i write only for ateez! ot8 but yungi biased so expect a lot of yungi lmao :'D i do not accept requests because i write for fun. asks are open though for suggestions or feedbacks!
(my works are sfw but my fic recs aren't so please keep that in mind!)
hi its been awhile since i've been active here and it's also been awhile since i wrote anything here as well. im glad some of my fics have gained new readers throughout my hiatus and i hope you enjoyed it as much as i enjoyed making it. however, i might not really write much again in the future as uni has been very busy. i'll keep this blog alive by maybe reblogging some fics i like that might be not only ateez so yeah. thanks everyonee <3
★ summary: the five times Jaehee wanted to kiss you, the time he did, and the aftermath.
★ wc: 3,7k words
★ warnings: one (1) mention of cannibalism
★permanent taglist: @blubb0 send an ask or leave a comment to be added!
★ fic taglist: @gyubvlin and that one anon...
★ n/a: had this in my drafts for a while, decided to put it out as my last fic of the year since i dont have almost any other close to being finished lol (obviously i might post a drabble if i feel like it, and dymk is still going to be updated) (also im planning a series so i want to focus on that)
0. the intro
One would think that after knowing each other for literal years, the prospect of romantic attraction has been long forgotten, or more likely, never even taken into consideration, in the end, you were as close as family.
Jaehee liked to think you were the exception, the black sheep of different sex friendship, that the whole thing of men and women can't be friends was just a myth, a lie. A mere conspiracy of society.
How wrong he was.
1.
The first time Jaehee thought about kissing you was when you sent him a photo before going out. It was similar to the ones you usually sent him, your phone in hand and showing him whatever clothes you had one, your daily outfit consisting on mostly jeans and t-shirts. He knows the mirror, the one he helped you set up on the closet door, and he knows that if he tries hard enough, he can see the younger version of you two in the photo you have propped up on your desk.
That's not what caught him off guard, thought. Its the way you look, he always knew you were beautiful, even back to when you still hadn't outgrown the lanky phase, or the time you cut your own bangs. You always were the prettiest girl in his eyes.
Yet, he barely ever sees you like this, he himself barely ever goes out like that, and even then he usually prefers bar hopping. He doesn't remember the last time he even stepped inside a club. Yet, he had seen you a fair amount of times dressed similar to this, but he never has seen you like this. He feels ashamed of the thought that plagued his mind. you were best friends for god sakes. One wasn't supposed to think about how nice it would be to have their allegedly platonic relationships pressed against theirs, day dreaming about how their lips must feel against his, on how you would feel, how would you sound, how would you taste.
He blames all of this on the stark contrast to your usual sweatpants and jeans outfit. And the way you talked about his friends, something that always had irked him in some way, even if he brushed those feelings off under the guise of protectiveness.
It gets even worse once you text him about just how bad you wanted him to go out with you, his mind flashing with the idea of being there, dancing with you, how your manicured hands would feel against his arms while you guide him through the crowd, taking the lead like you had done many times before. His mind flashes back to all the other times he had gone out with you, the way you danced under the lights, the way you looked under the lights. That's all that occupies his mind as he tries to study whatever the book in front of him says, but after all, he can't get the idea of kissing you out of his head.
2.
The second time he ever thought about it was when he picked you up from Vicki's dorm. Even if he would never voice these thoughts, the idea of having to pick you up from a boy's house had scared the life out of him. The sigh of relief he had let out when his fear had been placated had even awoken Yushi, his roommate, who promptly tossed a pillow at him before turning to keep sleeping.
He sped walked all the way to the dorm, arriving in record time for the slow pace he usually had when walking alongside you, a thing that you constantly complained about, pulling him along by his arm in a hurry.
He would never dared to tell anyone about this thoughts, planning on taking them to the grave. The idea of it being a hook up had annoyed him way more than he wanted to think, even less admit. Not that he would think less of you if you had decided to indulge in a night of passion with a stranger, but the concept of you going home with a stranger, someone that wasn't him, drove him insane. Even if, once again, he wouldn't even dream of letting you know.
All of his cussing towards this imaginary male he had conjured in his mind comes to a halt once you appear from the dorm building where you had resided, waiting for your prince charming to come rescue you.
You pop out of the elevator, dressed in what he knows is the same outfit as last night, with one thing added. He could recognize that jacket everywhere, the one everyone could recognize him by.
The one you were wearing was the older version of the one in his dorm, the most worn out one, the one that had been left at your dorm room at some point during freshman year, under the pretext that he spent so much time there it made sense to have at least a coat. And something of knowing that, last night, before heading out for pregame, after you remembered to send him a photo and ask him once again if he didn't want to join you, you still went and grabbed his jacket, the one everyone knew him by, made that thought of how your lips would feel against his own worm its way back into his brain.
3.
If there is a thing he disliked about college life was having different majors with you, not sharing even one class, in your very occupied days, you wouldn't cross paths not even once if you didn't put intent to it. That being said, he actually enjoyed this way more than he would have thought. it made seeing you an actual effort, something he could look forward and that had some sort of intent behind, even if it was just to take a nap in your bed.
What he didn't appreciate, though, was exam season. Even if you went to the same uni, they never seemed to lineup, the weekends where he was swarmed with studying for a quiz and working on projects, you could go out and about with your life. And the weeks where he does little more than keep up with class, you are pulling all nighters and occupying the library tables like it was your job.
Today, was one of those days.
It had completely slipped his mind that you were in the middle of midterms, that's why he offered to go get brunch after his very hated 8 am class. Plans changed when you told him you were cramming for an exam. He knew you well enough to know that meant you probably were running in three hours of sleep and hadn't had a real meal in the last few days, if you had eaten at all.
So, plans changed, brunch morphed into becoming your personal delivery man, making a brief detour to that bakery you liked, picking up your usual coffee order and some of those pastries you liked, the ones you called half moons.
Finding you in the library was easy, no one in their right mind would have been there so early in the day, the peak hours being usually after afternoon classes, around 5 pm.
He sees you, dozing off on top of your notes, probably making the best use of your designated study break. He cant help to think you look angelic, even if you are drooling on top of your paper.
He leaves the care package on the table, stealing a post it to leave a note on whose the pastries are from, since you seemed to always be way too into the stranger danger awareness.
He presses a quick kiss to your head, before leaving as silent as he came. His mind drifting to how pretty you looked, your peaceful face allowing him to think, once again, on how good it must feel to get to kiss you awake.
4.
The lines of your relationship had begun to blur. Or maybe they never where that defined anyway. Ever since you became friends, the dating allegations had been imminent. Probably because when you are fifteen, friendship between boys and girls are more difficult to maintain platonic, hormones and all. He liked to think you where the exception.
Uni made things different, though. For the first time since you knew each other, you were both alone. Not in the literal sense, you both had your respective and shared friend groups, and had chosen a campus close enough to be able visit family ever other weekend. But for the first time since you knew each other, there was no rule of open doors, no father eyeing him threateningly if he sat too close to you on the couch, no mother wiggling her eyebrows every time he told him you were coming over.
So things changed, from then on, the previous established rules shifted. Sure, in the beginning you still left the door open, movie nights where in the communal couches, but after some time, you realized there was no need to maintain those manners. There was no superior force to tell you to upkeep those rules. So, movie nights where moved to the dorm, usually with both of you sharing a bed, and the door stayed locked, a new sense of intimacy had dawned upon your friendship, and not one of you was complaining. And new traditions had raised, like ice cream runs in the middle of the night, abusing the student discount at the local cinema, and the thing that got you confused as a couple the most, napping together.
It had started after a series of family crisis, when you couldn't sleep for more than half an hour before waking up. It was ruining your life, so after borderline overdosing of melatonin gummies and asmr videos, you had resorted to the worse ally one could have, google. It recommended a diverse set of things: exercising, no screen time two hours before bed, magnesium, hell even praying. You did it all, tried every thing in that list thrice before you were desperate enough to consider the last one. Sleeping with someone.
So, very awkwardly, you brought up the idea to him, rambling about how if you couldn't sleep more than two hours this week you would go insane, and thankfully, he agreed. It was as awkward as it could be, but you powered through, laying in silence, not daring to even move afraid of barely touching the other, it all seemed worthy once your eyes closed, your breathing quieted down and suddenly, you were sleeping. You don't know how long you slept for, but enough for you to barely even remember your name when you woke up, throat dry as you peel yourself off of him, since at some point it seemed like the awkwardness had left your minds, unconsciously cuddling through the night, only realizing once you had awoken that you had slept basically in his chest, his arm pressing you against him.
Neither of you acknowledge the sudden bravery of your touches, and soon enough, it had become a new costume. Your sleeping pattern had gone back to normal at some point, but you refused to give up the quality of sleep you had when you shared a bed.
That was his predicament now, once again, he was in your bed, waiting you to join him. He had had another test today, and was ready to knock out for the rest of the week, if he could. You, on the other hand, were cramming concepts for a test you had the following week, something that wasn't close enough for him to justify not having you by his side right then and there, his eyes barely staying open from tiredness.
He sees you laugh at his messages, lips curling upwards as you see the photo he sent you, begging for you to join him. And as you climb into the bed, laying your head on his chest as if that was your place in the world, he thinks that if he longed to kiss you awake, the need to kiss you goodnight was way stronger.
5.
The last time he thinks of kissing his best friend, reminds him of the first, since you are not physically there, and it happens over text.
When he opens your chat and finds, once again, threats of cannibalism, he thinks you are talking about his friends. You usually joked about how hot they were and begged him for a chance with them, he didn't quite get why you needed him as the middle man, since you could easily swipe on one of their stories and shoot your shot. So he liked to think you were joking, mostly. That you weren't really into them, and that your interest was just to get under his skin.
What he didn't expect was for you to be talking about him. Even less the photo you sent, one you had taken of him in the elevator, which he assumed you had taken to sent to your family. He was even more surprised by the caption you had added.
"He looks so boyfie :(".
His world stopped. Clearly you hadn't meant to send him these texts. You were talking with someone else, and, most importantly, you were talking with someone else about how he looked like boyfriend material. Him. Your best friend. The one that had burnt most of his brain cells trying to rationalize that he didn't like you, that he didn't want to know what you tasted like, the only missing piece of the puzzle since he seemed to know every other little thing about you. That he liked to pretend that he wasn't madly in love with you. That best friend. That Kim Daeyoung. That Jaehee.
His phone pings again. A flood of messages you had sent about how he saw nothing, that it wasn't like that and that they were for one of your girlfriends. He can't even find it in himself to tease you, not when his cheeks burns and his heart races at the prospect that maybe, just maybe, you like him back. And now he cant get the idea of kissing you out of his mind.
1. (again)
Once again, movie night. This time in your dorm, and Jaehee feels like he's fifteen once again. He remembers the nerves he had the first time he went to your house, you were both freshmen, and he was utterly a wreck, having never been at a girls house at an age where he could be considered a romantic partner, which wasn't the case. Well, now was the case. Neither of you had delved into the wrongly sent texts once your panic passed, deciding that acting as if nothing happened was the ideal solution. That you did, and now things where weird. Not a bad weird, just like the moments of peace before the storm, when you don't know if in the end it will be a natural disaster or just a rainbow.
Once again in your dorm, once again in your bed. He can't even remember what you are supposed to be watching, his gaze barely having left your profile in the hour that has passed, not even bothering to move towards the screen.
You press pause.
"You are not paying attention" you say, accusingly.
"Yeah I am! it's a great movie" he says, ushering you to press play once again.
"Which movie is it" you ask, finding his urgency way more intriguing than it should be.
He looks at the screen, for what probably is the first time of the night. Robert Pattinson is there. Great. He knew some of his movies. You had been really into vampires last month. You were a teenage girl in the 2010's. He got this.
"Twilight?" he asks, praying to the gods that all of those ours hearing you rant about being team Jacob or Edward served a purpose.
The cackle you let out confirms his fears, he had missed, and, judging by your reaction, astronomically at that.
"It's Mickey 17" you say, still laughing at his deer in the headlights look.
"Yeah I knew that" he says, trying to act nonchalant as he feels the heat rise to his face, his cheeks burning.
"Oh I'm sure" you tease, laying back against the wall, only this time you are looking at him. A silence falls upon you, making itself even more noticeable once he makes eye contact with you.
"Penny for your thoughts?" you ask, when the boy beside you had made no more effort in conversation, burning holes through the screen wit how hard he was staring at it, lost in thoughts.
"I don't know" He mutters.
"You don't know?"
"I don't know if you want to know" he explains, albeit confusing, his own internal debate. This is it, he guessed. He either would ruin your relationship forever of you felt the same.
Logic implied that you were also interested in him. You were friends, and you also had sent him texts saying you wanted to eat him and that he looked so boyfriend, if he needed more concrete proof.
"I want to know. That's why I asked." you say, your hand finding his, tracing his fingers with yours, a small gesture that brought some type of comfort to the boy. The way you ever so delicate traced it, as if studying the skin, the scars, the small lines that interpolated them, a certain type of adoration that made his heart feel fuzzy and his mind not being able to find a coherent thought.
"You don't want to know" he reiterates, the balance in the relationship fragile enough that this ever so simple confession might do irreparable damage. And while he would love to be able to voice out his thoughts, the idea of kissing you scared him beyond recognition.
"I do." you say more sternly, gently pinching the skin on his index finger as to make your point even more clear.
"Iwanttokissyou" he confesses, wishing the earth would swallow him, freeing him from his suffering (i.e: shame).
"What?" He cant decode if your reaction is out of disappointment, anger, surprise or if you just couldn't get what he had just hurriedly confessed.
"I want to kiss you. Like really bad" he says, this time with more confidence. The secret was out, and there was no way things would go back to the way they were before. Even less once he feels your hand in his cheek, pulling him closer as you press a sweet peck to his lips.
"Like that?" you ask.
He nods, still dazed from the slight contact. You can see the gears turning in his head, as if he was trying to memorize ever second, every particle that has touched him.
"Or like this?" you tease, this time deepening the kiss, letting him taste your lips, his tongue darting across your lower, as if asking for entrance, which you grant him. The heat rises and suddenly he is pretty much trapping you between the wall, chasing for more. The movie which he still can't remember the name of long forgotten.
"Like that one. Definitely that one." is the only thing he can bring himself to say when the lack of air brings you apart, earning himself a giggle from you.
2. the aftermath. (or the second time he kisses you)
What does it mean to kiss your best friend?
Philosophers had pondered about it for years, but no concrete conclusion had been made about it. That's all to say, Jaehee had asked his friends. And they all had different opinions.
Yushi had said finally. before promptly deciding that was all the contribution from him this conversation needed, choosing that dissociating in the backseat was way more interesting.
Riku, the ever so helpful guy that he was, had told him it probably meant nothing, and, in his words "Friends kiss all the time, look at me and my bestie." which, didn't particularly ease Jaehee's nerves about ruining things with you, since they were stuck in what could be described as a situationship from hell.
Sion, once again proving how with age comes wisdom, gave the best advice. To just talk with you, he said. You both knew each other and trusted probably even their lives on one another, why would you be afraid of telling them you liked them, hell, even love them? If they really were so great, they would understand.
That seals the deal for him, deciding to confront you tomorrow morning, since he needed time to get mentally prepared to face you.
Tomorrow doesn't seem far enough, he thinks once the clock hits one a.m., it was mere hours before he would send the text, telling you you needed to talk. You probably would know something wasn't right, and would worry even if he told you not to. You always did.
You always did, that it seems like you can even read his mind, he thinks, as a message from you appears, asking to talk.
The walk to your dorm has never been so short and so long at the same time. He still was scared of the consequences, even if you had showed your interest in him through chat, in a rather vulgar manner, not that hes complaining.
He knocks the door and barely a minute passes before you already opened it, pulling him inside. He can barely think straight once he's standing at your dorm entrance. The same one he had been hundreds of times before. But this time it was different. You weren't just his best friend anymore. You were the girl that kissed him, the girl he liked, all that, while still being the same girl who steals his sweatshirts. Who he has known since forever, who grew up with him. And it's a weird feeling. But it's not a bad one. Just different.
Its different when he walks up to you. Its different when his hands grab your face. Its different when he presses his lips to yours and finally says those words that have been haunting him.
"I like you"
And when he feels you smile against his lips, sighing in relief, he shares that sentiment with you, because, maybe, just maybe, falling in the category of failed friendships in the male/female spectrum wasn't bad. Not if it meant having you all to himself.
fresh out of a horrific break up, yn gets invited out to the club by her friends. on the other hand, tokuno yushi, the quietest in his group of friends, is dragged to the same one.
after spending a night filled with a whirlwind of emotions together, they both make the mistake of never formally introducing themselves. they are both determined to find each other again. after all, if they were really soulmates, fate would take over again, right?
yushi x fem!reader
genre. half smau/half written, angst, fluff, lowkey crack, set in college/university
content warning. LOTS of cussing (sorry im a potty mouth 😭), maybe bad grammar/lack of punctuation, very very mild suggestive language, kys/kms jokes, i tried making all the idols around the same age so i picked some that im not too familiar with- taesan is an asshole and i make the introverts into extroverts in this story so sorry </3
author’s note. hii i have no expectations of this popping off i’m honestly just writing this because i dont see a lot of wish on this app </3 i haven’t written an actual story in like 4 years so it might be hot garbage .. but i hope yall enjoy anyways <3 if you want to be in the taglist lmk !
navigation !
too many cats | sion’s minions
prologue . everyone’s invited
chapter 1 . fated (written, 2.3k words)
chapter 2 . good morning freaknation
chapter 3 . MINIONS! TONIGHT! WE STEAL! THE MOON!
chapter 4 . don’t you worry your pretty little head (short written, 621 words)
so wrecked whiny sub/service top san is beautiful and your mind is so incredibly real
why THANK YOU!!!!
with sannie i like to think it comes from a place of genuine adoration. he's sooo full of love for you already, when you make him feel so good so fast... he can't help it! his brain gets a little fuzzy and he doesn't even know what he's saying, just wants you to know how much he loves you and loves how you make him feel and loves that he gets to make you feel the same way. borderline nonsense, drooling into your neck, all flushed down to his chest. and those pretty eyes UGHH don't even get me started
anyways. it takes nothing to get him that bad. like, the second you're actively touching him he's pretty sure he's gonna pass out. probably even before that. you could literally just get on your knees in front of him and he'd lose it. and when you get your hands (or mouth, or anything) on him auughhh it's like a chorus of angels. "feels so good -- fuck, baby, always do so well... wish i could -- mmph -- have you like this all the time, would do anything, doesn't matter, haah, just tell me what to do, i'll do it, please, pleasepleaseplease --"
(he gets just as bad when he touches you, too. shaky but sure hands, the sweetest praises and the dirtiest words sewn together perfectly to make you fall apart for him. <3)
GENDER AND WARNINGS. smut. the two of them are massive perverts. hard dom(?)! yunho. switch! reader. masturbation (fem). voyeurism. wet dream. light chocking. slapping (face, clit and breast - i didn't count them, sorry). dirty talk. name calling (slut, perv, good girl, pretty, handsome, brat, etc). mentions of deep throating. manhandling. sucking fingers (?). overstimulation. p in v. fingering. handjob + blowjob. i think that's all, if i forgot something lmk.
SYNOPSIS. yunho had you on his mind since the first time he met you. once you moved into his house out of the invite your best friend and his roommate, things took a turn to the worse. until one day he caught you, or did you catch him?
RATING. R (+18) - MDNI.
WORD COUNT. ~4,8k.
NOTES. english is not my first language. last fic of the year, let's gooooo! this is part of the pirateez collab of perverted ateez (i'm sorry for the delay!), here are the other ones if you'd like to read it: kim hongjoong | park seonghwa | jeong yunho | kang yeosang | choi san | song mingi | jung wooyoung | choi jongho . this was the first fic i wrote full since the last one i posted in july, i hope it is at least half as good as the others in this collab. bye ♡.
IMPORTANT. this is a work of fiction, it has zero intent on portraying how any of the people quoted here are in real life.
CREDS. dividers by cafekitsune ♡
You were a blessing and a curse.
At first, when Yeosang brought you to their group of friends, it was like the doors to heaven had been open. It wasn’t like he didn’t believe in angels, no, he did, but he never thought he’d see one in person, until you walked through the doors of the apartment that one fatidic day that Yeosang decided to call you and ask you to join.
The curse started when he found out you had a boyfriend, but again, nothing that was bad couldn’t get worse right? A small curse in disguise of a blessing. You had broken up, and you didn’t want to set foot in the apartment you shared with your ex, but Yeosang was quick to offer their apartment for the time being. It wasn’t like Yunho was opposed to it, on the contrary, they had a guest room that could easily be your home for the time being. The actual curse came when he started to find your clothes hanging on the apartment, your lace underwear drying in your room when you were out for University, the small moans and whimpers you’d make from time to time as you tried to open something or were frustrated with whatever.
But the real curse was when he took his headphones after a game with his friends and heard your muffled whines and moans he was so used to. There was no way you were doing what he thought you were, right? God he prayed you weren’t, because otherwise he wouldn’t be able to keep his thoughts away from the gutter. He took a deep breath as he tried to keep all the blood on his body to move south of his waist, but god it was hard as he kept hearing your moans and whines and now your freaking curses!
He shouldn’t do this. He shouldn’t carefully put his headset down. He shouldn’t carefully get up from the gaming chair. He shouldn’t carefully walk out of his room and open his door with the utmost care not to make a single sound as he walks towards your room. To the room where the whimpers were coming, whimpers that would hunt his dreams and were already straining his sweats. As he walked closer to your room, the sounds became clearer. All sounds.
Your door wasn’t open, but the breach that was between your door and the door frame was considerable enough to have him poke through. Enough to see your shaky legs, to see your hips jolting in the air as your dildo went in and out of you. The way your moans grew louder, were you… pleading? He could swear he heard you beg to let you cum, to beg for release as your other hand went down to play with your clit. The cries along with the sounds and the visual — even of half your body — were enough to make Yunho palm his crotch, holding back a moan but not the small whimper that left his lips at the friction.
“That’s it… yes,” you say after the whimper, you were still shaking, but your pace had increased, you were more vocal, were you not scared of him and Yeosang would listen? Of course not, Yeosang was out for the weekend and he was playing with his friends like he usually did… So did that mean you did that every single time on the same day and time? “Please, please, please, I’m so close, I’ve been good haven’t I?”
It was like you were talking to him, and god it took all his will power not to say something in return. It was like you knew he was there. It was like you were talking to him, but you couldn’t see him, could you? His hand made friction on his sweats as he held back a moan. At the sight of your shaky body, he knew you were close, close enough to probably not notice if he peaked through, right?
God he was a pervert.
How could he think that? How could he not think that?
The second his head peaked inside your room, his hand went down his pants. Shaky hands finding his hard leaking member, and this was all thanks to your whimpers, when he saw you, he could have come in sight if he didn’t have better control of himself. His hand quickly palmed himself through the sweat pants, he could feel the wet stain on his trousers, but you were a sight he wanted to drown into.
Your legs spread open, the dildo coming in and out of you as you were shaking in bed, your free hand on your clit as you tried your best to find release. Yunho’s hand quickly found its way inside his pants, as he bit his bottom lip keeping quiet, trying to mimic the movements he was seeing. In-Out, In-Out, faster, slower, In-Out… It was like you were doing it on purpose, edging yourself while edging him. Your moans grew louder along with your movements getting faster. Your legs closed momentarily and it took all in Yunho not to go there and spread them open, pushing your dildo out of the way and burying his fat leaking cock in your spent pussy.
As you shook uncontrollably, and quickly let out a loud cuss mixed with a moan, he knew you came, and he didn’t. He tried to finish, and the sight of you pulling out the dildo from inside you, your legs spread and you all exposed to him pushed him over the edge.
He let out a muffled moan.
When he saw you halting your movements, he quickly went to the hall, covering his own mouth as his hands moved faster along his shaft, if he closed his eyes he could see you once more, all spent and slightly fucked out in your bed. As he finally came, the wet patch grew considerably, his face growing hot as he heard movements in your room, making him rush towards his bedroom hoping you wouldn’t catch him.
As the door closed, he rested his back against it. His hand was sticky, his heart racing, his pants a considerable problem, but his mind…his mind was stuck in the image of you in your bed. If he was fucked before, he was even more now. The mere thought of what just happened made his cock twitch on his trousers. If he closed his eyes, he could see you laid bare on your bed, your pussy all wet and prepped for his cock to be buried deep in you, making you scream your lungs out his name, feeling your skin under his finger, having his finger buried in your pussy as he made out with your clit. He could feel your hands on his hair, pulling it away as you also moved because he was giving you too much pleasure.
He came once more.
He was definitely fucked.
He was avoiding you like the plague.
He knew it.
You knew it.
Yeosang knew it.
If you knew he had caught you, Yunho had no idea, but he did notice that you tried to talk to him, even if he tried his best to keep a distance between you two, or someone between you two. Trying his best to never be alone with you in any way possible. But you were a damn minx.
If he’d occasionally find your underwear in between the clothes, now it was outright in front of him. You didn’t even care to keep your door closed with your clothes drying in there. So technically you wouldn’t miss an underwear or two, right? Nor notice them suddenly appearing in your laundry day basket, definitely not. You wouldn’t even suspect since Yunho would clean them to the best of his abilities after he was done jerking off on them, or even while sniffing another one he got that still had your scent.
And of course, that wasn’t enough, you had to keep with your damn moans every single damn week. Making him change his gaming time, making him be the quietest little mouse going to get a treat of this mischievous little cat. He wasn’t in the wrong was he? You kept your door half-open, you kept your underwear scattered around, you kept your moans muffled but also loud, you kept changing positions in your room — bringing Yunho to the edge of insanity as he pictures these different positions and how his hands would explore your body —, you kept making a show, you kept begging, you kept giving him exactly what he wanted, except what he wanted the most.
You fucked out in his bed while he made sure you couldn’t walk for days, all marked from his hands and the hickeys he’d leave over your body, even if you weren’t his, you belonged to him, he’d mark you. He’d make sure everyone knew you were his, even if once, or twice, or as many times as he’d have you in his bed or on any possible surface.
“What’s up with you? It’s the second time you do laundry this week, you okay?” Yunho jumped slightly at your voice, trying to hide the stained pants from the night before when he saw you once more stuffing yourself with a useless dildo while he could— “Yunho? You okay?”
“Ah, ye-yeah, sorry, just a little… everywhere,” he said nervously, throwing a shirt over his laundry so you wouldn’t see the stained pants from the night before. “Also, Yeosang said he has this uni trip, are you going with him?”
“Oh, no, it’s for his own course,” you looked at Yunho confused, since Yeosang had mentioned during breakfast it was with his classmates and whatnot. “Yun, you sure you okay? You’ve been weird for quite a while now…”
Was he being that obvious? Could you see it was because of you?
“I’m fine just… a lot in my head, sorry…” He quickly averted eye contact with you, although your eyes kept observing him intently. “I should go back to my room I have—”
“What about your laundry?” You cut him off confused, pointing to the laundry basket in his arms.
“I’ll wash it later, there’s this shirt I wanna use later on for a party, if I wash it now I’ll probably use it and I’ll not wash only that shirt, Yeosang would kill me for wasting water like that…”
You couldn’t help but chuckle and nod. “I mean, true, but… You can always wash your clothes along with mine… I don’t mind it…”
Oh he knew how you didn’t mind, but he had to play a part. He couldn’t make it obvious he was spying on you almost every damn night, waiting for a tiny moan or a vibrating sound coming from your room, no, he definitely couldn’t. Yeosang would have his head and you’d probably call the cops on him for being a pervert.
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” as if heavens had heard him, one of his friends called him, allowing him to be away from you as he started to feel his hard on growing at each second he spent beside you. “Sorry, Mingi is calling me, I have to take it, you know how he is…”
“Take the Princess Minki phone call, the last thing I want is him saying I’m keeping his best friend from him and stealing him like I stole Yeosang or whatnot.”
Both laughed as Yunho gave you a small smile and nod, picking up the call from Mingi and heading back to his bedroom, closing the door and trying to focus on what Mingi was saying and not on how much he wished he could pin you back to a wall and fucked you.
You had him.
You had him wrapped around your freaking unreachable delicious cunt.
Your walls were pressing around his cock as he hammered into you, his hand around your neck, the other slapping your breast as he heard your whines and pleas, he finally had you wrapped around his fingers, after so long of you having him. You cunt was squeezing his cock so much that he knew he’d have to do his best to control himself, he couldn’t cum so easily, no… He needed to see your eyes on the back of your head, your back arched, your hardened nipples to the ceiling as your breasts moved each time his cock got buried inside your cunt.
“Yunho, argh— please, please, please let me cum, please, Yun!”
He smirked, slowing down his movements, seeing you whine loudly and move your hips, only to have you stop as his free hand dug into your hips. As his cock slowly and tortuously entered your core, he lowered himself, lips almost touching…
And he woke up.
Sweat all over his body and precum leaking from his cock inside his pants.
“Fucking hell…”
It wasn’t the first time and definitely wouldn’t be the last that he would wake up from a wet dream with you in it, when he finally took you and buried himself in you, but he always woke up. All the damn time. His trousers were quickly tossed in the laundry basket, at this point he should probably sleep naked, it would definitely save him from a headache that Yeosang was gonna bring when the water bill arrives.
He had fallen into a routine.
He’d avoid you to the best of his abilities throughout the day.
He’d take longer showers after breakfast and dinner because you were always there with your sweet smile, concerned eyes, sassy attitude, mischievous personality… God, he wished he had never allowed Yeosang to take you in. You were the biggest temptation, acting like that in front of everyone, while begging to be fucked with a dildo or your fingers deep in your cunt every damn week, and all for Yunho’s ears to hear.
You were driving him insane.
As he finished his shower, he quickly put on another pair of pants, hoping no wet dream would come about for the rest of the night, that is… until he heard you. Not only heard you pleading, no… You were calling him.
He was definitely going insane. You wouldn’t call his name in the middle of the name, and definitely not in between muffled moans… Was he still dreaming? Was his mind so perverted to that point? He slowly and quietly left his room heading to yours — once again — half-opened door. The closer he got the clearer the words became. You were pleading. You were moaning. You had a damn vibrator stuck in your cunt once more.
But you were moaning his name.
As he stood by your door, your fingers were deep in your cunt, the wet sound along with your moans and his name coming from your mouth quickly made a tent show up in his trousers. If you were quiet you would hear his gulping along with the increase in his heart rate. You were calling for him, while stuffing your fingers in your sweet cunt, all spread open just waiting for him. It was an invite, it was clear, or was he reading too much into it?
“Yun, Yun please, I need your cock, please,” his cock twitched in his pants as his eyes was focused on your fingers inside your pussy, already working to spread you open. It was the chuckle that woke him up, making him look at you, finding you already looking at him with a smirk and hooded eyes, not stopping your movements, your fingers spreading you open as your eyes trailed down the tent in his pants. “Took you long enough, thought I’d have to moan louder to make you come around this time… were you playing your games with headphones? But I guess calling your name did the trick,” your other hand went down to your clit, circle movements along with your fingers making you bite your lip bucking your hips a little, looking back at Yunho. “C’mon, don’t be shy, I love to hear you at my door, Yun…”
His eyes widened, not for the fact you knew he was spying on you everytime you masturbated, but because you sounded like you… liked it. His cock twitched once more in his pants, your legs spreading wider as you saw him standing there, chuckling at his slight shocked expression. Your fingers stopped circling your clit, while your fingers inside you spread your labia open as you observed him. He was drooling and you were loving every second, finally being able to see how much he wanted you, how much he’d destroy you if he had the chance, just like you wanted, just like you planned.
“Y-you knew?”
“Of course I knew, or do you really think I’d be that reckless and lazy to leave my underwear everywhere, or… where you’d be able to see it?” Your smirked made something in Yunho switch. You truly had him around your fingers, you played him like a freaking violin, and he was curious to see what else your devilish mind could think as he started to walk closer to you. “Also, thanks for giving back all the underwear you took, I was scared I’d need to buy a few more, at least I’d buy a few more of the ones you liked.”
A smirk appeared on his lips.
He was willing to play your little game, if it meant he’d finally get what he wanted: you.
“So… you knew I was always at your door, and… you kept acting as if you knew nothing? Did you get it off on that?”
“As much as you did… or are we not gonna talk about the amount of pairs of pants you went through the last couple of weeks?” Your smirk widened, his eyebrows shot up. Of course you would’ve noticed. “But I meant it, I don’t mind washing your clothes along with mine… We’ve been doing that for quite a while now, have we not?”
“And you’ve been enjoying this little game, have you not?”
“Can’t say I’m not… but it’s getting tired, and my wrist needs a little break, I wouldn’t mind a helping hand, if you are offering…”
You kept looking at him as he got closer to his bed, his precum already staining part of his pants, his eyes trailing your body as you spread your legs open again, moving closer to the edge of the bed on the side he was. A small scoff came out of Yunho’s mouth as he saw your hand trailing closer to his pants playing with the string, while looking at him with fake innocence.
“Do you have any idea how much you tortured me these last few weeks?”
“Are you saying you didn’t enjoy it nor planned on how to punish me for it?” Your hips moved a little as your knee moved to touch his hand, it was always one of your favorite features of him, that and the little vein that would pop out of his neck when you teased him too much. “Or should I beg on my knees with your cock in my mouth while I milk you dry?”
His eyes darkened as a smirk appeared on his lips, lowering himself enough to have his right hand cup your face before tightening its grip on your jaw. “The only thing milking me dry is you cunt while I bread you, my pretty little slut.”
As your teeth sank on your bottom lip, Yunho’s left hand traced down your leg from your knee to your inner thigh, making your breath hitch, a smug smile took form on his lips as he tilted his head observing your reaction as his fingers got closer to your core, the tips tracing around it, but never touching. The grip on your jaw forcing you to look at him as the pads of his fingers traced every area from your inner thighs to your lower belly, to your labia, but never where you wanted them. Your hand moved to touch his cock through his trouser, making him groan, slapping your clit, making you moan but keep massaging his cock, making the stain of the precum spread a little.
“How about you put your fingers inside me, while you fuck my mouth? Would you like that, handsome?”
“Oh, we are resolving to flattery now… I see… and you think choking on my cock while I spread your pussy will make up for all these past weeks I wanted nothing more than to bury myself in you?” His fingers finally touched your clit, torturously circling the bundle of nerve, pitching it whenever you moved your hips trying to get more friction. “Are you gonna behave like a brat or as a good slut?”
“Says the perv that was jerking off to watch me for the past few weeks,” Yunho’s hand left your jaw slapping your face, before taking the grip once more, but before you could say anything, two fingers entered your already sensitive core, making you gasp. “Fuck— finally, oh yes!”
“Oh you look so pretty like this, my pretty little slut… but are you gonna be my good girl and listen, or be a brat and get punished?” Before you could answer, two of his fingers entered your mouth stopping you from speaking, as your tongue quickly moved around it, making Yunho smirk as his fingers curled inside you. “Free my cock, play with it a little, get an idea of what it’s gonna be inside your mouth in a bit, yes pretty?”
You nodded, choking out a moan as Yunho’s fingers curled inside you once more. Your hands quickly moved to pull his pants down, freeing his massive cock, making your eyes widen but your mouth water even more wanting him inside your mouth. Your hand quickly spread the precum, your thumb gently moving it around as you watched his reaction, smiling as you made sure to suck his fingers while clenching your walls around his other fingers, whining as he added a third one, spreading you even wider.
“Gotta fit in your pretty little pussy, hm? Or you think you can take my cock without prepping? I think you can, since how much of a good slut you are…”
He took his fingers out of your mouth, his fingers back into holding your jaw. “I can, I can take it, I want your cock Yun, please, I—,” another harsh slap as you felt his fingers leave your cunt making you jolt. “I’ll be good, sorry, I’ll be your good girl and be patient.”
His smirk widened as his fingers traced the outline of your labia just the first phalanges entering your core, making you whine and move your hips a little, giving you another pinch on your clit, making you cry out a moan.
“Be a good girl and stop moving so much, yes?” You nodded. “Since you don’t want to use your words, better use that mouth for something better, hm?” He pushed your hand away from his cock already smeared with the precum you carefully spread, his tip touching your lips as you quickly widened your mouth to fit him inside. “Fuck, even your mouth is perfect.”
Although all you wanted was to move your free hand down to your clit, you knew Yunho would probably punish you, not that you cared, but you wanted him, you wanted him inside. The more you teased and pushed his boundaries, the more he’d keep you away from cumming on his cock. Intead, your hand moved to your breasts, pinching your nipples as your head was too busy focusing on taking Yunho’s length, your hand helping you in the process, stopping a few times as you felt his fingers curling inside of you, or changing its movements rapidly. He was torturing you like you tortured him, and you were enjoying every second of it.
Saliva is already dripping from the corners of your mouth, your throat already hurting a little from the few times Yunho deep throated you. Your pussy was already read and super sensitive from the over stimulation of his fingers and the slaps he gave you when you misbehaved. You felt Yunho’s cock twitch more and more, you knew he was close, so you pushed him to the edge, you wanted his cock inside you. Your dildos weren’t enough, your fingers weren’t enough, his fingers weren’t enough, you needed his cock. You needed his cock buried inside you as you cried his name.
“Yunho please,” you begged once more as he took his cock away from your mouth, as his hand moved along his shaft. “I need your cock, I need your cock buried inside me, I want you to fuck me so much I can’t walk, I want you now, Yunho please, I’ll do whatever you want, just—”
He cut you off quickly manhandling you, making you stay on the edge of the bed as he spread your legs open, looking at your spent cunt all prepped and ready for him. His tip went over it, entering just a little to drive you crazy, but there wasn’t much you could do as he kept your legs apart and on the edge of the bed. Your hands going to your breasts, pinching your nipples as you watched Yunho’s cock disappear inside your cunt, little by little he drove you crazy. Didn’t matter if you pleaded, if you called his name, he was gonna take you in his way, and you were gonna let him and love it.
“Now breath for me, pretty,” he said calmly taking the half of his cock that was inside out, making you cry a moan once more, a smug grin appeared on his lips, as he shoved his cock fully inside you, making you gasp and scream, “I thought you said you could take me, and I prepped you well enough for my cock, yeah?”
He quickly pulled all his cock out, before you could even react if was fully inside again, and he repeated that a few more times before his hand that was previous on his shaft, move to your clit making circling movements as he kept burying himself deep into you and pulling all out. Your hand moved lower, holding his forearm, nails dug into his flesh and he knew he was pushing you too much and he himself was on the edge. His hand left your clit to meet your face, cupping it and caressing softly, his thumb going over your lower lip as his movements became gentle.
“I won’t break, you can be sweet the next time, I want you to break me,” your words made his eyes darken, as you smirked a little. “I want to see the real Yunho behind the Golden Retriever boy you show around, so fuck me senseless Yunho, please, I need it.”
“Your wish is my command, pretty.”
He didn’t move away from you.
His hand never left your face.
His other hand kept holding one of your legs open.
But his cock was hitting you on all the possible spots, making you cry and moan each time he hit the spot, at each angle it changed making you feel him differently whenever he impaled you.
“Look at me, I want you to look at me and say my name as I feel you squeezing me with that sweet little cunt of yours, yes?” You nodded, doing exactly as Yunho said. His movements became more erratic as you were holding back from closing your eyes. Your nails digging into the flesh of his arm and back. “Cum for me pretty, be a good girl and cum all over my cock.”
“Yunho, please don’t— oh fuck!” Your high quickly found you as he kept pouncing into you searching for his own release, that it came as soon as you clenched a few more times around him while saying his name like a silent prayer. As his head lowered to find the crook of your neck, your body relaxed feeling happy with the weight of Yunho’s body on top of yours, like a warm soothing blanket. “Are you still angry at me?”
The vibration of his chest along with the breathing of his chuckle against your neck gave you goosebumps, but you chuckle softly as well, seeing Yunho lift his head to look at you. “Oh, I definitely am, but I promise I’ll be nicer the next few times… I just had this annoying brat pushing me over the edge for weeks and making me dream of her sweet cunt wrapped around my cock.”
“Oh, she seems the worst!”
“She can be, but I’m sure I can put her in her place, in more ways than one.”
thinking really hard about how mean yunho is when he can tell you’re getting flustered. it doesn’t matter the reason. maybe you’re just really horny and find every little thing he does attractive. maybe you’re just having one of those days when you just can’t quite quell your desire to just climb all over him.
whatever the reason, he notices immediately. your thighs pressed together. your thoughts clearly not on the words coming out of his mouth. your eyes focusing heavily on his lips when he talks.
and how you don’t seem to notice when he stops talking. your mind to focused on the veins that run down his neck. the soft skin of his chest partially exposed by his shirt. the way his cheeks show off their natural flush.
and he’s not offended that you just completely ignored the words he had to say. in fact, he flattered that your head is so easily distracted by just his presence in front of you.
he thinks it’s so precious when you gasp as he grabs your chin and forces you to look in his eyes, “my eyes are up here, angel.” he drags his thumb over your bottom lip, smearing a bit of your lip gloss across your cheek. smiling and chuckling at you when you sucked his thumb into your mouth, “fuck, you’re so pathetic.” shaking his head as you swirled your tongue around the tip of his finger. “i wonder what kind of filthy thoughts up in that pretty head of yours. i know you’re too dumb to think of anything else, aren’t you baby?”
and you just nod mindlessly. only really thinking about how bad you want him to grab you by the hair and fuck your throat until he cums all over your face.
but you know he’s up to something when he pulls his thumb out of your mouth and cups your cheek.
“yuyu…” you whine, praying that he’d never stop touching you.
“hmm…maybe later,” he kissed your forehead and drops his hand from your cheek. and you practically collapse into his chest. gripping at his shirt and burying your face into his neck. “you needy little thing. not an ounce of shame in you, is there? i bet you’d fucking beg on your knees for me to fuck you, wouldn’t you?”
you nod. muttering a whiny “please” into his neck.
he grabs you by the hair, yanking you back and sparing a long stare into your eyes, “ well then…beg for me baby,” and he slides his phone out of his pocket as he pushes you to your knees, “and speak loud and clear so everyone can hear you.”
warnings : infidelity, cheating, manipulative reader, and pathetic loser mingi. reader is so morally grey so take caution.
author's note : had this idea after reading tears on a withered flower and missed writing so much, so here it is 🤍
NOT PROOF READ! and is also a quick write so kinda messy ig :'D
masterlist
...
everyone has desires and some would go through lengths to get what they desire, and so do you. the winds are blowing and down the street, opened a small but comfy coffee shop. that was where you met mingi. someone older than you, your desire. to know someone, you had to make an impression so you did what others would, become a regular in the shop for mingi to notice you.
"when is your shift ending?" you asked while he was making your order. "pardon? why would you like to know?" he appeared very confused, but all you did was smile and gazed straight at him. "i'd like for us to know each other" he was confused, his eyes were wide and his mouth gaped open. "well, that was straightforward" he tried to laugh it off before continuing to finish your order. "but sadly, i have someone already" he declared before giving you your order. did he really think you'd give up just like that?
...
somehow, you did succeed bringing him to get a meal with you. you waited for his shift to finish and played dumb when you came across him on the street.
"oh? fancy seeing you here" you approached him. he was shocked, again. "oh, hi" he smiled awkwardly. he's definitely uncomfortable but it takes time right? you're a patient person. then his phone suddenly rang blaringly. he excused himself to take the phone call but when he did, some random men came up to him. judging by their outfits, they're debt collectors.
"i paid the loan for this month already, why are you here again?" mingi asked them. they didn't care though and started pestering mingi about the debt. you stayed behind, it wasn't your place to interfere now, perhaps later but not now. soon the debt collectors left and mingi's face became sour.
"i apologize for that" he gave you a very artificial smile which you replied with another smile. "would you like to destress?" you asked him. "again miss, i have some–" "relax, we still can be friends right? think of it as friends helping one another? so, what do you say?" and with that, you successfully created the first bait for the lost cat. the lost cat took your bait happily. with a little bit of booze and coercion, he became relaxed, way more relaxed.
"how old are you, miss?" he asked, words slurred already as he's drunk. "25, you?" you continued to pour out booze for him while taking sips yourself as well. "me? i'm an old man. sigh 31 and nothing yet. don't be like me okay, missy" he laughed. "it's y/n" you told him. "i know" mingi smiled at you with the dumbest grin you ever seen on someone and yet all that just made you fall even deeper (and ultimately made you want him even more, it's bad at this point).
"ahjussi, are you married?" you jokingly asked him. "ah so i'm an ahjussi now? but yeah i am" his smile that was bright dimmed now. "then why aren't you wearing your ring?" you took his right hand and played with his fingers.
"mmm, its a long story" mingi pulled back his hands before taking another shot. "i'm willing to listen though?" he hesitated for a moment but then he began telling on the story of two young lovers who thought their love was going to last forever so thus they tied the knot but everything started to crash, fall into pieces afterwards. debts, suspicions, rage, all towards one another, causing unfillable cracks in the marriage.
"then why don't you leave?" you ask him. "well, despite all... i still... wish things would go back and you know, maybe we'll fall in love again?" the pain in his eyes hurt you. he looked so helpless and he can't even properly smile because of how pained he was. that night, you walked him back to his apartment, greeted by an empty apartment where his so called wife isn't even present. mingi didn't even look for her, he just came to his room and crashed down to sleep.
...
it became a routine, for you to wait for his shift and walk mingi home. he slowly got used to you and started to become comfortable with you. but on this particular day, he didn't immediately go in. you noticed this too. his apartment wasn't quiet, it was noisy. it wasn't the good noisy too. it was the sound of people making love. mingi froze in front of his door. for a second, he tried to run away but you stopped him.
"why're you running away?" you stood next to him. he stood there in silence listening to his beloved connecting with someone else. tears started to decorate his conflicted face. "go in, get the closure you've always wanted." you guided his hands to open the door and the pandora box was open.
the foyer was decorated with shoes and clothes and the noise became louder and clearer. mingi hesitated at first but soon strutted towards his shared room before slamming the door open. his "wife" and her fling realized mingi's presence and stopped whatever they were doing. "m-mingi? why are you home so early?" she tried to distract mingi but it was all too late. "if you wanted a break i would've gave you, you know." he told her, betrayed and angry. "who is this? is it the cousin you said you lived with?" her fling asked her while tidying himself up. "uh... um... yeah, let's just go somewhere else, okay?" she tried to escape but mingi grabbed her wrists. "hey what are you!" "so that's how you're going to play?" mingi asked her. his tears finally drop and his face screamed of betrayal. "i worked day and night to pay off the debt you made me take, and this is how you're paying me off!?" he screamed. she struggled to wiggle herself out of his hold before slapping him. "this is your fault, song mingi. did you ever love me!? do you think i'd be content with a guy who barely gives me love? i need love mingi, and you gave me none and i found it in soohyun. it's better even to be with a younger guy" she said before leaving.
you stood in front of the apartment door when you saw the two left. you stared at the two of them, blocking their exit. "who are you? just get the f*ck out" she shoo-ed you away but you grabbed her by the hair. "thank you for your service, you bitch." then you gave her a well deserved slap that made you get another slap from her fling. "soohyun, let's just go" and the two left. birds of a feather will always stick together you suppose, so do trashes then.
you then closed the door to go into the bedroom where mingi is crouched down crying and screaming. he looked so pathetic, like he had lost a fragment of his soul. this is what you wanted, but it hurts. seeing him like this hurts. you then sat next to him before brushing his hair slightly. you took him into a hug where he cried endlessly throughout the night. the wet patch on your coat didn't matter as you got what you wanted and things went as planned. it's only a matter of time until you get what you wanted now.
...
he needed time to recover and you gave him that. he didn't want to come home for weeks and decided to stay in a nearby motel since it was cheaper than a hotel. you offered him your place already but he refused. you decided to just pay his stay at the motel, that was the best you could do for him at the moment.
"y/n, i told you to not to" said mingi. "friends have each other's backs, don't they?" you send a smile on his way, while focusing on the road. "i feel like a fleabag with you" he joked. "well, i am willing to take care of that fleabag, so rest up" you continued driving while mingi stayed silent.
"just how long are you going to keep this up?" he asked you. "what this?" you asked him back. "this whole entire thing, y/n. you're wasting your time on me i swear. you don't deserve to be with a useless man like me, please stop liking me." you immediately drove off to a convenience store where you parked your car in front of the store.
"well, i can choose to do what i want to right? so i'm doing what i want to do? is it wrong? say, mingi. am i bothering you with me doing what i want?" you stared at him while he struggled to create a proper response. "i chose to like you, i chose to pursue you, it's that simple. well good thing is, i am a patient person. so i can wait for you, mingi" you continued to stare at him while he can't even look back at you. "then will you let me do what i want?" only then did his gaze met yours. he was hesitating but you gave him the warmest smile you could pull up that moment. "sigh, youngsters are hard to control" complained mingi.
there you have it. the lost cat took the bait, happily, left its' horrid owner, and accepted you as their owner, finally.
★ who : jyh x gn ! reader.
☆ what : strangers to ??, slight angst, fluff.
★ when : june fourteenth, two-thousand and twenty-two.
☆ how much : two-thousand seven-hundred and fourteen.
★ warnings : many implications of past heartbreaks, food and drink consumption
please reblog if you enjoyed. happy reading ‹3
love is complicated. love is blind. love is easy to fall into, and hard to fall out of. love is the beauty of life.
the venture of love seemed to tug every beings heart onward, in search of new towering heights and extravagant lows where they too could possibly find such gratification.
but even then, the desperate want to love - or to be loved - does not guarantee anything for an individual. having love to offer does not mean you will find someone to give it to, and the aching pain you feel after being loved no longer holds no promise you will experience being loved once more.
love is inconsistent.
the sound of dry leaves scratching against the pavement below you filled your ears, the wind howling and causing a chilling night breeze as you remain on the park bench.
winter is approaching, and now more than ever you wished to be loved. heart beating quickly as the temperature steadily lowered, you bring your hands to your biceps, your winter coat growing more and more useless as time passes.
you rub your thumbs along your jacket sleeves in hope the friction could bring you some form of solace, but to no avail. the line between wanting to be held to feel this chilling cold no longer and to feel as though you were appreciated by someone seemed to become increasingly blurred the longer you remained on the wooden bench.
you felt as goosebumps raise along your exposed skin, the joints in your fingers growing stiff as you take a deep breath in, chest rising and you hope the vacancy around you can be discarded from your mind.
rising from your place, the breeze slows its momentum - and for the first time since you left your apartment - you felt as if luck was on your side. you keep your mask above your nose in an attempt to lessen your chances of getting sick as you begin your commute back to your lonesome apartment, the walk short from the local park.
you move your hands to your coat pockets, the fabric rubbing against your skin easing the cold atmosphere you - albeit willingly - found yourself in.
the street lamps and neon signs outside the local corner stores illuminated the streets and sidewalk, faint murmurs from surrounding folk filled your ears as you walked past.
the posters along the windows of the convenience store across the street seem all too enticing to stroll away from. looking down each side of the road in front of you, you make your way across the street to the convenience store.
the metal bar handle along the door was cold - as if you had expected it to be anything else - and lowering your sleeve to protect your hand, you pull it open.
the air in the store wasn’t much warmer than outside, but the difference seemed immense to your frigid body. the clerk greets you, his bright smile unfortunately going unreciprocated as you offer him a pained one.
his doesn’t falter, and in the back of your mind you boil it down to him taking his job rather seriously - such devotion to even a closing shift at a corner store is hard to find.
their refrigerated section is where you stop, a variety of sandwiches - both lunch and breakfast - available to you. fruit and different cold drinks lining the shelf before you inevitably pass up the opportunity; weather much too unforgiving to allow yourself such cold delicacies.
the warmest foods you could find were several cups of microwavable ramen and breakfast sandwiches that required heating, both of which you’d have to wait till you were back at your apartment to consume - you found yourself growing more and more inpatient as time passed in the store.
“y'know, i could heat something up for you in the back if you’d like,” you hear a voice say, ridding your mind of your mental debate as you look in the direction the voice came from - your eyes meeting with the clerk’s once again.
he seems to notice your hesitance to answer, filling the store with his voice once more: “i’m actually about to close up shop, i could heat it then you could eat in here to warm up a bit if you’d like.
"i won’t charge you extra to heat it up, if you’re worried about that,” he adds on, that same smile he had when you first walked in returning to his face.
nodding, you grab a cup of ramen and a sandwich, making your way towards the counter and he begins to ring up your items before you even could set them down.
you pay, your eyes glancing at his nametag as he counts your change; yunho. he grabs both items and juts his chin to behind you. “you can take a seat over there, i’ll bring them out once they’re warm,” and with that, he disappears into the back.
you walk where he had directed you to, taking a seat in the chair and leaning your clothed forearms against the tables surface after fishing your phone from your back pocket.
11:24 PM your phone screen read, a heavy sigh leaving your lips as you try to occupy yourself for the next few minutes. you come to realize you hadn’t thanked the clerk for his kindness yet - wishing you had done so at the counter - and guilt fills your being.
the soft music that played throughout the store cuts off, catching your attention as you look up, only for a moment to pass before a new station seemed to start playing.
alongside the much more upbeat music, you hear a microwave humming from the back room, as well as footsteps. “sorry for the music change,” yunho says, peering over the aisles to find you looking at him. “i usually plug my phone in when i clean before closing,” he finishes, walking towards the front door and turning the sign, as well as disabling the neon sign that hung in the window next to the very posters that drew you here.
“no worries,” you say, those being the first words you had spoken in a few hours - as well as the first you had spoken to him. “thank you for letting me eat here.”
“of course, wouldn’t wanna leave you cold and hungry this late at night,” he replies, making his way towards the back once more, soon returning with a broom and dustpan.
you couldn’t help but watch as he swept the floors, your eyes never losing sight of where he was from how his head rarely fell below the tops of the shelfs littered throughout the store.
he wipes down the countertops, the fridges where drinks are stored, the coffee and tea machines before he makes it to the last aisle, the same one that the table you sat at was closest to.
he swept quickly and efficiently, and just then you realized why they probably book him for the same shift that has to clean the store. his swiftness doesn’t deplete when he nears you, but you’re still shocked when he mutters a small “sorry” as he passes you by, another smile directed towards you.
he must have had to have many energy drinks in his system to be this peppy at almost midnight; or perhaps, his natural attitude was just that vitamin-like.
you watch as he tossed out the debris he had collected, making the same commute to the back just in time for the microwave to beep. despite the distance between you and the backroom doorway, you could smell the faint scent of soup and the sandwich you had bought - your suspicions of what the scent was only confirmed as you watch yunho emerge once again, your food items in hand.
“careful, they just came out,” he says, setting them on the tabletop along with utensils and napkins.
“thank you,” you say, lowering your mask before you rip the rest of the paper top from the ramen cup, separating the ramen with the utensils he provided you with.
“if you need anything else, just yell, okay? i’ll be able to hear you over the music, don’t worry” and off he went again, finishing up his closing shift duties as you ate in peace, finding his taste in music rather soothing in the friendly atmosphere that he had created effortlessly.
you watched out the window you sat next to, the people who accompanied you on the streets before seemed to have vanished in the short time you occupied the convenience store.
yunho’s faint humming as he tinkered around the store did not go unheard, shifting from wall-to-wall and corner-to-corner in search of anything more he could possibly clean - and to no avail.
“if you want me to leave so you can go home you can just tell me,” you offer, his head perking up over the shelves to look in your direction. “you’ve already done a lot to help me, it’s the least i could do, really.” you finish, preparing to grab your half-empty ramen cup and sandwich rapper before he speaks up.
“that’s not necessary,” he begins. “might grab something myself to eat, actually.” with that, he waltzes to the refrigerated section you had gone to prior, picking out a cold sandwich.
you watch as he walks to the counter next, paying for his meal before heading towards you. “may i?” he asks, his head tilting to the side in the direction of the chair opposite you - you nod.
he seemed relieved - this probably being the first time he was able to sit in the last few hours - as he begins unwrapping his sandwich. he eats in silence, not trying to force a conversation to happen that wasn’t natural, and a part of you greatly appreciated that - whether intentional on his end or not.
“thank you again for letting me stay behind,” you say, earning a light chuckle as he looks out the window that accompanied you before turning his gaze back to you.
“it’s really no hassle,” he explains. “besides, it was nice having some company while i closed up, even if we were both preoccupied.”
his smile grew wider, and before you had time to realize, you were finally offering him one in return. the ache that once filled your chest was now replaced with a pleasant warmth - but nevertheless, the longing remained, but perhaps for a different reason than prior.
“i’m yunho, by the way,” he says after a few beats of silence.
“i read your nametag earlier,” you laugh, watching as he looks down, seemingly as if he forgot he even wore a nametag and turns to the side - you note how his ears turn red under his tussled dark hair. “i’m y/n.”
“well, y/n,” be begins once again, rising from his place. “i think it’s about time we both head out, it’s pretty late.”
you nod, grabbing your trash and tossing it into a nearby bin as he does the same. “did you walk here?” he inquires, as he walks to the backroom once again, presumably to grab his belongings.
“yeah, but i don’t live too far from here-”
“then would it be alright if i walked you home?” he asks, peeking his head out from the doorway as he slides a jacket over his work attire and slings a backpack over his shoulder.
“i don’t want to make your commute home even longer,” you say, brows furrowing.
“i live close as well, i guarantee you won’t make it any longer - in fact,” he starts, smile spreading on his lips as he locks the backroom. “i think you’d make it more enjoyable.”
he walks past you to get the the counter once again, and you remain frozen in place for a moment while you fully process his words. while your mind told you to not overthink the strangers kindness - to follow your guardians advice as to not trust strangers in the first place - you found yourself wanting to walk home with him; he felt safe.
“that’ll be fine then,” you confirm, yunho nodding as he scribbles on a small card before shoving it into his pocket, paying it no mind as you put your mask over your nose once again.
“then, shall we?” he says, walking towards the door and allowing you to catch up to him, keeping the door open with his foot as to let you through before turning off the lights, locking the door shut behind you both.
“you want to lead the way?” he asks, a small “sure” leaving your lips as your eyes remain glued to the concrete below you, yunho smiling as he lifts his own mask to cover his face.
he remains by your side, never to close but never straying to far either - a comfortable distance. but as the night grew more cruel, you became more thankful for his presence, even if a small tinge of guilt coursed through your veins at the prospect of having him walk in this chilling cold with you.
“you’re heading those those apartments?” he asks, a single hand coming out of his pocket to point in the direction of your apartments building’s illuminated front patio - you nod.
“i live in those ones, too - fourth floor,” he comments, shivering hand returning to his pocket as he lets out a light laugh, a faint fog appearing before his face then vanishing from the air that had passed through his mask.
“i’m on the second,” you reply, noting how yunho nods in your peripheral vision as you cross the last street heading towards the complex.
the receptionist was no where to be found - not unusual at this hour - and you bothbook it to the elevator. the warm air circulated throughout the building, you and yunho taking a deep breath in hopes the warmth can infiltrate your bodies quicker.
he presses two buttons - the 2nd floor and the 4th - before leaning against one of the rails. the vibration of the elevator was enough to lull you, your exhausted body and racing mind hoping to rest itself once you were alone.
the elevator dings and the door slides open. “i take it you won’t need much more ‘walking-home’ from here,” yunho comments, his eye-smile almost as bright as his usual one as you turn back to face him.
“thank you, again, for everything,” you say, nodding your head as you exit the elevator.
you hear the the door begins to close behind you before a voice sounds down the hall.
“y/n! i forgot,” yunho says, placing his foot in front of the door to prevent it from shutting and sending him away as he digs in his pocket. “i wanted to give you this,” he says, pulling out a small card with even smaller columned pictures on it.
“it’s a punch card, if you buy things from the shop, you can earn punches to get a free item! in case you wanted to stop by again,” he concludes, a faint dust of red hiding under his mask, yet doesn’t go unnoticed by you.
you thank him, taking the card from his fidgeting hand and bidding your final goodbye to him. looking at the card, you notice a smear of black along the front, and upon turning it over, you find smudged writing - what appeared to be a phone number.
you turn back, but it was too late as you only caught a small glimpse of his smiling face - mask now removed - with red cheeks and ears through the crack of the sliding door before it fully closed.
you laugh lightly, skeptical of the current turn of events your life had seemed to take in only the course of a few hours - you were grateful nonetheless.
returning your gaze to the card, you come to the conclusion that you should frequent the store more often. you’d get to talk to a sweet and cute clerk and work your way towards free food at the same time?
it seemed as though the longing to love and to be loved tugged your heart into a small convenience store today - and unlike other attempts - this one reigned successful, and you found yourself excited and anticipating what this new venture would bring.
author's note : a very short angsty drabble because i was very much in the mood to write this hihi
🎵 toxic till the end - rosé
masterlist
—
forgive and forget, that’s all they say but unless you have the heart of a saint, you couldn’t. no, you couldn’t even bear to hearing his name. how he completely and utterly left you with scars you couldn’t even heal in your heart, how he completely tossed you away and crawled right back when he deemed it was necessary, all in the name of “us”.
“so i can’t meet my friends now?” you ask. “for fucks sake can’t you understand where i’m coming from!?” “no. i can’t” he sighed loudly. “you don’t even try to at least be civil with my friends, seonghwa. you can’t judge them that fast” you argued. “that’s exactly the point! i don’t know what you’ve told them about me but one thing’s for sure, i am not a good guy in their eyes” you genuinely can’t understand him. not even one bit. “so just because of that you want me out of contact with them?” you couldn’t even raise your voice, you were baffled. “have i ever said that? do you genuinely realize how farfetched you’re making my statement be? i only asked you to stay because-” seonghwa asks. “it’s my birthday and you don’t even try to make it good for me” you exit the room, holding back your tears. why were you still in this relationship to begin with?
that wasn’t the first argument. it was more or less episode four of season three hundred or something. you weren’t good for each other nor did any of you wanted to give up your relationship though. it hasn’t always been this way but perhaps the signs were blurry at first because of the butterflies inside you both.
“i told you not to go out” seonghwa nags as he applied ointment to the newly formed wound that you got. “you have no right to say anything about that” you reply, still annoyed by the whole ordeal. “i didn’t forget. i already had the gift, you were just too hasty” seonghwa revealed before he put down his med supplies to take a small burgundy box. you hesitantly took it to reveal it was a ring. “why?” you asked him, catching him off guard. “what do you mean why?” he asked back. “do you think this is good for us? in the long run?” you closed the box and put it in front of him again. “y/n i am not trying to argue with you” “i’m not trying to argue, hwa. i just… you know… it does take a toll on me” you took a slight pause to catch your breath before continuing. “just how long do you expect us to stay like this? we fight and make up and fight again it’s a vicious cycle at this point. you don’t trust me, not even one bit and that makes me on guard with you too. do you want to stay like this until the end? if i can be honest, i don’t. no, i want to but i can’t. i used to believe you were the one but, everything just made it seem impossible” you finally talked to him about your feelings honestly. it was about time anyway. seonghwa stayed silent for a while while you try to wipe the tears that was falling off your cheeks. “so, this is the end?” he asked. you only stared at him before he nods and takes back the ring. you only watched as his frame faded into his bedroom.
* 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤: 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐲. The first time you met Yunho, you knew he was going to be part of the biggest tragedy of your life: the loss of your freedom, of your free will. You didn't know why back then but what you did figure out is that you and Jeong Yunho were going to, eventually and very publicly, date each other at some point. Is that reason enough to hate his guts? Well, of course! Now, when the time comes to fulfill the prophecy, how the hell are you going to pull it off? And, most importantly, what do you need to do to not fall in love with him in the process?
PAIRING: rich!yunho x rich!reader.
GENRE: enemies to friends to lovers.
WORD COUNT: 16.5k (dear god).
WARNINGS: eventual SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, this chapter is truly them being cute and barely fighting which is ???, healthy competition i think, they get a serious case of the silly goose at some point, mentions of drinking at some point, gyuri being an overprotective friend, meeting new people, emotional talk involving kids yall will see why, pet names (princess), descriptions of female and male anatomy, first kisses!! *the crowd cheers*, a little bit of dry humping... *the crowd boos* and unresolved feelings!!!! *the crowd AND y/n leave in angry tears*.
NOTES: hi everyone! here's part three of this mini series that is PART OF THE LOVE'S AN UNCHARTED PATH / SHOW & TELL UNIVERSE. so, so sorry it took so long but i had a bit of a writer's block these past months :(. there's mentions of the last installment plot so, if you're new around here, you can always find the rest of this series and the rest of the stories of this universe on my masterist! this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3
POSTED: december 5th 2024.
masterlist - part one - part two.
There's this image of you that flashes across Yunho’s mind.
It happened right before he fell asleep last night, too, and he's having a hard time figuring out if he only dreamed it or if it actually happened.
The skin on your back glistening, the cut of the dress after he pulled down the zipper just enough to not be disrespectful.
He did it out of instinct, out of the sudden familiarity he felt between you both. He did it because, before he had the genius idea of helping you with your dress (to get it off in some way, what the fuck is wrong with him), you were really close to his face and he couldn't think straight for the remainder of the time he was in your presence.
There was a time in his life where the mere thought of you brought discomfort to him. It kinda brings discomfort to him now, too, but it's a different kind of discomfort. It's dull, it's confusing and it's angering at the same time because, if he was sure of something before, it was the fact that he never really wanted to be near you.
You were the bane of his existence when you two were kids, something that was forced on him the second your parents wanted and he despises the lack of control and freedom he's always had around you.
And now there's a flash of you genuinely laughing at him for blushing after the old lady from last night gave him some not-so-innocent compliments in front of everyone. There's a flash of you defending him when you really didn't need to, even if you stated otherwise.
There's a flash of you wiping the corners of your mouth after finishing the food he made you, a visage that completely besots him.
He never really wanted to kiss you.
Only once, at your graduation party, but that was drunk him and playing spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven really did a number on his teenage hormones at the time.
He remembers the bottle landing on the girl next to you and the guy next to you and the guy next to the guy next to you. Yunho kissed them all with the hope of kissing you at some point that night. Just because he was curious, because deep inside of him he knew your parents plans all along.
He didn't get to do it, though, and so it didn't really matter; the wish died as soon as he woke up the next day with a huge hangover and a dry mouth. Yesterday, he thought the same would happen if he went to sleep and dreamed about anything but you.
That, of course, didn't happen.
Now he’s just left trying to figure out what the fuck is going on exactly as the memory of your lips and the sting of annoyance that follows the thought of him wanting you in any way other than fifty feet apart distracts him from whatever his friends are saying right now.
“He lost his fucking mind,” Gyuri stands in front of him, hands on her hips and furrowed brows like a mother who’s scolding her troubled child. She collapses on the couch behind her a second later, next to her best friend who’s giggling at her and her reaction “He’s not even answering to me.”
They called for an emergency meeting at San and Wooyoung’s place, as expected. He was supposed to see them on saturday anyway but now he gave the friend group a reason to hang out a day earlier. Seonghwa did too, but his story, apparently, is more interesting than the oldest sudden girlfriend.
In a way, they both got out of nowhere partners. But the friend group is hanging out a day earlier than expected so he’s not really sure why he’s being reprimanded for something so out of his control.
They don't know this is out of his control. Maybe that's why.
Wooyoung takes a sit in front of him, on top of the wooden table separating the space between the tv and the couch and puts a hand on his shoulder, like a father who’s trying to be on his side of things without offending his wife “Care to explain yourself, Yunho?”
He decides to play pretend so he doesn’t have to think about it more than he needs to “Explain what?”
As Gyuri gasps, Woo shakes his head before dramatically hanging it low.
“God help you, my dear friend.”
Gyuri gets up again and Wooyoung gets up as well, stepping aside so he can give space to her to regard poor little him with the angriest look ever directed at an innocent man.
He thanks Mingi for opening the front door of the apartment right at that moment.
Behind him, Mingi’s girlfriend, Yeosang, Hongjoong and Seonghwa follow suit. San is in the kitchen finishing the dishes and Jongho is at school, taking a quiz or something, he thinks.
He didn’t really read the group chat like that. They just requested his presence and he spawned in the apartment half an hour later.
But he didn't take into account that he was seeing Mingi that day too. Mingi, his best friend for a few years now, the only person he should've actually told what was going to happen yesterday night.
He fucked up.
“Can you let the man explain himself, Gyuri?” Mingi asks, down on one knee and helping his girl take off her shoes. Yunho wants to roll his eyes but Mingi is, after all, head over heels for her.
How is he going to explain to them that he’s not head over heels over his new, sudden girlfriend? That, in fact, he thought he despised her until yesterday.
And that now he’s not able to shake her from his thoughts even if he desperately wants to.
“What’s going on?” Seonghwa asks and Gyuri turns and points at him.
“We’re talking to you after we talk to him.” She makes a show of her threat, her pointed finger moving to Yunho’s forehead and slightly pushing him back on his seat.
Seonghwa rolls his eyes and plops down on the couch, next to San’s girlfriend “Oh, my God.”
“I’m sorry,” she tells him with a tiny smile “She’s freaking out today.”
Wooyoung turns the tv on. His laptop is connected to it through a long, orange cord and when Yunho turns to the screen, it shows a picture of him and you with plastic smiles that look too real.
If only people knew.
“This is what’s going on,” he says, pointing to the image and then leaning into his laptop to click a new tab “The Jeong and Kim empires merge into one after their youngest announce they’re in a relationship at yesterday’s twenty year celebratory gala,” reading directly from the article, Yunho manages to cringe at the wording of it before Wooyoung turns to him “Since when, bitch?”
Yunho opens his mouth to reply but both Yeosang and Seonghwa make a surprised noise.
“Oh?”
“Isn’t she…?” Yeosang looks at him “Is she?”
He nods and Yeosang claps, mumbling a I knew it under his breath.
“So that’s what she meant when she told me I looked familiar, she knows you!” Seonghwa smiles a little and then his expression turns into a frown, like he just realized something he shouldn't “When did you start dating her?”
“Well, actually—”
“And didn’t tell us?” Mingi’s girlfriend looks very offended but he can tell she’s half joking, especially when Mingi smirks a little and then joins her with a pout.
His best friend looks at him a second too long, though and that lets him know he might be a little offended.
Mingi opens his mouth to speak but a choir of voices stops him from doing so and Yunho breathes out his regret for even showing up and for not explaining everything to Mingi first.
“What do they mean ‘merge their empires’. Are you getting married?”
“When did you even meet her?”
“Through his family, I suppose.”
“Are you getting married?”
“So did you cheat on her like two months ago with that girl from the bar?”
“No, no, he didn’t hook up with the girl, that was Hongjoong.”
“Sure I did,” he says and gives Yunho a look, like he doesn’t remember who they’re talking about “Yuyu, can I be the main groomsman?” Hoonjong asks as San returns with a snack plate on his hand and he takes it from him when he offers it, putting some chips on his mouth immediately “Hwa, too. We're the oldest, so.”
Mingi scoffs “And I’m literally his best friend, don’t even try it.”
“That’s literally me, oh my God? Liar?”
Yunho is starting to feel a little overwhelmed by the amount of noise he normally would contribute to.
Right now? He wants everyone to shut up while he finds a way of explaining everything and not sound completely insane in the process.
It’s quite the normal concept, he thinks. Arranged matrimonies are a thing in a lot of cultures and in his it’s more subtle than anything, not quite what it used to be, but they’re still there especially for families like his.
He’s not getting married, he should also clarify that. But as Mingi takes hold of Wooyoung’s laptop and scrolls through the article and then turns to him asking for an explanation with his eyes instead of his words, all the coherent sentences he just put together in his mind die on his tongue.
Mingi is not really one to pry, but his stare tells him that he’s a little bit concerned with everything. After all, he’s the only one who understands the full complicated history Yunho has with his family.
“Guys,” he says, all mischievousness wiped out of his face “let him explain and don’t interrupt.”
The noise quiets down and everyone looks at him, expectant and curious. Now that he’s able to untense his shoulders and take a calming breath, he also notices a few concerned stares that join Mingi in the sentiment.
Alright. Okay. He can do this.
Yunho sends his best friend a thankful smile before gulping down his nerves.
“That’s Kim Y/N,” he points at the tv screen, although half of your face is cut off because Mingi scrolled down to read “I’ve known her since we were kids, her parents and my parents are really good friends and her dad helped my dad launch his company, so we were… They were celebrating that yesterday.”
Everyone nods and then he catches Seonghwa’s eye “My brother and her brother are very good friends, too. You know Soohyun hyung, don’t you?”
“Oh,” he seems taken by surprise by that “he’s a new client.”
“I figured,” Yunho smiles, “He’s a good guy, just a little…”
“Carefree?” Hwa offers.
“Mhm. Anyways,” he shakes his head, trying to get back on track “Jeong Tech made a huge mistake a few months ago and so they decided to announce our relationship yesterday to kind of… Everyone loves Y/N,” he says quickly “She’s… We—”
“Are you two together or not?” Wooyoung asks, clearly confused and when everyone shushes him he mutters his apologies.
Yunho wants to answer him with the truth. He really does and it’s right there, ready to come out, but he thinks about you. About everything you told him yesterday, about how you actually seemed to care to please your parents.
He thinks about his own mother’s threats.
And he knows it’s a little stupid wondering if someone in this room would tell, but he hesitates.
It hurts him to hesitate but then someone speaks up. There, curled around San’s arm and peeling open an orange, his savior speaks up.
“Relationship of convenience,” she says softly and matter of factly, turning heads in her direction “What? I could’ve told you this two hours ago,” she points at Gyuri and Wooyoung “But you refused to explain! Come on, everybody,” giggling, she offers a freshly peeled slice to her boyfriend. “I work with books for a living, you work with books for a living!” She points at Woo again, “This trope is classic,” and then she looks back at him with a kind and honest smile. “You two do look good together, though. Are you friends, at least?”
He hesitates. You both definitely, sort of, made amends last night. But it's a little weird and, suddenly, also hard to explain.
Yunho thought the word friends would've just rolled out of his tongue naturally, as a little white lie to ease everyone's worries. Now, it hardly makes its way onto it so he just nods after a long pause that definitely raises suspicion on everyone's face.
“We've known each other for a very long time, went to highschool together and everything,” that seems to eradicate some of the doubts, because San grins and turns to his girlfriend with a knowing smile that she returns.
Gyuri is not as convinced “But are you friends?”
“Yes,” he returns immediately after that, wanting the conversation to be over. He’s not lying, not really, not after what you both said yesterday “We are, we’re trying to be.”
“So you hate the bitch. Got it.” Gyuri nods.
Yunho takes offense to that, oddly enough. Because no, he doesn't hate you, not a little, not at all.
He thinks.
Besides, he confirmed yesterday that you're not much of a bitch and it hurts that Gyuri thinks you are one, but San’s girlfriend it's already handling that before he has the opportunity to defend you like you defended him.
“Babe, don't call her that.”
Gyuri raises her hands defensively “I'm just taking preventive action! What if she is a bitch?”
“She's not.” Yunho says and they both turn their heads to him, Gyuri with a frown and her best friend with a knowing smile.
What does she know that he doesn't? Beats him.
Instead, he settles “She's just… Well, she's—”
“Intense?” Gyuri offers.
Wooyoung shakes his head and points to his ex “No, that's you.”
For once, he's glad their bickering interrupts him because he doesn't really know how to describe you. What's his current opinion on you? He has no clue. It's weird, he hates it a bit, but the feeling is there and the words are on the verge of spilling out of his mouth.
San’s girlfriend gasps and then murmurs an excited: “I love enemies to lovers!”
“I don't think real people can fit into fictional tropes, babe,” Gyuri returns, taking a slice she's offering in her direction before eyeing Yunho “Or can they?”
That he can answer “We're not enemies and we're definitely not lovers.” He says with a shrug.
“You're something way worse then,” San’s girlfriend nods and then smiles in excitement “Can't wait!”
“For what?” Yunho asks in a whisper but Mingi, thankfully, interrupts.
“Why are they talking about marriage, then?” He asks, his concern is palpable and Yunho feels kind of bad. He feels really bad, actually.
He could have told him this, at least. He could have talked about you, but the truth is that his mind avoided remembering you if not necessary; that’s how much you two seemed to hate each other.
Now?
It’s kind of complicated not to think about you when you’re plaguing his mind, infecting it like a virus.
Or painting it, like the canvases he saw in your room yesterday.
Do you paint? Is that something you like to do in your free time?
Why does he feel like he knows very little about you, all of the sudden?
He groans and then shakes his head.
“There’s no marriage, they’re getting ahead of themselves,” he clarifies.
“Is there going to be a marriage?”
There's movement on the screen now and he sees Mingi’s girlfriend scrolling unapologetically through the article. She's watching a video of the both of you posing together for a picture and there's something that pulls inside of him. His eyes attempt to water but he manages to keep his emotions down, locked up because there's a lot of feelings he won't put on his friends.
He's sure they think of him as a dumb puppy who's actually very academically smart, just a little clumsy with his social interactions. He's been pretending he is, anyway.
The only one who really sees through him is Mingi but even him, to some degree, has bought his immature act. And to some extent it became real for Yunho himself, too, so deep fears and sad emotions are off the table.
So he pulls himself together and turns to his friend.
“I think she has an escape plan if our parents decide to marry us off to each other,” he admits, snorting out a laugh that’s a little bitter but more amused than anything, he shakes his head “So no, no engagement, no marriage.”
“Why, what's wrong with you?” Gyuri asks, eyes squinted with prejudice and suspicion “Why wouldn't she want to marry you?”
“Well, that's not… Gyuri,” he opens and closes his mouth a few times, not really knowing what to say to his friend's question, so he looks at Mingi with begging eyes “That's not really the point, right?”
“Don't look at me, she's right,” Mingi shrugs, “Why wouldn't she want to marry you?”
“Because we're not in love!”
Wooyoung scoffs “And yet you're a perfectly fine and rich young man, so why wouldn't she want to marry you?”
“So we officially hate her, right?” Gyuri says and claps her hands before standing up again for the millionth time and heading his way. Her hands fall on his shoulders and he has to crane his neck to see her from below “Okay, then! What's the plan? Do we get rid of her?”
“No!”
“I could, if that's what you want.”
His head snaps at Hongjoong at the suggestion, disbelief writing on his face “I love you guys but the Yunho protection squad needs to dissolve right now, everything’s fine!”
“Is it?” Mingi asks and Yunho takes his time to look at his best friend before nodding.
“It is. We're supposed to break up eventually anyway,” air leaves his lungs in a long sigh and then he gulps a little, not really sure how to say what he wants to say without offending anyone. And Gyuri's hands are still on him, so the pressure doubles at the potential threat of physical harm that his next statement can get him. “Listen, I won't make any of you sign nda’s or anything like that because I trust you but please, please don't tell anyone this.”
He looks around the room and sees wide eyes before they turn understanding and when his friends nod in agreement, he feels a weight lift off his shoulders.
Literally, Gyuri moves to sit next to Wooyoung who tries to put an arm around her and fails.
“You're not that famous, Yunho,” Hongjoong kisses his teeth and the mood shifts into the lighthearted one he's used to “Unlike me. I'm a celebrity among my peers.”
Wooyoung rolls his eyes “Yeah, because all the criminals turned music students turn guitarists of a nugu rock band worship you.”
Hongjoong ignores him but his smile is tense and his eyes are squinted in fake joy when he speaks again “You are going to the gig tomorrow, right?”
He laughs “Of course. I might be a little late but I'll get to see your set.”
Hongjoong frowns “Why?”
“I have a schedule now, so…”
“Oh, my God,” San’s girlfriend squeaks, typing something in her phone and Yunho catches his friend fondly following with his eyes the sentences she's putting together “And what else do you have to do now?”
“Babe, I hope you're not writing a story about this.” Gyuri warns but her friend ignores her and turns to Seonghwa.
Who realizes right away what she's doing, gaping at her and her betrayal with feign hurt. Yunho gets it a second later and his lips curve upwards a little.
“And what did you do to get a girlfriend so fast? It was the motorcycle, wasn't it?”
Wooyoung gasps and Gyuri seems to remember suddenly that there were two important subjects to dissect on the table today, so she gets up again with her hands on her hips and stares at him like a distressed mother.
“What the hell were you thinking, Park Seonghwa? Girlfriend? You met her yesterday!”
“Three days ago, but yes, maybe—”
“Oh, three days ago! That's an eternity in dog years, right? Are you a dog, Seonghwa?”
Seonghwa’s eyes practically meet the back of his head and Yunho has to stifle a laugh “Not a dog, Gyuri, just a guy.”
She pauses and then makes a face.
“That… Actually makes a lot of sense.”
“We made the mistake of calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend way too soon. But, to be fair, his text messages woke us up,” Seonghwa's finger is pointing to Yunho and he pouts as a response “Kind of, so we were sleepy and—”
“Sure, let's hang out tonight so you can meet my girlfriend,” Hongjoong reads directly from his phone and shakes his head. Yunho can't actually tell if he's offended or not “Not even a warning first.”
“I literally told you about her and you told me to go for it.”
“Did I?”
“Yeosang was there.”
At the mention of his name, Yeosang looks up from his phone and smiles shyly at the oldest two “Correct.”
There's a bit of silence and then Hwa clears his throat softly.
“She's going to be my girlfriend though,” he says, almost in a whisper but everyone hears him “So I don't know what the big deal is.”
Wooyoung slumps from the couch to the ground with his eyes closed in defeat “Oh, dear God.”
“The big deal is that—”
Gyuri's voice fades to the background and he catches Hwa telling her that she's not his mother or something before tuning the discussion out.
When he turns to his left, Mingi is still eyeing him to make sure he's okay. Yunho nods and smiles and then offers his hand to him, which he takes.
Mingi's girlfriend turned off the laptop and is watching the interaction with a tiny contempt curve to her lips and, when Yunho catches a glimpse at San’s girlfriend from behind his friends built form (she's completely hiding behind him from all the chaos Gyuri is bringing to the living room), she catches his eye and then blinks one of hers in complicity.
Again, Yunho wonders what she knows that he doesn't.
But with the attention off of him, your face returns to his head.
So he's not really able to concentrate on anything else for the remainder of the hang out. When he finally, finally has his mind occupied by something else (San dared him to beat him at Mario Kart and Jongho brought food and drinks as an apology for completing his academic duties instead of showing up to the meeting), a text pops up from an unknown number.
+82-5-059-6733: Hey. Added your number from that stupid group chat our brothers made because telling each other things through our assistants makes me physically ill, hope you don't mind.
+82-5-059-6733: Actually, I don't really care if you mind. If you block me, I'll find another phone to text you on.
+82-5-059-6733: Anyway, I'll send you the address of where we're going fashionably late tonight. It's an early drive so you're free to skip this (Do skip it please).
+82-5-059-6733: Jeong Yunho, do not ignore me or I swear to God…
He hates that, after reading his home screen, he has a smile on his lips. You sound both formal and pushy through text, too and he didn't think it was possible to have so much personality that it filters through writing as well. He's finding out new things about you and, although he made it a point to ask you to get along yesterday, it still feels really weird to do so.
When he turns to the screen again, he's down a few spots and San’s character speeds besides his in its kart.
“Is it her?” San asks, looking at him for a second, a knowing smile on his lips.
“It is but I'm not smiling because it's her,” he defends himself but there's a tint to his cheeks that might give him away. San laughs “Shut up. Your girlfriend’s schemes are rubbing on you.”
At the mention, he catches through the corner of his eye as his friend turns to the mentioned girl and Yunho smiles again before he hears him sigh, completely and utterly in love.
“Thank God.”
He recovers on the game while San is distracted, passing him and winning the race. The sound of it ending makes San snap his head back and watch as Yunho relaxes on the couch in egotistical victory.
“Ugh.”
The sun is shining through the clouds even though it was supposed to rain again. There's a singular gray one moving ominously among the other ones and threatening to mess up what you planned for the day.
It suspiciously moves past you and into the city when Yunho's car pulls up the hill. By the time he gets down, the sun is shining in full force and you roll your eyes when he regards you and your closed arms with a wink.
What does he gain out of this? You've been wondering since that night if coming here is better than staying at home for the weekend.
He could stay at his dorm, though. Is that an option? The curiosity you feel towards him now has completely taken over. It feels disgusting.
Either way, you hate that he actually showed up. That means someone, somewhere around you, is going to casually document the thing you kept to yourself for a long time. No because it's a secret but because there's no real need for anyone to know that you do this.
Your presence on social media is scarce, you have one open account that you use every six months (if you remember to use it at all) and the one you stalk people of your circle on. You have a twitter account that's private and not under your real name, a youtube account that doesn't really count as social media in your eyes and nothing else.
No one needs to know you do these sorts of things. Then, you wouldn't be doing it out of the kindness of your heart but to get sympathy points. Even though you'll always do it because you want to and not because you have to.
There's a lot of things you have to do, like your relationship with Yunho, but never this.
You know it's only like five out of one hundred people who wish you ill but those few people are enough to tarnish the affection the kids have for you, the trust you worked so hard to gain the few years you've been trying to make this orphanage somewhat quality-of-life acceptable.
You stumbled upon it one of those drunk early mornings where you had to walk around to get the alcohol out of your system before even daring showing up home or near it. Not because your family didn't know what you were up to, but because of the possible photographers roaming around the house.
A drunk underage daughter was worse than anything back then. Maybe it is now, too, but you remembered the mistake you made the first time you got drunk and the absolute reaping your mother gave you.
So when you locked eyes with a middle aged woman in the middle of nowhere after walking around half an hour before in heels, your almost-sober self pretended to be lost just to talk to someone and feel safe. The sun was barely showing that day and you were cold and sad and angry for not controlling yourself at the party and it must've shown in your face because you saw the woman taking a deep breath before offering you to step inside.
At that hour, the kids were asleep. There were traces of them everywhere, though and you remember the way your heart sank at the lifeness of the space even in the still hours of the morning.
It looked lived in, enjoyable and cozy. You never had that. Toys were put back in their place the second you got distracted by the tv or a book or when your mother said that was enough playing around for the day. Your room was always neat and tidy, put together and devoid of any evidence that you were real.
That has changed a little now, but back then seeing something you didn't have struck something within you. There was obviously no way you would complain about it out loud, though.
You had everything solved, your struggle has always been insignificant when compared with everyone else outside of your circle. It's fine, it's always been fine and the tears brought to your eyes when the middle aged woman put a hand on your shoulder and consoled you when she saw the environment was affecting you meant nothing.
You tried to convince yourself they meant nothing and tried to keep your heart where it belonged: inside of your tinsel bubble, frozen and harsh so that no one takes advantage of you.
And then she managed to melt the ice not even five minutes into explaining what it was that they did there. She said her position wasn't permanent, that the district kept changing directors and that the quality of life they were able to give to the kids was acceptable at best. Not good, not what they deserved.
Maybe that was the first time you took advantage of your privilege for something good. Because next thing you knew, you were putting together a presentation and pressing your father to do something about the home.
Your mother was scandalized but she agreed to do something with your ideas if your brother was put on the front of the newspapers, inaugurating the renovations made to the place.
Saturdays have been destined to the orphanage since then. They know not to put anything else on your schedule for the day, they know not to film you or send photographers per your request. Because your brother was already seen making the good deed a few years ago, so there's not really a way to take advantage of this anymore.
Besides, the district still manages it and no amount of volunteering can help the fact that its administration and the decisions that they make are as dumb as you believing for a second that Yunho was going to take your advice and stay home today.
Yunho being here changes things, you know it does. Why did they put this in his new schedule if not? You thought it was a punishment for him but now you're not so sure.
There's lack of movement, lack of press, lack of your mother's touch to it so you wonder what's the angle here. And, as usual, Yunho seems to be in the dark about the things plaguing your mind.
You point at his outfit in retaliation when he gets near you and your mother’s assistant, who became yours for the day.
“Is this what you could put together with such a long notice?”
“You said casual.”
“And this is your casual?”
At some point these past few days, and after seeing all the pictures of you two together at the gala, you came to terms with Yunho’s attractiveness. Objectively, he's a handsome guy. His dad was handsome at one point, his mom is absolutely breathtaking and his brother is handsome as well. They're just a family of naturally physically gifted people, alright?
But it is kind of unfair that he can look this good in flared jeans and a white fitted shirt, for fucks sake. He looks like he just got out of a Calvin Klein shoot… If the shoot was somehow made in the seventies. The black belt and the black boots with a tiny platform he's wearing add to the whole look and your eye twitches a little.
He looks really fucking cool, actually but there's no way in hell you would ever accept that. Handsome? Sure. Cool? Your mind is tricking you somehow.
It's that warmth that invaded your body when he made you food a few nights ago making you think nonsense. You want to desperately get rid of it.
He scoffs but a tiny smile tugs at his lips when he looks you up and down “Is this yours?”
Looking down at your wide leg trousers, your kitty heels and your short sleeved cotton top, you fail to see where the problem is.
“Duh.”
He whistles, low and for a few seconds and for a moment you think he's doing it because of you and your heart beats erratically until you realize his eyes are fixed on the orphanage.
You smile a little.
These past few years you've been able to get funding and provide funding to it, so the renovations just keep coming and coming. It doesn't look like the one you found refuge on that morning a few years ago at all and it definitely doesn't look like the one your brother had the chance to be photographed with either.
Right now, it has a little bit of your touch: It looks like an elegant structure, but a building that's also suitable for children to be in. It has a playground vibe to it, the exterior and the design of the new entrance you approved a few months ago only solidifies it.
The kids love it. You didn't exactly run the design through them but it would've shown if they didn't.
They're very expressive, but decisive too. Bossy, even. You look at Yunho and you want to smile fully because he simply doesn't know what he got himself into.
That proves to be true as the hours go by. The kids raise their eyebrows when they meet him, say hi to him with a bow and then turn to you for explanations. When you say that this is a new friend that's going to be helping out that day, you don't miss the way Yunho lights up a bit besides you.
And then that light is completely stolen by hour three, you see it as he chases kids around the yard. It hurts that they acclimated so fast to him but, again, when you got there the first time the place wasn't really one where they felt completely safe.
This proves that you helped change that. Good.
There's a few of them, the older ones, that sit on the ground and stare daggers at Yunho like he's going to hurt the younger kids at any moment. These kids were practically toddlers when you met them and they had a hard time being around you when you started to show up regularly.
They barely spoke a word and, when they did, they yelled at you for not playing with the toys like you were supposed to, or because you looked too clean and too pretty to be messing with paint or something of the sort.
It took months for you to build that trust and now the oldest is a tween with shaggy hair and a scowl on his face because he thinks of Yunho the same way he thought of you when he was just a kid.
He barely notices when you crouch next to him, the hand you put on his shoulder making him jump slightly.
“I understand the feeling of wanting to punch Yunho in the face,” you start, smiling and then tilting your head a little “but you're going to burn a hole on his back if you keep staring at him like that, Hyunjoon.”
“Then why did you bring him here?” His frown deepens and you shrug “We were just fine with everything here and now there's a stranger playing tag with my little brother,” he shakes his head “I don't like it.”
Sighing and then turning to Yunho, you see the exact moment his attempts to escape Haejoon, Hyunjoon’s little brother, are sabotaged by Hyunjoon’s best friend, Soyi.
“I think you're a little jealous.”
“What?”
You want to laugh when his head snaps at you, chest heaving in preteen anger at the word jealous.
“Yeah, not because he's playing with Haejoon but because Soyi is there too,” you shrug again, readjusting your crouching position because it hurts your legs but there's no way you're sitting on the ground “You like her, Yunho is handsome and you're jealous.”
He turns away from you and you laugh when he makes a disgusted face that then turns into mild discomfort and ends up being a full pout.
“We're fighting.”
“You and Soyi?” He nods and you sigh “What is it now?”
“I dunno.” He murmurs with a shrug.
“Are you sure?”
“I don't know what I did! Okay?”
There's this uncharacteristically amount of patience you have when it comes to these kids that don't run out even if they yell at you and cause a few heads to turn your way. It never really bothers you except today, when you know there's possibly someone monitoring your movements.
Yunho’s assistant, most likely. You know yours is compliant and doesn't really give a fuck about what goes on here, her focus on her tablet the whole time, probably arranging things for her actual boss (your mom).
“Have you asked her?” He shakes his head “Then maybe start by asking her, later today if you want,” you rush to clarify when you see him tense up at the idea “Or tomorrow or the next day but don't let silly things get in the way of your friendship with her, hm?”
His pout returns and his eyes start to water a little but before you have the opportunity to make him laugh the sadness away, someone jogs towards you both.
“Everything alright?”
Yunho’s sweating, he's out of breath and squinting his eyes because of the sunlight and it reminds you of when you used to cross paths during recess, back in highschool.
“Wouldn't you like to know?” Hyunjoon sulks and scoffs at him and, once again, you suppress your laughter.
“We're fine. Did you need something?”
“No, no, Soyi just asked me to—” He stops when Hyunjoon's reaction gives away the root of his sulking and you see him glance at you once. You don't give Hyunjoon secrets away, though. “She asked me to tell you that she's going to start counting in two minutes and you are both obligated to play.”
“Ah, yes, the mandatory hide and seek of the day.” You nod and watch as Hyunjoon's eyebrows raise in interest “Tell her it's okay, that she can start counting now.”
Yunho raises his eyebrows as well, curiosity on his face “And you're hiding too?”
“It's mandatory, Yunho. Do you know what mandatory means?”
He clicks his tongue “I obviously do, Y/N, it was a simple question. Do you have to—”
“Don't speak to her like that, ahjussi!”
Once again, Yunho is interrupted by Hyunjoon and this time you can't help but laugh at the pure shock on his face. It warms your heart that a kid that was once so reluctant to have you around is defending you and you think your expression might give the feeling away because Yunho says nothing in return, just nods once and then presses his lips together, fighting a smile “I'll go tell her, then.”
“No!” Hyunjoon gets up quickly and you do too, your legs and feet thanking you “I'll do it, she's my best friend.”
It's the threatening (and very cute) look Hyunjoon sends in Yunho’s direction before sprinting towards Soyi and his brother that breaks the both of you into giggles.
Only when your laughter dies down is that you turn to Yunho, arms crossed as you look him up and down to assess the real damage caused these first few hours.
No other reason.
“Thought you said these kids were tough.”
You shrug and he smiles “They are but you came here with me, so they're going easy on you.”
“Yeah, I'm sure that's it.” Yunho nods and then turns over his shoulder. You do too, only to find Soyi with her hands over her eyes and counting already “Better don't get caught first, Kim.”
Walking towards the spot you usually hide in when it's mandatory hide and seek time, you bump your arm with his in not-so-fake animosity.
“You better not get caught, Jeong.”
“Is that a dare?” He yells when you're almost out of reach.
“I don't know,” you yell back “Is it?”
You miss the way his eyes follow you until you're out of frame, until some kid whose name he doesn't remember grabs his hand and pushes him to hide because he stood in place long enough to almost get caught first.
You do get caught in the first round but not before Yunho, so you count that as a win. The second round is trickier, Soyi banning some hiding spots like the natural leader she is, and so you get caught before Yunho. He does a little celebratory dance when he sees you in the yard before him. Ass.
There's only one round left before they call everyone to clean up for lunch.
Moving through the orphanage halls, you walk down the stairs that lead to the staff rooms before choosing one you know kids would not check if they don't caught you in plain sight: It's the one that has some panel windows on top of some lockers, to bring in some natural lighting because it was used as a classroom before.
Now, only boxes and dust live down there. But if you hide in the corner, there's no way you're getting caught before Yunho.
You checked when you were upstairs.
You giggle to yourself as you rest your back against the corner, taking your phone and unlocking it to find something to do while you await your very predictable victory in this pointless battle you and Yunho have going on.
Only for it to be crushed when he enters the room and closes the door behind it. See, you obviously didn't lock it because that defeats the rules of the game.
But maybe you should've.
“Get out.”
He seems startled when he hears your voice, clearly not expecting another soul to be there. “You blend so well into the wall, Y/N.”
You don't bite the bait “Yunho, you're going to get both of us caught. Get. Out.”
“How? I literally fit in here, too.”
He gets into your space, a petty smile on his lips until your backside is completely flat against the wall.
You let out an indignant laugh and a breath at the same time because, from where you're shoved into the corner, he looks so dumb.
And then the sunlight shifts a little and lands on his shoulder and you get reminded: You're going to get caught and it's going to be his fault.
You want to yell at him to get out again but then hear laughter near the panel windows, so you whisper-shout instead “Find your own hiding spot, Yunho!”
“I got kicked out of my last one!” He whispers-shouts back.
“Well you can't have this one either!”
“We're going to be fine, Y/N,” he tries but at your scowl he laughs again “I'm perfectly hidden here and I'm hiding you.”
“You're not perfectly hidden, idiot! You're like…” You move your hands, trying to replicate the broadness of his shoulders “You're huge.”
“Yeah?” He seems pleased by your words and your eyes rolls on their own accord “I've been hitting the gym, so I'm glad it's showi—”
“I don't care, get out!”
You hear a scream and then laughter that follows it outside of the windows and your wide eyes peek around a little behind Yunho’s form to see what's going on.
There, rolling on the grass and laughing hard, are Hyunjoon and Soyi. You see when she pushes him further into the ground and away from her, smiling like she usually does. She did seem a little sad today and you wondered why without intruding.
Learning about the fight made things click in your head and so now you're smiling wide because they potentially made up.
The sound of someone gulping is what brings you back to reality and you crane your head up to catch Yunho staring at you with parted lips and soft eyes. Somewhere in the process of looking out of the panels, you ended up leaning into him and bracing yourself with your hand on his arm.
You quickly keep your hands to yourself again, pushing your body into the corner one more time.
“Sorry,” you say right away “I was just… They like each other and they were fighting today so I'm glad they, um…” You trail off.
“Are not fighting anymore?” Yunho says for you and you're nodding frantically before you can help it “You seem better today.”
“Oh,” that catches you off guard and he notices, “It's never… It's never really as bad as what you saw a few days ago. You don't have to ask me about it.”
“I didn't mean to… I was pointing it out to say that you seem different here.”
“Different how?”
“Relaxed,” he says right away with a shrug. “Less… Hostile.”
You get what he's trying to imply.
“I can't really be a stuck up bitch when I'm surrounded by children, Yunho.”
“Never said you were one.”
Your eyes squint “But you were thinking it.”
He doesn't back down at your accusation “I swear I wasn't. You could see it, too, if you stopped being so… defensive.”
“I'm trying,” you kind of speak over him as he is finishing his sentence, your arms crossing in, well, defense “but your fugly jeans are provoking me.”
This time around, he's the one that doesn't bite the bait. He smiles, leaning into your space with purpose this time; not because the corner you're both hiding in is small, not because he forgets who you both are. You can see it in his eyes that he means to do it. It's scary.
It's really not scary at all and it brings thoughts to your head that you need to put away immediately.
You pretend it's bothering you, creasing your brows in order to bring to your expression the usual disgust you feel for him.
“You like my outfit, I saw you checking me out earlier.” He murmurs like it's the most obvious thing ever. You, on the other hand, think you did a great job in concealing your staring for the day.
“I was judging you, not checking you out. You look like a hippie.”
He smiles but doesn't lean back at all “I have something to do tonight.”
“So I heard,” and now you look over his outfit on purpose, as well “This fit is definitely a choice.”
The usual spark that the arguments you two are used to have is there, but the actual nastiness and loathing of it all is mostly gone. Now, there's this weird pull that nudges you forward, your jaw set softly as you wait for his response.
“It's a rock concert, I have to look the part.”
You laugh and then nod “And so you dressed up as a greaser. Got it.”
“So I look like John Travolta in Grease?”
“More like Barry Pearl.”
He scoffs “Who even is that?”
“Exactly.”
Your smile is nothing but pure bliss at the way you seem to get under his skin with that one. The anger crosses his expression, his eyes widen a little before roaming your face and you wait for his comeback.
And wait.
And wait.
But it never comes. Instead, he leans in a fraction more than what your sanity can handle and keeps his voice low when he changes the subject.
“I had the opportunity to speak to Jiwoo earlier…” He starts and you nod, expectant and a little distracted by the smell of his cologne. “She told me everything you've been doing for this place. I had to ask her because you didn't tell me.”
“You didn't ask.”
“Would you have told me if I did?”
It takes a second and a tiny smile, but you shake your head and he clicks his tongue.
“See?”
“I wasn't expecting you to show up in the first place,” you murmur back in your defense, sincerely, “and I'm not used to people seeing this part of my life.”
Laughter and hurried steps outside remind you that you're in the middle of a game, in the middle of a dare with Yunho, too. But it doesn't seem to matter anymore.
This is a weird way of having a genuine conversation, an odd place to have it in as well but there's nothing conventional about your relationship with Yunho.
In a way, it's kind of fitting for you two.
“Well, you got great reviews.”
“Do I?”
“Mhm, Jiwoo said she was about to be sent away when you stepped in,” he starts to recall, nodding to himself “Soyi also said she met you when she was little and that you were there when Hyunjoon and his brother got here for the first time,” this time, you nod and a tiny smile tugs at your lips at the memory “And I saw the way you were looking at the kids earlier, how you spoke to them… That's why I told you that you seem different here.”
It's your turn to gulp and blink a few times, trying to measure your words. You know that you and him came to an agreement the other night, but it's still a little hard to be fully honest with someone you've tried to be so superficial and distant for a very long time.
“I'm happy here,” you whisper back, taking in a breath. “I'm happy when I'm helping, it makes me feel…” You trail off, failing to find the right words.
“Purposeful?” Yunho offers and your heart beats loudly at that, your stomach sinks at how accurate that is and he can see it in your expression, because he takes in a breath himself and closes his eyes for a millisecond “I understand.”
You want to ask him how he understands it. Is it simply because it's something easy to grasp? Is it because he relates in some way? The breach in between you became a simple line the night of the gala and that line blurs the longer you stay amicable with him.
It's dangerous because you can already picture him going away when this whole charade ends.
You don't want to get used to the feeling of him making your heart beat this way.
And hopefully you can forget all about it with the usual meal related anxiety you feel but even that is dull. It's not as bad here and Yunho knows so it's not going to be as bad with him either. Fucking great.
If you someone would just interrupt yo—
There's a knocking, persistent and that allows you to step away from him finally and glance at the panel windows one more time.
Soyi and Hyunjoon are lying on their stomach, smiling knowingly like they understand what is going on in your head. Yunho steps out and they pretend to be surprised but you can tell they were expecting to see him here.
“The game finished like five minutes ago.” Hyunjoon says and it's muffled by the glass but you can make it out just fine.
Soyi nods and joins in, adding something as she stands up “Yeah, it's lunch time and if you don't hurry I'm stealing your food!”
At that, Yunho seems to react like he's a child himself “Don't even think about it!” He yells back, heading for the door and leaving you there with an erratic heartbeat and questions.
Thirty seconds pass before you hear him again, his laugh this time and you close your eyes because the curve of your lips needs to go away before you step out there as well.
Three more hours pass and at some point you don't see Yunho at all, letting him do his thing.
Turns out, he's actually very good with kids. Considering he was a weird kid himself, you don't even find it weird that he's sitting on the grass with a worm in his hand and kids circling him like he's giving a masterclass.
Kind of like they were circling you fifteen minutes ago, when you gave them a little painting advice. You started on a small canvas and your paint strokes look tired, probably because you feel that way, but you use it to pass the time even if their interest is now elsewhere.
They have art classes here, you insisted on including them in their pensum as something mandatory, like science and maths.
They enjoy it. A few of them want to pursue art in the future and that makes you really happy, even if you probably won't be around to see it or if they change their opinions along the way because, as dumb as it sounds, you were never encouraged by anyone to pursue what you liked.
Maybe, sometimes that's enough. Planting the seed to wait and see if it grows into something fructiferous in the future can be what some of these kids need.
Aside from resources and opportunities, of course.
There's less activity in the room you're in and you're sure it's because the kids are tired. They're taking naps in their rooms, they're washing up for the night and you're dreading leaving this place. Your shirt it's dirty, there's paint on your arms and dirt under your nails and you don't want to catch the disgusted look your mother is going to give you when you get home.
You fuck up the painting a little bit. Lost in thought, you barely notice when Yunho makes his way inside from the garden, a little girl secured around his neck like he's her father or something. You barely spare him a glance, but smile at her when he sits down besides you and she opens her arms and clings to you instead.
Leaving the brush and canvas forgotten on the table, you make space for the seven year old in your lap “Hi, gorgeous.” you smile at her and her sleepy eyes “Did you have fun today, Jaemi?” And at her name, she punches you softly in the arm with her little fist.
You're afraid she's too tired to commit to the bit.
“Jaemi,” Yunho nods beside you and you look at him, “she didn't want to tell me her name.”
“Then that's totally not her name,” you correct yourself and Jaemi smiles, sticking her tongue out to Yunho afterwards “Did you have fun?” You insist.
“Yes, he was teaching us something about…” she pouts in concentration, trying to remember “Crickets?” she offers with her little lisp, turning to Yunho to confirm her words.
“Cicadas.”
“Yeah, that.” She turns to you, nodding “He said that they sing when it's about to rain and that made me happy but then he said that they also sing when they're about to die and that made me sad.”
Looking at Yunho, you let him know with your expression that that's not something kids need to know. He just shrugs, smile growing when he sees how Jaemi hides on your neck, sleepy and comfortable.
“And I told him what you told me about the worms,” she murmurs there and you pat her back, softly, but trying to tell her to stop talking. There's an embarrassed glow on your cheeks at what she says next “and he told me that he was the one who taught you that.”
Eyes wide, you huff out a laugh and then clear your throat, but Jaemi speaks through her pout before you defend yourself “Is he your boyfriend?”
“Oh,” her question is not weird but you've been avoiding answering it all day. Right now, there's not really a way you can evade it, so you just focus on your painting and nod “He is.”
“He's smart,” she mumbles and when your eyes land on Yunho again, his cheek is pressed to his forearm that is pressed against the table. He's looking at you both with stars in his eyes and you want to kick him under the table “Like you. I want my future mom and dad to be like you.”
Yunho pouts and you gulp, defensiveness abandoning your body and emotions swirling inside at the sweet, hopeful color of Jaemi’s voice.
“People here are going to make sure of that, Jaemi,” you assure her in a whisper and by the time you rock her softly in your arms, you can tell she's asleep in them “I'll make sure you get the best mom and dad in the world, hm?”
You don't know if you can keep your promise. If there's enough will for you to do it, if it's up to you to decide it. But you don't get to dwell on it for long.
“Is she out?” Jiwoo asks and you nod, sliding back with your chair a little so that she can take Jaemi in her arms instead “I'll get her to the nap room. Sorry about that.”
“It's okay.” You smile at her and she puts a comforting hand on your arm, shaking you a little on your seat before heading for the nap room.
You don't dare to look at Yunho after that. Yeah, he saw your mother belittling you and, yeah, he made you food and wiped away your tears after having a panic attack… But that might've been the most vulnerable Yunho has ever seen you. Maybe. It felt like it, anyway.
Returning to your painting, you forget what the orange blob in the corner of the canvas is supposed to be. From the corner of your eye, you catch Yunho staring at you still, unmoving from his position against the table.
“How dare you steal my earth friends facts, Kim Y/N.”
“You mean the facts about worms everyone learns in kindergarten, Yunho?” You scoff “Didn't know you trademarked them.”
“You enjoy painting.” He says, a fact not a question, ignoring your jab at him and it's starting to get a little annoying how he changes topics so fast.
“I'm not very good at it.”
He gets up, scoots his chair closer to yours and you catch as his eyes move up and down your stupid painting “I don't agree.”
“I didn't ask,” huffing, you squint your eyes at him and at your tone he rolls his eyes “Don't you have a concert to get to?”
“Yeah, you should go with me.”
That's hilarious.
“I'm afraid I'm a little underdressed,” you tell him and you think he wants to laugh, but presses his lips together and pretends to be offended at your words instead. You lean into the table, your eyes following his mouth as he stops pursing his lips, a tiny smile tugging on yours. “And I don't feel like pretending to be your girlfriend today anymore.” You whisper to only him.
“You won't have to,” he whispers back, leaning in as well, “they know.”
“What? You told them?”
“They kind of figured it out.”
“Hm, because you have no bitc—”
“Yeah, yeah,” he interrupts you, annoyed and you laugh, leaning back in your chair “Come with me. I saw your car outside,” he smiles and bats his eyelashes at you “I don't want my mother to know where I'm going, so you can drive me.”
“Ah, that's why you want me to go.”
“I also want to hang out with you,” his hand on your arm doesn't startle you but it does send sparks down your spine, his words causing your chest to go warm and your walls to go down “I thought we were doing that today and then I got kidnapped by eight year olds.”
There's this image of Yunho that flashes through your head, the one of him running around the yard with people so dear to your heart that it makes the poor organ beat erratically for the second time today.
Deflect.
“And you managed to keep your ugly outfit clean. I'm impressed.”
He lets out a tired breath.
Deflect. Ignore. Don't let it fool you, Y/N, he's not staying this cordial forever.
However, you think that as a thank you you can give in a little. Just a tiny bit. Just for tonight.
“Do they have parking?”
Yunho smiles wide.
You would never admit you actually want to hang out with him, too, so instead you just say:
“I'm driving you and then I'm staying for an hour,” he claps and gets up suddenly, grabbing your hand and pulling you out of your chair as well “And if I don't like it there, I'm leaving.”
He looks like he wants to say something but, instead, he just shakes your twined hands with excitement before letting go at the realization of what he's doing.
“You might want to go to the bathroom first.”
“Why? Where is the concert?”
He says nothing.
“Jeong Yunho… Where are we going?”
They do not have parking. Not near the musty bar you're currently trying to make your way into, anyway.
Yunho shows something on his phone to the bouncer at the entrance and then turns to you “My girlfriend,” he says, grabbing your hand again and opening his eyes at you as a signal to go along with his lie “She's also invited, obviously.”
So long for not pretending to be together, huh?
You nod and you kind wish you didn't because it leads you to a small space with a crowd that's bigger than what it can host. There's heavy drums and amazing vocals coming out of the speakers and you actually recognize the guitarist of the band that's playing. You don't know his name, but you definitely saw him in pictures with Yunho before.
Grabbing Yunho’s arm when he lets go of your hand, it grants you the brief grace of his stare.
“I'm sorry about that,” he says and then his eyes are on the stage again, smiling at the band. His height works wonders because you can tell he's actually able to see them fully and the next second you're being pulled across the crowd and up some stairs “They didn't expect me to come here with anyone tonight… And don't say it's because I have no game, Y/N, or I swear—”
“You made it!”
When you let go of Yunho’s arm and stand shyly behind him as they let the both of you into the very humble vip area of this bar, it's like the pictures you've been staring at for months come to life. You don't know names (only Park Seonghwa’s, who's glued to the balcony’s rail, jamming along to the music) but you do know their faces.
This girl that greeted Yunho with a hug just now it's in almost every picture, smiling just like that. And when she turns at you, that smile disappears and it's replaced with one that's not genuine at all.
Great.
“Oh, hi to you too,” she says and her eyes alternate between you and Yunho “I didn't know you were bringing your fake girlfriend tonight.”
You don't know why, but the way she says it ticks you a little bit.
“Yeah, me neither,” Yunho’s arm is around your shoulders now and you have to fight the urge to shove him away, like a second instinct “This is Y/N, Y/N this is Gyuri.”
“It's nice to meet you,” returning her energy, you smile coldly at her too, “I've heard nothing about you.”
Yunho's hip connects with yours in a silent warning.
But instead of the usual hypocrisy you're met inside the crowd you move in, you're greeted with something genuine: At your response, Gyuri looks you up and down for what feels like a minute and a half and then that fake smile turns into a genuine one.
“Okay, I get you,” she nods, laughing to herself when she turns to Yunho. You do too and the color has been drained from his face, at least a little bit “I'm glad you're here. I guess it is meet my girlfriend night,” her head cocks to the side, to where Seonghwa stands and you're a little relieved you don't have to ask what she's talking about when, besides him, you see the mechanic you didn't get to meet earlier this week. She turns to you again “Do you want a drink?”
“Oh, I'm driving, um…” You look at Yunho “I don't know if you—”
“No, let's not drink tonight, though if you want to we can call—”
“No, that's not necessary, I don't feel like—” He interrupts with a nod.
“Gotcha.”
The nervousness is palpable and, although you didn't really feel anything the hour and a half it took you two to get to the bar (Yunho didn't really let you, bickering with you about your driving or the decor of the car or the tinted windows or whatever he could think of to annoy you), but now you you notice it.
The way Yunho's fingers tap on your arm, his around your shoulders still. The way he doesn't really know what to say when you both turn to Gyuri after speaking over each other like that and the way you can't bring yourself to be hostile to him in front of his friends.
It's a little pathetic. You think Gyuri thinks so too, and the long-haired guy next to her as well because they're staring at you stoically, unmoving.
“So I'm taking that as a no but I need a drink now. If y'all excuse me…”
“H-hi, Woo.”
“I thought we got rid of this when San and Babe got together,” he sighs as Gyuri turns around and leaves for a table, offering you his hand with a wink. You can tell he's a little drunk but the way he shakes your hand brings out a genuine giggle out of you “I’m Wooyoung, Yunho’s best friend. I bet he already told you that, though.”
No, you want to tell him, you and him haven't been able to talk like that yet. Even after knowing him for over ten years and spending holidays together, you don't know his best friend's name at all.
And you start to nod just to skip explaining that but Yunho speaks and ruins your plans.
“Mingi is going to kill you if he hears you say that.”
“Say what?” A tall man stands next to Yunho and only when he hugs his shoulders is that Yunho lets go of you “Are you talking shit about me, Woo?”
Wooyoung genuinely sulks“I wouldn't dare, Mingi.”
“You must be Y/N,” Mingi ignores him and you want to laugh at the expression he makes in return, but you busy yourself taking the hand that Mingi's offering “I've heard so much about you in the last forty eight hours.”
“All terrible things, I'm hoping.”
“Well—”
“Okay, okay,” Yunho pushes him away and takes your arm again, giving his actual best friend a look “Let me introduce you to everyone else before Wooyoung makes a scene for the night.”
Over your laugh, you hear a faint gasp and a I don't ever make scenes! shouted on Wooyoung’s side of the room.
You were never shy but you fall a little quiet in the middle of these strangers because the one thing you realized right away is that there's no actual need to pretend here, in the dim light and with people who don't give a fuck if your posture isn't perfect or that you're not making small talk.
It's a little freeing.
That weight falls off your shoulders and you kind of get why Yunho is a little clueless about how things work in your world after talking to San and Mingi’s girlfriends for a little.
It truly takes everything in you to keep everything you share about yourself in shallow waters.
You tell them things they might've already known, things that can be found online about you. You tell them that you met Yunho when you were little, you tell them about your job when the girl that Park Seognhwa chose above going to the gala with you joins and then you direct the conversation to her instead of you.
They tell you about Yunho’s college life, the parties and the embarrassing moments that you've missed all while he talks with his friends about something, all against the vip balcony railing while they watch the band perform. Gyuri is there too, arm to arm with Wooyoung and they tell you they used to be together.
It shows, especially when you get up to join Yunho and watch the performance and she snuggles a bit closer to Wooyoung to make space for you.
Even if there's plenty of space already.
He looks at you when you bump into him, smiling and leaning into your space a bit to talk over the music “There you are. I thought I lost you to girl talk!”
You roll your eyes.
“Your friend's are nice.”
“Normal people usually are, Y/N.”
Scoffing, you focus on the main vocal of the band. The only girl up on the stage, too and you convince yourself that's more interesting than the way Yunho seems to sparkle when he's with his people “Well, that explains why you're everything but nice.”
He laughs “I am nice, just not to you.”
“No, yeah, trust me, I know.”
“You seem quiet around them,” he turns to look at the girls for a brief moment “And you're usually, obnoxiously loud. Everything alright?”
You know he's asking about your panic attacks. Yes, you feel fine. You took your pills with your lunch and, considering the small space you're at gives you brief anxiety, mixed with the general nervousness of being with people you don't know, it could be worse.
But, like you said, his friends are nice.
You don't exactly fit in this group, but they make you believe you're a part of them at least for a little while and you know your friends, or the people you usually hang out with when you go out, wouldn't give a stranger the chance if presented with it.
“I'm fine, I'm just… Intimidated.”
“You just said they are nice, Y/N.”
“And they're all very good looking, which is unfair and nerve wracking,” you add with a scoff and hear him giggle before you turn to him again. “You said you wanted to hang out with me but it's been forty minutes and you barely said anything,” you give him a look, “so you just wanted the ride, hm? Asshole.”
“Needy,” he returns, pushing you with his arm, “I also wanted you to meet them. They're a huge part of who I am and I know it’s not this way for everybody, but I do believe you can gather who someone is if you meet the people they surround themselves with.”
What does that say about me, is what you want to tell him and then his words from a second ago cross your mind.
It's not this way for everybody.
He knows and there's something so deeply fucked up about his understanding of you because is not supposed to be this way. You hate Yunho, he hates you and keeping each other at arm's length has always been the norm.
It baffles you how quickly he can leave his preconceptions of you behind and open the door to his comfy bubble, invite you in and make you feel welcomed where you otherwise don't belong.
He understands. It makes you smile and he smiles back, close to you both physically and emotionally, and so you're sure you don't need to add anything to this moment you two are having.
Instead, you shake your head “I don't know why they hang out with you, then,” you turn to the stage one more time and there’s some tension between the band all of the sudden. You don't ask, Yunho is not paying attention to them right now anyway “I still think you wanted the free ride. Send me the gas money when you get home.”
“When you take me home.”
“No, you're walking back,” your fingers take a hold of his forearm, pinching it and gaining an exaggerated reaction to the mild pain it causes back from him “asshole.”
“And get him again for me!” Wooyoung shouts to your left and you both turn to see almost everyone staring at you.
It's almost enough to make your cheeks burn. Almost.
When it's almost time for you to go home (the hour you said you were staying turned to two hours) and the band gets down the stage, Seonghwa sits beside you.
“Did you paint over it?” Is the first thing you ask him and he frowns before understanding.
“The tree in your brother's office? Nah. He said we should keep it.”
Your brother has no taste.
“It's a horrendous tree, Mr Park,” you insist, shaking your head when he makes a noise to disagree. “Please be sure to take it down at some point, behind his back if it's necessary.”
“Miss Kim,” he starts and you realize whatever he's about to say, it's not about that goddamned tree, “when you asked me to go to a party with you, was it the gala you and Yunho went to?”
He's direct and blunt and you are grateful that he addresses the topic straight ahead instead of walking around it like the girls did.
You nod “Yes, I wanted to say I had someone to go with so they wouldn't force Yunho and I to…”
“I understand.”
“I'm glad you said no, though. She likes you a lot,” you point to his date, she's jamming along to a rock song you don't recognize in the slightest with Hongjoong, who just joined the group in the vip area with the rest of the band. The vocalist it's missing, however and you wonder where she went, “And you like her too, so that's good. I'm glad.”
“And you don't like Yunho?”
The chuckle that bubbles out of you comes out a little more nervous than what you intended “He's, um… An old friend.”
“He told us you were trying to be friends,” he says and you blink, wondering what else Yunho told them, “but that's not what I'm asking.”
“I know what you're asking, I know what some of you think it's going to happen,” your eyes land on Yunho, his arm around Hongjoong and they're both laughing at something Mingi said. There's that pull again, your chest feels heavy with something you've never felt before “but it is not going to happen.”
Yunho catches your eye and smiles, says something to his friends and then starts making his way up to you two.
Seonghwa, instead of getting offended at your very direct refusal of his intentions, just laughs at you “Famous last words, Miss Kim.”
“Paint over the stupid tree and I might reconsider your point, Mr Park.”
He opens his mouth to say something else but then Yunho interrupts, a hand on your shoulder.
He's so touchy. You never actually took into account if he enjoys physical touch or not, but his hands are always on someone. On you, when you're close to him.
“We're leaving.” He says and he's talking to Seonghwa, not you.
“We all are?”
“Nope, just us. Princess has a curfew.”
“Aw,” you place your hand on top of his, pretending to be moved, “yes you do!”
Harshly but also half-joking (you think) he moves his hand away and turns around “I'll be waiting for you downstairs, you witch.”
You watch him say his goodbyes and flash you his middle finger before, effectively, going down the stairs. Laughing as you stand up, you return your eyes to Seonghwa “Stop it.”
“I'm just saying—”
“Shut up.”
Seonghwa laughs again and you say goodbye to everyone, Mingi giving you a look that reads as be careful with him and you want to clarify that nothing is ever going to happen.
But some of them think otherwise.
When you get downstairs, the crowd overwhelms you all over again and, just when you think Yunho might've actually left you, there's a hand that closes over yours.
The hand spins you around and Yunho comes into view with his lips curled upwards into a teasing smirk “This way, princess.”
Suspicious (about the fact that he's navigating the crowd towards anything but the exit, not about his flirtatious ways), you tug at him to make him stop “What are you up to?”
He ignores your question, moving fast and through a deserted hallway where music doesn’t really get through and, after that, he opens a door that leads to the back of the musty bar.
“Are you bringing me here so I can get robbed, Yunho?”
He huffs out a laugh, kind of offended but not really “Obviously, Y/N. It wasn’t because someone was taking pictures of us all night at all.”
His hand is on yours still as he drags you to the streets and to where you think your car is. You’re grateful he’s holding you, your heart dropping at his words. Not because people can’t know you came to this bar, or that you’re with Yunho, but because someone recognized you and you didn’t notice.
You always notice.
But this time, you felt so comfortable inside a bubble that isn’t yours that you allowed someone to disrespect you like this.
Worst, disrespect someone else who’s supposed to be with you like this.
“Are you sure it was us and the person wasn’t taking pictures of Hongjoong? He’s kind of the buzz around here, Jeong.” You try to joke to calm the beating of your heart down, swallowing hard as you get to your car.
Your hand shakes a little as you press the buttons to unlock the doors and, by the time you get into the car you’re sweating. You feel the moisture on the back of your neck like a warning, it tells you that you need to calm down before actually getting on the street but Yunho’s words don’t help at all.
“That's what I thought but then I realized the phone was following you.”
“Great,” you gulp again, starting the car and turning on the ac just to have something to distract you and your hands. "You didn't have to leave with me, though. You just needed to tell me and—”
“We’re together, aren't we? At least to them, we are, so leaving together it's the least they expect us to do.”
Expect. You hate that he's right, that he was able to think rationally and you hate that he regards the situation you're both in with a little more maturity than a few days ago.
This turn in his personality is overwhelming to say the least. There's only so much concealing you can do before it shows that you're starting to care about him genuinely, beyond the pr and the arranged relationship.
“Thank you.” You mutter after a few seconds of silence where he checked his phone.
He looks up from it a few seconds, smiles at you a little and then returns his attention to the screen. It takes a few seconds of the ac blasting in your face and the sound of the keyboard of his phone to return you to the ground, panic dissipating when he looks back up again.
“Are you sure you don't want to sneak back? I don't mean to steal you from your friends, Yunho.”
“You are my friend, princess.” Without really wanting to, your nose scrunches at the corniness of the statement and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t make that face. Look, I was searching online for the pictures or videos they might've taken at the bar and I found this.”
He turns his phone and although your panic went away, the feeling is replaced by a little bit of anger: It's a picture of you both, Jaemi in your arms, her face covered by your hair and shoulder. Yunho is staring at you both sweetly, like you remembered he did and you are mid sentence.
It's not the face you're making in the picture that upsets you, it's the fact that someone took that moment and posted it online for everyone to see.
“You don't like it.” He says and you take a swing of air before replying.
“I do like the picture, I don't like what it means,” and he's about to ask what you mean, you see it in his eyes but you stop him with a shake of your head. “I don't like that they took that moment away from me, from us.”
You don't know why you say it like that but you do, there's this emotion laced on your voice that, a week ago, you would've fought to keep away from him. He was never supposed to see any of this. In fact, no one was supposed to see any side of you that wasn't perfectly crafted to their liking, to your mother's liking.
Yunho getting to know you like this wasn't part of your plan. So you ignore the sting on your chest at his pained expression caused by what you say next.
“From now on, let's not allow them to take moments away from us. Let's meet when we're scheduled to, during the week and not on weekends and—”
“Let's go.”
“Yeah, I'll take you home and then maybe we can tell our moth—”
“No, no. Just… Let's go here,” he tips and taps at the screen of your car, placing an address inside the gps you're unfamiliar with, “and then we can go home.”
Confused and in a surprising complaint mood, you start to back out of the parking spot. At the questions written all over your face, he simply places a hand on your knee and squeezes there. It does nothing to calm you down but it does distract you for a second.
Which is bad. Cause you're driving and all, so you bat his hand away with yours and he laughs at the dead look you send his way.
“Where are we going?”
“I want to show you something.”
“Jeong Yunho, are you sneaking me into your dorm room?”
“Shhhh.”
A finger on your lips is the only thing you get as a response before he pokes his head out, into the badly lit hallway of what you can only presume is his dorm room.
His digit is replaced by your hand because you're trying very hard no to burst out laughing at his very specific change of placement. He sprints to the wall in front of you and moves his hand, urging you to follow his footsteps.
You do, only much slower than what he intended, you guess, because as soon as you're on his reach he grabs your arm and collides his body with yours. His lips near your cheek when he looks down, his words a whisper.
“The cameras are old and they don't catch fast movements that well, so we have to run.”
It takes five good seconds to try and contain your laugh again before replying: “Okay… Mister Bond.”
His face falls. “Y/N, I can get in serious trouble for bringing you here.” He deadpans and you nod, fast and unserious.
“Yeah, no, I can totally see that.”
“I hate you.”
You smile all the way up to his room, his anxious behavior a little strange because, well, you see a girl casually exiting a room on the base floor as you go upstairs. She's flushed and giggling as she types on her phone, so you don't understand what big deal is.
Especially when Yunho all but shoves you into a room you can only assume is his, your kitty heels almost making you trip with the shoe rack by the entrance.
“You're the most dramatic person I have ever met, Jeong.”
“Hall monitors are a thing here, Y/N and I don't want to get banned from the team!”
“What team?”
Now that you think about it, this does seem like one of the dorms reserved for sports teams in the school you graduated from. This one is smaller, definitely not as luxurious and allegedly has a faulty security system but that's besides the point: there's banners and posters on the walls all the way from the entrance to this room that kind of smells like soju and beer.
“The dance team!” He says as you step further into the room.
“I didn't know you dance.”
There's enough space for two beds, two desks that are pressed together on one corner of the room, in front of one of the beds, giving the illusion of being one cohesive piece of furniture when it's not. In front of the other bed there's a corner mirror and a bedside table with old energy drink cans and one unopened, undrinked water bottle.
“I didn't know you painted until recently.”
“I don't,” you argue, throwing your purse on one of the beds before Yunho takes it and places it into the other one. You assume that's his. "You are allowed to have a dorm here for shaking your little ass on stage a few times, Jeong?”
Your teasing makes him frown but you can only smile at the reaction, arms crossed as you take one more look around the room.
“I do more than shaking my great ass on stage, princess. Besides, this makes me somewhat very independent from my parents,” he shrugs “And I'm close to the campus. It's a win, win situation for me.”
“Yeah, I'll give you that.” And it's true: you can't really argue against being away from your parents. He's lucky he's able to do it, least to some degree. “You still have to go to your house on weekends, no?”
“Yeah,” he sighs and when you return your eyes to him, he's making his bed. He looks a little ashamed of the state he left the room in when he catches you staring. “But I think I can allow myself to stay here on weekends now, too, considering they forced me into our little… Arrangement.”
“Yeah, because your mother is all but allowing you to do things this week. Really, Yunho, don't test the woman’s patience.”
He frowns at you “What side are you on?”
“The side where we get scolded the least until this whole thing is over, Yunho!”
“Look, I understand that you care deeply for your parents approval and we've gone through this already this week but—”
“But what?”
You hope the look you send him makes him choose his words very carefully. You don't think it gets the message across when he takes a breath and shrugs.
“But at some point you're going to have to let go of that, Y/N, you're clearly not happy.”
“Stop caring so much about my happiness, Yunho.”
“We're friends, that's what a friend is supposed to—”
“Oh, stop that.”
He looks taken aback by your interruption and your tone, but the whole leaving the bar because someone was taking pictures of you knocked some sense of reality into you and now you're upset.
You don't want to scream, you don't want to fight with him because today has been so good. Good to you, good to him, good to people who are dear to you and to him, but it's so hard.
It's hard when he understands some of it but not the full picture and it's hard when your walls are down, your feelings are on your sleeve and your words spill out of your mouth without a second thought.
“We're not friends, Yunho. We've never been friends, we were not brought together to be just friends and you may think otherwise because you have the opportunity to live like this,” you point to his bed, “and go to bars and concerts and make noise within the crowds because you're tall and attractive, not because of your last name but I am never going to have that.”
Feet moving to their own accord, you cross the space as you speak, until you have to look up at him and that pained expression you saw before heading towards his dorm is back, that pained expression he gave you back at the gala when he found you in that room, that pained expression he had when he fought with his mom in front of you.
You hate it. Not because he might be in some sort of pain, but because it makes you feel bad that you are the one that's causing it.
“I am never going to have this, Yunho. So yeah, I'm unhappy and bitter and sad and I've developed a whole panic disorder because of it but that's just what—”
“God, you're impossible.”
What?
“W-what?”
“‘That's just what it's meant to happen’. Is that what you were going to say? ‘That's just the way things are’,” he mocks and that hurts you but he doesn't back down even at the way you physically recoil at his words.
He moves to the floor, knees hitting hard as he drops and looks for something under his bed.
You don't need to be here. But before you announce that you're leaving, he does something that ignites your curiosity: he pulls out a box.
A box with the name of the highschool you attended together in it. You have that box, or at least you think you do, somewhere in the storage of your house where no one can find it because, like almost everything in your life, there's no happy memories in it.
You're not sure if there's happy memories for Yunho, but the way he harshly opens it and rumages inside to find something specific tells you otherwise.
“The other day, after seeing the canvases in your room, I tried to remember if you liked painting,” he starts and gets up, a mid-sized blue photo album on his hand with the name of the school and your classes slogan engraved in gold on the side, “I tried to remember things I'm supposed to know about you, because we grew up together, Y/N.”
His reminder makes you gulp.
“I've tried to distance myself from you as much as I can because I never thought that we would need to get along and— No, no, I never thought I would want to get along with you but now I do and so I went home and I stole this from my mother's office.”
He opens the album and, at first, you only see pictures of him. Him at his graduation day, him at that one soccer event where he almost broke his nose, him at the school yard with guys from your class you barely remember and then he gets to a specific part of the album. Instead of a picture, there's a card with beautiful handwriting that reads your name instead.
“See, I always hated that my mother seemed to adore you. She doesn't have any daughters, so I thought it was a way of living that through you and that your mother was a little weird for allowing it to happen, but I was wrong,” he hands you the album and you scowl a little at the pictures you see of yourself, pictures that you've never seen before tonight, “And so, when she asked me to take pictures of you at school events she couldn't attend or your parents couldn't attend, I did it because of that. But I realized recently that she never wanted this for herself.”
There's a picture of you at a piano recital where you came in third because you sucked at it. There's a picture of you on stage, on school assembly day, accepting a medal for your academic excellency. There's a picture of you next to the school’s art gallery, where you were able to display the canvases you painted throughout your senior year, at your teacher’s insistent request. There's a picture of you in the art gallery, someone you don't recognize or don't really remember is talking to you, their hands pointing at an abstract piece you did.
It's the only picture where you're genuinely smiling.
You trace the picture caged with the protective film of the album with the pad of your finger, softly, over that smile and wait for it to disappear but it doesn't.
You look at Yunho, eyes almost teary with confusion and sentiment.
“She never wanted this for herself because, although she loves you, she doesn't care about any of this when you're already the perfect match for me in her eyes” he smiles a little, his finger joining yours on the page. “She doesn't care if you got third or first place here, she doesn't give a fuck about your academic achievements and she definitely doesn't give a shit if you're an artist or not,” his finger connects with yours, over your immortalized smile on the picture “but I do.”
Your head starts to shake, your mind starts to reject his words right away. He cares? About you? No, no. It can be, he—
He's nodding, stepping close and letting his eyes move away from you just a millisecond so he can stare at the picture “If it makes you this happy, I do. And I did, I don't… I don't remember exactly everything I thought about you as I took these pictures, Y/N, I was probably very annoyed,” he laughs a little and you do too, softly, barely, “but I probably cared back then too, I just… Well, what I'm trying to say is that you can be happy, you can have this and—”
You don't know what does it. Is it his speech? This whole I was supposed to hate you but I don't think I ever did feeling that washes over you, like some sort of light in the midst of a very long period of darkness? Is it the lingering curve of his lips as he looks at your face in that picture and then back at you with stars in his eyes? Is it the way his finger brushes against yours shyly, like he intended to do it but he's not so sure how you would react to it?
Is it the way he looked at you this afternoon, while Jaemi was speaking nonsense into your hair? Is it the fact that, at some point during the drive, you looked over and saw him smiling at his phone, at the picture that stole your moment with him this afternoon?
What exactly prompts you to shut the photo album, let it fall to the floor and close the distance between your lips is beyond you but, if you're being honest with yourself, it doesn't really matter.
Kissing Yunho feels like defiance, like rebellion against yourself and your principles and your values. It makes your heartbeat happily against your ribcage and that's, maybe, what makes you pull away from the close-lipped encounter.
He just told you that you can be happy, but your mind can't just accept it so easily.
Also, he didn't exactly kiss you back.
His lips are parted when you look at him again, his pupils going all over your face like trying to get ahold of what the fuck just happened.
This is so embarrassing.
“I shouldn't have done that,” you start, in a whisper, tiptoes going down until you're back from the clouds on the ground. “I'm so, so sorry. I'll leav—”
Briefly, you wonder what makes Yunho grab the side of your face and kiss you back, this time with a foreign emotion pouring into the kiss that you, somehow, feel equipped to return as your lips move in tandem with his.
You wonder if what makes his free hand move to your waist and press you flush against him is, in any way, motivated by some sort of pity.
His tongue brushing softly against yours for the first time makes your insecurity go away. It makes everything else go away, including that alarm inside of your head that tells you that you're making a mistake.
It’s blasting red, dangerous and irrevocable red, but you think you confuse the color of it with the blush on Yunho’s cheek when you push a little onto him and he falls to the bed. You confuse the sound with the sigh that he lets out when he pulls you to him and your first instinct is to sit on his lap, leg on each side of him, hand fisting his shirt as you capture his lips again.
His warmth engulfs you when his arms go around you, press you into him again and settle you further into his lap so you’re not awkwardly hovering over it anymore. There’s this need that takes over you, struggling to come up to the surface. You think he feels it too and, when your hips move out of pure want, he opens his legs a little more.
Adrenaline rushing through you, making you confuse the sensation for pure euphoria, it takes two more thrusts into the material of his jeans for you to come to your senses.
What the hell are you doing?
Your heart races, for a different reason now.
What the hell do you think you’re doing?
Panic rising, you push Yunho’s shoulder with your hands, pulling you both away from the kiss completely. He has a pout on his lips, swollen from your kisses and flushed pink. They look very inviting, and although there’s a part of you that wants to give in, there’s the other side of you, the louder side, that’s telling you to think clearly.
Giving into Yunho, is giving into your mother’s wishes fully. Giving into Yunho means she won.
And Yunho thinks you are able to be happy one day, the words you cut off still ringing in your mind and they cover your fears with hope you never felt before, hope that you didn’t think you deserved to feel in the first place. His kisses had that taste, too.
But you don’t think you can let your mother win.
“Dinner.” You manage to say, untangling his hands off your waist, using them to help you up and off his lap.
“W-what?”
“It’s almost nine, I have to go to dinner with my brother.” You fix your shirt, tuck your hair behind your ear and bend over him to grab your purse before clearing your throat, “I know the way out.”
“Y/N, don’t—”
“I’ll see you next thursday.”
When you sprint out of the room and close the door behind you, you already want to go back in.
But running is sensible, it’s what you’re supposed to do.
It doesn’t matter that hot, angry tears are wetting your cheeks.
It’s what’s best for everyone, including him.
If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!
After that absolutely delicious ateez dom/switch/sub analysis, we need the separate Yunho dom analysis, please ♡ (no pressure)
no pressure as if i wasn’t kicking my feet excited to answer this the minute i saw your ask lol
okay once again, below the cut, lots of yunho dom analysis specifically around his kink list too though because there are reasons i added all of those and i figured it would also be fun to get into.
see this post here for the full ateez dom/switch/sub analysis and disclaimers that apply here too!
okay! so hopefully this all makes sense, but truly yunho is my ult and i’ve spent an insane amount of time headcanoning him for all the writing i’ve done, so please forgive how in depth this may get. i promise i’m not weird delulu i’m just a writer with a muse in this man.
general thoughts / evidence on yunho as a man with big dom potential:
natural leadership - yunho is a natural leader, and that’s been pointed out several times throughout the years in various pieces of content, though most recently in the fortune teller video. this is a role that i think he naturally gravitates towards, and leads me to believe that he is the type who will step up if there’s not a leader in the room, or will guide if someone needs guidance. i think he likes to feel appreciated and needed, but doesn’t necessarily need a bunch of fanfare or attention for doing so, which to me is such a quality in a good dominant. someone who wants to guide and lead his submissive, but doesn’t need everyone to know it.
his gaze - something you’ll notice if you watch yunho carefully is that when he needs the members to quiet down or when he’s trying to communicate something without words, all he needs to do is look in just the right way to get what he wants. most often you can see this with mingi and wooyoung when he levels them with a look and they either stop ‘misbehaving’ or fall apart into giggles. this is one of those things where i think you can see he’s kind of exuding masculine dominance without ever having to say anything or cause a fuss.
his propensity to tease - okay so he’s a joker, and a classic older brother, but that isn’t the thing that makes me think big dom potential. what does though is the ways he needles on a specific thing that riles someone up and just keeps applying pressure. mingi is a great example, if you watch the way he talks to him and calls him princess, particularly during his birthday live… that is the epitome of a dom. you can see other examples with other members, but you can also see it with atiny. in the live when he said he liked to hear atiny call him “yunho-yah” in a whining tone was pretty revealing. also since he’s become aware of the hotteok hand kink, he keeps playing up hand content. that is certainly something the company is doing to drive engagement, but to hear him tease about it on lives? the tone tells me knows he’s getting a flustered reaction and he enjoys it.
jealousy - this is a brief one, but he’s quietly jealous as fuck in a possessive way. just reference the live where he talks about his brother or the one good looking manager, you can see it underneath the teasing that he’s like okay no focus up. that’s someone who in a relationship would have to handle feelings of jealousy and could potentially channel that into a d/s relationship.
caretaking / gift giving / silent support - yunho naturally takes care of his members and staff, there’s a lot of stories about him getting up early to get coffee for people, being an ear during tough times, being thoughtful during holidays and birthdays, etc. and i just think in general that’s a quality that means he enjoys caring for his loved ones. in a d/s relationship, that’s such a key point of a good dom as they are trying to support and guide their submissive and ensure their needs are met.
pain tolerance - there’s a lot of clips where you can see yunho taking pain or discomfort and just eating it, and while i don’t think that implies he enjoys it, i do think that implies a certain level of control. that is a key quality in a good dom, especially in much harder scenes when they are supposed to be providing the guardrails, punishments, and safety nets.
emotional intelligence - i truly don’t think you can be a good dominant if you’re lacking in emotional intelligence and yunho has that in spades. i’m not saying that means he is a dom, but i am saying it ensures me he would do well at it or have the proper level of emotional intelligence for the role.
the kink list breakdown
rigging / shibari - he’s incredibly tactile and good with his hands, and after all those clips of him with the wire from imot and ropes from outlaw….. my thought is that yeah that’s promotion, but watch him move the ropes and cords. i think it comes naturally to him, but what’s more is that this is an ultimate form of control and dominance over a partner. i think he would excel at the slow preparation, the methodical nature of binding, the photography he could take of his sub tied up with different knots and colored ropes, and then the ability to control their pleasure or pain from there is something the rigging would allow.
edging / orgasm denial - another form of control. if he’s guiding his submissive through the experience of orgasm, then confirming their compliance by only letting them orgasm when he says is full control. i also think it plays into the idea of teasing, something that would leave his sub whining and begging.
pleasure / overstimulation - it’s the exact inverse of the above but the principles are the same. control, but also pushing his submissive’s limits.
praise - there is no way this man isn’t telling you how good you’re doing while you do it. yunho is ultimately a soft boy, a boyfriend boy, a husband boy, so no matter what hard kinks he has the potential to play with, i think praise and kindness is a huge hinge back to the relationship and the very real emotions underneath it all.
degradation - i personally think this would be done with a softer, teasing vibe. not meanly calling his submissive a slut, but more so from a corruption angle… something like …. “my fingers in your mouth get you this wet? listen to you whine, my good little slut” etc.
breeding and pregnancy - this one is a little self indulgent but that being said…….. my read on him as quite traditional hits this for me. yunho as a natural caregiver translates pretty heavily for me into yunho wanting to provide for his future partner, and he’s extremely close to his family and family oriented. if yunho wants children, i could see him loving the idea of intimacy that getting his partner pregnant would provide. and i think in general that could manifest in the idea appealing to him in general. i think also there’s possessiveness in this kink that could appeal to him - the idea that he claimed her body, that the changes visible in her body are something he did, etc.
impact play - his hands were made for spanking, next question… no but actually this one is something i want to call out. spanking hits control, punishment, aftercare but it also is something they some submissives need and helps ground them. pain in general can be like this, but as i think yunho would not be full blown into sadism, spanking would fulfill that need for them both.
restraints - again, another opportunity for control. we’ve touched on ropes, but i also think he would enjoy pinning a partner down, someone he can fantasize about being on the more submissive / innocent / corruptible side
free use - i mentioned in the original post this being an extension of the traditional idea. i just want to emphasize again, this is not in any way from a misogynistic angle whatsoever. what i’m talking about here is specifically an extension of his control, within this idea of possession and consumption. i could see yunho being the type of guy who would love to come home and just push his partner’s skirt up before dinner, or hop into the shower and just take his partner against the wall. i don’t think he would be into free use in the super extremes of this kink where his partner is like completely passive / truly available at EVERY moment, but some version of this i can see.
fingering - look at his hands, he’s going to make his partner squirt and he’s going to make his partner suck on his fingers and beg for it, next question.
oral - this man has an oral fixation. watch the way he touches his lips, the way he bites, the way his tongue is constantly present, how often he puts things IN his mouth? he’s absolutely going to be the type to just hold his partner down and eat her out for as long as she can take it.
omorashi - this one is a little off the wall but walk with me here. omo isn’t piss kink in the way that a lot of people might assume, it’s specifically about bladder control. this is one of those kinks that fall right in line with aspects of his dominance and personality so i’m saying if this hit for him, i’d believe it. the idea that he would control his partner’s ability to use the rest room to facilitate a scene, and then use that discomfort against them while he pleasures or edges them, verbally degrading and pushing his submissive to begging and pleading? yep. now some people with omo stop there and it’s all about the control, but if he took it a step further to actual bladder release i think you could imagine the way he’d comfort and praise his submissive through it. and once again, ultimate control.
corruption - listen…….. this catholic boy??? i will die on this hill. i think while yunho’s a good guy and wouldn’t actually care about things like body count or experience, especially with his person, i do think that he would lose his god damn marbles at the idea that his partner has only ever been with him or has only ever experienced certain acts with him. as a guiding presence, a caretaker, and a man with a jealous streak? this just makes sense. the idea that he’s the reason why you’re a begging crying mess for his cock? iconic. the idea that no one in the world knows what your body looks like but him? he’d quite literally cum and die.
breath play - hands. but also control, you get it.
somno - ultimate control but also it’s his submissive placing the ultimate level of trust in him and i think he would take it exceptionally seriously. it’s a responsibility more than anything to ensure that his partner is cared for and feels safe through that experience. also think this plays a bit into the corruption kink and when i mentioned in the previous post that he would enjoy being called daddy…… you put those dots together. (though to be perfectly clear i do NOT mean age play whatsoever)
cockwarming - i think this is something that’s actually quite comforting for some submissives so i see it as less of a kink and more of a sex act that he would engage in with his sub to be caring and tender and help ground them. similar to what spanking does, it helps ground some submissives and this is something he would want to provide. just picture his sub resting against his inner thigh, cock in mouth just resting on the tongue, yunho petting their hair and soothing them.
size kink / size training - i dont mean he wants a “small” or “thin” partner, i mean this from the corruption angle. he would enjoy slowly working his sub up to being able to take his cock comfortably in….. many….. different holes.
throat fucking - see above lmao
and good god could i talk about dom yunho and aftercare but that’s a whole other post lmk if anyone cares haha
Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader
AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers
Genre: angst, humor, fluff in future chapters
Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever.
Word Count: 4.9K
Warnings: just a little angst but we're finally on a lighter, fluffier chapter
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As you pulled into the parking lot of an unfamiliar apartment complex, Mingi’s ears perked up, his dark, expressive eyes widening with what could only be described as alarm. He’d been unusually fussy this morning, darting away every time you reached out to put his collar on, his little legs scurrying under the grand piano. And when you crouched down to coax him with chicken, he bolted under the couch, telling you that you’d never catch him.
“Maro, guess what! You’re going to have a sleepover with Hetmon!” you announced, patting him gently. The words slipped out with casual enthusiasm, thinking it’d be fun for him to spend a night with someone who’s growing so fond of him.
As a human, Mingi wouldn’t have cared. He would have come and gone as he pleased, slipping through life without a second thought. Back then, you were just a fleeting presence—someone whose affection he had easily shrugged off. He never thought twice about the way you looked at him or how you cared in your own quiet way.
But things were different now.
You had become the one constant in his new world. The way you fussed over him, made sure he was fed, safe, and warm—it was something he hadn’t realized he needed until it was gone. The thought of being without you, even for one night, filled him with a fear he didn’t fully understand. What if you didn’t come back? What if you left him behind for good?
He let out a soft whine, his eyes flicking to you as if trying to convey the thoughts swirling in his mind: Don’t leave me. Not like this. Mingi squirmed under your touch, his soft fur slipping through your fingers as he wiggled in his seat. His gaze darted to the complex in front of you, his ears twitching at every sound, the unfamiliarity of it all clearly overwhelming.
When you opened the car door, he hesitated, his small paws stiff against your hands as you gently lifted him from the seat. Holding him close, you pressed your cheek into his soft fur.
“It’s going to be alright,” you murmured, your voice steady despite the ache tightening in your chest. “I’m going to miss you.”
With every step up to Yeosang’s door, Mingi clung to you, his gaze darting between you and the unfamiliar entryway. When Yeosang opened the door, his gentle smile eased some of the tension. Kneeling down to greet Mingi, Yeosang reached out, offering a reassuring presence to the uneasy figure in your arms.
"Hey, Maro! We’re going to have so much fun! I know Hetmon can’t wait to play with you! We have tons of treats and toys, and we can stay up as late as we want!”
Mingi burrowed deeper into your hold, his nose pressing against the crook of your arm as though trying to shield himself from the unfamiliarity of the moment. You could feel his heart racing, a rhythm that matched your own.
“I’ll be back before you know it,” you said softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. He didn’t pull away this time, but the tremble in his little body didn’t fade.
"I love you," you whispered gently, feeling the words catch in your throat. "I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?"
Mingi blinked up at you, momentarily pulled from his anxious thoughts. You love me? The words settled over him, unexpected and profound. His tail gave a faint wag before drooping again.
There was something almost unbearable about the way you said it—so soft, so certain. As if he mattered. As if he was worth loving. He wanted to cling to his anger, to the bitterness he’d nurtured, to all the reasons he convinced himself to hate you. It was safer that way.
But in this moment, with your arms around him, his resolve began to falter under the quiet strength of your love. A lump formed in his throat as he let himself feel the ache of wanting to believe you. Slowly, he pressed himself into your chest, seeking refuge in your scent, in the fragile, fleeting comfort of your presence.
“Have fun, okay? I'll be back before you know it',” you promised, setting him down after one last hug.
Mingi wanted to believe you—to believe that you’d come back, that this wasn’t just another moment where he’d be left behind. But the fear was louder, whispering cruelly that once you were gone, you might never return.
When the door finally clicked shut behind you, an ache settled in his chest. He wanted to hate you for leaving him, for making him feel so vulnerable, so helplessly tethered to you. Anger and resentment would have been easier to bear than the raw, twisting pain inside him.
But he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you held him—the way your arms had felt so steady, the way your lips had pressed gently to his head. And those words. I love you.
Did you mean them? Could they be real? Did he even deserve them?
As he was left to contemplate on his own, Hetmon plopped down with a soft thud, his large frame settling next to Mingi’s much smaller one. The doberman nudged him gently with his snout, his warm brown eyes filled with quiet sympathy.
“It’s okay to feel sad,” Hetmon said quietly. “It’s scary at first but then you get lots of snacks and snuggles! And I have lots of toys you can play with!”
But Mingi barely reacted, his tiny body stiff and unmoving, his gaze fixed on the door as though sheer willpower could bring you back. The sound of your footsteps fading down the hall felt like an unbearable loss, each step tugging at a string inside him he hadn’t even known was there.
“Maro,” Yeosang said gently. His voice was soothing, though it didn’t carry the same comfort yours did. “Why don’t we go into the living room? It’s more comfortable there.”
Mingi sprawled on the floor in his fluffy, sulking form, letting out a deep, reluctant sigh. His big puppy eyes darted toward Hetmon and then to Yeosang, filled with quiet resignation.
Yeosang didn’t push him, simply standing back and letting the puppy sulk in his own time. As a human, Mingi had always been used to getting his way. Pampered and spoiled, he’d rarely had to ask for what he wanted—everything had been handed to him, either out of obligation or fear of his temper. People didn’t treat him with kindness because they cared; they catered to him because it was easier than dealing with his tantrums.
But Yeosang and Hetmon were different–they were giving him something he didn’t quite know how to handle: genuine care and patience. They didn’t push, didn’t try to force him into compliance. It wasn’t about control or convenience—it was about seeing him, even when he was at his most vulnerable.
Yeosang exchanged a look with Hetmon, as if the two were silently agreeing on what to do next.
“Alright, let’s make this space cozy,” Yeosang said, his tone gentle but upbeat. “Something just for you and Hetmon.
Curious but still sulking, Mingi tilted his head as the living room was a flurry of motion. Yeosang draped blankets over the back of the couch and anchored them with cushions, creating a cozy little den. Hetmon grabbed a toy, carrying it over and dropping it right next to Mingi with a proud wag of his tail.
“There we go,” Yeosang said, standing back to admire the setup. The blanket fort was simple but warm, with soft lighting spilling through the gaps. He knelt down, peeking inside.
“What do you think, Maro? A place just for you and Hetmon.”
Mingi hesitated, his small paws inching forward as he sniffed cautiously at the fort. The structure, carefully built, carried faint traces of Yeosang and Hetmon’s familiar scents. Pausing at the entrance, his big, round eyes scanned the space nervously before retreating slightly, his posture low to the floor.
Yeosang settled beside the fort, keeping a respectful distance as he offered a reassuring smile. “You’ll be okay, Maro,” he said gently. “I promise we’ll take good care of you until Y/N comes back.”
⋆
You lay on the couch in the private suite, staring blankly at the ceiling as the low hum of the machines filled the silence. Your gaze drifted instinctively to Mingi, his frail form nestled amidst a series of wires and tubes. His chest rose and fell in steady intervals, yet the sight brought little comfort. He seemed so small, so fragile, swallowed by the sterile hospital bedding and the weight of his condition.
A shaky breath escaped you, uneven and strained in the stillness of the room. Part of you yearned to reach out, despite knowing he wouldn’t feel it. But the other part held you back, paralyzed by the thought that crossing that line would tear apart the fragile distance that had shielded you for so long.
Instead, you let yourself collapse further into the sofa, its cushions swallowing you whole. Your body sagged under the weight of exhaustion and grief, the kind that lingered in the pit of your stomach, making it hard to breathe.
“Hey,” you murmured softly, the word catching in your throat as though it could break the suffocating silence in the room. Your voice sounded foreign to your own ears, hoarse and uncertain, but the need to fill the stillness outweighed your discomfort.
“Do you dream of anything?” you asked quietly, your gaze flicking to his still form. “I mean, I hope it’s something good. Something better than this.”
Your fingers toyed with the edge of the blanket draped over you, the repetitive motion grounding you just enough to keep going.
“You know, I read somewhere that people in comas can hear things. I don’t know if that’s true, but if it is, you’re probably thinking, Why won’t Y/N shut up?” You let out a shaky laugh, the sound bitter, more like a defense mechanism than actual amusement.
You shifted again, resting your head against the arm of the sofa, your gaze never leaving him. "Oh, uh, I got a dog," you said, the words coming out almost hesitant, like a confession.
"I found him outside of the hospital at 5 AM. It was after you were brought into the ICU. His name’s Maro. Cutest little thing ever. He’s really fluffy, kind of like a Pomeranian, except he has one floppy ear."
The corners of your mouth twitched into the faintest smile at the memory, but it disappeared just as quickly. Had he always seemed this small? Or was it the weight of his vulnerability now that forced you to see him differently?
You clenched your fists, willing yourself not to cry. Was it pity, guilt, or something else entirely? You weren’t sure if you were mourning the man you never got to know—or the one you never had the chance to leave behind.
"What am I doing?" you sighed to yourself, the words escaping in a combination of frustration and sadness.
You were talking to him. Hoping, somehow, that he could hear you. That even in the liminal space between life and the unknown, he might sense your presence. That he might know, even if you’d been so far apart in life, you weren’t going to leave him alone in this.
“I hate hospitals,” you admitted, your voice cracking slightly as you glanced at the stark white walls.
“And now here I am again. Back in a place I never wanted to see again. And you’re the one lying there, hooked up to machines.” Your voice caught, and you swallowed hard, fighting the lump rising in your throat.
“And I hate it just as much as I did back then. Maybe more.”
You hesitated, your gaze dropping to your hands as you fidgeted with your sleeves. “I talked to your mom,” you began softly, your voice heavy with unspoken frustration.
“I tried to convince your parents to take turns staying overnight,” you continued, your voice cracking slightly.
“I thought maybe...maybe it’d be an opportunity to bring you closer together. That this—” you gestured faintly to the machines, “—would wake them up. But it’s like...nothing’s changed.”
The room fell silent again, save for the steady, monotonous beeping of the machines, a sound that felt almost mocking in its rhythm. You looked at Mingi’s face, so peaceful it made your chest ache. It felt unfair—like the calm didn’t belong here, not with everything unsaid hanging in the air.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words catching in your throat.
“They don’t deserve you, Mingi. I just...I just wanted them to see you. Really see you. Not the version of you they’ve made up in their heads.” You exhaled shakily, your gaze dropping again to your hands.
“You’re more than that. You’re just Mingi,” you said quietly. “And that’s enough. You’re enough.”
Your words drifted into the stillness of the room, fading into the hum of the machines. You pulled the thin hospital blanket closer, wrapping it tightly around yourself like a fragile shield against the cold. Closing your eyes, you told yourself you wouldn’t sleep—but the weight of exhaustion crept in, relentless and unyielding, until it finally pulled you under.
And in the quiet of your dreams, it felt as if he were also reaching out for you too.
Mingi laid on his belly, eyes fixed on the front door, refusing to move. After dinner, despite Yeosang arranging a cozy pile of blankets by the couch and Hetmon checking in persistently, Mingi remained rooted in place.
Hetmon was fast asleep in the blanket fort, while Yeosang lay stretched out on the floor next to it, his head propped up on one arm. The faint glow of the moonlight spilled through the curtains, bathing the room in silvery light.
"You must really love Y/N," Yeosang observed quietly, his voice barely louder than a whisper. He turned his gaze toward Mingi, who sat a short distance away.
Mingi had never waited for you before, not like this. He had never looked forward to your presence, never longed to see your smile or hear your voice. But his heart ached in a way that he couldn’t explain. He could barely remember the last time he’d truly listened when you spoke to him, let alone considered that you might see something in him worth loving.
What could you possibly love about him? The man he had been was callous, dismissive, too caught up in his own bitterness to care about the hurt he caused. But you didn’t deserve any of it. He had been too proud, too angry to see that then.
But now, stripped of his humanity, stripped of his defenses, Mingi saw everything clearly. No walls to hide behind, no excuses to shield him from the truth. He couldn’t help but wonder whether it was too late to try and make things right.
Yeosang offered him a small smile, the kind that was patient and unwavering.
“Y/N loves you so much. You’ve become her whole world, even if you don’t realize it.”
Mingi’s ears flicked at the words, a pang resonating deep in his chest.
“Honestly,” Yeosang continued, “I’ve never seen anyone dote on a dog the way she does you. She keeps saying you’re special, you know? That you’re not like other dogs. And the way she looks at you—it’s like you’ve hung the moon.” He chuckled softly, his expression tender.
“I don’t think she’s wrong, though. There’s something about you.”
Mingi’s ears twitched again, and his eyes slid closed as a wave of bittersweet warmth washed over him. Yeosang had no idea how close to the truth he was. He didn’t know that the little dog lying here was the same Mingi who had spent years pushing you away, too afraid to let you in.
The weight of those thoughts grew unbearable, and Mingi slowly got to his feet, his small frame shivering slightly. He padded softly toward the pillow fort, and didn’t hesitate as he nudged his way inside, his nose brushing against Hetmon’s side.
“Hey,” Mingi murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he crouched next to Hetmon. “You’re a good listener, right?”
Hetmon perked up immediately, tail wagging in eager agreement. “The best listener! Try me!” he chirped, his eyes bright and inviting.
“Remember when I told you…that I got turned into a dog because I did some…bad things? And you said you’d help?”
Hetmon tilted his head, his dark eyes softening as he let out a quiet, supportive huff. The playful glint usually present in his gaze gave way to something warmer, deeper—a promise that he was here.
Mingi swallowed hard, his ears lowering as his voice faltered. “Well I need your help…listening. I—I don’t even know where to start. I just…” His words trailed off, and he stared down at his paws as though they held the answers he was too afraid to find.
“I…I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want Y/N to leave me here, I want her to come back. I think…because I’m always used to being left behind.”
His gaze dropped, as if the weight of his words were too heavy to carry for his little form. “When I was a kid, my parents weren’t around much. My dad worked all the time, and my mom…she didn’t know what to do with me. I wasn’t easy—loud, stubborn. I broke rules just to see if they’d notice. And when they did, it was only because I made them look bad. That was the only time I felt…seen.”
Hetmon nudged closer, his nose pressing gently against Mingi’s side in quiet support.
“I just wanted their attention,” Mingi whispered. “For them to be proud of me, to love me for something good. But it never felt like enough. I only existed to them when I was a problem. Whatever it took to remind them I was there. And eventually, it wasn’t an act anymore. I just…became that person.”
“I wanted everything on my terms. Most people just gave me what I wanted because it was easier than dealing with me.” He paused, the next words catching in his throat before spilling out.
“Except for the engagement.”
He glanced away, unable to meet Hetmon’s gaze. “I accepted it because I thought it would make my parents proud,” he admitted quietly.
“I thought if I did this one big thing, if I played the role they wanted me to, I’d finally be enough for them. But it wasn’t what I wanted—it was never what I wanted.”
“I thought it would earn their approval, but all I did was hurt everyone—especially Y/N.”
Mingi curled in on himself, his nails digging into the cushion as his voice dropped to a whisper. “I made her life miserable because it was easier than letting her in. I couldn't be vulnerable with her.”
“She was the only one who ever stood up to me. And that scared me. Not because she made me feel small, but because…” His voice faltered. “Because she made me feel like I wasn’t in control. Like she could see the real me. Some spoiled kid desperate for someone to care.”
He stared down at his paws, uncertainty clouding his gaze. The enormity of his mistakes felt insurmountable. Would you even want to hear him out? Could he find the right words to make you understand how sorry he was?
He thought about the way you cared for him—not just the way you fed him or ensured he was comfortable, but the way you spoke to him softly, as if he were the most important thing in the world. The way your eyes lit up with genuine affection every time you saw him. You loved freely, without conditions or reservations, and he saw it in every small act, every moment you cared for him. It wasn’t just something he noticed once—it was unyielding.
And it made him realize just how deeply he’d failed you.
“I don’t know what it’ll take to turn back,” he murmured, “but I know I have to fix things. I owe her that much.”
For a moment, Hetmon didn’t move, as if processing the words. Then, with a cheerful wag of his tail, he shuffled closer, his dark eyes warm with encouragement.
“I’m glad you told me all that!” Hetmon chirped, his voice bright and unburdened. “It means we’re friends now, right? Real friends!”
Mingi blinked, taken aback by the simplicity of Hetmon’s declaration. He turned to look at him, his tail swishing lightly against the floor as Hetmon beamed up at him.
“Yeah…I guess we are,” he replied softly with a small smile.
“I don’t really know what ‘vulnerable’ means,” Hetmon admitted, his head tilting curiously, “but it sounds like sharing your favorite toy with someone, even if you don’t really want to! Because… you’re nice!”
A quiet chuckle escaped Mingi, and for the first time in a long while, the heavy knot in his chest loosened. “Yeah,” he said, his voice lighter, “it’s kind of like that.”
“Well, I’ll always share my toys with you,” Hetmon said, his tail wagging faintly. He paused, tilting his head thoughtfully before continuing, “Maybe you should share your toys with Y/N. You know, to show her how much you care.”
Mingi blinked, startled by the simplicity of the suggestion, but the earnestness in Hetmon’s voice made something inside him soften.
“We’re gonna go to the park tomorrow, so we need to save our energy to play chase… and maybe fetch too. Gotta make sure we’re ready. And then…” He trailed off for a moment, his breathing slowing as though on the verge of sleep, before murmuring, “And then we can think of ways to help make you human again.”
Mingi glanced up at the dog pressed against him. He’d never thought much about companionship before, but Hetmon’s unwavering optimism and warmth chipped away at the walls he’d built around himself.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “I’d like that too.”
Unbeknownst to Mingi and Hetmon, Yeosang sat quietly outside the fort. The sight of them—Hetmon nestled snugly against Mingi, both looking so peaceful brought a smile to his lips and a sense of relief. Maro was finally settling in. With a soft click, he snapped a photo, capturing the unexpected tranquility of the moment before shooting you a quick text.
“How do you know when you’re done with a task?” Hetmon asked, as his long legs carried him easily down the path to the dog park. The sleek doberman slowed his pace so Mingi could keep up.
“I don’t know,” Mingi muttered, his fluffy tail wagging in uncertainty. “Maybe… when it feels right?”
“That’s not an answer! What does ‘feels right’ even mean? Like when your belly’s full after eating?”
“Well…no. There’s something about my transformation that I didn’t tell you about. There was a man…he referred to himself as The Judge. I think I have to find him.”
Hetmon tilted his head curiously, moving gracefully beside Mingi. “Like an adventure? Are we going on a really long walk?” His tail wagged once, and he nudged Mingi playfully.
“What’s a judge, anyway?”
Mingi let out an exaggerated huff, his fluffy body bouncing slightly as Yeosang unleashed him. “A judge is, like…someone who decides stuff. Big stuff. Like who’s right, who’s wrong, and what happens next.”
“Oh, like my dad?”
“Not exactly.” Mingi frowned, struggling to explain. “A judge is about…being fair.” He paused, his small ears twitching as dogs of all shapes and sizes zoomed past. Mingi barely noticed them, lost in thought.
“The Judge decides if you’ve been bad or good,” he said, his tone growing quieter. “And if you deserve a second chance.”
Hetmon slowed his pace, glancing down at Mingi as they weaved through a bustling cluster of dogs sniffing at a water fountain. “So, what does he do if you don’t?”
Mingi froze, his fluffy tail stiffening as the unsettling atmosphere settled around them. The playful barks and chatter of the park faded, replaced by an eerie silence that made his hackles stand. Hetmon’s sharp ears swiveled forward, his nose twitching as he scanned their surroundings.
“Do you feel that?” he asked, his voice lowering to a cautious rumble.
Before Mingi could respond, a new presence entered their field of vision. A black cat perched atop a nearby bench, its eyes glinting with an unsettling intensity. It was a small thing, lithe and elegant, yet its presence carried an almost tangible weight. Its tail swished lazily, but there was nothing casual about the way it stared at them.
“Surprised to see me, Maro?” the cat purred, its voice smooth and taunting as it stretched languidly. Without breaking eye contact, it hopped down from the bench with a graceful leap and began to saunter toward them, its paws making no sound against the ground.
“You’re looking...lighter. Did someone have a little emotional breakthrough last night?”
Mingi’s ears flattened against his head, and his nose scrunched in irritation. “Who are you?”
Hetmon’s tail wagged excitedly, oblivious to the tension. “Hey, it’s a cat! Are you here to play too?”
The black cat let out a soft laugh, the sound equal parts amusement and condescension. “Oh, I’m always here to play,” it said, its tone dripping with mock sincerity. Its piercing eyes slid back to Mingi, a playful glint in them.
“But I don’t expect you to remember me in this form. You know, considering the state you were in last time we spoke.”
Mingi blinked, confusion spreading across his puppy face as he studied the cat more closely, trying to make sense of the situation. “The last time?” He squinted, his nose twitching as he sniffed the air, piecing the puzzle together.
“You’re the Judge.”
“In the flesh,” Wooyoung said, with an exaggerated bow. “Though, this is only one of the many forms I can take.”
“Why are you here?” Mingi growled, his nerves beginning to fray. There was something unnervingly calm about the cat’s presence.
“I was in the neighborhood,” Wooyoung replied casually, his voice light but carrying an underlying warmth. “And I couldn’t resist seeing how our dear Maro is holding up. Word is, someone’s been dabbling in a bit of self-reflection.”
He circled Mingi, his movements more curious than menacing. Mingi, however, wasn’t taking any chances. He scowled, puffing up his hackles instinctively, his narrowed eyes following Wooyoung’s every move.
“Imagine my shock when I heard whispers about you sharing your feelings and letting others in.”
Mingi’s fluffy tail gave an involuntary twitch, and his ears flattened against his head. If dogs could blush, he would’ve been beet red. “And what about it?” he barked, his voice rising in embarrassed frustration.
“Aw, don’t be shy,” Wooyoung teased, his grin spreading wide and sharp, though his eyes sparkled with something closer to amusement than malice. “It’s adorable, really.”
Hetmon, ever the optimist, wagged his tail harder. “Sounds like you’re doing great! Even the kitty thinks so.”
“But I give credit where it’s due,” Wooyoung said, pausing mid-step to preen his face.
“You completed your first task, and it looks good on you. Dare I say, you might actually be growing as a person.” He let the compliment linger before flicking his gaze to Mingi’s fluffy form. “Or… dog. Whatever.”
“Uh… thanks, I guess?” Mingi muttered, his defensive posture softening slightly, though his tail still twitched with lingering unease.
“Don’t let it go to your head, fluffball,” he said, his grin returning, but now it was less sharp, almost fond. “You’ve still got a ways to go. But…” He tilted his head, his golden eyes glinting in the soft light.
“I suppose I’ll be watching with mild interest.”
For all of Wooyoung’s teasing, there was an odd comfort in the knowledge that someone—however mischievous—was paying attention to his journey.
“Maro!”
Mingi’s ears perked up instantly, his heart leaping at the sound of your voice. His head whipped around, and there you were, jogging toward him, grinning ear to ear. He didn’t think—he just bolted toward you, his excitement erupting in a series of joyous barks that echoed through the park.
Before you could even brace yourself, he launched himself into your arms. You stumbled slightly under the force of his leap, but your laughter bubbled out, ruffling his furn in that perfect way that always made him melt.
“I missed you so much!” you said, your voice warm and full of affection. You leaned your cheek against his head, holding him like you never wanted to let go.
“Looks like you had fun while I was gone.”
Fun? Sure, the dog park was fine. Hetmon was great. Even the bizarre encounter with Wooyoung had been…something. But none of it compared to this. None of it compared to you.
Mingi leaned his fluffy body into you, letting out a soft whine as his eyes closed. Your touch, your voice, your laugh—it was everything he didn’t know he needed until now. He’d missed you more than he could say, more than this form would allow him to show.
His mind wandered, as it often did, to a future where he wasn’t just a dog but himself again. Would you see him differently? Would you understand how much he cared, how much he’d changed? Would you give him a chance?
Maybe, just maybe, you’d look at him the way you did now—with a warmth that made him feel like the center of your world. The thought sent a spark of hope blooming in his chest, as bright and fragile as the first rays of sunlight after a storm.
Your arms tightened around him slightly, pulling him back to the present. And for now, that was enough. Mingi let out a soft, contented huff, nuzzling into you as if to say, I missed you, too.
“What’s gotten into you?” you teased.
Yeosang trotted over with Hetmon by his side. “He was a champ while you were gone,” he said, “but I think someone’s been counting the minutes until you came back.”
You laughed again, running your hand over Mingi’s head as he leaned into your touch. “Is that true, Maro? Were you waiting for me?”
Mingi barked softly in response, his tail wagging furiously now. In this moment, everything felt perfect. There was so much he wanted to say, words that his current form couldn’t fully express. But he would wait. He would wait for you, no matter how long it took.
