it now?" He asked.

Something about him reminded you of that naughty kid you knew in kindergarten, who liked to scare you by holding a caterpillar close to your face with a stick. He's annoying but in the most childish way and that was strange when you remembered that he came from hell.

"You were so cool yesterday," he said with a mouth full of rice but managed to put on a proud grin at you.

You continued eating but listened intently to what he said with stuffed cheeks.

"Breaking up with Minho," he continued.

"Oh wait, is it called breaking up even though you're not dating?"

You stabbed a piece of omelet with your chopsticks and ate it in one bite.

"I think you're the coolest when you..." he put down his chopstick and demonstrated how you slammed the resignation letter on your boss's desk.

"That's so badass!" He added in awe.

You couldn't remember the last time someone complimented you and how nice it feels, you didn't want to show him that so you suppressed your laugh by stuffing your mouth with more food.

"But winter isn't really a good time to quit your job you know," he continued, "I heard you spend more money during the winter because of gas, electricity..."

You blocked his chopsticks from taking more food and put them away, glaring at him.

He grinned at you with apologetic eyes, "I mean... why don't you get another job?"

"Why should I?" You simply asked.

He shrugged, "you have that thing called what... ambition or something like that."

"I'm not that ambitious," you said and it was true, you have enough from living day to day.

"If a painter dreams of having their paintings hung in the Louvre then a writer like you must have dreamed of seeing your writing somewhere, right?" He asked again.

It took you back to when you were in college and thinking of getting a job as a writer. You did the internship intending to fill in your resume and what happened years after that, let's say you were foolish enough for following a man and not your dream. You do have one and it is to write for the Daily K newspaper.

"I do," you answered.

He pointed his chopsticks at you, "Why don't you try to apply for a job there?"

You took a sip of water and thought why do you bother trying, it's a shot in the dark.

"I only have to live for a few more days anyway," you answered with a shrug.

"That's the point! You only have a few more days to live so you have nothing to lose, right?" He was talking but his eyes were looking at the last piece of meat and he knew that you noticed.

When you thought about it again then yes, you have nothing to lose. You can apply for a job and whether you got accepted or not, it wouldn't hurt since you'll be leaving the world forever.

You pushed the plate with the last piece of meat at him.

A smile rose on his face with his eyes formed two crescent moons.

How long was it since the last time you updated your resume? It was a long time ago that you couldn't remember it and you've been staring at your laptop screen, didn't know what to do with it.

"Shouldn't you be like... write something about yourself?" Hyunjin said, lying on the sofa and flicking the channels on the TV while you sat on the carpeted floor.

"Yeah sure, my bleak life story would make them hire me," you sneered and propped a hand under your chin, still trying to come up with something to write.

"Maybe all you need is a shot of courage!" Hyunjin said.

You looked over your shoulder but he was no longer on the sofa, he was there in the kitchen holding a bottle of tequila at you.

"No thanks!" You turned down his idea straight away and looked back at your laptop, still having no idea what to write. "Where did you find it though?"

He uncapped the bottle, "it was hidden under the sink," he said and poured himself a shot of tequila.

Ah, you remembered that's where you hide your alcohol just in case your mom is coming unannounced and doing an inspection around your place.

He hissed after taking a shot and looked at you, "you sure you don't want it?"

"Nah."

"To relax the nerves?" He persuaded you once more and shook the bottle at you, his red hair looking like a swaying flame under the fluorescent light.

It was really tempting and you really did need a shot of courage, "I can't do this sober anyway," you finally caved in.

Hyunjin brought the bottle and two shot glasses to the living room with a grin on his face. He initiated a toast, raising his shot glass in the air, and said, "To cursed life!"

You clank your drink with his and meekly repeated his words, "To cursed life!"

You were too confident in yourself and could handle the alcohol well since you had a big dinner earlier. Somehow, your brain worked after a few shots and your fingers started typing nonstop. When you were done, you read it out loud to Hyunjin and asked for his opinions.

"Booooooring!" He booed, stacking his hands together and putting his chin on top.

"You should write it how you would write an article for them," he said, his plush lips red and puckered.

"Can you even get drunk?"

He closed his eyes, then grinned, "No."

You scoffed and started writing again while Hyunjin refilled both of your glasses with more alcohol. He really is the goddamn devil that you couldn't keep track of how many shots you have taken. It was blurry from there, your fingers didn't feel like they were typing but you saw how the page slowly filled with words.

You remembered reading it to him after and he laughed. You didn't know what was so funny about all this but you laughed to the point that you almost spit your drink. You both huddled in front of your laptop together and drank more tequila straight from the bottle in turns.

"This is it!" He said.

"I don't know. This sounds... so..."

"Out of this world?"

You laughed.

"Send it!"

You moved the cursor to the send button.

Hyunjin brought his mouth close to your ear, "hit the send button!"

You shivered, "oh, the devil's whisper!"

"Hit it!" He said right into your ear, a little louder.

You pushed him away while giggling and covered your ears, "okay, okay!"

You squinted your eyes with your finger only an inch away from clicking, sending in your resume through an email.

When you opened your eyes, there was a pop-up notification that the email has been sent.

"Oh fuck!" You sighed and lay yourself down on the carpeted floor.

Hyunjin lay there next to you, "see? It's not that hard!"

You stared at the ceiling with your eyes started drooping, "I'm so tired."

"You should go to bed it's cold in here," Hyunjin nudged your shoulder with his.

But it felt comfortable and you could barely keep your eyes open anymore.

"I'm sleepy," you whined.

"It's cold!" He grumbled.

Without opening your eyes, you grabbed his arm and held it close. His body heat was enough to keep you warm.

"It's warm now," you slurred and started to slowly drift into sleep.

-

D-8

You woke up with a cold sweat and fumble to get off the bed, then reality hits you like a bucket of cold water.

"Fuck, I keep forgetting that I'm unemployed," you groaned and went back to sleep.

You woke up after a few more hours of sleep and ordered lunch right away. Ignoring the mess from last night, an empty bottle of tequila, the dirty dishes on the table, and your laptop died from running out of battery.

Your head was pounding but you knew that it was not the usual migraine, it was the hangover.

You took a shower next, trying to get rid of the alcohol stinks, and washed the hangover away.

You felt a little better in the afternoon but your stomach still felt a little sick. You opened the fridge to only groan at how empty it was except for the bottles of water and a half box of tangerines.

You rummaged through the box of your office stuff and found the paper bag Minho gave to you that day. There were boxes of different kinds of teas inside with the name of the tea and what it's good for written on each box.

Putting your pride aside and making yourself a cup of chamomile tea, the smell of it instantly relaxed you.

"Make a cup for me too!" Hyunjin said, lying on the sofa with his hands under his head.

"Make one yourself!" You said and took a small sip of your tea.

"I feel like dying here!" He whined while lying sideways on the sofa like he was posing for a photoshoot.

"No offense," he quickly added at the end of the sentence.

You took another sip and felt better already, or you suggested to your brain that it was working on you.

"None taken!" You plainly answered.

He got up from the sofa and stretched out his long arms, his red hair messy on the back, "what's for dinner?"

That reminded you to start looking at restaurant menus, went to your bedroom to get your phone, and saw two missed calls from Kim.

You were about to hit a call back when the doorbell rang.

"Is that the food?" Hyunjin asked from the living room.

You got out of the bedroom while holding your phone, "I haven't ordered yet," you answered.

You came to the door and opened it, got stunned at the person behind it.

He was the last person you wanted to see but there he was, standing in front of you, Minho.

"Can I come in?" He asked with a smile.

You let him in because it's basic etiquette, you wanted to be polite, nothing more than that.

Hyunjin was already gone when you got back inside but Minho saw the paper bag he gave you on the kitchen island.

"You were having tea?" He asked.

You didn't want to give him the satisfaction that you cherished the things he gifted for you but it was too late to hide it. You decided to play coy, "you want one?"

"Yes, please!"

You went behind the kitchen island and made him a cup of tea, doing it to ignore looking him in the eyes because you knew what those eyes can do to you.

You kept doing it when you served the steaming hot cup of tea to him.

"Thank you," he muttered but didn't take a seat on the chair.

You stood there next to the dining table, suddenly feeling like you were the one visiting his house and not the other way around.

"You are eventually going to look at me, aren't you?" He asked.

So he noticed that you've been trying to avoid them, you took a deep breath to finally look him in the eyes. There was a part of you that was glad of seeing him again and you hated yourself for it.

"I came here because I had to see you," he began, taking out the hands that has been deep inside his jeans pockets.

"Had to," he emphasized.

And that part has taken a bigger part of you the longer you stared into his eyes.

"I just don't understand this," you said.

You put your hand on the table for support as you felt like you were about to crumble down all over again.

"I mean... I was right there for years, remember?"

Even the soothing smell of the tea didn't work on relaxing you anymore.

"'This was a mistake' that's what you said to me once, that we weren't right for each other."

He looked a bit perplexed, lost in your words. "Well, I don't remember that," he innocently said.

Unlike you, he wouldn't remember saying that but you remembered how and when he said it, how those three words stuck with you ever since.

He took a step closer and placed a hand on yours, "I just know that I hated when you're gone."

He held your gaze before continuing to talk, "I kept looking at your desk at work and it was driving me crazy that I wasn't hearing from you."

He puts his forehead on yours and sighed in relief as he has just found a haven, "I don't want to lose you."

You were on the verge of plunging into another heartbreak but at the same time, couldn't say no to the thrill, "Oh... Minho," you said so hopelessly. And you hated yourself for letting him get to you, holding you by your neck, and winning your heart all over again.

"Come here," he held your face in your hands and leaned in, putting his lips on you, tearing down your guard like it was nothing but a mere warning sign.

Here you were, letting him take you to your bed and kiss all of your doubts away.

The shape of his body fits you perfectly as he lay there next to you and held you close, if this was a mistake then why it feels so right?

You pulled away to catch a breath and looked at him again to confirm that you weren't imagining it.

"I'm taking a long break at the end of the year," he said.

His hand splayed on your back with his thumb teasing the hem of your t-shirt, "I was thinking we can go on a trip together," he came up with the plan out of the blue.

"Somewhere warm with good food. Somewhere where I can see you wearing that red swimsuit I gave you," he added and pecked your lips. He once gave you a pair of swimsuits on your birthday since you planned on taking a summer vacation but the trip was canceled because your father got sick.

"What do you think?" He asked.

The invite came too suddenly and the end of the year was a month away, you only have a week in your life but sure, a trip with him, anywhere it is would be nice.

"It sounds great," you replied.

He puts a strand of hair away from your face before placing a gentle kiss.

"Do you mean that? I mean, are you free to do that?" You asked because you still couldn't process this, him coming and he made out with you on your bed, then asking you to come on a trip with him.

"Well, I came here to see you. I'm here now," he said and pecked your lips again.

You got a little uneasy from his vague answer and jerked your head back, "that didn't exactly answer my question."

You propped your elbow against the mattress and put a space between you and him, "does this mean you're not engaged anymore? I mean, you come here to tell me that, right?"

Minho sighed with his eyes closed and placed a hand on your shoulder, "I wish you could just accept knowing how confused I am about all this."

You shrugged his hand off your shoulder, "so you are still engaged?"

He took a second, "yes, but—"

"Oh my God!" You groaned and couldn't be faster to get off the bed, you stumbled to stand on your feet.

Minho fumbled to get up as well and sat on the edge of the bed.

"You were right about us... this was a mistake," you meekly said.

"You didn't mean that," he refused to believe you said that.

You raked your hair and tried to gather your thoughts, "I'm about three years late in telling you this but Minho, you broke my heart so many times."

You held yourself back from snapping at him by taking a deep breath, "and you acted like somehow it was my fault, my misunderstanding, and I was too in love with you to ever be mad at you. So I just punished myself for years!"

"No, I didn't—"

You didn't want to give him a chance to interrupt you so you kept going, "then you came here and told me that you don't want to lose me whilst you're still engaged to someone," you spat the fact right at his face.

It had been like that for years but that was the first time that everything became clear to you.

"It's over, Minho," you said.

He grabbed your hands and opened his mouth to speak.

You shook your head and let go of his hands, "I'm done being in love with you."

You went out of the bedroom and took his coat from the sofa, then walked to the threshold knowing that he'll follow you there.

"What's going into you?" Minho asked and it was his usual card trick that is playing the victim again.

"A realization that I've got a life to start living and you're not going to be in it, that's what got into me," you answered, handed him his coat, and opened the door for him.

He took a long, hard look at you with eyes that always work to soften your edges but it seemed like the magic has worn off.

You showed his way out with your hand and stared at him with hatred in your eyes.

There was an intense staring contest happening for a while until he reluctantly took his coat and stepped out of the door, turning around to see you for one last time.

Before he could say anything, you got ahead of him and said, "Goodbye!"

You shut the door right in his face, walked back to the living room, and lay down on the sofa. You planted your face into a cushion then screamed at the top of your lungs. You kept doing it until you ran out of breath and your throat burned dry.

"Fucking asshole," you cursed when you got up from the sofa, then started pacing around the house trying to burn the rage inside you.

"Shit! Fucking asshole! What a fucking jerk! Fuck! Argh!!!" You took the cushion and started squeezing it until it turned misshapen.

"Maybe you should make a new cup of tea!" Hyunjin said from the kitchen, leaning against the counter and sipping his tea.

"That goddamn tea!" You grumbled through your gritted teeth and shoved the tea back into the paper bag, throwing the whole thing into the trash bin.

"You can have mine then!" He offered.

You couldn't stay still, you kept pacing around with your hands balled into fists and ready to throw a punch if you have to, "argh... I have to—"

You have so much rage inside you but didn't know how to let it out, "I want to break things and scream and punch something without worrying my neighbors."

"Or maybe sit down and have a glass of water," Hyunjin suggested but doing it so calmly because he enjoyed the sight.

"I swear if I don't get it out, I'm going to fucking explode," you angrily told him with clenched jaws.

You got your coat and headed out of the door, walking aimlessly while carrying your rage inside your chest.

You ended up in a batting cage, you just wanted to tire yourself out with physical stuff and hope the rage would die down eventually.

You don't know how to play baseball but you kept batting the ball so hard and loud that it made a ringing sound and when the pitching machine stopped.

You turned at Hyunjin, "again!" You said, signaling him to put the coin into the machine.

You kept playing until there was no energy left in you and your palms were blistering from gripping the bat so hard and shaking since you didn't have dinner yet.

"Here!" Hyunjin said, handing you cold cans of beer.

You took them and held them in your hands to soothe the blisters, sighing at how good they felt.

Hyunjin opened a can for himself and started drinking, "feel better now?"

The exhaustion did work to make you forget that you were mad but it was still there, you could feel it in the pit of your stomach.

You opened a can in your hands and took a long gulp, gasping when you swallowed it all down.

"You know, he's the first and the only person I have had sex with," you blurted out.

You stared at the night sky and there was no stars or moon, only the vast darkness.

"And that's when he said it..."

You turned at Hyunjin and his red hair looking like cotton candy under the bright neon lights.

"This was a mistake," you enunciated the words one by one with a feeling like someone squeezed your heart dry when you said it.

"Since then I kept asking myself. Was it the sex? Was I not attractive enough? Was it my body? Was it me?" you rubbed your temple and sniffled, either from the cold or you were about to cry.

"A girl like me just couldn't forget such words," you said and took a small sip of your beer, you wiped the drop that escaped the corner of your mouth.

"I told him about it earlier and he said he couldn't remember saying that to me," you said in disbelief with creases on your forehead.

Tears just rolled down your cheeks like a bursting dam and you couldn't fight them but let them flood.

"How could I love such a man for three goddamn years?" You croaked and rested your forehead on Hyunjin's shoulder, closing your eyes and crying.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” you cursed yourself with a lot of regrets woven in your words.

Hyunjin put his arm around you and pulled you closer, letting you bury your head in his chest, helping you hide your sadness from the world. He kept quiet and calmly drank his beer, listening to your crying while sitting together on a bench outside a convenience store.

Your tears seeped into his clothes but in return, you felt the warmth of his embrace.

He let out a long sigh and said, "Amare et sapere vix deo conceditur."

He spoke Latin like he was a native and it sounded so beautiful coming out of his mouth, not to mention his gorgeous lips that are as red as his hair.

"Even God finds it hard to love and be wise at the same time," he translated it.

It was surprising that it was coming from him, the last person you ever wanted to hear words of comfort from yet here he was, resting his head against yours and kept shielding you from the cold, the heartbreak, and the world. 

-

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[cursed-mars-bars]

I may be looking into too much, but seeing how much you enjoy leaving little imagery for us to find within your works. Having her almost take her own life while dressed as an angel is as symbolic as it is ironic. Especially since she has the literal devil save her from her own mind.

She mentions that death is the easy part whereas life is hard, but you can argue that both are equally as hard as each other. This whole story proves that choosing death and fulfilling death is not an easy feat, especially once you start realising what you’d be leaving behind.

As soon as Hyunjin and her meet, their banter is easy and natural and ignoring the circumstances that she was found in, leads to the feeling that you can root for this relationship to grow.

There is a repetition of the colour red, Hyunjin’s hair, and the cocktail that he serves her on their first night together. Red is easily known as the colour for passion and love, but also for health as it is closely linked to the colour of blood. Ironic considering her state of health.

She describes the love potion as “a bit sour, a bit bitter but it was sweet in the end.” This is pretty fitting to describe the sequence of events within this story and the emotions that she goes through.

This story adds a layer to a person wanting to end their seemingly mundane life; she was forced to make this decision because she had been given the warning that it was about to be stolen from her before the ‘right time’. A threat that is constantly hanging over her head, forcing her to look back on her life and decide if she would allow it to take her life or if she would make the decision for herself. That’s what makes it so bittersweet. I am very curious to know what had led Hyunjin to offer her the deal initially – just for his amusement. Did he pity her situation? Did he have the power to foretell what she would grow to mean to him?

Minho stating that he was ‘looking all night’ for her at the Halloween party pretty much sums up his exaggeration of their relationship, or at least his part of it. He paints a larger and brighter picture of her position in his life than he is actually willing to commit to. His words don't equal his actions.

Interesting that the ‘competition’ to Minho’s affection for his girlfriend is never given a name. It’s quite sad that the most exciting part of her day is as fleeting as the man who creates it.

Although you could argue that her mom barging into her mom could be seen as invasive, but considering how worried y/n was about her mom blaming herself for her daughter's death, at least y/n has someone in her life that is willing to fill her fridge for her when she isn’t doing it herself.

‘If he paid attention to you just a little, he would know that you always come early, at the same time every morning’ Ouch, Minho isn’t painting himself in a way that makes us root for him, girlfriend or not. And the only reason that he even noticed was that he needed her help with something. And then abandons her for lunch, even when she could have spent it with someone else who actually cared enough to want to be with her like Kim.

Going to be cheeky here but I fully believe that you took the imagery of red-haired HYunjin in that one music video eating that apple as inspiration for his first ‘official’ appearance after offering her the deal. And I love you for it.

I love her reaction to his appearance though, just asks how he got in and leaves it at that.

She doesn't even recognize him until he mentions the deal of her soul.

Very curious to know what details the contract that he had drawn up for her contains, but that’s me just being nosey.

Minho’s girlfriend going out of her way to flaunt their relationship in front of y/n is almost comical. The girlfriend is doing it to assert dominance and yet, y/n doesn't exactly have the power to make Minho leave her in the first place. Maybe the girlfriend estimates Minhoo’s feelings or his spine overall.

y/n’s reaction to the engagement, not being angry or sad, says a lot about her mindset, her life and the relationship that she has with Minho.

The moment between her and Kim in the work bathroom was the first time that I started to see Kim as a genuine friend to y/n, someone who is more than just a workplace friend that is created but limited to the job.

Is there a significance to the number of 13 days before she chooses to die?

Her and Hyunjin’s ideas of how she should spend the rest of her days help to show their personalities, she wants to get it done quietly whereas he wants her to have fun and make it memorable. You only have one death, right?

I’m curious to know what Minho was trying to accomplish by revealing to her that he accidentally proposed to his girlfriend, now fiance. Was he expecting pity for being so spineless? For letting the girlfriend (now fiance) bulldoze and dictate their relationship? Was he even surprised at this point? How did he expect the rest of the relationship to evolve over time? If he never grew the pair to break things off with her it would have eventually led to this result regardless.

Even though he is quite literally being the devil on her shoulder, Hyunjin is just speaking the facts that we all wished that we could by telling her how silly she is being with Minho by not putting him in his place.

Another reason to dislike Minho, she finally brushes him off about something, due to a doctor's appointment and he can't even gather enough interest to ask if she is alright. Even if she was just going for a routine checkup, it’s decency to ask a good friend who ‘you didn't want the relationship to change with’.

‘Did you make anyone cry today?’ You have no idea.

The important question, Hyunjin, do you get romantically involved with humans?

Good on her for finally setting boundaries between her and Minho. Unforntualty, Minho’s good-guy act will probably make her seem like he was the one who was wronged, that she was the one acting out over a kind gesture.

Imagine the devil telling you that he thinks that you’re badass. Such a huge compliment. And thanks to his persistence (encouragement) she took a shot in the dark and applied for a dream job of hers. What’s the worst that could happen?

‘I feel like dying here- no offence’ He is too amusing.

‘I was right there for years’ And it took her absence to make her realise that. I know that emotions, especially old emotions, are hard to overcome and can take over your actions, but I’m so glad that she wanted to clarify whether Minho was going to take her on

that trip single or he wasn't taking her at all. Minho trying to explain his ‘confusion’ made me so irritated. He only had to ‘confront’ these possible emotions because she outright screamed in his face that she had them, otherwise he would have happily have continued living his life with a fiance and have his fun flirting with him on the side without committing to her.

The fact that they had been in this position before and Minho had told her that he believed that it was a mistake, and has no recollection of saying that to you speaks volumes.

Her cursing after throwing Minho’s sorry butt out was therapeutic.

Oh to find solace in the handsome devil, what a cursed life indeed.

[seospicybin]

Marley, you!

You didn't even miss the "Love Potion" bit which is pretty much foreshadowing how their love story would turn out to be.

As always, it was a pleasure to read your review, I'm nervous till when it comes to it but I'll get around soon hehehe

Thank you, Marley, truly <3

[lavenderbexlatte]

These entertainment companies really need to hire people who genuinely care about the idols well-being instead of " oh yeah he just broke his wrist, he can still perform !" Or "Oh yeah you just hurt your shoulder go ahead and work out and possibly strain it even more! You'll still be doing events and showing face!" Girl-🤦‍♀️ idols are humans! Not your cash grab show ponies😭 and I mean like hire all around care!! These idols are going to loose their hair when they get older with all this bleaching🥲 and their stress levels are god awful😖 but that's just my two cents

-🦢

okay okay okay i also don't blindly blame jype, i wanna make that super fucking clear. it's not that they are responsible and the idols are 100% innocent and being forced to do things that are bad for them. i ABSOLUTELY do no think that's the case. no.

i think that the mindset that idols are helpless and their companies work them to the extreme like cartoon villains chasing profit is largely false. especially when those idols aren't rookies. there are some companies that do questionable things, of course, and they deserve the backlash. and as we've seen with some rookies recently (omega x and their genius fucking leader kim jaehan), if a company is genuinely provably fucking you over, you can fight back and sometimes you can fucking win.

i think the stray kids members in particular have so thoroughly bought into hustle culture and the idea of work harder, not smarter, that they should improve no matter the cost. and it's killing them.

lino said he got PERMISSION to work out which implies that he asked. they COULD stop. they could do less. they could take time off. they could create a better work/life balance. these are not rookies who need to work and get their name out there so as not to fail. stray kids are like the third biggest boy group in the game rn. they literally could stop whenever they want and have down time. twice are allowed to. got7 was allowed to, before.

just based on what i've seen over the last ~6 years, jype is not a company that slave-drives their idols indiscriminately and demands more than they can give, as a rule.

skz would just have to express the desire to slow down, and something in their broken broken group dynamic, led as they are by a self-deprecating sacrificial lamb of a leader with too much pride and too much self-hatred to even see straight, will not let them do that.

they're tearing themselves to shreds and we just have to watch it happen.

that is why i'm upset.