Summary: Your boyfriend — despite being naturally leading, is pretty submissive in bed. It comes as quite a shock when he decides to take control once but who are you to say no?
⤷ smut!!! p in v, softdom!soobin. established relationship. soobin spits in and on you a couple times. lowk size kink. big dick!soobin agenda. few praises thrown in.
a/n: fem!reader (afab so implied), inspired by my dream & requested kinda 🫡 soobin nation rise up. not proof read ><
Being intimate with Soobin has never felt this heavy and hot. His bigger, more intimidating frame easily envelops your body and naturally leads the progress of your connection. You’re not sure when you ended up in his lap, swallowed by his broad stature as you struggle to keep up with the prodding tongue exploring your mouth. Your heart is dizzy with lust-fuelled excitement and your stomach starts to clench and sends sparks of passion towards your lower body. Your hips rock subconsciously against his own as you chase relief for the pressure that’s built up in your sensitive clit from his actions.
You’re practically panting as Soobin continues his ministrations. The usually passive and quite submissive man clings to you needingly, pressing his mouth against yours in a clash of teeth and tongues as if trying to prove a point to someone in his head.
Your hands which dig into the skin as the base of his neck falter and squeeze at the wisps of hair as he pushes you impossibly closer by the small of your back. Your lips disconnect slightly so his hot, heavy tongue can lick a daring stripe from your neck to just above your jaw.
You can’t help but whimper at the feeling. You feel like you’re going insane as Soobin continues to have his way with you. It’s not like Soobin to practically jump on you and have you sit pretty in his lap as he does what he wants to you. Usually, he’s staring at you with eyes blown large with desire as he asks you want you want him to do. What he can do to make you feel so good. Usually the control over someone so much larger than you makes your legs clench but the way Soobin is practically treating you like a doll has you drenched in a way you didn’t think was ever possible.
“Mhmph — Soobin!” You mewl as he presses heavy kisses against your cheek, travelling up your face to press them into your hairline before he lands back at your mouth. He snakes a hand from the small of your back to clench your chin between fingers, pulling his face back so he can stare at you with dark eyes. You swear your eyes almost roll to the back of your head at the sight of his plush, bruised lip. They’re slick with saliva and a small string still connects your lips.
He breathes heavily but the way you’re panting at having your breath stolen from you is undeniably hot to both of you. Your hands slip from his neck to hold his broad shoulders. You must look crazed — hair messy and lips swollen from the nips caused by Soobin.
“What’s gotten into you?” You question under pants, eyes darting around your boyfriend’s face. His hooded eyes drink in the details of your wrecked face. Soft eyes, furrowed brows and parted, kiss bitten red lips that glisten under the dull light in the bedroom like a crude layer of lipgloss. Soobin’s dick twitches at the sight.
“Need you.” Soobin mutters honestly as his hand drops from your chin. You swallow thickly before letting out a small puff in surprise as Soobin swiftly scoots back to lay you flat against the bed. Your stomach flutters as he easily manhandles you in a pliant position he wants to see you in.
“H-Hah..” You exhale shakily as Soobin’s hand runs down your body. His large plans envelope your tits, squeezing and pushing them together under the fabric of your top. He uses his thumbs to rub over the protruding tips, revelling in the way you shiver and bite your lip at the feeling. Your legs greedily rub together, ignoring how your knees knock into his legs and give away what you’re doing.
Wriggling and twisting, you reach after his touch. He curses as his hands trail further down your body until he reaches the hem of your shirt. His head dips as he pushes the material up, lips pressing wet searing kisses to the exposed skin of your torso. When he lifts away to press more, tongue darting to lap at the skin, the cool air causes a nipping sensation that makes your back arch.
Your head falls further back into the pillows as your hands grasp at the sheets. Soobin pushes your shirt up to the point it bunches over the swell of your breasts, pert nipples facing the cool air without much cover. Your legs press together as his head rounds up to the flesh of your tits. His tongue leaves a hot trail of desire, mapping his ministrations as he finally targets your breasts. He swirls the tongue around the perky bud, lips suctioning down as his teeth graze at the sensitive surface. You mewl and yelp as his other hand comes to twist at the neglected nipple.
“A-Ah, Soobin..” You moan wantonly, back arching and twisting. You try to pull away from the pinching of your right nipple but it leads you to push against Soobin’s face causing his teeth to dig into the soft flesh. You hiss and mewl as you feel yourself become more needy at the opposite sensations.
“So needy.” Soobin mumbles around the flesh as he moves to suck the skin just under your areola. You seizes his pinching to lightly roll over the bud with his thumb. You sigh as he separates from your tit with a soft ‘pop!’
The skin presents with a slight red tint. Soobin exhales as he realises the mark will slowly darken over time.
You release your hands from the sheets to weave your fingers into Soobin’s dark strands. He follows your lead until his face connects with your again. Your lips jut into a pout as you motion for him to meet you halfway with another kiss but he stills despite the pull on his hair.
“Jus’ kiss me, already.” You whine, feeling slightly lightheaded by the change in dynamic. Soobin’s lip flips into a smirk at one corner, the expression sends a flutter straight to your cunt. He leans in and presses a soft kiss against your lips.
You relish in the soft kiss. It’s different from what he’s inflicted upon you tonight.
He pulls away softly and his eyes almost seem a little lighter. They’re still clouded with unwavering desire but his expression seems just a fraction smaller.
“..My beautiful baby.” Soobin practically whispers as his eyes take in the features of your face. You turn hot under the appreciation. Soobin presses a soft kiss against your jawline, eyes dazzling with love.
“Soobin..” You whine with embarrassment laced into your words, “Just fuck me already.”
If the room wasn’t hot before it was hot now. As soon as the plea left your mouth Soobin was stripping his shirt and unbuckling his belt. The visual of the taller man sat on his knees above you as his belt clacked and jiggled as he whipped it off and threw the accessory to the side with a metallic thud made your thighs clench. The way his brows furrowed slightly as the belt fumbled a little and the groan of relief once he was able to undo it and throw it to the side made the everyday action just a little hotter.
You shuffle and pull yourself up to fully take off the shirt that was uncomfortably bunched around your chest. Soobin’s eyes shamelessly stare at your tits as they shake a little when you readjust the strands of hair that fell into your face.
“Shit. Baby. Let me eat you out.” Soobin asks as he hurriedly pushes his trousers around his ankles. If you weren’t so turned on you’d probably laugh at how he swears when the material bunches on his thighs and he’s forced to hop off the bed to fully take the denim off. The strain of his cock against the black material of his Calvin Klein’s makes whatever humour die in the back of your head as you zone in on the print.
“Jus’ need you in me.” You reply earnestly. Soobin crawls back on the bed, leaning over you like predator to prey. His eyes meet yours softly, “I’ve been dying to taste you, baby.”
You almost moan at his words. Soobin uses a hand to trace your features with delicate fingers. Your hand raises to softly hold at the hand. Not to stop him but just to simply touch him.
“I just need your cock, ‘Bin.” You say it so easily Soobin feels himself twitch in his underwear. The fingers tracing your lips lead themselves to your lips, slightly pressing down on the pink flesh to open your mouth silently. You let him use you, opening your mouth so he can press down on your tongue.
“Get my fingers wet, my love.” Soobin hums as he zones in on the way your tongue twirls over the long digits. He wills himself to not teasingly press a little deeper. If he was feeling a little meaner maybe he’d see how far he could go before you gag against the prodding digits. He hooks a thumb on your chin so he can rub his pointer and middle fingers against your tongue.
You hum, voice bordering on a whine as your mouth salivates from his actions and face alone. Soobin pulls his fingers away but taps on your lips to tell you to keep your mouth open. You flinch a little when he spits but you can’t help but smile when the droplet of saliva lands on your tongue neatly. He dips his fingers back in to scoop it up and really coat his fingers.
He lets you breathe when he pulls away. You swallow thickly as Soobin shifts his attention to your needy cunt. The cool sensation of his fingers prodding as your hot, gushing pussy is enough to make your eyes roll back. He circles your clit a few times — the way you like — before dipping the tips of his fingers into your needy hole. He glances up to gage your reaction before pushing in his fingers, wiggling a little to ease them in.
“Didn’t even need you to drool all over my fingers.” Soobin laughs a little as your mouth falls open. You let out a breathy exhale as he scissors you open, fingers slowly spreading against your gummy walls to get you used to the feeling.
“Ha-ah, told you I need you.” You retort as your fingers curl against the sheets. Soobin hums and bends his head so he can leave a small kiss at the top of your thigh. The muscle twitches at the sensation but the loving action next to the pumping of his fingers makes your stomach feel warm and fuzzy.
It’s not long before the usual dirty sound of squelching fills the air. Soobin manages to wiggle in a third finger despite your little huffs when it stings as he introduces the third. He hums as he shifts back on his knees so he can use his other hand to circle at your clit.
Your thighs begin to shake a little. Your head lolls back as you whimper. Soobin’s long fingers and strikingly ability to find the spot that makes you see stars is a lethal combo, but one that makes you moan like a bitch in heat.
“Soob, ‘m gonna cum.” You warn. Soobin continues, twisting his fingers just slightly as he rubs a little faster on your clit. You should be embarrassed at the wet sloshing sound that fills the room but you can’t focus on it when the familiar warm tugging sensation starts to pull in your lower stomach.
“Gonna cum for me?” Soobin asks as he looks at your face. Your hair is disheveled from throwing your head back but it falls around your head like a halo. He presses a fingers a little harder against the spongy spot inside your cunt as he continues to coo little praises that makes your walls clench against the fingers.
“Pretty baby.” Soobin cooes as you cum. Your back arches with your pretty tits pointing perkily to the air. Soobin wills himself to not grab at the flesh as he continues to slowly pump his fingers in your squishy walls to help you ride out the orgasm. Your hips chase after the fading sensation before eventually stopping.
Soobin takes the signal to slowly detach his fingers from your cunt. Your pussy clenches as he pulls out.
Your head feels dizzy as you turn your head to look at your boyfriend. He’s slowly peeling the elastic band of his boxers away from his hips. You’d offer to help if you weren’t still a little breathless from whining for Soobin to keep going.
He rolls the material down his thighs. His quads tighten as his hand wraps around the base of his cock. He uses the juices from the hand he used to finger you to spread it across the sensitive skin.
He hisses at the contact. Despite being sexually active Soobin still swears he feels like he could cum from one touch alone as he looks at your body. He feels like a dam teenager who just got their hands on their first porn mag as he drinks in your vulgar position.
“Roll over for me, baby.” Soobin commands. You nod, slowly rolling yourself over so you can plant yourself on your hands and knees. It used to feel embarrassing to present yourself so freely to Soobin but you’ve gotten used to this man and his libido to realise he’s way to horny to care for slight imperfections you’ve decided you’ve got in your head.
Your back arches as Soobin places a palm on the skin of your ass. You feel the bed dip as he shuffles forward, stomach clenching when the head of his cock taps against your weeping hole.
You hear Soobin inhale before pausing. He shifts backwards before a hot, wet trail of liquid meet your puffy lips. The needy moan that erupts from your mouth when you realise Soobin’s spat on you again — specifically your pussy, turns you on immensely.
“Tell me if it hurts.” Soobin comments as he guides his cock with his hand. He use the fleshy tip to spread the wetness over your folds, gathering them on the bulbous tip so it makes it easier for him to press into your fluttering hole.
The hand on the palm of your ass smooths to your lower back. You instinctively arch further into the mattress, proving him a better view of your messy pussy. He groans as he presses in, relishing in the way your wet cunt immediately sucks him in.
The stinging is delicious. The way the tears poke at your eyes as you clench them shut would make Soobin cum on the spot if he could see your face. You press your face into the pillows, gasping as he inches in slowly.
“Doing okay, love?” Soobin asks as he stops halfway. You nod against the pillow, biting your lip to swallow any hisses. The stretch does burn but the reward after is too enticing to stop him. Soobin leans forward a bit, accidentally pushing in more as he tries to catch a glance of your face, “Words, baby.”
“G-Good! Keep going, Soob. Need it bad!” You squeal as he inches in more. Your legs want to flail but you ground yourself by biting at the pillow you’ve forced your head into.
Soobin bottoms out swiftly. The base of his hips sit snug against your ass as he allows you a moment to breathe. The way your walls clench rapidly around his cock makes the hand on your back slip to grab at your waist. He holds the flesh firmly between his fingers.
“‘M gonna cum if you keep doing that.” He confesses breathlessly. You whimper out an apology as you try to calm your racing heart.
“Move. It’s okay.” You give Soobin the green light to move.
He rocks his hips slowly. Your eyes almost roll back at how big he is. Soobin doesn’t seem to understand that he is bigger than average because the amount of times you have to tell him he can’t just jackhammer into you from start to finish is astonishing. He doesn’t seem to understand that you barely squeeze him into your cunt before he’s almost breaking into your cervix. Poor guy just wants to make you feel good.
He sighs, both hands finding home on your hips as he finds his rhythm. His thighs slap against the back of your legs, filling the void silence in the room as he slowly speeds up.
Your legs shake. His stupidly big cock practically abuses your gspot, punching and drilling it stupid. Even at the slower pace the mushroom tip makes your toes curl like you’re about to cum on the spot.
“Faster!” You command greedily as you press your hips against Soobin’s. Soobin takes your word for it as he begins to press harder, transferring his weight to the grip on your hips so he can thrust harder.
The bruising placement of his hands makes your mouth water. The thought of him leaving imprints of his hands on the soft flesh like a silent marking of ‘Soobin was here.’ is dirtily tantalising.
“Always so tight. You sure you can take me?” Soobin muses as he thrusts harder. The sounds filling the room are a perverts fantasy. Between the sound of slick skin slapping, obscene squelching and pornographic moans alongside the softest dirty talk would have any person sweating.
You pant and wriggle, hips pushing back to meet Soobin. The plush of your ass slaps against the skin of Soobin’s hips leaving soft little stings in its wake. He slides a hand from your hip to messily play with your clit. You cry as he punches hastily, the force of his thrusts making his hand slip and pull at the sensitive skin.
“‘M gonna cum!” You warn as Soobin continues to draw messy figure 8’s on your clit. He pants as he chases the orgasm, legs and arms burning as he wills himself to keep going.
The sweat that was building on his hairline falls down his face in small streaks and he groans as he flicks his head back. The strands of his hair stick to the sweaty skin, casting a shadow across his face.
“Go ahead, love. Come.” Soobin keens when you clamp down a little firmer than usual. The spasms of your sensitive walls leads him to a quicker release but he refuses to come before you do.
You yelp as a specifically hard thrust makes your vision dot “Fuck! Mhmph!! Soobin — Ha-ah, shit!”
“You sound like a pornstar.” Soobin manages to speak past the whiny whimper that escaped him when the first spirt of his cum shoots into your walls. He spews apologies when he can’t hold it back, fucking you like a pocket pussy as he chases his relief.
You’re practically melted onto the sheets when you come. Whether it’s from Soobin’s off handed comment or the searing hot feeling of his cum costing your walls, one last clench around his bulbous cock and you’re cumming like a whiny bitch.
Soobin lets you ride it out despite his sensitive nature. The sounds that escape him are more adjacent to his usual tone during sex, soft and needy. The slamming of his hips has slowed to a rocking pace. You both hiss as his sensitive heads prods at your spongy spot.
“You did.. so good for me.” Soobin exhales faintly. He slowly pulls out and your walls clench uncomfortably at the feeling. His hands detach themselves from your body as you fully embrace the soft bedding below you. Getting caught up in the heat of the moment made you forget about how hot you are. The warm flush radiates form your body as you both separate for cool air.
You shift, turning so you can face Soobin. He settles against the pillow next to you, facing the ceiling as he catches his breath.
“What got into you?” You ask with a trace of a laugh. Soobin snickers as he rolls his neck softly. He just shrugs.
loser!txt's reaction to you getting them flustered
genre: fluff, humour
warnings: suggestive content!, making out, kissing, choking(the good kind heh), whiny!txt, stuttering, swearing, down bad!txt
note: finally writing for txt after like 2 years. i did a similar one for enha so naturally i had to do it for txt because they're soo silly. i also had to finish writing this after looking at beomgyu's very motivating recent buff pics omg. enjoy reading!
word count: 3.8k
if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3
YEONJUN
yeonjun tries so hard to play it cool as your boyfriend—all confidence and swagger—but the moment you so much as hold his hand for too long, he’s hiding his face in your shoulder, whining about how "you're trying to kill me!" he’s the type to shamelessly beg for your attention one second, then get insanely flustered when you actually give it to him. he’ll send you selfies captioned "thinking about you, babe ;)" and then shrivel up and die if you call him cute.
and now, as he sits beside you on his couch, watching some random movie, he’s completely oblivious to the way you’ve been staring at him for the past ten minutes. he’s scrolling on his phone, glasses slipping down his nose, occasionally mumbling a reaction to whatever’s on screen. his bare face looks so pretty in the dim glow of the television, lips slightly parted, his brows furrowing every now and then.
he looks kissable.
"why are you looking at me like that?"
you blink, snapped out of your trance. yeonjun turns to you, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"like what?" you ask, tilting your head.
"like you're about to bully me."
you let out a soft hum. "i was just thinking."
he snorts. "that’s never good."
you ignore him. "you’re not a very good kisser.".
his entire body goes stiff, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. his phone slips from his grip, bouncing onto his lap, and he blinks at you in pure devastation.
"huh?" he finally croaks out, voice cracking horribly.
you shrug. "i mean, you're just kinda… meh. nothing special."
yeonjun’s jaw drops. he presses a dramatic hand to his chest like you’ve just stabbed him. "EXCUSE ME?!"
you barely hold in your laugh at his utterly betrayed expression. "i dunno, babe. you just kinda suck."
"I SUCK?! i—when? why didn’t you say anything before" he whines, eyes wide with disbelief.
you hum, inspecting your nails. "I was being nice."
yeonjun gasps, clutching his chest like a 19th-century widow. his ears are red. "YOU WERE BEING NICE?! BABY, MY EGO—HELLO?!"
before he can spiral into a full-blown meltdown, you reach up, gently plucking his glasses off his face.
his words die in his throat.
"which is why you need more practice," you murmur.
his breath hitches.
then, before he can so much as process what’s happening, your fingers weave into his hair, tugging him in as your lips crash against his.
yeonjun whimpers.
he goes boneless instantly, melting into you like putty. his plush lips part against yours, kissing you back so desperately, so messily, it’s obvious he’s completely lost in it. your fingers tangle deeper into his hair, tugging lightly, and the sound he makes—somewhere between a whimper and a whine—sends heat rushing through you.
it’s a mess. his lips move against yours with a feverish hunger, hands gripping your waist as if you’ll disappear if he lets go. he’s so eager, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that makes you shiver.
when you finally pull away, only because you need air, yeonjun chases your lips with a needy whine, trying to pull you back in.
but then, against your lips, he mumbles in the saddest, most pathetic voice:
"do you really think I’m a bad kisser?"
you lose it.
a laugh bubbles out of you, and you cup his face, pressing a soft peck to his nose. his cheeks are burning, his brows furrowed in genuine distress.
"i was just messing with you, baby," you giggle, pecking his lips again. "i just needed an excuse to kiss you. I literally can’t get enough of you."
yeonjun blinks. once. twice.
then he groans, dramatically collapsing onto your shoulder, wrapping himself around you like a clingy koala. "you’re SO mean."
you laugh, rubbing his back. "you love me."
"unfortunately," he grumbles, muffled against your neck.
you smirk. "and you’re a great kisser, by the way."
he peeks up at you, still red-faced, before stealing another quick kiss—like he needs to make up for lost time. and despite his flustered state, you know he’s already planning ways to get back at you… if he ever stops blushing long enough to think straight.
SOOBIN
for someone so tall and broad, soobin is an absolute baby when it comes to you. the man stutters every time you compliment him, avoids eye contact when you so much as hold his hand, and malfunctions if you get even a little bit flirty. he physically cannot handle any form of teasing—his ears turn red, his hands get clammy, and he lets out those pathetic little whimpers whenever you catch him off guard.
right now, though, soobin is doing so well pretending to be normal.
you two are in his kitchen, baking together, and he’s very focused on whisking the brownie batter. his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, lips slightly parted, his strong arms flexing with every precise movement. the sight of his broad shoulders tapering into his slim waist is so unfair. the way his biceps subtly shift under his oversized t-shirt?—it’s all so unfairly attractive. he’s doing absolutely nothing and yet, somehow, he’s driving you insane.
you step forward, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind and burying your face into his back. soobin stiffens. like, completely freezes. you swear you can hear his heart pounding from this position.
then—
"b-babe?" he croaks out, voice cracking violently.
you giggle, tightening your hold around him. "mhm?"
"w-what are you—" he cuts himself off with a sharp inhale when you press a soft kiss against his nape. his breath shudders. you grin against his skin, pressing another kiss, then another, trailing them slowly up to his jaw. you can feel his entire body trembling beneath your touch, his grip on the whisk turning bone-white.
"b-baby, i—"
you don’t let him finish. instead, you suck gently on the soft skin just beneath his ear.
soobin lets out a broken whimper. his whole body shudders, and you swear he whines when you lick over the spot before sucking again, harder this time. his free hand grips the counter for dear life as if that’ll stop his knees from giving out.
"s-stop," he begs, voice so weak, so pathetic.
you don’t stop. you drag your lips across his skin, finding a new spot to bite down on, leaving another mark, and—
"OH SHIT!"
you pull back, startled, just in time to see soobin staring in absolute horror at the bowl in front of him. he’s gripping a salt container. and he just dumped a quarter of it into the brownie batter.
there’s a moment of dead silence.
then—
"YOU DISTRACTED ME!" soobin wails, turning to face you with the saddest pout you’ve ever seen.
you burst out laughing.
"soobin!" you gasp, holding your stomach. "oh my god, you—oh my god—!"
"this is NOT funny!" he cries, stomping his foot like an actual child. "those were gonna be SO GOOD!"
"they still can be!" you tease, wiping a tear from your eye. "just... y'know, if you wanna die of sodium overdose."
soobin groans, covering his face in shame. "i hate you."
you smirk, stepping closer. "no, you don’t."
"I DO."
"no, you don't."
"i dooooo—"
he cuts himself off mid-whine. because suddenly, he’s hit with an idea.
a horrible idea.
and you see it in his eyes before it even happens.
in the blink of an eye, soobin spins around, trapping you against the counter. his arms cage you in, his broad frame looming over you, and he leans in all slow and deliberate, trying to act like he knows what he’s doing.
"now look what you’ve done, baby," he murmurs, voice dropping an octave.
oh.
oh, he thinks he’s being hot.
the problem is—he looks more adorable than hot, because his ears are bright red, his eyes keep darting to your lips like he doesn’t know where else to look, and the way he’s breathing just the tiniest bit too fast gives away how insanely nervous he is.
then he licks his lips.
(or at least, he tries to.)
because the second his tongue peeks out, he accidentally bites it instead, letting out a pathetic little "ow."
you stare at him.
soobin freezes.
the tension shatters.
then you die laughing, "you—YOU TRIED TO BE SMOOTH AND THEN—!"
"NOOOO, WAIT—!"
but you’re already giggling uncontrollably, fully doubling over against his chest.
soobin groans, hiding his face in his hands. "ugh this is so embarrassing!"
you lift your head, still laughing, pressing a kiss to his flaming cheek. "you’re so cute, baby."
"don’t say that!" he whines, flailing his arms.
but you just smirk. "what? i thought you wanted to be all smooth and confident?"
soobin collapses onto the counter, burying his head in his arms. "i am NEVER doing that again."
you giggle, patting his head. "i dunno, baby. i think it was kinda hot."
soobin lifts his head slightly, peeking at you with hopeful eyes. "really?"
you grin. "no."
he lets out the loudest groan ever.
BEOMGYU
beomgyu is the absolute worst best friend to have a crush on. he’s loud, annoying, and somehow always finds new ways to make you suffer. he’s clingy in the worst way—stealing your snacks, flopping onto you like a deadweight whenever he’s tired, and absolutely refusing to let you do anything in peace. he always has to be touching you—whether it’s throwing his leg over yours, wrapping his arms around you like a koala, or straight-up lying on top of you like you’re a personal mattress.
but the moment you touch him first? malfunction.
the second you get even a little flirty? shutdown.
and lately, you’ve been having way too much fun testing that theory.
because beomgyu’s been working out.
like, seriously working out.
and god, is it showing.
he’s huge now—his shoulders broader, his arms thicker, his waist still slim but now complemented with solid muscle. you don’t know when exactly he started hitting the gym like his life depended on it, but you do know it’s made play-fighting with him so much harder.
like right now, for example.
you’re on your bed, engaged in an intense pillow fight, but it’s not even fair anymore. beomgyu used to suck at this—he used to wheeze and flail and scream whenever you got the upper hand. but now? now he’s too strong. every time you swing at him, he effortlessly blocks it, laughing at your pathetic attempts to win.
"aw, what’s wrong?" he teases, easily dodging your next swing. "is someone losing?"
you scowl. "shut up."
"no, seriously," he grins, mocking you. "this is sad. like, you’re not even putting up a fight. are you even trying?"
oh, fuck him.
you drop the pillow, launching yourself at him instead.
beomgyu yelps as you tackle him down, using your weight to pin him beneath you. before he can react, you go for the kill—your fingers digging into his sides, tickling him ruthlessly.
"no no WAIT—"
his laughter explodes from his chest, high-pitched and desperate. he squirms, his muscles tensing under you as he tries to fight back, but you’re relentless, giggling as he gasps for air.
but then, just as your giggles subside, you become painfully aware of two things:
beomgyu looks hot.
you want him to choke you.
the realization hits you like a truck. because holy shit—he’s under you, panting, his face flushed, his arms bulging as they grip your waist, his lips parted just slightly, his brown eyes dark and half-lidded as he catches his breath.
oh.
oh, no.
you freeze, eyes locked on his.
beomgyu, of course, being the oblivious loser he is, just blinks at you, completely unaware of the thoughts flooding your brain.
and then he flips you over.
in one quick motion, Beomgyu has you pinned instead, his thick arm curling around your neck in a chokehold.
your brain short-circuits.
because—
this is exactly what you wanted.
and Beomgyu, still oblivious, leans down, his breath hot against your ear.
"what now, huh?" he murmurs, his voice dropping into a low, teasing tone. "you thought you could win? look at you now."
oh, fuck.
your entire body shudders. this is too much. his scent, his weight, the way his arm presses against your throat just right—
"god, this feels so good."
the words slip out before you can stop them.
beomgyu freezes.
and then—
"…huh?"
his grip loosens instantly, and he stumbles back like he’s been electrocuted. his face is burning red, eyes wide in pure, unfiltered panic.
"w-what do you mean—" he gulps. "w-what do you—w-what—h-huh—?"
you blink up at him, suddenly just as flustered.
"uhm—"
"n-no wait—like—" beomgyu waves his arms, looking so painfully distressed. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT FELT GOOD—?"
you gulp, forcing yourself to meet his panicked gaze.
and then, because you literally have no other choice, you blurt out, "i think i like you."
beomgyu stares.
he stares.
and then he glitches, mouth opening and closing, hands twitching by his sides, brain fully crashing. his eyes dart everywhere except at you, his entire face a shade of red so intense you’re afraid he might actually pass out.
"you-you like me? like—LIKE ME like me?"
you bite your lip, nodding shyly. "yeah."
his breath catches and he immediately looks away, running a shaky hand through his hair, looking like he’s about to combust.
"h-holy shit—" he mutters under his breath. "oh my god oh my god—"
then—
"WAIT—SO YOU—SO YOU LIKED THE CHOKEHOLD?"
you groan, covering your face. "BEOMGYU—"
he wheezes, hands on his knees. "OH MY GOD—"
you swear he giggles. like, actually giggles.
then he stops and his entire body shudders.
and he whispers, "holy shit, that was kinda hot."
you choke.
"BEOMGYU!"
"you’re a freak," he teases, grinning. "wanting me to choke you and shit—"
"OH MY GOD SHUT UP!"
but when he pulls you into a hug, still laughing, still red-faced and awkward and loser-ish in the best way, you can’t help but smile.
TAEHYUN
taehyun is a very serious tutor. he has strict rules—no distractions, no unnecessary conversations, and definitely no messing around. this is a learning environment, not a hangout session.
he prides himself on his focus, his ability to remain calm under any circumstance. he’s the type of guy who color-codes his notes, has a rigid study schedule, and unironically enjoys doing practice questions for fun. he does not—under any circumstances—get flustered over dumb things like romantic tension.
at least, that’s what he used to believe.
then you happened, and suddenly, his ability to not be a complete loser around you has disappeared entirely.
from the moment he agreed to tutor you in math, things have been an absolute disaster. you’re so unfair. you bat your eyelashes, you ask him to repeat things you already understand just to hear his voice, and worst of all, you stare at him. like he’s some kind of fascinating subject to study instead of the guy desperately trying to keep his composure while explaining differential equations.
he thought it would be fine—after all, he’s taehyun, and taehyun doesn’t get distracted. but within one week, he realized he was in deep, deep trouble.
because you mess with him. constantly.
like today.
you're both seated at a table in the library, supposed to be going over trigonometric identities. taehyun has the patience of a saint (or so he tells himself), but after fifteen minutes of you not even pretending to be paying attention, he's starting to lose it.
because you're staring at him shamelessly, chin propped up on your palm, eyes locked onto him with a lazy smile playing on your lips.
he tries to ignore it. he really does. his eyes flick to the textbook, his pen tapping against the table in a controlled rhythm. but it’s like your gaze is physically burning into him, and the more he tries to focus, the harder it gets.
finally, he snaps.
"what?" he blurts, gripping his pen so tightly it might explode.
you blink, all innocent. "what do you mean?"
"you're staring at me."
"oh." your lips curl into a slow smirk. "i was just thinking."
taehyun immediately doesn’t like the sound of that.
"thinking about what?" he asks, voice strained.
"how pretty you are."
his pen drops to the table with a clatter.
"i—" he chokes on air, already feeling heat crawl up his neck. he forces himself to focus, grabbing his pen with a death grip like it’s some kind of life support. "th-that’s irrelevant. get back to the problem."
but you? oh, you're evil.
you lean in closer, resting your chin on your hand, eyes twinkling with mischief. "i mean it," you hum. "you’re so cute, taehyun. it’s distracting."
distracting?
oh, the irony.
because you’re calling him distracting while he’s actively trying not to combust on the spot.
"s-stop," he stammers, adjusting his glasses even though they don’t need adjusting. "i—i don’t see how this is relevant to trigonometry—"
"it’s not," you shrug. "but I think you should know how much I like looking at you."
his breathing stops.
and then, as if you haven’t already destroyed him enough, you reach forward and fiddle with the hem of his sleeve, fingers brushing against his wrist like it’s the most casual thing in the world.
taehyun physically malfunctions.
tis ears are burning, his pulse is racing, and for the first time in his entire life, he has no idea what to do.
and so? he chooses violence.
without a word, taehyun slams his textbook shut, grabs his bag, and bolts out of the library so fast that he nearly trips over his own feet.
"we’re done!" he yells over his shoulder, voice cracking. "see you next week!"
you lose it, dissolving into laughter as you watch him practically sprint out of the building, ears glowing red.
and somewhere, down the hallway, taehyun is muttering under his breath about how this is why he should’ve never agreed to tutor you.
oh, he is never living this down.
HUENINGKAI
hueningkai has been a mess around you for as long as you can remember.
it’s kind of ridiculous, really. despite being handsome and built like a human teddy bear, he has zero game. like, none at all. he stutters when talking to pretty people (you), trips over his own feet at least twice a day, and would definitely combust if you so much as complimented him unexpectedly.
and the fact that he’s your best friend bahiyyih’s older brother just makes it all the more entertaining. every time you so much as acknowledge his existence, bahiyyih rolls her eyes like she’s watching a romcom in real-time.
it’s adorable, really.
which is why, when he hesitantly approaches you after lecture one day, eyes darting everywhere but at your face, you already know whatever he’s about to say is going to be good.
"c-can you help me shop for hiyyih’s birthday?" he stammers, gripping the straps of his backpack like his life depends on it. "i—i don’t really know what to get her, and you're, um, good at this stuff…"
you smile, amused. "of course, kai. let’s go."
fast forward an hour later, and you find yourself in a cosmetics store, browsing through endless rows of lip glosses.
you hold up two tubes, lips pursed in thought. "i can't decide between these two," you mumble, glancing at kai, who has been hovering behind you like a nervous puppy the entire time.
his eyes flicker to the glosses, then to you, then away, like he’s afraid of looking at you too long.
"uh, i mean—" he stammers, rubbing his neck. "they both look nice?"
you narrow your eyes. useless.
"i need an actual opinion," you huff before popping the cap off one of them. you apply a coat to your lips, then turn to him with a tilt of your head. "how does this one look?"
hueningkai’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again.
iI—it’s pretty," he says finally, voice cracking on the last syllable.
you suppress a giggle, then glance at the other gloss. "okay, but I need to compare. I can’t put this one on my lips because I already have the first shade on."
he blinks, confused. "oh. uh, so—"
"so I should put it on yours," you finish simply.
his face goes from pink to red in record time. his eyes are huge, lips parting slightly like he just had a stroke.
"w-wait—on me?!"
you arch a brow, feigning innocence. "yeah? so I can see the difference properly. otherwise, we’ll never know which one’s better."
his throat bobs. his fingers tighten around the straps of his shopping bag. "i—uh—"
he looks like he’s two seconds away from self-destructing, but then he nods—barely and stiffly presses his lips together.
you bite back a grin.
he really is a loser.
gently, you lift the applicator and lean in, holding his chin steady with your free hand. his skin burns under your fingertips, and you swear you can hear his breathing get shakier. his eyes squeeze shut, his shoulders tense, and his entire existence is one giant ball of nerves.
but the second the wand makes contact with his pouty lower lip, he starts fidgeting.
"kai, hold still," you laugh, reaching out to cup his face with one hand. his cheeks are burning, and his lips part in surprise as your fingers graze his skin. his entire body locks up, lips parting slightly as his breath hitches. his big, round eyes are glued to your face now, completely mesmerized as you lean in closer.
his lips are so pouty. plush, glossy, glistening under the store’s lights, and suddenly, it feels like your body is moving on its own. before you can stop yourself, your gaze flickers to his wide, dazed eyes—then down to his parted lips—
and you kiss him.
It’s soft at first—just a press of your lips against his. but the moment you start to pull away, he—to your utter shock—kisses you back.
slow, hesitant, but definitely kissing back.
his lips move against yours in a way that’s both nervous and eager—like he can’t believe this is happening but wants more anyway. his hand hovers near your wrist, as if he wants to hold you closer but is too shy to do it.
and that’s when it hits you.
you just kissed hueningkai. in public.
iou jolt back, eyes wide. "i’m so sorry—i-i didn’t mean—"
but kai? he just stared at you, lips still glossy, blinking like his brain is still catching up to reality. then, slowly—so, so shyly—he reaches up to rub the back of his neck, lips curling into the tiniest smile.
"i... liked that, actually," he mutters, barely above a whisper.
the air turns thick with tension, and you can’t tell who’s more flustered—him, with his red ears and adorably shy expression, or you, with your pulse hammering a mile a minute.
for a long moment, neither of you say anything.
and then, in a quiet, hesitant voice, hueningkai clears his throat and asks, "s-so, um… which gloss do you think looks better?"
you laugh, cheeks still warm. "honestly?" you glance at his lips. "i think i like this one better."
and just like that, his face explodes into color all over again.
PUHHHHPLEASE MAKE SOMETHING ABOUT GYU’S BIG DICK. His print is always so visible every time😩😩
beomgyu is completely aware of his height, completely aware of how he towers over people, completely aware that he stands out.
you know that confidence a little too well for your liking, know that even his little beomgyu was big, as his fits always imprinted his length— it was something you were always surprised by, something new despite having seen it countless times.
you hated that it’s right for him to have that self awareness because he has something to brag about, anyway.
and it seems like he gets bigger by the minute, and fuck, how many weeks has it been since you last saw him?
what you didn’t know is that he wore your his favorite sweatpants today just for you, the one particular reminder of how much of a stand out he is, hoping for some action from you, or from himself— when he decides to stop fighting that sexual tension between you.
xxx
your ask caught me off guard bc i’ve rewatched this specific parenting diary ep a few times and i never caught this ???? that’s why it took me awhile i had to compose myself hahaha hope u like this little scenario though <33
how soobin and yeonjun handle their (shared) bratty!gf : txt
txt mlst
pairing — choi soobin x f!reader x choi yeonjun
warnings — sfw and nsfw portions, brat tamer!soobin and yeonjun + spoiled and bratty reader
note — this is ass <3
「 sfw. 」
⤷ soobin acts all tough but oh my god the minute you start getting an attitude about not wanting to go somewhere, like out for dinner or something, he FOLDSSSSS so bad!!!
"okay, that's fine, bunny. we can stay home."
he'll say with an exasperated sigh and yeonjun just glares at him for being so easily swayed.
soobin will dismiss yeonjun’s look of disapproval and cuddle with you on the couch and assure you that you made the right choice.
yeonjun, on the other hand, practices a far more firm approach when it comes to you. so, when soobin gives in, he will simply put his foot down.
"i just bought you a whole new outfit for tonight and now you don't wanna go? is that what you're telling me right now? you wanna be ungrateful?"
he asks, rhetorically and dry, which usually works on you.
if it doesn't, he'll scoff and grab his keys as if he's leaving without you, which results in you quickly stopping him.
frankly, soobin is more scared of how you'll react if you don't get your way, so he tries to be as agreeable as possible...especially when it comes to shopping. poor soobin’s pockets HURT when he takes you out.
"i thought you said i could get them all, soobin."
you'll pout, giving him glassy doe-eyes as you stand in front of the wall of pink lacy bras, each retailing for 60-80 dollars. and, yes, you wanting every single one on that wall.
"yes, bunny. we'll get them all, don't worry."
he assures, pulling out his wallet as your pretty smile goes wide.
when you and yeonjun are shopping and you get greedy, he'll barter with you.
"okay, sweetheart, i'll get you the shoes but you gotta lose that attitude before we get to the cartier store. got it?"
he'll say sternly, looking down at you as you sit on a velvet bench, trying on the miu miu ballet flats with a full lip between your teeth.
「 nsfw. 」
⤷ when soobin is eating you out, you'll buck your hips and squirm, despite his deliberate orders to stay still. he's all talk, though.
"bunny, what did i say, hm? gotta stay still....stay still for me. be good or else."
he'll whisper, holding your thighs down, but never firm enough to actually stop you from doing anything. if he does actually threaten you, it's quickly forgotten when you get on top of him or go face down, ass up.
"oh, so now you want to be good?"
when yeonjun is eating you out, he takes absolutely no defiance whatsoever and he's mean.
"did i say you could fucking move, sweetheart?"
he says, pushing your thighs down harshly against the mattress.
"i’m sorry, junnie..."
you whine, pretending to act innocent.
"no you're fucking not, don't lie to me."
he chuckles darkly, leaving your heat and crawling up to hover over you.
you'll giggle and say under your breath,
"....you're right, i'm not..."
but he hears you.
he'll tug your bow necklace so you're noses are touching,
"you're gonna wish you were, though."
when you're getting impatient in bed, soobin is the type to punish you with actions rather than words.
"this is taking too long, hurry up…" you huff as he kisses your neck from beneath you.
to those words in such a bratty tone, he'll quickly flip the both of you so you're now underneath him. you pant out, thinking that's where he'll stop.
you give him a sly smirk, but then soobin will click his tongue,
"you shouldn’t be so impatient, now flip over."
he'll rasp.
you hesitate, trying to defy him, but he'll take your hips and flip you over himself so your ass meets his groin. his grip is so tight, surely bruises form. you open your mouth to say something sour, but he'll swat your ass so hard, you're rendered speechless.
when you're getting impatient with yeonjun in bed, he'll match your attitude and double it.
"oh, i'm taking too long, princess?"
yeonjun asks, mockingly.
"you heard me."
you retort out through muffled whimpers from his lips on your abdomen.
yeonjun will scoff,
"yeah, i did.... sounds like a fucking brat."
"only because you're making me one."
you say with faux nonchalance, but your heart beat quickens with anticipation.
he crawls up higher and grabs you by the chin roughly,
"no, i think you got that smart mouth all on your own, sweetheart."
request: hi!! i saw you were taking txt requests and wanted to ask if you could do headcanons for tubatu and their favourite kind of nonsexual intimacy/physical affection :D
warnings: none, that i could think off. maybe some slight negative thoughts. most definitely not proof-read
a/n: ermmmm...hi...i have made a return to writing after a LONG time so feel free to send requests :))) hope this is good!
Choi Soobin
With Soobin, I can really see him valuing consistency in a relationship. I don’t necessarily mean a routine that you and him follow intentionally, it’s just things that serendipitously fall into place that becomes a constant in his life and your relationship.
He’d really treasure these constants when things becomes a little too hectic for his liking as an idol and the leader of Tomorrow X Together.
Sometimes he’s called at random times throughout the day for dance practice, sometimes he’ll have an impromptu trip for a fanmeet, sometimes he’d have a date planned with you only for it to fall flat because the company needs him for a photoshoot
So when he’s able to anchor himself to you, whether it be before or back-to-back schedules, or amidst the craziness that is comeback season, he does nothing but take great delight in it.
So what does this entail? Nothing. No literally. What others would call ‘doing nothing,’ you and Soobin view it as soaking in each others’ presence, filling up your half-empty cups with nuggets of calmness and tenderness.
It’s nothing extravagant, it’s literally just you and him existing in the same space while he does one thing and you do another. Parallel play, if you will.
It includes Soobin doing the cooking while you’re perched on the counter, phone in hand as you read off the recipe for him
It includes sharing the bathroom with him; you’re taking a much needed shower and he’s at the counter, doing his skincare, humming along to whatever songs you have playing on your speaker, breaking the verbal silence to playfully point out how you fogged up the mirror with how hot you ran the shower
It includes small bits of the mundane that mean the world to Soobin
Slowly but surely, it just happens to become a routine. You just always end up together, quietly, peacefully without forcing anything. He starts off by adjusting things for your comfort – fluffing a pillow when he notices it growing flat, speaking in a hushed voice when you have a migraine, flickering the big lights off and turning on the soft, yellow lamps, handing you your water bottle just as you’re about to ask him for it
It may seem too simple but as time passes, he lets you see his unfiltered states. He won’t always talk about what’s wrong, not at first, but he’ll linger around you when he’s tired and overwhelmed, when something in his atmosphere is a little off, when he doesn’t have the energy to “perform”. At the end of the day, he just tends to orient himself towards you in such subtle ways: a large hand on your thigh, his body language angled towards you, even in group settings
Soobin has no qualms in you witnessing his unpolished self, when he’s quieter than usual, a little spaced out, perhaps a bit fragile from stress
That’s where his intimacy lives: in the space around you
Over time, you start to notice that that he relaxes more around you than everyone else. Sure, he loves his members, but he’s with them most of the time in front of a camera, so there’s a layer of performance surrounding the interactions. Yet, when he’s around you, he’s allowed to pull the mask off and be unguarded around you.
Your silent reading is interrupted by the arrival of Soobin in your shared apartment. You put your book off to the side and rise from the couch, already noticing the way he trudges through the door, shoulders tense but the air around him is…exhausted. “Hey, Binnie,” you greet softly, stepping on your tippy-toes to wrap your arms around his neck, smiling to yourself when he immediately reciprocates the embrace. You can feel the way he curls into himself to fully stick himself onto you, the way he bends his neck lower, his spine arched to match your height. Expecting him to pull away after a few seconds, he surprises you by waddling over to the couch with his arms still wrapped around you. He’s a little clumsy at first, bumping into the table by the door that holds a bowl of keys and random objects but he finds his rhythm as he seamlessly moves you into the living room, pulling you down alongside him. He plops down with a huff and you follow suit, sitting on the other side from him to grab both your ankles and drape them over his lap.
You pout, not playfully because if Soobin’s feeling something, you feel it with him. “Long day?” a hand comes up to cup his cheek, clean from the makeup he had to wear in the morning for recordings, soft to the touch like he always is. Ohhhh, how easy Soobin is but instantly, when your hand comes in contact with his skin, he closes his eyes peacefully, and lets out an exhale with a shake of his head. You can already see him melting into the familiarity of the joined space. “Yeah,” he mumbles, his own coming up to rest over yours, leaning into your touch while his other hand wraps around one ankles, his thumb rubbing circles into your leg. “Just…wasn’t able to get a second and breath, you know?” peaking on eye open, anyone would be amiss to neglect the tender look Soobin gives you. It’s funny, really, how his eyes start to twinkle with fondness when he opens the other eye. “But I’m okay now.”
“Are you ?” you counter with a raise of you brow, hand floating up to push back the strands of hair that fall into his eyes. Soobin just hums in confirmation, arms coming out to wrap around you waist to pull you closer to him, right into your side, making it so you rest your head on his shoulder. “I made some bimbimbap. You want me to plate it up for you?”
“Maybe later. I just wanna sit here with you for a bit,” he whispers in reply, eyes landing on the book you were reading earlier. “Whatcha reading now?” You know, oh you know all too well that if Soobin was dwelling on something, if his mind was infested with doubts and misgivings, he’d tell you, he’d open himself up and bare his problems to you. You never needed to pull it out of him, never needed to coax him. That’s how much he trusts you, that’s how much he’s so sure of you. So when he asks you this banal question, you know that he needs now, is just a change of pace from the chaos of non-stop interviews, recordings, practices, and meetings. You gladly bring him into you space, there’s no one else you’d rather share it with, so you talk about your book, the plot, your thoughts before shifting over to the kitchen for dinner, dipping into small talk, perhaps more intimate conversations of worries and wishes. With Soobin, intimacy means being someone he doesn’t have to recover from, sharing silence that feels full rather than empty, and knowing that, even though nothing substantial has been said, you’re still connected. Intimacy with Soobin is not intense, it’s enduring.
Choi Yeonjun
In a budding romance with Yeonjun, non-sexual intimacy and physical affection starts off brights, maybe a little too intentional. If he has his sights set on you, he’s going to want to let it be known to the world.
Dramatically swinging your arm while his fingers are laced through yours. Placing a hand in the back pocket of your jeans, ever the the flirt. He knows it makes you blush when he does this and a smirk graces his lips as the two of you walk down the street like that. A part of him really does live for flirty displays of physical affection; the way peoples’ eyes are on him and you, the way you squirm around, not used to such blatant displays of affection. He’s warm and physically engaging with everyone, that’s just in his nature, but with you, he takes it a step further, though, you know that it’s a little bit of a show
You can’t really fault him for it, though. Being an idol, he constantly has people trying to get close. Not close to him but close to the idol image, the fame, the status. It’s a test of sorts. Are you really wanting to stay once you realize that his schedules are so sporadic, you may not see him for weeks at a time? Are you able to stick around when he’s surrounded by so many adoring fans, knowing thousands, if not millions of people constantly have their eyes on him? And most importantly, are you able to stare back at him unflinchingly when he breaks down and the cocky facade crumbles? If yes, the way he treats you becomes all the more distinct. Not necessarily louder, just intentional
In crowded spaces, he seeks you out specifically, eyes scanning through dozens of people at an event. He’s won an award at a show, having to sit restlessly through the rest of the event until it ended, and it he immediately booked it backstage, pushing through the throngs of people, head turning to every side to find you and when he does, he breaks out into a giant, dopey smile before crashing into you.
He brings up small details you’ve offhandedly mentioned but forgot later on. Going to a cafe, you order a slice of tiramisu, garnished with a raspberry and two blueberries, the former of which you don’t like. Yeonjun knows this, so he leans over the table to pluck the berries off the dessert and pops them into his mouth. “Hey!” you cry out, wanting to get annoyed for the sake of it. “What?” Yeonjun shrugs, chewing the fruit. “You said you don’t like blueberries.” You falter. Most of the time, you forget this fact yourself, mostly because you just don’t come into contact with blueberries enough to remember your dislike for them. But Yeonjun remembered, of course he did.
Yeonjun’s intimacy stops being general warmth and becomes targeted. Finding your gaze, locking eyes with you mid-conversation, even when someone else is talking. He’ll look at you from across the table, a subtle warm flame beneath his gaze, the two of you having a conversation with no words shared
His intimacy builds through shared moments that become exclusive over time: inside jokes, repeated habits, a certain tone of voice he only uses with you. But what really deepens it is when the performance drops because when he starts to 100% trust you, he lets you see the parts of him that aren’t that confident, where he needs reassurance instead of constantly giving it as the eldest of the group, and the quiet vulnerability behind all that confident energy.
At the end of the day, Yeonjun wants to share all experiences with you. Big and small, happy and sad, he wants to go through all the ups and downs with you, he wants to include you in his energy, and wants to be included in your energy.
Choi Beomgyu
I think Beomgyu would be kind of similar because he would hide his intimacy underneath extreme playfulness and teasing
At first, he’s all noise, cackles and jokes to get under your skin, purposefully pushing your buttons just to see your reaction but if you stay long enough, you start to notice the patterns.
He’s awfully observant and so like a switch has been flipped, he’ll stop a joke mid sentence because he senses you’re mood change. Beomgyu can sometimes forget that he’ll take his teasing a little too far but when he realizes it, he’ll bite his tongue in the same second and sit closer to you than usual, clinging onto you like a cat, but literally though because he’ll touch you absentmindedly, stuffing his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your comforting scent, or he’ll start to play with your fingers while listening to his other members talk
I could see him being quite hot and cold at times. Not in a negative way but just in that his mood could plummet or rise at the drop of a hat. He could literally be resting his head in your lap, playing with strings of your hoodie that dangle in his face, purposefully singing a song off-key, just to irritate you a bit and depending on your reaction, he’ll either keep going or stop entirely.
“C’moonnnnn, your phone can’t be that interesting,” he whines, reaching a hand up to try and swat your phone away. You scoff and roll your eyes, looking through your bank account without sparing your boyfriend a glance. “Trust me, even though my credit card stresses me out, it’s less of a headache than you,” you counter back, causing Beomgyu to sidle up further into your lap, his hans flying to your waist to tickle you. “Quit it!” you squeal, trying to wriggle yourself free, eyes still trained on your phone and when you get a glimpse of a notification that pop up, you stiffen. Whatever it is, it’s enough to dampen your mood entirely.
Beomgyu senses this immediately, the way your jaw tightens, the way you start to chew on your bottom lip. He withdraws, but doesn’t leave. He pulls his fingers away from your side and gently takes your phone from you, putting it off to the side as he sits up, scooping you into his lap for a change. He settles you sideways, hand brushing a lock of your hair behind your ear. “Hey, you’re alright, okay?” his voice is softer now, there’s not a trace of that booming tone that laces his words when he’s energetic. “We’ll figure it out together.”
That’s the thing about Beomgyu. You never walk alone, you never struggle alone. Why should you when you could share the pain? Why have a piece of happiness on your own when you could double it with him around?
I definitely think Beomgyu would love late night talks the most. It’s the most intimate version of him, when the energy drops completely. At night, there’s nothing to distract him and it allows him to just…stay and be present. At times, he talks about the most random things, something he saw on the internet. “You know they played an Ateez song on the Artemis II mission?” “What? No way!” “I know! It’s a missed opportunity for them to play ‘Over the Moon,” he adds with a shake of his head. Other times, it’s a terribly soul-bearing affair.
“I don’t know. I just…the future really freaks me out, you know?” The two of you are at the park in the middle of the day, laying in the grass, other people scattered around but right now, it’s just you and Beomgyu. He’s dragged you here after the company announced that they’re going to be prepping for a comeback so he wanted to squeeze some time in with you. He’s laying straight on his back, gazing up at the sky and you’re laying the other way (think The Fault in Our Stars film poster). You hum, nodding to his words. “No, I get it, Beom. I think most of the world would understand. What’s making you think this way?”
He sighs, turning his head to look at you, a small pout on his lips from the uncertainty of the situation. “Not sure…guess the vastness of sky reminded me of the future. And the fact that contract renewals are coming up and I don’t know if-”
“-hey. It’s gonna be okay. you’re gonna be okay,” you interrupt, turning to look at him, your nose just barely brushing over his. “One step at a time and…I’m pretty confident in the fact that the rest of the guys want to keep the group together.” Beomgyu smiles and rubs the tip of his nose over your cheek. “You’re right.”
There’s softness underneath a few layers of humour. Not that his teasing isn’t him, but he’s able to be both sides of himself when he’s with you.
Kang Taehyun
Okay, so for Taehyun, because he’s a smarty pants, i could soooooooo see him loving intellectual and deep conversations
He’d loooveeee to tell you all the things he’s discovered but he’d love it even more listening to you talk about your passions and interests
He’s all about learning: learning your love languages, learning your fears to keep you safe, learning what makes you bloom out of happiness, and just learning about you in general!
With learning comes observation and Taehyun is observant alright, allowing him to be super attentive towards you and your needs
He adjusts how he speaks to you based on your moods. If you’re feeling glum, he knows to keep the teasing at pay, he doesn’t push. If you’re excited about something, he matches your energy, not wanting you to feel silly.
He helps you in ways that are uncannily timed
You had offhandedly told him that eating at university kind of makes you anxious because the cafeteria is too loud, too overwhelming. The next time you have a long day of classes, which only happens on Wednesdays, he messages you after your two back-to-back classes, knowing that you had an hour and a half window to grab lunch before your next one.
“Hey, come out of the building for me, sweetheart :))” simple and direct, but it still makes your heart flutter, especially in confusion because isn’t today his day off??? Shouldn’t he be resting??? You scurry out of the campus building, only to find Taehyun leaning against a banister at the end of the concrete staircase, arms crossed and when he sees you walk through the door, he doesn’t grin the way Yeonjun or Beomgyu would, but his face softens.
“Tae? What’re you doing here? Shouldn’t you be resting?” you ask, pressing a kiss to his cheek and allowing him to tuck you into his side. “I am resting. Got my baby here with me, that’s all I need.” You roll your eyes at his response but he sees the way you blush at same time and a slow smile draws on his face. “Besides, you usually have lunch at this time and I thought it would be nice to take you to a proper place. I know you don’t like how loud it is in there,” he tacks on, head gesturing towards the building. Incredulously, you stare back at him, unable to say anything for a few seconds because you’ve only said thing once. Taehyun chuckles and brings a hand to the small of your back to guide you away. “Don’t look so surprised, baby. I listen.”
I don’t think Taehyun would be too into PDA. Like yes, he loves physical affection but he kind of keeps it to a minimum in public. I think he’d be more into eye contact, especially since he has such an intense, magnetic gaze
His eyes tell the whole story and when you lock eyes, it grounds and stabilizes you. One look from Taehyun speaks much more than words can.
You could be at a fancier dinner with him and his members. It’s a little out of your comfort zone but he asked you to come and how could you say no to his boba eyes? You’re sat next to him but you aren’t given a chance to converse with him as the other members fill up the space with their own words. It gets a bit overwhelming when voices start to overlap with one another, mingled with the doubt that you’re in a place where you don’t fit it and you fall silent, but still having a nice time.
Taehyun notices almost immediately and he turns his head to look at you, his face turned down ever so slightly, looking at you through his lashes with a soft look, silently asking you “are you okay?” you nod, giving him a small smile but he sees you’re not telling the full truth, so his hand finds yours underneath the table and gives you three small squeezes. I. Love. You.
Taehyun’s intimacy is being understood in a way that’s quiet but very very real. It’s never feeling dismissed or overlooked, and even though he’s not overtly expressive, he’s actively considering you, offering security in your relationship with him
Hueningkai
With Hueningkai, because he’s such a cuddlebug, intimacy is immediately accessible, but it deepens as time goes on
It starts off easy: he reaches for your hand without a second thought, comes up behind you for a hug, his strong arms circling around your waist and rocking you side to side with his chin resting on your shoulder
For him, touch is the most natural thing in the world but as your relationship with him deepens, those simple gestures from before gain emotional weight. He attaches himself to you when he’s quiet, not just playful, he leans on you when he’s unsure, and his hugs will linger, as if he’s grounding himself
Omg you know that one live where a MOA commented that their stomach was hurting and he starts to wave his hands in circles like he’s patting their stomach??? He would DEFINITELY do that in real life
You truly don’t know what’s up. Your stomach’s been hurting for the past half hour and you’ve done everything right: you’ve eaten, you’ve gone to the bathroom, you’ve taken a painkiller, so what’s happening? You’re curled up in your bed, laying in a fetus position, having left Kai to his own devices while he was playing a game on the PC with beomgyu. Normally, you’d be sitting with him in the living room, humming to yourself as you do your own task but he noticed how eerily quiet the room was. “‘Kay, I’m hopping off for the day,” Kai says, not giving his bandmate time to complain as he clicks out of the game. Sliding his headphones off, he gets up from the desk and looks around, brows furrowing when you’re not on the couch like you usually are. “y/n?” he calls out, only to be met with silence.
He walks further into the apartment, stepping into the bedroom and sees you in bed, blanket covering your form, small whimpers of pain escaping your mouth, and he genuinely physically wilts when he sees you like this. “y/nnie, what’s wrong?” he asks, now standing at the side of the bed before crouching, hand resting on your forehead and brushing strands of your hair back.
“Stomach hurts,” is all you say in a whisper, eyes fluttering shut from the pain. A frown pulls on his lips and he gets up, walking to the other side of the bed to join you in laying, his chest pressing against your back, one arm wrapping around you so his hand rests on your tummy. “I’m sorry, bubs,” he whispers into your hair, hand starting to rub circles over your shirt. “And you already took something for it, huh?” he adds, eyes flickering to the half-closed bottle of pills on the nightstand. “Yeah but…your hand’s warm…feels nice,” you mumble, already feeling the tension in your stomach lessen from his warmth. “Yeah? Guess I’ve got the magic touch.” That may be an understatement because you fall asleep within a few minutes and even when you’re in deep sleep, he doesn’t leave. He keeps his hand on your stomach, his breath softly brushing against your hair as he himself joins you in sleep.
Maybe self-indulgent because I’m Kai biased and a #romantic, but I think he would definitely do a princess spins with you, especially if you come bearing good news. The craziest part is that he doesn’t even mean to, he just gets so caught up in your happiness that he externalizes it on instinct
Linking pinkies with you too, he thinks it’s so cute OR OMG he would be so silly and charming just to get giggles out of you
You’ve wrapped up a date with him and he drops you off at the apartment before leaving to go to HYBE for the rest of the day. He’s holding hands with you and you’re trying to let go to go inside but he won’t let you!!! “Hold on,” he says softly, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “That’s for a goodbye. And this-” another kiss. “That’s for you to keep for later.”
“Kai!” you giggle, bonking your head with his. “You’re so silly. I’ll see you in a few hours!” he shrugs, shooting you a boyish smile with hearts in his eyes cuz he’s that smitten with you, even if you’re deep in the relationship with him.
Oh, that’s another thing too. No matter how long you’ve been dating, he’ll always keep things playful and light THIS CUTIE UGH
Anyways, safe to say, with Hueningkai, you never have to doubt your relationship with him because he’s open and always ready to offer hugs and kisses. With him, it’s emotional and physical closeness that’s easy to access, but still meaningful
Violet was back on your fire escape the following Monday morning, undeterred by such feeble inconveniences as a firmly shut window latch.
You saw her as soon as you opened your eyes.
Before you’d moved in, you’d worried about the short curtains, afraid that the morning light would wake you up at the crack of dawn. Now, however, fingers braced on the window frame as you worked the latch, you appreciated every inch of glass they failed to cover.
Violet slipped inside the moment you pushed the window open, already accustomed to this. She brushed your ankles in a brief greeting and strode through your bedroom like she was running late for a meeting in your living room.
You exhaled and reached for your phone. Your vision was still clouded with sleep as you opened Yeonjun’s contact, but last night’s conversation on your screen snapped you awake.
You typed quickly, forcing your eyes to stay on the keyboard.
YOU [6:58 AM]
violet is ehre
It took him a minute to reply:
YEONJUN [6:59 AM]
coming up
You briefly wondered if you’d woken him, but decided it wasn’t your problem. Violet, however fond you were of her, was his cat. And if he wasn’t taking enough precautions to keep her inside, he could deal with the consequences.
You headed into the kitchen and picked up your mug from the cupboard.
Violet had already stationed herself by the window, nose lowered to the floor where her water bowl had been the day before. There were faint smears on the tiles where droplets had dried. You made a mental note to give the floor a proper scrub tonight.
The doorbell rang, cutting through the quiet of your flat.
You opened the door to find Yeonjun in a loose grey jumper, hood up, his hair poking out in uneven strands from underneath. His eyes were half open.
“Hi,” he said, voice still rough with sleep.
“Hi,” you replied. “She’s by the window.”
He glanced over your shoulder. “Sorry again. I know it’s starting to come across like maybe I don’t mind her leaving—”
“A bit, yeah.”
He held back a smile. “I do mind. I don’t even hear her do it.”
You stepped aside. Yeonjun’s gaze dropped to your pyjama top. It had strawberries on it. He was almost certain he’d seen it on you before, and the recognition sent a pleasant shiver through him.
Your phone buzzed in your hand before he could speak.
Professor Lee.
You glanced towards the living room, where Violet was sitting with her tail curled politely at her feet, then back at Yeonjun.
“Come in,” you said. “I’ve got to take this.”
A little thrown by the invitation, Yeonjun hesitated on the threshold for another second, then stepped inside with a deep inhale.
You turned away to answer the call.
Professor Lee skipped the small talk as he usually did, but it felt particularly abrupt this early in the morning. Apparently, he needed you in. Said he had a faculty meeting, and you would have to cover his office hours.
Yes, immediately.
No, there wasn’t any time to discuss details.
You stumbled over your words, trying to negotiate a reasonable travel window; you couldn’t exactly come in immediately, you were in your pyjamas. But Professor Lee seemed to be operating under the assumption that you either possessed the ability to teleport, or would develop it under pressure.
While you blinked at the floor, Yeonjun made soft, clicking sounds with his tongue to get Violet’s attention behind you. She resisted for a good half a minute, watching you as though she expected you to tell him to stop; he was embarrassing them both.
When you didn’t meet her gaze, she relented and allowed Yeonjun to gather her up.
“Sorry,” he murmured as he passed you with Violet in his arms. His eyes lingered, briefly, on your vase of sunflowers. He didn’t ask where they’d come from, but hoped it was your grandfather.
You nodded, half-turned away.
“Alright,” you said into the phone, shutting the door. “I’m on my way.”
✦ • ─── AUGUST 24, 2026. 9 AM
As it turned out, Professor Lee’s emergency was not much of an emergency at all.
You sat in his office for an hour, and not a single student came; not one tentative knock, no confused first-year wandering in by accident.
You spent the first twenty minutes checking your emails, another twenty staring at the clock above the door, and the last spinning aimlessly in the chair, half-hoping someone would appear just to give you something to do.
This was the calm before the storm.
Shortly after Professor Lee returned, he declared, with his usual flair, that the undergrads had flipped his schedule upside down. Naturally, that meant yours was upside down as well.
You spent the rest of the day reshuffling appointments, reworking study plans, and running around campus in search of Professor Lee’s missing staff badge. You returned to his office with bad news, only to be told that he’d realised he’d forgotten the badge in the back pocket of his trousers at home. He had a great laugh about that. You considered stepping out for a cigarette.
By the time you returned to your building, you could barely stand. Your dark brown trainers, which seemed so comfortable when you put them on this morning, had rubbed blisters all over your feet. The noises of the day still rang in your ears.
Yeonjun was in the lobby.
He stood by the letterboxes with a bowl of something aggressively green (with tomatoes) and a fork.
“Hi again,” he said, mid-bite.
“Hi.” You paused by the door, eyeing the contents of his bowl. It seemed to be a salad. “Tastes better in the lobby?”
Grinning, he speared another leaf onto his fork and held it out to you. “Want to try?”
“No, thanks.” You moved past him towards the letterboxes. He shuffled out of your way, his trainers scraping on the floor. “Did you actually come out here to have lunch?”
There was a flimsy advert in your letterbox: window frames at twenty-five per cent off. You glanced at it, then scrunched it up in your hand.
“Technically,” Yeonjun said, pausing to swallow, “s’my breakfast.”
You shut the letterbox and looked at him. “It’s four in the afternoon.”
He shrugged, already shovelling another forkful to his mouth. You caught your gaze locking onto his fork and turned away, crossing the lobby towards the stairs. He followed.
“Everything okay, then?” he asked.
You glanced back at him. “Hm?”
“You rushed out this morning.”
“Oh.” You slipped the crumpled advert into your pocket to toss it out at home. “Professor Lee had—he needed me to come in early. Hope Violet wasn’t upset.”
“She was,” Yeonjun said. “Very offended you kicked her out. But what can you do.”
“Did you tell her I’ve got no hard feelings?”
“No.” He nudged something—coriander, by the look of it—to the side of the bowl. “I told her you changed your mind about being kind to her. S’showbiz.”
You fixed him with a look.
His grin settled more comfortably on his face. “What?”
You huffed, then turned back to the stairs.
“Violet’s fine,” he said, scraping the bottom of the bowl. The sound was eerie in the stairwell. “She’s spoiled, I told you. But she, uh—hopefully she’ll stop coming. M’thinking I’ll stick some tape on the latch, so she stops getting ideas.”
“Hmm.” You dragged your hands down the sides of your jacket. “She won’t like that.”
“Probably not,” he agreed. “But she’ll realise it’s for the best.”
He took the next step, then stumbled to a halt, suddenly recognising his mother’s words in his mouth.
His fork clipped the rim of the bowl and slipped, clattering down onto the stairs.
You turned.
“My fork,” he said, mournfully, and bent to retrieve it.
You pressed your lips together. “Serves you right. Eating in the stairwell.”
Yeonjun hummed as he straightened, tilting his head.
“Meant to do that,” he said.
“M’sure you did.”
He stopped outside his door, shifting the bowl to one hand so he could find his keys in his jumper pocket. You continued up the stairs.
“See you tomorrow, then,” he called out.
“Or not,” you replied. “If Violet hates me now.”
“Sure. But I might pop by the lobby, still.”
You glanced back down at him. “Oh, might?”
He lifted a shoulder in a lazy shrug, his lips stretching. “We’ll see what tomorrow brings.”
Shaking your head, you continued up the remaining steps.
✦ • ─── AUGUST 25, 2026. 6:55 AM
On Tuesday, Violet waited on your fire escape while you fumbled with the window frame. There was a strip of tape stuck to her whiskers. Evidently, Yeonjun’s grand plan to protect the latch hadn’t worked.
You braced a hand against the sill, blocking her path for a moment, and gently plucked the tape away. She chirped sharply, offended to be disrupted in this way, and tried to nip past your grasp.
You pulled back. The fire escape creaked as Violet slipped in through the gap and landed gracefully on your floor.
You shut the window and picked up your phone.
YOU [6:57 AM]
guess who’s back
YEONJUN [6:57 AM]
back again
shady’s back
Frowning, you started to type before he could send another text.
YOU [6:58 AM]
you coming or
The three dots disappeared for a minute.
YEONJUN [6:59 AM]
omw
By the time the doorbell rang, Violet had already made herself comfortable on the armrest of the sofa. She flicked an ear at the sound, blinked once, and turned back to the window.
You opened the door.
Yeonjun looked as though he’d come here directly from his bed. His hair was flattened at the back, sticking up at odd angles by his temples; his shirt sat crooked on his shoulders, collar askew.
He took a determined breath and dropped into a squat.
“Right, then,” he said. You pulled back from the door, giving him a clear line of sight. “Come on, love.”
Violet did not come on.
Yeonjun had come prepared; he crinkled her bag of treats.
Unfortunately, that only drew Violet a little bit closer. She sat down at a safe distance and eyed him for a minute. A few petals from the sunflowers lay scattered on the floor beside her.
“Alright,” he murmured, giving the bag another shake. “Few more steps for me, yeah? Just—”
The moment he reached for her, Violet twisted out of his grasp with startling speed.
“Violet, shit—” He jerked his hand back, blinking at the thin red line rising across his skin. “What did I tell you last night? You can’t scratch when I’m trying to teach you to behave.”
You folded your arms and diplomatically averted your gaze to grant them some privacy.
Yeonjun’s firm tone must have registered with Violet, though, because she made a low, begrudging sound and turned around. After another moment’s consideration, she lifted her chin and stepped past him into the stairwell, as if this had been her intention all along.
Exhaling, Yeonjun stood.
“Your hand alright?” you asked.
He gave it a reflexive shake. “Yeah, it’ll be fine. Growing pains. Sorry about her.”
“She’s alright,” you said. Violet turned her head in your direction, her pupils wide. She was hoping you’d invite her back inside. “She’s clearly very determined to keep coming.”
Yeonjun glanced down at her and cautiously extended his hand again. Violet leaned in for a sniff, her whiskers stiff against his skin. She allowed him exactly one stroke down her back before slipping deftly out from under his fingers.
“Feisty today,” you observed.
“I’ve been holding back the treats,” Yeonjun explained, straightening. He rattled the package in his hands again. “Hoped it’d stop her clawing at the window.”
“Ah.” You inclined your head. “So she’s come to claw at you instead.”
“I guess.” He twisted his wrist experimentally—then winced, breath catching as the motion pulled at his old sprain. He dropped his hand back to his side. “Anyway, uh—I’ll try again with the curtains. I pulled them up, but maybe she wants them fully gone.”
You followed his gaze to Violet, now perched on the top stair, thoughtfully licking her paw.
“Maybe,” you said.
“Yeah.” He rocked lightly on his heels, then remembered himself and stilled. “Um—you’ll be off to uni, then?”
You pushed off the doorframe. The edge of your pyjama pants snagged on a loose splinter in the wood. You glanced down, suddenly very aware of the stain at the knee from an unlucky accident with oil.
“Yeah,” you said, angling your leg to hide the blemish. “Professor Lee and I are hosting the introductory lecture for undergrads today.”
“Oh,” Yeonjun said. He opened his mouth to make another comment, but discovered he had none left. Half his brain was still asleep. “Good luck.”
You nodded.
He stayed on your doorstep.
The corridor fell into a quiet stillness around you. Only the soft, repetitive sounds of Violet grooming herself by the stairs broke the silence.
Yeonjun scratched the back of his neck and glanced at you, then dropped his gaze back to the floor.
“I, uh,” he said, “I could drive you.”
Your stomach seemed to drop out from under you.
You glanced down, instinctively, as if to catch it.
“Oh,” you said, gaze locked on your slippers. “N—I mean, no need. It’s not far.”
“Okay,” he said quickly. “Well, if you change your mind, let me know. The offer always stands.”
Violet had paused, mid-lick, to give him a pointed look. Yeonjun caught it and blinked away.
Nice going, idiot, she seemed to be saying. What else you got?
“Right,” he said, bending to scoop her up before he started to peel his skin off. “See you later, then.”
You dragged a hand over the side of the doorframe. “Later.”
✦ • ─── AUGUST 25, 2026. 9 AM
Professor Lee was running late, which wasn’t unusual. You suspected the man would one day be late for his own funeral.
You could manage his absence.
What you could not manage was the auditorium door.
You pressed your staff badge to the scanner again. The little light above the lock flashed red.
You stared at it, perplexed.
The corridor began to fill with students, their voices wrapping around you—laughter, complaints about the cold, yawns, jokes about the football match last night. You stood still, badge in hand, trying to look like you weren’t locked out of your own lecture.
Your skin felt terribly warm. Uselessly, your mind flashed back to the early morning. Yeonjun hadn’t driven you here, yet your stomach still felt tight as if he had.
“Sure you’ve got the right room?”
You turned. A boy stood beside you, looking a good ten years younger than you. He should’ve been in kindergarten.
“Yeah,” you said. “Seems like technology’s not working today.”
“Oh, well,” he said easily. “Guess class is cancelled, then. You can hang out with us instead.”
His friend, taller than him but still looking like he was learning to clap his syllables in primary school, jabbed him in the ribs. “Shut up.”
You forced a tight smile and tried the badge again.
Red.
The boy beside you snickered. His friend failed, audibly, to stifle his own amusement.
A few more comments followed behind you, just loud enough to reach you: most assuming this was your first day on the job (it was), or that you were actually a first-year, too (you almost wished).
You kept your eyes on the lock.
When Professor Lee appeared five minutes later, slightly out of breath but unfazed as always, the corridor immediately quieted.
It irked you a little, his innate authority.
You wondered what he had that you didn’t. He didn’t look much like a professor with his multicoloured shirt, jeans, and a black backpack slung over one shoulder.
Maybe it was just that he was a man.
“Ah,” he said as a way of introducing himself. “Good, good.”
He tapped his badge once.
The light blinked green. The lock clicked open.
Smiling like you were due for a check-up at the local psychiatric ward, you stepped into the auditorium after him.
The lecture, at least, went better.
Once you switched on your PowerPoint, the words came easily. You’d practised your presentation until it was muscle memory, even if said muscles kept shaking the entire hour and a half.
The students listened. And, in what passed for high praise these days, only a few of them pulled out their phones.
After you finished, a small group stayed behind.
“Sorry about earlier,” one of the students said—Sungjae, you’d learned, the one who’d tried to recruit you in the corridor. “You’re very young for a lecturer.”
“Yeah,” you said, cutting him a look as you turned off the projector. “I’m equally shocked they let me do this.”
He snorted, relieved you were playing along, and brought a finger over the edge of your desk.
“You did well, though,” he said. “I’m looking forward to seeing you the rest of the term.”
You gave him a tight smile.
He’d been overly active the whole class, raising his hand to clarify the points that didn’t need clarifying (‘Why’s that image wonky? Oh, sorry, I thought it was, like, a test of our perception—carry on.’). He reminded you of the students back in your thesis workshop.
He didn’t move from your desk.
Behind him, Professor Lee was deep in conversation with another cluster of students, nodding enthusiastically at something you suspected he hadn’t even heard. You considered calling him over.
Clearing your throat, you glanced back at Sungjae.
“First paper’s due end of September,” you said. “I’m very excited for that.”
“Oh—right.” His eyes widened, then dropped to the floor. “Yeah—I’ll do my best, then. Have a good one.”
“You, too.”
He rejoined his friends in the corridor, where he was immediately met with a round of laughter and a few punches to the shoulder.
Off to a good start, then.
At least this one hadn’t tried to ask for your phone number. You might’ve had to call his parents otherwise.
Turning away, you caught Professor Lee’s eye. He beamed at you and flashed you an energetic thumbs up, startling the boys he’d been speaking to.
You smiled back, relaxing your shoulders.
The professor hadn’t changed much since he’d been hosting your psychological warfare seminars back in grad school. And, despite everything, it felt good to be back in the trenches.
✦ • ─── AUGUST 25, 2026. 4 PM
When you returned, Yeonjun was leaning against the wall in the lobby, scrolling through his phone.
This, you realised absurdly, might’ve been the most stable part of your life right now.
No matter what happened at university, you could trust Yeonjun to be in the lobby when you got home.
You sighed as the doors clicked shut behind you.
Yeonjun looked up, already smiling before your eyes properly met. He had big, black-framed glasses on today. They were sliding down his nose.
“Oh, hi,” he said. “Back already?”
“My usual time, it seems.”
“Yeah? Wouldn’t know.”
You hummed, eyes narrowing slightly.
The last time you’d seen him wear glasses, he’d followed you into the library where you were working on a presentation with Luke. Those had been lensless, then; he’d been putting up a performance. Brought a book and everything.
“Like my glasses?” he asked, noting your stare as he slipped his phone into the back pocket of his jeans.
“Real or not?”
“Real, of course.”
“Yeah?” You turned away, tightening the strap of your backpack. “Used to wear ones for decoration.”
He knew exactly what you were thinking about.
“Used to wear real ones, too,” he said, eyes glittering behind the frames. “Before we met.”
You remembered him mentioning that.
“Mhmm,” you said. “So, a quick switch to being fake, then, yeah? Checks out.”
He blew out a puff of air. You seemed in a violent mood today—perhaps Violet had infected you—yet the small smile on your lips as you crossed the lobby had him transfixed.
He stood still for half a second before he realised to follow you.
“I like that you remember my fake glasses,” he said, deciding he enjoyed walking on thin ice. His hand followed yours on the railing.
“Hard not to,” you replied. “You stalked me into the library.”
“I asked if I could come with you.”
“I said no.”
“You didn’t.”
“I implied—”
“Well, how am I supposed to understand implications?” he cut in, tapping his palm against the bannister. “I can’t read minds.”
You gave him a flat look over your shoulder. “Clearly.”
He grinned. “You should tell me everything directly.”
“Alright.” You paused on the second-floor landing and turned to face him properly. “Don’t come to the lobby anymore.”
“That’s better,” he said, stopping a few steps below. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“That doesn’t sound reassuring.”
He shrugged. “I’m only human.”
Clicking your tongue, you turned back towards the stairs.
“Tell me something else, then,” you said. “What are you doing, job-wise, to have enough free time to loiter here every day?”
Yeonjun was feeling very buoyant and needed a moment to gather himself. Then his thoughts.
“I do simulations,” he said finally. “Strategy work.”
You slowed just enough for him to fall into step with you.
“For cars?” you asked. “Racing?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. Then, catching your raised eyebrows, he added, “not anywhere near Formula, in case s’what you’re thinking.”
“But you’re an engineer?”
He lifted a hand in a vague, sideways motion.
“A consultant, technically,” he said. “Mostly performance diagnostics. Data analysis.”
You lowered your head, thoughts drifting.
Beside you, Yeonjun could tell you remembered playing 21 Questions on his sofa with him. Eating grapes and chocolates. You’d asked him what he wanted to do in the future. He’d said he liked cars.
He remembered it, too: the low crackle of the fireplace, the way you used to look at him back then.
When he got the call with the job offer, that was what came back to him first.
“What sort of racing, then?” you asked, not looking at him.
“Stock cars.”
“Oh.” That surprised you again. “Like NASCAR?”
“Sort of,” he said. “We’ve got a local league. Closest thing you’ll get to NASCAR here, I guess.”
The stairwell narrowed as you climbed past the third floor, forcing you closer. Sunlight pushed through the thin windows in stubborn streaks, catching dust in the air and highlighting the yellow paint on the walls.
“Haven’t moved to dirt, then,” you said, almost absentmindedly.
His nose scrunched faintly, a reflex you recognised before you could stop yourself noticing.
“No,” he said, pushing his glasses higher up his nose. “Loyal to tarmac.”
“Hmm.”
By the fourth floor, your pace had slowed without either of you deciding on it.
You were aware that there was only one floor left until his flat. And if you lingered to talk there, that would mean you weren’t just exchanging quick neighbourly small talk on the stairs anymore. Then you’d be having a Conversation.
“That’s cool, though,” you said. “You went legal.”
“Yeah.” His gaze dropped to the stairs. “S’not bad. Mostly screens and numbers. Pays well, though, and, uh—” he looked up, “—leaves me with loads of free time.”
You met his eyes.
“Mhmm.” Your lips pressed together. “That explains it.”
“I do leave my flat, though,” he added quickly. “On test days, and—”
“I’m not accusing you of anything.”
“You gave me a look.”
You snickered under your breath.
“Didn’t mean anything by it,” you said. “Just surprised you’d voluntarily choose to work from home.”
That was fair enough, Yeonjun had to admit.
He let out a quiet breath, his gaze settling somewhere ahead.
“I’ve, uh—I’ve changed a lot,” he said. He’d had this conversation in his head hundreds of times before. He wondered if his words sounded rehearsed. “Found my peace.”
This wasn’t the first time he said something like this to you.
You didn’t know what it was supposed to mean.
“That’s good,” you said.
“Yeah.”
You rounded the next corner, gaze catching on the uneven linoleum, the peeling paint on the walls, the bannister smoothed by hundreds of hands. It all looked softer in the sunlight, more welcoming.
The two of you reached the fifth floor.
Yeonjun stopped at his door, hand hovering near the handle. He waited until you turned to glance back at him.
“Let’s see what Violet does tomorrow, I guess,” he said. “Yeah?”
You nodded and turned for the last flight up. “Yeah.”
Yeonjun watched you go.
✦ • ─── AUGUST 26, 2026. 6:55 AM
Violet did not care about the curtains.
She was back on the fire escape at her usual time, seated with rigid patience, waiting for you to notice her. In truth, she felt quite disrespected. It’d been nearly a week – surely, you should’ve expected her by now?
The faint, persistent scrape against the glass of your window finally dragged you from sleep.
You sighed into the pillow, then heaved yourself upright and went to the window. Violet squeezed through the gap the moment you lifted the latch, nudging the frame further with her plump backside.
“Violet,” you said as she toddled into the living room. “Be honest with me. Do you hate Yeonjun? I won’t tell him.”
Violet kept her secrets and settled between your flower pots.
Half an hour later, Yeonjun stood in the middle of your flat, scratching the back of his head. You left him to sort out the cat while you dried your hair in front of the mirror by the bathroom door.
“I don’t know what else to do,” he admitted, turning to look at you. He felt faintly dizzy at the scent of your shampoo.
He’d just spent five minutes hunched over in your kitchen, rattling the treat bag with steadily dwindling confidence. Violet wasn’t falling for it. Stretched out in her patch of sunlight, she had not so much as turned her head.
“Is she opening the latch herself?” you asked, shutting off the hairdryer and bringing a hand through your hair. It felt staticky. You tried to smooth it down.
“I mean, unless my flat’s haunted, yeah,” he said. “I shut it properly, I’m sure. She must keep at it until it gives. Chewed through the tape I’d put on and everything.” He glanced at the cat. “Then she just lets herself out.”
You hummed, gathering the cable as you turned your attention back to Violet.
You watched her roll onto her back, exposing her stomach to the sun. Her mottled fur seemed to glisten in the light. Her paws pressed against the glass.
She looked entirely at home.
“Um.” You walked into the kitchen and set the hairdryer on the island. “We could try leaving her here for the day.”
Even as you said them, the words sounded strange.
“I’ll be back around four,” you added, filling the pause before it could turn awkward. “I can let her out then. Bring her back to you. Obviously, I’d leave water out, and—” you gestured towards him, “—you could bring over some food. She could just—I don’t know. Stay here. For a bit. Like back on Sunday.”
Yeonjun watched Violet’s tail flick rhythmically against the floorboards and didn’t answer straight away. He flexed his fingers once, as if to remind himself that he, too, had a corporeal form.
“You’d—” He cleared his throat. “You’d be alright with that?”
You lifted one shoulder. “I don’t mind. But she’s your cat.”
Yeonjun was very aware of that. Aware, too, that Violet, his cat, clearly preferred your place to his.
He wondered, although he tried not to, how many other things he had in common with her.
“Yeah,” he said at last. “She—yeah. I’m cool. Fair warning, though, I can’t thank you with peach cobbler this time. Haven’t had a chance to bake anything.”
“Oh.” You raised your eyebrows and tsked. “Well, obviously, this can’t work, then. Take the cat and go.”
He snorted.
“We can try leaving her here,” he said.
“Yeah?”
He nodded.
“Okay.” You turned back to Violet. “Yeah.”
“I’ll, uh—I’ll bring over some of her food.”
“Alright.”
You stood still for a moment after he left, watching Violet and trying to decide if the rapid, uneven thumping in your chest meant anything. You decided it didn’t.
Yeonjun returned a few minutes later with Violet’s food in a charming, pale green ceramic bowl.
You took it and set it down on the floor beside the water, your expression deliberately neutral. This was all, of course, perfectly ordinary. Just doing your neighbour a favour and letting his cat stay at your flat. Again.
Violet lifted her head at the soft click of the ceramic against the floor. You crouched beside her, giving her a gentle poke on the back, then gesturing towards Yeonjun.
“Look, little one,” you said. “You sure you won’t miss him during the day? He’ll be gone awfully long.”
She flicked her tail once in acknowledgement, then turned her head back towards the window.
“Right, then,” you said, standing. “Never mind.”
“Right,” Yeonjun echoed. He was twiddling his thumbs.
“Nervous to leave her?” you asked.
“A bit.” He dropped his hands, then pushed them up to the back of his neck. “Always hard for a parent to separate from his kid.”
You felt your lips twitch again and turned away. “She’ll be alright.”
“Yeah. I guess.”
You left him to say his goodbyes—he did genuinely seem close to tears—and stepped into your bedroom to open the window just an inch, in case Violet decided to go home early. Then you returned to the living room.
Violet hadn’t moved. Her eyes were still squeezed shut in front of the sun.
You grabbed your backpack and stepped out into the corridor. Yeonjun followed, quieter now.
He lingered behind while you locked the door, wondering if he should say something else. He didn’t.
“Alright,” you said, slipping your keys into your backpack. “See you later, then. I’m sure Violet will be okay.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “See you.”
He walked downstairs with you to his floor and stood by his door a minute longer. By the time he went inside, he was smiling again.
✦ • ─── AUGUST 26, 2026. 4 PM
When you returned home that afternoon, the light in the lobby was dimmer. The sun slanted through the narrow windows, reflecting off the silver chain around Yeonjun’s neck.
He turned from the letterboxes the moment he heard the door shut. He had his glasses on again.
You smiled before you could stop yourself.
“Hi,” you said. “She hasn’t come back?”
“Hi.” He pushed himself off the wall. “No. M’starting to think she won’t want to.”
Your heart lifted at that. You forced it to calm down.
“She’s probably just looking for a change in environment,” you reasoned, turning towards the stairs. “Or—have you got other pets? Or some unusual odour in your flat?”
He snorted, following you. “No. She’s my only pet and the only unusual odour in my flat.”
You laughed.
Yeonjun felt it like a sudden drop in gravity and reached for the bannister just in case. He was remarkably dreadful on his feet around you. There was probably a name for it.
“Think she just likes your place, to be honest,” he said around the second floor. “You’ve got good light. And plants.”
You glanced at him. “You haven’t got plants?”
“No.”
You slowed until your steps aligned with his in the cramped stairwell.
“Why not?” you asked.
He looked down at the scuffed edges of the steps and tried to concentrate on placing one foot in front of the other, or else he’d start thinking about how close to him you were walking.
“Never thought to get any,” he said.
Your thoughts raced ahead of you.
You remembered the house he used to share with Soobin—how large it had felt, with light spilling through the big windows, and a kitchen with too many cupboards and teabags no one could find. And plants, on the sills and on the tables.
“You, uh—” The words caught in your throat on their way out. “You used to have plants.”
Yeonjun looked at you and forced his expression into something more neutral.
“Yeah, those were Bin’s,” he said. “Didn’t even let me water them unsupervised.”
Your lips quivered. “Makes sense.”
“D’you think I should get plants?”
You looked at him again. He looked earnest and a little worried, as if the rest of his life depended on this decision. You made a concerted effort not to start smiling.
“Yes,” you said.
“Okay.” He nodded. “What sort?”
“Whatever you want. Ferns are fairly easy, for example. Once you get them settled in a good spot.”
You and Reina had had three ferns in your old flat. She’d taken them when she moved in with Soobin while you were away in New York. One of them hadn’t survived the move, may it rest in peace. You and Reina had held a small funeral after you returned, then divided custody of the remaining two.
Yeonjun, in the meantime, sifted through his own memories.
He hadn’t really got acquainted with the plants he’d had with Soobin. There had been ‘the big one, with the enormous leaves’ in the living room, and ‘the small ones’ on the windowsills in the kitchen. There might’ve been a few in the guest rooms, too, come to think of it.
Had any of them been ferns?
“Ferns,” he said slowly. “Those are the ones with the feathery leaves, yeah?”
“Yeah,” you said. “They’re also non-toxic for cats.”
“Oh.” He blinked, embarrassed that he hadn’t considered that. “Okay, that—that’s great. Can they survive anywhere?”
“More or less,” you said. You were nearing the fifth floor now, and you began to rush through your words. “They usually prefer shade, but they do need some light. They’re quite communicative, though—you’ll see it from the leaves if they’re getting too much sun. Or if you’re overwatering.”
Yeonjun clicked his tongue, unconvinced.
There’d been those Christmas plants that Soobin had brought home once—poinsettias, were they? He couldn’t remember. They’d looked expensive. Soobin had left them for a couple of days while he was visiting his family and had said, Yeonjun remembered clearly, water them a bit.
So, Yeonjun had watered them a bit.
By the time Soobin got back, all the red leaves had dropped off.
“Yeah, they’re all communicative,” he mumbled. “Hasn’t stopped me from killing them before.”
Your smile won against you. “Well, you’ve got to go into it with a pure heart. Plants can sense bad energy.”
He was about to argue. Then he thought of Violet, and the way she escaped his flat each morning and ran to yours instead.
Maybe he did have bad energy in his flat.
Maybe he should’ve bought one of those bundles of sage.
Maybe he should’ve asked you to move in with—
“Alright,” he said, inhaling sharply. “S’fair enough. I’ll look into ferns, then.”
You reached the fifth floor and stopped, briefly, on the landing.
“You, uh—are you coming up, then?” you asked. “For Violet.”
“Oh.” He glanced upwards as though he’d forgotten there was another floor. “Yeah. Of course.”
He followed you up the stairs. There was a peculiar lightness in his hands, he realised, as though some screws in his wrists had loosened. His fingers wobbled on their own.
It took you a minute to unlock the door. You jostled the key and nudged the wood with your shoulder until the lock finally gave.
Yeonjun paused on the threshold.
Your flat, he thought, smelled of something familiar. Fresh laundry, perhaps. Vanilla-scented candles. It felt warm and inviting. He was this close to climbing out onto the fire escape tomorrow morning and knocking on your window himself.
Violet hadn’t moved far.
She lay stretched across the centre of your rug, exactly where the sunlight had settled. She turned her head at the sound of the door, rolled onto her side, then pushed herself up and trotted over to Yeonjun. There seemed to be a small skip in her step.
Yeonjun was surprised.
“Hi, love,” he said, squatting to greet her. “Missed me, did you?”
She took a mandatory turn around his ankles, her head brushing against his knees, before allowing him to pick her up.
“Wow,” he breathed as she snuggled against his chest. She was content now. Ready to go home, treats or no treats. “Alright, then.”
“Guess she needed a break from you,” you said. “Can’t blame her.”
He snorted, then broke into proper laughter despite himself.
You felt yourself smile in response.
The sunflowers, Yeonjun noted, glancing back inside, were still on your kitchen island.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, one hand resting against Violet’s back. “Guess so.”
You slipped your backpack from your shoulder and let it fall by the door. Yeonjun shifted to the side to make more room.
This gesture felt alarmingly familiar, and for a moment, you forgot what to do with yourself.
“Should we—” Yeonjun paused when you looked up. He swallowed, recalibrating. “Should we do this again tomorrow? If she’s back at your window.”
You watched Violet’s whiskers twitch and settle. Yeonjun felt an uncomfortable heat rise to his ears with every second that you didn’t reply.
“I guess,” you said. You doubted you had a choice. “She seems to like it here.”
“Yeah. Alright.” He nodded quickly. “Don’t feel pressured by her big blue eyes, though. If you’re busy, I can come up and get her.”
Her big blue eyes were closed now. She was already half-asleep in his arms.
The bowl of food Yeonjun had brought her stood empty by the window.
“She’s good,” you said. “I don’t mind.”
Violet seemed to sense the shift in his chest at your words and lifted her head. He smoothed a hand down her back, warning her to be cool.
“Alright,” he said. “Just let me know she’s here, yeah?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
He nodded, and lingered on your doorstep for another moment.
He realised that, while he wasn’t very good at goodbyes, he was very good at hovering in your periphery and looking for small reasons to stay a little while longer.
You let him look for them.
“Until tomorrow, then,” he said at last.
“Until tomorrow,” you said, and then you smiled briefly—at him first, only then at Violet.
Until that moment, Yeonjun hadn’t realised he might be in competition with his cat.
✦ • ─── AUGUST 27, 2026. 6:55 AM
This time, you left the window open overnight—only a fraction, so you wouldn’t freeze in your sleep. The frame complained about it every now and then, and the fire escape rattled in the wind. But still, you slept.
At 6:55 precisely, the window frame gave an insistent groan.
You heard a faint scrape of claws. A soft, investigative sniff. Then—success. A quiet patter of paws on your floor.
You caught yourself smiling as you sat up in bed and reached for your phone.
YOU [6:57 AM]
she’s here
Not waiting for a reply, you swung your legs out of bed and made your way to the kitchen. The tap glugged, disgruntled, as you filled Violet’s bowl.
Behind you, she had already taken her place by the window. She didn’t look at you. She figured she’d already trained you into your role.
“Right,” you said, crossing back to pull the curtains open.
The morning light flooded Violet’s little face. She blinked slowly and pushed onto her paws, leaning closer to the glass. The dark patch around her left eye softened in the early morning brightness.
She looked very pleased.
You left her there, got ready, and headed to university, anticipating an easier day. Your seminar had been cancelled, so you only had two meetings: one with your doctoral advisor and one with Professor Lee.
You should’ve known better than to celebrate.
On your way from that second meeting, you ran into Professor Myers in the corridor. You hadn’t seen her since graduation, and she whisked you into the staff room for a cup of coffee to catch up.
That part was lovely.
Then she asked you to speak to her grad students about your fellowship in New York.
“Oh,” you said. “When?”
She glanced down at her watch. “In about forty-five minutes.”
That was decidedly less lovely.
You finished your coffee, trying desperately to gather your thoughts, and followed her to the auditorium. Your eyes were twice their normal size; you dreaded being unprepared.
Your only consolation was that Taehyun and Kai were in her class—they’d just started their final year of grad school. They took it upon themselves to react to everything you said with excessive enthusiasm. Every time you stumbled over your words or lost your train of thought, they filled the silence by ooh-ing and ahh-ing at something you’d said earlier.
It was ridiculous.
It helped immensely.
You took them both to the canteen for dessert afterwards.
Despite being past lunchtime, the place was still loud. Benches scraped. Someone dropped a tray by the window just as you walked in. The air smelled distinctly of grease.
You’d missed it.
The dessert bar was already half-empty; only the chocolate cake looked remotely appealing. That was what the three of you settled on.
“I like your necklace,” you said, sitting down at a table in the back, opposite Taehyun.
His golden cross caught the light as he dropped himself onto the bench.
“Thanks,” he said, already cutting into his cake. “It’s the one Nara made for me.”
Kai, on your right, leaned forward to flaunt the four-leaf clover at his throat. “She made this one for me.”
Nara, from what you’d gathered, had discovered jewellery design earlier this year, after ordering a bracelet online and receiving it broken. Irritated, she’d bought wire cutters and a new clasp, and fixed it herself. It was a matter of principle, she’d said. Also, shipping was criminally expensive.
From there, she discovered beads. Then gemstones. You were sure she’d start melting metal soon, too.
“Reina mentioned she made her a lily,” you said, taking a bite of your own cake. The chocolate clung to the roof of your mouth. “Out of—out of wire. S’beautiful. I don’t know how she does it.”
“Oh.” Taehyun looked up sharply and shook his head. “Don’t ever ask her. She’ll walk you through every step in excruciating detail.”
You huffed. “That sounds interesting, though.”
He leaned back, lifting his plate. “Not when it’s the tenth time you’re hearing it.”
“I’ve asked her to make me a chain next,” Kai said. There was chocolate at the corner of his mouth. “One of those proper chunky ones that you can use as an accessory and a weapon.”
Taehyun glanced at him. “What’d you need a weapon for?”
“You never know,” Kai said, shrugging. “Better to be prepared.”
You smiled. “I like your thinking.”
“Practical,” Taehyun agreed, wiping his hands slowly on a napkin. Then he looked at you again, more thoughtful now. “I still think it’s ironic, though. You’re back from New York, giving a speech on what Sociology students can do with their degrees. Yet no one else in your year is actually doing it. I mean, Nara’s making jewellery.”
You tilted your head, your gaze dropping to his cross again. “Thought that was still a hobby.”
“Well, yeah,” he said. “But we don’t know what she and Beomgyu actually do, either.”
Kai looked up again. He was very invested in Beomgyu’s whereabouts now that they no longer lived together; partially because Beomgyu constantly sent him the most ridiculous pictures and never explained any. This morning, it was a photo of what looked like herring on a plate.
“To be fair,” he said, pointing his fork at Taehyun, “it could be related to Sociology. They never explained it.”
“Them not explaining it is exactly why I think it isn’t,” Taehyun replied.
You gathered the crumbs on your plate with the edge of your fork.
It was a known fact among your friends that Nara and Beomgyu left together every morning. Same car, same hour, every day. They came back the same way, too. They called each other ‘business partners’ and always giggled obnoxiously whenever anyone asked what they actually did.
“They are legal, though,” you said. “Right?”
Kai shrugged. “We hope so.”
“Hmm.”
You took another bite of your cake. It was still aggressively sweet and far too dense.
“Jun’s doing something with racing,” Taehyun said after a moment. He kept his gaze on his plate, but watched your reaction from the corner of his eye. “Actually think it might be something to do with data analysis, after all.”
“Mhmm.” You swallowed the chocolate. “He mentioned something.”
Taehyun lifted his head properly. “He did? To you?”
You looked up.
“He—yeah.” You paused, suddenly aware they’d both gone still. Something was rattling in the kitchen at the far edge of the canteen. “H-he lives in my building. I didn’t mention? Anyway. I think—”
“Whoa, hang on.” Taehyun raised a hand so abruptly that he nearly dropped his plate. “He lives in your building?”
Kai leaned forward, his eyebrows raised.
“Since wh—and you talk?” Taehyun added. “What the fuck?”
“What the fuck,” Kai echoed helpfully.
You reached for a napkin. The paper felt thin, almost useless, between your fingers, leaving a tear where your thumb pressed too hard.
“Yeah,” you said. “So, uh—funny story.”
Understandably, Taehyun and Kai ended up keeping you on campus a good half an hour longer than you’d planned. Your own fault, they’d said. Should’ve informed them about this Yeonjun development.
Swallowing your protests, you focused on answering their (many) questions without going into too much detail. The two of them already looked outrageously amused as it was.
✦ • ─── AUGUST 27, 2026. 4:35 PM
By the time you finally made it back to your building, the clouds had gathered overhead, thick and grey. It looked like it was going to pour.
You pushed through the lobby doors, quickening your pace. You were worried that Violet had started to feel abandoned in your flat. Or perhaps she’d already returned home through the gap in the window. Unless she got lost on the fire escape—
Yeonjun wasn’t in the lobby.
You stopped short and looked around, as though he’d decided to hide inside one of the letterboxes or behind the noticeboard.
He hadn’t.
You glanced at your phone.
To be fair, you were late. And you had told him to stop coming down here. Perhaps he’d listened.
A small flicker of disappointment tightened your chest. You clenched your hands into fists.
It annoyed you that you’d expected him to be here.
You’d never asked outright why he kept coming down in the first place. But he had, and now it had been over a week, and you found yourself lingering at the letterboxes, fingers brushing over the cool metal—waiting, without admitting you were waiting, in case he hadn’t noticed the time and was still on his way.
He was.
Not even two minutes later, the lobby doors pushed open again, the heavy frame resisting as usual. Yeonjun stumbled in, breathless, hair a mess over his forehead, one hand clutching a potted plant.
You straightened, stepping back from the letterboxes.
“Shit,” he managed between wheezes. His right hand was tangled in his jacket sleeve. “H—hi.”
“Hi,” you said, your gaze honing in on his hands. “You’ve got a fern.”
“I—” He bent slightly, bracing one hand against his hip as he lifted the small white pot, victorious. “I’ve got a fern.”
“Very nice,” you said, and waited, silently, until he’d recovered enough to move.
He pushed himself forward after a moment and joined you by the stairs. The two of you started up together, slower this time.
“Really think it’s nice?” he asked, drawing a steadier breath. His insides were burning. “Picked the greenest one.”
“Yeah,” you said, reaching out to brush your fingers lightly along one of the leaves. It was soft under your touch, but springy. “S’pretty much the main requirement.”
“I thought so,” he said, a flicker of pride in his voice. “Did you know they predate dinosaurs, by the way? Ferns. ‘Course they’ve evolved plenty since then, but still.”
“I didn’t know,” you said, a familiar smile settling on your lips. “Fascinating.”
“Hmm. There was a sale.” He tapped the yellow label on the edge of the pot. “S’why I went there—uh, today.”
He chose not to mention the calculations he’d performed to time his trip right, so he’d be back just when you returned home. The queue had ruined his plans. And the run back had nearly finished him.
You, in turn, chose not to mention waiting for him.
The two of you continued up the stairs in silence. By the time you reached the fifth floor, the rhythm of his breathing had grown unsteady again.
“Let me drop this off,” he said, hoisting the pot while his other hand rummaged through his jacket pocket for keys. “And we’ll go up for Violet.”
Nodding, you leaned against the railing, fingers tapping against the wood while he pushed the key into the lock.
You were waiting for him again, you realised.
That was not great.
“Actually,” Yeonjun said, opening the door. You looked up. “Would you mind coming in? Help me find a spot for the fern?”
You didn’t move straight away. You knew you shouldn’t.
Then you pushed off the railing anyway. “Sure.”
Yeonjun’s flat had the same layout as yours, but it felt noticeably larger. Your footsteps echoed once he shut the door.
It was the lack of furniture, you supposed. Aside from the standard built-in counters in the kitchen and a few chairs, the living room area stretched open completely bare. No sofas, no rugs, no tables. Nothing to fill the space.
The light fixtures on the ceiling looked new, though. That might’ve explained the noises you’d been hearing at night.
The curtains on the windows were in a terrible state. Half of them hung properly, but the other half draped over the frames and slumped to one side. He’d mentioned adjusting them for Violet. It looked like he’d started, then given up.
You found yourself wondering, without much reason, what Yeonjun’s parents thought about him living somewhere like this.
Then, as you turned your head towards the archway leading to the bedroom, you saw a piano tucked into the corner, partially obscured behind the wall. Its dark wood blended into the dark of the flat.
Something warm flickered through you.
“Oh.” The word slipped out before you could stop it. “You started playing again?”
Yeonjun followed your gaze as he set his keys down on the kitchen counter.
“Sometimes, yeah,” he said, shrugging out of his jacket. “Only when I’m in a good mood, though. Still pisses me off otherwise.”
You watched the piano for a second longer.
You hadn’t heard it once since he’d moved in.
“Uh…” You dragged your attention back to the living room. “Not many options where to put the fern.”
“Yeah.” He turned the pot thoughtfully in his hands. “I’m still moving in.”
“I can see that.”
Yeonjun hummed. He’d never lived alone before. Even after Soobin moved out, he’d kept to his room and didn’t touch the rest. This open space, this potential for other rooms, felt awkward to him.
He’d taken a few things from his old house—mattresses, mostly—but they hardly felt fitting here. He kept them all at the back of his bedroom.
“I don’t really know what living rooms are supposed to look like,” he admitted. “Never needed one.”
“Well,” you said, “they usually have a bit more furniture than this.”
“I assumed so.” He set the fern down on the counter and glanced towards his bedroom. “Hold on.”
He disappeared through the archway and returned a moment later, carrying a small metal table with golden detailing around the sides. It looked heavy.
“Got this in my bedroom,” he said, lowering it to the floor with a grunt. It landed with a loud thud. “The previous owners left it. Could put it here somewhere. By the curtains? I’ll sort those out, by the way, I know they’re a mess. Would that be a good spot? In the corner, there?”
You stepped closer. “Show me.”
He pushed the table across the floor. It moved with a jarring scrape that made you both wince. Abandoning the effort, he dropped it close enough to the corner and shoved the curtains aside with his forearm. Half of them shifted; the rest sagged further. One panel gave up entirely and slipped to the floor.
The room remained dim.
You stopped beside him to study the corner as he put the fern on the table. The green leaves seemed dull in the low light.
“This could work,” you said slowly. “But I hope you open the curtains in the morning. Fully, I mean.”
“Uh…” He glanced at you. “Well, what’s ‘morning’?”
You frowned. “What time do you usually wake up, then?”
“When you text me to say Violet’s at your place.”
“Oh—”
“Then I pick her up,” he continued, “and go back to sleep.”
Something in your chest clenched suddenly.
You were shaping each other’s routines now.
That was not great.
“Well,” you said, folding your arms, “it’d be good if the fern got some morning light. So maybe leave a gap in the curtains? Not directly on it, but just enough to let some light in.”
He turned back to the curtains.
They had been designed, quite deliberately, not to leave gaps—he’d made sure of that when he bought them.
He spent three minutes trying to find a way to make one. After that didn’t work, he dragged a chair over from the kitchen and wedged it between the drapes, forcing a narrow slit open.
“There,” he said at last, stepping back. “That alright? Kind of defeats the purpose of blackout curtains, but…”
“Looks okay,” you said.
A thin sliver of light cut into the room, catching the leg of the table. Small as it was, it changed the air immediately. The flat looked more alive.
“Why d’you even need blackout curtains in the living room?” you asked. “They’re meant to help you sleep.”
“I am very fascinated with the idea of living in a cave.”
You snorted. “Explains your obsession with Plato.”
He grinned, bringing a finger over the bruise Violet had left on his hand and instinctively searching for something to lean against. There was nothing.
He really didn’t have much furniture here, he realised. But, to be fair, he didn’t have many people over. He’d never needed to think about where to stand when talking to someone.
“I tried taking them down for Violet,” he said, nodding towards the uneven mess of fabric on his windows. “She didn’t care, so I hung—well, tried to hang them back up. In any case, I think I’ve got the disadvantage of that old billboard across the street. It blocks all the light.”
You glanced at the window, but the gap in the curtains wasn’t wide enough to show much.
You knew the billboard he meant anyway; it was an old wooden frame with peeling remnants of posters layered over each other. It had a habit of absorbing what little light reached it.
“Right,” you said, turning back to the fern. “Well, it should be fine here. Give it some time, see how it settles.”
He nodded. “Alright.”
You tapped your jacket pocket, searching for your keys. “Should we check on Violet?”
Yeonjun dropped his hands to his sides. “Yeah.”
The corridor was quiet when you stepped back out. The two of you moved upstairs, your shoulders brushing in the narrow stairwell.
For a few seconds, this felt perfectly normal.
The moment you noticed it, the feeling thinned.
It was really not great, you thought, this ease with him.
Not great, the way your breath kept catching in your lungs.
The last time that happened, it had taken you months to recover.
You jammed your key into the lock with unnecessary force, letting the resistance travel up your arm. The door stuck, as always. You lifted the handle and rattled it until it finally gave.
As soon as the door opened, Violet darted out of your bedroom, her paws quick and light against the floor. She locked onto Yeonjun, stopping abruptly at his ankles.
“Oh—hi, love.” He crouched down. “Have a nice day at kindergarten?”
She answered with a pleased little sound and pressed her face into his palm.
You looked past them.
The sky outside the windows was dark. Your bedroom door stood open. The sheets had been dragged halfway off your bed, trailing onto the floor. There were small holes, suspiciously shaped like paws, on your pillow.
An absurd smile pulled at your lips.
“I see she’s explored your place a bit,” Yeonjun said, glancing up.
“Yeah.” You looked back down at her. Violet blinked up, her blue gaze curious. “S’fine. I’m not hiding anything from her.”
“That’s good,” he said. “Because she will find it.”
You crouched beside him and ran your fingers over Violet’s back, her fur warm and soft. She leaned into you, inadvertently pulling Yeonjun closer. Your little finger brushed his. His hands were cold.
Swallowing, you drew your hand back.
“See you tomorrow, then,” you said, nodding at the cat. “Right, Vi?”
She turned her head towards you and let out a soft, agreeable meow.
You stood, brushing your hands lightly against your dark trousers.
Yeonjun gathered Violet into his arms and stood up, too. She rested her head against his wrist.
“Let’s see if I can recreate this setup,” he said, nodding towards your flat, “with my sole fern.”
“No direct sunlight,” you reminded him.
“I’ll try.” He pivoted towards the stairs. Violet blinked slowly at you from the crook of his arm. “If it’s dead tomorrow, though, that’s on you.”
“It won’t be dead tomorrow,” you called after him. “I trust Violet to keep an eye on it.”
Violet meowed obediently at the sound of her name. You snickered.
Yeonjun paused on the stairs just long enough to catch it, then gave you a brief wave as he reached the turn and continued down.
You watched him go.
✦ • ─── AUGUST 28, 2026. 6:55 AM
On Friday, following your newly established routine, you left Violet in her usual spot, pawing idly at your monstera. Her fur was a little wet; it was raining outside. You filled her bowls, checked the window latch, and set off for university.
Unlike your established routine, you were back two hours later.
Professor Lee had mentioned a book he needed for his research on incarcerated adolescents: Erikson’s Identity, Youth and Crisis. He said it’d been checked out of the library.
You had an interest in the formation of identity—less about being incarcerated, though—and happened to own a copy. Still too eager to be helpful, you offered to fetch it for him.
And so, you barged through the door of your flat just before midday, startling Violet out of her wits. She bolted from your bedroom—her new playground, apparently—back arched, eyes wide with alarm.
“Hey,” you said, breathless, as you shut the door behind you. “Did I scare you? I’m sorry.”
She stared at you from a careful distance, assessing whether you deserved her forgiveness.
You dropped your umbrella to the floor and lowered yourself into a squat, lungs still tight. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw that your wardrobe doors were open in your bedroom. You’d definitely closed them before you left.
“I just popped in to grab a book,” you explained softly, extending your hand. “S’why I’m back. And what’s your excuse for going through my wardrobe?”
Violet approached and pressed her face into your palm with a small purr. She accepted your apology and did not think she owed you any explanations.
You scratched under her chin, briefly captivated by the fine wisps of hair above her eyes. God, she was beautiful. Then you stood.
Once you stepped into your bedroom, you saw precisely what had kept Violet busy.
She’d found the box at the bottom of your wardrobe and lovingly redistributed everything across the floor. Old keychains, small trinkets, and empty picture frames were all scattered around your bed.
The black woollen scarf hung on the edge of the box. You could see the wrong side of the golden stitching on the corner.
The hippo plushie lay slightly apart from the rest. Its once vibrant grey had faded into a softer white.
You watched it for a minute.
It had been over a year now since Yeonjun had taken you to the zoo. And yet, you could recall that trip with near-perfect accuracy: the angry peacocks, the silly pictures with the camels, the gift shop.
And the giraffe, the other half of the pair.
He’d kept it.
Violet meowed questioningly behind you. You snapped out of the brief trance and turned to her, offering her a small smile.
“Right,” you said. The room was cold from the open window, a little drafty. “Let’s get the book, yeah?”
Violet followed you to the bookshelf. Your heart banged against your chest as you squatted to scan the lower rows.
Why had you kept the scarf and the toy?
It wasn’t because you loved Madagascar exceptionally much. And it definitely wasn’t because you’d wanted to wear Yeonjun’s scarf again.
It wasn’t because you’d forgotten them, either. You vividly remembered unpacking after New York, jet-lagged and disoriented, standing in the middle of your empty flat with your entire life still zipped into suitcases. You remembered finding the scarf—and remembered the brief flash of thought that followed: you’d wanted to run into Yeonjun.
You hadn’t been sleeping for those first two weeks back, and the noises in your head were very loud. You hadn’t been thinking clearly.
You supposed you’d wanted to see him just to reassure yourself that he had been real. Maybe to return the scarf, too.
You let out a deep breath.
Now that you’ve actually seen him, none of your thoughts made sense.
A little lightheaded, you finally spotted the red spine of the book and pulled it free from the shelf. Violet stepped closer, intrigued by the new object. You could still see the scarf out of the corner of your eye.
Had you kept it for the memories, then?
To relive everything now that it was safely contained inside a box that you could open and close at will?
But reliving everything meant reliving everything.
You sat down on the edge of your bed.
Back then, fresh from nine months in a city you didn’t know, you might’ve clung to everything that was familiar. Everything you could recognise without thinking about it. You’d even salvaged all of Reina’s doodles that she’d left on napkins all around your flat.
But you were home now.
And Yeonjun lived downstairs.
And you were seeing him in the lobby—and seeing him there again. And again, and again.
You were talking to him now.
Trying his peach cobbler.
Helping him with his fern.
Looking after his cat.
You inhaled sharply, your hand instinctively settling on Violet’s soft back. Your fingers moved slowly along her spine, tracing the soft brown patches, then the darker ones.
She shouldn’t have been here.
You thought you didn’t mind. Didn’t care.
But you did care.
Cared so much, in fact, that you could hardly take another breath.
It had been a monumental mistake, those two weeks with Yeonjun. Had they taken only your pride, perhaps you might’ve been fine now.
But they hadn’t.
You’d spent months thinking about his reasons for ending it and walking away. Months, thinking about what you could’ve done differently so that he would’ve stayed despite those reasons.
You felt uncomfortable about those thoughts now. You were supposed to be fine.
You sat on your bed for a minute longer, staring at the corner of the room, with Violet quiet by your side.
You wouldn’t relive it.
There wasn’t much you could do to change Violet’s ways—she was a cat, she went where she wanted—but you could still change yours.
✦ • ─── AUGUST 28, 2026. 1 PM
Your traditional lunch with Reina stretched far past the point of reason.
You’d gone over to hers to help her pick a dress for the engagement party tomorrow—quickly, before Soobin got home from work. Not long after, Nara came over to join you. She’d recently dyed her hair light pink and wore a golden necklace with a bear pendant. She’d made this one herself, too.
You spent the first half an hour eating noodles and talking about her jewellery. And, an hour later, the three of you were still sitting on Reina’s sofa, on your second glasses of wine.
Soobin had called Reina five times in the past twenty minutes. Reina’s uncanny sixth sense must’ve rubbed off on him; he sensed that she was planning some sort of surprise.
She let the first three calls ring out. Then she answered the fourth with a voice she assumed was casual, but actually sounded a little like she was being strangled.
By the fifth call, she admitted she was choosing the dress for the party.
Soobin said he was coming home immediately.
Laughing, you stood to gather the dresses and cram them back into her wardrobe. Nara, meanwhile, tried to help her hang up by feigning a crisis (dark red wine on Soobin’s grey carpet).
“I genuinely don’t know what we’ll do when it’s your actual wedding,” you said, once Reina finally tossed her phone onto the sofa. “When he’s not supposed to see you before you walk down the aisle.”
Nara picked up the glasses from the table and carried them to the sink.
“Maybe,” she said, “we could convince him to wear the dress instead.”
“Oh, yeah,” you said. “But then Reina will be the one trying to get a glimpse of him before the wedding.”
Reina sighed, slumping onto the sofa and holding out her wrists. “You’re right. We’re doomed. Just lock me up.”
You laughed again and joined Nara in the kitchen to finish tidying up.
By the time you left, you were in a good enough mood to forget the tremor in your hands.
Yet, back on campus, the day refused to settle.
Professor Lee’s office seemed to have a revolving door today. People came and stayed, stayed and talked, talked and drank coffee. They wanted to know how your first lecture went, how New York was, what the topic of your dissertation would be. You were fairly certain someone had asked about the colour of your socks, too, though you couldn’t remember.
When you finally staggered back home that afternoon, your hands were as heavy as the lobby doors. Your hair was wet from the rain (you’d left your umbrella at home when you stopped for the book), water dripping from your jacket onto the tiles.
Yeonjun was there.
He stood in his usual spot by the letterboxes, his phone pressed to his ear. He looked up as the door shut. No glasses today.
“Gotta go now,” he said into the phone, already turning towards you. “Yeah—sure. Yeah. Okay. Bye.”
He slid the phone into the pocket of his jeans before you could decide whether to acknowledge him or try walking past.
“Soobin,” he explained, tapping his pocket.
“Ah,” you said. “Getting ready for tomorrow?”
He exhaled and nodded. Ever since Soobin had determined that Yeonjun was functioning well enough, he’d been on the phone with him every day for at least forty minutes at a time.
“He’s spiralling about whether to wear a tie or a bow,” Yeonjun said. “Beomgyu voted tie, but Bin thinks it’s too much. It—it’s a whole thing.”
“Hmm.” You started towards the stairs. “Reina’s stressed about her outfit, too. It’s good, though, that this is their biggest problem.”
“Yeah.” He fell into step beside you, as easily as before. Something sharp pinched at your stomach. “M’happy for them. But, uh—still fucks with me that they’re engaged. I remember Bin losing it before their first date—he was dry-heaving on the bathroom floor. Feels like that was a few weeks ago.”
“Yeah.”
You remembered talking to Yeonjun about Reina and Soobin before. Remembered sitting across from him at that Italian restaurant—Linguini’s, your mind supplied helpfully. With Edgar, the waiter, and that piano player with hands growing out of his ass.
“Time’s strange like that,” you added, your throat dry.
“Mm.” Yeonjun’s throat felt dry as well, though for a different reason. “So, um—about tomorrow.”
You sensed the shift before he even said anything.
“Would you…” He trailed off, opting for a different approach. “I mean—we could, uh—go to the party together.”
Your heartbeat jolted, sharp against your ribs.
You reached out a hand to the wall to steady your balance.
“I’ve got to go there early,” you said, fingers tracing the uneven layers of paint. “Need to help Reina get ready. We’ve got a—kind of a ritual. Wouldn’t be good to break it on a day like this.”
“Oh, yeah,” Yeonjun said, nodding quickly. “Makes sense. Can’t break rituals. But I mean, I wouldn’t mind going early, too. Not to help Reina, but, uh—”
“Yeonjun.”
He looked up. “Hm?”
You’d stopped on the third-floor landing. Your hands, you realised, were shaking worse than before.
“Let’s not do this,” you said.
He visibly recoiled.
His jaw tightened, hands disappearing into the front pocket of his dark blue jumper.
“What are we doing?” he asked.
“This,” you said, gesturing between you. Your voice reached him as though from underwater: low and muffled. “Going places together. Let’s—let’s not.”
The landing felt smaller suddenly, and airless. The peeling paint on the walls beside you seemed to curl downwards in your peripheral vision.
“What’s wrong with that?” he asked.
“If you don’t know, I doubt I can help yo—”
“You can,” he said, sharper now, “by answering the question. Why can’t we go places together?”
You felt a pang of irritation at his tone.
A torrent of words teemed on the tip of your tongue, all of your past history: from the casual we’re-just-playing dating, to the serious it-had-not-felt-like-a-bet goodbye.
You could have unleashed it, you knew.
But you also knew what it would sound like. Knew what it would reveal.
You didn’t think you wanted him to hear it.
“We’ve already tried that before,” you said. “Hasn’t gone well, has it?”
Yeonjun swallowed. His throat felt full of sand.
He watched your wet hair for a moment and couldn’t help remembering that last day he’d talked to you, in the parking lot by the Social Sciences building.
He’d left you in the rain and driven off.
“That—well, that was—” He tried to grab onto a sentence, or even a word, and took a sharp breath. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”
You turned towards the next flight of stairs. “Nothing to talk about.”
A frustrated breath left him. “Don’t do that.”
You scoffed. “What am I doing?”
“Acting like nothing means anything. Looking for some angle. Some ulterior mo—”
“No.” The word was clean and brittle. “I stopped looking when I found it.”
Yeonjun shut his eyes for a moment, pausing on the topmost step.
He knew the scheme would come up. He just hadn’t expected to be standing in the middle of the stairwell when it did.
“That’s exactly what we should talk about,” he said.
“Well, then we already have.”
“No, we haven’t,” he insisted. “That wasn’t—I was just—there were things happening that aren’t… they’re not happening anymore. I can talk about them now.”
You stopped—abruptly enough that he nearly missed a step and landed at your feet.
“Can you?” you shot back. “What does any of that even mean, ‘there were things happening’?”
Yeonjun had wanted to have this conversation with you, but hadn’t planned for it to happen like this.
He wanted, a little bit, to back out now. To rewind the time. Honestly, to have never been born.
“It—it’s a long story,” he said. He pulled his hands from his pocket, then shoved one back in, restless. “But I want to tell you.”
You studied him for a long moment.
Then you faced the stairs again.
“No.”
He couldn’t process the word. “No?”
“Think I’ve heard enough of your stories.”
The finality in your voice startled him.
He’d known better than to expect anything easy from you. But you were talking to him now. Joking with him. Smiling sometimes.
He thought the two of you were better.
He bounded up three steps to catch up.
“But it’s important.” His hand shot out on instinct, fingers closing around your wrist. “It—”
You stopped mid-step, startled more by the coldness of his hands than the touch itself.
He let go right away, but the brief contact was enough to send something electric through you both. You resented that your first instinct was to reach back. To warm him.
You weren’t sure you were breathing.
“I want to explain everything,” he said.
Slowly, you folded your arms across your chest.
He looked unsure and a little scared. You felt something inside you waver.
Maybe you should talk.
Maybe he should explain, and you should listen.
“Why?” you asked.
“Well, because it—because everything that happened was my fault,” he said, and you heard it in his voice—the I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry he’d kept repeating as he walked away from you, without an explanation, the last time.
“And what is it that happened?” you asked, jaw tightening.
“Everything,” he said. He felt each of your questions like a punch in the gut. “Us. And—you leaving for New York.”
Your eyes narrowed. “What’s me leaving got to do with anything?”
Yeonjun blinked down at the stairs.
This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.
“It—well, it was all happening at the same time, I don’t know,” he said, his gaze flicking, momentarily, to your face, then dropping again. “I—okay. Can we just talk about it? All of it.”
“We are talking about it.”
“No,” he said. “We’re talking around it.”
You dropped your hands to your sides.
“Right,” you said.
He looked up, hopeful despite his better instincts. You weren’t looking at him.
You didn’t want him to explain.
You wanted there to be nothing to explain. Wanted him not to have walked away that day.
You continued up the stairs. “Maybe we shouldn’t be talking about or around it at all, then.”
Groaning, he followed after you. “Why not?”
“Because I’m not doing this again.”
“Not doing what?”
“This.” Your voice rose despite yourself, instinctively matching his. “Arguing and explaining and playing games. I’m done wi—”
“I’m not playing games, though!” he cut in. His hands flew up, then faltered, fingers pushing back through his hair. “I—I’m not. I mean that. I meant it before, too.”
You paused again, your chest constricting, as if something inside was being forcibly pried open. It pinned you down to the floor. You could feel yourself start swaying faintly on your feet.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
The stairwell did not know what to do with this silence. It stretched between you until it echoed in your ears.
You glanced up towards your floor, then down again, twisting the ring on your index finger.
This was enough.
“Look,” you said, in a voice so level and calm that Yeonjun didn’t recognise it at first. “Technically, we’re only talking because of Violet. Or because we’re neighbours. That’s all. And that’s all we’re ever going to talk about. Is that alright with you?”
For a second, Yeonjun simply stared at you.
He realised his mistake.
The more time that he’d spent around you, falling into these small routines, the more he’d taken it as a sign. Convinced himself that he could fix this. That you’d let him.
His wounds, he realised, had closed when he saw you.
But yours had opened.
“No,” he said finally. “S’not alright. But I get it. You don’t want to talk.”
You didn’t. But you found yourself itching to say something else. Felt the words rise, desperate and frightened on the tip of your tongue. You swallowed them down and turned back.
Quietly, Yeonjun followed.
At your door, he watched you wrestle with the lock. Watched the key catch, then slip out. Watched it struggle to turn. You adjusted your grip and pushed your shoulder into the frame.
The door opened.
Violet was already sitting on the threshold, as though she’d been listening. Her white tail flicked slowly side to side, her blue eyes bright and expectant.
You stepped back.
Yeonjun moved forward and scooped her up. He offered her no greeting. She didn’t dare breathe a meow in response.
